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Unexpected Wizardry

Adventures in the Land of Koo

By Steven Gordon



A Brief Preview:  The Nymph who wouldn't take no for an answer


	Worth cautiously entered the entrance to the underground.  The 
cave was filled with skeletons, a large number of them, pitted groups 
of bones that were scattered around the entrance.  Worth stifled back a 
gasp.

	"Worth!  What are you doing here?"

	It was the Talsall nymph.  She hadn't waited long.

	Worth turned.  All pretense was now gone.  "What happened to 
them?" he said, turning to the skeletons.

	"I loved them!" said Talsall.  "And they stayed with me!"

	"For the rest of their lives," said Worth.  "Unable to leave, 
unable to resist your charms."

	"Just like you, Worth," she said softly, sending him a bolt of 
energy.

	But this time Worth was prepared.  He had summoned his magic, and 
he kept it flowing through him.  It wasn't a shield, not really, but at 
least it might help him resist her charm.  He stood there defiantly, 
not smiling.  She had not won.

	The Talsall nymph looked like she was about to cry.

	"It's over, Talsall nymph," said Worth.  "I no longer-"

	Suddenly she sent another bolt, a much stronger, more intense 
one.

	Worth suddenly found that he could not keep his hands off of her.  
He needed to kiss her passionately, needed to feel her close to him.

	"Oh yes!  Oh yes oh yes oh yes!" the nymph cried.  

	Two weeks ago Worth had been a quiet lawyer in New York.  Now he 
was the permanent love slave of the nymph. 

	This was not the kind of vacation that Worth had planned for.

	


Chapter 1:  A Change of Venue



	Boredom.  

	Utter and complete boredom.

	Consider this:  an attorney, a member of one of the most 
prestigious firms in New York City, a very highly paid young lawyer, 
was bored.  He had started out as a young, idealistic attorney, 
determined to change the world.  He wanted to help the poor, the needy, 
those who weren't able to help themselves.  In his mind he saw it as a 
classic fight between good and evil, a fight between the powerful and 
the powerless, the just versus the unjust.  That's what gave him the 
energy to complete three grueling years of Columbia Law School, in the 
hopes that his training would be put to good use.

	But now he was having second thoughts.  Like many young 
attorneys, he had gotten bogged down in the world of corporate law:  
debt restructuring, mergers, acquisitions, stock tenders, contract 
renegotiations, lending agreements... this is not what the young lawyer 
had in mind when he went to law school.  

	The young attorney sat at his desk, on the 44th floor of the 
Housterman Building in downtown Manhattan, in the law offices of Carey, 
Blumberg & Butnick, trying to get through a seventy page document 
detailing the precise schedule of repayment of a variable annuity, and 
he was bored.  Not a temporary boredom, such as one encounters during a 
pause in activity.  No, this was a longer term boredom, the sort of 
feeling one gets from activity itself.  What was the sense of it?  What 
was it all worth?

	"Worth," said a voice, addressing the young attorney.

	Worth Rodgers looked up. He didn't like what he saw.  It was 
Maxine Brakenwalker, one of the litigation partners.  She looked down 
at him from the end of her prominently tipped nose.  She looked a 
little like a vulture, the kind that circles its target for a long 
time, waiting for the first sign of weakness to swoop down and bite the 
prey's neck out.

	Worth's face was calm.  His straight brown hair, combed neatly to 
the side, wavered not in the slighest as he angled his head to look up 
at her.   She could sense fear, and he knew it.  "Yes, Maxine?" said 
Worth.

	"Hi," Maxine said, in her artificially syrupy voice.   She wanted 
something.  That was clear to Worth immediately.   She looked at Worth 
speculatively, and then said, "I was wondering if you had some free 
time."

	Free time?  For what?  Worth wondered what planet Maxine had been 
living on.  Surely she knew he was up to his neck in debt servicing 
contracts on the Smith account.  Surely she knew he was not a 
litigator.

	"Well, I'm a little tied up on the Smith matter," said Worth, 
giving a tight smile.  He gestured back to his work.  Maybe she would 
just go away.

	"Only got one thing on the burner, good," said Maxine.  "Got a 
piece of work for you.  I could really use some background research 
into environmental zoning regulations on private property."  She 
dropped a thick file on Worth's desk, which landed with a resounding 
thud.

	She doesn't really need this, Worth realized.  And she knows I'm 
not in litigation. But Maxine was a partner and Worth was an associate.  
Worth was keenly aware of his post in the legal chain of command.  
Suppressing a sigh, Worth said, "When do you need it?"  Maybe he could 
squeeze it in early next week.

	"By tomorrow morning."  She smiled.  "It's a rush job.  Thanks a 
lot, Worth."  She walked away.

	"It's a rush job, thanks a lot, Worth," he imitated, making a 
screwed up face.  He examined the file.  It was already 5 o'clock, and 
this would take some time to look over.  That would mean missing karate 
tonight.  Again.  At this rate he would never make brown belt.

	"Oh, and Worth?" came Maxine's voice.  "You'll probably need to 
go to the Bar Association library."

	"Thank you, Maxine."

	It was cold outside, of course.  What else would one expect in 
the middle of January in New York City?  Before Worth had taken five 
steps, an artic wind froze every inch of exposed skin.  His ears and 
cheeks turned red and started to sting.  Worth even felt the cold 
beginning to penetrate the many layers of his clothing.

	He walked through the crowded sidewalk, feeling grumpy.  Maybe he 
needed a vacation.  Yes, a vacation--from Maxine, from the law, from 
New York, from everything.  Problem was, he wasn't up for another 
vacation for two months.  At least.

	Worth gave an oof as someone bumped against him on the crowded 
sidewalk.  The man who had bumped into Worth glared at him; Worth 
glared back as he passed.  

	Worth sighed.  The cold, the crowds, the atmosphere... yes, he 
needed to get away from it all.  For just a little while, at least.



	The bar association library was nearly empty.  Worth checked his 
watch.  It was nearly six o'clock.  Most sane people were at home by 
now.  "Where I should be," grumbled Worth, forming a pile of heavy 
books in his study carrol.  Karate started in half an hour.  There was 
no way that Worth would make it.  He tried to put it out of his mind.

	But it just wouldn't go.  One of the few things he enjoyed in 
life was karate practice, and that was being denied him.  Worth didn't 
have much of a social life; he was single, and hadn't even had a date 
in six months.  All he had was his karate, and his lonely evenings in 
front of the television, totally cut off from all humanity.  And now 
his karate was being taken away from him.  What was left tforo him?

	Worth, sighed, opening one of the books in front of him.  He 
looked through one of the indexes.  It was incomprehensible to him.  He 
turned to the index to the index.  

	"Hm... this is referring me down to another secondary index," 
said Worth, talking to himself.  He was so engaged in his own efforts 
that he didn't notice when It happened.

	Later, Worth would realize that this was the new beginning, that 
this was the event that would totally and forever change his life.  It 
would open his eyes to new horizens, to a new environment, to a 
different sort of existence he could lead.  It would also aggravate him 
terribly, and nearly lead to his death on innumberable occasions.

	And it all started with a feeling.  Worth had a feeling, as if he 
felt a small set of vibrations.  Worth raised an eyebrow, only half 
noticing them.  The vibrations did not cause him to look up.

	Pop!

	Neither did the noise.  It was a soft sound, and Worth, his 
attention buried in  the index, only barely registered the sound in his 
mind.

	"Let's see," said Worth.  "The secondary index to the index 
refers back to the higher level index.  Is there an index in the middle 
I missed?" he mused.  This was a perfect snapshot of his life.  Trapped 
in a library filled with books older than he was, sifting through 
indexes to indexes.  Worth hadn't had the remotest idea that this is 
what his life would be like as an attorney.  He had had an image, 
undoubtedly overly romanticized, of being an advocate, of helping 
people get justice.  But reality was cold and cruel. Reality, Worth 
reflected, was spending his dinner hour sitting in front of a leaning 
tower of indexes.  Maybe he should've been a doctor.  Worth's mother 
always said he should have become a doctor.  Worth had never listened 
to his mother.

	Then Worth heard the growl.  It wasn't a tiny growl, of the sort 
a small animal, like a poodle, would make.  It was a deep throaty 
affair, more on the level of german shepard, and it was reasonably 
loud.  This caught Worth's attention.

	Worth slowly looked around.  He was alone.  He was in the 
downstairs section of the libary, and there wasn't anyone else here. 

	Worth heard loud whispering sounds.  Then he heard heavy plodding 
footsteps.

	The sounds were coming from behind a shelf.  Clop, clop, clop!  
The steps grew louder.

	Worth was no longer focused on the index to the index, or any 
index, for that matter.  His eyes were glued to the bookshelf.

	Suddenly, two creatures appeared, jumping into view from behind 
the shelf.  Worth gasped.

	They were humanoid, remotely, in that they had two legs, two 
arms, a  body, and a head with the requisite number of eyes, noses, 
ears, and mouths, all roughly in the appropriate places.  The creatures 
were short, barely five feet tall, and wearing some sort of ragged 
clothing.  But what struck Worth were their faces.  They were framed in 
a twisted snarling way, marked with scars all around.  Their teeth had 
fangs.  Worth also noticed that their skin was rough, like hard bark, 
and their hands were claws.  And one of those claws were pointed at 
him.

	"This is the one," one of the creatures rasped.  His partner 
surged forward, rushing Worth.

	Worth was surprised, but instinct quickly kicked in, and he 
turned to the side, letting the first attacker rush past him.  Almost 
simultaneously, he smacked the creature with a balled up fist, hitting 
him squarely on the back.  The second one growled, drawing a sword.

	Oh oh.  This was out of his league, karate training or no.  Worth 
skidded around a table, trying to put it between him and the swordsman. 
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the first humanoid starting to get 
up.

	The swordsman lunged, and Worth dodged to the left.  The 
swordsman jumped on the table, and Worth backed away.

	Suddenly, he was tackled, and he fell to the ground.  The other 
creature had pushed him from behind.  Worth looked up, seeing a 
swordpoint aimed at his body.  It was a long blade, made of a hard 
steel.  All it would take was a single stroke to run him through.

	"Kill'm," said the humanoid without the sword.

	"No!  We must take him," said the swordsman.  "You know what the 
master says."

	Suddenly, before Worth's very eyes, the humanoids faded.  They 
simply faded, and disappeared.

	Worth slowly got up, closing inspecting the room.  He was alone.  
Where had they gone?

	He looked around some more, dusting himself off in the process.  
Had it really happened?  Then Worth noticed a long cut in the table, 
one that hadn't been there before.

	"It did happen," Worth breathed.  "The question is, what do I do 
now?"  He didn't know who the humanoids were, or what they wanted.  
What should he do?  What could he do?  The answer, plain and simple, 
was that there was nothing he could do.  Worth scooped up his books, 
and headed down to the main reading room.  He still had work that had 
to get done.  Perhaps the creatures would not return if other people 
were around.

	Worth sat in the main reading room, but he got very little work 
done.  Who were those creatures?  What did they want?  Were they really 
after him?  Why?

	But these questions temporaily subsided as Worth buried himself 
in his work again.  After several hours of slow but measured progress, 
he decided to go home for a quick break.  He would have to work on the 
project though the night.  Slowly, he plodded home.  It was almost 
eight now, and it was dark, and cold.

	He tried to convince himself that he should forget what had 
happened.  Maybe it hadn't been real.  Maybe he had imagined it.

	Worth had a small apartment on West 54th street.  He turned the 
key, and entered his place, slamming the door behind him.  Yes, he 
should just forget all about it, he decided.

	"I've been waiting for you," said a deep voice.

	There was a man, sitting on a chair by his bed.  Worth nearly 
jumped out of his loafers.  

	The man wore long, flowing grey robes.  He had a long beard 
sprouting from his chin and a wavy, almost curly hair on top of his 
head.  But it was his eyes that made Worth gasped.  They were sharp, 
knowing things, that had seen much in their times, and yet were full of 
vibrance, full of life.

	Worth opened his mouth to speak.

	"You're about to ask who I am and what I'm doing here in your 
dwelling," said the man in the robes.  "Excuse me for taking liberties, 
but it was necessary.  Your life is in great danger."

	Worth closed his mouth and then opened it again.  "The creatures 
who attacked me...."

	The man nodded.  Evidently he knew about the incident.  "They 
were merely goblins, twisted servants of a greater evil.  But daunting 
nonetheless.  Time is running short."  The man got up, and for the 
first time North saw he carred a small backpack and a long cane.  The 
man lifted his cane into the air.  Worth felt a small vibration.  The 
man lifted the cane and formed the shape of a large doorway.  He spoke 
a word of command, and a large doorway appeared.  Worth saw beyond it a 
number of slender trees by a stream.

	"What the...."

	"We must be quick.  They will be here at any moment. Please 
accompany me," said the man.

	"Wait!  Wait a minute!"  This was a bit too much; monsters 
attacking him in the library, a stranger in his apartment, doorways to 
other places.  "I don't even know your name.  Or what this is all 
about.  Or even if it's real.  Why were those creatures attacking me?  
Where did they come from?"

	The stranger looked down for a moment.  "I apologize for the 
abruptness.  You may call me Lore.  Everything you have seen has been 
very real.  That is why you are in such great danger-"

	"But why-" North stopped.  He felt a vibration in the air.  Lore 
caught his glance and followed it, to a corner of the room where three 
humanoids appeared.  They growled, immediately homing in on Worth.

	"Come no further!" Lore cried, suddenly drawing a sword from a 
hidden scabbard.  The creatures cried out, falling back hastily as Lore 
interposed himself between the creatures and Worth.

	"Go, now!" said  Lore, pushing Worth towards the door.

	But Worth was still indecisive, and he stopped, about a foot from 
the doorway.  The creatures... the goblins, Lore had called them, all 
drew swords, and charged at once.  Lore fell back, and pushed Worth 
again.  The momentum carried both of them through the doorway.


Chapter II:  Swamp Things

	Worth was wet.

	"Yuck!" he said.  He was sitting in a puddle.  Worth looked 
around.  He was in a swamp.  The color struck him first.  Everything 
was bright green--the trees, the vines, the moss, even the water.  A 
slightly foul smell drifted through the stagnant air.  Even though he 
was sitting in a puddle, Worth felt warm, which wasn't really 
surprising.  The temperature was hot, 80 degrees at least, and here 
Worth was in a formal suit.  

	The doorway was gone--at least, there was no sign of it.  Lore, 
and the monsters, were not to be seen.

	Worth slowly got up.  "Oh, my suit," he groaned, dripping into 
the puddle.  He stepped out of it.  His feet were waterlogged, of 
course.

	Worth removed his jacket, and loosened his tie.  "How did I get 
into all this!" he said miserably, leaning against a tree.

	"That would take some time to explain."

	It was Lore, darting out from behind a tree.

	"You're here too," said Worth, suddenly glad that he was no 
longer alone.  "Did you bring your little friends, too?"

	"You know they are not my friends, Worth Rodgers," said Lore.  
"They are goblins, the pawns of evil."

	"Are we safe?" said Worth in a small voice.

	"Safe?  Relatively speaking, yes, at least for the present.  They 
had tracked you in your own world, but it will take some time for them 
to find you here."

	"Whoa!  Time out, back up!  We're not there anymore?  New York, 
Manhattan?"

	Lore shook his head.

	"America?" said Worth.

	Lore shook his head again.

	"Earth?" said Worth, in a small voice.

	A two headed lizard suddenly darted by, running by Worth's feet.  
He jumped backwards.

	Lore chuckled.  "I will explain.  But could we go to some dry 
land first?  And perhaps you'd like to change."  He took a pair of 
rough dungarees, a shirt, and a pair of soft leather shoes out of his 
backpack.

	"What about my suit?"

	Lore chuckled again.  "You won't be needing it."

	They walked to a raised plateau of land a few dozen feet away.  
Worth changed into the clothes, never taking his eyes off Lore.  When 
he was done he was surprised to find that everything fit him well.  As 
if Lore knew his size.  As if he knew Worth would be needing them.

	"Here," said Lore, gesturing for Worth's old clothes.  Worth 
handed them over.  Lore put them on the ground.  Worth felt a vibration 
in the air, and Lore caught Worth's look.  Focusing his fingertips, 
Lore pointed at Worth's clothes.  Suddenly, they burst into flame, 
quickly burning to ashes.

	"Hey!" Worth cried, as Lore booted the remains into the water.  
All that remained of his clothes was a steamy hiss, coming from the 
watery grave.  "That was a $400 dollar suit."

	"Not any more," he said, shaking his head.  

	"What?" said Worth, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

	"We must not make it easy for the foul minions of Arnagon to 
track you," said Lore simply.

	"The foul minions of Arnagon!" Worth repeated.  "Whoa!  Time out 
again.  For starters, back to my original questions.  Who are you?  How 
do you know who I am?  Where am I?"

	"You are in the Lower Threstles, in the Manor Swamp, to be 
precise, if that is of any help," said Lore.  "But a better answer to 
your question, the real answer, is that you are no longer on your 
planet."

	"What?"

	"We call this Koo.  Or the Land of Koo.  It has been called 
Miranen by the Easterners, and more recently Sokoonen by the Falian 
peoples, but most people in the Lower Threstles simply refer to it as 
Koo.  It has many other names, as well."

	"I'm sure it does.  Koo.  Hm."  Worth reflected on that.  Then, 
he exploded.  "What the fuck am I doing in the Land of Koo?" he yelled, 
at the top of his lungs.

	"Hush!" Lore commanded.  "We have evaded our pursuers for the 
moment, but there is no telling when the enemy will catch up with us.  
This territory is hardly a secure area.  Come, we must go."  He got up, 
starting to pick his way among the bogs.

	Worth was momentarily indecisive.  Then, swearing, he got up, 
following Lore.  Lore, at least, could tell him what was going on.

	"So how did you know who I was?" said Worth, picking his way 
among patches of dry land.

	"The enemy was searching you out, Worth," said Lore, sidestepping 
his question.  "I had to bring you here, to keep you safe."

	Couldn't he have found a dryer place to keep Worth safe?  "Why?  
Why did the enemy want me?  And just how did we get here?  Has your 
technology perfected a means of travel like the one we used?"

	"Not science, Worth, as least, not science as you know it."  Then 
he looked at Worth, with an appraising glance.  "With magic."

	Lore appeared to concentrate, and Worth felt a vibration in the 
air.  It was getting stronger and stronger, and it centered around 
Lore's cane.  Worth looked down at it, but it looked like an ordinary 
polished stick of wood.

	Lore was watching Worth closely, and caught his glance.  "Good, 
good," he said softly, and the vibrations ceased.

	"What was that alll about?" Worth demanded.  "Is that magic?  Is 
that how you got me here?  Do you expect me to believe that?"

	Lore stopped walking, and stared at Worth.  "So many questions, 
so little time," he said, nodding his head.  "Come!  We must quicken 
our pace.  More walking, less talking."  And from then on he would not 
answer any more questions.

	Worth, cursing as he stepped into a small bog, followed.  It was 
all a lot to take in.  Magic.  Another world.  Monsters chasing him.  
And yet it was hard to deny.  Here he was.  Worth couldn't think of 
another plausible explanation for his presence here.  Wherever here 
was.  Worth was also dumbfounded to explain the so-called "magic".  He 
mulled it over as they walked.

	When the sun started to go down Lore looked about, startled, as 
if he hadn't noticed the passage of time. He stopped by a large patch 
of ground that was relatively dry.  "We will stay here for the night, I 
think."  He looked about, as if he were searching for something.  "We 
cannot risk a fire, and yet perhaps a milder form of illumination would 
not be unwarranted.  The darkness of the night can bring fear even when 
nothing threatening is present."

	Worth felt a small tremor, emanating from Lore's staff. Lore 
pointed the staff at a small piece of wood and uttered a word of 
command.  There was a spark, and then the wood started to glow softly.  
But Lore acted normally, as if he had done nothing special.  He took 
out strips of beef and two small leather skins from his pack.

	"That was magic," said Worth.  Unless that cane contained some 
sort of disguised cigarette lighter.  But Worth didn't think so.  He 
had felt it filled with magic, if that's what the vibrations were.

	"Yes," said Lore, nodding.

	 Worth saw this was his chance to get more information.  "What 
did those creatures want with me?"

	"Simply to kill you, perhaps.  Or maybe the goblins were under 
orders to bring you before their master."

	"Why?"

	Lore kept silent.  His face was grave.  "Because they know of the 
threat you pose."

	"Threat?  What threat?  I'm a corporate lawyer from New York 
City.  What kind of threat can I pose?"  

	"The evil one knows of your potential. He wants you destroyed or 
altered before you acquire it."

	 Altered.  Worth definitely did not like the sound of that.  But 
Worth got hung up on another part of Lore's statement.  "Potential?" 
Worth laughed.  "What, to make partner at my law firm?"

	"No.  Your potential to weave magic."

	"Magic?  Me?  You got the wrong lawyer, buddy."  Worth was 
prepared, maybe, to believe that Lore was a wizard.  After all he had 
seen it would be hard to deny it.  But he, Worth?

	"What was the first thing you noticed when the goblins appeared?"  
Lore spoke in a commanding voice, as if he were administering a test.

	"Why, their ugly faces, I suppose."

	"Think again."  The voice was soft but insistant.

	"Well...  come to think of it, there were those vibrations."

	"There were no vibrations.  Not in the physical sense.  You 
detected their magic, just as I did.  You also noticed when I summoned 
magic to my staff.  You, Worth, have a great magical potential."

	"Me?  I can use magic?"  Worth was incredulous.

	Lore nodded.  "Try it!"

	"Huh?"

	"Relax.  Concentrate on summoning your magic."

	"How?"

	"There is no how.  Simply do it."  He sat back, expectantly. 
Worth, of course, was totally untrained.  And yet, if his potential was 
as great as Lore suspected, he would learn quickly.  Very quickly.

	Worth tried.  He sat there, attempting to feel, as he had felt 
the magic in Lore's staff.  For a long moment nothing happened.  Then 
Worth felt a tinge of electricity filling his veins, but just a tinge, 
and then it was gone.  He looked up.

	Lore was impressed.  "You had it.  Just for a second, but you had 
it.  Now try again."  Amazing, Lore thought.  He had been successful on 
the first try.  Lore had been correct in trying to seek Worth out.  He 
had the potential to become very powerful.  But would he reach his 
potential before the minions of the fell captain caught up to him?  
That was unclear.  If Arnagon caught Worth as he was, the fell captain 
could easily alter him, and use him as a tool of enormous evil.  Lore 
could not permit that, he would not permit it.

	Worth concentrated again.  The magic came easier this time, and 
streams of magic flowed through him, uncertainly, unsteadily, but magic 
nonetheless.  He felt as if energy were coursing through his body.  He 
felt as if he could direct power from his fingertips.

	"Now use it," said Lore, sensing the buildup of magic.  He 
suggested a simple task.  "Direct it, at the ground."

	Worth pointed with his fingertips, but nothing happened.  
Suddenly, a spark flew from his fingers, hitting the ground.  Then as 
quickly as it had come, his power was gone.  Worth, gasping, suddenly 
felt fatigued from his exertion.

	"Better," Lore nodded.  

	"It's amazing!  But does it tire you out like that?" Worth said, 
leaning back.

	"You gain endurance very quickly," said Lore.  "But now you can 
see why I brought you here."

	"What?  Why?"

	"So you may better defend yourself, Worth Rodgers."

	Worth leaned back, against a tree, mulling that over.  "Just how 
do you know who I am?" he exploded.  "That's one question you never 
answered."

	Lore was silent for a time.  Worth wondered why; it didn't seem 
like a very difficult question.

	Finally, Worth got impatient.  "Well?"

	"I was seeking you out.  I was searching for those with magical 
potential.  I was aware that those from other... planets might have 
magical potential, even in societies that couldn't utilize magic.  I 
developed the ability to travel, in a fashion, and I went looking 
for... persons such as yourself.  To assist us in our time of great 
need."  And Lore had been quite surprised when he detected Worth.  He 
had sensed that Worth's magical potential was immense, greater than any 
wizard he had known, greater perhaps than the great Wendur, who had 
thrown down the fell captains in the time of the bad chaos.  Lore did 
not know if Worth's ability stemmed from an act of nature, or some 
other source; but he did know that it was vital that he, Lore, find 
Worth, before the evil ones did. 

	Worth nodded.  "And so you tracked me down.  You sensed that I 
had magical ability, is that it?"

	Lore nodded.

	"But can you do that over long distances?"

	"No, it is a complicated explanation."

	Worth looked curious.  "Come to think about it, how can do you do 
magic in my world?  Can I?"

	"So many questions!  It is all very complicated, Worth.  Magic 
does not work in your world, not exactly.  Special remote balancing 
spells are required-"

	"Remote balancing spells?" said Worth, getting lost in the 
jargon.  "Wait a minute.   Go back.  So you came looking for me.  
This... enemy you referred to.  He's also looking for people with 
magical talent from other worlds too."

	"Not exactly."  And Worth sensed that Lore was reluctant to talk 
about it.

	"Then why is this... what's his name, Sargon, after me?"

	"Arnagon," said Lore.  There was a dark pause.  "And do not take 
his name lightly.  He was one of the worst of the fell captains during 
the bad chaos.  He was Arnagonus the Terrible, and he destroyed cities 
as casually as you step on blades of grass.  His force was great, and 
his power was feared by all.  It was Arnagonus who crushed the 
resistance at Kalbard.  It was Arnagonus who eliminated the bulk of the 
region's imperial army in one fell swoop, as well as much of the 
Wayfarer detachment.  None of their bones were ever even found.  As for 
the villagers, most who fell under his sway never were seen alive 
again, or if they were, they were horribly altered, unrecognizable even 
to their loved ones.  The fell captain destroyed nearly all the 
villages in his wake, brick by brick, stick by stone, until there was 
nothing left, nothing but dust."

	Lore took a deep breath.  "And yes, he is pursuing you."

	"But why?"  That was the question that Worth had originally 
asked.

	"He... tracked you through me," said Lore.

	"You led him to me?"  Worth was incredulous.

	"Not precisely."  Lore shook his head.  "But in my zeal to locate 
persons such as yourself, I thoughtlessly allowed Arnagon to trail me.  
You see, Worth, I wasn't aware-"

	"You led them to me?  It's all your fault?" said Worth, getting 
angry.

	Lore nodded.  "In a way I do feel responsible"

	"In a way?  In a way?  How about 'all the way?'"

 	Lore took a deep breath, then continued.  "I am trying to right a 
wrong.  I have rescued you, I will protect you-"

	"Rescued me?  Protected me?  In a swamp?  Send me back, Lore, I'd 
rather take my chances in New York City.  At least I'd die with dry 
feet."  

	"Die you surely would, for it is obvious that the evil one is at 
least partially attuned to you, wherever you went."

	"Attuned?  What does that mean?"

	Lore took a deep breath.  "That too is difficult to explain.  
Just take my word that he would find you, wherever you are.  At least 
here you have me to protect you.  And, in time, you may be able to 
protect yourself."

	"It's just a coincidence, of course, that this coincides with 
your plan to bring me here to fight your wizard wars," said Worth.

   	Lore sighed.  "Worth, there is so much for you to learn.  But we 
have talked enough for now, and you have some to think about, I expect.  
Why don't you close your eyes and get some rest?"

	"Yeah, right," said Worth, leaning back against a tree.  It felt 
uncomfortable.  "Just try not to accidently lead anyone else here 
during the night.  I'm a purple belt in karate, but I don't feel up to 
form tonight."  He closed his eyes, and tried to get comfortable.

	It was all so crazy.  Three hours ago he was in the bar 
association library, working on property law.  And here he was, fleeing 
for his very life.  So Lore had said.  Worth tended to believe him, 
though.  He had seen those... goblins with his very own eyes.  

	It was obvious to worth that Lore thought he had great magical 
potential.  But he had picked the wrong man.  Worth wasn't cut out to 
be a great wizard, desperately involved in a life or death fight.  
Sure, he always wanted to fight for those who needed assistance, the 
helpless, the weak, those fighting for justice, but Worth wanted to 
fight for them in a different, more sedentary, less risky way.  Through 
the law.

	Worth suddenly slapped his leg, without opening his eyes.  And 
here he was, being bitten up by mosquitos in a jungle on the planet 
Koo.  This was not the way he had expected to spend the evening.  For 
the first time in recent memory, he wished he was back home, in New 
York City.  It was cold and inhospitable and unpleasant, but it was 
home.

	

	Chop!  Chop!  Chop!

	Worth opened his eyes.  He had fallen asleep, and now it was 
morning.  Blinking, his eyes painfully adjusted to the bright morning 
light.  The first thing he focused on was the snake, cut neatly into 
three pieces, lying inches away from him.

	"Good morning, Worth," said Lore pleasantly, putting away his 
sword.

	"Aaaagh," said Worth, edging away from the snake corpse.  "Was 
that....."

	"A good piece of morning exercise.  I have told you, Worth 
Rodgers, that I will protect you, as best I am able," Lore said, with 
much sincerity.

	"Protect me?  Why?  If I was in danger, why didn't you just warn 
me?  I could have gone into hiding."

	"And you would have been found.  At least I will be here with 
you.  Defending you.  And, in the meantime, you will learn to defend 
yourself.  I will instruct you personally."

	"Thanks, coach," said Worth, getting up.  They had a brief 
breakfast of hard biscuits and water, and then started on their way.  
"Where, by the way, are we going?"

	"Out of the swamp," said Lore.  "But, if you ask, 'what is my 
plan?', I am not certain.  I could leave you in a place of comparative 
safety, perhaps, if one could be found in all the Lower Threstles."  
Lore had thought of leaving Worth somewhere that he might be protected.  
Originally he had planned to recruit Worth and then spend a leisurely 
time training him.  But the threat of Arnagon had resurfaced suddenly, 
just as Lore found Worth, and, worse, the fell captain had also 
discovered Worth.  Any ideas Lore had for training Worth for the 
eventual defense of the Lower Threstles was out of the question now; 
there was simply no time.  No, Lore would have to handle this new 
threat himself.  All he could do for Worth was try to protect him.

	"You're going to leave me?  While you do what?"

	"Deal with the evil one.  You will not be safe until he is 
removed from power again.  As I have told you, Arnagon has returned.  
Five centuries ago it took an army of men and a talwo of wizards to 
defeat him.  He was of a mighty power, and his magical ability was 
unmatched, saved by a very few, including his master.  He was cruel, 
and wicked, and he destroyed most everything in his path, except for 
the few that he kept as slaves, and after a time they would have rather 
died then continued to live under his rule.  And many of them did.  For 
many of them had been worked to the bone under the duress of slave 
labor, and most were underfed and maltreated, all except a few 
important ones, the slave masters.  These were the altered ones, and 
they never complained; but then they had few facilities left to 
complain with."

	  "To this day what is now called the Lower Threstles is 
underpopulated, compared to what it once was.  Neither has the land has 
fully recovered from his assault, which, as I said, was nearly 500 
years ago.  There used to be trees here, beautiful Mapulas and Eruntas, 
and the green blooming Simulten that used to flower everywhere.  No 
more.  They are not to be seen.  He could not stand anything beautiful, 
anything natural and pure."

	Whyse took a deep breath.  "Since his return, I am not certain as 
to extent of his revived power.  I sense, however, that the fell 
captain is not as great as he once was.  He does not venture forth from 
his stronghold, but sends others to do his work.  Still, his power is 
not to be underestimated, nor that of his minions.   You, as well as 
everone else in Lower Threstles, are in grave danger."

	"I don't understand.  You're saying this guy is five hundred-"

	Suddenly, they heard a loud squawk in the distance.  Lore 
muttered for him to be silent.

	Worth looked at the jungle.  There was a lot of motion in the 
distance; the swamp was teeming with life--fish, birds, and other 
unidentifiable creatures.  But Lore seemed to be on the lookout for 
something else.

	Finally, after a time, Worth hissed, "What is it?  I don't see 
anything."

	"They are near," said Lore.  "They traced the other end of our 
cross jump, and they must be close.  We must be getting on.  Hurry 
now!"  And he started off at a quick pace.

	They hurried on for much of the day, only stopping for a brief 
lunch.  Even then Lore only allowed him ten minutes, muttering "Hurry," 
as his eyes nervously scanned the area.

	Worth looked about too.  He couldn't see anything.  Just dense 
green jungle.  If they were being followed,  he couldn't see signs of 
their pursuers.

	"What is it?  Goblins?"

	"It is best you do not know," said Lore.   And that is all he 
would say.

	But they made a quick pace in the afternoon, hopping from dry 
patch to dry patch in a fairly straight direction.  Worth was gasping 
for breath by midafternoon; the rapid exertion, combined with the 
oppressive humidity, was really wearing him out.  "A break," he gasped.  
"Please."

	Lore looked about, but Worth sensed he was using more than his 
eyes.  "Very well, a short break.  I think we have eluded them, for 
now.  And we have made significant progress."

	"Who is chasing us?" said Worth.  "And how do you know the 
progress we've made?  All this jungle looks alike."

	"Yes, I imagine it would," said Lore.  "But I know, Worth 
Rodgers, that we are nearing the fringes of the Manor Swamp, because we 
have been going in a northwesterly direction for the past day and a 
half.  We started out nearly in the center of the swamp, as best as I 
can reckon, and we have a little less than two day's travel to go 
before we reach the edge.  But even if I had been blind to the 
directions of the compass I would still know that we are in the western 
portion of the Swamp, if only because that is where the Olgari flowers 
are most predominant," he said, plucking a green pedal from the ground.

	"Very smart," said Worth.  "You've obviously been here before.  
But why is it called the Manor Swamp?  Was there really a mansion in 
all this?"

	Lore nodded.  "But there was no swamp here.  In the bad chaos 
when the fell captains of the north came down, they occupied the whole 
of what is now known as the Lower Threstles, as well as many other 
places.  Their base of operations in the Lower Threstles was the great 
manor in Kalbard."

	"You mentioned it before.  Where is this Kalbard?"

	"You're standing in it," said Lore gently.  "It was a wide, open 
county, largely a farming community.  All despoiled and ruined by the 
evil creatures from the northern ruin.  Kalbard, and, by extension, 
Thanadil, what is now known as the Lower Threstles, was part of the 
larger Wayfarer Confederation that ruled from here to the Eastern 
shores, over the mountains and down the hills.  When the evil was 
pushed back, the despoiled land wasted away into... this.  Since then 
the land has been healing, slowly, though there are still parts of the 
swamp that retain vestiges of evil.  But come!  We have dallied enough.  
We must march on!"

	Lore felt tense.  Even 500 years after the bad chaos had been 
cleared away, the Manor Swamp was not a safe place to be.  It was a 
breeding ground for evil, and much of what had plagued the Lower 
Threstles in recent times usually had its origins in the swamp.  The 
senjamo, the living green vines which had crept west and invaded nearby 
villages, had originated in the Manor Swamp.  And the Kanumin Raiders 
had used the swamp for years to attack the roads that meandered along 
the edges of the swamp.  The combined militias had cleaned the rebels 
from the swamps, but at great cost.  Even today, many who foolishly 
chose to enter the swamp never emerge.  What was the cause of their 
doom was little known.

	They walked through the latter part of the day.  When they 
stopped for the night, Lore sat on the ground, grasping his staff.  He 
looked very disturbed.  "Go to sleep, Worth.  We will be getting up 
early in the morning, at first light."

	"Don't you ever sleep?" Worth wondered.

	The wizard cracked a smile.  "When need be."



	The following morning Lore shook Worth, waking him up.

	"Oh, go 'way," said Worth.

	"Come!  We must get out of the swamp today, or come as close to 
the edge as we can.  You may have breakfast now, but there will be no 
lunch, or stopping again until we have made it out.  We are low on food 
supplies as well."

	"Why don't you just create more food?" Worth wondered.

	"You have much to learn about magic, Worth Rodgers."

	"Well, that answers everything, doesn't it?" Worth grumbled.  
"Ok, where's the food?"

	"Above you."

	Worth looked up.  There, perched on a high tree branch, was a 
small wrapped package.

	Worth looked at Lore.  "What's the idea?"

	"Our time is short, but you must take every opportunity to 
practice your magic.  Should anything happen to me, you will be left to 
defend yourself."

	"Then send me back!" said Worth, suddenly getting angry.  "Send 
me back!"

	Lore shook his head.  "That I will not do.  You are targeted, 
now; you would never be safe in your own planet.  Not while Arnagon has 
the same ability to crossover that I do."

	"And what am I here?  Up to my chin in mud and snakes?"

	"We will be moving on in ten minutes.  If you are going to eat, I 
suggest you get a start on eating your breakfast."

	Worth looked up.  "What do you want me to do?"

	"Summon your magic.  Use it to pull the food to you."

	Worth took a deep breath.  He relaxed, trying to feel out the 
magical currents.  Suddenly they were back, more steadier and stronger 
than before.  He pointed at the wrapped up package, and thought, come, 
come.

	Worth could feel the vibrations, emanating from his fingers, 
going to the branch.  The entire branch started to shake slightly.  
Lore raised his eyebrows.

	And then, gasping, Worth found the power failed him.  "I can't do 
this!" he swore, starting to climb the tree.  He had just gotten a 
first purchase on the bark when he felt a sudden stabbing pain in his 
back, causing him to fall back to the ground.

	"Yes you can," said Lore.  He was ten feet away, and his staff 
was pointed straight at Worth.  But somehow Worth didn't think Lore had 
stabbed him with it.

	Worth dusted himself off, glaring at his attacker.  "You saw!  I 
tried!"

	"And did quite well.  Your only problem was, you didn't focus 
properly.  You were trying to shake the whole branch.  Try it again."

	Worth took a deep breath.  He was already a little tired.  He 
focused, concentrating.  He pointed at the package, and sent a wave of 
magic towards it.  Push, push, he thought.  Suddenly, the package fell 
to the ground.  Worth eagerly rushed up to the food. "Did it, I did 
it."

	"Very good," said Lore.  Worth was indeed progressing rapidly.

	But Worth's smile quickly faded when he unwrapped the package and 
hefted the contents.  "A rock?  Where's the food?"

	"Here," said Lore, handing him a sandwich.  "I couldn't afford to 
leave the food there for very long.  The creatures of the swamp would 
have consumed it."

	Worth glared at him, biting into his sandwich.  It was some sort 
of bland cheese, which, due to the oppressive heat they had found 
themselves in, was partially melted.

	"Come!  The time for dallying has passed.  You must eat while we 
go!  Come!"

	They picked their way through bogs for much the rest of the 
afternoon.  Worth found it difficult to keep up with Lore, who picked 
his way nimbly among the patches of land.  At one point Worth saw a 
shortcut and started on an alternate route.

	"Halt!" came Lore's bark.

	Worth froze, in mid step.  "What?"

	"I told you to follow me."

	"I am.  This way is shorter."

	Lore, who was some twenty feet ahead, picked up a rock on the 
ground.  He tossed it so that it landed a good three feet in front of 
Worth.

	"Hey!" said Worth, misinterpreting it for an attack.  "What was 
that for....  oh."  He noticed the rock, sinking into the ground ahead 
of him.

	"Quicksand.  Your eyes are not trained to distinguish it.  I 
implore you to follow me most carefully," said Lore.

	"You bet," said Worth.  The rock had now disappeared completely 
below the surface with a final 'glug glug glug'.  Worth shuddered.  
From then on, he followed Lore's path most closely.

	Lore seemed satisfied when they stopped for the night.  "We are 
almost out of the swamp.  Tomorrow we will leave it entirely.  And 
another day and a half travel, perhaps, and we will make it to Beech."

	"Beech?  What's that?" said Worth, looking for a place to sit.  
The ground seemed moist around here.

	"A small village, not far from the swamp.  Many of the refugees 
of Kalbard settled there, once upon a time.  It's of great importance 
that we get there."

	Worth sat down on the ground.  "Why is it of great...  Aggghh!"  
Suddenly, he felt himself sinking.  In a matter of seconds, he was up 
to his waist in mud.  It was as if the ground around him was liquid.  
And it was heavy.  Worth barely managed to lift his arms out of the 
muck.  "Lore!  Help me out of this."

	But Lore was already moving.  He had found a long vine.  He tied 
one end around a sturdy tree, and threw the other end towards Worth.  
It landed a few feet short of him.

	"It's too far," said Worth, straining to reach it.  The mud 
seemed to grab him, and everytime he struggled the soppy soil would 
make sucking sounds as it stuck to him.  "Throw it again."

	"Summon your magic," said Lore.

	And then Worth knew that he had thrown it short on purpose.  
"This is no time to be playing games!" said Worth.  "I'm too distracted 
to do that now!"

	The ground around him was making 'glug glug glug' sounds as Worth 
sunk deeper.  It smelled, too.

	"Better hurry.  You're sinking quite quickly."  Indeed, the mud 
was up to his chest.

	"My arms are buried under this!" Worth wailed.

	"You don't need your arms!  Do it, now!"

	Worth relaxed, or tried to relax.  At the same time he was 
concentrating, focusing the power that was flowing to him.  He stared 
at the vines.  Come, come here, he thought.  "Come!" he yelled.

	The end of the vine obediently came to him.

	"Great, but I can't lift my arms."  The mud was now up to his 
throat.  "Lore?"

	Suddenly, Worth felt a strong magical force lifting him, lifting 
him... until Worth was halfway out of the mud.  He immediately grabbed 
the vine, and the force holding him gradually disappeared.

	Worth slowly pulled himself out.  Lore offered a hand up but 
Worth ignored it.  "Thanks for nothing.  I almost drowned in there."

	 Lore's face was stern.  "You may find a time when I am not here 
to help you, Worth."

	"Then send me back.  Send me back!  Even New York City is safer 
than this!"  Worth tried to scrape the mud off of him, but it seemed to 
be sticking.

	"I have already explained to you that I cannot do that.  Your 
best chance of survival is here.  Now let us eat, then rest.  This will 
be our last night in the swamp, and for that you should be happy."

	But Worth was not happy.  He tried to wash himself off in a 
nearby stream, but only managed to get some of the larger chunks of mud 
off.  He collapsed in a miserable heap not far from Lore.  He was so 
tired that he ignored the pain of the rocks in his back.

	Suddenly, someone was shaking him.  "What?" said Worth.  "It's 
can't be morning already."  He opened his eyes.  It was dark, pitch 
dark.  It was still the middle of the night.  "Hey!" he cried.

	A hand clamped down over his mouth.  "Quiet!" Lore hissed.  "They 
are near."

	Who, Worth wondered.  But he stayed silent.  It was possible to 
see a little in the dark, but not very much.  Several minutes passed.  
Suddenly, Worth heard a soft crunching noise in the distance.  
Suddenly, he felt a terror grip him.  He felt the urge to run.

	Worth felt himself being pulled to the base of a tree.  "Be 
silent and still.  Your very life depends on it," Lore whispered.  
Lore, standing by Worth, summoned magic to his staff.  He seemed to 
activate some sort of spell, but it wasn't obvious to Worth what he was 
doing.

	The crunching sounds grew louder, until several humanoid shapes 
came into view.  There were four of them.  They walked by, muttering in 
low voices, and then they stopped, not fifteen feet away from Worth and 
Lore.  One of them turned and seemed to be looking straight at Worth.  

	They must have seen us, Worth thought.  Even in the dark, at this 
distance, they must have seen our outlines.  He felt the wild terror 
grip him, strongly now.  But Lore's grip was stronger, and kept him in 
place.

	Worth wished he had a weapon.  He wasn't a skilled soldier, but 
at least it would give him a fighting chance.  There wasn't much he 
could do with his magic, at least, unless their pursuers could be 
frightened by flying sandwiches.  Worth saw Lore's hand grow tense on 
his staff, but otherwise the wizard did not move a muscle.

	The one who looked at Worth turned away.  Their pursuers paused 
for a further moment, and then moved on.  Worth watched them walk away 
with relief.

	It was long after they had passed beyond hearing and sight that 
the vibrations from Lore's magic ceased, and Lore turned to him, 
saying, "You may speak now.  They are gone, for now."

	"Who are they?  And how come they didn't see us?" said Worth 
immediately.

	Lore looked about.  Morning was coming, and rays of light were 
beginning to penetrate the dismal swamp.

	"You might as well know," he said, taking a deep breath.  "They 
are the fell captain's servants, among his most useful, and deadly.  
The Black Daggers."

	"Black Daggers?" said Worth quizically.  "Are they monsters?"

	"Monsters?" and then it was Lore's turn to frown.  "I'm not sure 
I know what you mean by that.  They are men, somewhat like you or I, 
but they serve the evil one, Arnagon.  Their dangerousness arises in 
the fact that they are well trained for the art of war, and they are 
very cruel, and vicious."

	"Oh.  Guys with swords."  Somehow, Worth had feared it might be 
worse than that.

	"Yes, ostensibly.  Highly trained 'guys with swords', as you put 
it.  All except one, that is."

	"One?  Who is that one?"

	"Nay."

	"Come one, tell me," said Worth.  "You've started, finish the 
rest of it."

	 Lore looked irritated.  "His name is Nay, at least, that is what 
he calls himself nowadays.  Several hundred years ago, his name was 
Nayorshoran.  He was, and continues to be, the chief lieutenant of 
Arnagon, who, as a fell captain, was himself a mere lieutenant to the 
greater evil that came down with the bad chaos.  Nayorshoran was with 
Arnagon, 500 years ago, when Kalbard was thrown down, when the council 
chief was slain and the imperial detachment was beaten.  It is said 
that he beat a company of royal imperial defenders virtually 
singlehandedly.  He is not a man, at least not like you or I, or any of 
the other Black Daggers.  When he first appeared, some centuries ago, 
there was some thought that he was a creation, a part of the fell 
captain that Arnagon had fashioned from himself, and animated with his 
own power.  That may be true, for Nayorshoran has all the malevolence 
of his master.  When Kalbard was thrown down and the council was 
captured, it is said that Nay personally supervised the torturing and 
killing of them.  But when their bodies were found there was not a 
mark, not a bruise on them.  All that could be seen were the 
expressions of horrors on the victims, ones of unreasoning fear."

	"You see, Worth, he is quite more than merely a man with a sword.  
How think you he was able to track us through the swamp?  Or walk 
safely through it at night?"

	"I had wondered about that," said Worth.  "But if he's so great, 
how come he didn't see us?"

	Lore smiled.  "To the Black Daggers, we were but another tree."

	"But if this Nay is also a magic user, how come he didn't detect 
your magic?"

	Lore looked Worth straight in the eyes.  "Worth, nearly all of 
the residents of Koo have no magical ability, none at all.  A scant few 
possess the potential to develop a minor ability.  An even smaller 
amount can develop greater skills, such as those I possess.  But even 
few of those can instinctively detect magic, certainly without the aid 
of a spell.  That is one of the ways in which you are special."

	"Oh," said Worth.  He had thought that everyone could feel the 
vibrations.  "So Nay can't?"

	"Not that I know.  Or else we would have been discovered, and 
there would have been a terrible battle."

	"Would you have won?" said Worth.  It was clear that Lore was an 
important wizard, but Worth didn't know just how powerful he truly was.

	"Who can say?" said Lore, deflecting his question.  "But come!  
It is morning.  We must make our way out of the swamp.  This is the 
last leg of our journey, but the most dangerous:  in addition to being 
closely pursued by the Black Daggers, we are passing perilously close 
to the old Manor grounds.  It no longer stands, but great evil still 
dwells there, I think."

	They marched along through the bogs, with Lore in the lead.  Lore 
seemed more uncertain of the way now; he would often pause, choose one 
direction, and then doubleback to take another.  The reason for this 
was easily apparent; there was less solid ground to go on, and solid 
stretches of ground were now few and far between.  Worth found it 
harder and harder to avoid stepping into the bogs.  He had resigned 
himself to walking around with wet feet when he slipped in a bog 
puddle, and fell crashing to the ground.

	Lore looked back at him.  "Really, Worth, we must make better 
time."

	Worth sat up rubbing his backside for a moment.  Then he reached 
into the bog, scooping out a handful of slimey weeds.  He threw them 
onto the bank.  Then Worth started sobbing pitifully to himself.

	"Worth!"

	Worth kept on crying.  "I can't stand it!  I can't stand this 
place!"

	"Worth!" said Lore, and there was a tinge of magic in his voice.

	Worth looked up.

	"The longer you lie there, the longer we stay in the swamp."

	"Then send me back!" Worth cried.  "Oh, I want to go home!"

	Lore looked at Worth, staring him in the eye.  And then, Worth 
saw anger flaring.  The anger was so strong that Worth instinctively 
sprung to his feet.

	"Stop crying like a child!" said Lore.

	"Send me back!" Worth repeated.

	"You will go back, when I decide it's safe!" said Lore.  His eyes 
flared, and menacing vibrations came out of his staff.

	Worth opened his mouth to protest, but he suddenly felt a chill 
go down his spine.  Lore looked serious.  Deadly serious.  Worth 
realized that he had just reached the wizard's limit.  Calming down, he 
said, in a soft voice.  "All right.  Let's go."

	Lore nodded, immediately turning away.  They started walking 
again.  

	They walked in silence.  Worth's feet were starting to ached; he 
daydreamed about riding the New York subway, and being able to find a 
seat.  He could cover ground awfully quickly on the subway.  It wasn't 
so hot too, at least in the air conditioned cars.  And the fare was 
only a dollar.  Or had they raised it again?

	After two hours at a reduced pace, Lore gestured a halt.  Worth, 
perspiring, was glad for the break.

	"Lunch?" said Worth brightly.

	Lore shook his head.  "I see two possible ways ahead, around a 
large bog, but I am not sure which is best.  I am going to briefly 
scout ahead on one of them.  I want you to stay here."

	"Hey!" said Worth.  "Listen, Lore, I'm sorry about before...."

	Lore's expression softened.  "I am sorry as well.  I think we 
both overreacted."

	"Then let me go with you."

	Lore shook his head.  "Not practical.  You will only slow me 
down," he explained.  "Wait here.  I will not be gone long.  And, 
whatever you do, do not move from this spot!"

	He headed off into the jungle, picking his way among the dry 
pieces of land.

	"Great, great, leave me here in a nightmarish version of the 
Everglades," Worth muttered.  "All I need is a bunch of parrots and I 
can start my own show."  He sat down on the ground.  "Just how did I 
get into this mess?  The answer is, I didn't.  I was brought here, 
against my will.  This whole mess started in the bar association 
library.  That's the last time I go there to do my research.  Yes, sir, 
next time I go all the way to the NYU law library.  A lot nicer down 
there.  Not far from the World Trade Center."

	Worth thought about New York.  He missed his apartment.  He 
missed clean clothes, a soft bed, regular meals... things he had taken 
for granted until a short while ago.  And ice cream!  In this weather, 
Worth would have gladly paid whatever a price gouging street vendor was 
charging for an ice cream pop.  Oh, how he missed cold food....  and 
air conditioning.  Yes, he really missed his air conditioning.  Would 
he ever have air conditioning again?  Worth continued to feel 
exceedingly sorry for himself, thinking about his lost luxuries, as 
least until he heard the noise.

	Crunch crunch.

	Someone was coming.  It was probably Lore, returning from his 
little trek.  Still, Worth decided to play it safe.  He darted behind a 
thick tree.

	The crunching sounds were not coming from the direction that Lore 
had gone.  They were coming from the opposite direction, and Worth 
could now make out shapes in the distance.  Three or four of them.  
Worth was filled with an overwhelming fear.

	The Black Daggers.

	Worth immediately ran for it.  Perhaps if he had thought more 
rationally about it, he might have decided to stay hidden behind the 
tree, hoping they would pass him.  But an unreasoning fear gripped him, 
and he ran off, hoping he was still too far for the Black Daggers to 
see him.  Worth didn't believe Lore, not entirely, with regard to 
everything he had told Worth about his situation; but he instinctively 
believed that their pursuers were not good people to meet in an empty 
swamp.

	Worth started running, not looking back.  He was too busy looking 
at the ground, trying to pick dry spots of land to go on.  He felt his 
feet making 'clop clop clop' noises as they stomped on the ground, but 
that couldn't be helped.  He ran, in no particular direction, not even 
keeping track of the way back.

	After several minutes he did stop and turn around, and there was 
no sign of pursuit.  Perhaps he had gotten away without being seen.

	The problem now was that he was lost in the jungle, on an alien 
planet, without food, drinking water, or any means of defense.  His one 
friend on the planet, if one chose to call Lore that, was nowhere to be 
seen.

	Worth considered trying to retrace his path back to the point 
where Lore had left him.  That was the most logical thing to do, and 
yet Worth was reluctant.  His mind told him that the Black Daggers 
should be gone, and yet the possibility remained that they would be 
there, waiting for him.  But he forced himself to try to retrace his 
route.

	After several minutes, though, it was clear that he was more lost 
than ever.  Every bog, every fern, every vine covered tree looked 
alike.  He could be heading in any direction.  Including towards the 
Black Daggers.  Even that would be an improvement.  As least they could 
give him directions.

	Think, Worth, think, he told himself.  Lore had said that they 
were near the edge of the swamp, and that they were going northwest, 
making for a village.  Therefore if he went northwest he would get out 
of the swamp as well.  Worth looked at the sun.  It was still 
midmorning, and the sun was still coming up from the... east.  Or did 
it come up from the east on this world?  Well, he had to make certain 
assumptions.  After a moment of careful thought, Worth headed off in 
the direction that he thought was roughly northwest.

	He walked for some time, picking his way among the bogs.  Luckily 
the incidents of quicksand were fewer as he went on, giving rise to his 
hope that he was nearing the edge of the swamp.  In fact, as the 
afternoon went on Worth found long stretches of solid land that he 
could easily traverse.  But he still couldn't see the edge of the 
jungle.  It could be thirty feet away, and he wouldn't be able to see 
through the dense foliage.

	Worth looked at his watch.  That and his wallet were now his sole 
links to his own home.  The time was 5:00.  This place, Koo, also 
seemed to operate on the 24 hour cycle, or so it seemed.  On Earth, 
Worth would be eating a pre-dinner snack about now,  a couple of Oreos 
that he squirreled away in the center drawer of his desk at work.

	But he hadn't even had lunch.  And his stomach was growling.  
Nothing around him looked very edible, unless he cared to dine on vines 
and dung beetles.  Which might soon prove to be his only option.

	Worth was still contemplating his dining options when a snake 
hurled itself out of a tree, leaping for his throat.

	Worth caught it out of the corner of his eye, and jumped out of 
the way.

	The snake, a huge twelve foot python that must have been a foot 
wide on the side, hit the ground and recoiled, reorienting on Worth. It 
was large and green, and it hissed angrily at him.

	Instinctively, Worth summoned his magic.  He pointed at the snake 
and yelled, "Now!", not quite sure what he was doing.  A bolt of energy 
sprang from his fingertips and hit the snake on the side.  The hit 
caused a gash on the snake's oily skin, and it gave a loud steamy hiss.  
Worth aimed another bolt but the snake weaved and the bolt missed, 
hitting the ground.  The snake coiled itself for an attack again and 
Worth knew this was his last chance.  With his energy waning he 
launched another bolt, one that hit the snake in the fangs.  And then 
Worth collapsed to the ground in a wave of fatigue.

	After a few seconds he felt his strength returning and he managed 
to force himself to get up.  The snake's head was a charred smoky ruin.  
Only the bones were left.

	"Wow," said Worth.  Lore had been right; he did have magical 
ability.

	But it was getting dark already, and Worth knew he was too tired 
to go on.  The jungle didn't look like a very good place to spend the 
night, alone.  This part of the swamp had a different feel to it.  It 
felt more... sinister.  The trees had a dark, menacing look to them. 
Sometimes Worth thought he heard a distant "ooooh" in the background, 
but he could never locate the source of it.  Worth felt cornered, as if 
some undefinable evil was closing in on him.

	Ooooh.

	Damn it, he should have been out of the jungle by now!  Lore said 
they were nearly at the edge of it.  Unless... he hadn't been going in 
the right direction.  What was it that Lore had warned him about?  The 
Manor part of the swamp?  Could he be there now?

	Oooooooh.

	Worth kept walking, buoyed by the faint hope that he would 
suddenly find himself at the edge of the swamp.  He didn't want to 
spend another night here, not if he could help it.  He shivered as he 
felt the hostility of the jungle around him.

	But soon darkness prevented him from going any further.  It was 
almost totally dark now.  Worth looked up, eyeing the unfamiliar stars.  
The moon was out, too.  No, strike that, there were two moons.  They 
provided enough light so that Worth could see a few feet in front of 
him.    But the light would be insufficient to navigate the treacherous 
bogs and quicksand.

	Worth settled down at the base of a tree.  The ground was a 
little moist here, but at least he wasn't sinking in.  Worth tried to 
will himself to close his eyes, but he couldn't.  The swamp was teeming 
with night life, and perhaps... something else.  Worth saw, or 
imagined, swirling shapes in the distance, black forms in the night.  
They must have been tricks of his eyes, he reasoned, for they would 
stay in place, swirling for a while, and then disappear.

	OOOOOOH!

	It was getting a lot louder now, and could be heard clearly.  
Worth looked about; it seemed as if the entire darkness was alive, as 
if it was encircling him, getting ready to pounce.  He held his breath.

	Worth kept very quiet.  If there was anything out there, maybe he 
wouldn't be noticed.  Worth kept a piece of wood in his hand.  It 
wasn't much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing.

	Worth looked down at the ground.  He was getting tired.  But 
somehow he felt he should not sleep.  He eyed the ground in front of 
him.  Funny, how the ground was lumpy.  He hadn't noticed that before.

	Worth looked up.  He missed home.  He no longer thought New York 
City was inhospitable, compared to this place.  He wished he could be 
back at  Carey, Blumberg, & Butnick, working on a corporate memo.  
Maxine would be peeved at him for not completing his assignment, but he 
could handle that.  He could also cook up an explanation for his 
unexplained absence.  They might lower his bonus at the end of the 
year, but Worth could live with that.  Yes, that was key.  At least he 
would live.  At least he would be safe.

	Worth suddenly noticed that the lumps on the ground seemed to 
have moved.  That's funny, he thought.  Now they were closer to him.  
One was only inches from him.  Could the ground be shifting?

	Worth leaned forward, looking at one of the lumps closely.

	Suddenly, it sprang forward, with a life of its own, and jumped 
onto Worth's leg.  He felt a stab of pain.

	"Ow!" said Worth, trying to get up.  But suddenly several other 
lumps sprang onto his leg.  Worth bashed at them with his stick, trying 
to get them off, but they were staying on.  And they were all causing 
pain.  Worth could see more lumps approaching, wiggling towards him.

	Worth hit one hard, with his stick, and it came off.  But there 
were still three others on his body, causing great pain.  Worth 
suddenly stumbled and his stick flew from his hand.  Immediately he 
tried to summon his magic, but the pain was too great, and he couldn't 
concentrate.  Worth fell back on the ground, still trying to get the 
lumps off with his hand.  The pain was increasing now, and he didn't 
know how much longer he could bear it.  There was a pain on his left 
leg, and his right arm, and on his ankle, and it was getting more and 
more intense....

	Suddenly, Worth felt an odd sensation.  He looked down, and his 
body was glowing.  The lumps were falling off his body.  The pain was 
nearly gone.  When the last lump had fallen to the ground the glowing 
stopped.  Worth looked up.

	Standing there, with a glowing staff in hand, was Lore.

	"Am I glad to see you!" Worth cried.

	"And so you should," said Lore.  "You have been quite reckless, 
Worth Rodgers, and have nearly succeeded in extinguishing yourself."  
He bent down, touching Worth's disgarded stick with his staff.  The 
staff no longer glowed, but now the stick did.

	"I couldn't help it," said Worth, struggling to get up as Lore 
gave him a hand.  "The Black Daggers...."

	Lore nodded.  "I spied them upon my return but managed not to be 
seen.  But it was foolhardy of you, Worth, to run off in the Manor 
Swamp, especially here to the east, so close to the Manor grounds."

	"East!  I tried to go northwest," Worth said, as Lore examined 
his wounds.  "But I'm no eagle scout.  I'm a corporate attorney.  How 
am I?" he added anxiously.

	"I do not know what you mean by corporate attorney," said Lore.  
"I am not used to the customs of your world.  But I am a healer, after 
a fashion, and my services will not be needed.  The Scaloi did you no 
lasting harm.  There will be some discomfort there for a short time, 
and temporary scars, but no lasting harm, I think."

	"The what?  Scaloi?" said Worth, looking at a gash in his arm.  
It did not seem deep; in fact, it looked no worse than sunburn.

	"Or Muddites, as they are more commonly called.  The evil of the 
Manor house has infected much of the area around here, including the 
ground," said Lore.  He looked about, at the weaving shapes in the 
distance.  "Begone, foul forms!  Lore is here!  I will allow no harm to 
come to my charge!"

	The shapes seemed to heed Lore, and they backed away.

	"That was great," said Worth.  "But aren't you worried about 
attracting the Black Daggers?"

	"We must deal with one evil at a time," said Lore.  "Besides, I 
tracked them, several hours ago, heading in another direction.  At 
first when I returned, I thought they had apprehended you, so I 
followed their trail until I caught up with them.  Fortunately they did 
not see me.  When I saw that you were not among them, I doubled back, 
and eventually discovered your trail.  But come, we must go now!"

	They walked through much of the night.  Worth, though a little 
sore and more than a little tired, kept up with Lore.  He didn't want 
to spend another night here in the swamp.  Lore lifted the glowing 
stick, holding it from an end that did not glow, and used that as a dim 
torch to give them some light as they walked.  Lore realized that if 
the Black Daggers were close by that he and Worth would be immediately 
spotted, but their need to escape this area of the swamp was pressing.

	The morning sun was high in the sky before they finally found 
their way out of the swamp.  Suddenly they were in a clearing, a small 
meadow, leading to a thinning forest.  They had formally left the 
swamp.  Open land, open air!  Worth reveled in it.

	He felt like giving a yell of relief.   But he was quite 
conscious that the Black Daggers were still around and about.  Still, 
he was quite pleased, and once they reached the trees Lore allowed him 
a short break.

	Lore had long since extinguished the glowing stick when the sun 
started to ascend, and now all he carried was his staff.  Putting that 
down for a moment, he rummaged through his sack, and handed Worth a 
sandwich and a skin of water.  "You haven't eaten in a day.  I expect 
you'll be famished."

	"I'll say," said Worth.  Although to be truthful he hadn't been 
hungry for many hours; fear had driven his hunger again.  But as soon 
as they had left that dreadful swamp he immediately felt better.

	"So we're done, we're really done?  No more dreadful swamp?" 
Worth said, only half believing it.  He felt as if a blanket of terror 
had been lifted from his heart.

	Lore nodded.  "The only thing that lies between us and Beech now 
are forests and fields.  In fact, we may come on a road to Beech in a 
short time."

	"Just what is it we're going to do in this Beech anyway?" said 
Worth.

	"We are going to look in the records in the village hall," said 
Lore.  "I have not been there for some time, but I recall there were 
records stored there from before the bad chaos."

	"And what good will that do us?" said Worth, chomping down his 
sandwich.  It was another bland cheese sandwich, but it tasted great to 
Worth.

	"We shall see," said Lore.  "We shall see."  He didn't voice his 
hope, for it was a thin one.  But Lore hoped there would be records 
relating to the fall of Arnagon.  Perhaps if they could learn how 
Arnagon had been beaten the first time they would learn how to best 
defeat him again.

	Lore eyed Worth eating his sandwich.  The fellow was so hopeless 
on his own.  If only Lore had time to train him.  Lore could see the 
potential within him.  He had already learned to harness magic in a way 
that would have taken an ordinary apprentice months.  But now he had to 
learn to intensify his ability, to channel it.  If only they had the 
time to stop and fashion a staff for Worth!  But there was not the 
time, nor the tools, and the tree stock in this area was entirely 
unsuitable.  But first things first.  What would happen to Worth if 
anything happened to Lore?

	"Worth," said Lore.  Worth looked up.

	"I have something to tell you.  You know I will do my best to 
protect you.  But should we become separated I want you to go to Maple, 
and seek out a magic user named Palmer.  Tell him who you are and where 
you come from, and he will offer you his protection, I think."

	"Whoa, whoa," said Worth.  "Do you plan on leaving me?"

	"Not at present," said Lore.  "But as we've seen in the swamp, it 
is possible for us to be separated.  And for all my powers I am not 
invulnerable.  Maple is perhaps a half week's travel to the northwest 
of here.  You will be reasonably safe there.  But remember, you must 
ask for Palmer.  That's Palmer, in Maple, to the northwest," Lore 
repeated.

	"Why don't you just send me back?" Worth pleaded.

	"Because then you would have no chance," said Lore.  "You said 
before that it was my fault that Arnagon is pursuing you.  Perhaps that 
is so.  It was not my intention.  But I will now do my best to protect 
you, or to arrange for you to be protected, until Arnagon is defeated."

	"Great," Worth muttered, finishing his sandwich.  "But what if 
this Arnagon defeats you?"

	And to that Lore gave no answer.

	

	

Chapter III:  An Encounter in Beech



	They started off soon after that.  In the early afternoon they 
came upon a road, a simple wide unpaved track cut into the ground.  "A 
road!  We're saved!  Civilization!"  Worth cried.  He had already 
figured out that the level of technology in this world was much beneath 
his own.  But any sort of civilization was welcome after his experience 
in the swamp.

	"Hush!" cried Lore, looking around.  "Do not forget that we are 
still pursued."

	"Oh.  Yeah."

	In a short while they came upon a lone farmhouse on the road.  It 
was a ramshackle wooden structure, built a few dozen feet off the dirt 
track.  Worth was excited, but Lore cautioned him, "Let me speak for us 
both."

	They went up to the door and knocked.  And they waited.

	There was no answer.  A gust of wind blew, and the house creaked.

	Lore and Worth looked at each other.

	"No one home?" said Worth, giving a weak smile.

	Lore stood very still.  "There are no farm animals here," he 
said.  "I do not hear them.  This is very unusual.  Come!"  And he 
pushed open the door.

	The entire farm was abandoned.  And it looked like the owners had 
left in a hurry, too.  Drawers of clothing were still half opened, jugs 
of juice had been left out on the kitchen counter, and they even found 
some suitcases that were half packed.

	"Whatever happened here, they left very quickly," said Lore.  
"Apparently they only took their farm animals with them."  He opened a 
cupboard.  "Ah, there is food.  Good, we can replenish our supplies.  I 
do not think the owners will be coming back for it for some time."

	"What do you mean?" said Worth, a chill going down his spine.

	"The minions of the fell captain are near.  Whether they have 
already come and bypassed the house, or else they have yet to approach, 
I do not not.   But in either event, the enemy is near."  Lore sighed.  
"It is just like before.  During the bad chaos the fell captain acted 
in exactly the same manner.  Will things never change?"

	"What do you mean?"

	"He still hungers for the Lower Threstles.  Power and control, 
those are his primary goals.  He wishes to take and take, but his rule 
is ruinous.  Will he never realize that his way can never work?"  Lore 
shook his head.  "The fell captain has not changed."  His expression 
became even more serious.  "This abandoned farm is not a good sign.  
Perhaps some great evil has occurred in my absence.  We must get on to 
Beech."

	"Must we go so soon?" said Worth.  He was tired, having gotten no 
sleep at all last night in the swamp.

	Lore eyed Worth.  The young man was near collapse, that was very 
clear.  And it was only a short time until dark, in any event.  "No," 
said Lore.  "A day will not make a difference, I hope.  I fear that 
whatever has happened, has already happened.  If there were battling in 
Beech, we would have heard of it from here."  Lore considered, then he 
said, "We will start out first thing in the morning.  I too am very 
tired, and have not dared to sleep or rest in a long time."

	"Will we be safe here?"

	"As safe as anywhere outside of a major town such as Maple, I 
suspect.  But we will alternate and keep a watch during the night.  I 
am afraid, Worth, that I no longer have the endurance to stay up the 
whole of the night guarding you."

	Worth went to bed shortly after dinner.  He felt glorious.  He 
had gotten a long delayed bath, and felt much better.  The swamp mud 
that had been itching his skin was finally washed off.  Worth was even 
able to discard his muddy clothes; he had found a set of farmer's 
clothes that were approximately his size.  For the first time since he 
had left his home planet, he was in a bed, with a pillow and a blanket, 
under a roof.  He felt like he was at home, almost.  If he were home, 
he'd be watching TV... getting ready to go to sleep... preparing for a 
new day at the firm....  Worth was so exhausted that he collapsed 
immediately into sleep.

	Lore was tired, but he didn't wake Worth until three quarters of 
the night had passed.  When he had done so he said, "Wake me an hour, 
no later, after the sun comes up."  And then he immediately lay down 
and did not stir.

	When Worth woke Lore in the morning, they were both in a better 
condition.  Both were now rested and well fed, and they had replenished 
their supplies.  Lore even found a small pack for Worth, where he could 
store some of the food.

	They started down the road as the early morning rays shined down 
on them.  "It feels like a nice day," said Worth cheerily.  It wasn't 
too hot, his sores had stopped actively throbbing with pain, and he was 
refreshed.

	But Lore had a somber expression on his face, as if he foresaw 
some unpleasant task ahead.  There was a hardness in his expression, as 
if he were bracing himself.  Worth did not find his mood comforting.

	They reached Beech shortly after lunch.  It was a small village, 
an aglomoration of small farms within a relatively condensed area.  A 
few stores and small establishments lined the dirt track that served as 
the main road in and out of town.

	But there was no one there.  The village was empty.  It had been 
ransacked; several of the wooden huts had been burned down, and the 
rest had been looted.  The town had an eerie feel to it; Worth 
shivered; the whole place felt like a large cemetary, empty, barren, 
and desolate.  The wind blew bits of rubbish towards them, and the 
trash tinkled as it scraped along the ground.  Worth found it 
unnserving.

	"Where has everyone gone?" said Worth.  "Have they all fled?"

	"Not all," said Lore.  They came upon a body, of a villager, who 
had been stabbed in the back.  Worth gasped.

	From then on they came upon several more bodies, all villagers.  
Most were hacked in many places, as if they had been stabbed, 
repeatedly, even after they went down.  Worth saw the face of one of 
them; its final expression was one of horrow, and the mouth was open, 
as if in midscream.  But now the only thing that came from the mouth 
was a small stream of dried blood.   Worth winced, quickly looking 
away.  "What happened?  How come we don't see any bodies of attackers?"

	"Beech had no defense," said Lore.  "If there was a local 
militia, it fled along with the rest of the villagers."

	"But fled from what?  Four Black Daggers?"

	Lore did not answer him.  "We must get to the village hall.  The 
records may yet still be intact."  He strode purposely to a large 
wooden building across the town square.  He was hoping against hope 
now, hoping that the records he had seen many years ago were still 
there.  Beech was an old village, older even than the bad chaos.  It 
had been destroyed when the fell captains had come down from the north, 
of course; but settlers had returned after the fell captains had been 
pushed back, and much of the records of the campaign was stored here.  
Even Maple, the capitol of the Lower Threstles, had comparatively 
little information about the bad chaos; for Maple had been built after 
the defeat of the fell captain, and the original settlers there had not 
played a major part in the defeat of the sweeping evil.  Lore realized 
that there might also have been some useful information in the 
libraries at Kiriender Tal, but that was many miles to the east, and 
such a journey would be long and hazardous on foot.  No, Beech was the 
best bet.

	The village hall was intact.  Much of the furniture had been 
upturned and smashed, and many of the possessions had been looted, but 
the attackers had seen no value in the papers and books stored there.  
Still, many of the documents stored there were scattered haphazardously 
around the floor, some torn into shreds.  Lore started to sift through 
them.

	"What are you looking for?" said Worth.

	"I remember, when I was here many years ago, reading a manuscript 
about the sweeping away of the bad chaos.  There might be some 
descriptions as to how Arnagon was dealt with."  He continued to look 
through the papers.

	Worth heard a noise outside.  Lore looked up.  "I'll take a 
peek," said Worth.  He went to the door, and cautiously looked out.

	There was nothing.  The town was silent, and empty.  Perhaps it 
had just been the wind.  Waves of air periodically breezed through the 
town, rattling anything that wasn't nailed down.

	"Ah, got it," said Lore.  Worth immediately rushed over

	Lore started flipping through the pages, looking for the right 
section.  "Here there is a reference to the first battle... the 
retreat..."  He flipped through a few more pages.  "Ah, here, yes, 
here, it is talked about the fall of the fell captain.  'There were 
many fell captains of the time, but our immediate concern was 
Arnagonus.  It was he who had destroyed Kalbard, and occupied Senren, 
and Malaford.  There is some here about the occupation."  Lore winced.  
He did not read any of those passages.  Skipping forward, he read,  
"His forces stood poised to take the rest of Thanadil.  Bornon, the 
head of the imperial detachment, was slain, but Dronan his brother 
rebuilt the forces and mustered an army... (it talks here about the 
long conflicts on the Battle Plains, a land to the south of here) ... 
we drove him south, south, beyond the Battle Plain, to Maytig.  It was 
there, on the rocks of the quarry, where the foul creature was stabbed, 
by Dronan, Captain of the combined forces.  We thought Arnagonus 
defeated, but he escaped, back to Lominanzac, his foul enchantment, and 
summoned his remaining forces.  Our top lore masters determined that 
the green rocks of the Maytig, properly emmasized, could harm the 
creature, for they would summon the memory of his suffering, and make 
the creature feel it again.  The rocks needed to be carefully emmasized 
by a qualified-"

	Suddenly, they heard the sounds of voices outside.  Lore 
immediately took the book, putting it in his pouch.  He and Worth 
peered out of the window.

	There were goblins.  Many of them.  Squads of them were rifling 
through the village.  They seemed to be searching for something.  Or 
someone.

	"Come!" said Lore, pulling him to a rear exit.  They made their 
way down to a back alley.  Lore and Worth rushed from one small street 
to another.  They spied the goblins patrolling the streets.  They must 
have been fanning out over the entire village.  Suddenly Lore and Worth 
ran right into two goblins coming around a street corner.  Both groups 
were surprised, but Lore was quicker, raising his staff and sending 
stabs of energy at the two goblins.  They fell to the ground, crying 
out.  Worth heard the sounds of rushing feet.

	"Come on!" said Lore, pushing Worth into an abandoned house down 
a sidestreet.  He quietly but quickly slammed the door shut behind 
them.

	"Why?"said Worth.  "We could just bust out of here."

	"It is better to wait.  I cannot handle a company of goblins with 
great ease," said Lore, looking out the window.  "We will camoflage 
ourselves, like we did in the swamp, and simply wait-"  He stopped 
himself.  He looked out the window, and saw them.  The Black Daggers.

	There were six of them, this time.  All were clad in dark leather 
armor, and were armed with long swords.  One of them had a particularly 
fearsome black helmet, and Lore instinctively knew who that was.  
"Nayorshoran," he said softly.

	"What?  The Black Daggers?" whispered Worth.

	"Shh!" said Lore.  He spied the Black Daggers on the street.  
They were standing still.  One of them, the one with the helmet, was 
slowly turning about, as if feeling for something.  Then he stopped 
turning, and stared at the house that Lore and Worth were hidden in.  
He pointed straight to it.

	Lore realized he had miscalculated.  Either the Black Daggers had 
become more attuned to them, or they had found some other more accurate 
way to track them.  Either way it was no longer clear that magical 
camoflague would suffice.  Lore could not take the chance.  He quickly 
turned to Worth.  "Worth, the time for us to depart has come.  I am 
going to leave through the front entrance now.  I want you to wait ten 
seconds, and then leave through the back.  Make for Maple, in the 
Northwest, and avoid the road.  It is no longer safe."  He said it 
rapidly, as he drew his sword and got a better grip on his staff.

	"What's... what's going to happen to you?" said Worth.  The 
wizard looked worried, more concerned than Worth had ever seen him 
before.

	"Go!" Lore barked.  Worth took one final look back at the wizard, 
and then he departed, taking his position by the rear door.

	By now the Black Daggers were approaching the house.  A squad of 
goblins soldiers with short swords were backing them up.  Lore stepped 
through the door.

	"Stop!" he cried.  And the command in his voice was so forceful 
that they found themselves halting in their tracks.  Worth scampered 
out the backdoor, but he peered at the scene from behind the corner of 
the house.

	The Black Dagger with the helmet, the most fearsome one of them 
all, laughed.  "Stranger, you presume to tell us what to do?  We will 
have your head!"  And they all laughed.

	"Laugh while you might, Nayorshoran."

	And that stopped their laughter cold.  "It is him, master," one 
of the Black Daggers whispered.

	"Yes, we have heard of you too, idle wanderer," said Nay, the 
terrible Black Dagger leader.  "But come now, where is your charge?  We 
would very much like to meet him."  He looked passed Lore, into the 
house, and Worth, still peering around the corner from the back,  felt 
a wave of terror grip him.

	"He is elsewhere.  As you should be.  Return to your master!  
Tell him I will be coming for him soon!"

	The Black Daggers seemed shaken by that, Nay did not react.  "Oh 
yes, witless wanderer?  Perhaps you would like to accompany us now to 
tell him yourself."  And he smiled grimly.   "Or perhaps you overrate 
your importance, and we will now dispose of you, troublesome irritant 
that you are." There was a steely malice in his voice, one that could 
not be ignored.

	By now a second squad of goblins had formed behind the first.  
Nay realized time was on his side.

	As did Worth.  Lore was buying him escape time, and here he was 
not making use of it.  He scampered away, at a run.  There were still 
goblins in the streets, but fewer of them; all seemed to be hurrying to 
the greater conflict that was now brewing, and Worth was able to slip 
by them, undetected.  

	When he had gotten several streets away, and past the bulk of the 
remaining goblin troopers, he saw a flash, and heard several loud 
explosions.  He turned, and saw fireworks erupting from his former 
location.  Lore must be fighting them.  As long as there were 
fireworks, Lore was fighting them.

	Worth made his way to the edge of town, quickly dodging into the 
forest.  He was running hard now, breathing deeply.  Any minute now he 
expected to hear a shout, a challenge.  But Worth didn't look back.  He 
kept running.  Ahead were the trees, the edge of the forest, just a few 
feet away....

	He made it, and immediately ducked behind the tree.  He turned 
back for one final look at the village.  There was no sign of pursuit.  
Lore's gambit had worked.   And then Worth noticed something else.  

	All noises of battle had stopped.  There were no more flashes.  
Unless Lore had defeated an entire company of goblins, as well as the 
Black Daggers, he had been defeated.  He had given his life so that 
Worth's could be saved.

	That stunned Worth.  Lore, who barely knew him, had given his 
life for Worth.  Worth felt incredible grief choking up in his throat.  
And then the anger came.  He would avenge Lore's death.  He would train 
himself, and when he became powerful, he would fight the Black Daggers.

	  Choking back sadness, Worth struck off into the wilderness.


Chapter IV:  The Long Road



	Worth tried to convince himself he wasn't lost.  He had tried, as 
best he could, to head in a generally northwesterly direction.  Which 
probably meant that he wasn't.  Worth was a skilled and accomplished 
individual.  He was a masterful corporate attorney.  He had graduated 
magna cum laude from Yale University and cum laude from Columbia Law 
School.  But as an outdoorsman his skills ranged from pitiful to 
nonexistent.

	"Let's see," said Worth.  "It's about two o'clock, the sun's 
about there, therefore... I should go that way.  I think.  I hope."  He 
started off, across the forest.  He constantly kept looking over his 
shoulder, looking for signs of pursuit.

	Worth was understandably depressed.  His only friend in this 
hostile world was gone.  He was now truly alone.  And defenseless.  
This was not a cheery thought.

	"Be happy!" he yelled.  But then Worth ccringed, hearing his 
voice echo in the distance.

	Worth  tried to look on the bright side.  He had food and water 
now, in the back pack that Lore had thoughtfully provided him.  And 
while there were hostiles in the neighborhood, the area wasn't nearly 
so bad as that terrible swamp. 

	On the other hand, things could have been a lot better.  By now, 
Worth had been absent from his job for several days without any 
explanation.  He was certain that there was a pink slip was waiting for 
him on his desk.  (Correction:  it wasn't his desk anymore.  The pink 
slip had probably been mailed to him.)  Still, he could get another 
job.  If he could get home.

	Worth grinned.  He thought about how he now appreciated the 
things he had once ignored.  Little things, that he had grown used to, 
taken for granted.  Like three meals a day.  Or a soft bed to sleep on.  
Or not being chased by people who wanted to kill him.  Well, Worth had 
been mugged once or twice.  But that didn't count.

	Worth walked through the forest for most of the afternoon.  It 
was approaching four o'clock when he saw the road.  To his credit he 
correctly managed to figure out which end of the road went back to 
Beech.  That was the one direction he didn't want to go.  The next 
question was whether he wanted to use the road at all.  It did seem to 
go roughly in the northwesterly direction he was trying to go on, as 
best as he could tell.

	But should he go on the road at all?  Lore had explicitly warned 
him not to.  But if he didn't use the road, he could easily become 
lost. At least following the road would have him going in the right 
direction.  Worth pondered this for a while.  Finally he decided to 
walk at the edge of the forest, along the road but not on it.  It 
slowed his progress but was probably was a safer option.

	He had only been on the road for a half hour went he heard the 
clip clop of horses' hooves.  Worth froze; what should he do?

	He settled on ducking behind a tree.  He would look at who was 
coming, and then he would see.  He wasn't in need of assistance, not 
exactly, but it would be good to have allies on the road with him.  Or 
maybe even a free ride to Maple.

	The horsemen quickly came into view, coming at a slow trot.  
There were eight of them in all, each on a mount of their own.  They 
wore bright shiny armor and were men of size, each with long red beards 
and hard faces.

	These definitely couldn't be in league with the goblins, Worth 
thought.  Or the Black Daggers.  Just as they passed, he stepped out of 
the underbrush, and yelled, "Hey!"

	The horsemen immediately turned around and encircled Worth in one 
smooth maneuver.  Several of them dismounted.  Worth started to have 
second thoughts about revealing himself.

	A tall horseman with the air of command, undoubtedly their 
leader, approached Worth. "Well well well... what do we have here?"

	"My name is Worth," said Worth, suddenly feeling fearful without 
knowing why.

	"Hm...." said the stranger, not offering his own name.  He eyed 
Worth closely.  "Not a soldier, no... a refugee, perhaps?  Yes, that 
seems more likely.  What've you got in the bag, refugee?" he said, 
indicating Worth's backpack.

	"Nothing," said Worth, starting to back away.  He bumped into a 
horse.  "Just food.  Look, see?"  He opened his backpack, showing the 
rations.  Worth suddenly realized who these people were.  He could tell 
from their manner, from the hungry expressions on their faces.  He had 
been a lawyer long enough to spot their type immediately.   They were 
thieves.  Worth started to back away.

	"Then we'll just take it then," said one of the men, grabbing the 
backpack from Worth's hands.

	"Uh... ok," said Worth.  He didn't really have any choice.  "As 
you can see, I don't have anything else.  Can I go now?" he said 
meekly.

	The leader took exception to that remark.  "Don't have anything 
else?"

	"No, no, not a thing.  See?"

	"Why of course you do!" their leader chuckled.  "Don't be so 
modest, my fellow.  You'll make excellent blade practice."  And the 
leader swiftly drew his sword.

	"Wait!" Worth cried.  "I'm a magic user."

	"A what?" said the leader, momentarily pausing.

	"A... a wizard," said Worth.

	The men got a good laugh out of that.  They all laughed, long and 
hard, while Worth tried to keep from shivering.

	"He says he's a wizard," laughed the leader.  Then he said, 
"Where's your staff, Mr. Wizard?"

	"My what?"

	"Your staff?  Surely you know every wizard's got a staff," said 
the leader.  His followers were laughing even harder now.

	"Uh... uh... I just became a wizard recently.  Haven't gotten a 
chance to get a staff," said Worth, getting nervous.

	"You hear that, fellows?" laughed the leader.

	Eyeing them carefully, Worth tried to edge his way out of their 
circle.

	Immediately the leader cried, "Hey, stop!"  He raised his sword.  
Worth stopped.  "Bruno!" said the leader, snapping his fingers.

	A gargantuan, complete with a large red beard, dismounted from 
his saddle.  "Yes chief?"

	The leader hooked a thumb at Worth.  "This one's amusing.  
Tenderize the meat before we slice it!" he said, giving a wicked grin.

	Bruno approached Worth, his large fists firmly clenched.

	"Stop!" cried Worth. "Or I'll use magic on you!"

	Bruno paid no attention, grabbing Worth and then tossing him to 
the ground in a heap.

	Worth quickly scrambled up.  He attempted to summon his magic, 
but it wasn't coming; he was too agitated.  Bruno slammed a fist into 
Worth's stomach, which caused him to double over.  Worth fell to the 
ground again.

	Bruno lifted him up, and started to smack him several more times.  
Worth was knocked senseless.  The pain was incredible.  It was so 
intense that Worth couldn't think, couldn't react, couldn't do 
anything.  Finally Bruno lifted him and tossed him through the air.  
Worth landed outside the circle of horses on the road.

	"Hey, Bruno, don't throw out the trash, we ain't done with it 
yet!" one of them laughed.

	Worth groaned.  He was coherent enough to realize that if he was 
going to have any chance of escape, it would have to be now.  He 
unsteadily got to his feet, just as Bruno approached him, walking 
casually to his target.  He knew that Worth wasn't any threat now.

	Worth ached all over his body.  He tried to ignore the pain, as 
best he could.  He staggered, and Bruno smiled as he reached out for 
him.  Worth focused all his muscle power into his right arm, and he 
lunged forward, punching Bruno in the head with his fist.  "Ow!" the 
ruffian cried, falling to his knees.

	The warriors were stunned.  So, apparently, was Worth.  For a 
moment they stared at him.  He stared back.

	Worth realized that this would be an especially good time to make 
an expeditious exit from the situation.  He ran to the forest, limping 
at an unsteady gait.  The other warriors, realizing what was happening, 
started pouring out of the circle.

	The chase was on.  Worth dashed into the forest, wincing with 
every step. Bruno had done a really good job on him.  But desperation 
gave him the speed he needed as he dashed through the underbrush.  
Finally he could go no further and he collapsed, under a large bush.  
He could hear his pursuers, combing the area for him.

	"Where'd he go?" one of them cried.

	"See what he did to Bruno?" one of them chuckled, now stepping 
forward in front of the bush that Worth was hiding under.  "Bam!  Right 
in the kisser."

	Worth tried to breath as shallowly as he could.  He felt an 
incredible urge to gasp for air, but tried to hold it back.

	"Just wait till I find him," a familiar voice growled, coming 
closer.

	"Hey, hey!" came the voice of the leader.  "Time to go back.  I 
left Bob with the horses, but he can't hold off a hoard of goblins.  We 
got to get going!"

	"No!" Bruno cried.  "He's here, I know he's here!"

	Worth heard a sword being drawn.  He took a deep breath.

	Then the other voice said, "That's an order, mate.  We'll find 
some other amusing sport to make it up to you.  Chances are that the 
goblins will get our little rabbit, the way they've been pouring out of 
Beech."  There was a couple of nasty laughs, and then the footsteps 
grew fainter.

	Worth allowed himself a sigh of relief.  That had been a close 
one.  When he was sure that the bandits had gone, he got out of the 
bush.  Well, that taught him a lesson, he thought ruefully.  There were 
other villains in this world besides the Black Daggers and the goblins.

	Worth surveyed his wounds.  He felt incredibly sore, and he had 
bruises over most of his body.  But, incredibly, it didn't seem like he 
had broken anything.  Well, at least he could walk.  He stepped a few 
feet....

	and collapsed, just a few feet out of the bush.  He was 
exhausted.  He crawled back inside, and fell unconscious, oblivious to 
the consequences.



	When Worth awoke the next morning, he saw two eyes staring at 
him.

  	They were large, brown, curious eyes.  Only inches from his own.  
At ground level.  Worth almost jumped, until he saw it was a rabbit, 
curiously staring at him.  Worth suddenly remembered that he was 
hungry; he made a grab for the rabbit, but it darted away, scampering 
in the underbrush.

	Worth groaned, slowly getting up.  His entire body felt sore.  
Even walking felt painful.  Bruno had done a good job on his legs too.  
Worth wish he could have used his magic against the thug.  What had 
happened?  Evidently the magic didn't flow to him when he was 
distracted or fearful.

	"Damn!  If only I had a sword," Worth swore.  He was no 
swordsman, but at least he could have taken a stab at defending 
himself.

	But, more immediately, he had no food, and he hadn't eaten since 
yesterday.  Hunger drove him back to the road.  He kept telling himself 
it was possible that he would encounter someone, a good samaritan, 
perhaps, who would help him out.  Worth had briefly considered using 
his magic to try to hunt for food, but he realized that in the shape he 
was in he wasn't likely to catch anything faster than a worm.

	Worth walked along the road.  How long had Lore said it was to 
Maple?  Three days?  Four?  Worth couldn't remember.  He continued 
walking.

	About mid-morning he heard a scampering on the road.  In the 
distance he saw a horse and buggy rolling slowly down the road.  Worth 
got out of sight.  He held a small stick in his hand.  It wasn't much, 
but it was better than nothing.

	The travelers went by.  They were a small caravan, but what was 
most interesting to Worth were the riders.  They were small.  Smaller 
than goblins, in fact; and less than four feet tall.  And they didn't 
look like goblins; they looked like small, old bald men.  Like little 
gnomes, if anything.  Worth battled with himself what to do.  Hunger 
won out over caution and he hobbled out on the road, calling to them.

	They halted, slowly reversing their buggy.  The little men stared 
at him curiously.

	"Hello," said Worth.  He realized he must look a mess.  "I was 
wondering if-"

	"Like to buy something?" came a tiny voice.  The side of the 
caravan opened and Worth saw enormous stocks of provisions, drinks, and 
assorted kinds of food.  There were piles of strips of beef , and 
loaves of fresh bread, and kegs of assorted drinks, and many other 
things.

	"Would I like...."  Poor Worth was nearly delirious.  "Oh 
travellers, pity me, I am a poor man, caught by bandits, nearly killed-
"

	"What would you like?" said a gnome.

	"Anything!  Anything edible!  Anything you can spare!" Worth 
cried.

	The gnome took out a few strips of beef, holding it before Worth.

	"Oh thank you, thank you," said Worth, reaching for them.

	But the gnome pulled them back.  "Twenty gold pieces."

	'What?" said Worth, not believing his ears.

	"Twenty gold.  Not got it, no eat, no meat."

	"Why, listen you..." Worth growled, brandishing his stick.

	Seven sets of short swords simultaneously unsheathed themselves.

	"Ok," said Worth, immediately pulling back.  "It's ok.  You've 
made your point.  But listen, guys, I'm really down on my luck.  Can't 
you give me a break?  Even a small one?"  Worth intended no pun.

	The gnomes conferred among themselves, whispering to each other 
without taking their eyes off Worth.  Maybe they would take pity on 
him.  Maybe they would give him a small scrap of food.  They seemed to 
be conferring long enough; that, at least, seemed a hopeful sign.  
Finally, one turned to Worth and said, "19 gold pieces."

	"Aaagghhh!" Worth cried.  "Get out of here!  Go on, go on, off 
with you!"  He brandished his stick for effect.

	The gnomes calmly mounted their buggy and headed off.

	"Get away!  Go!" Worth shrieked after them.  In the distance he 
heard a tittering laughter that infuriated him.

	Worth, thinking nasty thoughts, headed back into the forest.  He 
didn't need them.  He would survive on his own.  He had survived New 
York City, didn't he?  And that was the most dangerous place in.... 
well, ok, that wasn't much of a boast now.

	Hey, wasn't tree bark supposed to be edible?  By now Worth's 
definition of edible had grown very flexible.  He hadn't eaten for a 
day, and he had been poorly fed over the course of the past several 
days.  Worth eyed the peeling bark of a tree.  He pulled some of it 
off, and put it into his mouth.

	Ptah! He spit it out.  It was terrible, like eating cardboard.  
He looked around at wild plants.  Should he give them a try?  They 
could be poisonous, he considered.

	Hey, why couldn't he use his magic to create food?  Sure, it 
should be possible, right?

	Worth sat down, with his back to a tree, and concentated.  
Despite his pain, the magic came to him.  Good, good.  Worth thought 
about a cooked chicken leg, sitting right in front of him.  He 
concentrated... concentrated... the air in front of him vibrated... and 
then it failed.  The power left him.  Swell.

	Maybe it was more difficult to create objects, Worth reflected.  
As he was mulling it over a rabbit hopped up to him, and looked him 
over.  Worth stood very still.  One bolt could do the rabbit in.  He 
tried to summon his magic... and he tried... and he tried... and it 
just didn't come.  Maybe he simply was too tired.  The rabbit hopped 
away as Worth feebly waved goodbye.

	Worth returned to the road.  Due to his weakened condition, he 
wasn't making very good time, so he decided to walk directly on the 
road instead.  Even on the unpaved track the best he could do was a 
slow and unsteady stagger.  He knew the risks of taking the road, but 
Worth didn't feel strong enough to bumble about in the forest.  At 
times he stumbled, and fell, or just collapsed from fatigue.

	But he always kept getting up, always kept going.  "Must get to 
Maple," he kept telling himself.  "Must get to Maple," he would say.  
He was getting hot now, and his forehead felt like it was burning up.  
He was sweating quite a lot, more than he had in the swamp.  But he 
kept going.  He wandered about like this, until about six o'clock, when 
the sun was starting to fade.  Then he was falling, falling, and he 
could not get up.

	He sat there, on the road, for some time, trying to force himself 
to get moving again, or at least to crawl off the road in favor of the 
forest cover.   But Worth's limbs were so worn, and he felt so 
fatigued, that he simply couldn't move.  And he felt very hot, very 
lightheaded.

	Suddenly he heard footsteps.  Worth forced himself to raise his 
head.  There was someone, coming down the road.  Worth struggled to get 
up.  With the added urgency he managed to stagger up, but then he fell 
again.  He started to head for the forest at a crawl, but then he 
looked back, and he knew it was too late.  He had been noticed.  Worth 
saw a single robed figure, with a hood over his face.  When he noticed 
Worth's form he walked over to the side of the road where Worth was, 
approaching him slowly.  Worth could dimly see that he carried a stick 
of some sort.

	"Come no farther!" Worth cried.  But it came out as a croak.

	Still, the stranger halted, but only eight feet away.  "Are you 
in need of assistance?" the stranger asked.  He held his stick in one 
hand, with a strong and steady grip.

	"Yes," said Worth.  There was no way he could deny it.  "Who are 
you?"

	"A friend, perhaps," said the stranger.  "But more to the point, 
who are you?"

	Worth's vision started to go hazy.  He knew he was on the point 
of collapsing again.  "Help," he said, his head falling back.  



	It was evening.  Worth's eyes slowly fixed into focus.  He was 
staring at a stick of wood on the ground, which was slowly glowing.  
For a moment he thought he was back with Lore.

	"Lore?" said Worth uncertainly.  He found himself lying down, 
with his head propped up against a fallen log.  He looked to his left.  
He had obviously been dragged off the road, and could no longer see it.  
He turned to his right.  And saw the hooded individual, staring at him.

	"No," said the man.  "Here, drink this."   He handed Worth a 
small flask with leaves brewing in it.  Worth nearly scorched his lips 
on it.

	"Careful, it's hot," said the man.

	Worth sipped some down.  It tasted like mint.  He handed the 
flask back to the man.  "Who are you?" he slowly said.

	"As I said, a friend.  But the roads are most dangerous, 
especially nowadays, and the one in need should be the first to 
identify himself, don't you think?"

	Worth nodded.  It was obvious that the fellow meant him no harm.  
No immediate harm, that is.  If he wanted to, he could have throttled 
Worth while he was unconscious.  Still, if this was one of the agents 
of the Black Daggers, trying to find out who he was.... no, Worth 
doubted they would resort to such subtle means.

	The stranger saw those thoughts playing out on his face.  "Come 
come, so long to think over a name?  There were no bruises on your 
face, so your mind is not harmed.  I have tended your fever, and it is 
much reduced."

	Of course!  He had had a fever. That's why his mind was so 
sluggish.  The beating hadn't helped either.  "Worth," said Worth.  "My 
name is Worth."

	"Where are you from, Worth?"

	"Uhhh...." That was a difficult one to explain.  "Far away."

	"Hm," said the stranger.  "Would you mind telling me where?"

	"Could I see your face?" said Worth.  "I always like to see who 
I'm talking to."  He felt a little of his old self returning, and he 
suddenly felt more cautious.  This fellow might not be aligned with the 
Black Daggers, but that didn't mean he was on Worth's side.  As Worth 
had learned quickly enough, there was only one person totally on 
Worth's side in all of Koo; but unfortunately, he was lying on a log 
and not very able to help himself at the moment.

	The stranger pulled back his hood.  Worth saw that he was hiding 
nothing hideous.  He was a cleancut young man, in his early 30's, 
perhaps, with straight hair combed to the sides.  "Is that better?" he 
smiled.

	"Yes," said Worth.  He wondered how much he should tell this 
fellow.  It would quickly become obvious that he wasn't from around 
here. "I come from a far away land... a place called New York City."

	"New York City.  Hmm.... I have not heard of it.  What is this 
place near?"

	"Newark, mostly," said Worth.

	"I have made foreign geography a pet study of mine.  I have no 
knowledge of this Newark that you speak of.  You must indeed have come 
from far lands," said the stranger.  He looked Worth in the eyes.  
Worth stared back at him, meeting his glance.  They locked stares for a 
moment, and then the stranger smiled again.  "I believe you are telling 
the truth, Worth of New York City.  But what were you doing on the 
road?"

	"Running away from militant goblins, Black Daggers, and assorted 
bandits," said Worth.  "Unfortunately, the bandits caught up with me."

	 The stranger's eyebrows lifted when he mentioned the Black 
Daggers.  But all he said was, "I see.  Where were you headed?"

	"Maple," said Worth.  "I am on the road to Maple to see someone."

	"Maple?  Maple is to the Northwest."

	"So?  Doesn't this road go Northwest?"

	"Well, it goes North, if you're heading back to Beech.  But in 
the direction you were going you were heading nearly straight to the 
south."

	Worth groaned.  "Oh, not again!  I'll never get there!"  He felt 
dejected.

	"Don't feel too badly; you've done better than some in Beech.  
Some didn't get out in time, you know."

	"I know," said Worth, nodding.  Then he saw he had been tested.  
The fellow now knew that he had been in Beech.

	"But who were you going to see in Maple?  You mentioned someone?"

	Worth took a deep breath.  There was no reason not to tell.  "I'm 
looking for someone named Palmer.  Are you from that region?  Have you 
ever heard of him?"

	"Indeed I have," said the man, nodding his head.  "That is my 
name."


Chapter V:  Palmer



	"You can't be serious," said Worth.  This must be a con man.  The 
chances of this being the very man he had been sent out to seek were 
incredibly small.

	"Don't be alarmed!" said Palmer.  "I assure you if I were a rogue 
there is little you could do about it in any event.  You are still 
tired and weak.  But yes, I am Palmer, and I am equally curious who has 
sent you to me and for what purpose."

	Worth sighed.  He couldn't really ask for some proof that this 
fellow was Palmer; he didn't know anything about the real Palmer.  Only 
that Lore had said he would protect him.  Wait a minute... Worth stared 
at the glowing stick of wood on the ground.  And then he remembered the 
staff that Palmer carried.  This was a wizard!  A fellow wizard friend 
of Lore!  It all made sense.

	"Lore sent me," said Worth happily.

	"Who?" said Palmer, making a face.

	 A cold fear gripped Worth.  Wouldn't the real Palmer know of 
Lore?  "Lore.  Lore.  Surely you must have known Lore?" said Worth.

	"I do not know this Lore you speak of," said Palmer.

	"He's... he was a wizard, like yourself.  He wore robes, like 
you, had a staff... a long beard, was a little taller than you...."

	"I do not know him," said Palmer.  "Was he a skilled wizard?"

	"He was, he was," said Worth, growing thoughtful.  He thought of 
that final battle, of Lore pitted against all the Black Daggers and 
goblins.

	"You say he was, in a past tense.  What happened to him?  Is he 
perished?"

	Worth nodded.  "I think so.  He distracted the enemy to save me.  
The Black Daggers-"

	"Yes, you mentioned them before.  Please tell me the whole story, 
from the beginning."

	Worth told Palmer everything, from the attack in the bar 
association to his collapse on the road.  Palmer clearly had difficult 
believing that Worth was from another world, until Worth, in a stroke 
of brilliance, showed him his watch and wallet.

	"You see, that's my VISA card.  I get credit with that."

	"That is somewhat akin to a merchant's note?"

	"Yes, yes."

	Palmer paused for a moment.  "I believe your story, Worth 
Rodgers, though it is fair to say that I am the only person in the 
whole of the Lower Threstles who would.  But even I, who have studied 
the arts of magic long and hard, did not know it was possible to travel 
to other worlds.  But I am a wizard, as I have stated.  I have also 
learned that there is much we cannot do that is yet possible."

	"Then can you send me back?" said Worth eagerly.  Despite Lore's 
warnings, he still wanted to return.

	"I am sorry, I do not possess that capability.  Nor do I know 
anyone who does.  It is my guess that only the mightiest of wizards 
could attempt such a feat.  And yet I thought I knew them all by 
reputation.  Oren, Lit, Whyse...." he called off several more names.  
"Are you certain that this Lore used no other name?  Wizards commonly 
operate under several different names."

	Worth shook his head.  "Not that I heard."

	"Hm...."

	"If he didn't know you, why would he send me to you?"

	"Perhaps he had no other acquaintances here.  Or perhaps he knew 
that I was the only wizard of any caliber active in the fight against 
the fell captain.  I too am battling to counter the evil one.  Our 
meeting was not so coincidental as you might think.  I was keeping a 
careful eye on the enemy, tracking their progress.  I arrived in Beech 
too late, but saw the pillaging afterwards.  I was on the outskirts of 
Beech yesterday when I saw the great flashes, and the loud sounds.  I 
thought I would scout about to the south...  and then I came upon you."

	"Yeah," said Worth.  "It was such a waste.  About Lore, I mean.  
He risked his life to go in there and look at the records.  He said he 
saw something that would help defeat Arnagon."

	"What?  You did not tell me this!"

	"Didn't I?" said Worth.  "Sorry, my mind's clouded.  We found 
some document.  Talked about... what was it, Maytag rocks.  Says they 
can be useful against Arnagon."

	Palmer snapped his fingers.  "Do you mean the Maytig quarry?"

	"Don't know about a quarry, but yeah, think it was Maytig."

	"Hm... it would make sense.  That was where Arnagon was nearly 
defeated."  He turned to Worth.  "We must go to Maytig, and get some of 
these rocks."

	"Me?  I'm still on the sick list, remember?"

	"By tomorrow you will be able to walk.  I will continue and 
intensify your training.  If you are as powerful as Lore and Arnagon 
believe, you can be an asset in our fight."

	"Whoa!" said Worth.  "I didn't sign on for this fight."

	"Worth, there is no option," said Palmer softly.  "There is 
nowhere you will be safe, not even in Maple.  The shadow is rising 
again, and none can be safe."  He paused.  "I must extinguish this 
stick.  Even though there is a hill between us and the road, it is 
possible that a small reflective glow can be seen.  But do not worry; I 
will be on guard.  Sleep."

	"Don't you wizards ever need to sleep?" Worth grumbled.

	"On occasion," Palmer smiled.  "Now sleep."



	The following morning Worth got up and stretched experimentally.  
The whole of his body felt sore.  But his fever was gone, and he could 
walk nearly unimpeded.  Most importantly he felt his strength coming 
back.  Palmer was pleased to see his progress.

	"Good!  Then we will spend an hour beginning the training before 
we start."  He told Worth to relax, and to summon his magic.  It was 
kind of odd, the combination of relaxing and concentrating needed to 
summon the magic, but Worth felt he was getting the hang of it.  The 
magic came.

	"Shoot that rock," said Palmer.  It shouldn't be possible.  No 
one could use magic without a staff.

	Worth zapped it with a bolt of blue.   Palmer gasped.  Worth did 
have a tremendous ability!  That part of his story, at least, was 
certainly true.  Palmer picked up the rock, and tossed it a good twenty 
feet away.  "Again."

	Worth aimed, but he missed.  He aimed again, and this time he hit 
it.  But he was becoming fatigued.  "I'm getting tired."

	"The way you increase endurance is by practicing," said Palmer.  
"But we can stop, once you do one small thing for me.  Hit that stone, 
the one next to your foot."

	"That one?  Sure, that's easy," said Worth, taking aim.

	"Wait!" said Palmer.  "I want you to punch a hole through it."  
It shouldn't be possible, even for one who could wield power without a 
staff.  But if what Worth was saying was true, that he had only started 
practice several days ago, then he must have an enormous innate power 
to match his ability.  Normally it took at least two years to reach the 
stage that Worth had.  And he did it without a staff!  Palmer still 
marvelled at that.  But he tried not to show how stunned he was.

	Worth prepared himself for another practice attempt.  "Ok, I'll 
try."  He pointed at the rock, and cut loose, with his full magical 
power.

	He burned a hole clear through the rock.

	Palmer's mouth dropped open.

	"Good, huh?" said Worth, not realizing that he had done something 
extraordinary, even for a wizard.

	Palmer nodded silently.

	They started walking.  Worth found his strength quickly 
recovering.  Palmer was right; he was building up endurance with his 
new magical ability.

	They walked along the road but not on it.  Palmer told Worth that 
the road would take them south, to the Battle Plain.  Beyond the Battle 
Plain was a narrow river called the Dalias.  And a little beyond that 
was the Maytig quarry.  Worth took in the names calmly enough.  He 
didn't know anything about these places; for all he knew, they were 
just geographical terms.

 	Worth was just glad to have a companion again.  No longer would 
he have to fend for himself.  And with some additional training perhaps 
he could start to fend for himself.  Worth realized that he was 
learning very quickly.  If he could have launched energy bolts that 
well the day before, those highwaymen would never have stood a chance.

	They walked south without incident, stopping for lunch at the 
side of the road.  After they had eaten and rested a bit, Worth noticed 
Palmer inspecting a nearby tree.

	"What's so interesting?" said Worth.

	"I'm not sure," said Palmer.  "It's a Undulas.... but it just 
might serve.  Yes, even unenchanted, it just might."  He drew a sword 
from a scabbard hidden in his robes.  In one cut he chopped off a thick 
branch.  Another cut removed the extraneous material on the other end.  
He handed the result to Worth.  "Congratulations, Worth.  You have just 
joined the ranks of the wizardry."

	"A staff," said Worth, looking delighted.  "Is it that simple to 
make?"

	"No.  Normally the wood is carefully prepared and enchanted.  And 
normally I would also look for different kinds of wood, usually 
Fuldulas or Rutewas.  But it is said that Nophrin, in his time of need, 
fashioned a staff out of Undulas, and used it to beat the Shakalas 
hoardes from the north, so maybe it will serve you as well as it did 
him.  It is known for some special properties, even in its raw, 
untreated form, and it should serve to even further magnify and focus 
your powers.  To be honest, Worth, most wizards can't even function 
without a staff.  That's why you're so unusual.  I can see now why 
Arnagon is so desperate to alter you."

	"Alter me," said Worth, shivering.  Lore had mentioned that 
before, and he still didn't like the sound of that.  Worth felt out his 
magic.  "I'm still kind of drained from this morning."

	"Then we'll wait until the evening to practice again. In the 
meantime, drop your staff and take this."  'This' was an ordinary stick 
of wood that Palmer had found on the ground.

	"What am I going to do with this?" said Worth, picking it up as 
he lay his staff on the ground.

	"Fight me," said Palmer, drawing his sword.

	"Hardly sporting," said Worth.

	"It's only practice."

	Palmer taught Worth several basic moves--the parry, the thrust, 
the slash.  It wasn't very difficult to learn, and Worth did have a 
natural dexterity, sharpened by his years of karate practice.  At the 
exercise continued Worth got quicker and quicker, until at the end 
Worth softly parried an attack from Palmer and lunged forward, striking 
only two inches away from Palmer's chest.

	"Very good, very good," said Palmer.  "You are a fast learner, in 
very many ways.  But come, we have a long road ahead of us, and we must 
not tire ourselves out!  Pick up your staff, and let us be on our way!"

	They took the long road south without seeing anyone for some 
time.  The countryside seemed deserted.  But, in midafternoon, they 
heard the sounds of horses approaching.  They quickly got off the road, 
and hid behind trees.

	Four men on horseback came down the lane, from the direction they 
had come.  Immediately a feeling of dread grabbed Worth.  He could tell 
who they were, by their trademark black leather armor.  The Black 
Daggers.  Worth had an overwhelming urge to run, and started to take a 
step back.  But Palmer put a grip on his shoulder, and Worth stood 
still, peering out from behind the tree.

	The riders slowly rode by, and down the track.

	After they had gone, Worth wondered, "I thought they could track 
me."

	"Maybe they can't, not perfectly," said Palmer.  "Did you notice 
that Nayorshoran was not with them?"

	"Yes," said Worth.  Evidently Palmer knew of Nay as well.

	"Anyway, we should be on our way."

	"But they're going the same direction we are," said Worth.

	"Worth, I very much imaging that there are more than four Black 
Daggers in the Lower Threstles.  We are not safe anywhere.  Come, let 
us go on.  In the evening we will intensify our swordfighting and 
magical practice."

	A thought occurred to Worth.  "Why do I need to know swordplay if 
I have magic?"

	"Even you must use your magic sparingly, my friend," said Palmer.  
"Even with endurance, it gets tiring after a time.  Better to save it 
for when you really need it."

	They continued walking along the road.  "Tell me more about the 
bad chaos, and the fell captain," said Worth.

	Palmer sighed.  "I do not know very much about it, though perhaps 
more than most.  Much knowledge was lost after the bad chaos."

	"Oh?  Lore seemed to know a fair amount."

	Palmer raised his eyebrows.  "Oh?  Did he ever mention Kiriender 
Tal?"

	"Kiriender Tal?  No, why do you ask?"

	"Kiriender Tal is the city of wizards.  It is on the east cost.  
The greatest of our kind dwell or visit there, from time to time.  It 
would seem possible, at least, that Lore was one of them."  Palmer took 
a breath. "But you asked me about the bad chaos.  I will tell you what 
I can.  Some time ago, centuries, perhaps, the evil one appeared.  He 
was known by many names, but he is most widely remembered today as 
Malkon.  He came from the north, but I do not know how he appeared, or 
where he came from.  All I know is that he was the bringer of terrible 
evil, and he was pushed back by the Bluphans."

	"And so ended the bad chaos," said Worth.

	"No," said Palmer, shaking his head.  "This was several hundred 
years before the bad chaos.  Now, where was I?  There was a strong 
stretch of peace in the region, for at least 200 years or so, as far as 
I'm able to determine.  During that time to Bluphans faded-"

	"The Bluphans?"

	"The people who defeated the Malkon.  Some of them resided in 
Kiriender Tal.  I was there, once, but I never took up the opportunity 
to read more about them.  Perhaps I should have.  In any event, it is 
said that they were a powerful race of people who were naturally 
magical, or otherwise masterful in the use of magic.  It is also said 
they were great fighters, but preferred the ways of peace, and during 
good times they had many festivals and happy ceremonies.  In any event, 
at one time they all disappeared.  Perhaps, in the process of disposing 
of Malkon, they were nearly destroyed.  Or perhaps they simply moved 
on, for reasons we do not know.  I cannot say more.  What I can say, 
with some certainty, is that some 230 years later, the bad chaos 
erupted."

	"They exploded out of the north, and it was as if they had spent 
the whole of 230 years building up their power."

	"They?"

	"Malkon.  And his minions.  For now he was accompanied by the 
fell captains, each a powerful entity in their own rights, and they 
swarmed over Koo.  I have read the historical records, and have found 
they were quite methodical.  Each fell captain claimed a section of Koo 
for his or her very own.  Most regions caved under the weight of the 
great evil.  Malkon himself destroyed the great capital of Anthur Sil, 
in the east, and razed much of Kiriender Tal.  That is why, Worth, if 
you ever make it to Kiriender Tal, you will notice that few of its 
buildings are older than the half millenium mark."

	"So these guys came in and took over.  Go on, go on."

	"Worth!  You make it sound like little more than a change of 
management!" said Palmer.  "Whole regions of the planet were despoiled.  
Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, were killed, and many more 
enslaved.  All the beauty, all the art, all the greatness that had been 
painfully and lovingly built over the years, destroyed.  As much of it 
as the  fell captains could get their hands on."

	"So how were they ever defeated?"

	Palmer shook his head.  "I am not a historian.  I do not know.  
All I can say is how one particular fell captain, Arnagon, was defeated 
in the Lower Threstles.  Thanadil, as it was known back then, was 
nearly entirely conquored by the fell captain.  He held court in the 
ruins of Kalbard, though he also had a castle of his own.  Only a small 
portion in the southwest corner of the realm was untouched by his 
influence.  This is where the remnants of the armed forces gathered.  
There were troops of local militias, I suppose, and a number of 
survivors from the Wayfarer's confederation, so it is told.  It is said 
that few to none of the imperial garrison survived, so I do not think 
they were a factor in the counterstrike.  Wizards were being hunted 
down with particularly keen zeal by Arnagon's minions, but many had 
survived, and they too made their way to the meeting point."

	"Then the forces reorganized and attacked Arnagon's forces.  They 
fought his troops on the Battle Plain, pushing them south, always 
south.  I remember vaguely reading about some incident at Maytig, but 
am uncertain as to its historical importance.  Evidently the fell 
captain was nearly defeated there.  What I do know is that he was 
pushed back, to his castle.  He attempted to get help from the other 
fell captains, but none came, for people across all lands were by now 
resisting the bad chaos.  Our forces cornered him in his foul retreat 
and defeated him."

	"One thing I don't understand," said Worth.  "What does that 
mean, defeated?"

	Palmer sighed.  "Worth, Arnagon is a fell captain.  He is made of 
the most... unusual magical stuff.  He takes a physical form, and he 
can be defeated, but I am not certain whether he can be permanently 
destroyed."

	"And another point.  If your armies had already been badly 
beaten, how did they, presumably in smaller numbers, manage to defeat 
Arnagon?  And what about the other fell captains?  Why didn't they come 
to his aide?"

	"I know not these answers, Worth Rodgers," said