Planeshifters

Planeshifters

Mervin stood still for a moment to collect himself, then used the cold
iron doorknocker on the large oak door in front of him. The heavy rain
pouring down around him made the sound seem inadequate, but within
seconds the door swung open. Squinting against the rain, Mervin looked
into the house, and saw an old man wearing a deep red robe. He was
smiling.

"Mervin, my lad - come in. I've been expecting you." The old man
ushered him into the warm house and shut the door. "I knew a little
rain wouldn't stop you."

"A little?" Mervin shrugged off his sodden coat and hung it on the
rack that stood by the door. He wiped the rain from his eyes and swept
back his wet black hair, then turned to face his host. "How are you,
sir?"

The old man chuckled. "Still calling me sir, eh? Well, I suppose it's
a sight better than 'm'lord'." He turned and shuffled through the
hallway, still chuckling. Mervin followed, sheepishly.

"I'm well enough, Mervin," continued the old man, when he had finished
laughing. "How's your mother?"

"She's fine, sir," answered Mervin, automatically. That started the
old man laughing again, and Mervin felt his cheeks flush red.

"When are you going to start calling me Davron? Everyone else does."
Mervin was silent, trying to imagine calling such a man by his first
name, knowing what he did.

They had entered a large sitting room, where a log fire was burning
merrily. The only other light in the room came from candles mounted in
brackets on the walls, and the overall effect was warming, if a little
eerie. Davron eased himself into the padded wooden chair by the
fireplace, and looked expectantly at Mervin.

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

Mervin was perplexed. "Sir?"

"Drink, boy! I'll have a large whisky, if you don't mind. And get
yourself something, too - I'm sure you need it after that rain."

The young man did as he was asked, chiding himself for forgetting the
old routine so easily. It had been too long since his last visit to
Davron - far too long. As if he had read his mind, Davron spoke.

"It's been a long time since you last visited, my boy. Too
long."

"Yes," agreed Mervin, carefully handing the old man his drink before
pouring his own from the crystal decanter. "We've been having problems
with the harvest - all this rain. It isn't natural." He sat down in the
less ornate chair opposite Davron, and took a sip of his whisky.

"I can think of plenty of things that are a great deal less natural
than rain," argued Davron, amiably. "But yes, you are right - it has
been rather wet this year."

"Well, so long as it doesn't all turn to snow come the winter, we
should be all right."

Davron grunted, and they sat in silence for a while. Mervin watched the
flickering shadows cast by the fire dance on the wall, and held his
drink in both hands to warm it. He wondered when Davron would begin,
and if the things he told him would be as amazing and frightening as
they had been last time - nearly half a year ago, now. Davron was
Mervin's great-uncle, the brother of his maternal grandfather, and he
was eighty-six. He was rich, though nobody knew quite how, and his
house was one of the largest in the town. He kept himself to himself,
and spent the vast majority of his time studying the ancient books that
he kept in his own personal library, and writing&;#8230; who knows?
Perhaps his memoirs.

Not that Davron had always lived in such a way; far from it. In his
youth, Mervin's mother had told him, Davron had been quite an
adventurer, roaming the land with his brother, Galthus, is search of
gold and glory. The sudden disappearance of Galthus had sent Davron
into a deep depression, however, and he had never quite recovered from
it. Despite this, he had taken good care of Galthus's daughter, being
childless himself, and she had thought of him as a father ever
since.
Mervin could not quite see him as a grandfather, though, and on the one
occasion he had called him such, he had been given a severe reprimand,
and told never to forget who his real grandfather was.

Over the last few years, Davron had withdrawn even further into his
shell, and Mervin was one of the privileged few who was permitted to
penetrate it. There was a cleaning lady who came once a week to dust
and polish, but Mervin didn't think she really counted. Yes, Davron was
a bit of a recluse, and some might say he was a little eccentric. He
was also a wizard.

Well, perhaps wizard is not quite the right word. The word 'wizard'
conjures images of fierce men in long black robes, summoning huge balls
of fire with a click of their fingers, and incinerating whole armies.
Davron certainly couldn't do that - he had to use a match, just like
everyone else. In fact, the majority of people in this land didn't
believe in magic at all, and most of those who did were fairly dubious
about it. But Davron could use magic - of a sort - and Mervin could
testify to it.

Mervin tore his gaze from the oddly enchanting shadows on the wall,
and looked at Davron. He wondered if the old man had fallen asleep. He
cleared his throat, and waited. Davron remained motionless and silent,
and for a split second Mervin wondered if the elderly wizard had died
right there in his chair. He was relieved, therefore, to see Davron
take a long sip of his whisky and turn to look at him.

"You're growing impatient, my boy. You must learn not to rush through
things so much - you'll realise how much you miss out on when you do."
Mervin was used to this kind of talk from Davron, so he wasn't bothered
by it. He was getting impatient, though - like a young child forced to
wait until after Christmas Dinner to open his presents. He decided to
be blunt.

"Will you show me some magic, Uncle?"

Davron smirked. "Still looking to be the sorcerer's apprentice, eh? Or
do you need to prove to yourself that what I've shown you before really
happened?" He set his drink down beside him, and began waving his
skinny arms around theatrically. "Please observe, I have nothing up my
sleeve." He held his arms out with his hands open, so that Mervin could
see there was nothing there. Then, with a lightning fast flick of his
wrist, Davron snatched a large gold coin from the air. He held it
triumphantly in front of Mervin's wide eyes, then made it disappear
with another quick movement.

Mervin was stunned. "How did you? That was-"

"Magic. Wouldn't you say?" asked Davron, with a wry smile on his
face.

"Yes."

"Wrong!" Davron snapped, his eyes suddenly bright and shining. "That
was no more magic than this whisky we're drinking. It was trickery -
sleight of hand. I had the coin concealed in my hand the whole time -
and it remains there still." He opened his palm to reveal the coin,
which had somehow been cunningly hidden between his fingers.

"Oh," murmured Mervin, eyes downcast in embarrassment. Davron leaned
forward and placed a gnarled hand under Mervin's chin, lifting it and
forcing him to look again into his eyes.

"You must learn to tell the difference between real magic and
trickery. Both are useful, and both can be dangerous. Especially real
magic." He relaxed back into his chair, and finished what was left of
his drink. Then he waited, hoping that what he had said would sink
in.

"Thank you," said Mervin, feeling stupid. "I'll try not to confuse
them in future."

"You can try - but beware of how difficult it can be to tell the
difference. True magic is performed using the power of the mind - we do
not need 'ingredients' such as bat wings and frog's legs, as so many
people believe. Do you want to see some real magic?" The final question
was asked in a hushed tone, and the room seemed suddenly darker. Mervin
was afraid.

"Y-yes. Please."

"Very well. Look at me, and tell me what you see when I say."

Davron closed his eyes, and his body stiffened. For a few moments,
nothing happened, and the only sound was the faint crackling and
spitting of the logs in the fire. Then, Davron changed. Exactly how he
changed, Mervin could not say, but something about him seemed
different. He opened his eyes.

"Well? What do you see?"

Mervin peered closely at the old wizard, still sitting in the chair by
the fire. Something was different - but Mervin had no idea what it
was.

"I don't know," he admitted. "You seem different somehow, but-"

"But you can't tell how?" Davron inquired. Mervin nodded. "Good. I'm
pleased that you can perceive the change. Look at my shadow." Davron
indicated the huge shadow he cast on both the ceiling and the wall
behind him. Mervin looked, but was none the wiser.

"It looks the same."

"Now look at your shadow. See anything different?"

Mervin looked at his own shadow, and after a few seconds he realised
what Davron was getting at.

"Mine's darker," he announced, surprised.

"Good! So it is!" exclaimed Davron, obviously beginning to enjoy
himself. "Why should that be, do you think?"

"Um&;#8230; you're closer to the fire?"

Davron frowned. "Am I?" Mervin looked, and saw that it was not the case
- if anything, he was sitting a little closer to the fire than Davron
was, the better to dry the remaining wet patches the rain had made on
his clothes.

"I give up - why aren't you casting as dark a shadow as I am?"

"I shall tell you in a minute, my boy. But first - observe." Davron
closed his eyes again, and his body stiffened once more. After another
pause, slightly quicker than the last one, Davron changed again.

He still looked pretty much the same, but even so, Mervin shuddered,
and a tingle ran down his spine. Davron seemed somehow less real than
he had before - his skin and clothes were all slightly paler, with
fewer colours than they had before. It was as if Davron were a set of
new clothes that had just been washed for the first time, and some of
the dye had been flushed out. When he opened his eyes and spoke, his
voice sounded somewhat fainter, as if he were speaking from farther
away than he actually was.

"What do you think of me now, Mervin?"

"I- you're kind of&;#8230; faded," whispered Mervin, fearfully.
Davron looked quizzical.

"You'll have to speak up a little," he continued in the same, distant
voice. "I can't hear you so well from where I am."

"Where are you?" asked Mervin, curiosity temporarily overriding his
fear.

"I'll tell you soon enough. Perhaps I'll even show you." Davron had a
serious expression on his face. "But first - one more. Watch." He
closed his eyes for a third time, and this time the change was almost
instantaneous. Mervin almost screamed.

Davron was still sitting in his comfortable old padded wooden chair by
the fire in his living room. What bothered Mervin the most was that he
could just about make out the back of the chair - behind Davron. He
could, even in the dim firelight, see through the old man, just as if
he were some sort of spectre. He barely cast any shadow any more,
Mervin noticed, and he seemed more colourless than ever.

"Mervin," said Davron, sounding even more faint and distant than
before. "Watch this." He held one ghostly hand over the small table
that was between them, and extended his index finger. He pointed it
downwards, and began moving it towards the smooth surface of the
tabletop. Mervin gasped when he saw that Davron's finger was actually
beginning to be pushed into the table - not too far, though, and he was
obviously having to push quite hard, but the finger was now
unmistakably embedded into the wood.

Davron withdrew his finger, which had left no mark on the tabletop,
and smiled at the incredulous young man who sat in the chair opposite.
Suddenly, a look of pain and fear flashed across his face, and his eyes
slammed shut. Mervin watched in surprise and concern as he saw Davron
battling with something mentally, then with panic when he saw him
change again, and become even more faint and ghostly. A few more
moments passed, in which Davron fought to regain control and Mervin
considered running to grab hold of him, not knowing whether it would
help or hinder. Then, almost as suddenly as it had started, the panic
was over, and Davron's body had changed back to being only slightly
transparent.

"Don't worry," Davron shouted, "I'm coming back." He closed his eyes
once more and stiffened as before, and after thirty seconds or so, he
was back to being almost normal.

"What happened, sir - Davron?" Mervin asked, correcting himself as he
did so.

"Sir Davron? No, I've yet to be knighted." Davron chuckled, seeming to
have already forgotten about the events a few moments past. "I'll
explain fully later, but for now, I'll say this: Going down is easy.
Sometimes it's too easy. Going up, well, it's&;#8230; difficult. You
have to catch the right current." Mervin shook his head.

"I don't understand."

"You will. Now, let me join you on the Prime." Leaving Mervin to
puzzle over his meaning, Davron closed his eyes and concentrated once
more. After a short while, he was just as real as he had been in the
first place - and both of their shadows matched.

* * *

As he poured two more large whiskies with trembling hands, Mervin
thought about what had happened. What had happened? There was no
question that this was magic rather than trickery, but what sort of
magic it was he could only guess. He'd known, of course, that Davron
would show or tell him something that would confuse and amaze him - he
always had. This time was different, though, and altogether more
frightening. Mervin had seen something in the wizard's eyes that he had
never thought possible - Fear. Davron himself, the master of magic and
knowledgeable on every imaginable subject, was afraid of something. And
if it could scare Davron, Mervin concluded, then it must be very
dangerous.

"The whisky has already been aged twenty-five years," said Davron,
dryly. "I doubt that waiting any longer will improve its
flavour."

Mervin chose to ignore this, and took his time replacing the crystal
decanter among the other spirits. He wasn't in any hurry to sit down
with Davron again, in case the old man decided to disappear completely
this time. Alone was a condition Mervin definitely did not want to be
in right then.

Davron must have sensed Mervin's discomfort, as he said nothing
further until the young man had placed a drink by his side and sat once
more in his chair.

"I suppose I ought to put your mind at ease and tell you that there's
nothing to worry about," Davron said, staring into the fire, which was
still burning brightly.

Mervin looked up from his drink.
"But you can't, because there is something to worry about, right?" He
was pleased to see Davron blink, then let out a quick burst of
laughter.

"Exactly, my boy! But don't worry for now - we are in no immediate
danger. Well," he added, "no more than we usually are, anyway."

Suddenly Mervin became very curious, and decided that he wanted to
know exactly what had happened. His sense that the Davron was in total
control reasserted itself, and he felt almost as invincible as he had
when he was a child.

"Tell me what happened," he said, excitedly. "What did you do?"

Davron took a sip of whisky, then nodded. "Very well, Mervin, my lad. I
shall start with the theory."

"What's the theory?" asked Mervin, cursing his impatience. Davron
merely looked at him, and sighed.

"The theory is that the world, as we know it, is made up of many
different levels of existence. Different&;#8230; planes of
existence, if you will. Humans, and most other living animals, live on
the same level. We call this the 'Prime' plane of existence."

"So that's what you meant when you said you'd join me on the
prime?"

"The Prime, yes." Davron pronounced the word carefully, hoping that
Mervin would pick up on the capital P.

"Which means you weren't on the Prime when you said that? You were on
a different&;#8230; plane?"

"Correct," agreed Davron, pleased to see that Mervin was picking it up
so quickly. "But don't forget we're talking about the theory here - try
not to bring specifics into it."

"Right," said Mervin. "Please carry on."

"Below the Prime plane, which can be thought of as being level zero,
there are many more planes of existence. A person can, with certain
knowledge and a great deal of practise, move down through these levels
simply by concentrating."

"How many levels are there?" asked Mervin, trying to remember how many
times Davron had changed earlier.

"That is a difficult question, and the only people who know the answer
for sure are dead," answered Davron, cryptically. "However, the
commonly accepted estimate is that there are ten levels below the
Prime, and I happen to agree with it."

"You keep saying 'below'," Mervin pointed out. "But these levels
aren't actually underneath the Prime, are they?"

"My, you are sharp today, young Mervin." Davron was clearly impressed,
and Mervin felt a wave of pride pass over him. "And yes, you are
correct," continued Davron. "The levels below the Prime are certainly
not beneath it physically. In fact, they're in precisely the same
location. However, when one 'travels' down through the planes, there is
a strong sensation of falling - which is why we describe them as being
'below'."

Mervin took a long sip of his whisky, savouring its potent aroma and
the deep warmth it was steadily instilling in his body. He thought of
his friends back at home, and felt a pang of guilt knowing that most of
them would never even get to taste such a delicious beverage, let alone
get drunk on it. The feeling quickly transformed into one of pleasure
as he imagined their jealous faces when he told them about it, and he
smiled. If only he were allowed to tell them everything that happened
when he went to visit his uncle!

"Are you paying attention, boy?" Davron wore a stern look on his face,
and Mervin's smile instantly faded.

"Of course," he protested, "I was just taking pleasure in the
wonderful whisky you have." That ought to placate him, thought
Mervin.

He was right. Unable to resist flattery of any kind, Davron felt a
thin smile form on his own lips. "Yes, it is rather special, isn't it?
And, I might add, rather difficult to obtain. So, you'd better drink
that glass slowly, because it'll be the last you have tonight."

Something in the tone of the old man's voice told Mervin that he
wasn't joking, so he reluctantly placed his glass on the table and
vowed not to touch it for at least twenty minutes. Davron saw the look
on his face, and put his own glass down beside Mervin's - on the exact
spot that had accommodated his index finger a short while before.
"Look, Mervin, it doesn't have anything to do with the quality of the
whisky; I have a whole crate of the stuff in my cellar. The fact is, we
can't afford to lose control over our minds. When I take you down with
me later, the tiniest mistake from either of us could spell death. Do
you understand?"

Mervin was too shocked to speak. The brief interlude was over, and the
reality of the situation came slamming back into his mind. Planes of
existence, Davron becoming some kind of spectre and pushing his finger
through solid wood, Davron losing control of a situation... it was all
too much. And now he was going to go with Davron on some magical
journey through these planes of existence? A wave of excitement passed
over Mervin, sending daggers of fear along his spine. Eventually, he
found his voice again, and managed to whisper the words:

"Yes... I understand."
Davron waited a little longer, as if making certain that Mervin was
telling the truth. Satisfied, he gestured for the boy to lean closer to
him. Mervin did so, transfixed by the dancing firelight reflected in
the wizard's dark eyes.

"There are a few more things I should tell you before we commence on
our little expedition. Things that I would rather were not
overheard."

"Who could possibly hear us?" asked Mervin, in the same hushed tone
that Davron had used.

"What, you didn't think that the other planes were uninhabited, did
you?" Not waiting for an answer, Davron continued. "There are many
denizens that roam the lower levels of existence, some of which are
harmless and even benevolent. But most are powerful, evil beings, who
would not think twice about ripping our beating hearts from our bodies
and feasting on our living flesh. They crave it, you see - for them,
the poor undead souls wandering in limbo, life is like a beacon, and
its consumption will grant them even more power. They are most commonly
known as ghosts."

"Ghosts?" Mervin was shocked. In the world he lived in, most people
did believe in ghosts, since they manifested themselves too often to
ignore. He had even seen one himself, once - a solitary female figure,
translucent and white, wandering the streets of his home town. He had
done nothing but watch, knowing full well the terrible things that
ghosts had been known to do to the living. Despite this knowledge,
finding out that Davron was talking about ghosts was still a shock to
Mervin; he hadn't thought that the conversation had anything to do with
them.

"Yes, ghosts," Davron continued. "They are the most common entities
one encounters when travelling the planes. They are not, however, the
only ones. Powerful demons and suchlike that have never been alive also
have the ability to planeshift - although fortunately they rarely make
it past sub-level five."

"Is that why we never see them?" said Mervin, his fear forgotten and
replaced by the thirst for knowledge typical of men of his age.

"Quite so. Unless one is looking very carefully, with an open mind and
a good awareness, it is impossible to perceive a being who is five
levels beneath the Prime. Certain animals can, of course - most notably
felines. Now you know why witches tend to keep a cat about, yes?"

Mervin nodded, trying to fully absorb the information Davron was
giving him, in case he was tested on it later, as was one of the old
man's habits. "So you've got the ability to planeshift, then?" he
asked, using Davron's words to demonstrate the fact that he had been
listening.

"I do," answered Davron, with a slight air of superiority. "I am one
of the few who can do it, and, what is more, one of the even fewer who
can do it and return successfully. But it is by no means easy, and it
is certainly not an ability that one is born with. We humans have
little aptitude for such things."

Mervin paused, unsure of whether to ask his next question or not.
Davron was waiting patiently, and in the end, he decided that it
couldn't hurt. "If it's so difficult and dangerous, and you don't
really go anywhere, why bother planeshifting at all?"

"You will have the answer to that question soon enough, Mervin," said
Davron, with a strange tone in his voice. After a few seconds, it
became clear that no more information on the matter would be
forthcoming, so Mervin decided to try a different approach.

"How did you learn to planeshift? Did another wizard teach you?"
Mervin wasn't really expecting Davron to answer this question either -
he hardly ever spoke of his past, and almost never mentioned the other
wizards with whom Mervin knew he had associated.

"That is none of your concern," stated Davron, predictably. As he
spoke, he reached forward and reclaimed his glass of whisky, thus
losing the unspoken contest that had started when he had placed it
there a few minutes before. Mervin made a mental note not to touch his
own for a good long while, knowing that the petty victory would make it
taste sweeter.

If the aging wizard was even aware of his failure, he made no
acknowledgment of it. He simply finished what was left in his glass,
and returned it to the tabletop. "I think I had better explain to you
in greater detail why planeshifting is so dangerous." The glimmer of
magic had returned to Davron's eyes, and Mervin forgot all about the
whisky.

"Well, if the lower planes are full of ghosts and demons, I think I
understand already," argued Mervin. He was expecting Davron to laugh,
but instead he saw the old man assume his stern, tutor-like
demeanour.

"Oh? And why are these 'ghosts and demons' so dangerous, do you
think?" Mervin was aware that this might be some kind of trap, but he
saw no alternative other than to say what he honestly believed.

"Um... they have ghostly weapons, or sharp teeth and claws?" He knew
that his answer was lame, so he strove to think of something else. Why
were ghosts so dangerous? The stories he had heard about people who had
allegedly been killed by ghosts always seemed to involve large amounts
of blood, caused by massive mutilations.

"A ghost needs no weapon to kill - nor does anything that can
planeshift rapidly." Davron paused, and gestured to the table between
them. "Do you remember me pushing my finger into the wood,
there?"
Mervin nodded; he didn't think he would ever forget it. "I was able to
do that because I was on a lower plane than the table is," continued
Davron. "Yet I left no mark on its surface, just as ghosts make no mark
on a wall they have just walked through. What do you think would have
happened had I not removed my finger from the wood before returning to
the Prime? Think carefully, now!"

Mervin thought about it, and came up with only two realistic
conclusions. "Either your finger would have become stuck in the wood,
and left a hole when you took it out, or... the end of your finger
would have been cut off?"

"You were right the first time, my boy. Material travelling from a
lower to a higher plane of existence has priority, from a physical
point of view."

Mervin was starting to understand. "So... if a ghost stood in the same
place as someone when it was on a lower plane than them, and then came
up to the Prime..."

"There would be a mess, yes. Quite an horrific one, actually; I've
seen it happen." Davron grimaced, obviously recalling the
experience.

"But that's not..." Mervin was confused. "I thought the person would
just.. disappear, apart from any bits that were sticking out."

"No," answered Davron, understanding what Mervin meant. "Matter cannot
be destroyed - it has to go somewhere. When a ghost or other entity
does as you suggest, the victim's flesh and internal organs are forced
outwards, to make room. This does not happen in a neat, uniform way,
however - depending on the speed of the spirit's rise, it happens with
varying degrees of force. On the occasion I had the misfortune to
witness such an event, the blood flew several yards. The poor soul
virtually exploded from within."

The young man in the chair opposite Davron paled. He knew that the
wizard was telling the truth, and was sickened by the very thought of
such things happening in the real world. Seeing the expression on his
face, Davron spoke again:

"That was be an extremely rare case, however; only a very powerful
being could accomplish it. I, for example, would never be capable of
such a feat. Why, with the time it takes me to rise through the levels,
anyone would feel what was happening and be able to move out of the way
in plenty of time."

Mervin thought back, and recalled that it had taken Davron a long time
to return to the 'Prime' plane. The vision of a powerful ghost making a
person explode from within would still haunt him that night, though. He
banished the thought from his mind; Davron was still speaking.

"...and if I were to try the same trick with the table or some other
immovable object, the process would be slow enough to compress the wood
so that it still looked fairly similar - only with me imprisoned
within." He chuckled, as if imagining the situation, or perhaps even
remembering it.

"So how do normal planeshifters kill people?" asked Mervin, trying to
control the tremor in his voice.

"What do you mean? I am a planeshifter, technically speaking, but I
don't kill people at all." Davron paused briefly, then added, "Unless I
absolutely had to, in which case I would purchase an appropriate
weapon, or create some sort of poison to accomplish the job."

This time Mervin frowned, wondering if Davron had misunderstood him on
purpose. "No, I meant normal planeshifters like the, er, ghosts and
demons."

"Such beings could hardly be described as 'normal', by any standards.
But I see what you mean." Davron had put the palms of his hands
together, and was tapping his fingers together - a sure sign that he
was thinking carefully about something. At length, he seemed to come to
some kind of conclusion. "I suppose what you said earlier about sharp
teeth and claws was not so inaccurate as I thought."

Mervin decided not to ask another question, but to wait for Davron to
explain in his own time. He had picked up his whisky again while the
wizard was thinking, and began sipping it slowly.

"Have you ever come into contact with a werewolf, Mervin?" Davron
asked this question in a relaxed manner, as if he were asking Mervin if
he had ever ridden a horse, or seen a sunset. Mervin shook his head,
although for all he knew, he could have met a werewolf, since they
looked just like anyone else unless the moon was showing. Like most
people however, Mervin knew that they existed, and were extremely
dangerous and difficult to kill.

"How do you think a werewolf inflicts so much damage?" Davron did not
wait for an answer, but curled the fingers of his right hand so it
resembled a claw, and used it to slash into an imaginary foe. "When the
moon is waxing, and visible, a werewolf can temporarily planeshift down
as far as sub-level three. This allows it to easily penetrate the flesh
of its victim with its sharp claws; and then, as it pulls down, and
out, it returns to its original level." As he spoke, he mimed the
actions with his clawed hand, and Mervin to all too easily imagine the
bloody result of such an attack.

"And of course," continued Davron, dropping his hand back to his side,
"being able to planeshift so rapidly also allows the werewolf to
considerably reduce the damage done to it by physical weapons. Would
you mind putting another log on the fire? It's getting rather
low."

Mervin glanced over, and saw that Davron was right. As he got up to
fetch another log from the basket, he thought about what the wizard had
said, and suddenly felt much colder. He was pleased, therefore, to see
the log quickly catch light, banishing the unseasonable chill that had
begun to creep into the room, and replacing it with a pleasant
warmth.

"So, I guess you have to stay away from ghosts, demons and werewolves
when you planeshift, then?"

"Eh? What did you say?" Mervin had still been facing the fire when he
spoke, and Davron had not heard him properly. Turning to face the old
man once more, he asked his question again.

"Well... yes," said Davron, a wry smile forming on his lips. "But I am
not completely defenceless, of course." He waited until Mervin had
returned to his seat before speaking again. "Now, when I said I was
going to explain the dangers of planeshifting to you, I wasn't really
referring to other planeshifters at all. In fact, while the lower
planes are inhabited, it is a fairly sparse population, and the chances
of us actually coming into contact with any of them is fairly
low."

"What were you referring to, then?" Mervin thought back to when Davron
had travelled through the planes, and remembered the look on his face,
and the words he had spoken afterwards. "You said going down was easier
than going up - is it something to do with that?"

"Excellent, Mervin, excellent. You remember." Davron began stroking
his chin, and Mervin knew he was trying to come to a decision of some
kind. A wicked gleam came into his eyes, and Mervin knew that it had
been made. "I could explain the dangers of the currents, eddies and
vortexes that form the Maelstrom of the Planes,"suggested Davron,
airily. "But I think it would be far easier just to show you." He
shifted his chair around to face Mervin more directly, with
surprisingly little difficulty for a man of his age. "Pull your chair
up closer to mine, my boy - if you're still willing to go through with
it, that is?"

Mervin took a deep breath, and then nodded. How could he possibly pass
up the chance to take part in such a magical experience as Davron was
promising? Still, as he downed the remaining dregs of his whisky (for
courage), and rearranged the furniture as Davron had suggested, he felt
his heart beat increase its tempo, and beads of sweat beginning to form
on his forehead.

"Well, Mervin," said Davron, when he was satisfied with the
positioning of the chairs. "Are you ready to enter the
Maelstrom?"

* * *

For what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, Mervin
sat with his eyes closed, waiting for something to happen. Davron had
explained that it sometimes took a while to 'break through the
boundary' when someone had never planeshifted before, but he had
expected to feel something. At least the time had allowed him to get
used to the curious feeling of having Davron's hands on top of his, a
thing he would never have imagined possible before. Still, while it was
uncomfortable holding hands with one of the most powerful wizards
alive, it also gave him a sense of might and mastery. It was as if
Davron's magic was flowing into his body, making him feel alive, and
more aware of his surroundings than ever, despite having his eyes
shut.

His train of thought was interrupted when he became aware of a new
sensation; a gentle tugging, faint at first, but growing stronger and
more insistent as he concentrated on it. He soon realized that the
feeling had been there all along - he simply hadn't noticed it. Nor was
it getting 'stronger' exactly; it felt more like he was moving towards
it by merely thinking about it. Mervin remembered Davron telling him
that they needed to find a 'down current' to break through the barrier
between the Prime plane and the lower levels, and that they would have
to find a fairly strong one in order for Mervin to planeshift. Patience
was the key here, as they could not risk a very strong current that
might drag them down further than was safe.

Suddenly, without warning, the tugging sensation increased
dramatically, and Mervin felt as if the chair and floor had fallen away
beneath him. He was being pulled downwards, and was utterly unable to
resist. Panic began to set in, and he tried to claw his way back to
safety. Something was stopping him, though - strong hands held his own
firmly in place, and he could do nothing but whimper in fear. He
stopped struggling when he realized that the hands were somehow slowing
his fall, transforming the terrifying plunge into a mere floating
descent.

Just as he was beginning to get used to the feeling, Mervin felt the
hands start to exert more force, and slow him down still further. He
got the feeling that they were trying to stop him completely, but still
the downward motion continued.

"Mervin," said a voice, cutting into his mind like a spear. "You have
to help me - I can't get you out of the current alone."

After a brief moment of puzzlement, Mervin realized that the voice was
Davron's, and with that, reality came slamming back into focus. He was
sliding through the planes, and the wizard could not stop him; he had
to do it himself. He lurched sideways, and the chair he was sitting on
suddenly made its presence known once more.

"No, no, no! Not like that!" berated Davron, tightening his grip on
Mervin's hands. "You can't escape the current physically - you must
will yourself away from it mentally."

Mervin tried to do as Davron asked, but at first, nothing happened.
Summoning all his strength, he tried again, and with a tremendous jolt,
he felt himself breaking free of the unseen force dragging him
downwards.

"You did it!" Davron exclaimed, giving his hands a squeeze of
congratulation. "I thought we were going to be dragged all the way to
the third sub-plane, then."

Unbidden, Mervin opened his eyes, and saw that Davron had done the
same. His excitement abated somewhat when he saw that the wizard had
not changed at all. Looking down at his own body, he saw that he too
was no different than before.

"I don't get it," he murmured. "We look just the same as before."

"Ha!" Davron let Mervin's hands go, and raised his own into the air,
palms facing upwards. "Look around you, my boy."

Mervin did so, and saw that the world had changed somewhat since he had
last seen it. Just as Davron had appeared faded and insubstantial
earlier in the evening, so too did the entire room now. The fire seemed
less bright, and the heat it emitted was barely noticeable. The chair
Mervin sat on felt soft and spongy, as did the floor beneath his feet,
and for a moment he was amazed that they could hold his weight. Then,
he noticed something else strange; he felt much lighter than before, as
if gravity had less of an effect on him, now. Which was precisely the
case, of course.

"So... we're two levels down, now?" asked Mervin, uneasily.

"Absolutely!" replied Davron, dropping his arms to his side and
grinning. "How do you like it?"

"I..." Mervin hesitated, not wanting to offend his mentor. "I don't,
sir. It feels weird."

Davron smaned, obviously enjoying himself. "Did I say it would be a
pleasant experience? Leaving the Prime plane is always disconcerting at
first, but you'll get used to it." After a pause, the smile fell from
his lips, and his face assumed its stern demeanor once more. "Listen,
Mervin - we shall have to be very careful down here. There is a planar
storm going on, and quite a big one at that. I noticed it when I went
down earlier; how could I not? A rogue current almost took me down to
the fifth sub-plane, as I'm sure you noticed."

Yet again, Mervin remembered the look of fear on Davron's ghostly
face, and shivered.

"Shouldn't we still be holding hands, then?" Mervin didn't care about
the awkwardness any more. "I don't think I could stop myself falling if
another current comes along."

"No, we can relax for the time being - I have managed to guide us into
a calm spot. Perhaps even the eye of the storm, although I doubt we
would be so unlucky." Davron studied Mervin's face intently, as if
searching for something. "Can't you feel the latent power surging
around us?" He watched Mervin frown in confusion, and sighed. "No, of
course you can't - you have no basis for comparison."

Mervin could feel something, though; a thousand tiny impulses, each
tugging at him in a different direction. The overall sensation was a
definite downwards pull, however, and he got the disturbing feeling
that he would be sucked inexorably to oblivion if he were to stay here
much longer. Davron seemed unconcerned, so he kept his thoughts to
himself, and concentrated instead on staying alert, and ready for
anything. In this hyper-sensitive state, he jumped when Davron touched
his knee gently.
The wizard had put his finger to his lips, indicating that Mervin
should be silent.

"Look," whispered Davron, pointing over Mervin's shoulder. "We have
company." Mervin slowly turned his head to look behind him, terrified
of what he might see.

But there was nothing there; only the far side of the room, and the
entrance to the hallway. With the unearthly state of things, however,
and the ineffectual glow of the fire, there was not enough light to see
adequately. Squinting his eyes against the gloom, Mervin peered more
closely into the shadows, and this time he saw what Davron had been
pointing at.

In the dark entrance, there was the barely perceptible image of a
figure, hovering between the floor and ceiling. It was partially
embedded in the side of the doorway, as if it was not even aware of its
existence. The phantom's eyes, its most visible feature, were locked on
Mervin's, and he was transfixed with fear.

"Will it attack us?" he breathed, his eyes still rivetted on the
shadowy form by the door.

"I don't believe so," answered Davron, using the same hushed tone.
"It's simply curious - not used to seeing living creatures on anything
other than the Prime."

The floating apparition drifted closer, and as it did so, it became
more visible. It had switched its gaze to Davron while he had been
speaking, but now turned once more to look at Mervin.

"Why is it looking at me?"

"You must be emitting a stronger aura of life. It makes sense, since
you are so much younger than I." Davron stood up, and raised his hand
towards the spectre, with palm outwards and fingers spread. "I'm
confusing it - it knows that it has the advantage, being on a lower
plane than us, but I am sending the signal for it to retreat."

"Will it?" Mervin was finding it hard to hold the position of looking
over his shoulder at the ghost, but something told him that looking
away would cause it to attack.

"It depends what mood it's in, and what type of spirit it is." Davron
was speaking to Mervin, but he kept his eyes locked onto those of the
ghost. There followed what appeared to be a staring contest between the
two, and eventually the ghost let out a silent cry and vanished back
into the depths.

"Coward," sneered Davron, only half joking. "Never even came up past
minus five."

"How did you do that?" Mervin asked, clearly impressed.

"I simply allowed it to know my powers," replied Davron, as he sat
down again. "I didn't actually do anything."

The old wizard relaxed back into his chair for a moment, then leaned
forward again, frowning. "The storm is catching up on us again. I think
we shall have to cut short our visit."

Mervin could feel it, too; the tugging sensations had increased in
power, and he knew that he would certainly begin to slide downwards
again if he remained where he was. He couldn't help thinking that this
was perhaps one of the reasons why the ghost had chosen to flee, and
that it wasn't purely down to Davron's power.

"Fine by me, let's go," he stated, trying to sound casual about it. He
had already seen a ghost, and there was no reason to risk staying here
any longer.

"I wish it were that simple," sighed Davron. "We have to find an
updraft to get you back to the Prime, or at least sub-level one. Any
will do; it doesn't have to be strong. But travelling up without one is
like trying to climb a mountain - one slip, and you're back where you
started, or worse."

"I don't quite understand how it works," said Mervin, pondering over
the old man's words. "Won't we have to move from our chairs, or even
this room? Or do we have to wait for an updraft to come to us?"

"I understand your confusion. And in a sense, you are right - moving
around in the physical world would change our position in the
Maelstrom. But try to think of it more like an actual storm, or waves
and currents in the sea. Moving around doesn't help you much there,
unless you can fly, or rapidly cover a large amount of distance in some
other way. The best thing to do is stay where you are, and deal with
things as they come to you."

Mervin nodded, although he didn't really understand. He simply hated
the idea of being stuck in his chair when another current chose to come
along. Davron must have sensed his discomfort, as he had taken Mervin's
hands in his once more.

"The 'storm' analogy is incorrect in a few other significant ways,
Mervin. The currents of the Maelstrom are not entirely random; just
like the ghosts, they too are drawn to our life auras. And if one
catches you, trying to escape it physically is a recipe for disaster -
it would surely force you into a bigger current, which would drag you
all the way to the bottom. Assuming there is a bottom, of
course."

Mervin felt the currents growing stronger around him, and wished
fervently for an updraft. Instead, one of the tugging currents took
hold of him, and started to suck him down, just as before. This time
however, Davron easily countered the current, and Mervin stayed where
he was. He could still feel it, though, testing Davron's resistance,
and waiting for a chance. At least, that was how it seemed to
Mervin.

"Don't worry," reassured Davron, winking. "This is nothing - you could
probably hold it off yourself. We only have to ride it out for a while
- I can sense a strong updraft coming right now, and that will shoot us
right out of here and easily take us back to the Prime. We might even
go to the first positive plane for a second, if we're lucky."

"Positive plane?" Mervin was intrigued - the possibility of there
being planes above the Prime had not occurred to him.

"Yes, there are planes above the Prime. But getting to them is
practically impossible, unless you happen to ride a particularly potent
updraft, and even then you are dragged back to the Prime in a flash. It
feels as if you are not supposed to be there, so you are forcibly
ejected." Davron hesitated. "At least," he continued, "that is what
I've been told it feels like."

"You've never been there?" Mervin was surprised that others had done
what Davron apparently could not.

"I have never really tried. The upper planes are not a place for men.
However, if I should accidentally catch a strong enough updraft,
well... I would have no choice in the matter."

"What are the upper planes like?" asked Mervin, so fascinated by the
concept that he almost managed to forget the constant tugging of the
current.

"I've been told that one gets a feeling of immense well-being, and
everything becomes shiny, and somehow more solid. No-one has ever made
it past the second positive plane, to my knowledge, and no-one has ever
been able to stay long enough to make an accurate study. But you may
yet get a chance to see for yourself - the updraft is almost upon us,
and it is even stronger than I thought."

"Good," thought Mervin. "I could do with a feeling of 'immense
well-being' after this." He waited in anticipation, and even closed his
eyes again in readiness.

At that moment, everything suddenly went very wrong. Davron's hands
were ripped away, and he let out a cry of pain. Mervin's eyes flicked
open, and he found himself looking directly into the piercing eyes of
the spectre they had encountered earlier. It was directly in front of
him, half crouching, and grinning wickedly. Davron's chair was
overturned, and the old man himself lay face-down on the carpet,
unmoving. Not knowing how or why, Mervin leapt to his feet, and held
his hand out palm first and fingers splayed, imitating the gesture
Davron had made before. The ghost, which looked to be on the same plane
as Mervin, took a half-step backwards, obviously puzzled. The move had
gained him some time, but Mervin knew that he was no match for the
ghost - and the ghost knew it too.

Suddenly, Mervin remembered the current that even now still had a hold
of him. Davron's assistance had disappeared the moment his hands had
left Mervin's, but since then, he had been subconsciously holding
himself on the second plane of his own accord. When he saw the ghost
preparing to leap at him, flames of fury dancing in its eyes, he knew
he had no choice. The moment the ghost launched itself into a
terrifying attack, he withdrew his restraint on the current and willed
himself downwards. Gleefully, the current dragged him down, and the
ghost uttered a scream of anger as its prey vanished, leaving it
clawing wildly at the chair behind.

* * *

For the first time, Mervin realized why keeping ones eyes shut while
planeshifting was a good idea. The world exploded around him as he
fell, and it felt as if his brains were being warped and twisted inside
his skull. He knew he must have fallen at least three levels, but now
that the current had him, it wasn't going to let go without a
fight.
With a colossal effort, he managed to slow his descent somewhat, and
saw that Davron's living room had completely disappeared. He was
floating in some kind of mist, utterly alone.

He was still being dragged down, so he shut his eyes in order to
concentrate fully on stopping himself. Amazingly, after a fierce
struggle, he managed to beat the current, and even get out of it
completely. He had done it - he was safe, and the ghost was nowhere to
be seen.

Safe? On second thoughts, Mervin didn't think so. Having opened his
eyes, he saw that he had been pulled down even further. Vague shadowy
forms had started to appear in the mist, which had disconcertingly
taken on a reddish hue. The storm was still raging around him, and
Davron was gone, maybe even killed. When one of the floating shapes
that surrounded him started to move, Mervin began to think that he
would have been better off taking his chances with the ghost.

* * *

With some difficulty, Davron opened his eyes, and saw the faded red
carpet of his living room beneath him. There was a throbbing pain in
his side, and he knew he was losing a lot of blood. Having said that,
he was still on minus two, and thought it miraculous that he hadn't
been taken by a current, or even the updraft that had been so close
when he was attacked. Attacked, yes! And now the ghost must surely have
turned on...

"Mervin!" he gasped, turning himself over as he did so. It was a
mistake. The ghost, which had been about to chase after Mervin, span
round to face him, hissing and spitting with bloodlust.

"Wizzzard! You die!" In a flash, it had leapt at him, claws
outstretched. Using all of his strength, Davron cast a defensive shield
around himself, and the ghost slammed into it with frightening force.
To counter the shield, it quickly planeshifted to level four, and made
to attack Davron again.

The wizard had expected just such a move, so he rolled sideways, away
from the phantom, and caught a nearby current that took him rapidly to
the same level as the ghost. As soon as he got there, he sent a ray of
energy that hit the enemy square in its midriff, sending it reeling
backwards. Adding an element of binding to his magic, Davron kept the
ghost held firmly in place, where it squirmed and hissed
ineffectually.

"You caught me by surprise before. But you should have known better
than to tackle with Davron Albenicus on his own terms!" Laughing
triumphantly, Davron began to crush the ghost with his power. "What
were you in life, I wonder? Not quite human, but hardly a beast,
either." He continued to exert pressure on the pitiful ghost, until he
suddenly remembered Mervin, who was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is the boy?" snarled the wizard, decreasing his power enough to
allow the ghost to speak. "Answer, or feel my wrath!"

"The currentss took him!" gasped the evil spirit. "He'ss dead now!" It
started to laugh, a grating, raspy sound that cut straight to the bone.
Davron wasted no time in crushing the foul thing's head, which exploded
into a cloud of blackish powder that was quickly sucked to nothingness.
Hardly pausing to think, Davron plunged himself down through the
planes, desperate to find Mervin before the ghost's words became true -
unless they already were.

* * *

The shapes were closing in on him, and Mervin knew that he had no
chance. These weren't ghosts - they were demons, evil creatures that
dwelt in the lowest planes, and devoured anything unfortunate enough to
come their way. In a panic, Mervin tried to go still deeper into the
void to escape them, but found that the current had vanished, having
taken him out of the proverbial frying pan and left him in some
distinctly non-proverbial fire. For one of the demons, the one closest
to him, had quite literally ignited, sending tongues of flame shooting
out at Mervin, causing him to cry out in searing pain.

"Davron! Help me!" he knew that the old wizard was surely dead, and
probably couldn't hear him even if he were alive, but what else could
he do? The 'signal for retreat' certainly wasn't going to help him
here; his only chance lay in the fact that the demons might toy with
him before killing him, or even fight amongst themselves to get at his
life aura.

What happened next seemed to Mervin to be nothing short of a miracle.
The flames cut off abruptly, and the demons all turned their attention
away from Mervin toward something else, behind them. Through the red
mist, Mervin could just about make out a human form, its hands held
high above its head, and glowing with magic. Davron!

But no, it couldn't be Davron. It looked like him, but Mervin had
learned to feel the 'life aura' that living things emitted when below
the Prime plane. The figure that was even now locked in fierce combat
with the demons was projecting nothing but raw power, which was so
blinding that Mervin was forced to turn his head away. When he looked
back, he saw to his dismay that the demons were winning - there were
simply too many of them for the figure to handle. Mervin wanted to rush
in and help, but what could he possibly do? Nothing. So, he waited
anxiously, willing his strength into the flailing form in front of
him.

After a few agonising moments, during which Mervin had seen his
unknown helper almost gain the upper hand, by vaporising two of the
demons with a terrific bolt of lightning, three more demons arrived and
flung themselves, snarling, into the fray. The figure was overwhelmed,
and all Mervin could see were the scaly hides and wings of the
triumphant demons as they set about finishing the job. Which was the
reason that they failed to notice the wizard that had materialized
behind them, and was gathering his magic to form the most powerful
spell he could muster. This time, it really was Davron. Mervin wanted
to shout for joy, but managed to suppress it, and simply waited for the
spell to go off. It was not long in coming.

The spell Davron had cast, which appeared to be a large blue-white
sphere, rolled effortlessly from his fingers, and through the red mist
towards the demons. They didn't see it until it was too late, and it
exploded with a terrible bang, which made Mervin's head vibrate with
its force. The air turned suddenly cold, and a magical blizzard was
raging around the demons, quenching their fires and almost freezing
them solid. Mervin gave a whoop of delight, thinking that the demons
were finished. His joy turned to dismay when he saw that the fight was
far from over; the ice storm had ceased, and the demons were
regrouping, ready to destroy his friend.

Casting the spell had taken a lot out of Davron, and for the first
time, Mervin noticed a gaping wound on his side, presumably caused by
the attack the ghost had made before. He was in no condition to fight
the demons, even though they seemed severely weakened themselves. Once
again, Mervin resigned himself to death... unless... Yes, there was a
chance - if only he could get to it in time, the figure that had been
fighting the demons before might still be all right, and able to
help.

Mervin tried to will himself forward, for there was no ground here to
walk on. Somehow, he managed to get himself moving, and he was soon
hovering next to the recumbent figure that resembled Davron so
uncannily. As he looked down at it, Mervin suddenly realized who it was
- who it had to be.

"Galthus!" he shouted, shaking the figure's shoulder as hard as he
could. It was icy cold. "Galthus, wake up! Davron needs you!"
Unbelievably, the figure stirred, and looked into Mervin's eyes with an
intensity that was frightening.

"Davron?" it said, grabbing Mervin by the shoulders. "Where?" Mervin
found himself unable to speak, so he pointed to where Davron had been.
As he followed the line of his own finger, he saw that the demons had
reached the wizard, who was struggling to maintain a shield around
himself to keep them at bay.
Galthus, for it was he, released Mervin, and launched himself into a
ferocious attack against the demons. Not caring what the outcome might
be, Mervin followed him, raising his own hands as if he were about to
cast a spell.

The demons panicked - they had gone from an easy kill, and certain
victory, to being assaulted by what seemed to be three powerful beings.
They had been attacked with one of the only things they feared; ice.
After Galthus had disintegrated one of them with his magic, the rest of
them either turned and fled, or planeshifted far enough down as to
disappear completely. The battle was over: they had won.

* * *

Davron was in a bad way, and did not have the strength to speak, let
alone find an updraft that could take them away from the hellish place.
He was alive, though, and Mervin was happy enough knowing that. Galthus
had not spoken since the battle, and was watching Mervin
intently.

"Galthus, we need to get back to the Prime." It took all of Mervin's
remaining courage to even talk to the terrifying figure, but this was
important. "His wound needs to be treated, or he could die."

Galthus looked down at the injury on Davron's side, and placed one of
his bony hands on top of it. A warm glow started to shine around the
hand, and after a few moments, the blood stopped flowing from the
wound.

"He will still need healing when you get back, but it is not so urgent
now." Galthus spoke in a commanding, authoritative tone, and Mervin
found himself trusting his words as if he had known him his whole
life.

"How did you-"

"Hush. We must leave this place. Now." Galthus took a firm hold of
both Davron and Mervin's arms, and summoned his power once more. Just
in time, Mervin remembered to close his eyes, and he felt himself being
lifted out of the depths. For a moment, he wondered how Galthus could
possibly travel upwards without an updraft, and with two people in tow,
but before he had reached any kind of conclusion, their journey halted
abruptly.

"This is as far as I can take you, Mervin. I am not permitted to
travel any higher." Opening his eyes, Mervin saw that Galthus had a
pained look on his face. It was not a physical pain, though, and now
that things had settled down, Mervin saw that his face was scarred,
gaunt, and deathly pale.

"You're dead, aren't you?" Mervin watched Galthus nod forlornly.
"And... you're my... grandfather?" Mervin spoke these last words in a
whisper, hardly believing it himself.

"Yes, Mervin. I am a Lich of the Planes, doomed to wander the lower
levels for all time, never able to rise high enough to see the world as
I knew and loved it. Never able to see my daughter..." the words choked
in his throat, and Mervin thought he saw the faint sheen of tears in
his dead grandfather's eyes.

"How did you know about me? My name, for example?" Mervin tried to
change the track of the conversation - the last thing he wanted was to
be stuck in a mist of nothingness five levels below the Prime with a
crying ghost.

"Davron - for years he sought me, knowing that through the manner of
my death, and the fact that I was a wizard, eventually I would rise
again and become a Lich. Fifteen years ago, he found me, and has been
visiting me down here ever since. He made me remember my human self,
and told me all about Melissandre and her little boy. You,
Mervin."

Mervin felt tears beginning to sting his own eyes - Melissandre was
his mother's name. "He never told me."

"Of course," said Galthus, lifting Mervin's chin with a cold finger.
"How could he have told you before? You might have believed him, but it
would be meaningless to you. He had to wait until you were old enough
to come and see me for yourself."

"So that's why he took me with him today. But we were about to go back
when we were attacked."

"He probably thought better of it, considering the storm. He should
not have taken you down at all while something like this was going on.
Quite apart from the dangerous currents, it makes the spirits
restless."

"It seems calm now, though." A thought struck Mervin, triggered partly
by a low moan from the unconscious Davron. "We have to get back - but
how are we to do it, if you can't take us?"

"Worry not, my boy. There is a small updraft here, and I think I can
add enough of my own power to it to allow it to carry you all the way
to the Prime. But before you go, you must promise me two things."

"Anything. You saved my life back there, along with Davron."

Galthus chuckled. "We all saved each other's lives, as I remember it.
If you hadn't shouted my name, I would never have woken up in time to
save Davron, and the demons would have destroyed us both."

"How can you be destroyed, if you're already dead?"

"True," admitted Galthus, "I cannot be fully destroyed. But I could
have been cast back into that nightmarish place..." There was a haunted
expression on his face, and Mervin knew that pressing him further on
the subject would be a bad idea.

"Okay," said Mervin, softly. "What are the promises?"

Galthus had regained his composure, and spoke in a deadly serious tone.
"First, you must never tell Melissandre about me. I do not want her to
know of my pitiful existence here on the lower planes."

"Yes... I understand. You're right - I wouldn't have told her, anyway.
Davron told me never to tell anyone about the things he shows
me."

"Good - the old fool still has some sense, then." Galthus smiled, and
then grew serious once more. "The second promise I wish you to make is
this: You must agree to come and visit me here from time to time.
Davron will be happy to oblige, until you eventually gain enough
knowledge and power to come here on your own."

Mervin was stunned, but his face soon broke into a grin. "I'd love to
come and visit you, Galthus. Maybe together, Davron and I can make your
existence a little less 'pitiful'."

"Less mind-numbingly boring, more like." Galthus started laughing, and
the fact that he was a powerful undead wizard suddenly seemed
insignificant. "And now, you must go. The current is strong enough, I
think, and as I said, I shall help it along from down here. Take good
care of my brother, Mervin - he's growing frail and senile, I
fear."

Mervin smiled again, imagining what Davron's reaction would be if he
were awake. "Thanks for your help, Grandfather. I'll come and see you
soon."

"You'd better. Now, hurry up - there are some demons on the eighth
sub-plane that need teaching a serious lesson." The look in his eyes
showed that he was serious, and Mervin marvelled once more at his
power. He could feel the updraft, now; it was warm and encouraging, the
exact opposite of the down currents from before. Galthus had placed his
hands out in front of himself, and the updraft began to increase in
strength. Grabbing hold of Davron, Mervin shut his eyes and gave in to
the power of the updraft. Slowly at first, but getting faster all the
time, he rose through the levels with Davron, and could almost feel the
world forming itself around him. After a minute or so, he felt himself
land with a jolt, and Mervin knew that they were back on the Prime
plane; safe at last.

* * *

Mervin carefully washed and dressed Davron's wound, a task made
considerably easier by Galthus's spell, which still seemed to be
working. The old wizard had woken up once, and listened intently to
Mervin's account of what had happened since the fight with the demons.
As soon as it was over, and he was satisfied, he had called for a large
whisky. By the time Mervin had poured it and brought it through to the
bedroom, Davron was fast asleep. He was breathing steadily, though, and
Mervin saw no point in calling one of the local healers in - Davron
didn't like them much, anyway.

Mervin drank it himself, after using a little to clean the wound. As
he worked, he thought of everything that had happened, and a surge of
excitement went through him. He almost wished that he could go and see
Galthus again now - there was so much for them to talk about! Still,
that could wait for another day. He thought about what Galthus had said
about him learning to planeshift on his own, and realized for the first
time that for all the years he had been coming to see him, Davron
really had been teaching him to be a wizard.

After finishing dressing Davron's wound, Mervin went back into the
living room, and put another log on the dying fire. Seeing that the
cushions on his chair were ripped to shreds, he picked up Davron's
comfortable chair from where it lay on the floor, and sat down. "If
this is what being a wizard is all about," he thought, as he sipped his
whisky, "I could really get used to it."

THE END