Chapter 15 First Strike Presto was sleeping, he was dreaming. Properly, his mind at rest. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to be so peaceful and relaxed. Since they had left the Seer’s Castle, the creature seemed to have been sleeping, as if Venger had forgotten about it, or had found something more interesting to occupy his attention. So the Magician had felt calmer and stronger. He had begun to gain some sort of control again, he’d been able to eat a little, and drink water without needing to be sick. He was aware it was morning, and as he slept, he’d dreamed of the Dark Tower; the black imposing Castle of Venger, and also of the Seer’s Fortress, as one became the other. He watched the shape change until he couldn’t tell which was which. Then he walked forward, looking to see what had changed, and it was almost as though he was drifting though the walls. At last he came back to the courtyard of the Fortress, and this time he could hear crying, he could hear someone calling out him name. He’d been there. He’d heard… what had he heard? The answer was just around the next corner; the answer was so close he could virtually touch it. He knew… he knew… But he couldn’t concentrate. There was more noise, from somewhere outside. And the noise grew; the closer he came to the truth in his dream the louder it became. It was shouting, and it was far away, but whoever it was wouldn’t shut up. The noise grew louder still and more insistent, driving him towards consciousness. The instant he awoke, the shouting snapped into sharp focus. Hank and Bobby were bellowing at each other; in fact his ears hurt so much he could hardly believe he had slept through most of it! He looked around blearily, his head still heavy with sleep, trying to block out the words. But he knew instantly what was wrong: Sheila was missing. No wonder they were arguing! Bobby was ready to go charging off in an instant but Hank, though no less worried, was trying to restrain him. It wasn’t going to work. It was all coming apart! Sheila was gone. Bobby was going to follow. Hank was unable to stop him. Presto tried to concentrate on the two boys in front of him, red-faced and furious, but he couldn’t. There was something he’d missed, something that tey had all missed and it was something of vital importance. Something that his dream had tried to tell him. There was only one thing he could think of doing. They had to go back to the Seer’s Fortress; if she had been telling the truth, she wouldn’t be there anyway. And they had to find out what was in that Tower. He realised now that the Creature inside him was afraid of it. Perhaps the Creature knew what it was! It had tried to stop him from finding out, but now it was sleeping or hiding he couldn’t ignore the feeling. He hated the Creature, and if it had wanted to stop him from doing something, or finding something then that was precisely what he had to find out when he could! We have to go back! He didn’t even realise he’d said it out loud, not until both Bobby and Hank stopped mid sentence to stare at him, open-mouthed. The Ranger was the first to react. ‘What the fuck are you talking about, Presto! Sheila’s missing!’ ‘Yeah!’ added Bobby. ‘We’ve gotta find Shelia!’ Now united against someone else, their quarrel was forgotten for the moment. ‘We’re not going anywhere without Sheila!’ ‘But she’s gone,’ said Presto slowly, looking between his two remaining friends. ‘What are we going to do? How are we going to find her? She’s got a Cloak!’ ‘Haven’t you been listening?’ hissed Hank. ‘But you don’t know which way she went.’ ‘She can’t have gone far.’ ‘But she could be anywhere.’ Hank gave him a dark look, and Presto realised that that wasn’t the right thing to say, especially if he wanted Hank to cooperate. ‘But… but we have to go back to the Seer’s Fortress.’ He said it out loud. Now he thought about it clearly, the more important it was. They had to go back! They were just a day or so away, they had to get back there as fast as they possibly could. The Creature wasn’t trying to stop him, but that didn’t mean anything at the moment. Impulsively, his hand went to the Hat. For the past few weeks, it had refused point blank to work for him. He’d tried every night, in secret. It was the Creature’s influence, he knew. But now, had he twiddled his fingers of it, he felt the power surge back. He looked up at the others, seeing the hostility mirrored on both of their faces, but they too were staring at the Hat in wonder. Inside, the Creature stirred sluggishly in response to the Magic, but it didn’t try to stop him. For a moment, Presto wondered why; and wondered what had managed to drag Venger’s attention away from him, but he didn’t linger on the thought. ‘What’s going on?’ asked Hank. He sounded more worried than angry now. They had to go back to the Fortress. Somehow he had to persuade them. Alone in a lonely, dark cave, the Dungeonmaster could barely move. It had taken virtually all of his powers to return to his safest abode, and to fortify it against evil. But even that might not be enough, if what he feared now came to pass. There was nothing more he could do. He had to trust to hope; and that his pupils would manage to overcome their divisions and triumph over evil once more. But the chances of that were slim, and growing more slender every day they were separated. The forces of Darkness that has finally risen against them were almost too powerful. And he feared the worst was yet to come. He knew the Goblet had been taken; he had gone to the Golden Hall as fast as his ailing magic could take him. But he was too late. He was far, far too late to help. And in doing so, he had forsaken the hope of warning the other Young Ones and telling of its significance. There was nothing else he could do to help them and if he did not protect himself, his powers would soon vanish forever. He had made his choice, and now he had to live with the consequences. He brought the remnants of his magic together in front of him, and let the power surround him and soak through his body and his soul, shielding him from everything outside. Or almost everything. As he drifted away from the Realm, in his mind’s eye he could see the two remaining mirrors, side by side like two great eyes staring at him though the void of time and space. There was evil, mocking laughter that echoed though his head, the voice of someone he had not heard of for many, many years. He knew who it was; he should have known from the very start. It was too late to change anything. Dungeonmaster closed his eyes for the final time, hoping that his messenger would get to the Ranger in time.
It was almost all gone.
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