Once upon a time there was a peasant couple, Robert and Louise, who lived peacefully in a rural village in a dale near a winding river. To them a son was born, who was given the name Robert also, after his father. The young lad was kidnapped as a youth, by a band of marauding mercenary nomads, who came from the desert lands far to the south.

The boy was taken and raised by the wandering tribes, and was taught to pillage and burn, and his skill with the axe and the crossbow was unmatched. By the time he was ten, he had mustered together his own followers and went off far to the south to the cold mountains, where he established his fiefdom, and became the mightiest conqueror of those lands than any before or since.

As his twenty-ninth year drew nigh, he set in his mind that he would conquer all lands that he possibly could, even those lands that lay across the southern ocean, belonging to the kings of Hogan. His armored fleets crossed the treacherous ocean by the thousands, and landing upon the shores of those lands, they were met by fierce opposition from the Hogans.

The battle of Hogan, which is still remembered in the old songs and tales of great warriors, was a messy bloodbath. Casualties rose to the millions. Finally King Robert rode on horseback to the rear of the enemy lines, in search of their finest soldier, perhaps their king. He met the Great Shadow Warrior, the leader of the Hogans and an unparalleled champion of skill in swords.

The two great foes fought for weeks, each pursuiung the other in turn, each dealing deadly blows and the other nimbly dodging, crossing the lands of Hogan, fiercely and savagely deuling, long past the end of the battle of Hogan. The troops of King Robert were defeated, but in the end King Robert was victorious in defeating the evil lord of darkness.

King Robert rode across the countryside of the land of Hogan, gathering the scattered remnants of his followers, who survived the slaughter of the beachead of the northern shores of Hogan. So they formed a band quietly in the night and plotted a return to his home lands across the wide sea to the north. All this while they lived as vagabonds, robbing and pillaging and then stealing away into the darkness each night, never to be caught by eye or hand of men./p>

When the time grew to fulfillment, King Robert and his four hundred subjects plundered one last town, the small port town Rorriel which would in later days become the great city Rorreandir. They secured a ship by force, swiftly and suddenly, and King Robert and two of his guards led a team to plunder the market for food for the return journey. In the confusion of the battle between the city's guards and King Robert's men, a young peasant girl Pati was able to pick the king's pocket.

Robert's two faithful guards captured the girl, cast her in bonds into the hold of the ship, and in under an hour, King Robert was returning to his homelands, after two years since his men had landed at Hogan. Turning to the girl, he was ready to execute cruel justice which a lowly pickpocket deserves, when he commanded to girl to face him rather than turn her back, and at that moment her stunning beauty captivated him, and in silence he considered that he could not work his justice on so beautiful a captive.

Quickly apologizing, he released her from her bonds,

and at this point, the story doesnt seem to come together because what in the world would cause the peasant girl to love the king? Why would she end up as Queen Pati? This story is set up all wrong. i mean he plundered her freakin country, and she's being led away like some kind of slave.. and i haven't painted King Robert as that charming of a guy, i mean he rose to power by killing militarily.. maybe i'm missing something. Yeah, that's it, there would have to be some extenuating circumstances involved.

The mill was a lovely place for the little girl to live. It was built comfortably against a great knoll, down from which flowed the most beautiful and friendly waterfall in all the land. Pati played with the animals of the forests and talked often to the waterfall, which of course, talked back. She soon became familiar with all the languages of the forest, speaking in the tongues of birds, beasts, and water. Pati and the miller lived together for 17 years, until she was quite grown up and had blossomed into the fullness of her beauty. The miller was kind to her, and they loved each other very much.

yeah that's it.. screw the love story, i'm not as infinitely talented as to be able to write that kind of nonsensical twist into a story. King Robert will stick with his forte, wars and the heroic deeds, until i come up with a super brilliant idea.

But what King Robert did not know was that Pati was actually his long lost sister from whom he was separated at birth. He was just a young boy of 5 when she was stolen away from their family by the evil Gregarians, who were infamous for stealing infants from their cribs by night and taking them for their own children, since only 1 out of every 100 Gregarian women are able to bear children.

However, the Gregarians were also known for their horrible ugliness, and upon looking closer at the child, they discovered her unsurpassing beauty and were disgusted. So they discarded her, leaving her by the wooded path, with no more shelter than a little puckerberry bush.

She laid there wrapped tightly in a blanket for 3 days, surviving on the occasional puckerberry that would fall from the bush into her little baby mouth. She would have surely died there, but by the grace of God, a lonely old stone miller was taking his daily walk through the Bickerish Woods and discovered her there, laughing at a little beetle which had gotten itself turned over on its shell and could not right itself. He took pity on her and took her back to live with him in the stone mill, naming her Pati.

The mill was a lovely place for the little girl to live. It was built comfortably against a great knoll, down from which flowed the most beautiful and friendly waterfall in all the land. Pati played with the animals of the forests and talked often to the waterfall, which of course, talked back. She soon became familiar with all the languages of the forest, speaking in the tongues of birds, beasts, and water. Pati and the miller lived together for 17 years, until she was quite grown up and had blossomed into the fullness of her beauty. The miller was kind to her, and they loved each other very much.

All was well with them until one fateful day when some officials of the land came crashing through the Bickerish Woods, plotting out the master plan to a great city that was soon to be built. Pati was out gathering materials to weave a basket when she spotted the officials discussing the plans. They had not seen her, so she quickly climbed a tree so as to be out of sight but not out of earshot. When she learned what they were planning, she was quite heartbroken and enraged at the idea of sacrificing the sweet Bickerish Woods for a noisy arrogant city. The officials were walking toward her tree, and in an attempt to stay hidden, her foot slipped, and down she tumbled, right in the path of the two officials. While the officials were reasonably startled, they also immediately noticed how beautiful Pati was and took great interest in her. Pati quickly got to her feet and ran for the stone mill with the officials in close pursuit behind her. But among Pati's many talents was her swiftness. She was very light on her feet.

The miller saw them coming a bit far off and, being a quick and sharp old man, prepared immediately to fight and defend his dear Pati. Pati tore into the mill and took momentary comfort in a nearby corner of the room, but was soon watching in horror the scene unfolding before her.

Now the miller was a skilled swordsman. (It was even suspected by Pati that he was once a great warrior in the Quillaring Wars of old, but he never admitted to it.) But he was growing old (as old men do), and he was certainly outnumbered. Hence the battle ended quite horribly.

Pati could not believe her eyes! The only family she had ever known now lay in a lifeless heap at her feet. She felt enormous despair, but was not unaware of the victorious officials who were now advancing toward her. Her heart screamed out in rage, and being an expert in fencing herself, retrieved the sword from the miller's hand, and through a torrent of tears, quickly and easily ran them both through.

Having nothing else left to do, Pati kissed the miller and showered him with her tears, then reluctantly made her way to town in hopes of finding someone who might help her. When she got there, a festival was going on, and almost the entire population was in the town square. The square was madness. People everywhere were crowded into this space of feasting and ridiculous merry-making. Hoping to make herself heard, Pati began to wander through the crowd, shouting out her story to anyone who would listen. The people of the town soon dismissed her as mad and turned her over to the town officials.

She went before the Grand Courts, but no one believed her story. The Grand Official of this tiny town considered burning her as a witch, but then discovered her to be far too beautiful to put to death. So he silenced the matter and kept her for his own purposes.

Now it seemed that Pati was doomed to become the forced mistress of the most dispiccable Grand Official of the most dispiccable town in the land. But Pati was a woman of strong will and crafty mind. So when the Grand Official retreated to his bed chambers that night, Pati was there waiting for him, but with a dagger hidden in the sheets. As soon as the Grand Official tried to kiss her, she stabbed him in the heart, then escaped into the night.

For the next six years, Pati wandered from villages to cities, living as a fugitive and dodging the dreaded officials wherever she went, all the while mourning the death of the stone miller. She eventually became an expert thief as well, making a living by pickpocketing.

Throughout her travels, she eventually made her way to the seaside town of Rorriel, where an unlucky choice of victim got her captured by two vicious guards and imprisoned on a ship.

Now after all that she had been through, Pati was not afraid, but she could not bear the thought of being killed or defiled by this dreadful king. But then something unexpected happened. The now flustered king released her from her bonds! Intrigued by this sudden compassion (though it may not have had the purest of motives), the king did not seem so dreadful after all. In fact, there was something in his eyes that reminded her of the stone miller. It now became clear that he was merely weary from the day's activities.

Regaining his composure, King Robert asked Pati to join him for dinner. Being famished herself, and seeming to not have another choice, Pati consented. The meal was characterized by the most awkward of silence for the first course. Unable to bear it any longer, King Robert made a desperate attempt at conversation by asking Pati where she came from. Becoming very sad, she told him the tale of the miller's death and her lifestyle hence. Robert was distressed by all this, but, intrigued by the story, he wanted to know more about her. So he asked her where she had come from before that. Again sadly, she told him all she knew, which was only what the miller had told her of his finding her. At this, the king's eyes grew very large, as it is well known that Gregarian thieves often leave rejected stolen infants by the road to die. But unable to fathom that this could be his sister, he dismissed it.

They finished the meal by Robert telling Pati of his adventures. Then, both of them being very tired, they retired to their respective chambers. But King Robert did not sleep. His mind was haunted by faint memories of his baby sister... how all the townspeople had praised her beauty even as a infant. He could not help but compare it to Pati's stunning countenance. But being as stubborn as kings often are, he dismissed it again, giving his poor sister up for dead.

But still unable to sleep, he left his chambers to walk the lonely decks of the ship. To his surprise, when he reached the deck, there was Pati, gazing up into the starlit sky and singing a lilting melody. The song was a simple one, but her voice floated about in such away that it was almost celestial. The more he listened, transfixed by the tune, the more he became convinced that he had heard this haunting melody before. When suddenly, it hit him.

Quickly advancing (and admittedly startling poor Pati), he blurted out, "Where did you learn that song?"

Pati sighed a melancholy sigh. "I don't know," she said, "I've known it as long as I can remember... The miller even used to swear that I was humming it when he found be under that puckerberry bush..."

At this, Robert could contain himself no longer: "Of course! That is the lullaby that my mother used to sing to me... to us! Pati, you are my long lost sister that was stolen by the Gregarians as an infant!"

There was a moment of disbelieving silence, but then both brother and sister broke into a flood of joyous tears as they realized the truth of it and embraced each other for the first time in almost 23 years.

As Pati and King Robert sailed for home, their ship was overrun by a band of zealous riot pirates, whose life's purpose and sole aim was to scourge the high seas and deliver packages worldwide for a small reasonable fee. Upon capturing the captain (and this was possible due to the pirates' sheer numbers), they looted their hold and held the entire crew at gunpoint.

The pirates took no prisoners, except King Robert and Pati, who were kept in chains in the galley of the lead of the pirate fleet. There they were starved for 3 weeks, and at the end they were let out into the sunlight, still bound. In the hot southern sun, they were stood to face the Pirate Captain.

King Robert had secretly loosed his bonds, and was ready to make an instant escape--when the time was right.

Then he recognized two figures emerging from the captain's quarters. Recognizing the taller of them, he called out in rage, "Captin John Bohall! My first mate and right hand! This is how ye treat an old comrade?" Bohall strode up to Robert's face and glowered in return, "As you taught me: kill mercilessly and always get the job done," with a sneer on his face.

Robert eyed his old mate warily; "what is your job this time? certainly not plundering and delivering the jewels of the Queen of Outer Noth to some rouge band of merchants?"

At this Bohall let out a hearty laugh, "Certainly you wouldn't suggest something so unworthy of a riot pirate! We are going to collect the four-hundred-fifty Gold Ruble bounty for bringing you in DEAD!

A bright flash that nearly blinded Robert and Pati lashed out from behind Captain Bohall! The captain whirled around in shock -- and his head was promptly removed from his neck by that shining blade. Squinting and averting his eyes was the only way King Robert was able to look upon the brilliant figure with the sword brighter than the sun.. the figure was the likeness of the small cabin boy who had been bringing him his scant serving of stale bread-crust every day.

The figure maintained a casual swordfighting stance, glancing about here and there at the fleeing pirates, then sheathed the terrible blade, and in a voice that rent the skies and made the ocean depths tremble, he spoke an unrecognizable word, and as King Robert looked on in wonderment, the small boy lost his brilliance, and faded from sight even as Robert tried to fix his eyes upon him.

The angry skies flashed, and the tropic oceans broke out in a hurricane-scale storm. As soon as King Robert had quickly freed Pati, the two of them found themselves trapped on the ship, which they saw was in the grips of a collossal sea monster with numerous writhing appendages, each splintering the ship and pulling it down with it into the sea.

And so Pati and King Robert were dragged into the dark reaches of the Shamrock Sea, a wide and vast and terrible sea merely on the surface, but increasingly serene and peaceful down in the dark depths.

As in a dream, they descended, for neither of them could imagine that they could hold their breath for the duration of the fall, and yet as they hit the bottom, they were thoroughly conscious of their own ability to walk around and breathe, even under the waters of these depths.

Seeing that the immense sea beast had gone, Pati and the King searched the ship until they found each other, for they had become separated in the sinking. They came across the bodies of numerous pirates, who were entirely unable to survive the depths. At this gift they were thankful, and they agreed that it was likely the small cabin boy, who was more than he seemed, who had granted them life under the sea.

King Robert suggested that perhaps they should clear away from the fragile ship, should it become unsafe. Then each of them tried, repeatedly to swim to the surface, but the distance was far too great, and they always ended up back on the bottom.

Robert then suggested that he and Pati should make for the coast, to the north.

They journeyed until the sun above the sea was setting, and then they found a sea cave, in which they could pick out distant noises. The noises wrought fear in King Robert's marrow, he could not venture further, but to Pati the noises were as lovely and melodic as the singing of the birds. Pati entered the cave, finding a staircase. Enchanted, she climbed down, all the while searching for the source of the lovely, cheery melody.

Robert was overcome with a maddening, inexplicable terror! The haunting noises pervaded and soon controlled his mind, paralyzing him and turning his courageous heart to jelly! But inside the cave, down the stairs Pati still searched. Descending into the mists, she came upon an arched doorway, fair to the eye, golden and artfully decorated with depictions of a happier day not long past..

Pati could hear a fair voice inside, but the words of the tune she could not make out.

Just then the grip of fear was gone from King Robert, and he rose to his feet quickly.

Pati gave the door a push, and it slid open..

Robert grabbed his sword, which he had cast aside in terror, and charged into the cave

She was snatched inside by a massive claw, and the door slammed shut with a deafening echo..

He arrived 2 seconds too late.

He got the crap beat out of him by this huge undersea dog-demon from hades! The thing just came right up and snapped his right arm off, and then it swallowed it, and just as the hound was about to take another bite, BAM!!! King Robert konked the fiend upside the head, which bought him enough time to make a quick break for it!

But that was when the dog grew another head and both the heads bit off his left leg! Then now he's in SO MUCH PAIN and he clenches his remaining fist in a seething rage, and he beats the dog down! THAT KING GETS UP AND KILLS THAT HELL-HOUND WITH HIS BARE HAND!!! The fallen beast whimpers its last as the enraged king picks up his sword and slays it. Really hard.

King Robert pants for a while, regaining control and composure of mind, and coughs 2 or 3 times, and falls asleep.. unaware of the silent approach of what appeared to be a school of small, silver Songfish. His lids become heavy and his own thoughts indistinct as he slips into a numb state, and the fish surround him in a dance that can only be described as dazzling.. The last semi-remarkable thought he has is "um hm? what fish? those fi-i-ish.. mgg, sleeepyyy..." and then DARKNESS..

meanwhile..

Pati had been snatched through the open door by a massive claw, and behind her the door slammed shut with a deafening echo..

The claw crushed the living breath from Pati, and her rasping attempts at gathering oxygen only prolonged the agony. The despicable beast that held her was a twelve ton Mammoth Troll, whose kind appeared only in sailors' worst dreams during the stormy nights in the hot southern seas. The animal was built something like a sloth, but had the upper body strength and agility of King Robert's finest hares! And also of great tigers, and panthers, and other things that evoke images of great upper body strength! And at that moment, it had the raw fury of a Mother Boar who is protecting her young! Except it was just naturally this way all the time, which is kind of ridiculous, but it still really is true.

But let's not forget that the Troll is crushing Pati! Its two monstrous paws were full of malice toward the kind that walked on boats on the sea, which it clearly was unable to do, and according to the science of the time, the heavier you were, the less likely you were to float. This unfortunately was the case of the Troll, and he saw his situation as a repugnant curse, and it left him bitter throughout its immortal lifespan. With one last powerful stroke of fiery anger, it squeezed even harder! And Pati cried out her last breath for a while, and was suffocated!

From the north, a terrible voice rang out below the sea! The Troll's beady eyes squinted then widened, and its pelt went all prickly, and it dropped the girl in haste. For the Troll knew that the voice did not bode well for any immortal beast of the sea, for the voice brought misery, suffering, loneliness and death! Angered that it had to leave behind and not further harm the effigy of all his hatred, the Troll dug with its powerful forearms beneath the surface of the bottom of the deep, and like a mighty hedgehog had buried himself under the ancient silt within seven seconds time, and before the next seven seconds, he was on his way through earth and stone toward some safe haven for Trolls, which none of the wise yet know of, yet there are even some who still dare to sink to the depths of the sea, in search of the answers to the dark riddles. These adventurers use the acquired and learned skill of tens of thousands of generations of practiced specialized technicians, who know the ways of the world and know the means of manipulating any aspect of it. Twelve of these technicians still practice their arts in the days of King Robert, in the age of redispersement after the fall of the Paradoque Empire. Their numbers had dwindled in these days such that only a handful were ever able to escape the terrible tyranny of Emeror Thydioditus III. His seemingly unstoppable forces were no match for the skill of the dozen, though, and although they were forced to live lives in hiding, they devised secret means using their knowledge of the world, to bring down the entire terrible dynasty. In doing so, they had brought down all of civilization, and were made exile and enemy of evey man.

The voice continued its bellowing until it was sure the Troll had gone. Then with caution, the man behind the voice made his way through the corridors of the deep hall, to the site of Pati's suffocation. The man cautiously approached the girl, and seeing her condition he reached into his bag for a splint for her arm, and also brought forth a small, silver dial. He held the dial to the girl and listened silently for secret signs that would tell him of Pati's condition.. after twenty long seconds he grinned with pleasure, and let out a loud 'ha!' because he knew the girl would be alright.

Casting glances roundabout him at the dark walls, the man lifted the silver dial above the girl three feet or so, then stepped back.. The dial radiated a pale ambient light about the room, and the water around it started to boil. Once or twice it flashed red, but mostly it stayed white, and then it stopped boiling the water. As the man supervised, the dial calmed, and seemed to subtley shift its form.. with the dartlike agility of a fish, it swam to its master's hands. Then the man put it in a canister strapped to his belt.

Pati blinked her eyes open, and sat up startled, obviously still thinking of the Troll; but upon finding no troll and instead finding a strange white-haired young man in his fifties, she allowed her face to betray her puzzled mind, and asked haltingly, "what.. happened?" Now the man laughed, and Pati did not see what was at all funny. She was a bit disoriented, having just sunk to the bottom of the sea, mindlessly followed an entrancing melody, and woken from certain death by suffocation by Troll. The man rolled his eyes, thinking perhaps of a joke that once he'd heard, and just chuckled. Then in a most annoying way, he walked off kind of fast, and Pati could not make out where he went.

So Pati stood dumbfounded..

as on the other side of the golden door, so did King Robert. on both feet.

And King Robert gathered his senses, and took in his new-healed body, and in astonishment he flexed the fingers on his perfect hand, and wriggled the toes on his perfect leg. He took a jump, just as if to be sure, that it was all not some hallucinogenic dream, or some figment of his overworked imagination. He tapped the ground two or three more times, then made different motions with his hand, as if to make sure it was still there. Puzzled, he again grabbed his sword, and then.. he stopped and looked at his hand again, just to look.

If anything could bring a King to tears, it would be the sudden realization that he is alive from the dead once again. At this point the full realization came over him, that he was restored and whole, and that he had been mortally wounded.. astonishment, fear, gratefulness, and astonishment again came in cycles, billowing, overcoming. A full minute passed before the fog lifted, and he was able to get past the fact that he was again alive. He girded up his belt and hoisted his great sword, and gave the golden door with engravings a little push. Encountering much resistance, he sheathed his sword to the holster on his back, wedged his feet against some rocks, and launched a mighty effort against the door, though to no avail.

King Robert quickly determined that the heavy stone door was latched or otherwise stuck shut. Thinking quickly, he opened his pouch of little trinkets, and rummaged through it, turning over brass buttons and small bags of seed and safety pins, until he finally found the desired object. A crazy old white-haired man from the deep south part of Gregaria near the jungle had tossed it his way; a golden oblong crystal, which seemed to gaze into the soul under its own power. The man had told the king to keep it with him, and that it would serve him well in time of trial. The old man was about to explain the use of the gold crystal, but over the southern hills swung a vast swinging band of monkey-maulers, ferocious apes fifty-score times the strength of mortal men, and with ravaging terrible eyes that pierced stone and dark forest to discover what lurked there, including you, if you were there.

The old man had stumbled down an ancient mine shaft, and King Robert was able to follow him to an extent, but only so far, but far enough that the monkey-maulers did not notice his presence because he kept quiet deep in the soft earth. King Robert now held that trinket that the old man gave him, and fingered it in his palm, and wondered if it was somehow magical, and could it open the door somehow, maybe if he chanted a spell or something, so he tried to think of things the old man had mumbled, but those only turned out to be old songs of Bysmyria, a boring old culture with nothing interesting or remotely fascinating or magical about it. The words were cool though. But i don't remember them, and neither, then, did King Robert.

So Robert looked around hastily, and tried to remember various words, trying them out on his tongue as he sort of gave up, "mneuriorr rreuphierr, riulrion di irro'i naoorque di irr" and other things like that, only he pronounced them badly and it sort of made him feel silly. He kind of got mad at the little crystal, cause after all, it was really important, or so the old man had said, and he had no idea how to use it, and it was obviously magical cause King Robert had no idea how to use it. So in his frustration he paced back and forth to and from the door, and then he sat down on the stair, and hurled the little crystal at the door, out of spite.

Then the door exploded in some violent cataclysmic thing that nearly brought down the roof, except it was a sturdy roof made of bedrock and granite. All the little random fish that had been swimming around, all of a sudden scurried and vanished when the door was brought down. Through the dissapating silt and dust, there was no door between the two of them, and King Robert and Pati finally saw each other, then they rushed upstairs to the bottom of the sea.

That night in the shelter of a small featureless uninteresting cave, King Robert's eyes grew heavy, his breath deepened and his vision blackened..

He stood atop a high mountain...

KING ROBERT'S DREAM

He stood atop a high mountain, wind whipping around, cold biting him, howling gale penetrating. He clutched tightly the blanket around him, took in the surroundings.. grey and blue clouds shifted below, creeping swiftly across the valley, concealing, changing, throwing bitter and spiteful glances at the king, who then looked away in distaste.

The bird that had been soaring and roaming overhead now perched on the tree above him, a branch above his ability to climb. he grabbed and climbed and snatched at the bird, but the black bird only looked sadly at him, its eyes silently mourning, and the bitter clouds below sang their sad song.

The king drew in the ground with his stick, wrote in the sand, sketched in the hard soil, and scratched on the rocks. All the while, the wind grew colder, and the fog below threatened to rise above the mountain, and he would be lost in a sparkling dusky sea. The king wrote in haste, but of the words and phrases he knew not the meaning. The sea below grew darker and wilder, and it threw blasphemous curses at him; all the while he laboured to write..

Looking up, the tree was gone, along with the bird, and the king threw glances around, searching for where the bird might have gone. The door behind him opened up unexpectedly, but from within also came the fog that threatened to engulf him. He shut the door and turned the key, and took it to put it away..

And the bird was perched on the door-frame and chirped out a melody to the king, breaking the heavy silence. And the freezing king shouted out to the bird in anger.. and the bitter fog bit down on his ankles, buckling his knees, bringing him on his face before the power of the cold..

And he got up .. banging his head on the roof of the featureless cave..

nothing will stop him.

The sea lions and gulls basked in the sun's cold rays, on Black Otter Lake, in the cool of the evening under the rising glow of the citylights, eking their way from the encroaching metropolis of Beteneukkre. Sir Ross was cycling along a nearby dirt path to his penthouse, to relax after a day of slaying dragons that ravaged and roamed. The Isthmus had been in peril all week, and he and others of his order had been defending Port Daphne and Wesailles Harbor from terrible wrathmongering lizards. He was spent. Quietly the song of the sea lion rose to meet the rising moon, and he cycled on.

A siren wailed, off, over that way somewhere. He ignored it. There was an advertisement for Jack's Chuck n' Grill, on the new billboard that blocked his only window. He glowered. He glowered the whole way to the elevator, sulking miserably as well. A medium-sized tribe of cuckoos had made their dwelling behind the billboard, and they were coming in his window and sitting everywhere. Some were in his bed that night. He had a terrible night.

A delicious aroma roused him to his senses. Mmmm... He rolled over in his sheets, sleepily in the dark of the shadow of the sign that blocked the rising sun. The delicious aroma was burning. He furrowed his brow. Foxwood his young squire was burning his coffee. He donned a few layers of clothing and leather, and a set of chain mail, with a girdle and some chaps too, for good measure. He figured chaps over his leg armor was a good idea. The helmet was in a corner lying on a pile of crusty trash. He took it with him into the kitchen.

And Foxwood did also then burn the waffles, which he never did, but today wasn't particularly a good enough day to care about what the waffles tasted like. For this day, Melgia was to march on Mechinagua and its capital city Roccotosiannon, with such valor and might that Mechinagua would shudder and gape, for decades and decades. Foxwood coughed just as Sir Ross shifted into the doorway, nearly ready for battle except that he was really tired.

Sir Ross sat on the barstool, reflecting on the implications of the history he was about to make. On the eve of battle, in his grand speech to his companymen, should he promise spoils and women and all that? Maybe rile them into a frenzy that way...

"Bagel?" Foxwood broke in.

"No thank you," replied Sir Ross, stirring his coffee in deep, profound thought...

"Alright then, I suppose I'll have it..."

That day, Foxwood followed his master into battle, riding with the banner of the colors of the house of Dullory, which are all shades of blue. Valor and victory went to the armies of Mechinagua. Though Sir Ross cut down many a Mechinaguan, and killed them thereby, he was at last slain at the blade of a mysterious warrior, who came in secret, dressed in shroud, who moved like a memory, and vanished forgotten.

Foxwood himself was knocked from his mount, gasping for breath amid the mingled blood and sulphuric air of war. From the enemy's mountains to the north came Earth-dragons; tremendous worms, tunnelling, wreaking horror and endless bloodshed on his countrymen's forces. One happened to swallow Foxwood. Trapped as he was, for a fortnight or more Foxwood could only listen to the gruesome sounds that faded... For days in the worm, his only company besides the stale misty air was the groaning of the very earth, as he travelled near to its deepest recesses. In these deep lands, terrible secrets, left long buried, haunted still the very air he breathed.

With an groundshaking shutter, and a slow moan, the worm died, for lack of proper food. It had strayed far from its masters. Foxwood shuddered as well. He found through some crawling and playing with echoes that he was in a large cavern, dizzyingly high and irritatingly dark. Time passed without bound in these depths, and Foxwood wandered without end.

He began to think aloud, and his thoughts, whether anyone was around to hear them, might have struck someone at first as shockingly devoid and futile. Over time, he learned to grope along, then to sort of have a sixth sense about the darkness around him. Everything he sensed, he told himself what it was in his mind, and his mouth would repeat it back to him, in confirmation. Aha, a flint arrowhead, i see. "Yes, that's right, that's definitely a flint arrowhead."

He soon suffered from a delusion of the mind, which caused him to imagine things... That the lizard crawling next to him was really his friend... That the carvings he felt on the wall were a type of warning, a message sent to himself in the past... That the shaft of light that was barely visible at the end of that passage was really there... But it was! And he ran toward it. Surely this is the way out! he reasoned. at last, daylight! "Yes! blessed daylight!"

In this way, Foxwood passed through the entire earth, and came up smack on the other side, almost a hundred and seventy years later. The dark timeless days had made him rough, and the sun was unable to age him as it had other men. He had a diet of stone, a tawny hide, and he wielded great strength, unequalled by ordinary folk.

The villages soon knew him, and knew him well, and feared him. He lived in secret; some say underground. He attracted a band of thieves and marauders, who did his bidding, though none dared approach him. He sought the sea and its freedom; he sought his people, and his homeland.. what had become of them? Mostly he forgot to turn off the radio upstairs, and the bill was likely to be enormous if he didn't get home quick. And nothing would stop him.

He was Foxwood the Sturdy.

Robert and Pati were filled with surprising energy, considering they had both been dead only moments earlier. Both of them had seen the mystical old man and watched him vanish into the hazy waters. But neither dared speak of him to the other. Perhaps part of them believed that it had been a dream. But there was no escaping the reality of the pain of death they had experienced. For the rest of her life, Pati would shudder to remember the feeling of her oh too mortal body being crushed like a tin can into itself. Ribs snapped one by one like toothpicks until the only thing holding her together was the beast�s claw itself. She did not know how or why she survived. Even as they journeyed on slowly toward the elusive North, she found herself frequently putting her hands to her torso, just to be sure it was real.

As for Robert, he trudged on with all the silence of a mighty warrior. From time to time, Pati would catch him surreptitiously examining the areas where his battle wounds should have been. She would also catch the repeated look of wild-eyed wonder when all he found was the rough sandy color of his sun-stained skin. Unbelieving, he would rub the skin with his fingers, searching for some vague sign of a wound, but it was no use. There was not a scratch to be found on the two siblings.

The journey passed silently and in many ways uneventfully. The explanation for this is of course that the enormous crash of the pirate ship to the bottom of the sea awakened all the magical beings that inhabited the enchanted waters and sent them scurrying about to wreak havoc upon those who disturbed their slumber. But after that final battle and reuniting of brother and sister, the perturbed creatures began to be lulled back into their deep sleep by the warm tingling of the water. It almost seemed as if the enchanted crystal that Robert had used to penetrate the impenetrable door had also sent a delicious sleepy current throughout the entire sea, beckoning all magical creatures to settle down into the sand and dream away a year or so. In fact, if Robert and Pati had gotten the chance to speak with the old man (who Pati decided must be a wizard), they may have found that that was indeed what had happened. But since the wizard had disappeared along with all the creatures to which he was master, such an opportunity was lost.

Months passed until finally the weary travelers began to catch sight of a pale yellow light somewhere far above them. In a few days, the light began to take the shape of a lovely golden orb whose rays waved about and sparkled in the salty water. And still a few days later, the shore was so close that they could nearly feel the sun warming their aching bones. Finally, they surfaced. It was a joy insurmountable to once again feel rushing air on their faces. And setting foot on the sun-baked beach could not have been more glorious had the sand been made of gold.

It was only after the two companions had plopped down in the soft sand that they realized they were not where they intended to be at all. Instead of the vast northern lands filled with bustling cities and soldiers everywhere, they found themselves on what appeared to be a deserted island somewhere in the middle of the Shamrock Sea. There was not another piece of land in sight. Neither Robert nor Pati had to re-test the waters to know that the spell had already been broken. They would no longer be able to breathe underwater.

Utterly dismayed, Robert groaned at his miscalculation. He had long yearned to be back in his homeland. And now, so close to achieving his goal, he had no idea where he even was. To say that Pati shared the same amount of frustration as her brother would be untrue. Having stolen her way through countless cities and towns for years, she was tired of that dismal scenery and truly wished to return to her sweet Bickerish Woods. However, with every memory of that serene place came the remembrance that it existed no more. The soldiers had doubtless continued on with their plans to destroy the beautiful forest and replace it with one of the cities she so despised.

As always, Pati shrugged off the painful memories that had haunted her for so long and upon getting a good look around her, she found that the island was a lovely place, filled with greenery and exotic flowers. As she gazed into the sun setting on the horizon, she felt that after a good night�s sleep on land, her now sulking brother would be more optimistic and consider this adventure as good a one as any, as she did. So Pati set about gathering large banana leaves to use as blankets (for even one medium-sized tropical banana leaf would easily cover two or three average humans). Then the two settled in and blissfully fell asleep to the sound of the waves lapping up on the shore.

The next morning, Robert woke to a smell he never thought he would be able to appreciate: smoke. After months of living in depths where fire cannot be, that smoke smelled just as good as the food that was cooking. Sitting up groggily, his eyes took in the sight of Pati joyfully stoking a fire above which several fish were roasting. She had apparently spent the morning gathering not only wood for the fire, but also tropical fruits of every shape, color, and size. The meal spread before them was truly a spectacle and without a doubt mouth-watering.

After partaking in these island delicacies, Robert was indeed in fairer spirits and readily approved of Pati�s suggestion that they explore the island. So off they set, plunging toward the heart of the small island, with no inkling as to what they may encounter there.

an excerpt from the olden books that the olden people wrote (thomas and i)

Foxwood is a young squire to the White Warrior, in this folk tale. He is earning his keep, many leagues to the east of and seventeen years prior to the purging of dragons of Wesailles Harbor.

"Well DONE, Foxwood! Thou hast slain the Beast of East Martin's Dale, that contemptible contrivance of the foul mind of the dark Lord of the Craven Hills. And with but one arrow thou hast slain him, verily mine eyes have seen it. All honors shall be awarded thee, Foxwood, noblest of mine servants. But come! Let us ride posthaste, for mine adversary follows close behind!"

And so the Great White Warrior, accompanied by his page Foxwood, pursued the very winds eastward, crossing the empty tundra of the Crucierras Continent. These southern wastes were perilous--

"Indeed, Foxwood, these wastes are perilous, yea, even unto death do we ride, if we do not heed the subtle hints that swiftly ride the air, nay, even unto peril and despair do we ride, if we are caught un-awares by such as a Dragon or a Were-hare. For no man can stand against such might, without the valor or courage of the mighty ancient kings. Come, ride swiftly, do not tarry!"

--And Foxwood quickened his pace a little, anxiously scanning the landscape for signs of trouble; a fleeting shadow, a change in the look of the small and sturdy trees of the tundra, which could in reality have just as easily been Trolls or something like them, swift and bloodthirsty.

For hours, Foxwood followed his master, on his trusty horse Champion, rolling his insides in misery and fright, and said at last,

"What is that over yonder in the Northern Sky?"

"It is but a cloud, do not fear, there are many"

"It went behind thither cloud! Dost thou not seest it?"

"Nay, mine eyes are sharp beyond the reckoning of mortal men, yet mine eyes catch no glimpse of, what was it you saw?"

"I know not what, but stay alert i pray thee, my master."

And slowly they travelled, watching the skies for that danger, and soon they came to the Brook of Chereth, where once great prophets had taken refuge. The waters babbled, and they drank deeply, soon forgetting their troubles. But a faint rustling in the bushes put the Great White Warrior on keen alert--

"Verily, mine ears are on keen alert, for a rustling of the bushes yonder do mine ears hear! Stand guard, Foxwood, for this could be an ambush!"

And as he predicted, they were ambushed, on all sides, outnumbered, thirty to one by the Moblins of the Company of the Guard of the Dark Lord of the Craven Hills. Foxwood cried out,

"Terrible is their bite! Worse still is their bark! And woe is me, for my pack has spilt the Map, and it is being trampled by the Moblins! O White Warrior, swift and keen, do you know how we shall overcome this great peril?"

"I do not, good sir Foxwood, for their armor is of an alloy not easily pierced, and they are accoutered in the rainments of the Gryffonlord, whose might is still mightier than thine imaginings! Gardyloo, good sir Foxwood, thine mail hast been snippeted at!"

And truly the warriors did not see their escape, which lay to the west across the puttering creek, but soon Foxwood did lift his mighty sword, and he did slay nine or ten of them, with strokes and swings containing rage and power untold. This surprised the Great White Warrior, and said he:

"Aye! For thou art possessor of arts unimaginable, both skill of sword outmatching ten of theirs, and burliness of arm able to cleave even the hide of nine, nay, even unto ten of our dark foe! Verily, Aye! For one of the foe behind me nearly hast taken a snippet off my ear! Die foul demon!"

And so they fought, and in his rage, Foxwood stumbled upon the paragraph a few lines ago, and so did he look to his right, and cried out,

"The west is to my left!" So to the left they went, escaping the confused mob of Moblins, who amidst the bloody bray had not noticed the absence of their victims. Across the quietly murmuring creek, sat the Great White Warrior, and Foxwood, who then took off further west, distancing themselves from their utter peril.

"Canst not thou run any faster, good Foxwood?" demanded the Great White Warrior, "We have not paced yet twenty leagues and already you are slowing your canter. Behold, thither sits the Golden Range of Mountains! Beyond holds the Sea of Agua-Mar! Suredly none have beheld it but the noblest of men! Come sir Foxwood, tarry not in these sullen wastes!"

"Have we not forgotten the Map, O highness? And what of the danger of the pursuant, thine adversary, the name of whom no mortal man is permitted to speak? And forsooth, it is plain unto mine eyes, we are travelling according to the setting of the sun, and not its rising! Permit me to wonder at this, and do not slay such a fool who may ask, why?"

But the Great White Warrior sternly cast his gaze eastward, over the sullen hills of the more dangerous parts.. "Foxwood, hast thou not caught word through the very airs, nay, even the earth itself shudders at the rising of every sun over the eastern lands. For mine adversary pursueth, and we ride to meet the cur, vengeance is my mission."

At length they came to the sharp, broken dales at the foot of the Golden Range of Mountains, where Foxwood took his hat from his head, and covering his eyes, he rested a moment in the shade of a Willow.

The eyes of the Great White Warrior darted to a subtle figure just to the west, saying "Aye, the darkness of ancient days, the bane of ancient kings, who other canst it be, who rideth and slinketh in shadow, among rock and root, prithee, forsooth, call out thine name!"

And at a sigh, the shape was gone..

Robert and Pati plunged toward the center of the island. As far as they could tell, the terrain seemed rather tame and unexciting. However, upon reaching what seemed to be the very heart of the island, they found themselves in a large clearing with a crumbling stone statue in the center. The statue appeared to be a pagan god once worshipped by a people that had since abandoned it, and even after closer inspection of the idol, Robert, in all his great knowledge, was not able to determine the name of it or even what kind of people may have lived there. Puzzled, he leaned against the statue to rest. Immediately, a door swung open on the side of it, and with an exchange of glances as only adventurers can muster, he and Pati descended the spiral staircase that had been revealed.

The bottom of the staircase was hidden in the depths of a cave. Moving slowly downward, it grew more difficult to see each step. It was not very long before they found themselves in total darkness except for a small glint of light from above. As they descended in the pitch darkness, they noticed a tiny light, much like a floating piece of dust. It descended slowly with them for what seemed like flights of stairs. Then at the same time, without saying a single word to each other, they both reached out to embrace the mystical glint. Their hands came together with the light in between their grasp. Suddenly the area was bright with entrancing splendor. Both were standing on the floor of an immense chamber still holding hands as if hanging on to their life line. Gazing around, they saw a patch of red in a room without boundaries. The red strip stretched up endlessly into an unreachable ceiling.

Needless to say, Robert and Pati were somewhat disoriented. Slowly releasing each other�s hand, the two turned cautiously around to view their situation from all sides. They found nothing but gray vastness in every direction, except for the red patch, which they could now see was actually a pillar of light projecting from the floor several yards ahead of them. Pati glanced down at her open hand. To her surprise, the little ball of light sprang up from it and danced rapidly before her eyes before shooting off in the direction of the red light. Spellbound, she followed the light to where it hovered close by the hazy red pillar.

By this time, Robert was again growing nervous. Being a warrior, he feared nothing that he could understand. But he had a hard time trusting this little ball of light, considering he had no idea what it was, where it had come from, or how it had brought them there. He let out a distressed �Pati!� Immediately, the ball of light darted over to Robert, flying wildly around his face. It seemed to be yelling at him. However, before Robert could respond in a foolish manner, the spell had worked on him as well, and he soon found himself gliding dreamily toward Pati and the pillar of light.

While entranced by the small ball of light, Robert and Pati approached the pillar. Pati was the first to step into the hazy red light. It instantly engulfed her and she shot straight up, her eyes still on the ball of light above her now. Robert also stepped into the red pillar also still looking up toward the ball of light. He went vertical as well and finally caught up with Pati. He glanced over at her. Her eyes were glazed over, looking almost as if they were giving off a hint of purple coloring as she kept focused on the ball of light. Little did Robert know in his own entranced state that his eyes had also glazed over and were almost yellow. His head jerked back and looked upwards to the wildly moving ball of light ahead of them. Pati did not acknowledge Robert's presence next to her, nor did he acknowledge hers after that initial glance. Suddenly there was a great crash and the red pillar of light began to fade. Robert and Pati were being shaken and bumped around, though no matter how close they came to the outermost edges of the red beam, they never were pushed out of it. It seemed to protect them in this sense. As the red light continued to fade, the small ball of light became brighter and brighter.

Both Robert and Pati shielded their eyes as much as they could with out letting it out of their sight. All at once the red light surrounding them disappeared. Robert and Pati fell to the ground, their eyes burning from being caught up inside it. Pati first slowly began to open her eyes and in front of her face was the small ball of light, floating calmly in front of her. As she looked around her and took in her surroundings, she saw Robert and called out his name. At first he did not respond, but eventually regained his composure and saw her. They stared at each other and then glanced over at the small ball of light, which seemed to be pleading they follow. Once again, they each slowly turned around looking at where they had somehow been transported. There were paths every which way. And there were walls separating the paths. Such high walls. Robert looked back at Pati, his eyes wide, "What the? How is it...possible?" "Robert," Pati said, "It's a labyrinth. We've somehow been dropped in the middle of a labyrinth." Robert said nothing. "So, where do you think we should start?", Pati said, with a sense of excitement in her voice as she thought of the adventure that lay before them.

Mboto ran to the next large Juju fruit tree and hid. He crouched and listened attentively to things like the air, and the earth, and other more abstract concepts. Overhead a huge, gangly, sloppy golden eagle soared, raising a ruckus in the forest canopy. Mboto ignored it.

During the course of last night, Mboto had been shaken from a dark dream, and well before sunrise, he had fled the palace on foot, taking only a small sachel, containing a sacred jewel, and his grandfather's map of the island.

The hunter prince rarely set foor in the forests west of the volcano. There roamed, according to popular theory, the degenerate forms of the Monkey-maulers, of the ancient breeds, that the ancestors had tamed and made into docile slaves. A more popular theory was that the forest was ruled by rabid banshee-ants. Mboto stepped with caution, not causing the least disturbance, not upsetting the smallest vestige of leaf nor twig of the forest floor.

He passed through cold and shady wooded valleys beyond the knowledge of his village. Chill winds carrying despairing air subsided only several hours later, as he came to the untrodden southern shore, safe, unscathed, and generally bored and disappointed. Here he was. There wasn't anything remotely dangerous or exciting about that whole trip; nothing of valor or value or anything. The waves just lapped at his disgusted feet playfully, and one of the feet kicked them, and they retreated as a group into the sea. Mboto felt even more rotten, and cursed the sea for being such a pansy.

The sun climbed steadily behind him, as Mboto surveyed the sandbars and the waters. Heaving a sigh, he watched leaves flutter and crabs scuttle, and started to wonder whether that entire journey had been born out of an over-tired mind. It was a burden, running a kingdom, managing satraps and governers, all that. No doubt he would be missed, and sacrifices would be made to the fealty-goddess Shivah, of hares and bulls, and prayers would be ordered for his safe return. Except there was nothing dangerous about his situation. He was just sitting with wet, sandy feet, on some grass, watching the waves erase footprints further down the beach.

But at this he jumped up with a start, for he had not trodden on the beach beyond. These prints emerged from the sea, and yes, beyond was a hastily-buried fire, along with rudimentary bedding, where some manner of man or beast had chosen to nest after reaching land. He took his bow in hand, and followed the tracks until they entered a lush portion of forest. He peered through the murk and noise of the rising jungle morning racket, and followed the set of tracks. What sort of tracks were these, these hoofprints, roughly the size of his own foot? What beast threatened his kingdom, his people? His irritation grew to a sort of silent rage.

The forest grew thinner as he approached the lands that he knew to contain a volcano. The monster was not far ahead, now. Prince Mboto Lightfoot ran onward, eyes seething. A worry struck him, and just as he realized that he was in fact fearing the worst, his worst fears were realized... abrubtly he came to a full stop, outside of the ancient totem to the god of dismay, Hubris. Its entrance had been locked, sealed in ages past. Now, however, the door seemed to have been cast aside, in a way that only a chosen warrior, described in prophecy, would be able to do. Prince Mboto's rage was laid aside, and he knew that his people must be told.

As it is recorded by the scribes of the Menti, in the twelfth year of the reign of Prince Mboto Lightfoot, son of Mbatti, son of Jajato, son of Mboto Silvertooth:

So did it happen that the prince, after offering fealty to his gods, descended into the twisted passages of the volcano to seek out the Warrior of the Sea.

The labyrinth had been built somewhere around the beginning of time. Its decaying walls bore witness to its age. And yet, despite the crumbling rock and overgrowth, the stone walls maintained their majesty. Though Robert was quite tired of all these surprises, he decided he would not complain this time. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he began to venture forth by way of the portal closest to where they had been dropped. Pati was about to follow him when she saw something that made her heart stop. With widened eyes, she whispered in a panic, �Robert� Robert!!�

�What?� Robert replied, looking about him.

With terror in her eyes, Pati whispered, �Did you see them?�

�See what?� Robert asked, a bit annoyed.

�Them!� Pati cried, pointing behind Robert.

�I don�t see anythi-� Robert began. But before he could finish his sentence, two giant purple creatures attacked him from behind. One of the creatures, who vaguely resembled men, put his hand over Robert�s mouth to muffle his cries, while the other pinned his arms to his sides. Pati had barely conceived what was going on before they carried him off with great speed.

Pati ran after them at once, however the abnormally tall men were traveling so quickly and making so many turns in the great labyrinth that she soon lost them. When she realized that she could no longer see the creatures or make out the sound of their footsteps, Pati leaned against a wall to catch her breath. It was only then that she realized her surroundings had changed. The labyrinth walls were no longer made of stone but greenery. They were essentially giant thick hedges. And off in the distance, the hedges seemed to turn into a dense forest. The ground had also changed from stone to dirt, with patches of moss and dead leaves here and there. Pati sat down on a nearby log to figure out what she should do.

As she sat there, growing rather cold, for night was falling, she heard a faint noise. It was almost like a tiny cry. Then she heard it again, a bit louder. It seemed to be getting closer. Finally, when it seemed to be right next to her, she identified the sound. And sure enough, when she looked down at her feet she saw a cat. It was a beautiful sleek black cat. And it was making the most pitiful of mews.

�Poor thing,� thought Pati, �It must be hungry.� But having no food even for herself, Pati had nothing to offer the cat. So instead she picked up the cat and set it in her lap. Gently stroking its head, Pati began to talk to the cat. (For remember that Pati could speak in the languages of all kinds of animals.) She told the cat her name and briefly told from whence she had come. Then she asked the cat its name. The cat made no reply but shook its head vigorously, causing its collar to jangle. Looking at the dangling nameplate, Pati read the inscription out loud. �Pussyfoot. Is that your name?� The cat nodded its head and purred. It was then that Pati realized the cat must be mute. Her spirits sank slightly at this, for she had hoped the cat would be able to tell her something of the purple people and where she might find her brother. But ever the optimist, she did not despair. Instead, she told Pussyfoot of her adventures thus far. When she got to the part about Robert�s capture, she asked if the purple people lived in the Labyrinth. Pussyfoot purred in the affirmative. Leaping off Pati�s lap, he padded away in great haste. Pati immediately followed, keeping up very well with the light-footed Pussyfoot. Before long, they were in the forest Pati had admired from a distance. By now it was very dark, and all Pati could see was Pussyfoot�s swaying tail ahead of her and the dark figures of the trees around her.

Finally they stopped beside a large bush. Pussyfoot let out a low purr and gestured toward the bush with his head. Very carefully, Pati approached the bush, which was just shorter than her. Beyond the bush and about twenty yards ahead, Pati could see a great bonfire gleaming in the dark forest. All around it the beastly purple creatures were dancing and laughing, having the merriest of times. Scouring the crowd, she eventually made out the figure of Robert, bound and sitting off a few feet from the others.

None of this alarmed Pati. She reasoned that the purple people were having enough fun that she could easily untie Robert and quickly escape without them noticing. She was about to execute this plan when she suddenly noticed the backdrop to this scene. The bonfire was where the forest began to clear. And not too far off a large mountain could be clearly seen. But this was no ordinary mountain. The short sporadic bursts of orange that protruded from the peak revealed its true nature. It was a volcano.

Pati gasped. Pussyfoot purred solemnly. Just as she was beginning to recognize the gravity of the situation, Pati watched in horror as the purple people halted their dancing and carried Robert off above their heads in one manic swoop. �Come on, Pussyfoot!� she cried, and the two of them pursued the purple people toward the valley below the volcano.

Suddenly there was a flash of light, and something large and heavy fell out of the sky, nearly crushing Pati. Though no one was hurt, the impact was enough to send Pati, Pussyfoot, and the unidentified object into a rapid confused tumble down the sharp decline. It was not until they reached the level ground of the valley and Pati was taking stock of her bumps and bruises that she realized what the fallen object had been. It was a man. And he was sitting beside her, looking very bewildered indeed.

�Hello!� she said, rather shocked, �My name is Pati. Who are you, and did you really just fall from the sky?�

�Hello,� the man replied, shaking the dirt from his clothes, �My name is Mboto Lightfoot, and I have no idea what has happened to me.� Then he spoke of an island which he governed and of a statue with a secret staircase hidden inside. He told of a tiny ball of light which led him to a vast room with a mysterious pillar of red light. He had been caught up inside the light and thrown at such great speed until he was dropped here. But where �here� was, he knew not.

�Yes, yes,� Pati said with a smile. �That is precisely what happened to me. Welcome to the Labyrinth.�

�Labyrinth?� Mboto questioned, looking about him. �Doesn�t look like much of a labyrinth to me.�

�Well it did,� said Pati, �Off that way�� She pointed vaguely in the direction of the forest. Though she could not be sure which way it was as she was quite disoriented after having tumbled down that hill. �Anyway,� she interjected, coming back to her senses, �That doesn�t matter now. We have to save Robert!� Without another word, she darted away in the direction of the now far-off purple people.

�Wait! Who�s Robert?!� Mboto called after her.

Pati merely answered over her shoulder, �Hurry!�

And Mboto followed her, for since she was the only person he had met so far in this strange world, it seemed he had no other choice. Besides, she was exceedingly beautiful, even in the dark. So he followed. And unknown to him then, Pussyfoot padded along softly at his heels.