1

We sat around a fire late that night after running from the scene of our victory over the demons. I sat next to my Rishka, helping her prepare dinner.

"What do you think of our newest companion?" I nodded to the man who'd helped us earlier.

"I d'nae what tae make o' him." She brushed her hair behind her ear. "He be a quiet one."

"Indeed." I tossed the last of the roots into the pot and waited until she replaced the lid. Dearbhaile sat back and glanced at me with a smile. I caressed her cheek, and was gentle when I tugged her locks. "Did I ever tell you how much I love your auburn hair, Rishka?"

She gazed at me through lowered lashes. "Nae. Ye've not." Her voice was soft.

"Your hair is delightful." I ran my fingers through her tresses. "And a giveaway to your nature, did you know?"

Her lips curved. "How so?"

I leaned forward and whispered against her ear. "The color is physical evidence of your passionate nature."

"Yer a smooth one, lad." She giggled.

Some impulse told me to trail my finger along the side of her neck. I obeyed and was rewarded with a soft moan. She leaned closer to me, her eyes closed. I moved closer. My lips brushed hers when someone shouted in church.

"Carter, may I have a word?"

I growled and opened my eyes. Dearbhaile smiled at me. "Be polite," she whispered, then rose to her feet. She walked over to the other women and joined their conversation. I glared up at the interloper who turned out to be the mystery man. Of course.

"Yes? What can I do for you?"

He sat down on a log near me. "Sorry for interrupting."

I stared at him, taking in the half smile and twinkle in his brown eyes. "No you're not. You chose this time to come talk on purpose."

"Okay, you have me there."

"Who are you, how do you know my name, and how did you do those tricks earlier?"

"My name is Robilar Blackweave. I know your name because I know you – or I will – and I pulled them off because of training."

"What do you mean, you will know me?"

He took a deep breath. "I have this... power. I can...manipulate the continuum."

"What's with the pauses? You suffering from a neurological disorder?"

He cocked his head to the right. "A what?"

I shook my head. "Never mind. What kind of power allows you to know about me?"

Robilar took a deep breath. "Are you aware of Chronomancy?" He ran his finger through his hair. "Of course not, what —"

"Time magic?"

He sat up. "You know of Chronomancy? How?" He slapped his forehead. "Of course, you're the Walker of Worlds. There's not much you don't know."

I laughed so hard I fell over. After a few minutes, I regained enough of my composure to sit back up, clutching my ribs. He shot me a quizzical look. "You have me confused for someone else. Every day I'm surprised by how much I'm ignorant of. As for Chronomancy, in the world I originate from, a videogame exists called Chronomancer, the Ark of Time." He gaped at me, not sure what to ask first. "Are you a Chronomancer?"

He closed his mouth and nodded. "The first in thousands of years."

2

I rolled my eyes and locked them on Dearbhaile. "First in thousands of years? Talk about a story cliché."

"I wish," he said, voice dry.

She glanced over her shoulder and gave me a lip biting smile. A rush of heat hit my stomach. I swallowed. "Why?" I turned back to focus on him.

"The good guys win in stories."

I rolled my neck, trying to work out some of the stiffness. "In well-written stories, the bad guy calls himself a good guy."

Robilar laughed. "Considering what just happened, be honest: do you think we're in a well-written story?"

I laughed as well. "Good point. I'd say the tale was pretty execrable if I were to read it." The delicate bouquet of honeysuckle and jasmine told me Dearbhaile had returned. "Hello, Rishka."

"How do ye know when I've approached?" The smile was evident in her voice.

"I can always tell when you are near, my love."

"Aye, but how?"

I glanced up at her with a grin. "Magic."

"Sure, an' I be Vaush-Tauric."

I chuckled. Robilar tilted his head. "I thought Vaush-Tauric were dragons."

"Indeed," I said. "Say, Keeper Dearbhaile, do you think the one you're apprenticed to might be able to help?"

"Nay. She's not allowed tae, remember?"

"Damn. I did not." I sighed. "I wish I knew what to do next."

"Next, we eat dinner. Then, after you bathe, we sleep. Tomorrow, we be arrivin' in Dunskillen Town."

I tugged her down beside me. "Would I be able to persuade you to wash my back, Rishka?"

She blushed. "Nay, 'twould not be proper."

"Wait a minute. A few weeks ago, we could. According to you, Elven bathe together all the time. It's only natural. Remember telling me this?"

"Aye, but that be different."

"Please tell me how."

She opened her mouth, but Robilar spoke instead. "You call each other Rishka, right?" I turned to scowl at him, peeved he'd been eavesdropping. "In the eyes of the Renline, you're all but promised to wed. Which changes things. Not only that, but you're human, Carter."

"What?"

"Don't get me wrong. I think it is wonderful you are willing to bow to her customs. In my experience, humans too often ignore the cultures of those who are not human."

"Yeah, humans are bastards, alright."

If he caught my sarcasm, Robilar ignored it. "Not all of you are. The regal one seems to enjoy being among non-humans. Do you think she views this as slumming, though?"

"Lady Orwen?" I snorted. "Not at all. Her best friend growing up was a half-dragon, and her father employed all manners of people. I recall speaking with a Snebbli, and seeing a Treebeard training warriors. The Orwen clan is not racist. I'd bet my life on that."

The Chronomancer leaned forward to stare at me. "What of you? Are you racist?"

"You're kidding, right?" Ice crystals almost formed in the air as I spoke. "One, I am in love with a Renline. Two, my closest friends are half-dragons. Three, I hate everyone the same."

Dearbhaile swatted my shoulder. "Hush, yer rubbish, Carter. Ye do nae hate."

"How do you know, Keeper?"

She narrowed her jade eyes at Robilar. "He be mine. I know what be in his heart. Why are ye askin' such questions, lad? Are ye tryin' tae cover for yerself?"

"No, my lady. I'm testing my memory."

"Aye? That does nae soun' like any Chronomancer I've heard of. Their memories were flawless."

Robilar laughed. It was pleasant, and deep. "If only that myth were true. Keeper Dearbhaile, how good do you think the memory of a man would be when he's been exposed to the recollections of almost a thousand lifetimes?"

I lifted Dearbhaile to my lap. "How are so many lifetimes possible, Robilar?"

"You and I are unique, Carter. There is only one of us present in any time stream. Whereas you are one hundred percent singular, I, on the other hand, can be doubled, for a short time. No more than six minutes, max. During one of my lifetimes, I learned how to pass memories to a past self by touch. Prior to that, journals were kept, and passed on to the prior version."

"Let me guess, you met another version of me."

"Yes."

"Then, why am I here, and not the other me?"

He sat back against a tree. "Because my predecessor came back to this point, before we'd met before."

I scratched my chin, then smoothed Dearbhaile's hair down. She kissed my cheek, and slouched down in my lap, bringing the back of her head to rest on my chest.

"Do this mean ye cannae go back beyond this point?"

"So you have heard of us." He stretched, and leaned back against the tree once more. "Yes, I am limited to going back to a time after another me has gone to."

"So, if you screw up, there is no going back to before you screwed up and stopping yourself, right?"

"Yes. A limit of paradox."

"That would be confusing as hell. How do you keep it all straight?"

"Each time I merge with another me, a – time stamp I guess you could call it – is locked in my mind. Forever. Which keeps me from going further back."

"What would happen were ye tae try?"

"I'd end up with a vicious headache, and a blank period. Those are also blocked off."

"Why're you here, Robilar?"

"I'm here to help."

"Aye. But, ye said yer predecessor came tae this point before ye met Carter. That sounds tae me like you have a specific reason for yer presence."

"I do: to make sure Drago doesn't get his hands on the Lamp of Allah-ad-din."

"You mean, Aladdin?"

"No. That's a common mistake. Allah-ad-din's Lamp is powerful. It can alter the very fabric of reality."

Dearbhaile rolled her head up to gaze at me. "I be lost, Carter."

"Aladdin and His Wonderful Lamp is a tale in my world. About a beggar that finds a magic lamp with a genie that grants wishes."

"The lamp is an actual relic. The ability to make such an object has been lost to time. None have been successful in recreating the thing. I suspect the artifact may have been created with the aid of something either divine, or infernal."

"Rishka, we have tae prevent Drago from getting his hands on this object."

"Great." I sighed. "Anything else we get to do?"

"Stand guard," Robilar said.

3

I found myself walking down a darkened street. I was a bit disconcerted to learn I was back home. And, the street lights were out. My feet crunched over bits of broken glass. The moon came out from behind a cloud, and I learned the street name was Jackson St. A couple blocks to the east, the familiar green of Leone Riverside Park. 'I'm home in Baltimore. How?'

I walked closer, and spotted a young woman in a circle of brightness cast from a lone street light. She dodged an attack by from a hideous monster with a yellow infused skull. Jellied blackish ocher masses sat where eyes would be on a human. Just below a dark hole in the center of its skull was distended jawbone filled with rows of tiny, shark-like teeth, pointed and serrated. A pallid green tubular tongue protruded from its maw. Silvery blue saliva dripped to the ground and burned into the concrete.

A strong wind kicked up, bringing the scent of rain. The young woman risked a quick glance up at the sky. Thick, grey clouds roiled in from the east. An empty beer can bounced up the street, its clang hollow and sad. The world lit up as if by an enormous camera's flash. Two seconds later, the air was rent by an eruption of sound. A gentle plopping came as the first cold droplets of water hit the ground. As the wind picked up, the pitch of the rain changed. What had been soft, and gentle turned into harsh, loud and drumming.

Her hair clung to her face as water dripped from her jaw and ran into her eyes. She swiped her t-shirt across her eyes in a hurry and pushed her soaked hair back from her face.

The creature's corpse-white skin sloughed off, revealing ropy bunches of grey muscle and bronze stretches of tense tendons and ligaments. It spread its arms wide and howled. The creature's shattered arm-blade reformed. I ran to the battle, intending to aid the woman in some fashion.

The creature raced to the sidewalk and leaped into the air, its arms open wide. When it reached the apex of its leap, and gravity began to reassert itself, her rising foot caught the hideous thing underneath its jaw, severing its protruding tubular tongue. It crashed to the ground, whimpering in pain, a cancerous orange fluid pouring from its mouth. She held her right arm straight out from her body, hand open and waiting. "Come to me," she said. I stopped, and waited. Nothing happened. She dropped her arm. The creature's noises changed from pain filled to enraged. It whirled its legs around and spun to its feet.

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Once more her arm rose. "Come to me!" She thundered.

Faster than I could process, a tinkle of shattering glass could be heard and instant later, a high pitched whistle came through the downpour. The whistle grew louder as a pure white streak of light rocketed through the air. Before my stunned eyes, a pure white sword, the twin to the one at my hip, slapped into her open palm. She angled the white blade across her body in a middle guard position.

The horror paused, seeming to consider her. I wasn't certain with the inky ocher spots instead of eyes. It opened its mouth and waggled the stump of its tongue at her. The woman's lip curled in revulsion. The thing sprang into motion, swinging its blades, trying to eviscerate the young woman.

She blocked each strike. The abomination swung high with its right arm-blade and came at her in the opposite direction with the other. She ducked the high swing, blocked the low one and raised her knee to parry its abrupt kick at her stomach. The monstrosity attempted to slash its weapons across her neck in a scissors motion. She ducked and thrust her sword at its middle. The creature dipped its arm-blades down, deflecting her thrust into the ground. Rather than try to pull the sword from the ground, the young warrior kicked above the crossed arm-blades, catching the monster in the remains of its face.

Its head snapped back and the thing crashed to the ground, arms going wide. It did a kip-up, kicking its legs outward and flipping itself back to its feet. Before the hideous abnormality could recover from its flip, the young woman gripped her sword in both hands and slashed down at the creature's right shoulder, separating the limb from its body. Orange fluid fountained out from the stump and its howl overcame the crash of thunder. The ugly, terrifying being reeled back.

She bent and picked up the severed limb. The monster, whatever it was, whirled on her, hate radiating off it like heat from an iron stove. The young woman stalked the damaged creature, determined to finish it.

A familiar man yanked her back against him just as the creature's arm-blade came within a hair's breadth of decapitating her. 'Robilar?' He released her. She blocked the creature's return swing with the white sword. She drove its own arm-blade deep into its chest. The monster stared at her, shock evident on its skull-like face. Its arm fell away from her white blade. The warrior swung her arm out to the side, then swung back to the left, cutting the creature's head from its shoulders.

Her eyes flicked over, and locked with mine. "I'll be here for you when you need me. That's how I roll."

4

In the dark hours before dawn, Robilar climbed the tree next to me. Birds were beginning to chirp, and the wind to pick up. A mist formed on the ground near my companions. The fire had all but burned out, a column of smoke being dispersed on the breeze. A fox stalked a rabbit, and made the kill.

"You're up early."

"You're in a tree," he said.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"I thought we were pointing out the obvious."

I snorted laughter. "Fair point. Why are you up here with me?"

"Would you believe me if I told you it was because I enjoyed your company?"

I turned my head to stare at him. He watched the fox's bloody meal. I shook my head. "No."

His shoulders shook for a few seconds. He gripped the branch, rolled himself backwards, and as his arms were extended behind him, dropped to the ground. I glanced at the sky. In the east, the black of night was lightening to a dark blue and near the horizon, azure with pink clouds. A line of red demarcated the horizon itself. 'About time to wake everyone.'

I dropped out of the tree in the opposite manner to Robilar. I landed, bent kneed, and straightened. "What did you want to tell me?" I headed to the others to wake them.

"You and Keeper Dearbhaile have traveled back through time. It seems like draconic magic."

I stopped so fast I almost fell. "You want to run that by me again?"

"I don't know how, or why, but you and she have gone backwards in time."

"That explains some things."

"Would you speak up a bit? I didn't catch all of that."

I spoke a bit louder this time. "Talking to myself, Robilar."

I knelt beside Weijia and Lady Orwen, and shook them awake. Adora stretched, rubbed her eyes and sat up. Weijia swatted at me and rolled over. I nudged her again, and she flailed at me. I leaped out of range with a grin. My eyebrows waggled. I turned to get a blade of grass and drug it beneath her nose which wiggled in response. I muffled my giggles in my sleeve, and did it again. She waved her hand above her face, scratched her nose. She resumed her quiet snores. I winked at Adora and smirked. She shook her head and I nodded in reply. I stuck the blade of grass in Weijia's left nostril. She sat up with a series of sneezes, and I fell back laughing.

"Damn you, Carter. Why would you do that?"

I rolled to a seated position, and shrugged. She growled and searched for something. I think she wanted to hit me. Corath approached with his brother a couple steps behind him, his hand on his sword. I rose to my feet and Wen set himself to draw his blade. I rolled my eyes and shrugged my shoulders. Corath peered over his shoulder and gestured at his brother who shook his head. There was a short, silent argument, then Wen stomped off. The Gorauch turned his gaze back to me.

Something about his eyes bothered me. Maybe because I knew he'd been dead? 'I'm watching you, Bub.' He nodded as he walked by. I watched as he woke my love.

"There is something not right about that elf," Robilar said.

"Indeed." I lifted my dryad sword a couple centimeters in its sheathe and let it drop back. "Help me keep an eye on those two will you?"

"Of course. Do you suspect them of something?"

"Not yet." I pushed my fingertips together, cracking the knuckles. "When I was in school, in my world, I was bullied a lot. I learned to sense when someone was up to no good when they were around me. I get the same feeling about those two."

"I understand." He rolled his shoulders, making sure they were limber.

"What makes things worse is I don't know where the nymph disappeared."

"Nymph? What nymph?" I filled him in on what had transpired before he joined our little group. He looked over his shoulder at the elves. "That is suspicious." He brightened. "Your—"

Jasmine and honeysuckle wafted to me. "Good morning, Rishka."

"Good morning, Carter." She linked her fingers with mine and pulled me into a kiss.

Robilar cleared his throat. "I'm, um, I'm gonna be over..." His voice faded.

I rested my forehead on hers, and gazed into her gorgeous green eyes. "Rishka, I'd like you to do me a favor."

"Aye? What would that be?"

"Help me keep an eye on the Chronomancer."

She pulled back, yet kept her hand in mine. She searched my face. "Why?"

"His appearance is a bit of a coincidence, wouldn't you say?"

"Aye, but so?"

"I don't like it. Better safe than sorry, right?" I scratched my belly, causing her to swat my hand again.

"Alright. I'll do it."

I pulled her close for another kiss. "Thank you," I said against her lips, eliciting a giggle.

5

We smelled Dunskillen before we saw it. The area was thick with the acrid odor of smoke and the sick, sweet scent of rotten meat. As we got closer, the breeze changed so the smell was intensified. The thinning trees gave us sight of the skyline, filled with smoke. I nudged Dearbhaile to behind me. I drew my sword and Robilar did the same.

"Wen, scout ahead," Corath said. I cocked my head at him. "None of you are as stealthy as Elven."

I conceded his point with a shrug. The Gorauch disappeared into the distance.

"What should we do, Carter?" Lady Orwen said.

"Ready yourself for battle. We could be attacked at any moment."

Keeper Dearbhaile moved slowly to the center of the circle again, with her lips compressed in a thin, white line, but she held her peace. The sun rose higher in the cloudless sky, pounding down on us. Sweat rolled down my face, and soaked the top of my buckskin pants. The moisture served to aggravate the moss in my belly. The maddening itch mounted in my mind. I squirmed and gripped my sword hilt tighter. My abdomen burned with the urgent need for me to scratch. I groaned, and clenched my jaw. I jumped when a cool hand landed on my back.

"Are ye alright, Carter?"

"Not really." My voice sounded raspy even to me. "This damned Tianarri moss is driving me bugshit."

She leaned back, blinking. "Bugshit?"

"What does bugshit mean?" Robilar said.

"Crazy. The desire to scratch is maddening."

"So scratch." Robilar chuckled. "What's hard about that?"

"He cannae. He be infected with Tianarri moss."

"Wen returns." Lady Orwen called.

"I'll fill you in later, Robilar." 'Maybe.'

The Gorauch approached at a shambling run. The way his limbs flopped about, as if not under his control, caused a knot to form in my belly, pushing out the urge to scratch. My heart kicked into overdrive as I locked onto his approach. I threw a glance over my shoulder to my Rishka. Seeing she was safe, though intent on the approach of the white-haired Elven, I turned back. I raised my sword while I did so.

"Carter?" Lady Orwen said. My name was the signal Wen waited for. He launched himself into a sprint at me, eyes ablaze. "He's possessed!"

"Wen!" His brother shouted. Time slowed around me. I moved to intercept him. "No, Carter. He's my brother!"

Corath's voice sounded like an old seventy-eight record played at thirty-three and a third rotations per minute. The controlled Elven's steps slowed as if he were running through molasses, then halted. I broke into a run, and raced passed Wen. As I did, I caught whiff of decayed vanilla: a L'Arc demon had him. I hoped what I learned about possession during game sessions was accurate and the demon's body would be nearby. 'Kill the body, kill the possessor.'

I found the L'Arc standing at the edge of a wall, staring at Wen's back. This one was different from the others. Its shoulders were broader and it wore blackened gold plate mail. The others were stunning, beautiful, statuesque and nude women with flawless milky skin, raven hair, large bat wings that unfurled from their shoulders and slender black tails. This one had scars over its face, eagle wings and stubble over its jaw. This one must have been one of the males. 'Wow. Belial, or his dad, are sexist bastards. They have the females running around naked, yet they cover the males in heavy armor.' Not that I wanted to see this demon without clothes. Time resumed its movement. The demon registered my presence, eyes wide. As its mouth dropped open, I ran it through with my sword.

"Carter!" I spun around at Dearbhaile's scream. The others were under attack. I raced back to my friends. Halfway there, a rush of wings caused me to halt. The sky was blotted out by the shadows of about twenty L'Arc demons. I didn't wait for them to land before scything into them. 'Stupid demons.'

I heard my love scream again. I looked over. A large, muscular humanoid with greenish-black skin stretched tight over his frame had her neck in an immense clawed hand. He flipped his middle claw in the air, then vanished with a boom. I howled my rage to the heavens. A crimson fog descended over my eyes. I slashed, and chopped, sliced and hacked at any demon that was near me. I stopped when I realized Corath's brother stood before me.

"Greetings, Carter Blake." Wen's mouth moved, but the hoarse, graveled and sweet voice belonged to Belial. Now I knew who had my love. "I have your woman. If you want to see her again, come to the former tower of Wizard Cora."

I pointed my blade between Wen's eyes. "I'm coming for you, Belial."

He laughed. I bellowed and cleaved his neck with the sharp dryad weapon. Wen's head fell from his body, still laughing. I kicked it away, and shut my eyes. I visualized the opulent room where I'd last seen Wizard Cora. I saw again the torches as they burned in brackets on stone walls, rich tapestries hung here and there. I remembered seeing the thickest rug I had ever encountered. I was able to picture the entrapment sigil drawn on the floor underneath. The sounds of the battle faded until all was silence. I felt a pressure on my body not unlike that time I'd went scuba diving in the summer when I was nine. I remembered marveling at the knowledge of all those tons of water surrounding my body, waiting to crush me, yet knowing my soft form was capable of withstanding it. I pushed that memory away and refocused on the summoning chamber.

The pressure vanished. I opened my eyes, and saw the chamber I'd been visualizing. 'How the hell did I do that?' I shrugged away the question. I'd worry about the riddle later. I readied my sword and went to the door. I placed my ear to it. I heard nothing, so I opened the door. The hallway was also lit by torches. I surprised one of the short humanoid wingless bat-like creatures I'd encountered during my escape from Belial's fortress. The thing's angry red muscles rippled as it moved, causing a clear, glistening and viscous fluid to roil down its body. Nictitating membranes flicked across its oil drop eyes when the demon discovered me standing in the room. I reacted first, slashing my blade across its throat. Blue ichor splashed my front as the creature collapsed. I continued on.

Down a second hall, I spotted another of the demons standing guard outside a big wooden door. I slipped along, until I was about a meter away. 'I hope this doesn't turn my way.' The monster did, and chittered something at the top of its voice, raising a spear. The door was yanked open. A L'Arc spilled out, shield leading the way. At the same time, a blackish green demon with oversized claws appeared beside me. This was either the one that took my Rishka, or was similar. Either way, he had my full attention. I lunged at him.

A clawed hand intercepted my sword and redirected the weapon to the side. I was hit from behind and shoved towards an incoming swipe from the other hand. My chest was slashed open and I found myself behind the L'Arc. I thrust my blade into her back, right between her wings. The sword went in as if she were warm butter. The bat-like demon thrust its spear through the L'Arc's body and into my left bicep. I screamed, and was behind the thing without my sword. I felt as if my hands were guided by another as I gripped its head and put it in the path of the black demon's stab. I shoved the smaller demon forward, further impaling it on the other's claws which sliced my face. I growled, and tried to ignore the burning of four cuts traveling from my forehead to my cheeks. I didn't understand how the demon missed my eyes, but I was glad he did. 'Damned thing tried to blind me!'

He went for my eyes again. I grabbed his wrist. Blasted demon was a hell of a lot stronger than me. All I managed to do was slow the approach of those lethal claws. Once more, I had the feeling that another guided my hand as I punched the demon in the base of his neck. The force on my right hand let up. I rammed the clawed hand into the demon's own eyes and brain. The demon fell to the floor. I bent at the waist, panting. The adrenaline seeped out, allowing me to feel my wounds more. I leaned against the wall. I gritted my teeth, then bit my tongue to keep the blackness at bay. 'Dearbhaile needs us, you pussy. Get going!'

My left arm burned like fire. I pushed the pain back enough so I could enter the open door. Belial stood within as if he'd been waiting for me. Belial leered at me.

"Where is Dearbhaile?" I yelled.

"She's... being taken care of." He laughed. "You're all alone Carter Blake. No Moment of Prescience, no Dearbhaile to rescue you. This time, I'm going to kill you."

"Before, I might have needed them. I'm not the same person who surrendered to you to be your slave. I've grown." I raised my sword, tilted my head to the left and right, making my vertebrae crackle. "Let's dance, monkey."

He snarled, showing off his black teeth, and charged. Our blades clashed, sending shockwaves through my arms. I tightened my grip, and pushed the steel against his snow white one. I knew he was stronger than me, and wanted him to push back harder.

The half-demon shoved hard. I ducked and at the same time, released my weapon which flew through the air behind me. As I hoped, his arms went over my head, leaving him flat footed. His sword arm was across his chest, and I was in perfect position. I punched him in the groin as hard as I could with both fists. All the air left his lungs in a rush. His grip slackened on the white sword which dropped. Mind blank, I snatched the longsword from the air, spun 180 degrees, and after spinning the weapon to a better grip, slammed the length into him.

The pure white blade sank into the half-demon's chest like a hot knife into warm tallow. His jaw dropped as if he couldn't believe what had just happened to him. I released the hilt of the sword which was heating fast. I stepped back and Belial crumpled to the ground. Seconds later, the wound caused by the white blade split open further, spilling out a flood of squirming maggots. I jumped back, trying not to puke in revulsion. The maggots soon evaporated, leaving a pulsating, silver blood-covered sapphire sphere. The sphere, as it pulsed like a beating heart, grew larger before my eyes, draining -something- from Belial's corpse. The corpse looked more and more desiccated with every passing moment. Soon, a hollow husk was all that remained of Belial. The sapphire sphere pulsed faster and faster. Cracks formed in it, violet light streaming upwards. The sphere shattered into little pieces, leaving a huddled form lying on the ground. As the violet light faded, the form began to move.

The form soon showed itself to be a man curled in a fetal position. He rose to his feet and stood before me. He was about eighteen centimeters shorter than me and about the same in kilograms lighter. He had short brown hair, friendly brown eyes and a faint smile. To my discomfort, he was also nude. Before I could say anything, he looked down at himself, shook his head and caused clothes to appear on his body. He wore a faded blue chambray shirt tucked into sun lightened blue jeans stuck into travel battered leather boots with a pair of crossed gun belts slung low on his hips. Large revolvers with sandal wood grips were in the holsters. A faded bandanna was tied around his neck. He glanced back at me with his hands out to the sides as if asking for my approval of his dress. I noticed I got his eye color wrong. It wasn't brown after all, but a faded blue color. He looked like the way I always pictured Roland Deschain of Gilead, from Stephan King's The Dark Tower books.

I folded my arms across my chest and frowned. He looked back down at himself and shrugged. His clothing shimmered, and then changed again. When he looked up at me again, he had dark gray eyes, cinnamon colored hair in a ponytail and a Van Dyke beard. He wore a black three-piece suit with a lavender shirt. He was broader across the shoulders than I and a little narrower at the hips. His grin seemed to ask my opinion of his appearance this time. I shook my head, causing him to shrug again. This shrug seemed to say, "To hell with it."

His cinnamon hair darkened to the color of fresh coffee, his shirt flashed to white and his eyes showed crimson for a moment before settling on hazel. He grinned at me again, wiggled his fingers at me in a wave and vanished in a flash of black tinged violet light.

I walked over to where the mysterious stranger had been birthed from a sapphire shell and picked up the sword I had used to kill the half-demon Belial, son of Lucien the Demon King and Zatanna the Lich Queen of Amcorath. The sword was no longer pure white. The blade had a faint outline of violet which only showed up when I moved the sword a particular way. The weapon also no longer sent waves of cold through my body, but felt warm to my touch. I turned to join the larger battle outside and discovered Lady Orwen standing in the doorway with a worried look on her face.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure, Carter, but I think he was Samhain."

"So?"

"He ruled the Pits before Lucien. It's not good that you just freed him."

I growled. "I was not about to allow Belial to get away with his crimes, Princess." She blinked as she leaned away from me. I don't think she was aware of it. I sighed and headed towards the door. I didn't care for the look of wariness on her face, but bit my tongue. My head throbbed. "We need to find Keeper Dearbhaile."

"Corath has already searched the tower. He found no sign of her. Carter, I think Drago has her."

My jaw tightened. I stared at the floor for a few seconds as my heartbeat accelerated again. I gripped the hilt of the white blade so hard my knuckles creaked. I peered at Lady Orwen from under my eyebrows. "Looks like I'm going after her."

Here ends Book One of

The Chronicles of Carter Blake

To Be Continued in "Rise of the Darkwalker: The Chronicles of Carter Blake, Book II"