JANAPURNA
Malison
Fight or run? Fight or run?
It wasn't Venger, thought Hank. But those things were quick like Venger. But he couldn't hit them. They were spectres. Mean, bad assed spectres with the power to rot his living body on the spot. They wouldn't be bothered by Bobby's club, and if Diana were to launch herself at one of them, she'd end up falling straight through it. Or worse...
Run.
He looked at them briefly. They were all still there, waiting for an answer. Even Eric, bless him.
"Run!"
The others didn't need to be told twice. Hank fired a bolt up into the eyes of one of the horses, startling it, and Presto hurled his plunger at the second creature. The bathroom implement passed straight through the winged beast, doing it absolutely no harm but at least distracting it enough for the group to get a good head start.
...Isn't it funny how aware of your outfit you become when you're fleeing for your very life?
Presto cursed his billowing robes for the umpteenth time since being "blessed" with them, holding his skirts bunched up around his thighs to keep him from tripping.
Sheila tugged her cape to herself rather a lot, partially to keep it from snagging, but mostly to cover her modesty since her dress had an annoying tendency to ride up. She sometimes wondered who had chosen the pink mini dress and thigh high boots as her costume, and what their motives were. At least she'd been given flat heels.
Bobby worried about chafing, and wished his hat was lighter.
Diana had trouble keeping her headband in place, and had started to consider the merits of a ponytail.
Hank had taken surprisingly well to his tunic and leggings, but made a point of never wondering why too much. His hair annoyed him, though. It was getting way too long and he had to keep flicking and blowing his fringe out of his eyes as he ran.
Eric didn't think about his heavy, uncomfortable armour this time, not how conspicuous it always made him, or how the boots had no grip whatsoever and conducted heat and cold like crazy and gave him blisters. As he ran and puffed and panted and slipped and clattered, he was only aware of how much pie he still had down his pants.
...Hank headed them towards the shelter of a nearby wood, hoping that the trees would slow the phantom horses down and perhaps give them somewhere to hide. All that the thick trees did, however, was shield the creatures from their view, and make running considerably more difficult. They could still hear the beasts tearing a rotten trail through the foliage towards them as they stumbled through the overgrown mud.
Diana, running ahead, heard a plaintive bleating behind her. She skidded, turning on her heel and sprinted back a way to where Bobby was trying to pick Uni up out of a muddy puddle. Unable to spare the breath to talk to the young boy, she scooped the stricken foal up out of Bobby's arms and slung her over her shoulder. Bobby tried to follow her, protesting, but found his own foot caught in the same mud patch. Diana was about to turn back yet again when she saw Hank swing the boy up into a fireman's lift and indicate to her to keep running on.
Bobby battled against the Ranger, twisting and flailing in his grasp.
"Put me down! I'm not a baby!"
"The undergrowth's real high here, Bobby," Sheila panted as she ran behind, "You and Uni are too short. You'll trip."
"So'll me and Presto," puffed Eric, trailing with the Magician, "any chance of a lift, Sheila?"
Sheila smiled briefly, behind her. It was only a short lapse of concentration, but it was enough. She stepped too hard on a slimy rock, and slipped to her knees. But before Hank could go to her, she was caught under her arms and lifted to her feet.
"Careful, Butterfeet."
"I know."
"Hurt?"
"No."
"Good."
The exchange took less than five seconds, and the Cavalier let go of Sheila's arm the moment she regained her balance, but still Hank found himself frowning as he pushed on through the forest. He wondered why he did...
"Hey!" The Acrobat stopped at the ridge of a hill and turned to the others again. "Hey, there's a house!"
Hank paused next to Diana and looked down at the building in the small clearing. It was ramshackle and sloping, far too tall to be adequately supported by its mouldy timber frame. Eric slid up beside him with the others and pulled a face.
"Ew. Looks a bit Texas Chainsaw Massacre, doesn't it?"
Hank chewed at his lip, unsure. "Won't Donner and Blitzen just rot it like they did the trees?"
Diana shifted the weight of the unicorn. "We've got a bit of headway. For now. If we get there before they see us, they might just pass us by."
Hank blinked slightly. That sounds like Ranger Talk!
Diana had already begun to scramble down the hill. Hank turned to the others.
"What do you guys think?"
"I think," came the seething voice from behind his shoulder, "you can put me down now."
"Oh." Hank remembered that he was still carrying the diminutive Barbarian, and released him. "Sorry."
The boy adjusted his helmet, scowling faintly and muttering to himself. Hank gave him an apologetic smile.
"Hey!" They both turned to see Sheila, half way down the hillside already, beckoning to them. The others were almost at the shack. "Come on!"
When did we make that decision?
But Bobby had begun clambering down after his sister, and since Hank could hardly make them all run back up the hill towards the spectral stallions, he simply sighed and followed the group to the house.
...By the time he got there, Eric was already pounding at the door. Sheila caught Hank's arm.
"Door's locked," she explained, "but we got our Stealth expert here to sneak us in."
"...Open this door! Let us in!.."
"He's like a ghost," added Diana with a smile, "comes and goes without a trace. The KGB call him The Black Cat..."
Eric stopped thumping the door and turned on the girls.
"Well I don't hear any other bright ideas!"
"Dat eez because you are drowink dem out, Comrade..."
"There's bound to be a loose slat or two," said Sheila over Diana's bad Russian accent, "I can slip in, cloaked, and open the door from insi..."
The door creaked open, and a gnarled, weatherbeaten old face peered through.
"What's all this racket, mm?"
"Oh... uh..." the kids stalled, a little taken aback at the old man's sudden appearance. Hank opened his mouth to explain when he was suddenly cut off by the horrible screeching of the phantom horses.
The old man tutted in irritation. "Oh dearie me, they're at it again are they, mm?"
"You..." Eric gesticulated wildly in the direction of the neigh, "...you know those guys?"
"Beastly creatures." The old man smacked his toothless gums together. "Oh well, I suppose you'd better come in, mm?"
There was another neigh, closer this time. The old man opened the door fully and the youngsters piled in, desperately.
They didn't notice the click of the lock behind them as they waited, breathlessly in the darkened shack for the stallions to pass by.
Once the flapping and screeching had faded into the distance a small light popped up. The old man shuffled towards them with his newly lighted candle.
"Well, then. Let's take a look at you, mm?" He ran the candlelight over each of their faces. "Well well well! Three fine young men! And two pretty young ladies..."
Diana gave the old man a polite half-smile, but shot a glance at the others. They all looked as uncomfortable as she felt, as though they were being examined. Maybe he just wasn't used to other people, since he obviously lived alone. Still, Uni was growling again, and social awkwardness had never put her back up before...
"Oh!" The candle light fell, and rested on Bobby's upturned face. "And a little one! Aren't you sweet, mm?"
Diana couldn't help but smile slightly. If the old man was on a mission to make an enemy of the Barbarian, he was going the right way about it. By the look on Bobby's face the stranger only had pinch the boy's cheek or ruffle his hair to be knocked into next week.
The stranger pinched the boy's cheek. "Little rascal."
Bobby met eyes with his sister, and made himself swallow his growing rage.
The old man chuckled to himself. "Heh heh heh... Well then, let's see if we can't get you youngsters a nice cup of tea, mm?"
He passed the candle to Bobby. "Be a good lad and hold that, mm?" The old man shuffled off a little, then turned and added as an afterthought "but don't run with it."
Bobby rolled his eyes as the stranger went to his stove, aware that at least Eric was silently laughing in the gloom behind him.
The shack flickered into light as the hearth was lit. Now fully lit up, Hank had to bite down hard on the knuckle he already had stuffed in his mouth and try to contort his expression to one of thoughtful concern. He was so intent on trying not to laugh that he didn't notice the obvious discrepancy until Presto leaned into him and whispered:
"Where's he getting the fires from?"
Hank frowned. He didn't know! The chances of the old man having a firelighter up his sleeve were slim to none.
"Um," Hank attempted, "excuse me..."
"Here we are!" interrupted the old man, turning back to them suprisingly swiftly considering the large tray of steaming drinks that were suddenly in his hands, "a nice, hot, cup of tea. Good for what ails you, mm?"
Sheila looked down and caught the smile on her brother's face. The young boy may have been forced to live off scavenged roots and stagnant pond water for weeks on end, he may have, like the rest of them, eaten pretty much any foul concoction pushed in their direction by well wishers out of desperate starvation but he had at least developed a great taste for the Realm's tea. It was hot and syrupy and had a kick of spice and caffeine. It always gave Sheila a wonderful warm feeling inside as she drank it, but the stuff could keep Bobby bouncing off the walls for hours.
The elderly man held the tray up above Bobby's head as the older kids took their cups from it and began to drink. At last the old man met eyes with the Barbarian's eager grin.
"And for you, my Lad," beamed the stranger, "a very special treat..." he picked the last cup from the tray and handed it to the boy. "A nice cup of lemon drink!"
Lemon Drink. Bobby looked down at the cup, and the bits of lemon floating in the cloudy water within. Why do old folks always think kids like Lemon Drink? He's gonna hand me a Mint Imperial next. He looked up at the old man again, trying to hide his disappointment. But the stranger didn't seem to be paying any attention to him. He was watching the other kids drink, instead.
"Nice, mm?"
"Tasty!" Eric tipped his head back to drain the rest of his cupful, realising just too late that he was going to have difficulty stopping the backwards motion. He stumbled back slightly, his suddenly heavy head wanting to continue its arc to its natural conclusion on the ground, but was caught by Presto. He met his friend's concerned eyes and shook himself slightly. "Head rush."
"Here," whispered Sheila to her downcast brother, sneakily passing her half finished cup to him, "y'can have some of mi..."
"No!"
The old man reached a swift hand out and knocked the cup out of Bobby's grip. The force of it was enough to send the cup flying across the shack and smash it noisily against a wall.
"What the..."
The old man smiled at them wickedly, his eyes suddenly brighter, his back suddenly straighter. With another flash of his fast, strong hand he had Bobby held tightly by the wrist. The Barbarian dropped his club, too surprised to cry out, although his sister and pet unicorn were not.
But it was Hank who made the aggressive step towards the stranger.
"Hey! What's going on? Who are y... yurgh..."
Hank staggered sideways as the room decided to tilt several degrees to the left. He fell weakly into muscular female arms, but then felt Diana's strength implausibly give way under him. She screamed slightly, more out of shock than fear, as they both collapsed to the floor.
"You spiked our tea..." she mumbled thickly. The floor wasn't bringing much comfort. It didn't usually suck one to its surface so much, and it had definitely never swirled before.
"Got it in one," grinned the old man, standing much taller than he used to. "As for who I am, you may as well know. My name is Malison..."
"Alison...?" Eric was slowly sliding down a wall.
"Malison. With a Muh."
"You're a wizard!" Presto was making a remarkably good effort at staying upright, but was beginning to sway like a drunkard.
"Yes and no. Ex Wizard. There was a rather unfortunate... misunderstanding... involving a virgin and a badger, and, well, you know how fond bloodthirsty Warlords can be of their eldest daughters..." Presto, barely listening to the Ex Wizard any more, finally billowed to the floor. "It's all very depressing and I'd rather not go into the details," continued Malison to anyone still conscious enough to hear, "needless to say, cutting a long story short, I ended up alone and penniless in this shack. But now, it seems, my fortunes have taken a turn for the better."
"He's actually boring us to death."
Diana rolled her head helplessly to the source of the comment. The similarly incapacitated Cavalier smiled weakly at her.
"Think I preferred the old geezer," she whispered.
"Hey, Alison!" The light female voice came from above their heads, reminding them that somebody was still on two feet. Sheila put her hands on her hips and adopted what she believed to be a threatening pose. "You didn't count on me, huh? I didn't drink all the tea."
"You didn't need to," grinned Malison, "otherwise I wouldn't have smashed the cup."
Sheila flushed slightly with embarrassment and rage. "Yeah, well... well... Just let go of my brother, OK, or I'll... I'll..."
Malison merely raised his eyebrows at her and tightened his grip around Bobby's wrists. The boy winced slightly.
"I'll... by golly, I'll..." now shaking with rage, the Thief reached up to the hood of her cloak, threw it over her head, and disappeared.
The Ex Wizard looked in wonder at the space until recently occupied by a red haired teenage girl for a moment, and then burst into a fit of laughter.
"What will you do? Invisible me into submission? 'Where did she go?' 'I don't know! I give up!' I don't think so, Missy."
There was a clatter and a thud as Sheila, still cloaked, fell amongst her friends. Malison nodded, satisfied.
"Thank you."
Sheila lifted her cloak, still struggling to crawl towards her brother.
"Bobby..."
"No!" the boy lashed out with a foot, kicking the Ex Wizard in the shin, to no avail.
Malison just laughed. "Time for you to disappear again, I'm afraid. Time for all of you to disappear. Forever."
Sheila was forced to close her eyes briefly against the reeling dizziness. She was sure that walls weren't supposed to melt. She could still hear Bobby's voice, although it was beginning to sound muffled, as though heard through a thin wall.
"What's happening to them? What have you done...?"
What had he done? The sick, dizzy feeling was passing. She opened her eyes and looked at her hands. They were still her hands - pale, slender and freckled, clawed up in... in the ash. The ground had stopped spinning but it was no longer wooden floorboards. It was deep, dark grey ash. She pushed herself up to her knees and surveyed the desolate ash desert surrounding her. She let out a small cry despite herself. The shack was gone. The woods were gone. Malison - gone. Bobby. Gone.
...They were gone. They had just melted away into nothing.
"What have you done?" Bobby struggled and kicked against Malison, trying vainly to twist out of the Ex Wizard's steel grip. Uni stopped bleating angrily at Malison momentarily and dashed over to the place where the others had fallen. She nudged at the thin sprinkling of ash on the floor where they had been and muttered mournfully.
"Sheila? Hank?" Bobby continued to thrash furiously as Malison held him. "You guys! Where are you? Where..."
"They're gone, boy."
For the second time that day, Bobby found himself being hoisted into some bigger, stronger guy's arms against his will. "Augh! Put me down!"
"Whatever you say." The Ex Wizard swung him over a cage that had suddenly materialised in the shack, and dropped him inside, swiftly bolting the lid.
Flushed with humiliation, Bobby leapt to his feet, shaking the bars of his cage.
"You jerk! What have you done to them?"
"I've sent them away," smiled Malison, not noticing that the small unicorn had now grown silent.
Bobby tried not to look directly at his pet - he didn't want to draw any attention to the fact that she had picked his club up in her mouth and was slowly, gingerly picking her way around Malison. He watched her movements through the corner of his eye as he continued to rail at his captor.
"Where? Why?"
"Where is none of your business. As for why... well, you might as well know."
Great. Another monologue. Old people - Geez. Still, if it gives Uni time...
"Not far from here is an old Dwarf mine," explained Malison, "not really worked by Dwarves any more. The Orcs find that human children make much better slaves. Their bones heal quicker. There might be a recruitment party passing through as soon as tomorrow. Strong lad like you should pay handsomely. I may never go hungry again!"
He doesn't know who we are! He doesn't know about the weapons!
Bobby shot another quick look at the unicorn. This time, Malison caught his gaze and followed it. Uni froze in her tracks, club in mouth, looking desperately from Bobby to Malison.
"What's all this, then?" Malison's foot was as fast and strong as his hand, and hit Uni hard in the ribs.
Bobby screamed, wordless with rage, slapping the cage's bars as the unicorn fell, crying, to her side, dropping the club.
"No weapons where you're going," tutted Malison, picking up the club and wiping the unicorn spit from it. "And definitely no pets." He kicked Uni again.
"I am gonna kick your ass, Alison!" Bobby shook the bars again, furiously, not caring about the tears streaming down his cheeks.
"It's only a unicorn."
Uni was starting to, painfully, get to her feet. She was shaking, but started to bleat at the Ex Wizard again.
"Doesn't that thing ever shut up?" Malison gazed down at her in distaste, the club still in his hands.
Bobby knelt down to Uni's level and stretched a hand through the bars. He couldn't see her get hurt again. Not ever.
"Go, Uni."
The unicorn looked across to him, miserably.
"Run while you can. Don't worry about me. Go home."
Uni stalled. Bobby wiped the tears from his eyes. "I said, go home!"
Malison sighed. "It can't understand you, you know."
Bobby kept his eyes locked with Uni's as she backed away unhappily, then turned and fled, scrabbling under the door.
They both watched her go before Malison dumped the club in a far corner.
"Good riddance. Noisy little beast."
The Barbarian said nothing, but skulked to the back of his cage, meeting the Ex Wizard with an expression of dark and violent loathing.
"And unless you want similar treatment from me," added Malison, "you can keep nice and quiet for the rest of your stay here too."
"I got nothin' to say to you," whispered Bobby.
"Good." Malison settled down in an armchair, turned in on the cage, picked up a ball of wool, and began to knit.
I have been successfully captured, thought Bobby, by somebody who knits. Not only that, but he was now completely alone, with no hope of rescue, and about to be sold off to Orcs. To yet another child labour camp. If I ever see him again, seethed Bobby to himself, that damn Cavalier's gonna have a field day with this.
..."That damn Barbarian's gonna have a field day with this, isn't he?"
"Eric..."
"Well, he is." Eric pushed himself up to his feet, attempting to wipe some of the ash off himself, but only succeeding in spreading it around a little more. "I mean, item one, don't pick the flowers, item two, don't say DM has it easy, item three, don't accept tea from strangers... how many more house rules am I gonna have to learn the hard way?"
"Hey. We're all in this together." Hank made a point of helping Sheila to her feet. Diana was already standing, and helping Presto up.
"Correction." Eric tried to brush some ash off Diana's shoulder, but she pushed him away. "Bobby's still OK, right?"
"If you think being stuck on your own in the grasp of a lunatic Exiled Wizard counts as 'OK'..." Presto trailed off as he caught Sheila's expression, and looked at his feet.
"...what have you done...?"
Hank felt Sheila's nails dig into his arm slightly at the sound of her brother's voice. He looked around himself. There was nothing for miles. Just flat, ash covered wasteland. No sign of Bobby, or the shack. The voice sounded strange. Muffled. As though the boy were the other side of a wall.
"Bobby?" he yelled, "Bobby, is that you?"
"...Sheila? Hank? You guys! Where are you?..."
"Now I..." Hank flailed around, as did the others, trying to find the source of the voice. It seemed to be coming from several different directions at once. "...I don't want you to panic. Try to follow my voice."
"...augh! Put me down..."
"What?"
Sheila let go of Hank's hand, and ran forward a little. "Bobby! Is that creep still with you?"
"...you Jerk! What have you done to them?..."
Diana took her friend's shoulder. "I know we can hear him, Sheila, but I don't think he can hear us."
Desperately, Sheila called out her brother's name again.
The reply came back like a distant, nonsensical echo. "...where? Why?..."
The girls sighed in unison.
Hank leaned on his bow and scoured the vast, grey horizon. Now it was plan time. The others would be wanting one soon, and, frankly, he didn't know where to start with this one.
"OK. So I think we all know what we need to do here."
Surprised, Hank turned to the Cavalier, still picking ash off his clothes. "Enlighten us, please."
Eric raised his eyebrow at Hank, a signal that the sarcastic tone of the Ranger's voice had been noticed, but would, for the time being, be ignored. "Get out of this place, storm the Little Shack of Horrors, rescue the pipsqueak. All we have to do now is work out how and God dammit, I've still got about a pound and a half of pie down here..." Eric trailed off, distracted, as he patted at his groin. "Excuse me..."
"Great." Diana folded her arms, smiling as she watched the Cavalier attempt to find a reasonably secluded spot in which he could unpick himself. "So we got half a brainless plan..."
She was cut off by Bobby's disembodied scream. The five teenagers gazed at each other in horror, Sheila's eyes quickly filling with hot tears.
"No!"
"Don't..." Hank felt pathetic. There was nothing he could do. "Don't listen to it..."
"Bobby!"
Sheila's scream filled the empty desert, and by the time it had faded, so had the sound of Bobby's voice.
"Where did he go?" Sheila was crying hard now. "Where did he go?"
"It is not a question of where the Barbarian has gone, but where you have gone."
"DM?" Sheila looked up hopefully, wiping her eyes, but still saw nothing.
"Unfortunately I cannot be with you this time, Thief," said the kindly yet disembodied voice.
Eric fished the last of the pie out from a particularly uncomfortable spot. "So where are you, at a midget convention?"
"I am here!"
Eric squeezed his temples.
"But you," added the voice, "are not."
"Shoot me now." Eric had only whispered the last remark, but Diana still mimed holding a gun to the dark boy's head and firing.
Hank summoned up the patience to ask the Obvious Question. "So, where are we?"
"I am afraid that the tea given to you by Malison was cursed. It has taken you to the Plane of the Dead."
"The Plane of the Dead?"
"You see," said Eric under everybody else's amazed tones, "that pretty much sums up everything that's wrong about this stupid Realm. You can get cursed tea. What sort of place has cursed tea?" He pushed his hands through his hair in frustration, and then reiterated the phrase he had now been saying every day for over a year. "I Want. To Go. Home."
"You are no longer in the Realm, Cavalier."
"Surely that's a good thing."
"While you are in the Plane of the Dead, you are shifting spirits, no longer part of any real world. No longer under my protection." The voice of the Dungeon Master paused for a moment, almost expecting another comeback. But none came. Eric just bit down on a knuckle, thoughtfully. "The longer you spend there, the further you drift from me. Soon you will not be able to hear my voice. You at least still have the weapons I gave you. It appears that Malison has been on his own for too long and has not heard of their powers, or he would have taken them from you. You must find your own way back to the Realm and the Barbarian..."
Sheila raised her head at the mention of her brother, addressing the sky. "What about Bobby?"
"...There is another lost soul here..."
"I don't think he can hear us any more either," sighed Diana.
Indeed, the Dungeon Master's voice was beginning to fade. "You do not need to beware her but she will give you cause to beware one another. I hope you are still too young, my children... but I doubt that you are..."
"Too young for what, DM?"
"I said, he can't hear us, Hank."
Hank called up again to the grey sky anyway. "Too young for what?"
But the voice was gone. There was nothing except the sunless sky and the low wind and the mile upon mile upon mile of barren, empty ash.
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A Note From The Author:
No unicorns were harmed during the making of this chapter.