Have Broom Will Travel 



By Jim Conder 


Published by IndependentBook.com, March 2003 



Chapter 1 
The New witch



Once upon a time in the World of Morogrovinia. . . 

Nobody in the city of Lander said it aloud, but instead whispered it at every fence post, around every water jug. The Noble House of Draco had returned to the castle in the middle of town. The Draco’s had ruled Lander off and on for the past three hundred years, though never for very long at a time. For the Draco’s were one of the premier families of Dark Wizardry on Morogrovinia, and as such spent quite a lot of time failing to rule the world. Many a young barbarian hero had made his name defeating a Draconian wizard’s bid for power. Of course many a young barbarian hero had died in the attempt as well. 

The last Lord Draco had been Lord Vlad, believed to have been killed fifteen years ago, along with his only son. No one in Lander believed it however. The Dracos never won, but they also never died on the first try. 

Some thought the castle’s new resident could only be Vlad’s son, coming to regain the family heritage. Others thought that it must be Vlad himself, coming back from the presumed dead. Everyone agreed it could only lead to trouble. 

Then again he might get rid of all those damn munchkins that had moved in. Everyone in Lander knew they did not want that kind around . 

Silhouetted against the setting sun Susan Crone looked very much like the average witch.Tall and thin, with a body you could use as a straight edge, the black hat and dress, plus the flying broomstick were dead giveaways. Granted, she lacked the traditional black cat, but allergies were allergies. 

Up close however, it quickly became apparent that she missed some other traditional features. Warts for starters. Susan did have a mole, but not anyplace visible, and certainly not any place she’d ever discuss. She also lacked the age, black hair, even though bound tightly on a severe bun, and wrinkle free skin would cause the casual observer to correctly guess her to be around twenty, about forty years to young to really be taken seriously as a witch. Both of these, she felt, were serious drawbacks for a witch just starting out. The age would take care of itself, given enough time, but the lack of warts vexed her. 

On the plus side she did have a rather large nose. It tended to put people in mind of an arctic seabird, perhaps a puffin. Still she worried that it might not be enough. 

Flying into the village of Galder, she gripped her broomstick a little tighter. The people of Galder held tightly to traditional beliefs, especially when it came to witches. In a village witch they wanted a cackling old hag with one decent tooth and chin warts so large that they could house a family of four. Large black hairs growing out of the warts were preferred but still optional, no one ever accused the people of Galder of being inflexible. 

Normally a witch trained her own successor, but adepts had been scarce here and Nanny Butang never found a proper girl. So after her untimely death in that lemming stampede, Galder had been left without a village witch, and the word had gone out that a replacement would be needed. Back in Rahtsbut, Mamaw Cutacre, who had been training up both Susan as well as Lisa Gripes, sent Susan out for the job. 

Granted Galderians should consider themselves lucky, Susan thought. Mamaw Cutacre had been very impressed, even at a very young age Susan had developed an amazing grasp of witchcraft. At 8 years old she’d been learning spells at a sixteen year old witch's level. At twenty she had been the youngest woman ever to become a fully trained witch. She’d heard that the village of Ghast had an even younger witch, but that had been due to an accidental death and the girl was no where near fully trained. Mamaw Cutacre had only given Susan one warning. 

“You have an overdeveloped sense of pride, girl,” Mamaw Cutacre had said.”It’s going to get you into trouble someday.” 

“That’s ridiculas,”Susan replied,”My modesty is second to none.” 

“You just be careful,” Mamaw Cutacre said with a sigh. ”And stay away from Gorman. That witch Granny Taft trained up is bad news.” 

“Who did she train?” 

“Never you mind that! Just stay away from it.” Mamaw Cutacre said,”I know there’s a shortage of witches down there, but there’s no excuse in training that! You stay away from there, it’ll eat you alive.” 

So Susan had flown off to Galder, fully intending to get to Gorman as soon as she had the chance. Susan had never backed down from a challenge in her life, and she had no intention of starting now. The village witch of Gorman would soon find out who the most powerful witch in these parts was. 

Susan’s stomach knotted as she saw her cottage. She had tried every wart causer she could think of, including the old dead cat in the cemetery at midnight trick, but failed to raise even a freckle. She did however find that dead cats affected her allergies just as badly as their live counterparts. 

She touched down just as the sun finished setting. She glanced up at the sky and sighed. A full moon would have been best, followed by a moonless night. A thin sliver would have been acceptable, but she arrived on a bulgy half moon sort of night. She carried her broom and bag up the overgrown pathway to the cottage door. 

The porch creaked loudly as she stepped on it, followed by the even louder creak as she opened the door. The cottage looked right at least. She had gotten a good look at the place just before the sunset, but even with out that she had known what it looked like. Isolated out in the forest, a ramshackle old place with a rusted tin roof and a chimney twisted like a cork screw, an overgrown yard and shutters that seemed about to fall off. 

She fumbled in the darkness till she found an old lantern and some matches. She lit it and looked around. Just as she’s suspected. cobwebs everywhere, threadbare furniture, an old bookcase with a few beaten up tomes and a human skull with a candle on top. In the center of the room sat a table with two chairs and a crystal ball. All the standard props of the profession. She felt comforted and relieved by the familiarity of the place. The thought had crossed her mind that the place might turn out to be made of gingerbread, which gave her hives. 

She crossed the room to a dusty mirror and looked at her reflection. The shadows of the lamplight made her nose look nicely bigger than normal, but still... 

She stopped, she might not look the part yet but a witch she was, and she felt something. Her damn thumbs were pricking like crazy, never a good sign. Then the feeling washed over her like a bucket of cold water. The feeling that a thousand voices had cried out in terror, then suddenly soiled themselves. 

Or maybe it was just nerves. 

Ten miles down the road in the tiny village of Ghast, Maggie Lyn also felt her thumbs prick then the same feeling engulfed her, causing her to drop a large book on her foot. Her own pain temporarily eliminated any thoughts of anything else as she hobbled over to her own threadbare couch. banging her other foot on the table leg as she walked. She made it to the couch and tried to think of any painkiller spells she knew. She thought of two but both involved walking to the pantry for the ingredients, an activity she didn’t feel up to. She remembered a bottle of willow bark pills in the end table drawer, but she didn’t have anything to take them with and they tasted nasty if they had a chance to dissolve in your mouth. 

She pulled her feet up on the couch and looked over her wounded toes for signs of broken bones. No breaks but a nasty bruise right under the red burn mark where she’d spilled hot candle wax on herself yesterday. She caught sight of the bruise left when she'd banged her shin on the cauldron the other day, and the scar on her thigh where she’d stepped on the cat. Her eyes briefly dropped to the bandage on her thumb where she’d cut herself carving mystic runes into a candle this morning. At least the bump on her head had gone down, it would be a while before she tried levitation spells again. 

Unlike Susan, Maggie had inherited her post as village witch. Unfortunately at thirteen she’d inherited it a little sooner than would have been preferable. Gramma Hadrass had only been training Maggie for a year, when she’d died, leaving the village in Maggie’s well intentioned, if less than agile hands. 

Even in silhouette Maggie didn’t look like a witch. She couldn’t sew so she wore some a Gramma Hadrass's old dresses, which managed to be to big and too short all at once. She had enough room for an extra person in the bosom, but the hemline exposed a pair of bony knees. Her mousy brown hair hung straight, and like Susan, warts were nonexsistant, although she did have a smattering of freckles. 

Then she realized it; she’d just had a genuine psychic .. . whatchamajigger. she couldn’t remember the name right now, but she’d had just had one! Her first ever! Her thumbs had even pricked! Excited but not knowing what else to do, she jumped up and ran to look outside. 

She tripped over the doorway, stumbled forward banged her head on the porch railing, and fell off the porch face first in a mud puddle. 

Fifteen miles south, thumb pricking and the subsequent feeling had almost made the village witch of Gormen drop a perfectly good pint of beer. 

Almost. 

And in the City of Lander, a thousand people needed a good change of undergarments. A group of men approached the steaming crater just outside city walls. It stretched roughly twice the width of the city it had almost destroyed and the bottom of it bubbled and glowed an odd green. 

Later residents would be a bit hazy on the details of the night. Most could remember a blinding light coming out of the sky accompanied by a screaming whine. For a moment it seemed about to collide with the city, but instead missed by a matter of feet. The strangest thing they would recall was the noise it made when it hit. Rather than a a large explosion, the impact had instead made only a small phipsh as it opened the crater. 

Some of the city’ residents now looked at the crater somberly. The wondered if it would bring down property values, and if so why couldn’t it have hit on the other side of town. On the plus side they were now in a lower tax bracket. One of the men, the mayor Lord Duncan looked around as an aide approached. 

“There were a group of shepherds tending their flock, sir” the aide, named Reginald, informed him. “ all wiped out” 

“They weren’t munchkins were they?” 

“No, munchkins don’t raise sheep, they . . .grow things.” 

“Damn the luck. Oh well, this means the The price of wool will go up then, I suspect,” Said Lord Duncan. At least something had gone right,he thought, nice to have a family fortune founded in the yarn industry. Still an election approached, and a giant green steaming crater of bubbling goo, could affect voter decisions. He needed to form a committee to study the situation. 

Someone screamed as a giant tentacle burst forth from the bubbling mass,snatched a group of people and pulled them into the pit. 

“Hmmm,”said Lord Duncan, “better form a giant tentacle committee as well” 

After all, he couldn’t have his opponents accusing him of not doing anything. He looked at castle Draco, right in the dead center of the city and avoided saying anything obvious and dangerous. 

Outside the city vines began to grow. 

As the sun rose the next morning, Susan emerged from her cottage to see a group of people coming up the path towards her home. The village of Galder was smaller than it’s name, and news travelled fast. She had been spotted flying in, and the light had been seen in the old cottage. A new witch had come to town and these people would be the first to check her out. 

Most of the group were women, because women tended to deal with the village witch much more often. There were a few men, because men were naturally nosy. They stopped at the gate, and Susan could feel their appraising gazes. One the women, an older horse-faced woman spoke: 

“Are you the new witch?” 

“Who’s asking?” Susan said, giving Horse-face the same look a strict schoolteacher might give a misbehaving pupil. The first lesson every witch learns: Never let them see you sweat. 

Horse face gave her the same look one might give while inspecting a second hand carriage. Their eyes locked. Horse face had a good stare, it impressed even Susan , who had trained to stare down snakes. Ultimately however, nobody out stares a witch. 

“I am Mrs.Whitlow, are you the witch?”, said horse face trying to pretend she hadn’t been competing in the first place. 

“I am Mistress Crone,” Susan said, knowing she could never have gotten away with Mother, Nanny, or any of the other more traditional tittles. But she had the sort of bearing that royalty strived for and failed to achieve. Despite her age and obvious lack of warts, the villagers were impressed. 

“Do you deal with Horny Goat Weed?” Mrs. Whitlow asked, then pointed at the man beside her, who’s face began to changer to a purple red that would have put most beets to shame. 

“Yes I do.” Susan said, hoping that the twinge of pink creeping into her own normally pale features wouldn’t be to noticeable. She knew Horny Goat weed, and dozen other herbs that had the same effect, but some subjects she had never felt comfortable discussing. 

Horse face gave her another appraising glance then said,”Very well.’ 

With that the group turned and left. Susan watched until they disappeared, then permitted herself a small smile. The first contact , made or broke you, and Susan knew she’d done well. The smile vanished as on old feeling crept upon her. 

She rubbed her hands and turned to look into the distance. By the pricking of her thumbs, Susan knew that something not very pleasant would be headed this way. 

Walking by Old Man Johnson’s store a few days later, Maggie Lyn paused as she heard the other villagers discussing the new witch over in Galder. 

“A bit young I heard.” 

“Still they say she’s rather good, Old man Johnson was down there last week, picked up something for his diaharea, says it worked like a charm, doesn’t even get gas now.” 

“She’s a miracle worker then?” 

“Well she can’t possibly worse than ours,’ 

“Yeah remember when Scotty Thompson went to Maggie about his gout?” 

“Turned him into a frog” 

“Well, be fair, he no longer has the gout.” 

“How about old Johnny Taylor?” 

“Oh yeah, did he ever find his nose? 

“Well folks look on the bright side we could have what they got over in Gormen,” 

A hush fell over the crowd, as they gave a collective shiver. Every one knew about the witch of Gormen, although what everyone knew differed. All Grandma Hadrass simply told Maggie that Granny Taft trained up something horrible as her replacement. Most villagers had the same thing, only differently. 

“Heard she has three heads, one like a woman, one like a goat, and one like a cabbage,” 

“Yeah, well I heard she was one of them giant trolls, you know the ones with the big hair and the bad breath” 

“Your both wrong, she’s a demon, one of them whaddyacallem’s, incubators.’ 

Maggie could feel the tears welling up as she walked home. She was a lousy witch, she knew.She had tried to teach herself after Grandma Hadrass passed on, but she could never remember the names of herbs. The closest thing she’d had to success had been giving Mr. Pander that goat grass stuff. It really hadn’t helped his stomach, but it had left Mrs Pander smiling for days. Her other spells were even worse, and best not to even think about her broom riding abilities. 

And her doggone thumbs kept pricking. They’d been doing it for three days now, and it made it hard to concentrate. She’d cleaned homes before Grandma Hadrass picked her out, and now Maggie wondered if perhaps she shouldn't go back to doing that. But deep in her heart she knew that she’d never be able to look at another broom the same again. 

She reached her cottage and looked at her broom leaning against a wall on the porch. a deathtrap with a bundle of twigs at the bottom.She hadn’t tried riding it since the concussion, and every time she looked at it she could feel it laughing at her in the cruel, silent, immobile way of inanimate objects everywhere. 

Her tears evaporated in red hot rage as she strode across the porch, snatched it up, took it to her front yard, mounted it, and pushed off. 

Moments later she picked herself off the ground and looked over to where the broom had gotten stuck in the tree. She could only hope that it had hurt itself. She looked in the direction of Galder. 

Maybe she should try and ask for help. 

In a true witches cottage the front parlor is dusty and covered in cobwebs. This because certain things are expected of a witch and a large part of any job is selling yourself to any client. However, like most witches Susan kept the private parts of her home immaculate, and had been scouring the floor when a knock came to the back door. 

She glanced out at what appeared to be an ill built scarecrow standing on her back stoop. A tall thin female scarecrow wearing a dress made for someone shorter and fatter, a witches cap a size to big, and carrying a broom. Susan pushed an errant strand of hair behind an ear and opened the door. 

“Um, uh Hi, I’m, unh uh, I just y’know, I “ Maggie too a deep breath, “ I’m Maggie Lyn the village witch from Ghast and I just stopped by to say hi and meet you and y’know and and stuff.” 

The words came out in a rush and left Maggie visibly deflated. Susan looked at her, and nodded. She had heard there were a shortage of adepts, but this seemed a bit much. No wonder she’d seen so many people down from Ghast. 

“Would you mind coming around to the front?”she asked,” I’ve just cleaned the floor.” 

“Yes m’am,” 

Susan shut the door and walked to the front parlor. Odd to say the least, witches were not known to be social animals, preferring to meet once a year at a harvest moon. Susan opened the door to let Maggie in. It was nice, Susan thought, to see she wasn’t the youngest witch in the area. 

Maggie entered nervously. Odder still, Susan thought, a witch would normally enter a room like she owned it. Never let them see you sweat, not even another witch. Especially not another witch. Susan motioned to the sofa,and Maggie sat down gratefuly but gingerly, on the very edge of the couch. 

“Than-you m’am,”Maggie said,”It’s a long walk from Ghast.” 

“Walk?” 

“I mean, I mean, um, well I, um I don’t really like the broom m’am, it uncomfortable m’am” 

“Hmm, oh by the way my Name is Mistress Crone, “ 

“Um, Nice to meet you,” 

Susan a gave brief nod as a reply. 

“Um well, I guess I’ll be going, “just y’know, stopped in to say hi.” 

Maggie got up and backed out the door. tripping and falling off the porch. She stood up and dusted her self off, gave a brief wave and almost fell again as she left. Susan watched until she disappeared down the path. An adept, to be sure, Susan had felt it the moment she met the girl, but who could have ever told the child she had the qualifications to be a witch. 

Susan returned to the task of the kitchen floor. She’d been a bit unfriendly, she realized, but that had been how she’d been trained. A friendly witch was unheard of. Still thoughts of the wretched girl played on her mind all day as she cleaned and did business. 

“Damn,” She knew what the girl had wanted. It didn’t take a psychic to realize Maggie knew how little she knew. But Susan had no intention of training someone up. Not yet anyway. But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check on her. 

Susan gazed into her crystal ball. Strictly speaking she didn’t really need the ball,all she really needed to was to concentrate, but habits were habits, and it had a clear picture. She saw the image of Maggie trudging along dejectedly, occasionally giving forlorn glances at her broom. It took Susan a moment to realize something was wrong. The girl had made a wrong turn and headed in the exact opposite direction from Ghast. 

The girl had headed towards Gormen. 

The Village Witch of Gormen. 

Susan stood up, grabbed her riding cloak and hat, then opened a drawer in the bookcase, and pulled out a slender wooden wand. The end crackled with eldritch sparks. 

She snapped her finger as she opened the door. Her broom obediently crossed the room and followed her out the door. Outside she mounted up and flew off. 



Chapter 2 
The First Dual 



A good witch is never lost, she knows exactly where she is at all times. She might not know where everything else is, but that was everything else’s problem. 

Maggie was lost. She knew she’d made a mistake, she should have been back in Ghast by now. The sun had turned the fiery orange that signaled it’s last hurrah befire nightfall. The darkness didn’t scare Maggie, however the possibilty of the things in the darkness terrified her. 

Things hadn’t gone as she’d hoped with Mistress Crone.Which depressed Maggie, because despite her age, Mistress Crone had been exactly what Maggie wanted to become. Maggie sighed and clenched her broom tighter and glanced about cautiously at odd sounds in the encroaching darkness. 

Then it occurred to her. The shadows pointed in the wrong direction. She’d turned the wrong way and had been walking for hours. 

She’d been walking toward Gormen. 

Her thumbs began to prick. 

Hard. 

She spun around at the rustling behind her. A racoon looked up at her, curiously, as she tried to slow down her heart. The raccoon turned back and scurried into the underbrush on the side of the road. 

She knew about the troll before she ever turned to see it. Partly due to onboard psychic sense that all witches, even bad ones, but mostly due to the smell. Like a strange combination of roses, lilacs, old beer, vomit, mildew, and a really, really bad outhouse, the scent of the troll overpowered and nauseated her. She never had been able to stand the smell of lilacs. 

She turned around to face it. It stood almost twice her height, with the hair that rose off it’s head like a flame adding another two feet. to the top of it’s wide head. The head tapered to a small chin, giving it the look of a short fat ice cream cone. Totally nude, it stood before her, arms outstretched. In the dim remaining light, Maggie could just make out the broad goofy smile on it’s wide head. 

She ducked under just as the arms came in to grab her. She ran to one side to try and move past it, but another came out of the forest towards her. Then another and another, in a moment she found herself surrounded by six hungry trolls. In the back of her terrified mind she wondered how anything that smelled that bad could possibly sneak up on you. As the stench overpowered her she swung out blindly. 

By sheer accident she swung out with the hand holding her broom and caught one troll in a very private region. It howled in pain and the circle widened a bit. Not that it mattered, the stench did it’s work well, Maggie fell to her knees retching and gagging. 

The circle closed in again. The shadows fell over her. Maggie threw up as the trolls closed in. The stench grew stronger and stronger. 

“Malleforcanium Magnuminius!” 
Blue flames shot from the sky, striking one troll, who ran shrieking into the forest. A giant black shape swooped into the middle of the circle. Susan jumped off her broom and landed in a semi-crouch, brandishing her wand which trailed blue sparks. She gave the trolls a hard stare, her eyes glowing like coals beneath the shadows of her hat. 

One of the trolls produced a battle axe almost as large as Maggie, and raced towards her with a roar. A streak of blue lightening blasted it backwards, slamming it into a tree. Susan spun on her heels, firing off four quick shots, two of which missed completely, but nonetheless sent the remaining trolls scurrying back into the forest. 

The troll that had struck the tree, shook it’s head as if to clear to clear it, then saw Susan with her back to it. It began to slowly move its hand towards the fallen axe. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Susan said, her back still towards it. “You’re thinking : After all of that, can she possibly have any magic left?’ ” 

Susan slowly turned and pointed the wand at the troll. 

“Well, being that this is a Magic Oak 44, the most powerful wand in the universe, and could blow you clean into non-existence, the big question on your little mind should be, ‘Do I feel lucky?’ ” 

Susan’s eyes bored into the troll.

“Well do you?’ 

Trolls are not nearly as stupid as most people believe, and the this one gave only a moments pause before it rolled over away from the axe and quickly fled into the forest. A wave of her riding cloak dispelled the reamining fumes of the stench.The glow faded from Susan’s eyes, and she lowered her wand and placed it into a small leather holder on her belt. she folded her arms and looked down at Maggie dry heaving on the ground. She waited until the girl had stopped, then helped her to her feet. 

“Margaret, I must speak with you,” Susan hated to do this but, she had no time to train someone, and the girl was a danger to herself and others . “You gave an abysmal showing of yourself this evening. Anyone unable to handle a mere six trolls has no business calling themselves a witch. I believe that you need to leave the craft.” 

“bu. . bu, ..I havta, bu, “Maggie looked at her, tears welling up in her eyes, but that didn’t concern Susan. The slurred speech, the unfocused eyes, pale skin , profuse sweating, and inability to reamin standing unsupported did concern Susan however. 

She helped Maggie sit on the ground and looked at her. Stench poisoning, a bad case. She would need a dose of St. Barabas Wort, in a mixture robin’s liver oils. Administered in time there would be no lasting effects, if not . . . 

“We don’t have time to get to my cottage, “ she said , lookng down the road. They could make it to Gormen in plenty of time. Any decent witch would have what she needed. Time to either dispel some rumors, or else prove them. 

They were about to meet the Village witch of Gormen. 

The cottage seemed strange, Susan thought, as they flew in towards it. Maggie rode behind her clutching her own broom. It looked like a ramshackle log cabin and it had a strange, though not unpleasant smell, and the morter along the sides had an yellow orange color. As they dismounted ands walked towards it, Susan realized what it was. 

“Oh for the love of Herne!”she said, “I’ve heard of gingerbread cottages, but this is riduclous.” 

The sides were made of giant sticks of summer sausages, similar though much larger than those greasy things you could buy at the village store, the ones made out of the parts of the cow unfit for even hot dogs. The “mortar” turned out to be a soft cheese, and Susan could have sworn the shingles were giant slices of pickled cucumbers. 

She banged on a door of some sort of hard cracker. The door opened slowly and Susan held her breath preparing to meet the infamous Witch of Gormen. Instead she saw a man dressed all in black. 

“May I help you?” 

“We need to see the witch,” Susan said, wondering who he could be. Witches weren’t known to keep servants. 

“Ok, what do you need?” 

Susan pushed her way past him. 

“I do not have time for this, where is the witch? “ She sai ”This girl has stench poisoning and. . .” 

Susan paused as she got a good look at the inside of the cottage. Clothing had been strewn everywhere, but not as though someone were searching for something. Rather it looked as though the home’s occupant had simply dropped them wherever she(?) had taken them off.. Empty beer bottles sat on the tables, and through the open door to the kitchen Susan’s sensitive nostrils could smell the scent of dishes that hadn’t seen the scrubber in months. 

She turned slowly, as horrible realization dawned. No wonder none of the other witches wanted to discuss the village witch of Gormen. 

The village witch of Gormen was a man. 

The Village Witch of Gormen was a man? 

THE VILLAGE WITCH OF GORMEN WAS A MAN! 

Susan suddenly felt nauseous. She looked at this, this man-witch. Tall and lean, and about ten years older than Susan,the man-witch had the sort of face that most would call striking, possibly even handsome, a bit angular with high cheekbones and a black goatee with a single streak of white that made him look a bit devilish. His thick black hair had been pulled back and he wore it in a braid that came halfway down his back. He dressed all in black, black boots, the sort with the cuff on it, black breeches, and a long sleeved black shirt. No problems with color, but the sex, the sex. . . 

Susan felt as though she’d gotten a whiff of troll stench herself. 

Troll stench! No time to worry about the man-witch now. 

“I need St. Barabas Wort and Robin’s liver oil,” she commanded, taking Maggie over to the sofa.. Where she cleared a spot she layed Maggie down.The man-witch returned witrh two bottles of herbs and a spoon. Susan took them from him placed a tablet of St. Barabaras Wort in Maggie’s mouth then poured a spoonful of oil which she also administered. Robin’s liver oil has possibly the worst taste of any herb or oil, and Maggie’s lack of a reaction perplexed Susan. 

She sniffed the spoon. Then looked at the second bottle he had handed her. She stood to turn and face him in one smooth angry motion. 

“You idiot! I asked for Robin’s liver oil!” 

The man-witch gave a casual shrug, and said “Cinnamon oil tastes better, and they do the same thing.” 

“If she dies it is on your head. “ Susan said shaking with fury. The man-witch seemed unconcerned as he opened a window beside the sofa. He reached down, placed a hand on Maggie’s abdomen, and pressed gently. Maggie gave an extended belch as greenish pink gas came out of her mouth. The man-witch grabbed a pair of old boxers off the coffe table and fanned the gas out the window. Maggie’s eyes began to focus. He looked at Susan. 

“Trolls are fairly common around Gormen,” he said, “I treat a lot of stench poisoning.” 

Susan folded her arms and glared at him. How dare this, this, this male try and show her up! Maggie gave a slight cough and looked at the man-witch. 

“Who are you?’ she asked. 

“Damien Taft, “ he answered,”Village witch of Gormen.” 

“You’re the village witch of Gormen?” she asked. He nodded, and a the note of disappoinment crept into her voice as she said, ”Oh, I thought you would have had two heads, or horns or something.” 

This struck Damien as funny, though not Susan. 

“He is the worst abomination the world has ever seen! He’s a. . . a. . . a Man-witch” Susan said, traces of spittle begiining to fly out her mouth. 

“I thought that was a meal” Maggie said, looking confused. “Y’know with ground beef and tomato sauce on a roll sort of thing.” 

Again Damien found this amusing, while Susan spun and faced away from them both, arms still folded. 

“You got a name kiddo?”Damien asked. 

“Maggie Lyn, I’m ,” she paused,” I used to be a witch.” 

“Used to be?” he raised a questioning eyebrow, “I think it’s a bit of a lifetime commtiment.” 

“Well, Grandma Hadrass choked on a turkey leg before she could really start training me. I tried to teach myself, but,”she turned away, ”I kinda made a mess of it.” 

“Oh, well,”Damien said,”Is that it ? You just need a teacher? Tell you what I can . . .” 

“I’m her teacher,” Susan said, spinning back around to face them. Damien raised a questioning eyebrow, and Maggie looked at her in stunned surprise. “I told you I would train you in the craft.” 

She looked at Damien and said,”So you can just stay away from her, you male!” 

“Y’know, I could be wrong about this,” Damien said to Maggie, “and please correct me if you think I am. But I really don’t think she likes me much.” 

He looked at Maggie and smiled. “Or am I just paranoid.” 

To Susan he said,”Do you have a name oh mystery woman who has come into my home to berate me?” 

“I am Mistress Crone” Even her words had a nasty glare for him. 

“Mistress? That’s your actual name? You mean your parents looked down in the crib and said ‘Let’s call her Mistress, she looks like the sort who’ll have sex with another woman’s husband someday.’” 

“Mistress as in unmarried woman,” Susan said. “Not as in what you said!” 

“I am celibate,”she added, “as all witches should be.” 

“Why doen’t that surprise me,”Damien said. “Well Mistress, say, can I call you Missy for short?” 

The look she gave him could have frozen a volcano. 

“I’ll take that as a yes then,” He said, “Well Missy, what exactly is you problem with me?” 

“My problem?” she said,“You are a man! Men do not become witches! Women are witches, men become” She waved her hand in the air dimissively, “wizards and that sort of thing.” 

“What’s the difference?” Maggie asked. The conversation had gone way over her head. She thought “celibate” was what was done buy Old Man Turner, who owned a shack down by the lake that sold worms, maggots and anything else you might use to catch fish. 

“Wizards study quantums and stars and that sort of thing, “ Susan replied, “Nothing useful, but it keeps them out of our hair.” 

She looked at Damien.”You can’t expect the male mind to comprehend magic of the land, or herbal remedies, or witchcraft” 

“Are you saying I don’t know anything about herbs?” Damien asked. 

“Oh, I’m sure you know a few things,” she said “But nothing like what an actual witch needs to know.” 

Damien’s grin grew wider and a bit more devilish. “That sounds like a challenge to me.” 

“Does that sound like a challenge to you?” He asked Maggie. 

“A challenge?”Susan asked.”You mean a dual?” 

“A test,” Damien replied,” my knowledge against yours.” 

“Fine. I’ll meet you tommorrow at midnight, the Stone Circle.” she said. The nerve of him. 

“Fine I’ll be waiting.” 

Susan looked at Maggie.”Do you feel strong enough to ride home?” 

Maggie nodded and sat up. She gave a weak smile to Damien as they walked to the door and onto the porch. 

“Nice to have met you Mr. Taft,” Maggie said politely. 

“Charmed to have met you Maggie,” Ha answered with a smile, “Likewise to you Missy,” 

Susan looked away sharply. Then she saw it. Her upper lip curled in disgust. 

“Oh, no, you have got to be joking.” Susan said. Maggie looked to see what she was talking about. A broom. Or at least something vaguely broom shaped. Larger than normal, it had silvery bristles with what seemed to be silver pipes coming off the back. A small horned silver skull had been mounted to the front of the handle which had been painted black with flames coming down the sides. Silver letters had been embossed on the side which read: 

WIDOWMAKER 

Susan shook her head in disgust as she led Maggie to her broom. 

“Say, Missy, has anyone ever told you that you have a great ass?” Damien asked suddenly. 

“NO!” 

“Well, y’know there’s a reason for that.” 

“Tommorrow night Mr Taft.” 

“It’s a date Missy.” 

Maggie held on for dear life as Susan bolted the broom off into the night. Damien smiled after them. 

They arrived at Maggie’s cottage at a speed which terrified the younger witch. Susan still fumed as they stepped into the parlor. She turned to Maggie. 

“Spend tommorrow resting the next day we’ll begin your training. Be prepared.” She turned to leave. 

“Umm m’am” Maggie called after her. “Thank you, for everything, I mean.” 

Even Susan had a limited amount of rage and her expression softened as she looked back at Maggie. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“You were very impressive with those trolls tonight, “ Maggie added,”I wish I could have done that.” 

“You will someday,” Susan said,”You have great potential I can sense it in you.” 

Her expression hardened somewhat.”Now go to bed, you need your rest. I’ll not go easy on you.” 

As she flew off into the night, Susan’s thoughts turned to the next night. She still couldn’t believe the nerve of that man. thinking he had a chance in a dual with her. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a odd green glow, way off in the distance, towards Lander. 

Her thumbs began to prick. 

In her bed Maggie awoke from a deep sleep, awakened by the pricking of her thumbs. 

In Gormen, Damien rubbed his thumbs and looked towards Lander. 

In Lander almost all the munchkins had disappeared. There were however far more flying monkeys around the place. Everyone had begun to wonder whether or not this was truly an improvement. The munchkins, while dirty had been a peacable lot, the monkey routinely broke windows, and screeched all through the night. 

Still after years of complaining about munchkins, nobody in Lander was about to admit that they acually missed the little freaks. The last two munchkins, recognizing the way things were headed, packed up and moved outside of town. They wondered if things would ever be the same again. 

From the air Galder, Ghast, and Gormen formed the points of a large triangle. Dead in the center lay the Stone Circle, a group giant stones arranged in a circle. What it lacked in an imaginative name it made up for in size. There were twenty stones, each well over twenty feet tall, each had been lifted upright into place by the ancient druidic preists, well slaves of the ancient druidic priests anyway. 

Theories abounded as to why it had been built.Some scholars felt that it had been an temple where the druids sacrificed to strange gods. Others felt that it was a giant computer, used by the druids to calculate harvest times, and predict the sunrise. still others felt it had been the landing sight for strange beings from other worlds. 

In fact it had been an early shopping mall. The druids felt they could have everyone from all neighboring villages coming to buy wares here, but sadly they hadn’t realized the importance of good anchor stores, and frankly the location hadn’t been so great either. It had been bankrupt within a year.Still like most shopping malls it had a strong magical field and those of an occult persuasion used it as grounds to settle their differences. 

Storm clouds were brewing as Susan landed her broom in the middle the circle. Damien landed his monstrosity of a broom shortly after. Widowmaker rumbled like thunder, Susan had never heard a broom make so much noise before. Damien dressed much the same as he had the night before, except with the addition of a waist length black jacket and his witches hat. Like most witches hats it the crown rose to a high thin point, but where Susan’s hat had the standard broad flat brim, the brim of Damien’s hat dipped slightly in the front and rose slightly on the sides, giving the hat a slightly more masculine appearence. An unwelcome change in Susan’s opinion. 

They stood face to face on the field of battle, Susan’s cloak and Damien’s jacket whipping in the rising winds. Their eyes locked in cold stares. No other soul, save for possibly a druidic ghost, could be found for miles. 

“What are to be the terms of the dual, then?” She asked him. 

“No magic, simple questions and answers. All on herbs,” he replied.”You ask me one,I ask you one.” 

“And the penalty for failure?” 

“Clothing” 

“I beg your pardon!” 

“For each question missed you lose one article of clothing. Both boots count as one item, both stockings as one item. Hats don’t count”. 

“I don’t think so!” 

“Do you accept the terms?” 

“No! Only a man wold have come up with this!” 

“So you concede loss?” 

“What? No!” 

“Accept the terms or concede loss, you know the rule of the dual.” Susan glared at him.”Oh I see your litle game Mister Taft. Don’t think I don’t.” 

He gave her a questioning look. 

“You’ve come up with these ridiculaus little terms thinking I won’t accept and will have to concede loss. Weaseling your way to victory is not very honorable Mister Taft.” 

He shrugged. She gave him a humourless smile. “The joke’s on you Mister Taft. I accept your silly little terms.” 

He smiled, and gave her a deep bow. 

“Let us begin,”Susan said, cracking her knuckles. Her evil smile widened. She’d show him. 

Cold rain splashed against Susan as she flew home, and she really wished the lightening would stop striking. Not that she feared being struck, simply that she didn’t like the illumination it provided. 

One major advantage to being a witch occurred to her. One she’d never thought of before. Namely that flying on a broom and living in an isolated little cottage in the forest gave you a great deal of privacy. Which could be very important if you found yourself coming home in a les than socially acceptable condition. 

For example if you were flying home wearing only a hat and an irritated frown. 

Well she had shown him, she reflected, just quite a bit more than she’d intended to. She landed on her front lawn and as her bare feet raced accross the wet grass she cursed Damien’s name. 

She should have known he’d cheat. 



Chapter 3 
The Proposal of the Journey 



Susan had a few dresses, and several fresh pairs underwear, slips, petticoats, and the like. She even had extra stockings. The loss of these things, while embarassing, presented no major inconveniences. 

However, she’d only had one pair of boots. They’d been damn good boots too, and Susan didn’t know know when she’d have time to get to the cobblers to get another pair made. A good pair took time, usually a couple of weeks. She’d worn her only other shoes, a pair of sandals, but they were slip-ons, and they lacked a back strap to hold them on. Fine for walking, not so good for flying on a broomstick, one now hung from the top of an old oak tree, and the other had badly concussed a local farmer. She’d have to go back to retrieve them later. 

As she landed on Maggie’s front lawn, the young witch came out to greet her. Susan noticed an immediate change in Maggie’s appearence. 

“I see you have a new dress,” Susan remarked. A very familiar dress. 

“Oh, yes m’am,” Maggie said,”Mr. Taft came by this morning and gave it to me. He said appearences are very important for a witch.” 

“Oh really,” 

“Yes m’am” 

“Maggie you need to be wary of Mr. taft. His kind are not to be trusted,” Susan said, feeling the wet grass on the soles of her bare feet. Lousy cheating son of a bitch. She noticed Maggie looking at her feet strangely and for a moment the younger witch looked confused. Then a light went on in Maggie’s face. 

“Oh I get it it,”She said, ”A witch draws her strength from the land, so I guess that helps you feel it better.” 

“Er, yes. Yes! That’s it exactly. Good job Maggie,” 

Maggie bent down and began to remove her own boots and stockings. “How long do we need to do this for.” 

“Oh,”Susan said,”Just for a few weeks. Long enough for you to get a feel for the magic.” 

Long enough for Susan to get by the cobblers and get a new pair of boots made. Or visit a certain no good bastard and get her old pair back 

A digression on pick-up lines. Through out the multiverse there are a staggering number of opening conversational gambits, though some like “Hey baby what’s your sign?” don’t work in place like,say, Benalio, whare they have different astrological sign for each separate star and none of them are compatible. Others, like the line about the mirror in the pocket, are fairly common, though most of these require a great deal of alcohol to work properly. 

However, out of every city, on every world in every universe, the single most succesful pick-up line in ever comes from Kua-Kua-Lo,a tiny island with a very big volcano. It works even without alcohol, and if used on Kau-Kau-Lo, is practically guaranteed to work. That line is: 

“Ooh, I hear the volcano god rumbling, I sure hope he isn’t looking for a sacrifice” 

It works very well, even the greasiest ugliest native is knows he’ll have an interesting night if the volcano starts rumbling. Unfortunately, as Chief Kuani-ko discovered it worked a little to well. 

“Not one! ,”He said to High Priest Gunao-ki,”You’re telling me there is not one woman on the island who hasn’t lost her,er, qualifications?” 

“Nope,”said the High priest, shaking his head sadly, “It’s amazing how many people will trade the honor of being thrown into a live volcano, just for a little carnal pleasure.” 

“Young people these days,” said the chief, spitting on the floor of his hut. He gazed out the window of his hut, out at the distant horizon, over the sea. ”Maybe . . .” 

“Sir?” 

“Get up a hunting party, we’ll see what we can find on the mainland.” 

It took her two days to find time to fly back to Gorman. She landed in front of Damiens sausage cottage, pulled her sandals from her purse, it had taken her hours to find them again, and slipped them on. She found him sitting in front of an easel painting a picture of a bridge that crossed the stream behind his home. 

“Good morning Mistress Crone” He said, never turning around.”How are you today?” 

“I see you gave Maggie a dress,” 

“Yes well she needed one,” he replied. ”It fit better than her old one, and you know as well as I do a witch is judged by her appearence.” 

He was right, but Susan would never give him the satifaction of admitting it. “What about the rest of it?” 

“Gave most to charity, an orphanage down near Sluy.”He said. 

“Oh,” 

“Except the boots,” He stood, turned and walked towards the back door. 

“What did you do with the boots?” she asked following him into the house. He walked into the living room and sat down. 

“Have as seat.” He said indicating the other end of the sofa. She sat down as far from him as the furniture would allow. 

“My boots, Mr. taft? 

He pointed. She turned and looked. He had mounted them above his fireplace mantle. 

“I thought underwear would have been tacky,” He said. “They’re good boots, well made.” 

“Yes,” 

“Must have been expensive,” 

“Very,” They’d been payment for saving the cobblers family during a plague, and it could be while before the next plague came along. “Mr. Taft I challenge you to a dual.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“A dual, magic wands this time. twenty paces.” 

“Decline.” 

“WHAT?” 

“I decline, “ 

“Where’s your pride?” 

“I have my pride, but I’m not very good with wands” he said. “I can admit my shortcomings. Few as they are.” 

“Well,” she said, “you should at least try. Maybe I’m not very good either.” 

“You’d be hard pressed to be worse than I am,” he said. “Besides word about you has spread among the trolls. Very impressive work.” 

“Mr. Taft, I need my boots back, what do I need to do to get them.” 

He sat back and looked at her. “Well I’d need something else to fill in the empty spot over my fireplace. Tell you what, I’m a bit of an artist, how about letting me paint a picture of you.” 

“You mean a portrait?” 

“Actually, I was thinking of a nude study.” 

“Honestly, Mr. Taft, what is this unholy fascination you have with seperating me from my clothing?” 

“Mostly I just like looking at you naked,” he said wth a shrug. “Plus I keep hoping it will lead to sex.” 

“Do you honestly think I’m stupid enough to believe that.” She asked. Susan thought a moment.”Of course. An art spell, you paint the picture and use it to control me, making me do craven things.” 

“Ooh, I hadn’t thought of that, thanks for the idea,”He said.”Though why should I go to all that trouble, when all I really need is a personal effect, y’know like a pair of boots.” 

“They’ve had protection spells cast on them,”She said “”as I’m sure you’ve found out by now. Mr. Taft” 

“Would it kill you to call me Damien?” He asked, “”I think once someone’s seen you naked, you should be on a first name basis with them.” 

“I don’t think so Mr. Taft.” Susan said. “ and it’s not as though I’ve seen you naked.” 

“ Want to?” 

“MR. TAFT!”

“Oh c’mon,” He stopped a moment. “Actually what is your first name?” 

“I really don’t think you need to know,” 

“Oh,” He said. For a moment they sat in silence. Then with sudden speed Damien reached down and grabbed her ankles. In a moment he had her turned sideways on the sofa, with her ankles resting on his left leg and trapped beneath his right leg. He casually pulled off her sandals. 

“Mr. Taft what are you doing?” she asked stuggling to pull free. 

“Last chance, what’s your name?” he asked. 

“I’m no telling, aaaaahhhhhhh!” She screamed as he began to run his fingers up and down the soles of her feet. She wiggled and tried to kick free, but he had a firm hold. He continued on her feet with his right hand, while he leaned towards her and tickled her sides with his left. 

“What’s your name?” 

“I’m aaahhaha, not gonna tehelllll youuuahhhhha” 

Just as suddenly he stopped. His face scant inches from hers, he looked deeply into her eyes. Susan felt her heart racing as he moved closer. 

“What’s your name?”he asked softly, just before his lips began to brush hers. She could feel his warm breath against her skin and her own heart beating faster. The moment seemed to stretch into infinity. 

She pushed against his chest, and yanked her feet free, falling to the floor in the process. She stood up, found her sandals, and said, “Well if you’re not going to be reasonable Mr.taft, I’ll be off.” 

She walked quickly out the door and grabbed her broom. 

“Good-bye Susan,”Damien called after her. 

She stopped and looked at him. 

“It was written in the waistband of your underwear,” he said, grinning. ”I just thought it’d be more fun to get you to tell me.” 

Susan flew without a word. Halfway home she had re-organized her thoughts. The nerve of that man, staring into her eyes like that, probably trying some sort of hypnosis. It was the sort of thing a man-witch would try. 

“Now Maggie, can you tell me the first law of magic?”Susan asked. 

“For every spell there is an opposite and equal counter spell,” Maggie recited. 

“Which means?” 

“Ummmm,” Maggie squinted as she thought, “If you know what spell has been used you can always come up with a cure for it.” 

“Correct,” 

“But. . .” 

“Yes Maggie?” 

“What if f the spell kills somebody?” Maggie asked. 

“Hmm, theoretically even that can be counteracted,” Susan said, ”If you discover the counter spell in time.” 

“How long is that?” 

“It depends on the spell usually no more than forty eight hours,” Susan replied ” And remember you have to know what spell has been used in order to discover the counter spell.” 

“But you could raise the dead,” Maggie asked. 

“As zombies, yes but I don’t recomend it.” Susan answered, “But as for bringing them back to life, only if they died by magic, and only if you know the counter spell.” 

Susan had found that with Maggie she sometimes needed to repeat thing several times to get them through the girls’s head. Not that Maggie was stupid, far from it. Clumsy yes, stupid no, but she had a tendency to seize upon a thought and not let it go, distracting her from the main point of the lesson. Still as the days went by and the more Susan thought about training Maggie, the more she realized the benefits. While it added an extra load to an already busy shedule, eventually the villagers of Ghast could begin to see their own witch again, rather than coming up to see Susan. Right now she had far to many patients to deal with. 

But Susan discovered a more personal benefit. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed talkng about the craft with someone. Witches are not, as a rule, social creatures, and villagers tended to avoid them except as needed. Even if they didn’t, Susan could never have discussed the craft with them. Only a witch could be interested in how exactly the eyes of different types of newts affected different spells, or a good substitute for tongue of bat. Talking to Maggie about these thing could actually be fun. 

It also helped that Maggie well exceded Susan’s expectations for her, not that it would have taken much. She had held fairly low hopes for the girl, but Maggie seemed to pick up on things quickly. 

Other than a natural clumsiness that bordered on supernatural, Susan’s only disappointment had been Maggie’s total failure with the broom. 

However the problem of Damien Taft remained. Maggie seemed fond of him and he visited her at least once a week, though Susan made sure to be there to supervise. Susan knew enough to not forbid Maggie from seeing him. Maggie was a witch after all and you only forbid a witch to something if you wanted make sure she did it. Certainly, she reasoned, once he learned that he’d be unable to get to the girl without seeing Susan Crone, he’d stop coming around. Unfortunately, the message hadn’t gotten through yet. In fact he seemed to welcome her presence. 

He probably did it to spite her. 

Of course he had the most infuriating way of seeming to be genuinely interested in Maggie’s progress. He would sit and talk about the girls lessons with her, discussing what she’d learned, almost as if he could actually understand them. He gave no hint of an ulterior motive, which made Susan distrust him more. A person without ulterior motives hid them well. 

He sat now talking to the Maggie, on the parlor sofa of Maggie’s cottage, while Susan sat nearby grading the girl’s potions for the day. Maggie told she learned about the four best cures for halitosis, and he made comments and suggestions, to which Susan gave the occasional snort of disbelief. 

“Mistress Crone,” Maggie turned to ask, “Will we have to go dig up nightcrawlers soon?” 

“What?” Susan asked “Why would we do that?” 

“Well that first night at Mr. Taft’s you said that all witches needed to sell bait.” 

A brief moment of confused silence, broken when Damien began to laugh. 

“Celibate,” he said. “Celibate,it means you don’t have sex.” 

“All witches should be celibate,” Susan said. ”Although I suspect Mr. Taft disagrees.” 

“Hey I’m celibate,” Damien said. “Just not all the time. Couple of hours of celibacy a day seems to work.” 

“Sex is dirty nasty and obscene.” 

“That’s how you know you’re doing it right.” 

“It’s unhygenic,”Susan added, “all of that putting your tongue in each others mouths.” 

“Ewwwww,” Maggie said. She looked at Damien,”You put your tongue in somebody else’s mouth?” 

“Among other places,” he replied. “How old are you Maggie?” 

“Thirteen.” 

“Well, you need to wait about five years then,” he said, ”But after that it gets a bit dangerous.” 

“What!” Susan said. 

“Yep, once you get to be about Mistress Crone’s age you are pushing your luck.” 

He sat back on the couch, lit a cigarette and asked “Ever heard of Druids, Maggie?” 

“Sort of like priests?” 

“Sort of, not so many of them now, but they roam around looking for people like Mistress Crone, people with too much celibacy, and grab’em toss’em on a big bonfire as sacrifice.” 

Maggie’s eyes widened into circles. 

“Yep, and there’s this group down in the jungles, the Tecaz, they drag people like Mistress Crone, drag ‘em to the top of these squat pyramids and chop out their hearts with stone knives. And in the islands of the Southern Seas, they drop people like Mistress Crone into volcanoes.” 

“Why?” Maggie asked. 

“Sacrifice usually,”Damien answered, “though I think druids also do it to celebrate the opening of shopping centers. You see they worship the cruel gods. The cruel gods don’t like goats, but they love people who over do it on the celibacy.” 

“They through them into a real volcano?” Maggie asked, casting worried looks at Susan. 

“Yep,” 

“That must hurt!” 

“So I’ve been told,”Damien said, “Never experienced it myself.” 

“Aren’t you worried?” Maggie asked Susan. 

“Should a group of native from an island thousands of miles away choose travel here to take me to the closest live volcano, which I believe is a good five hundred miles from here, and try to throw me in, and I find I can’t handle them, then I’ll worry about it.” 

“ It might be to late then,” Damien said, ”Now I’ll be glad to offer my help if you need it.” 

“That’s quite all right Mr. Taft,” 

“I just want to protect you,” 

“Thank-you Mr. Taft,”Susan said with a humorless smile. “Why don’t you tell Maggie about some of the dangers of sex?” 

Damien shrugged, “Well, if you’re not careful, you break out in children.” 

“Sex causes children?” Maggie asked.”I wonder if my parents know?” 

“I’m sure they do,”Damien said with a smile,”How many children are in your family?” 

“Forty seven.” 

“WHAT?” Susan and Damien asked in unison. 

“Forty seven,” Maggie said. 

“That’s not a family, that’s a village,” Damien said. 

“Any twins, triplets, that sort of thing?”Susan asked. 

“My brothers George and Harry are twins.” 

“Any others?”Damien asked. 

“No sir,” 

“And how many children did you say?” 

“Forty seven, I’m the youngest,”Maggie looked thoughtful ,”I wonder if my parents realize what’s causing it?” 

Damien looked at Susan. 

“Maybe somebody should tell them.” 

A bamboo raft came through the night, slowly crossing the siuthern sea. Grass skirted warriors steadfastly dipped their oars into the water, as other men sat on the decks rythmically beating out the war drums. 

Damn, that’s annoying, thought Chief Kua-Kua-ko, popping some seasickness pills. But the drums were traditional. 

The next week Mrs. Whitlow and a stream of others delayed Susan’s trip to Maggie’s cottage. When she arrived, she saw Widowmaker already parked on the front lawn. A strong, but pleasant smell floated from the cottage. Inside she could hear Maggie and Damien in the kitchen.Damien stood strirring a large pot. Maggie peered into a second pot. 

“Are those worms?”Maggie asked. 

“They’re noodles, knucklehead,” Damien replied. They turned as Susan entered the room. 

“Hello, Mistree Crone,” Maggie said, “Damien’s making spaghetti. It’s foreign,from Bute.” 

“Taste this,”Damien said, holding a wood spoon with a red sauce on it towards Maggie. She tried it. 

“Mmmmm,” 

“The trick,”Damien said, giving an sly look at Susan, “Is to get just the right aount of basil.” 

“Oh you are so funny Mr. Taft,”Susan said, with an evil stare. ”A comedian and a cheat.” 

“We never said it had to be magical herbs,” He said with a grin, 

“It’s not my fault you can’t cook.” 

“I can cook!” Susan said, “Just not all this, this foriegn stuff.” 

“What are you guys talking about?” Maggie asked, looking from one to the other. 

“Nothing kiddo, “Damien answered, ”Get yourself a plate and one for Mistress Crone.” 

He placed a mound of long white noodles on each plate, then covered it with a red sauce with meatballs in it. Susan disliked it immensly, and she disliked her second helping even more, and she positively loathed her third helping. Maggie, to Susan’s dismay, loved the stuff. 

“I like foriegn food,” Maggie said, ”Where’d you learn to cook this, Mr. taft?” 

“A few years ago I went to Bute. A Butalian lady named Francesca taught me ths plus a few other things.” 

“I’m sure she did,” muttered Susan. 

“Such as ravioli, and pizza. Get your mind out of the gutter Mistress Crone.” 

“Wow, you went all the way to Bute,” 

“Have broom will travel, “Damien said. “I figure as long as I can fly, why not see what I can see.” 

“I see no reason to gallavanting around to foriegn places,” Susan said. “ I have everything I need right here.” 

“I wish I could go,” Maggie said. 

“Well, I’m taking off the Saturday after next for a weeks vacation, you can come with me if you’d like.” 

“Really!”Maggie said,”Can I Mistress Crone?” 

“Maggie,”Susan said,”You can’t get a broom across the yard. I think you’ll need to learn to fly before you can go galavanting around the world.” 

“Oh,” said Maggie.”Right.” 

“Well then , it’s all set,” said Damien cheerfully. They both looked at him. 

“Well you heard her, if you can learn to fly in two weeks you can go,” He said to Maggie. 

“That is not what I, I mean, I, Oh very well,” Susan said.”BUT, you must do it with no help from Mr. Taft.” 

“Fair enough,”Damien said. 

“Oh, yes!” Maggie said, running outside to practice. 

“I assume you’ll be joining us,Susan” 

“You’d better believe it, Mr. taft. I don’t know what you’re interest in that girl is, but know now that I will be following your every step while you’re around her.” 

“Good,”he said “I love it when a woman chases me,.” 



Chapter 4 
The Second Dual and the beginning of the Journey 



A demon’s job is to lead humans down the path to hell. They create temptations of the flesh, temptations of money, temptations of power and temptations of anything imaginable to try to lure humans down the ways of darkness and sin. It’s an easy job. 

Frankly demons are pretty much irrelevant because most humans do quite well at finding and falling for temptation all on their own. A demon running late one day may discover a thousand souls trotting merrily down the road to hell before he has a chance to get set up. This causes quite a lot of confusion when trying to determine who has made quota. 

Maleventia was a succubus, A very specialized type of beautiful female demon. She stole the souls of men by convincing them to have sex with her, often referred to as the “Easisest job in the known universe.” Supposedly succubi could change themselves intp any conceivable woman, but this power had faded with disuse. At one time the succubi would look deeply into the soul of a man to tailor her appearence to match his deepest desires. This turned out to be completely uneccessary, they really only needed about six shapes, at least one of which would work on any man. In fact the Blue-Eyed, Buxom Blond worked so often,the average succubus never used anything else. 

Maleventia had more creativity than most ot the others and had worked about twenty different looks for variety, but mostly out of boredom. Men were so predictable. 

The rain came down in a steady drizzle when Susan arrived at Damien, er, Mr. taft’s cottage the next day, in another attempt to get her boots back. She found it empty with a note informing anyone who came looking for him that he’d gone into town. Susan walked the winding path into Gorman and saw the town properly for the first time. 

Unlike Galder and Ghast which were largely self sufficient, Gorman served as a port town. Or had anyway, but recently most ships had begun going up to the more conviently located city of Lander, which had a much larger port and sat on the river Epfram, for easier shipping inland. As a result Gorman had suffered a decline in fortune and would have died altogether except that one small but vital group kept the ports open. 

Pirates. The royal navy also docked in Lander, so pirates tended to prefer pulling into the safer docks of Gorman. There had been a bit of mild protest from the more upright citzens of Gorman, but the more pragmatic ones had realized that pirates tend to be very free about spending any ill-gotten loot. So the upright citzens had moved up to Lander, while Gorman had become a rough and tumble town with loose morals as well as experiencing the upsurge in prosperity that comes from being associated with any criminal enterprise. 

Susan made her way through town, carefully stepping over the bodies ,drunk, dead, or both, that littered the streets. She paused as two men crashed through a nearby window and fought each other in the mud, the blood, and the beer that ran in the streets. Women in less clothing than Susan approved of, stood at street corners, propositioning the men who walked past. A few of them even propositioned her. 

She found Mr. Taft in a tavern, sitting around a table with a group of men and one woman. They played poker and Susan could tell from the pile in front of Damien, that he’d been the most consist winner. 

“Cheating at cards now, Mr. Taft?” Susan asked. Those at the table went silent. One man, an older pirate with a hook where his left hand should have been gave Damien a suspicious look. 

“You been cheating us matey?” the pirate said, his lips curling into a snarl.All eyes looked at Damien. He looked back at them stoically. The entire tavern had gone deadly silent. Then with lightening speed Damien had stood and reached across the table and grabbed at the good hand of the pirate with the hook. Seizing the man’s wrist. Damien pulled out the Ace of spades, showed it to the crowd, then sat back down, and looked at Susan 

“Well Captain Houk, as a matter of fact I am,” He said sternly to the hooked pirate. A moment of tense slence settled in over the bar. The Damien’s face broke into a wide grin, as he let go of Capitain Houk’s arm and sat back down. Everyone around Susan broke out laughing. 

“If you look closely at the this deck we’re playing with, which belongs to Mr. T’kris over there, “He said indicating a blond man in forest green,”You’ll notice tiny, almost imperceptible markings on the back. And of course, when Mr. Schmee over there dealt , quite a few of the cards came from the bottom of the deck.” 

“We all cheat,” Damien said, “that’s what makes it gambling.” 

He flashed a grin at Susan. She crossed her arms and glared at him. 

“Who’s you’re friend Damien,” asked the only woman at the table. 

“Folks I’d like you to meet Susan Crone, village witch of Galder. “You’ve all heard the trolls talking? Well she’s the one.” 

They all looked impreseed. Damien indicated the pirate with the hook. 

“Susan, Captain James Houck, “ Captain Houck stood and bowed. Damien pointed to the little fat man with the white mustache sitting beside the captain. “This is Mr. Melvin Schmee, Captain Houck’s first mate.” 

“Jaunita Zephyrus, more commonly known as Zephyr,” Damin said indicating the woman, a dark haired beauty with skin like coffe with cream and dark flashing eyes. The blond handsome man sitting beside her, a man dressed more like a forest bandit than a pirate stood up and bowed as well. 

“Robert T’kris, pleased to meet you m’ lady, “He took Susan’s hand and kissed it. Damien pushed him back with a gentle but firm shove. 

“Back off,” Daminen said then looked at Susan. “Mr. T’kris is scoundral and not to be trusted” 

“The man’s a cheat” Damien said to Susan in a stage whisper. The pirates laughed loudly at this. 

“I assume you are here on business?” Damien asked Susan. Then looked at his fellow card players. “She keeps making these excuses to see me, I think she may be falling for me.” 

“Poor girl” Zephyr said, “I hate to see anyone descend into madness.” 

This amused the others. Damien raised a hand to his chest in mock hurt. 

“I can’t believe this my friends laughing at my expense,” He said, his voice dripping with melodrama. Then his eyes went to the rather large pile of gold coins on the table in front of him. “Oh wait it wasn’t at my expense after all.” 

He stood and scooped his winnings into his hat. 

“I bid you all good day,” He gave a bow with a flourish, then turned and walked with Susan out into the streets of Gorman. 

“Those were pirates?” Susan said. 

“Yes, Captain Houck and Mister Schmee are on the the Jolly Eugene and Captain Zephyr and Mister T’ Kris are on the . . .” 

“Black Medallion !” Susan said “I knew those names sounded familiar.” 

“You’ve heard of them?” 

“Of course I’ve heard of them, they’re said to be the most blood-thirsty pirates sailing today!” She looked at Damien. “You consort with the like of that?” 

“Well I’m not sure about consorting, though Zephyr and I almost had a fling once years ago,” Damien said thoughtfully. “ But they are old friends, I knew them before they were legends” 

“The man T’kris was rather handsome,”Susan said casually. 

“A liar, a cheat, and all around scoundral” Damien said, “Not a man at all like myself” 

“Except for being a liar, cheat and scoundral?” 

“Exactly, but you still haven’t told me what I can do for you today Mistress Crone?” Damien asked as they walked through the drizzling rain. 

“I’ve come about my boots,” 

“Hmm, well not a good day for painting,” Damien said, “Rain makes the paints run.” 

“I have no intention of posing for you Mr. Taft,” Susan said. 

“What are you thinking of then?” 

“There must be some other way?’ 

“Nothing I can think of,” 

They walked on throught the village, in silence, dodging the occasional fight. Susan noticed that several yuong women giggled and waved as Damien walked past. He favored them with a grin and a wave in return. Susan sniffed and glared. 

They left the village and walked in silence along the path that led to Damien’s cottage. Like most witches he valued his privacy and lived deep within the woods. Rain spattered against their hats, but they continued to walk. Witches never run, at least not when anyone else might be looking. 

“You know, Mistress Crone, I still haven’t figured why you disapprove of me so much,” Damien said. 

“You know perfectly well why, Mr. Taft,”Susan said, “You go around calling yourself a witch, yet I’ve never seen you do the slightest bit of magic.” 

“I know quite a bit about herbs,”he said. 

“That’s merely memorization and doesn’t prove anything, “she said. 

“I’ve got the broom,”he said. 

“Hmpf, that monstosity?” 

“I just prefer thinking to magic,whenever possible” He said with a shrug.”If it’s any help I use precognition quite a bit.” “Hah! You? Don’t make me laugh,”she said,”I can predict with almost eighty percent accuracy.” 

“I can do a hundred percent myself,”he said. 

“One hundred? Oh bull, nobody does a hundred percent!”Susan said. Mamaw Cutacre had said that the future was always in motion. There were to many things that could happen, to many changes possible. The best anyone could hope for was abouty eighty percent. 

“Is that a challenge?”he asked. 

“A challenge?”Susan said, then thought a moment,”Why yes I believe it is? Tonight at midnight?” 

“Fine with me,”Damien said,”You do realize the penalties will be the same as last time.” 

“Fine,” 

They reached Damien’s cottage, and stepped up onto the porch. They stood there for a moment looking at each other. Damien gave geve her an odd smile, gentler than his usual cocky grin. 

“You are an unusual and fascinating woman, Mistress Crone,”he said.”Would you care to come come in and dry off a bit, maybe have a cup of tea?” 

“No, no thank you,”Susan said. He had the most beautiful clear green eyes of anyone she had ever seen before. He slipped one hand around her waist and pulled her closer. As they came together, Susan closed her eyes, she could feel his warm breath against her skin. She flet a light gentle pressure as his lips pressed against hers. Her tongue slipped between his lips and . . 

She pushed him a away and wiped her mouth. Her heart pounded in her chest and her breathing was ragged. 

“Tonight at midnight, Mr. Taft,” She said grabbing her broom and flying off. 

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” 

Brooms have a mind of their own, and sometimes a witch gets one with a bit too much spirit. Some of the most powerful witches in the world had needed to tame a wild broom. Even Susan had glared her own broom into submission, and Widowmaker had gone unridden for almost six generations before Damien Taft. Considered to be a rite of passage, there are many opinions on the best way to tame a broom, but none of them worked for Maggie Lyn. 

For two weeks now Maggie had spent every spare minute working on the broom problem. So far her hard work and diligence had resulted in a black eye, sprained ankle, several scratches, swallowing a bug, and a the loss of a toenail when she’d dropped a heavy tome entitled Howe to ride Broome on her foot. All of this on top of trying to keep up with the mounds of potion and spellcasting homework that Mistress Crone kept pouring on her. Now with one day left, Maggie knew she had to work fast. She mounted the broom, drew a deep breath, pushed off and. . . 

. . . fell forward, hitting her nose on the handle as she hit the ground. 

This humiliation would have been enough, but her broom felt nasty that day. Without warning it took off, not upward merely foreward along the gound. Maggie instinctively tightened her grip and the broom dragged her along the ground, thrice around the cottage, before it finally whipping her off . She skidded across the ground and hit the side of the woodshed, lying there for a moment and groaning. 

All Maggie wanted to do was travel. Since moving from for her birth village of Lyn, which hadn’t really been a village at all just Maggie’s rather large family, Maggie had only been outside of Ghast once, that fateful trip where she’d met Mistrss Crone and Mr. Taft. She’d heard Mr. Taft’s tales of foriegn places and she wanted to go, but this stupid broom, this stupid broom, this stupid broom. She looked at it. 

It was laughing at her. 

Technically it had neither mouth nor lungs, nor did it make a sound. It didn’t move, but all the same it laughed at her. Maggie kmew just by looking at it that the stupid piece of wood and twig that it just radiated an aura of laughter. The broom was laughing at her. 

There was the slightest of sounds, a single almost inaudible snap, as Maggie’s overworked, overstressed, and generally battered mind decided that sanity needed a good rest. she slowly rose to her feet as the broom watched. It stopped laughing, somethig wasn’t right here. 

“Well,” Maggie said, cheerfully, “guess I’ll never be able to ride you. nope,nope, nope not gonna be able to do that., No m’am” 

She looked at the broom with an unbalanced grin and a gleam in her eyes that did not belong in a thirteen year old girl. It belonged in the eyes of the sort of person who wears a hockey mask and hangs out at campgounds killing oversexed teenagers. She grabbed the axe from the wood pile. 

“Guess I’ll just have to find someother use for you then,” she said raising the axe above her haead. 

“LIKE FIREWOOD!” 
Shortly thereafter Maggie found herself riding the broom calmly above the tree tops. 

She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there, the last thing she could remember had been hitting the woodshed. She didn’t remember chasing the broom around while swinging the axe and singing: 

Maggie Lyn took an axe, 

Gave her broom stick forty whacks 

Maggie knew she had to be sure 

So then she gave it forty more 

She didn’t remember giving a mad cackle, the sort most witches trained their whole lives to achieve. Even Susan couldn’t cackle like that. Maggie didn’t remember cornering the broom in the outhouse and advancing on it slowly. 

She couldn’t remember any of this. 

But the broom could, and it knew the time had come to be a a lot more cooperative. 

The rain had stopped at nightfall. Susan landed her broom at the Stone circle. she could feel wet blades of grass poking through her sandals as she walked across to the large stone altar ( actually it had been a juice bar) in the center of the circle, where Damien stood shuffling a a deck of cards. He looked up and smiled as she approached. Torches had been lit on either side of the altar to provide illumination. 

“I belive that this dual involved precognition,” he said, laying all fifty two cards out face down upon the altar, all side by side. “So we’ll play wizard’s poker.” 

“I’m not familiar the game,” Susan said. 

“It’s simple really.” He explained, “You choose a card then I choose one, and so on till we both have five cards. Then we compare cards, scoring is the same as poker.” 

She nodded, concentrating carefully she choose a card. Then he did. When each of them had five cards they lay them down. 

“Full house beats a, well you really don’t have much of anything there do you?” Damien said. She bounced one of her sandals off his head. He winked, then smiled and shuffled the cards. 

One hour later, Susan felt quite a bit draftier. Modesty and embarrassment dictated that she should make some sort of effort to cover herself, but pride would allow no such thing. so she stood with her hands on her hips, daring him to make a comment. 

“Well Mistress Crone, that would appear to be all,” he said carefully folding her dress and placing it on the back of Widowmaker. “Unless you’d care for one more hand? Win this one and I’ll give back everything, boots included.” 

“And if I lose?” 

He grinned and told her. 

“That’s disgusting!”she said. 

“Well if you’re afraid, ok then,” he said and turned to leave. 

“You’re on! Deal the cards!”Susan said. 

The rain started again. It pelted against the roof of Farmer Jones, a pleasant enough old man, just recovering from being badly concussed by a falling sandal. Perhaps it it had to do with the head injury, but he could have sworn he heard a voice in the air. A woman’s voice, doing quite a bit of swearing, followed by strange noise. He stepped outside into the rain and looked up. 

“Son of a bitch! ptooie !” something wet, but with far more phlegm in it than rain hit Farmer jones in the eye. 

“Son of a bitch, ptooie! Son of a bitch, ptooie! Son of a bitch, ptooie!” Susan cursed and spat as she flew on through the rain. She continued even after she landed at her cottage. she walked in and before even bothering to get dressed, she heated up some water, put some salt and a few herbs in it and gargled for a good half hour. She repeated this twice, then brushed her teeth for a good hour. Then gargled some more. 

“Son of a bitch, ptooie! Son of a bitch, ptooie! Son of a bitch, ptooie!” 

That last bet had been a definite mistake. 

Susan did not approve of this. But once again that damn man-witch had outmanuevered her. She’d known her entire life that anything you needed could be found at home. If you couldn’t find it, you didn’t need it. Foriegn parts were savage places, filled with foriegners, who couldn’t do things properly. Susan had no problems with different customs, as long as they were exactly like hers. 

But Damien had filled Maggie’s head with all sorts of nonsense, and Susan had never dreamed the girl would actually be able to master the broom in so short of a time. The damn thing was the most submissive thing she’d ever seen. Susan didn’t really have to come along, she technically hadn’t even been invited. But the idea of Damien spending time alone with Maggie and filling her head with all sorts of corrupting thoughts, well that was more than Susan could bear to think about. 

On the plus side, He had at least given Susan back her sandals as a good will measure. Maggie had another new dress. Dmaien gave sniff when he got close to Susan. 

“My but you have minty fresh breath.” He said to her. “Smells like you must have brushed you’re teeth all night.” 

“Go to hell, Mr Taft,” 

“Sorry but that’s not on the itinerary.” He said. 

“Can we go to Lander?”Maggie asked. 

“Um, well uh,” Damien said,his usual grin dropping momentarily. “Um, you really don’t want to go to Lander, a big dirty place, not very nice at all.” 

“Oh,” said Maggie, clearly dissapointed. 

“Trust me kiddo, you’ll love where we’re headed, it’s a lot better than Lander,” 

So they left, and after about three hours, for the first time in either of their lives, Susan and Maggie found themselves looking at the ocean. It impressed Maggie, But Susan merely looked at primly. 

“Hmmph,”she said,”a respectable body of water would never allow itself to become so big. Overindulgence, really.” 

“Nobody really knows how big it is,” Damien told Maggie, “But some people think there may even more land on the other side.” 

They’d flown to a small town called Lyrtle, which seemed to consist entirely of hotels, restaurants, on every other corner either a store called Sparrows, or a store called Beaks. There were multple locations for both stores, and neither store had anything to do with birds but instead sold small decorations made out of shells, long flat boards with fins, and cotten doublets withthing printed on them like “life’s abeach, and then you die.” or “I got crabs at Lyrtle Beach.”. They also sold bathing costumes, which Damien purchased for Susan and Maggie. 

“Where did you get gold?” Susan asked suspiciously. Witches generally worked in a barter economy, far more practical to Susan’s way of thinking. Money wasn’t anything, just the promise of something, Susan never understood why anyone would value gold over iron, which could at least be used for something besides trinkets and baubles. 

“I did some emergency medical work for some pirates once,” Damien said. “Pirates don’t exactly have much to offer in the way of goods or services, so I settled for a chest of gold and a bottle of rum. Sometimes money can be convenient.” 

Susan searched for a long time before she found a decent bathing costume, one with dignity that a respectable woman could wear. Black and the sort that contained so much material that it instanly became waterlogged and drowned anyone foolish enough to wear it into the water. This didn’t present a problem because Susan had never set foot in a natural body of water in her entire life and had no intention of starting now. Besides which, witches are naturally boyant. 

Maggie, on the other hand had chosen a red striped thing that seemed to be popular among the girls of Lyrtle. Disgraceful, thought Susan. You could see almost all of the girls arms, and everything below the shin. 

“Ok let’s hit the beach,” Damien said coming up behind her. 

“YOU WOULDN”T DARE!” Said Susan, spinning around to face him with her fists raised. 

“Beach, I said BEACH,”Damnien said pointing outside. The beach turned out to be a long stretch of ocean front sand, covered with more people than even Maggie had relatives. Apparently, Susan would later reflect, sand in your clothes, sunburn, and chafing from the saltwater, were very popular activities. 

There were some small builidings where they changed into the bathing costumes. Susan and Maggie stepped out and looked at the crowd. Umbrella, blankets, and lowslung chairs covered the beach like a pox. Most women wore bathing costumes like hers or Maggie’s. The men wore what looked like a pair of sleeveless long underwear that had been washed in the wrong temperature. 

“Y’know,” said Maggie thoughtfully looked at the crowd, “When you take away their clothes, most people are pretty ugly.” 

“Everybody ready?” said Damien, joining them. Susan turned, looked at him and screamed. 

“Mr.Taft! Will you put something on!” Damien wore a pair of black trunks that came down to just above his knees, a red shirt, unbuttoned, with multi-colored occult symbols and hibiscus flowers on it, sandals and nothing else. His lack of modesty shocked Susan, while a treacherous voice in the back of her head thought, wow, look at that chest, and damn he has good legs, just the right amount of hair to look masculine, but not enough to look like a monkey. She shook her head to clear it. 

“Disgraceful,” she said. 

All three of them wore their hats, because after all they were still witches. 

They moved ot on the beach where Damien spread a blanket, and set up an umbrella. some other people had started to set up next to them, but Susan had looked at them and they suddenly felt a pressing need to go elsewhere. Damien took Maggie down to the water, while Susan settled in to read. 

“I’m not going in there,”She said ”No telling what’s in it and you know they don’t get out to use the bathroom 

“Is it really him?” said Glod 

“Got to be, spitting image of his father,” said Grog. Though both men didn’t really look alike, they were clearly cut from the same cloth. Muscular, yet fat, with greasy black hair on their heads and backs, dirty beards, and despite the heat, black leather. Glod wore a helmet with horns on the side and carried an emormous axe. Grog wore an iron helmet with a piece that came down to cover his nose, and carried a sword as big as a large dwarf. 

Big as mountains, dumber than rocks, both men practically had “Henchman” written all over them, though if they’d done the writing themselves it probably would have been spelld “Henshmin”, and some of the letters would have been backwards. 

Currently both were sitting at an outdoor table of a beachfront bar drinking. Glod had a strawberry daquiri, Grog a pina colada. “What’s he doin here?” asked Glod,”an who’s them wimmin with’im.?” 

“They look like witches t’me,”Grog replied. 

“Naah witches are more curvey, like Circe, only curves there is that big honker on the older one.” Glod said. “Circe is an enchantress, they’re different.,” said Grog, the marginally smarter one. 

“Well I still wonder what they’re doin here,” 

“I can tell you onething,”Grog said, “He damn sure ain’t here on vacation” 



Chapter 5 
Attack of the Mermen 



Benath the sea something lurked. Beaneath the sea some things lurked. vaguely man-shaped, their green gills flapped in the water. In their webbed, clawed hands they carried weapons, some tridents carved of bone, some the sword of sailors and pirates who made that one last fatal sea voyage. 

They were the mermen, fierce undersea warriors who hated all land dwellers.Thier leader , looked over them as they readied themselves for battle. The time had almost come. 

“You look swell,” Said Eh-thel leader of the mermen, bubbles trailing form his mouth, “You look great.” 

They’d soon have the whole world on a plate. 

The pleasures of having seawater crash down on you and chafe your skin, wears thin quickly, so Damien had taken Maggie into town to look around. A long wooden boardwalk lined with eateries seperated the town from the beach. They were not, Maggie noticed like the tavern back home, they weren’t really even separate bulidings, but rather one long building divided up, with arge windows facing the boardwalk. 

At each window you could get the local cuisine, the people of Lyrtle felt that nothing went better with blazingly hot days than deep fried food. Damien bought Maggie a sausage on a stick, dipped in corn batter and deep fried. She’d also had potatoes cut up and deep fried, and for dessert there had been batter poured through a funnel into the grease, deep fried and sprinkled with powdered sugar. 

At a break in the building there sat a large boat, inside Maggie could hear sounds and see flashing lights. 

“”Ahh the Ark-ade,” Damien said. Inside Maggie saw people playing games. With each game you could win tickets, depending on how many points you scored. These tickets could be taken to a booth in the center and traded for stuffed animals and other small toys, all valued at less than considerably had been spent playing the games. 

Maggie tried her luck at whack-a-gnome, a game where some small gnomes scurried around under a board with some holes cut in it. Every now and then they would pop up through a diffrent hole, and the object of the game was to use a padded stick to hit as many of them on the head as you could, within a certain period of time. 

Maggie did miserably. The gnomes even took to sticking out there tongues and making rude noises. Damien laid his hand on her shoulder. 

“Maggie you’re a witch,”he said.”Didn’t Mistress Crone teach you about precognition?” 

“Seeing into the future? Yeah but I’m not to good at it yet” 

“How far have you tried to look?” 

“Um, about ten years, “ she said reddening, “I wanted to see if i’d get. . .” 

“What?” 

“Y’know. . .”:She said, using her hands to make two roundish shapes in the air in front of her chest. 

“”Cantaloupes? Crenshaw melons?” He asked. Maggie gave him a glare that Susan would have been proud of. He grinned back at her. 

“I wouldn’t worry to much about those. I understand they’re more trouble than they are worth.” 

“Boys like’em.” 

“Boys are stupid, trust me I used to be one.” he said.”But ten years is to far, a lot can change in ten years. the future is always in motion, at best you get it right maybe eighty percent of the time.” 

For a moment he seemed to drift, then snapped back and said to her, 

”The closer into the future you look the more accurate you’ll be. I never do more than five minutes myself.” 

“Why?” 

“If you spend to much time looking to far ahead, you lose track of the imediate future. Ask Susan about wizard poker sometime.” he thought about this a moment, “But wait until you are older.” 

He looked at the game. 

“Right now I think you should practice at seeing about a half second into the future.” 

Twenty minutes later Maggie had amassed a stack of tickets taller than herself. She traded them in and received a small stuffed bunny. The gnomes had to be sent home for the day due to complaints of headaches and mild concussion. 

As the two of them left the ark-ade, two sets of greasy eyes followed them. 

Susan set down her reading with a sigh. Constant terrified screams proved to be to much of a distraction even for her powers of concentration. She looked up in time to see the last of the sea monsters amble it’s way to shore. People ran past her in terror, She closed her book and stood brushed the sand from her suit, and reached into her bag for her wand. 

The mermen had reached the shore. Their webbed feet ambled along, their green gills flapped in the air. Faces like frogs made strange gurgling growls. 

“Quail before us puny land dwellers The Day of The Mermen has arrived,” shouted Eh-thel, “we shall wreak havoc upon your cities and destruction upon. . .” 

“Have you considered letting someone else do your dialog?” 

Eh-thel whirled to see the source of the interruption. Susan stood in front of him, legs slightly apart wand, crackling with energy, in her hand. 

“Because frankly it seems a little corny and dated,” she said. 

“Who dares interupt me?” 

“Did you actually just say ‘who dares’? Sad really,” Susan said shaking her head sadly. The she looked the Merman in the eye. “Susan Crone, witch,” 

“A sand witch?” 

“Sand dirt, grass, whatever,” 

“Well, littlle land witch, I am Eh-thel leader of the Mermen, and Sorcerer Supreme of the Seas.” He said, holding his trident above his head. “I cause the typhoons that smash your little ships. I create the whirlpools that suck your sailors to their watery graves. I am master. . . .” 

“Anything you can do, I can do better,” Susan said, calmly. Then in case he hadn’t understood she repeated,”I can do any thing better than you.’ 

“No you can’t,” 

“Yes I can,” 

“No You can’t” 

“Yes I can” 

“No you can’t, no you can’t no you can’t!” said Eh-thel stomping his foot. 

“Yes I can , yes I can , Yes I . . .ah hell with it, Malleforcanium Amphibiosous!” She said. A streak of blue flashe d from her wand, transforming the nearest merman from frog-man into merely frog. Eh-thel looked at this, then back at her. 

“Well. . . um, Well . . Can you bake a , a , y’know one of those pastry things with fruit in’em?” he asked. 

“A pie? Well to be honest, no,” she admitted. 

“Oh, “said Eh-thel with a shrug, “Actually neither can I.” 

“Attack Her!”he shouted pointing at Susan. The other merman looked from Susan to their ribbiting comrade and back. One of them looked at Eh-thel. 

“Errr, why exactly are we invading the land any way,boss?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” piped up another, “I mean, it’s pretty dry up here.” 

“And I’ve heard you can’t get a decent pickled herring up here anyway.” said a third. 

Eh-thel looked at them, his froggy mouth opening and shutting in disbelief. 

“So we’re all just gonna head home then,”said the first merman. The merman all turned and began ambling back into the see. Eh-thel watched them go, then he turned to Susan. 

“Well ain’t that just a kick in the head.” he said, before following them back into the sea. 

Susan watched them go, waiting till they’disappeared before returning to her blanket and book. She smiled a slight smile, the beach had turned out to be more fun than she had thought it would be. 

“Damien!” 

Dammein turned to see who had called him, then gave a small groan and placed his thumb and forefinger to his eyesockets as though he’d developed a sudden headache. Glod and Grog ran up to him. 

“Long time no see,” said Grog. 

“Yeah, everybody thought you was dead,” Glod said. “Guess you can’t keep a good vi. .” 

“Yes obviously I’m alive,” said Damien quickly. 

“What are you doing here?” Grog asked. 

“I’m on vacation if you must know.” 

Both men seemed to find this extremely funny. Well very funny, they didn’t know the word extremely. 

“Good one man, good one,” 

“Yeah like someone like you’d take a vacation.” 

“Seriously, what’s up?” Grog asked, “There like some secret idol buried around here that can help you call forth an evil spider god?” 

“Oo, ooh, I heard the ancient traingle of Zamfirand is buried around here somewhere,” Glod said, “It’s said to grant whoever finds it vast demonic powers.” 

“Or is one of those ancient tomes that teach you to raise the dead?”Grog asked, “C’mon Damien clue us in, what are you looking for?” 

“Well as a matter of fact I am searching for something.” Damien said 

“What?” 

Glod looked even more puzzled than usual as he watched Damien and Maggie walk off. 

“What do you reckon he wanted with a snow cone stand” 

“A snow cone?” 

“Yeah right,” 

“Who knows?”Grog said with as shrug, “probably part of some plan to rule the world?” 

“Yeah, he’s an evil one, sneaky too.” 

“Gets it from his old man.” Grog said, “The house of Draco always made some first rate villains.” 

At the snowcone stand of Winswand the wizard, Norville Winswand himself did the serving. A skinny wizard with the sort of scraggly beard often grown by people who shouldn’t wear beards, but can’t seem to realize this, Winswand had long ago traded in his long robes for more practical wear, a shirt similar to the one Damien wore, and short trousers with deep pockets. A spectacular failure among the halls of magic, Winswand had only ever managed to perfect one spell, assuming he only did it on a small scale. Still he’d finally found a use for it. 

Maggie watched intently as he placed thre paper cones into holders, then cast his spell, calling up three very small, very localized blizzards. After the cups had filled with snow he poured colored liquids over them. 

“What flavor do you want Maggie?” Damien asked. 

“Um, strawberry, I think Mistress Crone would like grape.” 

“One strawberry, one grape, and one blue rasberry,” Damien told the wizard. 

“Who were those men?” Maggie asked as Damien paid the wizard. 

“Um, just old aquaintances,”Damien answered, as they walked back to the beach. “They worked for my father. “ 

He looked at Maggie. “If you don’t mind can we keep those two men a secret from Mistress Crone.” 

“Why?” 

“Please, Maggie?” 

“You’re in love with Mistress Crone, aren’t you?” 

“What?” He stopped an looked at her,”Why would you say that?” 

“Well you show all the signs,” said Maggie, taking a bite of her snow cone. 

“What signs?” 

“You argue constantly, that always comes first, then you kiss,” her brow wrinkled was she worked out an unfsamiliar word, “passy-onate-ly.” 

“pasy. . . Passionatly? Where did you hear. . .?” He suddenly spotted to rectangular lumps in the cloth bag Maggie had been carrying. He reaced down quickly and grabbed it. 

Books. 

Not magical tomes, which would have been to large, but small books with paper covers, and titles like The Thief and the Dragonkeeper, and the Madde for thine love. 

“Romance novels? Does Mistress Crone know you have these?” 

“Er, no,” said Maggie,”You won’t tell her will you?” 

Damien looked at Maggie and smiled. 

“I’ll keepyou secrets if you keep mine. Deal?” 

“Deal.” 

The inn they stayed at that night stood in a secluded spot, surounded by palm trees and away from the main strip. Maggie and Susan shared one room, Damien took the room beside them. Each room had a balcony overlooking the ocean. 

Susan stepped out on to hers to watch the sun stting over the sea. She looked to the side to see Damien staring out, with a far away look in his eyes. 

“Good evening,” he said without turning. 

“Good evening Mr. Taft.” 

They sat in silence for several minutres before Damien asked: 

“What were your family like?” 

“Why?” 

“Just wondering.” 

“I was raised by my aunt if you must know,” she said, “My parents died when I was two.” 

“How?” 

“Eaten by bears.” 

“Really?” He finally turned to look at her. 

“Yes.” 

“Hmmph, some people have all the luck,” 

“He wouldn’t tell you what he wanted?” The tall man in the black robes paced slowly back and forth in front of Glod and Grog. He wore a medallion with an odd geen jewell in it, around his neck, that he kept fiddling with absentmindedly. 

“No boss,”said Grog. 

“Well he did say he wanted snowcones,” Glod added. 

“Snowcones?” said the man in black,stroking his goatee thoughtfully, ”I wonder if. . . . devious, yes devious.” 

He looked at the henchmen. “What of the two women with him?” 

“The girl didn’t do much, except people at the ark-ade said they’d never seen anything like her at Whack-a-Gnome,” Glod said. 

“Whack-a-gnome?” 

“It’s this game,” Grog explained,”where these gnomes run around under a board and stick their . . “ 

“Yes, Yes I know what it is,” the man waved his hand irritatedly. “Amazing reflexes, or possibly astounding precognative abilities. Hmmm,” 

“She won a stuffed bunny.” Glod supplied. 

“A stuffed bunny? Odd. An idol to the deadly rabbit god of 

Tralg, perhaps? Hmmm, what of the other one?” 

“Well, everyone said she stopped an invasion of mermen, all by herself. “ 

“Interesting,” the man in black looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. “He’s picked up some powerful allies, I wonder what he’s planning.” 

He gave a slow evil smile. 

“Well whatever it is, I think we should be part of it.” 

The bamboo raft made landfall at Kroy. The natives disembarked, bought a few souvenirs, and continued northward on their quest. The rythmic and annoying sound of island drums accompanied their every step in this vast wasteland of civilization. 

The next morning Susan awoke early, dressed and walked out onto the beach. Damien sat out at a table behind the inn, drinking a cup of coffee. Susan sat down beside him. 

“I must admit I’m surprised to see you’re an early riser, Mr. Taft,” 

“Late to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy wealthy and wise,”he said. 

“Wise?” 

“Well a wise-ass anyway,” he said with a smile.”what are you doing up so early?” 

“It’s my usual time,” She looked out at the beach, devoid of people so early in the morning. “Very peaceful this morning.” 

She stretched and winced. 

“Something the matter?” 

“I’m a bit stiff,” she replied. “I’m not used to travelling so far in a single trip. Plus I think I slept wrong.” 

He stood up and walked behind her. He began to knead the stiff muscles in her neck and shoulders. She resisted slightly, then relaxed. 

“You know Mr. Taft, I could possibly learn to tolerate you, if you weren’t such a scoundral,” 

“Oh, c’mon. everyone need a good scoundral in their life,” he said. 

“Yes, well your friend back at the tavern in Gorman seemed more my type of scoundral,” 

“Which one?” 

“The blond one with the green clothes,” 

“T’kris? Oh you wouldn’t like him, he’s a pirate. Nasty fellow when you get to know him,” 

“He seemed very charming,” 

“Just an act, trust me. No I think you need a more down to earth scoundral. Someone sincere, Somebody not so arrogant.” 

“You mean a master of humilty like youself,” 

“Exactly,” Damien said. Susan stood and turned to look at him. 

“Not to worry Mr. Taft, I’m not the sort to be taken in by false charm,” she said. “Anyone’s.” 

She walked away from him and down the beach. Damien smiled after her. 

Widowmaker rumbled through the sky as Damien led Maggie and Susan toward the Isle of Oykot. It took them most of the day, partly because of the distance, but mostly because, unlike most men, Damien enjoyed stopping along the way. Maggie pointed this out to Susan. 

“Hmmph,”said Susan 

“He’s kind of good looking don’t you think?” said Maggie. 

“Hmmpph, a little,” said Susan, who was never agreeable if she could help it. 

“And a good cook , too,” 

“I’ve had better,” said Susan, who couldn’t remember when. 

“And he puts the seat back down when he leaves the outhouse,” 

“Yes well, “Susan looked at her pupil,”What does that have to do with anything?” 

“I grew up with twenty-six brothers,” Maggie said solemnly, 

“You’d be amazed at how important that can be.” 

A group of grass skirted natives made their way northward on their quest, stopping at villages and asking highly personal questions. 

In the city of Lander a greenish gas had risen from the pit and drifted across the city. For a few days people complained, but then everyone stopped. Any visitor to Lander might have remarked on the lack of people in a once bustling city. On the other hand there were a large number of incredibly lifelike statues. 

Only the flying monkeys remained, screeching and flying about the city. 

The vines crept over the city walls and over buildings. 

Maggie stared in utter fascination. Lyrtle had been different, But Oycot was foriegn! Wooden building with paper doors lined the streets. All the roofs ,which were covered in strange curved tiles, seemed to curl up at the corners. On every street corner sat a strange large box, which if you put money in it, would give you a can of beverage. Usually something fizzy and sweet, but sometimes beer, whiskey, or something Mr. Taft called socky. He said she wasn’t allowed to try it, though he tried to get Mistress Crone to drink up. 

Even the people looked foriegn, with golden skin, pitch blck hair and dark eyes, shaped like almonds.They all wore fancy robes and sandals with stockings that had a seperate place for the big toe. They all spoke a language completely unlike her own, and everyone kept bowing to each other. They all had cigarettes and smoked like smoked the chimney of a blacksmith’s forge. 

Flying over the city would have been difficult, so they’d landed outside and gotten on something called a shinkansen, or pullit train. A group of coaches had been hooked together, and put on rails. A team of dragons were harnessed to the front and pulled it very quickly into the city. A man in the train had pinched Mistress Crone’s bottom, so a frog got off the train when they stopped. 

When they’d reached their inn, Mistress Crone had a problem. 

“There are no beds in these rooms!” She said,”We’re paying good money,and they expect us to sleep on these mats on the floor?” 

It got worse when she discovered the outhouse facilities. The Oykotians had very nice bathrooms, but felt that a hole in the floor would be much more hygenic than anything you could actually sit on. 

Furniture in Oykot sat low to the ground, with not a chair in sight. At dinner they kneeled on cushins by the table. Maggie’s legs started to cramp and she had to rearrange herself. Mr. Taft seemed comfortable that way, and sat like that all through the meal. Mistress 

Susan would have allowed her legs to drop off below the knees before she would have admitted that Damien could do something she couldn’t, and continued kneeling as well. 

Maggie picked up a smll deep fried ball and popped it in her mouth. It had a strange taste, the batter had a lot of cabbage init,, and the stuff in the middle was awfully chewy. Susan picked one up and eyed it suspiciously, 

“What’s this?” Susan asked. 

“Takoyaki, deep fried octopus.” he replied. Maggie gagged into her napkin, and neither woman would eat a thing without a description first. 

The missing pinky fingers and tattos on his arm marked Shinya Jones as a man not to be messed with, at least to the common people. The wrinkles around his eyes and the lines on his face gave the same message to his peers. No man survived long in Oykot’s criminal underground without a highly unusual degree of cunning. 

His dark eyes concentrated on the man in front of him. Foriegners were not to be trusted, wizards even less so. Multiply this untrustworthiness by a factor of twelve, and you had Shinya Jones feelings for the man in Black Robes sitting in front of him. The House of Draco excelled at being untrustworthy. Shinya also wondered about the strange green jewelled medallion around the neck of Vlad Draco. draco kept playing with it as he spoke. 

“One child will not be to difficult for your ninja, I should think.” said Vlad Draco, steepling his fingers in front of his lips. 

“One witch-child Draco-san,” 

Draco nodded, and placed a large bag of gold on the table. 

“I believe this should cover the cost of any difficulties,” 



Chapter 6 
Up from the Depths 



One hour after leaving Jones-san Vlad Draco stood upon the shores of Oykot. A pity that Damien had taken it upon himself to act independantly, he’d need some persuasion to be brought back into the fold. He had not been able to discern Damien’s plans, but he obviously needed the two women. 

Of course it occured to Draco that Damien might have a backup plan. If so, then some money had been wasted, but then they’d simply kill the girl, no real harm. The youngest would of course be the easist for Jones-san’s ninja’s to get, provided that the other two were not around. Draco hadn’t mentioned to Jones the little distraction he’d planned. Criminal though he might be, Jones was Oykotanese at the core, and might not take kindly to seeing half of Oykot destroyed, though frankly this sort of thing happened on a regular basis anyway. 

He took off his medallion clenched it tightly in his fist, raised his arm and looked out to sea and smiled. 

“Deminacarnius explosivious!” 

Deep within the sea srrounding oykot, an explosion awakened something. Something large and reptilian. It rumbled benath the sea. 

The crew of a fishing boat saw it first, though not for long. 

A long day of travel and food had worked their magic on Maggie, she’d passed out on the sleeping mats as soon as they’d reached the inn. Susan, however decided to have a bath. Naturally the foriegners couldn’t even get that right. Here, for some reason, they expected you to wash first and then get in the bath. 

Still the bath felt great when she got in. Normal baths tended to cool off once you’d sat in them a while, but not these. There were no active volcanoes in Oykot, not currently at the least, but it still had a number of hot springs. Enterprising inn owners, converted these into baths, and even Susan had to admit she’d never felt anything like it. 

She sat back closed her eyes and relaxed. Presently she heard one of the doors being opened and footsteps coming towards. she opened her eyes. 

“MR. TAFT!” 

“What?” 

“This is a ladies bath!” 

“Actually this one is unisex,” 

“Right uni means one. One sex at a time,’ 

“Will you relax? I mean it’s not like I haven’t already seen everything,” 

“Well I haven’t!” 

“Well now you have, we’re even.” 

“I don’t want to be even,” 

“Then shut your eyes,” 

“I will. . . . in a minute,” 

“Keep staring like that and it’ll stand to attention,” He slid into the water beside her. “Y’know Susan sometimes I get the impression you don’t care much for me.” 

“I despise you to the core of my being,” 

“Well it’s nice to know you have deep feelingss for me,” he said, moving closer to her. 

“I have nightmares about you,” 

“Yeah, I sort of though I was the man of your dreams,” He put his arm around her, and gave a slight tickle to her neck. 

“You’re like a fungus!” 

“So I’m growing on you then?” He leaned his face in closer to hers, their mouths separated by only the briefest of distances. There was a long pause 

“Yes, maybe a little.” 

Her eys closed as he moved in to kiss her. Their lips met slowly, , , and she pushed him back. Then quickly got out of the bath. 

“You’re a dangerous man Mr. Taft,” she said, moving towards the dressing room. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Out,” she said, “I think I could do with a walk.” 

“Don’t get lost,” 

“Witches never get lost!” She turned and left. He watched for few minutes, grinning. 

Damien had just drifted off to sleep, when the screaming started. He awoke to the sounds of panicked crowds racing down the street. He threw on a robe and looked out the door to his room. 

“What’s happening Mr. Taft?” asked Maggie, looking out the door to the room she shared with Susan. 

“Monster attack,” he replied, “Happens quite frequently around here.” 

“What kind of monster?” 

“There’s not really a good word for it our language, but the name translates as the gorilla-whale,”he said, then realized somthing, 

“Where’s Su. . .where’s Mistress Crone?” 

“I dunno,”said Maggie looking panicked.”Do you think she’s out there with that? 

“I hope not,”Damien answered,”it’s an endangered species already.” 

Susan was not lost, however the rest of the world was in the wrong place. She’d dressed quickly after her encounter with Mr. Taft, and headed out into the night air to clear her head. Unfortunately after an hour of wandering, she discovered that all the streets had changed and she didn’t know where anything was. 

She tried to ask directions bur everyone spoke that heathen lingo, and then it seemed that everyone had begun screaming and running down the streets. She didn’t understand the language, but it sounded as if they were telling somoeone named Jirah to go. 

“Excuse me,” she said to one panicked passerby, “but i was wondering . .” 

She found it frustrating the way they kept running at her screaming in blind hysteria. Then she noticed the way the ground shook. Damien said that Oykot tended to have earthquakes, but she’d assumed it happened all at once. This seemed to be a series of small earthquakes, repeating with a steady regularity, each one larger than the last. 

Footsteps, Susan realized, giant footsteps. Something, green and scaly, stomped the ground in front of her, knock ing her off balance. Her hat flew off,.Susan stood up to retreive it, when the other foot came down and crushed it, along with an all night noodle shop. 

Then she heard the roar. Louder than anything she’d ever heard before, it sounded as though someone had tortured a musical instrument. She looked to see what made it. Then she looked up some more. 

Vlad Draco looked out from the dark tower that stood in the middle of Lander. The town had changed in the past few days, what with every one turning to stone and all, but you couldn’t make a large omelet with breaking a few thousand eggs his father had always taught him. He looked down at the ancient tome beside him, and then he looked at the medallion he wore and he smiled. 

Ahh all the schemes and plans that made life worth living. 

Schemes always reminded him af Damien. He didn’t know what Damien had planned, which made Vlad glad. Nice to see he’d implanted a bit of deviousness in the boy. Still Vlad knew he couldn’t let Damien’s nefarious scheme conflict with his own. Of course if he brought the boy back into the fold, perhaps Damien’s scheme could be folded in with his own. Nobody had ever called Vlad Draco inflexible. 

Well nobody that lived. 

It would be nice to get Damien back in the fold after all these years. The House of Draco had over thirty generations of mad, power seeking wizards. They killed many a barbarian hero, sacrificed to many a demon god in their quest for power. The blood of millions had been shed because of the House of Draco, countless innocent souls consigned to hell because of a mad wizards dream to rule the world. Vlad felt a lump in his throat as he reflected upon this proud heritage. 

Damien had to come back, the family had to be whole again. 

Damien had run out of the room, to go seek Mistress Crone, and everyone else had run off, so now Maggie sat in the dark inn by herself. She sat quietly in the room listening to the sounds of chaos outside the wooden walls. Then everything grew quiet. 

The soft soled boots entering the inn made no sound at all, luckily for Maggie otherwise she might not have heard them. A half second of precognition caused her to cover her mouth as a smoke bomb landed in the room. Quickly she grabbed it and tossed it back out. 

Three men like large black cats entered the room , each carrying a long curved sword. They wore all black clothing with hoods and black masks covering their lower faces. One moved sideways, like a crab over to the side of the room. Another to the other side of the room. Maggie knew her exit had been cut off, so she deperately tried to think of a spell. 

“Hippocrytiicus Emmrodics!”she called out the first spell that came to mind, the groaned as she realized which one it was. 

The ninja on her left paused suddenlywith a puzzled expression, then a pleased one on his exposed eyes. 

“Hey!”he said, “Hey hey!” 

“Shhhhh,” went the middle ninja in an annoyed tone. 

“Barney, Joe you won’t believe this!’ said the ninja on the left. 

“Oh great Charlie great “said Barney very annoyed at this poin, “Silent warriors remember? Silent means no talking!” 

“Yeah but my ‘roids are all gone,” Charley exclaimed. 

“What” 

“My ‘roids, y’know my hemmeroids” said Charley, doing a happy little dance, “Man! My butt hasn’t felt this great in weeks!” 

“Well thanks for sharing that with us Charley,” said Barney, “Now if we can get on with the job at hand.” 

“What?” 

“The girl Charley!” 

“Oh,”said Charley looking a bit crestfallen “Doesn’t seem right, not now anyway.” 

“Charley!” 

“Well, I mean she cures my ‘roids, and now I’m supposed to kidnap her?” Charley shook his head, “Nope can’t do it.” “Charley, Draco-san paid Jones-san a large sum of money for this,” Barney explained, as patiently as he was able. 

“Yeah but he’s just a foriegner,” 

“She’s a foriegner, 

“Yeah but she fixed my hinder,” 

“Charlie. . .” 

“Er, Barney,” Joe said, speaking up at last, “I‘ve been hearing about Charley’s butt for three weeks now, and I’d gotten a bit tired of listening to it.” 

“Yeah, so?” 

“So getting him shut up about it has got to be worth something, “ 

Barney looked from Charley to joe, then at Maggie. He gave a resigned sigh. 

“All right then, what do we tell the boss?” 

“We’ll just say she cast a spell and then we couldn’t do the job,”said Joe. 

“Which is technicaly true,” Charlie added. 

“OK, OK,” said Barney, and thus the three ninjas agreed to practice the long standing, and honorable tradition held by low level employees everywhere. Namely, it’s good to tell the truth, but that doesn’t mean you have to be honest. Barney gave a long slow look at the other three people in the room as he shook his head sadly. Then he looked back at Maggie as a thought struck him. 

“Say,” he said “Do you know much about boils? Cause I’ve got a really bad one on my back.” 

Why they called it the gorilla-whale no Oykotian could quite explain. It looked like neither gorilla, nor whale, but instead like some sort of giant prehistoric lizard. It had come up from the depths, and stood twenty stories high, a set of plates ran down it’s back. They began to glow and a few minutes later a blue flame burst forth from it’s mouth. 

It existed purely for destruction, it took no more notice of the screaming people up than a typhoon or tornado would. But it felt something sagainst it’s foot. A sort of prodding, like a very persistent gnat trying to get the attention of an elephant. It looked down to see Susan poking it in the foot. 

“”Excuse me, Excuse me,” she said, then noticed it had looked down upon her. “You’ve stepped on my hat.” 

The gorilla -whale lifted one foot, then brought it down upn her. Heavily. 

It turned to continue it’s reign of terror. A quick roar and a jet of flame and then. . . something poked it in the foot again. It looked down to see Susan standing beside it and looking up. 

“Y’know what?”she asked,”that makes me very angry. 

Damien ran along the streets of Oykot, towards the screaming. He knew that’s where where Susan would be, and possibly even the monster. But the screaming began to die out, and as he rounded a corner he saw a huge crowd had gatherd and were fighting to get a look at something. 

He shoulderd his way to the center of the crowd. The center he found to be rather wide as no one wanted to be too close to Susan, who stood in the center of it. After a moment or two of looking Damien found the gorilla-whale. 

All two inches of it. 

It hopped around angrily, breathing tiny jets of flames. Susan ignored it as she brushed dirt off her crushed hat. She looked over as Damien walked up to her. 

“Oh, Mr.Taft,” Susan said,”I’m glad you’re here. They’ve moved the inn and I can’t seem to find it.” 

Damien looked at her, then the very tiny giant beast, then back again. 

“And you say I’m dangerous?” 

Maggie snuggled up on her sleeping mat as she settled back to sleep. What nice men, she thought, just had a few medical problems. She hadn’t really understood their language, but when a man shows you a large, really gross boil on his back, you can guess what he wants. She’d given him a poultice for it, as well as a jar of ointment to Charley in case of return flare-ups, and some mint oil to Joe, because frankly his breath could’ve killed an ox. In return they’d given her a sword, some very pretty shiny metal stars, and two sticks connected by a leangth of chain. 

It had been a good vacation so far, she thought. 

Every hear in the village of Lunkre they celebrated the festival of the Seven Hogs. Stalls lined the streets sold pork sausages, pork tenderloin, pork barbecue, pork chops, and lots of beer. 

This year a group of dark-skinned grass skirt wearing natives stopped off for a visit.They did not find what they were looking for here. But they all agreed the beer and sausages were good. 

As they flew away from Oykot, Damien paused a moment and flew down to the shore. A small ring of grass lay burned to a crisp. Damien knelt down to inspect it. 

“A magic circle?” Susan asked. He nodded, a grim look on his face 

“What’s that?” Maggie asked. 

“You can use them to transport yourself between two places very quickly,” Susan said. 

“Instaneously,” Damen corrected. “Faster than a broom , though not as much fun.” 

“They use a lot a magic,” Susan said,”and they poke holes in the fabric of reality.” 

“Dark Wizards often use them,” Damien said. 

“Yeah well the last Dark Wizard was Vlad Draco, and he’s been dead close to fifteen years,”Susan said. “I know he had a son, Danny, Donald, David, something like that, but they say he died alongside his father. Lucky for him.” 

“Why do you say that?” Maggie asked. 

“Dark wizards are blot on the profession, and I know exactly what I’d do if I were to meet him.” 

“What Mistress crone?” Maggie asked. She immediately wishe she hadn’t because Susan told her. In very very graphic detail. 

Damien grew pale, and Maggie actually threw up. Vlad Draco, who’d been intently watching all of this from his magic mirror, grew queasy and had to go lie down. 

“That’s a use for the trombone I bet the band never thought of,” Damien said weakly. “Just for curiosity sake, what if the guy had reformed?” 

“Hah! You can’t change the spots on tiger,” Susan said. 

“Er, I think you mean leopard.” 

“Huh?” 

“Leopard. Leopards have spots, tigers have stripes.” Damien explained. 

“Well, duh, that’s why you can’t change the spots on one.” 

Vlad Draco drummed his fingers angrily as he thought. Difficult to believe, but the youngest one had somehow overpowered three ninjas. Obviously more to her than met the eye. Damien had been clever in his choice of allies. Shinya-Jones had refunded the bag of gold, minus the twenty percent enchanted employees charge. 

He looked out of a tower window at Lander, now overgrown with strange weed. The sun hadn’t shown here in days. The strange green glow from the pit outside gave an eery light to the city. Vlad fingered his pendant, the jewel in the middle had the same sickly green glow. 

Below him swarmed flocks of what at first appeared to be strange birds. Closer inspection revealed a rather simian quality to them. The monkeys carried crossbows as they soared on batlike wings. Vlad sniffed and made a face as he turned back in to his study. 

Flying monkeys made great evil servants, being almost a full step up the evolutioonary ladder from Grog and Glod. However they didn’t have much of a sense of personal hygene. 

Magic no longer worked in Lander, except his of course. The pit drew all magic of the area into itself, and only the one holding the medallion could access it. Vlad felt his power grow stronger each day, and knew that soon he’d have enough. Even Damien’s little scheme couldn’t interfere, whatever it was. 

He frowned, of course Damien probably had feelings of resentment. After all, Vlad had left Damien to die after that last little incident. Vlad gave a small smile as he pictured it in his mind, Damien lying wounded, lashing out with anger and swearing that someday he would rule the world seek bloody vengance upon his father. Vlad felt a lump in his throat at the thought of family traditions being kept up, and remembered the day he sworn to kill his own father. 

Of course that made it all the more important to bring Damien back into the fold, where Vlad could keep an eye on him. Perhaps it would be better to go after Damien directly, rather than his associates. Not with brute force this time, but rather something that never failed. 

“Maleventia!” He called into his magic mirror. His own image faded, replaced by a facemore than few men had killed for. A face that had ruined many a man’s good name, his marriage, and usually his life. She turned her cold, calculating and ultimately seductive smile to face Vlad. 

“Maleventia,” Vlad said,”Do you remember my son Damien?” 



Chapter 7 
Maleventia 



Susan, Maggie and Damien had stopped along the way at a small town sitting alongside a large lake. An old deserted castle sat upon the shores of the lake, and after dinner, Susan had wanderd over to it. Outside she heard Damien telling Maggie of the lake monster, and encouraging her to try and summon it. She sat on a window ledge and watched the setting sun turn the water a beuatiful red orange. She heard the sound of someone walking up behind her. 

Damien sat down on the ledge beside her. He held a single red rose in his hand, which he sniffed, then profferd to her. She raised an eyebrow at him, then took it. He smiled at her, not his usual impertinent grin but an actual smile, as warm as a mid-spring day. She struggled, but gave in and returned it. 

“I have to admit Mr. Taft, this trip has turned out to be,” she paused, “somewhat entertaining.” 

“’Somewhat entertaining’, why Mistress crone I’m flattered,” he said,”and here I thought you didn’t care for me. Next thing I know, you’ll be proposing.” 

She gave him half hearted kick, and he grabbed her ankle and placed her foot on his lap. He removed her sandal, and gave the sole of her foot a quick tickle. 

“Stop that,” she said, after a slight giggle. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you have adorable litle toes, Mistress Crone?” 

“This is where I say ‘no’ and you say ‘well there’s a reason for that’, right?” 

“No, no,” he said,” You do have cute little toes. I have to say I have a weakness for women with cute little toes” 

“Pervert,” 

He smiled and raised her foot up a bit, and bent foreward, kissing the top of her foot up near the ankle. 

“Stop that Mr. taft,” 

In stead he kissed his way down her foot to her toes. Then he began to gently kiss each toe seperately. 

“Mmmmm-I mean I don’t like this Mr taft, not one- Ooooh yeah, that feels so, -disgusting, you are a - Mmmmmm yes, - Youre a disgusting pervert Mr. Taft- oh do that one again- Not that I’m enjoying this, not at all. it’s lewd and disgustuing, Oooh mmmmm,you’re tongue tickles -You pervert.” 

He lifted his face and let go of her ankle. She lowered her leg and he started to stand. 

“Wait a minute!” 

He sat back down and looked at her. 

“Yes?” 

“I have another foot you know!” 

Outside Maggie had finally managed to summon the lake monster. It had a long snake-like head and neck and a body like a large grey wet hill, swimming on large diamond shaped flippers. It circled in the water just off shore. 

This bony young witch confused it. 

Normally when summoned by witchs or wizards their were strange and occult reasons for it. Exactly what these reasons were reamain shrouded in mystrey and the beast didn’t talk. 

This one just wanted it to play fetch . Also she tried to teach it to roll over. 

Well. as monsters went, the lake beast was rather adaptable, and frankly this was a nice change of pace. 

“Ouch! Dammit!.” Vlad cursed and rubbed his wounded shin. The second biggest drawback to being a Dark wizard, had to be the need for dramatic lighting. Brightly lit passages and sunny rooms tended not to be conducive for plans to takeover and or destroy the world. Wandering around with a torch provided much more interesting shadows, but not nearly enough illumination. All Vlad could do was hope no one had seen him trip over the ottoman. 

“You ok boss?”asked Grog, standing just off to one side with Glod, neither aware of their hope dashing abilities.”That had to smart.” 

Still Vlad recovered nicely. “You fools did I not . . .er, did I not command that all ottomans were to be destroyed?” he improvised imperiously. “Er. . .”said Grog, then he turned furiously on Glod “I thought I told you to smash all them ottomens!” “You did?” asked Glod, his brow wrinkling in confusion. “Yeah!” “When?” “um. . . .yesterday, Now do it!” “OK,”Glod said.”Er, what’s an ottoman?” “What’s an ottoman! what’s an ottoman !”Grog said. “That’s what I asked you,” “You’re stupid, y’know that?”Grog said. He turned towards 

Vlad.”Hey boss, what’s an ottoman?” “That is an ottoman, you insipid cretin!” yelled Vlad, pointing at the object which had recently offended his shin. 

“Right,”said Grog.He looked at Glod. “That footstool looking thingy, you . . . .you. . .”Grog’s eyes darted briefly towards Vlad then back to Glod, “you inspired creation!” 

Vlad squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and limped out of the room, muttering to himeself. Glod looked meaningfully at Grog. 

“Why have we always got to take stuff off of him,” he asked. 

“Yeah,”Grog said,”I gotta admit, I’m getting a little tired of him always bossing us around.” “Yeah how come he gets to be the boss,”Glod asked, “what makes him so special?” 

“Yeah that’s what I wanna know!” 

“You why don’t you go ask him?” 

“Yeah why don’t I;. . .”Grog stopped,”Why me?” 

“You’re the one that wants to know,” Glod said. 

“Oh right,” Grog stomped out of the room after Vlad. He found him in the study, standing near a large fire place. Grog approached cautiously. 

“er, um hey Boss?” 

Vlad slowly turned to stare at him. 

“Yes?” 

“Um, er, me and Glod, well more Glod really, we was wondering how come , well you know, how come you get to be boss?” 

Vlad gave a deep and long sigh. The sigh of man wondering why he kept these two employees on, despite the fact that the flying monkeys worked so much better. 

“Inteeligence Grog, Intelligene.” 

“Oh, yeah, inteeligence right.” Grog turned to leave the room, then stopped. “Er, what’s intelligence boss?” 

Vlad sighed once more then, picked up the fireplace poker. He handed it to Grog. Then Vlad placed his hand in front Grog’s face. 

“When I tell you to, I want you to hit my hand as hard as you can,” Vlad explained.”Now!” 

Vlad pulled his hand away as Grog brought the poker up squrely re-breaking a nose which had been broken many times before, often as a result of similar conversations. 

“Ow,”Grog said, holding his bloody nose. 

“That’s intelligence Grog,” Vlad said, before turning back towards the fire. Grog nodded and went bacl to Glod. 

“What did he say?” Glod asked.”How come he gets to be boss?” 

“Intelligence,”Grog said with a wince. 

“What’s that?” 

“Take this, “Grog said, handing Glod the fireplace poker. Glod took it and looked at it. 

Grog slowly put his hand in front of his own face. 

“When I tell you to hit my hand,” He said.”Now!” 

On the fourth attempt, Grog finally remembered to remove his hand. 

After the lake beast had retired for the night Maggie walked along the shoreline back towards the inn. She saw Damien sitting beside the lake, staring out at the stars reflecting on the water. 

“Is something the matter, Mr. Taft?” 

“What?”He looked at her and smiled.”Oh hi Maggie, just thinking about my family.” 

“What about them?”she asked, sitting down beside him. 

“Oh, just thinking about dysfunctional we were.” 

“How what?” 

“Dysfunctional, it means we had a lot of family problems.” 

“Oh, I know about family problems,” she said, looking up at the stars.”There were my parents, forty seven kids, and I can’t even remeber how many nieces and nephews, and only one, single seater outhouse.” 

“Sounds serious,” 

“Yeah especially with a high bran diet,” Maggie looked at him. “Is it because of you becoming a witch?” 

“My father doesn’t actually know about that yet, we havn’t seen each other in fifteen years, “Damien told her, “But, yes, when he finds out he won’t be to happy.” 

“My parents weren’t to crazy about it either,” Maggie said,”They got all upset when Grandma Hadrass came down from Ghast and picked me out.” 

“You’re not from Ghast originally?” 

“No sir, I’m from Lyn.” 

“Lyn? Hmmmm, was the village named after your family?” 

“The village is my family.” she corrected. “But my whole family got really upset with me when I told themn I wanted to up to Ghast with her and learn to be a witch. They haven’t been so upset since my brother Bruce wanted to marry my cousin Liz.” 

“”Oh, well yeah I can see where that could cause problems,” 

“Yeah, my parents were like ‘What’s the matter, none of your sisters are good enough for you?’” 

“Er, um, so, “Damien said, shifting uncomfortably,”Your parents didn’t want you to become a witch. Why?” 

“”Well, I was the first child to leave home,” she said. 

“The first? Aren’t you the baby of the family?” 

“Yes, I think that might have made it worse, plus my brother Joe had a crush on me.” Maggie looked at him.”But y’know Mr Taft, I mean family is important and all, and they make up what you are, but I got to thinking that I had whole life ahead of me and whatever I became, well that was up to me.” 

“You’re a smart girl Maggie,”Damien said, playfully tousling her hair. “But I think you need to get up to bed, we have an early start tommorow.” 

“You’re probably right,”Maggie said, standing and brushing herself off. 

“Oh and Maggie?” 

“Yes, Mr.Taft?” 

“Thanks,”he said.”Talking about your family put my problems in perspective.” 

She smiled and walked up to the inn. Damien looked back out at the stars on the water. 

“I thought being abandoned and left for dead was bad,” he said after she’d gotten out of ear shot. “why didn’t they just put in another outhouse?” 

The crowd roared as the matador strode into the ring, red cape draped ceremoniously over his arm. He gave a gracious bow as roses poured down from beautiful young ladies. He looked towards the large door at the edge of the ring and gave a self confident sneer, much to the delight of the crowd. 

Then a hush fell over the crowd. Every face turned towards the massive doors as they slowly opened. The combination of fear and awe caused everyone to hold their breath. The matador looked calmly into the face of possible death. 

The doors finished their slow swing, and the beast thundered. . . well, technically it more or less pattered. Hamsters as a rule do not thunder. Muscles stretched taut upon it’s massive, . . .er well big by hamster standards, . . .er well decent sized by hamster. . .look it was two inches of sheer animal might, ok?. Blood lust gleamed in it’s tiny eyes as it scurried towards the awaiting matador. 

The matador waved his red cape which angered the beast. It roar. . .squeaked with unholy anger. Man and beast circled each warily. 

Without warning the hamster struck. It leapt foreward and nipped the matador on the ankle. He howled in anguish and fell to the ground clutching his wounded limb. The crowd screamed in horror and looked away from the grisley sight below. Men rushed into the ring to try and herd the snarling beast back to it’s pen, while doctors carried the unfortunate matador out on a strstcher. 

“Well um, that was . . .different ,”Susan said. Damien shrugged. 

“They used to use bulls,”he explained,”but eventually insurance costs got to high.” 

They left the arena and stepped out into the streets of Pampasloner, A hot dusty and crowded city, with small stand along the street selling paper mache donkeys. Like OyKot there were an abundance of curved tiles on the roofs, although all of these were made of baked red clay. The buildings were made of white mud and didn’t seem so much made as carved. Everyone wore loose white clothing and really large hats with extremely wide brims. For some reason many of them felt the need to drape colorful blankets across their shoulders. 

Damien lead Susan and Maggie to a amall cafe. He ordered food and beer with lime in it for them.when it came Maggie looked suspiciously at the green pile on top of her food. 

“What’s that stuff?” 

“It’s called guacamole, try it, it’s made with avacados.” 

Maggie cautiosly dipped an fried corn chip in it and tasted it. 

“Hey this is pretty good,” she said, dipping another chip, Susan picked up a chip and tried some. 

“Hmmm, interesting,”Susan said,”How’s it made?” 

“Somebody eats an avacado, let’s it pass through his system and there you go,” Damien explained, then smiled at two perfect and simultaneous spit takes. 

“Just kidding.” 

Maggie threw a chip st him and took a long drink of beer. Mistress Crone had not approved, but Damien explained that anyone who drank the water would spend a longtime in the outhouse making guacamole. Besides they put squeezed a slice of lime into it, and lime was a fruit, so the whole thing was practically healthy. 

Damien took a sip of his own beer, then put it down, staring across the cafe. A sultry beauty with raven black hair and dark eyes blew him a kiss and gave him a wink. She walked towards the door and slowly motioned with one erotic finger for him to follow her.. He frowned and his eyes narrowed slightly. 

“Is something the matter?”Susan asked. 

“Hmm, oh er nothing,”he said standing.”Listen I need to check on something, you two wait here a moment.” 

He moved across the cafe, following the dark beauty out of the door and into an alley way. She stepped out of the shadows, wrapped her arms around him and gave him a passionate kiss. 

Maggie stood up and looked around. Beer made it’s way through the system quickly. 

“Mistress crone, do you know where the toilet is?” 

“I think it’s out back,” Susan said, in between bites of fajita. Maggie nodded and went to find it. She stepped into the back alley, but her full bladder became a memory when she saw Mr. Taft in the arms of a strange woman and they were kissing. 

Shock and horror overcame Maggie and she did the only thing she could think of. She crept in closer to eavesdrop. 

Maggie crouched behind a large trash can, and to her relief saw Damien push the woman away. 

“Is something wrong senor” The woman asked, fluttering her long black eyelashes. He simply crossed his arms and looked at her. 

“Nothing wrong at all,”he said,”Except of course the fact that you’re here Malventia.” 

“Who? I don’t . . .oh hell with it, what’s the matter Damien, sultry siren not to you’re liking? How about this?” Malventia said with a smile. 

Maggie watched as the woman’s skin lightened slightly and her hair changed from deep black to golden blond. Malventia closed her eyes and compressed coal black into diamond blue. She looked exactly as Maggie wanted to look someday, a flawless beauty. The sort that would have made one of Maggie’s brothers seriously consider marrying outside the family. 

“How about this instead?” she asked 

Damien seemed unimpressed. He leaned against the wall,frowned and shook his head. Malventia raised an eyebrow, then changed again. Her hair turned black again, and her skin became golden. Her eyes turned dark brown and became almond shaped, like the Oykotians. 

Damien still failed to give a response. She changed again, her hair shortening and become curly, her skin darkening to the color of dark chocolate, a perfect Nubian queen. 

“I can be anything you want, Damien,” 

“Good, then you can be gone,” he answered. Malventia skin paled again, her hair a rich brown and her eyes widened and went back to blue. The perfect girl next door. assuming you lived next to a whorehouse, Maggie could imagine Susan saying. 

“You used to always want me, I couldn’t keep you away,” se said, pouting. 

“I was fifteen, your only competition was my right hand,” 

“Come away with me Damien,”she said. She indicated his clothing,”You look like a witch, this isn’t the Damien Draco I knew and loved.” 

“Damien Draco died fifteen years ago,:” 

“Your father misses you,”Malventia said, then gave a sexy little wriggle,”I miss you to, Damien.” 

“So you are working with my father?” 

“Oh sort of, he has a little something going down in Lander, “she said,”Though he’s going crazy wondering what you’re up to..” 

She leaned in close and began to lick his ear. 

“What is it you’re up to Damien,” 

He pushed her away,and turned to leave.She stepped back in shock and anger. 

“You’re. . .you’re rejecting me!” She said, her eyes beginning to glow a fiery red,”I am the Temptress, I am the succubus, NO MAN REJECTS ME!” 

“Hey sorry, It’s not you it’s me, ok, I’ve gone through some changes, “ He said. 

“Better men than you have fallen prey to me!” 

“I just think we should keep it as just friends. . .well maybe not exactly friends as such,” 

Malventia began to change again, this time her skin darkening to deep reds and black, like coals in a fire Horns sprang from her forehead and curled like a rams, her delicate fingernails became horrible claws. Her ears stretched into points. 

“Well theres no reason to get upset,”Damien said, unaffected.”I’m sure you’ll find someone else. Someday” 

He took a step back, just narrowly avoiding a swipe from her clawed hand. 

“Although, you really need to control you’re temper. I mean I like my women as fiesty as the next guy, but this is a little much.” 

“You fool!, I’ll have you! I’ll take you if I have to!”she said, small flames punctuating her sentences. 

“Then you lose,”Damien said.”If you have to take it you lose.” 

Malventia paused, then shifted back to the blue-eyed, big breasted blond mode. She smile as sweetly as she could at Damien. 

“Please Damien?” she sai, her long lashes fluttering again. 

“No,”he said, ”I know what you are, and I have other interests now.” 

“You’ve not seen the last of me Damien Draco!”Malventia said. Maggie saw a circle of flame open in the air. Malventia stepped through it and vanished. The circle closed into nothingness behind her. 

“Damn,” Damien swore. A trash can hit the gound, nd he spun around to see Maggie crwling around behind it. 

“Oh yuck! she said,”what am I sitting in? Oh guacamole.” 

“Er, not exactly,”Damien said,”How much of that did you hear?” 

“Um, everything?” she said”What’s going on Mr. Taft?” 

Damien sighed and helped her up. 

“Let’s go get Mistress Crone and the brooms, we’ve got a lot to talk about.” 

“He rejected you? How?”Vlad said, his face reflecting his shock. Malventia had never failed before. Men were notoriously easy to seduce. She pace angrily in front of him, burning holes in the carpet with each footstep. 

“I don’t know how!, All men desire me and. . .” she paused. Not all men desired her. There were of course cerain types who had other preferences.She smiled ‘Of course, that must be it. I’d have never suspected it of him. He doesn’t really seem the type. Also explains his litle ‘I’m a witch bit.’ ” 

“What type?” 

“Well Vlad, I hate to be the one to tell you but, I think you’d have been better off getting an incubus for this job. 

“One of those things they use to hatch eggs?” Vlad said, his brow furrowing. Malventia sighed. 

“I am a succubus, a female demon designed for sexual temptation,an incubus is the male version of me” 

“Oh,” He replied,”Why would I have neede one of those” 

“Well Darling I think Damien must be a bit,” Malventia held up one arm, letting her hand dangle limply at the wrist. 

“What are you talking about? 

“Oh you know,”she said. letting her hand bounce limply on the end of her arm. 

“You mean. . .” 

“Mmm-hmm” 

“I, I never suspected,”Vlad said,his voice shaking.”I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it, or any thing.” “There are priests in some religions that would disagree with you,”Malventia sadi with a shrug. Vlad gave her an odd look 

“There are are religions that have a problem with it?” 

“Oh yes, of course,” 

“But it’s not as if it can be helped!” 

“That’s amazingly tolerant of you,”Said Malvantia in surprise. 

“Although I suppose he could have avoided repetative motion, I hear that causes it,” 

“It does?!” 

“So they tell me,” Vlad shook his head.”I just can’t believe it.” 

“Well I’m afraid it must be true,” 

“My son is suffering from Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.” 

“Carpal. . .”Malvantia looked at him carefully ”You really need to get out more.” 

Just outside the room, Glod stood eavesdropping. Grog walked up and tapped him angrily on the shoulder. 

“Whaddya think you’re doing?” 

“Malventia’s in there,”Glod explained.”She tried to seduce Damien and he told her to take a hike.” 

Grog looked in at the barely clad form of the succubus. 

“He turned that down?” he asked. Glod nodded. “Wonder why?” 

“Well right now, Malventia’s sayin,hold on a second,” Glod turned to hear more. He turned back with his brow furrowe.”She’s blaming it on him working in packaging department of a candy factory.” 

“Huh?” Grog said.”what kind of candy?” 

“Fudge she said,” 

“Peanut butter, or chocolate.” 

“She didn’t say.” 

“I’m never eating fudge again,”Grog said. 

“I’m saying he plays for the other team!”Malventia said,trying not to shout. 

“We Draco’s have never been much for sports,”Vlad said, “We’re loners to the core.” 

Malventia groaned and rubbed her temples. 

“Gay! Gay!, I’m saying he’s gay!” maventia shouted.”Do you understand GAY!” 

“Of course I do,”Vlad said,”What kind of fool do you think I am?” 

“Good!” 

“I just don’t understand why he would have turned you down simply because he was in a good mood.” 

Malven rubbed her temples, she could feel the migraine starting. She gave Vlad a look of strained patience. 

“Damien got his brains from his mother didn’t he?” 



Chapter 8 
The Parting 



Telling the truth can be dangerous business, honesty and popularity don’t go hand in hand. Damien sighed as he prepared for a major setback in his relationship with Susan. They’d come to a large field halfway between home and Lander, where he decided to come clean.He had known this moment would eventually come, but he tried to put it off as long as possible. At least there were no trombones within one hundred miles, he’d made sure of that. 

“You are who?” Susan demanded, her eyes flashing with stone cold fury. 

“I am Damien Taft,” Damien said,”I used to be Damien Draco, the only son of Vlad Draco, current Lord of the House of Draco.” 

“A family known for it’s Dark Wizards, “ Susan said,”Evil power mad fiends. And we’ve been travelling with one!” 

“I am not. . .” 

“I cannot believe I trusted you!” 

“You did? When exactly was this?” 

Come along Maggie,” Susan said spinning on her heels and grabbing her broom.”We are going home!” 

“Good idea,”Damien said,”I’ve made you a mp . . 

“Hah!”Susan said, she spun and had her finger up in his face faster than he could think.”First of all do you honestly think that I would trust a map from such a foul fiend as yourself, a beast from the House of Draco. Secondly I don’t need a map thank you very much. A true witch never gets lost.” 

“Follow me Maggie!” Susan said,launching herself into the air. 

Maggie grabbed her own broom and looked sadly at Damien. 

“I’ll miss you Mr. Taft,” she said. 

“I’ll miss you to Maggie,” he said, smiling sadly. 

“Er, um Mr. Taft . .?” 

“Heres the map Maggie,” 

“Thank-you sir,” 

Unfortunately for Susan, it didn’t take long for the entire rest of the world to get lost. Efforts get it straight again were complicated by the apparent fact that her allergies were acting, which was the reason her eyes were watering thank you very much. Of course she’d known from day one that Damien couldn’t be trusted, she’d only gone along to find ot what he’d been up to. Yes, Only that, it wasn’t like she’d let some smooth talking handsome man get to her. No, not at all, she wasn’t some weepy little girl pining for Prince Charming, or anything. 

No she knew how to guard herself. Damien could never get to her, no sir. Not that she had even given him much thought since leaving, hardly a thought at all. He was practically forgotton. In fact she was quite sure she couldn’t remember who she’d not been thinking about. 

“Mistress Crone?” Maggie asked flying up alongside her.”can we stop so I. . .” 

“No I don’t!” 

“Don’t what?” 

“I don’t miss him and I was not at all falling for him, so just drop it !” 

“Er, ok, but I really need to. . “ 

“Oh I know what you’re thinking, Mistress Crone is simply afraid to admit to her feelings,” 

“Well, maybe but you see those fajita things I ate. . . ‘ 

“She won’t admit what she wants, thats why she turned tail and ran at the first excuse she got, that’s what you’re thinkin isn’t it?” 

“Actually, I’m thinking. maybe six helpings of refried beans was a bit much. . .” 

“Well you’re wrong, I am very much aware of my feelings, I just didn’t like him that much,” 

“That’s good, but after all those baskets of tortilla chips I really really should. . .” “Oh sure he was handsome enough I suppose but the truly evil always are.” “Yeah ok but those chimichangas I had . . .” “Sure he had a certain charm, but only a fool falls for that.” “Mistress Crone those burrito thingies aren’t. . .” “Sure he had that special way of looking at me, but I am far to practical for things like that.” “And you see all that hot sauce. . .” “Of he could make me feel... .special, but really Maggie a woman needs more than that.” “The guacamole is sitting ok, but I think that the flautas are . . .” “OK OK so maybe I liked him a bit, but not much,” “Yeas well it’s just that those tostadas. . .” “Oh fine I suppose you just want to rush to Lander to help him don’t you?” “Well what I really . . .” “OK Fine! Have it your way. We’ll go there and then you can see what kind of scum he really is!” Susan angrily turned her broom on a dime and headed in the opposite direction. 

“Mistress Crone!” Maggie cried out. 

“What now?” 

A sound, similar to the love child of a sick goose and a machine gun echoed through the air.Susan stopped and sniffed 

”Oh! what is that smell?”She asked. 

“Uh, that would be me,” said Maggie, her face turning bright red. 

“Honestly Maggie, we could have srtopped, why didn’t you just say something?” 

Magic abhors a lack of drama. This is why even a simple spell for transforming a member of the squash family into something more suitable for travel, has to have a least a little trail of sparkly things. This also explains meaningless puffs of smoke when trying to turn a tiger into a woman in spangly tights, or why such a big deal is made of successfully guessing which card has been picked from the deck. The bigger the spell, the bigger the effect on the enviroment around it. This is why Lander, which had once been an active city teeming with people now sat dark and forbidding on the shore of a great lake of bubbling green ooze. Strange vines had grown, strangling the buildigs, including the royal castle which sat in the center of town. Any spell with these sorts of consequences would also use up all the magic in the immediate vicinity. 

“Kudzu,” Damien said. These strange vines always grew when magic left. In fact some had suggested they actually killed magic themselves, much as they pulled down tree, and any foundationally weak buildings. Damien felt Widowmaker begin to sputter as it came closer to Lander and the magic began to weaken. 

“C’mon girl,” he said, shifting into neutral and trying to restart. Widowmaker sputtered bck to life, and Damien decided to fly her lower. The magic had disappeared, he could feel it like a gnawing empty hunger. “Dammit, Pop what have you done this time.” 

The power steering and power brakes went out, signs that Widowmaker had cut off again. He jerked up on the stick, but Widowmaker, began a rapid spiraling descent towars the ground. It occured to Damien that he hadn’t gotten himself quite low enough. The ground came towards him at a dizzying speed. He wondered if he’d actually die right away or lie bleeding for a while. 

He heard them, and smelt them a few moments before they laid their furry hands on him and lifted him off the falling broom. Widowmaker continued on and he saw it hit the ground and explode in a fiery crash. 

He looked at his rescuer/captors. 

“He’s using you guys now?” 

Maggie saw the explosion off in the distance, as she and Susan headed towards Lander. Her broom didn’t seem to be acting right, and she patted it reassuringly. Then she saw them, flying in towards them on batlike wings. 

“What are those?” 

“What?”Susan said, “Oh hell turn around. Quick.” 

Both brooms executed hairpin turns, but another group had come up behind them. The flying monkeys screamed as they closed in on the witches. Leathery wings stirred the still night air, as the airborne primates circled closer. They wore a light leather armor and had swords and crossbows, plus they were monkeys and monkeys have their own special weapons. 

“Mallafocanium. . .uck, ptui, ptui,”Susan spat repaetedly, having taken a direct hit in the mouth. “Yuck they’re throwing poop at us!” 

Susan tried again, but her wand gave a sad little sputter. She could fel her broom dying out beneath her. A monkey flew screaming towards her. . . then spun out of control as one of it’s wings fell towards the ground. Maggie flew behind it brandishing a ninja sword. 

“Maggie fly low, the magic’s gone,”Susan called out. Maggie sheathed the sword and griiped her dying broom with both hands. She flew in low and much to fast, crashing through the tree top going much to fast for a good landing. She saw the monkeys close in on Mistress Crone. Susan gripped her broom tightly, and when the monkeys grabbed her, she began to swing it like a club, taking out two of them. Maggie couldn’t watch long as her own predicament took up most of her concentration. Then Maggie’s forehead met a large tree branch and she and her broom crashed to the ground, landing in a heap among some very strange herbs. 

“Good evening Damien,”Vlad said with a smile as his son entered the study. He signaled for Grog, Glod, Malventia and the monkeys to leave the room. “Been keeping yourself well I see.” 

Damien looked at his father, knowing all to well that they were almost mirror images of each other. The same anular features, same goatee. Same long hair in a braid. Add twenty years to Damien, change the black hair to grey and you’d have Vlad Draco. They both looked damn good in black. Then Damien noticed the medallion, and the way his father kept messing around with it absent-mindedly. 

“You know a decent gardener might be able to do something about all those weeds,” Damien said, indicating the abundance of vines growing outside the window. Vlad waved his hand dismissively. 

“Damn Kudzu, side effect of the spell. I’m afraid.” He indicated a large tome sitting on the table. “The Diabolica Faux Brandismentia, the lost book of the sorceror Tunish. In two hours the planets shall align, and we will enter into the age of Glunis, do you know what that means?” 

“I’m guessing it allows you tap into some vast unimaginable power,” Damien said with a sigh, “Which of course you plan on using to take over the world, but instead will overpower you and unleash various horrors upon the world.” 

“That doesn’t always happen,” Vlad said looking indignant. “Anyway what are you planning that’s any better?” 

“Nothing,” 

“Oh please Damien, don’t try to outfox you’re father.”Vlad said,”I know you went to Lyrtle.” 

“Yes I was on vaction.” 

“Oh Please! I already know you bought a snowcone,”Vlad gave him a patented Draco all knowing sinister smile. 

“Yes,”Damien replied,”Lots of people do. That’s why they have the stand you know.” 

“Oh, and you expect me to believe you simply ate it,” 

“Yes, I did, It was blue rasberry.” 

“Blue rasberry! You fool! Have you forgotton everything I ever taught you?” Vlad shouted. 

“I like blue rasberry, what’s the problem?” 

“The problem? The problem?” Vlad raged “The problem you simpleton is that in order to do the summoning of the Demon Astrolechgoth,you need a watermelon snowcone! Dammit I don’t need this, I have weak heart you know.” 

“I wasn’t going to do the summ. . .You can summon a demon with a snowcone?” 

“Yeah, “Vlad said, “They live in the fiery pits of hell, Snowcones, slushies, anything cool will attract them. Even a smoothie for the more health conscious ones.” 

“Huh, live and learn,”Damien said with a shrug.”The point is I wasn’t going to summon any demon.” 

“Why not?”Vlad said, “Summoning demons is a long and respected tradition among dark wizards.” 

“I’m not a dark wizard, dad,” Damien said,”I’m a witch now.” 

“ACK! My heart! Myheart!”Vlad said collapsing in a chair and clutching his chest.”How could you do this to me? What did I do to deserve this?” 

“Well let’s see, you left me to die at the hands of your enemies, while you saved your own butt,”Damien said. 

“That was a charater building experience,”Vlad protested. 

“I made it out, but just barely.” Damien contiued, ignoring the interruption, “Granny Taft found me, nursed me back to health, and got me thinking about wht I wanted to do with my life. 

“What you wanted to do with your life? You are a Draco, and for one thousand generations the Draco’s have. . .” 

“Failed miserably at all attempts to take over the world,” 

Damien finished for him, “When Granny offered to train me in witchcraft it seemed like the better option.” 

“We don’t always fail, you’re great grandfather Diablo ruled the country of Flan for over ten years!” Vlad said, standing and pointing dramatically. 

“Yes, till the rightful heir showed up and cut his head off,”Damien said,”I’d like to keep mine thank you very much.” 

“Oh, my heart,”Vlad said, placing his hand on his chest,”what are you trying to tell me Damien?” 

“That I think the whole dark wizardry thing is kind of stupid,”Damien replied. 

“ACK! ACK!” Vlad cried, one hand clutched his chest, the other flew straight out to the side. He looked heaven-ward and staggered dramatically. “Tatianna! Tatianna! I’m coming to join you baby!” 

“Mom’s not dead dad,” Damien said folding his arms,”she poisoned you and ran off with that barbarian hero, remeber?” 

“Oh, right,”Vlad regained his composure “Glod, grog!” 

“Take him away,”Vlad said as they entered the room.”Throw him in with that other witch” 

The two henchmen grabbed Damien by his arms to take him away. 

“You’ve ripped your poor fathers heart out, I hope you’re happy,” Vlad called out as they led Damien away. 

“Whoa man, like I think she’s waking up man,” 

Maggie slowly opened her eyes, trying to focus despite the pain in her head. She became dimly aware of two figures before her. They seemed a bit smaller than a human. Smaller in fact than dwarves or elves. Yet they were too big to be gnomes or fairies. They stood about two feet tall, and both had long unwashed hair, with headbands. Both wore pants of blue denim which flared out like bells at the bottom of the legs and no shoes. The doublets however caught the most attention, they were short sleeved and cotton, and had an eye-clashing myriad of colors, in strange patterns all over. 

“Like welcome back to the world dudette, care for a hit?” One of them proffered a strange smelling cigarette. 

“Er, no thanks.” Maggie looked around, she appeared to be in a room made of wood. At second glance she appeared to be in a room inside a tree. Posters in eye watering color covered the walls, and a doorway to another room had a beaded curtain hanging in front of it. 

”Where am I? Who are you?” 

“You are like in the commune of magic Munchkin folk,man, We’re like the Munchkins, man, I’m like Moonchild, and this is like my old lady Stardust. Y’know man.” 

“Peace,” said Stardust, holding up one hand in a semi-closed fist but with the index and middle fingers extended up to form a v. at first Maggie felt offended, but then she realized the palm faced out not in and the gesture probably didn’t mean what she thought it did. 

“Uh, peace” she said, returning the gesture. They both smile at her in a faintly dazed way. Off in the distance she could have sworn she smelled brownies baking.”I’m Maggie.” 

“We like found you in our garden of magic herbs,man” Moonchild said. He took a drag on the funny cigarrete, and held in the smoke for a bit. He then passed it to Stardust who did the same. “So like we bought you here, man” 

“Yeah, man, you were like moaning about going to Lander,”Sardust said, “Like why would anyone go there now,Man?” 

“Yeah like it used it used to be the happening scene, man”Moonchild said,”Y’now Stardust and me like we used to go in and like sell our magic herbal brownies, man.” 

“Yeah it was like a big munchkin community here, and like it was all like peace and love, and like mellow, you know,”Said Stardust, taking another hit on the cigarette and pasing it to Moonchild.”Then like Vlad Draco took over, and it was all like power and money, and that’s just not our bag man.” 

Maggie gave a faint smile as she smelled the smoke, She began to realx and found herself giglling uncontrollably. 

“Like you got anything to eat eat,”Maggie said,”Man.” 

“Oh sure, like I just took some herbal brownies out of the oven,”said Stardust, I’ll like go get some.” 

She left through the curtain of beads, and returned a short while later carrying a large plate of brownies. Maggie gratefully accepted two. The were warm and moist and as she ate them she began to feel really mellow. She giggled, and the posters on the wall giggled with her. 

“Whoa, “Maggie said,”Like this is primo stuff, man.” 

Captured by flying monkeys, her broom and wand taken away, tossed in a damp cell infested with rats and roaches, chained to the wall, and facing certain death, Susan began to relax. This sort of situation she knew how to handle. She could get very angry in a situation like this and some people were going to get hurt, badly if Susan had anything to do with it. 

A blue-eyed blond with a figure with a small nose and all the curves Susan would never possess, strode into the cell purposefully and walked over to Susan. Each woman gave the other an apraising look, but the blond gave look of shocked annoyance when Susan managed to get in the disdainful sniff first. 

“What’s the matter?” Susan asked,”Couldn’t afford the entire dress?” 

“Hmm, just because you don’t have the body to pull off a look like this,”Maleventia said, indicating what could barely be described as dress, since it barely contained any material. A few silken scraps covered a delicate areas, though it gave the impression the a good gentle breeze would take care of even those small concessions to modesty. Susan gave a disinterested shrug. 

“I’ve never entertained much interest in looking like a discount prostitute” she said. 

“I’ve seduced thousands men. I am what men want, you hawk nosed witch,” Maleventia said. “I am what they all want.” 

“You’re the one Maggie saw in the alleyway are’t you?” Susan asked,”Seems you could’t quite manage to be what Damien wanted” 

“Damien’s obviously gay!” 

“Well he is in a good mood quite often,” Susan said,”At least he seems to be the way he keeps hittiing on me.” 

“WHAT!” Malventia’s eyes began to glow red. 

“Face it, I’ve got what he wants and you don’t,” Susan said with a slightly knowing, evil smile. The demoness came in closer, bringing her face right up to the witches. 

“Don’t fool yourself, little witch,”Malventia said,”Damien will be mine.” 

“Get out of my face bitch, before I have to kick your ass,”Susan said, with irritating calmness. Malventia drew herself back, her skin turning burnt red, horns curling out of her forehead. she grew in size till she stood towering over Susan. 

“What was that, Little witch, “Malventia said, her forked tongue flicking out to punctuate the sentence. 

“Are you deaf, or just stupid,” Susan said, “I said back off bitch or I’ll kick your ass.” 

Had there been a trace of fear in Susan’s voice Malventia would have been pleased. Anger would have been the second choice, because anger would have been fear, redirected and badly disguised. But Susan used the tone of strained patience that one might use to try and get rid of a especially irritating child. Malventia sputtered a moment, the shrank back down to her usual blond blueyed form, and stomped out of the room. She tripped and twisted her ankle, because stomping in seven inch spike heels is not a good idea. 



Chapter 9 
The Medallion 



Damien stood looking out the window of his cell, when the door opened and Grog and Glod thrust Susan in. She fell to the floor, then looked up, rose and ran to him. She threw her arms around him. and looked up into his eyes. 

“Oh, Damien you’re safe, I was so frightened,” She said, with a sob. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle but firm push. 

“Back off Malventia, “he said. 

“Wha. . . What are you talking about?” Susan said as tears streamed down her face. ”Damien, it’s me.” 

“You have to many curves, Susan’s nose is less like a hawks bill and more like a puffin’s,” Damien said, ”and frankly the real Susan would have tried to kick me in the groin by now.” 

“Damn you Damien,”Malventia said, once agian reverting to her default state of blond. “How can you possibly be attracted to that hawk-nosed, . . “ 

“Puffin nosed,” he corrected. 

“Whatever!,That puffin nosed . . .witch!” 

“Becuase she’s everything you’re not,” Damien said 

“Flat chested, big nosed, prudish and bitchy?” 

“You’re both a bit bichy, “ Damien said, “But she has intriguging bitchiness.” 

“I’ll have you know that I’ve been to Bute, and Calicrantia, and anywehre you could run,”she said,”I took the hand of a high priest and we made love in the sun. And sipped champagne on a yacht!” 

“Yeah whatever,” 

“I’ve been undressed by kings, and I’ve seen some things a woman isn’t supposed to see!” 

“Yeah, well you’ve been to paradise, alright, but you’ve never been to me,” Damien said,”and I don’t see that trip anywhere in your immediate future.” 

“Fine Damien,” Malventia said, turning to leave,”Then maybe the two of you can just DIE together!” 

“Like, I really need to go to Lander,” Maggie said, thought a moment and added, ”man,” 

“Maggie that place has like a dark karma, y’know man,” said Moonchild,”Like the man is always busting up our scene y’know man.” 

“Yeah like it used be a place where all the muchkins could go and be mellow, man,”said Starchild,”But like the all munchkins disappeared when then flying monkeys all showed up, man.” 

“But like my friends are there man, “Maggie said, eating another brownie,”They’re like trying to bust up this Dark Wizards scene, y’know man.” 

“Oh now that’s really groovy, man” said Moonchild.”I can like get behind that, man” 

“Yeah, that’s like really groovy, y’know,I mean we could bring back like good karma to that place,”said Starchild, “Like it’d be back in line with the cosmos, y’know,man” 

“Groovy,” Maggie, trying to rememembr exactly how one went about standing up. The floor seemed uncooperative, but she finally managed it, after only seven tries. Moonchild and Stardust also got up. 

“Like I’ll get the van ready, “said Moonchild,”Stardust get some brownies, and Maggie, go pick some flowers.” 

“Like why should I pick flowers man?” 

“Like,If you’re going to Lander put some flowers in your hair,” Starchild answered. 

“Oh,”said Maggie,”Groovy.” 

“Ahh Malventia, any luck,”Vlad asked as the succubus strode into thre great hall of the castle. She glared at him angrily in reply. He turned back to his prepartions “I guess not. Well I’ll have to kill him. Pity really, he’s my only child, but I suppose I can eventually make another one that looks just like him.” 

He positioned his medallion on an altar, checking to make sure it lay directly in alignment with a huge rose wondow at the far end of the hall. A large space had been cleared away in front of the altar in order to actually perform the spell. He checked the directions in his ancient tome, then smiled with satisfaction. Malventia watched him intently. 

“What is it you are doing exactly,” she finally asked. 

“ah,” he said,”You see by perfoming the Rite of Waye, I’ve ben able to capture all the magic in the immediate area, and place it in the medallion. But shortly there will be an alignment of the planets, what the munchikins call harmonic convergence..” 

“Munchkins!,” she said, spitting on the floor.”tree huggers,” 

“I admit they are a strange and useless race,”Vlad said,”But when this ‘Harmonic Convergence occurs, I shall be able to capture all of the magic in the world, focusing it into the medallion.” 

“Whoever controls that medallion will control the world,”Malventia said softly. 

“Exactly,”said Vlad, turning to her wildly.”And you know who that will be?” 

“You?”she asked, in a voice dripping with seductive poison. 

“Exactly!” 

Or perhaps me, Malventia thought. 

Glod and Grog had been placed on guard duty at the only gate to the city of Lander. They stood in silence, watching out over the dark, mist shrouded roads. There were no longer any birds or animals to make any noise this close to the city, so the night lay deathly silent. 

“Hey, Grog,” 

“What?” 

“You hungry?” 

“No!” 

“Oh, me neither” 

“We just had dinner,” 

“Yeah, but that was two hours ago,” 

They stood in silence for a few more minutes. 

“Hey Grog,” 

“What!” 

“You sure you’re not hungry,” 

“Yes I’m sure.” 

“Cause you know if you were hungry, I’d be glad to go get you some food, y’know, if you were hungry.” 

“Well I’m not, so just stay there.” 

“Oh, ok,” 

“Even if I were, the boss would skin us alive if we left our post.” 

“Yeah, I guess so,” 

“So even if I were hungry, which I’m not, I’d rather not think about it,” 

“Ok,” 

“Not that I’m hungry,” 

Then they heard it, softly in the distance, the creak of wagon wheels, the sound of a guitar being strumed and singing. 

“Like,If I had a crowbar, man Like,I’d pry stuff in the morning I’d pry stuff in the evening,man Like, something something something, something 

Like, i forget the words, and like really even the melody, man 

Yeah like if i had a crowbar, man” 

Glod saw them first, the small muchkin horses, the ones Moonchild called Vee and Dubble Ewe, pulling the oblong munchkin cart. The cart stood tall enough for the munchkins to sit inside, though only Moonchild rode here, steering the horses.It resembled a like a tall box that had been slightly rounded off on either end. it had been painted with multi colored stylized flowers, and on either side a symbol, like a circle bisected vertically, with arms coming off the midddle bar and reaching downward. Maggie and Stardust sat on the top of the bus, and sang as Stardust strummed the guitar. 

“Hold it right there,”said Grog, stepping forward. Moonchild pulled the the reins bringing the bus to a stop. He flashed a peace sign at the two henchmen. 

“Like, peace, man,” 

“We don’t need your type here, so scram,” said Grog, jerking his thumb in the direction in which from which they had just come. 

“Why you gotta hassle us man?”asked Stardust,”We’re just,y’know spreading our message of peace and love,” 

“Yeah peace and love,”said Maggie, who had stowed her witches hat in the van and replaced it with a headband. 

“Scram, Ya calmmie bastards,” Grog said 

“Yeah get going you tree hugging. . . .”Glod stopped and sniffed,”are those brownies?” 

“Yeah man, want some?” 

“No we. . .”said Grog, “Boy those do smell good, but we are not going to . . .have more than a couple, or so.” 

In the great hall, Vlad had finished making the preparations. He stood solemly and moved to the space before the altar. One dozen skeletons lay on the ground behind him, Each clad in a shapeless grey robe. Malventia watched from the sidelines as he closed his eyes in concentration and the skeletons rose behind him, till they stood in a large circle all facing each other. Vlad turned to face into the circle with them He pulled out a small band of terry cloth which he placed upon his head. Then he slowly dropped his robes,the skeltons imitatated his actions. 

Malventia gasped. 

Beneath the robes Vlad and his skeletal warriors wore striped leotards, blue tights and yellow leg warmers. Vlad raised his hands and a strange rythmic music began from some unseen source. The music increased its speed. 

“Let us begin,”Vlad called out, as he and the undead warriors began a strange, but very enegetic, and highly choreographed dance number. 

“Put your left foot in,”he commanded, as they followed his command. 

“Pull your left foot out!” 

“Put your left foot in ” Vlad called.”and shake it all about” 

Malventia watched in horrified fascination as the dance continued. The movement went on to the right foot, then the right hand, then the left hand, and so on.Vlads commands, a sort of primordial chant which not only told the dancers what to do, but had a meaning all their own. He did an odd dance,then he turned himself around. 

That was what it was all about. 

Malventia shivered with the sheer power of the song and the dance. The singer controlled the dancers, making them do things they wold never otherwise do. She watched as they put their whole bodies into it, then pulled them out again. as they returned their bodies to the circle and began to shake them, a great light burst through the rose window. It flowed green and sizzling focusing it self smaller. It ended in Vlad’s medallion, which rested on the altar. 

Vlad turned to the altar, his eyes gleaming. The skeletal dancers fell to the floor behind him, once again lifeless. 

“At last,”he cried out,”all of the power in the world! and it’s all. . .” 

Cr-ash, tinkletinkle. 

Vlad slumped into unconsciouness on the floor as Malventia dropped the remnants of the vase she broken over his head. She stepped foreward and picked up the glowing medallion from the altar. 

“Mine,she said. ”All mine.” 

“Oh man am I falling off this chair?” asked Glod in a panic. “Man, you’re like sitting on the floor dude,”said Grog.”Man those brownies were really good, but I am still so hungry.” “I’m thirsty, do we have any juice?” “Yeah juice would be good, and some of those corn chips from 

Pampasloner,” “And some ice cream,” “And a pizza,” “And some juice,” “Oh man!Oh Jeez man,” “What’s the matter, man?” “Am I Glod or Grog, man?” 

“Oh man I don’t know!” 

“Oh, man, oh man!” 

“Ahhhhh!” 

“Wait a minute man,” 

“What, man?” 

“Does it really matter man?” 

“Naw man,” 

“Groovy” 

“It was great the way they gave us those cigarettes,” Glod said, taking another hit and passing it to Grog.”But man I’m like worried, I heard that like smoking was bad for you.” 

“Dude, these are like herbal cigarettes,” replied Grog,”Herbal means it’s good for you.” 

“Groovy,”Glod said, helping himself to another brownie. Grog stared at him a moment. 

“Y’know man,”Grog said,”anyone ever tellyou that you are like really sexy man.” 

“Like thanks man,” 

“Nah man I mean it,” Grog said, rising to his feet,”You are one fine looking man.” 

“Groovy,” 

“You wanna dance, man?” 

“Yeah., groovy,” 

Eight primate eyes watched as Maggie and the Munchkins made their way through Lander. The four monkeys swooped behind them in a silent pursuit. Maggie turned around just as the monkeys landed. The monkeys began advancing, brandishing their weapons in a menacing way. 

“Here they come,” Moonchild warned, “walking down the street.” 

“Hey, Hey!”said Maggie,”It’s the monkeys.” 

“People say they monkey around,” said Stardust with a giggle. 

“Hey monkeys,”said Moonchild,”Take a hit man.” 

He proffered up one of his custom-made hand-rolled herbal cigarettes. One of the monkeys accepted it cautiously, then took a long drag on it. It looked at the a moment, and handed the cigarette to another monkey. The four passed it among themselves, and Maggie saw them begin to change. 

Their wings and fur all fell of, and they began to shrink. 

“Man does it feel good to get small again,”said the first monkey as he shrank down, transforming into a munchkin. The other three followed suit. Moondust looked at them. 

“Like, Mike! Davey!Peter! Mickey!”Moonchild exclaimed,”Good to see you guys again.” 

“Wha. . .!’ Susan cried as the chains holding her to the wall released and a trapdoor opened beneath her feet. She fell through it, sliding down a chute to land, hard, on her rump in another cell. She looked up and to her disgust saw Damien. True to what he’ds told Malventia, she imediately got up and tried to kick him in the groin. Twice. 

She paused at the grinding sounds of doors being opened. Seven flat reptiles, their long snouts filled with sharp teeth, waddled into the room. She looked over at Damien in disgust. 

“Another one of your evil schemes Mr. draco?” she said with a sneer. 

“Oh yes,” he said,”Everyone knows that if you are going to take over the world, the best way to do it is to be eaten by crocodiles.” 

“Oh don’t go being sarcastic with me, I know you villainous types.” Susan said, crossing her arms,”and for your information, those are alligators. “ 

“Oooh, miss can’t change the spots on a tiger is now an expert on zoology” Damien said,”Listen I grew up with all my fathers menagerie of deadly beasts, and I think I know crocodiles when I see them.” 

“Yeah, well I grew up near the swamp, and I know alligators when I see them,” 

“Oh well it’s good that little miss can’t be wrong has spoken,”Damien said. He gestured towards the reptiles.”Sorry guys, I know we all thought you were crocodiles, but she says that you’re alligators.” 

“Oh don’t get get angry with me Mr. Lying son of an evil wizard, “Susan said,”Just because you can’t tell the difference between an alligator and a crocodile.” 

“You know, I didn’t exactly have a lot of control over who I was born to,”Damien said.”And they are crocodiles.” 

“They are alligators, and you still shouldn’t have lied about who you were.” 

“First of all as far as I’m concerned I am Damien Taft. Damien Draco died fifteen years ago. Second of all, you didn’t want to give me a chance from the very start, even before you found out who I was,”Damien said.”Third, they are crocodiles.” 

“Well it turns out I was right not to trust you wasn’t I,”Susan said,”Alligators!” 

“Yeah, maybe you were!”Damien said,”Crocodiles!” 

“Why didn’t you just sleep with that little tramp shape shifter?” Susan asked.”Alligators.” 

“I’m really not sure,”Damien replied.”Crocodiles!” 

They both folded their arms and stood in silence for a moment. the large unidentified reptiles sat unmoving watching them. 

Wow, thought their tiny reptilian brains, this is far mor interesting than the usuall screaming and panicking. 

“Why isn’t magic working?”asked Susan finally.”alligators.” 

“Some spell my father cast,”Damien answered.”crocodiles!” 

“Hmmph, acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree,”Susan said,”Alligators!” 

“Why are you here any way? I thought you and Maggie went home.”Damien said, ”And they are crocodiles!” 

“Well, um, Maggie was worried about you, so I agreed to come,”Susan said,”and I know what an alligator looks like thank you very much.” 

“Where is Maggie anyway?”Damien asked.”And you might know about alligators but you damn sure can’t recognize a crocodile.” 

“Her broom went down outside the city, she hit her head, but it looks like she made it down okay.”Susan said, worry evident in her voice.”At least she won’t be eaten by alligators.” 

“Nor crocodiles,”Damien said. Another trapdoor opened in the ceiling and Vlad Draco came tumbling through it. He hit the ground and sat there moaning for a moment. Damien looked at his fathers leotard, tights and legwarmers. An outfit like that boded evil. 

“Let me guess,:He said,”You did the spell, summuned unimaginable power, and then Malventia betrayed you and seized power for herself.” 

“Good guess,”said Vlad, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Yeah well, I know our family,”Damien said.”Remeber great great grandfather Diablo and Morgantina?” 

“Imprisoned him forever in a block of crystal didn’t she?”Vlad said. 

“Yes and what about Circe?” 

“Ooh, she was a hottie,”Vlad said, smiling at the memory.”Voluptous curves, a tight, hot little. . .” 

“Uh dad, I’d really rather not think of grandma in those terms,” 

“Oh right, turned father into a pig didn’t she?” Vlad asked”What’s you’re point” 

“Oh just that then men in our family continually make bad choices regarding women,”Damien said, casting a look at Susan. Susan moved forward towards Vlad. 

“You’re Damien father?” 

“Er, yes,” 

“And you stocked this death trap?” 

“Yes,” 

“Fine, Damien says those things are crocodiles, I say that they are alligators,” Susan said, looking Vlad dead in the eye.”What are they?” 

Vlad turned to look at the large reptiles watching them. then he looked back at Susan. 

“They’re hungry,” he said. 

The world began to feel the effects of having it’s magic yanked forcibly from it. Dark clouds began to gather, magic herbs witherd and died. 

Deep beneath the waves, the mermen could feel themselves tranforming, changing painfully into schools of grouper. 

In Oykot, the dragons were to weak to pull the trains. Gorilla-whale transformed into a man in a rubber suit. Charlie’s hemmeroids came back with vengeance. 

Trolls shrank to become mere ugly dolls with bad hair. 

And the kudzu began to grow, hindering the path of several grass skirted natives and putting an indefinate halt to their quest. 

Malventia held the medallion in front of her face. The power surged through it, causing a irregular pulsating glow and it burned like cold flames. She held the source of unimaginable power, all the magic in the world at her command. With this Medallion she could, and would, rule the world. But she had one problem. 

She had no idea what to do first. 

The problem with omnipotence is the constant knowledge that whatever you use it for, it’s a waste of it. Like using a thermonuclear warhead, when a flyswatter would do, no goal you could have, no task you set out to do could possibly be big enough to equal the power you held. Malventia dreamt big, but comppared to the power she held, she couldn’t dream big enough. 

But, even considering all that something else bothered her, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She decided to give the medallion a test. She began to concentrate on a simple spell. . . 

ZZZZZZZZZAAAAAAAPPPPPP! 
Before she could finish, or really even begin, a sreak of green light shot forth, changing a nearby bookcase into a large mouth bass. She held out the medallion, like someone discovering the gun was loaded after all. She held in her hands the single most powerful object ever, and she had no idea how to control it. 

She decided to try again, and an ottoman changed to a small bowll of flowers. A moment later a suit of armor in the corner began to tapdance, before dissolving into a puddle of custard. A group of miniature winged elephants, formerly bricks in the fireplace hearth, flew from the room. 

Perhaps, Malventia though after the end table began to sing the blues, just perhaps she should have pumped Vlad for a bit more information before sending him to die. 



Chapter 10 
Unidentified Reptiles 



A group of reptiles, crocodiles or possibly alligators, sat upon the floor, watching with keen interest. They would probably end up eating this group, more or less for the appearence of the thing. But frankly they’d already eaten once today, and being creatures of slow metabolism, weren’t particularly hungry. Not to mention that the young couple in the room were, against all logic, having a romantic spat, and frankly large toothy reptiles like a good soap opera as much as any one else. 

“You know your problem?” Damien asked. 

“Err, folks. . .”Vlad attempted to interrupt. 

“No but I’m sure you’ll tell me,”Susan answered. 

“You see there are lot of very hungry alligators, or possibly crocodiles all over. . .”Vlad tried again. 

“You’re so afraid to admit you like me, that you look for any excuse to hate me,” 

“Actually now that I come to think on it, they might be caimans, “ Vlad said, ”Seems like someone offered me a good deal on caimans.” 

“Hah! That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” 

“No wait aren’t caimans the ones with the little skinny mouths?” 

“Oh really? Then how do you explain it?” 

“Maybe these are crocodiles, after all.” 

“Maybe your ego just can’t handle the fact that I don’t find you attactive,” “No, no wait , I think that they are alligators, “Vlad said,”maybe.” “Oh please, back at the castle you were about ready to squirm out of that dress, after a couple of kisses to your toes.” “No wait, I tried to order alligators but they were fresh out so I got crocodiles,. . . or was it vice versa” “I most certaintly was not. I did not enjoy that little episode one bit.” “No, wait I remember, I tried to order crocodiles, but they had a special on alligators<” “Then why did yoiu keep asking me to do it again?” “Or maybe a special on crocodiles, damn I can’t remember,” “Well maybe I enjoyed, but I was thinking of someone else,” “Hell, maybe they’re caimans after all,” “Oh yeah, who?” 

“Big suckers whatever they are,” 

“um, none of you’re business.” 

Maggie found herself wandering along the maze of corridors in the castle. She had separated from Moonchild and Stardust, who were busy helping the flying monkeys change back into munchkins. Ahead of her she thought she heard familiar voices. The voices were obviously fighting. She walked up and opened the door and looked in to see if she could help. 

“You arrogaant son of a . . .”Susan stopped as Maggie opened the door. She had been pointing an angry finger at Damien, who also looked very angry. 

“Whoa dudes, like stop fighting man,”Maggie said,”You’re like messing your karmas all up. Like here, try these groovy brownies.” 

She opened her bag and began to walk towards them, casually stepping over the log like objects on the ground. 

“Maggie, watch out for the alligators!”Susan called. 

“Crocodiles,”Damien corrected. 

Maggie looked down at the reptile beneath her feet. 

“Whoa, look at the groovy lizards,” She said, delighted. “Like, hey lizards are you hungry?” 

A snap of jaws barely missed Maggie’s hand, but snapped upon a mixture of chocolate, and some high grade magic herb. The others began to close in on Maggie. 

“Like, don’t worry my goovy little lizard friends,”Maggie said with a faint smile,”I brought enough for everyone.” 

Monets later, Susan, Damien, Vlad, and Maggie strolled past a group of very mellow reptiles and into the corridor. Damien looked into Maggie glazed eyes. 

“Maggie,”he said,”Where did you get these brownies?” 

“Like I met some totally groovy munchkins,” 

“Munchkins, oh great,” Damien said, taking away Maggies bag. 

“I think you’ve had enough brownies for now.” “But Mr. Taft, they’re cool, They’re like herbal brownies,” “Herbal?” Susan asked,”What kind of herbs?” “The one that cost you you’re underpants,” Damien said. “Marjoram?” “No that was your corsett,” “Then what. . .oh no,”Suzan looked at Maggie,”How long will she be like this?” “Could be a while, Munchkins always have good stuff,” 

“It should be banned,”Susan said, crossing her arms.”it’s immoral.” 

“It’s good for an eye infection, “Damien replied,”Plus it can be a lot of fun.” 

A mouse became a carriage, with some pumpkins turning into horses. Malventia cursed and tried again. She would get control of this damn thing. She would not allow this power to go to waste, or fall into the wrong hands, i.e. someone else’s hands.The curtains turned into chickens, then exploded. 

It reacted before she even had a chance to think of what she wanted, the magic coming from the medallion with a mind of it’s own. If she could just figure out the pattern, figure out why it reacted as it did. Why did it change things into what it did? She needed to sit down but the sofa had run away an hour ago and most of the chairs had become aspiring jazz musicians. 

Vlad had left them as soon as they had escaped the crocodiles/alligators or possibly caimans. Damien had known he would, sticking around in times of adversity couldn’t be counted among his father’s strong points. Actually thinking about it, Damien couldn’t think of what his father’s strong points were. 

He scooped up Maggie, who had decided to take a nap. He carried her down the maze of corridors as Susan looked into each door, trying to find a way out. However the coridors seemed endless, mazes connected to mazes. They wandered for hours, but every step seemed to get them more and more lost.They ended up in a large bedchamber. Damien lay Maggie down on a large four poster bed and looked around. Susan walked through a door into another chamber. 

Damien followed her in, and watched as she sat upon a smaller bed. He sat beside her. 

“It’s the spell father cast,” he said,”It’s twisting this place like th kudzu vines..” 

“The acorn doesn’t fall far from the sea,” Susan grumbled. 

“As soon as I figure out what that means I’ll disagree with you,” Damien said. 

“It means like father like son,” she said, turning away from him. He looked at her a moment. Then without warning, he grabbed her ankles and locked them between his legs the way he had that day at his cottage. He lightly stroked the sole of her foot. 

“Ahhhh! what do you think you are doing?”suazan said,”Stop it!” 

“Say the magic words,” he said. 

“Plee-EEEE-ase.!”she said,quirming. 

“That’s one of them, “he said, tracing her instep,”But the entire phrase is,’please kiss me,” 

“I don’t thi-nnnnnn aaahhhh, think so,” she said, trying to pull away.Damien shrugged and continued. 

“Suit yourself, I can do this all day,” he said, stroking just beneath the big toe. 

“We-ee don’t ha-have time for thi-is,” She said. 

“We’re lost what else are we going to do?” 

“All right! Ple-ee-ase ki-iss me-he,” 

He stopped and slowly leaned forward. Since the invention of the kiss there have been ten that ranked as the most passionate, the intense, This would have come in at about number fifteen, not a bad showing given Suzan’s lack of experience in such matters. As they broke apart , Damien reached for her foot again. 

“Please kiss me,”she said quickly. 

A ranking of thirteen this time. 

“You know the world might end,” she said. 

“Then I can’t think of a better time,” he replied, kissing her again. The judges would have awarded this one an eleven. 

He began to kiss her neck, Then reached up and pulled the pins out that held her hair in a tight bun. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, as he reached up her back and began to undo the buttons of her dress. Susan gave a soft moan, as she did so, she felt the first button release, and gave a soft sigh, and slight smile. The third button came open and her dress began to slide of her shoulder as Damien kissed his way down. The fourth button opened. . . 

“Mistress Crone! Mr.Taft!” came Maggie’s voice from the next room. Damien sat bolt upright as Susan began to fumble with her dress and hair. A task complicated as she tried to do them both at once. Damiren reached over to try and help rebutton, as Susan put her hair up in something that only vaguely resembled it’s usual tight bun. 

“Er, yes, what is it Maggie?” Susan said, trying to check her dress. 

“Come in here,” Maggie called,”I think I found something.” 

They walked into the next room where Maggie held a large tome. She gave her disheveled teacher an odd look, glanced at Damien then shrugged.She held up the book and said ”I found this on the nightstand, it looks important.” 

“This must’ve been father’s room,”Damien said,”He always reads before going to bed.” 

Susan took the tome from Maggie and looked at the cover. It had and orange border around a white center and strange black runes that spelled out Darke Wizardry for thee Compleat Dummiee. She opened it to one dog-eared page and glanced at the spell. 

“Damien did your father have any amulets, pendants or medallions?” 

“No I don’t. . . oh wait,”Damien remembered the last audience he’d ha with his father, just before being tossed in the cell. “Yeah he had a big ugly green one. why?” 

Susan showed him the spell. 

“Grigor’s Total omnipotence,”” Danien read, ”She’s going to have trouble controlling it, but if she figures it out, this could get tricky. Remind me to kill father later. If there is a later.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The medallion has all the magic in the world gathered up in one place, at the hands of a malignant enchantress,”Damien said”and I know Malventia, she probably forgot to ask how to use it before she knocked father out and stole it, not that it would have done her any good. Father tends to just skim throught those parts..” 

“Total omnipotence in the hands of the totally ignorant,”Susan said,”So one wrong move and she accidentally destroys the world.” 

“That’s about the size of it,” 

“The book says smashing the amulet reverses the spell,”Susan. said. 

“Yeah but how are we going to get it off Malventia?” Damien asked.” It’ll be hard to even get close to her” 

“Maybe for Maggie and I,”Susan said with an evil smile,”But I think she’d be more than willing for someone else to get real close.” 

“Won’t work,”said Damien, shaking his head. 

“Why not?” 

“Malventia’s a misandrist, she hates men and only seduces them in order to destroy them,”Damien said. 

“So she can’t be seduced herself?” Susan said, wondering why Damien had begun to grin. 

“Oh I didn’t say that,” he said, “she just couldn’t be seduced by me. . .” 

“Exactly what do you mean?” Susan asked, though she had a nasty suspicion that she did. 

“Hmm have to let your hair down, maybe find you some skimpier clothing . . .”Damien said, an evil grin crossing his face. 

“You must be joking!” 

“All right I am, just entertaining a fantasy for a moment, “ he said with a laugh. 

“Then you’ll do it?” 

“Unfortunately, I wasn’t kidding about that part,” Damien said, his grin fading, ”she really does hate men, best I can do is to try and get her to seduce me again. Not even sure that’ll work now.” 

“You can be useles sometimes you know that?” Susan ask. Damien looked at her. 

“Well then why don’t you try it, if you know so much,” 

“Oh, are you saying I couldn’tdo it?”Susan asked, Damien ignored her and began to search the furniture. He flipped through some books in a basket on the floor, then opened the draawer to the nightstand. 

“Give me a break, “ Damien sighed, “ Help me look around and see if theres a map in here some where.” 

“You don’t think I could, do you?” 

“Ah, found one, “Damien said pulling a folded piece of paper out of the back of the nightstand.”This discussion is moot if we can’t find our way out.” 

“Answer me!”Susan said,”Do you think I could do it?” 

“Listen,”Damien said with a resigned sigh,”You are one of the most powerful witches I’ve ever seen, and frankly I find you to be the single most attractive and alluring woman I’ve ever met.” 

“But. . . .” 

“But Malventia has centuries of experience with seduction, “Damien said,”and frankly you are rathe inexperienced at,er, physical activities.” 

“You mean like soccer?” asked Maggie. Having grown up in a world without television, radio, or mass communication of any type, Maggie held fast to her naivete. 

“Romantic physical activites,” Damien corrected. Susan fixed him with a stare, then slowly reached up and removed the pins from her bun. Her black hair flowed down her back like a dark river and she gave it a shake. She walked over to a large walk-in closet on the far side of the room. 

“Maggie,”she called,”help me find something more apprpriate.” 

Damien watched her walk in and gave a half grin, half sigh. 

“I definitely want to watch this,” he said. 

And the world continued to devolve from lack of magic. The gnomes began to solidify into garden statues, the gremlins to small ugly vehicles.Large brutish ogres turned to high school physical education teachers, though no one really nooticed. 

The kudzu continued to grow. 

Though she would never admit it to Damien, Susan had begun to regret this rather rash plan of action. First of all the lacy negligee she and Maggie selected, had been designed to be somewhat revealing yet covering enough to tease, assuming you had the bosom to hold the hold the bits of cloth in place. On Susan, however, the two strips of cloth simply dangled looselly, and every time she walked they swung from side to side, flashing whoever happened to walking past. 

Secondly, Susan had faced trolls without the slightest hint of fear. She had beaten back the mermen with little effort. She faced down giant city destoying beasts with out batting a lash. But finally she had met an enemy she couldn’t seem to conquer: six inch spike heeled pumps. 

Susan always wore flat, in either her sandals, or her boots. She had never previously in her life seen a need for high heeled shoes, and had never thought for an instant about what it would be like to walk in them. Very difficult it turned out. She’d practically broken her ankles twice before mastering a stumbling sort of walk that seemed less like the walk of a seductress and more like that of a whino who’d just drunk an entire bottle of aftershave. She considered carrying them until she found Malventia. 

She’d topped off the outfit with a pair of fishnet hose and had a devil of a time getting the seams straight. Why all of this clothing had been in the closet of Damien’s father couldn’t be explained, and frankly the three of them hadn’t wanted to dwell on it much. 

“Here, let me help you with those,” Damien said, kneeling down to straighten her seams. Had Susan not know him better, she could have sworn he looked a bit flushed. 

“Are you feeling all right Mr.Taft?” Susan asked him. Twisting her hips slightly to obtain a better pose. Damien’s eyes never left her. 

“Me?Oh yeah, yeah I’m fine,”he replied, taking off his hat. 

“It’s just that you seem a bit red,” Susan said, looking at him through half closed eyelids. 

“Oh, really? well you, it’s, well it’s a bit warm in here,”He said, fanning himself with his hat. “Don’t you think? 

“Oh, possibly,”Susan said, slowly licking her lips ”possibly it is a bit, hot, in here.” 

“Well, you know these old castles, “Damien said, swallowing hard.”Freezing in the winter,and well um hotter than blazes this time of year.” 

“well,” Susan said turning away,”I guess I have a job to do.” 

“A job? Oh yes, yes, a job right,”Damien said. 

Susan walked slowly out of the room, her hips swaying side to side. Stumbling on the heels marred the effect slightly, but not much. Susan looked over her shoulder at Damien, and gave a wink and a smile. He seemed to have trouble getting his mouth closed. This outfit, Susan decided, was going with her when they left. 

Vlad Draco recovered his Dark Wizards robes and the dignity that went with them. He tried to summon a magic circle to flee this place, then smacked his forehead when he remembered that all of the world’s magic now rested in the hands of Malventia. He sighed, somedays it just wasn’t worth it to be a Dark Wizard. 

He stepped into the coridor, where he met two familiar face wandering around. 

“Grod! Glod!,” He began. 

“Huh huh, he’s wearing a dress,” Grog said. 

“Dude looks like a lady,” Glod said. 

“What is the. . .”Vlad said, before noting the glazed eyes and dazed expressions. Damned Munchkins. 

“We’re like, looking for the kitchen,”Grog said. 

“Yeah, we’re like really hungry man”Glod added. The two of them wandered off aimlessly. No magic, useless henchmen, Vlad shook his head sadly. 

“some days you just can’t catch a break,” 

He now doubted the wisdom of deserting Damien and the two witches. In fact, somewhere deep within the recess of his mind came the treacherous thought that perhaps his son had been right. Vlad had been a villain since he’d been old enough to grasp the concept, but now . . . age had begun to rear it’s ugly head and all Vlad could really call his own were the family’s dark castle and a lot of stories. stories of failures. 

He needed to find Damien again. The boy had his mother’s brain, though not, fortunately enough, her tendency to kill everything she found annoying. Damien would know what to do. Maybe he knew of counselling services, or one of those twelve step programs for villains on the mend. 

Malventia had left the study and found a small drawing room off to the side of the castle. She sat on the end of a sofa, carefully handling the medallion to preserve this piece of furniture, directing the beam of magic at a potted plant, which began to glow a soft violet light. She looked around the room, and felt a bit disconcerted by a large dragon’s head mounted on the ceiling. She could have sworn it watched her every move. 

There had to be a way of controlling this damn thing, she thought, inadvertantly turning a couple of wall sconces into purple paisley porcupines pensively playing penuckle. She couldn’t even think of it (the curtains began typing love letters to each other) without setting it off. In her younger days, Malventia had once tried to play every member of the court of hell against each other, while simultaneously seducing the King of Hell himself. 

It had been the only time in her life in which she had gotten in over her head, and it had ended very very badly. She wondered if perhaps she weren’t headed for the same thing now. Too much power, too soon and she couldn’t control it. 

She shook her head to clear it. she had the ultimate power in the universe and nothing would make her give it up. Only the weak suffered self-doubt, and Malventia had never been weak, nothing lay beyond her abilities. she would learn to control it., then the world, no not just the world but even the courts of heaven and hell would be hers to command. 

Clear definite, and acheivable goals are the secrets to sucess in any endeavour, she thought. 

Under normal circustances Susan walked with a firm steady,business like and above all, quick stride, the walk of someone with somewhere important to go. She even walked this way when home alone and simply steeping out to the outhouse. But now her speed had been halved, both to practice walking in a sexier fashion, and because she really didn’t want to trip in these stupid heels. 

As a result her progress through the corridors had been far slower than she would have preffered. It didn’t help that the map Damien found had been somewhat out of date and, they soon realized, they had no idea where in the castle Malventia actually had gone. 

She knew she had to do this alone, though Damien and Maggie trailed behind her, keeping hidden in the shadows as muchas possible. She tried to ignore the growing knot in her stomache and picture in her head the way the scen would go. Walk sexy, talk sexy, sidle up beside Malventia, grab medallion, smash it. It seemed easy enough. 

From a doorway up ahead Susan saw the flash of green light, then heard a female voice say: 

“Dammit!” 

The largest, wartiest mauve frog Susan had ever seen danced out of the room in a top hat and carrying a cane. Susan watched as he danced and sang his way across the corridor and into another doorway. She crept forward to peer into the doorway from which he had come. 

Inside she saw Malventia standing beside the sofa, clutching the medallion, her eyes closed in concentration. a flash of green light and the fireplace poker ran screaming from the room. Malventia opened her eyes and saw Susan standing in the door way. 

“Who are. . oh, it’s you,”Malventia said,”You’ve. . . changed a bit.” 



Chapter 11
Pudding Wrestling and Death 



Out in the corridor, Damien noticed something. Along the wall, about ten feet from the door to the drawing room, several of the stones were a slightly different color drom the rest, as if one section of wall came from a different quarry. A quick once over, and Damien realized that a gap, unfilled with mortar, seperated the normal stones from the new ones. 

The stone lying behind a nearby torch sconce had tiny almost imperceptible scatch marks on it. He turned the sconce and watched as the newer stones slid away. This sort of ting happened quite often in older castles like this one. At the time of the castles construction this had all been cutting edge secret passage technoology and not yet cliched. 

“Stay here,”he whispered to Maggie,”signal me if anyone is coming.” 

He crept down the passage as quietly could. In fact he crept up the passage way, since it had a very definate and steep upward slope to it. At the end of the passage he found a hole in the wall with a trange shape protruding further on from it. Damien realized he was looking at the inside of a large dragon’s skull, probably a hunting trophy mounted on the wall of the drawing room.The eyes had been replaced with green glass, which allowed Damien a good view into the drawing room. He saw Susan entering the room. 

Susan looked ar Malventia and fluttered her lashes. despite the fact lash fluttering did not come natural to her, She’d been practicing for over an hour now and thought she had it down pretty good. 

“Is there something in your eye?”Malventia asked. 

Susan crossed the room as Malventia watched her. They both sat down on the couch, Malventia on one end, Susan on the other. after a moment the problem dawned on Susan and she slid up next to Malventia. she tried to think of exactly what should come next. She would never tell him but Damien had been right, she did not have a lot of experience in these matters. 

“What do you want?” Malventia asked. Susan began to softly stroke Malventia’s legs, sliding her hand under it and laying it across her lap. She slid her fingers back up the leg and across Malventia’s stomache. 

“Hmmm, this is a surprise,”Malventia said softly,”what about Damien?” 

“What about him?” 

“I thought you and he had a thing going on” 

“Oh, please,”Susan said, sliding one arm around Malventia’s waist and pulling them closer together. “He served his purpose.” 

“Oh really,”Malventia said with a giggle ,as their faces came closer together. Suddenly she stopped and looked to one side.”That dragon head on the wall . . .” 

“What about it?” 

“Does it look like the eyes are steaming up to you?” 

Inside the dragon’s head, Damien waited until Malventia looked away agia, then quickly cleared the steeamed up windows with his sleeve. He pressed in closer to watch, er, keep an eye on Susan. 

“Mr. Taft?” 

Damien jumped at the sound of Maggie’s voice, banging his head against the top of the dragon’s. He bit off a curse, by biting his tongue. He held a finger up to his lips to tell Maggie to be quiet. 

“What’s going on Mr. Taft?” Maggie whispered. 

“I’m just, er, watching out for Mistress Crone,”he said quietly. “Now you just. . .” 

“What’s going on in here? What are. . .”Damien jumped forward and his hand clasped across Vlad Draco’s mouth, as Vlad made his way up the passage. 

“Shutupshutupshutup!”Damien whispered.”Maggie go out to the corridor and warn me if anyone else is coming.” 

“You need to leave also,”Damien told Vlad as Maggie left. 

“Why, what’s. . . Helllllooooo Nurse!” Vlads said, catching a glimpse of the scene in the drawing room. 

“Move over,”Damien said,”That’s my spot.” 

“Hey you’re witch is wearing my. . .”Vlad paused and looked at Damien, ”er my my last mistress’s clothes.” 

“Good thing you all wore the same size.” 

Susan ran her fingers along Malventia’s neck, pausing lightly to linger the chain holding the medallion. She needed to be subtle about this. Any sudden moves could be dangerous. Her hand moved around the back of Malventia’s neck. Susan felt Malventia’s arm encircle her waist and pull Susan closer. Malventia licked her lips. 

In an instant their mouths touched. Susan fought to control her embarassment. Malventia’s tongue entered Susan’s mouth and Susan relaized with revulsion that what had seemed to be a normal tongue, felt forked, snake-like and far longer than normal as it licked Susan’s own tongue. 

“Oooh yeah, let’s get those clothes off girls,” Vlad said, watching the scene below intently. 

“Dad,” Damien said with a sigh,”Please be quiet.” 

“Like you’re not enjoying this,”Vald repsonded. 

“That’s not the point,” 

“You know,”Vlad said, tearing his gaze over to his son for a brief moment ”I can’t believe you gave it all up.” 

“Believe it,” 

“But you’re so good at this type of thing, much better than I am,”Vlad diad,” I tend to get to directly involved., The best villains always stay one step removed.”” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“The way you can get other people to do all dirty work,” 

“Is that what . .’Damien paused and looked down at thge scene below in horrifie realization. 

“You’ve always had a knack for manipulaion,”Vlad said, admiration in his voice.”I’ve always just had to pay people.” 

Damien staggered backwards,”I think I’m going to be sick..” 

“Mr. Taft, Mr. Taft!”Maggie whispered urgently, as she ran up to him,”someone’s coming.” 

“Did you see who?” 

“Those two big guys you’re father hired,” 

` “Oh great,”Damien looked at his father, ”Dad, watch Mag. . . wait scratch that. Maggie, watch dad. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” 

“Hey!”Vlad cried. 

“Quiet dad,” Damien ran down the passage way, and cautiously looked out. Three seconds too late. 

Susan concentrated on the clasp of the chain, trying to ignore the flickering tongue in her mouth. She could feel the catch and fumbled to cause it to relaese. When it seemed as though Malventia might be getting suspicious, Susan Quickly began running her fingers through the succubus’s long blond hair. After a moment she worked her hand back down, There, she just about. . . 

“Whoa, Hot chick action!” Glod said as he and Grog burst through the door. Malventia stood quickly shoving Susan away from her. The witch tumbled to the floor as the demoness glared at Grog and Glod. 

“YOU IDIOTS, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU BOmmmmmmmmmm~” came a shout from the dragon’s head upon the wall . Malventia fired a beam of magic at it and the head burst into butterflies. Behind it, looking through a whole in the wall, Malventia saw Vlad with Maggie’s hand futily covering his mouth. A second burst of magic came at them, but Maggie ducked, jerking Vlad down by his braid. The wall behind them turned to orange marmalade. 

“”You, you tricked me,:Malventai said, fixing Susan with a hard stare. She aimed the medallion and fired at Susan who rolled to the left just missing the blast. The carpet melted. Malventia turned the medallion to fire it again. 

Outside the room Damien stopped short as the future hit him in hte face. The problem with precognitiion is that sometimes it comes when you don’t want it to. By the pricking of his thumbs, Damien knew something evil would come from the medallion with it’s next blast. He saw less than a minute into the future and knew what would come next, or the two most likely options anyway. 

If he went in there he’d die. 

If he didn’t Susan would die. 

“Susan,”He called as he burst into the room, seizing a vase and hurling it at Malventia. She turned the medallion away from Susan and aimed it at him. A green blast tore through the vase and hit Damien . 

The burst of magic slammed him into the wall. He cried out in pain as green eldritch flames wrapped around his body. His flesh burned and peeled away from his body, leaving only a skeletal remains to collapse to the carpet. Susan gasped, but as she gasped she made it a point to jump up and grab the medallion. Malventia reach up to prevent Susan from getting it. Green tendrils sprang from the medallion, warpping around their arms . Both women stared hard into each others eyes, 

“They’re both in contact with the medallion,”Vlad said, peering into the room. “It’s now a battle of wills.” 

“You don’t know what you’re dealing little witch,”Malventia said, horns growing from her forehead, “I’ll eat your soul!” 

“How about a knuckle sandwich instead?”Susan asked, as her free fist crunched Malventia’s nose. The demoness fell backwards from the force of the blow. The chain snapped and the medallion jerked free from both of them and flew into the air.Green energy crackled as a beam of magic transformed the floor. Four posts with ropes attaching them together spang up, while the floor boards changed substance. 

“Allright!”Grog cried,looking at the changed scene,”Pudding wrestling!” 

As Malventia went for the falling medallion, Susan grabbed the succubus by the wrist and slung her into the ropes. Malventia bounced off the ropes and came back at Susan. the witch held out her arm and clotheslined the on rushing demoness. Malventia went down and and Susan went for the medallion. Malventia jumped up and grabbed her. She wrapped one arm around Susan’s throat and used the other arm to hold it in place. 

Trapped in Malventia’s sleeper hold, Susan fought for consciouness. She fell to her knees in the chocolate pudding. As the darkness closed in, she maaged to grab a handfull of pudding and fling it into Malventia’s face. In the moment of surprise, she broke free. A wave of pudding sloshed the medallion away from them both. 

Malventia went for it, but Susan kicked around, catching Malventia in the side. Susan struggled towards the medallion, and Malventia jumped on top of her, pushing her face into the pudding. Susan rolled over and broke free. Both women stood to face each other, and Susan grabbed her opponent, lifting the demoness up and body slamming her into the chocolate sludge. 

Susan looked around. The medallion had sunk out of sight. She started over to try and find it, when her legs were pulled out from under her. Malventia began to pull the witch towards her. Susan jerked her leg and left the demoness holding an empty spike heeled shoe. Susan kicked off the other and stood. Malventia also rose and the two of them slowly circled each other. 

Malventia charged first, but Susan caught her and flipped her over to the side. Pudding splattered as the demoness landed hard. A moment later Malventia grinned triumphantly as she raised a hand clutching the medallion. 

Her triumph didn’t last long, as Susan climbed the ropes and came down on her Malventia with a flying elbow. The medallion flew into the air, landing back in the ring and vanishing beneath the brown goo. Susan landed two good blows to Malventia’s face before she went to look for it. 

Malventia tackled her from behind and both of them went down. 

They struggled, rolling around the squared circle. Malventia executed a pile driver on Susan, then grabbed her. Susan broke free. A green flash transformed one of the ceiling tiles into a dirty sock. Susan Grabbed and put it over her hand like a puppet. As Malventia ran towards her Susan put her besocked hand into the demoness’s mouth. Susan’s middle and ring finger pushed down on nerves beneath Malventia’s tongue, while Susan’s thumb pushed up into the soft underside of Malventia’s jaw. 

“Have a nice day,” Susan said. 

Malventia struggled, finally breaking free. The two of them grappled and Susan went face down. Malventia grabbed and locked her legs around her neck like scissors. 

Back in the passageway, Maggie looked at Vlad. 

“We need to go help,” she said. 

“In a minute, in a minute,”Vlad said waving her off. His eyes captivated by the scene below. Magge gave him a brief, disgusted look and ran down the passage way. She came out into the corridor and entered the drawing room.As she carefully stepped over the reamins of Damien taft, she felt a lump in her throat. she blinked away the tears, time for sorrows later. She went up beside the two henchmen, hooting and laughing at the action. Glod’s battleaxe lay on the floor beside him. Carefully Maggie reached down to pick it up. 

In the ring Susan had found the medallion, but a punch in the stomach had sent it flying once more. She brought her leg around in a sweep which tripped up Malvenita, but the demoness caught her foot and both women came down. The medallion resurfaced, and a splash from Susan being choke slammed sent it flying into the air. Malventia grabbed for it, but by now it had gotten so slippery it shot out of her hands like wet soap. 

In the next few moments time seemed to slow. The medallion sailed up from the demonesses hands and into a long arcing flight. It completeds the pinacle of it’s arc and as it began to fall, it met with the very sharp edge of a large battle axe. Glod’s axe had been designed to breach castle walls and the medallion couldn’t hold up. 

The world became absolutely silent as the medallion exploded into a white and green flash of light. The room lit up as all the worlds magic came free. Maggie dropped the axe, which didn’t fall as she felt magic once agin flowing into her body. She drank it up like an alcholic at an open bar. 

Outside the castle, dark clouds began to dissipate. Kudzu vines whithered and died. Flying monkey’s lost their wings and once again became free spirited munchkins. Very realistic statues began to move as stone turned to flesh. The bubbling green pit began to close, leaving only a meadow and some confused shepherds in it’s wake. 

Deep beneath the sea a group of sad fish felt fingers grow within their fins as they perfomed some high speed evolution to once again become the dreaded mermen. 

In Oykot a despondant man in a rubber suit felt himself begin to grow. Rubber became flesh and within moments. the crowds began to cheer wildly as the gorilla whale stomped their city flat before returning to the sea. 

Susan collapsed to the floor. A real floor now, wood covered with rich carpeting. The room had returned to normal , the dragon’s head had even returned to it’s final resting place upon the wall. Out the window she could see the kudzu vines whither and die. Behind her she could hear Malventia’s labored breathing. From the corner of her eye, Susan saw that the demoness had collapsed nearby. 

“Mistress Crone,” Susan heard Maggie say,”Why isn’t he back?” 

Susan looked over and saw her pupil staring down in wide-eyed horror. There on the floor lay the remains of Damien Taft. The black holes where his eyes should have been stared at her and the skull grinned at some unknown joke. Susan rose unsteadily to her feet and walked over beside Maggie. She quietly put her arm around the girl’s shoulders as Maggie began to cry. 

“Oh, now, isn’t that just too bad,”said Malventia, rising up. “You’ve saved the world but little Damien. . “ 

“Malleforcanium Rodentia,”Susan cried whirling around, dimly aware that at the exact same moment another voice cried out: 

“Demoniaruis Banishemnetus,” 
Twin streaks of light shot through the air at Malventia. Susan’s struck the demoness, the other hit the ground spreadin out into a flaming pentagram. It flashed out then vanished, taking Malventia with it. Susan turned to see Vlad Draco standing there. whisps of smoke still curling from his fingertip. 

“Banished her back to hell,”he explained,”Should have done it much sooner.” 

“Why isn’t he back?”Maggie asked,”Everything else is back to normal, where’s he at?” 

“Nothing else died, Maggie,”Susan said quietly. 

All dogs go to heavan. This is actually true for all animals except two. The first are humans who are given a choice of afterlife accomadations. That humans spend their entire lives trying hard to get to hell says something about the race as a whole. 

Cats have no choice, they all go to hell. This is not it should be emphasised, a punishment. In fact cats, like humans would choose hell if the choice had been presented, though not for the same reasons of course. Cats like Hell. 

Who do you think runs the place? 

Not demons who are far more interested in petty power struggles and tempting humans. No when it comes to torturing the damned, there is no creature more suitable than the not so humble housecat. Millions of people every year discover that they have been lied to by their album covers. It’s best not to even think about what happens to those who’ve been cruel to animals. 

These were not, of course, the first thoughts on Malventia’s mind as she found herself on the floor of hell. She cursed the names of booth Vlad Draco and Susan Crone. They would pay, oh most certainly they would pay. 

She suddenly felt an inexplicable urge to wiggle her nose. She also had a strange craving for cheese. She felt strange, smaller than she should be. She could have sworn she’d shaved her legs this morning but they felt almost furry. She glanced up into the largest pair of yellow eyes she’d ever seen. Eyes with strangely slit pupils, embedded in a fuzzy face. 

“Meow,”said the owner of the eyes. 

“Squeak!”cried Malventia, as she quickly turned to scurry off, as fast as her four tiny legs could carry her. 

“He died by magic,” Maggie said,”that means thers a chance.” 

“You can’t bring back the dead,”Vlad said softly,”raise them yes, but not in any form you’d want to see them. in. Trust me on this one. 

“But he died by magic!”Maggie insisted.”Death by magic can be undone. You taught me that. it was our third lesson.” 

Susan sighed. The girl had a better memory than Susan had expected. Maggie was right, in theory. Crossbows, axe to the skull, that sort of thing, those were a permanent death, nothing left to do but bury them and read the will. But a magical death, well that was just a spell. 

“For every spell there is an opposite and equal counterspell,”Susan said, quietly.”Unfortuneately I have no idea what it is” 

She looked at Vlad, who shrugged. 

“I’ve never had a reason to know it,” he said. Susan knelt down to pick up the body. It felt much lighter than she had expected, and the bones had become brittle. His head fell off. 

“Maggie could you get that please,”Susan said as she carried the corpse from the room. Maggie dutifully picked up the skull and the hat and followed her teacher. 

Vlad watched them in silence. He waited until they had disappeared from view, before he turned to Grog and Glod. 

“Come along gentlemen, we must prepare for tommorow night,” He said, walking out of the room. 

“Why boss?”asked Grog as the two of them followed him. “Yeah, what are we going to do tommorow night?” asked Glod. “The same thing we do every night boys, try to take over the world!” 



Chapter 12 
The End of the Journey 



Finding the way from Lander to home was easy enough, even for a witch that never got lost. The main road led straight to Rahtsbuht, Susan’s home town, and from there it had only been a short journey to Ghast, to make sure Maggie made it home safely. 

As they flew towards Ghast, Susan stole a look at the broom flying beside hers. Widowmaker had turned up whole, unlike it’s master. Susan and Maggie had wrapped Damien’s remains in a blanket and strapped them to his old broom. It flew along in silence beside her. Maggie flew on the other side if the broom, just as silent. 

They reached Maggie’s cottage as the sun sank out of sight. Maggie looked around at the darkness, no mysterious clouds hovered over head, the stars shone brightly down. There were no strange howls, only the pleasant chirping of crickets. The utter lack of anything foreboding frightened her. She waved her silent goodbye to Mistress Crone, then walked into her cottage. 

Maggie set down the souvenirs of her vacation as she walked in the door. Mistress Crone had told her not to expect any miracles. Even Malventia probably hadn’t known the exact spell, and without that, finding the counterspell would be an impossible task. 

Maggie went back to her own room and changed into her nightdress. Her bed felt strange after so much time away. She slid beneath the sheets, thinking she’d never be able to sleep. Staring at the ceiling, she wondered if perhaps a few more of those munchkin brownies might help. Before she could decide she drifted off to sleep. 

She stood just outside an old tavern, one the sign called Azrael’s Place. She walked in to see an empty bar room, except for two figures in the corner, playig cards. Five card draw from the looks of it. She walked over to them. The first figure towered over the table. It wore a hooded robe, obscurring the face, althouh for a moment Maggie thought she saw a glimpse of bone white. Skeletal hands held five cards in front if it. A sickle rested against the wall. 

The second figure, Maggie quickly realized as Damien Taft. He turned, took her hand in his and gave her a smile. 

“You need to get home Kiddo,”he said,”This is a dangerous place.” 

Maggie didn’t move, but everything else did, Mr. Taft, the hooded figure, the table, then the saloon all seemed to pull away from her as darkness rushed up on her. 

Maggie awoke, the sun shone in through her window. The dream played in her head over and over again. Something kept botherting her. Mr. Taft’s sleeves, why did she keep thinking about his sleeves. Then it hit her and she laughed out loud. she remembered what she’d seen. What she’d seen that the hooded figure hadn’t. 

The brief flash of an extra card up Mr. Taft’s sleeve. 

Susan carefully unwrapped the makeshft curtain shroud she had wrapped Damien in. Ironic, she thought, he’d tried so hard to get into her bed, now here he was. She stared at the grinning skull and could picture where the flesh had hung. She sat in the chair near her bed, all energy drained from her. 

Susan did not hold a great deal of faith in books . She felt that anyone who had time to write things down, hadn’t spent enough time in actual practice. But now she really didn’t have much of a choice. Raising the dead was fairly simple, but bringing them back to life that was another story. She rose and walked to a trunk at hte foot of the bed. Opening it, she pulled out the first book aand began to read it. 

Four hours later she’d exhausted every magical tome in her collection. The general consensus seemed to be: Talking with the dead, fairly easy. Getting them to answer, a bit harder. Raising them as a zombie, very difficult. Restoring them to life, frigging impossible. She tossed the book aside. It seemed to echo loudly as it hit he floor. 

Susan had never envisioned life with Damien. She had never spent time imagining their wedding day, she’d never mentally envisioned herself in the gown. she’d never given thought to a little cotage with a white pickett fence, or their children playing. among the trees. She’d never expected this to lead anywhere special. Susan knew that as a witch happy endings were for other people. She had known for a long time that she would someday end up an old spinster in a lonely dark cottage, cackling madly at the cauldron. she accepted it, in fact she’d even welcomed it, spending many happy hours fantasizing about it. 

So why didn’t it seem so appealing now? 

She remebered a fairy tale she’d been told as a child. for the most part she’d hated those kind of stories, in which perfectly innocent witches were shoved into ovens, and poor stepmothers, women who’d taken another man’s children to raise as their own, were often killed horribly by these same ungrateful brats. She remembered the one she’d hated most of all, the one that seemed so silly. 

It wouldn’t work of course. Damien was obviously no princess, and Susan lacked several features of a prince, starting with the royal blood, and going on from there. Still, she couldn’t think of another option. 

She bent over him slowly, when something caught her eye. Something white lay more than half hidden in Damien’s left sleeve. She reached over to pull out a playing card. Traditionally it should have been an ace, but instead she noticed that it was the queen of hearts. She looked at it carefully, and wondered why the skinny queen with the oversized ose looked so familiar. She placed it in his hand and then bent down to kiss him. 

In any system, no matter how arbitrary, that ranked kisses in terms of purity and passion, this one easily took a spot in the top ten. An impressive showing, considering that half the couple didn’t have any lips, nor did he technically actively participate. Susan rose up up and looked at the still lifeless corpse lying on her bed. She wiped away an errant tear and shook her head sadly. 

Nothing. Oh well, she couldn’t honestly say she’d been surprised. Fairy tales weren’t real after all. She sighed and looked at his corpse, still lying on the bed, dressed in black. The two cards still in his bony hand. 

Slowly she walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Damien, as is the tendency of the dearly departed, lay perfectly still on her bed, silently gripping the three cards in his hand. Susan went to the kitchen and put a kettle on to boil herself a cup of tea. She fetched the bags from the cupboard, chamomille seemed right at a time like this. 

She spooned tea into the strainer, then into the tea pot. She poured in the boiling water to let it steep. After a few minutes she poured her self a cup, added cream and five tablespoons of sugar. She sat at the table and took a sip. 

Then dropped the cup, and ran back to her bedroom. She flung open the door and saw five cards resting in Damiens hand, which had unaccountably sprouted musculautre. She watched as his clothing began to fill out, eyes sprouted in their sockets, muscles formed, and slowly skin began to form over it all.. he blinked twice, groaned softly then sat up unsteadily. 

“Ohhhh, you would not believe how unpleasant that was,”he said rubbing his head.”excpet for the part where you kissed me. I felt that clear to the othe. . ooof!” 

Susan had flung her self to the bed and wrapped her arms around him. This kiss, helped along by the fact that both people participated, raced all the way to the top of the charts and set an incredibly high standard for anyone to try and beat. Susan’s hand reached the front of Damien trousers. 

A moment later she pulled a bannana from his pocket. 

“And I though you were happy to see me!” she said. 

“I am, but I’ve been dead for a while give me a minute.” He smiled at her “You did it, you brought me back.” 

“I had to, I need to get my boots back,”she said ”I hope you’re up to painting.” 

“Why Mistress crone , you wanton hussy!” 

“Yeah and you know what I’m wantin’ to,”she said leaning in close,”It appears Mr. taft that I have fallen madly in love with you.” 

“Well, I can’t say that I blame you, “ Damien said. He reached up and pulled her closer. 

She leaned down and kissed him again. Despite overwhelming odds, this kiss managed to best the last one. It even helped raise the last little bit of the dead. 

Outside Susan’s cottage, a group of men in grass skirts paused. They had come a long way for this They were tired they were hungry. They had fought through strange vines, they had eaten themselves sick at strange festivals. Now they were here, they had found her. Silently they crept up on the cottage. The chief raised his hand for them to pause. 

From inside they could hear voices. 

“Very impressive." 

“I’ve always been a quick healer,” 

Then there came the other sounds. Rythmic sounds, heavy breathing, moaning, in other words the same sounds that came from every hut on Kua-Kua when the volcano god started rumbling. The entire building started rocking and in accordance with an ancient Kua-Kua proverb they felt it best not to go knocking. 

“Dammit!”cried the chief, throwing down his spear, “Ain’t that just a kick in the head.” 

He sighed in disapointment, “C’mon boys, let’s go home.” 

Now the way this story ends, Susan got her boots back and Damien got a rather good picture to cover the spot above his fireplace. They courted for a while and eventually married. 

Maggie continued to train as a witch, and after a while the people of Ghast learned to trust, respect and fear her. Fear her for the right reasons that is. She went on to become one of the most powerful witches in the world. She eventually got a second outhouse for her family. 

Vlad Draco continued to come up with plans to take over the world. None of them worked, but it kept him busy and provide all new generations of heroes with ways to prove themselve. 

Glod and Grog continued to hench. 

Malventia eventually escaped from hell, and resumed her evil ways. Of course, with Susan’s spell still on her, she had to start smaller, seducing rats, hamsters, gerbils and such. Eventually she found one mouse and molded him, till she became the power behind the throne as he went on to rule a Magic Kingdom. 

Stardust and Moonchild moved back into Lander, where they opened a successful combination of a bakery and the first head shop ever seen on Morogrovinia.. 

The natives of Kua Kua made the long march home.In a food store down near Bute they discovered a bottle of extra virgin olive oil. Since it seemed to not only have the primary requirement for sacrifice, but actually had it in excess, they tried it. It worked, but sadly killed one of the best pick-up lines in the world. 



The End