Dungeons and Dragons Cartoon Stories: Neverending Story: Nothing Good Is Ever Overhead

Wiping the sweat from his brow, the man stepped back to take a short break. He'd been chopping wood in payment for a meal he'd already eaten, but the four blazing suns overhead made the work extremely hot. He'd been working all morning and certainly no one could expect the young man to continue at that pace without some rest, and hopefully some water.

Hearing a noise behind him, the nineteen-year-old turned and smiled absently at the giggling teenaged girls heading towards him. However, at the sight of their widely rounded eyes, he belatedly remembered that he'd stripped off his studded leather tunic earlier in the day. He reached for the garment, nodding a greeting as nonchalantly as possible. He didn't need to cause trouble with the villagers by flaunting himself, after all.

With another giggle, one of the girls offered him a drink. The other breathlessly asked after his chore. Accepting and drinking, the young man said, "I've almost finished," then gestured to the few logs still left to fall under his borrowed axe.

"Girls! Come away and let the man have some peace! You've brought him the water, so be gone now... you've your own chores to finish, I'll warrant." A large man strode up the hill, fiercely frowning at his daughters, sending them scurrying away like frightened mice. "Ah, girls will be girls, eh, Neighbor?" He glanced around at the nearly completed task and rubbed his hands together happily.

The blond smiled and nodded, but didn't respond. He was too busy trying to recapture a fleeting memory. Something involving a pair of teenaged girls. They hadn't been giggling, but had been... In frustration, the young man shook his head, unconsciously frowning, as the elusive memory once more slipped into oblivion.

The man crossed his work-stained arms over his large chest and grunted, misreading the young stranger's expression. "I'll keep 'em away from you, then, Neighbor. Don't need those foolish girls upsetting the finest worker I've ever had." He tried a grin.

Shaking out of the temporarily grim backlash of forgetting, the younger man returned the grin and went back to work, quickly making his way through the small pile of remaining logs. "Thank you. I'd appreciate it." He paused, then clarified, "I don't want them to misunderstand my purpose here... I'm searching for friends."

"Not a wife, eh?" The large man let out a crack of laughter and nodded amiably. "Not a problem, Neighbor, not a problem. Say..." He laughed again at his own foolishness, "you never did tell me your name, Neighbor. Been working a week in this here village and nary a word."

Finally done, he straightened and offered the axe with a genuine smile. "No one ever asked, actually. I'm Hank." And with that, he retrieved his bow from beside the woodpile and headed down the hill, waving in goodbye to the jovial man he'd been helping.

Walking through the tiny village, Hank met smiles wherever he went. He returned them, nodding at those he'd helped the week he'd stayed there. It certainly was odd. He recalled every person and creature he'd met in the last year, but only bare hints from before that. What could have stripped away his memory and why?

The young man found himself thinking back again to the odd old lady that he'd met that first day. She'd said he'd gone through the Void. He was inclined to believe the words, except for the fact that she'd turned out to be a phantom. She'd been in a cursed, burnt out town; could he really trust her word? Something told him he could. She'd helped him escape the clutching, circling ghosts bent on keeping him there forever. Also... something about her was familiar. He was certain he'd known her before.

And what of those two girls he'd so briefly remembered? Neither of them were people he'd met after his amnesia had set in, so they must have come from his forgotten past. Had they been friends or merely girls he'd noticed in passing? No... they had to be friends; that felt right.

Hank smiled and left town, again starting on his long lonely journey looking for faceless friends he knew must be out there. Someday he'd find them, and home, but for now he'd keep looking. At least he remembered one more, small tidbit to add to his so meager collection of personal facts. He could store the girls' faces right next to the slightly clearer image of the blond boy he was sure was his brother.

Suddenly, something tugged his attention away from the road. With a frown, the Ranger headed off into the lightly wooded field, wondering just what had attracted his attention. His questions, however, were soon horrifically answered.

A clearing broke ahead of him and Hank stopped short, still in the trees. He knew that pretty much anyone looking his way would most likely spot him, but as yet was unaware of the true danger he'd put himself into. The blond frowned as he saw a figure rise up, talking in a deep voice to someone hidden further in the shadows. The Ranger was unable to catch the words, but something seemed familiar about the figure.

Instinct suddenly took over and Hank found himself backing from the clearing as quietly as he could. He knew deep down that the figure was looking for him... and not to simply ask for farm chores. Some type of unidentifiable memory informed the man that the people in the wood wanted him dead. The knowledge shook him to the core.

When the road came into sight, the blond hurried along it, listening for sounds of pursuit. Fortunately, it seemed that he'd gotten away... this time. This time? Has he followed me before? Captured me or injured me? Hank was surprised to figure out that the answer was almost certainly Yes. Or... if not him, then at least a very close friend of his. Had that been who had sent him through the Void and robbed him of his past?

The Ranger thought back over the menacing figure in blue armor and shook his head. The power behind that man, terrifying as it had been, was not what had sent him wandering alone. Of that, Hank was certain. Somehow, it seemed that a gentler, more caring power had opened the Void and that Hank had voluntarily gone through. He didn't know why he'd done that, or who it was had sent him, but suddenly, after a year of pretty much aimless wandering, he knew exactly what he needed to do.

Hank turned, frowning slightly at the sound of the young male voice calling out to him. The teen didn't seem familiar to the twenty-three year old, but he acted as if he knew the man. With a welcoming smile, Hank prepared to meet the lad, wondering if he'd be helping rebuild a cottage or planting crops or something equally satisfying yet tedious.

He'd spent the last four years wandering the Realm in search of people he couldn't remember and a past maybe even better left forgotten. The blond man didn't plan to give up on that search, though he wasn't rushing it either. His journeys had led him pretty much all over the planet, helping those he passed in whatever way he could, and somehow that felt like what he was meant to be doing. If he never found his lost memories, at least he could say he'd helped rebuild a war ravaged world.

Finally, the teen in the scale mail armor caught up to the place Hank stood waiting. He bent over, hands on knees, gasping for breath. Light brown hair, shaggy and sweaty, clung to his brow and a slim, almost weak-looking body was clad in loose nondescript clothes and that worn armor. The lad had a small shield on his left arm and a short sword in a dingy hilt on his belt. All in all, it looked like the youth was a poor man's knight-in-training.

When he caught his breath, which Hank allowed him plenty of time to do, the lad stood and grinned widely. "Wow! I never thought to ever see you again, Ranger! This is wonderful."

Again? Hank's light blue eyes widened and he suddenly realized that here was one of those links to the past he'd been searching for. He still didn't recognize the light-haired teen, but that didn't prevent him from widening his smile and gently clasping his arm in greeting. Honestly, he said, "I've had an injury and cannot remember your name, but I feel you were, indeed, someone I would want to meet again. My name's Hank."

"And I'm Sir Timothy... though you barely knew me, so I can't fault you for forgetting, injury or no. My father was a comrade of yours for a few days: Sir John? You helped him fight a Beholder, Hank." Sir Timothy looked pleased to clasp hands with the blond.

"Are you walking my way, Sir Timothy?" Hank gestured up the road, his bow loose in his grip. He couldn't recall either Sir John or this lad, or a Beholder if the truth was told, but he certainly wouldn't mind the chance to get the story out of this boy. "If there's a good tavern up ahead, I can buy you a drink while you tell me about our last meeting and your noble father."

The lad eagerly fell into step beside the man and happily started relaying news of the coming town and his father's present quest. It was some distance, but the pair made the journey amiably. Sir Timothy did the majority of the talking, which suited Hank, though he hadn't yet gone back far enough in his ramblings to mention anything about a Beholder. The Ranger was patient, though, and let Timothy wander in his storytelling until they were seated in a corner of the tavern.

Finally, Hank held up a hand and laughed. "I wasn't joking when I said my memory is faulty, Sir Timothy."

"Oh, call me Timothy, Hank. No need to stand on ceremony with you. Thanks." The last was said to the innkeeper as the man delivered their food and drinks.

With a nod, Hank acknowledged the man then turned back to the boy. "Timothy, then. I'd like you to tell me about the Beholder, if you could? I'm searching for my past, in a manner of speaking."

The lad enthusiastically launched into a tale of his brave father and seven travelers. As the boy seemed to be a natural born storyteller, it was some way into the story before Hank realized that the travelers must have been his companions and himself. His eyes widened and he listened a bit more carefully, trying to pick up on any names or directions the lad might let slip.

A voice in the shadows nearby, however, had Hank drawing his attention away from the tale. It was familiar, and menacing, sending a shiver up the man's spine. Instinctively, he gripped his bow harder under the table.

"Do you know how long I've waited for this? How I've plotted and planned? I will not let anyone... and I do mean anyone... ruin my plans. I will have my vengeance, make no mistake."

Hank let the boy babble on as he tried to figure out where he'd heard that voice before. A memory from four years previously tugged at his mind, and he wondered if it could possibly be the blue-clad armored figure that he'd seen in the woods. It made sense; that voice was just as evil, just as... chilling. This time, perhaps due to the confines of the building, it seemed to reverberate, though.

Hearing the owner of the voice still going on, plotting out something for his companion to do, the Ranger stored away every nuance of the conversation behind him. He didn't know any of the names mentioned, but the places listed were quite familiar by now. He'd been to more than fifty of the locations this man planned to destroy. When he made mention of a burnt town cursed to suck in the souls of travelers, Hank knew instantly that it was a reference to that very first place he recalled.

This man had created that place of horror? How many had he absorbed into the violent madness there? Had he done that to other towns, as well, creating pockets of vile wraiths waiting to destroy all whom wandered by? With a shudder, Hank hoped that none of the people he'd met were among the fallen... he'd make damn sure they wouldn't be destroyed in the future.

Slowly, the blond placed some coins on the table and stood, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. Acting as nonchalant as he could, Hank threw a smile in Timothy's direction and gestured for the lad to accompany him out back, to the privy. The boy jumped up and went with him, chatting all the while, unaware of the danger that lurked within the shadows nearby. He let the boy talk, hoping to avoid the notice of the evil man in the tavern.

Once outside, Hank covered Timothy's mouth and gave him a warning frown. The young Knight nodded his understanding so Hank let him go. They both walked quietly around the tavern and headed quickly for the road, not a word uttered as they made good time. It was a long distance, in fact, before the lad finally broke the silence.

Hank continued the quick pace but answered his new friend. "I overhead some plans to destroy the Realm. We've got to find those friends of mine who helped take down the Beholder. In fact," here he turned his head briefly to glance at his companion, "we should gather help from as many people as we can. By the sound of it, that man has already had his people creating havoc everywhere." The Ranger sighed and ran a hand through his longish blond hair. "I only hope we're not too late... or that my friends can help."

Timothy nodded, the horror in his eyes at war with the determination in his fisted hands. "You can count on me, Hank. You have at least one Knight on your side, ready to fight that evil pervading the world. Let's see if we can find the other five Children of Power."

With a grim smile, Hank headed down a fork in the road. "Yes, but first, I've a few allies to gather together. Come on, Timothy. We've a war to prepare for."

To Be Continued in Chapter Seventeen: You Shouldn’t Talk to Strangers

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