The sun had just set, turning the western sky into burning smoke and golden flame, while in the east the deepening hues of blue and purple were obscured by fast approaching clouds, high, deep and dark. The seas were beginning to show the signs as swells began to grow and wind began to create spray and some small whitecaps. The crew of the Golden Dolphin had already rigged sail and secured all compartments and equipment. The cargo below was also secured and all hands were on deck except for Ambgwin and Foster. The former was finishing preparing the pumps which would undoubtedly become necessary and the latter was banking the cookfire so as to not have to fight fire in the hold while fighting to keep the ship afloat.

Captain Elsdrin watched the crew perform his barked orders and kept a stern glare on his face at all times. The approaching storm had all the makings of any captains nightmare and no crewman was going to be slack in his performance at a time like this. This storm was death to most ships this far out at sea but the prevailing winds had been pushing steadily west which made for slow going for a ship with a destination East by North-East. Captain Elsdrin had tried a new trick which had been called tacking, turning the ship to a course approximately 90 degrees to the prevailing winds direction and arranging sails to catch and hold the wind. Many of the newly built ships with their triangular sails angled down the long axis of the ship could catch the wind like this and almost fly across the waves.

But the Golden Dolphin was not such a ship and may have been better called the Brown Flounder while trying to catch the wind with its square sails while tacking. The wind had picked up to almost gale force yesterday and the spars were creaking and groaning badly. When Captain Elsdrin heard wood cracking, he immediately turned back to a more westerly course and felt the strain leave the shaking timbers and rudder and watched as his small merchantman plowed outward into open ocean.

Only now the approaching storm turned the whole matter into one of survival.

He had scanned the charts and knew their position by heart. He had taken their position at sundown and knew that they would be approaching a small group of islands with no name around midnight. Rumor had it they were all surrounded by coral reefs so Captain Elsdrin had plotted his course to pass north of the islands by many leagues.

Satisfied the men were being diligent for the moment, he turned his attention to the crows nest. He saw the familiar form of the dark haired man with his long, unruly hair blowing about his face, staring intently into the wind from the east, a familiar look of defiance in the set of his jaw and shoulders, a grin of pure stubbornness glued to his face. Captain Elsdrin felt the now familiar anger that always accompanied looking at the bronzed form of Domo. The man was probably the best sailor of the entire crew, but could almost care less about doing any shipwork at all. Domo lived to stand in the masts and crows nest, scanning the horizon and skies for whatever came next into view. When he worked, he did twice the work of any man twice as fast and never with error. The crew all grumbled at the constant comparison the captain made between any of them and Domo. It made for strife which Elsdrin did not need but also made for a crew that busted their tails to match Domo's accomplishments. Captain Elsdrin had finally had to keep Domo in the very place he wanted to be, the sails and crows nest, just for the simple expedience of preventing a mutiny or murder of Domo. That Domo tended to be a loner, temperamental, prone to throw a fist for no reason, and a bit of a nut made the solution of hanging him in the shrouds all day the best solution.

But once Domo was scrambling among the lines and sails, he seemed to lose touch with his work and drift into his own world, a place where no one else dared to try to pull him out of. Some had tried and a few had walked away with only a busted chin or 10 inch scar across their chest and throat. Those were the lucky ones. Only Captain Elsdins sharp bark of a yell could yank Domo out of one of his 'trances', and the best thing was that he could do it at a distance.

Once the Captain had assigned him crows nest duty, a heretofore unknown attribute of Domo became obvious and earned him the name by which the whole crew now called him and he seemed to actually enjoy. And it would serve them well in the approaching storm.

Captain Elsdrin bellowed up at the crows nest, "Boomer, wake your sorry butt up and keep your eyes peeled. We'll have islands to the south and west in a few hours and I don't want you lost to this world in the middle of the storm when we need you wide awake."

------

Domo was reveling in the sheer joy of standing in the wind, staring the approaching storm in the face and mentally daring it to do it's worst. He loved a challenge and was always ready to stand against anything and go toe-to-toe with it, pitting every ounce of his strength and will against his foe. Since becoming a sailor a few years ago, he had learned new skills and abilities, honed his fists and sword upon any taker and those who just needed a good scrap, and learned the absolute wonder of the challenge of facing the mighty open sea and standing against the worst it could give, and come out wet, weary and triumphant.

From within his reverie of the moment, the familiar and striking voice of the Captain hit him like a stone wall and brought him back to the here and now. He knew the storm was slowly building and could 'feel' it opening moves and jabs in the wind and waves, and knew it had nothing now which could challenge him. He bit back the bitter retort that was just ready to leave his lips and instead hollered down, "AYE CAP'N. I'LL BE HERE."

------

Captain Elsdrin smiled but did not let a single facial muscle move from the scowl he had pasted onto his face. 'Boomer' was an appropriate name. The man had a voice that would deafen and quiet a howling mob. He had heard Boomers words as if the had been spoken loudly 2 feet away. You could actually feel the words he spoke when he yelled them. Yes, Boomer was in the best place he could be.

The hours passed, the waves rose, the rain fell and then slammed down as the wind picked up. The Golden Dolphin had just shortened sail since several waves and gusts had almost caused the ship to keel over on its side. Foster and two others were already working the pumps as water seemed to pour over the rails and into every possible opening down into the hold. The men jumped to every task Elsdrin commanded, loosened, tightened, and retied ropes and lowered sail or raised it as Elsdrin commanded. Boomer had occasionally reported seeing large waves in time for Elsdrin to bring the ship around in time to face it and pass by. The wind seemed to come from any direction now and even Elsdrin was loosing a clear sense of direction. The ships compass was continuously spinning around ever since the lightning had started flashing across the sky. A bad sign. Elsdrin had heard of lightning storms so powerful that compasses were rendered senseless in them, but he had never heard of a hurricane storm with lightning that accomplished the same thing. And Elsdrin was sure he was in the path of a hurricane. For the hundredth time, Elsdrin looked up at the crows nest and saw Boomer holding the rail, face intently scanning the swirling ocean around them, hair plastered to his scalp and face, rain water pouring off of every limb. One thing that Elsdrin could say he admired in the man. No matter the situation, when Boomer said he would do a thing, nothing less than death itself would prevent him from accomplishing it. And Boomer was still alive.

Elsdrin turned back to the other matters facing him, content for this moment that Boomer was not in one of his trances, but facing the storm with the rest of them.

------

Domo was ALIVE. He stood facing perhaps the worst storm he had ever been in and felt his spirit exult in the moment. It had always seemed that storms brought this feeling out in him; the sensations that the storm had come for him and that by his will alone, he faced each one down and conquered it. His mind seemed on fire with the sense of the storm, his nostrils filled with the scent of lightning and salt air, his ears hearing each splash of wave, crash of thunder, scream of wind, wood creak and each man's heartbeat. Each beat of his heart, each breath into his lungs seemed to fill him with new energy. He had never understood it. He only knew he lived for these moments and when they came, his senses, body and mind seemed to expand to meet each new challenge.

Domo had thought he had seen something a moment ago, and had tried to catch a glimpse of it again. He knew the hours had passed and that they were approaching the islands Captain Elsdrin had hoped to pass North of, but his heightened senses told him that they were nearer to those islands that they had hoped.

But it was not a rock nor coral formation he had seen and sensed. The moment he had seen the white foam swirl around it off the port side and just before the Golden Dolphin had dipped into another trough, he had known it to be DANGER. Every fiber in his being screamed that one word at him. He now was trying to catch another glimpse of it to be sure that what he reported to Elsdrin was accurate. The lightning flashed again, but the ship was still in the trough and Domo couldn't see it though the wall of water towering over them. But he had heard the order and felt the ship respond to the helm as Elsdrin turned the ship into the wave. The Dolphin crested the wave and dipped down. Lightning flashed again right in front of the ship and for a moment, every man on the ship was blinded.

Including Domo.

Elsdrin blinked several times, trying to wash away the jagged image almost burned into his vision, knowing that every second counted in a storm this bad. He couldn't see clearly but knew what he had been trying to accomplish. He stood tall and barked out the orders he knew needed to be done. Once done, something made him look once again towards the Crows Nest. Elsdrin felt his heart skip a beat as he somehow saw Domo clearly, standing staring intently forward, hands gripping the rail around the nest. The posture screamed at him, the lack of the familiar grin and look of defiance gone. Instead, he saw a man trying to see something. Looking for something specific. Lookingfor something he knew was there. He opened his mouth to call to Domo. But Boomer turned and called down to him before he could utter a word.

------

Domo had caught another glimpse of something in the dark, something just beneath the waves. At first he had thought it might be a capsized ship, but something told him this was not what he had seen. Waves rose and fell, the wind hit the ship and turned her a bit, enough for the few sail up to obscure his vision just enough to miss having a clear look at where he thought the object should be.

And then the ship rose over a wave, tilted portside, swung a bit and in that moment, Domo saw it. The shape. The danger.

"CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN ELSDRIN! OFF THE FORWARD STARBORD QUARTER!" He pointed towards the shape now visible in the water, seeing that he had the captains attention.

------

Captain Elsdrin and every man who had heard Boomer looked forward. At first no one could see it, then Skrall and Wienja both pointed towards the water and yelled something. Wienja's yells were cut short as a large, flat object came over the side of the ship from the sea and slapped down over him, covering him entirely. The slick, oily surface of the object glistened in the flashing lightnings, revealing the terror of all mariners. The object was the tentacle that distinguished the object as none other than a giant squid. Another regular tentacle, then another appeared, and suddenly the ship listed forward as if the weight of the ship had somehow shifted in that direction. Skrall was screaming, running away from the creature that had attached itself to the Golden Dolphin.

Elsdrin was just about to start command some of the men to grab the stowed hooks when he heard Boomer call out something about a squid. He looked up at the man and shouted, "I HAVE EYES! I CAN SEE FOR MYS…." But Boomer was not pointing forward. He was pointing at the water behind Elsdrin.

Elsdrin heard and felt the squid as its suckered appendages attached themselves to his ship and felt the ship react to the additional weight by beginning to keel over. Elsdrins mind was racing. He had heard stories of giant squids attacking ships, but they had always been single incidents. There were two of them attached to his ship. As he turned, he saw the creature pull itself over the rail. The crewmen nearby him scampered and slipped back away from the black bulk hauling itself over the rail. Elsdrin stared into the face of the creature before him. This was no soulless sea creature, no overlarge piece of bait-meat. This creature's eye glowed with a yellow fire, a deep amber intelligence. This was no squid. "By great Poseidon," he breathed, "a Kraken!"

Domo knew he had his post. He knew he had to stay in the crows nest. He knew that Eldrin would skin him alive if he left his post. But as he saw the second Krakens pod-tentacle sweep forward and slam into Elsdrin, wrapping around him and dragging the stunned and helpless form towards itself, Domo felt a war cry escape his lips and his hidden belt-knife in his palm, and made to leap for the line that he would slide down to engage the Kraken.

Instead, the storm answered the war cry with one of its own making. And it directed it at Domo.

Light and shock hit Domo. The crows nest exploded, the mast shattered, lines that had been taut and strained, snapped and rained down to the deck below. A fireball landed on the deck. In the middle of the fireball, the form of a man stood in a picture of agony as light, fire and lightning swirled around him. The Kraken amid ship had ceased pulling Elsdrins body towards itself and had moved forward, away from the burning man.

Domo felt on fire, a searing, burning, agonizing torture of pain and ecstasy. In the moment the lightning had hit him, he had felt something inside him snap. And now, he felt that a well had been opened, a deep pit of something was suddenly his to access, to draw forth. Almost like the lightning around him was actually being absorbed into the well. And he was feeling himself change, alter, modify into something else. Something better and stronger. The pain he was enduring was acting like fire burning away the hairs on his skin, leaving a new and tougher skin layer behind. He could feel something about himself actually melt away and he knew he would not miss it. It had blocked him, kept parts of him locked up. Now those parts were free, open to his access and use. In that moment he concentrated and felt the lightning form into a ball in his fist. He opened his eyes and looked with new vision at the Kraken holding Elsdrin and threw the ball at the Kraken. It hit and a booming thunderclap shook the ship as the Kraken exploded. Kraken fleshy and blood sprayed everywhere and the rail of the ship disintegrated as the remaining appendages fell into the churning ocean.

Domo reached into the well and called up more lightning into another ball and ran forward to engage the first Kraken. Domo could feel the storm now, for in some way he had become a part of it. He sensed each and every part of the waves, wind, clouds, water and lightning. And he somehow knew he could change each one, individually or collectively. His senses took in everything and somehow his mind could process it all. He also sensed the other krakens waiting around the ship, almost a dozen more. Domo hurled the ball of lightning at the Kraken forward and watched it explode also in another booming thunderclap.

Domo paused and looked around. He saw his crewmates, staring at him, fear and loathing in each line of their face and countenance. The ship suddenly dipped forward and a dark shadow filled the path of the ship. Men screamed and Domo turned, but he knew it was too late as the ship rammed the rock formation. The prow shattered and the ships momentum carried it onto the rocks. The whole forward quarter became shattered and broken, and a split appeared on the deck, indicating a separation of the forward section and the rest of the ship. It was the death blow for the Golden Dolphin. A wave slammed into the starboard side, swept the deck and shifted the remaining bulk of the ship off the rocks and into water where the Golden Dolphin immediately began to take on water and begin to sink. Domo had managed to hold onto a rope and keep his feet on the Dolphin. More waves battered the hull and more men went into the water and the waiting Kraken. Domo turned and started making his way to the rowboat stowed aft. He heard the spars and masts groaning and splitting as he moved hand over hand up towards the helm area in the aft section of the ship when suddenly something struck him from behind. He saw stars burst in his head, felt himself pitching forward, then blacked out.

Gigi set down her sewing and flexed fingers that had become stiff from overuse. The gold filigree thread made detail work that much harder when trying to sew into silk and she wanted to make sure this came out perfect. The new doublet for her husband would be ready for his birthingday so long as she could finish the emblem that would rest over the heart when he wore it.

She sighed as she remembered the months he had been away. His letters came regularly of his travels through Verdite, helping to get the Ichrius Springs working again. The King's Advisor had said that the springs would not be able to flow again until all had been cleansed and prepared for reactivation.

She had been fortunate to find such a wonderful man to be wife to and blessed Vallad for bringing her to him. After Prince Lyle had reclaimed Verdite, she had moved up to the castle as a kitchen maid. Her prior life on Melanat and the dark times under King Alfred became a thing of the past as light and life began to blossom in Verdite under the new king's benevolent rule.

And then she caught the eye of the man who would become her husband. He was noble, proud and strong, a knight right out of every maidens dreams. He wooed her and quickly won her hand. Since then, her life became even more wondrous. She couldn't have imagined herself truly living in a castle with the greatest knight in the land as her husband. Her new noble status also brought new responsibilities that she dedicated herself to performing with excellence. And the pride and love in her husband's eyes was all the reward she could hope for.

That and the children he had given her. Young Randal was soon to turn 2 years old and she was pregnant with their second child, who was due in less than a month. She ran her fingers over her stomach, slowly and with a gentle pressure, until she felt the slight firmness that was her unborn child's head. She silently sent thoughts of love and happiness through that touch and felt the child stir. A soft tapping began, which she had come to believe was the child reaching out its hand to hers saying, "I love you too", and for the moment she relaxed into that bond which she shared with her unborn child.

So deeply had she drifted into the bond that she missed the soft knock at the door, which was repeated another two times before she started out of her reverie and called for the person to enter.

The door opened and Queen Lyn entered, with a raised eyebrow and concern on her face. Although shorter than Gigi and much more slender at this point, Queen Lyn had taken on the mantle of royalty and worn it well. She walked gently but authoritatively forward and moved quickly to the side of Gigi, who tried to rise to kneel in the presence of Her Royal Majesty. "Gigi, dear, are you not well? I was growing concerned for you whilst you did not respond to my knocking." She took Gigi's hands in her and prevented Gigi from kneeling. "Gigi, we are old friends and in your private chambers. And your condition grants you the special privilege of not having to kneel before a friend whilst you remain 8 months pregnant. Now sit you down and tell me how you are faring?"

Queen Lyn helped her to sit again and Gigi thanked her. "My Lady, I am well. I am sorry I did not respond to your first knocks but my son and I were visiting." She ran her hand over her swollen abdomen and smiled.

"So, you are still sure it will be a boy?"

Gigi looked up into Lyns twinkling eyes. "Of course. You will keep it secret from my Lord, please my Lady? He so wishes for a daughter for me, he would think me sick with vapors if he knew I was sure of the son I will bear him."

"I still do not know how it is you know this of your babe, but I do recall when you were with Randal and also knew it was to be a boy. Some women have that gift and I am sure that you are on blessed with it. I unfortunately am not so fortunate. But then again, I do like a good surprise."

"How fare your babes, my Lady?"

"Young Larria and Lyle are well, and ever so boisterous knowing their father will return soon. Have you yet finished your husbands doublet?"

Gigi smiled inwardly. Although Princess Larria was older than Prince Lyle by three years, everyone in the palace referred to them as Lyle and Larria in deference to Lyle being heir to the throne. Everyone except their mother, Queen Lyn. "Soon. Perhaps tomorrow. Has there been any word as to when the King and his men are to return to us here?"

"No, but it should be any day. Oh, how I miss my Lord when he is gone. Would that I could have gone with him."

Gigi smiled. The Queen often voiced this in her presence and only when they were alone, as now. She would have no one know how must she truly detested running the kingdom in King Austins absence, but in reality she did quite well and often Gigi could see her eyes glow with pride and sometimes great satisfaction when she talked about the accomplishments of the day with her. Although recently she spoke less of matters of state with Gigi, perhaps in deference to Gigi's pregnancy. This pregnancy had had its moments of tension. Twice in the past month Gigi had gone into false labor, the last time their had been a small amount of bleeding. Since then, the Queen and her chiurgen, Makatar, had demanded she remain in or near her chambers and rest as often as possible. Draughts of herbal teas and a few other concoctions less savory were brought to her daily to insure her health and a safe delivery.

Gigi continued to count herself very blessed and quietly accepted the directions of the Queen her friend and Makatar's potions and teas.

They continued to visit for a few more moments when another knock drew their attention to the door. The person waited until Lyn called to enter, and a guard entered and bowed. "Forgive the interruption your Majesty, My Lady, but word has come from the guard tower. A large compliment of men on horses will be arriving within a few minutes. They bear the standard of the King!"

Both women turned to look at each other and both women flushed with the exciting news. They would soon be holding their husbands after months apart.

Word spread quickly and a large crowd gathered inside the gate that separated the Hill of Prayer from the Castle proper to greet and welcome the return of King Austin and his men. They rode through the gates to the castle, remodeled since King Austin had reclaimed Verdite from his father. Now the path into the castle was more of a straight ride from these gates than the twisting corridors of the former kings castle. Strategically placed along both sides of the path were high walls with murder holes and funnels to channel boiling oil. The whole path was actually a trap for anyone who attacked the castle and entered through these gates. While in this area with no doors nor other exits other than the entry gate and the castle portcullis gate was a place no attacking army wanted to get caught in.

Lyle and his men rode in amid cheers and a few colorful scarves and rags waving as pennants. They passed through the two gates and into the Castle Courtyard where young boys, mostly new squires, took the mounts of the King and his knights and attendants as they dismounted. A green robed man with the badge of the office of the Kings Advisor stepped up to the King, bowed at the waist and spoke.

"Greetings and well met Your Majesty. I hope you have met with success and extend to you the joy of the people of Verdite at your return."

King Austin stepped up to the darkly bearded man. "Krone, it is good to see you. I trust that all is well and my kingdom still fares well in my absence?"

"As I have kept His Majesty informed by letter and as he can see Himself, Verdite still stands as your kingdom and if your mission has met with success, I dare to say it can only grow stronger."

The King clapped Krone Licht on the shoulder. "Success will be measured tonight. We have the final ceremony to perform and once completed, the Springs of Ichrius should run true again. Have you completed all the preparations?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. But there is still time left in the day for you to rest up for the rite. Perhaps you would like to retire and rest up?"

King Austin stood quite still for a moment, then a broad grin swept his face. "The only restorative I truly need is to see my beloved and my children. Why are they not here to receive their liege Lord?"

"The queen awaits you in your chambers, Majesty. She was with Lady Gigi when word of your return came and she went to prepare herself and your children."

King Austin paused and his head turned just a bit towards his right shoulder and the man standing just a few feet behind him. "How fares the Lady Gigi?"

"She is quite well Your Majesty, and Healer Makatar has worked wonders with restoring her to excellent health."

The air that for a moment grown taut with tension, dissipated as the King turned to look at the blond-haired man behind him. "It seems Lord Romeus, that all your worrying was for naught. Your wife is well."

"Forgive me, my Liege, but until my own eyes confirm this truth, it remains but hope for me, not fact. By your leave, I would like to see her immediately."

"Of course, Romeus, go to her. I am sure she longs to see you as much as you her."

"That is unlikely my Liege. I have twice the urgency to see her as she does me." The man known as Romeus turned to the Castle and practically ran up the few steps.

King Austin turned to the soldier still standing near. Captain Cahana, see to your men and that the packs are delivered to the spring tonight before sunset. A Guard of 4 men should be enough I think."

The Captain saluted and responded, "Yes, Your Majesty". Cahana turned and began to issue orders.

The King turned back to Krone Licht. "Anything important that needs to be attended to?"

Krone Licht shook his head. "Nothing so important that the Queen wouldn't have me skinned alive if I told you of it, Majesty. Her Highness the Queen would seem to be your highest priority right now."

Laughing, King Austin followed Lord Romeus up the steps and into the Castle.

As the sun set over Verdite Castle and the surrounding lands, torch light illuminated a square brick building on the Hill of Prayer. There were several people gathered, and throughout the entire night, the King and his magi performed the ceremony that would restore one of the most vital keys to the prosperity of Verdite.

Time passed, and the sky began to lighten. Then, at the moment of sunrise, as the first rays of daylight stretched towards the site, the King drew his sword and held it high, and all the rays of sunlight seemed to bend towards it. The King's Sword, The Excellector, seemed to draw all light from the sky and into itself. The Ichrius Key hanging from around his neck began to glow with a golden light, not unlike the sunlight streaming towards the King. Just when the sun had fully crested the hill and there was a direct beam of light from sun to sword, the King allowed the sword to drop down into the crushed Verdite crystal dust in the fountain basin. There was a silent explosion of blinding light and for several moments, the Ichrius Spring was bathed in a radiance brighter than the sun itself.

The light faded to the sound of water bubbling and gurgling, and suddenly golden water poured forth and into the now empty basin. A cheer went up, weak and tired, but still, all the efforts of the past several months had paid off. At least here. The King would have to use the Ichrius Key to test out all the other fountains to be sure, but King Austin was sure that if this one had worked, then the others would soon be running also. He looked down at the Excellector Sword, now no more than a small short sword, it's power spent. He adjusted his special scabbard for the sword to accommodate the new-yet-old configuration of the sword, and turned to thank those who had aided him.

The Ichrius Springs ran true again. Now the land of Verdite, recently drained of magic, would be restored in time to it's former glory. This was but the first step.

The mercenary stood in the trees, watching from across the waters near the entrance to the Passage of Death. Although great effort had been made in recent years to clear out that evil place, it still was rife with corruption and undead. The most direct path through the Passage was continuously patrolled and maintained, so the few brave souls who went through generally encountered nothing.

But his mind was not on the fact that he would soon walk that path. His mind was on the recent months of aid he had given the King in his search for magic crystals of Verdite and the elemental magic crystal, much more rare than Verdite itself. It had taken months and backbreaking effort to find enough crystal to turn into powder that would help to activate the Springs again. He had been enlisted to help find crystal, since he was one of the few who could wield the power of Verdite as the King did.

The sense of déjà vu came over him again as he looked at the King, and for the hundredth time he felt as if he had been with the King on his quest to restore Verdite and overpower his father, despite the fact that everyone knew he had done it all on his own, alone.

After the light show had ended, and it seemed the King had accomplished what he had set out to do, the Mercenary sighed and checked again the coin purse at his belt. It still held a small portion of the gold coin he had been paid for his services, the rest secreted away or placed in a safe place.

He turned towards the Passage and started walking, his fatigue making each step harder and more arduous. "Well, Thimothy-boyo, time to move on and find that Inn with a bed with your name carved into it," he said to himself. He touched his hand to the door and the stone wall moved up and allowed him access into the Passage.

Warm wind caressed his face and brushed wisps of hair into his face, but he reveled in it rather than be irritated by it. So much pain had been given over to peacefulness and calm, ease and comfort.

He stood on the stone terrace, which Eshta called a veranda, which overlooked the waters of a deep blue bay. The waters below were that of an ocean of unbelievably warm water, and it was full of many fish and larger creatures, some just longer than a man and very friendly. One actually let him hold the hard fin on it's back and it swam around with him thus for some time. A path led down to a rock shelf that acted like a dock and fishing post. He had managed to snare a large salmon on his hook yesterday that was as long as he was and outweighed him by at least double. It was currently over in the smokehouse and would grace the dinner table tomorrow night. The fight it had given him had almost pulled his arms out of their sockets, but he had prevailed and was even now reliving the battle.

Ahh, he thought, if only all of life's battles were so fulfilling.

The rocky outcrop on which the stone building stood ran almost the entire length of this side of the bay, but the house was situated nearer to the middle and the low brushland portion of the other arm of the bay, an area covered in several varieties of quite delectable (and currently ripe!) berries. Always one to enjoy the eating of a dish rather than having to gather them, Dave had found simple joy in spending the hours gathering the berries and bringing them back to the house.

Eshta had said there were ample supplies for weeks here and Dave turned the berries into all sorts of dishes. Tarts, jellies, juices, an attempt at a berry brandy which Dave had decided needed another go at the still for extra potency (the flavor was perfect), pies, and more. Fresh vegetables, both wild and in a cultivated garden were also abundant, although Dave wondered how several of the vegetables were growing side by side in full ripeness when he knew they were of different seasons. Another garden of herbs completed the elements he needed for cooking.

A variety of smoked and salted meats were cleverly stored downstairs in a deep cave that somehow maintained a very cool temperature, sufficiently cool that some mornings, beads of moisture would be frozen.

The only thing Dave had to do was to find something to do.

He had been here for weeks and every few days, Eshta would show up again and they would spend the evenings talking about a variety of subjects. And by the next morning, he would be gone again.

At first, he was not sure how to deal with Eshta, after his ordeal with the Shadow Rat. But being with Eshta seemed to ease the pain, even as Eshta insisted they talk about the ordeal itself. And it helped to talk it out. It actually allowed Dave to examine whatever event in his past they talked about with a clarity and perspective he had never used.

His years traveling Melanat and Verdite, other lands and worlds, of Lea Monde and the Rood Inverse, which changed his life forever. Of his battles with Guildenstern in both Lea Monde and Verdite. Of the transformation of light that had overtaken him and now seemed to lie dormant, much to his relief. Of battles won and lost, of hopes and despair, of fear and courage. He somehow could not stop talking once Eshta had asked a question.

Of Eshta he had learned little, except that this house was one of his abodes, as he called them. He kept it well stocked and would occasionally bring individuals here to rest up and recuperate.

And it was simply one of the most peaceful and wonderful times he had ever known in his life. There were moments when he wished Tia could share this with him, but he had become resolved and content that in her way, she was sharing it with him.

Today, he sipped a concoction of a black berry juice and chilled red wine combination that he found quite delightful and perfect to take the edge off of the hot sun overhead. If there was one complaint that could be made about this place, it was that it never rained due to the constant hot sun overhead. Nights quickly became chilled being this close to the ocean and the days quickly became hot, much before midday. So Dave spent the very early morning hours and the hours before midday doing whatever activities came to mind (except fishing, of course) and then relaxing in the shaded arches of olives and grapes that covered the veranda and helped to make the mid and late day heat more bearable.

He had in fact been developing a darker complexion since he had come here, and he had come to like the idea. He shaved but rarely and bathed hardly at all, at least until either he couldn't stand himself or Eshta demanded he bathe immediately, which was practically every visit. It had actually become a bit of a childish game for him, and he enjoyed reeking of smoked fish right now, knowing that Eshta would be arriving soon.

He had made up several fish and vegetable pies that were ready for the ovens, but it was still too early and hot to get them to cooking.

He felt rather than heard when Eshta touched down behind him, because the air had been still, but even Eshta could not land without sweeping the air with his wings, although when he did, he did it so silently as to make Dave think that nothing but a breeze had picked up.

"Welcome home, Eshta. May I pour you a cup of wine punch I have made?"

He turned towards the decanter of 'punch' sitting under a deep green and very leafy vine that clung to the wall of the house and blocked all sunlight away. It was here Dave kept his cooled wine punch, where it would remain cool longest and yet be easily accessible. He heard no reply, but poured the punch and turned to where he knew Eshta had landed.

He still caught his breath when he looked upon the white winged man who stood half a head taller than he was and whom was broader shouldered than Dave by half again. The musculature in the back of Eshta was extraordinary, to accommodate the great sweeping wings that carried him aloft. To fly, Dave wondered for the hundredth time, now that would indeed be freedom. In truth, the features of Eshta's face were rather plain, and the skin was actually not smooth at all, but seemed to be segmented like scales or the veins in a leaf. There was a soft down that began just below the neckline and covered practically every inch of the winged mans frame. His flowing hair was white, not gray, the very color of his feathers.

He walked towards Eshta and handed him the cup of punch, which h accepted and brought to his lips and sipped at, the whole time watching Dave with his eyes.

His very green eyes.

Dave had long ago learned that those eyes of Eshta could burrow into him and his soul without any effort. He looked away towards the sea just to escape the penetrating glare and spoke. "The sea is quite lovely here, Eshta. I thank you again for bringing me here. It has been a wonderful time I have had here."

"A time that has drawn to a close."

The words speared Dave to his soul. He didn't want to leave. He couldn't leave. There was no place he wanted to go, no where he wanted to be. He turned back to face the green-eyed angel before him. "Why? Why must it end and why must I leave?"

Eshta walked over to a wooden chair that was designed to accommodate his wings and sat. "Did you think this place was meant to be where you spend the rest of your life? We have spoken long on your past, the worlds you have visited. You have told me of how only a precious few are allowed to walk the worlds as you do. And when you do, it is always to a place that is in great need of a champion, and you have stepped in to fill those shoes. Quite successfully. It seems that if there are few who can do this and you are one of them, and that you have been so successful at it, then I would be inclined to think that some part of your destiny lies not in staying in a peaceful place like this, but in pursuing wherever and whatever you are led to pursue. Perhaps another world to save, another cause to champion? No, to keep you here or even leaving you here would eventually wear away at your spirit and soul until you become useless to anyone, especially yourself. I think that that would be highly irresponsible of me, don't you?"

Dave's emotions were at war. His discussions with Eshta had shown him that there was a sort of destiny in his travels and adventures, but he so much wanted to be at peace in his life, to find a place where he could settle down and build a life of his own, the life he had started with Tia.

The worlds were always at war somewhere and he grew tired of always traveling from one battle to the next. His time at the Verdite Inn as Innkeeper has shown him his inner heart and how much he wanted to be settled in one place of his own.

But it seemed that destiny was pulling at him to travel again. What made the truth of Eshta's words so painful was that in the midst of the peaceful, joyful time he had been given here he still felt the familiar pull to travel again. And he had been trying to ignore it by keeping himself busy.

He smiled to himself. It also meant he wouldn't be able to enjoy a nice smoked salmon steak.

Eshta suddenly laughed out loud. It settled into a chuckle where he then said, "I think there is enough of the salmon smoked to enjoy it tonight, don't you?"

Dave nodded his head and looked back out to sea to watch the sun begin to sink closer to horizon. "When do I have to leave?"

"We have the night to enjoy. Until tomorrow, why don't you get some of the salmon and start those pies to cooking, and I will go make my own wine punch for you."

The next morning, Eshta was still with him and handed him a cup with some amber liquid in it, which did smell like it had both herbs and wine in it. Dave drank it gratefully, knowing that this particular mixture would quickly abate his hangover, but at the expense of his bowels. In a few hours, his head would stop aching and his colon would start. But it was definitely worth the pain to remove the pain.

Eshta spoke," We must go now. There is another one who needs my help and it is far for me to have to travel. I have packed your belongings and they await your over there. I will prepare some provisions for you while you get ready." Eshta left to go gather the food. Dave rose and washed from the water bucket in his room, after rinsing the sour taste from his mouth. He dressed, gathered his few belongings, took one last regretful look around his room, and walked into the main room.

Eshta had a woven bag ready for him that bulged heavily. Two large skins completed the offerings and Dave took them all. Then they walked outside and Eshta enfolded Dave in his wings and they were suddenly somewhere else. It took Dave a moment to look around to try and gather where he might be. The only thing he could say for sure is that he was in a forest glade.

"You have come far, young human, and your healing is not fully complete, but then we often still feel the ache of a scar that healed years ago. But you are ready for your next challenge, and there are dark days ahead. But I believe it is your destiny to meet the challenge to the best of your ability. I trust you will do your best."

"How do you know all this? Are you saying you can see my future?" What truly amazed Dave was that he had never asked that question before until now, even though it had passed through his mind many times.

Eshta smiled. "I think you dropped this some time ago." He held up the feather that he had acquired from Culder Morse. It was still attached to the leather thong he had worn around his neck. He took it from Eshta and put it around his neck. "Thank you. I was trying to find a friend with this."

"Raistlin is near, and needs your assistance. But it will not be easy. Do not rely on magic, for the laws of magic in this world are very specific and if you try even a simple healing spell, it could easily become a poison spell. Here, it takes great discipline and study to wield magic correctly. For now, it is a greater danger for you to use magic than it is to offend a noble. Do you catch my meaning?"

Dave nodded and grinned a bit. "I see wisdom in your bringing me to such a world. I will need to get back in shape for sword work instead of magic work. The power of magic makes some battles too easy, and too much power can corrupt the wielder. So, I need to use my mind and body more than my spirit and magic."

"Something like that, young one. There is also one more thing I want you to have before I part, for we will not soon meet again. " At this, Eshta reached behind his back and made a yanking motion. He brought out a tail feather and handed it to Dave. "Something to remember me by. When the time comes, look upon this and you will find what you need. Farewell, young one."

As Dave took the proffered feather, Eshta leapt into the sky with a mighty thrust of his wings and disappeared in mid air.

Dave looked into the sky knowing he would not see where the winged man would go, but wishing he could go along. He had come to like this creature and would miss his talks with him.

He absently began to loosen the bindings on ShadowKnights feather to accommodate Eshta's feather, when he stopped for a moment to gaze fondly at the remnant of his feathered friend.

It stole upon him slowly, while in his reverie of the memories he had shared with his most recent friend, that the feather was somehow familiar. He thought himself foolish to think that he would find one feather out of the thousands upon his friends body familiar, until a memory of a moment battling Merrill Ur came to mind. He remembered at the beginning of the battle grabbing at another feather.

And realized he held an exact copy of that feather. The battle with Merrill Ur was not the first not the last time he had used a plume like this.

His head snapped back into the sky to stare after the departed figure of the winged man whom he had named friend. But at one time, he had already killed that creature. Or so he thought.

"He's back. Dear God, he has somehow come back."

It had taken him days and a lot of hard work and climbing, not to mention the expense also, but Brismit had finally found (and partially made) a path down to the bottom of the canyon that had the Ruins of the High Elves rising far above. Not one to let a few rumors go to waste, he had collected and collated the rumors about this place for years, before he finally made the decision to descend down into the lower canyons to see what he believed would be a potentially prosperous enterprise. He was quite wrong. And quite right.

The rumors about the High Elves and some of their practices as well as the almighty, mysterious Orladin's many and varied tales made this area a potentially profitable area to explore. That it seemed no one had ever thought to even try to scale down the sheer walls to reach the bottom seemed impossible, but it also appeared the area was considered so 'holy' or so 'evil', depending on the amount of ale one imbibed, as to keep the highly supernatural people from ever exploring it's depths. That, or no one ever heard of the few who tried and they never came back.

He shrugged. Whatever.

What mattered now was that the piton and rope path had worked. He had invested much of his money, sometimes ill-gotten, into a set of special items to aid him in his quest to reach the abyss and plunder it's secrets. The first item was actually pretty common in many worlds, a special amulet of flight. It was to be used only to help him hover while securing the magic-enhanced pitons through which the braided rope was strung and tied to and in the emergency that he fell. The other was the pair of gloves and hose he wore. Both were made of a strange blue and red skin-tight material that hugged his bare skin and allowed him to use just his hands and feet to literally walk along the rock wall much like a spider could. The items also enhanced his strength so that he could move quickly, safely and smoothly. Never one to totally rely on magic, he only used these items to help him make and secure the rope path which he heavily relied upon.

Almost 5 days after starting this descent and securing the path back up, he reached rock bottom. Literally. The bottom of the abyss, as he had come to call it, was scattered with broken shards of boulders and rocks, jagged and sharp. And deadly. One wrong move, one misstep, and he could easily fall and be cleaved in twain.

He suddenly knew that this was a really bad idea. But he also had spent a lot of his money on the chance that at least some of the rumors were true.

Rumors about how the Elves had strict societal laws and to break some of them was punishable by death, namely, being thrown over the cliff. Rumors about how the upper levels used to teem with Elves, that whole cities were up there. And everyone knows, gold rolls downhill. Rumors about disasters where those entire cities were destroyed by earthquakes that caused many of the buildings to slide down the hills to the bottom. Essentially, there was a good chance that one could find many objects of value down below in the abyss. And they did not even have to be special. There were people who would buy a fork used by a former High Elf, a sandal worn by the 'Elf-Mage 'Shalidar' (he had always liked that name, but had never been able to use it anywhere yet), an old helm of an ancient Elf Warrior, and so on. If there was actually gold or even magic items to find, all the better! So, he had come to plunder.

By day 2 going down the wall he was ready to give it all up and go back, the work was so hard and he ached in every muscle. And then he saw the caves. They were nothing more than openings in the rock, but they were all on the rock face across from him, where he didn't dare try to access them. He had thought about using the amulet to fly over, but he knew there was limited power in the amulet and he really needed to conserve it. Maybe, if the abyss didn't pay off, he could come back and take a look at the caves. The fact that they were far enough down the walls to be out of sight but still quite high above the floor of the abyss tantalized his imagination.

But it was plain practicality that made the decision for him. He had an investment in the equipment to get him down to the bottom, and he meant to recoup his expenses and then some. So he continued down.

Not one to let little things like dangerous rocks stop him, he proceeded to begin searching slowly and methodically.

Many of the boulders were still quite large and dangerous, but over time, the rocks had broken down and become heavy gravel. This literally covered the base of the floor. The lighting down here was barely as bright as a cloudy, thunderstorm day, and that was at midday. No animal life seemed to be present, and very little vegetation, except for some low scrub bushes and small clumps of grass. A variety of rock lichens abounded, though.

After days of searching and finding nothing at all, Brismit was in a foul mood. He had fallen a few times and had scrapes and a couple of bruises, one on his buttocks, that made his movements ache and his temper rise. He had hope for more and now realized he had lapsed into the most common form of folly known to man. Greed. He had believed in half and quarter truths and had created a crystal palace on a pedestal, a fantasy, which he now knew to be pure foolishness.

Not to mention he was sure he was lost.

He had tried to map the area as best as he could, but he soon put that aside as the eagerness and folly of greed slowly took control of his reason. Now in the half-light of darkness of the abyss, he had begun to hallucinate shadows and sounds that did not exist. He knew they didn't, but his fears would not be silenced. He was losing it and he knew it. So, when he saw the ghost, he was sure he had snapped.

At first, he thought it was a ghost. A part of him was actually relieved. He had battled ghosts and a good scrap would do him some good. But his growing paranoia and fears fought against that. He stopped dead in his tracks and felt his will melt as fear heated and destroyed it. The ghost grew bigger and more evil, it's wispy form filling out into a spectre of evil countenance and arms that reached cold hands to touch and still his rapidly beating heart, and to feed on his soul. He felt himself fall to his knees into the rubble, and he curled up and waited for his death.

Some time later he realized he was not dead. He slowly lifted his head. The fallen crystal of light that he used for illumination lay just within his reach. He slowly reached out to grasp it and draw it to him, some measure of sanity and composure returning to his mind as he huddled with its light shining in his face. He realized he was listening for any sound, anything that could indicate the presence of the ghost/spectre. And realized he heard nothing.

He got up slowly, carefully looking around, then darting looks in every direction to confirm the ghost was not hiding behind him. It was during this that his eyes caught sight of the white branch. Once seen, he had a moment of dread, and then all the fear and pressure left him. He began to laugh. Gently, then hard, then maniacally.

He had found the ghost.

The branch curled in a slight arc in front of a slab of granite with pyrite flecks in it. The shape of the slab was vaguely human shaped. The light from his crystal and his state of mind filled in the rest. He slowly walked across the gravel to the branch and he sat down next to it. And he wept.

He didn't bother to hold back. Something told him to let it go, to just let it all come out and he did.

Sometime later, when the crystal began to fade, he sat back up and watched as the light slowly faded down to almost nothing. And then he poured light into the crystal and it once again illuminated the area.

He then saw the branch for what it truly was. It was a rib. How long he stared at the rib, he couldn't say, but he had memorized every inch of it.

It was too large to be a humans rib by half again. He had seen ribs like this before. In the cave of Shudom. It had to be a giants rib. For the first time in days, real hope awakened in his heart and mind. He gathered his tools from his pack, and started to dig.

-----

It did turn out to be a giants skeleton, but nothing of any value could be found, He kept the portion of the skull with the horn on it, packed up and took one last look at his map to try to figure out his way back to the rope. He took his best guess and followed a path he was pretty sure he hadn't been on before. It seemed to lead towards the middle of what he thought was the central valley, hoping that from there, he would be able to catch some landmark or something that he would remember and thus have a way out. The gravel always piled up closer to the towering columns of rock stretching up into the sky. He tried to stay away from these columns simply because it was usually easier walking in the middle where it took longer for the gravel to reach.

And then he realized he was on a path. Something about the way the gravel had fallen, about how he seemed to wind through the narrow columns that abounded in this area told him he was walking where other had walked before. His excitement grew when he saw the stone staircase winding up one of the columns. The steps were treacherous and slippery with dust and rock chips. He went slowly and found a flat landing with a cave mouth. He entered into wonder.

The light from the crystal illuminated a large room. A stone table had stood once in the center of the room, but it was now chunks of rubble. But the carvings and sigils carved into it still survived, if only somewhat. The walls had been smooth stone once, perhaps even marble or polished granite, but now were cracked and crumbling. There were traces of images that had once adorned the walls. But it was the one wall to the right as he had entered the room that truly caught and held his attention. It was almost completely intact and the wall painting remained relatively untouched by damage.

It showed a city of stone pillars and towers, rising high into the air, with purple archways and strange devices that pointy eared people sat in that seemed to coast through the air. Pictures of men with artificial wings were coasting up and down the towers.

The color of the city was gold. He could tell because where it was no longer gold color, he could still see the gold leaf inset into the stone. Looking at the floor, he could see traces of where the gold leaf had fallen.

Searching around, he found three portals leading to other rooms and other discoveries. Although he knew his supplies were almost gone, Brismit decided to stay and explore for as long as he could.

It was the 4th cave he found that he could reach where he found the sealed clay jars. He chose to open one and found it full of grain. Not believing his good fortune, he tried grinding it and making a flatbread with it.

It tasted rich and nutty, with a peppery aftertaste. He now had food, he had found small creeks of water. Brismit settled in for a short stay and began to collect items for the trip back.

----

He had decided that bread and water was not enough to stay any longer. Now that he had found the place and could come back at any time, he made a bundle of items and went in search of a good hiding spot. He found one what he had thought was some kind of meeting room and was on his way back to get his pack and the items he was taking with him, when something reflected off the light his light crystal produced back in a darkened area he had not explored. He approached the area and as he drew closer, his pulse quickened and his mouth went dry. He stood before a stone door of purple coarse stone, with an intricately carved frame. The door stood quite tall and wide, but it was the mechanism on the right that set Brismit's heart to hammering. Brismit knew this mechanism, for he had seen it before and knew it for what is was. It was a magical lock that required a special key made by the ArchMage Orladin.

And he had one of those keys in his pack back in the other cave. He ran his fingers over the lock and knew he was not leaving yet.

"It is not yet time for that door to be opened." The soft voice came from behind him and he jumped more at the unexpectedness of it. He tried to grab for his short sword at his waist but when he saw who had spoken to him by the light of the dropped light crystal, he stopped in shock. New fears washed over him, as he felt sure this creature was here to end his life. And then the pictures he had seen on many walls came rushing back into his head and new possibilities began to open up, rumors and half-truths collided, fears and wonder danced through his tingling flesh.

"I am afraid you must leave here now. And you must not be allowed to remember what you have seen for a time. This will not hurt you, I promise." The creature stepped up into the light and all Brismits thoughts coalesced into the desire to survive. The creature raised its hand and blue light began to radiate from it and wash over Brismit. The spell on his lips fumbled and was lost as he felt lethargy and muddied thoughts fill him, pull him down, and drag him down into the depths of the other abyss, his own darkness.

Thimothy was relaxing in the common room of the Ralugo Inn with a bottle of wine when they brought the man in. He was unconscious and seemed to be wet all over. The few rooms available for use were taken by visitors, but Thimothy offered his room to let the man rest in. The body was placed in the bed and it was explained the body had been found on an island in Lake Noel near a tombstone. The man had an odd smell about him, almost a perfume, while another said it was more likely to be ale. He was brought to Ralugo by way of a footpath over the mountain and had remained unconscious for the last few hours.

A woman came in and set about checking the man. She had Thimothy undress him while she took out mortar and pestle and some herbs, called for hot water for tea, and set about crushing various leaves and items together, which she wrapped in a small cloth, tied it off with a string just as the Innkeeper came in with a pot of water and a short mug.

The woman, a 'widow Green', poured water in the mug and then dropped the herb bag into the water to steep. She then shooed everyone out of the room. Thimothy went back to his wine and managed to interest one of the men who brought the wet man in with a cup of ale and plied him for the story, which turned out to be not much more than what had already been said.

By nighttime, Thimothy went for a walk and towards the shop on the hill, rumored to have been the childhood home of the current Queen of Verdite, though Thimothy rather doubted that, and saw the gathering for the celebrating the birthingday of a local young man named Airon, who had just reached his majority and was now to be named a man and given charge of the shop to run.

The ceremony went rather quickly and simply and then the revelry began, and young Airon, who turned out to be widow Green's son, proceeded to get stone drunk for the first time in his life, much to the laughter of his fellow Ralugoans and the chagrin of his mother, who, to her credit, stood by and let her son make a fool of himself, knowing that the next morning would be all the lesson the boy needed.

He went back to the Inn before they locked up for the evening, was told a pallet had been set up in the room and it was going to be half-price for the evening. He went to sleep almost as soon as he laid his head down.

The next morning he awoke to sounds from the bed. He rose and saw the man sitting up with one leg over the edge of the bed, running his hands through his hair. The man looked up, saw Thimothy and asked, "Who are you?" I am Thimothy, a traveler through this land. How are you feeling today?"

The man slowly shook his head and replied, "Dizzy and weak, but alright I guess. Where am I?" "Ralugo, a town over the hill from Lake Noel, where you were found." "How the heck did I get to Lake Noel?," the man mumbled.

"May I ask your name?" Something told Thimothy the man would probably not give his real name, if he remembered it at all. "Brismit. Call me Brismit. Is there anything to eat around here? I am starved."

He drifted in his dreams, feeling the restoration of his strength and body nearing completion. He no longer was sleeping, but now just resting and allowing himself to be restored. The weeks prior to coming to the Inn and the safety of this Bed had almost drained him to the edge where he would never recover. He would continue to live on, but his body would be like an old, feeble man, with no hope of ever restoring the tissues to their prior state of eternal youthfulness.

There is a point to which no Vampire ever lets themselves get. So long as they continue to feed and restore themselves, they never have to fear reaching that point. But the immortality that is given to vampires can be made into a hell for them. The blooding of the living always restores tissues and replaces the decaying blood in vampire's veins. Since vampires no longer have the life-regenerating ability that the living possesses, they must eliminate the old used blood and toxins and replace it with new. Thus vampires need to feed on the blood of the living. But the immortality of a vampire is based in the magic that maintains them. And that doesn't go away. Only true death terminates the magic.

Thus, if a vampire allows himself to weaken and degenerate past a certain point, to where the cells and tissues of the body breakdown and fail to process their functions correctly, then no amount of fresh blood will ever restore the cells to full function. Yes, vampires do have regenerative ability based on the magic, but only from healthy, fully functional cells and tissues. If those tissues have been 'naturally' impaired beyond good health, then no amount of regeneration will restore the cells to normal function.

Lord Darkman had been at that point and beyond. He knew he would never be able to be at his youthful best again, but somehow the magic that bound his Bed that had been cast by Ilora and Callo had actually managed to do the impossible. He could sense the restoration of the dysfunctional cells and tissues and had been able to draw on some reserve of power within himself to coordinate the repairs. He was miraculously restored.

But to get to this point had taken over a week. The blood in his body was almost completely used up. He needed a fresh influx of new blood.

Which meant 2 things. First, he had to leave the Inn at once before the second thing happened. The Hunger.

Vampires could control their appetite for blood as easily as men could control and tolerate their hunger for food. Vampires could even go on 'fasts' for a time. In humans, quite often the fasts led to intense days of hunger followed by a period where hunger disappeared. But for a vampire, the hunger would only intensify. While the body of a human began to use the store of fat and even burn tissue, the vampire's body could not do that. It used up excess fat at the moment of Blooding, when a human became a vampire, and from that moment the body worked under different criteria, different rules.

Thus, blood was everything a vampire needed. Lord Darkman still retained his love for food and wines, and his metabolism could still use some of the nutrition these products provided. He would be considered rather unique among his kind. But he still needed blood. And it had not been just one week since his last feeding.

It had been three.

Lord Darkman knew that while he lay in the Bed, he would be able to control the Hunger he felt gnawing at him. But once free of it, the full force of the hunger would hit and he knew that reason and control would quickly dissolve away and he would revert to the ravenous beast so many tales of vampires described.

His hope lay in the fact that just a few yards from his hiding place was something Dave had shown him. Dave had learned about it in a place called Lea Monde and had taught Lord Darkman the spell to activate it.

It allowed teleportation to other areas, all of them away from Verdite. He would have to open the lid to his Bed, and begin the torturous process of trying to remain sane enough to walk the short distance on limbs that were still quite weak to the teleport circle and retain enough mental acuity to activate the teleporter. Once away, he needed only to find one person, let the ravening Hunger have its way, and be sufficiently restored to be able to activate the teleporter again to get away before anyone caught him.

The trick was to get to the teleporter while he was still mentally stable enough to do so.

And then he felt the presence at his Bed.

Every few hours, a presence would approach the Bed and stand by it. He knew it had to be either Ilora or Callo, since they had promised no one would be allowed down in this cellar until after he had emerged and was restored. It was the essence of their lives, the life-force that he sensed. And it was that life-force that was triggering the Hunger.

He was very fortunate to have such friends who were not vampires, who could just as easily be his victims or the ones who could drive the final stake in his heart and end his life. But instead they accepted him, protected him, and defended him. Most of all, they had befriended him.

Vampires never had friends, except perhaps among their own kind, and never among their prey. But Lord Darkman did. And he treasured these friendships.

The problem was, every time they came near, he felt the Hunger rise in response. It would be hard to describe to ordinary humans the depth and power of the Hunger. As a human, he had never experienced anything like it. As a vampire, it was always present in some way. But when it got this bad, he became unthinking, all vestiges of humanity and reason would burn up in the feverish emotions that would erupt from within, overriding all sense of who he was and all sense of what a human or vampire was.

He became the beast that every human feared in a vampire. Blood lust was too mild a word.

And each time the ladies approached, the Hunger would grow.

Even now, he felt reason and control slipping away, felt a snarl form on his face and raw emotions, predatory instinct, and the drive to survive subsume him into nothing and take control.

And just as the beast was about to spring out from the Bed, the life-force moved away. The beast felt its prey retreating, and it wanted to pursue, but then the other forced the beast back down, struggled and fought for control, and finally won.

It was some time before Lord Darkman was back in control. He knew that he did not have much time left. He had never been to the point where he had lost control before. This time he had. He had to go. The time was now or never.

He waited a few more minutes, about half of one hour, before he opened the lid. By that time, he had run the spell of teleportation through his mind over and over, until it was a mantra to him. He would have to quickly make for the teleport circle or the sense of life forces in the Inn above him would destroy him. And likely everyone in the Inn, including his friends.

The spell around the Bed snapped out of existence as he opened the lid and prepared as he was for the Hunger to hit him, he was shocked at the lack of response. He felt nothing. Slowly, he raised himself up, but it was an extremely difficult task just to sit up. The dirt surrounding his body sloughed off his torso, and his legs became freed from it somewhat. Bending his knees was another chore, an almost pleasant agony as his abused and unused flesh was demanded to return to normal service. He did not know how long it took or how many times he tried and failed, but eventually he was standing beside his Bed on quivering legs.

There was a candle burning low on the table next to the Bed. He scanned the small chamber the Bed resided in and saw the pattern in the stonework that indicated the secret door that led to this chamber. This was part of the pact Dave had made with Lord Darkman some time ago, a security measure for both Lord Darkman and Dave and his customers. Something about that door tickled the back of Lord D's mind, but he dismissed it as the need to get to the teleport circle reasserted itself. He moved to the door, thankful that he was able to retain his mind. He began to have confidence in reaching the circle. His hand moved to the keystone and as low flash of red light appeared around his hand.

In that moment when the door disappeared, for it was in truth a magical illusion, the detail about the door suddenly became clear in his mind. And he realized that his relief at not suffering the intensity of the Hunger when he opened the lid had put him off guard.

As the door disappeared and he could see into the cellar, he remembered that the door did work both ways. It protected those outside the door by securing those within from all contact, acting as a prison cell to some extent, except that Lord D could get out if certain conditions were met. But it also was meant to protect those within, specifically Lord Darkman, from all sounds, entry and sensations from without.

Thus, when the sense of a life force just a few feet away from the door hit Lord Darkman, he was totally unprepared for the eruption of the Hunger. In less than one second, a ravenous, drooling, irrational, animal that leaped at the life force of the human sitting up from a cot replaced a weakened, pale, feeble Lord Darkman. With one clawed hand, the hair was snared and the head snapped back. Then with a wild scream, the animal slammed its fangs into the white neck pulsating with fresh blood, and began to gorge itself.

The human struggled with its attacker but the rapid loss of blood and sheer power of the creature was not to be denied. She tried to pull out her dagger, but the right arm that had pinned her against him quickly slapped her wrist and the knife clattered to the floor.

For the creature, the blood rushed into its body, hot and burning, restoring, rebuilding, strengthening as it went. With each new influx, the creature grew stronger; its prey became more helpless and weaker. Soon, the fresh blood was pulsing through long denied tissues and the restoration of the body neared completion. When almost nothing was left in the human, and the creature knew it's prey was drained, it lifted its head and gave a loud roar of a successful kill.

And the consciousness of Lord Darkman the Vampire asserted itself once more. He fought with every ounce of will left to him to bury the creature, as the Hunger had been partially sated. Lord Darkman knew that it would take several feedings to fully restore himself, but for now he felt the renewed strength the blood had given him, the restored sense of well being and power.

But he also felt dread and pain, and fear almost prevented him from lifting the head enough to see the familiar features of one of his friends. He looked into lifeless eyes, pale skin, and a neck torn and ravaged by he himself. There was no blood, the creature had seen to that. It was now all his. Giving him life and strength, new hope.

Lord Darkmans heart broke within his breast and he screamed his torment at the death of his friend, at his own hands. And the tears began to flow.

He had held her for a long time, choking sobs wracking his restored body. He had been expecting someone to come down those stairs to the Inn, to see what he had done, and to kill him on the spot. And he would have welcomed the release from pain. Vampires lived in a world of pain that none could ever possibly know of, but this was worse, far worse. This woman who had done so much for him, he had utterly destroyed.

He laid her body back on the cot, and knelt beside her. He straitened her rumpled clothing gently, tears still flowing freely, and he used his fingers to comb through her hair, smoothing it out to enhance her features. He took a silk cloth from within his coat pocket, folded it, and reverently laid it across her throat. At this, he couldn't hold back as another bout of wracking sobs struck his breast. He laid his head on her chest, covered her with his arms, and wept some more.

"I am so sorry," he whispered between sobs. "I didn't…, I couldn't…., Oh damn me to hell, please forgive me! I am so sorry"

He did not know how much time had passed, but finally the sobbing had stopped enough for him to become aware of his surroundings. He opened his eyes and from where he lay with his head on her chest, se could see the circle glowing in a faint bluish light across the room. His memory returned as to what his plans had been, but now a different urgency stole over him. Preservation. Survival.

Now he would be known as a betrayer and slayer of friends. The last safe place he had known in all his recent trials would now no longer be safe for him. His Beds here would be destroyed; hunts would begin, and would not stop until he was truly dead. No one lets a betrayer live or get away. This time, the hunt would not stop for him. They would find him. And they would destroy him.

As he lifted his head from her chest to begin moving towards the teleport circle, he heard something. He shot a quick glance to the woman's face in shock, then quickly ripped open her bodice and placed his ear against her bare skin.

And heard the flickering, fluttering beat of her heart.

Incredulous at the impossibility of it, but somehow she was still fighting for life. Her heart was not giving up. She was not ready to give up. The fighter he knew her to be was making its last attempt at surviving. But although hope began to swell in his heart, it was dashed against the rocks of reality. She had no blood left in her to pump. She couldn't succeed. She would die.

Unless…..

Lord Darkman quickly scanned the floor of the room and his eyes located the object of his search. He quickly ran to the dagger and picked it up….

The pesky knocking on the door continued, seeming to take on some sense of urgency.

She roused enough to lift her hear and grunt out, "What is it?"

"It's Pekoe, miss. I have, well, I have a situation that you should know about."

Pekoe, she thought. What in the world could possibly be so important at this ungodly hour?

She got up and pulled on hose and shirt and padded to the door. The wood floor was cold and her feet did not enjoy a single step towards the door.

She threw back the bolt and opened the door. Pekoe stood in his cooking apron with a lamp and a worried expression on his face.

"What is it? It had better be good," she growled.

"I don't think it is. This note," he held up a piece of parchment, " was tacked to the cellar door. It is by Lord Darkman. He says he has left the Inn and will be gone for some time."

She grabbed the note and tried to make her eyes focus on the words written there. "So he finally woke up, huh? So what is the problem with that, besides being damned rude to leave without saying goodbye?"

"The note says he took Callo with him."

Ilora Danon stood with shock staring into Pekoes face as the words sunk in.

Ilora read the note, penned in Lord Darkmans flowery script, not Merloses tiny but efficient hand. It was as Pekoe had said, but it was so unlike Callo to leave without a word like this. It was just so….. out of character for her.

Ilora then went quickly downstairs to the door to the cellar that no longer had the magic seal on it and was slightly ajar. Heading down the steps into the cellar, she found the place as normal, except the secret door to Lord Darkmans room was open. She stopped at the threshold long enough to tell Pekoe to stay by the stairs and not to come any further.

The coffin was closed and she tried to open it, which it did easily. The seal that she and Callo had placed on the coffin was not supposed to have been able to be opened by anyone except the one inside, Lord Darkman. She ran her fingers through the soil to confirm he was not there, and shut the lid closed again.

Her mind was whirling through possibilities. She exited the room and touched the keystone to reseal the room. Pekoes eyes grew wide as he saw the opening Ilora had walked into turn back into the old familiar wall he was used to seeing there.

Ilora demanded lanterns from Pekoe, who ran upstairs to get them. He came back with two of them and Ilora met him at the base of the stairs to take them from him. She then told him to go back upstairs and begin baking the bread. When he protested, she reminded him that normalcy was important to maintain with the guests. The best way to do that was to go about his normal chores and provide them the service they usually got. It was often of late that Callo did not appear in the mornings so she would not be missed yet. It took some convincing but Pekoe grumpily stomped up the stairs to go back to baking.

Ilora sighed. It would be better this way. She needed to look closely at the cellar before anyone else did. Something was wrong, something had happened to her friend, and she wanted to know what.

Using the lamps, she scoured the entire cellar. She spent almost 2 hours searching everywhere, but that was after she had found the scratched stone floor made by the point of a blade, probably that new dagger from Dave, and the one drop of blood. That she found it 6 feet up on the wall above the cot made her blood run cold.

Pekoe grumbled his way back into the kitchen and set about getting the loaves ready for the ovens. He knew from the moment he found the note something was wrong and he desperately wanted to help, but he also knew that this kind of thing was far more within Ilora's abilities than his. He knew he wasn't the warrior type and would always find it more enjoyable running an Inn or being some kind of merchant. But now he wished he was the warrior type. He was sure that was what Callo would want.

He had just put the loaves into the ovens and the water for porridge was now boiling when he saw the earring. It was on the breadboard table as if it had been there all morning. There was a small slip of paper next to it. He approached the table and could read the note.

'WEAR ME'

Pekoe stared for a second and then realization hit him. Alice. Wonderland.

He laughed at the absurdity of the situation. No WAY was he going to put that thing on. The small emerald stud sat there, twinkling darkly in the low lantern light.

But then Pekoe began to think about it. How had this earring come to appear here and why now? Did it have something to do with Callo and Lord Darkman leaving? He had had his ear pierced and had shown it to Callo when she asked, but had never worn anything since he had arrived in Verdite months ago.

The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced he had to put it on. So, he picked it up, unhooked the clasp, and inserted the earring into his right earlobe. Then he re-hooked the clasp.

And Callo's voice suddenly filled his mind.

"Hello Pekoe. If you have put this on, then it means either that I have died or I have left the Inn against my will. This is intended to give you the information you need to help keep the Inn running. Whatever the situation is, let those better suited to the task handle whatever happened to me. It is for you to run the inn in my absence or death."

Pekoe began to listen intently….

He found Ilora up in her room packing. She had already changed into her traveling garb and was just finishing with the straps on he pack when he walked up to her door.

She looked up but did not stop. She secured her knife in her belt and went over to the table where she grabbed her sword in its scabbard and set about strapping it on.

"Ilora, Callo left me something. This earring. I think it was meant to appear upon her death or if something else happened to her. It tells me how to run the Inn in her absence."

Ilora paused when he said 'death' but then finished with her sword and walked over to grab her pack.

"I don't need a magic earring to tell me something happened to her. And Lord Darkman IS involved in it, I know it. There is only one way out of this Inn besides all the exits and each one of those was still secured from within the Inn itself. And that is a teleport zone down in the cellar that only a very few know about and fewer can use. I am not one of those who can use it, but Lord Darkman does. I know where it goes. And that is where I start my search for Callo." She met him at the door, ready to leave. "I will need some provisions."

"Where are you going to?"

Ilora stepped up to Pekoe. "Lea Monde."