The DreamLand Articles

Steven Lake

Dedication

I want to dedicate this book first to God for his boundless grace in blessing me with the ability to write, and the imagination by which to create all the great worlds, characters, events and stories that I have had the privilege to write about.

I also want to thank everyone who has helped me on this series, including all my friends and family who have provided help with editing, offered feedback, and more!

Author's Note

This short story anthology is the first in a series of anthologies known as "The Dreamland Articles". It is a unique series in the fact that each story comprising this collection must be based on a dream, either in whole, or in part. So as memorable dreams occur in my nightly dreaming over a period of time, I take the best of the ideas generated by them and turn them into short stories which eventually make it into this series. To learn more about this series, or other novels and short stories I've written, or works that are in progress, go to: http://www.realmsofimagination.net

Copyright

The DreamLand Articles - Book 1

Copyright © 2009 by Steven Lake

The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author represents and warrants that s/he either owns or has the legal right to publish all material in this book.

ISBN-13: 978-0-9826020-0-3

Published by: 2 MOON PRESS - 307 W. Michigan Ave, Marshall, Michigan 49068 - www.800publishing.com

All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

The Wicked Tree

Rogue dusted off his hands and smiled at his handiwork.

"That's a mighty fine bit of work ya done there, Rogue," said an old man standing next to him.

Rogue smiled. "Well, it's the least I could do after nearly leveling half your town fighting that grimmerworm."

The old man grinned. "It happens. Those grimmerworms are nasty little beasts."

Rogue's smile faded slightly. "I should have been able to beat that beast much easier than I did. For some reason I'm feeling a little weak today."

Just then a small blue parrot alighted on his shoulder and whispered into his ear.

The old man waved at Rogue and said, "Looks like ya gots another job to do. So I'll leave ya to yer work. Thanks for yer help."

Rogue smiled and nodded as the old man turned and walked away. The bird whispered some more in his ear. Rogue raised an eyebrow in interest.

"A wicked tree you say?" he said with intrigue.

The bird nodded.

"Haven't seen one of those in a long time. Which town?"

"Loverson," said the bird.

"That seems odd. That town has been clean for quite some time," said Rogue.

The bird frowned. "You can thank our mutual friend for that," he said sarcastically.

Rogue chuckled and shook his head. "Well, he is a bit unskilled in the higher magics, but he means well. I guess he's just trying to save some energy by creating rooks to fight the monsters."

"Uh, those aren't rooks. They're monsters he's creating," said the bird.

"Well, to him, anything that fights a monster is a rook."

"A monster is a monster, regardless of how it's used."

Rogue shrugged. "It's no worse than what I did as a young knight."

The bird's eyes narrowed. "Yes, but at least you weren't creating monsters to fight monsters," he said flatly.

Rogue laughed. "Eh, as his power grows, he'll figure out how to create proper rooks."

"Speaking of power, you don't feel like you're quite yourself today," said the bird curiously as he studied Rogue tentatively with one eye.

Rogue chuckled. "As always, you are correct. I am indeed not feeling myself today. It's strange, but I don't feel like I have my full powers for some reason. Probably just an anomaly that'll work itself out. I have been shifting between a lot of realms lately and my powers are probably just out of sync because of it."

The bird looked up at the sky as a dragon raced by, fleeing for its life as two other guardians raced behind it in hot pursuit.

"It's been like this all week," sighed the bird as a small frown crossed his beak. "And it's not getting much better."

Rogue smiled. "You're always such a pessimist. There are always weeks like this. Thankfully they're not as common as when my father was a guardian."

The bird shook its head. "If you say so. But I must be off. The list of assignments for today is long and growing, so I can't waste anymore time here."

The bird jumped lightly into the air and vanished. Rogue looked into the distance and watched as a large orange and red fireball ascended briefly into the air, and then vanished into a fleeting cloud of black smoke as a low, rolling boom echoed through the town.

"I should probably get going myself," he said to himself.

With a simple thought he teleported himself across the continent to Loverson and reappeared in the town square. The town was completely empty, save for several unsavory characters who loitered around a local tavern, and a policeman who was manning a roadblock on the north side of the square. The policeman quickly noticed Rogue and ran over to him.

"What took you so long? We requested your help hours ago!" he shouted.

Rogue raised an eyebrow in surprise at the rudeness of the policeman's greeting. "It's been a busy day," he replied flatly.

"Well, either way, I'm glad you're here. A wicked tree has appeared north of town and it's grown fast!"

"North of town? Hmm, let me go have a look," said Rogue.

The policeman raised his finger to point at Rogue, his face drawn in a scowl of anger, and then paused in surprise when Rogue vanished before his eyes. He looked around the area frantically, and then scratched his head in surprise. "Now where'd he go?"

Rogue looked up at the wicked tree from a small nearby bush and studied it.

"Good, it hasn't noticed me," he thought to himself.

He studied the tree from its thick roots to the top of its towering leafless branches.

"This is strange. Its huge and surprisingly powerful for something that just appeared a few hours ago. Especially since its leaves haven't formed yet to allow it to gather energy."

As he studied the tree he noticed what looked like a human face carved into the trunk.

"Ah, that's how you did it. You snagged a victim already," thought rogue. He extended his mind out to the face and felt the soul of a young man within the tree.

"So the tree hasn't been able to completely absorb him yet. Good, then I can save him and strip this tree of its power at the same time," he thought.

He studied the tree, its power, and its type. He would need this information if he was going to properly beat the tree, especially in his weakened state.

"I've got enough energy to beat it. The catch is, I have to rescue that young man first," he thought.

Carefully he formed a detailed plan of action in his mind. Finally feeling ready to face his opponent, he stepped out from behind the bush to face the tree. It immediately swayed towards him, its limbs bending down and its branches lashing out in an attempt to capture and consume him. Rogue struck back at the attacking limbs with a shower of lightning bolts that arched from his fingertips and incinerated the branches that reached for him. The tree quickly drew back its charred limbs and let out a great bellow of pain. Rogue grinned with devious satisfaction as the tree amputated the smoldering appendages from its devastated branches and quickly re-grew replacements.

"Nice try, twig for brains," said Rogue mockingly.

The trunk contorted and changed to reveal a large cruel face that scowled at him near the top of the main trunk. "Guardian," it scowled in a low, earthy voice.

"Good assessment," said Rogue with a devious grin. "If you know what I am, I'm pretty sure you know why I'm here."

The tree returned the devious grin in kind. "And you know that I will have to resist you," it replied.

"As expected," said Rogue. "This tree is surprisingly polite for a spawn of evil. Where'd you dig this one up, Morg?" he thought.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, he immediately thrust his hands out and focused all of his energy at the tree where the small wooden face was at. Immediately he felt the tree resist as he worked to separate the tree from its victim. For several moments the tree did not give, and then, as if gaining momentum against his opponent, the wood became like liquid and began to peal back from the face to slowly reveal a body underneath. Soon the whole body of the man trapped inside was revealed. He sat with his legs and arms folded together in a fetal position and remained completely motionless. Rogue studied the man and noticed that he had a very unnatural appearance, like a very well carven wooden statue. He knew this meant that he didn't have long before the tree completely consumed its victim and the man would be lost. Seeing that he had enough room to get the man out he released his attack and reached out with invisible hands to pull the man out of the tree and to safety. But as he released his attack the wood immediately closed around the man with such frightening speed that it surprised Rogue.

Again he attacked, spreading the wood like water and exposed the man inside only to find that if he maintained the attack, he didn't have sufficient reserves to pull the man out. So again he tried to switch from his attack to the invisible hands to rescue the man only to have the tree immediately close up again. The tree laughed mockingly. Rogue studied the tree, his chin in his hand, as he tried to think of a way to get around this new problem that beset him. If this were simply a matter of killing a wicked tree, the task could have been completed already and he could be onto his next assignment. But this was much more complicated, because it also involved the rescue of a victim trapped inside it.

His inability to access most of his powers also wasn't helping things any. Realizing that he was facing a stalemate, he took several steps back and closed his eyes, reaching out with his mind to anybody who was close enough to help. After a few moments he opened his eyes to find the tree once again stretching its limbs out in his direction. But as he raised his hands to drive them back, the tree immediately withdrew them with such speed that the air cracked with a sound like a thousand whips. Rouge's eyes narrowed as if to shame the tree for it's cowardly attack, and then smirked deviously.

The tree scowled at him, but did nothing else. Just then Rogue felt something behind him. He turned to see four other fellow guardians shimmer into view. "Central sent us to aid you per your request for help," said one of the men. Rogue studied the four men briefly. "One at my current strength and the other three at two thirds of my current strength. Not quite what I was expecting, but with our combined powers, this should be a lot easier," he thought.

The strongest of the four men walked forward and said, "I am Enemec, second paladin of the Orion legion."

"An Orion paladin. This is someone who really knows his stuff. Not as strong as I would expect for a second paladin, but I'm not going to complain," thought Rogue.

The other three men introduced themselves as first knights of the Segnant order. While only first knights of a weaker battalion of the Gemini legion, he knew that their ability to think quickly on their feet would be a big asset to him.

"I'm glad to meet each of you, but since time is at a premium here, I'll dispense with the niceties. Here's the situation. That wicked tree over there has a victim, apparently a young man in his early twenties or so. I've been able to open up the tree to get him out, but I don't have enough energy to pull him out once he's free."

"So what do you want us to do?" asked Enemec.

"I figure a standard diversionary attack should do. You go up high and prepare to attack, but hold your fire until the victim is clear. That should distract it long enough to allow me to free the victim. Once he's accessible, you three knights sweep in and pull him out, and then take him off to the side and heal him as quickly as possible. You're also our backup in case something goes wrong during our attack. Everyone got that?" said Rogue.

The four men nodded.

"Then let's do it," said Rogue.

Enemec lept into the air and immediately began gathering a large amount of energy between his hands. The tree quickly took its attention away from Rogue and the other three guardians as it turned most of its energy upward to defend against what it thought was an immanent attack from above. But the first attack was not to come from above, but rather from below. The three knights crouched down on the ground at the ready as Rogue fired his attack again at the tree's trunk, this time very easily spreading the wood to the side, fully exposing the trapped man inside. Seeing that the man was free, the first knight flew at the tree with breathtaking speed, grabbed the man, and then quickly made his escape from a now confused and disoriented tree. Everyone felt the tree's power fade almost immediately.

Rogue then quickly released the tree and began to gather as much energy as he could muster into his now cupped hands. As soon as the attack was ready, he shouted, "Now Enemec!" as he thrust his attack towards the tree. Enemec released his attack as well, the energy exploding from his hands in a brilliant arc of yellow green light that lit up the land around them brighter than the noonday sun. As the combined energy of the two warriors consumed the tree, it gave one final scream of terror, and then crumbled into ash and was gone. Rogue reached out with his mind and scanned the area but felt no further signs of the wicked tree.

"We got em," he said as Enemec alighted next to him.

"Not a hard one to take down," said Enemec with a simple shrug.

"With two of us, no. By not by myself. The added work of a rescue made it more than I could handle," said Rogue.

Enemec was about to agree with him when he noticed the rank icon on Rogue's collar. His eyes went wide.

"You're a fifth centurion of the Midas order!? Why did you need our help!? You should have been able to wipe out this tree with a simple thought!" said Enemec in surprise.

"If you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly myself today," said Rogue.

"I had noticed that. Did something happen earlier?" asked Enemec.

Rogue shrugged. "Not that I can think of. I have been doing a lot of shifting between realms lately, but I wouldn't think that'd do it."

Enemec shrugged. "It's possible. Wouldn't be the first time I've heard of it happening." Enemec then glanced over briefly to where the tree once stood and sighed. "Well, I guess I would have done the same thing had I been in your shoes."

Rogue grinned. "Any help is always appreciated."

The two men then turned to see a healthy young man standing next to the three knights, now fully restored to his human form, if not somewhat skinnier from his experience.

"He's looking a bit sickly," said Enemec.

"Couple of days of rest and some good food will fix that," said Rogue.

As they were talking, the three knights combined their energy and returned the young man to his original size, strength, and stature, including a fresh new set of cloths and all of his hair.

"Or that'll work too," said Rogue jokingly.

Seeing that he was healthy again the young man thanked the knights, and then ran back to the village. The four men then said their goodbyes and then teleported away. Rogue took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and then turned to walk back towards the village just as the blue parrot once again appeared and alighted gently on his shoulder. Rogue raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Another assignment already?" he asked.

The bird smirked. "You don't even want to know. Things have been so busy I feel like my wings are going to fall off."

Rogue laughed boisterously and said, "What say we take a little break and get something to eat. I'm famished."

The bird grinned and said, "Only if you're buying."

The End

The Plague

Stenos slipped out from behind a tall office building and studied the street before him. Dead bodies lay everywhere. He frowned as the haggard, plague infested form of a man slipped into view from behind a car, staggered, fell, and then lay still. This plague had now been going on for nearly three months and millions had already died in its ruthless grasp. Yet his group, the death hunters, had not found the source of the plague, nor even a single cause for it. It was their job to seek out the source of every plague, natural or super natural, and eliminate it. Yet the origin of this one had eluded them.

Stenos knew that this plague was most definitely not natural, because no physical cause, such as a bacterium or a virus, had been found. This meant only one thing: This plague was supernatural in nature. And if that were true, then he knew where this had come from: The Necrotan, the dark sirens of death and disease come from the earth itself. They were the only ones capable of such acts. Even if such were true, he could not hope to explain their existence, only that nature periodically released them to wreck havoc on the earth when one or more species overthrew the balance of life. He wondered if somehow mankind, as of late, had done just that.

He drew together all of his earth power and reached out with his senses, probing the world around him. He flinched as he felt death's icy grasp everywhere. The smell of rotting flesh hung strong in the air. While he couldn't smell it, his mind could sense it's presence, strong, pungent and deadly. But despite the putrid odor that filled the air, only clean, sterile, filtered air filled his lungs. This was due in part to the protective shell nature had placed around him. It was one of the benefits of being a death hunter. Him and his clan had become so strongly in tune with nature through training and perseverance that they had gained a type of symbiotic relationship with it which gave each of them a power akin to magic in many ways.

Stenos himself did not believe it was magic, but rather a harnessing of the earth lines, the power of nature itself that existed in everything. But this power was not just something that was there to be used, and then disposed of. It was alive, intelligent, and had a will of its own. It could guide him, and control him, but it would also answer to his commands should he require something of it. In exchange for giving his body as a vessel through which this power could do its work, it provided him protection from all harm and injury in return. One benefit of this symbiotic relationship was that the user gained highly enhanced senses far beyond those of mortal man. These had saved his life many a time by warning him of dangers imperceptible to normal people.

He sighed in frustration. Despite all he was doing to find the source of this plague, his efforts were coming to nothing. He closed his eyes again and searched the world around him. A small breeze blew down the street and tossed his cape gently as he reached out farther in search of answers. Still nothing. He opened his eyes and looked around, took half a step, and then paused. The earth lines had suddenly shifted. He could feel the change almost immediately as it had been dramatic and strong.

He raised his hands in a defensive stance, blue energy glowing like small lanterns from the tips of his fingers. He reached out with his mind, asking the earth lines for what had upset them so. But they told him nothing. He reached out with his senses and probed the lines of power, searching for the cause of the sudden change. But again he found nothing. The earth lines soon calmed and he felt the earth return to normal once more.

"A spasm?" he thought.

It was entirely possible. Since the plague had started, there had been many of them, each one as mysterious as the last. But to have the earth lines go suddenly from total silence to such a strong reaction worried him. The blue energy around his fingertips faded as he lowered his hands below his cloak. He took several steps back, and then several more forward, but felt no change in the energies around him. He shrugged it off, chalking it up to a random spasm and nothing more. He turned and walked down the street, his mind searching for the lines of death he had been following earlier. The trail was faint, but it was most certainly there. He hoped that it might lead him to the Necrotan itself. What intrigued him the most was that, unlike previous Necrotan, this one acted as though it wanted to be found. Most hid their tracks and their movements with overwhelming care, being sure to conceal their passage from any and all eyes. Especially those of the death hunters.

This had in fact become so common place among the Necrotan that Stenos had become very good at finding the clues they left behind as they tried to hide their passing. As he walked, he came upon a small hotel where dozens of dementia stricken plague victims wandered aimlessly, screaming, muttering and talking in strange, unintelligible sentences. He shook his head in disgust and was about to continue when he sensed something. He stopped cold in his tracks and looked around him. He felt as though someone had called his name. The voice hadn't been audible, yet he had still heard it.

He asked nature for its help in discovering what he had just felt. But it was silent as before. The silence worried him some, but not to the point of panic. Nature's voice had been silent before during other times of great crisis, so it was not unusual for it to be silent now. Thinking it was nothing, he turned and again he felt it. A voice calling to him from somewhere. But this time, instead of just feeling the voice, he also heard it. A hollow, distant echo.

"Who's there?" he shouted as he probed out with his senses.

But nobody answered him. He sharpened his senses and felt the complex dance of life and death swirling around him in greater detail than before. But there was nothing new. All the same sensations, the death, disease, and hopelessness that had been there since he first entered the town remained. He thought about the sensation, and then sent lines of earth power rippling out in every direction like great waves upon the waters surface. He felt the echoes quickly return to him, some strong, some faint, and some that cried the mourning song of death's embrace. He sighed and chuckled lightly.

"You're being too edgy. Calm down. Relax. Empty your mind and find yourself as one with nature," he said to himself.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. But as he was exhaling, an echo of energy appeared before him. He opened his mind"s eye in curiosity and studied it intently.

"All of the waves should have been returned by now. What has delayed this one so long?" he thought.

As he studied it, the image of a tall creature in a long, flowing black robe and wide, drooping hood appeared before him. He tried to peer into the darkness under the hood, but could see no face.

"Necrotan," he said quietly to himself as his body came alive with energy that leapt and danced around him like great blue flames of fire.

He watched as the cloaked figure reached out to him with a thin, bonny, decrepit hand with dagger like fingernails, and beckoned for him to come. The sensation and the image soon faded away and all he was left with was the incredible amounts of earth power that danced around his body. He relaxed and the energy faded away until no sign of its great power appeared anymore. He turned and looked at the front door to the hotel. Whatever was calling out to him, it wanted him to go there.

He steeled his resolve and strode forward with purpose through the meandering crowd that gathered outside, and entered the hotel. He flinched with disgust as he entered the lobby. It was filled with a combination of the demented living, and the disfigured and decrepit dead. He scanned the room and saw with his mind a strange glowing of earth power in a nearby meeting room. He strode over to the door, scanned the interior and found it to be empty, save for a small sphere of energy that rested in the middle of a great wooden table in the center of the room.

It studied him briefly, and then lept towards the rear wall, where it stopped, spread out, and then vanished. He walked up to the wall and placed his hand on it. The lines of earth power that ran through the wall astounded him! He closed his eyes and began to focus when he felt a presence enter the room. He turned to see a tall, muscular man in his mid forties stride up to him.

"You're a death hunter? Help us! You must destroy this plague!" he said, a hint of panic and desperation in his voice.

Stenos grimaced as the man's plague infested flesh seemed to melt off of him.

"I am hunting the..."

"You will not discover the death bringer!" shouted the man as his expression changed and a look of murder flashed in his eyes.

He lunged at Stenos, but was stopped cold as a thick wall of blue energy appeared before him and threw him out the room. He collided with a nearby support column and collapsed to the floor. Stenos began to wonder what had come over the man when two more of them raced through the door, screaming at the top of their lungs.

Another blue wall of energy appeared and ejected them from the room as well. Two more appeared moments later, but met the same fate as the others as well. After that, the room became silent again. He cocked an eyebrow and wondered if this little interruption was now over. But he quickly discovered that they had only been the beginning, as dozens more turned and began to approach the room with murder in their eyes.

"This is not good. I can repel a few, but not this many," he thought to himself.

He thrust out his hand towards the door and shouted, "Barrier!"

Blue glowing energy lept from his hands and filled the room. It then consumed the table, chairs, and many of the fixtures in the room and turned them into a roiling red blob of fire that quickly reformed into a series of steel plates that covered the doorway and the external walls of the room. He felt the power subside as he listened to the angry shouts of the people outside as they beat against the metal wall with all their strength. But it did not give. Satisfied, he turned to the rear wall again and placed his hand on it. He felt earth power flow out of it, down his arm and through his body as he pushed earth power into the wall to study it. His eyes widened with interest as he felt something on the other side. It wasn't another room, or a person, or anything local. It felt like a barren, deserted, far away place. But it was not one he was familiar with.

As he forced more earth power into the wall, he felt it soften. Soon he found that he could push through it as easily as walking through water. He paused briefly, and then stepped forward. Moments later he found himself standing in the middle of a large dry lake bed surrounded by tall, black mountains. Dark gray and brown storm clouds boiled overhead as sharp green lightning bolts ripped silently across the sky. He gathered his cloak around himself and thickened his protective barriers against the icy cold air that assaulted him.

Unsure of where he was, he reached out with his senses and found someone standing behind him. He turned to see the cloaked, hooded figure of his vision standing before him. In his right hand he held a long battered staff of black ivory stone from which hung various talismans of death, disease, and suffering. Stenos' body came alive with earth power as he prepared for what was an almost certain battle to the death with the creature before him.

The creature raised its right hand and said in a reverberating, sharp hissing voice, "Stay your hand death hunter."

"What do you want Necrotan?" asked Stenos, his eyes narrowing.

"I do not wish to fight you. Instead, I wish to give you something. A cure to the plague that ravages your land," said the Necrotan.

"And why would you do that?" asked Stenos suspiciously.

The creature gave out a long, raspy sigh, and said, "I have sinned against nature and my order, and while I cannot return to what I once was, I wish to make repentance by doing at least one act of good before you destroy me."

The creature turned towards the mountains and studied them with interest for several moments, and then turned back to Stenos.

"It is hard for me to say this, but I want to ask your forgiveness. Living in this land for all these years has made me realize my foolishness. If I could take back all the years I have wasted, and all the harm that I have done, I would. But I am accursed now and as such I am banished to this form and this land until death takes me or time passes away."

Stenos raised an eyebrow in interest, but did not lower his defenses.

"Who are you?" he asked cautiously.

The creature raised its hands to its hood, paused briefly, and then tossed it back to reveal the deformed, withered, half rotted face of a man. Stenos gasped in surprise as he recognized immediately who it was!

"Yes, it is I, my friend," said the man. "I, am the plague."

The End

Ferret's Folly

Two little heads peaked out of the grass near the shoreline and cautiously searched the area. After a moment they stood up to reveal long, sleek ferret bodies covered in soft, light brown fur striped with black and gray that tossed about gently in the gentle afternoon sea breeze.

"Do you see anything?" said the smaller of the two ferrets.

The larger one twitched his whiskers and sniffed the air. "I think it's safe," he said.

The smaller one nodded, then the two vanished into the grass and scurried closer to the edge of the beach. As they arrived, the larger one peaked his head out again and surveyed the beach.

"I think it's safe to change now. I don't think we were followed," he said.

The smaller ferret took a deep breath, closed her eyes and gave two nods of her head. Her slender furry body began to grow rapidly in size and change from a covering of fur to a gently flowing brown and green forest blouse and skirt that tossed lightly in the breeze as long, golden blond strands of hair appeared, floating like thin fluffy clouds among the grasses. The other ferret began changing as well, soon taking on the shape of a strapping young man in a light green tunic and brown shorts that showed off gently tanned skin that hinted at a dashing physique in the making. The two children giggled to each other as they realized they had succeeded in their escape from the castle.

"I wonder what poor nanny is thinking right now. She has to be going bonkers searching the entire castle for us," said the girl with a great big jolly smile.

The boy rolled his eyes. "Nanny? She's the least of my worries. I always have to deal with Rotifer."

The girl snickered.

"Come on, let's take the boat out and go sailing!" said the boy.

The girl squealed with glee, and then followed him down to the beach where they walked up to a large row of shrubs, paused, then with a dash of flair, grabbed the leaves and pulled. The shrubs flickered, and then changed into a thick flowing burlap cloak that fluttered to the ground beside a small wooden sailboat, in which were several boxes of food and some cooking gear. The boy folded up the large burlap cloak and set it to the side, and then quickly set to work removing the boxes from the boat. Once they finished, they dragged the boat to the edge of the shore and launched it into the water. They then they raised the sail and hung on tight as the breeze picked up and drove the little craft far out into the lake. For several hours they sailed up and down the coast, enjoying the warm, moist air as they basked in the brilliance of the midday sun. Later that afternoon, they set about catching a mess of fish, which they then brought back to shore.

Once there they took the fish, and other food they had brought with them, and fixed a very hardy meal which they consumed with joy. After finishing, they then laid down for a long and restful nap in the shade of several nearby trees. They awoke again several hours later just as the sun was beginning to draw towards the horizon and the shadows of the nearby forest were beginning to lengthen.

"I think we should be getting back soon," said the boy sleepily.

The girl soon stirred as well and quickly helped her brother to gather up everything back into a neat little pile like it had been before. They then tossed the brown burlap cloak over the small pile and watched as the course brown material changed into thick, lush bushes again, once more hiding their private little stash.

The girl then turned to the boy. gave him a great big bear hug, and said, "Edwin, thank you for such a wonderful afternoon. It wouldn't have been possible without you."

The boy smiled and rubbed her hair playfully. "Hey, that's what brothers do best."

"Awe, what a touching scene," said a man as he stepped out of the forest edge.

He held a large, rusty cutlass in one hand as rotting teeth glared out from a crooked smile that festered amidst dirty, oily cloths. His beard was ragged and long, filled with matted, mangy hair that stunk to high heaven. Two more men stepped out of the woods behind him. One of them slapped him on the head and said, "You idiot! We were supposed to surprise them!"

"What do you think I did! Look at how surprised they are!" said the first.

The boy grabbed the girl's hand and with a gentle squeeze he said quietly, "Ferret, now."

The two immediately changed back into their ferret forms and raced off into the trees as the men argued amongst themselves.

Suddenly the third man shouted, "They're getting away!"

The other two men stopped arguing and turned to the third in surprise.

"What!?" cried the first in surprise and anger.

"They just scampered away!" shouted the third.

"Why didn't you follow them?"

The third man shrugged. The first growled, his body melting into the form of a great, mange covered wolf, and said, "Find them, even if you have to tear this entire woods apart!!"

The other two men with him also changed into large, mange covered wolves and quickly spread out into the woods before them.

"Quick sister, we must hurry," said the boy as he scurried through the woods.

"We'll never outrun them this way," replied the girl.

"We must seek faster forms," said the boy.

"But they'll see us!"

"Speed is more important than stealth right now."

Their ferret bodies began to change and grow as they ran, their soft brown and gray striped fur giving way to the bright spotted yellow of a cheetah as they quickly picked up speed through the woods. Their hearts pounded frantically as they heard the sound of nearly a dozen wolves closing on them in hot pursuit.

"Just a bit further and we'll..." said the boy, his words trailing off as he realized that their path was blocked.

"Quickly, this way!" he said as they turned down another trail and again raced forward at top speed.

But it wasn't long before their path was again blocked by yet more wolves. The girl screamed as they scampered through the trees in a desperate bid to escape the wolves.

"Who are these people?" screamed the girl.

"I don't know. I think they want to capture us."

The two children raced for their lives through the woods, but began to tire as the chase wore on. Finally the two children stopped to catch their breath and survey the situation.

"We're close to...Fenor swamp." said the boy as he tried to catch his breath. "We can...lose them...in there."

The girl only nodded, but said nothing. The two soon began running again, weaving their way in and out of the trees in a desperate attempt to shake their pursuers. But the wolves were relentless. Finally, they reached the edge of the swamp and paused for a moment. The boy quickly picked out a path through the murky water in front of them that would best hide their trail. He then changed into a brown fox and began to step into the water.

"Come on, we'll use this form to help us slip across the swamp. A fox's body is light enough that it won't sink into the ground, yet fast and agile enough to stay ahead of our pursuers who should sink quickly into the muck."

The girl nodded, then changed as well, quickly turning into a very cute, but distressed red fox. The two quickly and silently slipped across the swamp, weaving and diving through the musty smelling waters and over the moss coated grounds towards the far end in hopes of finally ditching their pursuers. But just when they thought they were safe, their luck failed them as two dozen massive wolves stepped out of the shadows and quickly encircled them. The largest wolf looked at the two children and smiled sadistically as it licked its lips in delight.

"Looks like we finally caught us a royal treasure. Your father, the king of Gest, has been a bad man. He refuses to ally his kingdom with the emperor of Westfold and become his vassal state. Well no more. When we deliver both of you to the emperor of Westfold, your father will be forced to comply," said one of the wolves.

"I thought we were going to hold them for ransom?" said another of the wolves.

"Oh shut yer trap. We'll get our money, and the emperor of Westfold will get his way with the king of Gest."

Upon hearing this, the girl's expression changed from one of fear, to one of blatant defiance.

"You wicked, greedy, evil man. You would use us for your own gain and profit??"

A sigle wolf stepped forward out of the pack and began circling the two children slowly.

"Oh, it's for more than just profit, young princess. You see, the kingdom of Westfold is ruled by a ruthless, greedy king who just happens to be a brilliant tactician. But he is also a fool. Once he has established a vast and well endowed empire, my master, the duke superior, will snatch it from under his cold, dead fingers. And when he is king, I will become the new duke superior. I shall then have wealth and riches behind the imaginations of mortal men."

"You are a vicious, brute! How could you be so mean!" screamed the princess.

The wolf gave a low, evil laugh. "It's easy when you're born evil."

Just then Edwin's ears perked up and his eyes quickly darted to the sky.

"Ferret, now," he whispered.

For a moment his sister seemed to ignore him, and then suddenly realized what her brother had said. He had only used two words, but they had spoken volumes to her. Instantly, the two children changed into their ferret forms and with one mighty burst of speed, they sailed past the wolf and into a nearby tree, quickly scaling it until they were safely in its topmost branches. Several wolves lunged from the pack and attacked the tree with vicious force, shaking it from root to tree top as the two children desperately tried to hang on.

"Be careful you fools! I want them alive!" shouted the head wolf.

As the tree was shaking under them, the princess began to sob.

"I'm scared," she sobbed.

"Don't worry, help is coming."

"Where?" said the princess.

Just then the sound of beating wings echoed in their ears. They looked up just in time to see two great falcons and an eagle swooping down from the sky towards them. The two falcons snatched the children off the limb and lifted them high into the sky as the eagle flew close in behind them. The head wolf heard the cry of the eagle and looked up just in time to see the children snatched from the tree and carried off to safety.

"No. NO. NO! NOOOOO!!" he shouted.

But before he could utter another word, a great muscular brown bear thundered to the forest floor, crushing one of the wolves and slicing another nearly in half with a swing of its great arm. The head wolf turned in horror to see the great bear staring viciously at him with malicious intent.

"We end this now, Vornar. Your bid for power dies here," growled the bear.

The wolf laughed maliciously. "You will have to catch me first."

"I won't have to," said the bear, a hint of cold satisfaction in his voice.

Just then two dozen massive falcons, and another three dozen gray bears, plus fourteen lions stepped into the light surrounding the large pack of wolves. He looked deeper into the woods and saw shadows moving between the trees in the shape of bears, lions, and several other great cats. Moments later his ears were filled with the agonized cries of his men as one by one they were cut to shreds, save for the few who stood before him. Suddenly, an icy cold, bone chilling fear ran down his body that froze his joints like the coldest winter.

"By order of the king of Gest, you, Vornar, are to be slain on sight," said the bear.

The wolf shivered slightly, and then relaxed as he quickly tried to regain his wits. If he didn't, he'd die here for sure. "You would not touch a servant of the Duke Superior," he said with a condescending grin.

The bear grinned magnanimously, and laughed mockingly. "Servant or not, you will die here."

The wolf glared at him.

"There is also one last thing you should know before you die," said the bear. "The king of Westfold knows of your treason. He has ordered your execution on grounds of treason. Your efforts to control the enchanted basin die here with you today."

The wolf's body went weak as the full gravity of his situation fell upon him. If the king of Westfold knew of his treason, then it was only logical to assume that his master, the Duke Superior, was already dead. Even if he survived this battle, his life was worth nothing in the outside world. He sighed, sat down on the ground and lowered his head as the bear cocked its arm back for the fatal blow. Consigned to his doom, he said nothing, nor made any sound as the claws and massive hand of the bear tore through his body like tissue paper.

The children squirmed awkwardly in the grasp of their rescuers as they tried to situate themselves in a way that would rest their tired arms. Then, just when they had given up all hope of having any kind of a comfortable ride back to the castle, a great eagle sailed up underneath them, and with a loving smile said, "Climb on my back, children." The two falcons that held the children set them down gently on the back of the eagle and then pulled away. As the two children clung tightly to the eagle's back, they quickly realized who he was.

"Mardivor!" they shouted in unison.

He chuckled. "Yes, it's me. I'm glad that you are alright. We worried about you all day. Then when we heard about the hunters trying to capture you, we came immediately. And it looks like we weren't a moment too soon either."

"We're sorry we snuck out of the castle and worried all of you like this. It's just that we couldn't stand another day cooped up in that place, forced to take endless lessons on how to be proper royalty. We're still kids. We needed our freedom for just one day."

The eagle chuckled. "I understand completely. But you will have to discuss that with your father when we return. I know he will be happy to see you."

"As will we," said the boy.

"Do you think they'll punish us?" asked the girl.

The eagle shook his head. "I don't know. But given the bravery and quick thinking you showed today, I am sure that will count for something. As chief of the palace guard, I may not have much say in matters of the royal family, but I am sure the king will at least listen to an old friend's advice. It's possible that I may even persuade him to be lenient with you."

The two children smiled and nuzzled the great eagle.

"Thanks Mardivor. You're the best."

The eagle smiled. "I see the castle on the horizon. What say we have a little fun before we get there?"

The two kids giggled and grabbed on tight as the eagle banked to the left and made a rolling dive to the forest below, and then pulled out just feet from the treetops as he sailed with breathtaking speed over the green canopy of the forest.

The End

The Gate and the Guardian

Paul's body swayed as he studied the wall in front of him. He relaxed and adjusted the mask over his face as the stench of burning wood, flesh and scorched earth seared his nostrils.

"How many rexes were they fighting?" he thought.

He drew his hands to the ready as the wall in front of him shimmered again. Two rexes had come through that wall just moments earlier and he wasn't about to be caught off guard twice in one day. Power rose within his body like a swelling tide as he prepared himself for another attack, his fingers glowing and crackling with a blue haze of energy. Then he saw it. A bulbous snout with flaring nostrils and sharp teeth pressed through the wall followed by two great yellow eyes and a body that could rip a cow apart in seconds. The ground shuddered as the energy in Paul's body ignited into a firestorm. He thrust his hands forward and fired two energy blasts at the rex. It disintegrated into a silvery blue ball of flame and energy. Several small blue shields appeared briefly and deflected pieces of bone and gore that flew at him.

"Reign it in Paul, reign it in. We're not trying to level the place," he muttered to himself.

He studied the wall further, but saw that it no longer shimmered. For the moment, the gate was inactive. That meant that no more rexes would be coming through. At least for the time being. He reigned in his powers and studied the room.

"Looks like most of them died before they knew what hit them," he said quietly.

He gave a small wave of his hand and a stiff wind blew through the building, extinguishing all of the fires that burned around him as it cleared the stench of death from the room. As the breeze died down, he walked over to a nearby desk and found a mutilated body laying on the floor. He gave a gentle wave of his hand and the body rolled over to reveal a faceless head. He grimaced in disgust, and then with another gentle wave, rolled the body face down again. He continued through the entire office in search of other survivors, but found such widespread carnage that it made his stomach turn.

When the rexes had attacked, they had been quick, deadly and brutal. It reminded him of a scene from a horror movie. His body glowed briefly with energy as the floor liquefied below him. He soon sank through the carpet and into the room below. He stopped just above the floor and then drifted sideways to avoid a pile of gore that lay just below him. He grimaced slightly, and then forced his mind to shut out the gut wrenching images around him. As he was doing this he sensed the approach of several men, all of whom where armed. He turned and floated out of the building, his cloak and neck cover flowing gently behind him. As he alighted just beyond the steps, a group of soldiers drew their weapons on him, and then relaxed slightly as they recognized who he was.

"Why are you here?" asked Paul sternly as he crossed his arms.

"Command detected a gateway and dispatched us to check it out. Looks like they were right," said a sergeant.

Paul nodded reservedly.

"Did you see any rexes?" asked the sergeant.

Paul nodded again. "I've already dealt with them."

"Doesn't look like you did all that great a job," muttered the sergeant.

"I was late," said Paul flatly.

The sergeant nodded. "Understandable given how many intrusions there's been lately. So, tell me where the gate is. We've got a mission to do."

Paul pointed a thumb over his shoulder and said, "Second floor."

"Alright gentlemen, let's go."

The men started to advance, and then stopped when Paul stepped in front of them.

"Get out of our way." said the sergeant.

"I wouldn't advise going in there."

"It's not your choice. Now step aside. We've got some rexes to kill," said the soldier.

Paul stared at the men for several moments, and then stepped aside. The men hurried inside, up to the second floor and through the gate. Paul shook his head in disgust, turned, and then paused. He knew the men's chances of survival on the other side were nearly non-existent, yet they had still gone through. He knew that was foolish, but at the same time there were many questions that had been left unanswered.

He sighed deeply, turned and with a gentle leap, sailed up to a hole in the outer wall of the second floor and stepped inside. The same small square of wall was shimmering again. He drew a wave of energy into his body and steeled himself. He strode purposely forward and glided through the wall with such ease it was as though it wasn't even there. If the rexes were attacking again, he wasn't about to wait for them to make the first move.

As he emerged on the other side, he found himself in an alleyway between two fire gutted buildings. The odor of burned flesh, smoke and fire hung strong in the air mixed with the gut wrenching stench of rotting flesh and decay. He took half a step forward, and then paused. Something felt different to him.

He tried to draw in more energy, but found that none existed around him. What he held within himself was all there was. A slight ting of fear nagged at the back of his mind. Without any ambient energy around him to draw upon, he was limited in how long or hard he could fight while he was here. He took a deep breath and walked down the alleyway and out onto a cratered, ash covered street. He felt sick when he saw the carnage around him. Then something caught his attention. He turned to his right to see five men running towards him with two rexes in close pursuit. He raised his right hand and with two quick blasts annihilated the two rexes. He grimaced as he felt his power drop quickly, and then rebound slightly.

"Be conservative, Paul. You've only got a limited amount of energy here," he muttered to himself.

He waved to the five men and motioned for them to come towards him. But as he did, a swarm of tentacles exploded out of a nearby building, engulfed the men, and then drew them inside. Paul heard screams of horror, the sound of rending flesh, and then silence. Seconds later the building exploded as the tentacles reappeared, erupting upwards like a geyser as they spread out across the surrounding buildings. Paul pushed off from the ground and back flipped through the air as a group of tentacles raced towards him. Several more erupted out of the ground below him, but were blocked by a series of shields Paul threw up to block them. He grimaced as this simple act of defense ate greedily at his energy reserves, quickly depleting the scant supplies he had brought with him. It made him appreciate the ample supplies of energy he had back home even more than he already did. He rolled to the side and landed on the ground in a three point stance, and then lept to the side as another bundle of tentacles lanced out at him.

He reached below his cloak and drew out a short, silver baton and pressed a little green button on the side. It quickly extended into a long double bladed staff that Paul swung viciously and systematically at the tentacles, cutting them down just as fast as they could strike at him. After several moments of fruitless effort, the tentacles withdrew to a safe distance out of the reach of the staff. They swayed and writhed together as one, like the flame of a candle, periodically stretching towards him and then retreating as though they were sizing him up.

"Ugh, that cost me a bit more energy that I expected. I need to get through that gate before this thing decides to have me for breakfast, or I run out of energy," he thought to himself.

He shifted his stance and launched himself at the tentacles, causing them to withdrew briefly, and then lance out at him. But to their surprise, instead of continuing his attack, Paul bolted for the alleyway he had come through and made a break for the wall at the far end. A thousand more tentacles exploded out of other nearby buildings and rushed at him like a tidal wave, their green and silver snake like forms moving with breathtaking speed.

Paul sensed their approach and spun around just as he reached the wall. He took two quick steps backwards, lept into the air, and then fired two quick energy blasts that decimated the closest group of tentacles. His momentum then carried him up and backwards through the wall. The moment he reappeared on the other side he felt his powers return almost immediately as his body drew in the ambient energy around him like a hungry child nursing from a fresh bottle. He gave himself an extra little push off the floor and continued to sail backwards as a morass of tentacles flooded through the wall in pursuit of him. With a quick thrust of his hands he fired an energy blast so powerful vaporized the entire building around him.

He enclosed his body in a fiery blue energy shell and rode the explosion for a good ways before it dissipated. Feeling that it was safe, he unwrapped himself from the energy shell and made a graceful landing in the soft earth below him. He stared in the direction of the building but found only a smoldering pile of rubble where it had once been. He reached out with his senses but could no longer sense the tentacles that had pursued him. Even the gate that had once existed in the building was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief, and then began walking towards a nearby air sled.

"There won't be anymore rexes coming from that gateway anytime soon. But what was that thing that attacked me?" he said to himself. He shook his head, climbed onto the sled, and then gunned the throttle. "This war gets weirder by the day," he thought.

As the sled slid off into the distance, two rexes eyed him from the cover of a nearby building until he was gone. They then turned and faded through a gateway in a nearby wall and were gone.

The End

The Gateway Knob

Rocky pulled a small box off the top shelf of his closet and opened it. Inside were several old rusty locks, an old skeleton key and a doorknob. He was amazed that the doorknob looked almost brand new, even though it's design was clearly from the turn of the century. Then as he stared at it, a memory flashed through his mind.

"Hey, John? Come here a second," he said.

A tall, middle aged man appeared from around the corner. "What is it?" he asked.

Rocky held up the doorknob for him to see. "Do you remember this? Grandpa used to have it in his toy workshop. It hung off of that old wooden door at the back of the room. The one that went nowhere."

John nodded. "I remember that. There were windows there too, but all of them were covered with bricks," he said.

Rocky nodded. "Yeah, and the odd part was that the windows still worked. It's like someone just bricked them shut without bothering to remove the windows or the door first."

John chuckled. "That's not hard to believe. When they built the new drugstore next door to grandpa's old toy shop, they built right up against his building. Before they did, there was a narrow alleyway through there. Hence the door and windows."

Rocky picked up the doorknob and studied it. "Too bad it's just a doorknob. If we had the entire lock, it would be a nice addition to the hickory doors I put on my study last year."

John shrugged. "Why not just keep it and see if you find something to put it on. A doorknob that old in that good a shape is hard to come by. Besides, grandpa seemed to value it pretty highly. He told dad to protect it with his life. And now that he's gone, I can't see anything wrong with you taking on that task."

Rocky pondered this for a moment, and then nodded. "Alright, I'll do it. I don't know what sentimental value it had to grandpa, but if it had some, then it's only right for me to keep it as a family heirloom."

Rocky finished helping his brother and the rest of the family clean out his dad's old belongings, helped his mother settle into her new life as a widow, and then returned home to their own busy lives. For several months the doorknob rested quietly in Rocky's workshop, waiting for a chance to be used.

And then that day came.

Rocky walked through the house to his study to do some research on a project he was working on for the college physics department. As he reached for the door handle, he heard a disheartening pop and felt the door handle crumble in his hand. He held up the shattered knob and noticed that the ornate wood that it was made from had dry rotted and was now falling apart.

"I knew I should have stuck with brass handles," he muttered.

He trotted down to his workshop and fumbled through dozens of draws and bins of assorted parts and pieces in search of a replacement. After nearly twenty minutes of fruitless searching, he stopped and rested his hands on his hips as he thought.

"Don't I have any spare door handles?" he wondered.

Just then he remembered the doorknob he had brought home with him from his dad's old workshop. He quickly reached up on a nearby shelf, pulled down a small box and fished out the doorknob. He quickly put the box away and strolled back into the house.

He took a few quick seconds, placed the doorknob over the post where the previous handle had been, and gave it a firm push to seat it. When he did he heard a soft click, and then a chime. Curious, he looked down at the doorknob and was surprised to see a small, glowing green square on the door just above the doorknob. He bent down to study it closer. In the center of the square was a dark blue number one highlighted in a glowing white aura. He put his hand over the square and found that the light was coming from inside the door, not from the room itself.

"That's odd," he thought as he examined it further.

He reached down and turned the knob to open the door, but instead heard a "click, click, click". He looked at the doorknob curiously, and was surprised to see that the little square had changed. It now contained the number four, but in a slightly lighter blue. This really puzzled him. He knelt down in front of the doorknob and gently turned it to the right again. Again it clicked, and again the number on the door, and its color, changed. Puzzled, he fished his reading glasses out of his shirt pocket, pulled the knob off the door, and studied it.

There was nothing unusual about it. No holes, or creases or anything that would indicate that it was special. He glanced over at the door and noticed that the small green square was gone. He shrugged, and put the doorknob on the post and pressed down on it.

Again he heard a little click, and the little square and number reappeared. He turned it back to the left out of curiosity and found that the numbers decreased. This strange doorknob was really starting to both fascinate him, and alarm him slightly. He pressed in on the doorknob a second time, thinking that since the first time he had pressed it had brought about the green box with a number, maybe a second time would bring something else.

It did. The little green box turned a bright, fire engine red, and began to blink. Moments later he could hear the rush of wind and the roar of water on the other side. Fearing that a pipe had burst or a window may have broken, he turned the doorknob and felt the door pushed back at him as a strong wind blew hard against it. He pushed harder, but found that the wind was much stronger than he could have expected.

"Oh great! A storm's come up and it broke one of my windows," he thought.

He eventually flung his entire weight against the door and felt it fly open, fully expecting to stride into a disheveled study drenched with rain. But instead he found himself staring out across a darkened sea with three bright green moons peaking through bluish gray storm clouds that flickered with crimson red lightning. He took a quick second to look behind himself to be sure he wasn't dreaming. His house was still there, and yet a strange, alien world lay just beyond the threshold of this door.

"No, this has to be a dream!" he thought.

But the unmistakable smell and taste of salt in the air, and the smell of the sea told him otherwise. He looked down and noticed that there was sand just beyond the door frame. He reached down and scooped up a handful of it. It was cold, and wet, but it was definitely sand. As he tried to make sense of it all, logic gave way to panic. He grabbed the handle on the door, and with all his strength, slammed the door shut. Moments later the sound of wind vanished and the little red blinking square turned back to a solid green again. He tried to get his wits about him as he breathed rapidly.

"I've got to be seeing things," he said as he gasped for air.

Slowly he brought his fear under control and logic once more took over. He looked at the doorknob again and studied it. After several moments he took a deep breath and turned the knob to the right again until it stopped at twenty six. He tried turning it further, but it wouldn't go. He pressed in on the doorknob again and watched as the green box turned red and began blinking again. This time the sounds of activity and the clip clop of horses on cobbled streets trickled through the door. He could see a thin veil of brilliant sunshine peaking around the edges of the door frame. He cautiously turned the knob and swung the door open. On the other side he found a cobblestone street lined with strangely designed buildings of many colors with brilliantly colorful banners that waved from every window.

Even the people were dressed in a multitude of colors like jesters preparing to entertain a king. He cautiously stepped through the doorway and studied the city around him. At first nobody paid attention to him. But a man in a tailor fit gray suit is hard to ignore in a city of a thousand colors. After a few moments the entire city seemed to grind to a halt. They all stopped and stared at him in amazement.

One man began shouting at him in a language he didn't recognize. Then two more. Then the whole crowd seemed to erupt in angry protest as they started to march towards him. Rocky quickly realized that something wasn't right and immediately retreated through the door. But just as he turned to close it behind him, something hit him on the head and his whole world immediately sank into darkness. The next thing he remembered was feeling the hand of his housekeeper shaking him.

"Doctor, wake up. You'll be late for your classes," she said.

He opened his eyes and found himself sitting in his study as the light of the mid-morning sun streamed in through the windows. He adjusted himself in his chair and felt a book tumble from his lap. Looking down at the title he realized it had been the book he had come for the previous night. As he tried to get up his head began to throb. He winced at the pain.

"Can I get you anything?" asked the housekeeper.

"Some tea and an aspirin," said Rocky.

The housekeeper quickly slipped away to retrieve the requested items. As he waited, he glanced at his watch and was surprised at the time. When the housekeeper returned, he quickly gulped down the tea and aspirin, and then hurried out of the house. Later that day after class, Rocky was sitting in the faculty lounge pondering what he had seen the night before. As he did, a fellow teacher came over and sat down next to him.

"Afternoon, professor," said the man in a light and jubilant tone.

Rocky nodded slowly as his mind was preoccupied with other things.

"Something on your mind?" asked the man.

Rocky took a deep breath and said, "Last night, the handle on the door to my study broke. When I went to get a replacement, I couldn't find a regular handle. So I took an old antique doorknob my father had left me, and used that as a temporary replacement. But that's when things got strange. When I put it on the door to my study, it chimed and a small green square appeared on the door with a number in the middle of it. The number went up or down depending on which way I turned it. If I pressed it again, the square would turn red and a strange, alien world would appear on the other side. I could have sworn I was dreaming, yet there it was, real as the nose on my face."

The man laughed. "Then what happened?" he asked.

"Well, as any good scientist does, I repeated the events. The first time I turned the doorknob, I stopped when I reached the number ten. When I opened the door, I found a storm whipped sea. The second time I did it, I stopped at the number twenty six and found this beautiful, multicolored city on the other side. The buildings sort of reminded me of Florence during the renaissance."

"Were there any people there?" asked the man.

Rocky nodded. "They were all dressed in multiple colors too. But when they finally spotted me, they didn't seem too happy to see me. They started to yell and charge at me. Next thing I knew, my housekeeper was waking me up because I was late for classes."

The man smirked. "Sounds like you were having quite a dream last night."

Rocky shook his head. "It wasn't a dream. It was real. I remember every detail of it."

"Come now, doctor. What you're telling me sounds more like magic than reality. No doorknob can just open gateways to other worlds. You were dreaming," said the man.

"I know what I saw. If you don't believe me, I can show you later tonight at my house," said Rocky.

The man smiled. "Alright, I'll be there."

Rocky nodded. "I'll look forward to it. Until then, I've got a class to teach. So for now I'll be leaving. Good day to you."

The man nodded at Rocky and watched as he strode out of the room. Moments later another man strode up behind him and said, "So what did you find out?"

"He still thinks what he saw was real."

"Well? It was. The trick is, who's going to believe him?" said the second man.

"Nobody, so long as you got the knob. You got it, right?" said the first.

The second man nodded, and then laughed.

"Something funny?" asked the first.

"A famous writer once said that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic, or something like that."

The first man grinned. "Then I hope he enjoyed our magic."

The End

A Beggar's Chance

Mike walked slowly along a long dirt road as sand wafted up around him in fine, grainy clouds. He hated the desert. While he liked the sand, the general lack of water bothered him. He took a quick glance at his watch and kept walking. A small desert city loomed before him as the afternoon sun hung high overhead, baking everything around him like a giant bread oven.

He tightened the cloth mask around his face as he squinted between the thin walls of swirling dust, trying desperately not to breath the abrasive material or get it in his eyes. He soon reached a small side door in the wall that surrounded the city and studied it. He was surprised it was still in one piece, since the wood it was made of looked sand worn and dry rotted. He grabbed the handle and slowly opened it. The door sounded worse than it looked as it groaned miserably on its simple wooden hinges.

Mike carefully studied the street on the other side and noticed that it was surprisingly empty. He poked his head through, checked both ways, and then slipped inside. On either side of him were small wooden booths used by merchants in the city bazaar, all of which appeared abandoned and neglected.

"Wow, this place is in worse shape than I thought. Even the market is a ghost town," he thought.

He knew this couldn't be a good sign. Even in the poorest towns there was always at least a few merchants in the bazaar. Yet here, there were none. He shrugged and began to turn down the street when a woman called out to him from a nearby doorway. Mike stopped and glanced over at her.

"Are you a Remian?" asked the woman.

Mike pulled his mask down from his face and nodded.

"I am," he said cautiously.

The woman clapped her hands together in joy!

"Oh thank goodness! You are here to fulfill the prophesy!" she shouted.

"Prophesy?" replied Mike.

"Yes! There is a prophesy that tells of a Remian who would come to our humble town and take a gift of Royal Bread to the goddess Imimbia. When it is given to her, our land will be saved and our drought ended!"

Mike shook his head. "I'm not here to fulfill a prophesy," he said.

But the woman wouldn't listen. She vanished inside the doorway and reappeared several moments later with a large, steaming tray of a very sweet smelling bread. She quickly wrapped up two loaves and gave them to Mike. He eyed them curiously.

"Go! Take these to the goddess Imimbia in the center of the city and offer it to her as our gift in exchange for rain," said the woman.

Mike furled his brow. "Why can't you do it?" he asked.

The woman waved her hands furiously. "Only a Remian can fulfill the prophesy! If anyone else tries to offer the bread to her, they will be stuck dead on the spot!"

Mike frowned. "Great, a trigger happy goddess with PMS," he thought. "Alright, I'll take it for you, but once I drop it off, I must be on my way," he said.

The woman clapped her hands joyfully. "Oh thank you! Thank you, oh great Remian who will fulfill the prophesy!"

"Remian?" came a voice from behind Mike.

The woman looked past him and gasped in horror. Mike felt slightly uneasy as he noticed the woman's expression. He spun around and spotted four men standing behind him. He studied them with curious interest.

"Oh joy, the local thug brigade decided to send out a welcome party. If I wasn't so low on energy, I'd smoke them all right now and be done with it," he thought.

He studied each of the four men and reached out with his mind to feel their auras. What he felt was at least slightly reassuring. None of them were mage wielders. Of course, that didn't do him any good since his weakened state made him no stronger than they were. If he was going to reach his next objective, he'd have to bluff his way out of this situation. He turned and handed the small bundle of bread back to the woman and stared defiantly at the four men.

"Ah, we've got a tough one here," said the first man.

Mike pointed the palm of his hand at the men so that they could see the castling symbol of a mage wielder emblazoned in it. The men studied it and grinned.

"A mage wielder, eh? So, you're one of those special crime fighters who go about busting skulls and putting bad guys away, eh? Well, I'd like to see you put me away, punk," said the first man. He strode forward and put Mike's hand in the middle of his chest. "Go ahead, blast me, if you can, punk," said the man defiantly.

Mike groaned inside. His bluff wasn't working. It was right at this moment that he was regretting not picking up at least a few extra casting stones before leaving on his quest. Those would have come in handy right about now. But since he was fresh out of stones, and had no other magical devices with him, he would have to go back to basics and find some other way to deal with these thugs the old fashioned way. If he couldn't, he was a dead man. People in these parts didn't take kindly to mage wielders, and a wielder without his powers was a walking dead man.

He narrowed his eyes and said, "Back away, or I will kill you."

The man grinned mockingly. "Awe, what's the matter, little mage? Haven't got the energy? Or are you too scared to take a life?" he said.

The man pulled out a long knife and waved it tauntingly at Mike. Mike swore quietly. Just then his ears heard the sound of a sword being drawn. He scanned the deserted market around him until he locked eyes with a tall, robust young man in a suit of armor thick enough to stop a tank shell. He held a obscenely oversized sword in his right hand. Mike cocked his head slightly in amazement as he took careful note of the young man's weapon.

"Alright you four. Leave the stranger alone, or I'll have to seek holy justice on you," said the swordsman.

"Holy justice? Who is this guy?" thought Mike.

Suddenly he realized that the four men weren't looking at him anymore. They had turned around and were now facing the swordsman. Mike glanced towards the city door, and then the bakery. There was little chance he'd get past the four hooligans and get out of the city, so his only other chance of escaping was through the bakery. He turned and raced up to the woman, grabbed her bundle of bread, and slipped through the bakery while the hooligans were occupied.

As he ran out the other side, his nose caught the fragrant odor of fresh bread. He was about to unwrap it and take a bite when his senses detected something else. He paused and used what little magic energy he had left to scan the loaves. He quickly detected a strong poison mixed in with the bread. He smirked.

"Crafty. Very crafty. They make up a special type of bread that is to be delivered by foreigners of a specific country. If they take it all the way, they make everyone here happy. But if they try to sample some of the bread, they end up as a statistic. Well, I guess it can't hurt for me to deliver this to their local goddess. If nothing else, she ought to be able to enjoy it. After that, I need to find a shop that has jewel stones so I can replenish my energy," he thought.

Just then the sounds of a gigantic, heavy sword clanging against stone, and the cry of several frightened men rang out in the small city. Mike grimaced.

"Well, that's one less group of hooligans to worry about."

He then turned and hurried off to deliver his precious cargo of bread. Even if he wasn't able to do much else, at least he could deliver that.

The End

The Rescue

Bernard stared out across the mountain in front of him and squinted against the snowy brightness around him.

"Where were they last seen?" he shouted to a soldier nearby.

"Over there ma'lord. They said they were going into a cave to investigate a strange magical energy. That was the last we heard from them," said the soldier.

Bernard pursed his lips in thought. As he contemplated the situation, a large dwarf in a dark mages tunic, large floppy beret, and ragged shorts stepped up behind him.

"What do you think happened to them?" he asked in a deep, gruff voice.

Bernard sighed. "I don't know. It's unlike the captain to go this long without contacting us. Have your sprites found anything yet?"

The dwarf shook his head. "Not so much as a twinkle of pixie dust. This mountain top is cleaner than the king's silver. That bothers me."

Bernard nodded. "I as well. To be so devoid of even a trace of magic indicates something powerful that does not wish it's presence known."

"Do you think it's a dragon?" asked a tall elf as he strode up behind the two men.

The dwarf shook his head. "A dragon would leave an odor, no matter how well he tried to hide it. This is likely a hiding place for something belonging to one of the ancient ones," said the dwarf.

Just then a soldier stepped up on top of a large stone, and then suddenly disappeared. All three men looked at this with muted interest.

"I think we found our doorway," said the elf.

Bernard nodded. "Vermor, Elliel, get up there and check out that door."

The dwarf and elf both nodded, and then raced across the ground with inhuman speed. The soldiers above them quickly parted to make way for the two warriors as they closed rapidly on the rock. Suddenly, both men stopped cold in their tracks as the hair on the back of their necks stood on end. Bernard noted this with great interest. Vermor, the dwarf, slapped his hands together and summoned a speer. He carefully stepped forward and extended it towards the rock. As soon as it touched, the speer was yanked out of his hands and vanished.

Vermor's eyes narrowed. He looked at Elliel and nodded towards the rock. Elliel nodded in return and summoned a small creature in his hands that looked like an eyeball with wings. The creature lept up and fluttered over to the rock. It immediately vanished. Elliel closed his eyes and focused. He soon linked with the winged eye and began to see what it saw. It found itself inside a large, square chamber shaped like a giant water tank. Around the inside of the chamber was a narrow set of stone steps that lead down to the bottom.

With a simple thought from Elliel, the creature fluttered forward and over the edge. At the bottom was the soldier, the speer, and four other men. The five men all appeared dead. Over in one corner lay a large pile of bones. He opened his eyes and looked to his left as Bernard approached him.

"I have found the men, but I cannot be certain if they are alive or not," he said.

Bernard nodded. He walked over to the rock and reached out with his hand to determine the type of magic used. He felt nothing but cold wind against his fingers, and an eerie sense of nothingness.

"The cloaking magic on this door is immense. We will only be able to decipher it's secrets from within." "Then let me go. I will break it's will, no matter how strong!" shouted Vermor.

"No. I need you here. Your strength is noble, but your magic is crude. You also have no knowledge of the ancient spells and incantations. I will go. If this truly is a spell made by the ancients, then only I will be able to unravel it's mysteries."

Elliel grunted. "What if you cannot? Such sacrifice by the kings chief mage is foolish," he said.

Bernard smiled. "No magic is unbreakable. Some just takes longer to unravel than others. Do not worry. I will be fine. Now, while I unlock this door, take the time and gather the search party. We may only have a brief time in which to rescue these men."

Both the elf and the dwarf nodded. Bernard nodded in return, and then turned to the rock and stepped forward. But to his surprise he felt as though he had walked into a solid wall of stone. He stumbled back several paces and rubbed his face.

"Are you alright?" asked Vermor.

Bernard nodded. He again stepped forward, but was rebuffed as before. He summoned his staff as he studied the rock deeply, the rough hewn, crystal embedded rod appearing moments later in his right hand. He reached forward with it and pressed it gently against the invisible wall. With his other hand he fished a small green amulet from his pocket and wrapped its supporting necklace around his fingers so that the crystal hung loosely in his palm. He then pointed his left palm at the wall and began chanting an ancient magic incantation. The earth around them began to shutter and rumble as magic meet magic in a battle of wills.

But the opposing magic would not give. Bernard shouted several more incantations, and then stepped away. A blood curdling scream was heard from the invisible wall, followed by a powerful earthquake. After a moment, everything grew silent. Bernard stared at the wall with interest, and then noticed that a door shaped line of blue light appeared just above the stone, and then vanished as a large stone wall appeared behind it. Where the bolder had been, a door appeared etched with ancient runes. It glowed briefly for several moments, and then swung open. Vermor chuckled.

"Your skill with ancient magic still amazes me, even though I've seen it a thousand times," he said.

Bernard stepped through the door and vanished into the darkness behind. Moments later he reappeared and signaled to the others to follow him. They all stepped cautiously through and soon spotted the five men at the bottom of the stone tank. Vermor looked around in intrigued surprise. The room was very brightly lit for a cave of this kind, yet no source of light could be seen anywhere. He looked over the edge to see Bernard hovering high above the floor, beaconing for the soldiers to hurry. Not having the ability to levitate as he could, they quickly turned and hurried down the stone steps along the side of the room, followed by several medics who, upon reaching the bottom, quickly saw to the men.

"This one's alive!" shouted one medic.

"This one as well!" shouted another.

Vermor and Elliel lept gently off the top of the tank and floated down next to Bernard.

"This cave is ripe with ancient magic. It makes my skin crawl as though infested with a thousand fleas," said Elliel.

Bernard nodded as he gently rolled his staff in his hand.

"There is something wrong about this place. It is a tank for storing water for the dry season, yet it has no inflow and no drain. There is also the magic of the door. It was not a magic designed to keep out the curious, but rather to keep something in," he said. He looked over at the pile of bones in the far corner. "It appears that other creatures have stumbled into here before and become food for something. But what it is, I do not know."

Elliel floated over to a nearby wall and studied a strange, green moss that grew on it. The moss appeared alive and fresh, yet felt as though it were made of stone. He brushed his fingers across it, and was shocked when it crumbled like dust, revealing bare wall behind it. Suddenly, cold fear ran through the hearts of all three mages as a powerful evil emanated from it. A large, spidery crack appeared in the wall, and quickly widened as a strange, thick goo slowly oozed out of it, gathered form and then stared at the three mages. It screamed with indignant anger and lept at the three men. Vermor was the first to respond with a fire spell that vaporized the creature.

Moments later the steps along the wall retracted and vanished. More cracks began to appear in the wall as the sound of hammering began to echo from behind the rock. Instinctively, Elliel cast a retaining spell, momentarily preventing the rock from shattering. But he soon found his strength stretched to the limit. He floated to the floor so that he could focus all of his energy on the retaining spell.

But it wasn't enough. Vermor soon joined him and also found his own strength taxed to its limits. Whatever was behind that wall was powerful beyond anything they'd ever encountered before.

Bernard turned to the men attending to the wounded soldiers and said, "Hurry up! We must leave!"

The medic looked at Bernard and said, "But we are hurrying!"

"No you are not! You must make great haste, or you will die!"

"If we do not take care in moving these men, they will die!" shouted the medic in reply.

Bernard grunted. He turned to the other two mages and said, "We're going to be here a while. How are your barriers holding?"

"They are holding, but it is taking all of our strength just to maintain the barriers," said Vermor.

Bernard nodded. "Then let me help you."

He tapped his staff on the stone floor and muttered several consecutive incantations. The floor rumbled briefly as a large stone wall appeared from the floor and covered over the other wall that was beginning to fail. Moments later, large stone pylons appeared from the floor and the walls and secured it in place. But he could feel even that wouldn't last long.

Vermor grinned slyly as sweat began to pour down his face. "I need to grow as strong as you one day," he chided with a hint of nervous awe.

"We're ready!" shouted one of the medics.

Bernard motioned to the other two mages and said, "Get the men clear. I will follow you out after I have ensured that these creatures will not escape."

The two men nodded, and then quickly began casting spells of teleportation on the soldiers and the medics as the attacks on Bernard's barrier grew stronger. Soon, only the three mages remained. They watched with careful interest as cracks began appearing in Bernard's defensive wall. The three mages quickly sailed up to the door above and stood their ground as strange, water like blobs burst through Bernard's wall and began to take demonic shapes. With military precision and speed, Elliel and Vermor began shooting them down with fire, ice, and other assorted spells as Bernard studied the situation.

"Hold them off. I need time to reform the ancient sealing spell," said Bernard.

The other two mages nodded and continued their fight. Bernard closed his eyes, grasped his staff with both hands and began chanting a complex spell in the ancient language. Bernard's wall soon collapsed as more of the water like substance poured through the breach and quickly filled the tank. As they reached the top they tried to rush out the door and attack the three mages. But Elliel and Vermor fought against them with all their might, their magical skills pushed to their limits. Sweat poured down their faces like rivers as they cast one incantation after another in a slowly failing effort to repel the creatures.

It wasn't long before the two mages found themselves nearly overwhelmed and at the end of their strength. Just then, when it seemed like the water like creatures would win, Bernard's eyes snapped open. He shouted the ancient word for sealing, and then watched as all the creatures were suddenly sucked back inside, and then sealed behind a wall of stone. The wall soon vanished, replaced by the rock that had stood there before.

The three men sighed in relief.

"What was that?" asked Elliel as he panted heavily in an effort to catch his breath.

Bernard pursed his lips in thought. "I do not know it's name. But it is an evil of untold strength from before the great kingdoms when the ancients ruled this world. Even with my knowledge of the ancient spellcraft, we do not have the strength to defeat it. I pray by all that is good that it never breaches this container that is it's prison. For if it were to do so, our world would perish."

Elliel nodded. "The more I see of the evil with which the ancients contested, the more I am in awe of their incredible powers. No man of our day could hope to ever be an equal them. Contests with such creatures gives evidence to our impotence."

Bernard nodded. "That may be true, but some day we may relearn the ancient spellcraft, and become as strong as our ancient forebears. Well, either way, our work here is done. Let us return to the castle and see to the care of these injured men."

The other two mages nodded and quickly caught up to the soldiers as they made their way down the mountainside. But as they left, unseen and unnoticed by anyone, a small, wandering crack appeared in the surface of the bolder, and began to ooze a clear, watery substance.

The End

Eight Tries to Freedom

Edger stared at the large wooden church doors before him and groaned.

"Not again," he thought.

For the past seven nights he had experienced this same dream over and over again. Sometimes even several times in a row. And each time the results were the same. He would find himself standing in front of a huge church door, behind which lurked what he felt was likely the ugliest monster in the world. Edger almost wondered if someone had beaten it with an ugly stick one too many times. Or possibly not often enough. He heard a tell tale growl and scratching on the other side of the door.

"Oh joy. Here we go again," he thought.

He wondered why he had been inflicted with this seemingly strange set of circumstances. More scratching echoed at the door, and then a bang. After this would come a bone chilling roar, and signs that the creature inside was growing restless. He looked around the area to see if anything had changed, and then sighed. Nope, still the same old hallway, same old wooden church door, and the same old plain white walls that faced the fake church facade. He sighed.

"Well, better get going," he groaned.

He looked at the far edge of the facade and studied a small cubbyhole that looked like a little broom closet without a door. He had tried hiding in there once. A lot of good that had done him. It took the monster a whole two seconds to find him. He shrugged and then trotted towards the short hallway that turned to the right and lead away into the main building. As he trotted down the hallway, he passed several lecture halls, the library, the swimming pool, several classrooms, and even the cafeteria.

He had tried hiding in each of these before, save for the swimming pool, and each time the monster had found him. Yet, for a monster that was mean and ugly, it had never hurt him. If it caught him, it would simply remind him of what he needed to do to win this little game: "Escape the building and the grounds without getting captured." The requirement to win was easy enough in principle, but to date he had yet to succeed in escaping. He paused and shook his head. This was getting ridiculous. Then an idea struck him. If he could incapacitate the monster, it might give him ample time to discover how to escape from the grounds. He hoped it would be enough to help him win this little game and end the dreams.

He quickly looked around and tried to find something to battle the monster with. Getting an idea from his old high school days, he hurried down to the gym and grabbed a baseball bat. He then hid out in the locker room and waited for the monster. Sure enough, it found him with little trouble. As it trotted up to him, he stepped up onto a bench and swung at it with all his might. The blow was straight and firm, but instead of the ringing tone of steel on bone, he instead heard a light "fush" and felt the bat bounce off the creature as though it were made of foam. The monster grinned at Edger knowingly.

"Awe, nuts," thought Edger.

He tossed the bat aside and listened begrudgingly as the monster repeated the same set of instructions once more.

And then he woke up.

He glanced briefly over at his alarm clock and noticed that it was almost seven. Time to get ready for work. He groaned and rolled out of bed. A few hours later he strolled into his office with an espresso in one hand and a cream cheese ladened bagel in the other.

"If you keep drinking that stuff, it's going to kill you," chided one of his co-workers.

Edger snorted. "I'm more likely to get eaten by king ugly than die of espresso overdose," he quipped.

The man cocked an eyebrow in surprise. "You're still having that dream?" he asked.

Edger nodded. "Yeah, sadly enough. And all the creature said I have to do is find a way to escape from the school grounds without getting captured. You'd think I would have figured out how to do that by now."

"Can't you climb out a window?"

Edger shook his head. "Tried that. He was out there waiting for me."

The co-worker chuckled. "You're kidding."

Edger sighed. "I wish."

"Well, you escaped the building, didn't you?"

"I did. But apparently not in the way he wanted me to."

The co-worker laughed. "Well, I'm no expert at dream interpretation, but have you considered that you're having this nightmare over and over again because of something you're afraid of?"

Edger squinted curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I read somewhere that nightmares are our mind's way of expressing fears that we have, but don't realize are there. For example, you might be afraid of cats, but you don't know you are. So you start having nightmares about cats as a way for your mind to help you overcome that fear."

Edger snorted. "Unlikely. Unless the monster in my dream is a representation of my mother, I doubt it has anything to do with something I'm afraid of. The monster is never mean. He just pretends to be scary until he catches me, and then he's really nice to me as he explains the rules again for the umpteenth time."

"The monster is mean until he finds you, and then turns nice?"

Edger nodded.

"Ah, then the monster must be your mom."

Edger playfully slapped the man on the shoulder. "Oh will you knock it off. It's not my mother. If it were her, she'd like be chasing me around the house with a cake spatula."

The co-worker laughed. "So, have you tried escaping through the gym?"

Edger nodded. "I tried that and every other major room in the school."

"Hmm, interesting. Is there anywhere that you haven't been?"

Edger thought about this for a bit, then he remembered something. "Well, I've never tried escaping through the pool room."

"Well? Give that a try."

Edger shook his had. "Nah."

"Why not?"

"Because, that monster is psychic. Or at least I think he is. He always seems to know where I'm at every single time."

"Have you considered that he might be following your trail? It's not hard to think that he might be tracking you, and therefore anything you can do to cover your trail might keep him from finding you." Edger perked up at this. "How well does water cover someone's trail?"

"Pretty good from what I've seen. It's typically why crooks will dive into rivers to mask their scent from the tracking hounds."

Edger grinned. "I might just try that then."

Later that night Edger again found himself standing in front of the church door. Wasting no time, he turned and hurried down the hallway to his right. He quickly raced up to the swinging doors that lead to the pool and peaked inside. Close to three dozen people were in the water playing around and enjoying themselves. He threw open the doors and raced inside, and then quickly studied the room for the best possible place to hide. He soon decided that he would need to get in the water and wade across to the other side in order to properly mask his scent and allow him to mingle with the other revelers in the pool. The sounds of smashing wood echoed through the pool doors.

"Uh, oh. Here comes big and ugly," he thought.

He quickened his pace to the far side of the pool, and then ducked in behind several people who bobbed playfully in the water. The sound of heavy footsteps gradually grew louder as the monster approached the door. Edger quickly took a deep breath and slipped under the water. To his surprise, he could still see the door quite clearly, despite the fact that water normally distorts any light that passes through it. This worried him. And for good reason, as just then the doors to the pool room flew open and the monster charged in. Edger felt his heart leap up into his throat. The monster looked back and forth, scanning the room for any sign of him.

"Go away you ugly clod," thought Edger.

But instead, the monster trotted across the room, opened a second set of doors, and looked outside. Edger was beginning to become worried. He was also starting to run out of air. After a moment the monster gave up and quickly made his way out of the pool room. Certain it was safe, Edger popped out of the water, quickly caught his breath, and then dove back under just in case the monster might come back. But he didn't. Edger popped his head out of the water again a minute later, commando style, and studied the area. The others in the pool seemed completely oblivious to him. That had actually been an advantage, as it had kept them from accidentally giving away his presence. He carefully made his way to the shallow end of the pool and climbed out.

To his complete surprise, he wasn't wet. He found this interesting, but decided that now wasn't the best time to ponder this small curiosity. He turned and slipped through the second set of doors and was surprised to find himself standing on what appeared to be a loading dock. Not only was this unusual, considering all the other places he had been to in the school, bit it was also pitch black outside. Every other time he had escaped from the building, it had been high noon, with a brilliant yellow sun bathing everything in gold and silver hues. Yet this looked like the inky blackness of a moonless midnight.

Even the stars weren't out. At the bottom of the dock sat a beat up old Ford truck. Edger grinned, and quickly slipped into the truck. He paused for a moment and checked behind him. Still no sign of the monster. He started up the truck, put it in gear, turned on the lights, and drove off into the darkness of the night.

Then he woke up.

He studied his clock and noticed that it was only one in the morning. He wondered if he had finally beaten the monster's little game and escaped. Then he remembered that the monster hadn't caught him, or given him the typical speech on how to win the little game he was being forced to play. Maybe he had finally won. There was only one way to find out. He immediately rolled over, closed his eyes, and went back to sleep. He awoke again what seemed like only moments later to discover that his alarm was going off, and sunlight was peaking in around the windows.

He smiled. The dream hadn't come back. Maybe this time he had finally beaten the monster. He quickly got up, fixed his typical caffeine ladened espresso and cream cheese covered bagel, and then made his way to work. He strolled inside just like normal and was caught by surprise when everyone in the office stood up in their cubicals and began to applaud him.

"Hello? What's this for?" he asked curiously.

One of his co-workers came around the corner and said, "Well done, Edger! You finally did it!" he cried.

"Did what?" asked Edger curiously.

"Come on, the boss wants to see you," said the co-worker.

Edger smiled and followed the man across the office amidst continued applause from other people in the office. The co-worker lead him up to the door of the company president, and gesturing towards it said, "Go on. He's waiting for you inside."

Edger smiled, opened the door, and then gasped in surprise. Behind the desk, dressed comfortably in an expensive three piece suit and tie, sat the monster of his dreams. The monster smiled and said, "Come in, Edger. It's time we talked about the next part of your challenge."

The End

A Dragon Bound, A Villain Found

Zeek wasn't much for showy entrances. In fact, as a Guardian, he preferred to keep as low a profile as he could until he was called upon to unlock his powers and save the day, yet again. The less a Dark Rager knew about his movements, or even his presence within the area, the more likely he was to catch one in the act of committing a crime. Or worse, causing mayhem and devastation on an epic scale. Ragers didn't like to be subtle. Well, most of them anyways.

However, today Zeek was tracking an especially tricky Rager named "Zeus". He found the idea that a Rager would take such a name laughable. "What does he think he is, a god?" he once quipped when first hearing about the rager. But Zeus was anything but someone to be laughed at, or about.

He was the kind of person that was both insanely cruel, and insanely powerful. This made Zeek nervous. He knew he was only one of three Guardians capable of battling Zeus, and neither of the other two were planetside that day, having their hands full trying to put the moon back in it's proper orbit after another Rager tried to knock it from the sky.

He sighed. "It seems like lately our work is never done," he thought.

He stepped cautiously out of a nearby hallway and adjusted his cloths. He was more comfortable in the concealing, enveloping robes of a Guardian senior warrior, than the tanktop and Bermuda shorts he was wearing now. He felt extremely exposed where he was, and it wasn't just because he had so much flesh showing.

Inside his robes he felt protected, safe, almost invincible. It wasn't because the robes were impregnable, because they were anything but that, tending often to get completely trashed during a battle. Instead it was more the fact that he could be himself when he was in uniform, and didn't have to lock away his powers in order to conceal his movements. With them, he felt he could do anything. But without them he felt naked. He stepped further out into the hallway and studied the scores of people who milled about and walked back and forth, oblivious to the danger that lay before them.

Zeek reached out with his mind and began to scan the area. Zeus was somewhere nearby, scoping out the place as his next target for destruction. The only thing now was to find where he was at. After several minutes studying the passing shoppers, he decided to go for a casual stroll. He walked the entire length of the lower level in both directions, reaching out with the full power of his mind.

But he neither felt, nor saw anything out of place. Finally reaching the center court again, he stopped near the escalators to the upper level and wondered what his next move would be. As he did this, he noticed that the air began to become heavy, as though something powerful were nearby. Others around him began to notice this as well.

Then, before he could do anything, a powerful rumbling began, shaking the building violently as though an earthquake were happening. Moments later a large crack appeared in the floor. He saw flame shoot up from it, along with something that resembled lava. He swore slightly under his breath and began to unlock his powers so he could stop this calamity.

But then he stopped as a thought struck him. This might be Zeus' doing. If it was, his attempts to save the people around him would destroy his cover and put him on the defensive against an enemy he could not yet sense. This left him torn between protecting the people from almost certain death, and ensuring that he destroyed Zeus once and for all.

He reigned in his powers again. He hadn't gone far enough to be detected by anyone yet, so he was sure Zeus hadn't sensed him. But at the same time he was left with a conundrum. He was now just as vulnerable as the mortals around him, and unable to stop the destruction that was unfolding before him. He knew countless numbers of people would die. But if he didn't stop Zeus today, and end his reign of terror once and for all, the few people who died here would only be the beginning of what could eventually become a genocide of epic proportions.

He didn't like to see anyone die. But if it was a choice between a few hundred, or countless millions, he would rather it be the lesser number. As he contemplated the situation, the floor before him split open further to reveal a gaping chasm filled with boiling hot lava. A small group of people and a large section of flooring fell into the lava and burst into flames. Screams echoed from below, and were almost immediately silenced.

Zeek felt sick to his stomach. He would make Zeus pay for this with every ounce of strength in his body. That is, if he could find him. More of the floor gave way in front of him, putting him dangerously close to the edge of the crevice. He turned and bolted for the nearby escalators as other patrons within the mall scattered in every direction, some upstairs, and some out towards the parking lot or further down the mall.

As he reached the top of the escalator, the mall around him changed violently as the building twisted, turned, and was ripped apart. When the dust settled, Zeek was aghast to find himself standing on a tall stone spire that rested precariously on top of a stone divider that separated two channels of lava that flowed past each other like rush hour traffic.

He was baffled by this and wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He studied the pathways in both directions and noticed other spires positioned along the entire length of the twin channels which seemed to stretch away for miles in either direction.

Suddenly a demented, evil laugh filled his ears. He spun around to see Zeus perched on top of another spire that protruded out of the side wall of the channel to his right. An evil, sadistic, demonic grin filled his face as he crouched like an animal preparing to pounce on it's prey. Zeek swore.

How had Zeus gotten this close to him without being detected, he wondered? But he didn't have time to consider this, as his life now hung by a thread. He immediately began to unlock his powers, expecting a battle of earth shattering proportions. But before he could even build a reasonable amount of energy to defend himself, Zeus lept at him with all his strength.

Zeek watched this in horror, fully expecting to die in a blaze of light and fire, caught off guard by the worst possible enemy to life in the galaxy. Zeek grit his teeth and waited for the inevitable. But before Zeus could land even a single punch, something hit Zeus, sending him pinballing off several spires which shattered and collapsed into the lava below.

Zeek didn't know what had happened, but whatever did, he was grateful to be alive. Zeus had played him like a fiddle, and he had fallen for it. He quickly built his power up to full, changed from his civilian garb into his Guardian's robes, and then began searching for Zeus. To his surprise, Zeus was back where he had been only moments earlier. But he wasn't looking at Zeek. Instead he was staring across the channels towards another man perched very lightly on one of the spires directly across from him, his black clothing standing out against the brilliant orange of the lava below as his cape flapped gently in the wind.

Zeek zeroed in on the guy and suddenly realized who was standing there. "Rogue!" he shouted in surprise. Zeus cackled with glee as he grinned with malice at the man in front of him. Rogue stared back, his eyes slotted and fiery. Zeus then stood up, glanced at Zeek and shook his head.

"End program," he said.

Zeus's image flickered briefly, and then changed into the kind, friendly face of his instructor. Zeek looked around in surprise and then noticed Rogue leaning against the wall in a nearby corner. His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Zeek, who appeared to blush with embarrassment.

"Your student appears to lack the required skills to be Earth's guardian," said Rogue.

The old man laughed nervously. "Well, he's still learning. That's why I was hoping you might be willing to train him for a while. He's a great student, but you'd be best to finish his training. He's already gone beyond what I can teach him."

Zeek blinked slightly.

"Train? This was all a test!?" he thought.

For the past five days he'd thought that everything he'd seen was real, and now he found himself standing in one of the holographic training rooms, confused and somewhat embarrassed. Here was Rogue, the greatest warrior in the entire guardian force, and yet he had just made Zeek and his master look like a couple of idiots.

Rogue eyed Zeek briefly, and then looked back at his master. "I can train him, but only if he's willing to give everything he's got. I won't tutor someone who isn't willing to give everything he has to his training. Zeek snapped to attention and bowed slightly.

"If you'll take me as your student, I'll give you everything I can, and then some," he said.

Rogue's eyes narrowed. "You'd be better to give up now, and just go home. You have no hope of ever becoming my student."

Zeek grinned slyly. "Try me."

Rogue cocked an eyebrow, and then smiled. "Well, it looks like you might be worth training after all."

The End

Ms. Sophie

Ms. Sophie was a person of great heart, one who gave of herself in such a way as to reap rewards far greater than that which she gave. Her life was a simple one, born to a poor family, one of seven children, and a young lady who knew the meaning of hard work.

She was also a lady who knew the power of love and the benefits it could bring to everyone, and thus she spread that love everywhere she went as far as it would go. Upon graduating from high school she looked around her community and saw great riches, decadence and greed mixed with prejudice, poverty, and sorrow.

The ones who were hurting the most were the children, street urchins who had no family, no food, no shelter, and nobody to love them. They were orphans, cast out by society, and were either left to die in the streets like trash, or were hunted down and exterminated like rats.

Seeing this injustice, Ms. Sophie looked all around the city for anyone who would help them. But those that could, wouldn't, and those that would, couldn't. So with a handful of money, and a love for these children, she set out to build an orphanage in hopes that she could give these children of the street food, shelter, and the hope of family they so desired.

But many of the great families, those of highest order and position, did not want her to build such a place. To them it was an affront to their money and power, a perpetuation of a blight on the city that would only be solved by the cruelty of the streets and the cold bitterness of the night. These people did not want to do the right thing. They wanted the world formed in their image, a picture of gold, silver, and endless power run by underpaid servants who worked like slaves.

But God has an interesting way of punishing the wicked, and protecting the just. One by one he brought down the rich families that had opposed Ms. Sophie, each one bankrupted by their own greed until they ceased being the rich and powerful, and became the same poor and destitute people they so despised. In their place rose others who knew the cruelty of the previous power elite, and took strong steps to ensure that such evil never rose again.

And with this threat annulled, Ms. Sophie sought to gather together a collection of money to build and run the city's first and only orphanage. But despite her please, nobody wanted to give, and few, save for those of her family, wanted to volunteer their time to help her. But her simple kindness, and gentle grace slowly won them over until one by one each and every person in the city began to give freely of their time, resources, and income to help her build a home for the orphans of the city.

And with many hands all joining together as one, a great house was built to shelter them all. And just before the autumn leaves fell, the building was completed. But despite this small victory, the house remained empty well into winter. This was because, satisfied that their guilt had been assuaged, the city went back to its former ways and forgot about Ms. Sophie and all she sought to do.

But this did not discourage her. Instead, she went out in the cold, and in the darkness of the night, and found the orphans of the city, and one by one brought them into her happy little abode. For many years she struggled to find homes for each of them, trying for many hours each day to give to each of the children that which they desired most: A family.

But fate seemed to laugh in her face, as none in the city wished to even consider such a thing, especially the newly rich, despite many of them having come from such backgrounds. It was as though they felt that adopting one of these children was the ultimate carnal sin. But she did not give up. Even when the money ran short, she found ways to ensure that there was food on the table, a warm bed, and a roof over their heads.

She also worked hard to ensure that the children had a proper education. Those that could go to school were sent on their way each day, and welcomed home in the afternoon with a hug and a warm dinner. Those that could not, were personally tutored by her in the best way she knew how.

Then, after ten long years of hard labor, the first children left the orphanage to live on their own and seek careers in the world around them. Emboldened by Ms. Sophie's uncomplicated, kind, affectionate love, they came back often, giving both of their time and money to aid her work. Some labored to maintain the house and the grounds around it, while others helped in simple chores such as cooking and cleaning.

While many of these chores were done by the children who stayed with her in the orphanage as part of their training for life, some things were left to the adults, because despite how hard each child worked, there are some things that only grownups can do. And these former orphans did just that, helping her even at one point to expand the orphanage so that she could house more children that needed her care.

But after coming to the end of her resources one too many times, and with the people of the city clinging ever more greedily to their money, choosing to spend it on themselves in selfish ways, rather than give to help others, she decided that it was time her orphanage earned its own way. But what way that would be, she did not know.

Then came her answer one day in the form of an industrious young man named Peter. She had found him one night, alone, without a family, and barely skin and bones hiding behind a dumpster near a popular four star restaurant hoping to scavenge the scraps that were thrown out by the kitchen and the gluttonous patrons within.

She had nurtured him back to health and for ten years she worked to give him an education, cloths, shoes, food, and the love he so desperately craved. And when he was old enough to go out on his own, he found employment at a bakery where he worked hard and rose quickly through the ranks to become a master baker in just a few short years.

At this point he could have become the chief baker for any of the dozens of bakeries within the city he wanted, or he could have even started his own and done very well for himself. But instead, he came back to Ms. Sophie, and rather than just give from his income, or even from his profits, he gave her the one thing she had always wanted: A way to support herself and the orphanage.

Using his own money, and his numerous connections, he built her a bakery of her own. It wasn't anything special, and was quite simple by the standards of most within the city, but that didn't mean anything. Because this bakery was run by the best baker in town, and everyone knew it. And on opening day, they sold out of every pastry they made, and then some.

And it continued on like this for many more months. This was because the people of the town loved their pastries. Breads, donuts, bagels, sweet rolls, cakes, pies, and more. The people gobbled them up in incredible numbers, and quite often would come back for more. And through this all, Peter continued to work hard, ensuring that the little bakery provided Ms. Sophie and the now hundreds of children that called her orphanage home, all the money they needed to survive.

And as a master baker, he could have easily demanded a tidy wage. But instead, he took only a tiny salary, living very much like a pauper on his tiny wage, despite his high standing among his fellow bakers and people of the city. In doing so, he helped Ms. Sophie expand her orphanage once again, allowing even more children to be saved from lives of misery on the streets until not a corner or an alleyway anywhere in the city hid the shivering form of a child without a family.

But by now you might ask, how did Peter staff his bakery? With little willing hands from among those that Ms. Sophie had saved. One by one Peter took those from fourteen years old and up and taught them the skill of baking, leading them with a gentle, but firm hand, and teaching them a trade that would benefit them for years to come.

But not all of those he took under his wing became bakers. A fair number took to other careers, not because they didn't enjoy baking, but rather because of how he had treated them. To many within the orphanage, he had become a father figure in much the same way Ms. Sophie had become their adoptive mom. They often settled fights between children, held others tight when they were scared, and showed as much kindness as they could afford to each and every child that came under their watch.

It was because of their combined example that many had felt free to explore other avenues, and seek out other careers, some becoming doctors, some lawyers, and some even becoming businessmen and women of every sort and type. And as time went on, many employers throughout the town began to prefer those that had been raised by Ms. Sophie, as they were all hard working, honest people who gave a hundred and ten percent to everything they did, and emulated to others the same kind of boundless love that Ms. Sophie had shown to them.

But as time eventually brings an end to everything, such came true for Ms. Sophie. Despite how much she loved the children, and despite how hard she worked for them, she found herself able to do less and less each month until age finally confined her to a simple wooden rocking chair. She felt sad, imprisoned in a body that barely worked, but she did not give up. Despite how difficult it was, she would always rise from her chair each time to greet those who came often to visit her, or to tend to the children who were in her care. It was at this time that the years that she had invested into her orphan children began to pay dividends in ways she could never imagine.

A doctor and two nurses, each of which had been raised by Ms. Sophie, came and offered their medical expertise to her free of charge, tending to her aches and pains, and seeing that she was well taken care of in her golden years. Even more came and stayed by her side 24/7 when age finally forced her to spend the rest of her days restricted to her bed. Several more of her children came back and took over her work, tending to the children in much the same way she had.

Others came in and cooked and cleaned, did grounds work and even came to help in the bakery that had grown to be one of the most popular within the city. And this was good for Peter too, as age had also caught up to him as well, eventually driving him out of the kitchen and into retirement.

But he wouldn't go into old age with a worry of any kind, for the children he had tutored had grown very skilled themselves, and eventually took over the bakery he had founded, turning it into a grand showcase of flour and water, yeast and sugar, with tastes and smells and colors galore that would amaze and impress anyone, stranger or friend alike, who entered their humble doors.

But this was not the only success of Ms. Sophie's love. In time, those who hated the orphans of the city and were content to see them gone, were slowly taken out of the way by time itself, replaced by those who had been touched by Ms. Sophie's love. And this had caused another effect. Where once she could not find a place for any of her orphans, there were now many who came to her offices every month in search of children they could take home.

Some of the families were even composed of people who at one time were in the care of Ms. Sophie, and knew the love these children needed, and thus came and took home many of those in her care. Not all were taken, and not all wished to go, but of those that sought a home, a family of their own if you will, each and every one saw their dreams fulfilled.

But despite all she had done, and the greatness she had created, and the name she had made for herself through her humble service to the unwanted children of the city, she could not escape death. And on a warm spring day, at age seventy seven, she went home to God, surrounded by friends, family, and many of those she had saved from the streets.

On the day of her funeral, the church was packed to overflowing as nearly half the city came to pay their respects. Peter, his body bent over with age, and a cane grasped firmly in his hands, oversaw the entire service, ensuring friend and stranger alike would never forget the great and wonderful things she had so selflessly done for so many throughout her life.

And as they sat by the grave site and said their final goodbyes, Peter placed a single rose on top of the casket in remembrance of all she had done for him. That day, there wasn't a single dry eye in the entire city, and for many months afterwards, people both smiled and cried as they shared story after story of the great and amazing things she had done either for them, or for others they knew.

But of all the stories that were ever told, one important fact of her life always emerged as the key to who she had been. It was the simple, uncomplicated love she had shown to everyone. That was her one greatest legacy, and the one thing that had changed a bitter, selfish city into a generous, loving place where children were loved, and kindness flourished.

The End

Lion Hunt

Ted stood in his living room and looked out across his front yard. There was something yellow standing out there under the ash tree staring back at him. But he couldn't see it clearly enough, despite looking through the large picture window at the front of the house.

So he strolled over to his front door and opened it. To his complete surprise a giant, hungry lion with a cockeyed, wild look in his eyes stood on his front lawn and stared at him. "What the..." he said just as the lion gave a sick, demented roar and lept at him.

It flew so fast through the air that the only thought that passed through Ted's mind was the dreaded anticipation of the sudden burst of pain he would feel as teeth, claws, lion and glass exploded through the front storm door in front of him. That was immediately replaced by the horrified thought that he was about to be eaten. He knew he would die eventually, but never as a meal for a crazed lion.

But to his complete and total surprise, when the lion hit the upper glass window of the storm door, he stopped cold, and rebounded hard, as though he had struck some kind of spandex barrier and been thrown violently back.

The lion hit the ground awkwardly, rolled, and then staggered to his feet in surprise. Even he was amazed that he hadn't penetrated the door. Ted looked at his now damaged storm door and the glass upper half, and was baffled why it hadn't shattered like a grenade. By all rights the lion should have easily smashed through it. Instead, all he'd done was crack the glass.

Ted quickly looked past the damage and towards the lion who appeared to be preparing to pounce again. He quickly realized that, while the door had miraculously and mysteriously held up against the first blow, it most certainly wouldn't against a second. He slammed shut the thick wooden inner door and then backed up several paces.

He heard the lion roar angrily. The crazed beast wasn't all that happy with being denied his lunch, and was making certain everyone knew that. Ted stood there and wondered if he shouldn't call the police and warn them of the danger, or just go find a room to hide in.

Just then he heard a noise to his left and noticed the lion standing near his picture window. It appeared to be sizing up the small draft windows along the left side in hopes that they might provide him with the access into the house, and the meal, namely Ted, that he desired.

It was at this point that Ted had seen enough. He was going to call the police, and then grab his shotgun and kill the crazed animal. If the lion wanted him for lunch that badly, then he would have to school it on the realities of life using the Smith and Wesson method.

But before he could grab his shotgun, the lion lept at the vent window. But just as with the storm window on the front door, the lion hit the screen and was thrown backwards as though off a trampoline. Ted was beginning to wonder what kind of lion could be as big as it was, and yet be so easily repelled by such an obviously flimsy obstacle.

Deciding to contemplate this another time, he quickly rushed into the back room, grabbed his shotgun and some spare shells, and quickly loaded it. He then picked up a heavy rifle, loaded it, and then tossed it over his shoulder. In an odd way, he felt like a big game hunter ready to take down some giant ferocious beast of the jungle.

He grinned. Actually, he was in a way. The only thing missing now was the jungle. He racked the shotgun and then strolled to the front door, fully expecting to see the lion ready to leap at him. But instead, he found his front yard full of people. As he stepped out onto his porch, he looked at them in amazement.

"You do realize there's a lion on the prowl around here, don't you?" he asked.

One of the men nearby nodded. "Yep. Saw 'im head that'a way. Crazy lookin' beast, wasn' he?" he said.

"Yeah, he tried to jump through my storm door and eat me."

"Ah, is dat what happen to ya'lls door there."

Ted nodded. "Yeah, it is. Do you know which way he went?"

"He wen' off yonder, that'a way," said the man, pointing towards the side of the house.

Ted nodded. "Thanks. And while you're at it, could you call the sheriff? I think he'll want to know about that lion."

The man tipped his hat and smiled. "I right reckon I could. Naw you be careful out der, ya'hear?"

Ted smirked. "That's why I'm packing heat," he quipped.

He then turned and ran around the side of the house in search of the lion. The man watched him go and then grinned. He then transformed into the crazed lion and grinned slyly.

"And I right reckon you'll make a tasty meal."

He licked his lips, tossed his mane slightly, and then trotted around the corner after the man.

The End

The Cat Who Stood His Ground

My name is Robert, and I'm a cat lover. I find cats to be fun, loving, enjoyable company and great companions. One of my most memorable was a cat name Prince. He was a beautiful orange tabby which my wife got me on our fifteenth anniversary.

For the twelve years I had him, he was one of the best cats I've ever had. He's also my most memorable. Even today I shed tears thinking about all the things he did for me. But the most memorable is his last, because if it hadn't been for him, and my younger cat Tommy, I would likely not be here today.

Let me be the first to say that, whoever believes that only dogs will stand their ground in defense of their masters is dead wrong. And Tommy would be the first to agree, and Prince as well, were he still here. Because he was the one cat who proved to everyone I know that cats are braver and more loyal than one would think. Let me explain.

It all started one beautiful July afternoon. I was out in the front yard tending to my flowers (my wife is to blame for getting me hooked on gardening) when I heard a menacing growl coming from the street. I looked up in curiosity to see this big, mangy dog staring at me, it's teeth bared, and murder in its eyes. I don't know what kind it was, but it looked like the hound of hell in every sense of the word.

I don't know why it was so angry, or why it had picked me, but I was apparently next on its list of victims for that day. (It had already been on a killing spree earlier that morning and had hurt or killed numerous other animals in the neighborhood.) Thinking it might be best if I tried to use my superior size to scare him away, I stood up and brandished my trowel.

If I was to ever make a bigger mistake in my life, I'd have to try pretty hard. Because by standing up and acting aggressive, I had made things worse. A normal dog would feel fear at this point. This dog however did not, because he was not in his right mind, and as such, appearing to be a bigger threat only increased his anger and blood lust.

He immediately began to race at me. I of course responded by turning tail and running at speeds my body should not have been able to attain. Especially at my age. I only made it a few feet before I could hear the heavy breathing, and feel the heat of his body as he prepared to leap on me.

It was at this moment that Prince arrived. I don't know where he came from, or how he got there so fast, but he was like a streak of orange, glistening with brilliant white fangs, claws, and a whirlwind of energy. To say it caught both I and the dog by surprise would be an understatement. But it was the dog that caught Prince's full furry.

I heard the commotion behind me as I ran, the sound of dog tearing into cat, and cat tearing into dog. I only took a few more steps before the most gut wrenching thought crossed my mind. Prince was fighting the dog...for me.

I immediately stopped, turned, and stared wide eyed at a conflagration of dog and cat the likes of which even hell hath not seen. It amazed me to see Prince fighting as hard as he was against an animal that was easily four times his size. And despite this disadvantage, he was doing pretty good holding his own.

It was at this moment that I also realized that Prince would likely be killed by this four legged killing machine. (For those who are curious, I don't hate dogs. I simply prefer cats.) "Prince!" I cried in sheer horror, realizing that my long time friend was quickly on his way to a date with the undertaker. He might be holding his own for now, but the dog was bigger, younger, and more blood thirsty than him. It was only a matter of time before Prince would find himself on the losing side of this battle.

Then, as if crying "Run, you fool!", he turned towards me with those deep, blue eyes and meowed at the top of his voice. It was at this moment that the dog chomped down on Prince while his guard was down. I gasped in horror thinking that Prince was done for. But at that very moment, God, seeing Prince's peril, reached down from heaven and sent Tommy to the rescue.

He came in, all sixteen pounds of tiger stripped fur and bulging muscles, and laid waste to the dog's face, sending it reeling in surprise. He then paused briefly from his onslaught against the dog and checked on Prince, who appeared so concerned for my safety, that he immediately climbed to his feet, despite being severely wounded.

From where I stood, I could see the damage the dog's teeth had wrought, as streams of blood trickled down his beautiful golden fur, and across his now ravaged face. But despite taking so much damage, he rejoined the fight, with Tommy by his side, and the two fought against the dog with incredible strength and courage unbecoming of animals their size.

For a while I thought I would end up with two dead cats. But finally, out of energy and suffering greatly from its wounds, the dog collapsed to the ground and lay there, panting. Then its breathing grew shallower and shallower, until it finally stopped.

Was it dead, or just playing dead? Being the old fool I am, I carefully walked up to the dog to check on it. It was indeed no longer of this world. It was then that I noticed that the grass was covered in a pool of a thick, red liquid.

Blood. But it was coming from the dog.

Somehow during the fighting, my two cats had managed to make a critical bite on the dog's neck, severing one of its jugular veins. It only died because it had bleed to death. But before I could investigate further, my now heightened sense of hearing caught the sound of a tiny body falling to the ground, and uttering a weak, but distinct meow.

Prince had fallen.

I dropped to my knees next to Prince and scooped him up in my arms. Tommy hobbled over to where I knelled on the ground, cradling my friend's broken body close to my face, and sat down. He meowed painfully, but tried to keep a brave face as he too had come out of the battle battered and scarred, one ear dangling precariously from a blood soaked head.

I cried for my wife, who upon seeing our predicament, rushed us into the car. She drove like a maniac down the road, rushing to get us to the vet in time to save Prince, while I pleaded with him to stay with us, to fight on, to not give up. But he was at the last of his strength, and he knew that his fight was over. He looked up at me with those beautiful blue eyes as though to say, "Will you be alright?"

Tears filled my eyes as I nodded and said, my voice breaking, "I'm fine Prince. Everything will be alright." He then reached up with his arm, gently caressed my nose, closed his eyes, and was gone. I buried my face in his blood soaked fur, and cried.

It's now been three years since that day, but I still miss Prince immensely. I have since bought a new kitten who Tommy has taken under his wing in the same way Prince did with him, and is training him up to be both a great house cat, and a fearless protector of my wife and I.

Tommy came out of the battle with one disfigured ear, numerous scars, and one good eye. He's an old war veteran now, and despite still being in pain from his numerous wounds, he protects us and our house with unwavering enthusiasm. I think he does it out of both respect for Prince, and out of a love for us. Because, before that day, Prince had always been his friend. But after that day, Prince was his hero, just as much as he was ours.

With this story I hope you always remember Prince and his uncharacteristic bravery, because so long as I live, I will never forget the memory of the cat who gave himself selflessly and without measure to protect me.

The End

Table of Contents

The Wicked Tree

The Plague

Ferret's Folly

The Gate and the Guardian

The Gateway Knob

A Beggar's Chance

The Rescue

Eight Tries to Freedom

A Dragon Bound, A Villain Found

Ms. Sophie

Lion Hunt

The Cat Who Stood His Ground