Chapter Four

Venger lay dormant on a bed of bare and softly glowing amaranthine stone in the center of a dirt floor in the black bowels of his castle, his eyes closed and his hands open and limp at his sides. It was not truly sleep. Venger was not unaware; he was not defenseless. And he had not dreamed since. . . . And it was not truly pain. True pain was something he had not felt since he could dream.

He sensed Shadow Demon's presence, hovering over him, and knew that he was speaking. Venger ignored him. He didn't want to hear it, whatever it was. He needed rest. He had expended so much of himself in his efforts to claim the weapons' powers, and then so much more had been taken with the Ranger's sudden and powerful attack.

But he could not rest. Not after suffering what was, without doubt, the most humiliating defeat he had ever in his existence sustained. Worse, even, than when the Thief had single-handedly dispatched him with his hated sister as witness.

He suddenly felt a shadowy touch to his face, his shoulder, his chest. His agitation at this nearly had him rising to throttle the demon. But then he was gone, and Venger slipped more deeply into that restful state.

The look in Dungeon Master's eyes haunted Sheila as she walked at the back of the group. He had looked more than concerned, like he was trying to tell her something. And he had looked at her, and her alone.

What am I supposed to do?

She knew there had been meaning in his eyes, but it was no clearer after a few hours' sleep. She looked around. The day was so bright and beautiful. They should all be talking and laughing, she thought. But all was so quiet. There was no sound of wind in the trees, and she didn't even see or hear any birds in the sky. Everything felt so off. She had the feeling of being alone yet watched at the same time, and she hugged her arms around herself.

Just in front of her were Eric and Presto. She noticed Eric's fidgeting. It gave her a bad feeling. She hoped he wasn't about to make a bad situation worse.

"I can't believe we're just going on our merry way like nothing's happened!" Eric whispered emphatically to Presto.

"Beats sitting around waiting for Venger to find us," Presto replied.

"Yeah, well, I feel like an idiot carrying this useless shield around. What good are our weapons if Hank won't give up their powers?"

Sheila couldn't hold her tongue upon hearing this. "That's not fair, Eric. It's not like he's keeping them on purpose. He didn't mean for this to happen. I'm sure he's thinking of a way to give the powers back right now."

"Oh, yeah? I wouldn't count on it. I bet he likes having all those powers. I bet he could give them back right now, if he really wanted to, but I don't think he does."

"I was surprised you didn't want to keep Dungeon Master's powers," said Presto.

Eric hesitated. "That was different."

Presto looked over at him with an expression of genuine interest. "How?"

"Hey, this isn't about me. It's about him," Eric said, pointing toward Hank.

Sheila abruptly stopped and went wide-eyed when she saw Hank stop and turn around. He faced Eric with a look that made Sheila wish she could disappear underneath her cloak. She had seen him angry before, but this look was different. It was more of an expression — and stance, even — one could expect of Venger. He had that same intimidating imperiousness. It made him look older and taller and powerful.

Oblivious as ever, Eric stopped only when he walked his accusatory finger into Hank's chest. He slowly faced forward and gulped. With a sheepish grin, he smoothed Hank's tunic.

Hank swatted his hand away, and Eric recoiled behind his shield.

"One more word out of you, and it will be your last," Hank told him.

It didn't sound like the Hank she knew. These were words Venger might use, and Sheila couldn't help but hear Venger's voice in her mind as he said it.

No one said a word. They just stood there, aghast, looking from Eric to Hank until, finally, Hank turned back around and started walking again.

Sheila let out a quiet sigh of relief, but it was cut off as she noticed Eric's straightening and looking around at everyone. Inwardly, she begged him not to provoke Hank further. But she saw his posturing and knew that his sense of bravado was about to get the better of him.

"What're ya gonna do, huh? Sew my mouth shut?"

"Eric, don't . . . ," said Sheila, quietly pleading yet knowing full well it wouldn't do any good.

"Somebody needs to," Bobby told him, hefting his club over a shoulder. "Right, Uni?" But Uni was keeping low behind him.

"That's not nice, Bobby," Sheila told him. She had wanted to take a firmer tone with her little brother, but didn't want to contribute to the uneasy situation.

"Aw, sis. I wanna see Hank really shut Eric up!"

"Oh yeah? Well, how do you like this?" said Eric, and he snatched Bobby's club and tossed it. "Go fetch!"

"Hey!" Bobby yelled as he ran to get his club with Uni right behind him.

"It's only a stick now, anyway," Eric muttered.

Hank turned back around at this, narrowed his eyes, and raised a hand level with Eric's face.

Eric faltered at first, but quickly regained his composure and watched Hank, as everyone did, waiting for whatever he was going to do.

"Go ahead, Hank. Do something! I dare ya!"

Sheila felt put on the spot; she knew Eric was only emboldened by everyone's presence, particularly hers. She knew, as she was sure everyone else did, that Hank always did his best to impress her, to be the good guy, especially since the incident in the Dragons' Graveyard. And she was aware that she did the same to impress him. And here was Eric, taunting Hank in front of her. She couldn't predict how this was going to turn out.

She watched now as Hank's eyes lit with an undulating whiteness; his hand glowed a soft golden light and crackled with sapphire static charges.

"Wow! Cool!" said Bobby, stepping around for a closer look. Then he eyed Eric with a smug grin. "You're gonna get it now, Eric!"

Diana took Bobby's shoulders and eased him out of Hank's reach. Uni had gotten in front of him to move him at the same time. Sheila felt guilty at being thankful for that small favor. She didn't want to think Hank capable of actually hurting any one of their group, but "safe" wasn't a term she could apply to them at the moment.

Presto cringed beside her and starting backing away. "Nice knowing you, Eric."

Eric stepped back, trembling, and held out a hand in a pitiful effort to hold Hank off as he stepped toward him. "Wh-Whoa, wait a minute. . . . Can't we talk this over?"

"Hank, . . . you wouldn't," Diana began worriedly.

"Aw, c'mon. He deserves it."

"Bobby!" Sheila scolded her little brother, but she knew he was about as stoppable as Eric.

She didn't know what to do. She wished Dungeon Master were there. He was surely the best one to handle this situation.

"Move," she thought she heard Hank say.

"Wha—?" said Eric.

"I said, 'move'!" Hank shoved him out of the way.

Just then, Shadow Demon rose up and shouted, "Ignore the others! Take the Ranger!"

Sheila twisted around and gasped as orcs rushed at them in a semicircle.

With a wave of his hand, Hank spread a floor of ice underneath the orcs. He then raised both arms over his head and brought down the club hard upon the ground, knocking the orcs off their feet and sending them crashing into one another.

Sheila was knocked down by the shock wave, as were Presto and Eric. Hank reached down, lifted her, and slung her behind him.

"Run! It's me he wants!"

"But, Hank—!"

"Go!"

Sheila hesitated, but then ran. The others followed suit.

"This is nuts! If our weapons worked, we wouldn't be running away like a bunch of cowards!" Eric said.

"Like this is new to you!" Diana said.

"Gimme a break! Who are we running from, anyway? The orcs or Hank?" Eric shot back.

That hit a nerve with Sheila, and she almost stopped dead in her tracks. The memory of the look in Dungeon Master's eyes flashed at the front of her mind. Without a word to the others, she ran back for Hank.

When she made it back, she froze at the sight of the scene before her. She passed the corpses of at least half a dozen orc soldiers, lying twisted and torn here and there. She didn't dare look fully at them. She could tell a few of the bodies lay in unnatural positions with their blood pooled underneath them.

But they were forgotten when she saw Shadow Demon. He was twisting and pulling and straining against the rope-like energy that tethered him to Hank. Hank stood like a child holding the string of a helium balloon — a balloon that was struggling to be free.

Then Hank reeled him in. When Shadow Demon realized what was happening, he ceased trying to flee and turned to attack Hank. He drew back shadowy claws and struck as quick as lightning. Hank was faster, however. He shot an arrow from his fingertips that pierced the see-through hand. But it hadn't stopped there. The arrowhead protruded from the back of the demon's head, and Shadow Demon shrieked in a way that made Sheila tremble to her core. She looked away and reflexively grabbed her stomach. She felt like she was going to be sick from the sound.

When she did look again, Shadow Demon was trapped in a fast-shrinking bubble. And Hank still held the arrow that penetrated the demon's body. She saw the shadowy tail thrashing furiously yet futilely.

"What do you want?" he said in a voice full of desperation.

"Where is Venger?"

"I came alone. I brought the orcs!" His voice was so strained it did not sound like him.

"Call him here," Hank ordered.

"I . . . cannot."

"I don't believe you. Summon him! Bring him to me, or I'll destroy you and find him myself."

Sheila wanted to speak, but she was too awed by the sight. No matter what Shadow Demon had ever done to them, no matter what he was, she wanted Hank to set him free. She couldn't believe he was doing this. It was like it wasn't really happening, like she wasn't really there.

"I— Mas— You must not—"

But Hank cut him off, sending a blinding bolt of lightning up the arrow's shaft before he could finish. It passed through the bubble's surface and built up inside Shadow Demon's head before exploding. The bubble burst, and bits of shadowy shreds fell like confetti around Hank. He caught a piece from the air and looked at it before rubbing it into nothing in his fingertips.

All had fallen silent. Sheila hadn't noticed the drone of powerful energies until it was gone. The air itself seemed thinner now.

Finally, she found her voice, weak though it was.

"Hank?"

Venger sat up suddenly, abruptly brought out of his rest by an explosion of mental onslaught. He had the feeling of being under attack, but all was quiet within his keep.

Something was different. Something had changed. And then he knew.

Shadow Demon!

An instant later, he was gone.

Sheila stared at Hank's back. The others came to stand around her. Bits of squiggling shadow faded to nothingness at their feet.

"What happened?" asked Presto.

For a few seconds, no one said anything. Then Bobby shouted triumphantly, "Hank killed Shadow Demon! All right!"

He started to run for Hank, but Sheila caught him and held him fast. It took all her strength to do so. He seemed about to protest when they heard a familiar voice which reached them before the source itself did.

"You have destroyed my servant! You will pay!"

And with him came a storm. The sky darkened as clouds gathered, wind roared, and lightning flashed.

Venger stopped above Hank, glaring down at him. Something caught his eye, and he looked down. Hank looked down. Sheila could see one last little black shadow squirming on the ground before Hank. She watched as Hank looked up at Venger just before he stomped on it and gave it one last twist with his boot.

Venger roared as he unleashed a furious volley of blue orbs at Hank which were blocked by the ghostly shield. Hank returned fire with a scattering of golden arrows and pale violet orbs of his own. Venger dispelled these, and they glittered the sky. It looked like a fireworks display.

But things soon took a more serious turn. Venger changed to a barrage of lightning attacks. Hank's shield held, but not as easily as before. When he could, Hank answered with fiery rays followed by silvery projectiles that Venger blocked with a wing. They embedded there, and then were flung away.

They continued to exchange fire. Hank tried time and again to unseat Venger and bring him down, but to no avail. Venger kept to the sky, but was forced to dodge one attack after another.

Venger found an opportunity to strike again, and it was obviously an attempt to finish Hank and end the battle. He flew in a tight circle and blanketed Hank with a thick black mist that turned to liquid as it pressed down over him and all the way into the ground to seep within, churning and bubbling as it went.

Hank was gone.

"Hank!" Sheila yelled in chorus with Diana and Bobby.

Sheila refused to believe Hank was dead. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat and looked all around, but he was nowhere to be seen. She heard Diana gasp behind her and looked up at Venger. His attention had focused now to their unprotected group. She stepped back, as did the others.

Venger grinned, and then he dove for them. Sheila held tightly to her brother and hit the ground, certain this was her final moment. There was a flash of greenish light so bright that she saw it through her closed eyelids, and she wondered if she would die before she felt any pain.

But she only heard Venger's agonized cry. She opened her eyes to see Diana's — Hank's — javelin protruding from the center of Venger's chest. But it was more than the javelin. It was spiraled with intertwining gold and lavender, and it was slightly flared on the end like a long baseball bat. Venger was on the ground now. His horse was galloping in circles high above. And there was Hank, menacingly closing the distance between himself and his adversary as he strode toward him.

Venger was on his knees with one hand on the ground to steady him as he struggled to stand and back away. The other hand gripped the combined and solidified energy of the glowing Weapons of Power that penetrated him. He pulled at it, but it came forward only little by little. Each pull brought a torturous groan from him.

Sheila had never heard the sound of such pain before. It was worse than hearing Shadow Demon before he died, though she didn't feel ill this time. This was a sound no person or animal could make, she thought. But it was the indescribable way it made her feel inside that she found most curious and confusing of all. The one thing she knew was that Hank had to be stopped.

"Killing you in the Graveyard would've been too easy," said Hank. "I want you to suffer, Venger, for all the times you've made us suffer. You're the one who will pay, and I'm the one who'll make you!"

"Hank! Stop it!" Sheila called out.

But instead, Hank leapt forward, took hold of the end of the javelin, and pulled. It had not yet left Venger's body when he thrust it in again, bringing a deep howl from Venger. And then Hank did it again, faster this time. He repeatedly rammed the javelin into Venger's chest, grunting with hatred in the effort of each thrust.

"He's gonna kill Venger," Presto said with as much disbelief as Sheila felt. "Hank's actually going to kill Venger!"

"No way," said Eric in a whisper of awe.

"Shouldn't we . . . do something?" Diana asked.

But no one answered her.

Venger's moans threw Sheila's mind in turmoil. She wanted to stop this, but couldn't bring herself to act. Indecision pinned her where she stood. She thought of The Dragons' Graveyard, and once her thoughts were there, she couldn't get them out again. Her memory of that moment when she believed Hank was a second away from releasing that last arrow — an arrow more powerful than any he had ever before pulled into being on his magical bow — was frozen in time within her mind.

It's like that. It's like it's happening all over again!

Hank was now circling Venger. Sheila could see a soft golden glow outlining Hank's body. It was almost angelic. And it was terrifying.

Sheila dared to take a step forward. "Hank! You can't do this! Remember what you said in the Graveyard! You'd be no better than he is! It was wrong then and it's wrong now!"

"Maybe I am no better than he is. Maybe I'm tired of playing by the rules. I'm going to correct the mistake I made. I should never have let him live!" Hank said. "Sheila, can't you understand? I'm doing this for you, for all of us, for the good of the Realm!"

He came to stand again before the fallen Force of Evil. Venger weakly raised a hand, and then the wind strengthened, forming a whirlwind. Hank was being blown back, away from Venger. His feet were sliding. It was starting to lift him from the ground.

"No! No!" he yelled. He thrust out his hand and the shield appeared, but it did little good. Then he reached out with his other hand and retrieved the powers of the other weapons, freeing Venger. With the powers returned to him, he was able to disperse the wind.

When Sheila saw that Hank was out of danger, she turned her attention back to Venger, but he was no longer there.