A fairly loud noise rang out in the hall of the inn, blocked from the rooms branching from it by closed doors.  Nevertheless, the man awoke with a start.  He looked around, excited, and was relieved to see no intruders.  He rose then and listened; there was no more noise.  Still feeling cautious, he grabbed his sword from its prop on the small nightstand, then walked over to the door.  He listened and still heard nothing, so he cracked open the door, ready to rush forward or back at a moment's notice.  Through the crack he saw the source of the noise.  He chuckled a bit.
	A maid had spilled some sheets onto a table, knocking off a vase.
	She busily cleaned it up, but stopped, turned to him and gasped when he opened the door.  He was a tall man, though not all that tall, with short blonde hair, blue eyes, and a sharply inward-angled face.  His chin seemed but a point.  He wore lightly-colored travelers' clothes, merely a shirt and tunic; though the woman didn't see him wearing his chain mail and leather shield, his sword and muscles told her well enough that he was a warrior.  The thought she had disturbed the man frightened her a bit.  "Oh, I am sorry," she said pitifully.  "Did I wake thee?"
	"Worry not.  I should have woken sooner anyhow," he lied.  Having nothing better to do while his companion slept, the man helped the maid with her cleaning of the mess, scooping the sheets up from her way as she collected the fragments of vase.  The two went into the main room and Bane gave her the sheets as she went behind the counter.  When the innkeeper saw such a warrior helping a lowly maid with her work, his eyebrows rose, but he said nothing.
	As it happened, the maid had a break after she finished this task.  The man knew his partner, Artho, well enough now to know he wouldn't be getting up for a while yet, so he sat down with the maid.  "Thou art the one who helped Artho regain his senses, correct?"
	She blinked.  "Didst Artho have a most dreadful wound in his ribs?"
	"Yes."
	"Yes," she confirmed, nodding.  "However, I believe my partners here did more for the poor man.  While I possess knowledge of only minor treatments, they doth know Heal.  'Twas magic which truly saved thy companion."  Then she smiled.  "I now know the wounded's name...yet I do not know thine."
	He returned with a grin.  "Bane, my dear.  And thou?"
	"Alice," she responded.  He extended his hand, and she giggled as she shook it.  Still smiling, she asked, "Dost thine band always find such danger?"
	He shook his head.  "'Twas only when we came here that peril found us."  His eyebrows raised.  "The monsters surrounding this area of...er...."
	"Hamlin," she supplied.
	"Ah.  Hamlin seems to lie within a dangerous area.  Art the citizens here in any trouble?"
	Her head turned.  "Well...not personally...but none of us ever leave.  We are worse off than we would like to believe."  Bane looked at her with concern, knowing this woman knew the reality of the peril in the world.  He gripped her hand tightly, and she gazed at him and smiled lightly.  These were the people he fought for.
	"Alice, I have not been completely honest with thee."
	She blinked.  "What about?"
	"My name is Bane...Prince of Midenhall."
	Alice's eyes lit up.  "Thou art the man charged with finding and destroying the evil of this world!"  She thought for a moment, then added, "Then Artho--he would be the Prince of Cannock."  Bane nodded as she looked at him in admiration.  "I wish you both the best of luck, sir," she told him sincerely.
	Bane began to respond, but his companion's face contorted a bit.  "Yes?" he asked, a bit concerned.
	"I am not certain my memory serves me, but...art there truly three?"
	It was the warrior's turn to grimace now.  The same question had been a thorn in his side for a time now.  According to his father, he, of Midenhall, would join Artho, of Cannock...and Gwen, of Moonbrooke.  But he hadn't found his cousin the sorceress on his travels to that point; when he did not find her at Hamlin, he had begun to question her safety.  Moonbrooke had been sacked by Hargon, and he was apparently the last to see her.  What had been done with her?  Or...what had been done TO her...?
	"Sadly, we still search for the Princess of Moonbrooke.  We know not yet of her location," he began, his words sending waves of nausea back down his throat.  He told her about his ideas of past and present--how he had hoped to find her in Hamlin, and how they would have to search for her now in hidden parts of the landscape--or perhaps even in Moonbrooke.  He didn't know why he told her his plans, but it seemed little harm.
	They talked for a time afterwards, Bane waiting for his companion for a while afterwards.  He quickly grew impatient with him, though.  Settling on pain from the wound as the reason Artho hadn't emerged yet, Bane stood and thought to pass by the local shops.  He could use a trip to the tool shop for supplies, and he had wanted to go to the armory last night, as he had heard good praise for the broadswords they sold here.  Hoping Artho would wake or emerge before he came back, he nodded a goodbye to Alice and headed for the door.
	"By the nails, thou get up early!"
	Bane looked back, smiling, at the man standing wearily at the hall's entrance.  "Greetings, Artho."

                          The Rescue of Princess Moonbrooke

	Artho held his hand comfortingly to his side as he stood, his eyes fixed on his leader.  The man had unruly brown hair kept from his eyes only with a bandanna; these normally danced about, as he was always in a jubilant mood, but now he felt a bit subdued and held only a tired smile on his small, rounded face.  The mistake that had given him his grievous wound, tripping on the chain while attacking with the sickle, was fully and stupidly his.  He wore a shirt like Bane's, dark trousers and a protective green cloak right now, though once they left he would don chain mail and a leather shield, as would Bane.  As he looked at his leader, he wondered how he could get up so early; he normally slept until long after sunrise.
	"Greetings, Bane," he finally answered, after waiting for a response.  He sat at the table with Alice once Bane did the same.  "Wilt thou answer me now?"
	"Thou dost not wake at this hour?" Bane said innocently.  He didn't either, but Artho didn't have to know that.
	"I can see one reason this could be a long journey," Artho sighed.  The three spoke some more and ate as Artho rested, letting the pain of getting up flow from him.  As they spoke, the princes learned some more about Hamlin, the first town they had been to neither personally knew of--what some of the surrounding monsters were called, which shops were good and bad, and some information about the terrain.  About an hour later, the maid was called back to work, and she hurried off to it; at about the same time, the prince of Cannock rose and said, "Shall we go?"
	"Art thou certain thy wound is well?"
	"Well enough," he assured him.  "I shall be fine until I trip over myself again!  Let us leave now."
	"Be that a promise?  I did find it amusing," he jested, patting Artho on the back lightly, "until I found thy wound."  The two left laughing as Alice watched, a tear and a smile on her face.  That pair could go far...but she knew it truly would be far.
	Bane and Artho first stopped, as Bane had wished, at the armory.  They had amassed quite a sum of gold from the monsters they had defeated, neither choosing to ponder just how the monsters got that kind of money.  However, as they looked over the stock this shop had, they both knew separate things.  Artho knew that, aside from a spear of iron, he had no real business with this equipment.  Bane knew that the armor would suit him fine--if he could afford any of it.
	Artho stayed with his leader for a moment, but soon the haggling bored him and he left them babbling away.  He walked about town for a time, first purchasing some medical and antidote herbs and then speaking with the citizenry, and though he quipped more than he seriously conversed, he learned a couple bits of information.  They were northwest of the former castle of Moonbrooke, Bane's last hope for the Princess of Moonbrooke.  There was also, somewhere close to the town, a Cloak of Wind, which would save those who fell from great heights.  Artho was very interested in this particular piece of equipment--he wasn't great with heights--but the soldier knew no more.
	As he was going back to the armory, seeing that Bane had already bought the spear and appeared to be haggling over the broadsword, something else caught his eye.  In a northern section of the village, near an old man who knew something of the Imperial Scrolls of Honor, A dog wandered wistfully among two buildings.  No humans were near it, and it looked very lonely.
	Artho nearly whimpered himself as he walked toward the mutt.  The prince of Cannock was famed in his kingdom for his affinity with animals, and more than one of his father's subjects had asked Artho to come to their farms to judge this form of livestock or talk some sense into that one so it would produce.  His experience with traveling, not fighting, was what had let him live through going to the Spring of Bravery.  Few animals had even attacked the non-threatening man.
	"Hello, little dog," he soothed as he walked to the animal.  It looked up at him with large, round eyes.  The dog at least appeared a mutt, of no breed Artho could identify, and had brown fur and huge, floppy ears.  Artho walked to it, kneeled, and let it rear on its haunches, leaning against his shoulders.  It wagged its tail in urgency and happiness, but didn't pant as a normal dog.  "Too proud, art thou?" he said, laughing.  He didn't expect it to bark in response, and it made him laugh more.  Artho recognized the dog quickly as a female; he also recognized an innate stench the dog had, and he realized just why the dog was getting even less attention than such a mutt would warrant.  It was as if some force of nature had wanted this animal ignored, as if it were a mistake.
	"Talking to the hounds, art thou?" Bane joked, knowing there would be a retort but unable to resist.  He handed the spear to Artho, a broadsword at his side and no money in his pocket.
	Artho didn't retort or take the weapon, however.  "'Tis not just any hound.  Look."
	Bane looked.  "'Tis a mutt.  An ugly one, as well."
	"Quiet.  She is sensitive."  The warrior had a hard time keeping from laughing out loud at that, but seeing the dog stare at him with a hint of pride helped.  "Now, come here.  Sniff the dog--discreetly, now."
	Bane sniffed, then recoiled.  "Repugnant."
	"Yes--and worse.  This dog is completely clean."
	Artho sat in silence as that sunk in, stroking the dog as it laid forlornly across his lap.  "Quite an abnormal dog," Bane observed.
	"One of the men here told me that not all is as it seems in Hamlin," Artho responded poetically.  The dog looked up at them, looking as if it wondered something, but neither carried the thought any further.
	"Another man told me of the location of our next goal.  We are a fair distance northeast of Moonbrooke," Artho informed, standing and taking the spear.
	"Well, if thou art ready, let us explore it," Bane declared.  Artho nodded, and they began to leave.
	The dog's tail wagged and it barked then.  Artho patted it and said, "I am sorry to leave thee too, old girl, but duty calls."  They continued on then; she followed them for a fair distance, but she was forced to stop, unable to keep up with them on her stubby legs.  If a dog could sigh, this one did as she went back forlornly to her spot between the two buildings, a place she considered her home.
	If a dog could cry, this one did as she plopped back down along the grass.

	The princes found more danger going to Hamlin than they did leaving it.  They had gotten unlucky, it seemed, and the night had brought out all the monsters.  Now that it was daylight, there were less of them--but they remained to be found.  Just as they were at the edge of the woods, they passed a clump of trees and Bane stopped his companion with a single cry:  "Centipods!"
	Thanks to the monster lore Alice taught them, both knew what lay ahead.  The centipod was a huge, armored centipede, named so because it had a thick exoskeleton "pod" that protected it well from attacks.  As Artho joined Bane in the small clearing, however, he saw a Magician--a masked, robed monster that knew the spell of Firebal--along with the centipods.  The fight could get ugly.
	Quickly, Bane faced off against the sorcerer, knowledgeable of the pain they could inflict.  He began preparing his spell, but with one swipe of Bane's new weapon, he fell to his knees, screeching an inhuman noise.  Blood seeped through its robes quickly, and it fell to the ground with a sickening squishing noise that let Bane know he had loosed its entrails.  He stared at the weapon.  "Where were thou yesterday??" he asked it quietly.  He had little time to do so, though, for one of the centipods was coming towards him, claws snapping.  He guarded it well enough but took a nick on the hand.
	Meanwhile, Artho had chosen to fight one of the insectoid menaces.  Separating it from its comrades, he shoved his spear at its eyes, driving it backwards before he made a committed attack.  He had given it too much preparation time, however, and it balled itself up, as it was so fond of doing.  The spear hit the shell.  However, contrary to Artho's thoughts, it went through it a bit, the point marking the monster painfully under the shell as it chirped.  Angrily it swiped back at him, and Artho gasped as his leg was sliced deeply.  Another advanced, but it gave him a lesser scrape along the arm.
	As Bane slashed at his centipod, nearly halving the insect, Artho advanced tentatively, then at full speed, intending to run the monster through.  He did so, too--but only by a quick reaction.  Seeing the attack, it had curled up again, but he had kicked it forward.  As it flew through the air a short distance, Artho thrust down the spear, passing through the creature's head and to the ground.  It slid down the spear as Artho parried the final centipod, taking no scrapes this time.  Bane finished it, again in one blow, and Artho was finally able to see the results of the broadsword.
	He whistled in appreciation.  "Thy skill with the sword is quite admirable!" he praised.  He had never seen Bane work with a sword; the warrior always had the one his father had given him as a backup, but had never used it in Artho's presence, wielding a chain sickle instead.
	"'Tis not just skill but the sword," he amended.  "When our friend Alice claimed the quality of this weapon, she jested not."
	"I do hope to see her again," Artho said wistfully.
	"Ye hope to see any woman again," Bane teased.
	"Ye merely hope to see any woman," Artho retorted, and the two laughed heartily as they left the woods.
	They journeyed onwards a good distance as promised.  They ran into more opponents, too, but usually managed to take them by at least some surprise.  Only once did Artho take a wound serious enough to use Heal on, and once he did he fought the opponent that gave it to him valiantly, killing it quickly.  Both were in good condition when they reached the castle of Moonbrooke--and they needed that health to counter the feelings of despair it gave them.
	Moonbrooke had suffered terribly to Hargon's wrath.  The moat meant to protect the great stronghold seemed to have spread across the entire castle, and the floors were in some places replaced by the swamp-like growth that hurt to walk in.  The scene was even worse inside; a good many of the walls had been torn in places, revealing the sand beneath them.  Much worse, they saw no inhabitants of the castle, which distressed them even though they had expected it.  Though they had never seen it before, the pair could tell that Moonbrooke's structure had lost a great deal of a mazelike, defensive stature.  The sight nearly brought tears to the two's eyes as they traveled through the decimated castle and realized that if the princess was here, they would only find her corpse.
	Their surprised reflections nearly brought Bane his end.
	"Look out!" Artho cried to the man.  The warrior had been looking at the broken walls behind him when a zombie had jumped from some in front of him and reared up its clawed arm.  Bane whirled and jumped out of the way just in time to literally save his neck.
	Nodding his thanks to his companion quickly, he drew his sword as he stared at the being.  As a member of the undead, Bane had expected these creatures to be hideously ugly, but he hadn't expected two things.  First, he hadn't expected the extent of that ugliness--the thing had only eyeholes, no eyes, seemed to be growing insects in its rotting, loosely-held chunks of flesh, and was barely clothed with a green tunic rife with holes and gnats.  Second, he hadn't expected the zombie's clothing to have a crescent moon cut in half by a magic wand--the symbol of Moonbrooke--embroidered on its front.
	"These are the dead of this castle!!" Bane exclaimed as Artho's jaw dropped.  The warrior looked sympathetically at the zombie.  Then he rushed forward.
	"I shall kill thee quickly, comrade...."
	Bane's sword flashed forward in a sweep that Artho knew would have cleaved even Hargon, for it cleaved the zombie quite nicely.
	"...and thy creator...slowly."  Bane left the split corpse solemnly but with tears emerging on his face as Artho followed him, nearly weeping.
	After they walked north a while, they found the scene did not improve at the throne room, either.  The red tiles that made up the floor of Moonbrooke were cracked or missing in many places.  The throne was a shambles of wood and gold plating, held together as if part of a slum.  And worst of all was the lone inhabitant of the room.  It was not a king...it was living flame.
	"What...manner of creature is this?" Bane wondered.  The flame seemed to completely cover a body of some kind, implying an odd kind of monster.  Alice had said nothing of them, and he did not know if they were hostile.  Then it spoke to him.
	"Leave me...."
	The pair reared back in surprise.  "What??"  Bane walked forward.  "What...who art thou?"
	"Leave me...I cannot bear...."
	"We shall not hurt thee," Artho promised.  "Who art thou?  Why art thou here?"
	"Leave me..." it repeated.  "I cannot bear...to be seen by relations...."
	The princes looked at each other.  "The King," they whispered in awe.
	They dropped to one knee and remained there as the King spoke to them.  "Woe is me...for yes, I am the unhappy ghost of the King of Moonbrooke.  When the wizard Hargon finished ransacking my castle and defeating my guards, he did things with my citizens.  Some he turned into zombies, as the one thou fought.  Some he captured and took to his castle; of what has become of them I know not.  Some, as I, he kept alive, torturing us until we told him of my lands...and, of I, thine."  The King shuddered, causing a striking effect with the flames surrounding him.  "I am burning with shame...."
	Only Artho acknowledged the pun, with a briefly-upraised corner of his mouth.
	"Alas, that is not all," the King continued.  "To make matters worse...my daughter...."
	"The Princess?" Bane burst out.  "What of her?"
	"She has been cursed and transformed into a common mutt."
	Both of the princes gasped.  "The dog!" Artho exclaimed.
	"Not all is as it seems..." Bane groaned.
	"Her location is known to thee?" the King interjected.  "Where is my daughter?"
	"She dost stay, unattended to, at Hamlin," Artho informed him.  To Bane he said, "'Tis no wonder the dog was so repugnant.  Hargon wouldst not have her found."
	"Alas, this is so," the King lamented.
	"Dost thou know how we may help her?" the warrior prince asked.
	The King was silent for a moment.  Soon he said, "I have not that knowledge.  Yet one of my soldiers has read good amounts of lore and may know this.  He lies here still, waiting to be turned into flames from afar, in yon inner courtyard."  The flames pointed towards a corner of the castle; they could not see the entrance, however.  Asking him, they found the inner courtyard could only be accessed from the outside, on the other side of the wall with the gate.
	Bane gasped.  "Then it lies inside the outer wall."
	"Has the moat not penetrated that wall?" Artho asked.  Bane nodded and Artho grimaced, mumbling, "Then we must travel through that muck once more...."
	Bane nodded silently as the King begged their forgiveness.  The warrior turned to him.  "There is no other way.  I wish for thine daughter to accompany us on our journey; first she must be rescued."
	"I understand.  And I thank thee ever so much."
	The two made their way through the castle then, thankfully meeting no more undead, though they did find two cobras.  These were dispatched easily and, thankfully, without any bites on the part of the poisonous snakes.  No more enemies approached them...until they approached a greater enemy:  the long stretch of the horrible moat.
	Tentatively the two stepped forward, keeping their feet close to the surface of the liquid, and each clenched their teeth as they felt it swarm about their feet.  Any movement in the moat, a sampling of some of the poisonous swamp that infested some parts of the world, caused the germs within to swarm and feed on the offending object.  A prolonged dunk in such a moat could easily mean death; it was probably very effective in its time.
	Knowing what they had to do, the two stepped into the depression.  The level of the muck did not go over their shins, but that was enough to cause them pain with each step they took.  Bravely, the pair sloshed through the moat, feeling their boots and legs turn to so much mush.  After a good many paces that felt like miles, they stopped, both tired.  Eventually, the small waves they made stopped too, and the swamp stopped hurting them further; when it was still, the germs could not feed.
	"Art thou...well, Artho?" Bane asked, breathing heavily.
	"Better than thou, I imagine," Artho returned, smiling.
	"Thou dost always have levity," his comrade said with a smile.  "For this I thank thee."
	"Thou shalt thank me more when I have healed us--after we have crossed the moat."  Bane nodded, and the two struck forward again, grimacing for the effort.  Their spirits were lifted, though, as they neared the end of the stretch of moat and thought only of the spells Artho would cast upon them.
	Then it happened.
	With the speed of a lightning bolt a form shot upwards from the muck.  It appeared before Artho and he bumped awkwardly into it, stopping and considering what happened only afterwards.  When his sense returned to him, he found a hand, a rough-clawed, muck-covered hand, descending upon his neck.  The man screamed as the creature's hand raked a bloody, swamp-covered swath from his neck to his shoulder, underneath the chain mail.  He felt it only for a moment, though, for his wound quickly went numb; he went numb quickly afterwards, as well.
	"Bane!"  Artho rushed forward and caught the warrior before his entire body could descend into the swamp.  Dragging him backwards and propping him against the wall, he turned back to the creature, which was advancing again.  He nearly vomited as he beheld the thing--another zombie, one living in the moat.  It had the same chunky, maggot-covered flesh as its counterpart, but this one was completely covered in the poison from the swamp.  Any of its successful attacks would obviously render a person helpless--just as one had done to Bane.
	"Monster!" his companion cried.  He drew his iron spear, his lethargy forgotten, and thrust the weapon forward, separating an arm from the zombie.  It tried clawing forward in retaliation, but Artho parried with the spear, then adjusted the angle down and plunged forward through the other limb.  Finally he swept the spear from one former shoulder to another, and the serrated edge of the spear severed the monster's head quickly with the force Artho put behind the cut.  Both parts fell back into the muck, dead again.
	From there the prince of Cannock turned to Bane.  He twitched convulsively, the poison keeping blood flowing and feeding off of it from the movement.  Again Artho almost vomited as he realized what would happen to Bane if untreated--the swamp would grow as Bane's blood lessened until all of the man's blood turned into muck.
	He would not let that happen, though, if he could help it.  Heal would not work in this case yet--Bane was clearly poisoned, and sealing the wound would make matters much worse.  Instead, hoping against hope the spell had the power to influence this poison, Artho chanted the words to Antidote and laid his hands near the horrible wound.  A yellow glow lighted around his hands and Bane's wound, and Artho let out a sigh of relief as he saw the green slime evaporating.  The spell finished, its job already done for this poison, and Bane woke, blinking.
	"What...what happened?  Artho?  I--ouch!"  Bane grimaced as he tried moving his arm.  "We doth still lie in this blasted moat."
	"Yes, my friend, but not for long."  From there Artho chanted Heal on Bane, again laying his hands on his shoulders.  This time a blue glow began around Artho's hands; this spell, however, washed over the whole body, repairing as much damage as possible.  The claw wound sealed and a good deal of the damage done to Bane's legs vanished, as well.  Artho followed the spell with another Heal for himself, and they went on, feeling much rejuvenated.
	Soon they reached the end of the moat.  They saw, along with the entrance to the courtyard, rungs to a ladder on the inside portion of the wall.  "An escape route," Bane observed.  "I wager a small stretch of land thinner moat lies just on the other side."
	"Of course yon escape route had to simply escape," Artho complained.
	They went into the courtyard and instantly shook themselves free of the muck, both glad the poison had never broken the skin.  They traversed the small courtyard, surprised to see it still in fairly good condition, and went down the stairs.  Inside was a scared-looking young soldier that jumped when they entered.  "What--what dost t-thou want?" he asked, shakily.
	"Dost thou know of the curse upon the Princess of Moonbrooke?" Bane asked.  The man stopped shaking for a moment, looking at the two, then nodded, seeming to lose a bit of his fear.  "Then dost thou know how to cure her?"
	"Yes.  I assumed thou were Hargon's now...." he explained, his voice much steadier now.  "The Princess has been transformed by a curse.  Only the Mirror of Ra can break the spell, for in that glass one sees her true self."
	"Where may we find the Mirror of Ra?"
	"The item was lost long ago in a small swamp southeast of Hamlin, in a place where four bridges can be closely seen."
	"More swamp," Artho muttered.
	"We thank thee, soldier," Bane said, grimacing at Artho.  "Thou shalt see thine princess in her true form once more."
	"Then I thank thee.  The day Hargon is cast down...is the day I lose my flames."  The men asked him to join them, but he refused, telling them he would be trouble for them when Hargon struck his body.  They looked at him sadly, then left solemnly as he began shaking again.  Distressed and hopeful at the same time, Artho and Bane climbed the ladder and fell onto a stretch of land where the moat ran thin, as Bane had determined.  They escaped Moonbrooke, resolving to return to it in better times.

	After setting a small camp to recuperate from their experience, the two left to travel eastward.  Though by that time nightfall approached and the two were tired, a sense of urgency prevailed, and they did not stop at Hamlin's inn first.
	They nearly thought twice about their decision when they saw the creatures lurking ahead, however.  They weren't fond at all of magic ants, more oversized insects that knew the spell of Sleep, and Babbles, animated green puddles with a "cute" smile and eyes, could be quite annoying if their strike left part of their poisonous goo inside their victim's body.  Worst of all, however, was a new foe--a new, blue kind of centipod.  Alice had not warned them of this creature, and they were quite glad the town of Hamlin knew nothing of it.  Its armor proved too much for Artho's spear and almost thus for Bane's sword, and the giant insect's pincer attacks left them reeling.  Artho was forced to dispatch it with a Firebal spell, sending a small burst of flame from his hands into the creature and vanquishing its shell and its existence.  By the time any of the four bridges came into view, all of Artho's herbs were gone, both were tired, and the moon had risen.
	"Shall we break for camp?" Artho asked.
	"In a place this dangerous?  I thought thou had traveling experience," he chided.
	"Creatures rarely harass me; it is thine presence that turns them hostile," he shot back.
	Bane shrugged.  "Sadly, thy words could be true.  Anyhow, we must not make camp in such a dangerous land.  Once we have procured the Mirror of Ra, we must return to Hamlin as quickly as possible."
	"With my Return spell, correct?" Artho said, smiling at the repetition.  Bane nodded, and Artho made it a point to stop using magic unless absolutely necessary.  The Return spell, a magic that would allow them to return to a place they knew well, proved costly to magical resources.  The next encounter with what they had dubbed a "Megapede" proved frustrating because of this vow, but both knew it was necessary.
	Finally, after a very long trek eastward, they found a small swamp lying on the coastline of a river, rocks scattered about it and a golden line glinting from its center.  By this time, they were too tired to confirm the four bridges; luckily, they were there.  Instead they walked forward and advanced on the Mirror, but kept themselves ready--luckily for them.
	Just before Bane entered the swamp to collect the mirror, two rocks flew at him as the others were tossed lightly aside.  He skipped away and drew his sword, looking over his opponents.  It didn't look good--a magician, two of the ill-tempered Baboons that lurked the area, and a magic ant--and their movement would be limited by the swamp in front of them, which didn't seem to hurt their opponents, or at least didn't bother them.  Neither man showed any signs of hesitation, however, as Artho rushed forward and Bane advanced once more.
	Both determined the most urgent target--the ant--quickly.  However, it was well protected by the baboons, who lumbered in front of it quickly.  Bane simply cut one down the middle, sending it shrieking to the ground, but Artho was hard pressed to even attack the one in front of him, and both were blocked from the ant.  It proved a grave mistake as the ant cast its lone, effective spell.
	Artho did not fall asleep.
	Bane, however, did, barely managing to keep himself from hitting the muck as he fell.
	"Curses!  I shall kill thee myself!"  The prince flung himself forward, using the monstrous baboon in front of him as a pole vault.  It groaned in anger at the maneuver, but he paid it little heed as he skewered the magic-using insect.
	Its damage, however, had been done, as even now the baboon had Bane in its arms, preparing to hurl him straight at the rock the magician had dropped in the muck.  Artho tried to stop him, but he was too late even to keep the monkey from parrying and countering his attack, much less stop him from throwing Bane.  He landed with a terrifying thwack and a sinking sound, then a groan.
	Artho had little time to worry or grieve, though, because the magician had decided to act.  Artho heard the chanting of a Firebal spell and knew it would hurt him a lot, but he was prepared to face it--but not to face what truly transpired.  Instead of casting the spell on Artho, the magician aimed it straight into the muck.
	It instantly burst into flames.
	"Bane!!!"  Artho almost went in after him, but decided against insanity and turned to the magician.  He ran for him and almost skewered him as well, but it sidestepped him and was grazed instead.  Artho started to press the attack until he heard Bane's voice crying out.
	"Bane??  You live on!?  Oomph!!" the prince of Cannock groaned as the baboon leapt on top of him.  He grunted as the beast clubbed him in the back with its head, bruising him badly but not breaking anything.  He started to get in an attacking position as he shouted, "Bane, find yon Mirror of Ra and get out!"
	Crazed with pain but still understanding his comrade, Bane picked himself up and started running for all of his worth.  He grabbed the Mirror of Ra from the swamp, recognizing instantly that it had remained uncorroded, and then ran for the river, dousing the flames covering his body.  When he emerged, he was still in massive pain, but he could take action again, and he realized he needed to as he saw the baboon.  It had Artho pinned to the ground and kept slashing with its strong arms and tiny claws, trying to cut open the man's neck, as he tried desperately to maneuver.  Bane rushed forward and drove his sword hard into the baboon's side; when it reared up in surprise and pain, Artho took his spear up and drove it into the stomach.  He quickly scrambled out of the way as the baboon fell heavily to the ground.
	The magician, its magic gone and its side throbbing, took one look at the angry lancer and the homicidal swordsman and decided the battle was quite lost.  Wisely it began to flee; wisely, Artho leapt up and caught it before it could escape and warn Hargon.
	"That shall teach Hargon a lesson about guards:  choose competent ones!" Artho quipped.  He wished he hadn't said it, though, when he turned back and saw Bane lying on the ground, breathing lightly.
	He went to the warrior and began to cast Heal, but Bane put up his hand, grimacing in pain.  "Stop...use Return instead," he said.
	The prince gasped.  "I had forgotten!  Thou art correct."
	A light smile managed to find its way to Bane's face as he said, "Alice shall take care of me...well enough."
	"Lucky dog," Artho mumbled under his breath.
	"What was that?"
	"I am hungry for frog.  A nice delicacy, and I believe we should treat ourselves."  Bane smiled at the cover and the truth it held, and Artho cast the spell without further comment on either part.

	Artho almost felt guilty as he stumbled off to his bed.  Before, Bane had been unable to use any magic to heal Artho, and their medical herbs were lost to them.  This time, their herbs were lost to them, but Artho could heal Bane himself--had he any magic left to use.  Depressed, he went to sleep quickly after his own treatments to let his mind and body heal.
	The morning came quickly to him, of course, and he woke at about the same time he had yesterday.  He took some time to let himself wake, then rose and exited the room.  Expecting fully to turn to the main room of the inn and find Bane, perfectly healed, sitting at a table, he was shocked when he saw nothing of the sort.  Confused, he asked the innkeeper for the time; he told him it was just after sunrise.  Artho groaned.  "I can see one reason this could be a VERY long journey," he mumbled to himself, and the innkeeper chuckled.
	The prince of Cannock decided to check on his companion, if only to be able to say he had while Bane hadn't, and went back to the rooms.  He knocked on Bane's door--and nearly gagged when he heard Alice answer, "Come in."
	He flung open the door and looked upon the scene.  Bane sat awake and staring at him under some covers as Alice, on a chair at the bedside, dabbed him with a wet cloth.
	"Oh, certainly," he exclaimed, his hands going into the air.  "Upon my wounding, I am treated and left alone, by thee, thy coworkers, and my companion.  And upon his wounding, he is treated, visited, and cared for afterwards."  His hand went to his hip.  "Somehow, it seems a mite unfair to me."
	"I am sorry I did not visit thee," Bane assured him.  "I thought thou might be asleep."
	Alice was not so gentle.  "Bane had, and remains in part with, burns across the body.  Thou hadst a broken rib and a slash wound.  Thy case was not the same as Bane's."
	Artho's mouth opened, then closed.  He turned.  "I see."
	"Get thy jealous mind back here," Bane called to his retreating body.  He looked at Alice.  "I believe he likes thee..."
	Her eyes widened.  "Thou art serious?"  Upon his nod, she looked to the door.  Artho had said nothing during their last meeting, only listening to her, and this time had gone even worse.  "Thy companion's method of showing this is in a sad state of affairs."
	"Agreed," Bane said, laughing.
	Soon Artho did come back, and the three spoke again.  Of course Artho truly was concerned for his companion, and Alice found he could be a likable person when his sarcasm was lost.  All three were talking like old friends before long, and Alice and Artho had in fact built a better bond than Bane, who made it a point to back away as much as he could.  Not only did he have several potential consorts waiting at Midenhall, he knew his position and hers were incompatible.  The thought alone hurt him, but the rational part of his brain told him it was the truth, and that part sometimes asserted itself pretty well.
	Alice left, sharing a hug with Artho, and again this dictated when the two took action.  After Bane stumbled out of bed, the two took the Mirror of Ra and exited the inn, looking towards the buildings where they had first spotted the dog.
	They did not see her.
	"Princess?" Artho called, looking about for the hound.  At first Bane gaped at him for so openly admitting the dog's identity, but then he heard the truth of why he did so.  The people who heard him were mumbling--but only things resembling, "I would not name my dog Princess for all the dragon's gold in Alefgard."
	Meanwhile Artho began to get worried.  "Bane, she is not here," he told him.  Kneeling, he sniffed around where the dog had been; that got him even stranger stares and comments, but he was oblivious.  Soon enough he caught her distinct scent, and he followed it for a pace or two and gasped.
	"She's headed for the river!!"

	The Princess of Moonbrooke looked down into the river from the small cliff.  It was a fairly strong current and a fairly deep river.  Once one entered, one might not get out...and one had even less chance if one was a dog.
	Not that she was reconsidering her actions.  As far as she knew, she would never have her true identity again, and she could not cope with that--especially now.  She had chosen her path just yesterday, after even the two warriors, obviously the princes of Midenhall and Cannock, did not recognize her true identity.  However, she had chosen that path firmly, and the assurance of her death instead of the chance would certainly not sway her.
	She took another step forward and looked down into the water again, her head easily over the surface now.  A brown, droopy-eared, dopey-eyed dog stared back at her.  It closed its eyes; if dogs could cry, a tear would have rippled its surface.  One look was all it took for her to reconfirm her actions.
	"I am sorry, father," she said.  Would have said, anyway; it came out as a pitiful barking, further reminder of what she was now.  Further reason to take one more step.
	She took it.

	"There!  No!!"  Artho spied the dog at the riverside, but just after it had taken the plunge.  He couldn't believe she would commit suicide, but it had happened--and, considering what she lost, and for how long she felt that might be, it made sense.  He turned to Bane.  "Come on!  Let--"
	He ended his sentence with a cry as he saw what he saw:  two--TWO--Megapedes, suddenly near Hamlin and suddenly between he and Bane.
	One look back towards the river told him, frustratingly, that if the princess was ever to be saved the time was now.  He could see Bane already going to work on one Megapede, and he launched one of the fastest Firebals he ever would at the other.  As expected, it went up in flames, but he didn't stay to see it.
	Instead he raced along the river's edge, trying hard to beat the current.  He couldn't even see the princess anymore, her body voluntarily underneath the river's surface.  Still, he called out loudly.  "Princess!!  We know thy true form now!"
	The dog scrambled in the water, trying to get its head out to hear him again.  "Princess!" he cried, spying her.  He took his spear and extended it to her backwards.  "Swim over here!"  Hearing him, the princess tried to get closer to the coastline, but she had great difficulty in moving at all.  Though it took a long race down the river, finally she made it close enough for her to grasp the spear as best she could and let herself be hauled up.
	The mutt coughed and sputtered, soaked inside and outside.  Artho took off his cloak and wrapped her up inside it, fighting the urge to hold his nose as she shivered inside the protective cloth.  Any wet dog was something, but this wet dog was much worse.
	Bane soon caught up with them, having finished the Megapede marred with only a cut on the arm.  When he took a whiff of the air, he wasted no time in reversing the Mirror of Ra, which he had been using the back end of as a makeshift shield in the fight.
	"Princess, look into the mirror," Artho urged; she remained reluctant.  "It will return thee to thy normal condition."  She looked up at him and he smiled, so she emerged from the cloak and walked in between the two of them.  Bane lowered the mirror to ground level and walked back with Artho behind her, and she looked at it.
	It revealed a princess.
	Then the mirror cracked in the center.  All reared back, but the crack continued widening in four straight, diagonal lines, forming an X along the mirror's surface.  The X began to glow a brilliant orange light, which then shot outwards from it and bathed the princess in its glow.  She began to glow a deep orange, and then her form began to change.  Her body and limbs stretched longer, her head swelled a bit, and her tail vanished.  Then, as the men stared at the princess, with the sound of a spark of energy the mirror's light suddenly became an encompassing white, blinding them both.  As they were blinded the mirror cracked, its shards and the frame falling to the ground.
	The light went away soon enough, and the princess stood, looking back at them.
	The pair couldn't believe this was truly their cousin, truly the mutt that had looked and smelled so ugly before.  This could not be either of them.  This woman had light, golden-brown hair cascading around her shoulders.  This woman's face and skin were fair and white as porcelain.  This woman wore a cloak of her own, red and short-caped, brown boots, and a pink tunic, bound by a tight belt, all of which matched her form perfectly.  This woman was stunning, beautiful, and an adventurer all at once.
	And, most importantly to Artho, this woman was, according to the painting in Cannock Castle, the exact duplicate of Queen Gwaelin of Torland.
	Both were compelled to drop to their knees, even if this woman was their equal in rank.  "My cousin," Bane began, "I am Bane, Prince of Midenhall.  My companion is Artho, Prince of--"
	The woman giggled, having a medium-pitched, subdued voice.  "I know thine names," she assured them.  "If thou insist upon a formal introduction, however, very well."  She cleared her throat and said, "I am Gwen.  Former, and hopeful Future, Princess of Moonbrooke."  She curtseyed for them, the thin lower portion of the tunic flitting about her legs.  Both men swallowed.  They had never seen their cousin before, and they suddenly felt very guilty about that.
	"Thou should stand now," she recommended, emotions overwhelming her.  These men acted like they had never seen a woman before, not just her.  She was not truly that beautiful--was she?  Far outweighing this and her other emotions, however, was her absolute glee at being released from her cursed form--especially after her previous action.  She had betrayed her father by giving up when he could not, and then one minute later she was freed, her curse removed.  Then there was the guilt for that, of course, and then there was utter confusion for many a thing.
	And anger.  Anger which was almost as prevalent as her glee.  Slight anger at Moonbrooke, for being unable to hold off Hargon's forces and prevent all the death she had known.  More anger at her cousins, who had been too dense to recognize her identity.  More anger at herself, who had betrayed her father before she could avenge him.  And more, much more, anger at Hargon, the true root of it all.
	And now she was free, and now everything would be--eventually--all right again.

Jjukil@aol.com



	The three made their way through the castle, Gwen leading the way--which was quite unusual.  Together, the three of them had learned that fighting was not Gwen's strong suit by any means.  Instead, it was magic.  She was quickly remembering many of the spells Hargon had blocked from her mind, being more efficient at "learning" them than Artho, who truly had to learn them and do so while on the field.  She knew she would be a powerful sorcerer again, given enough time to overcome Hargon's ever-extensive tampering with her.
	Now, however, she did lead the way, and it made quite a bit of sense for her to do so in Moonbrooke Castle.
	The two men did want to keep her from the King, at least for a bit, but she would have none of it.  They had also learned that Gwen possessed great assertiveness and seriousness.  If she said something, it happened or she was not happy.  It made sense for sorcerers to be unhappy if their words were ineffective, but Gwen took it to a bit of an extreme.  So, when Gwen bravely marched through the castle, forcing herself not to take heed of the destruction around her, she braced herself for anything to appear as she walked through the door to the throne room.
	She might have done well to let them go first.
	The two stared, as well as a living flame can stare, at one another for a moment.  He looked at her, happiness flowing inside him at his daughter's returned form.  She looked at him, devastated that he, like her, no longer possessed his old form because of Hargon's meddling.
	"No...NO...."  Gwen fell to her knees, sobbing.  The three men moved around her, but it did nothing to her emotions, which ran freely.  When she stopped a moment later, she choked, "Father?  Is it really thee in the flames??"
	"Alas, it is I," the flame confirmed; she heard his voice and knew it was so, and nearly broke down again.
	"This is Hargon's way of firing those he no longer needs," Artho spat, contempt dripping from the words.
	Gwen turned back and thrashed the staff against his head.  Pain exploded in his jaw, and he cried out, which only led to more pain.  "Gwen!" he managed, his hand over his right cheek and making the word sound strained, as it was.  "Why...?"
	"Dolt!  IDIOT!!" she screamed, rising.  "HOW can thou jest so at a time such as this??"  She swept her hand to the flame in a grand motion.  "My father has been transformed by our mortal enemy Hargon!  Just as I!  And thou dare make levity, as if this were a joke??"
	"I did not mean..." Artho began, cut off by his own pain and the King.
	"Gwen, Artho meant no harm...it is true.  Hargon used me...to obtain information about the kingdoms of thy companions...then, as it were, 'fired' me."
	"Oh, father...."  Gwen came forward to embrace him, but only at the last second felt the heat and reared back.  Tears streamed down her face as the full force of the moment hit her with that one blow:  that she could not even hug her father.
	All remained silent for a time, including Artho, who did not even dare to heal his probably broken jaw.  The next to speak is Gwen.
	"The wizard Hargon shall not live to see these victories manifest themselves," she vowed.  "Hargon shall not take this world as he took this castle...my home...my father.  Hargon shall fall...
	"...even should his life mean my own."