“How was I supposed to know it was the security and surveillance center of the complex?”

“You had a map! Maps tell you those kinds of things don’t they?”

“It had symbols for the different sections of the complex. I didn’t know what they all meant and, besides, I was more worried about the tunnels beyond the complex, the ones that would get us out of here!”

Theana subsided and Gern sighed. He knew she didn’t really blame him. Or at least he hoped she didn’t. She was probably just a bit frustrated and concerned about the fact that they were now confined in a small, nearly bare stone room with a tightly sealed plasti-metal door and a camera watching their every move. But then, he wasn’t too pleased with this fact himself, especially considering they had taken his pack with all of his old maps and the intriguing souvenirs he had picked up along their trip. Of course, they had taken Theana’s Dragonfly Blade, which had been a gift from Shul. In spite of what had happened between them, Theana surely hated the loss of the sword.

And the possible loss of their lives was not so welcome either.

What would these Cha people do with them? They did not seem to have much of a precedent for taking prisoners, as evinced by the fact that Gern and Theana’s “cell” looked to be a hastily cleared office. Their lack of prisoner-taking policy was also shown in the way they had traditionally dealt with anyone wandering in the caves of Lightning Chasm; posing as the Guba-Lan, they had generally been known to electrocute or incinerate anyone they encountered in the tunnels, sometimes leaving survivors to give witness to the presence of the deadly creatures of the caves.

But if the Guba-Lan (which seemed to be the easiest name to apply to their captors) were not known for taking prisoners, why had they not killed Gern and Theana once they had cornered them?

“Why…why are we still alive, do you think?” Gern ventured to ask the still-fuming Theana. The question actually appeared to deflate her anger somewhat.

 “These are pretty much the same folks as the Paladins who have been trying to get their hands on you. And now we see that they have the technology for instant communication with their fellows. I’d guess they know exactly who you are, that you are this ‘power’ that everyone has been in such an uproar about. Now they have you.”

Of course! He had not even made that connection as regarded his capture. “So that begs the next question: now that they have the Power, what are they planning to do with it?”

“Remember, the ‘Key to Unity?’” Theana prompted. “From what we’ve heard, from Neel and from your ramblings when you were out of it for so long way back when, the Power is the key to uniting the Realms.”

Gern chewed on this for several moments. “Why would the Guba-Lan, the Cha, want to unite the Realms?”

“I don’t know,” Theana said, shifting her position on the stone floor uncomfortably. “I’ve been thinking about that. My theory that these are Brunwythans trying to make a more direct profit doesn’t make sense in that context. If the Realms were united, which would require the breaking down of the environmental barriers, it would be more difficult to regulate commerce and trade among the Realms, which would mean less profit for Brunwyth. And these Cha don’t seem to be doing all of this to encourage free trade and travel and togetherness.”

“No,” Gern agreed. “And based on the Cha technology, the only other possible known origin of these people would be Nuwthrsh. But the last thing they want is more contact with the other Realms, through trade or otherwise.”

Theana sighed once more, standing and stretching. “That leaves your theory. An unknown Realm. A Realm that plans to invade in force, but first has to clear the way, bring down the barriers.”

“But why?” Gern asked. “Why would they want to take over Lorcron?”

“There are a lot of reasons,” Theana said casually. “Some folks merely want power for the sake of power. But it’s a pretty good chance they want Lorcron for a lot of the same reasons Brunwyth does, despite the difference in methods. Lorcron is unspoiled lands, untapped resources…”

“Hmm,” Gern mused. “Perhaps they’re religiously motivated as well. When we found those boxes of Paladin armor, I was tempted to dismiss the Cha faith as a front, a means of easing their way into Lorcron with a definite cause, but they seem pretty intense about all of that.”

Theana nodded. “Yes, I remember when some of the infiltrators spoke in the religious education groups, though I didn’t know who they were at the time. They have a well thought out view of the world based on the teachings they propose. They must truly have a mission to spread that belief.”

“They got to Meln,” Gern said, remembering. “And that man from Brunwyth who nearly blew us up.” Gern realized that the pseudo Paladin had been armed with a disguised version of a tri-blaster, his gauntlet; were the Cha equipping armies with such weapons?

Theana was pacing now, obviously becoming restless. “But whatever we may or may not have figured out, we’re still stuck in here. I wish they would do whatever they’re going to do!”

Gern, finding Theana’s agitation contagious, stood and moved to the door, not for the first time, to see if there were something he had missed. He knew that his captors were watching, but he also knew that he was wasting his time. The door’s control panel was dead, the power cut off completely, and the door had apparently been sealed manually.

The truly frustrating part of it all was that he knew he could leave anytime he cared to, through soulspace, even if he had no guarantee of where he would end up. But he was not about to risk taking Theana through, and leaving her behind was not an option.

He gave up on the door once again and turned to find Theana watching him contemplatively. “What?” he asked.

“Come here,” she said, motioning him over.

He approached, and was startled when she pulled him close in a tight embrace. As glad as he was, he could not help but think that it was not the time for such affection. Unless she thought that it would be the last chance to show her love for him…?

He revised his thought a moment later, slightly embarrassed at his conclusions. “Gern, maybe soulspace is an option,” she whispered in his ear, apparently in case their captors could listen as well as watch. He was constantly impressed at how their thoughts so often coincided.

“But you…”

“Not for me,” she interrupted. “You can enter soulspace and try to emerge elsewhere in the complex. They’ll come in to see what happened to you, and I have my hidden knife that they missed in their search. But if I can’t get out, you’ll be free to get me out from out there. Either way, we can meet up in the exit tunnel…or somewhere…”

Gern didn’t like it. “It won’t work. I’m not sure I can control it that well. And what if they decide to kill you or hold you hostage? You can’t fight all of them and their blasters with a knife! It’s too risky.”

“We’ve got to do something!” Theana hissed, breaking away from the embrace. Despite the circumstances, Gern regretted having to let go. “I can’t just sit here and wait for…who knows what! I’ll die of insanity before they can ever kill me!”

Gern struggled, vacillating between common sense and the desire to fight against their fate in Theana’s stubborn style. Didn’t he always wait for things to come to him? When did he ever try to take charge of what was happening to him?

“Fine.” He did not elucidate, for the sake of their listeners, but Theana understood.

He moved to the corner and settled himself, seeking the focus necessary for entering soulspace and attempting that trick of remaining “fixed” on his current location, or an analogy of it at least. It was difficult, finding the calm needed for the transition in the midst of their difficulties, but, amazingly, he found it. After such a long time, he felt almost drawn to the space of the soul, felt his Self breaking down and changing, or perhaps it was the world around him that changed…

Just before he faded completely, he felt a nearby presence watching him and received a definite impression of immense satisfaction…

*

He broke from his cocoon into soulspace with a feeling of…stickiness. Even as he stood, he felt sluggish, as if he were moving through ooze. Something did not feel right.

He stood in a tunnel much like those that ran around and through the Cha complex, save that it was rendered in the active silver of soulspace. The floor was the black void that always accompanied the silver substance. But even Gern’s vision seemed somehow blurred and indistinct as he examined the surroundings. He still felt as if he were being watched.

He tried to ignore the odd sensations, to rationalize them. The sluggish blurriness might be attributed to his lack of practice maneuvering in soulspace. The sense of being watched might merely be a lingering sensation from being in the cell with the camera trained on him. Either way, he could not pinpoint any definite problems or obstacles in the soulspace environment, and he needed to make sure that he was in a place where he could help Theana.

He began walking, finding the effort of movement in the space of the soul to be greater than he remembered. But he was tired, exhausted, and had been able to eat very little for some time. That would explain the sluggishness; it was not the environment, it was his interaction with it. Dealing with soulspace was, after all, almost entirely subjective in nature.

Assured by his reasoning, he was able to concentrate on his task. From what location could he do Theana the most good? He could not control the cell door from a distant data input thanks to their disabling its computer controls and power feed. But perhaps he could cause a distraction that would give Theana a better chance of escaping by diverting personnel to another location. She was a good fighter, and might have a chance with limited enemies. There was always the chance that if they had not killed her upon capture, that they would not be willing to kill her now, thus would be holding back.

He no longer had his map, but his natural ability to retain information (another trait typical of the scholarly Nuwthrshans) brought to mind the presence and location of the Main Power Control Center at the north end of the main factory chamber. From what he had seen on the map and in the chambers, the complex derived power from geothermal energy, accessed by the towers, and hydroelectric force, accessed by a facility straddling the broad underground river that apparently ran through the caves and under Lorcron. From the Main Power Control Center, he could significantly disrupt the operations of the complex by shutting down the hydroelectric facility, by altering the regulators on the Geo Towers…Of course, there would be personnel to deal with there, but they were probably the unarmed type of workers, like those in the factory.

First and foremost, Gern realized as he strolled along through the silver tunnels, he had to figure where in the Blazes he was before he could begin to get to where he wanted to be. None of what he was seeing looked familiar, and there were several branches from the tunnel he walked. It reminded him too much of the maze he and Theana had traversed from the secret chambers at the Center. Perhaps he had been really off in his “aim” when he transitioned to soulspace and had ended up somewhere in the numerous tunnels that honeycombed the ground around Lightning Chasm. He would have to let himself return to the cell in the real world and start over, or perhaps come up with another plan. This one was too risky in the first place…

He was brought up short as he passed through a seemingly innocuous cave entrance and found himself in a bedchamber reminiscent of some at the Center. Gaping in some degree of surprise, mainly at the fact that it was in full color, suggesting a dream image rather than a soulspace one, he was further shocked when he saw movement on the bed.

“Gern!” Theana sat up on the bed, clutching the covers to her chest below her bare shoulders. She appeared disconcerted rather than pleased at his presence, which was understandable considering her dishabille.

“Uh, Theana, what…?”

Before he could finish his sentence, a second figure sat up on the other side of Theana. “Darling, who’s here?”

It was Shul! “Uh, hello, Shul…I…” Gern stammered, distantly aware that he was becoming caught up in the dream situation and forgetting its true nature. He felt embarrassed and jealous and angry and betrayed…

Trying to maintain a grip on reality, he reached for a fact from life. “Theana, you and Shul are no longer together!”

She smiled at Gern, then at Shul as he took one of her hands in his. “I changed my mind. I realized that I needed someone strong and brave to keep me safe, someone mature enough to satisfy me.”

Spurred partly by the emotion and shame of the situation, and partly by a desire to flee the dream and keep his wits about him, Gern fled the room the way he had entered. He stumbled to a halt, barely catching himself before he slammed into a plain stone wall. He turned, finding that he stood once more in the cell where he and Theana had been confined. She was on her feet against the opposite wall, hands pressed to the stone behind her with a surprised look on her face.

“Gern? You’re back here? What happened?” she asked.

Gern grasped his spinning head, feeling distinctly off balance. Perhaps such was due to the sudden, involuntary transition back to the physical world. How odd… “I…was lost…I couldn’t find…Sorry…”

“No, it’s…it’s all right,” she said comfortingly. “We’ll find another way. Just relax.”

She came to stand next to him and placed an arm across his shoulders. “Come on, just have a seat. You look awful! What happened in there?”

He suffered himself to be guided to the floor and he leaned against the cool wall, finding that it felt quite good to his hot skin. Theana kept her arm on his shoulders, kneading his muscles soothingly. “I…was in some random tunnels…it all felt sluggish…I suppose because I’m so exhausted I couldn’t get a full hold on the reality…and I got caught up in a dream…image…a scenario…I ran from it and found myself back here, right where we started…Sorry…”

“No, it’s all right,” she assured him again, moving her hand from his shoulder to his neck and continuing to massage. “At least we’re together. Whatever happens, we’re together, and we will be together…”

Her hand felt so good on his neck, and he closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation, to pretend that it was more than a sisterly show of comfort. But then he sensed her nearness, her breathing on his cheek. He opened his eyes in time to see her lips next to his just before they touched…

The kiss was…explosive. Enveloping. Consuming. She had her fingers in his hair and caressing his cheek, and his hands sought her waist to draw her ever closer…It was excruciatingly pleasant, and he thought his heart might burst, his soul take flight…

“Gern! Theana! What…?”

The embrace ended with painful abruptness and Gern was brought back to the moment with profound shock as he found Mir-Ven standing at the open door of the cell. She wore the uniform of one of the security officers of the complex, and her expression was one of great hurt and burgeoning anger.

“Mir-Ven, no, it’s not…” It’s not real! his mind screamed at him, but his emotions and awareness would not listen.

“I knew it,” she said caustically. “I knew that you two were only leaving together so that you could get rid of me. I thought that you loved me, Gern! I thought…”

“It’s not like that, Mir-Ven,” Gern protested, attempting to extricate himself from Theana; she clung to him, still trying to kiss him. What was wrong with her? “It just…it just happened…!”

“I can see that,” she intoned, turning on her heel. “And so is this. Goodbye Gern. Just know that you have lost something very special.”

As she walked out of the cell, Gern finally managed to free himself from Theana’s affections. He charged forward after Mir-Ven, stumbling across the threshold…

He stood motionless in the silver tunnels of soulspace once again, Mir-Ven’s name on his lips. Forestalling his words, and finding the intense emotions of the scene fading, he warily looked all around him, unwilling to move. What was going on?

He caught a glimpse of movement in a side-tunnel, but as soon as he looked, whatever it had been was gone. While he was still looking to the side, his peripheral vision caught motion in front of him. He looked in time to catch a flash of an apparition of sickly glowing green disappear into another tunnel. He had not seen much, but his mind’s eye conjured up thin, sharp limbs and a thick, hunched torso…

He took conscious control of his breathing, and attempted to establish control of his thoughts. He knew that his preconceptions affected the appearance of whatever he saw in soulspace. But he was also fairly certain that what he had just glimpsed, whatever its true appearance, was an actual presence, distinct from him and his psyche. Whatever it was, it intended him no good.

He developed a disturbing sense that something was behind him, but he was sure it was just paranoia. He could not be hurt here. Or could he? He and Drey had been fairly real to one another, but that had been in dream space, had it not? This was soulspace…

He felt the hairs on the nape of his neck rise up. There was a sense of…nearness and…

Suddenly he was running as fast he could along the tunnels, taking whatever branches rose up before him in his mindless, headlong dash. Something had touched him, something cold and sharp, something that had not only contacted the surface of his skin, but had reached in as if to seize his very soul…

He crossed the threshold of another cave, again stumbling. This time, he did fall, and his chest and hands slammed into the rough rocks beneath him painfully. Pushing himself up, wincing, he was alarmed to discover that the cave was filled with the lights and green eyes of several Guba Lan. They were all standing around looking at something besides him, however. He got to his knees, curious, and saw his father and Kresan clinging to one another, the blasters of the cave creatures trained on them…

Gern could not turn away or close his eyes, and he watched as he had watched so many times in so many forgotten nightmares as his father and Kresan were reduced from living, breathing people to blackened skeletons in a matter of seconds. The embracing skeletons fell, ever so slowly, to clatter on the stone, becoming jumbled piles of lifeless sticks.

The Guba Lan were abruptly absent, and Gern stood over the bones. He knelt and gingerly touched the skull that he somehow knew was his father’s. Curling in on himself, he cried pitiably, wrenchingly, horribly for some time. But somehow this was different than the other times that he had wept. Somehow this did not leave a festering wound, but instead felt…cleansing. The emotions that lingered were sad, and they were happy, and they were confusing and at times indecipherable, but they were…real and true.

He stood, feeling stronger, less sluggish, and somewhat less frightened. “Where are you?” he called out. “Who are you? You do not belong here!”

It is you who does not belong, child-form, a sibilant voice sounded as if next to his ear, though nothing visible was in evidence. The term “child-form” somehow implied something other than physical maturity, but the voice said no more.

Gern held his fear in check, aware that whatever the thing was, it wanted him to be afraid, to be irrational. He was determined to set his mind to the mystery, to figure this out.

He had entered soulspace, and something had immediately felt wrong, even if he had attributed it to simple exhaustion. Apparently he had sensed this thing from the beginning. It was as if it had been waiting for him…

Could it be one of the Cha? They had many powerful magic abilities. Who was to say that they could not manifest in soulspace? It certainly made sense in light of the circumstances; surely it was no coincidence that this manifestation had appeared while Gern was a captive of the Cha.

“The Power!” he realized suddenly. “They’re after the Power, and they believe they can access it through soulspace!”

The creature, the Cha creature, had been waiting for him. It wanted to get at the Power through him, which meant that it needed him, somehow, to get the Power.

He cast all about for a sign of the creature, but found only the empty cave and the still pile of bones at his feet. “You can’t have it! Do you hear me, creature? I know that you need me to get it, and you can’t have it!”

He was suddenly being lifted off of his feet by the grasp of chill claws on his neck, dangling in the air. At the angle his head was forced into, he could not get a clear view of what held him, but he could glimpse a thin, yet powerful arm of what looked like striated tendons over dry bone, all in various shades of pale, radiant greenish-yellow. He caught an impression of an elongated skull with a bulbous top, a jawbone overfull with mismatched teeth, and huge, white voids for eyes.

What makes you think you can stop me from taking it, child-form?

It felt as if every particle of Gern and the surroundings and the creature itself resonated with the voice, as if the creature were using all matter as the very medium for its communication. In a panic, Gern sought to leave soulspace, to let it fade away that he might return to the comfort of the material plane. In his mind’s eye, he ran for the figurative door that would allow egress, but fetched up against it to find it locked, and all of his desperate pounding yielded nothing but pain and frustration. He was blocked.

The idea that the creature could block him from leaving soulspace set his heart to racing all the more, and he struggled in the thing’s grasp like an insect held by its delicate legs. At this thought, the image of the spider formed in his mind, and with that image came a certain calm. Trapped or not, he was in the space of the soul, and the space of dreams. He had control, if he would stop panicking long enough to use it.

He became the spider, the delicate, silver spider of his vision weeks ago. The world around him exploded into gargantuan proportions, along with the creature, but he was free of is grasp, momentarily falling lightly toward the floor of the cave. He shot out a near-invisible filament of web that latched onto a nearby stalactite and slowed, then arrested, his fall. He zipped up to the downward jutting tooth of rock and clung, turning agilely on his many legs to view the creature he faced.

The thing consisted mainly of a huge, misshapen ribcage for a torso, the ribs appearing more as tentacles or serpents that wound all through and around and about one another. Protruding near the top of the torso was an oblong skull, the jaw thin and long with myriad jumbled teeth. The eyes were broad white voids that appeared to draw in everything around them.

The thing had two thin arms with sharp, blade-like protrusions at the joints, the arms ending in long, sharp claw-like hands. Rather than legs, the thing half-floated, half-slithered on a long, undulating tail that was both substance and smoke. In fact, the entire creature appeared to be undecided about its solidity, sometimes appearing real and tangible, and other times appearing as pure energy. In this transition, the thing ranged from a putrid yellowish-green to a pale, bleached whitish-blue, and it glowed as if radioactive.

In those few seconds, the creature only appeared moderately surprised at Gern’s disappearance. It did not move its head to search all about, but Gern could feel it searching. Suddenly, the very stone beneath Gern’s legs shifted and changed just as the creature appeared to sink into the stone where it hovered. The stalactite became the creature, changing shape as the thing apparently took that substance for its form, using the environment to immediately change location rather than inconveniencing itself by moving.

Finding his small body being clutched at by a massive claw-hand, Gern leaped from the stalactite and changed in mid-air, landing on his feet in the form of man once more and immediately running. He was only half-panicked at this point; he knew that running was senseless, that his location in the environment of soulspace was entirely a matter of perspective, but he was finding it difficult to completely abandon the “rules” of the real world in which he had existed for most of his life.

The creature, whatever or whoever it was, did not appear to have so many hang-ups about reality.

Gern passed through caves and tunnels in endless succession, always with the sense that the creature was just over his shoulder. At times, however, despite the feeling that the thing was behind him, he would suddenly find it standing in his path, bone-arms spread wide to receive him, and he would scrabble to stop and turn, and run some more. Everywhere he went, though, the creature was waiting, hovering, watching, toying with him…

Gern knew that he was outmatched in his mastery of soulspace. He knew that the thing was merely waiting for its moment to swoop in and take the Power, perhaps when Gern was too exhausted from fleeing. But he could not let the thing get control of the Power, could not let the Cha do what they planned. But he could not keep the creature from taking the Power. It was too strong. It had him, and the Power, right where it wanted.

But if the creature could take the Power whenever it chose, why had it not done so when it had him in its grasp? Something was holding it back. Perhaps it was not as powerful as it presented. Did it have something to fear, something to hold it back? Was there something about him that could stop it from doing as it wished?

The Power. The Power lay within him. It was his Power. He had only to realize it, to find it. Was the creature keeping him distracted so that he could not find the Power, the Power that would enable Gern to fight back?

Gern continued to run, but he was no longer running aimlessly, no longer running away. He was searching, searching for the Power that the creature must fear. If he could realize that Power, he would have what he needed to fight back, to stop being the victim and become the victor.

The pointless tunnels slowly took on more form, becoming more squared off, and then transitioning to metal walls and floors with dim lights in the ceilings. The tunnels were the segmented passages of Nuwthrsh, Gern’s home Realm. As he moved, the creature felt to be consistently behind him now, no longer keeping him cornered; that was a good sign, Gern thought.

The passages of Nuwthrsh changed to the streets and back ways of the Religious Center, but the sky was not visible. It was not closed off, it was just not visible. The walls of the buildings and homes he passed were strangely flat and lifeless. Reaching what seemed to be dead ends, Gern would try doors here and there, but find them locked. Only then would he see that there was after all a way out of the corner he had walked into. He kept moving, more slowly now, but infinitely more purposeful, and always with the figurative breath of the creature on his neck.

Suddenly, to his great surprise, one of the doors he perfunctorily tried opened easily, invitingly. Elated, feeling that he was nearing his goal, he stepped through…

Beyond the door was…infinity. It might have been whiteness, it might have been blackness or endless dull gray, but it went on forever above and to the sides and the fore. Nothingness. It put him in mind of his first experience with the openness of the Lorcron sky that had so unnerved him, yet this was…inconceivably beyond that sensation. It was less frightening in some ways, merely because he could not fully grasp this infiniteness, but more frightening in others, because it made him feel so infinitesimal, so alone.

But the emptiness was suddenly not empty. Or perhaps he had just not noticed the presence of…whatever it was upon the initial overwhelming impressions. Several apparent yards away was a plot of tilled soil, rich brown dirt turned in rows. Working in the midst of this apparent garden in the making was a man, or the form of one; he was adult in size, healthy in shape and proportion, but completely silver in color, as if cast from a mold in the precious metal and granted a form of animation. This silver man, this silver gardener, tilled the soil with some sort of implement, and he appeared to be planting seeds as he moved along. How strange.

Gern was intensely curious about the silver gardener, but he was also quite nervous. Somehow, he did not want the silver man to become aware of him, and he felt so exposed in the emptiness, for the wall in which the door had been set, indeed the door itself, had disappeared, leaving Gern exposed in the emptiness.

Aaaahhh… The creature did not generate this noise exactly, but the resonation in Gern’s brain conveyed a sense of immense satisfaction. You have responded exactly as predicted. There is the Spirit we have sought.

The twisted skeleton form was abruptly hovering nearby, regarding the silver gardener across the seeming-distance. It began to move forward, toward the garden, toward the Power…

Of course! How could he have been so foolish? The creature had been goading him to lead it to the Power that it could not find. That was why the thing had held back, not out of fear of Gern, but out of a need for Gern to lead it to the Power. And Gern had done so like some sort of laboratory animal in an experiment!

But it was not over yet. No matter what might happen, he could not let the creature, the Cha, gain control of the Power.

He dashed forward, his staff appearing in his hand, and interposed himself between the advancing creature and the gardener. “You will not take another step,” he intoned with an attempt at sounding confident. He hefted the staff, ready for whatever sort of fight, of whatever length, he faced.

The creature, rather than displaying the haughty overconfidence it had shown before, instead seemed angered at Gern’s challenge. It extended one claw arm and formed a green-glowing sword. The other arm expanded into a small round shield with serrations all around the edge. With disturbing speed and ferocity, it attacked.

In a strange way, Gern was comforted by the attack as he raised his staff to fend off the thin, wicked blade. Truly, it was not the attack itself that comforted him, rather the mode of attack. Whereas the creature had before manifested as embodying the environment itself, it now approached as a separate entity, relying on its own form as weaponry and not finding anything in the surrounding emptiness to embody. Gern saw that he had some chance of victory, even if it was very slim.

The Wind and Water came more easily to him in the figurative environment of soulspace, but he was yet hard-pressed to keep up with the relentless attacks from both sword and serrated shield. He suffered a number of minor cuts, and his arms were quickly tiring, subjectivity notwithstanding. When he was nearly skewered by a spear that unexpectedly lanced out from the creature’s torso, he was reminded that he should make use of the malleable nature of soulspace.

Whether it was due to self-limitation or not, his form was not as malleable as that of the creature, but he could change weapons and equipment. He concentrated and covered himself in plates of gleaming silver armor, lightweight yet offering somewhat greater protection. He considered changing his staff to sword and shield, but he was truly more skilled with the staff; he did add blades to the ends of the shaft, however.

He pressed his attacks, finding that the bladed staff afforded opportunities for defense and offense with little separation of strokes. At one point, he actually managed to slice at the creature’s sword arm. It separated from the body, falling to the “ground” and immediately shriveling up and disappearing. But the creature immediately replaced the arm with a figurative shrug of unconcern and kept fighting.

Gern was unsettled by this occurrence. His first “success” in the battle had been so transient as to be nonexistent. Was there really any hope of victory, or was he just delaying the inevitable. The creature was proving itself to be tireless while Gern felt on the verge of collapse. Perhaps if he could know the Power, he might be able to overcome, but just as he was occupying the creature and preventing it from reaching the Power, Gern himself was unable to disengage to grasp it.

But again he realized that the Power was his, was within him. Did he have to reach it, or was it always within his grasp? Could he just make an effort of will, and know the Power? But if so, why had he been required to come to it?

He spared a glance for the silver gardener. The gleaming man continued about his work, apparently unaware of the battle that raged not so far off. Is that the problem? Gern thought. Is it that the Power is unaware of my presence because I was too afraid to call its attention?

In his distraction, Gern was suddenly knocked backward by a stunning blow from the front of the serrated shield. Dazed, he landed uncontrollably on his back, the air whooshing out of him. The creature appeared close in his blurred vision, claw on his neck, sword poised. Would it really kill him? Could it take the power if he were dead?

Judging by the sense of cold indifference he felt emanating from the creature, it could and would do so.

“Help!” Gern cried out, not sure what he expected but having no options left. He looked to the silver gardener, held out his hand in supplication. “Help me!”

The gardener paused in his work, not immediately looking up. Slowly, he turned his hairless, silver head, the noble features becoming visible. Cold, empty eyes met Gern’s, and there was a moment of…consideration?

The silver man’s mouth opened, revealing more of the surrounding void, and a forever scream pierced the stillness, filling Gern’s hearing, his brain, his sight, his body, his smell and touch and everything…

The form of the Cha creature seemed to waver, to oscillate, and to ripple like the surface of a pond struck with a pebble. Gern felt a fading, and realized that it was not only the creature that faded, but everything, and he slowly ceased to exist…

The Power knew him, but he did not know it, and he was very afraid…

End Book 3:

Watch for

Realms Beyond: Book 4

Coming Soon