From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison)
Date: Wed, 4 Nov 1992 22:16:18 GMT
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [DQ] Week 12: Island Interlude

ADMIN: an earlier draft of this story got out to the net.  This is the one
that should go into the canon.

-----

Valgar sat alone in thought. First about the third riddle:

>"You may need a few Others, like maybe One who Knows the Dark in Itself,"

There was little doubt in his mind that the line referred to him.  But he
could not let the others know that.  Lancos' talk hadn't been helpful, either.
Actually, Valgar WAS worried about his bodily changes.  Worried that if the
manifestation ever occurred, that the DQers could not survive as they had,
especially if the evil inside him joined forces with the Dark Master.  He
seemed to be handling things fine right now, but who knew where the breaking
point lay?  However, after finally becoming a free man, he could not stand to
return to a state of being constantly watched over.  DESPITE the growing 
pressure from the plane.

* * * *

The ship with the Dragon Questers on board had grown momentarily quiet.
Suddenly, the current sped up mysteriously, although the ship didn't seem
to respond much to it. But looking out, the party could see the cause of
if. The "sea" was being narrowed and made more volatile by a pair of
shelves of jagged rock.

"I'm not sure what's up, mes amigos." 'Raelf said, viewing out as far as he
could. "The rocks seem to narrow into a channel of sorts.  Beyond that, some
sort of fog covers everything.  Personally, (his voice assumed a pantomime
quality) 'No sir, I don't like it, nope, not one bit'."

ShockWave: "Can you do anything about it?"

"Not sure yet.  It looks simple enough, but I'm not sure I SHOULD do anything."

Inside the fog, several forms watched the ship close. Once inside the
channel, the group onboard would be easy prey. There wasn't even a chance
of fighting back -- not without destroying the vessel.

Without announcemtn the ship veered to the left, fighting the wind and
current by swiftly moving away from the channel, along and somewhat away
from the line of rocks.

The forms saw the change in direction, and tried to react, taking to the
air.  But they -- unlike the ship -- were subject to the wind and normal
speeds, and quickly saw they could not catch up.  Soon they turned back,
ready to give a report that they never saw the ship, rather than foolishly
 admit failure to their master.

What might have become a sticky situation easily avoided, the ride turned
quiet again until:

'Raelf cried out, "Land Ho!"

The others quickly -- and quickly being a subjective term, considering on
the ship every footstep was a test of the ship's fortitude -- made their
way towards the front. Before them slowly rose a blackened island, an
impossibly wide and thoroughly deserted place.

The ship began to slow in relation to the shrinking distance between it and
the land. Soon the ship docked alongside the shore. However, there was one
problem -- the gangplank had been destroyed when they came aboard.

Lancos: "So, what do we do..."

A sudden flash of darkness surrounded the immediate area, cutting off the
words with some finality.

* * * * *

...now?"

The DQers looked around to see that they were now on the island, and watched
the ghost ship sail away. The transport had taken an infinitesimal time, so
that they never would have known about it had their locale not changed.
However, Lancos' question still had some merit, although only for a moment:

An overwhelming sense of dread crawled up their spines.   SOMETHING was
watching them.  From behind.  They whirled almost as one - there was a
mist, shadowed, fading into the background.  A sort of anti-sparkling,
pinpoints of darkness blooming and fading, moved to surround them.

An image came to mind, like a memory of waking from a nightmare, just beyond
the point of words.  They had BEEN something else for a moment.

One was powerful, one took the darkness and fed it, one devoured those in whom
it grew.  All were subject to one.  The painful bright came, but it too knew
darkness, it changed, adapted itself.  One was no longer unique, and this
inspired one to great anger.  The bright became tainted with the evil on which
one fed.  One sent a servitor to betray and corrupt the bright, and the damned
servitor instead betrayed both the bright and the dark.

One found oneself limited, constrained to never move from one's favorite place
of private torment.  One raged.  There, the servitor chose to extend its power,
as one had constructed it to do.  The bright locked into a cage of torment, the
servitor used it (fool) to change what was and what should be.  One began to
plot.  One could still communicate, inspire evil, feed on darkness.  One could
prepare an agent unwitting, send the agent to seduce beings of power, prepare
them for the task of destroying the disobedient servitor.

They must usurp the power of the servitor, an act of betrayal, and in payment
for that betrayal, one grants them gifts.  Gifts that help them prevail...

Alita felt heat rising through her, a feeling of approval, a lust that would
take anything, anyone, and tie them to her, feeding on their life to give to
them an overwhelming pleasure, so they would return to her again and again.
She was female and male and fire and ice and intolerable burning need.

Kadrys felt the deep blood hunger abate and knew that he could (if he chose)
feed instead on the very life force, that he could even supplant it in the
bodies of others, and dwell there for a time.  A hint of promise, that if he
chose to do so, he could use that route to free himself, to rejoin his love,
all he needed to do was to steal the body of another.

Lancos knew that he was safe, utterly safe, that the medallion had been
shaping his thoughts, that its protection was at odds with taking risks,
and that it would always know the right thing to do in order to preserve
and protect him, that it would do so, no matter what the cost.  He knew
that to yield to the medallion's protection, would even save him from the
consequences of such a decision.

Miro felt a cold chill creep into his mind.  He knew, without effort, what
was in the minds of his enemies, their plans, their intention, the kinds of
mistakes they would make.  Knowing, he could evade them, ambush them, turn
their plots back on them.  He knew that their ambush was waiting.  He knew
that he alone could escape it.

'Raelf recognized the memory strand as a foreign thing, woven into his
mind with deliberate clumsiness, intentional - the bright was controlled
so, and thus, and the servitor drew power from it in these ways.  This is
how it was twisted to change things, and this is how to gain power from it...

ShockWave felt the body of the giant more intensely, knew it could be made
more responsive to his will, knew how to reshape it over time, more to his
desire, not just to heal it but to change it in other ways.  And he felt within
it a growing power, the ability to command and direct those things whose bodies
were animated by the magic of necromancy.

Valgar suddenly knew what it was that had been growing in him, changing him,
and he knew how to control it, assume it, use it to his intent, and only if
he chose, how to surrender to its power.

William grew suddenly more aware - this is how magic works here, it will
respond best to this kind of invocation, to that kind of sacrifice, the
spell cost could be borne by others in this way, and things could be made
subject to his desires by using magic thus...  And he KNEW that the others
would consider this knowledge to be insane, because Valgar's beard was the
same color as his hair, therefore Kadrys' reflection would show in a mirror
silvered with blood.  It was obvious, how had he not seen it before?

The darkness sparked around them again, and again they were somewhere else.