Sheila and Diana were given a bedroom in the palace of the King of Farnelia reserved for special guests.  There was only one bed, but it was so huge that there would have been room for several more girls.  As it is, after a night of feasting, of music and recitations, of a celebration of the peace that was brought to the Doomfield, and where the six children all had to get up and make short speeches about themselves and their travels—after all that, Sheila and Diana were sure that they could easily sleep until the suns were high in the sky.

But the suns had only been up for about an hour when Sheila awoke to see Diana wearing the pale blue nightgown she had been given.  She was standing at the window, looking down on the city.

“What is it, Diana?”

Diana simply gestured, pointing down toward the town.  Sheila got out of bed and walked to the window.  Her bare feet enjoyed the feel of animal pelts strewn about the floor, but also the cold stone by the window.  She’d spent so much time in those high-top boots…

At first Sheila couldn’t see what held Diana’s interest.  They looked down on an open-air market.  Bread, cloth, pottery, ironware, books, candles—hundreds of things were for sale down there from dozens of merchants.  Musicians roved between the stalls—some of them were players they had seen and heard the night before.  A cat stole a fish; a dog chased the cat.

“What is it?” Sheila asked again.

“All that.”  Diana waved her hand to take in the whole scene before them.  “It’s…life.”  She couldn’t seem to find the word to describe exactly what she thought.  “I … I saw children having a foot race.  I saw an old man combing out a horse’s mane.  I saw a boy and a girl our age meet under a tree.  The way they kissed, I thought they’d set the tree on fire.”  Sheila giggled.  Diana turned into the room, wiping her eyes as if she’d been dreaming.  “I know I’ll never forget anything I saw here in the Realm.  We’ve all seen magic and marvels enough for a dozen lifetimes.  But, sometimes, I think…”  Her voice was growing softer and more uncertain.  “I think I’ve had enough of magic, and I just want to be home.”

What happened next surprised both of them.  Sheila threw her arms around Diana, hugging her like a long-lost member of the family.  “My GOD, you don’t know how glad I am to hear you SAY that!  I thought I was going CRAZY!!”  She seemed to remember where she was, and backed off a step, but her eyes still blazed with emotion.  “I mean, I was beginning to think there was something wrong with me.  I never thought I’d look at a dragon and be BORED!”

Diana laughed the loudest she’d laughed since coming to the Realm.  “That’s it!  That’s it!  If we look at giants and wizards and a sky with three moons in it and we don’t see anything special, then we have been in this place WAAAY TOO LOOONG!!”  They both sat on the bed, letting their laughter echo around the stone walls of the room.

After their laughter had died, the breeze carried in sounds from the marketplace.  They listened for a few minutes, not saying a word.  “So,” Sheila ventured, “what do we do now?”

“Unless somebody’s heard something about portals, we just keep on like we’ve been doing.  The way home has to be around here somewhere.”

Sheila opened a door in the room she hadn’t tried the night before.  “Diana!”  What they saw wasn’t a portal.  It was the most luxurious bathroom they had ever seen.  The tub was the size of a small swimming pool and seemed to be carved out of a single block of marble.  Jars of flower petals and scented oils sat near the door.  Towels woven of the softest cotton were piled by the edge of the tub.  “Do you think the guys have anything like this?”

Diana’s answer was a bit muffled as she pulled the nightgown up over her head, tossing it aside just before she jumped into the bathtub with a shriek of joy.

“The guys” had quarters that were a bit more Spartan, which meant that there were no perfumes in the bath.  But the beds were large and comfortable, the bath was just cold enough, and their clothes were cleaned so thoroughly that they looked as if they’d never been worn.

Eric was the first one into the tub; now he was the last one to get out.

“C’mon, Eric!” Presto whined as he pulled on his slippers.  “They probably won’t hold breakfast for us!”

Eric seemed not to hear as he let his head slip below the surface one more time.  He came up with a loud splash and leaned on the edge of the tub.  “Presto, my good man, you have a lot to learn about being a Guest of Honor.  And the first rule is, they’re gonna wait for you, no matter what.”

“Did you ever hear of the word ‘rude,’ Eric?” Hank said as he fastened his tunic.

“Hurry up, you guys!”  Bobby was pacing up and down.  “I wanna go find Uni!”

Presto glanced nervously at Hank.  “Do you think it was a good idea to let them take Uni last night?”

“Well, they did offer her the best place in the stables.”

“Yeah,” Bobby piped up, “but I shoulda been with her!”

“Oh come on,” Eric said, pulling on his boots.  “If you owned a castle like this, would you let an animal in the guest bedroom?”

“Why not?  They let you in!”

Presto chuckled.  “Good one, Bobby.”

Eric started sputtering, “Is that so!”  Then, seeing Hank take a protective step toward Bobby, he calmed down.  “Well, that is, since last night was the best sleep I’ve had in a long time, I’ll overlook that remark.”

“Oh yeah?  Well how about this remark…”

Hank grabbed the Barbarian’s shoulder.  “Don’t push your luck, pal.”

Presto shouldn’t have worried; the court of Farnelia held breakfast for them after all.  And it was a meal equal to their banquet of the night before, featuring an oatmeal that smelled and tasted lightly of orange blossoms, three kinds of fresh-baked bread, a topping of whipped cheese and strawberries, and yellow eggs with white yolks.  The children all ate their fill, knowing that an opportunity for so much good food wouldn’t come along again soon.

The suns were almost directly overhead when the final crumb had been eaten and the final dish cleared away.  Bobby tugged at Hank’s sleeve.  “Can we go get Uni now?”

Hank turned to the head of the table, where the king had been waiting patiently.  By now, Hank was used to being the group’s spokesman.  “Your majesty, everything you’ve done for us here has been wonderful.  The food, the beds; I wish there was some way we could repay you.”

The king placed his fingertips together.  “Since you’ve brought it up, there is one small matter.”

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Eric whispered to Diana.

“You fought so courageously and so selflessly upon the Doomfield,” the king continued, “that it would perhaps be improper to ask for more.  Yet I am afraid we must ask to keep the unicorn.”

“Keep Uni?  NO WAY!”

Diana turned to Eric.  “Guess what?  I don’t like it either.”

Bobby was halfway out of his chair.  Sheila tried to hold him down.  “But why?”

“It seems a fair payment.  The unicorn is not of your world; you said so yourself.  You seek to leave this world.  Therefore, you have no need for her.  She belongs in this world, which you say is so different from your own.  For our part, we have never heard of a successfully domesticated unicorn.  We wish to observe this one, to study how it came to be as tame as a house pet.”

“You wanna know how?  Cause we love her, you jerk!”

“Bobby…” Sheila muttered under her breath, even though she shared Bobby’s opinion.

Hank held up a hand, hoping that Bobby would calm down.  He did, but only a little.  He turned back to the king.  “I don’t think we can do it that way, your majesty.”

The king gave a slight gesture; a dozen guards appeared at the entrance to the dining hall.  “I had hoped that it wouldn’t come to this.  I was willing to give you provisions of food, gold, anything else you asked in exchange for the unicorn.  And I had assumed you wanted to go home.  You have the choice.  You may either go home, without the unicorn, or stay with her, here in my dungeon.”

Hank turned to the others, looking each of the others in the eye, holding silent conversations.  “Well, guys, how much do you want to go home?”

Bobby spoke up first: “THIS MUCH!!”  He jumped up, turning his chair over, and brought his club down on the table, reducing it to a thousand splinters.  Sheila immediately pulled on the hood of her cloak and vanished; the others scattered around the room.

The king gestured; the guards fanned out, trying to force the children into a corner.  “Please don’t make things more difficult than they have to be.”

“You mean like this?”  Diana took a few quick steps, planted her staff and vaulted up to the ceiling chandelier.  She hung on with one hand while the staff jumped into her other hand.  A group of guards tried to stab her with their lances, but she was just out of their reach.  That didn’t stop her, however, from swinging her staff and knocking the points off of their lances.

When Bobby started swinging his club, some of the guards moved in close to the throne to protect the king.  Hank simply smiled, drew back on his bow, and let loose a glowing rope of energy that tied together guards, throne and king.

Presto found himself sandwiched between Eric, whose shield blocked the swords of three guards, and Bobby, whose club warded off the weapons of three more.

“Hey, Presto, you waiting for an engraved invitation?” Eric screamed.  “Make with the magic!”

Presto was trying to do just that, and didn’t think Eric’s yelling was helping much.  That may have inspired his spell:

“By the Sands of the East
And the Cold of the South—
Get rid of these soldiers
And shut Eric’s mouth!”

“Very fun…”  Eric didn’t finish the sentence, since his head was suddenly covered by a large wooden mask.  It was the gruesome likeness of the half-human head on the giant manticore they had seen just the day before on the Doomfield.  The soldiers panicked and ran.

Just then the door flew open and Uni floated through the air toward Bobby.

Hank looked around and called, “Let’s get outta here!”  With the guards either immobilized or disarmed, they met no resistance as they fled the palace.  Once outside, Bobby knocked down two large trees that fell and blocked the doors to the palace.  That would take all day to clear away.  The kids knew only that they had to move, and keep moving.

Finally, toward sunset, they slowed their pace.  They saw that they were at the frontier of Farnelia.  Sheila, who dropped her invisibility (and Uni) once they were outside the palace, threw herself back on the grass and stretched out.  “I hope we never have to do that again.”

“Yeah.  Thanks, everybody,” Bobby said as he stroked Uni’s mane.  “Buncha creeps.”

As he had done so often, Eric removed his cape and folded it into a pillow.  “Well, back to looking for food.”

“And the way home,” Presto added.

“Didn’t have to lock her up.”  Bobby was muttering to himself, tapping his club on the ground.

“But where do we go now?” Sheila asked.

“Anyplace but back there,” Diana replied.

Bobby’s voice started rising.  “It’s not fair!  Why don’t they leave us alone!!”  And he slammed the club down onto the ground.  This had the effect of a short but powerful earthquake.  The kids who were still standing fell to the ground.

Sheila went over to Bobby, grabbed his shoulder and shook him.  “What are you doing!”  Bobby looked up into his sister’s face, her eyes boring into his.  He was on the edge of tears, but didn’t want his sister to see that.  He turned away abruptly.

“Hank,” Presto whispered, “the next time he blows his top, he’s liable to take half the Realm with him.”

Eric sat up.  “You wanna know what I think?”

“EEH-EEEEEHH!”

“I wasn’t talking to you.  But I think Crinn was right.”

“About what, Cavalier?”  As usual, DungeonMaster had arrived unseen, and was standing where Eric had laid his head just a minute before.

Eric had jumped at the sound.  “You know, you ought to get together with James Bond.”

“I am sorry, Cavalier.  I can never seem to remember how my appearances affect you.”  A couple of the kids had the sneaking suspicion that DungeonMaster knew exactly how he affected Eric, and actually enjoyed shaking him up time after time.

Hank spoke up.  “Crinn told us something the other day.  He said your name is DungeonMaster because this place is really a dungeon.  That you’re holding us prisoners.”

“That’s not really true,” Diana cut in defiantly, “is it, DungeonMaster?”

The little wizard paused for a minute before replying.  All eyes were on him.  “I can see how you would feel that way.  But, my pupils, you must believe me; you have been detained here not for a punishment, but for a purpose.”

“Can’t you at least tell us what the purpose is?” Presto asked.

“I am sorry.  I cannot tell you.  I cannot even tell you why I cannot tell you.”

“Does that mean you don’t trust us?”  Sheila asked.  It seemed to Hank that she was on the verge of crying, and in that moment came as close as he ever did to turning his back on the DungeonMaster.

“This is not a question of trust.  Sometimes we must wait for someone to turn to the good, but only after turning to evil.  I once had a brilliant pupil named Eldrid.  He was greatly skilled in the ways of magic, and it was my hope that he would one day wear the robes of the DungeonMaster.  But unfortunately he was imprisoned by his own desires for--”

At that point, Eric’s patience finally snapped.  “Your Referee-ness, let me just point out one thing to you: WE DON’T CARE!  None of us want to hear how many pupils you had, or which ones were at the head of the class.  You still won’t tell us why we’re here, and you still won’t send us home, no matter how many times we ask.  You just keep sending us out on quests and expecting us to do your dirty work.  And these weapons--” Eric picked his shield up off the ground.  “As long as we have these, we’re sitting ducks! Venger is going to keep after us.  Well, this Realm can do what it wants to me, it’s your shield again, you’ve got it, and good riddance!”  Eric tossed the shield at DungeonMaster’s feet.

Hank was by Eric’s side in a second.  “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“You probably think I’m crazy, but how else are we gonna get any answers out of him?  If this is the only way to get his attention, I don’t care what happens to me.”

By now the others had gathered around.  “Don’t do this, Eric,” Sheila said.  “We all need your shield.”

“Hey, if you want it, you take it.  I don’t want to go anywhere anymore, except home.  No detours, no side trips, no quests.  Just home.”

Diana approached him.  “Eric, we all feel that way…”

“Then back me up on this!  Don’t you see?  The longer we have these things, the longer we’ll be here.  Where he wants us to be, not where we want to be.  We have to do something!”

There was silence as DungeonMaster watched his pupils, and as they watched each other.  “Hank?” Sheila said; she didn’t have to say more.  She waited to see what he would do.  Finally, Hank took a step forward, laying his bow next to Eric’s shield.

As soon as Hank stepped back, Diana stepped forward, laying her staff on the shield.  Presto was next, dropping his hat down onto the ground.  Bobby seemed more reluctant than the others to give up his club.  He looked to Sheila for reassurance.  She, if the truth were known, was more nervous than any of the others.  There were times that her cloak had been taken from her, but here she was, giving up its protection by choice.  She felt somehow naked without it.  Nevertheless, she hid her fear as she folded the cloak and put it on the ground with the other weapons.  Once she did, Bobby added his club.

DungeonMaster sighed.  “I cannot unmake your weapons, but neither can I let them fall into Venger’s hands by returning them to the Dragons’ Graveyard.  For this, I must have help.”  His hands wove a pattern in the air; a reddish glow appeared in a circle on the ground.  Then rising out of that circle as if on an elevator, came a large trunk and a woman, short in stature, with white hair, a blue tunic and sun-darkened skin.  The children had seen her before.

“You summoned me, DungeonMaster?”

“Yes, Zandora.  The young ones have no further use for these weapons, and they must be hidden somewhere safe from Venger.  When the time comes to release them, you will know.”

 “Before you do that,” Presto spoke up, “I know you already said, but are you sure…?”

“I’m afraid so; the box cannot return you to your world.  That gateway no longer exists.”

The magician shrugged his shoulders.  “Worth a shot.”

Zandora studied the ground, moved the box a few inches to one side, then opened it.  She picked up the weapons and dropped them unceremoniously inside, then jumped in after them.  The lid of the box slammed shut by itself, and, as it had appeared, the box slowly sunk into the ground until it was gone.

“BRNEH MNEEEH,” Uni bleated.

“I understand,” DungeonMaster said to the unicorn, “and I shall not leave your friends unprotected.”  He turned to the others.  “In a way, my children, this day has been coming since your arrival here.  Only now, you are ready, as you were not then.”

 “How convenient,” Eric muttered.

“He’s giving us another chance,” Diana whispered, “so cool it.”

“Ready for what, DungeonMaster?” Hank asked.

“For a more powerful magic than any of you has ever carried.  I hereby entrust you all with manifestations of the wild magick.”

“Hold it!  What’s that supposed to…”

Hank stopped the sentence.  He couldn’t do anything as he felt power coursing through his body.  All six of the children of Earth stopped in their tracks and felt the pulsing go through them, as if they’d stuck a finger in a light socket.  It might have gone on for ten seconds or for ten minutes—time meant nothing in their shock state.  Then, as abruptly as it had begin, it ended.  The power seemed to have been holding them up; they all fell to the ground, barely conscious.

Uni pranced nervously from one to another, bleating with concern.  It took several minutes, but one by one they began to recover.  As if coming out of a trance, they staggered back onto their feet.

“Is this it?” Presto asked.  “Did we get something?”

“Indeed you did.  The wild magick manifests itself in six separate forces, each of which now resides in one of you.”

“Thanks a bunch,” Eric said.  “So who’s got the instruction manual?”

 “The knowledge you seek will be found in the gramery which tells you nothing, and yet tells everything.”

Eric was about to let loose another comeback at DungeonMaster; Hank glowered at him, holding up one finger.

“But where will you be?” Sheila asked, still hoping for some kind of reconciliation.

“The next time we meet, I will either send you home, or else—finish the battle that you can no longer fight.”  He started to walk toward the setting suns, whose glare was overpowering.

“Wait!” Hank called out.  “What is a gramery?  What is this power we have?  Where do we go?!”

DungeonMaster was little else now but a disembodied voice.  “You have indeed taken many steps home.  There is just one more step, but it is the hardest and most dangerous.  It is also the real reason you have been brought here and kept here.  You must use your new power to fight that which you cannot name.  And there is one more thing.  When the child who has lost his face finds it again, it will be time for you to leave.”

“A child with a lost face?”

“Eeewww gross!!”

“MRNEEH MNEH!”

“He’s sneaking out on us again!” Eric yelled.

“DungeonMaster!” Hank yelled, running toward the voice of the wizard.  “At least tell us where to go!”

“Go nowhere,” the voice said, even as it faded into nothingness.  “Your path will come to you.”

Hank slowed from a run to a walk and finally stood still in the middle of the plain.  The glare from the setting of the suns was fading, but he no longer wanted the light to grow dim.  He knew, even as he chased him, that DungeonMaster had vanished yet again.

The others caught up with Hank.  “What did he say?” Sheila asked.

“We’re supposed to wait here.”

“For what?”

“I wish I knew.”

Had any of them looked up, they would have seen a large dark winged shape slowly circle down toward them…

To be continued in “A Warrior’s Promise”