A Knight of Magic
 
a novel by

Dan MacGregor
 

copyright © by Tim Huskey May 1999
all rights reserved
cover art by Tallie Thompson
ISBN 1-58608-060-1
Rocket Edition ISBN 1-58608-190-x
 
 
This book is dedicated to:
My parents, Bud and Mary Anne Huskey, and my sister Susan... 
They still don’t believe I am a writer....
To my daughter, Madelyn, who is also my very best friend...
And to Laura Parker Castoro and Maryann Miller, who’s faith 
in my writing abilities never wavered, even when mine did.
  
Few but knew the full power of the Dragon’s Blood. The 
hero Sigurd did discover the secret. The merest taste 
did endow a man with knowledge of Ancient Things of the 
Earth.
 
 
 
Chapter I
 

At precisely one minute before midnight an object whistled down from the sky, 
smashing into Allen Jenson's rented cabin.
A bleary-eyed Allen was seated at his desk, dutifully typing the last revisions 
to his latest novel.
The audible emanations from the object coincided exactly with those of an 
incoming artillery shell. Allen's long dormant combat instincts immediately took 
control, forcing him to attempt to shelter his six-foot frame beneath a 
three-foot wooden desk. This maneuver left vulnerable portions of his anatomy 
dangerously exposed.
The whistling, screaming sigh announcing the object's arrival ended abruptly 
with a crunching bang from somewhere near the chimney of the cabin. An ominous 
vibration rattled the roof, while dust and plaster fell from the ceiling. He 
could hear bricks sliding along the shingles. Seconds later he detected an 
inhuman scream, followed by a distant splash.
Nearly a full minute passed before Allen emerged from under the desk. With a 
muttered oath, he ran to the front door, jerking it open to peer about 
cautiously. He was just in time to observe a brick slide leisurely from the 
porch roof and crash onto one of the wooden steps below. He became aware of a 
violent thrashing and splashing from the area of the nearby lake.
After a furious search of his chest of drawers, the results of which were 
similar to an explosion in a clothing factory, Allen finally located his pistol. 
He crammed the weapon into his belt, then snatched the lighted lantern from the 
kitchen table as he ran from the cabin.
Twenty feet beyond the porch he stopped, turning around to survey the cabin in 
the bright moonlight. He groaned in dismay. The chimney was ruined. Most of it 
was strewn over the shingles, with single bricks--scorched and still 
smoking--sliding toward the edge of the roof.
Muttering another oath, he headed toward the lake. The splashing commotion came 
from there, now punctuated by some of the foulest curses he'd ever heard, 
screamed into the night by a hoarse, crackling voice.
Ten yards from the water's edge he slowed to a halt, holding the lantern high to 
inspect the ground. A circular area some twenty-five feet in diameter was 
charred black. Tendrils of smoke drifted into the frosty air. From the center of 
the circle protruded a long shaft.
Dark brown, rubbed smooth by countless years of handling, the shaft sprouted 
from the scorched earth at a slight angle. Near its center it was cracked and 
splintered, causing half its length to lean over at another strange angle. Its 
uppermost end was thicker, wrapped in something which, like the ground, smoked 
and fizzled, snapping occasional sparks into the air.
Allen skirted the area cautiously on his tip-toes, finally approaching the lake 
shore. Three feet out in the water he caught sight of something he at first 
mistook for a bundle of dirty rags. As he drew closer it assumed the proportions 
of a human figure. Closer still and he revised his opinion. He was not entirely 
convinced it was human.
Squatting on the shore, Allen inspected the thing in the lantern light. He 
finally decided it was the ugliest female he'd ever seen, like something out of 
a children's fairy tale.
The creature possessed a large, domed head, bald on top, ringed with course, 
stringy gray hair. Ears the size of dinner plates adorned either side of its 
head, flapping slightly. One scraggly gray eyebrow began at the far corner of 
one eye, continuing across the forehead to the corner of the other, producing an 
effect similar to a briar thicket.
The creature's nose was its most disgusting feature. Bumpy, knobby, bent like a 
cucumber, it sported several large warts, complete with curly hairs, and hung 
down over the upper lip. The eyes on either side of the organ appeared to look 
in two independent directions.
The creature's liver-like lips parted to reveal purple gums. One lone yellow 
tooth protruded from the front of the lower jaw like a tusk. Its chin jutted 
down to a dangerous keenness, supporting an odd assortment of bumps, warts, and 
hairs.
A voluminous black robe covered the creature's body. Allen could see the outline 
of two bulbous, sagging breasts hanging down from the scrawny chest.
The overall affect made Allen shudder and gag. Unable to think of anything else, 
he blurted out the first question that came to mind.
"What the hell you doin' in there?"
"Drowning!" answered a croaking voice. The response was accompanied by a slap at 
the water in which the creature sat.
"Are you gonna help me out?" it asked.
"No. Look what you did to my chimney!"
"Ahhh... fuck your ol' chimney!" A hand like a vulture's claw pointed to the 
stick imbedded in the ground. "Look what you did to my Broom!"
"Me?"
"Yes, you! Ignorant asshole! You should know better than to put a cabin up on 
this ridge. Right in my flight path. I'll sic the FAA on you!"
Allen peered more closely at the mud-spattered figure.
"Who are you? What are you?"
"My name is Billimba," she stated coldly. With one hand she attempted to smooth 
the hair over her ear. It bristled out even further. "I am a Witch."
"I can certainly believe that!" Allen assured her. "You're too goddamn ugly to 
be anything else!"
Opening her mouth to make a reply, the Witch suddenly stiffened. She let out a 
shriek, half scream, half giggle, then slapped at her robe with her gnarled 
hands.
"Out! Out!" she ordered.
A large slippery fish wriggled from the loose sleeve of her robe to flop into 
the water. The woman adjusted her clothing with great dignity, then extended a 
bony arm toward Allen.
"C'mon, dung breath, help me out."
"Why?" Allen asked as he stood up. "You didn't have any trouble getting in there 
by yourself."
"If I hadn't pranged my ass on your chimney I wouldn't be in here at all!" she 
informed him. "Now hurry up. Water is very bad for Witches. It shorts out our 
Powers."
"I think something shorted you out a long time ago," said Allen, tapping his 
forehead. He turned his back and began walking toward the cabin. After only a 
few steps a large mud ball smacked solidly against the back of his neck. Slimy 
gobs dribbled down the collar of his shirt.
"You better help me outa here, you cretin!" Billimba screamed. "When I get dry 
I'll turn you into...."
Allen set the lantern down, waded into the water, then put his foot against her 
chest. With all his weight he mashed her flat into the muddy bottom. He stood 
there for some time, whistling, hands clasped behind his back while he ground 
his heel down onto her. Above the water only her hands and feet were visible, 
thrashing wildly. It was then Allen was attacked.
A leathery creature flapped out of the darkness to hover in front of him, a 
stream of fire erupting from its mouth. The front of Allen's shirt burst into 
flames. He fell backwards into the water with a yell, rolling about vigorously 
to douse the fire. He sat up, shivering, both from the cold and the fear of 
whatever it was that had attacked him. He glanced around, finally spotting the 
creature as it waddled about on the nearby shore. It hissed loudly, flapping its 
wings like bedsheets.
Billimba reappeared from beneath the surface, sputtering and gasping. Water and 
seaweed cascaded from her. She caught her breath, then spied Allen splashing 
water across the front of his charred shirt. She nodded with satisfaction
"Serves you right, you heathen! Try to kill a defenseless old lady..."
She screamed again, beating at her clothing once more, then inserted a hand down 
the front of her robe to withdraw a wiggling fish. She held it up, slapped it 
with her other hand, and pitched it back over her shoulder.
"That's the same fish that was in there before! Stupid salmon!"
"It's a trout," Allen corrected. "Probably took one look at you and went into 
heat. What's that?" he asked, pointing to the bird-like animal still prowling 
the shore.
"That's Theodore. He protects me. Now are you gonna help me out? I'm sure I 
already shrank two or three sizes."
Allen got to his feet, then fastened a hand on the robe at the back of 
Billimba's neck. He hauled her unceremoniously out of the water, dragging her 
toward the cabin.
"You wormy son of a bitch!" she yelled as he bent to retrieve the lantern. "You 
can't treat me like this! When I get dry I'll shrivel your nuts with a 
lightening bolt! I'll put a curse on you... the Black Pox... lots of sores and 
scabs..."
"You are a scab!" Allen said.
Theodore, whatever he was, charged out of the darkness like a turkey with a 
stick up its ass. Before it could breathe on him again, Allen snatched the thing 
from the air by the neck, then punted it in the direction of the lake.
Billimba's bulk was deceptively heavy. Allen was panting by the time he reached 
the cabin. He deposited the woman in a heap by the steps, then went inside. 
After stripping off his soaked, fire-blackened clothing he took a long, hot 
shower.
As he dried off he wandered into the living room, only to quickly cover himself 
with the towel. Billimba was there, standing in front of a roaring fire she'd 
built in the fire place. She, too, was naked. The sight of her made Allen 
cringe.
Her skin was pasty pale, with the nauseating texture of old cheese. Her enormous 
breasts sagged, udder-like, down to a belly shaped like a bowling ball. 
Grotesquely bowed legs supported her body. She had fat, wrinkled thighs and 
knees resembling bags of walnuts. Her clothing hung on the fire screen, 
steaming, as did the parts of her body closest to the fire.
"Please..." Allen pleaded, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. "Please put some 
clothes on."
"I just knew my sexy body would turn you on," Billimba purred. Allen turned his 
head away, suppressing a belch.
"You're not so bad yourself, Sweetie," the woman continued. "A little on the 
large size maybe..."
Allen retreated to the bathroom where he scrambled into a pair of shorts. When 
he returned to the main room he was just in time to witness Billimba walk to the 
bed and yank off the blanket, wrapping her gnomish body in it. Most of it 
trailed on the floor, since she was barely four feet tall. Allen advanced toward 
her.
"Gimme that blanket, you little toad!"
He snatched at it, getting most of it in his hands, then charged around the 
cabin extinguishing the lights. Billimba clung desperately to one corner of the 
blanket, her rubbery body making squeaking noises as she was dragged across the 
wooden floor. Allen stomped on her fingers until she released her grip, then 
heaved himself into bed.
"Where am I gonna sleep?" wailed Billimba.
"In a tree?" Allen suggested.
She grunted, finally throwing herself down into a chair. She fixed Allen with an 
evil stare.
"Boy, you are making a powerful enemy!"
Allen made a rude noise, put out the last light and went to sleep.
* * * *
Allen's very pleasant dream of making love to his favorite movie actress was 
rudely interrupted by the double crash of the front door as it was flung open, 
then slammed shut. He jerked upright in bed, nearly giving himself whiplash with 
the sudden movement. For some seconds he stared around stupidly.
Billimba scurried past, headed in the direction of the back door. Gobs of mud 
and strands of seaweed still clung to her black robe. Early morning sunlight 
streamed in through the windows. Allen groaned, collapsing back down on the bed.
The little Witch paused. She extended one long, bony finger to pry open Allen's 
right eye, peering in intently.
"You in there, Boy? You better get up."
When she released his eyelid it slammed shut, producing the first stabs of what 
Allen was certain would be a monumental headache. He groaned again, rolling over 
and covering his head with the blanket. Billimba's finger jabbed him painfully 
in the ribs.
"You better get outa that bed," she repeated.
"Why the hell should I?" Allen yelled.
His question was answered almost immediately. The front door of the cabin was 
smashed from its hinges and sent skidding along the floor. Framed in the open 
doorway was the largest grizzly bear Allen had ever seen. Foam and slobber 
dripped from its tooth-studded jaws. Allen knew in an instant that this bear was 
pissed!
Within seconds he was out the back door, following Billimba onto the roof by 
shinnying up one of the porch pillars. The bear smashed through the back door as 
well, then circled the cabin, roaring intermittently, glaring up at them with 
its mean little eyes.
Allen shivered as the frosty morning air nipped at his nearly naked body. 
Billimba smoothed her robe, then gestured down at the angry bear.
"Seems to be a bit cranky this morning, doesn't he?"
Allen was about to reply, but spotted something clenched in Billimba's hand. It 
was a large tuft of brown hair, the ends of some of the strands tinted red with 
blood.
"Where, exactly, did that come from?"
Billimba waved again at the furious bear. "From right near his balls," she 
admitted.
"Well goddamn! No wonder he's cranky! Give him back his pubic hair and maybe 
he'll go away!"
"I can't do that, Dearie," she said with a shake of her head. "I got to have 
this stuff. It says so in the Official Recipe. But if you go down there and hold 
him real still, I can probably hit him with a Spell that'll turn him into a 
weevil."
"I've got a much better idea," Allen said with a leer. "Let's offer him a human 
sacrifice!"
He reached for her, nearly getting his hands around her throat before her eyes 
glowed. Light flashed from her fingertips. Allen was frozen into instant 
immobility.
"What have you done to me?" 
He could still see, hear, breathe, and talk, but every other muscle was locked. 
Billimba walked around him, humming contentedly, hands clasped behind her back.
"That should hold you for a while," she decided. "I warned you last night I'd 
get even if you were mean to me. Make an old lady sleep in a chair. Huh!"
"I think I'm gonna fall over!" Allen whined.
He teetered dangerously on the slope of the roof, like a plaster statue in a 
strong wind. Billimba retrieved a brick from the damaged chimney and slapped it 
into his outstretched hand.
"That should balance you."
She walked around him again, pinching his buttocks several times as if 
inspecting a horse.
"Nice and firm," she declared. "A little pale, but a few days up here in the 
fresh air should fix that. Now don't you go 'way, Boy."
She pranced to the edge of the roof, and extended her hand. A searing bolt of 
energy crackled from her fingertips. It smacked the bear in the ass, causing the 
beast to howl.
"Be gone, odorous brute!" she ordered. The bear fled into the woods.
* * * *
An hour and a half later Billimba stood outside the cabin, looking up at Allen.
"If you promise to be nice I'll let you down," she said.
"I promise to ring your scrawny neck!"
"No, no..." she said sadly. "That is not the proper response. You'll just have 
to stay up there."
"All right! I'll be good. Just let me down," Allen pleaded. "I'm starting to get 
cramps!"
Billimba immediately rose up into the air, until she floated level with the 
roof. Allen gasped.
"How the hell do you do that?"
"I told you... I'm a Witch. Can't you tell by my Official Black Robe?"
"And very chic it is, too," Allen agreed. "Where do you do your shopping, the 
Tent and Awning Supply?"
Billimba frowned, then stepped onto the roof and snatched the brick from his 
hand. With a push from her finger she sent him toppling over onto the shingles. 
He yelled loudly as he slid from the roof and crashed to the ground.
Billimba settled gently next to him, waving her hands to remove the Spell.
"Now you promised to be nice," she said with a shake of her finger. "That means 
no more insults. C'mon inside and we'll have breakfast."
With a loud groan Allen heaved himself to his feet. Muttering under his breath, 
picking splinters from his bruised hide, he followed her inside the cabin. There 
he quickly donned a sweat shirt, blue jeans, and loafers, then joined her at the 
table which was suddenly and mysteriously laden with platters of steaming food.
"Where did all this come from?" he demanded.
"It was easy, Dearie. Any Witch worth her salt can conjure up breakfast. This 
morning we have biscuits and gravy, sausage, and coffee. Hope you like it."
The first glimmering of an idea was forming in Allen's mind as he recalled what 
she'd said about water shorting out her Powers. He wondered if just any liquid 
would work.
"What is it you want from me?" he asked as he sat down next to her.
"I want you to help me fix my Broom."
"But I didn't break your silly broom. Pass the gravy."
"If you hadn't built this miserable cabin up here I wouldn't have busted my ass 
on your chimney! It's all your fault!"
"I didn't build the cabin, I only rented it," Allen corrected. At that point he 
casually leaned over and poured a generous amount of the steaming gravy down the 
neck of her robe. Billimba screamed, flopping and thrashing in her chair. Allen 
immediately seized her by the ears. He hauled her to the shower, turned the cold 
water on full and held her under.
She bit him twice, kicking furiously at his shins with her curly-toed shoes, but 
either the water or the gravy had shorted out her Powers. Magically, she was 
defenseless.
When she was thoroughly soaked Allen yanked her out, dragging her toward the 
front door. As he passed the stove he snatched up a large, cast iron skillet, 
because Billimba was yelling for Theodore.
On the front porch he held the woman down with one foot on her neck, gripping 
the skillet with both hands. Theodore charged like an angry hornet, a small 
greenish blur with flapping wings and a snake-like tail. Allen swatted the 
creature with the skillet, sent it skidding across the porch into the shrubs. 
Then he pitched Billimba over the railing into the dirt.
"And stay out, you rotten old bag of warts!" he yelled as he stomped back into 
the cabin. 
Ten minutes later Allen's curiosity overcame his good sense. He wandered back 
out onto the porch. Billimba still sat where she had landed, sobbing pitifully. 
For some unknown reason this disturbed him.
"What's the matter?"
"You hurt my feelings," she sniffed.
"I should have brained you with the skillet after you pushed me off the roof! 
Just what the hell do you want from me, woman?"
"I told you... I want you to help me fix my Broom."
Allen rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth. He decided to humor her.
"If I help you fix your stupid broom will you go away and leave me alone?"
"Certainly!"
"Well... okay... c'mon inside."
They finished breakfast in silence, then Allen leaned back in his chair.
"What do we need to fix your precious broom?"
"A few special ingredients. Let me check my Book."
She rummaged in the folds of her robe, producing a large, leather-bound volume 
with withered brown pages that cracked brittlely as she thumbed through them.
"It's in here somewhere," she mumbled. " 'Broom... Sweeping Type'... nooo... 
ahhh... 'Broom, Flying'... let's see... 'Annual Maintenance... Adjusting Speed 
Control... Crash Damage Repairs!'... that's it. Here's a list. We need 'The Hair 
of a Bear'... I got that this morning... 'Four Toad's Teeth, An Ounce of Deadly 
Nightshade, Nine Drops of Dew From the Back of a Newt, The Penis of an Eagle, 
Six Small'..."
"What was that?" Allen yelled, nearly choking on his coffee. "The what of an 
eagle?"
" 'The Penis of an Eagle'," she repeated slowly.
"You got to be kidding!" Allen howled, barely containing his laughter. "I want 
to see you talk him into giving up his little pecker, if he has one!"
"Of course they do!" Billimba insisted. "It wouldn't be in the Book if it wasn't 
so. You have the mentality of a turnip. Now quit laughing and let's get started. 
This could take a while."
* * * *
In the week following, Allen and Billimba reached an uneasy truce. He provided 
her with a bed on the couch and the run of the cabin but otherwise ignored her. 
He was extremely suspicious, not only of her claims of being a Witch, but also 
of the strange incantations she mumbled every so often.
He had plenty of time to repair the doors and chimney. The assistance she 
required consisted mainly of retrieving various plants and small animals from 
the forest. Everything they collected was immediately dumped into a vile 
smelling concoction which simmered constantly in a large black pot she procured 
from somewhere.
Only once did he interrupt her, to ask if she had obtained the eagle's pecker. 
She answered with a sneer combined with a thunderous fart which drove him from 
the cabin for over half an hour.
To his amazement, and considerable disbelief, Allen discovered Theodore was a 
Dragon, a green, scaly creature the size of a basset hound, with leathery wings, 
a long, snaky neck and an even longer tail. For most of the time the creature 
perched on a beam overlooking the fireplace. It did not seem to have been 
affected at all by the blow from the skillet. In fact, several times during the 
week Allen caught it gnawing on various pots and pans.
Also of interest was the change which occurred in Billimba. When it suited her 
she was civil, even polite, possessing an intelligence which surprised and often 
frightened him.
"I thought all witches wore tall, pointy hats and had black cats," he said 
jokingly one day.
"Ohhh... Theodore's much better than a cat," she explained. "More interesting 
and useful. And we do wear hats. They're part of the Official Uniform. Mine's 
still out there in the lake. I'll have to get it back before I leave, if that 
horny salmon hasn't hauled it away."
On another occasion she stood behind him staring over his shoulder while he 
typed.
"What are you doin' here, Boy?" she demanded.
"I'm trying to type this novel, but you're interrupting."
"You'll never get anywhere like that. Let me see that thing."
Before he could protest, she hefted the heavy type writer under one arm and 
retreated to a far corner. Being, by then, fairly familiar with her cranky 
disposition, Allen was reluctant to interfere, in spite of the evil clanks and 
bangs he heard. A little later she called to him.
"Have you got a really big hammer, Dearie?"
"Hammer!? Woman, that's an expensive and delicate machine."
"Never mind," she said, absently pitching a small internal component over her 
shoulder. Two hours later she returned the device to his desk, its outer casing 
altered. Where it had been flat it now bulged over a grill-like insert.
"Just turn it on and talk to it," Billimba instructed. "But be careful. It will 
print whatever you say out loud."
He tried it immediately. It performed just as she said it would, which scared 
him. For some time he was afraid to go near the thing. When he finally began to 
use it in earnest he was amazed at the speed at which he could turn out finished 
pages.
* * * *
They sat in front of the fire late one evening while Billimba worked on her 
shattered broomstick. She reached deep into one sleeve of her robe to extract a 
slim, transparent green rod.
"Is that supposed to be your 'magic wand'?" Allen asked with a laugh.
"Yes, and you shouldn't laugh at anything connected to Magic. It could be 
dangerous."
"There's no such thing as magic!"
"You celery stalk!" she hissed at him. "You should study astronomy with all that 
space between your ears. If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to 
hear it, does it still make a sound?"
"What does that have to do with magic?"
"Everything! Just because you haven't witnessed an event doesn't mean it can't 
or won't occur."
Allen reluctantly agreed. They sat in silence for some time. Billimba covered 
the broken portion of the Broomstick with a cloth, then stroked it with her 
Wand.
"Magic is very real," she said abruptly. "It's a usable Force, one of those 
controlling the Universe, along with Time, Death, and Luck. Magic is all around 
us, but it takes a special ability to gather and focus it."
She stared into the fire as if her mind were suddenly thousands of miles, or 
years, away.
"A long, long time ago, during the Zenith of Man, all the Earth was controlled 
by Magic. Great Forces charged the air. All races had the Power, but one 
continent in particular was the heart of the Ability."
"It sounds like you're talking about Atlantis," he whispered.
"Ahhh... you've read the Legends? That's interesting. Yes... Atlantis... but 
that was before the Devastation, before Man was Punished. Your scientists wonder 
why Man's brain is so large when he seems to only use a portion of it at a time. 
It's a remnant from the Zenith of Man, when controlling Magic required 
considerable mental Ability.
"Then came the Devastation," she said sadly. "Magic was taken away from Man and 
he degenerated to the level of the animals. Ice covered most of the land several 
times, those parts that didn't sink beneath the oceans, and the dinosaurs died. 
So did many other creatures which today are merely mentioned in legends or fairy 
tales.
"Magic is much more than a myth," she told him. "It's part of the inherited 
sub-conscious of all Men, because once they could use it. Some of us have 
retained this Ability, down through the ages. People like Merlin. What a man he 
was. Perhaps sometime in the future Man will be allowed to regain control of 
Magic again. Until then it's just old hags like me who see to its custody."
There was a crackling sound from under the cloth. When Billimba pulled it aside 
Allen gasped. Where the Broomstick had been broken and splintered it was now 
smooth and whole.
"What was this Devastation?" he asked.
She looked at him. For the first and only time both her eyes focused on him, as 
if she could see down to his soul.
"You don't want to know, Boy," she said softly. "You don't want to know."
* * * *
As the days passed Allen continued to dictate to his typewriter while Billimba 
worked on her Broom. She gathered straw, binding it to one end of the stick, 
then dipped it into the boiling mess in the pot while reciting strange mumblings 
over it. The excess liquid she eventually poured into a bowl, allowing Theodore 
to lap it up at his leisure.
She tested the Broom early one morning while Allen watched. The thing floated in 
the air level with the porch railing. It took off with incredible speed when 
Billimba jumped astride it. Around and around the cabin she zoomed: soaring, 
looping, twisting, whooping with glee while her Robe billowed like a sail.
She finally dismounted again near the front steps, then pointed at the hovering 
Broom. "Want to try it, Dearie?"
Allen backed away, shaking his head. Billimba laughed.
"Just as well, I suppose. You'd probably fall off somewhere and make a big mess. 
Well, it's time for me to go."
She crammed her tall hat on her head, the very hat she had taken great pains to 
retrieve from the lake the night before. The 'horny salmon' had been reluctant 
to part with it, causing the fish to become their main course at dinner.
Theodore clamped his clawed feet firmly upon the shaft of the hovering Broom 
while Billimba patted her robe.
"Book, Pot, Wand... guess I've got everything." She mounted the Broom. It bucked 
like a race horse.
"Thanks for your help, Allen person. Perhaps I'll see you again when you go back 
to Chicago."
"Don't even think about it!" he shouted defiantly.
Billimba merely cackled with glee, then soared off into the rising sun.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter II
 
 
 
Seated in front of his typewriter in the study of his Chicago apartment, Allen 
Jenson's concentration was suddenly shattered by a vibrating clap of thunder. A 
billowing cloud of purple smoke gushed from one corner of the room.
Choking and wheezing, Allen stumbled to the window, flinging it open to allow 
fresh air into the room. Then he turned to see who, or what, had so rudely 
invaded his privacy.
"Hello, Sweetie!" cackled an irritating, yet vaguely familiar voice.
When the swirling smoke parted enough for him to see, he groaned aloud. Billimba 
sat cross-legged, floating and bobbing gently near the ceiling.
"Too much damn smoke again," she said sadly. "Sorry, Dearie. Guess I'm outa 
practice."
"What the hell are you doin' here?" Allen snarled.
"I was lonely. I missed you. It's been a while."
"Almost a year," he agreed. "Look. You scorched my ceiling. Why have you come 
back to pester me? We had a deal, remember? I helped fix your Broom, and you 
promised to go away and leave me alone."
"But I didn't say exactly how long I would leave you alone," she informed him. 
"I had an interesting idea. You aren't married or anything, are you?"
"I have a girlfriend..."
"Well, dump her!" Billimba ordered. "You won't need her anymore. I've decided."
"I should care what you've decided?" Allen shook his finger at her. "Stay out of 
my life, you ugly little fart!"
"Listen here, armpit! If you get nasty with me again I'll fill this whole place 
with pigeon shit, with you in it! Now let's get down to business. I'm sending my 
little sister, Saleena, to live with you."
"Sister?! You mean there's more than one like you? Ohhhh, shit! All right... I'm 
sorry!"
Allen's attitude changed abruptly as Billimba withdrew her Magic Wand from her 
sleeve. She aimed it at him, squinting down its length with one eye.
"She'll be here this evening," Billimba continued, "and you better behave 
yourself. If you're mean to her I'll make your balls swell up like melons!"
With that she disappeared as abruptly as she had materialized, leaving behind 
wisps of smoke and a purple
stain on the ceiling.
For twenty minutes a distraught Allen sat in a chair repeating over and over: 
"Why me? Why me?"
* * * *
Allen wandered the city streets for most of the afternoon, allowing the warm 
summer sunshine to melt away his anger and frustration. He wondered if Billimba 
had really appeared or if he had merely been the victim of some gastric 
hallucination. Finally conceding her image had not been a mirage, he focused his 
thoughts on Saleena, trying to contend with the idea there might be two people 
in the world as ugly as Billimba. The possibility made him cringe.
Eventually he found himself walking in the general direction of his apartment. 
He realized that sooner or later he would have to return there. Along the way he 
toyed with the idea of giving in to his immediate impulse to flee the city.
Fortunately his apartment appeared empty upon his return. He searched the 
premises thoroughly just to be sure. This action provided only a moment's 
respite. He knew Billimba did not make idle threats. Saleena could appear at any 
moment. He hoped he could escape before then.
He showered quickly, washing away the grit of the city streets. As he dried 
himself he sensed a presence in the other room. Pulling on a pair of shorts, he 
stepped out of the bathroom, gasped, and dropped his towel.
She was breathtaking, the most hauntingly beautiful woman Allen had ever seen; 
tall, slim, and regal. She stood motionless in the middle of the living room, 
staring at him. Her mane of blue-black hair shimmered in the soft light. It 
framed a face with large, innocent eyes, a delicate nose and full, sensuous 
lips. She wore a long, sheer, white gown which clung to her every curve. 
She stepped toward him, smiling. Her gown was slit over her left leg all the way 
to her waist, revealing her firm, tanned flesh. Her breasts bounced gently when 
she walked, almost escaping the lacy fabric straining to contain them.
The woman stopped in front of Allen, with just the barest pressure of her body 
against his, then gently kissed him. Her lips were soft and sweet, her tongue 
warm and spicy. There was a heat from her which seemed to enveloped him.
"I'm Saleena," she whispered.
"Yeaaaaah," Allen sighed. "You would be." 
She laughed softly, reaching up to touch his chin.
"Close your mouth, Lover. You look like a guppy."
"I'd give anything, anything, if I could be your lover!" Allen blurted out. He 
was overcome by her beauty, nearly out of control. All thoughts of leaving town 
instantly evaporated from his mind.
"You will be my lover," she announced. "Tonight. Billimba wants me to learn 
everything."
Unable to maintain his composure, Allen reached for her, trying to maneuver her 
back into the bedroom. She laughed again, pushing him away.
"Not yet, Darling. Just be patient. Waiting will make it even better. I want 
you, too. You're much more handsome than Billimba said you were. Tall, dark 
haired, blue eyed... ohhh... you make me shiver."
Allen groaned, trying not to drool on himself.
"I have a surprise for you," Saleena said. "Billimba gave us a present."
She stooped to unroll a bundle on the floor. Allen drew in his breath sharply 
when he saw the tight curves of her body pressed against the gown.
"A rug," he panted, pointing to the object on the floor. "Great. Just what we 
need."
"Not a rug," she corrected. "A Flying Carpet. It was given to sis a long time 
ago by some Arab Magician, in return for a special favor. She hardly uses it at 
all, since she has her Broom. Let's take a ride."
She pulled her gown up around her thighs, then sat on the carpet, patting a spot 
in front of her where she wanted Allen.
"Ahhh... clothes..." he stammered. "I oughta' have some... maybe..."
Saleena pointed to a chair where she'd laid out a silk bathrobe the same color 
as her own gown. Allen quickly belted it around himself, then sat on the carpet 
in front of her. The sliding glass door to the balcony opened when Saleena waved 
her hand, and the Carpet launched itself into the warm summer night.
Allen emitted an unmanly shriek of pure terror when the Carpet soared over the 
balcony railing. For the first few moments he sat hunched over, eyes tightly 
closed, exerting a white-knuckled grip on the nap of the Carpet.
The rational part of his mind insisted throw rugs simply did not fly. He was 
certain their imminent and squishy demise was only seconds away.
When no fatal splat on the concrete was forthcoming, Allen's courage slowly 
returned. He managed to open one eye, then the other.
The Carpet carried them smoothly, effortlessly through the night sky. Only the 
fluttering fringe around the edges gave any indication of their speed. The ride 
quickly became an exhilarating experience for Allen. They soared through the 
night sky, looping, twisting, gliding, hovering over the tops of the tallest 
buildings. Several times he wondered why they were not intercepted by fighter 
aircraft from the local military bases, who must surely have picked them up on 
their powerful radars. No one on the ground or in the high-rise apartments and 
penthouses seemed to be aware of them either. He attributed it to some Magical 
invisibility on the part of the Carpet itself.
Saleena knelt behind him while they flew, holding him tightly, now and then 
allowing her fingers to explore the hard muscles of his stomach. He heard her 
laugh over the wind, felt her warm breath on his ear.
Suddenly she pointed off to their right, where a huge, billowing white cloud 
floated in the silver moonlight. She brought the Carpet to a gentle halt next to 
it. To Allen's amazement she stood up, stepping from the Carpet onto the cloud.
"That just can't be done!" he insisted.
"Of course it can," Saleena told him. "I'm doing it, aren't I? Clouds have 
substance, like all things. It just takes a little Magic to make us light enough 
to walk on them. Billimba told me you were a Non-Believer. Perhaps this will 
help convince you."
She brushed the straps of the gown from her shoulders, letting it slip to her 
waist. After seductively wiggling out of it all together, she tossed it back 
onto the Carpet.
Allen's mouth watered at the sight of her body. Her skin was tan, smooth, and 
sleek, almost glowing in the moonlight. Her full breasts jutted out proudly 
above her impossibly narrow waist, while her thighs and calves were deliciously 
svelte.
"If you can catch me you can have me," she whispered to him. She turned and ran 
across the cloud, her laughter floating on the wind.
Allen's desire for the woman overcame all fear or disbelief in the forces she 
controlled. He stood up on the Carpet, stripped off his robe and, with a deep 
breath, stepped off onto the cloud.
The footing was spongy and clinging, like walking through cotton candy. His feet 
sank in several inches before finding a really solid support. With a shake of 
his head he ran after Saleena, finally catching her on the far edge of the 
cloud. They wrestled amidst the vapor, rolling and laughing. After a few moments 
Saleena's laughter gave way to moans of desire.
Like animals they attacked each other, licking, caressing, panting, while the 
cloud boiled around them. Its cool moisture coated their bodies with a slippery, 
sensuous film.
Saleena maneuvered herself beneath him, her violet eyes staring directly into 
his. Arms and legs which had sought to escape him suddenly opened eagerly to 
enfolded him. Allen felt a heat in his loins like nothing he had ever 
experienced.
She guided him with her hand. With one thrust he slid into her completely. She 
cried out, arching her back, grinding herself against him. Each time he thrust 
into her they sank farther into the cloud, until its white mist enveloped them 
completely. When he would have voiced a fear of falling through it, Saleena 
silenced him with a deep, probing kiss. At the same time the mist suddenly 
parted. They dropped a few inches onto the waiting Carpet which somehow kept 
track of their progress through the fluffy gathering.
He let the Carpet drift while he made love to Saleena. Later they rested, lying 
on their stomachs side by side, peering over the fringed edge at the twinkling 
city lights below. Saleena stretched and purred, laying one leg over the back of 
his, her arm over his shoulders.
"Billimba told me I wouldn't be disappointed. She was right," Saleena sighed. 
"She likes you, Allen. Does that surprise you?" She laughed, licking the inside 
of his ear. "She said you were one of the few people who didn't seem to be 
afraid of her."
"Your sister is a little... strange," he said. "We act more like enemies than 
friends. I'm not afraid of her, but this Magic stuff scares the shit outa me. 
And, no offense, but it's really hard to believe anyone as ... homely?... as she 
is could have a sister as beautiful as you are."
"Poor Billimba," Saleena said. "She's been like a mother to me since our 
parents... well... When a Witch finds it necessary to call upon the most 
powerful of Magic Forces, a price must be paid. Billimba sacrificed her beauty. 
Before that happened, people used to mistake us for twins."
"How old are you?" he asked.
"In relation to what?"
"Now you're being difficult, like your sister." 
"Not at all," she said with a little pout. "Age is relative to whatever one uses 
to mark the passage of time, or the development of the individual."
She laughed at the perplexed look on his face. Rolling onto her back, she drew 
his head down, offering up one of her breasts to his lips.
"I understand your question," she breathed, squirming with the delightful 
sensations produced by his tongue. "Physically my body has been alive for 573 of 
your years. But by your mental standards, you could think of me as just having 
turned sixteen."
She gasped and moaned as Allen allowed his mouth to travel down her body.
"So you see... ummmm, that's wonderful... we're going to be doing this... 
ohhhh.... for a long, long time...."
* * * *
Living with Saleena was close to a dream-come-true. It also produced moments of 
crisis, as well as certain doubts in Allen's mind concerning his ability to 
survive the experience.
She seemed utterly insatiable, a joy which, for Allen, rather quickly became a 
physical pain. It was as if he'd created a sexual Frankenstein. Once he'd turned 
her on he couldn't turn her off.
At any time of the day or night she was ready, often insistent. The constant 
activity began to wear him down. He tried to explain that while his own sexual 
excitement was visibly more spectacular than hers, a certain amount of rest was 
required in between performances.
"I gotta have time to heal!" he told her. "I'm rubbed raw and bow-legged."
Making the situation worse was her obvious enjoyment of acrobatic sex, as 
Allen's intensely sore muscles attested to.
After the first two weeks there wasn't a single piece of furniture in the 
apartment which had not been included in their love-making, and Allen secretly 
disposed of the waffle iron and blender lest the girl get completely carried 
away.
With the help of a Recuperative Spell, and some moderation, they eventually 
settled into a comfortable and pleasantly exhausting routine. 
A few weeks later Billimba made one of her surprise visits, accompanied by her 
usual swirling smoke and gagging vapors. She stayed only long enough to point 
out to Allen that the object of his co-habitation with Saleena was to teach her 
to live in society without the use of Magic, or at least to be as unobtrusive as 
possible when employing it.
This was a major problem. Until that time, Saleena had not only been free to use 
her Powers but was encouraged to do so in order to develop her Talent 
completely. Thus the experiment quickly became rather like asking a kitten to 
use the toilet instead of the litter box. Allen received numerous scratches, 
both physical and mental.
Nor were Saleena's talents limited to physical Magic alone. She also possessed 
the ability to read his mind or intercept many of his thoughts. This seemed to 
be a random occurrence, with no real effort on her part, but it forced him to be 
very careful.
Breaking her of smaller Magical habits was difficult enough. She was liable to 
have cups, glasses, clothing, pillows, and books floating about the apartment, 
or following her in an orderly train. And Allen shivered each time he watched 
the bed make itself.
This was nothing compared to the havoc she could wreak when she was angry. A 
Witch's revenge, he soon learned, could be truly devastating.
He always knew when she was angry. Her violet eyes would flash, sometimes with 
real sparks or fire. He had to move briskly in order to avoid being scorched in 
embarrassing places. When she was pissed she was a terror, her tantrums 
producing bizarre results.
After a man nearly ran her over on the street, then honked his horn, shook his 
fist and drove off down the block to his own apartment, Saleena remained 
outwardly calm. That same night she conjured up a Beast which ate the man's 
Buick, devouring it down to the chassis and wheels, leaving behind well chewed 
chunks of metal.
* * * * *
Allen and Saleena encountered another difference of opinion in the domestic 
area. Allen suggested she learn to cook, an activity he was certain most 
'normal' females mastered at an early age.
"I already know how to cook," she insisted. "I put Raw Things into a Magic Pot, 
wave my Wand and they turn into Food."
"I'm talking about real cooking," Allen told her. "You take meat and veggies, 
season 'em, slice 'em, boil 'em, bake 'em, serve 'em... they taste great and you 
can keep 'em down!"
"Sounds like a lot of dreary Work," she said with a pout. Some days later she 
reluctantly agreed to at least try, marching off toward the kitchen with a 
determined look on her face. Three hours later she placed before Allen a glowing 
blue meatloaf, accompanied by a green substance resembling stewed kelp. From 
then on he handled the cooking chores.
In spite of these minor problems and setbacks, Allen was immeasurably happy. For 
the first time in his life he believed himself to be truly in love, and was 
fairly certain Saleena felt the same way about him. So he was absolutely 
devastated when, after just two months, she announced she was leaving.
"It's only for a few days, love," she assured him, seeing the look on his face. 
"I have to collect a few things to use in my Spells and Cures."
"Promise you'll be back?" he pleaded.
"That is the most absurd idea. Of course I'll be back. Don't ever think anything 
like that again."
She didn't even pack a bag, just wore sandals and a simple white dress.
"Be back in a jiffy, love," she whispered, kissing him goodbye.
Then she left, exiting the apartment by the simple process of evaporation, a 
much more civilized departure than those of her sister, without even a wisp of 
smoke.
By bed time that night Allen felt extremely lonely and depressed without her. He 
broke from his usual habit of sleeping naked to don an excruciatingly vile pair 
of pajamas, the colors exactly matching his mood. He went to bed hoping for a 
good night's sleep. As he dozed off he had no idea his troubles had only just 
begun.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter III
 
 
 
Allen was having a nightmare. He dreamed he was buried under a pile of rotting 
corpses, their weight crushing his chest, their overpowering stench gagging him.
Struggling against nausea, Allen fought his way up through the gray fog of 
sleep, finally managing to open one eye. He yelled in surprise.
Theodore the Dragon squatted on Allen's chest, talons digging painfully into his 
skin. The Dragon's green scales reflected the early morning sunlight streaming 
in through the windows. With its snaky neck extended, the Dragon's face was only 
inches from Allen's, its forked tongue slithering in and out.
Allen belched, shuddered, then slapped the animal on the side of the head, 
sending it tumbling off the bed. He reached for the clock radio, which seemed an 
eminently suitable instrument with which to squash the scaly little pest, then 
heard Billimba's all too familiar and irritating voice.
"Hello, Dearie."
The Witch's cackling laughter filled the room, as did the nasty purple smoke 
which always accompanied one of her appearances.
Allen groaned, laying back down and pulling the blanket up over his face.
"Hey, none of that!" Billimba insisted from her position astride her Broom near 
the ceiling. "Rise and shine! Time to catch the early worm, before the bird 
craps on him, or something like that."
The sheet and blanket were suddenly yanked off the bed, exposing Allen as he lay 
in a fetal position. He craned his neck, watching as Theodore methodically 
shredded the bed clothes. The creature growled and hissed, expelling puffs of 
steam.
"Say, I really like your jammies," Billimba said as she settled to the floor and 
dismounted from her Broom. "Quite an unusual color combination, lime green and 
puce. How often do you wear that disgusting outfit?"
"Only when I'm expecting a visit from something like you," Allen muttered. "Do 
you always have to bring that... that lizard with you?"
He waved in the direction of the Dragon. The animal completed its shredding of 
the sheet and blanket, then began to render one of Allen's best shoes into a 
similar condition.
"Theodore? What's wrong with him?" Billimba asked.
"His breath smells like a vulture's crotch!" Allen told her. "And I think he's 
queer. Have you seen the way he looks at me?"
"You noticed that, too?" Billimba was genuinely concerned. "He went after some 
old lady's Pekinese the other day. I thought he was just hungry, but now that 
you mention it... oh well... aren't you glad to see me, Dearie?"
"No!" said Allen through clinched teeth. "Whadda ya want now?"
"I'm concerned about your health, Sweetie. You're looking a bit peaked. I 
believe you need some exercise. When's the last time you had an Adventure?"
"Last night when I tried to cook dinner for myself."
"No, fool!" she scolded. "I didn't ask about a self inflicted wound." She drew 
herself up to her full height of four feet five inches to make her announcement. 
"I think you need an Adventure!"
"And I think you need to fuck off and leave me alone!" Allen replied.
"I can't do that, Boobie. I need your help."
"Again? What for?"
"Saleena's been kidnapped!"
"Oh, shit!"
Allen sat straight up in bed, wide awake, his heart pounding.
"Have you called the police, the FBI?"
"That won't do any good," Billimba admitted. "We'll have to rescue her 
ourselves."
"Oh yeah?" Allen's fear and excitement were dulled considerably by suspicion. 
"And just how do we do that?"
"On our Magical Adventure, of course. Any twit could figure that out. Saleena's 
being held captive in Detroit by Bernie, the Black Magician."
"Bernie? Detroit? Well, let's just hop on a plane and... and..."
He could see Billimba shaking her head sadly. His spirits fell even further.
"This isn't the same Detroit you're familiar with," she warned.
"In that case I have an even better idea," Allen said with a smile. It was 
Billimba's turn to be suspicious.
"What?"
"Shove that broomstick up your ass and motor off into the sunset! I don't want 
to have anything to do with your adventures. This magic stuff scares the shit 
outa' me."
"Don't be afraid. It'll be fun. You'll see."
"Torture and suffering and death are not fun things!" Allen insisted.
"There won't be any of that. Here, I'll prove it to you." She dug in the folds 
of her Robe, finally producing the aged, leather-bound Book she'd consulted 
before. "I'll look it up in here."
She thumbed rapidly through the brittle pages, muttering to herself.
"I know it's in here... Adnoids... Airplane... Alchemy... Adventure! Here it 
is... Adventures, Solo... noooo... aha!... Adventures, Group Rates... now let's 
see... 'An Adventure is a long trek or journey involving Torture, Suffering, and 
Death'..."
"See! See!" Allen jumped up and down on the bed, pointing at her. "I told you 
so! I ain't goin'!"
He flopped back down on the mattress, folding his arms across his chest. 
Billimba continued thumbing through her Book, finally jabbing at a page with her 
finger.
"Pay attention, anus, while I read this to you," she ordered. " 'An Adventure, 
when properly planned and prepared for, involves equal amounts of Fun, 
Excitement, and Thrilling Escapes, as well as an assortment of Wonderful and 
Exotic Creatures...' "
"Yeah, like that little shit!" Allen interrupted, pointing at Theodore.
" 'Adventures,' " Billimba continued, favoring Allen with a venomous stare, 'are 
usually undertaken for one of two reasons; A) To regain possession of some Land, 
Crown, Throne, Sword, or Sacred Relic stolen by an Evil Villain, or B) to Rescue 
a Damsel in Distress, a fair, innocent, beautiful Young Maiden of Epic 
Proportions who is universally Delectable and almost always Half Naked.' "
"Terrific," said Allen. "Now let's go back to the part about the Torture and 
Suffering. You skipped over that pretty fast."
"Don't worry about that. I'll be there to protect you."
"I ain't goin'!" Allen repeated.
Billimba withdrew her Magic Wand from her sleeve, placing one end against 
Allen's forehead.
"Do you want to see Saleena again?" she whispered. "Recall your memories of 
her... all those warm, soft parts of her body... the things you did to each 
other..."
The visions Billimba produced in Allen's mind sent waves of heat coursing 
through his body. His eyes crossed and he began to drool.
"All right! Enough!" he cried. "I'm being Tortured already and we haven't even 
started the stupid Adventure!"
"Does that mean you'll go?" she asked hopefully.
"I'll go, already, I'll go!"
"I knew I could count on you, Dearie." She replaced her Wand in her sleeve, once 
again consulting her Book.
"We need to start preparing," she told him. "The Book lists a bunch of things 
recommended for an Adventure. It's been so long I've forgotten most of them. 
Let's see... ummm... yes, I can get that... and that... those are too big... and 
these others can't be tamed anymore... I think I can handle all this. You need 
to pack some food, clothing... better bring your gun, too."
She slammed The Book shut, returning it to her Robe.
"Get ready, Boy," she warned again. "We don't have much time. I'm gonna start 
running errands. By the way... would you really have refused to help rescue 
Saleena?"
"No, of course not," he replied firmly.
"I didn't think so. Well... she loves you, too. I'll be back directly, Boobie."
With a puff of putrid purple smoke she disappeared.
* * * *
Allen sat on the bed for some time, considering his situation, wondering just 
what the hell he'd gotten himself into.
It was still very difficult for him to accept the existence of Witches, even 
though he'd met two and was in love with one of them. As for Magic... well, that 
simply staggered the imagination, stretched all the bounds of credibility. And 
yet... he’d seen it!
Now they were about to set off on some silly Adventure! Allen harbored few 
doubts as to how the project would turn out, in spite of Billimba's reassurances 
to the contrary. Drill instructors in the Army had talked about Adventures, too. 
Those had all turned out to be things like fifty mile forced marches, in the 
rain, carrying eighty pound packs!
Sighing in resignation, Allen began his preparations. He showered and dressed 
first, donning a flannel shirt, jeans and boots. Then he rummaged about the 
apartment, gathering items he thought they might need, while pausing 
occasionally to kick Theodore against the nearest wall.
Nearly an hour passed before an insistent banging on the front door halted his 
labors. He jerked it open, then ducked quickly as Billimba swooped into the 
apartment astride her Broom. Her hat fell off and her Robe billowed as the Broom 
zipped around the confines of the living room. She appeared to be out of 
control.
"Whoa, goddammit!" she yelled, bashing the Broomstick with her fist.
The implement halted immediately in mid air. Billimba, unfortunately, did not. 
She sailed off the Broom the way a rodeo rider is ejected from the back of a 
bucking bull. With a wild shriek she zinged through the potted fern, then 
splattered against the bookshelf, eventually landing in a heap behind the couch. 
Her Broom continued to hover, idling about three feet off the floor, as if 
daring her to remount.
"Say, that was spectacular," Allen said as he closed the door. "A lot better 
than the smelly purple smoke, but a little hard on the furniture, don't you 
think?"
"Piss on you!" she yelled, disentangling herself from the strands of fern and 
several volummes of Shakespeare. She adjusted her Robe, retrieved her dented 
Hat, then stared at the Broom, shaking her head.
"I gotta get that damn thing adjusted!" she snarled. Waddling toward the 
kitchen, carrying a burlap bag under one arm, Billimba stared suspiciously at 
all the boxes and bags he'd set out.
"You told me we needed supplies," Allen said in defense of his efforts.
"Yeah, but how you gonna carry all this stuff, Sweetie? We only got a Broom and 
a Carpet."
She reached into a shopping bag and pulled out a box. After reading the label 
she sighed. 
"Snappie-Crispies do not go on a Magical Adventure."
"Hey, we gotta eat," Allen protested.
"The Book says we're supposed to be tough... live off the land... eat roots and 
grubs and berries and raw meat," Billimba informed him.
"Yeeech!" was Allen's reaction. "I suppose that means I can't take the TV 
dinners either, huh? What have you got in the bag?"
Billimba threw the bag onto the floor. A creature scrambled out. It was about 
three feet tall, and bony, with black, leathery skin and beady red eyes. It 
shook itself, then stood erect, wrapping its enormous wings around its body and 
hissing at them.
"It's a giant bat!" Billimba announced. "We'll need something to help us see in 
the dark. I had a hell of a time catching it, too. It bites and shits a lot."
"It is not a bat," said Allen.
"Of course it is," Billimba argued. "See, its black and got leathery wings..."
"Bats," Allen interrupted, "do not have pointed heads and long beaks full of 
teeth!"
"I hadn't thought of that," the Witch admitted. "What do you suppose it is, 
then?"
"I think it's a dinosaur, a Pterodactyl, a flying reptile. No wonder it was hard 
to catch. They've been extinct for millions of years! Bats are mammals. You know 
what a mammal is, don't you?"
"Certainly! They have hard skeletons, they're covered with hair, and they give 
milk."
"Well, that definition doesn't entirely rule out the coconut," observed Allen. 
"I don't want to know where you got this thing. Just get rid of it. Look, it's 
starting to eat the linoleum! Icky little bastard."
"It's cute," Billimba said. "I think we'll keep it. Bound to be useful for 
something. C'mere, Icky."
The creature emitted a hissing squawk as it scuttled over to her. She snatched 
it up by the neck, scratching its skinny belly, then set it on the counter.
"What time is it?" she asked abruptly.
"A little after nine," Allen told her.
"Shit! I'm late. Stand back, Boobie."
She pranced into the livingroom, pausing to hastily consult her Book. Then she 
spun around three times on her toes, flinging a handful of dust into the air and 
yelling "Shazam!"
There was a screeching sound, then a loud pop, and another animal materialized 
within the apartment. This one was much bigger, about five feet high at the 
shoulder, with the white furred body of a horse set off by a brown head and 
neck. From the center of its forehead sprouted a spiral horn, white at the base, 
black in the middle, red at its sharp tip. Along with a white mane and tail the 
blue-eye creature also sported a long, white goatee.
"Ahhh, hell," groaned Allen. "A deformed goat! Now that's just what we need."
"It's a Unicorn!" Billimba informed him. "Don't insult him."
"I'm tryin' to figure out if it's good to eat," Allen snapped back. "Help me 
cram it into the microwave."
The animal took a menacing step forward, its horn aimed directly at Allen's 
stomach. Allen prudently backed away.
"I say, Billimba, who is this bloody uncouth creature?"
Allen jumped in surprise when the Unicorn spoke with a distinct English accent.
"This is my friend Allen," she said as she stroked the animal's flank. "Allen, 
meet Fleener the Unicorn."
"Howjado," Fleener said, then turned to Billimba. "I say, old thing, are we 
about to have an Adventure?"
Billimba nodded, then went on to explain the circumstances.
"Sounds jolly good to me," Fleener said. "Bernie's been a bit of an ass lately. 
It's rumored he captured a female Centaur and raped her. To my mind, he's long 
overdue for a lesson in manners."
"Glad to have you with us... I think," Allen said, as he jerked Billimba aside. 
"It still looks like a goat to me," he whispered. "And it smells like one too. 
What do we need him for?"
"Unicorns have the unfailing ability to detect Virgins."
"Fine, but Unicorns and Virgins don't exist anymore, except in fairy tales. One 
died out with the other. And you know damn good an' well Saleena's no virgin. 
This place is starting to look like some perverted version of Noah's Ark. Who's 
gonna clean up the mess when all these animals start moving their bowels?"
"You worry too much," she told him. "C'mon, we have an appointment."
She grabbed his hand. The apartment instantly dissolved into a murky gray void 
which gave Allen vertigo. A rushing noise, like a horrendous wind, assaulted his 
ears, accompanied by the snapping and buzzing of electrical discharges.
In mere seconds the world reappeared. Allen staggered against gale force winds 
which suddenly assaulted them. They were atop some lofty, snow-covered peak, a 
desolate place of granite and ice.
"What are we gonna do here, besides freeze to death?" he yelled over the wind.
Billimba pointed to a dark opening in the side of the mountain, then led the way 
into the cave.
"We are looking for Rosencrantz Faussbinder the 43rd," she informed him.
"The 43rd out of how many?" Allen demanded.
"Just keep your eyes open," she ordered as they descended deeper into the cave. 
From somewhere within her Robe she produced a glowing orb which served to light 
their way.
"If I knew exactly what we were looking for," Allen whined, "I might be able... 
oaffffff!"
He fell over something, sprawling face down on the slimy rock.
"I think you just found it," Billimba told him. "Part of it, anyway."
'It' was a tubular object as thick around as Allen's leg, covered with 
glittering blue-green scales.
"Oh shit it's a snake!" Allen yelled, backing against the wall of the cave.
"It's a tail," Billimba corrected, "It seems to get thicker up this way, C'mon."
The thought of something with a tail that size terrified Allen. He briefly 
considered turning around and attempting to find his way out, until he 
remembered the icy winds and snow. With a shudder he followed the Witch. At 
least the cave offered protection against the inhospitable elements. As they 
descended deeper, following the tail, the air grew warmer.
Minutes later they finally reached the entrance to an enormous cavern. A pungent 
odor wafted toward them, forcing Allen to hold his nose. Billimba passed one 
hand over the glowing object, then tossed it upward. It ascended some fifty feet 
into the air, blazing fiercely. In the sudden bright light the owner of the tail 
was revealed.
The Dragon was huge, larger than several houses. From where Allen stood the hump 
of the creature's back was lost in the shadows near the ceiling. Its body 
tapered down to a neck which lay coiled on the floor, while its head was the 
size of a boxcar, sporting a bulging, lidded eye on either side.
The Dragon's blue-green scales faded in color until they became spotted yellow 
near its belly. It had a fiery red mane running the length of its neck, ending 
atop its head in a tuft like a cheap wig.
Pungent air whistled from the Dragon's nostrils, which were the size of manhole 
covers and ringed with ominous black soot. The creature's breathing produced a 
faint rumbling noise. The Dragon appeared to be soundly asleep, and Allen was 
not about to do anything which might disturb the slumber of such a formidable 
animal. 
Billimba, on the other hand, had no such reservations. She hefted a large rock 
from the floor of the cave. Jumping up onto the Dragon's snout, she beaned the 
creature squarely between the eyes with the boulder.
"Rosie, you ugly old fart, wake up!" she screamed.
The Dragon grumbled deep in its throat, producing a sound like a rock crusher. 
It very slowly opened one bloodshot eye.
"Wake up, you big bag of boiler plates!" Billimba yelled. "We have work to do!"
"Fuuuucccckkk yyoooouuuu!" the beast mumbled. The very walls of the cave 
vibrated with the sound, while the creature settled itself into a more 
comfortable position.
"We did that once, remember?" Billimba yelled. "C'mon, Rosie, wake up!"
"Feeee, Fiiieee, Foooooee, Fuuuccckk Yooouuuu!" rumbled the Dragon. "Jack be 
nimble, Jack be quick, stay away from the candle, you'll burn your dick!"
"Help me, Allen," Billimba pleaded. "Go 'round there and kick him in the ass. 
That might get his brain started."
Allen shook his head, backing away. He wasn't having any part of it. Kicking a 
creature that size would only result in a broken foot at best. He was beginning 
to have serious doubts about an Adventure which included a Dragon as senile as 
this one seemed to be.
From somewhere within the folds of her Robe Billimba produced a brass bugle. 
Jabbing the bell end into the Dragon's pointed ear, she blew a blast of sound 
capable of crumbling brick.
The Dragon shuddered, snorting a cloud of vile yellow smoke. It opened its other 
eye and bellowed.
"Mary had a little ram, with balls as big as limes. She let it in her bed at 
night, and it fucked her twenty times!"
Billimba blew another blast on the bugle, vibrating several small scales from 
the Dragon's flanks. They clattered onto the floor of the cave. The creature 
snorted again, producing green smoke this time. Both its eyes focused on the 
little Witch standing on its nose. It spoke to her with a pronounced lisp and 
obvious affection.
"Billimba! Thith ith a mooth pleathant surprith! Haven't theen you in theven or 
eight hunnert yearth!"
"Nice to see you, too, Rosie. Listen, old friend, I need your help."
She hurriedly explained their proposed rescue mission, ending with the question 
"Can I count on your help?"
The dragon stretched lazily, its joints popping with the sound of minor 
explosions.
"Pothibly," it answered. "Although I do have to guard my tresthure you know."
Each word the Dragon spoke was accompanied by a small puff of steam and a spray 
of venom which sizzled and popped as it ate into the stone of the cave. The 
creature shifted its body carefully so they could see behind it, where there was 
stored an enormous pile of gold and jewels.
"Your treasure will be safe enough," Billimba assured him. "You shat all over it 
in your sleep. No one will touch the stuff now."
"Thith ith true," the Dragon agreed. "Very well, I will athith you."
"Promise you'll stay awake and watch the light?" the Witch asked, pointing to 
the hovering orb. "When it glows red you follow. It will lead you to us."
When the Dragon agreed Billimba voiced a last warning.
"No indiscriminate eating of humans, especially this one!"
She jumped down from the Dragon's nose, then pushed Allen forward, allowing the 
creature to get his scent.
"Thmellth thuculant!" the Dragon said, smacking its gigantic chops.
"Well, this is Allen, and he's on our side, so you obey him as you would me. And 
behave yourself."
With that Billimba produced another glowing orb to light their way, and led 
Allen out of the cavern. 
"No wonder your Theodore seems a little queer," Allen grumbled as they began 
their ascent toward the surface. "If he's in any way related to that giant 
faggot back there... How come Rosie talked okay when he was half asleep and 
reciting his nasty little rhymes, but when he woke up he had a lisp?"
"Who knows why Dragons do anything," Billimba answered with a shrug. "All the 
older ones have multiple personalities. No one's really understood Dragons for 
the last twenty thousand years or so."
"Are we done?" Allen asked as they neared the mouth of the cave. "Can we go back 
where it's warm?"
"We have one more errand," she told him. "We need to find a weapon."
"I have my gun."
Billimba shook her head, then dug out her Book, thumbing through the pages once 
again.
"We need something more, a special weapon to goe along with the purpose of our 
Adventure. Something sinister and lethal, yet symbolizing justice. We definitely 
need a Sword."
She ran her finger down a page, then stopped abruptly.
"That's it... that would be perfect, and I think we could get it, too, because 
she owes me a favor."
She slammed The Book shut, replacing it within her Robe, then grabbed his hand.
"C'mon, Boobie. One more time."
  
Chapter IV
 
 
 
Billimba transported Allen through another gray nothingness, into what appeared 
to be a lush tropical garden. They materialized in the middle of a forest of 
huge oak trees and moss-covered rocks.
Shafts of bright sunlight lanced down through the canopy of leaves, piercing the 
early morning mist covering the ground. Brightly colored flowers bloomed 
everywhere. To the left of where they stood Allen detected the sparkle of 
sunlight on water. Billimba led him in that direction. 
"This is a really beautiful place," Allen said as he followed the little Witch 
through the forest. "Where are we?"
"On an island just off the coast of Ireland."
"Don't tell me we're gonna recruit some funky little Leprechaun?"
"Oh, hell no," Billimba replied firmly. "Those nasty letches are only interested 
in whiskey and tits. They wouldn't be any help at all. I told you, Boobie, we're 
looking for a weapon."
They emerged from the forest onto the sandy shore of a small lake with a 
mirror-smooth surface. Billimba took a deep breath, withdrew her Wand, then 
gently tapped the water three times. Ripples ran across the lake at an unnatural 
speed, producing a soft chiming sound.
They waited several minutes, then Billimba repeated the procedure. More minutes 
passed. Billimba fidgeted nervously. Allen was about to voice a complaint when 
he noticed a disturbance in the water. Bubbles drifted to the surface, then 
mist, and finally a human figure slowly emerged.
Allen stared in awe at the beautiful woman standing in water up to her thighs 
several yards out from the shore. Her hair was honey blond, falling in curly 
waves over her shoulders. Her features were those of a classic beauty. She had 
dark eyes, a delicate nose and full lips. A golden dress, sparkling with jewels, 
covered but did not conceal the curves of her body, enhancing the swell of her 
breasts and the roundness of her hips.
For a moment he was afraid to look at her. When he finally gathered the courage 
to stare into her eyes, he seemed to be looking into the wisdom of the ages, 
although her skin and body were flawless. It was impossible to even guess at her 
age. He noticed neither her hair nor her dress were wet in spite of her recent 
emergence from beneath the surface.
She looked at Allen for a moment, smiling warmly, then directed her gaze toward 
Billimba, giving a slight bow.
"Good morning," Billimba responded, also bowing. "It's very nice to see you 
again. You're looking well."
The golden woman nodded, waiting. Billimba launched into an explanation of the 
circumstances prompting their visit. When she heard of Saleena's abduction the 
Golden Woman's eyes filled with sympathy and understanding.
"We need a Weapon to take on our Adventure," Billimba told her. "Could we borrow 
the one entrusted to your care?"
The woman considered the request, glancing at Allen, then back to Billimba with 
a questioning look in her eyes. The Witch seemed to understand immediately.
"I believe it will work for Allen, since he is related to... Him. If not we'll 
return it at once," Billimba told her.
The woman nodded agreement, then slowly sank back beneath the surface of the 
water. Allen let out a long sigh. A thousand questions filled his mind. Before 
he could voice even one of them the calm waters once again rippled and bubbled.
Only the golden woman's arm appeared above the surface of the lake this time. 
She held aloft a dull gray cylindrical object.
"Take it," Billimba whispered, nudging Allen toward the water.
He hesitantly waded into the lake, careful to splash as little as possible. He 
reached out uncertainly, then drew back his hand. When he looked back at 
Billimba, she nodded vigorously. Once again Allen reached out, firmly grasping 
the device the woman held aloft. As he did so he looked down into the water, and 
saw her lying on her back. If anything she was even more alluring up close, a 
haunting vision of beauty Allen would never forget. She smiled very faintly, 
then withdrew her arm and disappeared.
Allen examined the device she'd given him. He was disappointed. It certainly 
didn't look like a sword. He didn't see how it could function as a weapon at 
all. The object was tubular, approximately eighteen inches long, with a slight 
bulge at one end. It resembled a flashlight, adorned with bright red and green 
stones he assumed were gems, but their placement suggested a functional rather 
than a decorative purpose.
"Hey, Boobie, you gonna stand there in the water 'til your feet turn pruny?"
Billimba's voice brought Allen's mind back to the task at hand. He slowly waded 
ashore.
"Wow! That woman was really something. Who was she?"
"The Lady of the Lake," Billimba replied.
"The Lady...?" Allen suddenly turned pale. He held up the strange device before 
him in both hands. "Then this... this has to be..."
With a sizzling, humming surge of raw power a brilliant cone of light lanced 
upward from the larger end of the device in Allen's hands. It extended itself 
for some five feet into the air. At its center it was the deep blue of a natural 
gas flame, while its edges faded to silver.
"Behold... The Sword Excaliber!" Billimba said.
Allen stumbled backward and would have dropped the Sword had it not been for his 
white-knuckled grip of fear. He held it up before his eyes, felt its vibrating 
power.
"This is no sword!" Allen whispered. "It's... pure energy... like a force 
field..."
"Of course," said Billimba. "How else could it have achieved the reputation of 
being capable of cutting any substance? How else could it have penetrated the 
Stone?"
"It's beautiful," Allen breathed. "It reminds me a lot of the weapon they had in 
that science fiction movie... Star Farce, or something like that. But it was 
called a Saber of Light as I recall."
"Yes, and there are those of us who are still looking into that little 
incident," Billimba told him. "We're trying to find out where the writer got the 
idea for the weapon. It was too similar to Excaliber to have been a 
coincidence."
"I still don't understand," Allen admitted, his eyes locked onto the beautiful 
shimmering blade. "How could a weapon like this be on Earth? I remember a comic 
strip in the newspapers... Prince Valiant... who had something called the 
Singing Sword. It was supposed to be able to cut almost anything. It couldn't be 
the same one, could it? I thought Valiant was a contemporary of Arthur."
"A great many 'historians' and writers like yourself take certain liberties with 
facts and time," Billimba explained tolerantly. "Valiant actually lived about a 
hundred and fifty years before Arthur was born. His 'Singing Sword' and Arthur's 
'Excaliber' were one and the same, although no one knows just how Valiant 
originally came to be in possession of it. The Lady can't or won't tell.
"After the death of Valiant the Sword was returned to the Lady, who later gave 
it to Merlin the Magician. He, in turn, gave it to Uther Pendragon, hoping it 
would help unite the different kingdoms of Britain. Uther plunged it into the 
Stone as he was assassinated. It remained there until Arthur pulled it free."
"This is a weapon so far advanced..." Allen protested.
"We think the Sword was made by a very ancient race of beings who visited this 
planet a long, long time ago," Billimba said. "The same race from which Humans 
may be descended. Whether they left it here on purpose or lost it is something 
we still don't know."
"But why was it only Arthur who was able to pull the Sword from the Stone?"
"Remember what I told you about Magic?" Billimba answered. "After the 
Devastation, there were still some who retained the traits of the ancient race, 
who had ESP and other gifts. And there were those, like you and Arthur, who had 
the Ability to Control the Sword. Those destined for greater things."
"Hell, woman, I'm no king," Allen said soberly.
"Maybe not, but don't sell yourself short, Boobie. You never know what you could 
be."
Allen stared down at her for a long time, trying to understand her remark, 
looking for any indication she might be joking. Her face betrayed nothing, not a 
trace of humor or mischief.
"You told the Lady I was related to someone. Who?"
"We'll talk about that later," she answered. "We better get back now."
"Wait. How... how do I use this thing?" Allen asked.
"The Sword will know. Let it teach you."
Allen stared into the flaring blue blade, searching for an explanation. 
Suddenly, without knowing why, he slowly tilted the weapon until the blade 
touched his forehead.
There was a flash of light, a crackling sound, and in that instant Allen knew!.
He smiled confidently, swinging the Sword through a series of complicated 
maneuvers. The blade hummed as it cleaved the air, vibrating with a menacing 
power. 
When he finished he raised the Sword to eye level. The blade zapped back down 
into the handle. He instinctively placed the weapon against his belt at his left 
hip. It hung there of its own accord, within easy reach.
"I'm ready now," Allen said as he took Billimba's hand. Once again they traveled 
through the Gray Void, arriving back at his apartment just as the Monster 
attacked.
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter V
 
 
Allen first thought the earthquake was merely a bi-product of their 
materialization in the apartment. The entire building seemed to vibrate. Huge 
cracks suddenly appeared in the walls and ceiling. A foul, rancid odor swept 
through the place while an enormous cloud of boiling black smoke mushroomed 
upward from the livingroom floor.
Fleener stomped and shied, the Pterodactyl screeched, and Theodore fluttered 
about in panic.
"It's not from us!" Billimba shouted when Allen gave her an accusing glance. At 
that moment the cloud of smoke burst open like a rotten pimple, spewing forth 
the Monster.
The creature was at least ten feet tall, its green warty body grotesquely bent. 
Its knuckles dragged the floor. Voicing an angry howl that shattered the window 
panes, it rushed forward. The floorboards cracked under its enormous weight, 
while furniture bounced in time with its steps.
Stubby horns protruded from its forehead, with yellow fangs extending from the 
upper jaw to the bottom of its chin. Thighs the circumference of tree trunks 
supported the Monster's body. Its knees bent in the opposite direction from 
those of a human. From between its legs sprouted a horned, black-skinned penis 
the length and thickness of Allen's arm. The organ jutted obscenely erect, 
bouncing hideously as the Monster moved. An orange substance sprayed from it, 
turning the carpet black.
The Monster launched itself toward them, one huge arm sweeping upward. Its hand 
encircled Allen's throat, slamming him back against the wall. Allen struggled, 
kicking and scratching, tearing at the Monster's thick fingers with both hands. 
Their grip was as strong as iron, cutting off his breath, slowly squeezing the 
life out of him.
He remembered the Sword, groping for it with his hand. Wrapping his fingers 
around the handle, he heard the blade zing out. He swept the weapon upward from 
his waist. The bright blue blade cleanly severed the Monster's arm at the 
shoulder.
The Beast howled in pain, shattering more glass and crockery. Lightening lanced 
from its eyes, setting a nearby chair ablaze. 
Billimba directed searing bolts of Energy from her Wand, scorching the Monster's 
head and crotch. Theodore buzzed about like an angry hornet, dousing the Beast 
with gouts of fire. The Pterodactyl repeatedly stabbed at the creature with its 
pointed beak.
Fleener found an opening on the armless side of the Monster and rammed his horn 
deep into the thing's side, but could not pull free. Steam, smoke, and bubbling 
fluids gushed from the wound as the creature howled in pain a second time. It 
grabbed the Unicorn by the throat with its good arm.
The severed arm of the Monster retained its grip on Allen's throat, although the 
fingers relaxed enough for him to draw a life-saving breath. He swung Excaliber 
twice more, slicing through the arm at the elbow, then the wrist. The Monster 
howled in pain with each slice of the Sword, even though the arm was completely 
detached from its body. The hand finally lost its grip and fell to the floor. It 
dragged itself along with its fingers like some obscene crab, until Allen 
crushed it with his heel.
He stepped up behind the Monster. With a back-handed swing of his Sword he 
chopped off its head, sending it flying across the room to land on the couch. 
While the head chewed the couch cushions and spewed enough fire to ignite the 
coffee table, the body fought on. Allen drew back the Sword for another swing.
"Not that way!" Billimba screamed at him. "Split it! Up and down!"
Allen raised the Sword high over his head, bringing it straight down with all 
his strength squarely upon the creature's stump of a neck. The blade split the 
torso neatly in two, all the way to the crotch. The two halves tumbled apart, 
twitching and thrashing on the floor, oozing blood the color of pond scum. An 
eerie silence immediately settled over the room.
"Well, shit!" Billimba sighed as she pushed her hat back and assumed a 
cross-legged position four feet above the floor. She adjusted her Wand with a 
slight twist, then sprayed a Magic Spell, extinguishing the flames on the couch, 
table, and chair. Icky and Theodore settled to the floor panting, while Fleener 
stood trembling and wheezing, his throat already showing black and blue from the 
Monster's grip.
Allen found himself standing as he might for a croquet stroke, bent at the 
waist, legs spread, with the blade of Excaliber extending through the floor into 
the apartment below.
"Oh, the neighbors will love that," he said as he straightened slowly and 
withdrew the blade. Smoke drifted up from the gash in the floor. There was a 
crash from below.
"I'll bet that was their chandelier."
He allowed the blade to recede into the handle, hung the Sword at his side once 
again, then turned to Billimba.
"What the hell was that thing?"
"A minor species of Demon," she replied. "Don't let the two halves of the body 
come together or it will reconstruct itself and attack again. Where's the head?"
They all gathered around the couch, where the Demon's head still chewed chunks 
of foam padding from the cushions. Its eyes glowed red but could only produce 
small sparks which smoked and popped. Billimba whacked the head smartly with her 
Wand.
"Demon, I command you! Speak to me!"
"Suck my dick!" it screamed, spraying stuffing and bits of cloth.
"Where is Saleena?"
"Bernie has her!" the Demon replied gleefully. "He'll stuff her snatch with red 
hot coals!"
"Who sent you, and why?"
"My Master sent me to rip off your tits, you sleazy old hag!" The thing's eyes 
rolled up to look at Allen. "Why don't you be a good boy and piss in my ear?"
"Who is your Master?" Billimba demanded.
"My Master knows everything!" the Demon replied with a giggle. "He knows you eat 
Dragon turds. He knows you visited that waterlogged slut in the lake. My Master 
even knows you once sucked a chicken's anus."
"Who is your Master?" Billimba repeated.
"My Master sent me to watch you fuck the Unicorn. Why don't you sit on my face? 
Look, I have a tongue like a corkscrew!"
The Demon extended its yard-long tongue, wrapping it around Allen's wrist with a 
grip tight enough to bruise the skin. Billimba rammed her Wand through the 
Demon's eye and into its brain.
The creature's death wail shook loose chunks of plaster from the ceiling. Jets 
of steam shot from its nose and ears. Its tongue shriveled and its fangs rotted. 
Gradually its scream died away, the steam from its skull turning to wisps of 
smoke. The glowing eyes faded to lifelessness.
"We'll have to hurry now," Billimba said as she withdrew her Wand. She wiped it 
on the sofa, then returned it to her sleeve.
"Noooo... we'll have to talk about this now," Allen corrected. "I think it's 
time we re-negotiate my contract. The 'torture and suffering' part of this 
stupid Adventure was bad enough. Your precious Book conveniently forgot to 
mention Demons! I suppose they were included with all those 'wonderful and 
exotic creatures'?"
"If you want Saleena back..."
"Having Saleena back won't do me any good if some Demon has chewed my gadget 
off!" Allen said with a terrified glance between his legs. "Besides, we're too 
late. Bernie already knows we're coming."
"Bernie knew that from the beginning," Billimba informed him. "But it's too late 
for you to back out, because there's a good chance you'll die whether you stay 
or go!"
"Well thanks for that bit of comforting news, you little asshole. How do you 
figure?"
"It appears one of us is a target, and Saleena was taken as bait," Billimba told 
him. "All forms of Magic, Good or Bad, Black or White, involve some means of 
looking into the future. Someone has done this and discovered either you or I 
will be a threat to their plans. So they have to kill us, and there won't be any 
place or time where you can hide."
"Well I can damn sure try!" Allen insisted.
"I'm afraid I must agree with Billimba," Fleener said.
"Who asked you?" Allen snapped. "Go sit on your horn and give yourself a 
thrill!"
"While your comments about me are of little concern, your attitude suggests your 
brain has clotted. This is dangerous," observed the Unicorn. "You did not listen 
to what the Demon said, or rather, to what it did not say!"
Allen was about to suggest the Unicorn take part in an obviously impossible 
sexual act, then though better of it. He considered the animal's remark.
"The Demon said its Master sent it," he recalled.
"But it did not say Bernie was its Master," Fleener pointed out. "Even though we 
asked it several times."
"So the nasty fucker lied," Allen said with a shrug. "Isn't that what Demons do 
naturally?"
"No," Billimba told him. "Once it's been touched by a Wand, a Demon cannot lie. 
It can evade the question, like this one did, but it can't lie. And here's 
something else for your puny brain to ponder. Who did the Demon attack first, 
when it materialized? Who did it attack last with its tongue? It talked a lot 
about me, but I think it was really after you."
Allen sat on the floor, his back against the ravaged couch, considering this 
information.
"So Bernie's just a pawn, a part of the game, like us?" he said after a time. 
"This thing's gettin' serious!"
"Damn right, Boobie. If this Master wants you dead he'll find you no matter 
where you hide. The attacks could go on indefinitely. The only way to stop 'em 
is to eliminate the source: the Master. If it was me I believe I'd rather take 
my chances fighting and attacking, instead of cowering like a Weeny."
"You have such a tactful way of assessing the situation," Allen said with a 
sigh. "All right then, I guess we better go."
He looked around at the cracked walls, charred furniture and shattered windows, 
then shook his head.
"The landlady will have a hemorrhage when she sees this shit!" He pointed to the 
already decomposing body of the Demon. "What do we do about Mr. Personality, 
there? He's starting to stink."
"He smelled that way when he got here," Billimba said bluntly. "Just leave 
everything. I'll have a clean-up crew come in while we're gone."
They rummaged about the apartment, preparing for their trip. Allen unearthed a 
back-pack from the dark recesses of a closet, stuffing it full of handy odds and 
ends; rope, matches, a ball of twine, several packages of freeze-dried food, and 
a first aid kit. He slid his .45 automatic inside his shirt, along with extra 
clips of ammo. A knife went into the top of his boot. He made certain his Sword 
still hung at his hip. A light weight jacket, a pair of binoculars, and a bright 
red baseball cap completed his ensemble. He carried the rolled up carpet over 
his shoulder. Billimba eyed him and his collection dubiously.
"I don't know how much of that junk will make it through with us, Boobie. 
Temporal Customs has some strange rules."
When they were all ready Billimba gathered them in the living room.
"Our first stop is the Oracle, so we can register our Adventure and have our 
Referees assigned. This Oracle is a typical bureaucrat, so don't start no shit, 
Dearie," she warned Allen. "Just let Fleener and I do the talking."
Billimba held her Broom while Theodore perched on her shoulder. Icky settled 
onto Fleener's back.
"Everyone hold on to everyone else and brace yourselves," the Witch instructed.
She screwed her eyes shut in concentration. Allen could feel the Magic Energy 
building around them. He began humming 'Follow the Yellow Brick Road' until 
Billimba kicked his shins. Then once again the world dissolved into a gray void. 
They were off on their Magic Adventure.
 
 
Chapter VI
 
 
 
Allen was extremely disappointed. A tour of the Gezenslaw Oatmeal Factory did 
not seem to be an appropriate beginning for a Magical Adventure.
Billimba's Magic transported them all from Allen's apartment to a weed infested 
asphalt parking lot deep in the industrial section of the city. From there she 
led them immediately through the rusted door of the cavernous factory.
For what seemed like hours they tramped through deserted hallways and corridors, 
through mammoth rooms crammed with stainless steel vats filled to the brim with 
undulating oatmeal. Beyond those, warehouse sections were filled to the rafters 
with bags, boxes, and cartons of dried oatmeal. Allen tried to imagine the 
catastrophic consequences of a broken water main or a leak in the roof of the 
warehouse. Whole city blocks would be inundated by a raging tide of gray mush.
He was particularly annoyed due to his long-time hatred of oatmeal, which his 
mother forced him to eat as a child, saying it would 'stick to his ribs'. He 
always considered it to be a substance closely resembling clam shit, and found 
it stuck tenaciously to almost any surface, most especially his teeth, chin, and 
the front of his shirt.
Therefore, Allen's mood was dark and unpleasant by the time Billimba mounted a 
shadowy stairway to knock on an office door.
"What?" yelled an annoyed voice from inside. The door was instantly jerked open. 
The creature which emerged from the office did little to brighten Allen's mood 
or instill confidence.
"Jeeezus, it's some kinda' Ghoul!" he whispered to Fleener. The Unicorn nodded 
agreement.
The creature was a good eight feet tall, gangly as a scarecrow, with waxy, 
yellow skin. It sported sunken cheeks and eyes. The top of its head rose to a 
distinct point and was crowned with a wreath of hair the color and texture of 
crabgrass. Enormous black sneakers adorned its huge feet. It was dressed in an 
orange coverall which hung on its body like a furled sail.
Hunched over in the doorway, the creature glanced down, cleverly spying 
Billimba. 
"No soliciting! Fuck off!" it snarled.
"I'm Billimba," the Witch informed him. "My friends and I have come to register 
for an Adventure."
"I've heard of you," the Ghoul admitted. "But we're closed due to the approach 
of Doomsday."
"You can't be serious?"
"Of course I am," the Ghoul protested. It hastily consulted one of eight wrist 
watches strapped to its left forearm. "In exactly twenty seven hours fourteen 
minutes North America will sink into the ocean due to the accumulated weight of 
back issues of National Geographic!"
"Well, you can deal with it in twenty seven hours," she informed the Ghoul. 
"Right now my friends and I want to go on an Adventure." She drew her Wand from 
her sleeve. "And I do mean now."
"Certainly!" the creature agreed hastily. "No need to become hostile. Bring all 
the participants inside so they can sign the proper forms."
Billimba bounced back down the stairs, shaking her head as she reached Allen and 
the Unicorn.
"Sumthin' ain't right here," she warned. "You two watch yourselves."
"Could it be that, as you Yanks say, 'the fix is in'?" Fleener asked.
"Very possible," the Witch admitted. She nodded in the direction of the office. 
"He was trying to stall us with his story about Doomsday. My own calculations 
show it won't happen for another seventy three years."
"What the hell are we doin' in an oatmeal factory?" Allen demanded.
"All Magic Adventures have to start somewhere," she told him. "This is like a 
train station, where we have access to the Time Line Corridor and all the 
possible variations of the Past and Future. The Adventure Committee likes to 
keep these places hidden so the civilians don't just stumble into them. There's 
another one of these in the back of a hog farm near Omaha, but the smell is 
terrible."
Together she and Allen helped Fleener negotiate the flight of stairs. They all 
entered the Ghoul's office. It was a strange place. Allen noticed it had no 
ceiling, only a thick layer of glowing mist drifting overhead. Out to one side 
stretched a long, narrow corridor which appeared to have no end. It merely faded 
away into another opaque cloud of mist. A seemingly infinite number of doors 
intersected the corridor, each painted a different color.
The office itself contained a large desk and several battered green file 
cabinets. Behind the desk hung a row of clipboards labeled with celestial 
symbols, skulls, even lightening bolts. A shelf above them supported a gold fish 
bowl containing an eyeball the size of a hen's egg. It followed their movements, 
glaring at them suspiciously. Various chrome-plated objects adorned the other 
walls. Allen was certain many of them belonged on a Studebaker.
The Ghoul maneuvered itself behind the desk, then bowed slightly.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Phineas Zinderditch, formerly the Oracle of 
Delphi, now the Quality Control Inspector for Gezenslaw Oatmeal, in charge of 
Lumps and Gooiness. Would you like to see a sample of my work?"
"No!" Allen shouted. The Ghoul pouted until Billimba drew her Wand once again, 
reminding him of their Adventure.
"Oh, I would strongly advise against an Adventure," Phineas said. "They can be 
dangerous things, and you hardly seem well prepared..."
Billimba began tapping her Wand impatiently on the desk, causing sparks to pop 
from the end of the instrument. The Ghoul once more relented.
"Very well, if you insist. I must remind you all of the Primary Directive; 'No 
diddling with Past History'!" He paused, looking directly at Allen. "And no 
diddling Cleopatra, either. The poor thing needs a rest, even if she is a 
nympho."
He turned to snatched a clipboard from the wall, flipping rapidly through 
several pages.
"There are important memos here you must be made aware of," he announced. " 
'Until further notice, no Adventuring will be allowed in the years 1904 AD, 2271 
PA... that's Post Atomic,... or 26 BC.' "
He consulted another page, then shook a long, bony finger at them.
" 'The cities of Babylon, Horsetit Wyoming, Carthage, Frozen Dog Montana, and 
Skunk's Misery are all off limits due to recent UFO activity...' "
" 'All persons or creatures wishing to Adventure in Reno, El Paso, Disneyland or 
other areas designated Really Strange Places must register at least three weeks 
in advance...' ."
Phineas hung the clipboard back on the wall, then rummaged in a desk drawer. He 
retrieved a parchment scroll and a quill pen, both of which he handed to 
Billimba.
"Fill in the particulars," he ordered solemnly.
Billimba filled out the scroll, writing in block letters in an ink looking 
suspiciously like blood. When she finished Phineas snatched back the document, 
scanned it, then shook his head. 
" 'Adventuring in 2271 Post Atomic is prohibited'," he repeated.
"We must go there to rescue my sister," Billimba informed him.
"That will require a Special Dispensation." Phineas made the statement as if 
denial were a foregone conclusion. "However, if you insist on applying..."
He dug into another drawer, withdrawing a solid metal anchor at least three feet 
long. To this he attached the scroll with string. Then, with both hands, he 
heaved the anchor upwards into the cloud layer.
There was a short silence, followed by a hideous clang, then an irritated voice 
boomed "WHAT NOW?".
"Permission for Billimba and Associates to Adventure in the year 2271 PA for the 
purpose of rescuing nubile sister of said Billimba!" Phineas shouted.
"WAIT!" screamed the voice from above. After a few seconds came one word. 
"APPROVED!"
Phineas looked at Billimba with renewed respect, his eyes wide in surprise.
"You must have connections," he said.
The anchor crashed down onto Phineas' desk, splintering the wood, collapsing one 
leg, scattering papers and coffee cups. He detached the scroll, unrolled it, saw 
it had been stamped with a large green seal. He offered it back to Billimba 
along with the quill and a stamp pad.
"All participants must sign or make their mark," he insisted.
Billimba and Allen signed the paper. They used the stamp pad to affix a talon or 
hoof mark from each of the animals.
"Now we shall assign Referees," the Ghoul announced. "I must check my roster and 
see who, or what, is available."
He opened a cabinet containing a golden bust of a former President with a roll 
of toilet paper mounted in the mouth. Phineas unrolled the paper, scanning a 
list, then walked to the corridor of doors.
"Now which one was that?" he mumbled. With a shrug and a dramatic sweep of his 
arm he opened a blue door.
A wave of pink fog immediately swept into the corridor, accompanied by the 
screeching growl of an obviously large and thoroughly irritated beast. With a 
wet, slurping sound a green tentacle slithered out, groping frantically for 
Phineas' ankle.
"Back! Back, you disgusting...!" Phineas stomped on the tentacle until it 
retreated. He managed to slam the door shut before any more of the creature 
could escape.
The Ghoul shuddered, adjusted his clothing, then walked across the corridor to 
the opposite door and jerked it open.
"Referees!" he yelled.
Three apparently human figures sprinted into the corridor, nearly trampling 
Phineas in their haste. They lined up side by side, each grinning hugely.
"May I present the officials for today's contest..." Phineas announced. "... St. 
Ralph, St. Herman, and St. Bruce."
Ralph was the tallest of the three, with an angular body and a mop of bushy 
orange hair. Herman was stocky, with a drooping mustache and thick glasses. Both 
were dressed in black jogging suits with white numbers on the chest and back.
Bruce was plump and bald, dressed in a lavender robe, sandals and beads, with a 
jewel in his left nostril.
Fleener looked at the grinning trio and groaned aloud.
"You know these guys?" Allen whispered.
"Three loose screws is what they are," the Unicorn told him. "Their combined IQ 
wouldn't exceed the voltage in a good battery. Beware especially of the cherubic 
Brucie. He was a little swine when I first met him. I'm certain he is now an 
accomplished swine."
Apparently Billimba was of the same opinion. She shook her head and yelled at 
Phineas.
"What kinda' shit is this? You can't really expect me to accept these idiots as 
Referees?"
" 'Adventurers must accept the Officials assigned to them,' " Phineas quoted.
Billimba's hair bristled with electricity. She jerked her Wand from her sleeve. 
Lightening streaked from its tip. Phineas shrieked as nasty white mushrooms 
began to sprout from the skin of his arms and face. He clawed at them 
frantically.
"Billimba, I protest! This is flagrant Misconduct! Attacking an official..."
The little Witch hissed ominously, fire again lancing from her Wand. The Ghoul 
shrieked anew as more mushrooms popped painfully through his skin.
"Honestly..." he pleaded, "... it's not my doing! There were plenty of Referees 
until yesterday afternoon. Then they all left, called away on mysterious 
errands. Really!"
With a sigh of resignation Billimba waved her Wand. The vexing mushrooms 
disappeared from the Ghoul's body. She turned to Allen and Fleener.
"There's not much we can do about this now," she whispered. "Somebody got to all 
the other decent Referees, probably The Master with threats or bribes. We'll 
have to settle for these. The Official Rules are very specific. We must have 
Referees on an Adventure." She turned back to Phineas. "You sure this is all 
that's left?"
"Well... there is one other," he admitted. "Hardly any better though. I don't 
know how it ever got to be a Referee."
"So trot it on out and let's have a look," Billimba ordered.
Phineas dug into yet another drawer, extracting a dented, purple megaphone along 
with a handful of glittering dust. He put the megaphone to his lips and yelled.
"Osborne! Osborne Ogre! Referee Duty!"
He flung the dust to the floor. A cloud of smoke billowed up from the spot. 
There was a pinging sound. As the smoke cleared away a monstrous form became 
visible.
Its body was naked, bulging with muscles, while its skin was the color of a 
granite boulder. It was a huge thing, with its head and shoulders well above the 
level of the desk in spite of the fact that it was seated, cross-legged, on the 
floor. From its crotch protruded a massive penis, easily a yard long and proudly 
erect. With one hand the creature was vigorously flogging its enraged organ 
while it sat with its eyes closed tightly, head back, drool running from the 
corner of its mouth.
Phineas leveled the mouth of the megaphone even with the creature's ear and 
yelled again.
"OSBORNE!"
The creature's head jerked forward so fast it nearly snapped its neck. It looked 
around stupidly, eyes wide in surprise, then stuck a finger in the corner of its 
mouth.
"Oh-oh.... " it mumbled.
Its organ immediately deflated with the speed of a punctured balloon, slipping 
from the enormous hand to slap onto the floor. At the same time Phineas began 
bashing the creature on the head with the megaphone, adding more dents to the 
already battered instrument. He punctuated each blow with a snarled curse.
"Pervert!... beast!... go blind!... disgusting!..."
The poor Osborne cowered in spite of his massive proportions, raising one arm in 
a half-hearted attempt to ward off the blows.
It was a pitiful sight to behold. Something inside Allen snapped. "Now that's 
just enough!" he yelled.
Scooping up a coffee cup from the floor he smashed it against the Ghoul's skull. 
Phineas howled and backed away, raising the megaphone to fend off any further 
attack.
"You hit him again and I'll shove that megaphone up your ass!" he snarled at 
Phineas. "And you!" he yelled down at the cowering Osborne. "If you're supposed 
to be an Ogre, why don't you get up off your butt and start acting like one!"
He walked back toward Billimba and Fleener. The Witch smiled at him.
"Cheer up, Boobie. It'll get better."
"It has to," he told her, " 'cause this is the pits."
At that moment something massive fastened itself to the back of Allen's shirt, 
hoisting him into the air. He found himself dangling from Osborne's fist, 
staring directly at the boulder-like face of the Ogre. Osborne inspected him 
impassively for a moment, then a shy grin spread slowly across his huge face.
"YOU BE GOOD PERSUM FOR HUMAM, I TINK," the Ogre rumbled. "NOT LET PHINEAS BEAT 
POOR OSBORNE. DIS GOOD. WE BE FREN, I TINK."
He set Allen gently on the floor, patting him on the head, then drew a deep 
breath.
"OSBORNE KNOW ALL RULES UM AVENTURE," he announced. "I WATCH. I BE FAIR."
This last he directed specifically at the other three Referees, who cringed in 
fear. Osborne turned and snarled at Phineas.
"NEX-UM TIME, I SQUISH YOU!"
He nodded solemnly to Billimba and Fleener, smiled at Allen, then disappeared.
"Well done, Allen!" said the Unicorn. "You seem to have given him back some 
measure of his self respect. I believe we will now have at least one impartial 
judge."
Billimba looked at Allen with renewed respect, reaching out to pat his hand.
"You done good, Dearie. I'm proud of you. Now let's get on with this Adventure. 
Which door, Phineas?"
The Ghoul consulted a clipboard, then announced, "Door 358, on the left."
"Forward group!" Billimba commanded. They started down the corridor, passing the 
three grinning Referees.
"Oh, what a pretty horsie!" said Bruce as Fleener drew near.
"Piss off!" the Unicorn snorted.
Icky, riding on Fleener's back, snapped out his long beak to gobble down an 
entire string of Brucie's beads.
"Bitch!" Brucie hissed. "We'll be watching!"
The corridor seemed to stretch for miles. Allen knew something Supernatural was 
at work, for the factory containing it was not nearly so large. After twenty 
minutes walking he looked back but could see nothing of Phineas or his office. 
The view was the same as the one ahead, the hallway stretching out until it 
blended into an indistinct mist.
"Here we are," Billimba announced finally. Door 358 was the color of a robin's 
egg, slightly warm to the touch, but otherwise identical to the hundreds of 
others they'd passed. "And good luck to us all," she whispered.
Billimba opened the door. One by one they stepped across the threshold into the 
world of their Adventure.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter VII
 
 
 
After a short period of gray nothingness and debilitating vertigo, Allen found 
himself lying on a mossy stretch of earth in the midst of an alien landscape.
Chills ran down his spine as he stood up, staring around him at the Chicago of 
177 years in the future. It was no longer recognizable as a city.
The Magic Forces which had transported them into the future had also separated 
them from each other. Allen found himself alone in the middle of what had once 
the dwelling place of millions of humans. It was now a swampy forest, dotted 
here and there with rusted steel beams and piles of shattered concrete. The 
gaunt skeletons of once proud sky-scrapers extended their bent, twisted girders 
like cancerous limbs toward a dull red sun. Vines, creepers, thick grass, and 
strangely colored blossoms grew in profusion amidst cattails, oak trees, and 
broken asphalt.
To the north the obsidian edge of a monstrous crater cut across the horizon. To 
the east and south the remnants of Lake Michigan lay in stagnant pools, choked 
with reeds and bushes.
The measured beat of hooves on the ground and a "cheerio, old chap" announced 
the arrival of Fleener from out of the forest. Allen did not turn to look at the 
animal. It was difficult for him to see anything through the tears in his eyes.
"That..." he whispered, pointing to a greenish-gold dome protruding from deeper 
water some distance away. "That is... was... part of the Museum of Science and 
Industry. I used to spend hours there, looking at all the exhibits..."
His voice broke, and he drew in a shuddering breath.
"Is this it, Fleener? Is this Mans' destiny? Extinction?"
"Not necessarily," the Unicorn assured him. "This is but one possibility, one 
path of the Future. There are many others, Allen, some better, some even worse 
than this. And do not despair. Man is a tenacious creature. Even here he 
thrives. Wait and see."
Allen turned toward the animal, then suddenly backed away several steps in 
surprise. Instead of a small, multi-colored Unicorn he now beheld a magnificent 
white stallion with rippling muscles, gold mane and tail.
"Oh, shit! Is that really you, Fleener?"
"Yes indeed. A stunning transformation, is it not? Don't be alarmed. These 
things usually happen on Adventures. Have you inspected yourself recently?"
Allen's mood of grief and despair gave way to one of astonishment. He glanced 
down at his own body and gasped. Walking to a nearby pool of water, he stared 
down at his reflection, whistling softly.
In much the same manner as Fleener, Allen was transformed by the Magic. He was 
taller, considerably heavier, his body bulging with unaccustomed muscles. His 
shirt, pants, and boots were gone. In their place he wore a brown leather vest 
which left his statuesque arms and chest nearly bare. Around his waist was an 
apron-like garment of the same material, hanging to the middle of his thighs. 
His feet were encased in high-topped leather moccasins, rising to just below his 
knees.
His face was still the same, but his hair was considerably longer. It was now a 
sun-bleached blond, held in place by a brown leather band across his forehead. 
His binoculars hung from their strap around his neck, while his pistol nestled 
in an inside pocket of the vest. Excaliber's comforting weight was at his left 
hip, with his pack laying heavily across his back.
"Damn!" he sighed. "I look like a Salvation Army Tarzan. Wonder what happened to 
my pants? Look out, Fleener!"
A huge shadow blocked out the sun as something swooped overhead. Allen grabbed 
his sword as the creature settled to the ground on wings rustling like old, dry 
paper.
Allen straightened from his defensive crouch, eyeing the thing dubiously as it 
waddled forward. It hissed and squawked as if to greet him.
"I believe it's Icky," said Fleener.
"And I believe it's bigger an' uglier than it was before," said Allen. "Somebody 
gave it an overdose of hormones. Look at the size of it!"
This was no longer an Icky who could be conveniently stuffed into a burlap bag. 
It was now a full grown Pterodactyl, six feet high at the shoulder, with a wing 
span approaching twenty feet. Its beak was over a yard long, as straight and 
sharp as the blade of a sword, studded with murderous, triangular teeth. It 
sidled up to Allen, offering its chest and belly to be scratched.
"Any more surprises?" Allen wondered aloud.
"Just one, Dearie."
Again Allen whirled around in a defensive crouch, his hand hovering near his 
sword. The words he'd heard were familiar but the voice was not, nor was the 
woman who stepped out of the forest. She moved with a feline grace matching the 
purr of her voice, a tall, slender, well shaped woman with raven black hair down 
to her waist. She had smoldering dark eyes, a fine nose and full, red lips. 
Allen would have guessed her age as close to his own thirty two years.
Her clothing was similar to his, with a vest of shiny black material barely 
concealing her lush, full breasts, leaving her arms and taut belly bare. A black 
skirt of the same material clung precariously to her well rounded hips, reaching 
the middle of her superb thighs. Her feet were adorned by sandals with laces 
wound around her shapely calves. A black cape, tied at her throat, completed the 
woman's wardrobe. Her overall appearance made Allen gasp.
"Wow! What's the password?" he breathed.
"Oh, don't be an ass," she answered. She turned around slowly, arms held out 
wide, allowing Allen and Fleener to inspect her.
"Whadda ya think, guys?"
"You got my attention," Allen grunted, crossing his hands in front of his crotch 
to keep from embarrassing himself.
"I can see you're rising to the occasion. That's a nice compliment." She smiled, 
her perfect teeth flashing, then moved closer. Allen backed away.
"Billimba? Is it you in that great looking body?"
"Of course it is, you nerd." She glanced quickly at the sky. "We better move," 
she announced. "Our Magic entrance into this Time will be detected before long. 
We may attract some unwelcome visitors."
"Hold on a minute." Allen gestured at his skimpy clothing. "I can't go around 
with parts of me hangin' outa this silly diaper."
"It's called a loincloth."
"And those are exactly the parts hangin' out!" he said. "I want my pants."
"Whine, whine, whine... that's all you do," sighed Billimba. "Now look here, 
beanbag. If you're really unhappy I can make some changes for you." She drew her 
Wand, poking it into Allen's chest. "Just for starters I can fix it so you have 
to piss from your armpit."
"That might be nice," Allen conceded. "Whenever I get the urge I can just lean 
in your direction and lift my arm."
"If you two would stop your childish bickering we could get on with this 
Adventure," Fleener stated. "Billimba is right, we need to leave this area with 
all speed."
Billimba shook her Wand at Allen in warning, then walked to where Icky stood 
waiting. She petted the Pterodactyl, spoke to it in a soothing voice, then 
touched her forehead to its bony skull.
The dinosaur squawked in apparent agreement. It unfurled its huge wings and 
hurled itself into the air, flapping furiously until it was out of sight.
"Fleener, can you carry both Allen and me?" Billimba asked.
"I believe so."
Allen spread the Magic Carpet over the animal's back, then grabbed a handful of 
its mane and swung himself up, marveling at the ease with which his new muscles 
responded. Extending his hand, he pulled Billimba up to sit in front of him, 
greatly enjoying the generous amounts of firm flesh she displayed as she 
straddled the animal.
"Where's your Broom?" he asked.
"In here." She patted her Cape.
"And where's your shitty little creature friend?"
"Theodore? He's around here somewhere, probably looking for something to eat. 
He'll catch up with us eventually. I sent Icky ahead to get a look at Bernie's 
castle. Now let's go east, Fleener, if you can find a way through the ponds and 
swamps."
For well over two hours they traveled, covering a surprising distance. The 
Unicorn, in his new body, seemed to have considerable energy and stamina. He 
picked his way through the trees, around or across small bogs and pools of 
water. Several times they detoured around the crumbled remains of buildings, now 
little more than piles of rubble protruding from the energetic vegetation. As 
they passed one large section of brick wall Allen saw a human outline scorched 
into it.
"It must have been one hell of a war," he observed. "Is any of this still 
radioactive?"
"Not enough to hurt us," Billimba told him. She untied her Cape from about her 
throat, laying it across her legs. The air was warm and pleasant. She stretched 
like a cat, leaning back against Allen. When she felt him squirm she looked back 
over her shoulder.
"You're uncomfortable, aren't you?"
"Yeah," he admitted. "Unicorns are bony, even if they look like stallions."
"That's not what I'm talking about. You're uncomfortable being this close to 
me."
"A little," he said tactfully. "I keep wondering what happened to the Billimba I 
used to know, the one that looked like a bleached turd."
The Witch laughed, her long, sandlewood-scented hair swishing across her back. 
Allen gritted his teeth, watching the svelte muscles of her thighs as she 
gripped Fleener, wondering what it would be like to have those legs wrapped 
around him.
"That Billimba was... necessary..." she told him. "Payment of a Debt... and it 
served a second purpose. If I had appeared to you then, as I am now, and told 
you I was a Witch, would you have believed me?"
"No," he admitted. "But my belief wasn't that strong when you were ugly either."
"That's true. But you're having a harder time accepting it now, aren't you?"
"Something sure is hard!" he mumbled.
She pressed her bottom back against him to feel the evidence of his discomfort.
"That's very nice," she purred, rubbing his leg. "A girl likes to know she still 
has an effect on a man."
Allen grunted and began to sweat. He was loosing control. Flashes of the ugly 
little Billimba alternated in his mind with visions of making love to the very 
desirable woman in front of him. Soon after came the intoxicating idea of him 
bedding both Saleena and Billimba at once. He groaned aloud. He did not want to 
spurn Billimba, perhaps insult her. Nor did he want to do anything to jeopardize 
his relationship with Saleena. It was all suddenly very frustrating and 
confusing. He didn't even know what to do with his hands, because he was afraid 
to touch the woman who sensually swayed to the rhythm of the Unicorn's gait.
"Putting them right here would be very nice," Billimba whispered. Allen 
immediately damned himself for forgetting Witches could sometimes intercept 
strong thoughts. Billimba was not upset. She reached behind her to find Allen's 
arms, bringing them around so they encircled her, his hands caressing the warm 
flesh of her flat belly. He could feel her breasts straining against the thin 
fabric of her vest. Their movement made him shudder.
"Stop for a minute, Fleener," she commanded suddenly.
"Yeah, please stop," Allen sighed. He had every intention of dismounting and 
walking, in spite of the fact his brief loincloth would do little to conceal his 
excited state.
But Billimba slid from the Unicorn's back, then held out her hand to Allen. She 
remounted facing him, her thighs over his. Her skirt rode up extremely high on 
her legs, but she made no effort to cover herself.
Fleener moved on again while Billimba put her arms around Allen's neck, looking 
directly into his eyes. When his hands settled naturally on her hips she smiled, 
licking her lips.
"That's much better," she said in a throaty voice. "I can see you like it too. 
Don't be afraid of me, Allen. Don't be afraid of your reaction to me. Everything 
has a purpose. Didn't Saleena explain anything to you?"
"Mostly we were too busy, usually making love," he admitted.
Suddenly she leaned forward and kissed him. It was a feather-light touch of her 
sensuous lips against his, with a lingering, exciting taste.
"Don't be afraid or ashamed of your desire for me," she whispered. "I'm 
experiencing some interesting sensations myself, things I haven't felt in 
hundreds of years. I like it. Besides, there is the possibility that sometime 
during this Adventure you may have to make love to me, whether you want to or 
not."
She kissed him again. This time he tasted her tongue.
"The most important thing for you to do on this Adventure, Allen, is to follow 
your instincts. Remember that. Don't waste time thinking. If it feels right, 
just do it! Do you understand?"
"No," he admitted, and wanted to say much more. But Fleener halted abruptly. 
Allen heard a strange voice cry out.
"Stan an delivah, mutha fuckah!"
 
 
 
Chapter VIII
 
 
 
An armored knight sat astride his horse thirty yards away across a forest 
clearing. The late afternoon sun glinted from his metal trappings and red 
shield. The breeze stirred the white and gold arrayments of his horse as well as 
the long pennant on his lance.
Allen slid from Fleener's back, his loincloth still tented over his excitement 
caused by Billimba. She made to dismount as well, but Allen pushed her back up. 
He removed his pack and binoculars, handing them up to her.
"I think I can take care of this guy, but if anything goes wrong you haul your 
tight little ass outa' here," he ordered. "Just do me one favor. If he kills me, 
get even!"
Eyeing the knight warily Allen walked to the middle of the clearing. After a 
closer inspection of the man Allen's reaction was to first snort with disgust, 
then snicker, and finally laugh out loud.
His worthy opponent was garbed in an outlandish collection of junk and scrap 
metal.
An enormous black man with a flattened nose, the knight wore an old motorcycle 
helmet decorated with a battered peacock feather. Red football shoulder pads 
protruded from beneath a moth-eaten sweatshirt, while pieces of corrugated tin 
served to protect his arms and legs. His shield was an old serving tray 
emblazoned with the logo of a well known soft drink.
It was obvious the knight's lance had most recently been used for spearing carp. 
The pennant dancing in the breeze was a jock strap dyed a bright pastel. He was 
mounted upon an aging plow horse with oversized hooves and the look of distemper 
about it.
"Well, whadda ya want?" Allen demanded.
"I be da Whyat Night!" the man announced. "An you, varlet, you be tresspassin' 
on de turf of Bernie da Magnif'cent. Derefor, I goin' skewer yo ass! Fowoods, 
noble steed!"
The old horse ambled forward obligingly, too stupid to realize it was supposed 
to break into a fierce charge. The Whyat Night lowered his lance.
Allen stood with his hands on his hips, waiting patiently. When the knight 
reached a point some ten yards away Allen spoke the one word most likely to 
strike terror in the hearts of all aging horses.
"Glue!"
With a loud snort the old horse began to sidle toward the edge of the forest.
"Giddyup, you sumbitch!" the knight yelled, bashing the animal on the head with 
his fist.
Eyes rolling in panic, the old hose stopped abruptly. Its rider leaned forward.
"Now looky heah, Wonda Horse," the knight said in an ominous voice. "Iffen you 
doan move when I says move, I gwen put ma boot so fah up yo ass yo breath gwen 
smell lak shoe polish! You be hearin' me, pissant? Now move!"
Once again the horse ambled forward, the knight leveling his lance. Timing his 
move perfectly, Allen waited until the blade of the weapon was nearly at his 
chest. Then he turned sideways, grabbing the spear shaft with both hands and 
jerking down.
The point of the lance sank deep into the ground while the shaft bowed under the 
strain of the knight's forward momentum. It snapped straight, lifting the knight 
from the saddle, propelling him through the air in a wide arc. His wail of fear 
was cut short as he smashed head first into a stout tree, then collapsed in a 
heap.
Seizing the opportunity, the old horse loped off into the forest, looking back 
over its shoulder at Allen.
The three Adventurers gathered around the fallen knight. Allen rolled him over. 
His head flopped about loosely, his eyes wide and staring. A thin trickle of 
blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
"Must have broken his neck," Allen said as he straightened.
"Pity," observed Fleener. "Still, a good omen for us perhaps. If he is any 
indication of the forces Bernie can array against us..."
"He's not," Allen stated flatly. Billimba and Fleener turned to look in the 
direction he was facing.
The animal sat deep within the forest, its dark body blending with the somber 
shadows until its true shape was nearly indistinct. Motionless as a statue, the 
wolf-like animal stared at them with its glowing green eyes. An icy wind swept 
through the clearing.
Allen gripped his Sword firmly, advancing upon the creature.
"Be careful!" Billimba warned. "That's a Demon!"
"I know," he said with a nod. "It's Shax, the Winged Dog."
Allen continued toward the creature until he was within twenty yards. With a 
snarl the animal loped off into the trees.
Without a word Allen and Billimba remounted Fleener. The Unicorn continued his 
swift journey through the trees and swamps. Billimba found Allen's arms once 
again, placing them around her, fostering an immediate return of his 
uncomfortable condition.
"You're very quiet, Boobie," she observed after a while.
"I feel... ashamed..." he admitted. "I really didn't mean to kill that man."
"Oh? And what else would you have done, take him prisoner? Then we would have 
had to guard him constantly. And we couldn't let him go. He would have followed 
us and cut our throats during the night."
"I know it wouldn't have been very smart to leave an enemy at our backs, but 
still..."
"Still, schmill," Billimba barked. "It was him or us. And you may not have 
killed him. He died rather easily, which could mean Shax had something to do 
with it. Demons do things for their own purposes, and their loyalties are... 
tenuous, at best. By the way, how did you know it was Shax?"
"The information was just... there," Allen said with a shake of his head. "Is 
that good or bad?"
"Hard to tell at this point," Billimba admitted. "But it does confirm a 
suspicion of mine. There's something special about you, Allen, which I suspected 
from the beginning. The fact that the Sword worked for you was proof of it. Now 
this unexplained knowledge of Demons confirms it. Saleena and I are only the 
bait. It's you the Master really wants!"
"Whatever for?"
"Again, I don't know," she confessed. "But remember what I told you about Magic 
giving one the ability to see the future. You apparently have an unknown Talent 
or Power which will become a threat to The Master or his plans."
She paused to glance up at the evening sky, then patted the Unicorn.
"It'll be dark soon, Fleener. Find us a place where we can camp for the night. 
I'll try some Scrying." She glanced back at Allen. "Do you know what that is, 
Boobie?"
"Sounds like it would make hair grow on your palms."
"You are a real Sewer Mouth," she said. "Scrying is a form of Divination. You 
can look into the Future or see something a great distance away. It's what those 
quack Gipsies want you to think they're doing when they gaze into a crystal 
ball.
"I tried it once on you, Dearie," she admitted in a voice suddenly serious. "I 
could read your Past like an open book, but your Future was a complete blank. 
That's why I told you to follow your instincts. You're the unknown factor on 
this Adventure. It could be a real advantage for us. Your actions may well 
determine our success or failure, perhaps whether we live or die."
"What a comforting thought," sighed Allen. "Any place around here I can catch a 
cab back to my apartment?"
* * * *
They camped in a grass covered clearing beneath a gigantic willow tree. Billimba 
used some sort of small Magic to snare a brace of rabbits while Allen gathered 
fire wood. Fleener grazed contentedly.
Shortly thereafter Theodore arrived, fluttering down into the clearing with much 
hissing and venting of steam. Of all of them only the little Dragon retained his 
usual size, shape, color, and unnatural disposition. The animal immediately 
attached itself to Allen's shin.
"That's goddamn disgusting!" Allen yelled, whacking the creature with a dead 
branch the length of a baseball bat. He would have pounded Theodore into a 
greasy spot had not Billimba come to the creature's rescue.
"Allen, you sadistic prick! Leave him alone!"
"He was humpin' himself against my leg! I told you he was queer!" He hefted the 
tree branch, advancing upon the scaly animal. "Instead of rabbit for dinner 
we're gonna have dragon stew! Prime rib of roast beast!"
Theodore bit him on the ankle, then scrambled into Billimba's arms where she 
held him protectively. The little Dragon pillowed its head on the mound of her 
breast. Billimba favored Allen with a poisonous stare.
* * * *
Watching Billimba prepare dinner was an experience in itself. Apparently her 
Cape served the same function as had her Official Black Robe. From within its 
hidden folds and pockets she was able to procure almost anything she needed, 
including a cooking pot. Whatever culinary talents Saleena lacked were more than 
made up for by Billimba. The rabbit was delicious.
After dinner, as darkness settled over the land, Allen unrolled the Carpet 
beneath the willow, lying down to digest. Fleener grazed nearby, while Billimba 
sat before the fire, her Cape drawn about her, Theodore at her side. The two of 
them remained silent and immobile for so long Allen finally decided to check on 
them.
Billimba sat rigid as a board, her eyes staring blankly into the flames. Her 
skin was clammy and she did not respond when Allen called her name or waved his 
hand in front of her face.
"Let her be, Allen," Fleener advised. "She is Scrying. Don't break her 
concentration."
Allen returned to the Carpet shaking his head. The Unicorn walked over near him.
"You are troubled?" Fleener asked.
"Just confused as hell. This whole Adventure is like a joke, and yet... parts of 
it apparently can be lethal! I don't know how much of it to take seriously. I'm 
confused about the physical changes I've seen."
"How much do you really know about Magic?"
"I'm learning," Allen said. He told the Unicorn about the information Billimba 
had given him during her stay in his cabin, as well as what little he'd learned 
from Saleena.
"Fortunately you are being taught by two of the best," Fleener told him. 
"Saleena is becoming an accomplished Witch, from what I hear, and Billimba is 
actually a Sorceress."
"Witch, Wizard, Sorcerer... I thought they were all the same?"
"Yes and no," answered Fleener. "In fact, that is probably the best description 
of Magic in general--yes and no, it does and it doesn't."
"Now that's just clear as mud!"
"I was afraid it might be," the Unicorn said with a chuckle. "Magic is a 
constant contradiction, Allen. Which is why it is so difficult to understand, 
even more difficult to master. Magic is predictable and chaotic, it works and it 
fails. It can be helpful and constructive, or useless and destructive. I myself 
am a Magical Creature. I do not perform Magic, as such, but my very existence 
depends upon it. Billimba is, at this point, more Magical than human. Saleena 
will eventually become just as powerful.
"Billimba's appearance is governed by the Time in which she chooses to exist. It 
is the same for most all of us, including you. On an Adventure such as this she 
is free to assume or regain a physical form close to her normal appearance, to 
look the way she did before she incurred her Debt. While we will have the use of 
Magic on the Adventure there will probably be a limit as to how much. I assume 
we will have to check with Auditing and Accounting to acquire the specifics."
Just then Billimba sighed and stretched. Allen and the Unicorn hurried to her 
side.
"A lot of things are moving out there tonight," she reported, "both on the earth 
and under it, but nothing seems to be a direct threat to us right now. Icky is 
flying over Bernie's castle. Lots of activity there, too. And I saw Saleena."
"Is she all right?" Allen demanded.
"Why don't you look for yourself?"
"Me? I can't do any of that Magic stuff."
"I think maybe you can," said Billimba. "And it won't hurt to try. Scrying is 
easy. The first thing you have to do is relax, let your mind go blank. That 
should only take you a couple of seconds."
"Billimba!" Fleener gave her a stern look.
"All right. C'mon, Allen, sit next to me."
Allen assumed a position in front of the fire. Billimba held his hand.
"Look into the fire," she whispered, "deep into the flames. Empty your mind of 
everything except Saleena. Concentrate on her. Look for her with your mind, your 
senses."
Allen followed her instructions, gazing into the heart of the fire. At first he 
neither felt nor saw anything unusual. Gradually a feeling of intoxicating 
lightness crept over him. He felt as if he'd left the weight of his body behind.
Slowly a scene came into focus; a high-ceilinged room, illuminated by a 
fireplace and hundreds of candles. A huge sunken bathtub occupied the center of 
the room. Within it lounged Saleena, her wet skin reflecting the flickering 
candlelight, her breasts floating and bobbing in the water as she bathed 
herself.
Allen jumped as if he'd been burned by the fire. The vision faded immediately.
"I saw her!" he exclaimed. "Or at least I think I did. Did I just imagine it?"
"Trust your Inner Vision," Billimba told him. "You saw her as she is this very 
moment."
"That's freaky!" Allen breathed. "And she sure didn't look like she was bein' 
held prisoner!"
"Try again," Billimba urged. "Concentrate, expand your Vision to get a wider 
view."
Again Allen gazed into the fire until he saw Saleena. It was easier the second 
time, although he noticed his view was somewhat fuzzy and distorted. He allowed 
his vision to zero in on Saleena at first. He groaned with desire as she sponged 
her lithe body in the water, lifting first one exquisite leg then the other. He 
pulled his vision back somewhat, so he could take in the entire room, as well as 
the area beyond.
"She's in the north wing of the castle," he reported. His vision faded, his mind 
returning to his body in the forest. "The room is surrounded by things like 
ribbons suspended in the air."
"Magic Spells," Fleener stated solemnly.
"You mean I actually saw Magic?"
"You certainly did. I'm impressed," Billimba said. "It takes a Special Vision to 
be able to do that. Those 'ribbons' are the Spells holding her captive. The 
bright colored ones were probably put there by Bernie. She could break them 
easily. The dark ones... those are deadly, They were undoubtedly cast by someone 
very powerful, perhaps The Master himself. One of those Spells is so old I'm not 
sure I remember how to counter it."
She thought for a moment. "There's a village some distance ahead of us. I think 
we should spend the night there tomorrow night. We might pick up some useful 
information."
"Sounds good to me," said Allen. "Maybe they got a store where I can buy some 
pants. And who knows, you might be able to talk some other poor boob into 
joining this silly expedition."
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter IX
 
 
 
Allen had no idea how long he'd slept or what awakened him.
He'd rested comfortably on the Carpet, in spite of his abbreviated clothing and 
the absence of blankets. He lifted his head, saw Fleener a few yards away, 
standing on three legs in the silvery moonlight, his head drooping. He noticed 
the fire had died down to a pile of glowing embers.
Very slowly Allen rolled onto his back, his hand going to the hilt of his Sword.
Billimba stood at his feet looking down at him, swathed in her Cape. Allen 
shivered, knowing something was about to happen.
With the fingers of one hand Billimba untied her Cape, letting it to slither to 
the ground. Beneath it she was naked save for a lacy black garter around her 
left thigh. Her skin glowed as if oiled. Her full breasts moved in time with her 
gentle breathing. Between her legs she had no hair, only smooth skin and the 
intimate recesses of a woman.
Allen's breath rasped in his throat as he stood up. Billimba stepped forward to 
meet him. She slid her hand beneath his loincloth to find his already hard 
length, stroking him eagerly while her breasts pressed against his chest. When 
he bent to kiss her she opened her mouth greedily to accept his tongue.
Backing away, Allen stripped off his clothing, then molded his naked body to 
hers for another lingering kiss. When she began to tremble, he effortlessly 
scooped her into his arms and lay her on the Carpet.
He kissed her neck, working his way down her body with his lips and tongue while 
she squirmed and moaned. She twined her fingers in his hair, arched her back, 
pressing his exploring mouth against her.
When they were both gasping with excitement Billimba suddenly pushed Allen down 
on his back, then straddled him. 
Slowly, savoring the pleasure, she lowered herself down onto him until she was 
fully impaled on the spike of his manhood. They both moaned aloud. Billimba 
ground herself down onto him, while Allen's hands sought her breasts, his 
fingers rubbing the buds of her excited nipples. She rode him fiercely, 
clinching her muscles, her head thrown back, dark hair cascading over her 
shoulders.
Although the night air was warm and still, huge clouds began to gather over the 
clearing, rolling and boiling silently in time with the movements of Billimba.
When she and Allen cried out together in climax, lightening flashed across the 
sky. The clouds drifted away.
* * * *
Sitting with his back against a tree, flinging pebbles aimlessly into a pool of 
water, Allen watched the sun rise. Billimba once again sat before the fire, her 
body in a rigid trance. They had not spoken since their lovemaking, nor had 
Allen slept much.
A warm, soft muzzle suddenly pressed against Allen's neck, and Fleener spoke.
"Your burden might seem lighter this fine morning if you were to share it. If it 
will ease the tension any, I will confess I was not asleep last night. I 
observed you and Billimba... cavorting."
"Ahhh... Fleener..." Allen sighed. "I thought I was confused last night, but 
this morning... after Billimba and I...."
"This morning you suffer from guilt, is that the problem?" The Unicorn snorted, 
shaking his mane. "It never ceases to amaze me, you humans and your 
preoccupation with fornicating. You are so obsessed with the sport it's a wonder 
you don't all expire prematurely, either from guilt or exhaustion."
"This isn't funny," Allen moaned. "I have now made love to two sisters, which 
has to be illegal somewhere, not to mention immoral. If one of them becomes 
jealous she'll probably have me castrated by some Demon using a blunt 
instrument."
"I suggest we walk a bit, to stretch out the morning kinks," said Fleener.
Together they strolled through the trees, enjoying the warmth of the rising sun.
"Witchcraft is the foundation of all Magic," the Unicorn said after a while. 
"True Witchcraft is nothing more than a sort of religion which worships 
Fertility in all its forms. That is why it is still called The Old Religion or 
simply The Craft. It is rooted in a Time when your ancestors still possessed 
rudimentary tails and lived in caves. Forget all the nonsense about pacts with 
the Devil. Those are gross fabrications usually extracted under torture by 
various priests and officials with bowel problems they mistakenly identify as 
religious zeal. Genuine Witches seldom become involved in that sort of thing, 
mainly, I think, because the Devil is an absolute asshole who cannot be trusted 
at all.
"The chief deity of Witchcraft is a Mother/Goddess figure, known by as many 
names as there are languages. She is responsible for the Fertility of all things 
on Earth; the fields, forests, waters, and ultimately Man himself."
"You mean Mother Nature?" asked Allen.
"Correct. A fascinating woman, by the way. You must get Billimba to introduce 
you some time. But I digress... There are many different levels of Magic, each 
more subtle, difficult, and powerful than the preceding. Sexual Magic is 
considered to be the most potent, because all Magic flows through the body, is 
controlled and attuned by the physical presence. Most Witches prefer to work 
their more powerful Spells while naked. A tremendous amount of Raw Energy is 
released during sexual escapades, which the Witch is able to channel, control, 
and accumulate!"
"That must be why Saleena was... just damn near insatiable," Allen ventured.
"Most likely," agreed Fleener. "She needed the intimate contact with you to 
sharpen and strengthen her Powers. And she also required your essence, your 
seed, which is an extremely potent ingredient in Magic. You, likewise, drew a 
certain strength from her, probably because you have a Magic Ability of your 
own."
When he saw the look of panic in Allen's eyes the Unicorn quickly changed the 
subject.
"Billimba was wearing her Garter last night, was she not?"
"Yeah," said Allen. "A little unusual but very sexy."
"The Garter is a very ancient symbol of Witchcraft, although to this day its 
exact function or purpose is shrouded in mystery. The English Order of the 
Garter is a station of Knighthood derived directly from this. It is generally 
considered a sign of great trust and devotion for a Witch to make love while 
wearing her Garter. It means she not only loves her partner but values him as an 
important part of her Magic."
"This is beginning to sound like my kind of religion," Allen admitted.
"I suspected as much," said Fleener. "I explain all this hoping you will 
understand when I say your fears and guilt are groundless. Where Magic is 
concerned there are no laws or morals except those which govern the Art. I 
believe Saleena's reaction to the situation will surprise you. She will be even 
more devoted to you than before."
Allen nodded thoughtfully, then patted the Unicorn's flank.
"And here I thought it was just owls who were supposed to be wise old things. 
Thanks Fleener."
"Shall we return to the camp?"
"You go on ahead," Allen told him. "There's something I want to do."
When the Unicorn was gone Allen found a small pool of water and knelt before it. 
He stared into the liquid, concentrating, hoping he could do it.
As on the previous night he forced his mind to go blank. After a moment an image 
took shape. He saw Saleena asleep in a huge canopied bed, her hair spread out 
over a pillow. She lay on her back, a white satin sheet draped across her body 
just below her navel, exposing her breasts to the bright sunlight streaming in 
through the barred window.
Allen savored the sight of her, watching the gentle movement of her breasts as 
she breathed. Then he grew bolder, deciding to experiment. Extending a small 
tendril of his mind he eased it beneath the sheet, touching Saleena between her 
wide-spread legs, gently probing her moist warmth. She moaned softly, licked her 
lips, smiled, then slowly opened her eyes.
<Ummm... delicious... is that you, Allen?>
Her words were not spoken aloud, yet he heard and understood them clearly in his 
mind.
<Hi, girl. You okay?>
<I'm fine, except I miss you terribly.>
<Listen, Sugar, I've got something to tell you. Last night, your sister and I... 
we ahhh...>
<I know> she interrupted. <Billimba told me all about it early this morning. It 
sounds absolutely wonderful, darling. I'm so glad you pleased each other. I just 
wish you'd hurry and get here so you could do the same for me. I really need 
you, love.>
Allen probed her again. She arched her hips up off the bed.
<Ohhhhh....> she purred. <That feels sooo goooodd....you better go now, love... 
someone's coming... and Allen... I just found out.... Beware of the Bottles.>
Allen walked back to camp slowly, trying to make some sense of Saleena's 
warning.
* * * *
"Well, what great scheme have you concocted for this Daring Rescue?" Allen asked 
Billimba as they began to break camp.
"I thought we'd travel to the village and spend the night there," she answered. 
"In the morning you and I will take the Broom and Carpet, buzz over to Bernie's 
castle, snatch up Saleena and haul ass."
"I think that sucks!" said Allen.
"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, Fungus Tongue! You're so goddamn smart 
this morning, what do you suggest?"
"I suggest we think, even if it makes our brain hurt."
They mounted Fleener, resuming their journey through the awakening forest.
"We know several things," Allen said as they rode. "We know Saleena is all right 
so far, and will probably stay that way as long as Bernie and The Master think 
we're doing what they want us to do. So right now I don't see any point in 
busting in there unprepared.
"I've been informed by Fleener there will be a limit to our Magic, which I wish 
you'd check on before we go much farther. The time to drain the swamp is not 
when the alligators are already chewing on your ass, right?
"And last of all, we know this is a trap, that getting out will be much more 
difficult than getting in. So I think we should take our time, save our Magic 
and energy while we try to get more information. This means no more little 
displays with the clouds and the lightening, like you did last night."
"Sorry about that. I got carried away," Billimba admitted. "Your plan sounds 
reasonable. I guess we'll go with it for now, unless Fleener has any 
objections."
"None at all," stated the Unicorn.
"But we keep a close eye on Saleena," Billimba insisted. "First time it looks 
like she's in real trouble we go in after her, no matter what."
"Absolutely!" agreed Allen.
Billimba relaxed, reaching back for Allen's hands again. This time he did not 
hesitate, placing his arms firmly around her.
"Speaking of last night," she sighed as she settled back in his arms, "that was 
some of the best I've had in at least two hundred years."
"Woman, as ugly as you were, I'm sure that's the only sex you've had in two 
hundred years!"
Billimba reached down to pluck a large handful of hair from his leg. Allen 
yelled in pain.
"Ouch! Bitch!"
"Witch," she corrected.
"The words are definitely interchangeable," Allen stated. "Which reminds me," he 
said as he watched her brush the strands of hair from her fingers. "What 
happened to my pubic hair? I noticed last night neither of us has any. It's bad 
enough I got to wander around with no pants, but a bald crotch could give a 
fellah pneumonia!"
"There you go again with your whining!" she snapped. "You want pants, Beandip? I 
got a Spell that will fix you up with some nice pink bloomers. Or how about 
something with feet and a flap in the back? Too bad you didn't bring those 
hideous jammies I saw you in once."
Allen leaned forward and bit her on the neck. She gasped, but he was certain it 
was more from pleasure than pain.
"Pubic hair is dangerous on an Adventure," she told him.
"It gets caught in your teeth sometimes," Allen granted, "but I never heard of 
anyone choking to death on it."
Billimba sighed with disgust. "Fleener, how did you ever talk me into taking 
this Toadstool on an Adventure? He has a mouth like a septic tank."
"Don't you dare blame me!" declared the Unicorn. "And before you children begin 
another one of your spats, allow me to interrupt. Allen, do you recall our 
conversation this morning about the different types of Magic? Good. Then you 
will understand when I tell you, should the wrong person obtain even a few 
strands of your pubic hair they could use it in a spell which could kill you, or 
worse, make you indiscriminantly attack anything female, including trees and 
bushes."
"It could also make your little crank shrivel up and fall off," Billimba added. 
"That would be a real disaster. You'd loose your few living brain cells."
Allen bit her again, then allowed his lips to travel over the smooth skin of her 
neck, enjoying the taste and smell of her. She wiggled back against him. His 
hands went up to unlace her vest.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
"Exploring!"
They rode in silence for some time while Allen's hands roamed over her, 
following her mature curves, hefting the firm mounds of her breasts which filled 
his palms to overflowing. She began to breath heavily. Allen pressed his 
suddenly hard length against the taut mound of her buttocks.
"Ummmm..." Billimba sighed. "Your hands feel wonderful... pinch the nipples, 
just a little... ohhh... feel how hard they are...?"
"Talk about hard!" Allen gasped. Billimba moaned again when he pressed his stiff 
manhood against her.
"I think if you were to lean forward and lift your skirt..." Allen suggested.
"Oh, let's try it!" she whispered.
Billimba leaned forward along Fleener's neck. She shivered as she felt Allen's 
first blunt probing, then cried out as his length fill her, sliding easily into 
her wet warmth. She slowly straightened enough for Allen's hands to once again 
reach her breasts.
"Ohhh...that is good!" she sighed.
"I hope you two aren't going to make a mess on my back!" the Unicorn protested.
"Fleener, shut up!" 
"Yes, Ma'am."
The natural up and down movement of the animal they rode accented the thrusting 
of Allen. They both quickly reached the trembling, gasping verge, then slipped 
beyond, crying out together.
Snorting with disgust, Fleener carried the couple still locked in their embrace, 
covering many miles while they rested, then repeated their sensuous coupling.
He stopped at noon when the sun disappeared.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter X
 
 
 
An ominous dark cloud rolled across the sky from the east. It stretched across 
the entire horizon, purple-black, glowing an evil green from within.
In a matter of seconds it blotted out the sun, bringing a midnight darkness to 
midday.
The Adventurers were not taken completely by surprise, for each simultaneously 
sensed something was about to happen. Even Theodore, who disappeared for hours 
on mysterious errands of his own, suddenly returned, fluttering anxiously 
overhead.
Fleener stopped abruptly, his head held high, sniffing the wind. Billimba and 
Allen reluctantly broke their erotic embrace to dismount. While the Witch 
scanned the sky, Allen knelt down, putting his ear to the ground.
"Heavy animals are moving this way," he reported after a few seconds. "A lot of 
them. And that Shax Demon is nearby again. I can feel his eyes on us."
Billimba nodded agreement. "Electricity... ozone... wind and rain... and Dark 
Magic," she whispered, holding her hands aloft to feel the air. "Whatever is 
coming will attack us under the cover of this Unnatural Storm. We need a place 
to defend ourselves."
"Perhaps there, to the right." Fleener indicated the direction with a shake of 
his head. Thirty yards off among the trees the skeletal remains of a building 
were visible, one wall intact.
As they hurried toward the ruins the evil cloud rushed down on them, enveloping 
the landscape beneath it in a churning, shrieking storm.
The forest was still as death when the Adventurers reached the ruins. Billimba 
immediately shed her clothing, stuffing everything save her Wand into a crevasse 
in the rocks. She used the Wand to burn a large pentagram into the earth, then 
pointed the instrument at the wall of the collapsed building, mumbling Spells.
Allen secured his own equipment as well, then drew his Sword. Fleener sharpened 
his hooves on a concrete block.
"Stand in the pentagram," Billimba panted. "Stay close... it's almost on us."
She held her arms out wide, her breasts heaving as she worked her Magic. Allen 
thought he saw something like a semi-transparent barrier float briefly before 
them. It disappeared amid the sparks and vapors pouring from Billimba's Wand.
"I made a Magic Shield, but I don't know if it will hold," the Witch announced. 
"If the storm breaks through it, run behind the wall. I strengthened it."
A rumbling sound behind them caught Allen's attention. He turned quickly. To the 
west he saw another storm building, moving as if to sandwich them.
"It's mine!" Billimba said curtly when Allen began pointing toward the new cloud 
mass. It moved toward them with incredible speed, great banks of gray clouds 
spitting forth lightening bolts.
The evil, dark storm front seemed to hover over the forest for some seconds, as 
if to intimidate all with its power. Then it surged forward, unleashing its 
fury. It was met head on by the storm under Billimba's control, the cloud masses 
crashing together with a roar of wind and the thunder of enormous Energies.
The wind shrieked, uprooting bushes and trees. Water was sucked up from shallow 
ponds, then turned into sleet. Lightening bolts gouged craters in the earth. 
Rain fell in suffocating sheets.
Behind Billimba's Shield not even a breeze could be felt.
For what seemed like hours the two storms battled each other, surging back and 
forth across the sky. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the aerial battle 
simply ceased, leaving the battered earth below under a uniformly gray sky. The 
silence following the thundering storms was almost tangible. Nothing moved in 
the semi-darkness except Billimba's Wand. It spat out half a dozen Energy Balls 
which hovered high in the trees, illuminating a frightening scene.
Spread out across the forest, the sinister army at first appeared to have been 
frozen by the frigid wind. They stood motionless, a nightmare collection of 
inhuman things.
"Trolls!" Fleener spat out the word as if it were venom.
The creatures were uniform in appearance, eight feet tall, with huge heads, long 
arms, and massive torsos covered by warty green skin. All carried clubs and 
stone axes, some as large as tree trunks.
Half their thirty-odd number were mounted on huge, obscene lizards, animals with 
two enormous hind legs and red, spiny wings.
Only an occasional slobbering snarl or nervous shift indicated the hideous army 
was possessed of any life. They stared at the Adventurers for a long time. Allen 
finally grew impatient, leaning toward Billimba.
"You give 'em beads. That makes 'em friendly," he said from the corner of his 
mouth.
Theodore clawed the ground, emitting a nasty, hissing growl. Fleener snorted in 
disgust.
"Get thee out of our path!" Billimba ordered.
The Trolls did not move or answer.
"Better forget the beads," Allen advised Billimba. "Let's try raw meat."
Behind them Billimba's storm began to rebuild its energy. Lightening crackled. 
The earth trembled.
"What about your Shield?" Allen asked.
"Only good against the storm," Billimba answered. "It won't work against them. I 
didn't have time to conjure up anything more substantial."
Allen hefted Excaliber. "Will this scare them away?"
"Maybe a few," replied the Witch. "But most of them don't even know what's 
happening. They're under someone's Control. Those things they're riding are 
Wyryn, two legged, winged Dragons whose bite is very poisonous."
With a blood curdling scream the Trolls attacked, thundering out of the forest, 
swinging their clubs, gnashing their rotten teeth.
The blade of Excaliber snapped out, glowing fiercely. The Trolls ignored the 
weapon in their bloodlust.
Billimba summoned her storm. Lightening erupted from the clouds, spearing into 
the earth, traveling upwards through the Witch's body to spew forth where ever 
she directed. She stood naked, her hair standing straight out from her head, 
waving her Wand as if conducting a symphony.
Allen gave vent to his own war cry as he charged forward to meet the enemy. In a 
heartbeat he was among them. He could hear the angry snarling of the Trolls, 
smell their putrid bodies, feel the hot breath of the Wyryn as they snapped at 
him.
A Troll charged at him, brandishing a huge club. Excaliber severed the beast's 
head. Thick, rancid blood spouted from the torso. Then a Wyryn charged. Allen 
sliced through its neck and the body of its rider with one swing of his Sword.
He dodged a blow from a stone axe which would have crushed his head, then dodged 
again as a bolt of energy zapped upward from a smoking crevasse. It speared into 
the belly of a dragon. The creature shrieked and ran amuck, its entrails 
steaming as they dragged the ground. The wounded animal ran into two others, 
smashing them and their Troll riders to the ground.
A flash of white marked Fleener's position. Allen saw him kick a Troll in the 
chest, sending the creature flying backwards. Another Troll ran through the 
forest screaming, its head and upper body aflame from gouts of fire Theodore 
spewed from his mouth.
Allen severed the arm from a Troll, sliced the leg from another, then stabbed at 
the bloated belly of a dragon. Billimba's lightening fried another Troll behind 
him, the creature wailing in pain amidst a stinking cloud of its own sizzling 
fluids.
As abruptly as it began, the battle ended. Half a dozen Trolls ran or limped 
away, whimpering as they disappeared into the forest.
Rumbling and crashing, the storms overhead receded even more swiftly. The sun 
once again beamed down on the forest, forcing Allen to shade his eyes from the 
sudden brightness, revealing the scattered bodies and scorched earth.
Allen stood panting, covered with sweat, grime, smoke and gore, until he felt a 
searing pain in his left arm. He retracted the blade of Excaliber, hanging the 
Sword at his side, then examined his left bicep. He'd sustained a nasty gash 
deep into the muscle. Clamping his hand over the wound, he staggered in the 
direction of Billimba, who leaned against the stone ruins, her naked body bathed 
in sweat. Fleener stood beside her, trembling, flanks heaving as he caught his 
breath.
"Hey!" Allen yelled at the Witch. "I'd appreciate it if you'd be a little more 
careful with those lightening bolts next time! That last one singed my ass!"
"Well, keep your puny ass outa the way!" she yelled back. "You were supposed to 
smite the heathens, not dance with 'em!"
"I can't smite very well when I'm only one step ahead of an electric enema!"
"You'll think enema, you horny Neanderthal!"
"That's enough, children!" Fleener shouted, stepping between them. Billimba 
lowered her Wand. Allen dropped the fist he had cocked, then wandered away, 
holding his injured arm.
"He is angry because he is frightened," Fleener said to Billimba.
"So am I," the Witch admitted. "The Master is nowhere within the range of my 
Perception, and you know how far away I can detect things. And yet, he was able 
to control both the storm and the Trolls. His Power worries me. I wonder if 
we're in over our heads?"
"You must trust in your own Abilities," advised Fleener, "along with those 
unknown qualities in Allen. Above all, don't make things worse by alienating 
him."
"Yes," she sighed. "I suppose I better go make up with the boy."
"Your relationship might improve dramatically if you were to stop thinking of 
him as a boy. He is, after all, a man, which he has proven to you several 
times."
"He certainly has!" Billimba sighed again. She smiled as she recalled the 
delicious sensations she had experienced with Allen. Giving the Unicorn an 
affectionate pat, she donned her Cape, then set off in the direction Allen had 
taken.
As she did so, a rhythmic pinging sound announced the arrival of the three 
Referees upon the scene. They immediately began poking among the bodies, 
conferring in whispers, making notes on their clipboards.
Billimba found Allen some distance away, on the shore of a small lake which had 
somehow survived the ravages of the storms. He scooped up water to bathe his 
injured arm.
"Let me help," Billimba said as she knelt beside him. She extracted a cloth and 
a jar of salve from within her Cape, then cleaned the wound with deft fingers.
"You were really magnificent, fighting the Trolls," she said to him.
"I was scared shitless," he admitted.
"Only fools are unafraid."
She covered his wound with salve, placed the cloth over it and tenderly stroked 
the area with her Wand. Allen felt a tingling itch in his arm. When Billimba 
removed the cloth all that remained of Allen's injury was a thin white scar.
"You were pretty good during the battle yourself," he told her.
She smiled, then leaned forward to kiss him. When he responded she suddenly 
seized his lower lip between her teeth.
Allen gasped in pain, trying to pull away, hoping to retain his lip in the 
process. With a final little shake of her head Billimba released him.
"Next time you yell at me, Jockstrap, I'll bite that lip off."
Allen massaged his tender flesh, glanced down at his grimy hand, then inspected 
the rest of his body.
"I believe I could use a bath," he announced.
"That sounds nice," said Billimba. "May I join you? I love the feel of wet, 
soapy bodies."
"Uh,... won't the water... you know, like back at my cabin...?"
"No. Not on this Adventure." She allowed her Cape to slip from her shoulders, 
revealing her naked, sensuous curves.
Allen scooped her up in his arms, then flung her out into the water. She 
screamed, plunging beneath the surface with a tremendous splash, only to surface 
a few seconds later, sputtering and hissing, shaking her fist.
"The next time you singe my ass," Allen yelled at her, "I'll pound lumps on your 
tits!"
Billimba waded to a section of the shore covered with black, slimy mud. She 
scooped up a gob the size of an ostrich egg and advanced upon Allen.
"You wouldn't dare!" he snarled.
With a triumphant yell she mashed the mudball against his chest, then tried to 
flee. Allen chased her, tackling her in the mud. They wrestled, laughing, 
smearing the goo on each other in thick layers.
"Okay, truce," Billimba finally panted. "We better wash off before we get all 
crusty. I have a bar of soap in my Cape."
They washed each other thoroughly, paying particular attention to certain parts 
of their bodies which, when fondled and caressed, produced exciting sensations. 
Their slippery, panting explorations were interrupted when Fleener joined them. 
They washed him as well, then lay on the shore in the sun to dry. Allen groaned 
aloud when he spied the three Referees meandering among the trees.
"I see Winkin', Blinkin', and Nurd have put in an appearance. What do they 
want?"
"They're inspecting to see if we violated any Rules," Billimba explained. "They 
won't find anything they can use against us, but they might try to make up 
something."
Brucie waddled to the shore of the lake, eyeing Allen's body with undisguised 
lust.
"Oh, you magnificent brute!" he breathed. He gestured to where Excaliber lay on 
the ground only inches from Allen's hand.
"We have declared your Sword to be an Illegal Weapon," he announced sternly. "We 
shall have to confiscate it."
Allen snatched up the Sword and leaped to his feet, the blue shimmering blade 
lancing out until the tip was less than an inch from Brucie's nose.
"Just try and take it from me, you little shit!" Allen snarled.
Brucie backed away, shivering. When Billimba hissed at him like an angry cat the 
fat Referee fled back to the comparative safety of his companions.
Allen retracted the blade of the Sword, laying the weapon in the grass. Billimba 
approached him, putting her arms around him, grinding her naked body against 
his.
"I told you they'd try to pull something," she murmured. "You stood up to them 
heroically." She gazed into his eyes with a puzzled look on her face.
"Are you growing, Boobie?"
"It will if you rub against me a little more!"
"I mean taller!"
"Maybe. I wondered if you were shrinking again."
"You are growing!" Billimba ran her hands over his chest. "And getting heavier, 
stronger too! I wonder why?"
"You wonder?... I thought you were making it happen!"
"Not me, Sweetie," she assured him. "Something Magical is taking place here. 
This could be interesting." She reached between his legs, stroking him gently. 
"I hope the rest of you grows in proportion."
"It will if you keep playin' with it!"
"Oh, I can feel that. Let's go back into the water."
With a firm grip around the fleshy handle suddenly sprouting from between 
Allen's legs, she pulled him insistently into the deeper water.
"They say it can't be done comfortably in water," Allen protested.
Billimba proceeded to prove him wrong several times.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter XI
 
 
 
Fleener stood patiently in the shade of a majestic tree while Allen and Billimba 
dressed, then gathered their equipment.
Osborne the Ogre made a surprise appearance just then, briefly inspecting the 
scene of the recent battle, making notes on his own clipboard. The other 
Referees were obviously disappointed they were unable to detect any violation of 
the Official Rules for which they could penalize the Adventurers. Osborne smiled 
hugely.
"No foul!" he announced loudly, directing a smug look at Ralph, Herman, and 
Brucie. "You do good," the Ogre told Allen. "Kill more Trolls. Berry nasty 
tings."
He drew Allen aside, gesturing toward the other Referees. 
"No lettum dem little pimples take away Sword," he advised. "Keep Sword close... 
safe..."
"I will, Osborne. Thank you."
All four Referees withdrew from the scene, disappearing with pinging noises.
"Before we resume our journey," said Fleener, "this might be a good time to 
check on the limits of our Magic and other Powers."
Billimba agreed. She rummaged deep in the folds of her Cape, withdrawing an 
old-fashioned microphone with a chord and cannon plug. She jammed the plug into 
an invisible receptacle in the air, then began to speak.
"Billimba calling Central Auditing... Billimba calling Central Auditing... Come 
in, please... Over."
"THIS IS CENTRAL AUDITING!" a booming, officious voice replied immediately from 
out of the air over their heads. "GO AHEAD BILLIMBA."
"Request status report on all Magics available."
"STAND BY, BILLIMBA... I HAD THAT DAMN THING HERE SOMEWHERE...WHAT DID I DO WITH 
IT?...HERE IT IS... ARE YOU READY BILLIMBA?"
"Go ahead," the Witch instructed.
"MAGIC POTENTIAL OF FLEENER THE UNICORN---0. POTENTIAL OF THEODORE THE 
DRAGON---UNLIMITED. AMOUNT DIRECTLY TRANSFERABLE FROM HIM---5 HOURS. POTENTIAL 
OF SALEENA IS 50 HOURS, BUT AT PRESENT SHE IS RATED AT 0. MAGIC FOR 
BILLIMBA---45 HOURS."
"MAGIC USED BATTLING TROLLS---27%. MAGIC LOST INADVERTENTLY DUE TO CLOUD DISPLAY 
WHILE FORNICATING WITH ALLEN THE BARBARIAN---1.5%. MAGIC USED TO HEAL WOUNDED 
ARM---.5%. TOTAL MAGIC USED---29%."
"BILLIMBA EXPERIENCED A 21% GAIN IN MAGIC THROUGH SEXUAL ENCOUNTERS. NO MAGIC 
GAINED OR LOST WHILE SCREWING IN THE WATER HOWEVER. TOTAL MAGIC FOR 
BROOM---UNLIMITED. MAGIC AVAILABLE FOR FLYING CARPET---40 HOURS. END OF 
READOUT."
"What is the Magic potential of subjects Allen, Bernie, and The Master?" 
Billimba demanded.
"ALLEN DOES NOT COMPUTE," answered the Auditor. "MAGIC FOR BERNIE IS LIMITED TO 
20 HOURS. MAGIC QUANTITIES FOR THE MASTER ARE CLASSIFIED."
"Repeat the figure for Magic gained by Billimba."
"21%. DO YOU REQUIRE A PRINTOUT?"
"Affirmative. Also request an audible alarm when any Magic reaches 15% or less."
"CAN DO... ROGER... WILCO... OVER AND OUT... ADIOS..."
Billimba yanked out the microphone plug, cutting off the Auditor, then stuffed 
the equipment back inside her Cape. A few seconds later a sheet of paper 
fluttered down from overhead. Theodore snagged it neatly on the fly and gave it 
to Billimba. The Witch studied the report, frowning, while Fleener looked over 
her shoulder.
"This is an unexpected complication," she muttered. "I didn't think it was 
possible."
"Nor did I," admitted Fleener.
"This wimp is syphoning off my Magic!" Billimba declared.
"Who is?" asked Allen. "Bernie?"
"No... YOU!" 
Both Billimba and Fleener turned to stare at him. Allen backed away.
"Me?" he gasped. "You gotta be kidding! What am I supposed to be doin' with the 
stuff? I sure ain't got no pockets to carry it in."
"Now don't start whining again about not having any pants, you hamhock," 
Billimba warned. "Let's get moving while I try to figure this out."
They mounted Fleener, who trotted off through the forest. Allen looked over 
Billimba's shoulder at the printout she was studting.
"I think I understand some of that," he told her. "But I wish you'd explain it 
all to me so I know what's going on."
"Fleener is a Magical Creature," the Witch said, running her finger down the 
page. "But he doesn't actually perform any, and he can't transfer any either, so 
he's listed as 0."
"Theodore is also a Magical Creature, but Dragon Magic is very different, 
difficult to transfer. The limits on the Broom and Carpet are standard for an 
Adventure like this. So is my Magic.
"This report confirms my suspicions. The Master is the real villain. His Magic 
Potential is classified, as mine will be to him. Bernie is relatively weak.
"Where it says you 'don't compute', Boobie, it means they ain't got the 
slightest idea of what you're capable of, if anything. And you notice they don't 
even mention your Sword."
"How come Saleena has two numbers?" he asked.
"Her Potential is 50 hours, a little more than mine." Billimba turned to give 
Allen a sly, accusing smile. "The two of you must have spent a lot of time in 
bed."
"The bed, the floor, the couch, the table..."
"I get the picture," she said abruptly. "Right now Saleena has no Magic. It's 
been drained away. A normal precaution when taking a captive during an 
Adventure.
"But this..." she said, pointing to the 21% figure of Magic Gained, "This 
worries me some. I should have made up more total Magic than I've used when we 
made love."
"Is that the only reason you brought me along, to help you build up Magic?" 
Allen asked with a pout. "Makes me feel like an air pump."
Billimba twisted around to look at him, her dark eyes searching his.
"You can be so damn dense at times, Boobie." she whispered. She faced forward 
once again, leaning back against Allen, bringing his hand up inside her vest. 
She purred when his warm palm cupped her breast.
"The only place the missing Magic could have gone was to you, Allen," she 
announced.
"Is that what's making me grow?"
"Some of it undoubtedly is," she told him. "But if you used all the Magic just 
for growing you'd be about twelve feet tall by now."
"Oh, shit!" breathed Allen. "Then where's it all going, and why?"
"Don't know, Dearie." She rubbed a corner of the page. The paper burst into 
flames, turning to ash in seconds. "You're storing it inside you somewhere, for 
some reason. Eventually we'll find out why."
"I think I'd rather not," declared Allen. "You know this Magic stuff scares me."
"Poor baby," Billimba said with mock sympathy. "I'll take care of you."
"That scares me even more than the Magic."
* * * *
Early in the evening the Adventurers encountered another of The Master's deadly 
traps.
In the gathering twilight they did not see the strands of Magic entwined in the 
trees until it was too late. They found themselves suddenly surrounded by a ring 
of glass bottles and jugs which dropped down from the trees, remaining suspended 
just off the ground as if floating on some liquid. Each bottle was a different 
size, shape, and color. All were tightly sealed, connected to the others by 
wisps of evil yellow Magic.
"Oh oh!" Allen jerked his hands from inside Billimba's vest, where they had been 
fondling her firm attributes. "This must be what Saleena meant when she said 
'beware of the bottles'."
"You got a message from Saleena and you didn't tell me? You eggyolk!"
They slid from Fleener's back, advancing to inspect the bobbing bottles. 
Billimba shook her head sadly.
"This ain't good, Boobie."
"Can't we just sort of ease our way between them?"
"See those strands of yellow Magic connecting them? Touch one of those and you 
die. Our only way out is to break one of the bottles."
"So?"
"So at least one, or perhaps all of them, will contain a Genie or a Demon."
"Fine," said Allen. "If it's a Genie we'll get three Wishes."
"And you'd use all of them wishing for a quick death," she told him. "These will 
be the kind of Genies who like to inflict pain."
"Then how do we know which one to break?"
"We don't. Just pick one and hope for the best, or the least."
Allen selected an inoffensive looking silver bottle on the left of the circle. 
He shattered it with the haft of Excaliber.
A pillar of blue smoke mushroomed into the air, accompanied by a hot wind and 
insane laughter. Riding atop the shaft of smoke was an enormously fat figure 
wearing a red fez with a gold tassel. The creature's blubbery chest and belly 
protruded from between the halves of a gold vest to overhung its green 
pantaloons. Its feet were encased in red velvet slippers with curly toes.
The apparition's most astonishing feature was its color. It was human in form 
and appearance except for its skin, every inch of its which was the color of a 
robin's egg.
"Gotcha!' the figure yelled triumphantly as it settled to the ground. It 
giggled, strutting about with its belly bouncing.
"You stepped on your dick, boy, when you broke my bottle! Yes indeedy! Know who 
I am? Of course you do, since I'm famous, but I like introducing myself to my 
victims."
It doffed its fez and patted its bald, blue head.
"Ishmeng Bombo am I, Genie of the Blue Gen, Terror of the Earth and Sky, Defiler 
of Small Animals..."
"I know you," Billimba interrupted. "They call you Bombo the Bimbo. They say you 
have an interesting fetish involving prunes and a camel. Now get out of our way, 
you Turquoise Twit."
She pointed her Wand at the Genie, who merely giggled.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Miss Crevasse Crotch. Any Magic used inside 
this circle, including your horny boyfriend's Sword, will cause all the other 
bottles to break. There are Demons in those bottles. Some of them haven't had a 
woman in seven or eight thousand years. They'll auger you out, front and back, 
along with your pretty horsie and your smelly little Dragon."
Bombo reached into the rapidly shrinking cloud of smoke, withdrawing a worn 
carpetbag which clanked ominously when he set it down. From within the bag he 
produced a handful of sharp, pointed instruments.
"Do what you think best," the Genie told Billimba. "Meanwhile, I shall begin my 
evening's entertainment by disassembling your boyfriend."
"You can scream well, can't you?" Bombo asked Allen. "I work so hard at my 
tortures. They certainly deserve more than the pitiful whimpers I've received 
lately. Why don't you practice screaming while I get ready."
Billimba looked desperately at the encircling bottles. She gritted her teeth, 
pointing her Wand at Bombo. Allen nudged her, shook his head slightly, then 
stepped forward.
"Isn't a condemned man allowed a last request?"
"Oh, how tedious," sighed Bombo. "Very well... but no tricks! You can't outsmart 
me, so don't try. And I'll expect extra good screaming for this."
"I promise, my screams will shake the leaves from the trees," Allen assured him. 
"But first, a question. How did you get to be such a pretty blue color?"
"By holding my breath, you ninny! How else does one turn blue?" The Genie patted 
his bulging belly. "I swallow air and hold it in constantly. Do you really like 
the color?"
"Blue is my absolute favorite," Allen answered sincerely. "If I have to be 
tortured, I'm glad it will be by a blue person. But I really don't think that 
shade is right for you."
"No?" Bombo inspected the skin of his arm. "What's wrong with it?"
"Much too light," said Allen. "A darker shade would be more fierce and menacing. 
People would scream just looking at you. For my last request, I'd like to watch 
while you make yourself darker."
"Mmmmm..." The Genie considered the suggestion while eyeing its azure epidermis. 
"Something closer to a navy you think? Very well, I'll do it! Just watch this."
Bombo commenced to suck in and swallow great quantities of air, expanding his 
already bloated cheeks and stomach. Grunting with the effort, his body 
trembling, the Genie slowly turned a darker shade of blue.
Allen stared, pretending fascination, all the while edging closer to Bombo's 
distended belly. With one swift lunge he jerked the knife from the top of his 
boot, plunging it into the Genie's stomach.
Bombo shrieked in pain and surprise. He was suddenly propelled backwards by the 
force of the air escaping from his body. He careened about the clearing, 
bouncing off the trees and hard-packed earth. Rude burping noises accompanied 
the whistling escape of air from his ruptured gut. Twice Allen and Billimba 
ducked as the rapidly shriveling Genie zipped over their heads.
With a final bubbling fart of air the wrinkled, flattened Bombo floated to earth 
like a falling leaf. Billimba ran forward and rolled him up as if he were a sun 
shade. She extracted a bottle of her own from within her Cape, stuffing the 
Genie inside, then sealing the bottle with a cork and melted wax from a hastily 
lit candle. Bombo's whining cries of anguish could be heard clearly.
"Curses! The Gods have shit upon me once again! Foiled by a pale turd of a man! 
By the tits of the Hair-lipped Goddess, why am I so mistreated?"
Billimba shook the bottle vigorously, whacking it with her palm.
"Can it, you blubbering blue bozo," she ordered. "Your ass is mine now. Answer 
some questions and I might let you out before the next Ice Age. Who is The 
Master?"
"Why should I tell you anything, you scummy bitch?"
"Witch," she corrected, then shook the bottle again, as if it contained some 
potion which required mixing. Bombo shrieked and wailed, thumping off the glass.
"By the Scaly Balls of the Sacred Dragon, I swear I've never seen The Master!" 
the Genie shouted when Billimba repeated her question. "I get my orders from 
Bernie. No one knows what The Master looks like."
"You make yourself comfortable in there," Billimba told him. "We'll talk again 
in a few centuries."
Her Cape swallowed up the bottle as neatly as it did all her other equipment. 
She bestowed upon Allen a long, sensual kiss, her tongue fluttering over his 
until they were both panting.
"You saved us, Boobie! I would never have thought of that idea. And you wonder 
why I brought you along."
Fleener agreed heartily with Billimba. They gingerly eased themselves out of the 
circle through the gap left by Bombo's broken bottle.
"I think it's time we changed our plans," Allen told Billimba as they once again 
mounted Fleener.
"Why? Didn't we agree we'd take our time, save our strength and Magic until we 
confront The Master?"
"Well, we're certainly not having much luck sneaking up on him, now are we?" 
Allen answered. "This is the fourth time we've been attacked. At this rate we'll 
be exhausted or dead before we ever get to Detroit."
"He has a point," conceded Fleener. "Perhaps we should consider some more 
drastic action, to throw our enemies off balance."
Billimba considered the suggestion for some time, leaning back in Allen's arms.
"Maybe it is time we went on the attack," she said finally. "I'll think on it 
some while you buy me dinner in the village up ahead."
"Buy you dinner? With what?" Allen asked. "I don't have any money. I don't even 
have any pockets to carry money in. You make me wear this dippy loincloth, with 
my nuts all hangin' out! All this silly smitin' and hackin'... queer Dragons and 
Demons and Genies..."
Allen was still grumbling loudly when they topped the grassy rise and surveyed 
the village below.
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter XII
 
 
 
The village of Mule's End lay nestled amid the jagged, tooth-like chunks of 
concrete marking the remains of a shopping mall.
A cracked, uneven asphalt parking lot surrounded the village like a dry moat, 
decorated with the rusted skeletons of automobiles. Gnarled trees pushed their 
way up through the shattered paving, competing with vines and creepers for 
growing space.
Scattered all around were crude huts of sod, logs, and corrugated tin. Nearby, 
cultivated areas thick with growing vegetables added to the patchwork design of 
the place, while an assortment of livestock wandered about aimlessly.
The setting sun glowed a dull orange as Allen and Billimba entered the village 
astride Fleener. Windows already glowed with the light of candles or lanterns. A 
few vendors still sat under ragged canvas awnings selling withered produce, 
fish, game, or objects looted from deserted buildings. The smoke of cooking 
fires drifted on the evening air.
The inhabitants they encountered on their approach to the village were a motley 
lot, the men bearded and scruffy, the women plain with a shrewish look about 
them. All were dressed in an odd assortment of clothing, from designer jeans 
rooted out of collapsed department stores to greasy rags and animal skins. All 
stared suspiciously at the travelers, many muttering under their breath or 
making signs to ward off Evil.
In the center of the mall a store had been converted to an inn. It sported a 
hand-painted placard over the door proclaiming food and drink were available, as 
well as lodging for both humans and animals.
Billimba and Allen negotiated with a freckled-face boy who finally agreed to 
quarter Fleener in the makeshift stable for an outrageously high price which 
would be added to their bill.
The Unicorn balked at first, apparently finding the accommodations seriously 
lacking. Billimba gave him a withering stare and a swat on the flank.
"Behave yourself!" she hissed when the stable boy was out of hearing. "Folk here 
are suspicious of us already. No talking! Not one syllable, understand? Act like 
a horse. You know how. Just stand on three legs, eat hay, shit, and snort."
When Theodore poked his green snout out from inside Billimba's Cape she whacked 
him smartly on the head.
"You too! Stay out of sight or I'll tie a knot in your neck!"
The little Dragon retreated hastily. Billimba and Allen walked to the door of 
the inn. As they approached, Billimba reached into her Cape, producing a leather 
bag bulging with the weight of coins. She handed it to Allen.
"Now you can buy me dinner, and rent us a room for the night. It'll be good to 
sleep in a real bed again."
Allen looked up at the sign over the door. " 'The Bear and Boar Inn'," he read 
aloud. He wrinkled his nose, sniffing the air. "Smells like it ought to be 
called 'The Belch and Barf'. You sure you want to go in there? We'll probably 
catch some disease."
The interior of the inn lived up to its name, resembling an animal's den. It was 
dark and dank, with clouds of smoke hovering near a vaulted ceiling and a floor 
of cracked, hardpacked earth. Rough-hewn tables of thick wood were scattered 
about the center of the room, while booths of the same material lined the walls. 
Chickens and other unidentifiable creatures roosted on the beams overhead, 
rustling and squawking in the shadows, freely depositing their white-washed 
droppings on the tables and patrons below. A massive oaken bar occupied one side 
of the room. Behind it were stacked assorted kegs, mugs, barrels, and glasses.
The patrons of the inn appeared as rough as the interior. Some two dozen men and 
several women were seated about the place. All were dressed in ragged, dirty 
clothing. All appeared in need of great quantities of disinfectant. Conversation 
ceased abruptly as Allen and Billimba entered. Once they seated themselves at a 
table near the center of the room the conversation gradually resumed. Allen 
caught whispers and mutterings about 'accursed Witches' and 'foul strangers'.
"Ever had the feeling your throat was about to be cut?" he whispered to 
Billimba.
"They're not a very friendly group, are they?" she admitted. "Perhaps we came at 
a bad time."
"In this place I think even Christmas would be a bad time!" he snapped. "If 
these people kill us I'm gonna be really pissed at you."
At that moment a burly ruffian stood up from a corner booth and sauntered to 
their table. He seated himself in an empty chair, then leaned toward Billimba.
"What sayeth thou, Hot Lips?"
Billimba looked at Allen. "Are you going to protect me from this crass brute?"
"Don't get me involved," he protested, pushing his chair back from the table. 
"You're the one wanted to come in here."
"Fie, woman," grumbled the ruffian. "Beseech not this limp-pricked scoundrel."
"Oh, now wait just a minute," Allen began.
"Come wench! I yearn to see thy tits!" the man said as he reached for Billimba's 
vest.
"Hey! Those are mine!" yelled Allen.
Billimba slapped the man's face. He growled, stood up and drew a gleaming knife 
from his belt. Allen shoved the table hard with his foot. The edge caught the 
man in the groin. He grunted and bent over. Billimba yanked down on his beard, 
so the lout's forehead cracked against the tabletop. He collapsed on the floor 
in a heap.
A half dozen more men immediately arose from various tables, advancing upon 
them. Allen leaped to his feet. He smashed his chair over the head of one of 
them, ducked under the slicing swing of a knife, then kicked another in the 
face.
The fight raged over the tavern. Men yelled in pain, women screamed, chickens 
squawked, fists thudded into flesh.
For a few minutes Allen actually enjoyed the engagement. His new body combined 
stout muscles with lightening reflexes. Although outnumbered, he defended 
himself ably. After some minutes, however, he began to tire of the sport.
He blocked a wildly thrown punch, drove his fist into the face of a man, then 
risked a glance in Billimba's direction. The Witch sat demurely at their table.
"I could use some help," he complained as more men joined in the assault against 
him.
"Why?" she asked sweetly. "You seem to be doing very well on your own."
"Yeah, but you're the one caused all this!"
"Oh, not me!" she protested. "Besides, I like to watch you move. Such nice 
muscles."
She pinched him on the butt as he dodged around the table. When he took a blow 
to the ribs followed by a vicious kick to the shins his enthusiasm left him all 
together.
"Enough!" he yelled, backing against the bar and drawing his Sword. "The next 
man gets hurt!"
The blade of Excaliber hummed as it lanced outward. Their were gasps of surprise 
from the remaining onlookers. In spite of the potent weapon displayed, four men 
continued to advance upon Allen, their faces grim, knives drawn.
"Hold!" cried a voice from the doorway of the inn. The four ruffians immediately 
stepped back. A fifth man made a grand entrance into the tavern.
The newcomer was tall, stoutly built, with flaming red hair and beard. He wore a 
knee-length yellow doublet belted at his waist with a length of chain. Bright 
green tights and cowboy boots completed his ensemble.
"Wouldst thou squander thy lives in a barroom brawl when far greater enemies 
threaten us?" the man demanded.
The others grumbled at this, hanging their heads sheepishly.
"Fur-tongued heathens!" hissed Redbeard. "Canst thou not see yon stout fellow is 
a great and cunning warrior? T'was childs' play for him to buffet thee about as 
he did. Now set thee at thy places and show our guests thee do indeed possess 
manners."
Still mumbling, the men returned to their respective tables with many a venomous 
stare at Allen and Billimba. Allen sat down next to the Witch to catch his 
breath, then nudged her with his elbow.
"Hear what that guy said? Called me a 'great and cunning warrior'. He's a good 
judge of character. How come you never say anything nice about me?"
"The best judge of character was the guy who called you 'Limp Prick'," she 
replied.
"Now you know that's not true!" he protested.
"Do I, Dearie? I think you may need to prove it to me again later." She eyed 
Allen's muscles with undisguised longing, licking her full lips.
"Oh, I plan on it," Allen assured her with a glance at the mounds of her 
breasts.
"Well fought, my man!" boomed Redbeard as he seated himself at their table. "And 
thee, good lady, art obviously a Sorceress of some Ability and Power. T'is 
honored we are by your presence in our humble village. I be Ethelred the Bold, 
Mayor of Mule's End."
Billimba stood, bowing politely, then waved at Allen.
"Meet Sir Allen, the Fierce and Horny. I am Billimba, daughter of the Wizard 
Baylock. We come in peace," she hastened to add when Ethelred's eyes narrow 
suspiciously. "Are you the one called Ethelred the Unready?"
Ethelred shuddered, nodding reluctantly. "Alas, t'is true. A moniker unkindly 
bestowed upon me by my forth wife, due to a sexual inadequacy on my part. Truth 
be known," he whispered confidentially, "the bitch was ugly and I couldn't get 
it up."
"Why did you marry her then?" Billimba asked as she resumed her seat.
"T'was necessary at the time," Ethelred replied. "She had monies and I had 
naught. Mayhap we should drink to our new friendship." He turned toward the bar 
and yelled. "Lester! A bottle of your finest wine for our guests!"
Lester turned out to be a hulking Oriental possessed of a long pigtail, a 
thoroughly rotten disposition, and an enormous meat cleaver. It immediately 
became obvious Lester did not speak any recognizable language. In spite of the 
order for wine, Lester advanced upon their table jabbering in a sing-song voice, 
to slam down three tankards of something Ethelred generously called beer.
It was a watery, tepid liquid the color of day-old dog piddle. After one sip 
Allen was convinced the brew's taste and appearance were closely related. He 
decided to abstain for the rest of the evening. Ethelred, on the other hand, 
appeared to relish the stuff.
"So, what bringeth you to this dump?" the man asked after a long gulp of his 
drink. Billimba explained their quest and Ethelred nodded glumly.
"Aye, trouble breweth about the land, and the good folk are cranky, as ye have 
discovered. T'is suspicious they are of all strangers, especially those who 
appear to be users of Magic, for t'is Magic which lies at the root of their 
problems."
Ethelred gulped down the remains of his drink, wiping his mouth on his sleeve 
and belching contentedly.
"This Bernie you mention now, what a shitty little freak he is. An Albino, white 
as a mackerel's belly all over, save for his eyes, which be pink, like a rat's. 
He taxes us cruelly, then uses his Magic to steal our sheep and our women. T'is 
rumored he uses both for the same purposes."
"What are you doing about it?" asked Allen.
"Naught at the moment," replied Ethelred. "We save our strength for the coming 
battle. Know you that Bernie is but a pimple on the ass of the world compared to 
The Master. T'is he who we must eventually fight, for our village lies in the 
path he wishes to take. And he controls Bernie."
"Tell us about The Master," prompted Allen. "Here, let me buy you another drink. 
Lester!"
"Don't be so free with my money," Billimba whispered from the corner of her 
mouth.
"We need information," Allen whispered back. "Besides, I want to see if he can 
really keep this swill down."
Lester scuttled to the table with another tankard of the evil beer for Ethelred. 
The man swallowed half the drink in one slobbering gulp, then leaned forward.
"Bernie is but a cheap pimp compared to The Master," Ethelred confided in an 
ominous tone. "None have seen The Master and lived to tell the tale. An army 
he's gathering to the north, with Bernie's help, for an invasion of some other 
Time."
"What size army does he have?"
"All this talk maketh a man hungry and thirsty," complained Ethelred. When Allen 
dropped several more coins on the table Ethelred's mood brightened considerably.
"Lester! Bringeth food!" he yelled. "A mutton joint, a side of beef, a pork 
pie... something pleasing to the palate, ye foul tempered heathen."
With a sing-song barrage of what could only have been curses Lester stalked off 
into the kitchen.
"You were telling us about The Master's army," said Billimba.
"Aye, and a hideous gathering it is, too, or so our spies tell us. More than ten 
thousand strong, mostly Trolls, Zombies, Ghouls and the like."
"Will you fight?"
"Yea, verily," replied Ethelred, "though there be little doubt as to the 
outcome. The Master will stomp our ass. We number only some two thousand poorly 
armed farmers and peasants, with a few hundred knights. T'is reported The Master 
hath been able to reactivate many of the Old Weapons. Armored things with great 
cannons and other gruesome engines of war."
"Surely there are others here about who would also be in danger and would join 
you?"
"Mayhap, but not likely. The Centaurs live nearby. Stout brutes they are and 
fierce in battle. They have reason to hate Bernie, since he hath kidnapped some 
of their females as well. But they are not overly friendly toward men, since 
they blame us for their peculiar form, due to some incident long ago. For mine 
own part I believe they received what they deserved when they were fitted with 
the ass end of a horse.
"Also are there Fairies and Elves," continued Ethelred. "Thousands scattered 
about the forests. But their Queen, Electra... what a dizzy bitch she is. She 
speaketh a tongue which befuddles mine ears! Alas, I fear we are alone."
"Maybe we can do something to change that," Billimba told him.
Just then the kitchen door banged open to emit a rolling cloud of steam and 
vapor. From out of the cloud came Lester, bearing a pizza of heroic proportions 
and unfathomable ingredients. Allen, Billimba, and Ethelred barely had time to 
move their glasses and hands before Lester shoveled the pizza onto their table. 
He drew his cleaver from his belt and, with a series of yells and furious 
swings, hacked the concoction into a dozen jagged pieces. Gobs of bubbling 
cheese and tomato sauce spattered over a wide area, including the three humans.
With a final sneering growl Lester shook the cleaver under Ethelred's nose, then 
sped back into the kitchen. Carefully removing an anchovy from his beard, 
Ethelred shook his head at the retreating Lester.
"What a remarkable chap, with not a prejudiced bone in his body. He doth hate 
everyone equally."
Allen eyed the pizza dubiously. He recalled dire warnings from his mother about 
attempting to eat anything bigger than one's own head, or anything resembling 
cooked vomit. His suspicions were sustained by the gangrenous odor drifting up 
from the mess, causing the creatures in the rafters overhead to scurry for 
safety. He pushed his chair back a healthy distance. Billimba did the same.
When Ethelred gobbled a hunk of the offensive substance it was more than either 
Allen or Billimba could stand. They rose from the table, saying they were tired 
from their trip.
"I wish thee luck on thy quest," Ethelred mumbled over his greasy mouthful. 
"Mayhap we'll meet again on the morrow, but t'is doubtful. I am certain to 
develop an epic case of the shits from this food. Farewell."
Climbing the stairs to their room, Allen whispered to Billimba.
"Strange fella, Ethelred. Hope he doesn't swell up and die from eating that 
stuff. Did you catch the part about The Master wanting to invade another Time? 
Is it possible?"
"It certainly is," she admitted. "If he can find the Portal we came through, and 
circumvent the Magic guarding it, he could turn his horde loose on any Time or 
Place."
"Think of it," Allen sighed. "An army of Trolls and Goblins suddenly appearing 
in New York. Or Hollywood! They'd be right at home there."
He propelled Billimba into their room with a slap on her shapely bottom, then 
stood over her, leering, as she sat on the bed.
"Now, woman, it seems there's something I need to prove to you."
"There certainly is," she said as she began to slowly, seductively unlace her 
vest. "I want to know why we shouldn't call you Allen the Unable."
She stood up, allowing the vest to fall to the floor, then walked toward him, 
her naked breasts jutting proudly like twin warheads. She groped beneath his 
loincloth.
"Ohhh... I believe I've found the reason why," she purred. "C'mon, Boobie, let's 
make some Magic."
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter XIII
 
 
 
Allen awoke from a very sound sleep when his head bumped the ceiling of the 
room.
He rolled over, opened one eye, and caught a glimpse of himself lying in the bed 
ten feet below. He nearly drifted off to sleep again before his mind could 
assimilate the contradictory information. Then both his eyes snapped open. He 
would have yelled aloud had not Billimba clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Quiet, Dearie!" she whispered in his ear. "Get your loincloth on and let's go."
In the moonlight streaming in through the window Allen could see their clothing 
and equipment floating around them just inches below the ceiling. He glanced 
down and again saw himself lying in bed next to Billimba.
"How can I go anywhere? I'm still down there in bed!" he hissed. "Or am I?" He 
pointed down at his own sleeping form. "It's some kind of dummy, right?"
"That's right, dummy," Billimba answered as she slipped into her clothing. 
"Those are Magic Constructs of you and I. Hopefully they'll fool anyone who 
might be watching us."
"How long will I... it... we last?"
"Long enough for us to sneak out of here. Now stop asking stupid questions. 
You're disturbing my concentration. These things are difficult to hold 
together."
Allen struggled into his abbreviated clothing, bumping his head against the 
ceiling several times in the process. He was tugging on his moccasins when 
Billimba grabbed him by the wrist and towed him out the open window. Their 
equipment followed them out into the night air in an orderly train.
"It's a little nippy out here," Allen complained, crossing his hands over his 
crotch. "What time is it?"
"Just after midnight," Billimba answered as they gently settled to the ground.
"I assume you have a really good reason for yanking me out of a warm bed at this 
uncivilized hour?"
"I'm an insomniac!" she snapped.
"Well, why didn't you say so? I'll put your ass to sleep!"
He drew back his fist, taking deliberate aim at her jaw. Billimba suddenly 
pressed herself against him, kissing him hard on the mouth.
"You sure are a grumpy shit this morning," she whispered. "You got laid last 
night and you still act like a heathen."
"I'm always grumpy before my first cup of coffee," he admitted, slowly lowering 
his hand. "And we ain't had no coffee this whole trip. How come we don't get 
coffee on an Adventure? I knew we should have brought the Coleman stove. What 
the hell are we doin' out here?"
"We're going to Detroit," Billimba stated firmly. "You were right. It's time for 
direct action. Fleener will have to ride on the Carpet with you."
"Oh, great!" Allen rolled his eyes and sighed. "You still haven't told me 
exactly why we hafta drag that fleabag horse around with us."
"He's not a horse, Lizard Lips! He just happens to look like one at the moment. 
And you'll find out why he's with us in just a little while."
"It's probably just 'cause they're short of manure here," Allen ventured.
In the stable there were two Fleeners. One stood docily amid the hay while the 
other walked out quietly to join Allen and Billimba. The Witch withdrew her 
Broom from her Cape while Allen unrolled the Carpet, carefully positioning 
Fleener upon it.
"Now stand still or you'll tip us over," Allen warned. "Don't breath on me. And 
no crapping on the Carpet."
Fleener glanced at Billimba. "My, he's cranky this evening, isn't he?"
"It ain't evening!" Allen argued. "It's morning! Too goddamn early in the 
morning!"
In a tight formation the Broom and Carpet ascended, lifting their passengers 
into the starry sky. They circled the inn once, then zipped off to the 
northeast.
As soon as they were out of sight of the village Theodore scrambled out of 
Billimba's Cape, launching himself into the air. He fluttered about the Broom 
and Carpet like a moth near a flame, most especially around Allen's head.
"Goddammit!" Allen yelled, swatting frantically at the little beast. "Put a 
leash on this pervert, willya?"
Billimba waved her hand absently. Theodore flew over to assume his accustomed 
perch on the shaft of the Broom. Allen eyed Billimba suspiciously, wondering why 
she was suddenly so preoccupied. The answer to his unspoken question arrived a 
few minutes later, announcing itself in its booming voice.
"Fee, Fie, Foe, Fuck Everybody!" rumbled Rosie the Dragon. His ponderous bulk 
closed on them with the speed of a fighter plane. Allen stared in amazement. The 
huge Dragon's wings were each no larger than a tablecloth. He flapped them 
furiously, as if he were a hummingbird. How they managed to support his armored 
bulk was a mystery and, to Allen's thinking, aerodynamically impossible.
Rosie trundled along side of them, matching their speed, his tail snapping as it 
lashed back and forth in the air. He rubbed his little hands together gleefully, 
like a miser about to count his money.
"Whathsss happening, Sweetnessth?" he inquired of Billimba.
"We attack!" she informed him. "And stop shouting! You'll wake everybody. We're 
supposed to be sneakin' up on 'em."
"Dosths thissth mean I geths to eaths humansss now?" Rosie eyed Allen hungrily, 
his forked tongue licking his wicked fangs.
"Not him!" Billimba yelled. "He's still on our side. Can't you remember 
anything, you senile old gasbag? You can eat anything you find at Bernie's 
castle except us and Saleena."
"Oh, yummy!" Rosie rubbed his little hands together again. He belched, sending 
gouts of flame from his nose and ears. "My firth snthack in three hunnert 
yearths!"
On they flew through the night, the Broom, the Carpet, and Rosie. Below them 
twinkled the scattered lights of small villages. The silvery moonlight reflected 
from ponds and streams.
After more than an hour Billimba suddenly held up her hand. They slowed to a 
hover a thousand feet above the ground.
"Time for evasive action," she advised. "Bernie's radar net extends nearly this 
far. That glow on the horizon is Detroit. Bernie's castle is just south of what 
used to be the downtown area. Icky is flying over it now. He's not reporting any 
unusual activity," she said, putting a finger to her temple. "I think our trick 
worked. They're not expecting us."
Allen thought for a moment, rubbing his chin.
"We still seem to be going into this half blind. I'm not sure I like that. Why 
don't you have Rosie fly around to the east and let himself be seen. While 
they're busy watching him we might be able to sneak in from the other direction. 
Does Bernie really have radar?"
"Missiles, too," Billimba admitted. Allen sighed and shook his head.
"Remind me to beat the snot outa you, if I live through this. You been holdin' 
out on me, woman. I don't like surprises. Is there anything else I need to 
know?"
"Nothing much," Billimba replied. "Just remember we're dealing with Magic. 
Things may not always be as they seem."
"Wonderful!" Allen glared at her as she drifted over to consult with Rosie. 
After a few seconds the huge Dragon trundled off toward the east. Billimba 
shouted a warning.
"Better hang on tight, Boobie. This next part could get a little hairy."
With a lurch which temporarily repositioned Allen's stomach near his throat the 
Broom and Carpet dove toward the ground. Allen's yell of fright was lost on the 
wind. He screwed his eyes shut tightly. At tree-top height the Broom and Carpet 
leveled off, streaking through the darkness toward the telltale glow marking the 
city.
It was a terrifying ride for Allen, leaving him sweating and clinging 
desperately to the fringe of the Carpet. He could see very little in the 
darkness, when he had the courage to peak from one eye. As they sped through the 
night he became convinced their wild ride would end when they all ruptured 
themselves magnificently against some protruding tree or the side of a building.
As the minutes passed and the grisly collision did not occur, enough of Allen's 
courage returned to enable him to open both eyes. He glanced to his left, where 
Billimba sat astride her Broom. Her hair billowed in the wind. She seemed to be 
enjoying herself thoroughly. 
A tree branch swatted him across the face. He yelled in surprise when the Carpet 
scraped the roof of a hut. Their flight continued at its suicidal speed. Allen 
suspected some Magical Force was at work, helping them avoid obstacles. He felt 
considerably better then, able to keep at least one eye open all the time. But 
his frantic grip on the Carpet did not lessen.
As they drew nearer to the city proper their flight became more erratic. The 
Broom and Carpet jinked and swerved, avoiding a host of obstacles. Their 
altitude decreased still further, until Allen was certain they were no more than 
a few feet above the ground. Once again he began having visions of an ignoble 
death, his body squished against the flanks of a dozing cow or imbedded in the 
splintered remains of an outhouse.
Behind him, Fleener snorted and whinnied with delight, shifting his weight to 
balance against the Carpet's serpentine movements. To Allen it was unfair for 
anyone to enjoy themselves while he was gripped by mortal terror. He vented his 
wrath on the Unicorn.
"Stop snorting down my neck, you haybag!" he yelled over his shoulder. "Do 
something useful for a change. Keep an eye out for a 7-11 store. They always 
have coffee."
On they sped, dodging, twisting, and turning. Their flight rapidly assumed the 
contortions of a rollercoaster ride. Allen was grateful he did not have his 
morning coffee, or anything else, on his stomach.
As buildings became more numerous the forward speed of the Broom and Carpet 
decreased, until they seemed to travel two miles to the right or left for every 
mile forward. They skimmed over buildings, floated down tree-lined roads until 
their objective lay less than a mile ahead of them.
Like a sinister black iceberg floating on the sea of night, Bernie's castle 
loomed up out of the semi-darkness. Tall watch towers speared into the air from 
atop the massive walls like gigantic spikes. Searchlights flared from strategic 
points along the battlements, their icy fingers probing the surrounding area.
As they flew closer still Allen could see glowing filaments of Magic writhing 
and twisting in the air, more snaking along the ground. A moat encircled the 
keep, its oily black waters stirred by the passage of unseen creatures. Beyond 
the moat lay an area of land burned black and sterile. It was spotted with the 
trunks of scorched trees and the bleached bones of creatures unwary or unlucky 
enough to have come within range.
All told, it was a forbidding vision. Allen's courage began to melt away again.
"We're gonna break into that?" he hissed as the Broom and Carpet settled to the 
earth within a few hundred yards of the ominous structure.
"Saleena's in there," Billimba reminded him. "It won't be as difficult as it 
might look."
"Sure," said Allen. "That's like when the dentist brings out the hammer and 
chisel and says 'this won't hurt a bit'."
"You got no faith, Boobie," she scolded.
"Faith I got plenty of, woman. It's dyin' I can't seem to generate much 
enthusiasm for!"
Billimba put her finger to his lips to silence his complaints, then motioned 
with her hand. Allen and Fleener followed. She led them to the tree line 
bordering the moat. Allen stared at the castle, cocking his head first to one 
side then the other.
"Is it my imagination or is the castle really lopsided?" he whispered.
"It has a slight list to port," Billimba confirmed. "Bernie never was much of an 
architect."
"I see now why we didn't just fly over the walls," Allen said. He pointed to the 
air above the castle, where vicious strands of Magic, in an assortment of vile 
colors, encircled the turrets and roof. Others looped along the tops of the 
walls, vibrating in the air like cobras poised to strike. More strands hung from 
the walls like some obscene ivy, while others encircled the castle at the base 
of the battlement. Billimba pointed to one of the watch towers, where Allen was 
able to make out the conical snouts of a pair of missiles.
"Why don't we just go home now?" he suggested. "We could send Saleena a plane 
ticket."
Billimba turned on him, a scathing remark on the tip of her tongue, but she held 
back her comment. He shed his pack and vest, loosened his pistol in its holster, 
griped Excaliber in his hand.
"What are you gonna do, Boobie, just charge right in there?"
Allen shrugged. "It ain't gonna get any easier standing here talking about it. 
Let's do it."
Billimba turned to Fleener. "I told you he was a warrior at heart."
The Unicorn nodded agreement while Billimba struggled to extract a bulky object 
from within her Cape. She handed a heavy canvass bag to Allen, who staggered 
under the unexpected weight. 
"What the hell is this?"
"A fifty pound satchel charge," she answered with a demure smile. "I sort of 
borrowed it from some Army persons before we left. You slap this little hummer 
against the wall, pull this cord, and run like hell, Dearie. But first we have 
to clear a way through the mines."
She extended her hand toward the castle, withdrawing it immediately when nudged 
by Fleener.
"On top of the wall," he whispered urgently. "Gargoyles!"
"They're just ugly faces carved from stone," Allen said. "They used to put them 
on all the buildings back in the Middle Ages. Supposed to scare away the Boogy 
Man."
"True," replied Fleener. "But these are real Gargoyles, living creatures 
imbedded in the walls! They will sound an alarm as soon as they see us or our 
Magic."
"Can't be helped," sighed Billimba. "We'll just have to try to sneak past them. 
In about two minutes Rosie will do his thing. Maybe he will distract them."
Again she extended her hand toward the castle, mumbling a short Spell. A glowing 
green tendril of Magic writhed from her index finger. It curled sinuously around 
her forearm, then slithered to the ground. It touched Allen gingerly, as if 
getting his scent, then did the same to Fleener before extending itself toward 
the castle.
Billimba held her arm outstretched as more and more of the Magic tendril looped 
from her finger to coil on the ground. The 'head' of the strand poked its way 
toward Bernie's keep. As it drew nearer it turned a very pale blue, becoming 
almost invisible.
A great uproar from within the castle caught Allen's attention. There were 
snarls, howls, and shouts of alarm. A fire-like glow lit up the eastern sky, 
followed immediately by the thunderous voice of Rosie the Dragon.
"Hey diddle diddle,
I'm gonna piddle
All over your castle walls!"
The night erupted into a spectacular display of lights and sounds. Sirens and 
alarm bells blared out shrilly, followed by a grinding crash from the east side 
of the castle. A huge orange fireball rose into the air, accompanied by Rosie's 
thunderous laughter. More searchlights snapped on. A pair of missiles whooshed 
from a tower, trailing fire and smoke.
"Now, Allen!" Billimba whispered. "Follow my Magic over the moat and up to the 
wall! Don't step anywhere else or you might set off a mine!"
Allen hefted the explosive charge and stepped onto the Magic strand. He felt a 
tingling sensation in his feet as he followed the Magic like a tightrope walker. 
Where it spanned the moat it broadened to a sheet perhaps two feet wide. He 
nearly fell, but righted himself quickly, shuddering at the unseen creature 
which stirred the oily waters directly beneath him.
Once across the moat Allen entered the scorched area, where the Magic strand 
twisted and curved continuously. Twice more he almost lost his balance. He could 
see the telltale prongs of land mines protruding from the earth only inches from 
his feet. Then he was safely across the area, slumping gratefully at the base of 
the castle wall.
Panting, he fumbled for the igniter on the explosive charge, then paused to 
examine the wall rising above him. The entire structure appeared to be made up 
of old automobile parts. He recognized pistons, radiators, crankshafts, engine 
blocks, fenders, and bumpers. Odd pieces of lumber and tree trunks protruded 
here and there, along with part of a religious billboard. He also recognized a 
stuffed moose head, as well as an object suspiciously similar to the conning 
tower of a submarine. All were joined together by a rough cement spattered on 
hap-hazardly, leaving gaps in which small woodland creatures nested.
Allen took several deep breaths, then yanked the cord on the explosive charge. 
The fuse sputtered to life. He made a mad dash back along Billimba's Magic 
strand for the safety of the trees. He was just barely across the moat when an 
ear-shattering explosion ripped apart the night. Huge chunks of stone and metal 
flew through the air. The blast lifted Allen off his feet, dropping him in a 
bramble thicket.
Cursing the thorns, Adventures, and all Witches in general, Allen untangled 
himself from the briars, not without leaving numerous samples of his skin and 
blood behind. As the dust and smoke cleared he saw that a huge hole had been 
blasted in the castle wall.
"C'mon, boy!" Billimba yelled to him from astride Fleener. "Time to rescue the 
Fair Damsel in Distress!"
"Oh, shit!" Allen mumbled as he scrambled up behind the Witch. The blade of 
Excaliber vibrated to life in his right hand, while his left arm encircled 
Billimba's waist.
"Ain't we supposed to say sumthin' real dramatic right about now?" he shouted 
above the din.
Billimba nodded, then threw her head back and yelled at the top of her voice.
"CHAAARRRGGE!"
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter XIV
 
 
 
Sparks flew from Fleener's hooves as he galloped along the Magic Strand toward 
the breach in the castle wall. Billimba yelled again, urging him on. Allen gave 
vent to his own war cry, whirling Excaliber over his head until the blade hummed 
through the air. Then he fell off the Unicorn.
The jarring crash of his body against the ground knocked the wind from him, 
wrenching every joint. His Sword and pistol landed in the dirt.
"Son of a bitch!" Allen yelled as he scrambled to his feet. Fortunately he'd 
landed very close to the Magic Strand, not drifting out into the mine field. He 
retrieved his weapons, hastily wiping the dust from them.
Fleener stopped when he felt the sudden absence of Allen's weight, then backed 
carefully along the safe path. Billimba looked down at Allen, sighing with 
disgust.
"You clod!" she yelled down at him. "Lucky thing you landed on your head or you 
might have done yourself a serious injury. Now get your ass back up and try to 
hold on."
"Goddamn bony horse!" Allen muttered as he swung himself onto the Unicorn's back 
once again. He secured himself behind Billimba with one arm around her smooth 
belly, nudging Fleener in the ribs with his heels.
"Mush, beast!" he commanded. The Unicorn charged forward once more.
The overall situation appeared to have changed little in the few seconds 
necessary for Allen to embarrass himself. The castle defenders were still 
stunned and disorganized, running back and forth, shouting and snarling at one 
another. From the opposite side of the castle came still more ominous crashes 
along with clouds of smoke and gouts of flame, evidence of Rosie still on the 
offensive.
Fleener charged through the hole in the wall and into the castle courtyard. 
Billimba immediately began to launch Magic Fireballs from her fingertips. They 
whistled and sizzled as they flew through the air to explode against vulnerable 
parts of the castle. Dim shapes ran aimlessly through the smoke and dust, 
howling and brandishing weapons.
A gray, warty Troll stabbed up at Allen with a spear as they thundered passed, 
loosing its head to a slashing stroke of Excaliber. Another Troll ran screaming 
when one of Billimba's Fireballs set him ablaze. Fleener's headlong charge 
bowled over three others.
Theodore buzzed about the courtyard like an angry hornet, dodging strands of 
Magic, spitting little streams of fire to blister all within range. Like a 
leathery black dart Icky the Pterodactyl soared across the open space to skewer 
a Troll on his spear-like beak.
Shrieks and howls of fright directed Allen's attention to the east side of the 
castle, where he beheld a terrifying sight. Rosie hovered just above the wall, 
great talons extended, tail lashing the air. Long plumes of smoke trailed from 
his nostrils. He held a squirming Troll in each of his small hands, gulping them 
down, one after the other, then making a great show of licking his 
venom-dripping chops. The bright fingers of searchlights reflected from his 
sparkling green scales. Spears and arrows bounced harmlessly from his armored 
hide.
A salvo of three missiles roared out of the night. Two struck Rosie directly on 
his protruding belly. He absorbed the third beneath his left wing.
The huge dragon wobbled precariously in the air. For a moment it appeared he 
might regain his balance, until a fourth missile exploded beneath him.
"OHHHH, FUUCCCKK!" wailed the Dragon as he toppled from the air. He plowed into 
the castle with a tremendous grinding crash. Chunks of stone and metal were 
hurled upwards, along with Trolls and dented Dragon scales.
An ominous silence descended over the castle as everyone waited expectantly, the 
defenders hoping the Dragon was dead, the Adventurers praying their ally was 
still alive.
Suddenly Rosie's head popped up above the castle wall, his snout festooned with 
fenders, rocks, and other debris.
"I FAW DOWN," the Dragon mumbled sheepishly. It spit a stream of flame from its 
mouth. The battle was instantly rejoined.
"There, Fleener!" Billimba yelled, leaning forward along the Unicorn's neck to 
point. "Up the stairs and into the main hall!"
Fleener charged forward, hooves clattering on the stone and chrome steps. Allen 
nearly fell off again. Billimba directed a Fireball against the massive wooden 
doors of the main building. The explosion blasted them to splinters, sending 
chunks of rock and automobile parts flying. Fleener bolted through the opening 
into the main hall.
The defenders inside were much more organized than those outside. A line of 
Trolls with leveled spears forced the Unicorn to stop suddenly. Both Allen and 
Billimba flew over his neck and crashed into the furniture.
Allen was on his feet instantly, Excaliber cleaving everything in its path. 
Trolls howled in agony as he hacked off their arms and legs. Lightening from 
Billimba burst their putrid skin.
Half a dozen lanky, cadaverous Ghouls rushed down the central staircase to join 
in the battle. Furniture was splintered, cushions sliced open, tapestries 
slashed and set ablaze.
Holding his Sword with both hands, Allen parried a spear thrust, gutting the 
Troll wielding it with an upward slice. Another spearpoint grazed his right 
shoulder as he ducked under it to sever the legs of a Ghoul. Two Trolls attacked 
him in tandem, but a sweep of Excaliber removed their sword arms, left them 
staring in disbelief at the sizzling, bloody stumps.
The attacks ceased abruptly. Allen spun around in a complete circle. There were 
no more of Bernie's minions capable of carrying on the battle. Bodies lay about 
the room, some moaning and twitching in pain, others black and smoldering.
Without a word Allen, Billimba, and Fleener ran up the broad staircase leading 
to the upper rooms. Allen noticed Billimba had a deep cut on her left thigh. Her 
hair was a tangled mass, her face streaked with smoke and grime. Fleener had 
several small gashes along his flanks. His white coat was blotted with blood and 
soot.
Sounds of a continuing battle reached them from outside. Explosions shook the 
castle. The Adventurers had to dodge chunks of mortar and pitted pistons jarred 
loose from the walls and ceiling.
Allen tried desperately to make mental contact with Saleena, but to no avail. 
Something was interfering. He raced up the steps, his heart pounding.
On the third floor they discovered two doors guarded by Magic Spells. While 
Allen and Fleener stood watch, Billimba sent out her own Magic coils to strangle 
the others. The door to the first room flew open and Allen rushed inside.
A stunning blow to the back of his right shoulder sent him sprawling face down 
on the cold stone floor. He rolled onto his back, found himself staring up into 
the sneering face of a Goblin.
The beast's purple skin sprouted curly yellow hairs. Its red eyes bulged out 
from beneath a bony brow. Vile saliva dripped from the two tusks protruding from 
its lower jaw.
With one clawed hand the Goblin seized Allen's throat. With its other it 
attempted to bash in his skull, swinging a knotty club bristling with jagged 
metal pieces.
Allen jerked his head aside at the last second, so the Goblin's club smashed 
into the floor. With a strength born of desperation Allen twisted, toppling the 
Goblin onto the stones. The two of them rolled about, crashing into tables and 
chairs. Then the Goblin exerted its inhuman strength. Allen found himself on his 
back once again. The Goblin's weight on his chest squeezed the air from his 
lungs while the creature's fingers constricted his throat.
A bright green tendril of Magic whipped around the Goblin's neck, lifting the 
creature bodily from atop Allen. The beast's eyes bulged even further, its 
forked tongue protruding as the Magic strangled it, finally snapping its neck.
Allen lurched to his feet, gasping for breath. Billimba withdrew her Magic 
strand, allowing the Goblin's body to fall to the floor. Allen immediately 
turned to search the room. His heart soared when he saw Saleena.
She lay seductively atop a large four-poster bed, her wrists and ankles tied 
with ropes which bit cruelly into her flesh. Her raven hair flowed across her 
shoulders and naked breasts, while the rest of her body was hidden beneath a 
silken sheet.
Allen sprang onto the bed. With four quick strokes of his Sword he freed Saleena 
from her bonds, gathered her in his arms.
"No, Allen!" yelled Billimba from the doorway. "That's not Saleena!"
Allen jerked his head around, staring at Billimba and Fleener who stood near the 
door of the room. He turned back to his beloved Saleena just in time to avoid a 
vicious bite from fangs that snapped only a fraction of an inch from his throat.
With a yell he flung the woman from him onto the floor. He stared in horror as 
she lunged across the bed, her lips drawn back to bare needle-sharp teeth. The 
fabric of the sheets smoldered where her saliva fell on them.
Before his eyes the beautiful Saleena was suddenly transformed. Her lithe body 
withered, her skin turning a malignant green, hanging obscenely from a malformed 
skeleton. Her thick hair became stringy and white, individual strands falling to 
the floor to writhe with a life of their own. Her eyes grew large as saucers, 
bloodshot and sickly yellow.
Snarling with rage the creature flung itself across the bed, disjointed hands 
reaching for Allen with black-taloned fingers.
Bellowing in anger, Allen hacked the thing with his Sword. He went on hacking 
mindlessly as the creature's tortured wails echoed throughout the castle. 
A gentle hand on his arm brought him to his senses. He warily lowered his Sword. 
Panting, he stared down at the splintered bed and the grisly remains of the 
creature which had nearly killed him.
"What the hell was it?" he asked Billimba.
"A Banshee," the Witch replied softly. "I warned you, Allen. Don't put too much 
trust in what you see. Let's go try the other room."
They hurried into the corridor and on to the second room guarded by Magic. From 
outside the castle Allen detected a rhythmic booming sound coupled with faint 
laughter and minor explosions. He assumed Rosie was still holding his own 
against the remaining defenders.
When they burst into the second room they were confronted by the sight of three 
identical Saleenas, each breathtakingly naked, bound with silken cords to 
identical chairs. Before Allen could do anything Fleener shouldered him out of 
the way. The Unicorn walked directly to the Saleena on the left, knelt down and 
placed his head in her lap.
The other two Saleenas snarled with rage and burst from their bonds. They were 
transformed into hissing, spitting Banshees, who hurled themselves at Allen. 
This time he was prepared, dispatching them with two thrusts of Excaliber.
The remaining Saleena looked up at him as he stood over her, Sword held at the 
ready.
"You're late," she complained, squirming seductively in the chair. He eyes were 
riveted on Allen's crotch.
"That's the real Saleena," Allen assured Billimba. "What's all this about?" he 
asked, pointing at the still kneeling Unicorn.
"It's the main reason we brought him along," she explained as they untied 
Saleena. "Don't you remember the legends? Only a Virgin could tame a Unicorn... 
or was it the other way around? Something about Virgins and animals with horns 
or the hornys."
"A Virgin? Saleena?" Allen was shocked. "No way!" he protested.
"Remember, Boobie, this is a Magic Adventure," Billimba said with a shake of her 
finger. "Lots of interesting things can happen."
They freed Saleena. She threw herself into Allen's arms, kissing him fiercely, 
rubbing her body against his, panting and sighing.
"Ohhh, Lover, how I've missed you!" she breathed between kisses. "It's been so 
long...". Her little hands groped beneath Allen's loincloth. "Ohhh... and it's 
growing so long! I need you, Love...now!... taste me... fill me... being a 
Virgin again is a bitch!"
Allen's Sword clattered to the floor as his hands explored Saleena's yielding 
body. His knees grew weak, his senses overcome by her warmth, her scent, her 
beauty. Billimba whacked him smartly on the head with her Wand, bringing him 
back to reality.
"This is a rescue, not an orgy," she reminded them both, glancing down at the 
bulge beneath Allen's loincloth. "I see your brain has shifted location again." 
She turned to hug her sister.
"Are you all right?"
When Saleena nodded Billimba reached into her Cape, withdrawing a white silk 
garment. It was another Cape, identical to her own save for the color. Saleena 
tied the white one about her own neck.
"Fleener, can you carry all three of us?" Billimba asked.
"Yes, for a short distance," the Unicorn replied.
"Good. Let's mount up, children. We still have to fight our way out of here."
"How did you get in?" Saleena asked.
In a few words Allen explained the events leading up to her rescue. Saleena 
sighed.
"Oh, how exciting it must have been!"
"It was," Billimba assured her. "Until your numbnuts boyfriend here fell off 
Fleener and busted his ass."
Allen glared at her. "I'm not used to riding anything that moves like that," he 
said in his own defense.
"You've ridden me, Lover," Saleena reminded him. Allen groaned aloud as the 
sensual memories flooded his mind.
"Now don't start it again!" Billimba scolded. "You make him horny and he'll be 
useless for hours." She vaulted onto the Unicorn's back. "Get him up here 
between us where we can keep an eye on him."
Allen retrieved his Sword, then positioned himself between the two women. 
Billimba sat in front of him, Saleena behind, her hands roaming over his body, 
her tongue licking his ear.
On Billimba's command Fleener bolted from the room, through the corridor and 
down the stairs into the main hall. Theodore hovered anxiously near the charred 
front doors, his forked tongue nervously tasting the air. The sounds of battle 
were still audible from outside, including the intermittent booming and 
giggling.
Fleener charged out into the courtyard, heading for the hole blasted in the 
outer wall. When he observed fallen debris blocking their exit he headed for the 
main gate. Several armed Trolls sought to intercept them. Billimba's lightening 
felled two, and Allen accounted for another with a slash of Excaliber.
Snorting, skidding on the stones of the courtyard, Fleener stopped abruptly. The 
raised drawbridge blocked their path. Allen slid to the ground and used 
Excaliber to sever the stout chains. The drawbridge crashed down across the 
moat.
A booming sound caused the Adventurers to turn back toward the castle just as 
Rosie's immense bulk waddled into view. Trolls and Ghouls ran screaming before 
him. The Dragon industriously stomped on any within reach, reducing them to 
greasy spots on the stone. His stomping produced the booming sounds vibrating 
through the earth. Gore leaked out from between his toes from those who'd been 
pulverized beneath his giant feet. At the same time his head and neck darted 
forward to scoop up several more victims, the unfortunate creatures wailing 
loudly until they were swallowed with obvious relish.
Allen turned his attention back to the drawbridge just in time to observe a 
mounted figure emerge from the trees on the far bank of the moat. It was an 
armored knight, resplendent in shining mail reflecting the silver of the moon 
and the yellow of the flames. The knight clanged down the visor of his helmet, 
lowered his lance, and charged.
"Death to the Heathens!" the warrior bellowed as his huge black warhorse 
thundered onto the bridge.
"Ahhh... Fuck You!" Allen yelled back. With one smooth motion he drew his pistol 
and fired. The shot clanged into the knight, plucking him from his horse. He 
rolled and clattered on the bridge like a garbage can in a high wind. The horse 
stopped suddenly, bewildered at the loss of its rider, then wandered away into 
the night.
A familiar pinging sound brought all activity to a sudden halt. The three 
Referees materialized within the courtyard.
"Foul!" cried the trio, throwing down yellow flags.
"Whadda ya mean, 'Foul'?" Allen demanded. 
"That is most definitely an Unauthorized Weapon," wheezed Brucie. He pointed at 
Allen's smoking pistol, making a mark on his clipboard. "You will have to 
forfeit all gains made. Do not pass Go, do not collect shit, start all over in 
six months!"
"What about all these missiles Bernie has?" Allen demanded.
"Oh, we didn't see any of those," Bruce answered with a smiled, fluttering his 
eyelashes.
With a snarl of frustration Allen kicked the Referee squarely in the crotch. The 
breath whistled from Bruce. His contorted face assumed a shade nearly identical 
to his lavender robe. He had only enough air left for a faint squeak as Allen 
grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pitched him over the bridge railing 
into the moat.
"How long can you tread water, fatass?" Allen yelled down at the floundering 
figure.
Something sinister stirred the waters a few feet behind the thrashing Bruce. He 
had time for one more pitiful shriek before he was pulled violently beneath the 
surface. Ralph and Herman could only stand and stare until Allen advanced on 
them as well.
"Fuck off!" he growled. Ralph sprinted for the comparative safety of the 
courtyard with Herman only a few paces behind. Allen walked back to where 
Billimba and Saleena sat astride Fleener.
"I've had it!" he yelled up at them. "You hear me? I'm goin' home! I don't wanna 
do this shit anymore!"
"You can't give up now," Billimba told him.
"Well, when can I give up? Is there a time limit?"
"We're just getting to the good part," she said softly, pointing to the 
drawbridge. Allen turned to look.
On the far side of the bridge stood Bernie the Black Magician.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter XV
 
 
 
An eerie, nearly tangible silence fell over the castle as Bernie strutted 
forward to position himself squarely in the middle of the drawbridge.
The Magician wore a long robe of midnight black, decorated with shooting stars 
and other menacing symbols. A peaked hood covered his head, obscuring his face 
in shadow. With a dramatic sweep of his arm he skimmed the cowl back to reveal 
his albino features.
His white hair was curly and close-cropped, his eyes reddish-pink, nearly 
luminescent. His skin was sickly pale, the color of a slug's belly.
Gasps and murmurings from the courtyard caused Allen to glance back over his 
shoulder. The few remaining minions of Bernie, as well as Rosie the Dragon, 
gathered near the gate. There were indistinct mutterings about a "Wizard's 
Duel".
Allen returned his attention to Bernie, taking a step forward to confront the 
Magician. Billimba stopped him with a gentle touch.
"My turn, Sweetie," she said softly as she stripped off her vest and skirt, then 
drew her black Garter up her shapely leg to her left thigh. Bernie puffed 
himself up, folding his arms across his chest, favoring Billimba with a 
ferocious stare. The Witch drew her Cape about her body, then brandished her 
Wand.
"I had hoped this wouldn't be necessary," she said to Bernie.
"Batshit!" screamed the Magician. "Mine pets you've murdered, mine house you've 
trashed, and for this I should just step aside? Better first your over-ripe twat 
should slam shut! En garde!"
With a flourish Bernie drew his own Wand, assuming a fencer's stance. Sparks and 
vile vapors spewed from the tip of the instrument as Bernie sidled forward.
The Witch and the Magician hurled their Magic at each other simultaneously, 
producing a cosmic crash and a sulphurous display of smoke and lightening. 
Streams of Magic gushed from the Wands of the combatants, fiery fountains which 
sizzled, snapped, and shrieked. The earth trembled, planks splintered on the 
drawbridge. Demonic laughter filled the air.
With howls of fright Bernie's minions dove for cover behind whatever was 
available. Allen, Saleena, and Fleener sought shelter near the huge stone 
archway at the end of the bridge.
Pulses of Magic scythed the air, while bolts of raw Power gouged huge chunks 
from the castle walls, or left smoking furrows in the earth. Nightmarish 
monsters emerged from the conflagration, snarling and slobbering, only to be 
devoured by others even more horrible, or blasted to smoldering muck by glowing 
beams of Magic.
Odd screams of pain added to the overall din as stray pulses of Magic careened 
about, striking those foolish enough to expose themselves. Only Rosie appeared 
impervious to the Energies. They zinged off his scales, producing sparks.
Amidst the onslaught Bernie and Billimba stood firm, unaffected by the Forces of 
the other. Billimba's hair and Cape fluttered slightly as if disturbed by a 
light breeze. Bernie swayed gently from time to time.
Where the Magic forces collided there was a pyrotechnic display the likes of 
which Allen had never seen. The individual outpourings slammed together like two 
tidal waves. Their combined force uprooted nearby trees and shrubs, filling the 
air with ozone and balls of incandescence.
Just when Allen judged the battle to be a standoff a purple filament squirted 
from Billimba's Wand to envelope Bernie. The Magician wailed in anguish. Another 
tendril, bright yellow and trailing balls of green fire, issued from Billimba's 
Wand, slapping Bernie with the sound of a splitting melon. The Magician was 
bodily swept from the bridge, hurled far out into the moat. A great hissing 
column of steam marked his entrance into the murky waters.
Once again a sudden silence fell upon the scene. Wisps of smoke drifted on the 
air while stray shards of Magic bounced along the ground. Billimba staggered. 
Allen ran forward to help her. She yelled a horse warning, her face contorted in 
pain.
"Stay back! I haven't grounded myself yet!"
Smoke drifted from her nose and mouth. Her hair stood on end. An eerie glow 
surrounded her body. She hobbled forward, grabbing one of the huge chains used 
to raise and lower the drawbridge. When she touch the forged link there was a 
crackling sound. Blue flashes of Energy erupted from the metal. The charge 
traveled swiftly up the chain to the castle wall, where it blasted out a chunk 
of stone and dry-roasted a gargoyle.
"Ahhh... that's better." Billimba sighed and stretched, her features once again 
normal. "Where's Bernie?" 
Allen, Saleena, and Fleener joined her on the approach to the bridge. Allen 
pointed to the thrashing figure in the middle of the moat.
"Do you suppose he's drowning?" Billimba asked hopefully. She removed her skirt 
and vest from inside her Cape and slipped into them.
"No," Allen answered with some disappointment. "He's swimming hard for the bank. 
But there's still hope. I think the Moat Monsters are gaining on him."
Sinister swirling ripples converged on Bernie from three directions. Emitting a 
mournful wail the Magician redoubled his efforts, churning the waters to frothy 
foam until he succeeded in gaining the muddy bank. He thrashed up the slimy 
slope, flopping about like a banked trout, screaming in terror when a tentacle 
shot out of the water, groping blindly for his ankle.
"Bernard! You rat-bastard!" screamed a female voice from within the courtyard.
Allen nudged Saleena, then cupped a hand to his ear. "Hark!" he whispered. 
"Methinks I do hear the voice of True Love calling."
Saleena kicked his shins just as a mountainous figure scuttled from the 
courtyard toward the bridge. The Adventurers stared as the woman approached.
She was some six feet tall, and very nearly as wide, lending her the appearance 
of something which should have been christened and launched. The seams of her 
gaudy pink housecoat stretched nearly to bursting, her ample flesh beneath 
undulating with every step. Her orange tufted hair was wound around curlers the 
size of soft drink cans. It was held in place by crinkly pins resembling the 
antenna on an early warning outpost. She had slathered her face with a greenish 
paste, obviously supposed to perform the Herculean task of making her beautiful. 
Her enormous feet were stuffed into a pair of purple slippers with red puffs at 
the toes. Her overall appearance was so formidable even Rosie flinched. The 
planks of the drawbridge creaked under her weight.
"And this must be the lovely Mrs. Bernie," Allen said, stepping forward and 
extending his hand.
"Mutant!" the woman hissed as she shouldered her way past him onto the bridge. 
She marched straight to the opposite bank of the moat, towering over the 
wretched Bernie.
"Brain-damaged twerp!" she yelled down at him. "What are you doing in the water 
at this time of night?"
"So it won't be a total loss, woman, I'm having mine bath!" he snapped back.
The woman fastened one enormous hand on the nape of Bernie's neck, lifting him 
bodily out of the mud.
"You're just in there agitating the animals!" she snarled, dealing him a blow to 
the side of the head audible all the way back in the courtyard. She reached out 
and obtained a savage grip on Bernie's ear, twisting until the crunch of 
cartiledge was also clearly audible.
"Deviant!" she yelled over Bernie's scream of pain. "You march your worthless 
carcass back inside! You've got work to do! Have you seen that castle? Cracks in 
the walls, the furniture ruined, Dragon turds in the courtyard. I told you not 
to bring that cheap hussy here! Find another place to hold her captive I said. 
But would you listen? You miserable worm!"
Dangling in her vise-like grip, whining in pain, Bernie was hauled across the 
bridge and into the courtyard, his titanic wife berating him at every step. By 
squirming and twisting the Magician was finally able to slip from her grasp. 
Before she could protest he scurried back out to confront Billimba.
His robe was scorched and still steamed in places. He stank abominably from the 
stagnant waters of the moat. His eyebrows and hair were singed away. Leeches, 
mud, and green scum covered his skin. He shook his finger in Billimba's face.
"Mine wrath you'll incur, scummy bitch!"
"That's Witch," she corrected.
"Squid shit!" screamed Bernie, still shaking his finger. "Mine revenge will be 
sweet! The Master and I will slice off your tits with a spoon! He approaches 
even now, and dead you'll wish you were before we finish with you!"
While Bernie continued his tirade Allen casually bent down to retrieve the 
shield of the fallen knight. Using a two-handed grip on the pointed end, he 
brought the flat of it down on the top of Bernie's head.
The air resounded with a metallic clang as Bernie's skull dented the shield. The 
Magician's eyes rolled up in his head. He loosened at the joints and sank 
heavily to his knees.
"What did you do that for?" asked Billimba.
"Attitude Adjustment," Allen explained, examining the dent in the shield. "Think 
he needs another dose?"
Before Billimba could answer, Allen whacked the groggy Magician atop the head a 
second time. He moaned loudly and fell forward, his nose contacting the planks 
of the bridge with a satisfying splat.
Allen absently pitched the twice-dented shield over the railing into the moat, 
then winced when an agonizing scream rent the air.
"My Precious! You've killed him!" wailed Bernie's wife. She floundered onto the 
bridge at a dead run, skidding to a halt in front of Billimba. As she drew back 
her fist, Billimba shoved the end of her Wand up the woman's nose.
A jolt of Magic blew the curlers from her hair and the wax from her ears. She 
screamed, her ponderous body shuddering. Then her knees buckled and, like some 
majestic tree, she toppled over, her rotund torso coming to rest beside that of 
her husband, both of them out cold.
"We'd best be going now," Billimba said with a glance at the two prostrate 
bodies. "Bernie was telling the truth. The Master and his forces are getting 
closer."
They walked to the end of the drawbridge, traversed another blue strand of 
Billimba's Magic across the mine field, finally stopping at the edge of the 
forest. Rosie fluttered down to landed near the tree line, setting off several 
mines beneath his massive rear end. He giggled, emitting a belch of stupendous 
proportions which withered the leaves of nearby trees.
"Whatsa matter with you?" Allen yelled up at the Dragon.
"Refereeesss alwayth gif me indidesthion," the creature replied, rubbing its 
belly. It reached up with a curved talon, delicately picking a tennis shoe from 
between its teeth, spiting it in the direction of the moat.
"Oh, terrific!" moaned Allen. "Now we'll be in trouble with the Adventure 
Committee 'cause this armored asshole ate the Referees! I sure would like to go 
home now. There must be a subway around here somewhere."
"You're being a Weenie again," warned Billimba. "The Dramatic Confrontation is 
approaching."
"Fuck the confrontation!" Allen snapped. "I ain't havin' any fun! All this 
smitin' and hackin'... wearin' this silly diaper with my nuts hangin' out..."
"We probably ought to split up," Billimba suggested, ignoring Allen's 
complaints. "I'll go south, try to recruit some help from the Gnomes and other 
Witches I know hereabouts. Fleener, will you make contact with the Centaurs? 
Meanwhile I'll send Rosie east. Maybe he can slow the Master a little. Saleena, 
you take your wimpy boyfriend and try to contact Queen Electra. We'll all meet 
back at Mule's End."
"I think someone in this group is a mule's end!" Allen muttered.
Billimba turned on him, her dark eyes flashing. Saleena quickly stepped between 
them.
"Come along, Love," she insisted, taking his arm and leading him into the 
forest. "You and I have a lot of lost time to make up for. I have to build up my 
Magic again."
Allen's mood brightened instantly. "Now that's a project I could enjoy, 
especially if you really are a virgin again." He reached for her but she dodged 
his hands, laughing.
"Do you think you're up to it?' she teased. She looked down at his loincloth, 
licking her lips. "Well, part of you is up. I'll race you back to where you left 
the Carpet, if you can run in that condition."
It was an unequal race. Allen's excitement slowed him substantially. He followed 
the sound of her laughter through the forest, finally catching her in a grassy 
meadow. Her squeal of delight was clearly audible for some distance on the still 
night air.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter XVI
 
 
 
"More...." Saleena purred. She stretched languidly, licking her lips, gazing at 
Allen with a hunger in her eyes.
"More..." she repeated softly.
Allen groaned. "The spirit is willing but the body is just pooped," he sighed. 
"We've been doing this all night and most of the morning. One more time and I'll 
be dehydrated."
With a little growl Saleena rolled on her side, molding her body against his. 
Her erect nipples seemed to burn where they touched his skin.
"More!" she insisted. Her tongue darted out to lick his ear while she worked her 
hand slowly down his chest and stomach to the area between his legs.
"Oh, yeah... more..." Allen agreed as her fingers stroked and explored.
The warm afternoon sun filtered down through the trees of the forest, 
illuminating the soft green grass of the clearing. It sparkled on the surface of 
the bubbling stream next to which the lovers cavorted.
Saleena's mouth followed the path of her fingers down Allen's body, kissing and 
nipping until her lips found that part of him which once again stood up rigid 
and proud. She engulfed it, and Allen shivered. He reached out to caress her, 
his fingers delving into moist, secret places until she moaned and shuddered. 
Their sighs of pleasure, as they coupled once again, were accompanied by the 
laughing gurgle of the brook and the whisper of the warm breeze.
* * * *
Lying on his back, with Saleena snuggled against him, Allen suddenly frowned.
"What's wrong, Love?" she whispered.
"I feel like... like we should be doing something."
"Again?" she asked hopefully.
"No!" he answered quickly. "I mean we should be doing something. We're supposed 
to be out looking for this Princess Electra, not screwing our brains out while 
everyone else is working."
"But we are working," she insisted, propping herself on one elbow. "First you 
helped me remove that dreadful and frustrating Virgin condition Bernie put on 
me..."
"We certainly did!" agreed Allen with a leer.
"...and you've been helping me build up my Magic. You have to remember The 
Carpet brought us here. It did that for a reason. It has the ability to detect 
certain kinds of Magic and... home in on it. This is an Enchanted part of the 
forest. Do you see the circle of white flowers in the clearing where the paths 
cross? That is a Fairy Ring."
"You mean Elves and Fairies are real too?"
"Of course, Love. Everything is real, or was real at some time. Fairies and 
Elves lived on this planet even before the first Men were brought here."
He glanced at her sharply. Her eyes and expression gave away nothing, and she 
continued quickly.
"Fairies and Elves live in the Inbetween World, the boundaries between night and 
day, light and dark. They are most active at midnight, the boundary between one 
day and the next, or near crossroads, where paths split. They dance in the 
moonlight. Where their feet touch the ground flowers grow the next day. They 
will pass here tonight on their way to another clearing."
"And meanwhile we just lay here and wait?"
"Oh, I'm sure we'll find some way to occupy our time," she said, smiling coyly. 
When she glanced down at his crotch Allen crossed his legs in self defense.
"Woman, you're gonna wear it down to a little nub!" he protested.
"Well, I have to build up my Magic again. But if you don't want to help I'm 
certain I could find another volunteer...."
"I'll help. I will," Allen assured her. "Let me wash up a little first."
He knelt on the bank of the stream, then plunged his hands into the crystal 
waters. Steam shot into the air. Allen jumped back with a howl of fright. He 
held up his hands to examine them, droplets of water sizzling on his skin. 
Saleena knelt beside him, her eyes wide in wonder.
"Magic!" she exclaimed, giving him a piercing glance. "How did you get any?"
Allen shrugged, then told her about the report Billimba had obtained from 
Central Auditing.
"So part of our Magic is going to you!" she mused softly. "No wonder I still 
feel...hungry!"
"I don't understand," Allen admitted. "I am not a Magic person... never even 
believed in it until I met you and your sister. And now this..."
He gently inserted his finger into the water, watching as steam hissed into the 
air.
"Billimba and I... we, ahhh... you know... in the water... but this never 
happened to either one of us."
"Perhaps the combination of her Magic and mine, within you, has created 
something very powerful," Saleena suggested. "I've never seen this before, but 
I've heard stories from other Witches. They say Power like this is akin to that 
of the Earth-Goddess herself. Be very careful, Allen my Love. This kind of Magic 
could destroy you. And you'd best stay away from the water for a while."
"If I can't take a bath for the rest of this Adventure, I'll end up smelling as 
bad as Theodore," he complained loudly.
"Don't yell at me," Saleena said with a little pout. "I am the love of your 
life, remember?"
Allen growled and threw himself upon her. They rolled about on the mossy bank 
until he lay atop her warm body.
"Well then, Love of My Life, what shall we do to while away the hours?"
"I'm sure you'll come up with something," she whispered, grinding her pelvis 
against him, feeling a familiar hardness. "See?... something is up already." She 
reached between them to guide him with her hand. "I think it fits right about... 
there...ohhhh...."
* * * *
The Elfin Troop arrived precisely at midnight. They rode astride prancing 
Palominos, wore golden armor and silver gowns. Banners of red and gold adorned 
bridles and lances, while flower garlands accented their golden-blond hair.
The procession was impressive and majestic, especially because the tallest of 
the Elves was barely four feet, while their steeds were little more than ponies. 
The Fairies were even smaller, most no more than twelve inches tall. They 
fluttered about the forest on flourscent-powdered wings of royal blue and yellow 
like butterflies, their bodies delicate and pale in the moonlight.
An eerie mist accompanied the procession, rolling along the forest floor, 
undulating in silver waves, muffling the sound of the horses' hooves. Nearby 
trees swayed, their leaves rustling gently, though not the slightest hint of a 
breeze disturbed the still forest.
Allen and Saleena confronted the Elves when they reached the clearing. Saleena 
wore a white bodysuit which clung to her curves while leaving her arms and legs 
bare. White leather boots encased her feet, rising up over her shapely calves to 
just below her knees. Her white Cape lay across her shoulders. Allen wore his 
loincloth, moccasins, and vest, carrying Excaliber on his hip.
The Elfin procession halted immediately, drawing their weapons. The knights 
arrayed themselves in battle order. One stately Elf, golden armor glittering in 
the moonlight, lowered his lance and advanced upon Allen and Saleena.
"What game be this, Mortals?" The Elf's regal voice rang in the night air.
"Greetings, Elfin Prince," Saleena replied. "We humbly ask for an audience with 
Queen Electra."
"And who might Thou be, to demand such?" The Elf nudged his mount forward until 
the steel tip of his lance was only inches from Allen's chest.
"We demand nothing," Saleena said. "We merely request. I am Saleena, sister of 
the Witch Billimba. And this is Sir Allen the Fierce."
The other Elves drew closer to inspect the pair. The Fairies fluttered about, 
their laughter like the chiming of bells.
"Queen Electra speaks not to mere Mortals and Witches," the Elf informed them 
haughtily. "Be gone from our sight."
Again he nudged his mount forward, this time prodding Allen with the lance.
"You poke me with that stick one more time, sonny," Allen snarled, "and I'll 
shove it up your ass."
The Elf's eyes grew wide with sudden disbelief, then narrowed in anger. He 
reached up to lower the visor of his helmet.
Allen drew Excaliber. The blade snapped out, glowing and vibrating with Power. 
With three quick strokes he dismembered the Elf's lance, slicing through it as 
if it were paper. The pieces thudded to the forest floor amid cries of wonder 
and alarm from the others in the procession. Their horses shied back several 
steps. The golden Elf fixed Allen with a venomous stare, then drew his own sword 
and made as if to charge. A striking female urged her mount forward.
"Chill out, Jack!" she ordered. The golden knight immediately sheathed his 
weapon. The woman stared down at Allen and the glowing blade he brandished. 
Allen took the opportunity to look her over as well.
She appeared to be of average height for the Elfin race, and sat regally 
straight astride her horse. The features of her face could have been carved from 
the finest porcelain. Her skin was creamy white, her lips full, her eyes dark 
and mysterious. Her blond hair cascaded in waves across her shoulders. Beneath 
her golden gown her monumental breasts quivered with her every breath.
"The Sword of the Otherworlds!" she breathed, staring at Excaliber. "Far out! 
Amped! Like fully, totally awesome! You may speak. I am Electra."
"We've come to ask for your help against The Master and his Evil Horde," Allen 
told her as he withdrew the blade of his Sword. 
The golden knight sneered. "Elves involved in the affairs of Mortals? Surely you 
jest!"
"My name ain't Shirley and I'm not joking!" Allen snapped. He once again turned 
to address Electra. "The Master is on his way. He must be stopped."
"War!" sighed the Princess. "Grody to the max! Gag me with a spoon! Raspy! Like, 
fully tubular!"
"Does this broad speak any language we know?" Allen whispered to Saleena from 
the corner of his mouth.
"Yes, there is about to be a war," Saleena told the Princess after nudging Allen 
sharply with her elbow. "You may not have any choice but to become involved. The 
Master hates everyone. We are gathering our forces at the village of Mule's 
End...."
Allen suddenly spun to his right, his eyes scanning the forest.
"What is it?" Saleena whispered.
"Shax is near again. Danger. An attack!"
Again the golden knight sneered down at them. "There is no..."
A gnarled, spiked club flew out of the forest, smashing into the knight, 
knocking him from his horse. Hideous shrieks and bloodcurdling war cries erupted 
from the trees as half a dozen Trolls lumbered into the clearing, whirling their 
weapons over their heads.
Elfin bowstrings squeaked and twanged. Three of the Trolls immediately assumed 
the appearance of porcupines, the feathered shafts of arrows protruding from all 
parts of their bloated torsos. Allen accounted for two more, hacking the 
creatures with his Sword. The last was dispatched by a blast of Magic from 
Saleena's Wand.
The Elves milled about, surprised and shocked by the attack. Allen whirled 
around in a full circle, his senses tingling. He was certain they were all still 
in danger.
He caught sight of the Zombie just as the creature stepped out from behind a 
tree, raising a crossbow to its shoulder. Yelling a warning, he leaped toward 
Electra, knocking her from her horse. The arrow meant to pierce her heart buried 
itself in Allen's left shoulder.
The pain was immediate and intense. The hard-packed earth of the clearing 
slammed the breath from him as he fell on his back. He was dimly aware of his 
body twitching in response to the pain. He turned his head, saw blood flowing 
from the wound around the arrow; a black, vile, foaming blood, smelling of Evil.
Hands held his body against the spasms. Saleena's face hovered before him, tears 
streaming down her cheeks.
"Poison!" he heard her whisper.
"Well, ain't this a bitch!" he sighed before surrendering to the blackness that 
swept over him.
Chapter XVII
 
 
 
The Nightmare went on and on, seemingly without end. It showed Itself to him, 
stretching like a ribbon through infinity, taunting him with Its vision of 
unending pain.
He was in Hell, tied spread-eagle on the Fires of Damnation. His hair blazed 
like a torch, his fingers and toes were merely charred stubs. Infant Demons 
feasted upon his flesh, tearing great chunks from his muscles with their tusks. 
Devils inserted glowing hot needles into his joints. Serpents coiled between his 
legs, chewing his testicles. Others were suspended over his face, leisurely 
piercing his eyeballs with their fangs. Glowing coals were heaped upon his chest 
by a Monster with a dozen arms. A cacophony of voices assaulted his ears, 
laughing and screaming until the vibrations threatened to explode his skull.
For short periods the Nightmare faded away, replaced by a Dream so soothing and 
sensual as to be torturous itself. The fires upon which he lay were replaced 
with the softest of furs. Cold cloths drew the pain from his skin.
A beautiful woman approached him, her body undulating beneath a golden wrap. She 
sat next to him on the bed, drawing the gown from her shoulders to expose her 
wondrous breasts. With hands cool and soft she lifted his head so his lips could 
surround first one nipple then the other. Milk flowed from her, warm and sweet, 
to quench the fires in his belly and give him strength. She spoke words somehow 
familiar yet incomprehensible, leaving him with a kiss tasting of honey.
A peaceful sleep settled over him after her Dream visits, a sleep wrenched from 
him brutally as the Nightmare asserted itself once again.
* * * *
Awakening was an agonizing ordeal. He fought his way up through layers of 
unconsciousness, fending off the clutching tentacles of the Nightmare. Summoning 
all his strength, he opened one eye.
A dirty gray ceiling criss-crossed with wooden beams was the first thing he saw. 
A monumental effort allowed him to turn his head and open both eyes. Dingy 
curtains fluttered in a breeze. Sunlight streamed in through a window.
Saleena's face drifted into his line of vision. He smiled in spite of the pain.
"Wheeerrree?" he croaked.
"The inn at Mule's End," she replied.
"How long?"
"Two days. You nearly died."
"Can't," he whispered. "Hurts too bad to die. I dreamed... Electra... she 
came... I drank..."
Saleena nodded. "It kept you alive, kept the poison from spreading."
Billimba moved to the side of the bed. Allen grunted.
"No torture or suffering... you promised... bitch..."
"Witch!" she corrected. "So I lied a little. It's one of the privileges of being 
a woman."
"If I die... I'll haunt your ass!" he promised her.
"Rest now, Allen my Love," Saleena whispered. "Fleener will arrive soon to 
neutralize the poison. Sleep, my Love."
He closed his eyes, fighting against the pain surging within him. A hand gripped 
his own. He looked up into the face of Billimba.
"Don't die, Allen. Please? We need you."
A tear rolled down her cheek. He had the strength to squeeze her fingers before 
the blackness took him once again.
* * * *
When the Nightmare next relinquished its hold on him it was night. He was being 
held upright in bed, his knees beneath him, a pair of muscular arms encircling 
his waist.
Saleena and Billimba were there, along with others he thought he recognized. He 
struggled against the arms holding him, but his efforts were feeble. A gruff 
voice in his ear admonished him.
"Gently, lad. T'is I, Ethelred. Hold still now, for the Healing."
Hooves clopped on the wooden floor as Fleener approached the bed. He no longer 
maintained the appearance of a great white stallion, but had somehow reverted to 
his true form of a Unicorn, complete with shaggy coat and spiral horn.
Saleena knelt before Allen, her hands gripping his tightly.
"The Horn of the Unicorn has the Power to dispel poison in any liquid," she told 
him.
At first her words meant nothing to him. Then he suddenly understood, and with 
the understanding came fear. He shouted, shaking his head violently. Ethelred's 
powerful arms pinioned his own and the Unicorn moved forward. Without hesitation 
the animal plunged its horn into the wound in Allen's shoulder.
The Pain did not even allow him time to scream. It swallowed him up in its 
gaping maw, returning him to the Nightmare.
* * * *
A warm hand gently stroking his face woke him. The Nightmare was gone, replaced 
by a deep sleep from which he was reluctant to awaken in spite of the persistent 
hand on his face. The Pain was gone as well. He felt only a terrible weakness 
and exhaustion.
More hands propped him in a sitting position, placing pillows behind his back. 
Billimba sat on the edge of the bed, proffering a crystal tankard filled to the 
brim with a thick green liquid.
"Drink," she commanded. He did not protest, for his thirst was an agony. The 
liquid sparkled in the glass. He downed it in half a dozen swallows. It was icy 
cold against his throat, then seemed to explode in his stomach, giving him a 
warmth and strength.
"Gooooodd," he sighed. "Delicious. What was it?"
"Dragon's Blood!" the Witch informed him.
Allen gagged. Billimba shook her fist under his nose. "If you puke it up I'll 
box your ears!" she warned. "It's a precious gift, seldom given to Mortals. You 
wouldn't believe what I had to do to get it."
"Hell of a way... to give a transfusion... need to sleep now..."
"Tie him down!" he heard Billimba order. "He may begin to levitate!"
* * * *
Allen awoke instantly, easily, with no pain. His mind was clear, his body rested 
and refreshed. The events of the preceding days merely dim, dark memories.
He felt good enough to get up, and tried. Something across his chest held him 
firmly in place. Frowning, he glanced down, cleverly spying the ropes 
criss-crossing his body to hold him in the bed.
Allen grunted with annoyance, then inhaled sharply. One of the ropes across his 
chest parted with a loud snap. He flexed his muscles and more of the bindings 
parted loudly. For some minutes he amused himself in this manner, amazed at the 
strength he had acquired so soon after his brush with death. Then he tired of 
the sport and leaped from the bed, trailing frayed strands of rope.
He dressed himself quickly, his mind busy with thoughts of what events might 
have occurred during his illness. Gnawing hunger pangs filled his stomach. Only 
he was about to leave the room did he really noticed the changes. Standing 
before the cracked, grimy mirror he examined himself.
Muscles rippled across his chest and bulged from his arms. His vest now appeared 
to be a child's garment, his loincloth several inches past the indecent stage. 
Streaks of white ran through his hair, beginning at the temples, running over 
his ears. Only a puckered reddish scar marked the wound in his shoulder.
He accepted the changes as he had come to accept all the other oddities of the 
Adventure. Then his stomach rumbled loudly, reminding him of his hunger, and he 
hurried out the bedroom door, bounding down the steps three at a time, until he 
reached the main room of the inn.
They were all gathered there; Saleena, Billimba, Fleener, Ethelred, along with 
several others he did not immediately recognize. They looked up in awe as he 
strode into the room, his entrance cutting off their conversation in 
mid-sentence.
Theodore recovered first. He swooped down from his perch on an overhead beam, 
fluttering about Allen's head, making nasty little sucking noises. Allen 
snatched him from the air, wadded him into a scaly lump and pitched him over the 
bar. He turned to the others, who were still staring.
"Well, good morning!" he shouted. "Nice to be greeted with such warmth and 
enthusiasm!"
Saleena leapt from her chair and ran to him, throwing herself into his arms. He 
crushed her to him, returning her kisses eagerly.
"Oh, Allen!" she sighed. "I was so afraid. Are you all right now?"
"I feel pretty good, but I'm starving! Is there anything to eat around here?"
"Of course." She kissed him again, then skipped off toward the kitchen. "I'll 
fix it myself, Love," she said over her shoulder.
Allen started to protest, but Saleena disappeared amidst the swirling steam and 
vapors of the kitchen. Billimba stood up from the table and approached him. She 
reached up to run her hand over the steely muscles of his chest as he towered 
over her.
"You appear to be shrinking again in your old age," he suggested.
"You look magnificent!" she breathed. "How do you feel?"
"Like I'm hung over. Did you really give me Dragon's Blood?"
When she nodded he shuddered. "I sure hope it didn't come from him," he said, 
jerking his head in the direction of Theodore who, at that moment, staggered 
drunkenly from behind the bar.
"No. I got it from Rosie. You might develop a slight lisp, but otherwise..."
Allen encircled her waist with his arm. Together they walked to where Fleener 
stood. The Unicorn once again maintained the appearance of a white stallion. 
Allen stroked the creature's neck.
"I am sorry for the pain, Allen," Fleener said. "It was necessary."
"I know. I am in your debt, my friend."
With a shake of his head Fleener indicated the creature next to him.
"This is Theramgar, war chief of the Centaurs, who are now our allies."
Allen and the Centaur inspected each other. The creature was huge, its equine 
body even larger than Fleener's, with a sleek, chocolate-hued pelt. Where a 
horse's neck should have begun, the perfectly formed torso of a human male, from 
the navel up, replaced it. Its face was handsome, with piercing brown eyes. 
Thick black hair grew from its head down its back in the manner of a horse's 
mane.
The Centaur extended a human hand and Allen shook it, feeling the controlled 
power of the creature's muscles.
"We are honored you fight at our side," Allen said formally. The Centaur's only 
reply was a stiff nod.
Another huge form emerged from the shadows of the room. This one was familiar to 
Allen.
"Osborne! It's good to see you."
"Allen, Man-fren," rumbled the Ogre, his face split by a lopsided grin. "You 
grow! Dis good. No lookum so puny now."
"What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be a Referee?"
"No likum be Referee," answered Osborne. "Bery dull. Osborne help Allen-fren. 
Fight Master. Bring help. Osborne hab forty seven chilrums, many relatives. All 
likum good fight. We help Allen win."
"You're very welcome here, Osborne, you and your family. Glad to have you with 
us."
Allen slid into a seat next to Ethelred after shaking the man's hand. The others 
gathered around the table.
"So what's been happening," he asked Billimba.
"It's been five days since you were wounded, three days since Saleena and the 
Elves brought you back here. We've gathered our forces, as many as we're liable 
to get. Rosie managed to delay The Master by destroying his camp, so we have a 
little time while they reorganize. Perhaps a week at most. We lost Icky. A 
direct hit from a missile."
"What's our strength?" Allen asked.
"Two thousand armored knights under my command," answered Ethelred. "Mayhap 
three thousand farmers, serfs and vassals. Ill- trained but enthusiastic, for 
they defend their homes. Theramgar brings with him twenty five hundred stout 
warriors. Then there be the Ogres. Few more than a hundred but robust persons 
all."
"And The Master?"
"His army numbers about fifteen thousand," said Billimba. "He has a hundred and 
fifty heavy tanks, about three dozen rocket and missile launchers. He salvaged 
all of those from underground storage places, so their condition and efficiency 
is suspect."
"What about the Elves?"
"No word from them," answered Billimba. "You saved Electra from the ambush and 
the poisoned arrow, but she helped save you with her, ahhh.... well, she helped. 
So she may consider the debt canceled."
"The Elves will speak for themselves!" announced a voice from the door of the 
inn.
All heads turned as the golden Elf Knight strode into the room. He stopped at 
the table, bowing deeply.
"Sir Allen," he intoned. "I, Sir Jack, bring thee greetings from Princess 
Electra. Impressed she was with thy courage and bearing. She bids me inform you 
the Elves will fight at thy side against The Master. We can field a force of 
five thousand archers and Knights."
Allen lifted an eyebrow, somewhat skeptical as to the effectiveness of the 
miniature warriors, but Billimba leaned across the table.
"They're the finest archers in the land," she whispered. "Their arrows are 
Enchanted and always find their mark."
"Welcome, Sir Jack," Allen said. "Join us in our council of war. I wish we had a 
map of this place."
"That's my department." Billimba waved her Wand over the table as if stirring 
soup. A three dimensional hologram of the village and the surrounding area 
appeared, complete in every detail. They poured over the map, memorizing its 
information, until Ethelred interrupted.
"Be there the chance The Master might pass us by?"
Both Allen and Billimba shook their heads. The Witch spoke first.
" 'The shortest distance between two points...' " she reminded him, "and Mule's 
End lies directly in line with the Time Portal. Besides, The Master is working 
against a deadline. The Portal will only stay in its present position for 
another ten days. Then it automatically shifts to another location. Indications 
are he doesn't know those coordinates, or the Magic Codes necessary to gain the 
information."
"And like the Mexicans at the Alamo, he can't afford to leave a fortified 
position at his rear," said Allen. "If he does there's the chance he could be 
caught between two forces and crushed. He has to destroy us on the way."
He bent forward to study the map. "To the west is forest and swamp," he 
muttered. "I don't think he'll try to come around from that direction. It would 
take too long to move an army through there. Ethelred, tell us about this area 
to the east."
"Farm land," the man replied. "Open fields, plowed and planted. They extend 
thusly to yon high ridge, called Keller's Hump which, as you see, doth run in a 
semi-circle, enclosing the eastern boundary of our settlement. The farms are 
interspersed between these rows of forest, which extend outward much as the 
spokes of a wheel, with our village as the hub."
"Well, that's it then," said Allen. "We'll have to somehow funnel The Master's 
army toward us from this direction. We can't hope to win any kind of pitched 
battle out in the open. If we can force them to run this natural gauntlet, with 
the Elves in the treelines sniping at them all the way, we might do it."
They talked and schemed for another half hour, until Allen pushed himself away 
from the table.
"Damn, I'm hungry! Where's my food? Saleena!"
"Coming, My Love!" she answered as she reappeared from the kitchen, a steaming 
plate in her hands. She set the dish before Allen, then stood next to him, 
beaming, proud of her accomplishment. Allen looked askew at the slimy glob on 
the plate, then glanced at Ethelred.
"It's yellow. It must be eggs, huh?" he ventured. With his fork he gingerly 
lifted one edge of the mess, peering intently beneath it.
"Can't be eggs," he said with a shake of his head. "Eggs don't have pits, do 
they?"
The others began to push themselves away from the table, either to escape from 
the noxious smell or remove themselves from the scene of what was obviously to 
become a domestic disturbance. The smile evaporated from Saleena's face. She 
stood with her hands on her hips, glaring down at Allen.
"I ain't eatin' this stuff," he announced, throwing down his fork. "It looks 
like some kind of stomach secretion!"
"After all the time I just spent slaving over that hot stove," Saleena snarled, 
"you'll eat it or I'll shove it up your ass!"
"It would probably taste better that way!" was Allen's immediate assessment. 
"And it won't have so far to go when it comes squirtin' back out!"
With a howl of rage Saleena lunged across the table at him. He avoided her 
clawing hands easily, encircling her waist with his arm. He stood up, hefting 
her effortlessly, holding her as he would some piece of luggage. He slapped her 
soundly on her bottom and she squealed.
"Put me down, you heathen... you brute!"
"I really wasn't all that hungry... for food anyway," Allen informed her. 
"Prepare yourself, woman. You are about to be ravaged."
He walked toward the stairs, Saleena kicking and screaming in his grasp, while 
the others looked on, holding back their laughter.
"Go ahead and start without me," he informed them. "I ought to be back down in 
about an hour. Have Lester send up some food."
"Pervert! Sex fiend!" Saleena screamed as Allen mounted the staircase with her 
under his arm. She looked up at the others from her undignified position and 
smiled.
"Send lots of food!" she commanded. "And we'll be down in two hours!"
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter XVIII
 
 
 
For six days and nights the village of Mule's End was the center of a feverish 
activity as the residents prepared to receive The Master.
Men, women, and children worked until they dropped from exhaustion. No task was 
too large or small, no item overlooked or left to chance. All realized full well 
their survival depended upon the total annihilation of the approaching enemy.
Under the direction of Allen and Billimba the defenses took shape. Weapons were 
forged, gathered, cached, and honed. Trees and boulders were hauled in to 
construct barricades and walls. Wires and rope nets were strung to ensnare the 
unwary.
When Allen voiced a strong desire for explosives to mine the approaches to the 
village, Ethelred solved the problem.
"More sooner should you have spoke, Allen my lad. Yonder, not half a mile, lies 
a great underground warehouse full of such things; hideous platter-shaped 
devices which explode under ones feet, along with gnarly bombs to be thrown by 
hand and sticks of a powerful substance."
They buried ten thousand land mines in the fields to the east of the village. 
The hand grenades were distributed among the Centaurs or cached on roof tops 
where they could be hurled down on the enemy. The sticks of dynamite went to the 
Elves. Allen explained his idea to Sir Jack.
"Each stick weighs exactly four ounces," he told the Elf. "So they should 
balance well if you attach them to your arrows. Light the fuse just before you 
shoot. Let the arrows fall among the enemy or sail low over their heads and 
explode."
Rosie the Dragon also contributed to the defensive effort, although his activity 
was confined to the hours after sunset, to keep from frightening the villagers 
unnecessarily. Along with Osborne and the other Ogres, Allen set the Dragon the 
task of digging huge pits in the earth. These were covered over with canvas, 
wood, dirt, and brush until their placement was disguised, to entrap The 
Master's war machines.
Each evening Allen, Billimba, and Saleena conferred in the inn with Ethelred, 
Fleener, Theramgar, and Sir Jack, to assess the day's work and plan new 
projects.
"Can we expect help from anyone else?" Allen asked one night.
" 'Fraid not, Sweetie," Billimba told him. "The Gnomes turned us down flat. 
They're unsociable little shits anyway, and there aren't many of them. Even if 
they did agree to fight, you'd have a hell of a time keeping them under control. 
Half of them would be out molesting the livestock. Everyone else has either gone 
into hiding or allied themselves with The Master. I did manage to recruit four 
local Witches. They're not all that skilled or powerful, but every little bit 
helps."
"Do you think The Master will use his Magic against us during the battle?" 
Saleena asked.
"Only as a last resort," her sister replied. "He'll need to save as much of it 
as he can. It will take a lot of Energy to force the Portal and keep it open 
long enough to let his army through. We'll need to save most of our Magic too. 
If we lose the battle, Magic may be the only thing to get us all out alive. 
Someone will have to carry a warning back to our Time."
* * * *
At night they tried to catch what sleep they could. Allen sometimes went without 
since Saleena kept him well occupied. The sounds of their lovemaking could be 
heard by anyone passing their door, and at times by those who did not wish to 
hear.
In spite of his grueling labors during the day, or perhaps because of them, 
Allen eagerly looked forward to those hours spent under the covers with Saleena. 
The feel of her body against his, the taste and scent of her, worked on him like 
a powerful aphrodisiac.
Their lovemaking was intense, in the manner of two healthy animals mating. The 
sensations were further heightened for Allen by the feel of Saleena's silky 
white garters as they rubbed against his waist or across his cheeks and ears.
One night, as they lay enfolded in each others arms, Saleena surprised him.
"Billimba needs you," she whispered.
"I wondered about her," he admitted after a moment. "But... are you sure it 
would... be okay?"
"More than okay, My Love," Saleena told him, looking deep into his eyes. "It's 
necessary You need to help her build up her Magic. She expended considerable 
Energy transforming Fleener back to his true form, holding him thus so he could 
heal you. And... she is a woman. Like you and I she has... desires. Be good to 
her. In her own way she loves you as much as I do."
Bare feet padding on the wooden floor, Allen made his way to Billimba's room. He 
hesitated at the door, uncertain of his abilities. After his exhausting romp 
with Saleena he was not sure he had enough energy to satisfy Billimba.
His doubts left him when she opened the door. She was naked save for the black 
garter which encircled her right thigh. The sight of her inflamed him. Without a 
word he picked her up and carried her to the bed.
Her hands caressed him, guided him, urged him on while her mouth and lips sought 
his. Her body welcomed him. She moaned with pleasure when he entered her, 
encircling his waist with her legs, arching her back to meet his thrusts.
Suddenly Allen felt a second pair of arms encircle him. Another warm, pliant 
body mold itself to him from behind. He grunted in surprise, then felt a warm, 
wet tongue tickle his ear and heard Saleena's throaty laugh.
"It's all right, Allen My Love," she breathed. "We're sisters. We share 
everything! "
In seconds the three of them became a wanton tangle of arms and legs, their 
willing bodies melding in an embrace lasting most of the night.
* * * *
On the morning of the seventh day Electra, the Elfin Queen, made her only other 
appearance in the village. She entered the inn just as the Adventurers were 
sitting down to breakfast. Allen watched her walk toward him, his eyes drinking 
in each seductive movement of her small body. He stood up from the table and 
bowed.
"Queen Electra... welcome! Will you join us?"
She declined with a courtly wave of her hand. Allen spoke again.
"I haven't had the opportunity to thank you for... what you did... when I was 
wounded."
"Cool breeze, ya know?" she said airily. "Like... funsville. Kinky. Far out. 
Come visit me sometime. We'll mellow out on a weed."
She turned abruptly and departed. Saleena jerked Allen back down into his chair.
" 'Come visit me sometime,' " she mimicked in a squeaky voice. "So you two can 
play doctor again, if she has her way. You better stop drooling over that little 
Floozie!"
"She saved my life," Allen protested. "How can you call her a Floozie?"
"By Official Definition!" Saleena snapped. She dug into the folds of her white 
Cape, producing an aged volume identical to Billimba's Book.
"This is the Official Witches Handbook, Tourist Guide, and Road Atlas," she 
informed him, thumbing through the brittle pages. "Let's see now... Flounder.... 
Flunky... Flake... aha!... Floozie! Here it is... 'any woman who's chest 
measurement exceeds her I.Q.' "
She slammed the book shut, then fixed Allen with a cold stare. "Watch it, 
buster," she warned. "I'll put a pox on you if I catch you ogling her again."
Allen's retort was cut off by the arrival of Ethelred, Fleener, and a host of 
others, all commanders of the various forces defending the village. They trooped 
in to gather around the table.
"Our scouts have, of a sudden, lost contact with The Master's army," Ethelred 
announced.
"He's probably used some of his precious Magic to make the horde invisible," 
Billimba said. "I think we can take it as a sign of imminent attack."
Allen stood up. They all looked at him expectantly. "I feel like I should make 
some kind of speech," he said. "Something inspiring... Famous Last Words for the 
history books, if any are ever written here. But I can't think of anything 
stirring or witty right at the moment, probably because I'm too scared. We've 
prepared as best we can. You all know what you're supposed to do. I think the 
most important thing is to keep doing it No matter how bad the battle may seem 
from where you are, keep doing your job. If one part of our defense fails, we 
all fail. So good luck to everyone."
* * * *
All day they waited, but the expected attack did not materialize.
The sun's course in the heavens was obscured from direct view by a thick haze. 
Daylight consisted of a uniform orange glow. Not a breath of air disturbed the 
land. Animals cowered and cringed, men fidgeted with their weapons. An unusual 
stillness settled over the village, as if all Nature itself were holding its 
breath.
Allen was grateful for the delay. It allowed his exhausted forces time to rest. 
But waiting was hard on the nerves. The strain continued to build throughout the 
long day. They discussed the situation at dinner; Allen, Saleena, Billimba, 
Ethelred, and Fleener. Billimba was taut as a bow string, pacing back and forth 
inside the inn.
"What if we guessed wrong?" she sighed. "What if The Master attacks from the 
west? What if he just goes around us? I wish we had some idea of what was going 
on. I wish this was over with."
Allen let out a long breath and leaned back in his chair. "My grandmother used 
to say, 'wish in one hand, shit in the other, and see which one fills up first.' 
"
"Well, your grandmother was a crude old broad!" Billimba snapped.
"True," Allen agreed. "And you remind me of her. Now relax. The Master will be 
here soon enough. He's just doing this to agitate us. I think he'll attack at 
dawn."
Billimba took her seat at the table. They finished their meal in silence, then 
Allen asked a question of his own.
"The Master tried several times to kill us with his traps and assassins. How 
come he never used his Magic against us?"
"He did, a number of times!"
Billimba's answer was a complete surprise to Allen. She laughed when she saw the 
look on his face.
"It's true," she assured him. "Both Bernie and The Master struck at us with 
their Magic, but Saleena and I were always able to intercept the attacks. 
There's been a silent, invisible battle going on ever since we stepped through 
the Portal."
Ethelred nodded agreement. "Recall thee the night when ye all snuck out to 
rescue Saleena, leaving doubles of yourselves? Not an hour beyond midnight your 
room was destroyed, fried to a crisp by a bolt of Magic. Sad we were at the 
prospect of your deaths, and overjoyed at your reappearance after defeating 
Bernie."
At that point Billimba pushed her chair away from the table and stood up.
"Sit down!" Allen ordered. He did not raise his voice, but his tone left no 
doubt in Billimba's mind as to who was suddenly in charge. She resumed her seat 
immediately.
"I do believe it's time we had a little talk," Allen informed her. "I don't like 
being used."
"Ahhhh....." She sighed as if some great weight had been lifted from her. "So 
you've figured it out then?"
"I think so. Still a few loose ends."
"Tell me about it."
"It seemed very strange to me, how much you knew about this place, the people, 
and the possible events. Too much for just a random Adventure or a simple 
kidnapping. You’ve been here before!"
When the Witch nodded Allen continued. "Then there was something Saleena told 
me... once you had been very beautiful, but you did something requiring you to 
sacrifice your beauty. Now I understand. The Master is here because you put him 
here. This is his prison!"
Even Saleena was surprised by the information. Billimba smiled ruefully.
"Once again I underestimated you, Boobie. You're right. I put The Master here, a 
task which used up an incredible amount of Magic and extracted a heavy toll. The 
Master was born many hundreds of years in the Past, but through his Magic he was 
able to travel through Time. He chose to live here, now, in what we think of as 
the Future."
She made a grand, sweeping gesture, shaking her head sadly. "The Master is 
responsible for the devastation of this Future Earth. He started the nuclear war 
which ravaged this Time. So we decided...."
"We?" Allen raised his eyebrows. "Who, exactly, is this 'we'?"
"Myself and... Important Others... the ones who are responsible for such 
things." The look she gave Allen convinced him not to pursue the subject. "We 
decided that as fitting punishment The Master should live in the chaos and 
misery he'd created. We removed this Possibility from Earth's Time Line and 
isolated it here, with The Master in it. As long as he remains here this will 
never occur. But should he escape, then this will come about instantly! Do you 
understand?"
"I think so." He hesitated a moment. "Then our first meeting, at my cabin, 
wasn't an accident, was it?"
Billimba laughed. "Not exactly," she admitted. "I didn't mean to bust myself 
open against your chimney, but I was looking specifically for you!"
"Why? And don't give me any crap about being the 'unknown quantity on this 
Adventure'. I want a straight answer."
"That is a straight answer." She held up a hand when he started to protest. "Do 
you remember the time when I spoke about a man named Merlin?"
"Yes. And I've read the legends. He's one of my favorite characters in 
mythology."
"History!" Billimba corrected firmly. "And he should be one of your favorites, 
because you are his direct descendent!"
Allen immediately went into spasms, his face contorting and assuming an unusual 
purple hue. He banged his fist on the table, fighting to regain his breath and 
composure.
"Me!?' he wheezed. "Merlin!? You gotta be kidding!"
"One of three descendants, actually," Billimba continued. "But our tests showed 
you were the only one of the three who might possess some or all of Merlin’s 
Abilities!"
"But I don't want any of 'em!" Allen shouted.
"As they say in the Russian Marines... tough shit. You got 'em, Boobie, although 
how a weenie like you could come from a man like Merlin...?"
Allen lunged at her with his dinner plate, fully intent upon cramming the 
instrument into her ear. Billimba dodged and drew her Wand.
"Enough!" yelled Fleener. "There will be time for the two of you to whack on 
each other later. At the moment we have a common and much more sinister enemy."
Allen dropped the plate on the table, then resumed his seat, curling his lip at 
Billimba.
"So you used me," he declared. "Conned me into this silly Adventure just so 
you'd have a weapon against The Master. And I suppose Saleena was some sort of 
bribe, as well as a convenient way to keep an eye on me?"
"At first, yes, that was the way we planned it. But it seems to have turned out 
somewhat differently, and I'm really glad."
Billimba turned to her little sister. "I apologize for using you as well, but we 
had no other choice. And, much as I hate to admit it," she said with a glance at 
Allen, "you certainly could have done a whole lot worse."
Saleena hugged her sister tightly, then turned to Allen and took his hand in 
hers.
"I love you," she whispered.
Allen smiled, squeezing her hand. "I kinda' like you too. But you!...." He shook 
his finger at Billimba. "You're still holding out on us. You admit you put The 
Master here. Which means you defeated him once, had him at your mercy. You could 
have gotten rid of him, but you didn't. I can only think of one reason for that. 
At some time the two of you must have been very close! So just who is he?"
Billimba looked down at the table for a long time, then sighed and raised her 
head.
"The Master is...."
The door of the inn burst open. A messenger staggered into the room, gasping for 
breath, his eyes wide with fright.
"The horde is upon us!" he yelled.
As one the Adventurers leaped up from the table, running up the stairs and out 
onto the roof of the Inn. The view was excellent, allowing them to see all the 
way to Keller's Hump. In spite of the lengthening purple shadows of twilight 
they could easily discern the massed ranks topping the crest of the ridge. Wave 
upon wave of The Master's army poured down into the valley, preceded by cavalry 
and armored vehicles. The rumble of heavy machines, the thud of hooves and feet, 
the bloodcurdling war cries were audible even at that distance.
"Attack at dawn, huh?" Billimba snapped. She looked up at the gathering 
twilight. "You ain't much at tellin' time, are you boy?"
Allen did not answer. Instead he folded his hands together, raising his eyes to 
the heavens.
" 'For what we are about to receive....' "
 
 
 
Chapter XIX
 
 
 
The battle began with the customary artillery barrage. Rockets and missiles 
roared out of the sky, accompanied by the screaming whistle of incoming shells. 
Window panes rattled and the earth trembled with the dull crump of exploding 
rounds.
Among the defenders of Mule's End there was no panic. Most were already at their 
assigned positions, having remained there throughout the long day. Those few 
caught unprepared raced purposefully through the streets and alleys, snatching 
up weapons.
Allen selected a position on the roof of the inn, since it commanded the best 
all around view. He shortly began having second thoughts however, especially 
when a rocket whizzed by close enough for him to feel the heat of its flaming 
tail. He glanced at Billimba and Saleena, who had joined him on the roof, and 
smiled ruefully.
"Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea," he shouted above the din. "A nice deep 
hole might seem more comfortable."
They all ducked as a nearby explosion lit up the darkening sky. Allen winced 
when something gouged a hunk from the parapet mere inches from his face.
"Shoulda' stayed at home!" he mumbled. "All you hafta' put up with there is 
income taxes and parking tickets!"
"What are you carping about now?" demanded Billimba.
"Nothing!" he snapped. "Let's get to work."
Runners appeared, awaiting orders from Allen. Billimba, Saleena, and four Minor 
Witches stationed themselves about the roof, ready to hurl their Magic into the 
fray.
Like a tidal wave The Master's army swept toward the village, screaming and 
yelling, churning the earth beneath hooves and treads. Then the outer most 
flanks encountered the mine fields.
Thousands of orange flashes lit up the battlefield. War cries were replaced with 
screams of pain and fear. Bodies hurtled through the air.
The flanks of the horde faltered, milling about uncertainly for a time. They 
surged forward again, as if determined to push through no matter the cost. Panic 
set in yet again when, at a signal from Allen, the fields to the rear of the 
horde were set afire.
Fanned by the evening breeze, the flames advanced upon The Master's army. They 
broke ranks, pushing together toward the comparative safety between the tree 
lines.
On the roof of the inn Allen whooped with glee when it appeared his plan was 
working. He ordered in the Centaur cavalry, to prod the stragglers from behind.
Down between the tree lines thundered the horde, tanks clattering and rumbling, 
Wyryns snorting and belching, Ghouls and Trolls slobbering in frenzy. When they 
encountered the first of the tank traps the army ground to a halt like a wave 
crashing against the shore.
The hidden pits swallowed men and machines alike. Tanks and halftracks tumbled 
in, accompanied by the screech of tortured metal and exploding engines. The 
Wyryn dug their claws into the earth in an attempt to halt their headlong 
charge, but momentum and the masses behind pushed them over the edges of the 
pits. A few managed to escape, those whose wings were not broken and could flap 
and claw their way up and out. But their riders remained, crumpled at the bottom 
of the pits like broken dolls.
Again the horde milled about, thrashing and confused. Then the Elves launched 
their attack. A flight of arrows thick enough to block out the sun was unleashed 
by the diminutive warriors. The dynamite tied to the projectiles exploded with 
an ear shattering roar. Pieces of bodies and machines flew in all directions.
When the horde panicked and turned aside, bolts of Evil Magic speared the earth 
behind them, forcing them on. They pushed ahead, more afraid of The Master and 
his wrath than the arrows and pits.
The Elves extracted a terrible toll for every yard of earth. Their arrows cut 
swaths through the army, leaving the dead piled in mounds.
Then a new element was added to the battle. The Master, frustrated by the 
stubborn resistance of the village, turned loose his Magic. From somewhere out 
of sight beyond Keller's Hump sizzling beams and zinging shafts of Energy rose 
into the sky. From their vantage point atop the inn Billimba, Saleena and their 
cohorts countered with Magic of their own. They deflected the Energy of The 
Master, sending it soaring harmlessly into the air or slashing back down into 
the horde.
The sound of the battle rose in pitch and volume. Explosions, cannon fire, 
thundering hooves, roaring animals, war cries, screams of pain, and the 
crackling of flames and Magic all combined to produce a numbing, agonizing din. 
Fires from the village and nearby fields turned the night an eerie orange. 
Choking dust and smoke drifted in billowing clouds.
With a wild, triumphant cry The Master's forces broke free of the pits and 
traps. They surged toward the village, only to be met head on by the charging 
wall of Ethelred's two thousand armored knights. The two forces collided with a 
thunderous, earthshaking crash. This was followed almost immediately by a 
similar sound as Theramgar's Centaurs slammed into the horde from behind.
When Allen saw the enemy encircled he stood up, whirling Excaliber over his 
head.
"Where you goin'?" Billimba yelled as he raced toward the stairs.
"To fight!" he answered, speeding down the steps before she could say another 
word. He ran out of the inn, through the village and onto the battlefield.
The fighting was fierce. Men hacked and stabbed, screamed and died. Here and 
there The Master's machines forced gaps in the lines of the defenders.
A tank rumbled toward the village, its cannon firing. Allen gave a great swing 
of his Sword. With a brilliant flash the glowing blade sliced through one of the 
machines treads. The vehicle slew violently to one side, crashing into a hut. 
When the crew sought to escape from their useless machine the villagers swarmed 
over them, impaling them on pitchforks, gutting them with spades and scythes.
Allen ran on, pausing only to hack through the neck of a Wyryn or chop the legs 
from a Troll. He hoped to somehow confront The Master, but in the confusion of 
the battle he had no idea where to look for the man.
He saw Osborne in the thick of the fighting. The Ogre was swinging a tree trunk 
as if it were a baseball bat, swatting Trolls and Dragons. Firelight reflecting 
from golden armor showed Allen where Sir Jack stood. A pile of bodies gave 
evidence of the Elf's proficiency with a sword.
Rosie also joined in the general melee, roasting Ghouls with his fiery breath 
while destroying tanks by crushing them beneath his ponderous ass. The great 
Dragon giggled while he bounced about on the machines, leaving them as piles of 
scrap leaking the blood of their squashed crew members.
Of a sudden, it was over. Caught from four sides, The Master's army was squeezed 
like a ripe fruit until the earth turned to mud from the blood and juices. The 
sounds of the battle gradually died away as the last of the horde were killed or 
run down by the enraged villagers.
Allen spied Billimba and Saleena as they came toward him, Billimba mounted on 
her Broom, Saleena on the Carpet.
"C'mon, Boobie!" Billimba yelled. "The Master is getting away!"
Grabbing a handful of fringe, Allen swung himself up onto the Carpet as it 
slowed. The scene of the battle, with its fire and blood, quickly faded out of 
sight behind them as the Carpet and Broom sped off into the night. Allen felt a 
familiar fear building as he remembered a similar ride.
"I can't see for shit!" he protested. "How do we know where we're going?"
"Trust us, love," Saleena said. "He went thataway!"
Allen had no idea what direction 'thataway' was, so he contented himself with 
holding on for dear life. The Carpet and Broom accelerated until the wind 
whistled with their passage. Even the sensation of Saleena's soft breasts 
pressed against his back could not overcome Allen's fear.
"This loosens my bowels!" he yelled.
"That must be why you bitch so much," Billimba yelled over the wind. "Your mouth 
is too close to your asshole!"
If he could have reached her he would have throttled her, but Allen did not dare 
lessen his grip on the Carpet for fear of falling off. Side by side the Broom 
and Carpet raced through the night sky, now and then making violent course 
corrections. The scattered lights of villages were sometimes visible on the 
ground below, but rapidly faded away and were left behind.
Dawn was turning the sky a light pink when Allen finally caught sight of their 
quarry. A mile ahead a large Wyryn flapped frantically, skimming the tree tops, 
jinking and swerving. As they closed on it Allen could make out two riders on 
the dragon's back.
One was obviously a Ghoul, its lanky gray body bouncing in time to the Wyryn's 
movements. The other was smaller and appeared to be human.
They rapidly overhauled the tiring dragon, dropping down until they were only 
yards behind its whipping tail. The Ghoul twisted round, raising a crossbow to 
its shoulder. The bolt sighed through the air, nipping a handful of straw from 
Billimba's Broom.
"Do something about that jerk!" she yelled at Allen. He drew his pistol from 
inside his vest, aiming as best he could in the dim light, allowing for the 
convulsive flight of the Carpet. He cranked off a round, then another and still 
another. After his fifth shot the Ghoul shrieked and toppled sideways, tumbling 
into the trees below.
Twice more Allen fired, hoping to hit the Wyryn's other rider. His shots had no 
visible effect. He fumbled for another clip of ammunition just as they swooped 
low over a small village. The Carpet began to buck and bounce. Allen's ears 
detected a familiar sound he couldn't quite place.
Saleena screamed as the Carpet went out of control. Allen lost his gun in his 
desperate attempt to cling to the wildly gyrating Carpet. He heard Billimba 
yell.
"It's a trap! They're ringing the bells!"
He saw the Broom upend itself, and Billimba falling. Then the Carpet went into a 
screaming spin. It crashed through the roof of a hut and Allen lost 
unconsciousness.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter XX
 
 
 
Allen awoke with a pounding pain in his temples and a curious, numbing ache in 
his arms.
He slowly opened his right eye, admitting the harsh glare of fluorescent lights. 
His left eye felt as if it were glued shut. A natural instinct to clear his 
vision prompted him to move his left arm. A sudden, sharp stab of pain from the 
area of his wrists and shoulders made his head whirl.
Allen looked down, then up, then groaned, both in pain and in frustration at the 
seeming hopelessness of his situation.
He was naked, tied at the wrists and suspended a few inches above a gleaming 
linoleum floor. His view of nearby stainless-steel sinks, rows of ovens, huge 
copper kettles and racks of pans convinced him he was in some sort of kitchen. A 
salty tang in the air informed him of his close proximity to the ocean, while a 
soft moan from off to his right indicated he was not alone.
Ignoring the shooting pains from his shoulders, Allen twisted his body, spinning 
slowly to his right, until he spied Saleena.
She was manacled, spread-eagle and naked, atop a wooden butcher's table. Her 
svelte, coppery body was spotted with livid bruises. She opened her eyes, even 
managed a weak smile.
Allen twisted his body in the opposite direction, until Billimba drifted into 
his line of sight. She was also naked, bound hand and foot, suspended from a 
spit over an open hearth. A thick liquid dripped down on her from above, as if 
to baste her. She turned her head to look at Allen.
"You alive, boy?" she asked.
Allen merely grunted. He craned his neck to look up at his wrists, bound with a 
rough cord which bit into his skin. The cord was looped over a meathook running 
along a ceiling track.
"This ain't startin' out to be a very good day," he observed. "What happened?"
"We crashed," Billimba informed him.
"The generally accepted term for falling through the roof of someone's house," 
Allen agreed with a snarled. "Why did we crash?"
"The bells." Billimba shuddered, spitting out the words as if they were poison. 
"The sound of Church Bells will always ground a Witch. The Master had someone 
ring the bells as we flew over."
Billimba stared at him expectantly for some seconds, then finally sighed loudly.
"Well?" she asked
"Well what?" he snapped. "Oh, lemme guess. I'm supposed to rescue us from this, 
right?"
"Of course! That's why I brought you along. You're the official Hero on this 
Adventure."
"And you're the asshole!" Allen mumbled.
Billimba opened her mouth as if to offer some biting reply. At that moment a 
strange figure swept into the room, waving its arms in a grand, foppish manner.
"Gooooood morning, everyone!"
The man stopped directly in front of Allen, performing a pirouette, holding out 
his arms.
"I, of course, am The Master!"
Allen rubbed his left eye against his left arm in an attempt to restore some 
vision. The red, sticky mess the movement left on his skin informed him it was 
blood obscuring his sight. He ignored the injury, focusing his attention on the 
figure before him.
The man was short and extremely thin, with protruding joints which popped when 
he moved. His wardrobe consisted of a thoroughly stained Nehru jacket, ragged 
plaid shorts, and scuffed hiking boots, with red knee socks held up by black 
elastic garters. A battered pith helmet appeared to have crash-landed upon his 
head. The stringy orange hair protruding from beneath it had the texture of well 
nourished crabgrass. A monocle was screwed into his left eye, a riding crop 
dangling from a thong around his right wrist.
All in all, the man gave the appearance of having dressed himself while in the 
throes of some titanic fit. Allen fought to hold back his laughter.
The Master pranced over to where Billimba was trussed above the hearth, clapping 
his hands together.
"Ahhhh,... my favorite. Bitch Flambeau!"
"That's Witch!" she screamed at him. "Godammit! Doesn't anybody speak the king's 
English anymore? Watch my lips, you hill-billy. W-i-t-c-h! Witch!"
"It's all relative to one's point of view, my dear," The Master said with a 
slight shrug. "And in view of your ineptness and present situation, bitch seems 
far more appropriate."
He turned on his heal, walking to a position midway between Allen and Saleena.
"And what have we here?" he shouted. "Miss Thunderthighs and The Boy Troglodyte! 
Marvelous! I'm so glad you could join me."
"Join you where?" asked Allen.
"In my Official Hideout, of course," replied The Master. "The Princess Hotel in 
Acapulco. Where else would any self-respecting Villain have his Headquarters?" 
He shook a finger at Allen.
"These are modern Times," he lectured. "Not the Old Days of sweat shops and 
slave labor. We have class now. We have unions, minimum wages, benefits!" He 
sidled toward Saleena and bent over to inspect the girl's chest area.
"Will you look at the hooters on this broad!"
When The Master's fingers began making fondling movements Allen snarled a 
warning. The Master straightened up and looked at him.
"Naughty, naughty..." he scolded. "Never indicate an emotional attachment. That 
makes you vulnerable. In this case you needn't worry, however. Incest has never 
been my thing."
Allen felt his jaw drop in surprise. The Master looked at him quizzically.
"The bitch didn't tell you?" he asked. "Oh, for shame. Well then, let me be the 
first to break the news." He pointed to Billimba and Saleena. "These two lovely 
creatures are my daughters!"
Allen shot Billimba a venomous look. She hung her head. The Master strutted over 
to prod her with the riding crop.
"You have put me in a rather awkward position, Daughter."
"I'd like to put you in a painful position, Daddy dear!" she snapped.
"You fucked up my plans again!" The Master prodded with the crop for emphasis. 
"Important Persons are closely monitoring this operation. You have made me look 
rather bad. Have you no respect for your parents?"
"Blow it out your ass, you toothless old fart!"
The Master raised the riding crop to strike her across the face. Allen managed 
to distract him.
"Haven't we met before?" he asked.
The Master turned and stared. "I doubt it."
"I'm sure we have," Allen continued. "Didn't you have an act in the carnival 
side show? I remember now... 'Pringle Peckenwetter and His One-eyed Zipperfish'. 
You used to bite the heads off chickens while you played with yourself."
The Master inserted a finger up his own nose, swirling it around vigorously. 
When he withdrew it, the end was coated with a large, green, slimy gob. He held 
it up to inspect it closely, then stepped forward to smeared it on Allen's 
chest.
"Your agony, sir, will be excruciating," he announced. "You will have the 
pleasure of watching these other two die before you."
He walked to one corner of the room, pawed through a pile of articles and 
clothing stripped from Allen and the women while they were unconscious. He 
extracted Excaliber, held it up to the light and shook it, peering intently at 
both ends of the instrument. He walked to where Allen hung, rapping him smartly 
on the chest with the device.
"Shall I torture it out of you, or will you explain the workings of this 
mechanism?"
"It's a sonic clam detector," Allen answered through clinched teeth.
The Master pouted, then slammed Excaliber against Allen's right knee. Allen 
thrashed in pain, biting his lip.
"Enough of this foolishness!" The Master announced as he pitched the Sword into 
a sink. "Billimba the Bitch, you have interfered with my life for the last time. 
I shall now extract my long awaited and much deserved revenge."
From a nearby cupboard he removed a gleaming metal cheese grater and a large bag 
of salt.
"I intend to flay you until there is not one centimeter of skin remaining on 
your body!" he told Billimba. "Then I shall liberally season your raw flesh with 
this salt!"
He advanced upon the woman, but was distracted by the loud crash of an opening 
door and the entrance of Phineas the Ghoul. The gangly creature looked about for 
The Master, then spied Saleena and rubbed his hands together greedily. He 
pounced upon the helpless girl, drooling, squeezing her breasts until tears of 
pain rolled down her cheeks.
"Phineas!"
The Ghoul cringed, slowly turning his head to look at The Master, who stood with 
his hands on his hips, toe of one boot impatiently tapping the floor.
"You have something to report, Phineas?"
"Yes, Your Worship." The Ghoul reluctantly eased himself off of Saleena. He 
approached The Master, bending down to whisper in the man's ear.
"A Dragon? Here?" The Master was taken aback. Phineas nodded vigorously, 
spreading his arms wide.
"Biiiiigggg mutherfucker!" he informed The Master.
"Rosencrantz! It has to be!" The Master threw down the grater and salt. "How did 
that metal-plated moron manage to follow us? Well, it's no matter. I've waited a 
long time for this as well. To the penthouse! Arm the atomic missiles!"
The pair ran for the door until The Master brought them up short. He poked the 
Ghoul in the chest with his finger.
"You, bowel movement, you will stand guard outside this door," he announced. "No 
one in or out, understand?" He pointed at Allen and the women. "I want them here 
for my pleasure when I return."
They both sprinted out of the room and the door was slammed shut. The final 
sound was the outside bolts being rammed into place.
Allen sighed, looking at Billimba. "So Phineas was part of the plot too. Seems 
we've been doing a little housecleaning for the Adventure Committee."
"That's not important now," Billimba said. "We've got to get out of here!"
"You can try calling room service," Allen suggested.
Billimba did not hear him. She suddenly lapsed into some sort of trance. Her 
eyes rolled back, her body shook, her hair stood on end. Allen stared and 
waited. After an agonizing moment something moved among their clothing. Slowly 
at first, then faster, puffing and growling, Theodore fought his way clear of 
Billimba's Cape.
The little Dragon spit and hissed, then caught sight of Allen and purred. The 
creature zipped into the air, fluttering about Allen, most especially about his 
naked, exposed crotch. Its little forked tongue flicked in and out rapidly.
"I hate you!" Allen hissed and tried to kick the Dragon. Theodore dodged the 
blow, moving in closer, plucking at Allen's skin.
"Fucking fruitcake!" Allen yelled as the Dragon opened its mouth and prepared to 
lunge.
"Theodore!"
Billimba's voice caused the Dragon to clack its mouth shut abruptly. It hovered 
before Allen's genitals, looking back over its shoulder at the Witch.
"You worthless pouch of piss!" Billimba hissed. "It's time you earned your keep. 
For once in your life, do something useful. Cut him down!"
The little Dragon hesitated, an obvious hurt visible in its beady eyes. Then it 
lifted itself over Allen's head. With one snap of its pointed tail it severed 
the ropes about Allen's wrists.
Allen yelled and crashed to the floor. His bruised knee gave way under his 
weight. He sprawled on the linoleum. Staggering to his feet, he swayed, then 
steadied himself against a table.
"The Sword," Billimba urged. "Get the Sword!"
The sink containing Excaliber seemed miles away. Allen doubted his ability to 
take even one step. He groped his way along the counter, legs wobbling, breath 
rasping in his throat. The endless journey was really only six steps, but Allen 
was exhausted when he reached the sink. He tried to grab the haft of the Sword 
but his numb fingers would not close. He tried reaching in with both hands.
The sound of the door opening behind him gave Allen a strength born of 
desperation. He could feel Phineas' presence in the room, knew it would only be 
a matter of seconds before the Ghoul attacked. He cupped his uncooperating hands 
beneath Excaliber, scooping up the weapon. Then he turned to face the door.
"Kill!" he hissed.
The blade of Excaliber zapped out, glowing and powerful. In a motion almost too 
fast for the eye to follow the Sword flew across the room. With one sizzling 
stroke it cleaved the Ghoul's skull, then flew back to Allen, slapping itself 
against the palm of his hand. Phineas died instantly, collapsing on the floor in 
a heap.
"Wow!" breathed Billimba. "How did you do that?"
"It's all in the wrist," he answered. He laid the Sword on the counter and 
rubbed his hands together, shaking them to relieve the stinging pain of the 
returning circulation. A few moments later his fingers responded well enough for 
him to free the two women. Billimba found a stack of towels in a pantry and 
wiped herself clean of the sticky fluid. They all gathered at the door.
Peering out cautiously, they saw the adjacent area had once been an elegant 
formal dining room. Now the plush carpet and drapes were moldy and moth-eaten, 
the heavy wooden tables and chairs beset with termites.
One wall was given over to enormous plate glass windows through which they 
glimpsed the shoreline of Acapulco Bay. The once gleaming white sand beach was 
gray with ash and soot, while the Bay itself was a stagnant pool choked with 
weeds, scum, and debris. The posh hotels lining the shore were shattered, gutted 
ruins, slowly disappearing under the green carpet of jungle growth creeping down 
from the adjacent hills.
No one was in sight, and Billimba grunted with satisfaction. She scurried back 
to their pile of clothing, extracted an item from her Cape as well as from 
Saleena's, then returned to the doorway. She nudged Allen.
"Time for us to be moving, Booby."
"Move where, and how?"
"Up," she answered. "Toward the penthouse, and The Master. There ought to be an 
elevator around here somewhere."
"Not the elevator," Allen warned. "He can trap us in there. We need to use the 
stairs, if we can make it."
They found the stairwell and started up, supporting each other. By the time they 
reached the fourth floor they were panting, their legs weak, their bodies 
drained of energy. They rested on the fifth floor landing. On the sixth Allen 
collapsed.
His knee throbbed and would not support his weight. Blood oozed from his wrists 
where the rope had cut his skin. His hands were still swollen. His body ached 
from countless bruises. Blood still obscured the vision of his left eye. He was 
exhausted from the exertions of the battle the night before, as well as lack of 
sleep and food.
"I hate to let you down," he gasped. "But I don't think I can make it."
Billimba nodded, her face grim. She slowly opened the door leading to the 
hallway, motioning for Allen and Saleena to follow. They went from door to door, 
inspecting the empty suites, until Billimba found one to suit her needs.
"This will do," she said, herding them into the room and locking the door behind 
them. The room contained a king-sized bed, several chairs, a chest of drawers 
and a shattered mirror. Allen threw himself full length onto the bed, sighing 
gratefully. He didn't even have the strength to complain when one leg of the bed 
gave way under his weight.
"Now is the time, Allen!"
Something in the tone of Billimba's voice made him shiver. He raised his head to 
look at her as she stood at the foot of the bed. He shivered again as she drew 
on her black garter, then handed two white ones to Saleena.
"Woman, you are out of your mind!" he hissed at her.
"Now is the time," she repeated. "Time for you to be the Hero. Time for you to 
give back to us all the Magic you've been storing in your body!"
She eased herself onto the bed and crawled toward him. Allen pushed himself away 
until his back was against the headboard.
"There's no way I can do this," he argued. "Not now."
Billimba pressed herself against him, kissing him full on the mouth. It was a 
kiss the likes of which Allen had never experienced. His mind went numb. His 
body was on fire. Billimba's tongue entered his mouth as if in search of his 
very soul. Her lips were molten, her breath warm and sweet, her body glowing 
with arousal.
Allen felt himself respond immediately. All his pain evaporated, as did all 
sense of time and place. Nothing existed save himself, the woman, and a burning 
ache in his groin which demanded immediate attention.
He clutched her to him, returning the kiss ardently, his hands mauling her 
breasts. Then he rolled her onto her back. His arousal was quite evident, 
jutting out from between his legs, harder and larger than ever before. Billimba 
spread her legs wantonly. Allen plunged himself into her.
She cried out, arching her back, her face contorting. Allen ignored her 
protests, impaling her with long, brutish strokes. Billimba thrashed beneath 
him, twisting her head from side to side, crying out each time he lunged into 
her.
An ominous rumbling sound filled the room. Cracks appeared in the walls. Plaster 
fell from the ceiling. The bed trembled. The locked door exploded outward, 
slammed shut, opened and slammed shut again, splinters flying from its edges.
"Allen, stop! You're hurting her!"
He felt Saleena's hands on his shoulders, trying to pull him away. He shrugged 
her off easily and continued to pound into Billimba. Fiery sensations built 
within him like lava inside a volcano, until he could no longer hold back.
With a wild, fierce cry he reached the peak, spilling himself into her. Billimba 
shrieked and went limp.
Allen withdrew from the woman, then rolled her from the bed to sprawl roughly on 
the floor. He stood up, advancing upon Saleena, his manhood still immensely 
erect.
Saleena's eyes were wide with fright. She glanced about, seeking some avenue of 
escape, but Allen was between her and the door. She tried to get away through 
the sliding glass doors which led to the balcony. Allen grabbed her by the hair, 
spinning her around into his arms.
She fought him, clawing at his eyes. He seized both her wrists, forcing her arms 
down behind her back. Then, with one swift movement, he lifted her bodily, 
plunging her down onto his fleshy spike.
Saleena screamed and convulsed. She would have fallen had not Allen held her 
tightly. He did not bother with the bed, merely held her under the arms and 
moved her up and down on him while he stood in the center of the room.
The glass doors cracked. An icy wind swept into the room from somewhere. Burning 
holes appeared in the walls. The mattress exploded and the ceiling split apart.
Billimba crawled to him, clawing desperately at his leg, sobbing.
"It's wrong! It's wrong!" she wailed. "You took Magic from me! You should have 
given it!"
Once again Allen felt the familiar welling up of fluids within his groin. Faster 
and faster he moved Saleena up and down on himself, using her savagely, deaf to 
her whimpers of pain. Once again he cried out when the moment arrived, 
shuddering with his release.
Raw Energy hissed and crackled in the air. Strange whisperings filled the room. 
Saleena went limp in his arms. He cast her from him onto the bed. Then he held 
out his hand. Excaliber flew across the room, slapping into his palm. He placed 
the end of the weapon against his chest, willing the blade to come forth.
With a crackling zap the blade of the Sword surged outward, through Allen's 
heart. For one brief second the flickering blue blade extended from his back, 
accompanied by the sizzling of flesh. Then it disappeared. Allen staggered, 
nearly falling. He straightened and flung down the handle of the Sword, as empty 
and used as the two women.
Saleena wailed, crawling to her sister. The two Witches huddled in a far corner 
of the room, trembling.
Only vaguely aware of his surroundings, Allen stood in the center of the room, 
feeling an immense Power flow through his body. It was a Force so alien he knew 
it should have destroyed him. The fact it did not was equally frightening.
He knew he was still himself, yet he also knew he was not. Something far older 
and stronger had control of him. Something ancient, powerful, deadly, and 
wonderful.
His mind rebelled, fighting the invasion. He fought desperately to hold himself 
in check, to retain some shred of his identity and sanity. But his will crumbled 
before the onslaught of The Power. Then, just as he felt he was about to be 
inundated and swept away, he heard The Voice.
It came from nowhere and everywhere, a deep baritone, filling the air, shaking 
the building. It spoke to Allen, reassured him.
"Fear not, flesh of my flesh, for I am with thee. The Power of the Sword and the 
Magic of the Earth shall protect thee. Go forth, and be what thou art destined 
to be."
From the corner of the room where she huddled in fear, Billimba gasped one word.
"MERLIN!"
The Power surged through Allen, into every cell of his body. He shuddered, 
convulsed, cried out in agony. The door of the room exploded into a thousand 
pieces as if struck by a titanic force. The Earth trembled, the building swayed.
Allen straightened, standing tall in the center of the room. His skin glowed and 
his muscles rippled. His body was healed, cleansed by The Power. He waved his 
left hand. The sliding glass door blew outward, sailing out to splash into the 
bay.
Effortlessly scooping up the women, one under each arm, Allen walked onto the 
balcony. He kicked the iron railing. It toppled over to crash onto the sand 
stories below. Then he took two steps forward and jumped.
Billimba and Saleena cried out in alarm, but instead of falling they soared 
upward into the air, held in the secure embrace of Allen's arms. Within seconds 
they floated level with the penthouse. Allen directed another blast of Energy, 
crumbling one entire wall. As lightly as a feather they settled to the floor of 
the penthouse to face The Master.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter XXI
 
 
 
The first to greet Allen and the women as they entered the penthouse was Shax, 
the Winged Dog. The Demon rushed at them from beneath a computer console, red 
eyes flashing, foam dripping from its massive jowls.
Allen casually kicked the animal, his toes sinking into its throat. The creature 
yelped, coughed, and slunk away, its tail between its legs. The Master himself 
advanced upon them, holding a crimson Wand in a two-handed grip.
"Well, well," he sighed. "If it isn't the Bitch Sisters and Mr. Peckerbreath. 
Since you are loose I will assume you somehow got rid of Phineas. No great loss. 
In fact, you've done me a service. He had the brain of a mud hen. A pity you 
couldn't have stayed trussed up until I finished here. I was so looking forward 
to entertaining you."
Allen set the women down. They retreated to a corner of the room. The Master 
brought his Wand up level with his eye, squinting down its length, aiming at 
Allen's chest.
"I hate to be rude, but I simply don't have time for you right now," The Master 
admitted. He jerked his head in the direction of a control panel with blinking 
lights and black knobs. "The atomic missiles, with which I intend to vaporize 
that dipshit Rosencrantz, are now armed and ready. I must attend to their aiming 
and launching. So, however disappointing for me, it must be a quick, painless 
death for you. Good riddance, you Neanderthallic Numbnuts!"
A solid red stream of Magic erupted from the end of the Wand, lancing out to 
strike Allen full in the chest. He staggered back a step, then straightened, 
advancing upon The Master. The stream of Magic continued to pour out of the Wand 
into Allen.
Eyes wide in disbelief, The Master whacked the Wand with one hand, shrieking at 
the top of his voice.
"Stop! Stop!" he yelled at the Wand. "He's sucking up my Magic! He'll drain me!"
The Wand apparently chose not to heed The Master's warning. It continued 
squirting Magic even as Allen grabbed it and jammed it against his chest, as he 
had done the Sword. The instrument shorted out amid a hissing cloud of steam. 
Luminescent balls of Energy ricocheted about the room.
Calling upon his last reserves, The Master directed at Allen laser-like beams 
emanating from his fingertips. At the same time he screamed Magic Spells which 
flew from his lips accompanied by gobs of spittle and flecks of foam.
All this ceased abruptly when Allen grabbed The Master by the throat, shorting 
him out in much the same manner he had the Wand. Sparks flew from The Master's 
ears. His garters melted, his pith helmet split apart with a loud bang.
Allen shook the man until his bones rattled, then tossed him onto a workbench. 
Although his Magic was gone The Master still had considerable physical energy. 
He used it to vent his wrath upon Allen.
"You fucking pencil dick!" he screamed, still producing copious quantities of 
spittle. "Meddling, piss-brained, anus sucking...."
This tirade might have continued for some time had not the building suddenly 
begun to sway. The sky turned a sickly yellow-green. Lightening shot up from the 
earth. The water in the bay boiled and steamed, while the walls of the room 
blackened and began to smolder.
"Ohhh, shit!" Allen sighed. He glanced around, attempting to discover the source 
of the disturbance. The entire building continued to sway as demonic laughter 
filled the air. The sound was so utterly evil Allen cringed, in spite of his new 
found strength and abilities.
From out of the shadows came Shax, walking on his hind legs. A hideous grin 
appeared on the Demon's face. Its tongue hung out obscenely. It seemed to 
perform a little dance, flinging its forepaws in the air. Then, in a gush of 
flame and smoke, it disappeared. In its place stood The Beast.
Ten feet tall, with bright orange skin, The Beast retained the head of a dog, 
with thick horns curling over its ears like those of a mountain sheep. From 
between its hollow fangs slithered a double forked tongue, yellow and raspy. Its 
neck was little more than an extension of its massive shoulders, and its arms 
each had two elbows. It stood upright on goat's legs, lower body covered with 
greasy, matted fur. The fingers and thumbs of its enormous hands were all of the 
same length, armed with curved talons. Cloven hooves clopped on the floor, while 
a rat-like tail snapped in the air behind it. Glowing green eyes were sunk deep 
in its skull. Smoke curled from its nostrils.
"Asmodeus!" Billimba whispered.
"How clever of you to recognize me, slut!" The Beast snarled. Its speech echoed 
curiously, as if it spoke with half a dozen voices, each slightly out of 
synchronization with the others.
The Master scrambled out to confront Allen, foam coating his lips and chin.
"You pile of pig shit!" he screamed. "I told you I had powerful friends! Told 
you not to mess in my business!" He reached out to slap The Beast on the arm. 
"Go ahead," he ordered. "Fuck him! Do it to him!"
Asmodeus reached out with his left hand, grabbing The Master by the hair, 
hoisting him from the floor. The Master howled in pain as his feet dangled two 
feet above the linoleum.
"You promised me you could win," The Beast hissed. "Boasted of your power and 
skill... proclaimed you could open the door for my conquest. You have failed, 
weasel puke. You owe me your soul, and I will collect my payment now!"
The Beast brought its other hand up to grab The Master by the throat. It lifted 
the hapless man higher, then engulfed his head in its mouth, severing it from 
the body with one crunching bite.
Billimba and Saleena averted their eyes from the gruesome death of their father. 
The Master's body twitched and spasmed, a fountain of blood spouting from its 
neck. The Beast crunched the skull with obvious relish, bits of brain matter 
dribbling from its muzzle. Asmodeus swallowed, belched, then flung The Master's 
body to the floor.
"I detect the scent of Merlin about you, Man," The Beast snarled at Allen, 
curling its lips. It spit out a splintered piece of skull, then grinned. "Know 
you well, I am Asmodeus, Brother-Son of Satan, Prince of Hell and Keeper of the 
Fires. No mortal man can withstand me!"
The Beast howled and the sky turned black. Tornadic winds shrieked about the 
room. The floor buckled and a wall collapsed. A stream of flame spewed from the 
mouth of The Beast to engulf Allen, burning away his flesh, charring his bones. 
The pain was immeasurable, but Allen held firm. When the fire dissipated he 
stood whole and unmarked. He replied with a Magic of his own. Beams of light 
lanced from his eyes and brought boils to the skin of The Beast.
Asmodeus howled again, then ran up the wall and across the ceiling. Lava 
fountained from the earth. Blood seeped from rocks. Huge chunks of concrete 
split from the walls to fly through the air.
The Beast snorted, spraying an acid into Allen's face which melted his eyeballs. 
Allen nearly panicked with the pain, but once again the voice of Merlin spoke 
aloud.
"His greatest weapon be thine own Fear. Be strong, Flesh of my Flesh, and we 
shall prevail. We are Merlin. We are One."
Allen saw through eyes once again whole. He blasted The Beast with a ball of 
light, sending the creature reeling.
Black rain poured down in sheets. Hailstones careened about the room.
Asmodeus changed his tactics, launching an attack upon Billimba and Saleena. 
Allen was prepared. He shielded the women, encasing them in a bubble of Pure 
Magic.
The Beast shrieked in frustration, rushing at Allen, biting at his throat. Allen 
gouged out The Beast's eyes, burning his thumbs in the process. He felt his own 
blood spraying from his ripped jugular, felt the venom of Asmodeus dissolving 
his lungs. He ripped off the Beast's pointed ears, then twisted its head in a 
complete circle, hearing the neck bones snap.
A wave of Energy from The Beast slammed into him, punching him upward through 
the roof into the black, convulsing sky. With tendrils of Magic Allen snagged 
nearby thunderheads to slow, then reverse his direction. He hurtled back down 
through the roof, smashing The Beast with his weight and velocity. They 
grappled, rolling, biting, and clawing. The Beast broke Allen's legs. Allen 
ripped out the monster's tail, used it to whip the thing to a bloody pulp.
Lightening struck them both, booming and sizzling. A great black swarm of flies 
buzzed into the room, defying wind and rain to gnaw at the flesh of the 
combatants.
Asmodeus struggled free of Allen's grip and stood in the center of the room. It 
raised its head and howled. The floor split apart. From within the crevice a 
huge sword ascended. It's hilt was cold steel, its blade translucent obsidian. 
Red streaks of Magic and Power writhed about the weapon. The Beast seized it, 
charging at Allen with a hellish shriek of rage.
The blade of Excaliber sprang from the flesh of Allen's right palm, cobalt blue 
and shimmering, almost painful to the eye. Asmodeus wailed in anguish, tried 
desperately to stop his advance. When the two blades met in mid air there was a 
horrendous explosion. The hotel was vaporized. The water of the bay boiled away. 
An angry, purple mushroom cloud blossomed thousands of feet into the air. For 
what seemed like hours the earth convulsed. Debris rained down, while dust, 
smoke and flame obscured the entire area.
Billimba and Saleena floated gently to the earth, still encased safely in their 
bubble of Magic. As the air gradually cleared they were able to make out details 
of the new landscape.
The sand of the beach was fused to black glass for nearly a mile in either 
direction. The crumbling remains of the other hotels were toppled one onto 
another, like rows of dominos. A crater, twenty feet deep, five hundred feet 
wide, marked the center of the maelstrom. In it were Allen and The Beast.
Allen was on his knees, panting, layered with grime, filth, and blood. Asmodeus 
staggered about, its right arm shredded, one horn melted into its skull.
From somewhere deep within himself Allen found the strength to stand. He 
advanced upon The Beast. The blade of Excaliber flickered weakly but was still 
visible in his right hand. Allen swung the sword with all his might. The blade 
sliced through The Beast's neck. The severed head bounced along the fused glass 
of the beach. Two more swings chopped off the goat-like legs. A third removed 
the one good arm left to the creature. A final titanic slice cleaved The Beast's 
torso. Then the glowing blade flickered and died.
The bubble of Magic surrounding Billimba and Saleena burst open. They rushed to 
Allen's side just as he collapsed. Saleena cradled his head in her lap, tears 
flowing freely down her cheeks. Billimba knelt beside them, nodding gravely.
"You did good, Booby," she whispered. "Far better than we ever hoped."
Meanwhile, the severed arm of Asmodeus used its fingers to scrabble about in the 
crater, collecting all the other parts in an orderly pile. It retrieved its head 
last, hefting it so it could look at Allen.
"There will be another time, Man," The creature warned. "A time when I shall 
feast upon your bowels!"
Then the earth opened up and swallowed The Beast.
  
Chapter XXII
 
 
They strolled leisurely among the trees and flowers, basking in the morning sun.
The man's gait was unusual, stiff and disjointed, as if he suffered from a 
palsy. He stumbled often. One or another of the two women encircled his waist 
with their arm to steady him. He was tall and broad, but stooped, like one of 
great age. His thick white hair added years to his appearance.
"How long was I out?" Allen asked, his voice a raw whisper.
"Nine days," Billimba told him. "We weren't sure you were going to live. What 
was it like?"
"As close to death as I ever want to be," he replied. "Far worse than the time 
when the poisoned arrow almost took me. There were dreams, voices, visions. 
Merlin appeared to me. His power is frightening. He asked about you."
"Did he now? I'm pleased he remembered. How much do you remember?"
"Bits and pieces. The hotel in Acapulco... climbing the stairs... making love 
when I was certain I was physically exhausted... confronting The Master... and 
then... some evil creature appeared. What was it?"
"Asmodeus!" Saleena whispered with a shiver. "The Devil!"
"At times," Billimba explained, "the Devil likes to divide himself into what He 
calls the Most Unholy Trinity. He becomes Lucifer, Asmodeus, and Beelzebub all 
at once. They are all part of Him, but with separate personalities and 
appearances. I guess its easier for him to divide His attention that way."
"You told me packs with the Devil didn't happen anymore."
"I remember," she admitted. "This hasn't happened in a long, long time. Most of 
us know better, after learning what happened to Faust, Dorian Gray and all the 
others who tried the same thing and got screwed. But Daddy always did allow his 
delusions of grandeur to override what little common sense he had. Apparently 
his deal was that his army would capture the Time Portal and hold it open so 
Asmodeus could come through and take over the world. Its a good thing we stopped 
them."
"Then we won?" Allen asked. "The ahhh... The Beast was destroyed?"
"We won, this time," Billimba agreed. "But Asmodeus cannot be destroyed, only 
vanquished. He'll turn up again, sometime in the Future or Past, after He's 
regained His strength."
"And what about me?" Allen demanded. "Will I ever regain mine? Is my hair going 
to stay white forever?"
"I just don't know, Booby," Billimba replied honestly. "This was the first time 
I ever saw a Mortal fight Asmodeus and win. But there is a lot of Magic on your 
side. A little rest and I think you'll be fine. Your hair is already coming out 
brown at the roots."
They stood in silence for some time, arms around each other, grateful to be 
alive.
"Right at the end," Allen recalled, "Asmodeus had a weapon. What was that?"
"The Sword of Lucifer," Billimba sighed. "I always thought it was just a myth, 
although rumors, and some religions, said the greatest, most powerful of the 
Angels had Swords. There are some who even believe Excaliber was once used by 
Gabriel. No one really knows for certain, because it all goes so far back in 
Time. And no one, not even Merlin, has ever had the power to go back that far 
and find out."
They walked on, pausing to stare at the burned-out hulk of a tank, the shattered 
weapons and discarded armor littering the ground. Spotted amid those were the 
bleached skulls and bones of Trolls, Ghouls, and Wyryn.
"Did Rosie really manage to follow us to Acapulco?" Allen demanded.
Billimba nodded. "When we were captured, he flew around and distracted Daddy 
long enough for us to escape. He took a great personal risk by doing it. If he'd 
been struck by one of those atomic missiles he could have been hurt very 
seriously."
"Tell me about... about making love in the hotel. I take it the real purpose was 
to transfer Magic. But you were afraid, for the first time I ever recall."
"Ahhh, how do I explain?" Billimba began. "Every Magical Person or Creature has 
what I guess you would call a Basic Amount of Magic. It is theirs and theirs 
alone, a sort of building block, or nest egg; a Life Force. Until now I thought 
it could never be taken except upon death. If we are ever captured by another 
Witch or Magician they can disarm us, as Bernie did to Saleena, by draining off 
our Magic. But the Basic Life Force would still remain, even if it couldn't be 
used directly.
"I thought you were accumulating Magic as a sort of storehouse, so you could 
transfer it to us if we were ever disarmed. But instead of giving us yours, you 
took ours. You took everything we had, even our Life Force. For a brief period 
of time you left us naked and vulnerable. We were simply women, mortal and 
defenseless. You took our very souls. The emptiness was terrifying. When it was 
all over, the Magic returned to us, but without it...."
The Witch shuddered. Allen could see the fear in her eyes.
"That's not all I took," he said, opening his right hand to expose the raw scar 
covering his palm.
"Yes," she sighed. "You took the Power of the Sword into your body as well, 
combined it with the other Magic."
"And where did that Power go?" he asked. "It didn't go back into the Sword. I 
tried it this morning. Couldn't get even a flicker from the thing. Is it... 
exhausted?"
"I don't have an answer for that, either," Billimba admitted. "I was under the 
impression the Power of the Sword could never be exhausted. But then, I never 
knew it could be transferred either. Perhaps it's still within you, helping to 
heal you. Only time will tell."
They walked on farther, until they came to the graves. There were two mounds of 
freshly turned earth, side by side, with flowers and markers. A short distance 
away sat a ceramic urn filled with ashes.
Beneath one mound rested the remains of Osborne, struck down by a cannon shell 
as he wielded his tree trunk at the height of the battle. The other mound marked 
the resting place of Lester the cook, whose gleaming cleaver accounted for many 
of The Master's horde before an arrow pierced his heart.
The ashes were all that remained of Theramgar, the Centaur. The creature's front 
legs were broken in the final charge. His own people ended his suffering.
"And Sir Jack?" Allen whispered.
"Electra and the Elves took his body away," answered Saleena. "No Mortal has 
ever been allowed to view the last rites of the Elves."
Allen knew there were many more graves and pyres among the trees. The final 
resting places for Knights, Centaurs, Ogres, and villagers alike. The cost of 
victory had been very high.
"I think you've had enough for today," Billimba told him. She and Saleena led 
him past the charred remains of the inn and into their hut.
* * * * *
Twelve days later, on a low hill to the west of the village, they gathered 
together for the last time. Billimba, Saleena, Ethelred, Fleener, and Rosie all 
watched Allen stride purposefully up the hill toward them. He was one again 
healed and whole, straight and tall, his dark hair only lightly streaked with 
wisps of white. On his hip was the haft of the Sword Excaliber, recharged with 
lethal power. As Allen joined the group it was Rosie, the great Dragon, who 
first took his leave.
"Gothsss to go, sweethsss," he said to Billimba, lowering his massive head so 
she could pet him. "If you getsss anothser fun project, come wake me up."
The Dragon straightened its neck, then glared down at Allen through one huge 
eye. When he spoke again, his voice was deep, clear, and normal.
"You have done a Hero's work, sir," it rumbled to Allen. "I am most honored to 
number you among my friends."
Rosie extended one short forearm. Dangling from his little fingers was a gold 
chain to which was fastened a gleaming white tooth, six inches in length.
Allen accepted the gift with trembling hands. He slipped the chain over his 
head, allowing the tooth to hang against his chest.
Without another word the Dragon gracefully took to the air. Within seconds he 
was out of sight.
"I'm impressed," Billimba admitted. "For a Dragon to give one of his own teeth 
is high praise indeed."
"T'is certain you are you'll not stay another few days with us?" asked Ethelred.
"We can't," said Billimba. "The Time Portal is in its last position now. If we 
miss it... Are you certain you don't want to come back with us? Now that The 
Master is gone, this Time Line is not really necessary."
"Nay, lass," the man replied. He waved his arm in the direction of the village. 
"I am their leader. Too many have sacrificed too much for me to abandon them 
now. Besides, where else could an over weight vacuum cleaner salesman from Des 
Moines make a name for himself?"
He kissed the women, shook Allen's hand, then patted Fleener fondly.
"Mayhap we'll meet again. Till then, ya'll be cool."
As Ethelred walked back down the hill toward the village, Fleener snorted, 
stomping his hooves.
"I believe I shall stay as well, at least for a time," the Unicorn declared. "I 
am not yet ready to relinquish this magnificent stallion's body. Perhaps I can 
help these good folks rebuild. Should you require my services again, you know 
how to contact me. Farewell, my friends."
Fleener trotted down the hill after Ethelred. With some sadness the Adventurers 
watched him go.
"Time for us to move on," Billimba sighed.
"Will we ever come back here?" Allen asked.
"Never," the Witch replied firmly.
She withdrew her Broom from within her Cape, mounting it as Allen unrolled the 
Carpet. Theodore fluttered down out of the air to settle onto the shaft of the 
Broomstick. Saleena knelt behind Allen on the Carpet, her arms around his waist. 
Together they soared off into the setting sun.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter XXIII
 
 
 
"Ohhhh, Allen...!"
Saleena moaned and squirmed as Allen's tongue dipped into her navel to lick out 
the juices of the strawberry which nestled there. Her nipples glistened with the 
sweet syrup of peach slices she offered up to him from the alter of her breasts.
Burrowing further beneath the covers, Allen trailed his tongue across her belly, 
down to her thighs. Saleena quivered, arching her back, gripping the satin 
sheets tightly in her hands.
Because of his most enjoyable position, Allen did not see or hear the burp of 
putrid purple smoke proceeding Billimba's sudden appearance in an upper corner 
of the room.
"What kinda disgusting things are you doin' down there, boy?" she screeched from 
astride her Broom.
"Goddammit! I don't deserve this!" came Allen's muffled reply from beneath the 
sheets and quilts. He peeked out, caught sight of Billimba, and gagged.
She was as she had appeared on their very first meeting, dumpy and grotesque. 
Her Official Black Robe swathed her misshapen body, her bulbous, warty nose 
protruding from beneath the brim of her pointed hat.
"You two performing some heathen ritual I don't know about?" she demanded as the 
Broom slowly settled toward the floor.
"I am having breakfast in bed," Allen informed her.
"And desert..." Saleena sighed.
"Well, you just get your nasty self up outa there!" Billimba ordered. "We got 
work to do."
"Go fuck a flounder!" Allen suggested as he sat up. The bed clothes slid off to 
reveal his naked body.
"Say, Booby, you look good! I guess you healed up pretty well in the last four 
months."
"You are terminally ugly again," he observed. "I suspect you have rabies. Go 
away!"
Allen repositioned himself with his back against the headboard, covering his 
body with the sheet. Saleena snuggled against him.
"I sure am glad I got here in time to stop these perversions," Billimba said. 
She hopped from her Broom, scuttling up to the bed.
"There was nothing perverted about it!" Allen protested. "We can do anything we 
want. We were married three weeks ago. And this is Chicago, in the 20th century, 
not one of your Other Times."
"Married? Well, congratulations. Welcome to the family." Billimba smiled hugely, 
displaying her one yellow tooth. Then she frowned. "I suppose you had it done in 
one of those pagan ceremonies they call a wedding, huh? That's okay. We can get 
it done proper right after our next Adventure."
"You can go suck a rock!" Allen stated defiantly. "There aren't gonna be any 
more Adventures, you hear?"
Saleena gently disengaged herself from Allen. She slid from the bed and walked 
into the adjoining room. Billimba waddled up close to Allen, pointing a bony 
finger at him.
"Don't try to con me, boy," she hissed. "You had fun on our Adventure. This next 
one will be even better. Hop to it now. We don't have much time."
"I’m the one who got conned!" he yelled. "I almost got killed, which wasn't any 
fun at all. I ain't goin'!"
Billimba scurried out of the room. Allen lay there, muttering to himself, until 
Theodore buzzed into the bedroom, diving at him.
He yelled in alarm, rolling onto the floor to escape the Dragon's attack. 
Crawling into the closet, he emerged a few seconds later with a tennis racket. 
With this implement he vested upon the hovering Theodore an overhand smash, 
lodging the little creature firmly in the plasterboard of the far wall.
"Oh, Allen?"
He looked around to see Saleena standing in the doorway. She was naked save for 
her white Cape tied at her throat. Her two lacy white garters dangled from her 
fingertips.
"I'm ready for another Adventure, love."
"Oh-oh..." Allen stared at her svelte body, licking his lips. "I dunno..." he 
stammered.
Billimba moved in to stand next to her sister. Instead of the ugly, grotesque 
little Witch she had been only moments before, she was again the mature, 
statuesque woman she'd been on their Adventure, nearly an exact duplicate of 
Saleena. She wore only her black Cape, and twirled a single black garter around 
her finger.
"I'm ready too," she announced in a throaty voice. "And remember, Allen. Even if 
one of them is married, sister Witches still share everything!"
"Oh, shit!" Allen hurled the tennis racket onto the bed. "Another Adventure! Hot 
damn! Wait! I'll be ready in a jiffy!"
He ransacked his drawers, flinging clothing about madly.
"Where the hell is it?" he demanded. "I know I had it here somewhere. Hey! 
Anybody seen my Sword?"
THE END