The Gathering

Chapter 5


When they set up camp for that night the child came to Steven of his own and started to talk to him. “What was going on there, Andrew? What Rick was saying that upset him so and made you worried? What was or is going to happen?”

The child looked up at him with wide horrified eyes and whispered “Rie told me daddy saw what would happen when we went in to get the sword. He made Rie promise not tell anyone but he thought it would be all right to tell me ‘cause he’s my daddy and he didn’t tell him not to tell me.”

“Then YOU tell ME Andrew. What‘s going to happen that made Rick so upset?”

“I promised Rick I wouldn’t tell anyone else” the boy mumbled, looking away from the warrior and a wave of fear and anxiety went through the man that both Cheleron had to promise this and he couldn’t look at him.

“Andrew, Cheleron tell me,” he said firmly.
“One of us doesn’t make it out,” the child said in a rush of words and fear went through the warrior, “You mean one of us....”
“Dies, yes uncle” the boy said, eyes shinning “no coming back or being like mom-almost dying. REAL dead.”

Santon had never felt betrayed by Chelerick before but now he did. “Why would he send us here then if it‘s so dangerous?” Did Chel care more for his own life then anyone else’s? Surely not, his soul was too pure to mean that sort of action. But still he....

“Daddy knew that even though one of us would die the others would get the sword and use it to clean the castle and get rid of that bad man. He said if we don’t get it the bad man would get much worse than he is now and kill him and more innocent people.”

So that was it, the greater good. If they didn’t willingly sacrifice one of them for the honour of god and to get the sword then more people would suffer more than they already had. But whom were they going to sacrifice? Maybe if Santon knew he could prevent it from happening and still get the sword.

Cheleron seemed to read his mind and shook his head before he could ask him. “Daddy made Rie promise not to tell anyone and I promised Rie I wouldn’t tell either.”

“But if I knew I could....”
“No uncle Santon. You can’t.”

“Why not?” the man asked him “I can at least try. Please tell me Andrew. I can try to save them.”


“No you won’t uncle Santon” Cheleron said softly, firmly. “Why not!” the warrior was getting angry. “Because you’ll be too busy fighting for your own life” the boy left him with those words before he went to join Rickard, curling up in the teenaged boys arms, seeking comfort like the child he was from this painful knowledge.


By midday the next day they had reached the cave where the sword was hidden. Rickard had been withdrawn all day, ignoring questions and any attempts at conversation, even ignoring Teala and Cheleron himself. It was as if he was mentally preparing himself for what was going to happen next, to loosing one of his new friends or was trying not to think about it.

Dagger guided them through the maze of tunnels and traps and Sassel neutralised all those spells around them he could or knew until they soon reached a wide cavern. Across from them they saw a low stone altar with a cross-carved into the wall behind it. Hovering over the altar in mid-air they saw a glowing object shaped like a long sword, the only visible part of it the hilt, which appeared made of silver, wrapped in leather strips.

The pommel on the hilt was gold, the entire blade of the sword glowing with a stunning violet light. “It is beautiful” Tieka said in awe, stepping towards it as if drawn. “No, do not!” Dagger cried to her but too late, a piece of floor under her foot lit up and there was a groan of stone on stone as the walls around the room slid back. Skeletons with swords and shields were there behind the walls, entering the room with a rattle of bones and headed for them, the walk of the enchanted dead.

They turned to flee but a stone door slid shut over their only exit, trapping them inside together with the skeletons. “I have these” Sassel said, ignoring Dagger’s words of “that will not work.” He raised his hands and murmuring a spell.

Nothing.

Frowning he tried again and again the same. Turning he tried to raise or destroy the door but again nothing. “I tried to tell you” Dagger said between gritted teeth “the magic you weld is not powerful enough.”

“Then how do we get out of here!” Santon said helplessly, realising this was it; someone here was going to die. “Only the sword can do that” she said as her knives flashed into her hands, to defend herself from the skeletons swords, the others forced to spread out around the room to also defend themselves and not be caught in a group with no room to swing their weapons.

“Whoever the sword was made for should be able to take it from the force field. Once the sword is drawn and being used the spell keeping the door closed and us inside will break and we can get out of here. Once it is outside this cave the spell being used to run the protectors will break and they will cease to move.”

“But we don’t know who the sword is for, let alone get close enough to try” Silton protested. “How could we possibly get to it?” Santon questioned Dagger “there’s too many of them even for me.”

“I do not know, but somehow each of us must and try to draw the sword.” She answered and Ral called out “What if we are not the one to draw it? What will happen to us?”

“It shall reject you,” She said softly “that is if you can even get through the force field around it.”
“Then why try?” Tieka called out “if it shall only injure or do worse to us?”


Of course! That explained everything! The Ossla and his ability to attract weak magic and to be able to even communicate with the butter-fairy. The symbols of magic that had been scratched into his flesh at his back granted the mutant boy some more than his usual abnormal abilities, especially since the ones on Silton and Teala’s back had healed properly and disappeared where Rickard’s had remained.

The boy’s body began to glow with the sword and his eyes and face darkened, became almost ethereal but dark as well. Becoming truly Richard Santon realised, a truly good soul yet with a taint of darkness to it but not of evil or threat, merely of despondency. The despondency of someone who has been scarred too early in life and even though they were struggling up out of it they had a long while to go yet.

But there was also something pure and noble and true there, something that would fight for the force of good and use the love of those around him to become a truly heroic soul. Someone who in the long run will become a wise and noble soul others will look up to and for the first time Santon saw what Tieka had seen in him when she had told him about what she saw in his future.

With another garbled cry he was on the floor on the other side of the altar, raising the sword high over his head as if about to strike. And a bright violet light flashed out from the sword, freezing all those skeletons around them and those still coming and stopping the flow dead.

This allowed the group to push their way through the frozen dead and join Santon at his bloody son side lying still on the floor. While the huge warrior gathered his only child in his arms with gentle hands, tears starting to flow down his cheeks at the graven paleness and how still he lay the others came over to join them, standing around them﷓all unsure of what to do or say at the sight of the big man weeping over his only family left.

They looked at Rickard who stood like a statue on his spot with the sword limp by his side, not even blinking as he watched the big man grieve. The light had faded and they were about to ask him how he could just stand there while his best friend was dying when he looked up at them, what they saw there made them back up a few steps and swallow any words before they could even be spoken.

What they saw wasn’t Rickard but was at the same time and this figure’s eyes were still glowing, only instead of the warm but cautious blue-green they saw violet instead, the face twisted into darkness that made them afraid of him. They wanted to stay away from him and the power he radiated.

The figure looked back at the two figures on the floor and spoke finally, voice strong and clear, power shining in every letter. “He will not die.”

“He‘s already dead” Santon sobbed looking up to the boy, words fading for a second at what they all saw there. His grief allowed him to continue though. “He‘s gone already. I‘ve lost him and so have you Richard.”

“No” he whispered in grief and denial and for just a second the eyes faded to blue-green of his own eyes then whatever presence was using him as a vessel pushed him away again and the violet was back, saying gently again “he is not dead.”


Sassel frowned and spoke out “what makes you say that, guardian of the sword?” The boy’s head turned towards him and he said firmly “Because God does not will it. His destiny lies unfulfilled.”

“How can you say that!” Santon sobbed silently “he‘s dead! I don’t know who you are and what you‘re doing in Rick’s body but look, he‘s gone from me!!” The boy\spirit looked at him and repeated calmly “god does not will it yet.”

“He‘s too late! Even you can’t change this. Chel saw it in a future vision and none of his visions have been wrong yet! You‘re being tainted by Rick’s denial and can’t see what’s right in front of you!!” The warrior blurted out.

“The vision given to the sorcerer was incomplete and meant to do as it has.”

“What do you mean, Guardian?” Sassel asked softly. “It was meant to do as it has and that was to provide me with a vessel to this dimension to do my mission.”

“WHAT!” Santon snarled and jumped to his feet furious and still blinded by his grief “you mean my son was killed so you could make Rick grab the sword so you could take over his body! Monster! I no longer wish to have a part of god’s will! I denounce him as my god!” Everyone else gasped in horror and shock and Tieka cried “you can not Santon!”

“I CAN!” the warrior cried “and I DO!” He looked up at the cave roof and screamed loudly “do you hear me you asshole! I denounce you as my god and will no longer do your will.”

“You can not cease doing gods’ will” the spirit said calmly through the boy “you have no choice in that matter.”

“Oh no!” The man snarled at him “I do and shall prove it!” There was a murderous flicker in his eyes.
“You can not kill me,” the spirit said softly.

“I can!” the warrior screamed but the figure repeated, “You can not.”
“I can!”
“You can not,” he said a third time.

“I CAN!” he screamed and before anyone could stop him the man had ceased the boy by the neck, starting to clench his hands around the throat. There came multiple cries of horror and fear and shock and he felt hands on him trying to separate them, but even the feel of Dagger running her knives along his arms couldn’t shake his grip and the face was turning purple.

“You can not kill me,” a voice only Santon could hear said softly.
“What am I doing then, smart ass” he snarled and the voice said softly “you forget something.”

“What’s that?” he said snidely.

“My host is also in here” and as they watched the face and eyes changed, blue-green eyes and a fearful face, looking at the man with eyes full of pain and terror for his own life.

Santon’s face changed and he gave a cry of anguish, letting the boy go and backing away, alarmed and frightened not to mention horrified by what he had almost done. How could he have lost control like that and almost killed an innocent boy, and a friend at that.

“Rick?” he stuttered, realising what he might have just done here. The boy was terrified of being touched so how was he going to react to someone who was suppose to be a friend almost choking him to death? In one stupid act he may have just destroyed not only the friendship he had with his child’s best friend but any chance at a future friendship, not to mention a chance of the boy healing enough to have a relationship with Cathrine or Cheleron.

What had he done?

While everyone fussed over the boy, telling him in soothing voices to breath slowly and deeply Santon opened his mouth to defend his actions, to tell them they had heard what the spirit had said to him, that he had been egging him on when he realised that was a lie. The simple truth was he had simply chosen this being to take his anger and grief out on and had almost ended up killing someone he cared for because of it.

He was a dumb barbarian after all, despite his thirst for knowledge. All that had been was his way of convincing himself he was more than he was. He had never disserved someone as smart and beautiful as Heelena or a son as intelligent and handsome as Silton and god had shown him this by taking both away from him.

And who was he to denounce god? What right did he have to be loved by such an entity?

And then he noticed the group had pulled the boy to his feet and the eyes were still blue-green and he was clutching the sword tightly by his side. The instant his feet were fully touching the floor and his legs had stopped shaking threatening under him the blue-green bled to violet again and the boy stood up strong and steady. He looked at the warrior and said gently “until you repent and restore your faith in god I have no power to restore the one you love so much to you. My power comes straight from the lord himself.” Santon frowned, not understanding.

“God loves you no matter what you do but if you do not repent and restore your love in him I can do nothing to aid you.”

“Wha....” the warrior started but Gwin looked at him “do you not understand, Santon? If you repent and love god again he can bring Silton back to you.”

The big man’s eyes widened and he looked at the figure in hope.
The figure nodded.

Falling to his knees in front of the figure Santon bowed his head and repented, wishing feverently and thanking god for this second chance to prove his worth. He swore he would never doubt again or question god’s way again, that no matter what he would accept it as his will.

And he meant every word.


He sensed movement over him but didn’t hesitate or look up, only prayed and prayed and prayed. What he didn’t see but the others did was the figure raising the sword over them and both beginning to glow, the point of the sword pointed at the ashen and bloody boy. The light grew stronger and stronger until it penetrated their eyes and heads, making them feel sleepy and good.

There was a cry of pain from Rickard\the spirit and the light fully penetrated them and sent them to sleep. When they awoke they found themselves about a day away from castle Clina.

They started to stir and awaken, stretching to awaken fully and looking around them to see if everyone was there. They found Rickard\the spirit standing over them protectively with the sword still clutched tightly in his right hand and eyes a dull violet colour. Silton stood beside him, frowning at him and obviously not understanding why his best friend didn’t seem the same.

Santon saw him and remembered what had happened, on his feet and pulling him close before anyone else could speak or move. At first Silton protested this but then as the others came over and started to hug or check him over he relented.

“What happened?” he asked when everyone had settled down “all I remember is the pain as I was stabbed and then waking up here with him standing over me. What happened to Rick? He does not seem to know me.”

“He is the welder of the sword for when you were impaled he let the sword’s magic possess him in order to save you.” Sassel said this.

“He freaked Paul. He jumped into the force field and even though it hurt him he forced himself to take the sword.” Teala spoke in English with wide eyes.

“But how can the magic be possessing him? He is a mutant not a sorcerer,” Silton frowned. “The marks on his back from Bengal” Santon said. The teenaged boy looked up into his father’s face and frowned deeper at the things he saw there. Instead of asking he questioned, “what do you mean?”

Cheleron spoke out “remember when Bengal scratched those magic symbols into your back so he could use that spell to pull the Kealerans into your bodies?” When they nodded he continued softly “well your back healed and the symbols disappeared, but Rie’s didn’t. Daddy said that makes him open to other spirits in the right situations.”

“And this is one” Santon said and the child nodded. “What symbols?” Sassel asked them.

Wordlessly the boy\spirit turned his back on them and lifted his shirt and chain mail to reveal the scars of white symbols of magic on either side of his spine and between the shoulder blades, as well as a large blood-caked spot they assumed was where the spirit had entered him.

The Sorcerer and Gwineveire both examined the spots, running gentle fingers down them as they discussed the meaning and why these together.

“We thought that they hadn’t disappeared yet because he was the first possessed and this was done too, or because his soul is still connected slightly to Zealer, but now we’re not so sure.” Santon explained as they did so.

“Tell us what happened with this possession” Sassel said as they looked at them “we can not tell you what we think unless we know everything first.” The group sat, the boy\spirit standing without further movement while they did so. His intense violet eyes continued to scan the trees around them, sword clutched in case of danger and always on guard.


“Hum” the male sorcerer said thoughtfully when they finished “if what you say is true then this boy has a stronger purpose to god then what we can possibly know. Perhaps the marks are meant to remain for some reason of extreme importance in the future we cannot even guess of. However I think as with that other union this spirit will only be temporary.”

“But what if it turns out the same as last time?” Silton said, fearful of loosing his friend “What if his soul is almost faded by the time this one decides to leave?”

“Because this is a different situation my young friend” Sassel said soothingly. “That first time that was an almost complete merging of soul and body, evident by the way your friend looked when it happened. The man who did the spell over you was attempting to completely merge both so he would have neither the knowledge nor will to fight his control. THIS time it is merely one soul is dormant while the other has control. When the guardian leaves his body your friend will have his body back and all control.”

“How can you be so sure about that?” Silton asked softly. “Because the guardian was created by the same whom created the sword. Do you think he would allow the possibility of such a thing?” They shook their heads, totally trusting in Chel’s magic and actions.

“We must go now,” the figure suddenly said to them without looking around, eyes set and narrowed. “What is it Guardian?” Sassel asked as he rose, seeing the look in his eyes. “Others are in danger ahead of us” he said “three warriors, three innocent woman and four sorcerers. The sorcerers are injured and unable to fight to aid their companions. They will all be sent to god too early if we do not aid them.”

“But what about Silton?” having almost once lost his son Santon was more cautious about going into battle and risking it again. Again those intense violet eyes set on his but this time they were chiding, “that was a once off, part of god’s plan. Believe me that your son is destined to lead a long and glorious life as you are.”

Choosing to believe the figure the group gathered their things together and followed him through the trees, deep until they suddenly became aware of the sounds of a fight, metal on metal and cries and so on.

They soon reached a clearing to find just what the spirit described. There three warrior women stood protectively around four crumpled figures, one in purple and the other three in black while three others were bent over two of them, trying to wake them up.

The group were surrounded by at least fifteen figures with swords and knives, Youman’s human soldiers trying to steal the group’s belongings but having been coped had obvious knocked out their magical protection first and then forced the others into a tight almost helpless group. And in order to prevent injuring each other because of the smallness of their area the warriors were only able to defend them selves.

“We must aid them,” the figure told them “their destinies are important for this land. If they die they can not join us in saving my creator and cleaning this land of evil.”


“We would have helped them anyway” Silton huffed and the group ran down the slight hill to aid the three women, leaving the figure in his spot to watch them. They may have commented on his standing outside the battle while they did all the work if they didn’t notice both the sword and his eyes were starting to glow again.

As they joined in the fight, Gwineveire going to the side of the injured sorcerers and they soon came to realise not only how much the figure knew of what was going to happen but also how much use and how powerful he really was.

Whenever they found themselves overpowered or an enemy warrior started sneaking behind one of them there was a loud crack of power and the figure would disappear in a flash of smoke. Once they looked up to the dark hill to find the figure floating a few inches over the ground, entire body and sword a bright beacon of light and providing them with the strength of will to continue.

Finally the forces started to flee back into the trees and the four sorcerers had regained consciousness, standing up with the aid of the female warriors and facing them. One of the black robed ones managed to speak, the gentle and concerned eyes of the blonde female holding him betraying their true relationship as with the one in purple and the brunette.

“I thank you our rescuers for that timely interruption. Without it we would surely be dead. I am called Bezel Protector and this is my mate Imta. My companions are Cheleka and his mate Tiy.” he motioned first at the purple robed sorcerer then the woman holding him. Next were the other two black robed ones as “Lionheart and Strongheart.” Then the other warrior woman and the golden haired innocent woman were introduced. “Sisters Mexa and Pyrnes.” Then the other two women “Lipe and Sem.”

The golden haired woman spoke out “we thank god for your help.”

Gwineveire spoke, introducing herself and her companions. The woman with the purple robed sorcerer, Tiy, spoke out “what is HIS name?” motioning at the boy\spirit who was still where he was, only now his power had faded and he was looking around again scanning the forest around them as he guarded.

“He is possessed” Lionheart said softly from the depths of his hood, eyes set on the boy. “How do you know?” Gwineveire asked him curiously.

“I can sense it,” he answered without looking away from him “the sword is his home. Someone disturbed him and now he resigns inside the boy. He will leave when his reason for the possession is fulfilled.” Santon spoke, his voice hard with a ‘no lies’ tone “why were you headed for castle Clina?”

“That is the name of the castle?” Strongheart asked. “We didn’t know. We are not from around here. We are from another land far from here. Forces here are affecting our land and so we followed it here in a hope to stop it. Lionheart worked out that an extremely powerful mind is coming from that place and causing it. We joined these others on our way. They too are being affected by it.”

Gwineveire nodded “we are also headed for that castle except we know the source and WHY.” The black robed sorcerer, Bezel, looked surprised “you do? Tell me!” And Gwineveire said simply “My husband.”

The man looked at her in shock and surprise and she continued while everyone else set up camp for the night. “My husband is an extremely powerful black robed sorcerer. He is keeping our enemy and an evil man under a force field dome until we can get there to help him, but he is hurt and will not last much longer. We must get there tomorrow.”


Bezel nodded and conversed softly with his group. Then he spoke to her “we will come and help you save your husband.” When both Lionheart and Strongheart agreed Gwineveire thanked them and went over to tell the others.

They discovered how mysterious the two black robed sorcerers really were that night when they not only rejected their offer of food-stating they didn’t eat the same as them but the two sat away from them all and conversed for a long time in a language none of them had ever heard before. But for some reason, even though the figures felt dark it was not an evil or threatening dark and they knew their road and reasons for joining them were similar-even true. In fact the darkness around them was more of a sadness-of someone who had learnt early in life about evil and it’s affects.

However Silton wouldn’t stop staring, sensing something they couldn’t about the one called Lionheart, looking thoughtful and back and forth between the figure and the boy\spirit, confused. Finally Santon came to his son’s side and sat with him, whispering softly “what is it, Silton?”

“I know it sounds crazy dad but this guy reminds me of Richard. I do not know why but he feels like him, even acts like him.”
“What do you mean?”

“You know when you care for someone you even know how they move? Like little movements or say a flattering of an eyelid if they lie and you know how to tell if they talk the truth or lie from that?” Santon frowned “yes I do. Why?”

Silton frowned at the figure “he moves exactly the same. His voice is a little older and deeper and he is taller but that is all.” Santon trusted his son without question, even more so after their near miss “so you think this guy may be the same guy only older?”

“I do not know father, but I want to find out.”

“Could he just be the ancestor of their line? Lance’s side I mean? Some things like that can be inherited according to Dale.” Silton looked his father directly and said “and you believe that father? Even if we are from their time’s past what is the chance of having an ancestor exactly the same. Especially if we are from an alternate time line than theirs.”

“What do you want to do about it?” Santon sighed once softly. “What else but find out.”

“How do you prepose to do that?”
“How else, we find a way to get his hood back off his face so we can see.”
“How do we do that?”

“I do not know” Silton admitted to his father “I can not think of that. What if Gwin or one of the other guys summoned up a wind to blow it back so we can see?”

“And they wouldn’t see that and be prepared?”


“I guess” Silton nodded “I am open to ideas. I cannot do it myself, what if he IS Rick and does not want me to know? I do not want him angry at me for it.”

“Give me a minute” and Santon left him to talk to the others in low tones. Tieka frowned and glanced up at the figures then nodded a few times as if agreeing with Santon and spoke softly.

After a few minutes Santon returned and said softly “we have something planned. Just follow our lead.” Silton nodded even though he didn’t understand and watched and waited. Teala was the first to move, walking boldly towards them with a tray of cooked meat and fruit for them, a luring smile on her lips. The first to stop talking was the one called Strongheart who was followed by the other who faded off mid word and called out in a confused voice ”why are you bringing that over?”

“Because you haven’t eaten. After what you’ve been through with the attack you must be even a little hungry.” Strongheart’s voice frowned like he had an idea something else was going on and he said, “we told you we don’t eat the same as you. We will hunt later.”

“Tieka and Teala cooked our meal with the other women. Do you want to insult them by refusing?” Santon called out. The figure called Strongheart went to protest again but Lionheart held one hand up for silence and it was then they noticed his fingers closely. His fingers were a little longer than normal and the skin was pale white, almost bleached-bone white. He wore leather gloves with the fingers cut out under the first knuckles and the nails were long and curved tapering into a dagger-like point and sharp as hell.

At first they thought he was stopping the other’s protests over the meal but it wasn’t until the boy\spirit on the hill suddenly called out “we are under attack” that they realized he had sensed those hiding in the trees around him.

An instant duck and he avoided a flying arrow and spun to face the archer, lifting an arm so an invisible force could throw him into a tree, unconscious. The fight then broke in earnest as the men from before ran in with back-up, giving them just enough time to run to their weapons before the clearing was a mass of bodies.

They couldn’t have been fighting longer than a few minutes when there came a snarl of “ENOUGH OF THIS!” and all the enemy were thrown out of the clearing with their weapons and when another archer tried to fire an arrow in at them it bounced harmlessly off an invisible shield surrounding them around the clearing-lined by the trees around them.

“This was a mistake” the figure of Lionheart said to the other and it was only now they noticed both held each others hand and the glow of power was fading from their eyes. They had joined their strength together to get rid of the enemy and create the shield. “I should have listened to you and not come. It was too dangerous for them to know this part of my future.”

The other just nodded in agreement. “Rick?” Teala asked softly in disbelief “is that really you?”

“Yes my love” the figure turned and pushed back his hood to reveal his face and head to them all. It was what and who they had expected, but not how they had expected. Silton had been right about older, for this one resembled late teens or early twenties.

Rickard, but not Rickard at the same time.

This one had long curly blond hair to his shoulders with dark brown streaks through it. His eyes glowed with power and strength, but instead of glowing blue-green or violet like theirs his were red and had pupils like Johnathon and Gwin’s. His skin was pale and white like his hands but also held a copper-brown flush to it, his eyes almond shaped not oval. His cheeks were higher and his mouth wider. And that was obviously to accommodate the long and sharp fanged incisors in the top jaw. They were horrified “you’re not Rick!”

“I am” the figure nodded “just not this one” he motioned at the silent figure of the boy\spirit “I am what he will became very soon in the future.”

“You can not be!” Silton was horrified. “I am,” he said again patiently “no matter how much you would like it not to be. The future is set and even you could not change it, I have tried.” And before their eyes there was a glimmer of pain, of great loose.

As if sensing it the other put a gentle hand on his shoulder and said something soothingly. And there was the brief glimpse of fear of touch although it was nothing compared to their Ricks’. “What happened to you?” Silton asked, as he looked him over carefully, noticing the way the cloak stuck out behind him and the still hidden other.

“It does not matter now. I came to help you but now I know I should not have. I was advised against trying to interfere in the past, but decided to try anyway.”

“Why? What will happen that you would want to try and change?” The other spoke “it isn’t what will happen, nothing like that. He merely wanted to be with you all for this is happy memories in the hardships that is soon to come.”

“What hardships? And who are you to him?”

“What I am is someone he has learned to care for as much as any of you-as family as well as a fellow member of the group you are going to start. To me he is like a son.”

“Why?” they asked him again. “My…best friend became close to him and when he … left him he charged me with being a kind of body guard and friend when he needs me. As for future hardships, well let’s just say helping others won’t be as easy as you all thought. But for no reason should you stop. After all even though there will be a few losses you will gain so much, including the gratitude of the entire world many times over.”

“What many losses?”

“I can’t tell you and we have to go now.” He looked at the future Rick “you know they can’t remember this don’t you? It would interfere in what will and can happen.”

“I know” he nodded reluctantly. “You know what you have to do, don’t you.”


“I know,” he repeated and his head came up towards them. Before they could speak the figure of the future Rickard walked slowly forward, his hypnotic eyes catching every one of their attention and boring into their mind. “You will forget us and anything that was said or suggested. We never existed here or in your minds and once we are gone you will go on as you were before you found us. You rescued this group and were rescued and after Gwin and Bezel set up the shield to protect you all for the night you hunted, ate and then started to set up for the night.”

They couldn’t speak or defy and stood or sat helplessly where they were. Rickard suddenly frowned and walked towards the figure of his younger self possessed by the spirit “you are too strong for my control are you not?”

The figure slowly nodded. “Then how do I to prevent you from knowing about the future?”
“I know but my host does not. Once I leave his body your secret will be safe.”
“Of course” he said, backing up to the other ”thank you.”

The figure nodded and as he watched the two became slowly see through until they were completely gone. Once they were fully gone the group blinked and one by one they awoke from the control and continued on with their previous actions, totally unaware of what had just happened.

The boy\figure stayed up all night to guard them and early into the morning, only joining them when they cancelled the shield and moved out. Somehow the spirit inside Rickard was able to sense traps or other enemy warriors, yet they met up with other humans or warriors true to their cause.

Soon they stood outside the castle gates, shocked by what they saw. All snake-men were frozen as if by a spell. “It must be the force field,” Gwineveire said to them “it is blocking Youmans commands to his creations.”

“We shall stay out here and help the villagers, just in case,” Bezel said and Gwineveire nodded. Raising her hands she teleported the four teenagers and possessed boy, one child and four adults all into the large library.

Just in time to see the near dead sorcerer collapse and the force field dome around the other fade away. Youman rose and staggered a little to his feet. Unlike Chel he had had a chance to rest and recover in the dome while Chelerick had been forced to stay conscious to keep up the dome. Now he was unaware of their presence, unable to fight the pain and exhaustion any longer.

The evil sorcerer moved towards the almost dead other, meaning to kill him while he was helpless. The group heard a cry of horror and anger and spun to find Rickard, eyes blue-green and free of the spirit clutching the sword and rushing towards the evil sorcerer. The sword glowed a bright violet just under his hands as he rushed forward, the other sorcerer barely managing to turn and see before the sword was thrust in and embedded into his heart.

Stunned everyone remained still as the sorcerer’s eyes and Rickard’s locked and for brief seconds the boy’s glowed violent, righteous fury twisting his face. Then as they watched a ball of the light under his hands flashed along the blade into the evil man’s body, tearing a scream from him as it left.

There was an echoed scream from the evil sorcerer and the boy was thrown back across the room, staggering dizzily to his feet and starting to thrown up in his corner, sick to the stomach by his own actions while Silton went over to help him.

Blood gushed from the evil sorcerer’s mouth from his damaged insides, eyes flashing violet as they realized the spirit had used the blade to enter the evil man and destroy him from the inside out. Collapsing to the floor still impaled on the blade he died slowly, deserving every second of agony for the lives he had destroyed and the innocents he had tortured and killed for his own power.

“Look” Santon murmured in awe and they looked at the dead sorcerer, even the mutant boy rose slightly and whipped his mouth with the back of one shaky hand and was able to look. The sword was glowing with that gentle light, but it was also changing everything it touched inside the castle. When it had finally died away the castle was restored and beautiful again, the sorcerer’s body and creations gone.

“Chel?” came a soft question and they turned to find both Gwineveire and Rickard crouched beside the still sorcerer. The rest of the group immediately joined them, asking if he was alive. Something strange happened when Rickard touched him though. The boy’s face was filled with concern and horror, aquamarine eyes dancing with tears again as he reached out to touch the still mans’ arm.

There was a flash of violet light and the man jerked as if with an electric shock and when the boy drew back, startled they heard a slight weak moan of pain. He didn’t need any more prodding to do it again, grasping the man’s good arm tightly and a sudden smile of knowledge on his lips. “What is it Rick?” Silton asked in confusion “do you know how you are doing this?”

“Yes” the mutant boy smiled “when I felt that thing leave my body and go down the blade it was as if he had left something behind inside me. I did not know why but now I do. Chel created it and so now that power is leaving me and healing him.”

Santon translated and the others agreed, watching with batted breath and hope. Finally when the glow had faded and Rickard drew back they watched in joy as the sorcerer moaned and moved again, tossing his head a little and slowly opening his eyes. He looked up at them with weak confusion and pain.

He tried to speak but Gwineveire shushed him by a gentle finger on his lips and said firmly “do not say a word my love. You nearly died. You must rest and get your strength back.” His eyes moved to Rickard, Rathir perched on his shoulder and both grinned at him in relief. He spoke to the man in English “welcome back to the land of the living. You better sleep though, your old lady does not want you to move until you are back to speed.” Too weak to disobey or protest his eyes closed and he dropped into such a deep and healing sleep that even when he was picked up and moved out of the room he didn’t even stir.


It took two weeks before Chel was up and around. Since he was able to walk he was in the library going through the spell books, looking for the spell that the old sorcerer had used on them originally. But first he saw Santon’s misery and asked what was wrong. It had taken a bit of prodding but finally he said softly “I‘m glad I have Silton back but we‘re still alone and he needs a mother. I need a woman but only my Heelena will do. You have Gwineveire back and even though she‘s like a sister to me it‘s not the same.”

“Dale cares deeply for him, you know that” Chelerick said “and she loves him as much as a real mother could. He cares about her just the same.”

“I know” Santon said “but he needs a proper mother, someone I love and care for as she will us. Not the love of a FRIEND.”


“Santon” a voice interrupted behind him, a strong female voice. He turned slowly, thinking it was Gwineveire coming to check on her husband and about to chide him for disturbing him. But he was totally unprepared for the tall woman in leather armour, a broadsword resting in its sheath on her right hip. Muscles bulged on her body and her hair was shoulder length blonde not silky black. High cheeks and a strong face she had blue eyes not gold cat-eyes.

Santon took a shocked step backwards, eyes wide as he stuttered out “By god, you‘re dead!” The woman laughed and slapped his arm playfully and said teasingly “do I look dead you brainless oaf!”

“Only one woman ever had the nerve to call me that” Santon smiled with a mix of emotions and strode forward. He grabbed her and picked her up, clasping her to his broad expanse of a chest “Heelena.”

He was so emotional he barely heard Chel say “she was saved by a villager after Teatoo had saved my wife. That villager started to nurse her back to health when they were grabbed by Youman’s forces and locked up downstairs. She was there the entire time we were gone, struggling to heal and live. When I used some spells to heal those in the cells she was one.”

“My woman” Santon said affectionately “my woman” and he couldn’t stop saying it over and over again. “Put me down you oaf!” the woman’s voice was muffled in his chest “you could yet kill me.” Sheepishly he gently lowered her back down, the woman giving his arm an affectionate and forgiving squeeze. Looking at the sorcerer he called his best friend Santon couldn’t help his smile as he said in amusement “I‘ll leave you alone to work, Chel.”

The thin man nodded his consent and the warrior man and woman left arm in arm to find their son and do some badly needed catching up.

The next day it was decided by all the people that Ral would indeed rule the land, and he thanked them for their belief in him to do the job right and swore to them that all fighting was done and this was a time for peace and rebuilding. It was this day that Rickard choose to come to see Chelerick about something that had been troubling him since it happened.

The sorcerer was seated in the library where he hadn’t moved from in the last few days when his concentration on the current book was broken by a soft male voice “Johnathon?”

His head snapped up to see the boy standing in the doorway, silent sword sheathed on his hip and expression pensive. Seeing it and sensing the boy’s overwhelming need to talk he said gently “come in and sit, Richard.” The boy came over to him and sat in a chair by his side, the sorcerer pushing the book aside and asking softly first “where is your little Companion?”

“Rathir?” he asked and when the man nodded he shrugged and made an dismissive gesture “without Youman around we did not need her help anymore. She went home to her people but said when I next need her she will be there for me.”

“She is a true friend,” the man said soothingly and sensed the turmoil in the boys heart and mind. The boy nodded and didn’t continue so he asked softly “what is it you wish to see me about?”


The mutant boy stirred uncomfortably “I wanted to talk to Steven, but he and Paul are busy with Heelena. Ral and Tieka and their father are busy reorganising the kingdom and do not understand me anyway. So you are the only one left.” He sighed then said quickly “I WANTED to talk to you earlier but Gwineveire said not to disturb you. This is not a last resort because everyone else is busy.”

Chel just waved the apology away “I understand. What do you wish to talk about?”

“I..well...I can not....” Now he had the choice Rickard couldn’t find the words. The sorcerer sat back in his chair and put his long fingers into a temple before looking at the boy thoughtfully “is this about how you killed Youman?”

“Yes!” the boy suddenly couldn’t look at the man and instead stared at the carpet between his boots. The sorcerer’s soothing voice came back to him even though he couldn’t see him he felt every word. “You know you saved my life when you did do you not, my young friend? I would not have survived another spell and you prevented that evil one from weaving the one that would have killed me.”

“I know but I have never killed before. When we were fighting I only defended myself and others and the snake-men did not count because they never existed in the first place. I have never hurt anyone before let alone outright killed. Sure I fight bullies at school but that is protecting other kids and this is different. This was killing someone who was already badly injured before he could defend himself.”

“If he had of Richard you would be dead now, we would ALL be dead and he would still be victimising these people. He WAS a bully my friend and you were defending me from him. I was unable to even lift a finger at that point to defend myself and you saved me and his future victims from his cruel whims and blood-lust. You are a hero here because of your action.”

Rickard looked thoughtful for a few minutes then said softly “I never thought of myself as being a hero. I was merely protecting family because you are. Johnathon can I ask you a personal question?”

“You know you many.”

“How do you feel about us, my family I mean?” It was the sorcerer’s turn to look thoughtful now for long minutes. Finally he said softly “I am fond of your mother and her humour and ability to know just what to say. Your father had a fierce dedication and nobility you seem to have inherited that I understand and respect myself as a parent but I could never have myself.”

“What about me?” The boy’s expression made Chelerick hesitate and think a little longer about his reply. He finally answered with “you are special, not just to me Richard and not just because you saved our lives and my own.”

“How special?”
“I know not how to explain it. What do you want me to say? Why is it suddenly so important to you?”

“I want to know why you are staying” he confessed, voice showing the feeling of child-like betrayal he felt. After all despite all he had seen, been through and done the fifteen year old was still mentally an innocent boy. “I thought the eight of us were a family. I thought that we were going to use our abilities and experience to help people in my time with help from Cathy and Tommas.”


“Who told you I am staying?” he asked “Did you hear I say we are remaining?”
“No, but....”
“Then do not assume we are my young friend.”

“But what about Gwineveire?” Rickard pointed out “What about your wife? You cannot just leave her here without you or Andrew after five years of separation. If it were I I would want her as close to me now as possible. Steven is bringing his wife with us, he and Paul have even started teaching her English and about our time.”

“I know not what to do about that” the sorcerer admitted to him “I have been too busy searching for this spell to seriously consider a solution. I will solve that one when this one is.”

“Why not now?” Rickard asked as he stood.

“Finding this spell is more important right now. The longer we are here the longer we are away from your parents and Cathrine’s’ father. This I swear to you Richard that Andrew and I shall return with you. Have I ever not kept a promise to you?”

“No you have not, all right.” Richard stood and started to leave, but paused in the doorway and looked back at him “Johnathon?”

“Umm?” the sorcerer raised his head to look at him again.

“No matter what happens or you decide I want you to know we are a family. For some reason ever since you arrived in my family’s’ life I have felt, well, like we are meant to be close. Even though you are nine years older than me you feel like the twin I never had. I have no idea why but I am glad you came to my time.”

“As am I Richard” Chelerick continued to smile long after the boy had left him alone.


Two weeks later Chelerick had fully healed and they were preparing to transport back to the year 2005ad. Ral had given them a small bag of gold coins for them to use and Chelerick had at first refused it. Then Ral had soothingly told him to think of it as a thank you for all they had done, least of all reuniting the twins and their father. He had reluctantly accepted these, especially after Richard had told him they could use it for the things they needed in the future to start their centre properly.

The group was together and ready to go, Steven and Paul, Johnathon and Andrew, Richard and Cathrine back in their future clothes and talking softly among themselves, Heelena in as close to their shirt and jeans as they could find.

Gwineveire had spent the entire day trying to change her husbands’ mind with no success and was now trying one last time as he got everything ready for the spell. “You can not go Chel! This is your birthplace and you belong here and not some strange land and time! Do not go back there and take our son from me! Stay with me!”

“We must go, my heart for I no longer belong here. It is a safer place for our son and I made a solemn vow to return and I must. There are people there who rely on me, who need me. This place is generally peaceful and I can no longer stomach the death and violence of this world. I am sorry my love but I MUST go.”


“What about me!” Gwineveire sobbed in grief “I need you!” Then Andrew had asked softly and innocently “daddy why can’t mommy come with us?”

“What?”

Richard who was nursing the child repeated it for him “why not bring her, Johnathon? If Heelena can come then why not her as well? Come on face it, you would not be happy in my time anymore without her and knowing she was alive.”

The sorcerer said nothing and although Gwineveire didn’t understand what Rick had said she understood the reason for her husbands’ sudden pause. She immediately cried out “take me with you! I cannot live without you again my heart! Please, I have no reason to live without you and our son for you both are all I have left! Chel please!”

Finally he spoke to her “it is Johnathon” and startled momentarily out of her desperation Gwineveire stuttered “What?”

“Johnathon Smith is my name in this new time as Cheleron is Andrew. You must call us that from now on. Teala's real name is Cathrine Genarld; Rickard's is Richard Simpson as Santon and Silton are now Steven and Paul Stairer. Heelena is to be Veronica.” He turned to look at the watching others “what is Gwineveire’s future name to be?”

“Just Gwin” Richard said before the others could speak “I knew a girl in pre-school called Gwin. Just shorten her name.” Johnathon nodded his acceptance “Gwin then” and took her hand so he could pull her into the circle.

Still stunned by this turn of events Gwineveire didn’t have time to wave goodbye to the others before the eight had faded out of the surrounding clearing and into strange others. “The warehouse! We are outside the warehouse!” Paul laughed and exclaimed at the same time in relief.

“Paul?” came a soft voice from the corner of the huge building and two tall figures appeared, walking towards them. The blond boys’ face lit up in relief and love and he ran into the two figures arms as they caught him up in relief.

Johnathon leaned over and whispered to his wife “they are Lance and Dale Simpson, Richards’ parents.” And suddenly another figure appeared behind the three, another man. Cathrine ran to this other who’s stern and hardened face relaxed in relief also at the sight of her unharmed.

The sorcerer frowned as he and Stevens’ family joined the Simpson’s. “What’s he doing here?” Steven asked the parents and Dale explained as best she could “He turned up on our doorstep and said he couldn’t sense Cathrine anymore and demanded we look for you all.”

“Curiouser and curiouser” Johnathon murmured thoughtfully “their minds must be linked and our teleport to the past temporarily blocked that connection. That caused him to worry enough to brave civilization just to find out what happened to her.”

“Yeah whatever” Lance said “who are the others?”


“Gwineveire Noblemind and Heelena Fleetfoot, our wives.” Johnathon’s smiled completely covered his face. Dale gasped in surprise “you told us they were dead!”

“They did not die, but we did not know that. Gwin was saved by another sorcerer whom owed me and Veronica was aided by a villager.”

“Gwin and Veronica? I thought you said their names were Gwineveire and Heelena?”
“They are but we decided that Gwin and Veronica was to be their new names.”
“Oh we see.”

“You should have seen it mother!” Richard said excitedly. “We went back to Johnathon and Stevens’ time! There was dragons and warriors and....”

“Slow down Rick!” Dale laughed “tell us on the way home.” A few minutes later they left the warehouse area, arm in arm. As their figures disappeared from sight Richard could be heard saying, “I still say we use the caves” followed by six sets of laughter.

* * * *