Author: Sam

Story: The Never-ending Story: 7 of 33

Series: none

Setting: Summer 1986: The Realm of Dungeons & Dragons

Characters & Ages: Lorne- 18, Kosar- 20 (For those who remember these guys)

Feedback: Yes, please? Especially constructive. samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

Webpage: http://www.oocities.org/samwise_baggins/index.html

With a heavy sigh, the dark haired youth ran a hand through his sweaty hair. Frowning, he put his thin shoulder to the back of the wagon and again pushed. The wooden structure slipped a bit in the thick mud, but settled back into the deep rut. Lorne gasped, slipping himself, and barely caught himself before he landed in the sticky muck. Trying to gain some breath, the teen leaned his head against the back of the wagon, limbs shaking in his efforts, rasping breath forcing its way in and out of abused lungs.

"I can't get it... need to try something else..." his eyes were closed as he called to his adopted family, the gypsies who'd taken him in a year or more ago. "Maybe if we unload..."

When no answer came, the teen's eyes snapped open and he pushed to a standing position, shocked to see he was no longer on the open plains trying to free a stuck wagon. He was, instead, in a wooded glen, a tree being what he'd just pushed from. "What! Wait a minute!" He whirled around and came, frowning, face-to-face with Dungeon Master. Lorne drew his breath in sharply.

The old man smiled gently and nodded. "You are needed once more to help the Realm, Young One."

"What? Help... but Dungeon Master, last time I didn't help the Realm. I used that stupid talisman to nearly hurt everyone." He frowned, crossing his arms. "And I nearly was orphaned forever. What could I possibly do to help you this time?" The sarcasm was starting to show itself, habitual, a self-defense mechanism from years of fending on his own.

With that same age-old smile of knowing, the little man started walking, noticing that the eighteen-year-old fell into step quickly behind him, arms dropping to his side. "You helped the Young Ones last time. Now, you will help the world you live in. Great evil arises, and great warriors are needed." If he hadn't fallen silent, he would have been cut off anyway as Lorne exploded.

"Warrior! Me? You have got to be kidding! Who ever said I was a warrior, Dungeon Master?" He shot an incredulous look at the shorter being. "All I ever wanted was to find a home, a family. I've got that now." He looked around and frowned, "if you'd just send me back to them."

The older man turned to the younger, sorrow on his face, seriousness in his wise eyes. "You may go back to them, if you choose... or you may save their lives, if you choose."

Lorne froze, horror dawning on his face as the old mage's words processed through his mind. "Save them?" He turned and grabbed the man by his robes, desperation erasing respect and caution. "Where are they? You've gotta let me go back and help them! They're all I have, Dungeon Master!"

With that same timeless sadness, the man gently laid his hands over the teen's, soothing and sure. He smiled up at the boy, though the smile did nothing to ease the look in his eyes. He stroked once and noted approvingly that Lorne began to relax a bit at the caress. "They are over that rise in the distance."

Letting go of the Dungeon Master's red robes, Lorne turned to start running for his gypsy family's trains. The man's next words brought him up short, though.

"However, going to them now will not save them, Young One."

The dark haired youth slowly turned towards the white haired elder.

"Your aid is needed far from here. You are more helpful in collecting together the warriors of the Realm, gathering them together for the war to come. Only by bringing the many to the one will you have the means to save your family."

Lorne slowly walked back to Dungeon Master's side. He frowned, thinking that over. Suddenly, looking at the man from the corner of his eyes and fighting a sarcastic tug of a smile, the boy griped, "Now you pick a time to give clear riddles?"

The man laughed softly, his eyes lighting ever so slightly. "You are much like him, my friend."

"If by that comment you mean that stupid Caviar, you have got to be kidding!" But it pleased Lorne to be compared to his friend, Eric. He nodded. "Well, I'm much braver and smarter than he is, so what do I gotta do?" He glared down at the shorter being.

With a smile, approval rippling across his old features, the man spoke. "You must gather the Children of Power. You must bring them to the one who holds the weapons. Then, and only then, will you have the might to fight the evil on the horizon."

In disgust, Lorne shook his head. "And I thought your riddles were clear? What's all that supposed to mean?"

"You will know when the time is right, Young Gypsy."

The world spun into darkness, cold and soul filling, and Lorne screamed soundlessly before he lost all consciousness.

The world came into focus.

Frowning, the tall teen looked around, recognition not coming with the sights and sounds. There were vast plains in front of him, but nothing of significance came to mind when looking over the waving grass. All he knew was that this was not home.

A soft thump behind him had the teen whirling around in surprise. There, where he had apparently fallen, lay another, younger teen. The boy had dark hair and was shorter, stockier than he was. Kosar knelt and touched the pale face. "Wake up..."

His voice was a soft, almost echoing whisper, and the teen tried again. "Wake up," he touched the boy's throat, relieved at finding a strong pulse.

With a groan, Lorne turned over and opened his eyes. A whirl of sensations washed over him, then steadied, and he found himself looking up at an older boy. With a frown, he realized it wasn't Eric or any of the other six he'd thought of as the Young Ones. This teen wasn't anyone he recognized at all. In fact, the most distinguishing fact about the boy was that he could be described as brown.

"Can you sit up?" the soft, almost far-away voice barely reached Lorne's ears, but he somehow understood just the same. Forcing himself to a sitting position, the teen grimaced. "Stupid Dungeon Master! Could warn a guy before sending him into... wherever that was." He looked at the brown-dressed, brown-skinned teen. "Who are you?"

Kosar smiled, suddenly aware that he must be back in the Realm if this boy was talking about Dungeon Master. Idly he wondered how much time had passed since he'd left for his 'new home'. "My name is Kosar. What is yours?"

"Lorne." The dark-haired boy looked around. "So where are we?"

Shaking his head, also looking around, the older teen admitted to not knowing. He aided Lorne to stand and thoughtfully asked, "Were you sent also through the Void?"

The question sent a shaft of panic through the Gypsy, and he paled considerably. "V... Void? You have... got to be kidding!" Lorne's protest strengthened at the last, and he turned dumbstruck eyes up to his companion. He'd heard about the Void his entire life. It was a place invoked in horror stories or in the stories parents used to get their children to behave.

The brown-haired boy shook his head. "No. I am sure I came through the Void here. It is one of only three ways to get into, or across, the Realm, after all." He frowned worriedly, wondering why he suddenly couldn't remember the other two methods of transporting such long distances.

With a growl, Lorne brushed aside Kosar's personal thoughts, dragging him back to their real situation. Spinning around, the younger teen glared at the plains. "I don't know whether to kill that guy or be impressed. I always through the Void was a horror story to scare little kids." He glanced at Kosar. "So, where'd you get drug from?"

"Another world, Lorne." He, too, looked around. "We should move from here. This place is unprotected." Then, Kosar glanced nervously at the sun directly overhead. Something nagged at him, but he couldn't quite place the worry.

Lorne shrugged. "Okay. Let's get moving. I hear a stream. Let's follow it. Towns are always near streams." He'd learned much from his gypsy brethren, even in the short time he'd been with them. The dark-haired teen moved off, grinning in a superior fashion when Kosar quietly followed him.

"Well, don't know why he threw me here, but Dungeon Master wants me to find the Children of Power. So, I guess I'll let you tag along if you want, Kosar." Lorne's smile was smug.

Kosar nodded, excitement filling him. "Yes, I would like that, Lorne. I... knew the Children of Power once, and would like to see them again." Especially one of them... but he kept that last close to his heart. "Cannot the Dungeon Master find the Young Ones on his own?" He didn't mind letting the younger boy take the lead, as he apparently knew where he was going and what mission he was on. As far as Kosar knew, he was a fish out of water.

Laughing, Lorne shrugged. "Yeah, I guess he could. But he said I've gotta gather them, so I guess they've been split up. There's a big fight," and the teen grew somber instantly, "and they have the weapons to end it. I'm supposed to bring them together for the fight. I'm glad you know who we're looking for, though."

The two teens walked in silence for long moments, each lost in his own thoughts. Unfortunately, Lorne stepped into a swift-running stream, yelping as he jumped back, eyes narrowed. "Now why didn't I smell the water getting closer!" it was more demand than inquiry, and one Kosar didn't have an answer for anyway. "Stupid Void!" The answer had come quickly enough to Lorne. "It robs people of stuff, like memories and senses. That creep sent me through the Void and now I can't smell!"

Kosar looked sympathetically at the boy, wondering privately what he'd lost in the trip, if Lorne was as knowledgeable as he claimed.

"Hey!" Lorne had just become aware that he'd lost more than one natural gift. "I can't taste the wind, either!" He started ranting about the necessity of those senses in getting by in life, and how some people just didn't bother warning a guy when robbing him of something.

"Perhaps if you were to calm down, Lorne, we would be able to continue. I am sorry for your losses, but you will draw attention to us with your tantrum." Kosar's voice had remained soft and calm, and it was a wonder that Lorne, still screaming about injustice, had heard him at all.

But, for some reason, Lorne had heard the other boy, and shot a poisonous glare at him. "Oh yeah? You try living without your senses, buddy." He looked around, and turned. "So, which way do we go, Kosar? You tell me, since you're so all-knowing."

With a smile, Kosar nodded. He'd always been good with directions, star reading, and even guesswork if needed. Glancing up one side of the stream then down, however, the smile started fading. He realized that he couldn't actually tell upstream from downstream. He tried to find north then, and started to worry when he couldn't recall how to tell the directions of the compass. As a last effort, he looked to the suns to tell him his location... and drew a complete blank on how to utilize them for navigation. Turning panicked eyes on his frowning companion, he whispered, "I... can't remember how... to tell the direction..."

Lorne yelped in anger. "You mean we're lost? You big buffoon! Can't even figure out east from west? Why in the world am I letting you tag along!" The Gypsy looked at the sky and pointed to the sun. "Sun rises in the east, dolt, and sets in the west. All four of them do." Then he pointed to the stream. "The water runs downstream and comes from upstream." Again pointing, he singled out a tree. "Moss grows thickest on the north side of a tree." Muttering, Lorne started off, going upstream.

Blushing, worrying about his sudden lack of directional knowledge, Kosar followed the angry teen.

The suns were setting as the pair trudged wearily into a small town of closely positioned huts. Thatched roofs and poorly cared-for fences marked them as a group of people of very limited means. In fact, the villagers seemed to be completely absent from the rundown little village.

"I don't like this," Lorne griped.

Kosar, having come to the conclusion that the Void had robbed him of his most precious sense, direction sense, nodded. "It is too quiet. The village may be deserted." He sighed at the idea that he was completely dependant on the sarcastic youth to prevent him getting lost.

"Big help that'll be." The teen led his older companion through the only street, not bothering any of the houses. He was too used to being rejected to attempt walking boldly to a closed house. When they came to the other side, a horrifying shock awaited them.

Graves. Twenty or more graves were set in a big plot right outside of town. There were falling down boards with names scratched in, and dozens of abandoned shovels... as if someone had been preparing to use them soon. The earth on many of the graves was still freshly turned.

Lorne stopped, causing Kosar to run right into him. The older boy steadied them both by laying his hands firmly on the shorter boy's shoulders. Both stared in horror at the scene of death before them.

"Plague!" Lorne turned panicked eyes on Kosar. "This town has plague! We've got to get out of here before we catch it!" He tugged at the boy's arm and started towards the nearby trees, whimpering, "And anyone downstream of them's gonna catch it in the water!"

Kosar frowned, shaking his head, even as he allowed himself to be led off. "It doesn't feel like plague, Lorne. I think something else killed those people. Stop... think about it..." He finally pulled to a halt, causing Lorne to stumble and turn, eyes frightened.

"If that had been a plague town, who could have buried the last bodies? No one would have been strong enough, Lorne. Whoever buried the dead left the town recently. Why? Why leave loved ones and homes behind if you were going to die soon anyway?"

"I don't know. I don't care. I ain't getting caught in whatever..."

"Exactly." The confident reply shut the boy up. "Get caught. Whoever left there went to battle or hide... from something which deliberately came in and killed the townsfolk. That fight you said was going to happen? I think it's already begun."

Lorne wailed, "No! I haven't even found any of the Children of Power yet!"

With a mysterious smile, Kosar felt an inspirational flash. He laughed softly and touched the other teen's shoulder. "Oh, but you have found one, Lorne. You've found me... the Psionicist."