Twist
of Fate
A Dungeons & Dragons story by Tina Price.
Eleven years have passed and things have not fared well in the Realm.
The Children have long since disbanded, after having abandoned
Dungeon Master and his manipulations. During the years that followed,
good has slowly been consumed by evil...
Disclaimer: Venger, Sheila and all characters therein are the property of the Walt Disney Company.
Rating: This chapter is rated NC-17 for non-consensual content.
Life and Death... and Life
After Sheila had run from the library, he'd looked down at the open tome to confirm his worse fears. She had indeed learned who he was and chances were that he would not be able to win back her trust in time...
He'd collapsed then, and bellowed as all the pain and frustration of a millennium of thwarted dreams came down upon him. It was going to end and soon... without him ever having had a chance to accomplish anything of lasting value.
"So be it," he finally whispered to himself. He was tired of the fight, yet he would not go back to being his master's puppet.
Never!
Yet, before he made his final plans, he would try to set things right with Sheila.
Sheila locked herself in her room and then collapsed on the bed.
Now, more confused than shocked over her discovery, she was no longer crying. Questions ran round and round in her head as she wondered why he'd kept up the elaborate ruse. Although she could see why he would disguise himself to come into the inn and fetch her for Kareena's funeral, it begged the question; why had he continued and even gone out of his way to perpetuate the ruse?
She wasn't even certain at this point what it was she was feeling, she felt so many different things; betrayal, anger, even grief. Time seemed to stop as she lay on her bed staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. When the knock came at the door behind the tapestry, it was so soft that at first she thought she was hearing things.
Then it came again.
Getting off the bed, she moved cautiously to the door and pulled the hanging back. "What?" she asked, in no mood to disguise her displeasure.
Venger's voice came from the other side. "Sheila... open the door and allow me to explain myself."
"I don't see how you can," she replied.
"Come, open the door and at least allow me the chance," he pressed.
She almost refused when she again felt tears pricking her eyes, the result of a sudden surge of strongly felt injustice. With a sigh, she unlocked the door and stepped back as he lifted the tapestry and entered.
They stood there for some time, neither talking; he watching her while she looked everywhere but at him.
She eventually broke the silence. "Were you testing my loyalty?"
He shook his head. "No."
"Then why?"
It was his turn to study both his boots and the floor. "You treated me as though I were someone you could respect. When you let down your guard and talked to me, I felt as though I were someone worthy. Although it may sound strange, I only feel whole when you are near and it was a way in which I could be near you," he said, so softly it was nearly whispered.
Again there was silence between them as Sheila mulled over his words.
She was again the one to speak first. "And this alternate version of you; was he merely an act, a character?"
He shook his head. "I created him a very long time ago. I have several such disguises. The hunter proves useful quite often in poorer, outlying towns."
"That is not what I asked," she sighed. "Was Nate just an elaborate act, or was he really just you; the you that does not fear being seen as human?"
He stared at her for some time and she couldn't help but notice again just how tired he looked. "I suppose that was me," he admitted. "Aside from keeping the obvious from you, I took no great pains to act in a manner contrary to myself."
"I see," she breathed. "That makes this a little easier to bear, but you should know that it's still as though I've just lost a friend; one whom, it turns out, I never really knew at all. This entire situation is very hard to deal with and has only gone from bad to worse."
"Anything you ask of me I will grant," he said, moving closer. "Only say that you will not leave."
She shook her head and started to back away, but he reached out with a wing; funny how she forgot the incredible reach of those appendages, and pulled her to him. "Just leave me alone! I'm angry, I'm hurt and I just cannot deal with you now," she protested, as he ignored her and held on tightly. She fought for a moment and then gave up, sagging against him as the dam broke and she began crying. "I need time. I need time... to think," she sobbed. "
He held her close, rocking her against him as he leaned his chin atop her head. "I am out of time, Sheila," he breathed. "I am out of resources and strength. Without you I am defeated. Tell me you will stay!"
She lifted her head and stared into his face. "Aren't you listening to what I say? I can't promise you anything right now; I need to think it through..."
"It is you who are not listening; I keep telling you there is no time," he reiterated passionately as he lifted his head to stared down at her. "You must stay the night with me or all is lost and you will never understand what is at stake if you leave!"
She lifted her head to stare at him, sensing the very real fear lurking beneath his impassioned plea. "Tell me what is happening. What is it that you fear and why do you keep insisting on me warming your bed?"
He looked as though she had slapped him and his eyes widened in alarm. "I cannot," he breathed.
"Why not?"
He actually bellowed then, as though in pain, then gasped out, "I cannot say…"
A strange calm settled over her then, as she placed her hands on his chest and then pushed against him until he released her. "Then my answer must be no," she said, indicating the door.
He grew angry then, for the first time since they'd become reacquainted with each other and grabbing the back of her neck, shook her until her teeth rattled. "You foolish woman!" he bellowed. "It is true that I have erred grievously, but would you see me dead to appease your pride?" He stopped shaking her, gripped her upper arms and hauled her off the floor so that she was at his eye level. "You want me; I can feel it! I ask only that you lie beside me, nothing more. You know that you may trust me to keep my word; else last night would have ended much differently. This is not a matter of trust but a matter of your pride!"
Angry at the way he handled her and humiliated by his knowing comments, she lashed out, "I would rather sleep next to an Orc than next to thing like you!"
He gaped at her and then dropped her suddenly. Unprepared for the quick release, she landed in a heap at his feet.
When she looked up, it was in time to see his last wingtip disappear through the door before it slammed shut behind him.
Hours later, Venger huddled in a sitting position and leaned against the wall of his chamber just the other side of her bed. Using magic, he'd actually moved his own bed away from the same wall so that he could get behind it, desperate to get close enough to ease the torment the ring inflicted upon him, for it only abated when she was near.
There was no doubt that he would not sleep again this night; the ring ended each such attempt with nightmares in which he discovered his beloved Suhailah dead upon his alchemy room floor; having taken her own life to escape him.
No, he'd come to terms with the sleeplessness, knowing that sooner or later he would lose consciousness and sleep despite the nightmares. What he sought now was enough respite from the waking visions the ring gave to continue the battle to remain his own self. It was a battle he was slowly losing as his loss of control hours ago had brought home to him with a great deal of finality.
Sheila: he'd been frustrated enough to actually hurt her! Why could she not see that he was under a gees not to speak of his predicament? He himself only knew what helped him, not the whys or wherefores of how this entire thing had come to pass. What he did know, however, was that the ring's behavior and his current ability to function as himself were somehow tied to Sheila and her previous ownership of the trinket.
With a groan he shifted his position and then rose to his feet. It was no use; perhaps he should conjure himself to her chambers and slide into her bed besides her while she slept. He could put a sleep spell on her and be gone before she awoke.
But no, he could tell that she was still awake herself and even if he could follow through, it would not be worth the risk of losing more of her understanding.
With a deep, drawn-out grumble and taking a delight in the perversity of it, he dressed in one of his outfits of old, from days gone by when he'd been a hero.
Then he left his chambers. He would walk the corridors of the castle until he could walk no further and then he would sleep one way or the other…
Sheila was up early the next morning, not having slept at all. It was an easy choice to ignore the breakfast that was brought in to her; she wasn't likely to feel hungry anything soon after last night.
Her mind was in turmoil and she kept thinking back on what he'd said about her pride leading to his death. How was her not sleeping beside him going to end up killing him?
And then there was the fact that she'd called him a thing. Even now she blushed with shame at her words. Whether or not she liked it, this was the same person she had thought of as her friend when he'd appeared to her as Nate. Even though his anger had frightened her, she could see now in hindsight that he hadn't harmed her; that his frustration had finally caused him to snap.
Despite that, she really hadn't been justified in lashing out at him with the intention of hurting him!
Her heart heavy, she left her chambers in search of him and fortunately, spotted him atop the tower when she entered the courtyard a short time later.
With a sigh, she crossed the courtyard and entered the tower staircase, emerging at the top after a long, tiring climb.
"Venger?"
He turned to face her and she was surprised to see him dressed in cream-colored breeches and a silver-embroidered white tunic. Even his boots were silver, with cream embellishments. He was impeccably groomed and had his hair tied back with a silver ribbon.
What frightened her was that despite his dress and grooming, his face was a ghastly gray, his eyes dull and sunken. He stared at her as though he didn't recognize her at first.
"Venger; I'm glad I found you. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about what I said last night," she stammered. "I don't think of you as a thing; you're my friend and I do care what happens to you." He looked down at her hands, which were clenched before her and only then did she realized that she was wringing them together. Somehow she forced herself to stop.
"You have to understand that I cannot sleep with you right now. It would be a big mistake when I'm so confused and when you refuse to tell me what is going on."
He did the unexpected then; moving closer, he knelt before her and took her hand. "You know it goes against my nature to plead or beg, but I beg you now to forgive me."
She felt her eyes tear up. "You have my forgiveness… and yes, even my trust, but that is all I can give you at the moment."
He bowed his head for a moment, then lifted it and held her gaze with his crimson eyes. "I would marry you if you would have me," he said.
"What?" She gasped, shocked to the core by the unexpected proposal. "You're not serious!"
"I've never been more serious. Marry me and all I have will then be yours."
"But… I don't want your things," she stammered.
"Better that you should inherit them than any other," he breathed. "Give me your answer on it."
"Inherit them? Venger; what are you saying?"
He sighed and bowed his head again. When he spoke he sounded very tired. "Your answer, Sheila. Please?"
"I can't."
He dropped her hand then and stood. "Then this must be our farewell."
"What?" she gaped at him, but he'd turned away from her, spreading his wings angrily so that they opened with a loud snap. Then he leaped over the low tower wall and was gone.
Sheila stared after him for a time, her thoughts in turmoil and her heart beating rapidly. Now she knew for certain that something was very wrong. "I should have tried to reason with him," she breathed.
"There is no reasoning with one in his state," came a quiet voice behind her.
She turned with a gasp and to her astonishment saw Dungeon Master standing in the shadows of the stairs.
"Let me guess; you can be here because in the past you spent a lot of time lurking here," she ground out.
He merely nodded then spoke again. "Sheila, you must remember that the heart rules the mind, but the mind holds the keys to the soul. You have restored Venger's heart to him, but not his soul."
"Huh? How am I supposed to do that?" she asked.
The little man shook his head as though upset. "So long as he is in his current state, Venger fights a continuous battle with his master. He fights to remain as you now know him rather than becoming the puppet he was, but it is a battle he will lose without your help."
"What should I do?" she pleaded as he began to withdraw into the dark doorway.
"Give him back the keys..." His voice faded out even as he disappeared from view.
Sheila moved back to the edge of the tower and leaned on the low outer wall as she thought through Dungeon Master's words. She understood what he'd meant when he'd said that she had restored Venger's heart to him; she'd given him the Ring of the Heart.
"The heart rules the mind and the mind holds the keys to the soul," she repeated. Did that mean that the Ring of the Heart was taking over Venger's mind? But then, what did he mean about the mind holding the keys to the soul? He'd said that Venger has no soul and that she had to help him or he would become the Venger she'd once known once more.
Still, something in the back of her mind made her believe that it was almost worst than that; Venger had sounded as though he were going off to his final rest.
Yet, wouldn't Dungeon Master tell her if that were the case, after all that would make his reverting without her help a moot point!
"Since when did that old man ever really show concern for anyone?" she questioned aloud. "All he cares about is the Realm, not those of us who are pawns in the fight!"
Feeling her anxiety growing, she suddenly remembered something that really put her over the edge; Venger had said that aside from being mortally wounded when he was cut off from magic, that he couldn't die except by his own hand.
"I've got to keep an eye on him!"she yelled, and made for the tower stairs at a full run.
Sheila spent fifteen minutes looking through the usual places Venger might be and was just crossing the courtyard again when a tall man entered from the side nearest the castle gate. His hair was a reddish brown and he wore a neatly trimmed goatee. Somehow he seemed familiar and stopped to stare at her as though he recognized her as well.
"Mistress!"
She jumped violently as the shadow demon approached and addressed her and she had to wonder at his calling her such a thing. "Yes?" she asked, hesitantly.
"This man is here to see you. As he is one whom you once traveled with, I took the liberty of having the Orcs admit him."
His words enough to put the final puzzle piece in place, she ran to the man and embraced him. "Presto!"
"Sheila!" he replied, hugging her tightly for a moment before releasing her. "I'm so glad to find you well!"
"You've grown up well, I see," she remarked with a blush, suddenly shy.
"What about you?" he laughed. "You're beautiful!"
She blushed even redder. "What brings you to Venger's castle of all places?' she asked, trying to understand how he could suddenly have appeared.
"Oh my gosh! I was so glad to see you that it slipped my mind for a second!" he exclaimed, suddenly looking upset. "I was send by Dungeon Master and I've been traveling as quickly as I can for days. He said I might arrive just in time to save someone…"
"Venger!" she shrieked and started to run off, before stopping suddenly. She had no way of knowing where he was unless… "Shadow Demon!" she yelled.
To her great surprise and relief, he appeared almost instantly, making her wonder if he hadn't been lurking and listening the entire time.
"He is in his alchemy room," the creature informed them. "This way! Hurry!"
A glance over her shoulder showed Presto right behind her as she held up her skirts and ran after the demon.
To her surprise they were led to the nearest turret entrance and up the stairs to where a door opened onto an interior room at the core. There, Shadow Demon hovered anxiously.
"The door is locked, Mistress!" he warned.
"Stand back!" Presto stepped up and spoke a word as he pointed at the door and the tumblers were instantly heard to turn in the lock. Ignoring her surprised look, he gripped the handle and shoved the heavy wood barrier open.
Beyond was a circular, windowless room filled with bookshelves and heavy wooden tables. There were potions and ingredients of every king filling nearly every available space.
"Whoa!" Presto breathed, but she barely even glanced at the surroundings, instead shoving past him and moving into the room.
She found him crumpled on the ground behind one of the tables, a broken flask still clutched in his hand, blue liquid spilling out of his mouth and circling the floor around him.
"No!" she screamed, running to him and feeling his neck for a pulse. "No!"
Then Presto was on the floor beside her.
Sheila's scream of anguish told the young magician all he needed to know about her relationship with the fiendish mage and snapped him out of his admiration of the room.
Running across the room, he knelt beside her and realized exactly what had happened. Moreover, Sheila's frantic search for a pulse let him know there wasn't one. "Do you remember CPR from school?" he asked her. At her nod he pointed to the mage. "Good. Start doing it and keep it up until I tell you otherwise!"
"What has he taken?"
"Never mind that now; get going and I will explain what I'm dong; there's no time to waste!"
As she wiped Venger's mouth with the hem of her skirt and got him in the proper position, Presto stood and ran to the nearest workbench, where he began to assemble the items needed for a counter potion.
"He took ," he said, as he worked. "It works very much like cyanide in our world and in a large enough dose is almost instantly fatal."
Sheila was now doing chest compressions and sobbing. "Can you save him, Presto?"
"The thing about it is that it completely binds up the red blood cells, leaving the victim unable to absorb any oxygen," he said, as he glanced back at her. "Give him more breaths and less compressions," he directed before continuing his explanation. "Sometimes when the potion is very strong, one sip is enough to render the person unconscious before they can consume enough to instantly kill them."
He began to actually assemble his antidote, sweating with the effort to create it so quickly while not making an error. "If he's very lucky, that's what happened to Venger. Don't get me wrong; under those circumstances the portion will still kill, but it will take the smaller dose longer to deactivate all the red blood cells. So long as enough of them are still carrying oxygen until I get this potion done, he may live."
"Hurry, Presto!" she gasped, coming up for air to do more compressions. "He's really turning blue now!"
"I'm nearly done!" He mixed in a few more liquids. "This potion will deactivate the other so that his red cells can again carry oxygen to his body. It will also instantly oxygenate his blood."
Stepping back from the bench, he swirled the flask as he searched drawers for further supplies. Finally finding what he needed, he grabbed a long tube and a funnel before moving to Sheila's side. "This is going to get messy," he warned. "No matter what happens, keep doing those chest compressions!"
She nodded and he placed the potion on the floor beside him, gripped Venger's jaw and pulled it down as he tilted his head back. As Sheila looked on in sick fascination, he began working the tube down the rear of the mage's throat. "Stop a minute," he told her, then when she sat back and tried to catch her breath he began blowing on the tube.
Venger's chest didn't rise, but his belly did. As a final test, Presto gave his patient's stomach a violent push, which resulted in a belch.
"That's good!" he yelled, then attached the funnel and poured half the flask of potion down the tube and into Venger's gut. "He spoke the words of power to activate the cure and watched, satisfied as the liquid remaining in the flask began to glow.
"Move!" he yelled at Sheila, then took up her position and began doing chest compressions. "We have to get it absorbed and circulating through his body!"
Sheila meantime, had moved to Venger's head and now cradled it on her lap, still crying, her tears falling slowly upon the clinically dead mage's face. "How long until we know?" she gulped.
"Soon." He spared her a glance while he worked. "Uh… you might not want to be up there," he warned.
Four minutes later, ready to give up, he stopped pressing on Venger's chest and sat back on his heels. "Check for a pulse," he asked, for the third time in as many minutes.
Sheila placed her fingers on Venger's neck and after a few seconds, frowned. "I think…" she began to say and was interrupted by a huge geyser of liquid, which fountained out of the mage's open mouth, soaking her. "Ewww!" she protested, yet did not back away or release him.
"Sorry. Warned you about that," he gasped, exhausted, but happy that he'd been in time to save the fiend after all. Rising, he gathered a few rags from the room and wet them down with water at the basin in the corner. Then he staggered back to Sheila and handed them to her, then took his patient's pulse.
She began cleaning both herself and Venger off. "Presto, I can never thank you enough for saving him…" she began.
He held up a hand. "He isn't saved until we know why he did this. Until the underlying reason is gone, this may well prove to be a temporary reprieve and you can bet that next time he'll make certain that a resuscitation is impossible!"
Sheila spent the next ten minutes explaining how they had reached their current predicament while Presto sat quietly, listening and rarely asking a question. When she finished her tale, he looked at her thoughtfully.
"He grew ill after he got the Ring of the Heart back?" he asked. When she nodded, he continued thoughtfully, "Just as Kareena predicted…"
They sat in silence for a time until Presto began to stare at her strangely.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I want you to take the ring from his finger," he said. "Don't ask me any questions, just do it. Trust me."
Nervously, she leaned over Venger, gripped the ring and then sat back surprised at how easily it let her take it.
"Put it on Sheila," Presto said. "Don't worry; it is your ring, not his. It won't harm you."
She did as he asked and Venger moaned, stirring slightly.
"I think he's waking up!" she exclaimed.
He shook his head. "Not a chance; he'll be out for many hours yet. He's simply reacting to the fact that the ring is finally off his finger. Actually, I surprised that he didn't ask you to remove it before now."
She felt her heart sink. "I told him that it once it found the person it was meant for that no one else could take it," she breathed. "He was able to take it from me so he probably just thought that he was stuck with it." Then something dawned on her. "Hey! You said it was really my ring. If it was meant to be mine, then why did it let him take it to begin with?"
Presto shook his head. "I promise I'll explain it to you later after I have all my facts gathered and can make you an accurate answer. Right now I need for you to do something else; something that may or may not prove difficult."
"OK."
"First place the ring on the ring finger of your left hand."
She gave him a suspicious look, but did as she was told.
"Good, now hold your ring with your right hand." Once she had her right hand wrapped around the ring, he continued, "I want you to picture the Ring of the Mind; do you remember what it looked like?"
"How could I forget?"
"OK, Sheila. Think about that ring and summon it to you."
"What?"
"Just think about it being here or imagine that you are pulling on a string that is tied to it. Go on; you can do it!"
She did as he suggested, closing her eyes and picturing herself reeling in the ring. A few seconds later, she was startled by a popping sound and a sudden feeling of pressure in the hand holding on to her ring. When she opened her eyes and unwrapped her hand, she gasped, "Oh my God..."
The Ring of the Mind, not seen since the day she'd used it to bind Venger so many years gone by, was now on her finger beside the Ring of the Heart.
She looked up at Presto, expecting him to be as thrilled as she, but was suddenly brought back to earth by the sad look he gave her.
"What's wrong?" she asked, dreading more bad new on day that had turned so bad so quickly.
He sighed. "Nothing that we can really change, Sheila. Now, give me the Ring of the Mind."
She slipped it from her finger and handed it to him.
Clutching it in his hand, he held his fist to his forehead and spoke a word of power. A light shone from his hand and bathed his face as his expression changed to one of understanding, admiration and fear.
When the light faded, he handed the ring back to her and fixed her with a serious look. "May I ask you a very important question?"
"You can ask me anything!"
He nodded. "What would you be willing to give to save this creature?" He indicated Venger.
"Huh?"
"If his life were at stake, or his soul, how much would you risk for him? Be careful what you answer, for you will live with it the rest of you life."
"I wouldn't kill anyone for him..." she stammered.
"What if the life we spoke of was yours? What would you risk for him?" he pressed.
She looked down at the unconscious mage's face and stroked his cheek tenderly. "When we entered this room and I found him... at that moment I would have given anything to save him; even my life," she answered.
"And now; would you die for him even now?"
"Yes. I know I can't explain it to you and I know you think I'm crazy to say such a thing about him of all people, but..."
Presto held up his hand. "You don't need to explain to me," he whispered. "I already know more than you know." He pointed at her hand. "Put the ring on his matching finger," he said.
Holding her breath, she slipped it on Venger's finger and saw it size itself to fit him.
"This is Venger's ring," Presto explained. "And now there is only one thing I need do to undo this twisted mess..."
As she watched, he began to chant and she realized soon enough that he was casting a spell; a powerful one. Venger had been right about him; Presto was a natural mage and a powerful one already.
With the last words of the spell hanging in the air, Presto gestured at he finger and Venger's, then spoke one last word.
The two rings began to glow as a warmth she'd never known before rose up inside her. Then there was a clap like thunder and Venger cried out.
Once more all was silent.
She stared at Presto. "What did you just do?"
He shrugged, "We will know soon enough, Sheila. Now why don't you have that shadow demon summon a few Orcs to take him to his chambers so that I can get him cleaned up and in bed?"
"We'll have a few servants help us move him; he would never forgive me if I let the Orcs see him like this!" she replied.
At his nod, she stood up and ran for the door.
Fifteen minutes later Venger was back on his bed and the servants; those who could be trusted to keep their mouths closed, were dismissed.
Presto was fearless when it came to invading Venger's privacy and poked about all his wardrobes and dressers until he returned with a long nightshirt. At her raised eyebrow he shrugged. "Well if you want to go ahead and leave, I'll get him cleaned up and in bed," he said, trying to sound matter-of-fact about it.
She almost laughed; the visual image of him trying to get two wings, each thirteen feet in length through the slits in the back of the nightshirt was ridiculous.
"Actually; I'll take care of him," she said. "He would hate it if he found out you did it!"
"Uh, you don't think he'd be more upset about you seeing him in the buff?" the magician countered.
"I wasn't planning on removing his pants," she said. "I've seen him only in those before. I'll just strip off the rest and clean him, then you can come in and help me get him under the covers, if I need you to, OK?"
"Alright. Where should I wait?"
She walked past him and lifted aside the tapestry to reveal the open door to her chamber. She'd unlocked it and come through while looking for him that very morning. "You can wait in my room."
He looked at her strangely, but then handed her the nightshirt and went on through. She dropped the hanging behind him.
Returning to the bed, she knelt on it next to him and smoothed back his hair as she looked at him. "How did this happen?" she whispered. "How did I come to care so much about someone like you?" She would have been disappointed if she'd really been expected an answer, for he remained profoundly unconscious.
With a sigh, she went about her self-appointed tasks. Fetching a basin and washcloth from his bathing room, then bringing a pitcher of water, she set them on the end table and proceeded to undress him.
It was slow going due to his weight, for he was far heavier than she could have imagined. Just how did he manage to fly? Still, by carefully rolling him on one side and then the other, she did somehow figure out how to get his wings out of the tunic. It wasn't all that difficult once she discovered that the back was held closed with eye hooks beneath each wing opening. She could simply undo them, slide the garment right off his wings and then lift it up and over his head; after working his arms through. After that, she removed his boots and his socks, then sat back for a moment to admire him while she caught her breath.
Fiend or not, he was spectacularly put together. As a child she'd often wondered why he wore a skirt. Now, as an adult she wondered in an amused way if he'd worn one to disguise his incredible build. Maybe he thought it made him appear too human, she wondered, while disguising his form made him seem far more sinister and alien.
Forcing herself to move, she wet the wash cloth and rung it out, then began cleansing the fatal potion and the vomit off of him. She started with his face, then his neck and then his chest and arms. For good measure she even wiped down his abdomen and then blushing furiously, decided he was clean enough for the moment.
With a sigh, she set about pulling the bed coverings out from beneath him and then tucking him into the bed.
Finally, dead tired, she called out to Presto, who appeared looking pretty groggy himself.
"You look as tired as I feel," she said.
"I've been riding for days and I've hardly slept during that time. Those spells took a lot out of me as well," he explained.
"I'll see about getting you settled..."
"No need, Sheila," he replied. "I'll stay in here with him to make certain he's going to be alright. That huge chair and footrest in the corner will make a comfortable enough bed for me."
When she nodded, he handed her a strange looking wafer. "Here," he said. "I can see that you're dead on your feet as well. This is a little something I make up to help people sleep. Chew it up and get some rest. I'll call you when he awakens."
She took the medicine from him. "Thanks Presto; there's really nothing I can do that would ever be enough to thank you for what you've done."
Again he gave her a sad look. "I hope you still feel the same tomorrow."
"What do you mean?"
"Never mind. Get some rest, OK?"
"Good-night, Presto," she whispered as she hugged him.
He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Good night beautiful."
With a smile and finally feeling a great weight lift from her shoulders, she retired, locking the door behind her.
An hour later, so exhausted by the horrors of that morning and overtired that she couldn't seem to actually sleep, Sheila knuckled under and ate the wafer that Presto had given her. It worked quickly and within a few minutes of climbing back into bed, she drifted off to sleep.
She soon found herself atop the castle tower, dressed in a gown of palest rose, embellished with white lace and burgundy velvet. The night was cool, but she was excited, for her betrothed was on his way home to her after a most dangerous, seven month long campaign.
The tower was the best place to search for signs of him so as not to miss his arrival. She'd so feared for his life, that her heart had nearly burst with joy when she'd received his message that he was alive and on his way home. She'd spent each evening after that on the tower watching for him.
And this night there had finally been a sign that he and his honor guard were about to crest the rise in the road; a dust plume; thrown up by fast moving horses.
As she watched, he appeared, riding his white horse and leading at least two dozen men holding aloft his banners.
With a cry of joy, she turned and ran down the tower steps so that she could be at the front gates when he arrived.
Ten minutes later, he pulled up in front of her and his gaze never leaving hers, he removed his golden helm, handed it to a stable hand and then dismounted. For a brief moment he stood before her; tall and fair of skin, with strikingly contrasting black hair, deep blue eyes, arched brows and full lips. A strong jaw line and powerful warrior's build completed the description of the Realm's greatest knight.
Then he lifted his arms to her and she was in them in a flash. He lifted her to her toes and held her tightly, ravishing her lips in front of everyone. Heartfelt words were exchanged and then he was giving his men some final instructions and leading her into the castle. A spell quickly took them to her chambers, where he wooed her passionately.
She was a virgin still, for he'd asked for her hand only days before leaving and been granted her father's blessing and although she lived in his castle now, it was an unspoken point of family honor that she remain pure until her wedding day.
That did not mean that she had to remain untouched… or so her love had argued. He ravished her with his mouth and hands, stripping her of all reason before carrying her to the bed. Placing her down in the center, he stripped off his tunic and then went to work removing her clothing as he continued his distractions.
When the last of her clothes were in danger of departing, she finally protested, albeit weakly, "My lord; we are not yet wed!"
He'd chuckled then in his deep timbre. "My beauty, dreams of you are what kept me alive and returned me thus to your arms. I'll not leave you this night, nor the next, nor those that follow."
"But, love; we are not wed!" She reiterated quickly as he sat up and shed his breeches. "My family…"
He stopped her mouth with a kiss, and then stroked her cheek. "We will be wed soon enough. Who would be the wiser? None know of this doorway between our chambers save my most trusted servants. I am yours even as you are mine." Here he held up her left hand, exposing her ruby-encrusted ring and then showed her his own left hand where its sapphire encrusted mate resided. "Now, would you have me leave?"
She smiled and pulled him to her. "I cannot…"
Sheila tossed and turned in her sleep as the pleasant dream suddenly gave way to another.
Days passed by in a joyful blur and she'd never felt so loved. For the first time she could recall, her lover stayed by her side for many days, ignoring the usual summons for his help that poured in day after day.
It was not like him to leave off his obsessive fight against evil, but she could not complain. Each night she would unlock the door between their rooms and he would come to her, loving her until they were both exhausted. Then he would spend the entire night beside her rather than retreating to his own bed.
One morning, well after daybreak, he had to ride from the castle to see to his affairs, yet he took his leave with some reluctance. As she kissed him good-bye outside the castle gate, she noticed that he did not look well, despite his assurances to the contrary.
"It is nothing," he reassured her. "Only the lingering effects of my latest battle. I shall be well again soon enough."
That is a strange thing for him to have said, she thought and voiced her concern out loud by asking, "What happened during your battles that still affects you?"
He'd shook his head and smiled. "You worry too much, pet. It is nothing that will prove to be of import to us." He kissed her deeply. "I must be off now, but I shall return by nightfall."
Yet, he did not return by nightfall, nor during the night and by the time he did return, she was beside herself with fear for him; for it had been many days since his departure.
She awoke from exhausted slumber to find him entering her bedroom in the dead of night, all but hidden by the darkness, for her last candle had burned down hours before.
Upon recognizing who it was, she flew from her bed and threw her arms about him, crying with relief. "What happened? My love; are you well? I was so worried you'd been waylaid and killed!"
He held her tightly. "You know such a thing is not possible," he replied, his voice sounding much deeper pitched than usual.
Before she could question him further or wonder if he had caught a cold, he kissed her hungrily, holding her to him as though afraid to turn her free. He quickly stripped her of her shift as the moonlight lit him well enough for her to make out his features. She could not quite put a finger on anything, but he seemed somewhat… different.
Then she found herself upon her bed with him coming down heavily atop her. He was still dressed in his breeches, tunic and boots and she was shocked when he reached down to free himself.
"No… wait…" she protested, but he plundered her mouth, leaving her unable to do more than make unintelligible noise.
Then he was truly on her, too strong and too heavy for her to fight. She pushed at him, but he barely seemed to feel it or even know that she was fighting him.
Parting her legs, he growled as he entered her and pressed onward.
She bucked and squirmed beneath him, holding her breath as pain filled her; something was very wrong! He was well build, but now it felt as though he was about to rip her apart! She tried to scream, as tears of pain and terror ran down her face, but he covered her mouth, pushing onward until she could only quiver beneath him. Thankfully, he stopped before she burst and began stroking in and out of her instead, pausing during his rut only long enough to bite her on her breast and her neck a time or two as she began to truly cry hysterically.
Thankfully it was quickly over as moments later he bellowed loudly and spilled himself inside her.
As he collapsed atop her, she again began fighting, pushing at him and squirming as her panic escalated beyond reason. She was nearly incoherent, the one thought in her mind escape. Dimly she became aware of him realizing something was dreadfully wrong and with a curse he pulled up his breeches and quickly cast a spell.
A flash lit the room briefly and she felt herself go limp, her body no longer under her control, although she found that she could still sob and move her head. He sat up on the bed and gathered her close, rocking her in his arms as he expressed his remorse.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize… I didn't know what I was doing!" he said, his voice breaking. "Please don't cry. Please don't!"
She eventually managed to catch her breath after long minutes ticked by and it dawned on her that she would not accomplish anything until she could compose herself enough to reason with him.
It didn't take long for her to understand that he was now the one in a state of panic. She didn't know what had happened to him, but at this point she believed him when he said he didn't understand it either.
"Undo the spell," she hiccupped, trying to keep her voice calm. "Let me up now."
"Promise me that you'll let me stay; promise me that you'll listen to me even if you won't forgive me," he pleaded.
"I cannot promise." Then she added reasonably, "Let me go now or it will be worse."
He barely waved a hand over her and she was free.
Gingerly she sat up, groaning in pain, while even in the darkened room she could see him withdraw and cringe.
He never cringed!
"Light the candles," she pleaded. When he hesitated she made it a demand. "Light them or get out!"
He moved to obey her, but kept his face averted.
As the light level in the room grew, she became aware of two very disturbing things; that there was blood smeared all over her and the sheets and worse yet, that her betrothed had changed dramatically since last she'd seen him!
"The Lord protect us!" she exclaimed, making a sign against evil in the air between them. He'd grown much taller and larger, his tunic and breeches barely fitting him, his hair, which had been as long as his shoulders now hung past his waist and worse of all; his skin had turned a blue-gray color and his fingernails were like long red claws.
Realizing that the charade was over, he turned to face her and she scrambled off the bed, putting several more feet between them.
His eyes had turned from their normal blue to a purple color, his full lips had shriveled and become thin, while sharp, pointed teeth protruded from them. Looking down at herself, she saw bite marks on her that were still oozing blood, the work of those wicked fangs. Worse yet, his nose looked as though it was also shriveling away and the skin beneath his eyes had turned a sickening black color.
"You... you..." she stammered.
"I am cursed," he rumbled sadly, his voice now deeper than any she'd ever heard.
"How? When?" she moaned, still backing away, yet unable to take her eyes off him.
"Please don't stare at me in such a way..." he groaned, turning his back to her. "It was the evil one I rode forth to vanquish; he was stronger than anything I've ever faced or even dreamed of. There is no defeating him and now... he is my master."
She shook her head, denying the truth. It just could not be; they were not fated to end in this way!
"I have been gone from you these past nights searching for a way to undo this curse, but all has failed! I am still changing and as you've seen, to my eternal shame, there are times when I lose even myself." His shoulders hunched, he covered his eyes with a hand.
"Is there nothing that can be done?" she asked.
He nodded. "There is a slim hope; when you are near me, I soon regain control of myself. If you can only forgive me, stay by my side and continue to love me, I may yet find a way to free myself"
Slowly she walked up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist. Only then did he relax, letting out a deep sigh and turning in her arms to gathered her close.
"I forgive you because I believe that you truly did not know what it was you were doing. I still love you," she confessed. "I think I always will. So long as you can remain yourself, I will stay and even go through with the wedding as planned."
He froze. "That is the one thing I can no longer do, my love. I cannot marry you... when I am this! For the sake of the Realm, none must know that I have fallen to him; for now I must hide away, but never doubt that I still want you. Remain mine and help me win this fight."
Her heart twisted painfully within her. "Not marry? I shall become a disgrace to my family! What if there is a child; what then? Would you have them called a bastard? Would you bar them and myself from any support should you fall?"
He held her even more tightly. "I cannot marry you," he replied. "I would if it were possible."
Then he led her to the bed and cast a spell, replacing the bloodied sheets with fresh, clean ones. "We cannot have the staff talking," he murmured as he did so.
"You do this too easily now," she commented, frightened by his easy use of such complicated magic.
"A side effect of... my curse," he breathed.
"Then perhaps you should not use magic," she replied.
He gave her an odd look. "I hardly think it matters. Now come, let us sleep. No one knows I have returned and in the morning we must make our plans."
She hesitated, uncertain of what might happen to her as she slept, but he caressed her hair and cupped her face, then made her look up at him.
"You have nothing to fear from me just so long as you remain in close proximity. It is only when we are separated by distance that I seem to lose myself." Seeing that she still was fearful, he sighed and added, "I will not touch you against your will. So long as you remain close, I swear there will be no repeat of what occurred earlier."
"That is for the best, most especially since you have withdrawn your offer of marriage for now I am no longer your betrothed," she said bitterly, climbing into the bed.
His face was filled with grief when he moved to put out the candles, and it was only as he was climbing into the bed that she realized he could easily have used magic to douse them, yet had not.
Sheila sat up in bed with a large gasp, her heart racing with fear as she realized that she was witnessing Venger's transformation first hand. My God; she'd slept with him in her dream; with Venger! She would have climbed out of the bed and gone in search of Presto, but her limbs felt like lead and she already felt herself slipping back into sleep...
In the morning things were much worse.
She arose and in the light of day was able to see that Natharius had sprouted small, gray wings from his back. Scrambling out of bed, she quickly took care of her morning toiletries, not wishing to awaken the cursed man who'd once been her intended.
When she returned, it was to find him sitting up in the bed looking for her. "Come here!" he commanded.
She shook her head, her knees shaking beneath her from fear.
With a growl, he launched himself from the bed and in two long steps had her by the throat. "When I tell you to do something, you shall do it; is that understood?" he roared, squeezing her neck until she began to black out.
"Natharius..." she choked before everything went black.
"Presto! What have you done? What have you done!".
Presto, who'd been fast asleep in the great chair that he'd pulled close to the bed and appropriated as a cot, sat bolt upright and made a grab for his staff, which leaned against the chair before seeing it was Sheila and relaxing somewhat.
She'd come in through the door he'd found hidden beneath the tapestry, which he now guessed led directly to her bedroom.
Sighing, he put his glasses on and sat up straight. He'd known that sooner or later she would feel the effects of the spell he'd cast, but he had hoped for a longer time in which to recover and think how he was going to explain it to her.
"Sheila," he finally said. "Come over and sit down on the foot rest and I'll explain."
She shook her head and stared not at him, but at the sleeping mage, her eyes wide and tearful.
He tried a different tact. "You know who you are, don't you?"
She nodded, at the same time shaking in her shoes. "I was her; Suhailah."
Pesto nodded and stood, only just then thankful that he'd fallen asleep with his false leg still on. "I've read books, ancient tomes that contain his story. They're notoriously hard to find because he tried to have them all destroyed and each has inconsistencies in the story, or contains only part of it, making the truth hard to piece together." He moved closer to her before continuing, "But... you know what happened to Suhailah and Venger, don't you? The spell that tied your souls and minds through the rings has caused you to remember, hasn't it?"
"Yes..." she whispered, still staring at the man in the bed, even as she started backing away and moving closer to Presto. "He changed. He left a knight and returned a fiend..."
"What happened; what did he want of you and what did you do then?"
She began to cry. "I don't know... I don't know..." Then she suddenly whirled and looked him full in the eye. "What did you do, Presto? What?"
He grasped her hand and brought it up, displaying the Ring of the Heart. "Look at Venger's hand," he said. "and tell me what you see."
She couldn't help but do so. "The Ring of the Mind," she breathed. "My dream..."
"What did you dream?" he asked.
"We, Suhailah and he exchanged them with a promise to marry," she said, her thoughts seemingly far away. "He was showing them to me in the dream almost as you are now..."
"Then you've confirmed what I suspected; they are a matched set, Sheila," he sighed, indicating her ring and then dropping her hand. "One Blue, One Red, each with a different central design, but otherwise alike. "The day you set Kareena free, you were able to bind him with his own ring, because the two are joined and both of you through them."
Her eyes grew huge. "I commanded the rings and through them, Venger? She asked. "How could someone as powerful as he be controlled by two rings?"
He sighed. "In the alchemy chamber, I scried his ring. Venger himself gave them that power over him, but in so doing, he lost his memory of what he did and why. "Having glimpsed this, I kinda guessed what it would take to reverse the spells he placed on them..."
Now that the time had come to tell her what he'd done, he found it very hard to continue. He shook his head and tried, "Sheila, you have to understand that I had no choice but to do what I thought best. Everything depends upon the errors of the past being rectified."
Her expression became frightened. "What did you do?" she asked yet again, this time grasping his tunic. "Tell me!"
He couldn't meet her eyes and looked towards Venger instead. "Invoking the rings, as he had intended, I bound your minds last night, as well as your souls. It turns out I'd guessed correctly; Venger's soul and memories were restored to him the moment I the two of you."
With a choking sound, Sheila stared at him. "Married? I am married to..." She fainted and he was barely able to catch her before she crumbled to the floor. "Sheila? Sheila?" He called her name as he patted her cheek. He was about to place her on the chair and get his smelling salts when he heard a cough and a deep voice spoke from the bed.
"Bring her to me, magician..."
A glance showed him that Venger was awake and propping himself up on unsteady arms. At his hesitation, the fiendish mage's red eyes glinted dangerously.
"Do not make me come to you," he hissed.
"And do not think to threaten me," Presto countered. "In your current state I could easily win anything you try to start!"
As he spoke, Presto moved forward, carrying Sheila to the bed; after all, for better or worse, she was now Venger's wife. Although the mage glared dangerously at him, Presto was amazed at how gently he took Sheila and pulled her against him. Then, seemingly forgetting that Presto was even there, he stroked Sheila's hair back from her face and tenderly kissed her forehead. "It is you," he whispered. "How I had hoped that I was right; that you had returned to me..." As he cupped her face, he noted the Ring of the Mind upon his finger and quickly groping for her hand, found the Ring of the Heart on her matching finger.
A moments confusion crossed his face as he froze and looked inward.
"You feel it, don't you?" Presto asked, immediately drawing Venger's gaze.
This time they were filled with amazement and even grudging admiration. "You did this?" he asked.
He nodded. "Right down to the spell of binding."
"How did you know?"
"I surmised that the rings were linked in some way once I recalled that Sheila had used them to temporarily banish you. Her ability to do so was remarkable in and of itself, but the fact that her use of the rings and your banishment ended up freeing Kareena of her evil... streak, got me thinking. Once I'd revived you, I asked Sheila to try to summon the Ring of the Mind and her ability to do so pretty much confirmed my suspicions. It was a simple matter to hold your ring and make it reveal its nature to me."
"And you followed through with my original intentions," Venger said, his expression one of shock and confusion.
Presto smiled, "Once more, a kindness done, not for you but for someone else."
"I doubt she will thank you for it," he breathed, holding Sheila closer.
"I did it for the Realm, Venger," he replied. "Now you've got your second chance, as does she. I suggest you think twice before wasting it."
"Does she know? Did she agree to it?"" the mage asked, looking down at the woman in his arms, his voice sorrowful.
"I never gave her the choice of marrying you. She didn't know what I did, but since then she has been remembering the past and now knows the truth. I only just informed her. It was too much for her; the truth is what made her faint."
He bowed his head for a time, then again met Presto's eyes. "I owe you a greater debt than I can ever repay," he breathed. "But having accessed the Ring of the Mind, you are aware of what lies ahead. Would you be willing to stand by my side as my apprentice and ally?"
"A true teacher is something I have long sought," he replied. "and you will have my support in any endeavor against... him."
The fiendish one stared at him. "You will make a worthy apprentice, but what exactly is it you expect me to teach you? You've no stomach for the dark arts," he spat. "Yet, you will need to learn them."
"You were once skilled in the ways of healing and white magic. I will learn what you feel I must, just so long as you also teach me these."
"Bah! Such spells cost me much these days and are difficult at best."
Presto smiled at him. "But you can still do them; better yet, you can teach them. Besides, it is the kind of magic she would rather have you pursue, isn't it?"
One corner of Venger's mouth curved upwards in a humorless smile. He knew he'd been trumped. "Very well, apprentice, but we shall have to take great care that none but us know I teach you such things."
Presto bowed slightly. "Yes, Master," he said, showing deference to his new mentor."
Venger showed his pointy teeth in what passed as a grin, then bellowed, "Shadow Demon!"
The shadow demon appeared instantly, now able to enter the room despite the banishment spell. Presto was impressed by the ancient mage's ability to counter his magic so easily, even in his current weakened state.
Venger instructed his servant, "See to it that Sheila's former chambers are prepared for my new apprentice's comfort."
"Yes, Master!"
The fiend then turned back to Presto. "You are to rest and recover, for I can see that the dust of a long journey still clings to you. Once I've recovered sufficiently, we shall begin your lessons."
"This way, apprentice," the demon urged.
He followed him through the doorway, which vanished and became stone wall once they'd passed through from the room.
Venger looked down at the woman in his arms and reached up to dash away the tears that had begun to track down his face. That he could cry once more was proof that he was himself again. But although he'd been completely restored and was Natharius once more, so many lifetimes of evil could not be completely undone. He was still Venger as well, perhaps more so than Natharius. He would retain his darker characteristics along with the fiendish form his master had given him.
Still, it was a small price to pay considering that both his soul and his memories of how this had come to pass had been returned to him.
Now he understood clearly why it was that he'd been instantly drawn to the thief when he'd seen her on the steps of the Citadel of Shadow and why he'd been so... human when in her company.
She'd carried his soul with her; trapped within the Ring of the Heart, where he'd placed it before riding out to do battle with the evil one that day so many lifetimes ago. Once the ring had, against all odds, returned to the finger of it's original owner, his soul had reawakened. When he was in her presence, it became a part of him once more, fed to him through her, yet still bound to her and the ring. Thus he could not stay away from her, but was continuously drawn to her side.
And hosting his soul, she could not help but feel an immediate attachment to him, despite who and what he was, for a part of him was now traveling with her wherever she ventured.
Yet, he'd been completely unaware of any of this, for he'd had to wipe his own memory of the act, less the evil one read it in his mind as he rode out to fight him. His memories, he trapped within the Heart of the Mind. Both soul and memory meant to be locked away and kept safe from the evil one.
He'd meant them to be returned to him if he survived the battle. All it required was that he and his true love be properly joined, as planned.
It should have happened long since. It should have happened within weeks of his return to her, all those lifetimes ago. Little did he know that his fiendish self would exhibit an aversion to marrying. He'd been too proud; insisting that they wait until such time that he was restored... or perhaps it had been the cruel streak that his master's influence brought out in him.
Either way, it had quickly spelled disaster!
Suhailah had fallen into the deepest despair over his bipolar behavior, for if they parted company for even a few hours, when next they met he was capable of doing unspeakable things to her before the ring's influence could restore him to his usual temperament. Over the course of several years, she begged him to release her, but of course, he could not bear such a thing... and so she'd found another way out.
With a sob, he kissed Sheila's cheek, then cast a spell to make her sleep. It would do her much good and him as well, for he too could now rest and with her in his arms, until the time came to explain it all to her.
Once he'd taken the Ring of the Heart from her and placed it on his own hand, his own soul had begun to torment him; replaying every horrible thing he'd ever done. It was guilt, projected ten-fold at him unless Sheila were present to calm it. That guilt, the nightmares, the waking visions... had driven him to very brink of death.
He was stunned to not only find himself alive, but restored and with his true love by his side once more.
Venger tucked her beneath the covers and pulled her against him as he also lay down. Then he held her and cried; shedding tears of frustration, thanks and fear for what soon lay ahead.
There would be no time to cry then.
Next up: Acceptance.