Legacy Chapter 15: Mind Storm, a dungeons and dragons fanfic

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

Notes: Well, it's nice to be back again! (I never meant to be away from writing for so long. Talk about withdrawal!) Thanks to everyone who wrote to me with encouragement and kind words during my unplanned hiatus. It's nice to know that so many were eager to see the story continued. I'm glad I can finally deliver for you! If any are interested, I've set up a LiveJournal account with which I plan to document updates to my story, post excerpts and fanart (the few that I have are certainly worth a look), and plan out future writing endeavors (D&D or otherwise). There are still a few chapters left, so stop by and see me! I just love getting company! *VBG*

(When I posted the address here it showed up as invisible, not sure why. So see my Author's Page!)

Dedication: To my brother Tom, United States Marine Corps. I'm proud of you and I love you!

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LEGACY

Chapter 15 – Mind Storm

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The earth moves where I stand.
I feel the turning of the wheel.

~ Alain Boublil & Richard Maltby, Jr

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He had never felt more like a helpless child than he did at that moment. It was a feeling that he loathed almost as much as he hated the evil creature who had lowered him to it. Hiding the hopeless misery that flooded through him was a near impossibility, so he opted to cover it with rage.

That was decidedly easier.

But it had not gone unnoticed by those around him.

Not for the first time had the child's actions and words worried the others. But more so now than ever before.

Here, in this barren place, they were granted a slight reprieve from the torturous battle they had chosen to wage. But the Young Ones were now afforded the chance to indulge in something that was, in a way, even more agonizing. They were able to think.

Hank, for once, had allowed the spontaneous gut of his anger to do the deciding for him. It wasn't something he was proud of, but events had been set into motion that were, now, too late to change. He would live with that. He would have to.

Of an even greater concern, however, was how the ten-year-old boy would cope with the choice that Hank had made. It was already costing Bobby so much – Uni, his best friend, was dying.

The Ranger glanced piteously down at the child, who was quaking with fury and sadness as he tenderly stroked the small animal which had come to mean so much to him. It wasn't long ago that they had all been huddled within the confines of that dark cave where Venger, their enemy, had sealed them. But at the time, there was still so much adrenaline in the air, and not much opportunity to drive from anything other than instinct.

Now that they had been transported here, to the Dragon's Graveyard, they had little to do but sit back and wait for the Dragon Queen, Tiamat, to make good on her promise of delivering Venger to them. The full enormity of what was about to happen engulfed the Ranger.

They were going to destroy Venger -- for good.

He had to admit, much of what had happened, from Venger's sudden attack, to the Archmage's brutal and vindictive assault on the defenseless unicorn, was a blur. But it wasn't long before images, thoughts that Hank didn't even remember having registered, began replaying through his mind.

He remembered, upon finding themselves trapped in the cave, how he could hear Uni's weakened bleating. In fact, he could still hear it in his head. But even more painful was Bobby's voice, morose and bleak, yet pathetically hopeful at the same time.

"How bad is it?" he had begged his sister.

Sheila didn't look at the boy, her eyes sadly fixed to Uni, whose head rested in her lap. "Well," she began, trying to sound encouraging, "I'm sure she'll—"

"Tell me the truth!" the boy interrupted insistently.

Sheila gave a sigh of acquiescence and bowed her head. "I think she's hurt pretty bad."

Bobby looked as though his entire world had shattered. He muttered the name of the baby unicorn, the one creature in this insane world that he had grown to love. An innocent casualty of the battle they had chosen to fight, taken away by the one creature who Bobby now had more cause to hate than anything in this universe.

Hank remembered looking down at Sheila, whose hair glowed coppery-gold in the light cast by his drawn arrow. He had never seen her look so sad as she tried to comfort her brother. "I'm sorry, Bobby," she said softly.

The young Barbarian scrubbed his tears away with the back of his hand, adopting a fierce look of painful rage. "Don't feel sorry for me, Sheila," he replied. "Feel sorry for Venger."

It was these words that stuck with the Ranger now. As he and his friends milled about the craterous, almost alien, site of the Dragon's Graveyard, surrounded by the bones of mammoth creatures long dead, he again thought of the boy's words from the cave, and they worried him.

Bobby reached out to Sheila, who was holding Uni, and she lowered the feeble animal gently into her brother's arms. He clutched Uni as tightly as he felt he could without hurting her. Hank could see that the boy was crying again, though Bobby tried to hide it by burying his face in the unicorn's coat. "I don't know anything I can do for you, Uni," he muttered despairingly, though a violent glint caught in his eye. "Except make Venger sorry."

It was at that moment that Hank's will to keep silent broke and he voiced his concern. "Bobby," he said, "I'm worried about you. No kid your age should hate anybody this much." His eyes were wide with concern as he looked down at the boy, who was strangely cool in his fury.

"Like I said before, Hank," Bobby returned in a calm voice with an edge like jagged steel, "don't worry about me. Worry about Venger."

At that, he walked away, cradling Uni with extreme gentleness for all the pent-up wrath inside him. Hank watched him go and felt as if a little of his own innocence had died in that moment as well. The boy's demeanor was frightening. Hank prayed that Uni would survive her injuries and pull through, because in facing the prospect of losing something that important to him, the ten-year-old Barbarian had learned of a hatred more passionate than most people ever feel in a lifetime.

It left the Ranger with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, and a question that he didn't want to ask. -- What would the boy do if he did lose what he valued most?

Hank hoped, for Bobby's sake, that he'd never have to learn the answer.

* * *

"Clear off that table!"

Diana drew her staff and swiped it across the surface of the large oaken slab, spilling the items heaped upon it to the floor with a crash. Toby entered the small dark chamber behind her, staggering awkwardly under the Dreamer's dead weight. He sidestepped around the filthy goblets and half-rotted trays of food that littered the floor, probably left behind by the Orcs, and maneuvered his way to the table. He laid Teri down on it, then backed quickly away, rubbing fiercely at his hands as if he would never quite be able to clean them of the ruddy stains that marked them.

Diana turned to him as she leaned over the table, noting the haunted look in the boy's eyes. "It's okay, Toby, you can go," she said gently. "Thank you."

The Fighter headed, spellbound, for the door in a backward stagger as Ayesha entered the room behind him, panting. She shouldered her way past him and trembled for a moment as she, too, stared at the still Dreamer. "What can I do?" she suddenly asked, her voice full of urgent eagerness.

Presto shot her a backwards look as he rolled up his sleeves, flinching occasionally as each abrupt movement sent a sharp stab into his side. "Find some water if you can," he said dryly and the Paladin turned and bolted from the room.

Once the children were gone, Diana turned to Presto. "What do you really think?" she muttered quietly.

The Magician adjusted his broken glasses with both hands before meeting the Acrobat's eyes. "I think you should hand me those bandages if you still have them," he replied blankly.

Diana pulled the leftover pieces of the thin tapestry she had used to set Presto's ribs from where she had shoved them into her belt. She was glad, for as awkward as it had been to carry them that way, that she had been compelled to keep them. Presto took the roll of cloth from her outstretched hand with an unsettled look, then started to work.

He had Diana tear the rest of Teri's left sleeve away so he could see her shoulder better. With so much blood collecting around her wound, it helped very little. "Suction," Dr. Preston Myers muttered reflexively under his breath, trying to absorb the pooling liquid as best he could with some of the cloths in his hand. He shook his head in desperate frustration.

Diana watched her friend. For the first time, she noticed how tired he looked. And how much older. The several-day growth of stubble on his face, which he never seemed burdened with during their first stay in the Realm, was long enough to be obvious now. It was a strangely deeper red than the light auburn of his hair. Presto rubbed at his face with the back of his arm, trying to prevent any sweat from reaching his eyes. He flinched sharply as his ribs seemed to object to his movement, and a corner of his wrist brushed his brow, leaving behind a light streak of red that curved like a half-moon along his temple. The Magician's glasses began to slide again and Diana reached up to fix them for him so he was able to continue what he was doing.

Presto wrapped the remainder of the makeshift bandages tightly around the injured area, securing the bulk of them directly over the wound. They slowly began to darken, beginning as a spindle-point above Teri's shoulder which would eventually bloom outward like a macabre red sunset spreading across still water. The tourniquet had slowed the bleeding, but it wouldn't do very much for very long.

". . . oh, Jesus . . . ," Presto murmured, and Diana had difficulty determining if her friend was cursing or praying.

Finally, Presto raised his head and shook it. He picked up a ratty, white tablecloth from where it had fallen to the floor and began to wipe his bloodsoaked hands. "I don't think there's anything more I can do," he said in a hushed and cracked voice.

Diana winced. It was the outcome she had expected, but she still hated the sound of it. She placed the back of her hand on Teri's forehead, which was moistened with sweat and streaked with dark blood. The flesh was cold beneath her knuckles. "Presto, there has to be something more," she insisted, against her own common sense.

Presto narrowed his eyes at her. "Diana, I'm not a surgeon, I'm a pediatrician. And my only stint in emergency medicine was during my ER rotation in medical school . . . years ago! And don't forget, at the time all I really wanted to do was research. If you were an EMT, even you probably have more experience in trauma than I do. Besides," he added, allowing the threadbare, no-longer-white tablecloth to puddle to the floor, "I'm out of anything substantial to work with."

"You have your hat!" Diana exclaimed, almost in a panicked yell, as she grabbed the weapon from his head and threw in into his hands. "Don't you think you can come up with something?"

"Diana . . . ," Presto muttered despondently. He looked into the Acrobat's face, which was hard and resolute, though her eyes were clouded over with a glistening watery film. He sighed in defeat. "I'll try," Presto acquiesced, "But don't expect a miracle." He opened the mouth of his hat to the ceiling and began waving his hand over it. "Alacazam--"

"Presto!"

The Magician stopped short and turned to the door in time to see Varla gallop through it, clutching tightly to Uni's mane. "Presto," she repeated in a pant, "Outside . . . big trouble!"

"What is it?" Diana asked.

"It's Bobby," the Mystic replied hysterically. "I--I don't know . . . I think . . . Something's really wrong with him!"

Presto looked from Teri to his daughter and sighed deeply. The memory of the fire in the Barbarian's eyes scared him and he felt his insides twist into tight knots. Without a word, he placed his hat back on his head and took a step toward the door.

"Presto!" Diana called after him. "We can't--"

"Wait for us in the hall, Varla," Presto murmured to his daughter. After the girl had grudgingly obeyed, turning Uni around to retreat from the room, the Magician turned back to Diana. "Look," he said, keeping his voice low, "I think she's right. I think there is something wrong with him. I don't know what it is, but I saw it . . . strange . . . in his eyes before we came up here. It might be Kadysse. Right now, for as much as I hate to say it, the best thing we can do for Teri – probably the only thing left that we can do – is to make sure Bobby doesn't get himself killed . . . or anyone else."

A wave of dread washed over the Acrobat. She forced her next words out with great difficulty. She didn't really want to know the answer. "You think she's going to die, don't you?"

Presto glanced at the Dreamer's inert form on the table. "I don't know." He avoided Diana's eyes when he looked back. "It doesn't look good."

The Acrobat squeezed her eyes shut as if the answer had physically wounded her. She swallowed hard. "Do you actually think Bobby would--?"

"I don't know," Presto repeated, a desperate crack in his voice. "But we've got to stop him somehow."

Diana nodded hesitantly and she and Presto made for the door behind Varla. Toby was still in the hall and joined them, only too relieved to get away from that room. They saw Ayesha racing toward them with a broken piece of pottery, drops of water marking a trail behind her as she ran. Finding the water had been no easy task, especially in the ravaged gardens of Tardos. What little the Paladin did manage to collect, she placed in the cracked clay pot that she had found and made her way back to the room as quickly as she could.

Diana stopped in her tracks as she spotted the girl. "Where are you going?" Ayesha cried.

The Acrobat turned quickly and faced her. "Stay here with her," she said, motioning toward the room. "We'll be right back." If what Presto said was true, and (judging by Varla's panicked demeanor) if it was as bad as it sounded, this was something that Ayesha shouldn't see.

"Won't you need help?" Ayesha pressed.

"Yes, we do," Presto responded. "Right here. Stay with Teri until we get back. I've set her shoulder, now I need someone to watch over her." He stared at the young Paladin intently, taking her gently by the arms. "Can you do that, Ayesha?" It seemed the best way to keep the child occupied, especially since Teri's condition didn't seem to cripple Ayesha as badly as it nearly had Toby. The young girl nodded dutifully and entered the room with her water pot as the other four Young Ones and Uni made their way to the exit.

Once inside the room, the silence was eerie. Ayesha slowly approached the still Dreamer and her hands began to tremble. She was forced to hurry the last few steps toward the table for fear that the pot would slip from her grasp and shatter on the stone floor below. She hadn't realized that she had been holding her breath until she released it in a slow quivering sigh.

Out of the blue, she remembered telling her mother a few weeks ago about how she and her friends at home were interested in volunteering at the local hospital. With a twist of her gut, she suddenly felt that she didn't want to do that anymore. Her chin shuddered uncontrollably and tears began streaming, unchecked, down her face. Now, more than ever before, the Paladin wanted desperately to go home. To be away from all of . . . this.

She looked around for a moment, regaining some composure with her eyes away from Teri. She spotted a tattered tablecloth on the floor, but noticed that it was already saturated with blood. Her eyes scanned the dim room again. They finally settled on a corner of the red cape that spanned her shoulders. She gripped the corner and, after some considerable struggling, managed to tear a strip of it off. She wadded it into a ball and dipped it into the water she had brought. It took her a good long time before she could bring herself to use it, but she eventually, tentatively, began dabbing at the horrid blood on Teri's face. Each time Ayesha squeezed the cloth, the water scattered the blood and dirt in little swollen rivers that streaked down the Dreamer's ashen cheeks, but it didn't seem to do much else.

She dipped the cloth back into the clay pot and the water crimsoned, faintly obscuring the bottom of the bowl and even staining Ayesha's hand, settling darker into the areas around her fingernails. The girl visibly shuddered, but she continued at her bleak task.

Everything suddenly felt so hopeless. What was Uncle Bobby going to do now? If only she hadn't wanted to go to that stupid amusement park! None of this would have ever happened! She looked down at Teri. The Dreamer wasn't moving at all; no flutter of awareness in her eyelids, no ripple of muscle that those sleeping tend to possess. Something clearly was not there anymore. Even the rising and falling of her chest lacked any kind of rhythm, becoming instead slight, shallow, and weak. Ayesha shifted her gaze directly downward to Teri's right hand, cast distally to the side, fingers curled inward toward her open palm. Something in Ayesha's brain told her to take the other girl's hand; to not let her be alone. Or die alone. That thought shook the Paladin and she couldn't bring herself to touch Teri's hand with anything more than her trembling fingertips. The young girl was unnerved by how chilled the other woman's skin was.

I'm so sorry! she thought miserably as though the Dreamer could hear her. "What am I going to do?" she murmured into the silent corners of the darkened chamber; her eyes were blurred and stinging painfully from the tears.

"Alas, if only tears could undo time."

At the sound of the voice, Ayesha dropped the cloth from her fingers with a start, her other hand darting away from Teri and for the blade at her belt. (Strangely, she seemed more comfortable with her weapon in her hand than the now-bloodsoaked rag.) A tall figure stepped out of the shadows in front of her, Venger's grim expression only partly visible in the dim light cast from the hallway outside the room.

"D-Dungeon Master?" Ayesha stated in surprise before her tears renewed themselves. "W-What are you doing here?"

"I am here to help you," Venger replied as he continued advancing until the remainder of the shadows ebbed away from him.

"Please," the girl whimpered, "do something!"

Venger merely shook his head sadly. "There is nothing that I can do."

Ayesha's face twisted, taking on the look of someone who was about to explode from grief. "But you said--!"

Venger shook his head again, his eyes never leaving hers. "I said, my child, that there is nothing that I can do." The Dungeon Master intensified his glare. "I am here to help you . . . with what you need to do."

Ayesha's features softened through her confusion. "Me? But what can I do?"

"Remember," Venger coaxed gently. "Search your heart and recall the first piece of information that I conveyed to you upon your arrival in the Realm."

Ayesha tried to focus, but her mind remained clouded by lingering panic and rushed desperation. "I-I don't know," she announced hurriedly. "What was it?"

Venger shook his head. "I can not tell you directly," he told her. "My duty as your guide is to help you find what is already in your heart. What did I tell you, my child? Look into your own mind and remember."

Ayesha tried to calm herself and focus. Thoughts from the past few days flooded her memory, often interrupted by the events of today -- the tragedy, the biting fear, the constant worry about what was happening outside at this very moment. Ayesha tried to rid herself of these thoughts and concentrate harder. To aid her in this, she removed her blade hilt from her belt and gripped it tightly. Suddenly, her eyes flew wider and she looked at it.

"A warrior!" she said. "You told me I could be a formidable warrior!" She looked at Venger urgently, praying that he would tell her that she was right.

The Dungeon Master smiled a bit, giving Ayesha some encouragement. "That is not all," he announced. "For, while a warrior exudes great power and strength on the surface, that is not where your true power lies." He took another step forward and bent his head slightly to her, as though pressing her to continue. "What else did I tell you? What have you learned?"

Ayesha sighed deeply, more visibly relaxed as she concentrated once again. What was it? What had she learned? She looked up and coolly met Venger's eyes again. "You said that I would find that I had more power than I realized."

The Dungeon Master smiled. "Have you?"

Ayesha nodded involuntarily. "I think so," she replied. "I never thought I would have to trick my way out of a prison cell, or have to fight in any kind of battle, or . . . ." She looked at Teri's motionless body as several tears leaked from her eyes again. ". . . or have to take care of a fallen friend." She spoke her words as if guided by another, but they were sincere, and the young girl could feel their truth as she uttered them.

Venger placed a hand upon her shoulder, squeezing with a strong, reassuring grip. "You do have more power than you realize. And you are now beginning to discover the wellspring of that power. You are unique, child, because your heart is filled with the virtuous spirits of not one, or even two, but three of the former champions of this Realm. It lives within you, as it does the others, but threefold! The wisdom of the Ranger, the compassion of the Thief, the courage of the Barbarian -- it is your family's legacy to you."

Ayesha trembled at his words and the heavy importance of them, not wholly wanting to believe him.

"Do not fear your gift, child," he concluded. "It dwells strongly within you and you need only to tap it. Search your heart and find the power you possess . . . Paladin!"

She took a deep, deliberate breath. His words gave her strength -- strength that she didn't know she had -- and Ayesha was filled with a deeper determination than before. "What can I do?" she said in a strong and level voice.

Venger straightened to his full height. "Recall that the power dwelling within your weapon is limited only by what you can believe," he said. "You, as well as your friends, have yet to learn of their full potential. The same holds true for the force that resides within you. Listen to what it tells you. You will know what to do."

Ayesha turned from him and focused her thoughts inward, allowing her eyes to fall shut. She imagined the people she loved and cared about, as well as those new friends she had come to respect and value. Her father (his cunning), her mother (her heart), her uncle (his strength) . . . each one had given her the profound gift of themselves that stayed with her even now. Ayesha thought about the trials that they had faced in this world. She was gripped by a staunch determination that they would make it home again. They had to! She tightened her hold on the hilt of her sword. She could see them all there . . . home and safe . . . and the fire within her grew.

Ayesha opened her eyes to see the room a bit brighter than it had been before. At first, she thought she had unknowingly activated the power of her weapon. Something beyond herself prompted her to look down. There, she saw that the light was not coming from the golden blade of her sword, but from her own hands. Her fists were aglow with a white luster, causing the brightness that now filled the chamber. The sword hilt slipped from her grip, but there was so much blood pounding in Ayesha's ears, she never heard the loud echoing clatter it made as it struck the stone floor. The girl's lips parted, more in awe than in fear, as her palms radiated with a white-hot light. She could feel a burning pulsation beneath her skin, but she felt no pain, and the longer she gazed at them, the brighter they grew. After several moments, the glow traveled the length of her arms until it engulfed her completely and she stood, trancelike; a candle illuminating the room and chasing the darkness into the furthest corners. The burning pulse turned into a tingling warmth that she felt throughout her entire body.

Then, with neither a word from Venger nor a conscious thought of her own, the young Paladin turned her hands upon the Dreamer and the entire room seemed to explode in a flash of white brilliance.

* * *

Darkness.

Although his mind ignited like fire each time he tried to formulate a thought, the overall essence pervading it was that of total darkness. He felt entombed, trapped within his own head where only black pain surrounded him. It was suffocating. It blazed like a flame of pure shadow, burning all rational thought from his mind and leaving it empty and dark . . . except, of course, for the unquenchable feeling of rage.

Pain.

It was everywhere. It swelled like a tempest and crashed upon him from all sides. So all-encompassing, in fact, that it was a further struggle to recall the original reason for it. Something reminded him. A voice in his head.

She is dead, Barbarian.

He swung around wildly, lashing out at the voice that seemed to come from all directions. He was vaguely aware of numerous terrified cries outside the darkness that shrouded his mind, but they were insignificant. He searched his surroundings with eyes that seemed to see nothing but blackness and listened for that voice again.

Anger.

The feeling seemed to rise like a sickness; spreading its infection throughout his entire being -- although mired in confusion. Where was the rage coming from? He didn't know. The darkness in his head prevented any type of focus. His mind was a shattered mirror, the splintered fragments of thought linked only by the feeling of anger that flooded through him. But why? What had happened to cause this? He couldn't remember. Until he heard it again.

Dead.

His head cocked to the side to listen and he could feel a sneer spreading across his features.

She perished trying to protect you.

The voice was cold, malicious, and distinctly female. Some part of him recognized it. The scattered pieces of his mind couldn't pinpoint how he knew her, but he did know that he hated her to the depths of his very being.

Trying to protect you . . . from me!

"Kadysse," he snarled. That was her name.

A flash rushed through his brain and, somehow, somewhere, he knew that she was smiling.

They want to stop you now, Barbarian. Stop you from reaching me. From getting your revenge.

Hatred.

Suddenly he knew. She had done this. Taken the thing that was most precious to him. She would suffer for it.

And anyone who tried to stop him would join her.

She is dead, Barbarian, the voice said again. Behold. Even the ones that you ordered to save her have returned . . . in failure. And now they wish to prevent you from taking your vengeance. Destroy them. All of them. Then, come for me. I shall wait for you.

He felt his grip suddenly tighten. In it, he could feel the coarse roughness of a heavy, crude weapon. His eyes seemed to open then, the shadows that had clouded his vision lifting. He could see people around him, through eyes that were once clear and blue. Once. Now they were a dull and lifeless gray. Nearly black with rage. He passed them over the individuals around him, but the shattered fragments of his mind barely registered them. He realized that he knew these people, knew quite well who they were, but . . . .

No matter.

It didn't matter.

They are trying to stop you.

They were trying to stop him.

You must not let them.

He wouldn't let them.

He clenched his teeth tightly, along with the wooden club in his hand. He could see that the grip of the heavy weapon in his fist was now streaked with red. Blood from his hands . . . blood that wasn't his. Seeing it sent a fresh stab of pain and hatred that only added fuel to his fury. The one who had caused this pain was going to pay. As would anyone who got in his way. Some distant part of himself tugged at that thought, trying to fight it, but he buried it beneath a mound of hatred. He tightened his grip and stood ready to strike down the first one who came at him . . . .

Somewhere in the darkness, Kadysse clenched a glowing fist and smiled.

* * *

"Diana, watch it!"

The Acrobat vaulted back, away from the swinging club, catching herself in a one-handed crouch as she stared across the distance she had managed to put between herself and Bobby. She froze, stupefied by the maddened look in her friend's eyes.

"Presto!" Eric cried to the Magician, "Can't you find something in that hat of yours to take care of this!"

"Damn it, Eric, I'm a doctor! Not a S.W.A.T. team member!" Presto quipped crossly as he rummaged through his hat.

"Don't make me laugh!" the Barbarian snarled, his voice not sounding like his own as he turned on the Magician.

Presto whipped his hand out of his weapon, his fist tightly clenching a large, shiny piece of metallic gold as he thrust it in Bobby's direction. The young man paused for a brief second, which Presto used as an opportunity to see what his hat had produced. True to form, and to the hat's strange sense of ironic humor, Presto now held in his grip an oversized, golden policeman's badge. The words "Halt, in the name of the law!" were emblazoned across the bottom of the crest.

"Oh, that's gonna stop him for sure!" Eric wailed.

Recovering, Bobby took a step toward the Magician. Presto's head shot up in alarm and he gave a nervous cry, tossing the badge at the Barbarian. Instinctively, Bobby raised his club like a bat and swatted the metallic crest high into the air and over the rock walls that surrounded them.

Hank despairingly watched it as it flew. They had never encountered anything like this before. Not only had the Realm quite possibly claimed its first casualty, but unless Bobby snapped out of it, the count might very easily come to two . . . or more. As he started to bring his focus back down to the earth, the Ranger paused, concentrating his glare on the three evil beings still hovering in the sky. His eyes met those of Kadysse and she returned his gaze with a triumphant sneer. Hank caught his breath. That's it!

Quickly, Hank made a quarter-turn and brought his bow up to his cheek. Narrowing his eyes for but a moment to seek his target, the Ranger drew his arm back and fired. He continued firing until a fusillade of golden arrows was rocketing toward the dark creatures in the sky. The Mistress of War raised an amused eyebrow as an invisible shield of protection halted the arrows several feet from their intended targets. Hank did not stop launching his attacks, however. He loosed arrow upon arrow until his right arm ached from the rhythmic drawing of his bowstring. The Dark Mistress merely stared him down tauntingly.

The Ranger released his fruitless arrows with a cry of outrage, then shot an accusing finger up into the sky, his eyes burning with anger. "Let him go, Kadysse!" he shouted. With a despairing grunt, Hank sent one final shot along its path toward the Mistress of War.

A sharp blow resounded through the valley when the arrow had only cleared the bow by a few feet. Hank suddenly found himself blown back by the force of it and sprawled on the ground. Sheila was almost immediately at his side. Both looked up to see Bobby standing over them, slightly bringing down the club that he had used to deflect Hank's arrow away from Kadysse.

The Barbarian scowled down at them. "I told you to stay out of this, Ranger!" he spat.

"Bobby," Hank pleaded as he started to regain his bearings, "Listen to me! You—"

"You know," Bobby smirked with amused hostility, "I've had it about up to HERE with you and your pathetic reasoning!" He pointed his club in the direction of Kadysse in the sky. "That murdering bitch is mine! And if you think I won't go through you to get to her, believe me . . . I will!" Bobby's voice lowered into a vicious growl as his blank eyes flashed at his family.

"What's happening to him?" Sheila breathed in a desperate whisper as she knelt at Hank's side.

The Ranger's eyes remained heatedly fixed past Bobby at the wicked creature in the sky behind him. "She's using his anger at her . . . against us," he replied. "That must be what she does. What must have happened here to the people of the Realm. We have to stop her!"

The Mistress of War mocked Hank with villainous laughter. "Arrogant fool!" she proclaimed, her voice full of scorn. "There is nothing you can do to stop me! As you can see, Ranger, there is to be only one outcome here! Destroy him, if you are able! He certainly will not hesitate to end your miserable existence! Either way, the victory shall be ours!"

"Never," Hank breathed as he stood up, allowing his bow to slip from his fingers and into the dust at his feet. He took a deliberate step toward Bobby.

"Hank!" Sheila pled desperately, "Please, don't!"

"I won't fight him, Sheila," he returned gently. "I can't let Kadysse win. One way or another, I've got to make him listen to me."

Hank raised his empty hands out in front of him as he took a step nearer to Bobby. The young Barbarian followed his movements, a look of utter rage on his face, his arms poised to swing the deadly weapon in his grip. "I'm warning you!"

We can still reach him, Hank thought as he watched the young man before him. If he was totally gone, he wouldn't be giving us all these warnings! He's trying to stop himself . . . and he needs help!

"Bobby," Hank began evenly. Sheila didn't know where the calmness in his voice was coming from. She picked up his bow as she, too, rose to her feet, clutching it tightly to her chest.

"Bobby, I need you to just listen to me, pal," Hank said as he took another step. "I think I know what's going on here." He cast a sideways look up into the sky at Kadysse before refocusing his attention on Bobby. "It was Teri, wasn't it? The reason that Kadysse couldn't control you when she tried before."

Bobby flinched almost unnoticeably, but held his threatening stance.

Hank kept eye contact with the young man for what felt like a very long time. He carefully weighed the thought of taking another step closer before actually doing so. When he did, he was forced to expel some of his fear in a deep exhale, as he was fully within the range of Bobby's club now. Over the Barbarian's shoulder, Hank saw Eric moving toward them, but halted the Cavalier's advances with a stern glare. He then turned back to his brother-in-law, his friend.

"Look," Hank resumed, keeping his voice calm and low, "This is not you doing this. You hear me? You've got to fight her, Bobby." (Please, fight it! he thought, his mind far more frantic than his spoken words. Because there's no way I can fight back. Not against you. Not like this.)

"You can't let her take you way from us, too," Hank insisted. "Teri wouldn't want that."

At the second mention of the Dreamer's name, Bobby almost seemed to hear him. His face softened a bit . . . and Hank saw this. "Bobby," Hank said, a glimmer of hope surfacing in his voice, "You hold onto her. Whatever you used to help you before, use it again now. If you let her go, Kadysse wins. Come on, . . . please! Teri's only gone if you let go of her."

Bobby stared for a moment. Then, almost like the jumpstart of a battery, his violent anger returned, his eyes igniting like torches at the Ranger. "Shut the hell up!" he spat. "Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" With a sudden and abrupt movement, he drew his club back.

"Bobby, stop this!" a voice cried from the empty space between the two men. Sheila quickly tossed her hood back and extended one arm toward her brother, the other still holding Hank's bow.

The Barbarian froze in mid-swing. "Sheila!" he growled gravely. "Stay out of this! I mean it!"

"You won't do this, Bobby!" the Thief insisted, ignoring his demand. Her glare became less frightened, regaining that matronly adamant glower of her past when she felt Bobby needed her protection. Now again, even if it cost her life, she would guard her brother and everyone else that she loved. "I know you won't," she said again, "Not to Hank and not to me! You're our brother and we love you . . . more than anything! You have to fight her, Bobby, please! Fight her and come back to us!"

Bobby's arms trembled as he stared at the woman before him and he began to lower his club. It descended to waist height, rather shakily, almost as though a part of him fought the movement; wanting to keep the weapon raised.

His eyes converged at a point on the ground as he tried to focus. What had happened to him? What was happening to him? What was he doing? His shoulders rose and fell in large movements as he panted arduously, as if the mere questions that he was trying to formulate were, in and of themselves, a heavy burden. It was almost as though there wasn't enough room in his mind for his own thoughts. Something kept trying to force them out.

He looked up again and met Sheila's eyes. They were full of fear, but not for herself. He then looked past her at Hank. The Ranger unblinkingly met Bobby's gaze. The Barbarian knew those eyes well. They were the eyes of someone who always was -- and who would always remain -- the hero of the boy he had once been. Bobby shook his head and blinked hard. "What's happening to me?" he managed in a labored voice.

Kadysse was no longer amused. In fact, she appeared to be caging utter fury as she glared down at the events below. She slowly raised an empty hand and gradually clenched it into a quivering fist, focusing her heated stare on the Barbarian.

Almost simultaneously, Bobby screamed; A terrifying, blood-curdling cry that caused all around him to jerk in alarm. He clutched his head tightly, his face contorting into a look of absolute agony. Sheila extended a worried hand to her brother just as his head jolted upward, along with his weapon.

"DOWN!" Hank yelled as Sheila felt herself cast to the side and to the ground. A forceful wind, that she somehow knew to be the force of Bobby's club, rushed by her head as she fell. When she landed, she whipped her head around, searching desperately for her husband.

She spotted him lying prone on the rocky earth a distance from her.

Hank groaned as he raised himself. He had leapt out of the way and dove to the other side, sliding several feet through the dust and rolling another before stopping. When he did, he struggled to get his bearings, but froze when two animal-pelted boots appeared a short distance away from his prone form. Hank's eyes trailed up to the Barbarian's face, which had twisted into a vicious sneer. "I warned you, Ranger."

In the sky above, Kadysse regained her triumphant air. A corner of her already-grinning mouth curled farther upward. On the ground below, Bobby's actions mirrored hers exactly, his own smile widening as he raised his club high above his head.

Diana couldn't stand still any longer. She bolted forward, not knowing what she was going to do, but knowing that she had to do something! Upon seeing her move, Eric did the same and the two raced across the valley floor. The remainder of the Young Ones quickly followed.

Hank stared up at the young man who towered over him. The Ranger could no longer read his friend's blank eyes . . . which were utterly cold and dead . . . and a dreadful fear shook him to his soul. He reflexively raised an arm over his face in a defensive gesture.

Bobby froze as a scarce glint caught his eye. Dangling in between two of Hank's fingers was a small metallic charm. The Ranger didn't even seem to notice that he had acquired it until he saw the Barbarian standing statuesque above him. Bobby's facial expression changed to one of pained confusion and he winced as he began panting heavily again. Hank glanced momentarily at the object that was now suspended from his fingers. It was a heart-shaped pendent . . . Teri's.

I must have picked it up when I slid through the dirt! he thought as he refocused his eyes on Bobby and started to get up.

The Barbarian was no longer paying attention to Hank. His eyes tightly clenched, he doubled over at the waist while the arms holding his club remained high in the air. It was as though he was physically battling his own body -- his own mind. He staggered backwards unsteadily as his shoulders rose and fell in a tortured pant. The Young Ones came to a stop behind him.

He's fighting her! Hank thought as he made it to his knees, keeping Teri's necklace clasped tightly in his hand.

The Barbarian fought to open his eyes and released his club with one hand, using it to tightly grip his head. He pressed his palm into his skull, as though he was physically trying to hold together the broken shards of his mind. "Oh, . . . God . . . ," he managed in a voice that was cracked and strained, "Hank, . . . somebody, . . . help me!"

"Bobby?"

The soft voice came from the back of the crowd of Young Ones. It was filled with worry, but it was also filled with strength. Bobby's body went rigid when he heard it and he suddenly turned to face the group that had assembled behind him.

With equal amounts of shock, each of the Young Ones turned slowly, simultaneously parting the crowd to reveal two figures at the rear; one blonde and dressed in fitted chain mail, the other taller, dark-haired, in plain blue and brown. Bobby shuddered at the sight of the latter.

"Teri?" he breathed, his club completely slipping from his grip as his rigid body turned to jelly and he weakly staggered back.

Teri stood there, looking back at him. Her blue tunic was jaggedly torn at the shoulder, and the shredded edges stiff with the blood that seemed to saturate both her bandage and much of her clothing. She was panting heavily; not just from racing down the long flight of stairs, but also from fighting the intense fear triggered by what was happening to Bobby. Her complexion was flushed, like two flames burning beneath the skin of her cheeks, though her lips were thin and pale. She could feel the others' eyes on her, but didn't acknowledge them.

Bobby stared for a moment in disbelief. This couldn't be her! He had seen what had happened! This was an illusion . . . or a ghost. It wasn't possible! But Bobby took a step toward her anyway.

He was jarred to a sudden halt as an intense pain rocked his senses. Both hands flew up to grip his head as the Barbarian unleashed a soul-shaking scream. He squeezed his eyes shut and staggered again.

"Bobby!" Teri cried and rushed forward.

Eric, suddenly himself aware that the Dreamer was actually real, stepped in front of her, arms extended. "No, Teri, don't!"

She looked up into his eyes pleadingly and gently eased his hands away from her. "Let me go," she urged. The Cavalier reluctantly allowed her to pass.

Bobby continued to struggle with himself and managed to open one eye, casting it to where Kadysse sat astride her Nightmare, hand aglow with violent energy.

"Get - the hell - out of - my - head!!" the Barbarian spat, emitting another grunt of pain and sinking to his knees as Teri reached his side.

The Dreamer cradled his face in her hands and spoke to him urgently. "Fight her, Bobby! You have to fight!"

Hank raced over to where Sheila held his bow. He retrieved it from her and instantly began firing a hail of arrows into the air again. Instead of blocking his attack this time, the evil creatures above their heads dispersed and scattered, so that they might better retaliate against the Young Ones from different directions.

This granted Bobby a moment's reprieve from the onslaught in his mind. When Kadysse pulled her Nightmare to a halt, he saw it. When she cursed the interfering Dreamer to the darkest depths of the Underworld, he heard it. And when she reached out with a fiery hand to strike the girl down, he was ready to act.

As the blast neared the two kneeling on the ground, Bobby sprang to his feet, simultaneously sweeping his club up into his hand and lashing out with a mighty crack, batting the magical bolt back toward its source. Kadysse shrieked as the blast exploded against her and her steed, sending them plummeting to the ground with a forceful thud.

Bobby hunched over, leaning heavily against his club. Teri approached him from behind and Hank broke into a run from where he had been firing at the trio in the sky. He appeared at the other side of the weakened Barbarian and took him by the arm.

Bane and Mordreth landed beside the downed Dark Mistress as she rose to her feet, enraged. Her golden eyes flared with fever, the only color visible in her lividly pale face, and they stood out like twin points of screaming callous fire. She raised both hands, clawed and vengeful, toward the three humans directly in front of her. Bane and Mordreth raised their arms outward as well and, together, the three creatures combined their powers, building up a force of blinding light.

"You shall suffer the ultimate consequences for this, fools!" Kadysse snarled almost inaudibly through her teeth from between her consociates.

Bobby lifted his head unsteadily and stared through a bleary fog at the building magic. "No way," he said in a hushed voice.

In an intense flash, the three Forces of Evil released their spell and Bobby's weak legs suddenly found strength. He pulled his arm from the Ranger's grasp, shouldered his way through Teri and Hank, and ran forward, placing himself in front of the attack.

"Bobby!" Sheila cried in horror.

The Barbarian averted his eyes as the blast reached them. He heard an impact rock the canyon, but didn't feel it. What he did feel was a type of heat that reminded him of sitting too close to a campfire. He opened his eyes to see the back of a scarlet red cape.

Eric.

The Cavalier, with his shield, had deflected the attack back at the three evil creatures, though a remnant heat from the energy lingered like a haze in the air around them.

A mingled cry of outraged protest filled the canyon as a circle of light surrounded the trio and reduced their images to nothing more than shadowy silhouettes. Suddenly a beam of light rocketed from behind the group of Young Ones, striking the orb prison and casting it out of the valley. The Young Ones watched it as it soared out of sight. They turned to see Venger behind them, the magical glow from his hands dying down.

Bobby gazed in the direction in which the orb had traveled for a moment before dropping leadenly to his knees. Teri and Hank were at his sides almost immediately. For a moment, the only thing the Barbarian could do was stare straight ahead.

Breaking his protective stance, Eric finally turned to face the three behind him. He smiled wearily down at Bobby, scrubbing the sweat away from his brow with the back of his gauntlet.

"Bobby, are you okay?" the Barbarian could hear Hank asking from his right, but at the moment, the young man's attention was being drawn elsewhere.

Bobby turned shakily to look at Teri. He reached up with a trembling hand to touch her. Although it was still streaked with blood and grime along her brow and down her cheeks, her face was no longer ashen and deathly pale. He couldn't believe that she was truly real -- real, and kneeling here beside him. His heart twisted at the memory of what had happened . . . and most especially what had happened afterward. -- Memories that were quickly returning to him with horrifying clarity as the shattered fragments of his mind began to refit together. Something of a tremor shook him as he met her eyes, then, finally, Hank's.

"What have I done?" he choked out.

"Hey, pal," Hank said as he took Bobby insistently by the shoulder, trying to reassure him with his voice. "You didn't do anything—"

Bobby shook his head bitterly. "Don't patronize me, Hank. I'm not a ten-year-old kid anymore," he said, shreds of anger lacing his voice. "I could have killed you!" He squeezed his eyes shut, casting his scathing glare inward. "How could I have done this?" he whispered ruefully before opening his eyes again, allowing them to travel slowly over each of his friends and loved ones. "I'm so sorry, . . . all of you."

Hank's reassuring smile never diminished and Sheila joined him on Bobby's right side; her own countenance mirroring that of her husband. "Everything's okay now, Bobby," she said. "I knew you would find a way to fight her. I knew it!"

"Kadysse'll think twice before messing with Bobby the Barbarian again," Eric added, slipping his shield over one of his arms as he crossed them over his chest. "Am I right, Short-Stuff?"

"Eric," Bobby said, grinning mirthlessly at Eric's humor as his gaze returned to the Cavalier. For a moment, his words of apology failed him. Then, all he could say was, "Thank you . . . for saving us . . . . That was--"

Eric swiped a hand modestly through the air. "I know, I know," he returned. "It was 'only the second-bravest thing you ever saw.'" His eyes traveled to Teri, and Bobby's vision followed them.

Teri came around to kneel in front of him and placed a hand gently on either side of his face. His eyes went, automatically, to where the stiff blood-brown bandage wrapped around her shoulder. A shadow passed over his features and Teri followed his line of vision. Impatiently, she gripped at the stubborn, bulky cloth that Presto had applied and managed to pull it free of her shoulder. Underneath, though her naked skin and shredded tunic were covered with dried blood, the wound itself had undeniably vanished. Bobby drew in a sharp breath.

"How—?" he started to ask.

"Shh." Teri softly kissed his mouth closed and brought his eyes back to her own.

She didn't say a word, but reassured him silently all the same as she wrapped her arms around him. She felt the muscles in his back expand as he, likewise, held onto her for dear life. Bobby was still able to smell the metallic hint of blood in the air, still able to feel the stiff, dried cloth of Teri's shirt scratching against his skin as he held her tightly. He hadn't wanted to grip her so fiercely, worried that he might hurt her, but she felt so real in his arms, warm and alive in such a way that he never thought she would be again, that he couldn't let go.

He became oblivious to anyone standing around them as he clutched her tighter, thoughts of how he never imagined holding her again flooding back. His chest hitched against hers and he could feel tears burning behind his eyelids as he squeezed them shut.

And he cried then. For himself, for the friends he felt he had betrayed, and for the woman he loved more than his own life. His body trembled with the anguish of everything he had nearly lost. And as he felt Teri's familiar arms tighten around him, her fingers threading into his hair and her body pressed to his heart, Bobby the Barbarian cried -- muffled and low and desperate. The kind of crying of which he never would have thought himself capable . . . until now.

Ayesha's eyes were, likewise, brimming. She wrapped her arms around herself and took a step back, feeling herself come into contact with someone. A hand came down gently upon the girl's shoulder. She looked up into Toby's face and gave him a weary smile.

"You look exhausted," he said sympathetically. "Are you okay?"

Ayesha's appearance still seemed drained, but she couldn't help but beam at his question. "I've never felt better in my life!" she said, blinking tears over the rims of her lower eyelids.

Presto gravitated to the girl's side. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

Ayesha seemed in a daze as she leaned wearily against Toby's arm. "I used my legacy," she replied cryptically in a quiet voice as she took in the sight of her Uncle Bobby holding the woman he loved; then that of her parents standing beside them.

Presto stared in disbelief for a moment before his gaze shifted to Venger. The Dungeon Master nodded knowingly and turned back to the group. The Magician's lips parted in realization. "That's right," he breathed. "She's a paladin!" A corner of his mouth curved upward and he shook his head in amazement as his eyes refocused on Teri. "Wow," he muttered.

After a few moments, Bobby began to notice the sensation of an object that had been in his hand, pressing dully against his palm. He glanced over Teri's shoulder and uncurled his fist. There, in his grasp, was the Dreamer's pendant. Bobby didn't know how he had come by it. Hank must have slipped it into his hand.

"Teri?" he muttered hoarsely as he pulled out of their embrace. She looked at him questioningly as he returned her gaze with a sad and penitent smile. He lifted his hand to her and opened it. "Lose something?" he asked.

Teri caught her breath as she reached forward to take the charm from him -- for the third time. She held it up and gazed at it for a moment. It began to glow softly, as it had before. The chain slipped down around her fingers and the pendant dangled at her wrist as she again met the Barbarian's eyes. She took his face in both hands and kissed him; a soft, lingering kiss which he returned for what felt like a long time before wrapping his arms around her again.

"I thought I'd lost you," Bobby said, despite his customary awkwardness triggered by, what he called, the "gushy stuff." Instead, he ignored everyone around him and simply spoke his heart. "You can never understand what you did for me today. You saved my life, Teri," he whispered into her ear. "That's three."

"I love you," she returned softly as tears began slipping down her cheeks.

Hank reached forward when he saw the Barbarian's body slacken suddenly. He made it to the young man's side and helped Teri ease him downward as Robert O'Brien slid to the ground in a dead faint.

"Will he be okay, Daddy?" Ayesha called from beside Toby.

The Ranger nodded up at his daughter with a weary smile. "He will now."

John had been watching from alongside Varla, who had slid down from Uni's back and was stroking the nervous animal. Uni stared at her longtime friend with a mixture of sorrow and relief. Varla smiled up at the unicorn -- a smile that withered upon seeing that Uni had suddenly become very jittery.

"What is it?" the Mystic asked as Uni's eyes focused on the horizon . . . the direction in which the evil trio had been cast by Venger.

Both Varla and John turned to follow Uni's gaze. "What?" John asked, almost in annoyance. "I don't see any—"

As if on cue, a blinding beam of light rocketed into the sky, piercing the clouds above and filling the horizon with its malevolent white blaze. Uni reared and danced skittishly as the column continued its ascent, then vanished just as suddenly past the heavens.

"Wh-What the heck was that?!?" John stuttered as he backed up a step.

Diana's hand found the boy's shoulder. "Balefire," she replied ominously before turning to the others, conveying the message that they already knew.

"Guys, I think our problems just got bigger."

* * *

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Author's Notes: I'd like to offer a few "thank yous" to those who had a big hand in helping me to (finally!) complete this chapter: my betas, of course, especially EQ who exhibited an extreme amount of patience with me; my boss for the lovely, unexpected, not 3, but 4-day weekend; and Evanescence for that kick-ass album that so put me in the mood to sink my teeth into this chapter!

Wow. It really didn't seem as though I had been away from this story for so long – until I had to go back and re-read previous chapters and refresh my memory as to details. Sorry, everyone. Thanks for your patience; hopefully there won't be any more delays like that until the end. (Which is only a few chapters away now!)

As far as references and citations go:

-- The opening epigraph comes from Miss Saigon.

-- Presto's "Damn it, Eric, I'm a doctor" speech is from the original Star Trek (of course!)

-- Although I desperately tried to avoid confusion and be as obvious as possible, for those readers who may not have seen the show in a long time, I thought I'd clarify that the entire opening sequence is a recounting of portions of The Dragon's Graveyard, a D&DC episode from Season 2.

-- The Peter Gabriel reference from the last chapter came from his song No Way Out. (Still can't spot it? *G*)

Coming Up: Chapter 16 brings our story closer to its ultimate conclusion as the Nameless One finally shows his incorporeal face! An unexpected sacrifice, some last-minute Gushy Stuff, the infamous and obligatory "Long-Goodbye," and angst and drama galore!

Hope you'll join me! *G*

To be continued…