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          +-+--+-+--+-+     VOLUME TEN                    NUMBER SIX
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          |           |      BITNET Fantasy-Science Fiction Fanzine 
       ___|___________|___  X-Edited by 'Orny' Liscomb <CSDAVE@MAINE>

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                                 CONTENTS 
             X-Editorial                          'Orny' Liscomb 
             Servant of the Silver Blade           Ron Meldrum
            *Cydric and the Sage: Part Five        Carlo N. Samson

           Date: 042688                               Dist: 631 
           An "*" indicates story is part of the Dargon Project
           All original materials  copyrighted by the author(s) 
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                               X-Editorial
     Shifting  uncomfortably   before  his  terminal,  the   young  man 
 tentatively  taps out  a sentence,  then pauses.  Minutes pass  before
 another  coherent thought  is slowly  composed, worded,  and dedicated 
 to  phosphor and  magnetic  media. After  several  moments of  careful
 contemplation,  he uses  the block  delete  feature of  his editor  to
 remove  the text,  and  begins  again. The  ritual  begins yet  again,
 perhaps the fifth  time today. For the editor of  a magazine, there is
 no feeling  quite the same  as when he  views an empty  editorial page 
 with  nothing  to  say.  An  editorial column  is  an  opportunity  to
 communicate  directly with  your readership,  to share  your opinions, 
 your plans, and  a little of yourself, with people  who share the same 
 interests. Yet  it is also an  intimidating thing, because there  is a
 responsability  to  inform and  be  entertaining  to the  reader,  not
 merely pontificate. 
     After having considered  many topics that might be  of interest, I
 remain at  a loss. After  all, how  interesting would an  editorial be 
 if it  went into detail  describing the geogrpaphical  distribution of 
 its  readership,  or   mentioned  that  there  is,   on  the  average,
 approximately two readers  per node? And I certainly  need not mention
 the coming  of springtime or  impending finals,  or that this  will be 
 the last  issue in Volume 10  before the summer volume  begins. I have 
 similarly  been  unable  to   shift  my  responsabilities  onto  other
 parties, after  having no response to  an offer to Dargon  authors for 
 a 'guest  editorial' column. Well, luckily  for me, we have  plenty of 
 good fiction  in this issue,  and there isn't  room enough for  a more 
 substantial  editorial.  I  am  quite  sure  that  the  two  excellent 
 stories in  this issue will go  over very well (hopefully  better than
 the editorial, I'm sure). 
     The figure  rests his head in  his hands and takes  a beep breath.
 He pauses, then  reluctantly exits the editor. Now  begins the process 
 of sending  the issue  out, which although  tedious, at  least doesn't
 require any amount of creativity...
                     -'Orny' Liscomb  <CSDAVE@MAINE>

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                       Servant of the Silver Blade
     Durach wiped  his greasy  fingers across the  front of  his smithy
 smock, leaving  dirty streaks on  the crest of Beartas  embroidered on
 it. The  chicken had been good,  especially good since he  knew it was 
 the last  meat he  would have  for a week  and a  half. In  one smooth 
 movement the  thin but sturdy man  pulled off the smock  and stretched 
 his  arms, then  heaved a  long sigh,  expelling all  the worries  and
 labors of  the day  at the forge.  He dropped his  dirty smock  on the 
 table and lowered himself heavily into a creaking chair by the hearth. 
     Catching sight  of a dull  glow on  the wall above  the fireplace,
 he  heaved  himself  to  his  feet again,  the  ancient  wooden  chair 
 creaking  loudly  beneath   the  force  on  its   arms.  Brushing  his 
 straight, dark  hair off of his  forehead, Durach stepped over  to the
 fire  and  examined a  dull  grey  sword,  the  origin of  the  gleam, 
 hanging  horizontally   above  the   brick  fireplace.  He   pulled  a
 precious, half-used  candle from a  fixture just below the  weapon and
 stooped  to light  its wick  in  the flames  below. Straightening  his 
 aching back,  he replaced  the lighted candle  in its  fixture. Silver
 light  burst from  the  hanging  sword and  shot  throughout the  dim, 
 one-room hut.
     "Ahh, better...better,"  Durach breathed, his wide  eyes following
 the length  of the blemishless blade.  He then returned to  the chair,
 which groaned and  shrieked as usual when he lowered  himself into it. 
 Leaning back, he lifted his eyes exultantly to the shining sword.
     Someone was  knocking at the  door. Durach stared dreamily  at his 
 beautiful weapon, either  not hearing the sound or  choosing to ignore
 it. The  knocking persisted.  Annoyance flickered  across his  face as
 Durach pulled  himself from his  reverie. He slowly pushed  himself to 
 his feet as the knocking continued. 
     A  small, hooded  man, at  least a  full foot  and a  half shorter
 than  Durach, was  standing patiently  on the  wooden doorstep  as the
 door swung open.  He wore a long,  grey cloak made of  a fine material
 Durach  didn't recognize,  and his  hood  concealed most  of his  head
 except his  face and a  couple of curls of  black hair. A  strange but
 friendly smile and  deep brown eyes, sparkling  with amusement, looked
 up out  of the hood. It  was a starless  night, and there was  a light
 drizzle  falling, but  the  stranger  said nothing.  He  stood on  the 
 doorstep smiling, the drizzle clinging in beads to his grey cloak. 
     Shaking off his drowsiness, Durach spoke.
     "Enter, stranger," he  said with as much hospitality  as he could. 
 "I don't have much,  but my house is warm. If you are  hungry I have a 
 little chicken broth but nothing more."
     "Thank you," the  short man said and stepped past  Durach into the 
 small hut. His  eyes glanced about the room, standing  for a moment on
 the sword,  then continuing  their inspection of  the place  as Durach 
 closed the  door. He  turned to  his host and  said, "Well,  kind sir, 
 where is the broth?"
     Durach picked up a small metal pot of broth from the table.
     "I'll warm it up for you," he offered.
     "That won't  be necessary," the  stranger said. He  boldly reached
 out and  took the  lukewarm pot  from the  startled Durach.  The small
 man then pulled  himself onto the wooden table top  and, with his legs
 dangling,  put  the  pot  to   his  lips  and  drank.  Durach  watched 
 curiously as  a small stream  of broth  trickled down from  one corner
 of the man's mouth.
     "Not  bad," the  man said  with  a light  sigh as  he lowered  the
 empty pot. He leaned back on his elbows and looked up at Durach. 
     "So," said the stranger, "what's your name?"
     "Huh...  my  name? Oh!  I'm  Durach,  the  son  of Dochas  son  of
 Gorach. I work at a smithy in town but my father was..." 
     "What a nice  name!" the man exclaimed. "Durach,"  he repeated the
 name with a smile. 
     Durach, slightly  annoyed by the  man's interruption, took  a deep 
 breath, then asked, "What is your name, stranger?" 
     "I'm Calman.  Calman of  Gliocas. You  don't know  me. May  I stay
 here tonight?"
     "Sure," said  Durach, a hundred  questions coming to  mind. "Where
 are you from?" 
     "I told you," the man replied. "From Gliocas."
     "I've never heard of any Kliogas..."
     "Gliocas," Calman corrected him, still smiling. 
     "Okay, Gliocas. Where is this city?"
     "It's not a city. It's much more." 
     "Kingdom, then." 
     "It's not a kingdom." 
     "What, then, is it?" Durach asked, annoyance in his voice. 
     "It's  just  a place,"  Calman  replied,  apparently ignoring  the
 other man's tone of voice. 
     "Where is this place?"
     "Out there," said  the short man with a vague  flick of the wrist.
 "It's a  long, hard  trip and  most people never  find it.  Nice place
 you have here." 
     "What? Oh, yes... I mean, it's all I have." 
     "Where'd  you get  the knife?"  Calman had  removed his  eyes from
 Durach, but still wore the smile. 
     "Knife?"  Durach followed  the  man's  gaze to  the  sword on  the
 wall. At  the sight  of it,  all traces  of annoyance  and frustration
 were gone, and he began to speak. 
     "Oh, Iarann.  My father gave him  to me. My father,  you know, was
 the champion of  Lord Uan. He gave  him to me before he  died. He died
 of  a  broken  heart.  When  Lord Airgid  took  over,  my  father  was 
 stripped of his  rank and soon fell  sick. He was given  Iarann by his
 father, my  grandfather, of  course. I don't  know where  Sire Gorach, 
 that was his name, got him." 
     "Him?" Calman spoke up.
     "Him, Iarann," Durach said, pointing to the sword. 
     "Oh, okay,"  the other  man said,  slightly amused.  Ignoring him, 
 Durach continued.
     "Someday I  will carry him  into battle and  earn him glory  as my
 fathers did.  I have  already, once.  During the  war with  Cumach ten 
 years ago, when I was young, I carried him into battle gloriously."
     "No, you didn't," Calman said. 
     "Huh?" said Durach, startled. 
     "Don't  you ever  listen?  I  said 'no,  you  didn't!' You  didn't
 carry the knife into battle." He was still smiling. 
     "Well,"   Durach  stuttered,   surprised   by   the  other   man's 
 statement. "I almost  did. They trained me,  and I was about  to go to
 battle when peace was resolved. They trained me, though."
     "How long?" Calman asked.
     "Well, for a day. But that doesn't matter. They trained me." 
     "Oh, okay," the other man said, smiling.
     There was  silence for a while.  Durach stood by the  table musing
 over the  sword while Calman sat  on the table musing  over Durach. As
 if reaching  some unspoken  decision, Calman said,  "Okay, I'll  go to 
 bed now." With  that he dropped from  the table to the  floor in front
 of Durach and walked  over to the fireplace. After a  glance up at the 
 sword and  another back at  his host, the man  lay down and  curled up 
 in front of the warm flames. 
     For  several  minutes Durach  stood  wondering  about his  curious 
 guest.  Shaking his  head,  he  strode over  to  the fireplace.  Being 
 careful not  to disturb Calman,  he stretched  his right arm  and with
 one finger extinguished  the candle. The interior of  the hut suddenly 
 dimmed. Leaning  over the man  on the  floor, Durach stoked  the fire, 
 then walked to the door and bolted it. 
     Retiring  to the  corner where  he usually  slept, he  removed his
 crude wooden sandals  and his cloak, then lay down  to rest, spreading
 the cloak over  him for a cover. Lying half  asleep already, he looked
 across  the room  at the  silent, unmoving  figure silhouetted  by the 
 unsteady firelight.  He wondered who  the stranger was, and  where his 
 Gliocas was. Durach quickly drifted further from consciousness.

     He  awoke just  after dawn  the next  morning. The  door was  wide 
 open, and  bright sunlight  was streaming in,  flooding the  room with 
 an  irrepressible sense  of bliss.  Someone was  humming quietly,  and
 the smells  and sounds of  cooking ham  reached the awakening  man. He
 sat up,  looking around  the place.  Calman was  kneeling in  front of
 the fire  cooking meat while  humming a merry  tune. On the  table was 
 the partially butchered  carcass of a small  pig. Blinking confusedly, 
 Durach  looked  back  at  the  man   by  the  fire.  His  eyes  raised 
 habitually  to  the  sword  and   his  mind  cleared.  Stretching  his
 stiffened muscles,  Durach yawned  loudly. Calman stopped  humming and
 turned to him, wearing the familiar smile. 
     "Hello, want some breakfast?" 
     Durach looked at  him a moment, then nodded dumbly.  The short man
 turned  back to  the  fireplace and  took up  his  tune again.  Durach 
 climbed to his  feet and put on  his cloak and smock. He  never put on
 his sandals before it was time to leave for work. 
     "Where'd you get the pig?" he asked. 
     "Oh...  down the  road,"  Calman replied  without turning  around. 
 The tune became a battle march. Durach's eyes narrowed suspiciously. 
     "Down the road?" he asked.
     "Yes,  that's what  I said.  Sometimes  I don't  think you  people
 ever  listen." Durach  didn't question  what he  meant by  the ominous
 "you people." 
     "Did you steal it?" he asked bluntly.
     "I don't steal."
     "Where did you get it, then?" 
     "Down the road..." 
     "I know that!" Durach interrupted. "Where down the road?" 
     "In a shady spot next to the roadway," Calman evaded.
     "Was it just sitting there by the road?"
     "Yes,  just sitting  there. I  simply reached  over the  fence and 
 picked it up." 
     "So,  you stole  it,"  Durach said,  more as  a  statement than  a
 question. His voice was quieter, but still shaky.
     "No, I  told you, I  don't steal,"  Calman said, laying  some more 
 meat in a flimsy frying pan. 
     "Then the owner knows," Durach said, relieved.
     "What  owner?" the  other man  asked, still  not turning  from the 
 fire. Durach fell back into frustration. 
     "The owner," he said. "The person who owns, or owned, the pig!" 
     "I didn't see  any owner when I  got there. All I saw  was a bunch 
 of pigs in a fenced-in mud hole, next to a large house."
     "A house!"
     "Yes, yes! Must I repeat everything?"
     Durach dropped the  subject and, shaking his  head, seated himself 
 in the  groaning chair. Calman  turned and grinned devilishly  at him, 
 then returned to his cooking and tune, which became a moving dirge.
     The two  ate together  in silence  at the  table. Since  there was
 only one  chair, Calman was  more than happy to  sit on the  table top
 with his  legs dangling  as he  had the night  before. The  ham tasted
 good to  Durach, who hadn't  eaten breakfast,  much less ham,  in many 
 months.  Then  there  were  those   curious  white  roots.  They  were
 excellently  prepared and  Durach couldn't  complain about  the taste,
 but he was always leery about eating things he didn't recognize. 
     After they had eaten, Calman dropped from the table. 
     "Well," he  said with  a sigh,  "I must be  going now."  Without a
 farewell he  stepped to the  door. Then  a backward glance  caught the
 sword, gleaming  in the sunlight  at its station above  the fireplace.
 As   if  suddenly   remembering   something,  he   wheeled  and   said
 cryptically, "Oh,  yes. Happiness  and glory to  you!" He  grinned his
 familiar grin,  then the smile  faded momentarily  and his eyes  had a 
 distant look.  Refocussing on  Durach, he smiled  a subdued  smile and 
 was gone out the door.
     Durach worked at  a smithy in the central district  of the city of
 Beartas, which  was no more  than a mile  form his home.  Progress was 
 normally slow  as he walked to  work once he entered  the city proper, 
 for the narrow  streets were usually clogged with  people. He disliked 
 crowds and  thus hated the segment  of his path that  took him through
 the city streets.
     This morning  was different, though.  Durach was late, due  to the 
 fact  he had  eaten breakfast  with Calman.  Then, after  the stranger
 had departed he,  of course, had to  polish his sword. By  the time he 
 reached  the city  he  found only  a  few people  on  the streets.  He 
 smiled to  himself and  decided to  make it  a point  to be  late more
 often. At  this time  the laborers were  at work and  the rest  of the 
 city was still asleep. 
     Waiting for him  in front of the small, open-faced  smithy was its 
 owner,  one of  Durach's longtime  friends. Durach  had taught  him to 
 read a  little, since he  himself had been  lucky enough to  learn his
 letters  while his  father  still held  a station  at  the court.  His 
 friend,  Caraid, had  inherited the  smithy from  an uncle.  The place 
 wasn't great,  but it did  have a good  location in the  central trade 
 district and  a reputation  for quality. The  smithy consisted  of two 
 rooms, one of which  was open to the street. The open  one had a small
 stone forge at  its center. Only Caraid, his  twelve-year-old son, and
 Durach worked there. 
     Caraid seemed  to have been  waiting for  Durach, for when  he saw 
 him coming  down the street, the  forge owner hustled over  toward him
 carrying  a folded  sheet of  paper in  his huge  left hand.  Caraid's 
 large,  smithy-hardened body  dwarfed what  few other  people were  on 
 the street. 
     "Durach," he rumbled  in his deep voice, holding  the paper aloft. 
 "I need  your help  with this."  He apparently  ignored the  fact that
 Durach was  late. Caraid handed  the paper to  him and the  two strode
 back to  the smithy where Caraid's  son was straining under  a load of
 scrap  iron.  Durach  unfolded  the paper,  the  huge  Caraid  peering
 anxiously over his shoulder at it. 
     "What's the problem?" Durach asked scanning the list on the sheet.
     "Well," his  friend's voice was  subdued, "I recognized  the words 
 'horseshoes'  and  'hammer heads',  but  what  are these  others?"  He 
 poked one  of his large  fingers awkwardly at  the bottom part  of the 
 list, and Durach examined it. His eyes lit up as he read aloud.
     "'Spearheads'!  And  'Pikeheads'!" There  was  a  sharp intake  of 
 breath as Caraid realized the significance of his friend's words. 
     "Spears  and pikes?"  Caraid asked  in a  low voice.  "We've never 
 made weapons for the Lord before!" 
     Durach  read the  heading at  the top  of the  sheet. Indeed,  the
 order was issued  by the treasury of Lord Airgid.  His heart jumped at 
 the  implications  of  the  castle ordering  weapons,  but  he  calmed 
 himself  by saying  aloud,  "They're probably  just refurninshing  the
 old armory.  It hasn't  been refurnished, you  know, since  before the
 reign of Lord Uan."
     Caraid didn't look convinced. 
     "We'd better  get started," the  big man  said. "It's a  big order 
 and the Lord wants it next week."
     "Next  week!"  Durach  protested,  looking down  the  list  again. 
 "That's impossible! We can't do this much in such a short time! Its.."
     "Nor  will you  have to,"  a  new voice  said, emphasizing  "nor". 
 Durach and Caraid  wheeled around to see a clean-shaven  man in a dark
 blue robe  standing just off  the road by the  smithy. In one  hand he
 held a  book with several  loose sheets  sticking out form  inside the
 front cover. Before the smiths could say anything, the man continued. 
     "I am Searbhanta,  third treasurer of his  Lordship, Lord Airgid."
 He paused  and looked around  to see if  anyone reacted to  his title. 
 Seeing no one take note, he frowned indignantly and resumed speaking.
     "The  order  given  you  this morning  has  been  retracted.  Your
 services are  no longer  required by  his Lordship.  He has  found the
 larger smithies more suitable to his needs at present." 
     "But..." Caraid  protested. But the  man in blue turned  and left.
 The  large smith  furiously kicked  the nearest  wall, which  promptly 
 cracked upon impact.
     Durach's attention,  however, was  drawn away  from his  friend by
 another  development. There  was a  commotion  in the  street. One  of 
 Lord  Airgid's  criers,  holding  a rolled  sheet  of  parchment,  was 
 climbing off  his mount a few  yards away. Unrolling the  parchment he 
 began to read as a crowd formed about him.
     "Hear all!  Hear all! Due  to crimes committed against  the person
 and property  of our  liege, the  Beloved and  Mighty Lord  Airgid, by 
 the blackguards  of the  Castle Cumach,  it is  hereby decreed  that a
 state  of war  exists  between  the people  of  Beartas  and those  of 
 Cumach.  All able-bodied  men  are  required to  enlist  at the  north
 garrison or  pay a hundred Gold  Royals to buy amnesty.  Failure to do
 so will result in imprisonment.
     "Hear all! Hear all!"the crier droned, repeating the proclamation. 
     Durach  was excited.  So much  had happened  so quickly.  This was 
 what he  had been  waiting for  all his  life. Now  he could  bear his
 fathers' sword proudly into combat. 
     Caraid had  recovered from his  momentary anger and  was listening
 carefully to  the crier. He  turned to Durach  and said, "I  guess I'm 
 out of  business for a  while." He pulled off  his smock and  threw it 
 down. "Shall we go to the north garrison together?"
     "I'll meet  you here in  an hour.  Then we can  go. I have  to get 
 Iarann!" Without waiting  for a response, he took off  running as fast 
 as the  growing crowd would allow.  After passing through the  city he 
 sprinted,  not  noticing  the  strange  gazes  of  onlookers  as  they
 watched the lean, middle-aged man bound gleefully down the road. 
     He barged  into his hut,  lungs heaving,  and stopped in  front of 
 the  fireplace.  Panting, he  reached  up  and carefully  removed  the
 sword from the hooks on the wall.
     "O Iarann, I bring you glory!" he gasped.

     Forty-five minutes  later he was  standing in line with  Caraid at 
 the north garrison, waiting to enlist.
     "It   looks  nice,"   Caraid  said   gently,  knowing   fully  the 
 significance his friend put on the weapon.
     "Yes, he  does," Durach agreed,  proudly holding the  sword, blade 
 up at  arms length in front  of him. The morning  sun glinted brightly
 off its  silver surface. Surely  they would  make him a  corporal when
 they saw  the sword.  They would  recognize the  quality for  which it 
 stood,  and he  would  tell  them that  he  had  been trained  before.
 Surely they would make him a corporal, maybe even a sergeant.
     They  didn't.  Though  Durach  awaited the  assignment  with  held 
 breath,  he got  just three  words out  of the  man at  the enlistment
 desk: "Name...Weapon...Next."
     He  was, however,  consoled by  the fact  that he  and Caraid  had
 been  assigned  to  the  same  unit.  The  unit,  comprised  of  fifty
 peasants with  diverse weapons,  was under the  command of  a hulking, 
 chain-mailed,  gauntleted, and  mounted  sergeant  named Duine.  Duine 
 immediately let his  unit know that he considered it  below himself to
 work  with  such rabble,  and  that  he  was presently  attempting  to
 discover what  he had done  to offend  the officials who  had assigned
 him  to  the  position.  Training  lasted half  a  day  and  consisted
 primarily of  climbing ladders and  ropes to the  top of a  high wall.
 Durach's unit  trained side-by-  side with  five other  similar units. 
 There  was no  doubt what  their job  would be  during the  assault on
 Castle  Cumach, and  Durach beamed  inside at  the thought  of scaling
 the enemy's  walls, lifting Iarann  high above his head,  and bringing
 glory  to the  sword  by routing  the enemy  forces.  He awaited  with 
 anticipation the day they were to move on the castle. 

     That day  came too  soon for many  of the men  in the  army. There
 were  the  usual desertions,  mostly  peasant  conscripts, which  were 
 invariably remedied  by an  arrow in  the back of  the deserter  as he
 fled.  The troops  marched  in a  disorganized  throng, moving  slowly 
 down the dusty road to death. 
     Caraid, walking  next to Durach,  had a worried expression  on his
 face. He  was carrying  the ancient thrusting  spear the  garrison had 
 given  him. All  conscripts who  had signed  up without  a weapon,  as 
 Caraid has,  had been assigned  some relic from Lord  Airgid's armory.
 Durach spoke.
     "Why so grim?" 
     Caraid turned his face to Durach. 
     "I don't  want to be  a part of  this. I just  want to go  back to
 the smithy. I'm not a soldier." 
     "Ah," Durach  said. "But  look at  it this way:  this battle  is a
 chance to earn fame and glory. Don't turn down the chance."
     "Only  the nobles  and  friends of  the Lord  will  earn fame  and
 glory," Caraid  mumbled. Noticing  Durach's hurt expression,  he added
 quickly,  "and, of  course, you  and your  sword will.  But I  have no
 such  weapon." He  brandished  the  spear. Its  head  shook loose  and 
 Caraid stumbled  to catch it  before it  hit the ground.  Ignoring the 
 curses from  a man behind,  who had run into  him as he  stumbled, the
 big man straightened up and replaced the spear head.
     "That is a  disadvantage," Durach sighed. "But  your strength will
 carry you."
     Less  than an  hour  later the  high walls  of  the Castle  Cumach
 began  to  rear themselves  up  ahead  of  the  army. When  the  force 
 finally emerged  from around a low  rise and saw the  castle, the host 
 slowed  down to  a  crawl and  looked  on  with awe.  It  was a  large 
 fortress, sitting  proudly on  the top  of a low  hill, red  and green
 banners streaming  from its towers. Half  a mile beyond, in  a shallow
 river  valley, was  the  city  the castle  was  built  to protect.  No 
 troops were  seen deployed  outside the fortress,  but its  walls were
 briming with  mail-clad warriors.  A forest of  pikes and  long spears
 rose from the  battlements, impressively catching the  bright light of 
 the afternoon sun.
     A noble to the rear of the host shouted, "Dost thou surrender?"
     The  answering shower  of  arrows  fell short  of  the troops  but 
 clearly  expressed Castle  Cumach's answer.  The order  came from  the
 rear  to storm  the walls.  The peasant  units that  had been  trained
 with Durach's  unit hefted the  long, shabby ladders they  had carried 
 from Beartas  and began  moving hesitantly toward  the ready  pikes on
 the  walls.  Durach's  sergeant,  Duine,  was no  where  to  be  seen. 
 Several  whips cracked  somewhere behind  and  the mass  broke into  a
 disorganized charge.  Durach tried  to make  his way  to the  front to 
 lead the assault  with uplifted sword, but his speed  was no match for
 the  younger members  of the  mob. About  two hundred  paces from  the
 wall, nearly  half of the  people at the front  of the charge  fell to 
 enemy archers.  Another twenty or thirty  fell at a hundred  and fifty 
 paces, at  least forty fell  at one hundred,  and another forty  or so 
 at fifty  paces. Then  the mass  was upon the  wall. The  ladders were
 thrown up  and the attackers  began to  climb. Shower after  shower of
 arrows swept the ladders clean.
     Durach  shoved a  man out  of  his way  and leapt  to the  nearest 
 ladder. As  he began to climb,  however, a pikeman on  the wall pushed
 the top of  the ladder away with his weapon  and Durach fell backwards
 onto the  ground. He scrambled  to his  feet and found  himself facing
 the  sloping field  he had  just charged  across, and  was shocked  at 
 what he  saw. Beyond the hundred  and more dead and  wounded littering 
 the field the armored regulars of the army of Beartas were retreating.
     A violent  sense of  betrayal surged through  him. He  wheeled and
 yelled  to Caraid,  whom  he  had seen  nearby  a  moment ago.  Durach
 quickly turned  away with  tears in  his eyes  as his  friend screamed 
 then crumpled under searing, boiling oil dropped from above. 
     Durach ran.  He made  his way  across the field  to some  trees on 
 the other  side. Most of  the others were doing  the same now.  He ran
 until  he couldn't  run anymore,  caught his  breath, then  ran again.
 His  thoughts were  not  thoughts at  all, but  flashes  of anger  and 
 surges of sorrow.
     By the  time he reached Beartas'  city limits, he had  calmed down 
 quite a bit. Skirting  the city to get to his  house, his face assumed 
 a stone-like  expression and he  slowed to a  walk, but his  eyes held 
 shadows of deep loss mixed with anger.
     Arriving  home, Durach  found he  had left  the door  ajar, and  a
 foul  odor reminded  him  that he  had  left the  pig  carcass on  his 
 table.  He stepped  through the  door and  looked around.  Nothing had
 changed. Slowly  he looked  up to  the empty hooks  on the  wall above
 the  fireplace, then  to the  sword he  still grasped  tightly in  his 
 right hand.  Calmly, Durach  walked over  to the  corner of  the small 
 room to  the right  of the  cold fireplace and  dropped the  weapon to
 the floor.  He stood silently looking  at the cold, grey  ashes in the 
 fireplace, tears welling up in his eyes again.
     A sound behind  him caused him to turn. Framed  in the doorway was
 a  familiar short,  hooded  figure.  Calman pulled  back  his hood  to 
 reveal tangled, raven-black  locks. His smile was gone,  replaced by a
 look of  deep understanding.  He glanced  at the  sword on  the floor,
 then spoke in a low voice. 
     "Perhaps with my aid, you may yet be able to find Gliocas."
     Durach nodded and followed Calman away from Iarann.
                      -Ron Meldrum  <IO60048@MAINE>

         <>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<> 

                       Cydric and the Sage: Part 5
     Author's  note: The  complete  synopsis for  parts 1  &  2 can  be 
 found in FSFnet VOL09N1, for part 3 in FSFnet VOL10N1. 
     THE  STORY  SO  FAR:  In  part 4  (chapters  VIII-X),  Cydric  and 
 Corambis head back  to the house at twilight,  stopping momentarily in 
 the temple district so  that the Sage can offer a  brief prayer to the 
 goddess Cahleyna.  Cydric questions  the necessity of  worshipping the 
 gods;  Corambis seems  offended  but later  accepts Cydric's  apology. 
 When they  arrive back at  the Sage's home,  they have a  light supper 
 and prepare themselves  for the opening of the  Celestial Archway. The 
 midnight hour arrives, the Archway appears, and the two step through. 
     They  materialize in  the other  realm  on a  deserted beach.  The
 chrysoline ring  that the Sage wears  points them in the  direction of
 the  Elder.  They  do  not  walk  far when  they  are  stopped  by  an 
 invisible  barrier.  Corambis uses  the  ring  to smash  through,  and
 suddenly  the  Citadel  of  Sorrows,   situated  on  a  huge  floating 
 boulder, is  revealed to  them. A transportal  disc teleports  them up
 to  the  Citadel,  and  they  begin  exploring.  They  notice  strange 
 translucent stones  scattered about  the courtyard; Cydric  keeps one. 
 The ring  leads them through an  armory filled with rusty  weapons, an 
 old tapestry  room, and finally up  into a tower where  they find Bahz
 the  Elder.  Bahz  appears  incredibly  old  and  decrepit,  but  when 
 Corambis tries  to help him  stand, the Elder snatches  the chrysoline 
 ring away from  the Sage and laughs. Green flames  surround the Elder, 
 and his  true identity is  revealed: he  is actually Nephros,  mage of
 ancient   Quentrellia  and   the  first   to  physically   travel  the
 Dreamrealms.  He casts  a paralysis  spell upon  Cydric and  Corambis, 
 and they lose consciousness. 

                             XI. The Servant
     The first  thing that Cydric  felt when  he awoke some  time later
 was a  pressure on his  head. He looked around  and saw that  the room
 was now  empty, save for Corambis,  who was shackled to  a wooden post 
 at the  other side of  the room. He tried  to stretch, and  found that 
 he  was similarly  restrained. He  gave the  chains a  hard yank,  but 
 they remained securely fastened. 
     "Milord Corambis!"  he called,  trying to wake  the Sage.  After a
 few moments, Corambis lifted his head. 
     "How do you feel?" Cydric asked him. 
     "Quite fine,"  replied the Sage.  "But--" he stopped, and  his jaw
 dropped in surprise.
     "What? What is it?" Cydric said, looking around. 
     "My goddess has  heard my prayers! She has not  forgotten us!" the
 Sage said joyfully. 
     "What do  you mean?"  Cydric asked,  not understanding  the Sage's
 elation.  Just  then  the  pressure   lifted  from  his  head,  and  a 
 bizarre-looking little creature settled onto his shoulder. 
     "Gaaah!  What the  hellblaze  is it!"  shouted  Cydric, trying  to
 shrug it off.
     "Relax, Cydric,  it will not  harm you. That  is the Tozu,  one of
 the special  servants of  Cahleyna." Corambis addressed  the creature:
 "Forgive my young friend,  O Tozu, for he is not used  to being in the 
 presence of one so distinguished as yourself." 
     Cydric looked  closely at the creature.  It was very much  like an
 owl, except for its human head and tiny pair of arms. 
     "His reaction is  understandable. I take no  offense," replied the
 Tozu  in  a  small,  low-pitched  voice. "And  you  are  correct,  Sir
 Corambis. Mistress  Cahleyna has  not forgotten you;  she has  sent me
 to tell you of the important duty you must perform."
     "Uh, excuse  me, Zotu, or  Tozu, or  whatever your name  is; could 
 you  please  sit  somewhere  else?"  Cydric  said,  feeling  a  little 
 uncomfortable with the owl-man on his shoulder. 
     "Cydric! Please do not embarrass me," said the Sage. 
     "If  you don't  mind,  I'd  rather sit  here,"  the Tozu  replied,
 somewhat testily. 
     "Fine  with  me,  then,"   Cydric  said,  shrugging.  The  owl-man
 flapped to keep his balance and gave Cydric a disapproving frown. 
     "First of  all," said the  Tozu, "let  me tell you  about Nephros. 
 You  may  know that  over  a  thousand years  ago,  he  was the  royal
 sorcerer of  the Island of  Quentrellia, and that  he was the  one who
 discovered  the  Amulet   of  Hanarn  and  thus  the   first  mage  to 
 physically  venture  onto  the  dreamrealms. To  escape  the  Fretheod 
 invasion  of the  Island he  fled  into the  dreamrealms and  wandered
 about for  a time, eventually  finding his  way to the  Nether Realm." 
 He paused, seeing the Sage's eyes widen.
     "You don't mean...he made a bargain with an Exile?"
     "Indeed he did.  He promised Xothar the chance to  escape from his 
 prison in exchange for the power to dominate your world."
     Cydric  remembered  the stories  of  the  Exiles: once  they  were 
 seraphim,  living in  Lordsrealm with  the All  Creator, until  Xothar 
 and his followers  revolted and tried to seize power.  The All Creator
 crushed the rebellion,  stripped them of their astral  form, and flung 
 them into the  Nether Realm where they have been  ever since. "Why did
 Nephros wait until now to try and free him?" Cydric asked.
     "He has  tried many  times before, but  with no  success," replied
 the Tozu. "This time, however, he may finally succeed." 
     "Of   course!   The   harmonic   convergence   happens   tonight," 
 interjected Corambis.  "If he has  a means  of tapping the  power from
 the alignment of the sun and stars, he may very well attain his goal." 
     "Very true," said  the Tozu. "He does in fact  have the means--the
 Amulet  of Hanarn.  Now, Mistress  Cahleyna  and the  other gods  have
 appealed to  the All Creator,  and he has  agreed to let  them destroy
 Xothar once  and for  all. But  since Xothar is  in the  Nether Realm, 
 they cannot  harm him, just  as he cannot  harm them. The  All Creator
 is loathe  to destroy  any being,  but has made  an exception  in this 
 case. So,  when Nephros  opens the Celestial  Archway, the  gods shall
 attempt  to strike  a  blow at  Xothar. This  means,  of course,  that
 Nephros must be allowed to complete the summoning ritual."
     "Wait, do  you mean to  say that you are  not here to  rescue us?" 
 Cydric asked, incredulously.
     "As I  said, Nephros must complete  the ritual in order  to gather
 enough  power  to open  an  Archway  in  the  Nether Realm.  He  needs
 your...assistance, for the ritual to work."
     "Well,  don't  the  gods  have   enough  have  power  to  do  that
 themselves? I mean, they are gods, right?" 
     "The  All   Creator  devised   the  Nether   Realm  as   a  prison 
 specifically  for  gods  and  other  divine  beings.  No  resident  of 
 Lordsrealm has any power over that place."
     "But mere  mortals do? Anyway, what  about us? I mean,  myself and 
 Milord Corambis. Surely  Cahleyna will not let anything  happen to one
 of her worshippers?" 
     "Naturally.  But you  do  understand that  if  Xothar escapes,  he
 will take the  rest of the dwellers  of the Nether Realm  with him, as
 well as  the other Exiles. He  will make war upon  Lordsrealm, and the 
 universe shall suffer." 
     "But you will help us get out of here after the ritual, right?"
     The  Tozu hesitated.  "Unfortunately, the  Citadel will  also have
 to be  destroyed. This was  once a place of  great power, that  is why 
 Nephros chose it. I can't help you once the ritual is begun."
     Corambis said: "I  understand, O Tozu. It will be  an honor to die 
 for my goddess." 
     "She is  not *my*  goddess," said Cydric.  "Anyway, I  thought the 
 gods were  more powerful than  any one  seraphim. The battle  will not
 take all their energy and concentration, will it?" 
     "It  may.  Xothar  will  undoubtedly  have  all  his  evil  forces 
 waiting, and the  gods have to send a combined  power strike to insure
 their destruction."
     "So you are saying that it is up to us to make our own escape?" 
     "In effect, yes."
     "Some divine being you are!" 
     "Please, Cydric, do not speak that way to him," said Corambis.
     The  Tozu  stiffened   for  a  moment,  then   said,  "Nephros  is 
 returning  from his  preparations. The  Convergence is  near. Remember
 what I have said." 
     "We will, O Tozu. Thank you." 
     "Blessings of Cahleyna  be with you." With that,  the Tozu flapped 
 his wings and flew off out the window. 

                             XII. The Ritual 
     A few  moments later, Nephros  entered the room. "So,  my friends,
 did you have a good sleep?" he asked. 
     They said nothing. "What, lizard-man got your tongue?" he laughed. 
     "Why us?" asked Cydric.
     "Why not  you?" Nephros replied,  setting the brazier he  had been
 carrying down in the center of the room. 
     "I  mean,  why did  you  go  through  all  that trouble  with  the
 visions? You could have easily kidnapped us or something." 
     "I  needed  you  both  to  come willingly.  Would  you  have  come
 otherwise?  I  doubt  it.  I  perceived that  the  old  man  would  be
 interested in the  story about Bahz, so  I cast my bait,  and you came 
 right as  I expected."  Taking a  jar of  paint and  a brush  from the
 brazier, he  began marking out  a large  triangle, with Cydric  at one 
 point and Corambis at the other, humming as he did so.
     "Just what is this all about, anyway?" Cydric asked.
     "You certainly  are an  inquisitive one, aren't  you? Well,  I see 
 no harm in telling.  I am preparing to bring a  being of immense power
 onto this  plane. In return for  that, he'll grant me  supreme mastery 
 over  the  world.  Lord  Nephros, Emperor  of  Makdiar--sounds  great, 
 doesn't it?" 
     "For you, maybe. Just what do you need us for?" 
     "Well,  for  this  whole  thing  to  work,  I  need  a  couple  of
 sacrifices  and a  host body  for  the being--Xothar's  his name,  you
 know him?"
     "Legends say he was banished to the Nether Realm." 
     "Not for  long. At the  Convergence point, I'll open  the StarDoor
 into the  Nether Realm,  and he'll  be freed, along  with the  rest of 
 his  friends. And  then I'll  have powers  beyond all  measuring--why,
 I'll be able  to raze Dargon Keep  in thirty seconds if  the notion so 
 took me!"  He put the  finishing touches  on the triangle  and stepped 
 back. "Wonderful. Almost ready." 
     "What did my vision mean?" Cydric asked. 
     "Merely  bits and  pieces  of  your dreams  and  desires. I  can't 
 remember  exactly."  He threw  the  paint  jar  out the  window,  then 
 brought out a leather bag. He emptied the contents into the brazier. 
     "One  last thing."  He  turned to  the empty  third  point of  the
 triangle  and  made  some  motions  with  his  hands.  A  wooden  post 
 appeared in  place. He  moved to  the window and  glanced up  into the
 sky. "Excellent. The Convergence is nigh." He chuckled.
     Cydric  looked over  at Corambis.  The Sage  had his  eyes closed,
 and appeared to be meditating.
     "Now where  did I put her?  Oh yes, I remember."  Nephros left the
 room, and  came back a few  moments later dragging a  struggling young
 girl behind him.
     "No! Let me go! Help!" she screamed.
     "A  nice virgin  sacrifice," Nephros  said. "Can't  have a  ritual
 without one."
     Cydric lunged against his chains. "Let her go, you bastard!" 
     "Such  fire and  spirit. What  a strong  life-force. Yes,  a prime
 sacrifice victim. I'll kind of miss her," Nephros said.
     "Help me please!" the girl sobbed at Cydric.
     "You let her go, or I'll--"
     "You'll  what? Kill  me?" Nephros  smirked. He  put his  hand over
 the girl's  eyes, and her struggles  ceased. He placed her  up against 
 the wooden  post and chained her  hands behind her. "Xothar  will like
 her. More than he'll like the old man, I'm afraid."
     "Not him too--"
     "This is a  pretty big ritual, you know. Twice  as many sacrifices 
 as usual. It  had better work this  time." He moved to  stand over the
 brazier. "Well?"  he said,  looking at Cydric.  "No last  minute pleas 
 for mercy?"
     Cydric glared at him.
     "No, I  guess not. I  rather expected you  to offer yourself  as a 
 sacrifice in  place of the girl.  Your type is always  doing that sort
 of 'noble' thing. Well?"
     Cydric started to speak but bit down his reply. 
     "I  didn't think  so. Anyway,  I  can't sacrifice  you, since  you
 have the honor  of being Xothar's new astral form.  I don't think he'd 
 appreciate  flying  around  in the  body  of  a  tired  old man  or  a 
 delicate young lass,  now would he?" He grinned. "Now,  if there is no 
 other business, I say let the festivities begin!"
     A  flame  appeared in  the  brazier.  Moments  later, a  cloud  of 
 purple smoke  rose up  into the  air. Nephros  reached into  his tunic 
 and  brought out  a small  object on  a chain.  The Amulet  of Hanarn,
 Cydric supposed.
     "Spirits  of the  sun, hear  me!"  began Nephros.  "Movers of  the
 stars, attend  me!" The smoke formed  into a rough sphere.  "Powers of
 the void,  grant me  your strength.  As the  heavens come  together in
 the perfect  pattern, let their  brilliance shine upon me!"  He raised
 the Amulet above his head. There was a rumbling sound in the distance. 
     "Oroc criat naestrum. Oroc criat naestrum," chanted Nephros.
     Cydric wanted  to cry  out, to distrupt  the proceedings,  but the
 words  of the  Tozu prevented  him  from doing  so. He  saw the  Sage, 
 unmoving  on his  post. The  girl,  a wisp  of brown  hair across  her 
 face, stood just as still. 
     "Oroc  criat naestrum,"  intoned  Nephros with  closed eyes.  "Sun
 and heavens, moon and stars. Sun and heavens, moon and stars." 
     The  center stone  of  the  Amulet began  glowing.  The room  grew
 dark. The purple cloud lit up with an inner light. 
     "Oroc criat naestrum. Sun and heavens, moon and stars!"
     The  rumbling  grew louder.  The  light  from the  Amulet  started 
 pulsing. The purple cloud twisted restlessly. 
     "The time  is near," said  Nephros. He released the  Amulet, which 
 hung suspended in  mid-air. He went to the girl,  unlocked her chains, 
 and  motioned her  to  follow him.  Glassy-eyed,  she obeyed.  Nephros
 made  her hold  her arm  out over  the brazier  in the  center of  the 
 cloud, and  when she  had done so,  cut her wrist  with a  dagger. The 
 blood mixed  into the smoke,  giving it  a crimson tint.  Cydric cried 
 out when he realized that Nephros was using his sundagger.
     "Silence!"  shouted Nephros.  Cydric felt  himself go  stiff, just 
 like the first time. 
     Nephros  waved  the girl  back  to  her  post.  He went  over  and
 released  Corambis from  his  chains.  The Sage  opened  his eyes  and
 straightened  at the  mage's  command. Nephros  mixed Corambis'  blood 
 into the cloud as he did with the girl's, then motioned him back.
     Taking hold  of the  Amulet once  more, Nephros  resumed chanting. 
 "Oroc criat naestrum. Oroc criat naestrum."
     The  rumbling sound  changed to  a  low pulsing  rhythm that  kept
 time with  the light pulses  from the  Amulet. The sound  increased in 
 volume, along with the mage's chanting. 
     "Oroc criant naestrum. Oroc criat naestrum! OROC CRIAT NAESTRUM!" 
     A beam of  light lashed out from the Amulet  and struck the center 
 of the cloud. There was a sharp crackle, and the Archway snapped open.
     "THE STARS CONVERGE  IN PERFECT UNISON! ENTER, O  XOTHAR! THE PATH 
 IS  CLEAR!"  shouted  Nephros.  A  strong wind  rushed  out  from  the
 Archway, ruffling  everyone in the  room but not affecting  the purple
 cloud that obscured the view into the astral portal.
     "ENTER, GREAT  XOTHAR! NEPHROS  BIDS THEE ENTER!"  Neprhos shouted
 above the  screaming wind.  Cydric watched  in horror  as he  took the 
 girl  by the  shoulders and  shoved  her into  Archway. She  vanished, 
 then  there was  a brief  sparkle of  red. A  dim form  began to  take 
 shape within the Archway.
     As the  form solidified, Cydric  could make out claws,  horns, and 
 fangs.  Nephros  exclaimed  joyfully. Suddenly,  several  other  forms 
 appeared  in  the  smoke.  They  were human  in  appearance,  but  the 
 brilliant radiance surrounding each of them marked them as gods. 
     "No! Please, not now! So close!" Nephros yelled. 
     The lead  god, a woman, pointed  at the grotesque form  of Xothar.
 A shaft of  pure golden light shot out from  her fingertips and struck
 the Exile.  The room shook with  the impact. Nephros lost  his balance
 and fell  as a wrenching roar  filled the air. Cydric  slumped forward 
 as the paralysis left him.
     Xothar raised his  fist and a blast of red  energy flared out. The
 room  shook  again  as  the  fire punched  into  the  group  of  gods. 
 Corambis  sprang  forward and  snatched  up  Cydric's sundagger  where
 Nephros had dropped it.
     The Sage  leaped onto Nephros's  chest, pinning him to  the floor.
 He took  a gold  key from the  mage's pocket, then  struck him  in the
 head with the pommel of the sundagger.
     Cydric  stared at  the unconscious  sorcerer as  Corambis unlocked 
 his  chains. "Didn't  think I  had it  in me,  eh?" the  Sage grinned, 
 noting the young man's surprised expression.
     The room trembled with the force of the godly struggle.

                      XIII. Escape From The Citadel 
     Cydric and  Corambis raced out  of the  room and down  the stairs. 
 Another  explosion  rocked  the  castle, and  chunks  of  stone  began
 crumbling from the ceiling. 
     "Hurry!" said  Corambis, handing  Cydric back his  sundagger. "The
 whole mountain may fall into the sea at any moment!"
     They ran  through the  corridors, reached  the tapestry  room, and 
 stopped. Several large  lizards lay sprawled across  the mosaic floor. 
 Upon  Cydric  and Corambis'  entry,  they  turned and  began  crawling
 towards them. 
     "We cannot go through here!" said Cydric. 
     "We don't  have time  to find another  way," replied  Corambis. He 
 took the  bag of  dried fruit  from his  belt and  tossed it  into the
 center of the  room. A small lizard  slithered over to it  and took it 
 into his mouth in one gulp. 
     "Shield  your eyes,  milord," Cydric  said, holding  the sundagger
 in front  of him.  When the Sage  had done so,  Cydric closed  his own
 eyes  and silently  gave the  blade a  command. A  white light  flared
 outward  from the  blade,  flooding  the room  with  brightness for  a 
 brief second. 
     Cydric opened his  eyes. The lizards had stopped  in their tracks, 
 but resumed their course after a moment's hesitation.
     "They should have been blinded by that!" said Cydric. 
     "They are," said Corambis, "but these lizards hunt by scent also."
     An explosion  shook the room.  "Then we  have no other  choice. We
 must find another escape route," Cydric said, turning. 
     "Hold on," said the Sage as he took out his pipe and filled it.
     "You do not have time for that!" 
     "Call  it my  final smoke."  The  Sage puffed,  then said  "Shafan
 fazar!"  He  took another  puff,  then  blew  the smoke  outward.  The 
 aromatic cloud  rose into  the air  and quickly  filled the  room. The 
 lizards hesitated, then started wandering aimlessly, as if confused.
     "Ha ha!  That got  'em!" Corambis grinned.  "Come on!"  He started 
 forward into the lizard-infested room. 
     They  carefully threaded  their way  past the  lumbering reptiles. 
 Cydric was  almost to the  other end of  the room when  a particularly
 large  lizard caught  hold of  the  end of  his cloak.  He kicked  the
 beast  in the  head,  but  it stubbornly  refused  to  let go.  Cydric 
 swore, then bent  down and thrust the sundagger  between the reptile's 
 eyes. It  twitched, then  relaxed its  jaws as  it died.  Cydric wiped
 the blood off the blade as he joined the Sage.
     "Nasty brute?" Corambis asked as they hurried down the corridor.
     They reached  the armory. Cydric opened  the door that led  to the
 courtyard and was  greeted by a horde of walking  human skeletons, all 
 made of crystal. He gave a cry of surprise, then shut the door. 
     "What is it?" asked the Sage.
     The door shook  as the skeletons began pounding on  it. "You would
 not  want to  know," said  Cydric.  He slid  a wooden  bar across  the 
 door, then went over  to one of the tables and turned  it on its side, 
 dumping the  rusted weapons  to the  floor. He  and Corambis  slid the
 table over and shoved it against the door. 
     They paused for  a moment to catch their  breath. Suddenly, Cydric
 felt  a warmth  in  his pocket.  He  reached in  and  brought out  the 
 translucent  stone  he had  picked  up  in  the courtyard.  It  glowed 
 brightly and  gave off increasing heat.  Cydric tossed it away.  As it 
 hit the  floor, the stone shattered  and a crystal skeleton  sprang up
 in its place.
     "Now we  know what those  stones were," Corambis said  grimly. The 
 skeleton looked around,  then bent down and picked up  a sword. At the
 skeleton's touch, the  rust on the blade vanished.  It glowed briefly,
 then appeared like new. 
     "Cydric! Don't  let it  pick up  anything else!"  warned Corambis. 
 Cydric  grabbed a  nearby  shield and  threw it  at  the skeleton.  It
 struck  the crystal  creature  in  the chest,  causing  it to  stagger 
 back. The skeleton  quickly recovered and retrieved  the shield which, 
 like the sword, was restored to perfect condition.
     "Helldamn," muttered  Cydric. He quickly scanned  the ground, then 
 took  up a  broadsword that  appeared to  have the  least rust  on it.
 Picking up  a wooden shield, he  strode toward the skeleton  to engage 
 it in battle.
     They circled  each other warily,  then the skeleton gave  an eerie
 cry and  struck the first  blow. Cydric  blocked with his  shield, and 
 was  nearly  driven to  his  knees  by the  force  of  the strike.  He
 slashed,  and the  skeleton jumped  back. Cydric  regained his  stance
 and went on the attack.
     They  duelled back  and  forth  in the  center  of  the room,  but
 slowly, Cydric found  himself being driven back.  He briefly reflected
 that  the skeletons  must at  one time  have been  the flesh-and-blood
 guards  of the  palace. His  shield suddenly  splintered to  pieces as
 his opponent's  sword came  down upon  it. Cydric  barely had  time to
 parry  the  next  blow  with  his  own  severely  notched  sword.  The 
 skeleton  easily  deflected  Cydric's riposte,  then  lunged  forward.
 Cydric  avoided the  strike  and  swung his  sword  at the  skeleton's
 head. There was  a sharp crack as  the skeleton bit down  on the sword 
 and  split it  in half.  With  a look  of dismay,  Cydric dropped  the
 sundered  blade and  jumped  back. He  barely  avoided the  skeleton's 
 next  slash,  then  found  himself  back  up  against  the  wall.  The
 skeleton thrusted,  Cydric twisted,  and the  blade struck  the stone.
 Cydric brought his  fists down on the skeleton's back,  and it pitched 
 against the  wall. As it slid  to the floor, Cydric  gave the skeleton
 a  solid kick.  It flipped  over  onto its  back, and  the sword  went 
 flying. Cydric  stepped over the  skeleton to retrieve the  blade, but 
 a bony  hand lashed  out and  grabbed his  ankle. Cydric  slammed into 
 the ground. 
     He tried to  kick loose from the skeleton's grasp,  but it grabbed 
 hold of  his other  ankle. Cydric  cried out in  pain as  it tightened
 its grip.  He desperately stretched his  arm out, trying to  seize the
 sword  that lay  just  beyond  his reach.  Just  then, Corambis  raced
 over, picked  up the sword, and  plunged it into the  skeleton's back. 
 The crystal creature  let out an inhuman shriek, then  exploded into a
 fine crystalline dust.
     "Can you  walk?" Corambis asked,  helping Cydric to his  feet. The 
 young man winced, then shakily stood unassisted. 
     "I think so. They are only a little sore." 
     A skeletal  arm burst through  the door. Corambis rushed  over and 
 hacked it off.  "It seems our friends are  becoming rather impatient."
     Cydric limped  over to the  door on  the opposite wall  and opened 
 it.  Several lizards  from the  tapestry  room were  making their  way 
 down  the  corridor.  Corambis   eyed  the  advancing  reptiles,  then 
 reached for  his pipe.  Not finding  it at his  side, he  searched the 
 rest of his belt pouches but came up empty.
     "My pipe! It must have fallen back there somewhere," he said.
     Cydric shut  the door  and leaned  back against  it. On  the other
 door, the skeletons were slowly breaking through. 
     "What do we do now?" Cydric asked. 
     The Sage  made no  reply as  he surveyed the  room. Then  his eyes
 lit up as he thought of a plan. He handed Cydric the skeleton's sword. 
     "Delay them as long as possible. I have an idea."
     "What do you plan to do?"
     "No time to explain, but if it doesn't work it won't matter." 
     Cydric  took a  stand in  front  of the  courtyard-entry door  and 
 proceeded  to chop  the  limbs  off any  skeleton  that threatened  to
 break through.  Meanwhile, Corambis  shoved one  of the  wooden tables
 into the corner  of the room farthest from the  embattled door, turned 
 another table  onto its side and  put it against the  first, forming a 
 rectangular box. He  then gathered up some of the  weapons and dropped
 them in a pile at Cydric's feet.
     "Now, Cydric,  get under the tables  over there. I'll join  you in 
 a moment."
     Cydric  did so.  Corambis opened  the door  to admit  the lizards,
 pushed the table  away from the other door, then  finally hurried back 
 to the  wooden shelter, dragging a  piece of plate mail  behind him to 
 cover the open end. 
     "Now what?" asked Cydric.
     "We wait."
     Through a  knothole in  the table, Cydric  watched as  the lizards
 made  their way  into  the room  just as  the  skeletons succeeded  in 
 smashing down  the door.  With their eerie  battle cry,  the skeletons
 snatched up  weapons and began to  hack the lizards to  pieces. As the
 last reptile  died, a massive  tremor ripped through the  room. Cydric 
 cringed  as the  ceiling  and  most of  the  walls collapsed  inwards, 
 crushing the  skeletons beneath  piles of  rubble. Moments  later, all 
 was still. 
     Corambis  pushed aside  the  plate mail  and  crawled out.  Cydric 
 followed.  "Thank   Cahleyna  the   builders  spared  no   expense  in
 furnishing  the Citadel,"  breathed Corambis.  "Were these  tables not
 made of heartwood, we would surely be under a great deal of pressure."
     Another  tremor nearly  jolted them  off their  feet. "I  think we
 best  get going,"  said  Cydric.  They started  to  climb  out of  the 
 rubble, but after a few moments Cydric was forced to rest.
     "It's those  ankles, eh?"  said Corambis,  crouching down  next to
 the young  man. Cydric nodded.  The Sage brought  out a vial  from one
 of  his  pouches   and  rubbed  the  contents   on  Cydric's  affected 
 extremities. A  few minutes  later, the pain  vanished and  Cydric was 
 able to walk again. 
     Cracks started  appearing in the  ground by  the time the  two men 
 made  it  to  the  front  gates. Cydric  looked  back  and  saw  large
 sections of the once-proud Citadel crumble away into ruin.
     "Hurry, Cydric!" called the Sage. 
     They   sprinted  toward   the   mountain's  edge   to  where   the
 transportal disc  lay, but  just before  they reached  it a  huge gash
 opened  up the  ground in  front of  them. They  frantically scrambled
 back  as a  huge  chunk  of the  floating  boulder  dropped away  into
 space, taking the transportal disc with it. 
     Cydric's heart  sank. "That was  our only way off  this helldamned 
 rock," he said despairingly. 
     "Courage up,  Cydric, there  must be  another way  down," Corambis
 said, trying to sound reassuring. 
     Just  then, a  weird  cry  caused them  to  turn. Several  crystal
 skeletons,  apparently survivors  of the  room collapse,  were rushing 
 toward them with weapons drawn.
     "I  do not  think we  will get  out of  this alive,"  said Cydric, 
 raising the skeleton sword. 
     "You may be right this time," Corambis said tightly. 
     The  skeletons   drew  nearer.  Cydric  braced   himself  for  the
 onslaught. If  he was  to die, then  let it be  in battle.  His mentor
 would have been proud. 
     Suddenly,  a small  winged shape  swooped out  of the  sky. "Look!
 It's the Tozu!" Corambis pointed.
     "Jump!" screeched the owl-man.
     "Did he say 'jump' ?" asked Cydric. 
     "By the gods! Jump now!" 
     "Do it," Corambis said, turning to the edge of the mountain.
     "Are you serious?" 
     "Have  faith,  Cydric. Or  face  the  alternative." The  skeletons
 were mere seconds away. 
     "But--" Cydric  never finished  the sentence. Corambis  pushed him
 over the edge, then leaped after him. 
     "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!"   Cydric's   scream  echoed   through   the
 heavens as  he tumbled through  empty air  toward the beach  below. He
 shut his  eyes against the sky  and ground that spun  and whirled into
 a featureless blur.

     He was still screaming when Corambis landed by him on the beach. 
     "Cydric! Stop  that! We are safe,"  said the Sage, shaking  him by 
 the  shoulders. The  screaming  continued. Corambis  gave him  another
 hearty shake, then slapped him resoundingly across the face. 
     "Cydric! Listen to me!"
     The young man's  outcries subsided to ragged gasps.  A few moments 
 later he sat up. 
     "W-we're not dead?" 
     "We are very much alive, as you can see. Are you all right?"
     "How?" 
     "It was  my doing," said  the Tozu, coming  to a hover  nearby. "I
 am not without powers of my own. Now hurry! They are right behind." 
     Cydric  looked  up. The  skeletons  had  jumped off  the  mountain
 after them  and were free-falling  toward their position.  "Won't they
 be killed when they hit the ground?" 
     "The undead cannot  be killed, only destroyed,"  the Tozu replied. 
 "I'd suggest you not be here when they arrive."
     "But where do we go? How do we get back to our own realm?"
     "Leave that  to me. For  now, just get  as far away  as possible!"
 With that, the Tozu flapped his wings and took off.
     Cydric and Corambis  started off down the beach.  Behind them, the
 floating mountain slowly  disintegrated. Great slabs of  rock slid off
 and splashed into the water below. 
     The first crystal  skeleton off the mountain  smashed heavily into 
 the ground,  breaking all of  its bones. The skull,  however, remained 
 intact; it rose up  from the pile of bones and flew  off in pursuit of
 the two men.
     Cydric looked back  and saw the grisly cranium  give chase. Behind
 it,  three  more  skeletons  struck the  beach  and  shattered;  their
 skulls quickly arose and joined the pursuit.
     Corambis  stumbled  and  fell.  Cydric   help  him  up,  and  they
 continued their  desperate flight. Several moments  later, Cydric felt 
 a pain near  his neck. He turned  and saw the first  skull sinking its 
 crystal jaws  into his shoulder.  He cried  out, then whipped  off his 
 cloak, throwing the  skull to the ground. "Keep going!"  he shouted to
 the  Sage. He  drew his  sundagger and  lunged for  the skull,  but it 
 flew up  and hovered just out  of striking range. Cydric  jabbed at it
 repeatedly, but  each time it darted  out of reach. Realizing  that it
 was too quick,  Cydric snatched up his  cloak and flung it  like a net 
 at  the skull.  The cloth  caught the  fleshless head;  Cydric fancied
 that it  looked like a small  blue ghost as it  darted randomly about. 
 Catching sight  of more approaching  skulls, he retrieved  his dropped 
 sundagger and took off at a run after the Sage.
     "I  can't go  much  longer," wheezed  Corambis  as Cydric  reached 
 him. "I'm far too old for this sort of thing."
     "Where is  that damn  Tozu-bird?" Cydric  cursed. He  glanced back 
 and  counted at  least  eight rapidly-gaining  skulls.  He turned  his 
 attention  forward and  felt  his  blood run  cold;  a short  distance 
 away,  the  line  of  barren  rocks that  bordered  the  beach  angled 
 sharply into the sea. They were out of running room. 
     Despair washed  over Cydric as  they came to  a halt at  the rocky 
 barrier. "Blaze damn," he muttered darkly.
     Just then  he heard a familiar  flap of wings. The  Tozu descended 
 out of  the sky, clutching the  Amulet of Hanarn in  its talons. There 
 was a  blaze of  rainbow light as  the Celestial  Archway materialized 
 at the foot of the rock wall. "Enter! Quickly!" the Tozu screeched. 
     Corambis  leaped  through the  portal.  Cydric  paused and  looked
 back just in time  to see a massive bolt of  lightning lance down from
 the sky and  strike the Citadel. There was a  fiery explosion, and the 
 huge mountain of  rock began to fall toward the  water. Seconds before
 the skulls reached him, Cydric turned and dived through the Archway. 

                               XIV. Return 
     He landed in  the Sage's study. For several minutes  he lay there,
 panting and  exhausted. After  a little of  his strength  returned, he
 got up and found the Sage lying on the floor nearby. 
     "Milord Corambis! Are you all right?" 
     The Sage  wearily sat up.  "I'm fine,  Cydric. I simply  found the
 floor rather comfortable at the moment."
     "I shall get you some water," Cydric said. He started to rise.
     The study  door flew open.  A red-haired  girl dressed in  a black
 tunic and leggings  came through, saw them, and whipped  out a pair of 
 throwing daggers. "Don't move, if you wish to live," she warned. 
     Cydric recognized her. "Holleena! What are you doing here?" 
     "Quiet!"  Not taking  her  eyes  off them,  she  called over  here
 shoulder, "Thuna! In here." 
     A  nervous-looking dark-haired  girl came  in, holding  a coil  of 
 rope. "Tie them up," Holleena commanded. 
     "But Holleena, I don't think they--" 
     "Do it!"
     As Thuna started  toward them, Corambis whispered,  "It seems that 
 we have slipped from the dragon's teeth into the stomach!" 
     Cydric grimly agreed. 

                                 Epilogue
     After Thuna had bound them, Holleena relaxed her stance.
     "Who are you? Why have you invaded my house?" the Sage demanded.
     "Watch it,  old man, or  I'll do  something very painful  to you,"
 Holleena said, putting away one of the daggers. 
     "You  promised  you  wouldn't  harm him,"  said  Thuna,  nervously 
 glancing at Corambis. 
     "You're getting  on my nerves,  girlie. Now  shut up and  keep out
 of this!" Holleena  shot back. She turned to Corambis.  "Now then, old
 man,  I understand  you own  a very  valuable jewel.  Mind letting  me
 know where it is?"
     "What  is  this,  Holleena?  You didn't  seem  like  the  thieving 
 kind," said Cydric. 
     Holleena smiled, then delivered a slap across Cydric's face.
     "I seem to be getting a lot of that lately," he murmured. 
     The red-haired young  woman eyed her dagger,  then looked straight 
 at Corambis. "The Rainbow Stone, old man. Tell me where it is." 
     "I have many stones and jewels. Take whatever you want and leave!"
     "You know  what I'm talking about,  old man. If you  really are as 
 wise as they say, you'll tell me where you've hidden it."
     "I have no idea what you mean," the Sage replied.
     "Very  well." Holleena  walked about  casually, then  seized Thuna
 by  the hair  and placed  the dagger  to her  throat. "Does  this help
 your memory?"
     "Please, Holleena," Thuna gasped. "I-I thought we were partners." 
     The  Sage went  white.  "All right,"  he said,  a  tremble in  his 
 voice. "But please, don't hurt her." 
     "I knew  you were  wise," Holleena said,  smiling a  sweet, wicked
 smile. Just then  Cydric heard a mechanical  click, followed instantly
 by  a soft  *thunk*.  Holleena gave  a  cry of  pain  and dropped  her 
 dagger. As  she whirled away  from Thuna,  Cydric saw a  crossbow bolt 
 sticking out of the back of her shoulder. 
     "Well,  m'love, appears  we made  it here  just in  time," came  a 
 male voice from  the doorway. Thuna backed away, and  Cydric saw a man 
 and  a woman  standing just  inside the  room. The  woman lowered  her
 crossbow.  "Hello,  Cydric, "  she  said,  smiling. "Looks  like  I've
 saved your life yet again." 

     After the  woman had freed  Cydric and Corambis from  their bonds,
 the  Sage removed  the bolt  from  Holleena's shoulder  and applied  a
 healing  salve. The  crossbow woman's  companion then  took the  young
 red-haired thief upstairs to lock her in one of the rooms. 
     "This is  the woman I was  telling you about in  the marketplace,"
 Cydric told Corambis as they took seats around the Sage's table.
     "You don't know  how glad I am to finally  make your acquaintance, 
 Miss Kittara," said Corambis.
     Kittara smiled. "Thank you, milord. I'm glad we could help."
     Just  then the  man who  was with  Kittara strode  into the  room. 
 "The girl's doing fine.  We should be able to question  her in a bit." 
 To Kittara he said, "You sure are a dead shot, love. Almost too good."
     She introduced the leather-clad man as her partner, Reyakeen Sylk.
     "Good to  know you, sirs," Sylk  said as he gripped  forearms with 
 the two men. "Sorry to trouble you this late."
     "That's quite  all right,"  replied Corambis.  "But tell  me, Lord 
 Sylk,  how did  you happen  to be  in  this part  of town?  I do  live 
 rather removed from the center of Dargon's activity."
     "Just   call  me   Sylk.  Actually,   milord,  it   was  no   mere 
 coincidence. Kittara  and I had  been following Holleena and  the girl
 over there for the last few days." 
     Thuna, who had  been sitting apart from the rest  of them, blurted 
 out, "You  must believe me, milord!  I didn't want anything  to happen
 to you.  She promised  she wouldn't  hurt you, and  she offered  me so
 much money, I just--just--" she burst into tears.
     "There,  there, my  girl,"  Corambis said  soothingly, going  over
 and letting her  cry on his shoulder. "What is  she talking about?" he
 asked Sylk.
     Kittara  replied, "You  see,  milord, Holleena  is a  professional 
 thief. Like  she said, she was  after your Rainbow Stone.  Since Thuna 
 is in  your employ, Holleena bribed  her into helping break  into your 
 house. They had  made a copy of  your house key, and  were planning to
 carry  out  the theft  last  night,  but  Cydric's arrival  made  them
 change their plans  slightly." She brought out a small  pewter key and 
 handed it to the Sage. 
     "I'm so sorry," wept Thuna. "Please forgive me." 
     "Don't  worry  about  it,  my  dear,"  Corambis  said  gently.  He
 motioned to Cydric.  The young man came over, and  the Sage passed the
 weeping girl into his arms. "Take her to one of the guest rooms."
     "Uh,  there   there,  Thuna,   please  don't  cry,"   Cydric  said
 awkwardly as he led her from the kitchen. 
     "I'm  sorry, I  can't help  it," Thuna  said in  a teary  voice as
 they  entered  one of  the  ground-floor  guest  rooms of  the  house. 
 Cydric sat her down on the bed, then turned to leave.
     "Please don't go."
     Cydric felt his stomach knot up. "Uh, yes?" 
     "I'm very sorry  if I've embarrassed you. I want  to explain about 
 what happened in the booth." 
     "Oh, that. Really, there is no need. I understand. Now I--" 
     "You don't  understand. Please let  me explain." She  motioned him 
 to sit next to her. Cydric hesitated, then sat down a chair.
     "You have someone else in your life, don't you?" Thuna asked. 
     "Is it that obvious?"
     "It was  when I  first kissed you.  You held back  as long  as you
 could. I'm  sorry that  I had  to do that  to you,  but I  thought you 
 were just like the rest." 
     "What do you mean?"
     "Well, you  see, Holleena wanted me  to help her steal  that jewel
 they were talking  about. At first I refused, but  then she offered me 
 more  gold  that  I had  ever  seen  in  my  life, and  I...I..."  She 
 swallowed, then  continued. "We  were planning to  steal it  the night 
 that you  arrived in Dargon. I  was surprised when you  asked me about 
 Master Corambis,  but Holleena told  me she  would first find  out why
 you  wanted to  see  him.  I suppose  you  didn't  tell her  anything,
 because the next  day she came to  the Tavern and asked me  to try and 
 find out. 
     She  took a  deep breath,  then  rose and  moved to  stand by  the
 window. Staring out  at the moon, she said, "Men  would just spill all 
 their  closest  secrets to  me  when  I  revealed  myself to  them.  I
 thought it  would work  on you  as well, but  you were  different. I'm
 sorry  if I've  made you  feel unfaithful  to your  girl, and  I don't
 blame you if you're  angry with me, but I just wanted  you to know the
 truth." She sighed and turned to face him. "Can you truly forgive me?" 
     "Of  course,  Thuna.  Thank  you for  being  honest."  He  cringed 
 inwardly, thinking  of how close  he had  come to falling  for Thuna's 
 persuasion, just like the rest of her men.
     "I just hope  Master Corambis can forgive me as  well. How could I
 do such a  thing to him, after  all he's done for me?  I don't deserve 
 to live here anymore." Thuna flung herself facedown on the bed. 
     "He will  understand. I know  he will." Cydric  tentatively patted
 her shoulder, then quietly left the room. 

     He returned  to the kitchen and  found the Sage alone.  "Where did
 they go?" he asked. 
     "Kittara and  her friend went  up to  check on Holleena.  The poor 
 girl can't  be moved just  now, so all three  of them will  be staying
 here for the night."
     "Thuna as well?" 
     "Of course. It's too late to take her to the Tavern in any case."
     "Do you still trust her?" 
     "I still have hope for her."
     Cydric looked out  the kitchen window at the full  moon that shone 
 brightly down  upon the city. His  brow furrowed as he  turned to look
 at the kitchen water-clock.
     "How long would you say we were in the other realm?" Cydric asked. 
     The Sage  poured two glasses  of wine.  "Well, it took  us perhaps
 an  hour  to get  to  the  barrier, and  we  spent  another half  hour 
 exploring the Citadel. But I can't tell how long we were unconscious." 
     "According to the clock, we were gone at most ten minutes."
     "Most amazing! Apparently,  time passes at different  rates in the 
 other realms.  That must be  why Nephros did  not appear to  have aged
 very much, though he was certainly over a thousand summers old."
     Cydric took  the glass from  Corambis. "Did Kittara and  that Sylk 
 character tell you why they were following Holleena and Thuna?"
     "They said they  were on some sort of mission  for Duke Jastrik of 
 Arvalia,  as  his 'special  representatives'.  They  even had  a  gold 
 Authority Seal."
     "Did they say what their mission was?" 
     "It must  be rather important,  for they would not  elaborate when 
 I asked  them. Sylk even  asked that we  not mention their  visit here
 to anyone."
     Cydric drained the  last of the wine from his  glass, then yawned. 
 "I think I will go to bed now. It certainly was an eventful day." 
     "How right you are, Cydric. Rest well." 

     In  the morning,  Cydric went  down and  found the  table set  for 
 breakfast.  He  took  a  slice  of bread  and  cheese  and  sat  down, 
 wondering why  no one else was  at the table. A  moment later, Kittara
 came through the door. "Good morn, Cydric," she said, smiling. 
     Cydric  returned the  greeting.  The  chestnut-haired woman  piled 
 some bread, fruit, and cheese onto a plate, then started to leave.
     "Aren't you eating here?" Cydric asked. 
     "This is  for Holleena.  We're keeping  her up  in the  room until 
 we're ready  to leave."  She put  a piece  of bread  in her  mouth and
 left. Several minutes later, Corambis entered alone.
     "Where is Sylk and Thuna?" asked Cydric. 
     "Sylk went outside for a while. Thuna will be up shortly." 
     As the  Sage helped himself  to breakfast, Cydric said,  "There is 
 one thing that I haven't been able to figure out."
     "What would that be?"
     "The vision  that Nephros  sent me.  He said it  was made  from my 
 dreams and desires, but I am still not sure what it means."
     "Well, Cydric,  I think you  know enough  to be able  to interpret
 it. For instance, what do you think the golden sea represented?"
     "I don't know; the sun, perhaps? Gold pieces?" 
     "Gold pieces,  most likely. And  why do  you think the  water lost 
 its color when you went to drink it?"
     "You are not suggesting...that my breath has an odor?"
     Corambis laughed.  "No, no. Bearing  in mind  what you told  me in 
 the  tavern, here  is  how  I would  interpret  your  vision: The  sea 
 represents  your father's  position  as Royal  Treasurer, which  deals
 with money,  gold especially.  It turned colorless  when you  tried to
 drink it, reflecting the  fact that you did not wish  to follow him in 
 his profession. And  the shining object on the horizon  stood for your
 desire to leave home and have adventures." 
     "Yes, it all makes sense. And all of it is indeed true." 

     After  Sylk and  Kittara had  left with  Holleena, Corambis  said,
 "Well, Cydric, I must be packing, as well." 
     "Packing for what? You aren't leaving, are you?"
     "I am indeed,  Cydric. This whole experience has made  me aware of
 just how  fragile our lives  are. We could  have died many  times back 
 there in  the Citadel;  it is only  by the grace  of Cahleyna  that we
 escaped  and  lived  to  tell  about it.  Therefore,  I  am  going  to
 Shireton to visit my daughter. I haven't seen her in five summers."
     "Your daughter? I didn't even know you were married."
     "My wife passed away some time ago." 
     "Oh, I see. I am sorry."
     "Thank you,  Cydric. But perhaps you  would like to come  with me,
 eh? Trissa and her husband would be very glad to meet you."
     "I appreciate the offer,  but I think I will stay  in Dargon for a
 while longer. There is much I have yet to see." 
     "Of course.  Well, you  may stay in  my house for  as long  as you
 are in Dargon. Let me show you around first."
     "You are too kind, milord. How long will you be gone?"
     "For the winter, maybe longer. It depends on how Trissa is doing."
     "I shall take care of you house until your return, then."
     "Fine. I am sure you will like living here." 
     "There is  one thing, though:  could you tell  me how to  get into
 the laboratory?"
     Corambis grinned. "I was wondering when you would bring that up!" 
     They  left  the room,  Cydric  listening  intently to  the  Sage's
 arcane words. 
                     -Carlo N. Samson  <U09862@UICVM> 

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                     -Carlo N. Samson  <U09862@UICVM>