Title: Where Do We Go from Here?

Author: Sam

Series: The Never-ending Story 33 / 33

Rating: PG-13: Injuries, sexual innuendoes, death, language

Setting: Autumn 1992: The Realm of Dungeons & Dragons

Characters & Ages: Too many people to count. The only non-adult is Bobby, who is two months from his eighteenth birthday. Everyone else, including non-humans, is considered an adult.

Summary: Picking up the pieces, trying to move on, the Young Ones still have a choice to make.

Feedback: Please? I love comments.

xxx

By the time the Champions reached the bottom step, the battle was over. Apparently the loss of their undead allies, coupled with the banishment of Master Eno, sapped the morale right out of the dark army. Orcs, goblins, lizardmen, and others were surrendering or fleeing. Triumph ran through the Armies of Light as they gathered and sorted their spoils of war - - including prisoners.

Diana ignored the controlled chaos, running toward the immense figure of Tiamat, lying near the south road leading from the valley. "Dekion?" The Acrobat scanned the area for her longtime companion but didn't see him. Could he have survived such a blast from their combined weapons - - especially without his armor? She cursed herself for not insisting he wear it that morning. "Dekion!"

One look at the mutilated dragon sent Diana's heart into overdrive. Clutching her thudding chest, she turned from the sight of the shredded wings, the limp heads. If Tiamat wasn't dead already, she soon would be. And if their weapons had done that to the ancient dragon queen - - was there any hope for an un-armored man?

A grip on Diana's shoulder had her crying out wordlessly. She spun to face Varla, trying to shake off her hand.

The red-haired woman refused to be pushed away. "He lives," she said, her gentle voice strained. "No one I am touching has died - - yet. He is with my parents." She pulled at Diana's arm. "Come, Diana. Mother says there isn't much time."

Without a word, the twenty-three year old Acrobat turned and sprinted for Ramuud's caravan. Her friends were right behind her, some moving slower than others.

Before anyone needed to ask, Jaref stepped to Diana's side and took her arm, recognizing the wild look in her chocolate-colored eyes. "This way. He's awake." Jaref didn't sound pleased with that fact. He led Diana behind a large wagon to a larger tent that appeared to have been hastily thrown together. Several gypsies and caravaners moved among the wounded inside, tending injuries or solemnly carrying out the recently deceased. Ignoring the other victims, the woodcutter led Diana to a pallet near the back tent flap.

The Celestial Knight looked amazingly untouched, especially in view of Tiamat's appearance. He lay, staring at the ceiling, unmoving. Even when Diana slid to her knees next to his pallet he didn't react. The stillness scared the normally fearless Acrobat.

"Dekion?" She reached over for his hand but was stopped by Marinda.

"Don't touch him. It causes him great pain." Her voice sounded strained.

Varla moved to stand beside Diana, sinking to her knees. "I can speak for him," she offered then added, "he asks if we succeeded."

Folding her hands in her lap, Diana nodded, though he never turned his head to see. "Yes, Dekion. We won - - Tiamat didn't make it." She found herself grieving the death of their one-time foe.

"I owe her my life," his pain-filled voice filtered into Diana's mind through Varla's strained efforts, and Diana pushed back a sob. "She rolled as the energy hit us." Dekion blinked slowly and mentally cried out in tremendous pain before continuing, weaker, "your young man is unhurt?"

Diana shook her head. "Kosar's fine," she whispered mentally. "But I don't think he's mine anymore. Dekion - - "

"He is a fool to let you go, My Diana." Dekion's eyes slid shut and his body shuddered then seemed to collapse a little.

"No!" Diana reached for him in desperation. "No, Dekion!"

Varla grabbed her while Marinda protectively shielded the man with her arms. "No, Diana," the Illusionist whispered into the other woman's mind. "He still lives." She turned Diana, grey eyes meeting brown and locking. "He is asleep. Mother says she gave him a draught for pain."

Hand shaking, Diana put her fingers to her forehead, not breaking the eye contact with Varla. "He's alive?" her voice broke.

"Yes," Varla switched to her verbal voice as well. "I'm keeping touch with him even now." The redhead moved her friend to a closer position, gesturing oddly with her fingers to her mother, who moved back a few steps in silent understanding. "Diana, sit with him. Let mother know when he wakes."

Thankfully, Diana nodded and watched Dekion intently, wishing she could give some of her health to the man. She hadn't even been injured in the battle, a circumstance which seemed ludicrous in view of what her friends, and especially Dekion, had gone through. She was unaware that Kosar stood only feet away, watching with sad blue eyes.

The Psionicist finally turned away from the sight of his first love at her vigil. He slowly walked from the tent and sank to the ground in the growing twilight of the setting suns. Putting his head in his hands, Kosar tried to puzzle through what had happened, what would happen. Someone sitting down beside him brought the twenty-five year old's attention back to the present.

Raevonn, battle dirty but healthy thanks to the power of the net, studied him silently. She still held the net, as well as Sir Timothy's great sword, yet seemed unaware of the weapons. Finally, softly she spoke in her rich contralto. "You loved her once." It was not a question.

Kosar looked at the Elf and nodded. "I thought I still did." He sighed and ran a hand through his brown curls, staring unseeing into the distance. "I mean, I should. I thought I always would. She risked everything, gave up everything, for me."

The Healer nodded and looked up at the skies, watching the first sun dip down below the horizon. "You still love her, Kosar, and she loves you."

He turned pained-filled blue eyes to her. "I can't go near her. At least not mentally. I'm a Psionicist; how can we live like that? And - - -" he gulped, forcing himself to admit the real problem, "she loves Dekion."

"And she will risk all she has, give all she has, for him, as well, Kosar." She turned violet-ringed blue eyes on the human beside her. "Diana is that kind of woman. She will always give everything for those she loves."

Shaking his head, Kosar sighed and broke eye contact, looking down at the cracked ground they sat on. "But - - "

"But you cannot touch her as you wish," Raevonn supplied. "Then you are not meant to be together." Her voice sounded calm, her reasoning simple. Before he could protest, she laid a hand over his and he looked back at her. "Kosar, Diana was your first love. She is not your true love. You must release her. Do it for her. Do it for you."

Kosar shook his head, searching the Elf's face. "Why can't I touch her?" he temporized.

She smiled gently, a rare sight on the serious Elf's face. "Because of what you once had. I know your name, Star Gazer's Child." At his shock, she continued, "You and she were the saviors of Taroud. Starfall embraced you both. Starfall will separate your minds and hearts forever. Diana has seen this even if she does not yet realize it."

"Then I've lost her completely," Kosar moaned and put his head in his hands.

Raevonn placed a hand gently on his shoulder and leaned closer to him. "You never lost her and you never will, Kosar. You will not be lovers, but your friendship is stronger than most. Be content with that, Young Human."

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers once more. Somehow her words reached through his grief and confusion. He could sense the wisdom of years behind her voice, even though she looked no older than him. Softly, he asked, "will I find what she has now?" Then, with a groan, he added, "what if she loses him?"

The Healer shook her head and stood. "She will not. The Champions of Power do not kill allies." She offered the net to the man and he slowly took it from her, eyes widening. Reaching down, she pulled him to his feet. "The net will not heal his wounds," she advised, sending a jolt of disappointment through him before continuing, "but I know of someone who can. A healer of great knowledge and skill."

She led him inside the tent and carefully approached one of the gypsy healers, bringing Kosar with her, passing the exhausted, almost muted Magician.

"Ramuud?" Presto croaked painfully, his voice unintelligible. He slowly moved to the pallet next to Dekion's. On the fine sheets lay the caravan king, his thick bandages stained a sickly blend of red, rust, and yellow. Lorne's mother worked tirelessly laying fresh layer after layer over the cloths. As soon as she had another coating of herbal linens in place they would be drenched by the blood and other fluids welling from Ramuud's damaged torso and face.

Ayisha gently pushed past Presto and knelt on her father's other side, assisting the gypsy in her futile efforts. Without speaking, without even knowing one another's names, the two women worked steadily, trying to control the fluid loss.

"I did that?" Presto's mental question to Varla was more of a wail.

"What?" She looked up and over at the horrified man. Rising to her feet, easing past Diana, the Illusionist moved to the Magician's side and wrapped him in her arms. "Of course not, Presto. You were with me on the prison. You couldn't have done this."

Presto shook his head, conical hat wobbling but staying in place. He wrapped his arms around Varla and buried his face in her shoulder. On a sob, he told her about the ghast attack from the day before and how his hat had surged and flayed Ramuud. Presto's body shook as he cried in Varla's arms.

Curling his hands into ineffectual fists, Jaref watched his daughter comfort the man who could well be his son, her twin. He knew the younger man had lived in the caravan for the last six years, so his reactions made some sense. How to help Presto. . .Albert. . .Aelhb-Urt? Jaref shook his head and stepped around to Presto's side. Gently placing a hand on the Magician's shoulder, he cleared his throat and said, "if it's any comfort, the unicorn caught the wizard who did this."

"Huh?" Confused, Presto questioned Varla as he raised his head, golden eyes seeking the older man's. "What?"

"Father?" prompted Varla for her injured friend.

Jaref cleared his throat again and gestured to the figure on the pallet. "The wizard called Kelek. He hit Ramuud with some evil spell. Silvermane - - the head unicorn - - captured him after he killed Sir John. . ." Jaref bit his tongue at his slip, wincing at the sound of a young man's voice nearby.

"Father?"

Presto, Varla, and Jaref turned to see Timothy, still holding Hank's unconscious form. The Knight was pale, shaking. "You said Father - - Sir John - - is," he gulped and whispered, "dead?"

Bobby turned to the older teen and pulled him towards an empty pallet. "Put Hank there," he instructed, voice firm yet kind.

With a faint nod, Timothy complied and gently laid his friend on the pallet. He turned to Jaref, limping quickly to the older man's side. "Where is my father?" he asked softly.

"This way," Jaref sighed and led the Knight from the tent.

Kneeling down, ignoring his twinging foot, Bobby began to unwrap the bloody bandages from around Hank's torso. They were soaked and soon so were his hands.

As he reached for the next layer, a gentle hand covered his and his sister said, "let me, Bobby."

"I can do it, Sheila," he countered only to see her shake her head.

"Go to her, Bobby." Sheila looked towards the flap of the tent.

He followed her gaze, eyes fixing on Terri, hugging herself in misery, denim eyes huge with unshed tears.

"Freddie died today," Sheila added softly.

Without a word, Bobby stood and wiped his hands off on his trousers. He left his club, as well as Diana's javelin and Hank's bow, beside his sister, forgotten, and walked quickly among the pallets to Terri's side. He opened his arms. "Terri?"

She turned her eyes to him. Letting out a sob, Terri flung herself into Bobby's arms, her body shaking so much it seemed she would break.

He lifted his girlfriend into his arms as she buried her face in his neck. Turning, Bobby carried her from the chaos of the healing tent, seeking solitude in which to comfort the weeping eighteen year old. Blue eyes falling on a darkened tent, he strode quickly over to it and inside.

Sinking onto a bed of pillows, uncaring whose tent he'd taken over, Bobby gently rocked Terri, petting her long black hair. Unsure what he could say to her, the Barbarian continued to simply hold the Dreamer.

After a long while, Terri lifted her head, still trembling. Cupping Bobby's face in her hands, she kissed him, sheer desperation in the contact.

Bobby groaned softly, feeling her need and matching it. He returned her kisses, hands caressing down her back.

"Never leave me, Bobby," Terri breathed into his mouth.

He groaned again and echoed, "never." He sealed his mouth over hers in a lingering promise.

Neither saw the tent flap close and a frowning Lorne walk softly towards the large healer's tent and the surrounding howdahs and smaller tents. He wasn't bothered by what he'd accidentally seen; Bobby deserved some happiness. The Gypsy had only been looking for a place to rest away from the crowd. His head ached. Absently he headed for a darkened howdah, hoping he'd find the solitude he wanted. With a barely civil nod, he acknowledged the small figure that walked past him carrying something like a large rug, not recognizing her and not caring. The Gypsy slipped into the dark enclosure, sinking gratefully onto the cushions.

Avah nodded back at the man but continued towards the healing tent, moving slowly with her burden. She wanted to avoid entering the large tent with all the people in it, though she could see Sheila kneeling by the side of her Ranger. Hearing a commotion behind her, the Elf stepped out of the way, watching solemnly as a man carried his own burden into the tent.

As Sheila finished unwrapping Hank's bandaging, she sighed in relief. While the linens were drenched, his wounds had apparently stopped bleeding on their own. Thankfully, she dipped a clean cloth in a ready bowl of herbal water and moved to bathe his injuries.

A sudden shout drew her attention and she slid sideways to shield Hank with her body. A man stumbled into the tent carrying a young woman. She was badly hurt and needed immediate attention. Quickly looking around, Sheila realized that Hank was probably the least injured of the lot. She gestured with one hand. "Over here. He can be moved." A shadow fell over the pair and Sheila looked up into the blood-streaked face of the Cavalier.

"Eric - - "

"I'll get him," he said and knelt, pulling Hank into his arms. "Uni, help Sheila. She probably can't see a thing."

Sheila blinked in surprise as a lithe red-headed Elf knelt next to her and slid an arm around her waist.

"Come on. Follow Airk."

"Uni?" Sheila was stunned. "What happened to you?" The Thief allowed herself to be helped up and guided towards a well-lit howdah nearby.

With an expressive roll of her maroon eyes, Uni replied, "The Void. Airk and I are still working on breaking this curse."

Once inside the spacious, if low-ceilinged, howdah Eric knelt and laid Hank on some pillows. He turned to Sheila. "Who hit you?" Eric's voice dropped to a menacing growl.

"Varen," Sheila replied and sank next to Hank, dipping the cloth again and moving to wash the Ranger's chest.

Eric blocked her efforts. "You first, Sheila. That needs cleaning." He took the cloth from her hands and began to wash her face, wincing every time she grimaced in pain.

As Eric loosened the clotted blood and dirt, Uni slipped out and quickly returned with fresh herbal water, linens, and ointment - - and news from Marinda she thought better of imparting at that moment. She silently exchanged clean supplies for the dirty ones Eric handed her.

Sheila laid a steadying hand on Hank's abdomen, eyes closed as she tried not to move her face. Eric's ministrations hurt, but she knew he was right: they were necessary. As her friend loosened and carefully removed the clots sealing her eye shut, Sheila couldn't hold back a whimper of pain. Her hand clutched spastically at Hank's stomach.

A hand slid over Sheila's and squeezed gently.

Thankful for Uni's thoughtfulness, Sheila turned her hand over to grasp the one offered. The fingers laced with hers, offering quiet strength. Sheila whimpered again and the hand squeezed hers gently. Sheila opened her eyes to watch the intense look of concentration on Eric's tanned face.

Uni, on the other side of Eric, stood to replace the water and Sheila felt a jolt of surprise. She tore her face from Eric's grasp and looked down at Hank, who was finally awake, holding her hand and watching her with worried eyes. "Hank?" Sheila moved to lean over him but Eric yanked her back by the arm.

"Not done yet. He's next," Eric said gruffly.

Frustrated but compliant Sheila let Eric finish cleaning her face, continuing to keep her fingers twined with Hank's.

Outside, Uni stopped, dirty water sloshing in the bowl at her abrupt movement. Avah came towards her slowly, carrying the shaggy limp form of Freddie. Wincing, Uni gestured the Bard to follow her. She led the woman to a place among the stand of sparse trees, away from the tents and howdahs. Several bodies lay wrapped in canvas or linen and guarded by the unicorns and Faerie Dragons.

Tugging Avah away from a curling vine with palm-sized leaves, Uni guided her onto a broken path. "Careful," Uni's voice was soft. "That plant is called razor leaf and can take off a limb." She didn't ask if the Elf had already known.

Uni stepped up to the silver-maned, black-bodied unicorn leader. Reverently she said, "another fallen comrade, Lord Silvermane." Her eyes hungrily took in the solemn herd slowly pacing among the fallen. She wondered if she might ever return to her own kind.

The unicorn lord bowed his head then turned and led the burdened Elf to a spot close to Jaref. Sir Timothy knelt on the ground, mourning his father. Avah gently lowered the valiant dog's body to the place near Sir John, careful not to disturb the Knight in his grief.

Stepping back, Avah bowed to Silvermane and strode quickly back towards the well-lit camp, Uni following, still clutching the bowl of dirty water. The Bard would sing a lament for the fallen later; right now there was much to be done for the living. "Where do I find the most sorely injured?" she asked, no sign of her habitual good cheer in her low voice.

Turning, Uni gestured to the largest tent. "In there. Ramuud won't stop bleeding and Dekion is paralyzed." She looked calmly at the Elf. "Don't tell Diana," she added in low warning.

The Elf Bard nodded and pulled a set of pan pipes from her clothing. "I can soothe them even if I cannot heal them," she said and strode into the tent. Minutes passed and the sound of a lullaby drifted on the early evening air.

Moving steadily, following an unknown gypsy woman, Raevonn and Kosar entered the healer's tent to the sound of Avah's playing. They were still carrying sword and net. Hope surged in Uni's heart as she saw Kosar make his way towards Ramuud's prone body.

As he laid the net over the dying king, Uni sighed and turned away. She quickly refreshed the water and slipped back into the howdah, not remaining to see the results of Kosar's healing attempt. The healer gypsies had already speculated that the nature of Kelek's spell would prevent all but natural healing, and time would prevent even that.

Eric never asked what had taken so long. He finished cleaning Sheila's face then dropped the cloth in the dirty water. As Uni took it to replace it once again, the Cavalier began to smooth ointment over the gash. Sheila's eye was thankfully undamaged. He smiled at his old friend as he reached for the bandages.

A soft hand under his, offering the rolled linen, drew Eric's attention and he smiled gratefully at the former unicorn. "Thanks, Uni," he said softly, letting his eyes rove over the now-familiar Elfish features of his friend and longtime companion. "You weren't hurt?" he asked, his light baritone dropping low in belated concern. The look in his brown-black eyes was unfathomable and searching.

She smiled back and shook her head. "I'm fine, Airk." Uni slid her hand from Eric's and gestured with a flick of her head to Sheila, never removing her eyes from Eric's soul-deep gaze. "You should finish. I think she wants to care for Hank still."

"Right," Eric chuckled and dragged his eyes from Uni's face. He turned back to Sheila and Hank. Both were watching him with amazement in their eyes. "What?" he asked, frowning.

"That's Uni?" asked Hank, voice laced with exhaustion and wonder, verbalizing the first thing he could think of.

Sheila didn't comment, her own thoughts leaning more to surprise at how tenderly Eric had interacted with the young redhead. Worrying, Sheila wondered if her friend had lost his heart to someone who couldn't keep it. After all, as Uni said, they were looking for a cure for her curse. Once that was done she'd be a unicorn once more. Sheila didn't think Eric could handle being in love with a horse, no matter how beautiful and magical. It wouldn't be fair to him or to Uni, who deserved to find love with her own kind.

Eric's voice cut through Sheila's dark musings, answering Hank in light and amused tones. "Yup. Ol' DM turned her into an Elf, and we've been touring this great Realm ever since, taking in all the best tourist spots."

Hank made a soft noise in his throat. "I hope you haven't had to work too hard keeping this one out of trouble," he said with a tired smile.

"Nah," Eric replied. "She's a quick learner and. . ."

"I was talking to Uni," Hank cut him off, and the four laughed - - even Sheila.

Handing over the cleaning and bandaging supplies, Eric stood, hunched due to the low howdah ceiling. "Well, you can finish with Mr. Funny, Sheila. I'm gonna take Uni off to see if I can help someone who's really hurt." With that, the Cavalier threw them a jaunty half-salute and turned, exiting the howdah.

Uni laughed and followed on his heels.

"Who'd have thought Eric would grow up?" Hank asked softly.

Sheila turned surprised eyes on the Ranger only to smile back when she saw he was teasing. She dipped the cloth into the fresh herbal water and began to bathe the talon rake marks across Hank's chest. Her smile slipped and she said, worried, "I wonder what's going to happen to them."

Hank didn't pretend not to understand. He had recognized the long look that had passed between Eric and Uni. "I don't know. I'm not sure a human and a unicorn are an accepted match even in the Realm." He sighed then winced as the cloth struck a particularly deep gash.

Flushing, Sheila bit her lip. "Sorry," she said then continued, "and what if we find a way home?"

Light blue eyes locked with teal and Hank frowned again. Slowly he covered Sheila's hand, stopping it on his chest. Watching her intently, he sat up until they were mere inches apart. Lifting his other hand, he stroked her undamaged cheek, trembling at exposing his own deeply held feelings after so long. In a soft voice, he asked, "do we even want to go home?"

Sheila drew in a shaky breath, ignoring the all-important question in favor of the even more important revelation in Hank's gentle eyes. She leaned forward, closing the small space between them, and slanted her head to cover his mouth with hers, one hand reaching up to tangle in his hair, the other still trapped between his hand and his heart.

Outside, Eric stopped before entering the large healer's tent, watching the third sun dipping beyond the western horizon. As soon as the fourth sun finished its descent this part of the Realm would be in full night. And another long day would end.

He stretched his aching back, reaching a hand up to absently scratch at a deep itch on his forehead. He froze as soon as his fingers touched the smeared dried blood there. "Yeah, forgot that 'death breath' slapped me around," he murmured, dropping his hand.

"Then it is your turn now, Airk," Uni spoke from behind him.

He turned with a smile and nodded. "Right. Finally me." He thrust his thumb at his armored chest and grinned arrogantly. "And it's about time, Uni. I've been more than patient playing Florence Nightingale for the masses."

Amused at the habitual arrogant humor, Uni merely took Eric's hand and pulled him to another howdah. "Tell me, Big Warrior," she laughed as she pulled him into the confines and sank onto the pillows, "who is Flor - - ence - - night - - in - - gale and why are you pretending to be him?" She began to unbuckle Eric's golden breastplate.

With a sigh of gratitude, Eric slid out of his armored shoes and wiggled his toes. "She, not he," the Cavalier corrected and when Uni shot him a puzzled look, he added, "Florence Nightingale was a nurse in a big war back on Earth. Lots of the soldiers she took care of fell in love with her. It's called the 'Nightingale Effect'." He slid out of first one silver leg guard then the other. It was surprising what one remembered after three attempts at Freshman History.

"Oh my," Uni laughed, a soft braying noise. "Let's hope Sheila doesn't fall under that spell. I think Hank would try to kill you."

Eric blinked dark brown eyes in confusion then her meaning sank in and he joined her laughter. "Not a problem. If it does happen, I'll just run away like normal."

Uni snorted. "Like you run away anymore, Airk." She removed the breast plate and helped him pull the sapphire-colored chainmail over his head, taking the tunic with it, all the while careful of his head injury. Smiling, Uni dipped the cloth in the bowl of herbal water and began to wash the gash across his forehead.

With a soft chuckle, Eric brought up a hand to knead his opposite shoulder. A few minutes of companionable silence passed and he switched hands and shoulders. Several more long moments elapsed before he dropped both hands into his lap and closed his eyes.

Gently, Uni finished cleaning his wound and slid the cloth into the water. She carefully coated the freshly bleeding gash with the ointment the gypsies had provided then began to bandage Eric's head in soft linen. Several more long minutes ticked by before she sat back on her heels, finished.

"Umm," Eric murmured, his headache finally completely gone, no trace of the nausea or dizziness that had plagued him for years. He opened his eyes and smiled down at his companion. "Thanks, Uni."

She lifted maroon eyes, her look shifting to one of intensity as she met his dark brown gaze. His dark eyes locked with hers and she drew a long, deep breath. Slowly, she leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

He brought his hands up to cup her face, groaning softly against her mouth. When she moved her kiss to his neck, shock coursed through Eric chased by emotions he didn't want to explore. Dropping his hands from her face, he grasped Uni's arms in firm, yet gentle hands, pushing her back slightly. "Uh. . ." he stammered, suddenly unsure what was happening. "Uni?"

"Yes, Airk?" she breathed softly.

Eric swallowed, fighting with himself and everything he'd ever known. Finally he groaned and set her back away from him completely.

"Time for bed," he said in a rush. Eric stood quickly and headed for the howdah opening, stumbling slightly over his discarded armor but ignoring it. "You sleep here," he laughed, sounding nervous. "I'll go bunk with - - uh - - Presto or something."

And he slipped out the door, leaving a bewildered Uni behind.

Striding quickly, ignoring the cold air against his naked torso, Eric made his way to the biggest collection of people he could: the healer's tent. He didn't want to think - - didn't want to feel - - he wanted to get busy and ignore the whirling confusion in his mind and heart. 'She's a unicorn, stupid,' he reminded himself silently. 'How could you be so dumb?' No answers came to the beleaguered Cavalier and he strode into the bustle of the over-busy tent.

Stopping next to Presto and Varla, he ran both hands down his trousers. Forcing cheerfulness into his tone, Eric asked, "so, what can I do?"

The pair turned to him and he backed up a step in shock. Presto looked like he'd aged in the last hours. "Whoa - - uh, Presto, buddy?" He hadn't seen his best friend in six years, but Eric knew something was very wrong. Glancing to the side, he thought he knew what it was. Eric laid a supportive hand on Presto's shoulder, pushing all thoughts of his personal problems aside. "Hey, Ramuud'll be okay, Presto. He's a strong guy."

Presto nodded, unable to say anything. He turned golden eyes back on the man who'd cared for him and taught him the last few years. He could see Raevonn arguing with a gypsy man right next to the desert king's bed. Apparently they were in a heavy discussion about something. But what worried the Magician more was the sight of Kosar kneeling next to Lorne's mother, net glowing faintly over Ramuud's inert figure. The Psionicist had been attempting to heal Ramuud for half an hour and still the wounds were open.

Answering for the silent man, Varla smiled wanly at Eric. "Yes, he's very strong." She felt her words were inadequate, but she didn't know what else to say so said nothing. Instead, she gave Presto a gentle hug which he returned.

The trio watched helplessly as the life-saving efforts continued. Finally, Raevonn whirled away from the gypsy she'd been arguing with and knelt next to Ayisha who absently nodded once to her. The gypsy man protested but Raevonn ignored him, lifting her hands over Ramuud. Lorne's mother looked troubled at the Elf's intervention.

"I do not see what more can be done," she temporized in a worried voice, eying the short-haired Elf.

Raevonn's face flushed in anger at the rebuke. She glared at the human gypsy then ignored her, closing her eyes and beginning to murmur. Damn the age-old distrust between traveling humans and Elves!

As the gypsy began to protest again, Ayisha looked up. "Let her try," she commanded in her throaty whisper. "We have failed so far. Let her try."

Lorne's mother fell silent, frowning but respecting the wishes of her patient's daughter.

A deep forest green glow began in Raevonn's hands. It slowly spread over the caravan leader's chest up his neck and over his head. As the Healer continued her low murmuring, the glow covered his hips, legs, and finally his feet. At last, Ramuud's entire body was lit with a deep green light. The Elf's face twisted in her concentration, appearing fierce and almost malignant, drawing warding signs from several gypsy witnesses.

Ayisha never moved from her father's side, intently watching the woman work her spell. She had heard of the animosity between the woodland-dwelling Elfish folk and the caravaners and gypsies across the Realm. The people of Kadeesh were some of the few traveling folk that did not inherently distrust the elusive demi-humans. Ramuud had made any and all wayfarers welcome in his camp and his kingdom; by his example, the people of Kadeesh also welcomed the long-lived Elves.

What seemed like hours passed, though Ayisha later assumed it was mere minutes, before Raevonn lowered her hands, trembling in exhaustion. Sitting back on her heels, the Healer opened tired eyes and looked directly at the woman beside her. "He will live if I can tend him until help arrives."

"Help?" Ayisha asked.

Nodding, Raevonn looked over the small crowd of watching gypsies and caravaners who had stopped to witness her attempt. Her eyes met Kosar's and held as she said, "help must be sent for. This spell against him prevents magical healing." She looked at Ayisha once more. "I can keep replacing what he loses, but only if I tend him daily. Someone else must travel to the Singing Forest and ask Heart's Unity to come back and help him." Glancing over at the other sorely wounded man on the pallet beside Ramuud's, Raevonn added, "Heart's Unity might also be able to help the Celestial Knight."

"I'll go."

The group looked at Diana. She lifted her head, eyes flashing determined fire. In a somber voice, she repeated, "I'll go. I'll bring back this healer from the Singing Forest."

"Do not be hasty, Acrobat," Dungeon Master's weary yet friendly voice came to them from the rear tent flap. He walked in, moving slower than any had seen him move thus far. With him walked Zandora, Kareena, and Venger. The quartet that had erected and held the protective barrier over the war zone stopped beside the two grievously injured men. Dungeon Master laid a hand on Diana's head, smiling gently. "The morning is time enough for any decisions on your path. Go rest, Acrobat." He turned to look around at the other Champions of Power, adding, "Cavalier, Magician, Illusionist, Dervish, Psionicist. Rest and let your allies help these brave men. No further harm will befall them this night." As if to prove his point, Dungeon Master settled himself on a cushion between Ramuud and Dekion.

"But Dungeon Master," Diana began.

Venger cut her off. "Whether you stay here, go to the Singing Forest, or return to your world, you will need rest. My father is correct. You should sleep while we stand vigil. No one will be harmed further tonight. You have the word of the Dungeon Master." The former arch-mage moved among the pallets, smiling reassuringly down at patients and caregivers alike.

As if taking their cue from the two men, Zandora and Kareena also moved off to walk among the patients.

Dungeon Master lifted a hand to silence any further comments from his former pupil. "Go, Diana. Sleep and regain your strength. You do him no service exhausted beyond endurance."

Closing her mouth, finally seeing the wisdom in the mage's words, Diana uncurled herself with a wince. Her muscles protested the ending of the long held position, but she ignored the twinges and small aches. Giving one last look to the Celestial Knight, the Acrobat turned and left the tent.

She was followed by the remaining Champions of Power.

Outside in the chilly air, Diana ran both hands over her face as she arched her back to work out lingering soreness. "Go home?" She dropped her hands from her face and turned to the others. "Is Venger nuts? How can I go home now? Dekion needs me."

Eric nodded and wrapped an arm around his friend. "I have a feeling that most of us are going to choose to stay, at least for a little while." He glanced at Presto who looked torn between thankfulness for the small reprieve and worry for his mentor. "Hey, Presto, they said he'd be okay. Let's get that rest, right?"

Presto turned his golden gaze on Eric and slowly sighed, his eyes beseeching his friend for something he couldn't say out loud.

Apparently, Eric understood because he reached over and warmly squeezed the Magician's shoulder. "He's stopped bleeding, Presto. That Elf knows her stuff. And if she can do that, I trust her word that she knows someone who can finish healing him." He glanced at Diana in his arm and added, "heal them both." He hugged the Acrobat again and turned her towards a larger tent set aside for the leaders to rest in. "Let's go take over Jaref's tent and get that sleep, okay?"

A soft laugh brought a grin to Eric's face and he returned Varla's smile. She hugged Presto quickly then pushed him to Ayisha. "I have a feeling, Eric, that you are purposely trying to start a fight with Father." She gently pushed Kosar towards Eric and Diana, offering another smile at Presto and Ayisha. "I agree though. Let's take Father's tent. It will be the most spacious and comfortable."

The others didn't protest and Diana, Eric, and Kosar headed in the indicated direction. As Varla moved to follow Diana, she stopped and turned with a soft frown. Her father moved slowly, next to a grief-hunched figure, from the sparse trees at the edge of camp. The Illusionist turned her steps in that direction. When she reached the pair, she softly asked, "Father?"

Jaref shook his head and glanced at Timothy. He looked back to his daughter and frowned fiercely. There was nothing to say to a man who'd lost his father.

Varla nodded her understanding and stepped to Timothy's side. Slipping her arm through his, she offered him a light squeeze of reassurance. "Come, Timothy." Her voice was gentle as she spoke to the young Knight. "Let's get some rest." Giving her father a look, Varla led her friend towards the tent where the others had gone.

The woodcutter felt old as he watched his daughter. She was a woman grown. Her actions displayed that more than anything she might have said. Varla had shouldered much this day, and Jaref had a feeling the young woman would shoulder even more before either of them saw home again. With a slow stride, he turned and made his way back to the healer's tent and his wife.

Ayisha watched her friends depart. She turned to Presto and held out a hand. "Come, Albert," her voice was hoarse from repressed emotion and lack of water. "I have some of the throat tonic in my belongings. If my tent has been set up, I can ease your pain."

Feeling relief wash over his aching body, Presto took Ayisha's hand and followed. As they wended their way among the tents and howdahs, looking for the familiar bright turquoise that denoted Ayisha's personal living quarters, his thoughts went back to the healing tent. That Elf knew a healer and Dungeon Master hadn't denied her information. And the old mage had even offered to watch the injured as he allowed everyone to rest. The real question was: how could anyone sleep while so keyed up?

The pair finally found Ayisha's tent and walked into the dark confines. Moving away from her best friend, Ayisha lit an old lamp and set it on the brightly painted wooden table once owned by her long deceased mother. Most of what she owned had belonged to her father's beloved wife.

Ayisha turned a smile on Presto then stepped to an ornately carved ivory cabinet. Opening it, she reached up and pulled out a crystal decanter full of transparent liquid with mixed herbs floating through it. The desert princess turned and moved to Presto's side, offering the stoppered flask. "Here, My Brother, drink this."

With a soft frown Presto gestured to the white and red pewter water pitcher by the low bed. He accepted the flask but again pointed at the pitcher and then her.

Understanding dawned and Ayisha smiled. "Yes, I will drink as well," she affirmed. Gracefully, she made her way to the large cushioned pallet and sank down, retrieving a tin cup and filling it with the lukewarm water. "Sit with me, Albert," she instructed hoarsely then sipped.

Taking a sip of his own flask, Presto quickly joined her on the pallet, groaning at both the soft cushions under his battle-weary body and the soothing liquid easing the dryness of his tortured throat. With a sigh, he took another sip and finally allowed himself to relax.

"We have known each other a long time, Albert."

Ayisha's soft voice drew his attention and he absently pushed his glasses higher on his nose. He nodded and she smiled. "And there has always been honesty between you and I."

He nodded again, though it hadn't been a question. He sipped his tonic as he watched her smooth out her colorful skirts, eyes lowered as she bit her lip in concentration.

After a long moment she looked up and sighed. "Do you think father will die?"

Shock then remorse shot through the Magician and he closed his eyes against the painful suggestion. Lifting a trembling hand, Presto removed his glasses and pressed his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose. At the feel of her hand on his knee, Presto wiped the back of his hand across his eyes then replaced his glasses. Golden eyes met brown and neither moved for some time. Presto dropped his eyes first and shrugged, the admission hurting more than he thought possible. How he wished he could talk to her, explain what he thought - - felt.

She surprised him when she nodded slowly. "I too am not sure he will live, Albert." Her words were filled with new pain.

Presto slid his arms around her and hugged her to him, offering what strength he could.

Ayisha leaned against him for long silent minutes, both shaking in their shared worry. Slowly, the woman pulled back enough to look into the man's eyes. "Though I will fight for his living, I must prepare for his dying." Her voice caught, but she denied herself the release, shaking her head ruthlessly, dark hair, long fallen from her braids, swishing around her slender body. "I will need to be head of the Kadeesh people until his return - - if he returns."

Presto pulled her down again, tucking her head under his chin and enveloping her in his arms. He gently rocked her as he petted her back, fingers tangling occasionally in her thick dark hair.

Carefully, Ayisha ran a hand down his chest as he comforted her. She was not crying yet, though by Presto's actions it was obvious he thought she was. Rather, as her eyes moved restlessly, unseeing, around the familiar possessions in her tent, the princess's mind was planning what needed to be done and how. After long quiet minutes, she broke the comforting embrace to sit back and look at the young man she'd loved for many years. She had often wondered if he loved her in return. It was time to find out.

"Albert," Ayisha said, voice husky with emotion.

He nodded in response, sipping at his tonic and waiting. His eyes roved over her face, looking for some sign of her thoughts, wondering how he could advise her without a voice of his own.

Her tone strengthening, Ayisha said, "Albert, will you be my husband?" Her hand rested on his chest.

He didn't notice. Rather, Presto nearly dropped the flask of soothing tonic. His gold eyes widened, his jaw dropped, and his face paled. 'Don't pass out!' he instructed himself as he tried to comprehend Ayisha's unexpected proposal.

Unlike other women, she didn't feel the need to fill the building silence or rush into a defensive explanation. She merely sat, one hand still on his chest, and watched him with solemn brown eyes. Ayisha patiently granted Presto the time to sort his thoughts and feelings.

How well she understood him.

It was that understanding which decided the man. Taking a long drink of the cool liquid, never moving his gaze from hers, Presto stoppered the flask with one hand. He set it on the floor without looking. Gently, he stroked one hand down her cheek and leaned forward to kiss her, wordlessly, his heart in the joining of their lips.

xxx

Bobby slipped out into the morning sunshine, leaving Terri sleeping amongst the cushions and silks of the commandeered tent. Stretching, the Barbarian made his way towards the aroma of roasting meat and frying onions and potatoes.

By a large campfire sat a dark-haired figure with a crisp white bandage around his head, back to Bobby. He wore plain trousers and a loose tunic of tanned leather, his feet bare in the autumn warmth. Repeatedly the seated man thrust a thick branch into the embers of the campfire, watching as bright orange and yellow sparks flew into the air to compete with the sun's brightness before once more falling into the burning logs.

Grinning, Bobby walked up behind the older man and flicked the back of his neck with a snap of his fingers. "Hey, Lorne."

Eric turned and glared at the blond teen, making Bobby jump.

"Heck, Eric, with that bandage you almost look like you could be Lorne's twin!"

The Cavalier growled out, "welcome home, Bobby. Screw you." He'd had a terrible, sleepless night, despite trying to follow Dungeon Master's advice.

Bobby cocked an eyebrow at Eric and slid to the ground next to him. "Home, Eric?"

The Cavalier shot him another annoyed look and grumbled, "never mind."

Unsure what was bothering his friend, Bobby tried for a change of subject. He gestured around the camp, which was peaceful in the early morning light. "So, I guess the seven years bad luck finally wore off."

Not exactly stupid, Eric never-the-less had not been the quickest at intelligence riddles. With another glare, the uncomprehending man asked shortly, "what?"

"You know," replied the blond, laughing, "for busting Queen Tasmira's mirror. Seven years bad luck and all. But it should be gone now."

Eric stared at the teen, frowning. Finally, as if talking to a dimwit, he said, "seven years - - dolt - - I've got one more to go." He probed the fire and watched the embers jump, adding, "thanks for the reminder, Squirt."

"Who you calling 'squirt'?" Bobby automatically shot back, clenching his fists. Slowly, he willed himself to patience, taking a couple of deep breaths to cool his quick temper. He hadn't seen the guy in years; he didn't want their reunion to start with a fight. "It's been nine years, Eric," he said when he was sure he was under control.

Surprise flashed over Eric's tanned face and he turned to study Bobby fully. "Nine years? Nine years passed back home?" He restlessly struck the embers again but kept his eyes on Bobby. "Here it's been only six, Bobby." He finally looked away from the Barbarian, glancing briefly behind the teen then staring morosely at the fire. "Six years of - - never mind," he repeated.

"You didn't get any sleep, did you, Eric?" Bobby frowned softly, worried for his tired friend. Now that he looked, Bobby could see bruising under Eric's dark eyes from his restless night. With a sigh, Bobby searched his mind for some way to break the barrier between them. His first two jokes had fallen flat, but maybe the third time would be the charm. Bobby forced a grin and turned to the other man, asking, "so, who kept you up all night, Cavalier?"

Eric's head shot up as if pulled on a taut string. He threw a troubled glance at Bobby then sighed and gestured behind the teen with one hand. In a voice of weariness, he looked back at the fire and claimed, "her."

Bobby whirled around to see a lithe, graceful red-haired Elf approaching. She wore white suede which contoured to her body as she moved. Her unbound hair fell sleekly almost to her knees and caressed her back and buttocks with every step. She smiled shyly, her maroon eyes huge in her pale face, reminiscent of a Japanese anime, seeming to pierce right to his core.

Bobby whistled low, not taking his eyes off the glorious sight. "Damn, Eric, she's hot!" He swallowed. "That's one beautiful woman."

His words seemed to anger the other man because Eric thrust his stick fully into the fire and turned a furious glare on Bobby. "She's not just any woman!" His voice vibrated with suppressed emotion.

Bobby lifted his hands defensively. "Hey, I have no intention of moving in on your girlfriend, Eric." He hoped to sooth the strange mix of anger and depression in the Cavalier.

Eric shook his head. He ground out, "she is not my girlfriend - - "

"Then who is she?" Bobby asked, bewildered.

"Hi, Bobby," the redhead smiled softly as she stopped on Eric's other side. She sank to the ground beside him, folding her long legs, arms curling around bent knees. Her gaze was intense.

"Bobby the Barbarian" Eric said in a deadpan tone of voice, "meet Uni, the former unicorn."

His jaw dropped. Nothing came to mind as Bobby took in the sight of the Elf. She couldn't be his Uni - - his pet unicorn. It wasn't possible. Defensively, Bobby whispered, "you have got to be kidding - - "

"I'm afraid not, Bobby."

Terri's soft words drew the attention of all three. She eased herself to the hard ground with a small wince, ending in a grimace. "I traveled with them from the Dragons' Graveyard. She is Uni, transformed by some wacky spell."

Momentarily distracted, Bobby gently asked, "you okay, Terr?"

She nodded and offered a twisted smile. "Just stiff - - a bit - - sore. I'll be fine." Looking over at Uni then to Eric, Terri's face flushed lightly and she asked, "how's the head, Eric?"

Seizing on the topic of himself, as he always did when he felt vulnerable, Eric tried for lightness. "It'll take more than a guy with bad breath and a dire need of a mani-pedi to take this old Cavalier down."

Terri smiled appreciatively. "Yeah. Thought as much." She hesitated then reached out and took Bobby's hand, an almost shy smile on her face.

"So, is this a private party or can the riff-raff seek sustenance among the worthies?" Lorne flopped down across the fire from the foursome, groaning at his injudicious movement as he put a hand to his bandaged head.

"I would hope I'm not considered riff-raff," Timothy's sad voice spoke up. The tired Knight sank to the ground, offering the barest hint of a smile to those gathered, though none of them recognized him.

Varla slipped to the ground beside Timothy, offering a more generous smile to her friends. She turned that smile up to Hank and Sheila, who approached slowly, hand in hand. "Mother says both Dekion and Ramuud are sleeping well. Raevonn sits with them as does Zandora?" The name was a question; Varla had never met the elderly mage.

"Thank goodness," Diana's tired voice came from behind Bobby and the group watched as she strode quickly to the fire, sitting on Terri's other side.

Hank and Sheila joined them just as Presto and Ayisha showed up. Ayisha quickly sank next to Sheila and pulled her into a warm hug. "I am happy to see you again, My Sister!"

The Thief returned her hug as if the years separating them had never happened.

Presto sank down next to Eric, offering his old friend a smile, still unable to talk.

Looking over to the other side of the fire, Uni smiled at the hesitant figure of Kosar. She lifted a hand to signal him. "Kosar? Come join us." The former unicorn patted the ground.

With a small nod and a brief glance at Diana, Kosar sat next to Lorne, fingering the amulet he still wore. The amount of injured minds calling out in pain was overwhelming, and he was glad for its protection.

Before anything more could be said by the reunited friends, Sheila gasped and stared past Lorne. She stood slowly as the others turned.

Approaching softly on bare feet was a petite Elfish woman with luxurious silver curls and laughing sea-green eyes. Dressed in bright silks, she practically danced as she moved towards them. Avah nodded upon seeing Shiela's smile of approval for her much improved appearance. "Good morning - - " the Elf suddenly tripped over a crack in the broken ground, tumbling head over heels into a rain puddle left over from the Faerie Dragon bombardments. She sat up, mud dripping down her hair and face and coating her fine borrowed clothes. With a wail, the small Elf slammed both fists against the ground, splashing herself with more mud. "Damn it! I'm sick of being dirty!"

"Oh, but you look so good in earth tones," quipped Lorne without forethought. As she turned wide eyes to him, frowning, he added, "and they say it's good for the skin."

Sheila hissed angrily at the Gypsy, "Lorne! Don't be insensitive." She began to move around the fire to help her friend.

Avah continued to study Lorne with a puzzled frown. Finally, she smiled brightly. "You really think I'm pretty?"

Everyone was stunned and Sheila hesitated. Lorne merely laughed and rose to his feet. He hefted the woman from the mud and looked her up and down. Finally, with a nod, he gallantly offered her his arm. "Yeah, you do brown real well."

With a giggle, Avah slid her muddy hand onto the human man's arm and let him guide her back to the sleeping tents in search of a warm bath and fresh clothing.

The others looked at one another and Kosar chuckled, slowly joined by the others. The Psionicist asked, "when did he become such a smooth talker?"

Eric and Bobby replied in unison, "beats me," then looked at one another in mild surprise.

Diana broke in with a determinedly cheerful voice. "So, we gonna eat this food or let it burn?"

Guiltily, Eric jumped. He had volunteered to cook the meal, relieving Lorne's mother to once more tend the injured. Rubbing his hands, Eric said, "well, let's eat then." He began to hand around tin plates as the others pulled over and passed around the wonderful smelling breakfast.

Uni rose to pour water for each diner, ending in the empty spot left by Lorne's departure. She smiled at Kosar beside her and sat next to him. As the group ate no one spoke about the past - - yet. They were too busy trying to overcome their individual feelings of surprise at the many changes they could see in each other. Bobby had trouble keeping his eyes off Uni, disturbed by the idea that this was the baby unicorn from so many years ago.

The silent meal was interrupted by a deep voice. "Greetings, Young Ones."

Everyone turned to look up at Venger. Even as the oldest, Hank felt he could hardly cavil at Venger's term: to a being at least two thousand years old, they certainly would be young. "Come to eat, Venger?" Hank offered, though he suspected it wasn't the fried onions and potatoes that had drawn the former dark lord. He was right.

"No. I came to offer you a choice." The tall mage remained standing, his hands hidden in the folds of his robes.

"What choice?" Diana frowned up at him, putting down her fork. "I need to get to the Singing Forest and get that cure from Heart's Unity."

Terri's fork dropped followed by her plate as her eyes and pendant lit up with a fierce golden glow. She never heard the shock of the others or felt Bobby's hands on her arms. Instead, she found herself somewhere far away from the battle ground and breakfast fire:

Standing in a copse of trees, the unicorn bobbed its head, black mane lifted by the warm summer breeze. Its golden-flecked cream-colored body was encased in silver and blue barding, reflecting the sunlight as it watched the man before it with wary dark brown eyes. Standing still, not saying a word, the black-haired man nervously fingered the straps of a golden shield he held.

With a gasp, Terri stiffened at the sudden feel of arms around her. Her eyes dimmed back to their normal denim blue and she looked wildly around.

"See, she's coming out of it. I told you she's fine," Eric's sure voice broke through the haze left by her vision. She looked up at the Cavalier standing just behind Bobby - - who held her securely in his arms. With a cry, she wrapped her arms around her boyfriend and buried her pale face in his neck, trembling.

"Damn," Eric swore softly, moving to kneel by Bobby, No one stopped him as he'd already assured them he'd seen Terri do this before. Reaching over, Eric offered Bobby his own cup of cold water. "Not as bad as ol' freaky fangs, is it?" He asked the shaken young woman.

Bobby thankfully took the cup. "Hey, Terr, drink this," he coaxed.

She slowly lifted her head, surprising everyone with a sunny smile. "Oh, Bobby, it was beautiful!"

"Hunh?" Used to Terri's visions being about attacks or destruction, it took a moment for the Barbarian to register that Terri was indeed smiling.

"I'm sorry to scare everyone," she looked around. "It was the shock of having another one. But it was beautiful!" She looked up at Bobby then up at Eric. "You were talking to a golden unicorn with a long black mane and tail." She frowned suddenly. Something wasn't right and Terri studied Eric's borrowed clothing. "You weren't in your armor." She looked at the others and continued, "his back was to me, but he held his shield and," she offered another grin at last, "he was so nervous he was playing with the straps."

Eric chuckled nervously. "Great. She has a vision of me stuttering at some unicorn. Probably Uni's mom. Was I explaining how I let DM turn her into an Elf?"

Venger interrupted. "What you saw, Dreamer, is one possible future. Until you control your powers you cannot be certain which future you will see. Your vision may or may not come to pass."

Terri frowned up at the mage but didn't say anything.

Standing, Diana bounced slightly on the balls of her bare feet. "Not to interrupt, much," she glanced at Terri then back to Venger, "but you said we had a choice. For me, there's only one choice. What I want to know is how to find Heart's Unity." Her strong hands planted on her hips and she stopped moving restlessly, looking fierce and implacable.

The tall mage shook his head. "I must speak to the seven alone," he intoned, his gaze meeting the chosen seven he referred. Wordlessly, Timothy, Varla, Kosar, Ayisha, and Uni moved away from the fire, worry in every look and movement. Venger nodded once then turned back to the smaller group-those who had traveled from Earth to the Realm. "First you must hear my offers then I will tell you what you wish to know."

Diana frowned. "I'm listening, Venger," she said slowly, sinking to the ground but keeping her body stiff. The others joined her by the fire.

Venger also sat on the hard-packed ground, though he sat across the blazing logs from the seven friends. He picked up a stick and absently stirred the embers. The sight of their once greatest foe toying with a branch like a nervous Boy Scout was so unlike their own images of Venger that they all listened intently to his words.

"Not all of you need go on this mission. None of you need to. Others may go," he began softly, voice clear for all its low tone. "Only one need journey if he is swift and strong. The others may remain here to stand vigil or leave to help rebuild again or - - " he lifted his eyes, stick moving lazily in the flickering yellow and orange flames, occasionally shooting up a red or violet spark. "Or you can go home."

"Home?" Sheila asked, voice catching.

Diana frowned, ready to deny that option completely.

Venger lifted a hand, his other still stirring the embers. "If you choose the quest, you will spend perhaps a year or more in your search before you are able to return to those you seek to help." His eyes met and held Diana's but his voice remained calm. "If you stay, you will face heartache for every day you watch them suffer." He looked down at the fire. Gently, Venger poked the embers, sending an array of red and violet sparks towards the sky. He once more began to stir. "The third choice you were offered before. Stay and rebuild the Realm. Defend it against its enemies." Finally, he turned his gaze on each of those present, locking eyes with one after another as he moved his gaze around the group of seven. "The last choice I offer freely. You may go home and resume your lives. Rest. Refresh. No worry over war or famine. Normal lives in a home you love with family and friends you have missed."

Even Diana had fallen still, despite her urgency of moments ago. Finally, the Acrobat asked, "how can you offer home when all we'll think about is what - - who - - we leave here?" She shifted, frowning. "We're needed here. I'm," she thrust her finger against her chest, "needed here."

With a slow nod, Venger looked directly at the young woman. "Others have taken up Weapons of Power. Others can do what you intend to do." He stirred and sighed. "If you choose to go home, your minds will be at peace. You will not remember this dark place, these dark times. It will be as one long dream you will finally awaken from."

"Wait a minute, Venger," Bobby interrupted, his voice dazed and slow. "Just how do you mean to do that? And what time will you be sending us back to? 1992 or 1983?" He ran a hand roughly down his leg. He must be more tired than he thought; he was having trouble focusing.

Venger nodded slowly and said, "in all probability it will be 1992 as that is the current year."

Bobby snorted, amusement lacing lazily through him. "Well then that's a bit of a problem. Eric's dead in 1992."

"What?" the others questioned as one, though all sounded mildly disinterested, tired and distracted.

Eric snorted, unsurprised and uncaring. "The bastard always did want Mom's money."

Putting a hand to her head, Sheila murmured, "I don't understand." She turned dazed teal eyes to Eric. "You sound like you expected this. How can you be dead there but still alive here?"

"Easy," Bobby shrugged. "In 1989, Eric's dad held a funeral for Eric. Last year, he had Eric claimed legally dead."

"Never mind," Eric gestured lazily. "I took care of it," he said enigmatically. He smiled at his friends then turned to Venger, who sat silently as they talked, watching the embers dance red and violet under his stick. "So, you can send us home. No riddles. No puzzles. No catch?" He sounded vaguely interested.

Venger nodded, looking at the dazed expressions on the exhausted faces of the humans before him. "Yes. No riddles or puzzles or quests. I will send you home and you will forget this nightmare. You will leave this heartache behind you at last."

With a frown, Diana shook her head slowly. She glanced away from the fire at the small group standing far enough away not to hear the conversation. Meeting Kosar's mournful eyes, her heart twisted and she recalled the painful mental connection from the night before. To rest, to forget the heartache and the horror, was a tempting idea. She looked back at Venger.

He softly said, "Go home and you will have peace of mind. Lay down your weapons for this Realm and returned to your peaceful lives on Earth." He looked at the seven. "The choice is yours, Young Ones."

FIN

Author's Note: Further stories will be classed as rated M. This T rating has been far too limiting to me. I look forward to questing with you in the future.