A sequel to the fan-made King's Quest IX: It Takes Two to Tangle
(inspired by Sierra On-Line's King's Quest series)

---

Prologue:

The sun shone in the near-cloudless sky, casting a warm light upon the land beneath it, a land filled with thick forests and rushing rivers, bordered by imposing mountains and expansive seas. This was the kingdom of Daventry, a land whose history had been a peaceful one for the most part, though it had suffered its share of misfortunes as well.

Barely a mile away from the land's stronghold, Castle Daventry, a small creature soared low over the tops of the trees, occasionally swooping low over a clearing. The creature might have been mistaken for a large bird from a distance, but it was certainly nothing as ordinary as that. It had the head and wings of an eagle and the ears of a dog, while its hindquarters were that of a lion and its forelegs resembled the feet of a bird of prey. Such a beast would normally be termed a griffin, but this griffin was no larger than a small cat. It was not native to the land, in fact it wasn't native to the world that Daventry was part of at all: it had come from a realm that existed alongside Daventry's world...and so had the individual who was watching the griffin from the ground, beside a tranquil pond.

The individual's name was Edgar. His homeland was Etheria, a land where fairies reigned and humans were rare. However, thanks to a fortuitous set of circumstances, Edgar had decided to live in the human world, married to the woman that he had first met several years ago and loved deeply from the first moment he set eyes upon her: Princess Rosella.

With her brother Alexander reigning in a distant kingdom, Rosella was the sole heir to the throne of Daventry, and by becoming her husband, Edgar was now the future king.

Both Rosella and Edgar were observing the tiny griffin as it started to dip low over the pond they were standing next to. Edgar had acquired the griffin (which he had been informed was fittingly called a pygmy griffin) in his recent journey, and the beast had become a charming -- if somewhat uncouth and bizarre -- pet.

Rosella's father, King Graham, was also watching the little griffin. He had encountered his daughter and her husband on the way back from his morning walk, and had paused to see just how skilled a hunter his son-in-law claimed his pet was becoming.

Presently, the griffin hovered in midair for a moment, then dived toward the pond, breaking its surface with a resounding splash. He floundered in the water for a moment, then flapped his gray wings and took off, heading towards the spot where Edgar, Rosella and Graham were standing.

"Do you think he caught anything?" Rosella asked Edgar.

"I don't know," Edgar replied. "I can't -- "

"Look!" Rosella cried excitedly, pointing at the approaching griffin. "I think he's got a fish in his right claw!"

"Why, he does!" Edgar exclaimed.

The pygmy griffin triumphantly flapped to Edgar's shoulder, the slippery fish he had just snatched from the pond clamped in his talons.

"Good catch, Scrimshaw," Edgar said, stroking the beast's back.

"Looks as if you were right, Edgar," Graham said with a wide smile. "He does seem to be improving."

"Seem to be?" Edgar chuckled. "A few weeks ago, he was only catching dragonflies, grasshoppers and the occasional rodent. Now he's grabbing fish right out of the water. He doesn't seem to be improving, he is improving!"

"To think I once thought he would just be a fancy pet that constantly needed to be tended to," Rosella reflected bemusedly. "I suppose I owe the little fellow an apology for underestimating him."

Oddly, Scrimshaw hadn't started eating the fish he had caught. Throughout the conversation, he had been sitting almost motionless on Edgar's shoulder, staring silently at the side of the prince's head. Then he started to pull at Edgar's light brown hair, so gently that for a few moments, Edgar hardly realized he was doing it.

"Hey, Scrim, what are you doing?" he asked amusedly.

"Perhaps he's trying to pull it out and make a nest with it," Rosella giggled. She reached out to pull Scrimshaw away from Edgar's head, then froze and stared at the region of hair that Scrimshaw was pulling at.

"Edgar..." she said quietly.

"What?"

"Your hair," Rosella said nervously. "It's starting to turn gray."

"It is?" Edgar asked in surprise. He leaned down over the surface of the pond and gazed into it, while Scrimshaw fought to keep his grip on his master's shoulder. Graham peered at Edgar's hair -- which was much shorter than it had been several months ago, but still fairly long -- and saw that there was indeed a noticeable gray color starting to creep back from the prince's temples.

"Looks like you're right," Edgar said as he studied his reflection from various angles. "Well, I suppose it was bound to start happening one of these days. Being destined to look after an entire kingdom is a prospect that would put gray hairs on anybody's head."

"But I never noticed all that gray before," Rosella said, sounding almost frightened.

"Don't worry," Edgar said, rising to his feet and holding Rosella's hand gently. "It's just a color. It's nothing to be scared about."

"He's right," Graham said, though he too was curious as to why Edgar's hair had gone gray so suddenly. "But speaking of worrying, I'd better get back to the castle before Valanice starts to worry about me. Are you two going to stay here for much longer?"

Edgar and Rosella exchanged a few words and eventually decided to return home with Graham. Though they had several cheery conversations as they made their way across the countryside, Rosella and her father still felt slightly apprehensive, and Scrimshaw remained completely silent the whole way.

Chapter 1:

Several days passed, during which things went on as they usually did in Castle Daventry. Graham and his queen, Valanice, were approached by people with various problems that required the king's assistance, and there were several documents that Graham needed to look over and sign as well.

One day, when Graham had a chance to get away from this endless monotony, he met Rosella in one of the upper hallways of the castle. She was walking quietly along, so lost in thought that she barely noticed Graham approach and start walking along beside her.

"Rosella, where is Edgar?" Graham asked. "I haven't seen him all morning."

Rosella looked at her father with deep concern in her large blue eyes.

"He said he was tired and would get out of bed later," she said softly. "But it's almost noon now, and I think he's still in our chamber. I was just going to ask him if all is well."

Graham nodded in reply and followed Rosella until she reached the room that she and Edgar shared. She knocked on the door, and after a few seconds, a muffled "Come in" came from within the chamber.

Rosella cautiously opened the door as Graham peered over her shoulder into the room beyond. A figure was seated on the bed in the center of the room, its back to the king and the princess. It was Edgar. He was bent forward slightly, his head was bowed, and he was still wearing his nightclothes.

Rosella ran to his side.

"Edgar, what's wrong?" she said urgently. "Why are you still in bed?"

"It's all right," Edgar said in a low, weary voice. "I'm just a little tired. That walk yesterday must have been more strenuous than I thought."

"But we've taken that walk dozens of times before, and it's never made you this tired," Rosella said.

"I know," Edgar sighed. "Maybe I'm just a bit sick. I'll be getting up now, though. I just -- ah!"

As he had started to rise from the bed, he suddenly cried out, then stiffened and slumped down again.

"What is it?" Rosella demanded, her voice more worried than ever.

"It's nothing," Edgar insisted. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"Edgar, tell me what just happened, please!"

"It was just a little pain in my leg," Edgar said. "But like I said, I'm sure it's nothing."

"Edgar, it can't be nothing. Something's been happening to you these past few days."

Edgar raised his head to look Rosella in the eyes.

"And I'm sure it'll pass on its own," he said, starting to sound irritated. "I just need to..."

His voice trailed off. Rosella was staring at Edgar with a terrified look on her face that Graham could see even from where he stood in the doorway. After a few endless seconds, Rosella turned her attention to Graham.

"Father," she said, her voice trembling. "Please find the Court Physician and tell him to come here. Quickly."

As Graham was about to respond to and carry out Rosella's request, the prince turned to face him, and the king could barely contain his astonishment. Even though Graham was standing some distance away, he could still see the many wrinkles and slightly sunken cheeks in the young man's face that had definitely not been there a fortnight ago.

"I simply don't understand it, Your Highness," said the Court Physician, rolling his trim gray beard between his thumb and forefinger, his brow deeply furrowed. "If the prince is ill, it is no illness that is known to me, and I have studied medicine for thirty years."

"Can you not at least determine what has happened to him?" Graham asked the thin little man earnestly. They were standing just outside Rosella and Edgar's room, talking in hushed tones. The physician had just finished his examination of Edgar, who was now lying on the bed, too tired to argue that nothing was wrong with him any longer. Rosella was with him, too concerned for his well being to leave his side.

"It is so strange," the physician muttered. "Even though the lad's mind is certainly still as alive and active as the mind of any youth, his body seems to have inexplicably aged."

Graham nodded, although he had been tempted to draw the same conclusions from Edgar's rapidly changing appearance. The patches of gray that Rosella had noticed in his hair two weeks prior had become larger and larger, and now nearly a third of the hairs on his head were silver instead of brown. The sinews in his hands had started to show more, and the prominent wrinkles in his face made him look twice as old as he truly was.

"Do you have any idea what might be causing this?" Graham asked.

"Alas, I do not," the physician said sadly. "Unless he has contacted some bizarre ailment common to those of his kind, I'd say there is something far more dire than a mere malady plaguing Prince Edgar."

"Such as what?"

The physician breathed deeply and licked his thin lips nervously.

"Something magical in nature," he whispered. "Though I am a man of science, Your Majesty, I still acknowledge magic's existence. I have encountered it only a few times during my life, and thankfully I have never had to deal with any of its darker facets. Still, I have heard many unsettling tales of people who have suffered from the effects of evil curses and enchantments."

Graham felt as if a cold breeze had just brushed past him.

"Though I wish it weren't so, I'm inclined to agree with you," he said. "I can't think of anything else that might be causing this. What do you think we should do?"

"Find somebody who is skilled in magic and ask his advice on this matter," the physician replied. "That's what I would do."

"Do you know where I might find such a person?"

The physician put a hand to his pointed chin.

"I have heard rumors of a man who occasionally appears at some of the houses on the outskirts of the town and helps cure those who are deathly ill for a substantial fee. Some of the peasants there claim that he is a powerful sorcerer."

"The outskirts of town, you say?" Graham asked.

"Yes," the physician nodded. "I suppose if you wanted to find this alleged sorcerer, you might want to send someone to start asking the people there if they know where he lives."

"I'm not sending someone into town," Graham said firmly.

"You aren't?" the physician squeaked in surprise. "I thought you wanted to find this sorcerer!"

"I do," Graham said. "That's why I'm going to go look for him."

He turned and started walking briskly down the hallway.

"Tell Edgar, Rosella and the Queen that I will be away for a few hours," he called over his shoulder to the dumbstruck physician. "I should be back before the end of the day."

Chapter 2:

Graham quickly made his way through the cobblestone streets that crisscrossed the expansive town that surrounded Castle Daventry. He was wearing a hooded cloak to keep his identity a secret, as well as to keep the chill of autumn at bay. On his head was the blue cap with the red feather that he always wore when he traveled, and in his right hand he was carrying an item that he had acquired from the Royal Treasury shortly before leaving the castle: a round titanium shield decorated by a circle of emeralds.

This by no means an ordinary shield -- it was one of Daventry's three lost treasures that Graham had discovered more than twenty years ago, and the reclamation of the treasures had earned him the throne. The mirror that Graham had found guarded by a dragon in a cave beneath an ancient well foretold the future and provided visions of the present and past as well; the chest he had found guarded by a giant in a land surrounded by clouds at the top of a tremendous beanstalk was perpetually filled with gold; and the shield he had found in the underground Kingdom of the Leprechauns protected its bearer from all mortal harm.

Though the chest had helped keep Daventry wealthy and the mirror had helped keep it safe from future threats (save for one particularly malicious spell that was once placed upon it), the shield had remained nearly forgotten in the treasury. Looking back, Graham realized that there were many times and places in his past when carrying the shield would have aided him greatly. When he had sailed to Kolyma to find and rescue Valanice, he must have been too blinded by love to think of taking the shield with him, and when his castle had been stolen by an evil wizard during one of his walks in the forest, the thought of bringing the shield along on such a harmless excursion had never occurred to him.

Graham hadn't forgotten the shield this time. With his successor suffering from what could only be a dark enchantment, he wasn't going to risk getting himself killed. Even though the town was hardly crawling with murderers, he didn't want to face the sorcerer without some form of protection. He had also taken a small pouch of gold coins from the treasury, just in case the sorcerer demanded money in exchange for his help.

As he walked on, the townspeople paid him little mind and went about their daily affairs. The cobblestone street beneath his feet soon became a dirt road, with deep ruts from the wheels of countless carts and carriages, and hundreds of fallen leaves were strewn across it. The houses had become smaller, and the various shops so common in the busier part of town had stopped showing up along the sides of the road. More trees were appearing between the houses, and there were more fields and pastures to be seen as well. Ahead of Graham were the wide, grassy fields of the Daventry countryside, and beyond them were forests, lakes, rivers, mountains and eventually, the sea. He had reached the town's outskirts, and now all he needed to do was to find a family that knew where the sorcerer lived...provided this person really was a sorcerer.

Graham walked up to the door of a small cottage with a sod roof and knocked gently. For a while, there was no reply and it seemed as if no one was home, but there were soon some faint shuffling sounds from inside and a woman with narrow eyes and long, dark, matted hair opened the door and stared out at the king.

"Good day, my lady," Graham said kindly. "If it's not too much trouble, I have something I want to ask of you."

The woman's narrow eyes became even narrower as she squinted at Graham's hooded face.

"If you've come to buy the goat, you're too late," she said in a hoarse voice. "Some filthy scoundrel ran off with it."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but my question doesn't concern your goat," Graham said.

"What is it, then?"

"I've heard rumors of a man who occasionally visits the houses in this part of town and helps heal people who are near death," said Graham. "Are these tales true?"

The woman's eyes grew wide, and Graham was surprised to see that they were a beautiful, vivid shade of blue.

"Are they?" she cried. "Not only have many of my neighbors met that fellow, but he came to this very house not three months ago! My daughter -- it was the strangest thing, one day she just collapsed. Even though her eyes were open, she didn't seem to notice a thing, her skin was cold, and she had hardly no breath or heartbeat either! She were like this for two days and we all thought Death was going to take her, then this stranger in a brown robe carrying a knapsack shows up at the door and says he can cure her."

"And he did?"

"In less than five minutes!" the woman exclaimed. "He went into the room where she was, and just a few moments later, he comes out and tells us that my child is well again -- and I'll be hanged if she wasn't! He must have used magic; I don't know how else he could have saved my Ella so quickly."

"Remarkable," Graham breathed. The woman's eyes became narrow again.

"Then he asked for money for his help. We asked him how much, and it turned out he wanted almost all that we had. My neighbors who've had him help them say that he demanded that much from them, too."

Graham nodded sympathetically. Though the deeds this man performed were miraculous to say the least, they didn't do the families of the people he healed much good if they were left so little money.

"Do you know where this man lives?" Graham asked.

"I believe I do," the woman replied. "You see, we couldn't pay him everything we owed him when he made Ella better, so we just paid him half of what he asked for, and promised to pay him the remaining half once we had earned enough. After much arguing, he agreed and told us to leave the money under a large stone near a bridge on the banks of the Raging River."

"And you did this?"

"We may be poor, but we're not dishonest," the woman said firmly. "I took the remaining coins to the Raging River myself, and there were only one bridge I could find -- and that bridge stretched across that river and ended at this tiny island in the center, with a tiny hut built on it. I don't know why a man who makes so much money would live in a place like that...even our home is grander than his."

Graham's spirits lifted. Not only had the sorcerer he had been seeking turned out to be real, but the place where he lived was only a short distance from Castle Daventry as well. Feeling deeply grateful to the impoverished woman, he tucked his shield under his arm and pulled his pouch of coins out of his pocket.

"Thank you kindly, my lady," he said, shaking out half of the gold coins into his palm. "In exchange for your help, I want you to have this...it also might compensate for having your goat stolen."

The woman's azure eyes grew wider than ever.

"Why...why sir!" she gasped, standing rigidly as Graham handed the gold to her. "All this, just for telling you about that odd stranger? I...I can't tell you how grateful I am to you, sir...but who in the world are you?"

Graham tucked the pouch back into his pocket and pulled back his hood just enough to let the woman see his face clearly. Her mouth fell open as she recognized him, and she had to hold the doorframe to keep from staggering backwards.

"Someone who cares for the subjects of his kingdom and always returns favors from them whenever he can," he said quietly.

He bid farewell to the woman, who shakily did the same to him. Then he turned and made his way across the house's tiny yard and back towards the main road.

Chapter 3:

The Raging River lived up to its name. It was a fierce, swift, churning river south of Castle Daventry full of large, jagged boulders, where dozens of foolhardy swimmers and boatmen had lost their lives. Graham hadn't visited the banks of the Raging River in a long time, and his most vivid memory of the river was being dropped onto a large island in the middle of it by an amiable condor during his quest for Daventry's lost treasures.

He could hear the roar of the Raging River long before he glimpsed it through the numerous trees that adorned the countryside, and by the time he reached its banks, the noise was almost too loud for him to hear anything else. As he walked along the river's west side, he noticed an island splitting it in two some distance ahead. It wasn't the one that the condor had dropped him on all those years ago, though: it was a tiny island, barely twenty paces across, and unlike the island that he remembered, this one had a plank-and-rope bridge leading to it and a small hut constructed upon it. It had to be the island that the woman had spoken of.

Graham slowly approached the island, wondering if the sorcerer really lived there, or whether it was only a temporary refuge for him. As the woman said, why would a man with so much wealth live in such a miserable hut? Graham also wondered where this island had come from, since he had no recollection of seeing it before...of course, his memory wasn't quite what it used to be, he grudgingly reminded himself.

The closer he came to the bridge connecting to the island, the more dilapidated and miserable the hut upon the island looked. It looked as if a strong wind would knock it down, or at the very least take off the roof, which he was certain let in every drop of rain that fell upon it. It wasn't a well-constructed hut either: the door was crooked, there were gaps between the planks that made up the sides, the thatch on the roof looked as if someone had merely spread hay atop the house, and the entire structure was leaning so far to the left that several logs were being used to prop it up.

Not wanting to look at the sad little hut anymore, Graham turned his attention to the bridge leading to it instead. It appeared stable enough. It was also lined by rope railings, attached to sturdy wooden stakes on either side and was only a few feet long, but the deadly river beneath it made Graham a little reluctant to cross it. Still, since it was the only way to get to the island, he breathed deeply and gingerly stepped onto the first plank of the bridge, only to freeze in his tracks at the sound of a harsh voice in his ear:

"HALT! Who goes there?"

Graham looked around wildly, but couldn't see a single living soul anywhere. The voice had come from his left, but there was nothing on his left except one of the tall stakes holding the bridge's ropes in place, which had a small stone statue of a squat reptilian monster perched upon it. The stone beast was about a foot high, and its eyes were almost level with Graham's. There was an intense look in those eyes, and as Graham was staring at them, they suddenly blinked, and the beast's mouth opened.

"I repeat," it squawked, "Who goes there?"

For most other men, encountering a talking statue might have been a startling, if not a near-terrifying experience. But Graham had seen and heard so many bizarre, miraculous, impossible things during the course of his many adventures that for him, a talking statue was a rather tame surprise. After all, such a thing made Graham feel more than ever that whoever lived in that hut had to be a sorcerer. Who else would have such a creature guarding his home?

Graham turned and addressed the stone beast politely:

"I am King Graham of Daventry."

"And what is your business here?" the beast asked.

"I wish to speak with the man who lives on that island," Graham replied. "I hear that he is skilled in magic, and I am in desperate need of his help."

The stone creature squinted suspiciously at Graham. After a moment of what appeared to be contemplation, it said:

"You may pass. My master is home at the moment, and he will see you."

Graham thanked the creature and began to cross the daunting bridge. Fortunately, it was stronger than it looked, and the planks didn't even creak as he strode across. When Graham reached the hut, he tried peering into its windows to see inside, but they were too smeared with grime for him to make out a thing. The wooden door seemed nearly rotten, but fortunately it didn't fall away when he cautiously knocked on it. When he received no reply from his first knock, he tried again, but once more there was no response from the hut's occupant. Graham wondered whether it would be rash to attempt entering the hut without permission from its owner, but he did have the protective shield with him, and in a sense, the stone beast had invited him in as well.

Tightening his grip on the shield's handle, Graham grasped the door's latch, pushed the door open and stepped inside...and what was within the hut was so unexpected that for a moment, he thought he was dreaming.

He was standing not within the small, damp hut interior that he had expected, but at the bottom of a large, circular stone tower. Two enormous bookcases hugged the walls, crammed with ancient leather-bound tomes and dozens of peculiar apparatuses. More books were strewn about the floor, and various yellowed maps, charts and diagrams decorated the walls. The stone floor of the room was inlaid with a circle of several large gold symbols that seemed to be glowing gently. A large, elaborate sword hung on one wall, several large bunches of dried herbs hung from the ceiling, a wooden staff leaned against the side of a bookcase, and a wrought iron spiral staircase wound its way to a second floor.

Graham pulled back his hood and gazed in astonishment at his surroundings as he slowly approached the stairs. Some things were beginning to make sense: though the sorcerer lived in a grandiose home, he avoided detection by building it in a remote location as well as making it appear to be nothing more than a squalid shack from the outside. Graham suspected that the sorcerer could easily change the interior to that of a hut as well.

The king began to ascend the staircase, gazing at the various implements on the bookshelves that he couldn't even name, let alone guess the purpose of. He soon reached the tower's second floor, which had several large trunks placed against the walls, two cupboards, and a large alcove in the wall containing two large, elaborately carved chairs with red cushions and a small, round, polished wood table. A strange object resembling a cage made out of twisted glass hung from the alcove's ceiling, looking like a chandelier without candles.

Two windows bordered by velvet drapes let in ample light from the outside and provided Graham with a beautiful view of the surrounding countryside (which, he was glad to see, was still Daventry). There was a table set beneath each window, and both tables were covered with a variety of alchemical ingredients and tools.

Not seeing the sorcerer anywhere, Graham continued up the stairs, which seemed to be leading to a third floor. However, the opening in the ceiling through which the stairs should have continued up through was covered by a small trapdoor, secured by thick iron bars. After trying to find a way to open the trapdoor and failing, Graham rapped on it gently, hoping that there would be an answer to his knock this time. To his relief, he heard a low, elderly voice emanate from the floor above him:

"Enter."

Instantly, the bars on the trapdoor vanished into thin air, and there was a brief odor of molten metal. Astonished yet again, Graham slowly lifted up the trapdoor and climbed the few remaining steps that led to the third floor.

The third and topmost level of the tower was surprisingly barren compared to the two below it. Though a ring of large, tall windows circled its rounded wall, the only object in the room was an overstuffed armchair sitting on the wooden floor. Though the chair was facing away from Graham, he could see a withered hand resting on one of the arms, and a conical black cap stuck up from behind its back.

With a soft grunt, the figure in the chair rose and turned to face Graham, and if the king had had any remaining doubts about this man not being a sorcerer, they would have disappeared the moment he set eyes on him.

The man that stood before Graham was tall and lean, and his skin was shriveled and crisscrossed with wrinkles. His hair was fine and white, and he had a long, slightly discolored beard that reached his chest. He was dressed in a long black robe and a pointed black cap, which were both embroidered with hundreds of tiny white stars that seemed to twinkle ever so slightly.

Chapter 4:

"Greetings," the sorcerer said courteously. "What was it you said your name was, friend?"

"Graham, King of Daventry," Graham replied, surmising that the small statue by the bridge was in some way an extension of the sorcerer's mind.

"Ah yes," the sorcerer said, nervously scratching the side of his head. "I'm afraid I have no name that can easily be pronounced in your tongue, however."

"Well, I'm glad to meet you nonetheless," Graham replied.

"Thank you, King Graham," the sorcerer said. "I also gathered from my friend at the bridge that you have a serious problem that may require my assistance in solving."

"I do."

"In that case, if you could kindly follow me, we can sit and discuss whatever this predicament of yours is."

The sorcerer began walking stiffly towards the staircase. Graham followed him at a polite distance as the sorcerer led him down the winding steps to the second floor of the tower. The sorcerer then motioned for Graham to sit in one of the cushioned chairs in the alcove, which Graham did after removing his cloak and discreetly tucking the shield inside it, the sorcerer himself taking the remaining seat.

"So," the sorcerer said, putting his thin, bony hands together, "What is it you wish to help you with?"

Graham related the story of Edgar's sudden old age to the sorcerer, making certain to include all the details that he felt would be important, including the one about Edgar not being human and coming from another world.

"How odd," the sorcerer said when Graham finished talking. "I don't know why this should be happening to the boy. Tell me, did anything unusual happen to him in his past?"

"Yes," Graham nodded. "Many unusual things, in fact."

"Such as?"

"He was stolen from his parents when he was an infant and was enchanted by an evil fairy, who changed him into an ugly hunchback. When he was released from the enchantment several years ago, he was taken to his true home, but was then temporarily transformed into the likeness of a troll by a malevolent relative of his."

"What else?"

"He went on a lengthy endeavor several months ago that involved journeying into periods from the future and the past...and a year before that, he was nearly killed by the same entity that changed him into a troll, but my daughter Rosella saved him just in the knick of time..."

"Wait," the sorcerer said abruptly, suddenly sitting up straighter in his chair. "What exactly happened when he was nearly killed?"

"I wasn't there when it happened," Graham explained, "But from what Rosella tells me, he was struck by a magical ball of fire, and when she examined him, he wasn't breathing. Edgar even claims that for a brief moment, he was actually in the Realm of the Dead."

The sorcerer kneaded his beard nervously.

"But how in the world did your daughter save this boy, if he was that close to death?"

"She 'gave' him another life. Earlier in her travels she aided a cat, who was so grateful to her that it gave her one of its lives..."

The wizard suddenly slammed his fist on the armrest of his chair and leapt to his feet.

"So that's the answer to the riddle," he gasped.

"What is?" Graham asked uncertainly. The sorcerer looked soberly at Graham.

"It's a rather sad business, king," he said. "I have never encountered a case like this before, but I think I know what is wrong with Edgar nevertheless."

He paused, and Graham quietly asked him to continue.

"It all comes down to this," the sorcerer explained. "When your daughter gave Edgar that cat's life, it somehow 'replaced' his own life. For nearly two years, he has lived on this cat's life will no ill effects, but now it seems that that life is finally catching up with him."

"What do you mean?" Graham asked worriedly.

"How old is Edgar?"

"I believe he is nearly a score and three years old."

"Well, King Graham," the sorcerer said slowly, "A cat only lives to be about twenty-five years old at most, and since Edgar is living on a cat's life and he is approaching twenty-three...I'm afraid his time is running out."

Chapter 5:

Graham sat motionless in the chair as the shock of this news washed over him. After several fearful seconds of silence, he spoke again with a dry throat:

"What can be done to help him, sorcerer?"

"Nothing that I am capable of, I'm sorry to say," the sorcerer said sadly. "This is some very deep magic at work here, and the power to restore a man's life in a situation such as this is something far beyond my own abilities."

"Then who can help Edgar?" Graham demanded.

"No one who practices only white magic," the sorcerer solemnly replied. "The art of manipulating the lives and souls of mortals is something that only the darkest of wizards would be familiar with."

Graham suddenly felt very cold. Edgar's situation had seemed dire enough before, but hearing that a black-hearted mage was the only individual who might know of a way to help him made it seem as if there was no hope for him at all.

"How can I possibly persuade such a wizard to tell me how to save my son-in-law?"

"I don't know," the sorcerer said with a shake of his head. "But tell me, king: have you ever encountered any evil wizards or sorcerers before?"

"Yes."

"Do you know what became of them?"

"I remember running into one many years before in Daventry," Graham recalled. "And another in the land of Kolyma. I never knew what became of either. My son Alexander defeated the wizard Manannan by changing him into a cat, but Manannan's brother Mordack found him soon afterwards and sought revenge. When I found Mordack's island fortress, I killed him and left Manannan for dead. The only other sorcerer my family has encountered was a creature of shadow disguised as a man named Shadrack, and that abomination has been destroyed."

"So," said the sorcerer, beginning to pace the floor, "That's two wizards with unknown whereabouts, and at least two dead...but tell me, how did you deal with this Manannan?"

"I put him in a sack and left him in the fortress."

"And when did this happen?"

"Nearly two years ago."

"And there was no possible way for this wizard-cat to escape the prison you put him in?"

"I...I don't think so," Graham said contemplatively. "Cats have sharp claws, and there were several monsters living on that island that might have freed him...but why are you asking all these questions, sorcerer?"

"I suspect that this Manannan might still be alive. Even though you left him the way you did, Graham, you didn't kill him...and we wizards, enchanted or not, do not die easily."

"So what should I do, then?" Graham asked.

"Return to Mordack's island and try to find the cat," the sorcerer said. "If Manannan lives, he is the only hope you have of finding a way to save Edgar."

"Return there?" Graham asked in alarm. Journeying to Mordack's fortress had been an unnerving, horribly unpleasant experience the first time he had been there, and he was more than a little reluctant to go there a second time.

"It is the only way," the sorcerer said sadly. "After all, you know the castle, and if any of the monsters you spoke of are still there, since they have no master to serve, they will probably leave you alone. All you have to concern yourself with is finding Manannan."

Graham hesitated, then sighed.

"Very well. I'll go there."

"Good, Sire," the sorcerer said. "Luckily for you, I have something which will speed your journey tremendously."

As Graham watched from his chair, the sorcerer moved over to a cupboard and began rifling through it. He eventually located a small, ornately crafted wooden box, which he opened and found empty. Frowning, he replaced the box and shuffled over to one of the room's tables. After picking through much of the debris that covered the table, he gave a triumphant shout and plucked a small iron key from its surface.

"This key will open a door to anywhere you wish to go," he explained, returning to Graham with the key held out at arm's length. "Merely use it on my door after saying where you want to go, then unlock the door using the key. When you want to come back here, merely tell the key that you wish to return, and another door leading back here will appear in the nearest wall -- however, this key will only return you to this tower. Just tell the key that you want to go to Mordack's island, and -- "

"Wait, sorcerer," Graham said. An unpleasant thought had suddenly occurred to him: what if this sorcerer was attempting to lure him into a trap by pretending to assist him?

"I don't know you, and it's apparent that you know little of me, so why are you extending me this much help and not asking for anything in return?"

The sorcerer paused for a moment.

"I'm afraid that there's nothing else I can do to convince you that my intentions are good, Your Majesty. I only wish to do what anyone with my powers would do when faced with a situation such as this."

"But I was told you asked the peasants you helped for nearly every coin they had in exchange for your aid," Graham said.

"True, but you are no peasant," the sorcerer said. "I merely wish to serve my king now that he has need of me. All I can give you is my word as a sorcerer that I do not wish harm upon you. If you wish, I can step through the doorway with you to show you that it is safe."

"Very well," Graham said. He rose to his feet and picked up his cloak and his shield. The sorcerer began making his way down the spiral staircase, with Graham close behind. When they reached the floor, the sorcerer approached the door, gave the iron key he carried to Graham and motioned to him to speak the name of his destination, which Graham did.

"Good. Now unlock it," the sorcerer said.

Graham inserted the key in the door's lock, turned it and then removed it.

"Do you wish me to open it?" the sorcerer asked. Graham nodded. He was still not altogether convinced that the man was as trustworthy as he appeared.

The sorcerer slowly pulled open the door, which revealed not the banks of the Raging River and the Daventry countryside, but a dark, dilapidated chamber that might have been grand once, but was now a ruin. Sections of the ceiling had collapsed, furniture lay smashed and strewn about, rugs were tattered and mildewed, fungi clung to the damp walls and various statues that had once decorated the room lay in pieces on the stone floor. Despite the room's decayed appearance, Graham still recognized it all too well: it was the vast dining hall of Mordack's castle.

With Mordack dead, the castle seemed to be slowly dying, as if his magic were all that kept it standing. Graham didn't feel an iota of sorrow upon seeing the majestic carvings that once graced the fortress's vast interior lying in pieces. After what Mordack had done to his family, Graham hoped that the castle would eventually vanish from the earth, though it seemed that it would never vanish from his memory.

"Are you ready, sire?" the sorcerer asked quietly.

Graham nodded and stepped through the doorway, the sorcerer directly behind him. As he did, the air grew much colder and a sound of distant churning waves rose around him. As soon as both men were through the door, it swiftly shut itself, then rapidly shrank until it was completely gone. Graham looked over his shoulder where the door had been on the crumbling wall, then back at the shabby interior of the chamber.

"Here we are," the sorcerer said quietly. "This is Mordack's castle, correct?"

"Yes, it is."

"Good," the sorcerer replied. "Then, if you don't mind, I'd like to return to my home now."

"You're not going to try to help me find Manannan?" Graham asked hopefully.

"Me?" the sorcerer squeaked in surprise. "An old, feeble, dried-up soul like myself? I'm sorry, my king, but I would be much more of a burden than a help to you. After all, you know this island and its fortress much better than I, and if what I know of you is true, you will surely be able to find that feline fiend in less time than it takes me to make a pot of tea."

Graham nodded solemnly.

"Now, if you would kindly open the door home for me?" the sorcerer requested.

Graham turned to face the wall behind him and held the iron key out in front of him.

"I wish to return," he told it.

Instantly, a door appeared in the wall, expanding from a miniscule speck until it had reached its full size. Graham inserted the key into the lock, turned it and pushed the door open.

"Thank you, Sire," the sorcerer said, hobbling towards the door. Through it, Graham could see the interior of the man's unusual home through the doorway.

"I promise to be waiting for you when you return," the sorcerer added. "I won't step out of the house for any reason."

"Thank you," Graham said, carefully removing the key from the door. The sorcerer smiled and nodded, then stepped through the portal that connected Daventry with Mordack's island and shut the door behind him. Once more, the door shrunk and vanished, leaving Graham alone in the ruined castle.

Chapter 6:

Graham slowly picked his way through the wreckage of the chamber. Parts of the surrounding walls, thick as they were, had fallen completely away, revealing the strange, twisted rock that Mordack's island was composed of. In fact, the wall to the south, where the castle's main entrance had once stood, was almost entirely gone, providing Graham with a good view of the path leading up to the castle.

The island didn't look nearly as dark and ominous as it had been the last time Graham had visited it. The rock seemed much more weathered and natural, and though the light of day had been obscured by a swirling mass of black clouds before, now the sun's rays streamed in from the outside. The two stone serpents that had once guarded the path to the main gate were nothing more than two piles of scattered rock, and the path itself was eaten away in sections or blocked by heaps of fallen boulders.

Graham stared out at the withered landscape as he walked through what had once been the castle's foyer. To his surprise, the stairs leading to the second floor were almost completely intact, though there were a few sizeable holes in the ceiling. The floor was strewn with sand, dirt and crumbled bits of masonry, but there were no footprints that Graham could make out. How in the world was he going to find Manannan in this tumbled-down tomb, if indeed the cat-wizard was still alive? Even though Mordack was dead and gone, his castle was still a perilous place to walk around in, for the ceiling above Graham could cave in at any minute, and he faced the danger of the floor collapsing if he decided to take his chances on the level above him.

Just as Graham was contemplating what to do, a peculiar hum emanated from some distance behind him. He turned sharply to see a glowing, black, rectangular doorway appear in the far wall. Out of this doorway lumbered a large, dark green beast with long, sinewy arms and legs. It clambered through the doorway like a huge monkey, then stopped abruptly as it noticed Graham. It stared at him for a moment out of its huge black eyes, then turned and scampered back through the doorway with an ominous low moan. The doorway flickered and vanished as soon as the beast had gone.

Graham shuddered. The beasts. He had almost forgotten about them. Mordack had somehow enslaved them and used them to protect the castle, and it had taken all of Graham's luck to evade them when he had first arrived on the island. However, Graham had only had to face two beasts: a large, bulky, elephant-like creature that skulked in the labyrinth beneath the castle; and a swift blue monster with oddly jointed limbs. He had never seen the green beast before...but it had entered the room the same way that the blue creature had, through a glowing doorway. It had to be another of Mordack's monsters that the king hadn't encountered the last time he was here, and where there was one monster, there were bound to be more.

He hoped that what the sorcerer said about the beasts having no reason to harm him was true, and that the shield would protect him if this weren't the case. He didn't have too long to fret about the particulars of this situation, since another glowing doorway appeared in the wall directly in front of him. Out of this doorway stepped the green beast, with a second creature following it: the blue beast that Graham had dealt with on his last visit.

The two monsters stared fiercely at Graham, who was too shocked at the moment to do anything but stare back. Then the green beast turned to the blue beast and made a soft, cooing-moaning sound. The blue beast turned to its companion and grunted softly, then the green beast turned and hobbled back through the doorway, which vanished as promptly as it had before.

Graham tensed his legs and prepared to flee, but oddly, the beast made no move towards him. It merely stood on its muscular hind legs, peering at the king out of its glowing reddish eyes as if it were waiting for something.

"Stay back," Graham said coldly. "You're not going to get me this time."

By these words, he had hoped to show the beast that he wasn't frightened of it, but instead, he seemed to frighten the beast. It lowered its head and shuffled back several steps, holding its clawed hands in front of its face. It was a far cry from the fierce monster Graham had faced before. The king observed the cowering creature for the better part of a minute, then addressed it again:

"Do you understand me?"

The beast cautiously looked up, then nodded its elongated head.

"Whom do you and your comrades serve?" Graham slowly asked.

The beast blinked several times. It looked left and right as if it were searching for something, then turned back to Graham, shook its head, and held out its hands with the palms facing upwards.

It seemed that the sorcerer had been right about the beasts becoming harmless after the death of their master. They hadn't been inherently malevolent, but Mordack had been, and now that he was gone and could no longer control the beasts, they were nothing more than sad, lonesome creatures trapped on this bizarre island. Now that Graham was certain that the beasts wouldn't hurt him...could they possibly help him in some way?

"Beast," Graham said to the blue creature. "I need to find the black cat that your master kept in this castle. Does this cat still live?"

The beast paused, looked puzzled for a moment and then nodded.

"Will you take me to where he is?"

The beast started nodding again, then stopped abruptly and slowly shook his head.

"What do you mean?" Graham asked. "Will you or won't you do what I asked?"

The beast hesitated again, then turned and began lumbering towards the flight of stairs that led up to the second floor. It stopped at the foot of the stairs, looked back at Graham, and gestured towards the staircase with its head. Graham slowly approached the beast, which began eagerly clambering up the stairs, occasionally peering over its shoulder to make sure that the king was behind him. Unsure of what he was getting himself into and uncertain whether it was the wisest course of action or not, Graham followed the blue beast up the crumbling stairs to the second floor.

The castle's upper hallway was much brighter than Graham remembered it, mostly due to the nearly nonexistent ceiling overhead. Though the walls at the right end of the hallway had collapsed almost completely, the walls at the left end were still mostly intact, and it was towards the single door at the left end that the beast was leading Graham towards.

Graham followed the beast cautiously, staying as close to the wall as he could, for fear of the floor giving out if he attempted to walk down the center of the hall. As he reached the stone doorway at the end, he heard a distant rumble, like that of several dozen pieces of masonry tumbling down. Another piece of the castle must have collapsed. Graham hoped that he would be able to find what he was looking for before another chunk of the castle decided to fall and crush him.

Through the doorway was what had once been Mordack's bedroom. There wasn't much left to identify it as such, save for a pile of wood and torn silk vaguely resembling a bed lying crushed under a heap of rubble. The floor of the room was almost completely gone, and even the beast seemed nervous as it picked its way around the border of the room to another doorway on the south wall.

Through this second doorway was a room that Graham immediately recognized as the castle's library. Unlike every other room of the fortress, this one was surprisingly intact. All of the bookcases save one were standing, and the large desk at the opposite wall of the room was immaculate except for a thick coating of dust. The ornate pillars supporting the library's ceiling still rose proudly to meet the ceiling, and the numerous long-toothed stone grotesques still leered down at Graham from their perches atop the pillars.

The beast hobbled into the center of the room, gazed about it for a moment, then ambled towards one of the bookcases. It then stopped, turned and looked expectantly at Graham. Graham looked at the beast, then glanced around the room as it had done, but didn't see Manannan anywhere.

"Where is he?" Graham asked the beast. "Where is the cat?"

The beast stared silently at him and blinked several times.

"The black cat," Graham said. "Is he in this room?"

The beast shook his head.

Graham sighed. He half-wished that his son's wife Cassima were there to help him deal with the beast. She had been kidnapped by Mordack years ago, and despite her difficult time as a slave to the cold-hearted wizard, she had proven herself to be quite a resourceful princess. She had learned how to navigate the perplexing labyrinth beneath the castle without a map, learned of a secret passage leading to a prison cell that even Mordack wasn't aware of, and even befriended the various fierce beasts that guarded the castle. Perhaps she had somehow discovered a way to understand and communicate with them. However, with Cassima expecting a child in a few weeks' time, she was in no condition to be stumbling through a collapsing castle, and even if things were different, Graham knew that she would be even less eager to return to this fortress than he was.

"All right," Graham said to the beast with an exasperated sigh, "Then why did you bring me here?"

The beast turned and gestured toward the bookcase. Puzzled, Graham approached it. When he had gotten close enough to read the smaller titles on some of the ancient volumes, the beast pointed to one of the shelves. Starting to understand what the beast wanted him to do but not clear as to why it did, Graham started slowly running a hand along the books' spines, from the left side of the shelf to the right. The beast remained still until Graham's hand touched a slim volume towards the right side of the shelf, then it nodded violently. Graham carefully withdrew the book and examined the cover, which read Conjuring Creatures From Worlds Beyond.

Graham stared at the cover, then stared at the beast, which continued to look hopefully at him with its piercing red eyes. The king opened the book to a random page and began to read:

Aside from the world of mortals, there are many others that exist both inside and outside it. The most well known of these worlds are those of Light and Shadow, from which creatures occasionally slip, entering the mortal realm and either astonishing or destroying any mortals they come into contact with.

Though the denizens of Light and Shadow typically enter and leave the mortal world of their own accord and are most commonly encountered in dreams or visions, there are ways of luring them into the realm of mortals, where, once captured, they will do the bidding of whomever has ensnared them.

The creatures of Light are quite frail and docile and are useful only as companions, but the inhabitants of the Shadow world can be quite strong and fierce, and will do anything within their power to serve the man who manages to tame them.

One of the more noteworthy skills of the creatures of Shadow is their ability to travel through the Void. The Void is the empty expanse that all creatures must cross when going from one world to the next. Though a creature of Shadow cannot return to its home world once it has been summoned, it can move from one spot in the mortal realm to another in virtually no time at all. To do this, the creature will open a door into the Void, step into the Void, then open another door to its destination. The creature can even take humans with it through these doors. Obviously, the value of this skill cannot be overstated.

Graham looked up at the blue beast. So it and its companions didn't come from his world. That fact certainly explained their bizarre appearances, but Graham still couldn't fathom why the beast had taken it upon itself to educate him about its origins. He continued to leaf through the pages. They included various descriptions of the beasts one might choose to summon and the ways to bring them into the mortal world. Finally, he came to a page with a large, circular diagram on it. When the blue beast noticed the image, it sprang forward frantically and pointed at the page with its long fingers. Graham read what was printed on the page opposite the diagram:

If one should wish to return a creature of the world of Shadow to its home, a one-way door to the world of Shadow must be opened. The instructions for how to accomplish this are listed below.

The instructions were fairly basic: the design depicted on the facing page was to be either etched or drawn on the ground or floor, and it had to be a certain number of paces across. The person who drew it was to walk around it three times and repeat a magical phrase each time. If the spell was successful, a door to the world of Shadows that could only be entered from the mortal realm would open in the middle of the design, and there was another incantation that had to be spoken to close the door. Graham finally understood why he had been led to the library, and what he had to do.

"So," he said to the beast. "You want me to help you and the others from your world return home?"

The beast nodded.

"And in return for helping you, you will help me?"

The beast nodded again, more vigorously this time. As fearful of the beast as Graham had been at first, he now took pity on the freakish being. It and its brothers had been snatched from their world and enslaved by one of the most unpleasant individuals in the mortal world. Now that he was gone, all they wanted was to return home, and Graham felt that that was just what the poor creatures deserved after all they had been through.

Chapter 7:

Graham had difficulty finding something to draw the diagram with. He searched the library's desk for a piece of chalk but couldn't find one, and the contents of the desk's inkwell had long since dried up. However, he soon noticed a simple clay pot lying in pieces by the single collapsed bookshelf. He picked up a shard of the pot and tried scratching the stone floor with it, and was pleased to see that it left a pale orange mark.

Pushing the large crusty carpet that dominated the floor aside, Graham started to reproduce the design. He had difficulty making straight lines on the gritty stone, and hoped that their wobbliness wouldn't send the creatures somewhere other than the Shadow world.

After several minutes of bending over the hard floor, Graham stiffly rose to his feet and turned to face the blue beast, which was still watching him from across the room.

"All I have to do now is speak the incantation and you'll all be able to go home," he said. "Will you help me find the cat now?"

The beast nodded. It began to trot out of the library, and Graham followed closely behind it. It led him across the hallway, down the stairs to the castle foyer, along the dining hall, and down a lower hallway, then stopped. The end of the hallway was covered in rubble raining down from the deteriorating ceiling above it. Graham dimly recalled that there was a doorway here that led into the castle's kitchen, but there was no sign of that doorway now.

"Er...where is he?" Graham asked the beast.

The beast moved to an unburied section of the hallway's end and pointed to a small hole in the wall, one that looked just large enough for a cat to fit through.

"I'm guessing that leads to the kitchen, and the cat is in there?" Graham said.

The beast gave its usual affirmative response.

"Well, how can I get into the kitchen when the door is buried under all this stone?" Graham asked.

The beast hesitated. It pointed to Graham, then itself, then the collapsed wall. It repeated the gesture again, and Graham soon understood what the beast was proposing.

"All right...but be careful."

The beast lumbered towards him and gently put its large arms around his waist. There was a familiar hum as a dark opening appeared in front of them. The beast lifted Graham off the ground as if he weighed nothing and strode through the opening. Graham had a fleeting vision of hundreds of distant points of light swirling around him and a strange floating sensation, but then another doorway appeared before them, this one leading to yet another decaying room in Mordack's fortress. The creature moved through this doorway, set its large hind feet down upon the cold stone floor of the room and released Graham from its clutches.

Graham barely recognized the room they now stood in as the kitchen where he had first met Cassima. Scraps of food, pots, plates and utensils littered the floor, tables had been crushed by falling chunks of masonry, and a foul smell permeated the gloom. As Graham squinted in the dim light of the kitchen, he noticed something small, dark and shaggy lying on a pile of rags in the large, cold hearth. He slowly approached the hearth and his heart raced as he saw that it was just what he sought: the former wizard, Manannan.

Manannan's feline body was quite emaciated, and his fur was unkempt and sparse. He was sleeping in a stiff, sprawled position, and his chest rose and fell slowly. The king might have pitied such a miserable looking animal were it not for the fact that the man this animal once was had kidnapped Graham's only son, and was indirectly responsible for nearly killing Graham's entire family. At least Manannan was now weak and helpless, unable to do them any more harm...or so Graham hoped.

He reached out to pick Manannan up, but before he could grasp the back of his neck, the cat's dirty golden eyes flashed open. Graham jumped back, expecting the animal to leap at him with its claws out, but all Manannan did was swat feebly at Graham and hiss half-heartedly. The ex-wizard seemed even weaker than he had first appeared, and when Graham attempted to pick him up again, all Manannan did was growl and snarl, which appeared to be all that he had the strength to do.

Graham grasped the cat by the scruff of the neck and lifted the surprisingly light creature out of the fireplace. After a moment of contemplation, Graham knelt down, removed his cloak with one hand and wrapped the protesting cat up in it, leaving only his head sticking out. He then held the immobilized feline in the crook of his right arm and gripped his shield in his right hand, and turned back to the blue beast.

"I'm ready to return you to your home," Graham said. "Take me back to the library and I'll get started."

The beast bowed, seized Graham again, pulled him through the Void and set him and Manannan down on the floor of the library. The beast then turned and vanished through the doorway before Graham could say another word to it.

With the cat and the shield still firmly in his grip, Graham consulted Conjuring Creatures From Worlds Beyond, then began circling the design he had drawn on the floor and repeating the phrase written in the book. When he had intoned the phrase and rounded the intricate drawing three times, there was a low thrumming noise and the air within the circle seemed to pulsate and become oddly warped.

As Graham stood staring at this odd sight, a doorway to the Void opened nearby and out stepped the blue beast, followed by the green monkey-like beast, the gray, bulky beast that Cassima had called Dink, and well as two other bizarrely formed creatures. Apparently, Graham had only seen a small portion of Mordack's menagerie when he first explored the castle.

The blue beast stood aside as the other monsters lumbered eagerly towards the drawing on the library floor. As the first one stepped inside the circle, its body seemed to dissolve and vanish, and Graham thought he could detect a distant joyous baying as the creature faded away.

The other beasts all stepped through the portal one by one, none of them paying any attention to Graham save for Dink, who paused and gazed at the king with what looked like a faint smile of recognition. Then he bounded through the portal to join his comrades.

Finally, the one beast remaining was the blue one. Once again he stared unnervingly at Graham. It must have been an odd moment for both of them, Graham reflected. The beast had captured him and thrown him into a cell years before, now he had become the savior of the beast and its companions.

The beast bowed its head deeply and placed one of its limbs across its chest. Even though it couldn't speak, Graham felt that such a gesture didn't require words.

"You have my thanks as well," the king said.

With yet another nod, the beast started towards the portal to the world of Shadows.

"Wait," Graham said suddenly. He had remembered something that he wanted to ask the beast before it departed.

"One last question: Are you the one that Cassima called Sam?"

Though the beast had no mouth, the look in its red eyes made it appear very much as if it were smiling. It nodded cheerily, then trotted through the portal.

Graham made sure to close the portal and rub out the pattern on the floor as thoroughly as he could, all the while making sure to keep Manannan from wriggling out of the cloak he was wrapped in. When these two chores were finished, Graham took the iron key that the sorcerer had given him from his pocket. He was more than ready to leave this gloomy, crumbling fortress.

"I wish to return," he told it.

There was a loud grinding and crashing sound from the wall adjacent to him. Graham turned to see a bookcase being split down the middle as a wooden door appeared in its center. The shelves folded in upon themselves, either crushing books or spilling them out. It was all the pillars framing the bookshelf could do to remain standing as dust and debris rained down. Apparently, since there were no bare walls in the room, the door had materialized in the only possible location -- with disastrous results.

Hurriedly, Graham unlocked the door and opened it. Then, with cat and shield firmly grasped in his hands, he bolted through the doorway into the sorcerer's home, just as the pillars gave way and the section of ceiling above them decided to follow suit. Graham quickly slammed the door before the avalanche of stone and mortar could follow him through the passageway between the island and the tower. Once again, he had barely survived a visit to Mordack's fortress, and this time, it was truly empty when he left it.

"My, my, my," came an amused voice from the spiral staircase. "You certainly know how to make an entrance, don't you, Your Majesty?"

Chapter 8:

The sorcerer removed the mangy black cat from Graham's cloak and shoved the scrawny animal into an iron cage, which he and Graham carried up to the top level of the tower and set on the floor. Manannan hissed and spat at the two men weakly.

"The poor devil seems like he's not long for this world," the sorcerer said sadly. "He's half-starved, and I think one of his back legs might be broken."

"He does look bad, but can you understand him?" Graham asked the sorcerer, not feeling any sympathy for the former wizard that lay on the floor of the cage.

"I believe so, though my Feline is a bit rusty," the sorcerer admitted.

"What is he saying now?"

The sorcerer squinted intently at the furious, snarling cat for the better part of a minute.

"He says that he is displeased," he finally said.

"I see," Graham said impatiently, "But I might have come to that same conclusion."

"Sorry," the sorcerer said. "But he's doing nothing but muttering obscenities at you at the moment. He's not very happy to see you."

"I have the same feelings towards him," Graham said impatiently. "Do you think he can still understand our language, sorcerer?"

"I should think so," the sorcerer said. "After all, he still has the intelligence of a man, he simply can't speak like one any longer..."

Without waiting for the sorcerer to finish, Graham picked up the cage and glared at its black, scruffy occupant.

"Listen, Manannan," he growled. "My son-in-law's life has somehow been replaced with a cat's life. He is now reaching the end of that life and he is going to die in a matter of weeks. You are the only one I know who has the knowledge that can save him. I could easily kill you now, but I'll let you live on the condition that you help me."

Manannan stirred feebly and meowed and snarled quietly.

"What did he just say?" Graham asked the sorcerer.

"He said that he isn't impressed by your threats," the sorcerer said. "And that death would actually be welcome now...he has apparently had a very difficult two years on that island."

Graham clenched his jaw and angrily shook the cage.

"You help me save Edgar or I'll make your life even more miserable than it already is, you filthy, conniving, worthless..."

"Your Highness, Your Highness, please," the sorcerer pleaded.

Graham stopped shaking the cage and stared at the sad creature within it. There was no malice in those golden eyes now, only pain and weariness. It seemed as if the wizard hadn't adapted to the life of a cat very well. Without his brother to care for him, it was a wonder that he had survived this long, and it seemed unlikely that he would last much longer.

Graham slowly regained his composure, realizing that it would do him no good to let his rage overwhelm him. He needed to think clearly now, and anger and clear thought could not exist in the same mind.

"Sire?" the sorcerer asked cautiously.

"What?" Graham asked, the man's words barely piercing the surface of his thoughts.

"I've just had an idea. Come here...but leave the cat where he can't hear us."

Graham set the cage down and walked over to the other side of the room with the sorcerer.

"Why don't you offer his own body back in exchange for his help?" the sorcerer whispered.

Graham gaped in disbelief at the sorcerer.

"His own body?" the king repeated. "No! No, I would never even think of offering that monster such a thing!"

"He seems to have gone through a lot during his isolation," the sorcerer reflected. "Perhaps he is no longer the villain he once was..."

"And perhaps he still is," Graham retorted. "Besides, even if I were foolish enough to offer such a thing to him, there would be no way to keep my promise."

"Why is that?"

"The spell my son used to turn him into a cat is irreversible. There's no way to change him back."

"Are you certain?"

"That's what the book of spells he used said."

The sorcerer kneaded his beard thoughtfully with two of his fingers.

"Hmm...I still think you might want to make him that offer, in the hopes that he takes the bait."

"And what if he decides to comply and I'm left with no way to fulfill my part of the bargain?" Graham asked. "He might take his revenge by sneaking into the castle and clawing all our eyes out in our sleep!"

"We'll deal with that problem when we come to it," the sorcerer said firmly. "Right now we have to concentrate on finding out what you need to know: how to save your daughter's husband. After all, you just might find a way to make things turn out for the best for both your family and the cat."

"All men will be keeping dragons as pets before that happens," Graham grumbled.

"Oh my," the sorcerer muttered, shaking his head. "To be honest, though, dragons aren't that bad..."

When Graham made his proposition to Manannan, the cat seemed slightly suspicious at first. Then, after several moments' contemplation, he grudgingly agreed to help Graham. After all, the former wizard had nothing left to lose, and if, by some amazing stroke of luck, Graham did find a way to restore him to human form, he had everything to gain.

"Very well," Graham said once the two of them had come to an agreement. "Now tell me: how can I save my son-in-law's life?"

Manannan began meowing and caterwauling again, and the sorcerer quickly began translating:

"There's nothing that any...that any mortals or wizards can do. If the boy's life has truly been...replaced, the only thing left to do is to...is to consult..."

The sorcerer paused and blinked nervously.

"Consult whom?" Graham asked.

"Consult...Death."

Graham stared at the sorcerer's frightened face, then at Manannan lying languidly in his cage.

"What do you mean?" the king demanded.

"You must seek out Death...and speak to him," the sorcerer said as Manannan began howling again, "With luck...he will take pity on you and restore the boy's life."

"Seek out Death?" Graham asked. "Do you mean I must travel to the Realm of the Dead and..."

"No," the sorcerer translated. "Not there. The entity that lives there only reigns over the souls of the dead. You must find the being that watches people's lives...and comes to them when it is their time."

Graham was much relieved that he didn't have to go to the Realm of the Dead. After what his son, his son-in-law and his daughter-in-law had told him about that eerie realm, he didn't want to visit it even once while he was still alive.

"So where does this being live?" he asked Manannan.

"In a realm outside this world," the sorcerer translated. "There is only one way that mortals can reach it...you must wear a Mortis charm and recite this phrase seven times..."

The sorcerer said something in an ancient-sounding language that Graham could not understand. Manannan then fell silent.

"And...is that it?" Graham asked.

"Yes -- no, wait," the sorcerer said, as the cat began to speak again. This time the sorcerer didn't say a word until Manannan had grown quiet again.

"He says that you should leave that shield behind," the sorcerer said somberly, looking at the exact spot where Graham was hiding the magic shield beneath his cloak. "He and I both know of the power of that shield, but it can only protect you from mortal harm, and Death is no mortal. After all, Death may be much more receptive to a man who enters his domain with no means of defense."

The sorcerer leaned towards Graham and spoke more quietly:

"You might also want to take this opportunity to tell your family that you are leaving," he said. "There's no way of knowing how long this mission of yours might take."

"Shouldn't I bring some men with me?" Graham asked.

Manannan howled from his cage.

"No," the sorcerer said. "A journey outside the mortal realm is one best made alone. If many men went on such a journey, they could easily be turned against each other and become scattered."

"Are you sure that that cat is telling the truth?" Graham asked suspiciously.

"I'm afraid it is true," the sorcerer said. "I have done some reading on the various realms that exist alongside this one, and what he says is the same thing as my books say."

"So..." Graham said slowly. "I should return to my castle and come back here once I am ready?"

"Yes," the sorcerer said. "I am certain I have a Mortis charm somewhere, and I'll hunt for it while you are away."

Graham nodded silently, then began making his way down the spiral staircase. Once he had reached the floor, he opened the heavy door and stepped out into the cool autumn air of the Daventry countryside. He refastened his cloak around his neck and pulled the hood up. Then, with his head down, he slowly walked across the bridge that led from the sorcerer's island to the mainland and began the journey back to Castle Daventry, which seemed much longer than it had been earlier that morning.

Chapter 9:

When Graham entered the castle's throne room, Valanice was there. She came to him and embraced him tightly, then glared crossly at him.

"You could have at least told us you were leaving the castle yourself," she said.

"I'm sorry, Valanice," Graham said earnestly. "I was just in too much of a hurry to think clearly."

"Can you think clearly enough to explain exactly why you left us so suddenly?" Valanice asked. Though her voice was stern, there was still a faint touch of humor in it.

"I was looking for a way to help Edgar," Graham replied.

Valanice glanced at the floor, her face downcast.

"Oh," she said quietly. "I see...I should have known. Were you successful?"

"I believe I was," Graham said. "But I'm afraid I have to leave again, and this time, I don't know when I will return."

"Why?" Valanice demanded. "What's going on, Graham? Do you know what's happened to Edgar?"

Graham had known Valanice for too many years to think that he could keep the truth from her for long. After finding a servant to return the magic shield to the Royal Treasury, he quietly led his queen to their chambers, and there, he told her everything that had happened that morning. Valanice remained completely silent until he had finished his story.

"So...you're going on another adventure?" she asked, trying to make light of the dire situation.

"I'm afraid so," Graham replied.

"What if that demon Manannan is secretly trying to do you in?" Valanice said worriedly.

"The notion has crossed my mind," Graham said, "But why would he kill me when I have offered to change him back into a human?"

"And if you should find a way to do that, what do you think he will do to us once he is his old self?" Valanice said.

"I don't know," Graham sighed. "But all we can do now is hope that I will be successful in persuading Death to help me."

"I suppose so," said Valanice gently. For a while, she and Graham held hands and said nothing, wondering what the future held in store for their family.

Graham and Valanice went to Edgar and Rosella's chambers, where they found Edgar sitting in a chair near the door, looking just as frail and aged as he had been that morning, his pygmy griffin Scrimshaw perched on the back of the chair. Rosella was sitting on the bed, and she swiftly rose to her feet at the sight of her father.

"Father, where were you?" she cried, running to meet Graham. "Mama and I had no idea where you'd gone, and all the Court Physician could tell us was that you were out looking for a sorcerer, and..."

"The Court Physician was right," Graham said.

"A sorcerer?" Edgar said in a tired voice, staring up at the king. "Why were you looking for a sorcerer? Were you..."

He suddenly paused. His wrinkled brow furrowed in thought, then he looked back up at Graham with deep concern in his brown eyes.

"It's about me, isn't it?"

Rosella stared at her father, and Valanice nodded solemnly.

"Yes, it is." Graham said quietly. "Edgar...the reason this is happening to you is because of the cat's life Rosella healed you with after your aunt nearly killed you. It has replaced the life you started out with, and now that cat's life is nearing its end."

Rosella let out a tiny gasp and stared in horror at Edgar, who blinked several times but said nothing. Scrimshaw stared at Graham, sitting as still as a statue.

"However, I believe I have found a way to help you," Graham continued. "But I must leave Daventry in order to do it. I may be gone several days or several weeks, but I promise to return successfully and as soon as I can."

"Is there...is there anything we can do?" Rosella asked shakily.

"Just help your mother and the servants keep the kingdom running, Rosella," Graham said gently. "And most importantly, look after Edgar."

Edgar smiled bitterly and snorted amusedly.

"I suppose I should have seen this coming," he muttered.

"Oh, Edgar, I'm so sorry," Rosella said in a quavering voice, putting her arm around his shoulders. "This is all my fault...if I had only known..."

"If you had known, it wouldn't have made much of a difference," Valanice said. "If you hadn't given that life to Edgar, he would have died. You did what was right at the time, Rosella. Now we need to do what is right at this time."

Rosella sighed and let her head rest on Edgar's shoulder.

"Don't worry," Graham said after their embrace was over. "I won't come back until I have succeeded. Just promise me that you will keep my castle and people safe until I return."

"I promise," Rosella said, blinking back tears.

"As do I," said Valanice.

"I may not be of much help," Edgar muttered. "But I promise to do what I can...and thank you, Your Majesty."

It was late in the afternoon when Graham had finally finished preparing for his journey. The only preparations he had made involved packing a small knapsack with enough rations for several days and various other essentials, and this hadn't taken nearly as long as saying good-bye to his daughter, wife and son-in-law.

Graham's heart felt ten times heavier than his knapsack as he departed Castle Daventry, making his way through the much quieter town streets. Even though his cloak was once again hiding his face, he sensed that his despair was all too obvious to the people who noticed him slowly trudging along with his head bowed.

Once he had reached the less populated outskirts of the town, he pulled back his hood to let the cool air reach him more easily, as well as to get a better look at the surrounding land. The peaceful countryside's fields and trees had been painted gold and red with the passing of the seasons. Twenty years ago, much of Daventry had been a dangerous country to travel alone in, since thieving dwarves, fierce ogres, mischievous sorcerers and ravenous wolves prowled nearly every mile of land within its borders.

When Graham had inherited the throne and put the powers of the three treasures to good use, however, the various fiends roaming the kingdom were either driven out by Daventry's strengthened population or retreated of their own accord into the thickest, most inaccessible forests in the realm. These days, those places were the only ones in the kingdom that were still considered dangerous.

As Graham continued south, he suddenly heard a voice coming from close by:

"Your Majesty...Your Majesty!"

Graham turned in the direction of the frantic shouts to see a young man approaching him through the trees at a fast walk. The king stopped and waited until the stranger had reached his side before responding to him:

"Yes? You wished to speak to me?"

The stranger opened his mouth, but suddenly became very nervous and insecure, rubbing his hands together anxiously, glancing at the ground and stammering as he tried to talk:

"W-w-ell, K-k-king G-graham...I w-w...w-wanted to...th-that is, I...I..."

Graham raised a hand and the young man halted in mid-stutter.

"Please," the king said gently. "Calm yourself. I'm not wearing a crown and we're not standing in a throne room, so at the moment, why can't we merely speak to each other as two men, regardless of our status?"

The stranger seemed puzzled by these words for a moment, but he nodded eagerly and seemed to relax somewhat. He couldn't have been much older than twenty, and his shaggy brown hair almost covered his icy blue eyes. His face was thin and somewhat angular, and a tiny, trim goatee bisected the curve of his chin. His clothes, though undoubtedly the clothes of a peasant, were oddly elegant, despite their simplicity.

"Please forgive me, Your Highness," the stranger finally said in a steadier voice. "I just never imagined that I'd meet you like this. I'm truly honored to finally meet you, Sire."

"I'm afraid you have the advantage of me," Graham said. "Who are you, stranger?"

"You may not know me," the stranger smiled, "But you did know my parents."

"Your parents?" Graham repeated, confused. "Who were they? What were their names?"

The stranger's smile grew wider.

"Do you, by any chance, recall a clay bowl with the word 'fill' painted inside it?"

Graham's eyes opened wide as the truth of the stranger's identity began to unfold inside his head.

"Of course...then the couple I gave it to...they were..."

"...My dear mother and father," the stranger said with a hint of pride. "Your gift saved them from starvation, and when I was born years later, it helped keep me fed as well. They were astounded to hear that the young knight that gave them that magic bowl had become king of Daventry, and they never stopped telling me the story of your visit. I've always dreamed of meeting you, but I never imagined that I truly would."

"My word," Graham gasped, thunderstruck. He had nearly forgotten the poor woodcutter and his wife that he had encountered so many years ago in his quest to find the kingdom's three lost treasures. And now that woodcutter's son had reached manhood...where had the time gone?

"I've become a tailor now," the woodcutter's son continued. "And I have come into possession of a needle that is unlike any other needle in existence."

"How so?" Graham asked.

"With it, I can sew anything together. Not just cloth, but anything. Wood, stone, glass, metal, even living flesh. I can repair anything that has been broken, leaving it good as new."

"That's quite remarkable," Graham said, considerably impressed by the tailor's claim. "But why are you telling me this?"

"I want to repay you for saving my family," the tailor replied. "I know sewing something together probably isn't an adequate means of returning such a noble need, but it's the only thing I can offer to you. If you ever have something that needs mending, come to my home. Even if it isn't cloth, I have no doubt that I can fix it."

"I thank you for your generosity," Graham said, "But I'm afraid I don't know where your home is."

The tailor reached into a pocket and pulled out a small spool of thread.

"You don't need to know," he said. "Take this thread."

Graham did.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked.

"When you want to visit me, simply drop that spool on the ground. It will unroll, and the thread will form a path to my home. Just follow it, and eventually, you'll arrive at my door."

Graham eyed the spool with interest, then tucked it safely away.

"Well, thank you very much, young tailor," he said to his new acquaintance, "But I must be on my way now."

The tailor's eyes looked concerned for a moment.

"You're not...you're not on another journey, are you, my king?"

Graham paused, then decided that the tailor was a trustworthy soul and that it wouldn't hurt to be honest with him.

"Between the two of us, yes, I am," the king said in a low voice. The tailor nodded gravely.

"Well, good luck to you then, Your Majesty. And please consider my offer if you come upon anything that needs mending."

Graham thanked the tailor again and bid him farewell. As the young man walked away, the king contemplated his offer. Though Graham had no doubt that the tailor's needle and thread could do all that the lad claimed they could do, the king doubted that they could mend his breaking heart.

Chapter 10:

As Graham reached the bridge to the sorcerer's house and began to cross it, he once again heard a loud voice to his left:

"Halt! Who goes there?"

He turned to face the stone creature, much more irritated than surprised this time.

"King Graham of Daventry."

"And what is your business here?"

"The sorcerer told me to leave his home and prepare for my journey," Graham said impatiently. "And to return once I was ready, which I am now."

The beast looked puzzled.

"Then you've been here before?" it asked.

"Yes," Graham said with a sigh.

"Oh," the creature grunted. "Very well. You may pass."

Relieved to leave the creature behind, Graham cautiously crossed the wooden bridge, trying not to glance down at the vicious currents beneath it. He didn't bother knocking on the door of the ramshackle hut this time, but simply let himself in, and noticing no one on the first floor of the tower concealed within the hut, he made his way up the iron staircase to the second floor. There he found the sorcerer sitting in one of the large chairs in the alcove, with the caged Manannan on the small, round table between the two chairs. As Graham approached the alcove, he noticed that there was a bandage around one of the cat's back legs.

"I hated to see the poor wretched thing suffering so," the sorcerer explained, noticing where Graham's eyes were directed. "So I took it upon myself to feed him and fix up that leg of his. It turns out that it was broken. Something heavy must have fallen on it. It must have been a humiliating injury for him, suffering from something so common as a broken limb, unable to repair it himself with magic..."

"I'm ready to leave now, sorcerer," Graham said, uninterested in hearing about his former nemesis's physical condition.

"Oh, yes, of course," the sorcerer muttered. "My apologies, Sire."

He rose to his feet and started rummaging in one of the deep pockets of his star-speckled robe. Despite the man's various eccentricities, Graham was starting to have better feelings about this nameless sorcerer. Though he had had his doubts about him at first, the sorcerer had turned out to be a surprisingly kindly gentleman, who just happened to have a good deal of knowledge about magic. In some ways, he reminded Graham of the wizard Crispinophur of Serenia, whose heart was always in the right place (though his mind was often wandering). Graham hadn't known many benevolent wizards in his time, and he was thankful that he had found one, especially now.

"Here we are," the sorcerer said, pulling a small object out of his pocket and holding it up for Graham to see. "You just need to wear this, and I'll tell you the phrase you need to say to enter Death's domain if you've forgotten it."

Graham stared at the object. It was a small, oddly shaped black amulet on a silver chain, with a crude depiction of a doorway carved into the amulet itself. When Graham took the odd charm from the sorcerer, he shuddered as he realized that the amulet felt as if it were made out of bone -- and upon closer examination, he recognized it as a bone from a human hand, stained black.

"So this is a Mortis charm?" he asked.

"It is," the sorcerer confirmed. "It's odd -- I've known what that thing is for decades, but I've always thought it was merely a charm to ward off death and illnesses. I never even dreamed that such a thing could actually send a mortal into Death's domain..."

Graham stared coldly at Manannan as the sorcerer spoke. Was the cat-wizard truly scheming to kill him, or was he truly desperate enough to aid his foes in order to regain his humanity? There was only one way to find out...but there was another uncertainty that was troubling Graham as well.

"Sorcerer, once I have reached my destination, how do I return to this world?"

"I asked the cat about it while you were gone, and apparently you just need to recite the same phrase you say to enter the realm -- seven times as well, of course."

"What if I can't remember the phrase once I'm there?" Graham asked, who certainly couldn't recall it now.

"Don't worry, I'll write it down for you," the sorcerer said. He walked over to one of the room's cluttered desks and began rummaging about, looking for a quill and paper. As he searched, Graham slipped the Mortis charm over his neck. He didn't feel any different wearing the charm, but a trinket powerful enough to open a doorway to another realm undoubtedly contained an incredible quantity of magic. He cast a look at Manannan once again, and prayed that the twisted old fiend was being true to his word.

"Here we are," the sorcerer said several moments later, returning to Graham with a small scrap of paper. "I had difficulty translating the runes to your language, but the phrase should be effective just the same."

Graham squinted at the scrawled characters and convoluted words on the paper and tried his best to pronounce the odd phrase. The sorcerer shook his head and spoke the phrase aloud. Graham attempted to repeat it, but again the sorcerer shook his head. The king's third attempt was apparently successful, since the sorcerer smiled and nodded encouragingly in response to it. Graham held the paper tightly and repeated the phrase written upon it again, then a second time with greater confidence.

After his fourth recitation of the phrase, the air in the room seemed to have grown colder, and the objects in the room had grown oddly indistinct, as if a dense fog had entered the tower. Apprehensively, Graham continued to repeat the phrase, the words resounding louder and louder within his mind every time he spoke them. As he spoke the phrase for the seventh and final time, the room had become a gray blur about him, and when the last words of the phrase left his mouth, a strong, howling wind came out of nowhere, nearly knocking him over. As the scream of the wind became louder, the room swiftly faded into blackness, and Graham could just make out a faint "Good luck!" from the sorcerer.

The blackness faded as soon as it had come, and Graham found himself in a strange new world. It was not a dark, gloomy place that could drive all hope from the hearts of Man, but a pale, misty place that looked like an overcast sky before a sunset. It was hardly the sort of place Graham would associate with Death.

The king was standing on a small, gray rock ledge, with no land visible beneath him. Wisps of cloud drifted slowly by, and directly ahead of him was a series of stone slabs suspended in midair, each one slightly higher than the last, forming a floating staircase, leading somewhere that was impossible to make out in the thick mist. As daunting as the staircase looked, it seemed to be the only route Graham could take.

As he stood staring dubiously up at the stone steps, there was a sudden gust of wind, and the scrap of paper with the magic phrase on it was plucked out of Graham's hand. Panicked, Graham prepared to make a grab for it, but just as quickly stopped himself and watched the paper drift away and become lost in the clouds. If he had reached out for that paper, he would have lost his balance on the tiny ledge and fallen...and if there was ground beneath him, it was a very long way down.

A cold shroud of dread fell over Graham. If he forgot that phrase now, there would be no way for him to return to his own world. All that he could do now was see where those mysterious floating steps led, and hope that he could find another way out of Death's domain...after he found Death.

Chapter 11:

Graham climbed the floating stone steps as slowly and carefully as he could, trying his best not to look down. Though the fog made it impossible to see just how high in the air he was, somehow not being able to tell this made the experience even more unnerving. It took all his will to limit his gaze to only the steps ahead of him and the thick mist ahead.

The never-ending silence that dominated the realm made the sound of his footfalls almost deafening. There wasn't even a distant whistle of wind in the air or the far-off call of a bird. This place didn't need to be dark and cloistered to frighten mortals, Graham realized. The absence of all familiar sights and sounds was enough to make any man fear it.

Graham suddenly stopped, his right foot planted firmly on the next step. A large shape had appeared in the mist ahead of him. He watched it intently, as if it were a fierce beast crouched behind some foliage. Then, one of the larger clouds that was masking the shape drifted away, and before him, Graham beheld something that appeared to be part structure, part landform. It towered above him like a fortress, yet it was not constructed out of stones or bricks. It seemed as if it were formed out of solid rock, though the rock looked as if it had been wrapped around itself and sculpted like clay. The top of the fortress was topped with long, sharp, twisting pinnacles where the stone coils ended, looking like solid gray flames frozen in time...if there was such a thing as time in Death's realm.

Graham slowly continued up the steps, refraining from looking at the peculiar formation again until he had reached the top of the surreal staircase. Once he had, he found that, like the steps, the massive structure was also hovering in midair, and at the base of the structure was a tall doorway. There was no door or gate barring the opening; there was simply a doorway. Praying that the Fates would have mercy on him, Graham stepped through the doorway, wondering who or what he would encounter on the other side.

The doorway led into a dark, narrow, twisting hallway, lined by the same peculiar rock that the exterior of the structure was made up of. There were no carvings, paintings or decorations of any kind on the walls, making the hallway feel as barren as a mole's tunnel. The hallway finally ended in a large, circular room that was much brighter than the passage leading to it. A look upwards explained why: the room had alarmingly high walls, but no ceiling, letting light from the world outside filter down, bathing the chamber in a soft, ethereal glow.

Somehow, the fog seemed to be present even within the structure. It swirled around Graham's feet and made the rest of the room indistinct. There were several doorways lining the walls of the room, but a strange, dark smoke obscured each one. Though Graham had no idea exactly what the smoke was, he was fairly certain that it served the same purpose as a lock on a door.

The king lingered on the threshold of the doorway he had entered the room by, uncertain what to do next. After several anxious minutes, a wind suddenly swept through the chamber, stirring up the mist and twisting it into a plethora of bizarre shapes. Then a wisp of gray fog appeared in the center of the room. It rapidly grew larger and denser until it resolved itself into a tall, thin figure clad in a tattered, faded black robe. A pointed hood partially hid the figure's face, which seemed to be scarcely anything more than skin stretched over a skull. Long, bony fingers affixed to sinewy wrists and emaciated arms protruded from the robe's oddly short sleeves, and equally gaunt, sandal-clad feet stuck out from beneath the robe's frayed hem.

Even though Graham had never set eyes upon this entity before, in his heart he knew that it had to be the one he had come to this realm to seek help from.

"Good day," he said as humbly and reverently as he could. "Are you Death?"

The figure's bloodless mouth frowned slightly. Then he slowly opened it and spoke in a low, hoarse mutter:

"Yes, that is the name Man has given me...though I am afraid your concept of days is rather foreign to me, mortal."

There was no malice in his voice, and the words he spoke didn't fill Graham with fear either. Death was hardly the dark, sinister monster that the king had expected. Death could probably walk the streets of any city just the way he appeared and not call any attention to himself...and, with a shiver, Graham suspected that Death did do just that, and often.

Death beckoned to Graham with his twig-like fingers.

"Do come in," he said politely. "It has been eons since a mortal has come to my abode."

As Graham nervously approached Death, two stone chairs materialized on either side of Death. They too were made out of the warped stone that the room and the structure were composed of, and hardly looked comfortable, but Graham, not wanting to offend Death, gingerly sat down on the chair offered to him.

"Before you tell me why you came here," Death said, lowering his frail body onto the chair facing Graham, "I wish to know your name and what part of the mortal world you come from."

"My name is Graham, and I come from the land of Daventry."

Death leaned forward slightly.

"King Graham?"

"Yes."

Death stroked his angular chin thoughtfully.

"Ah, yes...King Graham of Daventry. I know you."

Graham shuddered, wondering whether he wanted to hear what Death was going to tell him next.

"Your life nearly ended recently," Death said. "I was certain that it was going to end, so certain that I watched you for some time. I was quite surprised when your life suddenly grew even stronger and brighter than it had been before. You were quite fortunate then, King Graham."

Graham realized that Death was speaking of the sudden illness that had overtaken him several years before, just after his son's triumphant return to Daventry. If it weren't for Rosella's help, Graham's life would indeed have been cut short.

"And now we meet again," Death continued. "Only this time, you have sought me out. Why have you done this, King Graham?"

"I've come to you on behalf of my son-in-law, Prince Edgar of Etheria. I was told that something has gone terribly wrong with his life, and that I should seek out your help in order to heal him."

Death was silent for a moment, making a soft, growling noise as he contemplated what Graham had told him. Then he rose to his flat, bony feet.

"Come with me," he said dully.

Graham followed Death to one of the smoke-filled doorways. As Death approached the doorway, the smoke vanished, revealing another tunnel leading off what had to be the central chamber of Death's abode. Death led Graham down the length of the tunnel, which twisted and turned and grew increasingly darker. Soon, however, Graham could see a faint glow ahead of them, and when they reached the end of the tunnel, he froze in astonishment at what lay before them.

It was a huge cavern, so tall that Graham couldn't see the ceiling and so long that he couldn't see its end. However, the cavern wasn't dark or gloomy at all, for lining its walls were rows upon rows of brightly burning candles of various heights, fading into a dull golden glimmer in the distance. Some burned brightly and steadily while others flickered constantly. There seemed to be more candles in this cavern than there were stars in the night sky.

"What is this place?" Graham breathed, unable to contain his astonishment.

"This chamber," said Death solemnly, "Contains the lives of every living mortal. Each candle you see is a mortal's life. The tall ones are those of younger people, the short ones are those of the sickly or the elderly."

Death held out his hand and a candle appeared in it. Though it wasn't as tall as some of the candles, its flame burned strongly and steadily.

"This is your life," he said.

Graham felt a little lightheaded as he gazed at the candle in Death's hand. Death, apparently sensing his agitation, made the candle disappear, returning it to where it originally was in the cavern.

"So...when someone's time is drawing near...you 'put out' their life?" Graham asked.

Death frowned coldly at Graham, then softened and sighed shallowly.

"So many mortals say that I take their lives from them, blaming me for the misfortunes of their world. But I do not end mortals' lives. When a mortal's life is destined to end, I merely go to that person to make certain that their soul completely leaves their body. I don't deal directly with souls; I just make sure that they do not stay in the mortal realm to become what you call ghosts."

Graham nodded silently, trying to comprehend what Death was telling him about the inner workings of the afterlife.

"But enough about my duties," Death said. "What did you say that other mortal's name was, King Graham?"

"Prince Edgar of Etheria," Graham said. "He was born in the realm of Eldritch but now resides in Daventry."

"Ah, yes," Death growled. He held out his palm and another candle appeared in it, this one much taller than Graham's.

"Is that Edgar's life?" Graham asked hesitantly.

"It is."

"But there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it," Graham said.

"That's because there isn't anything wrong with it," Death said. "This Edgar is quite an unusual case, King Graham. Like you, I also visited him when his life had almost gone out. His soul had even left him, but it was still clinging to the mortal world, though it might have briefly been in the Realm of the Dead. Then suddenly he was alive, but his life had been jolted from his body...by this life."

Death held out his other hand, and in it appeared a tiny, flickering stub of a candle.

"This is the first time I can recall a mortal walking around in perfect health, yet living on a life that isn't his. This cat's life has apparently displaced Edgar's life."

"Is there any way that his life can be returned to him?" Graham asked.

"I believe there is," Death said after another thoughtful pause. "Yes, I am certain that it can be done."

"Then will you please return Edgar's life to him, Death?"

Death sighed a heavy, ponderous sigh. The two candles in his hands vanished.

"I admit your predicament has interested me, King Graham," he said, "But I do not grant favors such as this at the drop of a hat, as you mortals say."

"What do you mean?" Graham asked worriedly.

"Come back to the central chamber with me," Death said, brushing past Graham and entering the tunnel that led out of the cavernous room. "I'll explain there."

Chapter 12:

"As I said," Death explained once he and Graham were once again seated in the stone chairs, "I do not grant favors for every mortal who calls out my name and begs for me to have mercy on them and their loved ones. I also do not interfere directly with the lives of mortals."

"Is there anything I can do to convince you to help me, then?" Graham asked desperately.

"I believe so," Death said. "I will help you, King Graham, but only if you perform a series of tasks to prove yourself worthy of my assistance. I will send you where you need to go in order to complete each one, but you cannot return home until you have succeeded in all of them."

"What are these tasks?" Graham asked.

"Tell me whether you wish to embark on this mission first," Death said.

Though Graham didn't like the idea of blindly plunging into whatever plans Death had in store for him, he didn't have much of a choice.

"I do," he said firmly.

"Good," Death said, smiling widely, exposing several long, yellowed teeth. "Once you have completed the first task I give you, I will bring you back here and tell you what the next one is. Therefore, you do not need to use that charm any longer."

He pointed to Graham's chest with a long, sinewy finger. Remembering the Mortis charm that he was wearing, Graham gratefully removed the black bone from around his neck and carefully tucked it into his pocket.

"However," Death continued, "I may not be able to bring you back here immediately, because there are many dying people that I must attend to, especially now that I've spent all this time talking with you."

"I'm sorry," Graham said, unaware that his presence had been interfering with Death's duties.

"Don't be," Death said. "It was my decision to speak with you, so the fault rests only with me. Now, for your first task, I will be sending you to a land in the northern part of your realm, where you are to locate a -- "

Death stopped in mid-sentence and turned sharply towards one of the doorways. Graham turned as well, just in time to see the smoke obscuring it dissipate. Suddenly, his mind felt clouded and his eyelids became heavy. He felt his body begin to weaken, and though he fought with all his might to remain conscious, his surroundings quickly faded to a blur and a thick darkness swallowed him.

"King Graham?" came a hoarse, low voice. "King Graham?"

Graham slowly opened his eyes to find himself slouched in the stone chair, with Death standing beside him. He didn't feel any different than usual, and he still seemed to have a body, so he couldn't have died...

"What happened?" he gasped, cautiously sitting up.

"Something that was my fault again," Death muttered, shaking his head. "My brother told me he was going to pay me a visit, and I completely forgot. I suppose I should have warned you about him."

"Your brother?" Graham asked confusedly.

"Yes," Death replied. "I'm certain that you know him. He's kept even busier than I am, tending to all you mortals. I'm amazed that he was able to find time to visit me at all."

"But who is your brother, and what does him coming here to do with what just happened to me?" Graham demanded.

Death's wrinkled mouth shaped itself into a tiny, wry smile.

"What happened to you happens to all mortals whenever my brother visits them," he said. "He is the one that you call Sleep."

Graham stared straight ahead, his mind swimming.

"The poor fellow was so ashamed," Death muttered. "He's much too self-conscious for his own good. After apologizing to me about seventeen times, he gave me something to give to you when he departed."

"And what is that?" Graham asked, still feeling slightly disoriented.

Death held out a small, elaborately carved crystal vial filled with a dark blue liquid, corked with a piece of black cloth sewn into the shape of a bung.

"It is a potion which will send any mortal that drinks it into a deep, restful slumber," Death explained. "During which all of the questions and problems that may be preying upon his mind will be answered in his dreams."

"Well...tell your brother that he has my thanks," said Graham, taking the vial from Death. "I'm sure I might find a use for this."

"I'm certain he will be relieved to hear that," Death said. "He's so terribly sensitive. Now, where were we? Ah yes: Your first task, King Graham, will be to find and procure a fresh snowdrop."

"A snowdrop?" Graham repeated, rising to his feet. "But that flower only blooms in early spring. How can I possibly find one in autumn?"

"You will have to find a way to accomplish that yourself," Death said. "I am going to send you to a land north of your own, and there, if you are fortunate, you will be able to find me a snowdrop. Farewell, King Graham."

Graham was suddenly surrounded by mist, so thick that he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. Then the mist was gone, and Graham found himself standing on a low hill, looking down on a wide valley surrounded by tall mountains, which cast long shadows in the light of the setting sun. Several small houses dotted the valley, with a little grouping of them at the base of the hill Graham was on. A tiny road wound its way through the valley, and thick groves of trees sprouted up hither and thither.

Graham had no idea where this valley was, nor did he have a notion as to how he could possibly find a flower that bloomed in late winter when it was mid-fall. Since he knew he wasn't going to become any wiser by standing where he was, he began walking down the hill, heading towards the group of buildings that started to look more and more like a small village as he neared it. Hopefully, he would be able to find someone to advise him there.

Chapter 13:

The sky was completely dark by the time Graham arrived in the village. There were fires burning in many of the small houses, but most of the businesses had closed for the night. Only one business had a lamp burning outside its door, indicating that it was still open. It was a small tavern with a sign that identified it as The Cockerel's Spur. Two large men dozed in chairs under the eves of the tavern, and a warm glow came from the building's windows. Glad of an opportunity to get out of the cold evening air, Graham pushed open the tavern's door and went inside.

The Cockerel's Spur had many tables, but only a few of them were occupied, mostly by men who seemed too busy with their drinks to talk to Graham. However, there was an upset-looking young man seated at one of the tables who didn't look much older than Graham's son.

A large fire was blazing in the tavern's fireplace, and a door that probably led to a small storeroom was set in the wall opposite Graham, with a tall, muscular man standing beside it. Standing behind the tavern's counter was a man with bristly black hair and an even more bristly beard who had to be the barkeep. Behind him were shelves stacked with mugs and bottles, and below them were several kegs lined up against the wall. As Graham approached the counter, the barkeep greeted him boisterously.

"Ah, welcome to my humble establishment, traveler," he crowed. "I assume you are a traveler, judging by your attire and the knapsack you carry -- am I correct?"

"Yes, you are," Graham replied. "But I'm afraid that I have lost my way. Can you tell me what land this is, barkeep?"

"You are near the northern border of the kingdom of Monticore," the barkeep said. "I'm afraid this little village is too small to have earned itself a name, however."

Graham vaguely remembered Monticore as a small realm some distance north of Daventry and Serenia.

"Then I believe I am in the right place," he told the barkeep.

"I'm glad of that," the barkeep replied. "What brings you to Monticore, stranger?"

"I know it may sound ridiculous, but I was told that I might find snowdrops flowering here."

"Snowdrops?" the barkeep asked quizzically. "What in the world are those?"

"Small white flowers that only bloom between winter and spring," Graham replied.

The barkeep grunted amusedly.

"Then I doubt you will find any blooming this time of year," he chuckled. "In case you haven't noticed, it's harvest time now."

"I know," Graham muttered. "But I was told that they might be found here, despite that."

"Well, good luck looking for them," the barkeep shrugged. "I certainly don't know how you'd find these snowdrips of yours if they only grow in the snow."

"Thank you," Graham said flatly.

As Graham turned away from the kindly though unhelpful barkeep, he looked at the young man he had noticed upon entering the tavern, and saw that he wasn't merely upset, but downright distraught, as if he had lost everything that mattered to him. Though Graham's own problems were troubling him, he couldn't help but feel sympathy for the lad.

He slowly approached the young man's table and quietly addressed him. The man shakily looked up at Graham. His black hair was tousled, his clothes were unkempt, and there were dark circles under his hazel eyes.

"What do you want?" he said, his voice cracking.

"I want to know what is troubling you, and whether there is anything I can do to help," Graham said.

"What's troubling me is none of your affairs," the man said angrily. "And there's nothing anyone can do to help me, so leave me alone!"

"What makes you so sure of that?" Graham asked.

"I know no one can help me," the stranger trembled. "I just want to be left alone."

"Listen to me," Graham said gently, "I've lived much longer than you, and consequently I've gone through many more hardships and misfortunes than you, and if there's two important things I've learned over the years, it's to never turn down help that is offered to you, and never keep your misery to yourself."

The young man stared coldly at Graham, breathing heavily.

"If I tell you what's troubling me, will you go away and not bother me again?" he snarled.

"I promise," Graham said.

"Very well," the man muttered. "I live in a kingdom east of here, at the edge of a deep forest. My fiancée Jorinda and I were walking together in the forest one evening when suddenly, right before my eyes, Jorinda changed into a nightingale and began to fly away. I tried to run after her, but I couldn't move...if was as if I had been turned to stone. Then a haggard woman appeared, grabbed Jorinda and vanished.

"Soon after that I was set free from the enchantment that bound me, and I learned that that woman was a witch. She lives in a castle deep in the forest and changes any young maiden that comes too close to her home into a bird and takes her prisoner, and if any young man is with the maiden, the witch casts a spell on him that freezes him in his tracks so that he doesn't get in the way.

"They say she has hundreds of birds that once were maidens in her castle, and she loves their songs so much that she continues to collect more and more...and no one has ever even seen the witch's castle, let alone reached it without having a spell cast on them by her...Jorinda...my Jorinda..."

He had started sobbing as he reached the end of his story. Graham was inclined to agree with the fellow's claim that no one could help him find and rescue his beloved, but the king had had experience with witches in the past, and there was almost always a way to defeat them. Unfortunately, Graham had no way of knowing how the young man could deal with this witch. Then he had an idea. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the vial of potion that Death had given him.

"I think I might be able to help you."

"Oh?" the man said cynically, his face buried in his arms.

"This is a powerful potion that will send you into a deep sleep, and the dreams you have during that sleep will answer all the questions you have about how you can find Jorinda and triumph over her captor."

The lad looked up at Graham.

"Are you speaking the truth?" he asked coldly. "Or are you merely trying to play a cruel joke on me?"

"I swear by all the stars in the heavens that I'm not trying to trick you," Graham said. "I'm only trying to help you."

He stared earnestly at the young man, who stared back at him through weary, bloodshot eyes.

"You do seem like an honest fellow," he said softly. "And I must admit that I haven't been able to sleep for days...I suppose I would be a fool to refuse that potion."

He slowly took the vial from Graham and solemnly thanked him.

"If this truly does work," he said, holding the vial up and watching the blue liquid in it shine in the lantern light, "I'll never be able to thank you enough. All that I can give you to thank you right now are these."

He pulled two gold pieces from his pocket and handed them to Graham. As he did, Graham suddenly remembered that he had left the pouch of gold coins he had brought to the sorcerer's house in his room while he was preparing to leave Daventry, and immediately felt just as grateful to the young man as the young man felt towards him.

The man slowly rose from his seat at the table.

"I should be leaving now," he said. "By the way, I suppose it was rude of me not to introduce myself: My name is Joringel."

He extended his hand, which Graham shook.

"My name is Graham," the king said. "And if we ever meet again, I hope circumstances will be better than they currently are for both of us."

Joringel nodded and left the tavern. After a few moments, Graham began to move towards the door as well, but just as he was about to grasp the door's handle, something struck the left side of his face. He turned in the direction that the projectile seemed to have come from, but saw nothing except an empty table in the tavern's corner. He turned back to the door again, but was once more hit with something that seemed no larger than a tiny pebble.

This time, Graham decided to take a closer look at the empty table. As he approached it, he was startled to see a man holding a sling standing on top of the table -- a man that didn't seem more than three inches tall.

Chapter 14:

"Closer," the man said to Graham, in a voice surprisingly loud for his small size. "Closer. Now sit down."

Graham obeyed the tiny man, too dumbfounded at the moment to ask why. It was difficult for the king to make out the details in the man's face, but all that he could tell was that the man was quite muscular, had dark brown hair, wore a quiver of arrows on his back and a sword at his side, which appeared to be nothing more than a needle.

"The reason I called you over here is that I am in need of your assistance," the man said curtly, tucking his sling away. "Do you see that big oaf standing near that door?"

He pointed towards the large man beside the door to the right of the tavern's counter. Graham glanced at the man and nodded.

"There are currently several men in the room behind that door," the tiny man said, "And a some of them are discussing a topic which I must listen in on. I need you to carry me into that room, and now."

"But why me?" Graham asked suspiciously. "And what sort of men are in that room?"

"No time for questions," the tiny man said impatiently. "You must take me in there now. I'll answer any questions you have later. Now hold still."

Astounded by the man's audacity, Graham sat frozen as the little individual leapt clambered up his sleeve with startling quickness, climbed up the side of his head and nestled inside the brim of his hat.

"Now listen to me," the tiny man hissed in a much quieter voice, "When you approach the door, the oaf will ask you for a password. It's 'While the watchdog rests, we shall work.' Now hurry -- move!"

Graham felt strange that he should feel so compelled to obey the word of a man that he could probably kill with one hand -- but this man could move much swifter than Graham, and Graham was certain that the man's weapons, tiny as they were, could still be dangerous.

"Before I go through with this little scheme of yours," Graham whispered, slowly walking towards the door at the back of the tavern, "Might I ask your name?"

"There are many names that people call me by," the tiny man said with a touch of pride, "But the only one I will answer to is Thomas."

"Thomas?" Graham repeated. "Just Thomas?"

"Yes, just Thomas," Thomas repeated crossly. "Now hurry! Remember, it's 'While the watchdog rests, we shall work!' And don't try talking to me again once we're inside the room!"

Graham slowly approached the door. The muscular man guarding it looked at him with a pair of tiny eyes shadowed by bristly eyebrows.

"Password?" the man grunted.

Graham quietly repeated the phrase that Thomas had given him. The man peered skeptically at Graham for a moment, then shrugged and opened the heavy door. Graham nodded his thanks and cautiously stepped through the doorway.

The room behind the door was small and cramped. There were no windows, and the only light in the room came from several lanterns placed upon a number of oak tables. Sitting at these tables were men talking in low voices, most of them with thick beards and hardened looks on their faces, dressed in shabby clothing. Many had knapsacks at their sides. Some sat alone, some sat in pairs or trios, but the largest grouping of men was at the far side of the room, crowded around a table that seemed much too small to accommodate all of them.

Graham felt something tug at a lock of his hair, followed by a small, stern voice from his hat:

"Move slowly and act completely disinterested in everything," Thomas said. "At the same time, move close enough to each group so I can hear what they're saying. I'll tell you what to say if any of them should speak to you. Now go!"

Graham reluctantly obeyed Thomas and casually shuffled over towards the nearest group of men, who were hunched over a table by the door. As he grew closer, he could make out snatches of their conversation.

"They say he'll be riding along the east road," one of the men growled.

"But all the men I've talked to say he'll be on the south road," another man protested. "Should we watch both roads, or have everyone watch one of the two roads, in hopes that it is the right one? We may not get a chance like this again."

"Keep moving," Thomas suddenly whispered.

Graham slowly turned and walked idly towards a pair of men who appeared to be boasting about their latest accomplishments -- all of which involved theft.

"Move on to the next group," Thomas urged.

Graham continued moving from one table to the next, hearing more and more unpleasant snatches of conversations from the men that sat around them. This room seemed to be full of morally bereft scoundrels that relied on nothing but robbery to support themselves, and probably wouldn't be below killing in cold blood either.

Finally, Graham reached the largest gathering of men at the far side of the room. When he started to overhear what they were talking about, Thomas excitedly hissed:

"Stop -- but don't stay in one place. Wander around the table and occasionally lean against the wall and stare at the floor. Just be sure to stay close enough so that I can hear them. I'll tell you when we can leave."

Graham did what the tiny man asked, idling around the table, pretending not to notice them. As he did this, he listened to the men's conversation and learned that they were planning to ransack a large mansion in a nearby town the following evening. The leader of the mob, a large, muscular man with a scar across his nose, went into exacting detail about where each of the men were to be stationed during the robbery to ensure that none of them were