Part 10: Going Home

"I must congratulate you and the DungeonMaster. Trapping me in the Crystal Caverns was--effective."

"Not effective enough, Venger. How did you get out?"

"I shall tell you, Ranger. It was always my intention to tell you. The only question was whether to do it now, or just before I killed you.

"The Cavern was well-chosen. The crystals throughout, on walls, floor and ceiling, reflected my powers whenever I tried to use them. There was not a single piece of stone that did not fight against me. After trying several times to free myself, I realized that all I could do was wait--and plan my revenge.

"I had only to wait a few of your years, and this was nothing to me. I knew that sooner or later the Realm itself would free me. A slight earthquake in one place, a heavy rain causing a rockslide in another place. The planet itself is alive, and one day the planet itself shifted, just enough to open a crack between two crystals. It was a small crack, no thicker than the leaf on a tree, But it was enough for me to travel through to the outside world again. By that time, my plan was ready.

"That plan meant that I had to have the six of you back here. Which meant that DungeonMaster had to summon you back. He could not do that for any but the most serious reason. I had to find some way to make him pay attention."

"So your plan was to massacre all those people?" Bobby asked in almost a snarl.

"It was an easy thing to inhabit the mind of this fool," Venger said as he waved vaguely at Majnoun, still unconscious on the floor. "You never knew the depth of his resentment of you, Rahmoud."

"Resentment? I did nothing to him."

"You did not have to. He envied you your power, your wealth, the love of your family and subjects. You were everything he wished to be. He gladly listened to my bargain; he would have listened to anyone."

"Why did you bring Sheila back here alone?"

"It was an accidental discovery. I did not realize that anything had been carried from the Realm to your world. But that rag-doll itself served as a portal between the two worlds. It was a fragile portal--one which collapsed as soon as we passed through it--but it too served to alert the DungeonMaster. I saw no reason to change my plans simply because she was with child, although I could make use of her if my first plan failed. But laying waste to a few villages in the Realm was never the whole of my plan.

"My goal was to bring all of you back here. I wanted you all in the Realm, unable to leave of your own accord, while I went through to your insignificant world. I wanted you to suffer as you made me suffer in the Crystal Cavern. I wanted you to be here, safe and sound, while the Orcs and I went to your planet. We would start the destruction slowly; house by house, then street by street. In the end the entire planet would be reduced to rubble and ash. And you would be here, powerless to stop it, watching while I destroyed everything you hold dear: your families, your friends--"

Bobby couldn't stand it any longer."Damn you!" he said, drawing his club. With a gesture from Venger, a bolt of magical energy blasted it out of his hand. Instead of trying to recover it, Bobby dove toward Rahmoud's scimitar. This time Venger simply stood, observing, a mocking smile on his face. "Come on, you guys!" Bobby shouted. "We all have to do this!"

The others each grabbed the handle and together they tried to lift the scimitar; it stayed on the floor as if attached there. Then they all noticed that Sheila had never touched it; she was writhing in pain on the cell floor a few feet away.

"Oh, God," Presto whispered, "is that a contraction?"

Venger seemed to think it was; his smile broadened. "Her time approaches, as does the end of your world."

Hank tugged again at the scimitar. "I don't get it; why can't we lift this?"

Venger's mouth cracked open, and for a fleeting second Presto had an absurd thought: Yeah, that's right. All the time we were here, we never heard Venger laugh. An instant later, Presto regretted his curiosity as he heard Venger. What came out of his mouth made their skins crawl. It was laughter, but with a hard rotten core of malice and resentment. It was a mockery of laughter.

"I learned all about the scimitar and its enchantment from Majnoun. It was he who placed the enchantment on it when it was forged, and it cannot be undone as long as he lives. Fools! Rahmoud no longer has two strong arms, and as for the courage of seven hearts, I count only six."

Sheila, who had been curled into a ball of pain, got up on one elbow. Bobby glanced at her, and immediately, out of reflex, his stomach tightened into a knot. He knew his sister, and he knew her "Alright, I'm through playing around" look. It was a look of fierce determination. It was a look that reminded Bobby that Sheila too was of the O'Neill warrior clan.

"Check your math, Venger," Sheila said in a cold and level voice. "Two hearts are beating in me, and they both defy you!" And she lunged toward the scimitar.

When they spoke of it afterwards, they compared it to the stylus of a Ouija board; they couldn't say if they moved the scimitar, or if the scimitar moved them. But the instant Sheila's hand touched the last exposed part of the handle, the blade slowly began to rise off of the floor. Sheila had to hang onto Bobby's free arm while he helped her up. The blade rose and rose until it just cleared the top of Hank's head, then it quivered in mid-air and slammed itself edge-first onto the stone floor.

The scimitar rang like a cathedral bell, sending shock waves throughout the palace. But most of its energy was directed at Venger. A constant wave of force pushed Venger against the wall of the dungeon cell, pinning him there. He couldn't move; he couldn't speak; he couldn't think; so powerful and relentless was the force of the scimitar.

"We got him!" Bobby shouted. He had to shout; the noise of the scimitar was deafening in such close quarters.

"Yeah, but now what?" Hank asked. "We'll have to drop this sooner or later."

Sheila winced. "Better make it sooner, guys. I hate to say it, but the contractions are getting stronger."

Diana asked, "Hank, can you get a shot off?"

"Not with one hand. And if I let go, that stops the scimitar. Besides, I tried to shoot Venger once before. I can't do it."

"Bobby?" Diana asked.

"My club's back there. You think you could throw your javelin one-handed?"

"Maybe. I'd aim for his heart, but I'm not sure he has one."

"Face it, Diana," Hank interrupted, "you can't bring yourself to kill him either, can you?" She shook her head.

"I hope you don't think I can sheild him to death," Eric added.

"And Sheila's cloak can't do much good."

"That leaves--" Sheila's voice trailed off as everyone looked at Presto.

Eric broke their silence. "Well, so long, everybody. It's been nice knowing you--"

"Hold it!" Hank interrupted. "We have to try something."

"But that hat is useless! It's had nothing but messed-up magic in it since we got back here!"

"That's why we have to try it!" Diana cut in. "Remember? When we got here, DungeonMaster told us that the least among us would be needed to win."

"Yeah, but you don't think he meant that dopey--"

"Eric, shut up!!" Hank turned to Presto. "We're counting on you."

As cool as the air in the dungeon was, Presto had been sweating since the scimitar pinned Venger to the wall. It was getting worse now. Flop-sweat was getting on his glasses, blurring his vision. Sweat was getting in his eyes, the salt stinging them. He blinked, tryng to squint through the glasses, when just for a moment the distortion made Venger look like--Reggie Yeong, disrupting yet another science class. Presto blinked, and the image dissolved to Jimmy Whittaker, who mocked all of Presto's card tricks, even the ones that worked. Then the figure dissolved into Grant Wozankowski , who had made every year at summer camp pure hell since he could remember.

Presto realized in that moment that they and Venger were all the same. Yes, Venger had magical powers, but in the end he was just another bully. And Presto knew what he had to do. Still holding the handle of the scimitar with his left hand, he raised his right hand, took off his hat, turned it upside-down and hooked it over his left thumb. He began making passes over the hat's opening and speaking a spell, but, even though everyone was standing almost cheek to cheek, nobody could hear him over the scimitar's roar. After a few seconds, though, the hat began to glow.

So did the floor. It began to glow, part-green, part-gold, like no color any of them had ever seen. Then, the glow began to move up the wall where Venger was still pinned by the force of the scimitar. It moved slowly, like honey dripping down the side of a jar, only this glow dripped up, from floor to ceiling. It covered and surrounded Venger, then carried him up the wall and through the ceiling. It only took a minute for the glow to vanish out of the cell.

The six kept pointing the scimitar at the wall, not moving as they watched Venger rise through the ceiling. Once he was out of sight, though, Sheila gave a cry of pain and fell to her knees. Bobby broke contact at the same moment to try to help her. The waves of power stopped; the scimitar clanged to the dungeon floor.

In that moment, the shackles holding Ayisha to the wall disappeared. She ran to her father and cradled him in her arms.

Sheila was sweating worse than Presto; her breath came in short gasps. "Sorry, guys. I tried to hold on, but that last one was rough."

"Is it time, sis?"

"I don't think so, but it's close."

A dull noise came from outside; sounds of chaotic shouting and running. "Are the Orcs attacking?" Hank asked.

Diana jumped up to the window, grabbed the bars and looked out. "It's the Orcs, alright, but--they're panicking! They're just running around in all directions."

"He's gone," Presto said, as if in a daze, still staring at the hat in his hand. "Can't you guys feel it? He's gone!"

"Gone where?" Sheila asked.

"Well, I didn't want to destroy Venger. I remember what Uni said about that. And I had to get him someplace where he wouldn't bother anyone. I didn't even know what the words were gonna be until I spoke them."

"Presto," Hank said, "you're making me nervous. What did you say?"

"We have to leave here very soon
So send Venger on a trip to the moon."

The others looked at each other in stunned silence. "You sent Venger--" Hank began.

Diana finished the thought; "to one of the three moons?!"

"I guess."

Rahmoud tried to sit up, with Ayisha helping him. "Never have I heard of such a thing. You are surely the greatest magician in the Realm!"

"It was just a lucky spell."

"That wasn't luck, Presto," Bobby interrupted. "That was a home run with the bases loaded."

"If only my problems could be solved so easily," Rahmoud sighed. He seemed to be sinking into his despair again. "Someday I shall stand before the Most High, and I shall have so much innocent blood on my hands--"

"Will you cut that out!" Eric interrupted. "You didn't do all that by yourself. You had some help, you know. It wasn't even your idea, so quit trying to hog all the glory!"

Everyone stared at Eric, amazed at his tasteless outburst. Rahmoud's face twisted, tightened--and exploded into a long stream of laughter. It wasn't manic, it wasn't deranged; it was the laughter of a man who finally gets the joke of life itself. It was the laughter that had attracted the group to Rahmoud years earlier. Now that's what I call laughing, Presto thought.

Rahmoud composed himself after a minute. "There is water even in the desert, and there can be laughter even in sorrow. You are right, Eric my son. I must, and I will, make amends for what I have done, but I will not--how do you say--beat myself up about it."

"Wisely spoken, Your Majesty," came a soft voice from the corridor. A small form in a red robe appeared in the doorway. "It was Majnoun's despair that allowed Venger to possess him, just as your despair for your daughter allowed Majnoun to control you. The chain must be broken."

"DungeonMaster," Presto raced to him, "did I do the right thing?  Is Venger--"

"He is imprisoned in a place far harder to escape from than the Crystal Cavern. He still lives, but his magic poses no threat to the Realm."

"But he can still break out and get back here, right?"

Eric rolled his eyes. "Oh, great. We have to do this again in another ten years?"

DungeonMaster smiled. "Oh, ten times ten years, I should think."

Presto turned back to the others. "When Venger does get back here, he's gonna be royally--"

"What he's gonna be," Eric interrupted, "is someone else's problem, so don't worry about it."

Bobby interrupted. "Excuse me, folks, but if we don't get Sheila back home pretty quick, it'll all be for nothing."

"Of course. Your ride is in the corridor. The fare is one magic weapon."

Hank turned to Rahmoud and Ayisha. "Sorry we have to leave in such a hurry, Rahmoud."

"Do not apologize, my son. In this short visit you have returned to me my daughter, my kingdom, my life and my soul. You will always have a place in the house of Rahmoud."

They handed their weapons to DungeonMaster. As Sheila did so, she bent down as best she could and hugged DungeonMaster. "Thanks for calling them back for me."

The amusement park car was in the corridor, pointed toward the tunnel. Bobby picked Sheila up and placed her in the front seat, then got in beside her, Presto squeezing in next to him.

The others were getting into the back seat. "I guess it really is good-bye this time, DungeonMaster," Hank started.

Eric cut him off. "Well if it isn't, if I'm retired and on some beach in the Bahamas when I'm 65 years old and I get dragged back here again, I'm the one that's gonna be royally--"

Eric never finished the sentence. The car started with a high-speed jump. It was down the corridor and almost through the tunnel in less than two seconds. When it hit the surface, it kept on climbing, higher and faster, into the clouds...

and they thought they heard, before they left the Realm for the last time, a fond, slightly sad and very beautiful voice in their heads: Good fortune be yours, oh my beloveds, until we meet again.

The jolt of their landing was accompanied by the sound of screeching metal and the smell of burning oil. They reappeared in modern dress where they had disappeared--in the long straightaway of the ride.

"We're back!" Sheila shouted, more relieved than any of the others. "We're on the ride!"

"Yeah, and going fifty miles an hour!"

Eric was right; the car was travelling much too fast. It almost left the tracks several times, taking out bits of the ride when it collided with them.

"Doesn't this thing have any brakes?!"

"Don't think so," Hank answered. "Just brace yourselves and hang on!"

On they rushed headlong through the tunnel's twists and turns. This slowed the car somewhat, but still they exited and hit the open air faster than the ride could stand. At the last turn, which would have taken them back into the dragon's mouth and into the ride again, the car left the tracks. Staying upright, it rumbled across a lawn of now-brown grass and toward a shallow pool. The grass slowed them down gradually, but still there was a serious jolt when the car slammed against the pool's rim. The rim held; the car stopped.

Hank took a quick look around. "Looks like the same day and time we left. Everybody okay?"

Presto fumbled around on the floor of the car for his glasses, which had flown off when they stopped. "I think so. Sheila?"

"Bobby, just get me out of here--now!" There was some anger in her voice, but more panic. "I think the next one's gonna be it, and I don't want to be anywhere near that ride!" Bobby picked her up in his arms, and ran as quickly as he could with the others back to the front gate.

Presto was the first one to reach the gate; he tried it, but it was locked. Eric knocked on the door of the ticket booth.

The roustabout opened the door, his eyebrows raised. "Didn't you just--"

"We got what we came for," Eric said hastily. The roustabout shrugged and unlocked the gate, glancing more than once at Sheila and trying to remember whether he had seen her come in with the others.

No sooner had they stepped through the gate when Sheila let out a scream and clutched Bobby's arm. Bobby's pain was so bad that he had to stop and set her on the grass verge at the edge of the parking-lot. When he did, they all noticed four red crescent-moons on his arm. Sheila had grabbed his arm so tightly that all four fingernails had pierced the skin.

Hank was kneeling by Sheila's head in an instant. "What's wrong?"

It seemed to be all Sheila could do to get her voice back. "Oh, nothing, I guess. By the way, my water just broke."

"Omigod! We can't just leave you here," Presto said. "What do we do?"

"Don't panic; got it covered," Eric said calmly, as he pulled the cellular phone from his coat pocket and punched 9-1-1. "Although I don't know why I have to do all the work around here."

"BOBBY!" A black-haired young woman had just left the motel office, and was dodging traffic as she crossed the highway. She was of average height and more than average beauty, even though her face still had a bit of what her mother, regardless of her age, insisted on calling "baby fat". Bobby had barely gotten off his knees beside Sheila and was standing when she ran up to him and slapped him across the face.

The others were stunned to silence. Bobby started to ask, "Terry! What the--"

"That's for going back to the Realm without me, Bobby Barbarian!" She then put a hand on either side of his face, said "And this is for coming back in one piece," and planted a kiss on his mouth. A kiss which he returned and which they held for thirty seconds.

It probably would have been longer, but that's when the ambulance arrived.

Captain Thomas DiLeone was in the air between New York and Chicago when he received a message that his wife had gone into labor. When his connecting flight from Chicago landed in St. Louis, he was handed the telegram:

SHE'S HERE. SEVEN POUNDS EXACTLY. SHE AND I BOTH FINE. BRING GOOD NEWS. ALL OUR LOVE, SHEILA

There was a fleeting regret that he'd been a thousand miles away when his daughter was born. He'd tried to arrange things so that he's be back in time, but they'd sprung a second set of interviews on him at the last minute. No matter, he decided; he'd never miss anything like this again; he could guarantee it.

Within three hours of arriving in St. Louis, he was driving his rental car into the parking lot of the hospital. He was so nervous that he almost left the keys in the ignition. He got them out and headed for the visitors' reception desk.

"Excuse me; my wife is in maternity. Sheila DiLeone."

The nurse, a hefty black woman who'd worked in the hospital for a quarter-century in a variety of jobs, flipped through the registry printout, page by page. "No; sorry, but I don't see anyone by--" She had turned to the last page of the registry. "Oh, here it is! She's not in maternity; we put her in the Penthouse."

"The what?"

The nurse fished through a desk drawer for a set of keys. "That's a suite of rooms on the top floor. All the comforts of home: a separate bedroom for family, kitchen if you don't like the food here." She gestured Tommy to follow her. The key operated a private elevator. "Not too many people use it," the nurse explained. "Politicians, mostly. One time, we had some people in town shooting a movie--"

"This can't be right," Tommy interrupted. "Whose idea was this?  My Army insurance will never cover this!"

The elevator stopped; the door opened. The nurse walked to a desk and picked up the single clipboard laying there. "Insurance?" She glanced at the front page. "No insurance for this patient."

Tommy was more confused than he was a minute before. "Then how--"

"It's all paid for," she said. "I guess your wife never told you she had friends in high places. Some bigwig from Harleigh Enterprises is paying for everything, it says here."

Tommy didn't know how many more surprises he could take. "Just--where's Sheila?"

The nurse pointed him toward a door down a quiet corridor. At least this part was the way a hospital was supposed to be, he thought. She probably needs peace and quiet. He pushed open the door and walked into--

a party.

"Excuse ME!" the nurse said in the corridor behind him. "This is supposed to be for family only!"

"Don't get excited," the blonde young man on the sofa said. "We ARE family."

"Right," said the auburn-haired man at the other end of the sofa, as he pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Can't a baby have two godfathers?"

The black-haired young man sitting on the window-sill and talking into a cellular phone cupped his hand over the mouthpiece long enough to say, "Make that three godfathers," before he went back to his conversation.

A black woman sat on the hospital bed on Sheila's left, looking at the bundle Sheila held in her arms. "Don't forget the godmother," she said, never taking her eyes off the bundle.

"And an uncle." Of course Tommy recognized Bobby; he'd be hard to miss anywhere. And his steady girl Terry was sitting on Sheila's right, also smiling over the bundle. Bobby glanced down at Terry and added, "And maybe an aunt."

For the first time in years, Bobby had managed to surprise Terry. She whirled to face him. "Well, it's about--" She caught herself and lowered her voice. "We'll talk later."

Tommy didn't care if these were strangers or family. He went over to Sheila immediately. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. We're both fine," she whispered happily as they kissed, then looked at the infant girl sleeping in her arms.

"I mean," Tommy continued, "was the labor rough or anything?"

"You'll never know," she smiled. "You've got me in suspense now; good news?"

"Great news."

"Oh, Tommy!" They kissed and hugged again.

"Hey, congratulations!" the black-haired fellow said. "For what?"

Sheila quickly made introductions around the room. When she introduced Eric, Tommy said, "So we have you to thank for this."

"Don't sweat it," Eric grinned. "Sheila saved me from my own stupidity more times than I can count. It was the least I could do."

There was a slight catch in Sheila's voice when she introduced Hank. Tommy, for his part, didn't hesitate to shake Hank's outstretched hand. "Sheila's told me about you. Said you were a good friend when she really needed one. Thanks."

Whatever Hank expected didn't happen, so he seemed a bit relieved. "Works both ways, like Eric said. Sheila's helped a lot of people."

When Diana was introduced, Tommy's eyes went wide. "I thought I recognized you. From the Olympics? I'm sorry you didn't place. For what it's worth, I thought your form on the pole vault was perfect; the best I've ever seen."

Diana grinned from ear to ear. "I thought your daughter made my day, but you just made it all over again!"

Finally there was Presto. "Last I heard," Sheila said, "you were a teacher?"

"Still am," Presto nodded. "High school science."

Tommy smiled at Sheila. "Well, my good news is, we're in the same line of work."

"Really? You giving up the Army?"

"No, and that's the good news. When we first got married, I was being sent all over the place. Not the ideal conditions for starting a family. So Sheila and I decided that, when we did try to have kids, I'd get something with roots in it; something that made sure I wouldn't be in the air all the time."

"So you got something that works out?"

"Starting first of the year, I teach calculus and advanced algebra at West Point."

"Hey, that's great!" Hank said, and meant it. The gang congratulated Sheila and Tommy--except for Bobby.

"You know the new grandparents are going to be a little upset. You're taking their first grandchild a thousand miles away."

"Relax, Bobby. I talked to mom and dad about this long ago. They agree it's for the best."

"Yeah, but that was before she was born. Once they see her, you may have another war on your hands."

"That reminds me," Tommy said, reaching for a clipboard on the bedside table. "Your telegraph didn't say..." His voice trailed off as he read the name of his daughter for the first time.

"I did what we agreed on," Sheila said, a bit defensively. "If it was a girl, she'd be named after your grandmother--"

"But--where did this come from?" Tommy was pointing to the middle of the child's three names: Caterina Ayisha DiLeone.

Sheila had prepared for this question. "You know when I was gone for a day or two? Everyone seems to think I'd met with foul play or something. The truth is, I spent the time with an old friend, Ayisha."

Tommy shook his head. "You've got this whole circle of friends you never told me about. Will I ever get to meet her?"

"No," Sheila sighed, "and I'll probably never see her again, either. I'll tell you about her, someday."

Sheila was in the Realm for only two days--but in the Realm it seemed like a week. Still, it wasn't as horrible as it could have been, simply because Venger had trapped Sheila in Majnoun's gemstone ring with Ayisha. Ayisha had been in her solitary gemstone prison for weeks when Sheila arrived, and Sheila spent what seemed like a full day reassuring the nearly hysterical Ayisha that things would be alright. From then on, they discussed anything and everything, although Sheila's pregnancy seemed to come up most often. Sheila had partly steeled herself to keep Ayisha's spirits up, but her own spirits were never at risk. Bobby especially knew the truth behind Sheila's motto: "if I'm not alone, then I'm not afraid".

The newcomers stayed in the Penthouse until they were finally shooed away by the nurses when visiting hours ended. Hank and Eric, Diana and Presto, Bobby and Terry went back to the rooms at the motel and continued the party until after midnight. They wandered in and out of each other's rooms, eating, drinking and reminiscing. Yet as much as they had to say about all that had happened since their days in the Realm, there seemed so much more yet to be said.

They were at the hospital again early the next morning. When they arrived, Terry handed them each a piece of paper with the names, addresses, phone numbers and e-mail of everyone else. Terry had compiled all the information the day before. She knew, as well as the others, that they were the members of a very exclusive club, and must never lose touch with each other again.

Around noon Sheila's parents arrived to visit, which filled the Penthouse to near-capacity. Again the nurses tried to enforce the family-only rule. Hank and Eric, Diana and Presto all realized, without anyone saying it out loud, that it was time for them to leave.

When they got off the private elevator, Eric said, "Would you guys mind waiting a minute? I've--er--got to make a quick call. Diana, can you--I mean, I need your help with--something--"

Presto and Hank exchanged knowing glances. "Take your time, Eric," Hank said, as he and Presto walked to the entrance.

Diana asked, "What's up?" even though she thought she knew what was coming.

"Well, I was wondering--er, have a seat." Eric gestured toward the overstuffed chairs in the waiting room. They both settled into chairs side by side. "Are you gonna be okay? I mean, you're moving back in with your folks--"

"Oh, no," she shook her head emphatically. "That makes me sound like one of those Generation X types who never leave home. This is just a visit."

"And after that?"

"I don't know. I don't have anything going for me, and I'm not about to go back to California."

"Yeah, well." Eric cleared his throat. "I still can't believe what happened. Three days ago we were called to go back to the Realm. We were having dinner when I realized how glad I was to see you again, to talk with you. I mean, it really was something missing from my life."

Diana nodded, not saying anything.

"Yeah, anyway. I've been doing a lot of thinking this last three days, and most of that has been about my place in my dad's corporation." Diana's eyebrows went up; she hadn't expected that. "Well, that's what I've been thinking. What I've been feeling, that's something else. I've spent most of the last ten years thinking I wasn't as happy as I used to be. I used to think it was because I wasn't back in the Realm. I know better now. It's you; I'm happiest when I'm with you."

Diana must have been holding her breath, since she let it all out in one loud whoosh. "Eric, that's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a long, long time. But let me say something now. I told you the other day that I knew you had it in you to be sensitive and caring and doing something really constructive with your life." Eric looked at her a bit strangely. "At least," Diana added, "when you're not being an overbearing jerk."

Eric smiled and leaned forward in his chair. "Now that's the Diana we all know and--" He hesitated.

"And?"

"Hell, why shouldn't I say it? And love. The main thing I learned this time around is that I love you. That's Truth. And I've dared myself to ask you to marry me."

It took a minute for Diana to make contact with Eric's eyes; she looked at her feet, at his feet, the door, the nurses' desk; anywhere but into his eyes. And I told him I wasn't afraid of anything; why can't I look at him? Finally, she looked up at Eric--and what she felt when she did was calm, reassured, warmed by an old friend. There was none of the apprehension she felt even at the moment of her marriage to Sam.

She reached out and took one of Eric's hands in her own. "Eric, I--I'm sorry, first of all. I shouldn't have lost touch with you--with any of the gang. I know now how much I really needed that in my life. Don't worry; I won't lose touch again. Even though--well, I'm sorry about something else.

"Part of me is just floored by what you said. I feel happy and proud and a little hopeful, all mixed up. But it's only been a few days since I left Sam. It feels like a lifetime, but it's still too soon. I need some time to myself, to get the last few years behind me."

"And to get over Kosar?"

"No," Diana smiled, "I got that straightened out that last night in the Realm. And I couldn't have done it without your help."

"So it's about Sam?"

"Part of me actually feels sorry for him. I never told him about Kosar; how could I? I don't know how Sheila and her husband are going to deal with it."

"So far, I don't think she's told him a thing. But if she ever does, she has Bobby and Terry for backup."

"I just need some time to put this all together. Do you think you could give me that kind of time?"

"Can I take that as a maybe?"

Diana called on all the instincts she could, to see if there was something--anything--warning her against moving any closer to Eric--of all people, ERIC! But there were no warning bells, no red lights; nothing but a warm and hopeful smile. "Let's say maybe you can take that as a probably."

"Then take all the time you need." They both stood up and hugged each other for the better part of a minute. They seemed almost afraid that something would happen if they let go. But at last they did, and walked to the hospital's front door.

"Eric, are you sure about waiting? You're not going to ask me before I'm ready, are you? I mean it; you start pushing me, I'll split right down the middle."

"Okay, how about this? When you've worked through the past, let me know by asking me about what I dreamed in Rahmoud's dungeon."

The way Diana looked at Eric told them both that somehow their dreams had crossed paths. "It's a date," she smiled.

"Took you two long enough," Presto said as soon as they stepped out into the cool autumn air. "So, where to now?"

Eric spoke up first. "Arizona. Family business. There's a printing plant out there I have to keep from going under. Then back to that plant where the light almost creamed me, and then I'll figure out whether I really own the Dungeons and Dragons ride."

Hank laughed; "You could have just said you were going on a business trip. Anyway, good luck to you."

"Diana?" Presto asked. "How about you?"

"I'm here for a few days. It's a long time since I've seen my family. After that, I don't know. I still have to find a job somewhere."

"How about coming with me to Addison? My school's been looking for a girls gym teacher. You'd really be a feather in their cap."

"Thanks, Presto, but I've been down that road before. Small schools get a little nervous when they see I was on the Olympic team. I think they worry that I'll demand the star treatment."

"Well, hey, if you just need someone on the inside to tell them you don't want to break the bank, that's me. I'm sure I can talk them into an interview at least."

"Sounds great; thanks. I'll still be at my folks' for a while, but you can call me there and let me know."

"What about you, Hank?" Eric asked.

"Back to Washington; back to the bureaucracy and the b.s. But I've been doing some thinking. I used to be afraid of facing my time in the Realm; from now on, I'm going to take a little of it with me in this world. Something tells me it'll help."

They walked toward the parking lot. After a few steps, though, they turned as one and looked up at the window of the Penthouse. There in the window was Sheila, holding the sleeping Caterina Ayisha in her arms. Her husband stood on one side of her; Bobby stood on the other, with one arm around Terry's waist. Sheila and Bobby's parents were also standing with them. They waved to the four in the parking lot, and the four waved back.

"Now that's a family snapshot," Presto said.

"Yeah, but something's been bothering me," Hank said as they turned away. "In Rahmoud's palace, when we used the scimitar against Venger--that was a lot of power."

"You're telling me?" Eric interrupted. "That thing almost shook the fillings out of my teeth."

"Well, do you think it had any effect on the baby?"

"Geez, it should have," Presto said. "I mean, it was only a few minutes away from being born, and the fluid it was floating in would have amplified the sound."

"You don't think she was hurt, do you?" Diana asked.

"She wasn't hurt," Eric said flatly. "I asked them to run every test there was on the kid just to be sure. Everything checks out normal."

"All the same, she's part of our exclusive little club, too," Hank said. "Like us, she's been to the Realm and back." He looked over his shoulder one last time at the hospital. "And I don't know about you guys, but I can hardly wait to ask her about it someday."

Here ends "Return to the Realm" (c) 1997 by Patrick Drazen