Chapter 10
Lost Cause
Once again, Hank and Bobby were sitting side by side, watching as the bustle of town life swept by without them. They were waiting in a small park, near to the main street and market, waiting for Sheila to return. “A quick walk”; that’s what she’d said. She needed some space, she’d needed some peace. What she really meant was she needed a place to be alone, to cry.
Diana was gone. Literally “gone”. the Healer had been unable to offer an explanation. They’d arrived at her room, and there was no Diana, no trace that she’d ever been there except for the Javelin. It was in his pocket, dormant; as if the glow it had was only in response to the presence of the Acrobat.
She was gone. Just… gone.
There were only the three of them. The three that so often ended up together; Sheila, Bobby and himself. But the close bond they’d shared all those times before was shattered. Sheila seemed to find it hard to be anywhere near him. And how Bobby hadn’t figured out what was going on, he couldn’t guess!
The Barbarian was sitting looking morosely down at the ground, kicking at random stones. Hank found it incredibly annoying.
‘Hey Bobby!’ he said at last. ‘Why don’t you go find Sheila? She’s been quite a while.’
The Barbarian frowned, but nodded, seeming to take the hint.
‘I’ll make sure she’s ok,’ he said. There was a look on his face that made Hank regret sending him off. He was still missing Uni, and not knowing what had happened to her made the feeling worse. He knew how the Barbarian felt, he knew exactly.
He watched as Bobby disappeared into the town, then leaned back and closed his eyes. Thank God, he could get some peace!
‘Greetings, Ranger.’
The old man was standing beside him, and Hank was suddenly very angry. But the look on the Dungeonmaster’s face stopped him saying anything. The old man was angry too.
There was a long silence as they stared at each other. Hank spoke first.
‘Diana’s gone.’
The old man nodded, a stony look on his face.
‘Indeed, Ranger. The Acrobat in no longer in the Realm.’
‘Why?’ he snapped. ‘And where? Where is she? Is she safe? Is she…?’
He stopped as Dungeonmaster held up his hand.
‘I cannot answer, Ranger. She is no longer in the Realm.’
Scowling, Hank turned away. The old man didn’t seem to understand his frustration at all! There was silence again.
‘So why are you here?’ he asked eventually.
‘Why are you?’ was the reply.
Hank did react at this, ready to give him a short, pointed answer, but the look he got stopped him from talking. Dungeonmaster was furious.
‘You have been here for more than two weeks!’ he said, his voice breaking with restrained emotion. ‘Why?’
‘I don’t know what else to do!’ snapped Hank.
‘You must find the Magician and the Cavalier!’
‘How? I don’t know!’
Their Guide look to the ground, his shoulders slumped. He looked old, far too old to be having an argument.
‘I don’t know what else to do,’ Hank repeated, but more gently this time. ‘I don’t know where to start looking.’
‘You are all still veiled from my sight,’ said Dungeonmaster. ‘But I need no magic to know that those two young men are in terrible danger.’
His heart lurched as if something had just punched him. Sheila had been saying for days that something bad had happened, and they should leave. But he couldn’t bring himself to go on such a desperate wild goose chase; they had no idea where to start looking. Presto and Eric could conceivably be anywhere.
‘How do you know?’ he asked.
Dungeonmaster sat down beside him, but stared fixedly ahead at the town walls and the hills beyond.
‘The Mirrors. Their power and influence is growing, every day. I can feel change; events are occurring that should not. Your Acrobat should not have had the power to leave. And you should have found your missing friends long before now. I had foreseen none of this happening, my magic was overwhelmed, and only the Mirrors can do that.
‘And that is the danger. The more they are used, the more powerful they become. The more powerful they become, the more dangerous and addictive they are to use. They corrupt their user, infusing them with the evil, violent essence of their creator.’
Dungeonmaster turned to look at him.
‘I am more convinced now that Venger wields one of these terrible artefacts. And he is your sworn enemy, Ranger. The Mirror will only feed the lust for revenge. Should either of your two friends fall into his hands… the consequences… would be…’
He bowed his head.
Hank was staring at the old man, hardly able to think straight. He’d known this was difficult, even desperate. He was cold inside. This was all one huge mistake, but he didn’t know how he could have done anything differently.
Sitting beside the old man, he was silent, thinking about the others. Presto was a good friend, he’d always been there when Hank had needed him, especially after the Cloud Bears. Though the Magician often lacked confidence in himself, his staunch support of Hanks leadership was a great source of strength.
And Eric, their proud, infuriating, and irreplaceable Cavalier. But during their stay in the Realm, Eric had eventually proved his worth as a part of the team, especially since the Grotto of Darkness. And Hank now considered him a good friend.
‘Dungeonmaster? I don’t know what to do,’ he said at last.
The admission was a bitter one, but if anyone could help, the old man could.
‘I can suggest only one thing,’ their guide replied. ‘Seek out the one who started you on this path, seek out the Seer, for it was on her advice that you entered the Orc camp. She may be able to help you. I am sorry. I cannot offer anything more.’
Hank turned to reply, but Dungeonmaster had gone.
He sat pondering the words of their Guide. It was good, reasonable advice, and despite tense conversation, he was glad the old man was still trying to help them.
There was movement, and Bobby suddenly came running round the corner. Hank stood, filled with resolve. They would go back the way they’d come and ask the Seer for help. He smiled, at least Sheila would be glad they were actually going to do somethi…
The Thief had just appeared round the corner after her brother, there was a look on her face he hadn’t seen for weeks. My God!
Someone else was with Sheila. He could hardly believe his eyes.
‘Oh my God!’ he whispered.
It was Presto.
Venger stood watching the Mirror as the Magician was greeted by his friends, but his interest quickly waned once he was sure the Ranger did not suspect anything amiss.
Instead he waited, contemplating all that he had seen, and thinking once again of the last Young One; that Cavalier.
He had seen him through the Mirror, though only for an instant. And that made Venger glad, as now he knew that the weapon and its wielder were still out there, somewhere. But more than that, he now knew who he was playing against, for waiting behind that shattered and exhausted young man was the weasel-face Seer.
His first instinct was to send four battalions of Orcs to her fortress to destroy her and take her Mirror, but in a colder, more rational time (away from his Mirror), he had realised she was an important player. She had manipulated the old man into sending the children to her in the first place. She had managed to get her hands on one of the weapons. She had obviously planned this thoroughly. But she had forced the Cavalier to look in her Mirror, and that was her mistake.
She controlled its power, she must have had it in her possession for a long time to be able to fool the old man. He would never have sent the children to her, if he’d known. But the Cavalier was a novice. He’d had no idea what would happen. The control slipped, and they glimpsed each other, letting the Seer’s secret out on the process. Now he had a huge advantage over the woman. He was not going to throw that away for the fleeting pleasure of killing her!
He had to know more. He wanted to know what would happen.
Venger now concentrated on the Cavalier, willing the Mirror to show him something of the boy’s potential future. It was not something he had tried before. The Mirror was powerful, but temperamental and forcing it to his will required great effort, especially since it mean interfering with another Mirror.
Though shaking with effort, his resolved proved strong enough, and he was rewarded with a single image.
The young man stood in a dimly-lit room; a room that, much to his surprise, Venger recognised. The Cavalier looked exhausted, barely able to stand. Whatever had happened there seemed to have drawn the life out the boy, as he stared impassively into the goblet he was holding (a goblet that Venger also recognised). Then the boy lifted it to his lips and drank.
That was all.
Drained of a considerable about of energy, Venger stood back from the Mirror, but he smiled.
‘Shadow Demon!’ he called. ‘Bring me the Drow!’
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