"You could have been killed! Now the Dark One knows who you are. He can get you through a mindgrasp, just like he got Moonflame. Gods."

I remembered then the power I held in the teachings of Sharmayn, and spoke in that knowledge to Myranda.

"He cannot get to me. I have... protection. He has no power over me now. His mindgrasp cannot work against me. He is, in essence, powerless."

"What are you saying? Have you gone mad as well?"

"Sorry. No, I was just thinking of a lesson long ago. Let us eat, I am hungry due to that fight. The force of will I had to use to maintain my concentration was great."

Myranda looked at me in silence as we waited for our dinner of pheasant and vegetables and cool wine. It was refreshing, but did little to brighten her mood. I feared I had lost her then.

"Come, we must be moving on if we are to find the Remnants in the few days remaining."

"Let us rest here one night, Hawk. Just one. I want to hold you one last night before all this fighting begins."

"If we do, we will be forced to leave early tomorrow morning."

"Then early it is, but I need you tonight."

"Very well, but I don't like it. The Dark Lord does know where we are, and he can send more demondarcs after us if he wishes."

"Just this once, let's fear the gods we have, Hawk, instead of feeling like them."

"I'll take care of getting horses, then I'll settle a room."

It was a restless night. Neither of us slept well. We arose before dawn, not even refreshed from the few hours of sleep, and pointed our horses south, toward the great Marsh of Dreams, where I hoped to find a pathway to the Caves.

I disdained using Majestrix to form a bridge to that place, as I wasn't sure the sword's powers could cross the dimensions and did not wish to risk the effort and only reveal our presence to the Dark Lord. I was still confounded by the powers my sword held within itself. I thought then I would never know all of its abilities. Now I know that I never will, but that is a different story all together.

We reached the Marsh of Dreams at nightfall and were forced to camp just outside of it as Myshella took the night watch across the skies. I searched for the constellations and most I could find, but it seemed as though Zizzizzy twisted differently than before. I asked Myranda if she saw it as well.

"No, Hawk. Zizzizzy winds now as he has from time's beginnings. The constellations are constant, the only constant in our world."

"Show me the Hand of Sharmayn."

Myranda searched the sky for a few moments, then, confused, stood, and searched the horizons. Her shock was immediately visible. She turned to me.

"When did this happen? How long has the Hand been missing from the sky?"

I took her hand and brought her back to the ground next to me. I looked into her eyes and saw them pleading with me to tell her all I could. I knew I could not tell her all, but I could tell her some.

"Sharmayn has been free for at least a fortnight, perhaps longer. The Ring descended while the Remnants held Moonflame and I captive. Nothing else can I say."

"Do you know more?"

I feel sure that Myranda had guessed what had happened as far as the freeing of Sharmayn went, though I think she felt I had accepted Her offer of consort and felt sad for that reason. I shook my head no, and she held me closer, as if to refuse to let me go. I held her as well through the night. The sleep was short, but welcome.

The dreams returned that night. I saw Moonflame in a cell of obsidian, trapped in that sharpened shadow. He was yelling at me, not a pleading so much as a warning look on his face. He pointed at me. Then I realized he was looking behind me. I turned in my dream and came face to face with the Dark Lord. I reached for Majestrix, but my sword was gone from my side. The Dark One smiled his evil smile and reached for my soul. I tried to dodge, but instead I fell off a cliff I was suddenly standing on, fell into a sea of clinging mud and blood. I could smell the stench of the marsh and though I tried to escape, I was lost. I looked up to see the Dark Lord standing at the marsh's edge, gloating at my helplessness. He reached out with his arm and forced my head under. I struggled desperately, but to no avail.

I awoke as I died, sweat and tears flowing freely. I reached for Myranda, but when I turned to hold her, I saw that she was gone. In the distance, I heard the fading gloating laugh I had heard in my dream.

"Damn you! Damn you! Damn you!"

I pulled Majestrix from its scabbard and lightning flew into the air around it. The power I felt in it was greater then than it had ever been. The blue that was normally a faint glow was now a sphere of iridescent hues, lighting the marsh as well as the ground and air around me.

"Damn you, Dark One. I decree, by the power of my sword, by the memory of my master, Karnelian, by the name of all the Old Gods my friend Moonflame would invoke that I shall defeat you and any and all of your minions you should send against me in your defense, and I shall win back Myranda from you, and your soul I will send to the Balance for judgment. This I will do or die."

In response to this oath, the skies opened and bolts of lightning stretched their cold fingers down to the earth where I stood, surrounding me in their light, adding to the power of Majestrix. I could feel the sword pulse in my hand and I knew that Karnelian had done that which Moonflame had said could not be done. Majestrix was alive.

I opened my mind to let him in. Before me, the lightning reaching from the sky and the bolts radiating from Majestrix came together into the form of a tall, lean humanoid. He stood there, looking at me, as if reading my mind. I even felt him do this, and allowed it. He seemed to smile at that.

-i am electrix- -i am the sword- -i am the bolt- -i am thought- -i am dreams- -i am the power of the balance inherent in you- -the balance has heard and agrees to have you as its champion- -you have your choices as you have laid them out- -how do you choose-

All of this entered my mind at once, a jumble of thoughts and impulses. I was frightened at the full implications. The being stood still, though the bolts around it grew fiercer as the tempest above opened completely, the rain pelting down on me. I had to yell above the thunder to hear myself.

"What am I to do? Am I fated to do this thing?"

-you know better than i- -i am but a messenger in this manifestation and can only relate an answer- -what is your response to the balance-

"I will free my friends and have my vengeance on the Dark One with or without the aid of The Balance. I have heard tales of those who chose to champion The Balance and I do not like the consequences they suffered for no reward. Though I wish for no riches or lands, I would think on this question. What time can I have?"

-none- -your answer must be forthcoming in this discussion-

"I will go on my own, then. I cannot champion a cause that may inhibit my own goals."

-in serving yourself, you serve the balance- -i shall give your answer as that- -remember-

With that discomforting message, Electrix ascended into the sky bolt by bolt in quick succession. Then, one bolt of tremendous force broke from the sky and hit Majestrix straight on the boltstone set in the hilt. It glowed brightly, then abated and with it, the rain.

I was drained, physically and mentally, and sat on the wet ground. The mists of the marsh descended around me, but they were of no comfort, either as mother or blanket, and I tried to shove them off me for a while, but to no avail. In the distance, off in the marsh, I heard rustlings, but thought them to be nothing but the remains of the winds of the storm. Then, from my left, I saw the flash of fire and immediately stood, Majestrix in my hand, waiting for the battle.

No sooner was I braced for attack then a cloak of blackness formed around me. I felt my strength being pulled from me, but slowly, reluctantly. From the mists there appeared a figure clothed in fire, stepping into the darkness. Majestrix began to send off small bolts and where they reached, the blackness was torn and cries of pain echoed in the darkness. In a few moments, the blackness was gone, and I faced the fire-figure on solid ground. My strength returned quickly once I was out of the draining void. I leapt to attack and brought Majestrix slicing down, cutting through mist and air, leaving a trace of blue fading in its wake. The fire-figure stepped back, avoiding my blow. Before I could resume my attack, a familiar and strong voice rang clear.

"Cease! It is Master Hawklok. Nova'an, charge down! Y'klips, heal yourself."

Prymas stepped from the tall grasses into the opening of my camp. He came forward and extended his hand. I took Majestrix in my left hand and took his in greetings.

"Hawklok, how do you fair?"

"I have been better, Prymas. The Dark One has Moonflame and Myranda and seems to know my every step."

"Aye, we have had similar problems. There was an attempt at raiding the Caves. We believe it was the Dark Lord, or at least his minions."

"Did they retrieve anything?"

"Very little, and that probably was not intact. We destroyed most of the relics when the alarms were sounded. But worse than that, I fear we are rather reduced in our numbers. I attempted to find you in Neverwhere, but you had gone, so I came here. There is a bridge of sorts from here to our Place of Dreams."

"I thought as much. That is why I am here. I came seeking you. Now we must plan carefully indeed. I have sent my forces, what they are, out into the Carousel to recruit, but my hopes are not high. And now that Myranda is gone, I fear for her life as well as Moonflame's. Come, we will retire to Cymor, for that is where my company is to meet in ten days."

"The cities do not welcome us."

"They will welcome you, I'll see to that. Now, let's go."

Prymas was able to show me a shorter, though definitely more sorcerous route back to Cymor. We entered the marsh following Prymas, though I followed much against my better judgment, and the mists grew much denser around us. If it weren't for the light shed by Prymas's staff, none of us could have followed. Several times, creatures with strange forms, colored the same grey as the mist, materialized and attempted to attack us, but Prymas passed his staff before him and a barrier appeared, protecting us. He had warned us earlier that only his shield could armour us against the dream-creatures and that even Y'klips's formidable powers would be useless. After the fourth of these dream encounters, I asked Prymas why we had taken this particular path. He smiled and, like a curtain, parted the mists. Before us stood the western wall of Cymor.

"Now, Hawk, get us into the city."

"Follow me."

We walked up to the gate and the guards attending. They were quite surprised to see us, for the road to this gate is perfectly visible for upward of a mile and we had seemed to appear from nowhere, which, I'm sure, is exactly what had happened. They reached for their weapons, one a sword, the other two, spears. Each one had a different expression on their face, but in the muddle of all three, there was fear.

I halted the three Remnants and approached. The swordsman, apparently the commanding officer of this post, came forward to meet me. To this point I had kept Majestrix sheathed.

"Sir, if you would approach an unarmed traveller with your weapon drawn, one might mistake that as a provoked assault."

"You have appeared under strange circumstances, sir, and my sword is drawn only to prevent your attack. You, however, are not the threat; it is your companions we are wary of."

"There is nothing to fear from them. They are friends of mine and have saved my life on at least two occasions."

"They are devils. Neither you, nor your companions will cross into the city. Leave now, before we are forced to call upon reinforcements."

"Am I to understand that you are denying admission into the city to four citizens of the Cities?"

"I have seen no proof of this citizenship, and I know for a fact that the Rebuilt Cities do not grant citizenship to demons and devils. Now, go!"

I looked back to Prymas with a look of disappointment on my face, using my left hand to distract the guards as I drew Majestrix with the other. Lightning and spark showers flew around the blade and Majestrix took very little time slicing through the guard's blade, leaving him nothing but a hilt in his hand. The other two stood still, apparently too shocked to move. Y'klips surrounded them in his shadow form, spreading around them like a black globe. When he reformed, the two guards were unconscious, small streams of cold air rising off of their almost-frozen forms.

I reached into the pouches of the commander, relieving him of several of them, one of which contained city passes for noncitizens.

"See, I told you they would give us entrance."

"They will report us, you know."

"Prymas, they will do nothing of the sort. You don't know humans, the Carousel's humans. They will awaken and concoct a story about a veritable army coming through their gate, and how they took out several before falling victim to their numbers. The story will get wilder and wilder until, eventually, no one will believe them, but no one will ever know the truth because, eventually, they will believe what they have made up. Humans are great rationalizers. But we must get these two some other clothing."

"You are right in that. Let's go."

I led them to a tavern, the Lantern's Shade, and paid for rooms for all of us with the money procured from the commander. I went out and returned with cloaks and gloves for Y'klips and Nova'an, hoping they would cover enough of the physical differences visible in the dim tavern light.

Soon, sure enough, as we ate dinner, word came of a band of mercenaries that charged the western gate, beating senseless some new officers and forcing admittance into the city. Security was on alert, and noncitizens, like us, were advised to always carry our pass tokens. We showed ours immediately upon request to the tavern-keeper, and he was satisfied, for he believed, as everyone else did, that the bloodthirsty mercenaries numbered in the tens, not four, and, besides all that, we did not look the bloodthirsty type, despite my friends' odd appearances.

We ate the rest of our meal in peace, listening to the bard who sang for the tavern, collecting tips to sustain him. He sang very well, though my thoughts were not on him or his voice, but my Myranda. I could not get her out of my head, nor could my new-found, outright hatred of the Dark One be forced out of my thoughts. I created, in my imagination, of course, new forms of torture and life-stealing that I would use on the demi-deity. It was at this point that I actually heard the bard's song.

"And he who knows the Dark Lord's name

Shall bear the tests of Time and fame

The Dark Lord's rule to overcome

The battle and victory won."

I started at this and quite literally launched myself at the bard who shrank in terror at my sudden movement toward him. He held up his lyre as if to attack me with it. I realized then how quickly I had moved and how menacing I must have appeared. Eventually, I calmed him down and tried to speak to him about his song.

"The Dark One has a name?" I asked.

"Oh, as sure as you and I do, my friend, and, if you were to, perhaps, lend a hand in filling this rather empty and grumbling stomach of mine, I might tell you more of the tale."

I heartily accepted this offer of information in exchange for food, as I had none of the former and too much of the latter at my disposal, the inn keeper being a rather generous server. I introduced him to the three Remnants, and he seemed to already know of them, or at least Prymas.

"You are the one they call Peacekeeper. You led the rest of the Remnants into the mists, into the Caves. Yes, I've sung your song many times. I am Vyrkad, last of the line of Trimbor, bard and traveller extraordinaire, and, I might add, eternally grateful for the meal."

He began to eat and I got nothing out of him until he had finished most of two pheasants and three tankards of ale.

"You sang about the Dark One's name...."

"Yes, I did. He wasn't always 'The Dark Lord.' No. In fact, he wasn't always the only Lord of Chaos, though he claims to be. No, he just won a certain battle after the creation wars and the banishment of Wullph and before the creation of the different races. It seems he came to control quite a few of the elemental forces and commanded them in an assault on the realms of the other High Lords of Chaos, utterly destroying their incarnation on this plane. They are the Dead Gods. For millenia, then, the Dark Lord has been "the" Dark Lord, commanding all of the forces of Chaos, though not master of them all. He created the demondarcs to serve him; the shagfers, too. But no creature of pure Chaos can survive long on the Carousel, for, though greatly influenced by the direct interference of the Dark Lord, it is, essentially, a plane of Law. There is land. There is sky. This is all Order. The outlands, the Offworld at the edge of each island of the Carousel- that is Chaos. But the Carousel is building day by day into the Chaos, forcing upon it the rules of Law. That, though, is all common knowledge."

"Yes," said I, after this rather lengthy sermon on Carousel mythology, of which I knew quite a bit more than that, though the information concerning the Dark One's ascent to power was new to me.

"Tell me about his name."

"Oh, well, that was lost after the Chaos Lords were defeated. Only they knew his true name. I cannot tell you that."

"What?"

"Oh, I understand now. You wanted to get the Dark Lord's name. Why?"

"Nothing, fool. Go away. Go back to your songs."

I was mad. Vyrkad saw that and quickly moved back to his stool, picking at the strings of his lyre, trying to remember something calming and soothing, I suppose. Whatever he eventually chose to play, I do not recall. I was too irritated at being duped out of a rather impressive feast for nothing but history. My ire must have been very obvious, for Y'klips, who I had never known to speak, spoke after a long silence.

"There is no reason to think there is any truth in the story."

I looked up rather sharply into his ember-red eyes. There was no emotion there, just as there had never been a show of emotion from him since I first met him. He stared back at me, intensely, as if searching through my soul. I turned away from that gaze, but turned back again just as quickly. The stare, the searching was gone, but the energy of that moment stuck with me throughout the remainder of the evening.

"Y'klips is correct, Hawk," said Prymas. "It is merely the song of a bard. It is a rhyme, more than likely, that he created out of the myths of your Carousel. I know as much as one can know of the creation of the Carousel and I have never heard of the Dead Gods in relation to the Dark One, except that they were, as is he, chaotic in nature."

"But what if it is true? What if there is a way in which he can be so easily defeated?"

"If he could be easily defeated, Hawk," said Nova'an, "he would not be a god."

Something in what he said struck a strong chord in me, though I could not place it. It seemed as if I had heard something similar to it, or something related to it. But I couldn't remember, couldn't remember.

"Remember."

"What?"

I looked up into the barmaid's face.

"I'm Lysan, remember? You used to work at the Dragoncleaver tavern in the Cities. I was very young then, but I would know you anywhere. You are Hawklok, aren't you?"

"Yes."

My friends had vanished; I was sitting alone.

"Where did they go?"

"Who? Oh, they went up to their rooms a few minutes ago." She sat down next to me in the booth. "Did you know I always thought you were attractive."

I looked at her very strongly then, looking into her eyes. I did remember her. She was the daughter of the owner of The Dragoncleaver. She was young back then, but pretty. Now, she looked very tired. She put her arm around me, and leaned toward me to kiss me. I had quick flashes of Myranda, but the emotional draining throughout the day made it impossible for me to resist her. There may have been something else as well, an aphrodisiac or drug in the wine, but there was not much coaxing necessary for me to move from the booth to my room. I didn't sleep that night. Neither did Lysan. But the love-making was not the same, and afterwards, in the morning, I knew it would not happen again. I apologized to Myranda in my mind, hoping that, somehow, she could hear me and would forgive me. I got out of bed, bathed, dressed, and left the room to find breakfast.

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