jumping from one to the next…until at last, strength deserting him, his consciousness rushed back like the snap of an over-stretched rubber band.
But in that last instant, he’d found him.
His enemy was old now, old and frail, no longer the awesome force that had once defeated him in battle. His foe’s powers had waned, the man’s body had grown feeble with age.
Having expended what little strength he’d had, the beast slipped back into the restless edge of sleep.
Yet this time, he remained aware.
And in the depths of his inhuman mind, a plan began to form.
Chapter Two: Legends
Fingers flying across the keyboard, Samuel Travers watched the words appear in neat lines of glowing green script on the screen in front of him with a deep sense of satisfaction.
He’d been writing since nine o’clock that morning, a steady five hours of work. At first it had been difficult, every sentence leaving him unsatisfied. Nothing seemed to fit, nothing had sounded quite right. The first half hour had been completely wasted, with nothing to show for it but half a pack of cigarette butts in the ashtray beside him. In desperation he’d tried an old writing exercise, copying names out of a phone book to stimulate creativity, and suddenly the words he’d been trying to summon together with such difficulty moments before had flashed into his mind as clearly as if they’d been etched in stone. He’d given a whoop of delight, swept the phone book onto the floor with a swing of one arm, and plunged into his tale with reckless abandon.
For the last four hours, his mind racing, his fingers trying desperately to keep pace with his thoughts, he’d been too absorbed in the crystal storyline that was flowing out of his head to pay attention to anything else.
The creative stream was starting to finally wind down. The flood had become a weak trickle and he knew it wouldn’t be much longer before even that went dry.
It was just about time to call it quits for the day.
What he had written today was good. Damn good, he thought. Now if I can only keep it up until it’s finished. Taking a long drag off his cigarette, he cast a silent prayer to the Nine Muses to let him do just that.
Tipping the scales somewhere around 170, Sam stood just under six feet, with short curly hair that was slowly receding across his brow and eyes and hair the color of used motor oil. Sam had taken the less traveled road after college, going to work as a writer for a company that produced fantasy role-playing games. Having been in love with the strange and fantastic for as long as he could remember, the job allowed him to stay in a world where demons, ghosts, and things that go bump in the night were a reality, at least on paper. While enjoyable, the hob didn’t pay that well, so Sam was forced to supplement his income with a second job at a nursing home in Glendale.
As he sat staring at the pages of the fantasy tale he was in the midst of writing, his thoughts turned to the latest session of Swords and Sorcerers that he had scheduled for Jake and Katelynn later that night. It had been a week since his friends had ventured into that underground maze beneath Zolthane Mountain that Sam, the adventure’s writer, had created and named the Crystal Caverns. Katelynn and Jake often acted as an unofficial test group, working through his latest creations for their strengths and weaknesses before Sam sent them off to his editor for production. As usual, Sam was anxious to return to that fantasy world of imagination. Last week had seen Chelmar the Wizard and Alganea the Warrior-Maiden trapped in a dead-end cavern by a pack of flesh-hungry ghouls. Despite the week they’d had to ponder the problem, Sam still couldn’t see how Jake and Katelynn were going to get their characters out of their deadly predicament.
Looks like you might’ve made this one just a hair too difficult, he thought to himself. If they can’t find their way out of the maze, you’re going to have a lot of rewriting to do.
A quick glance at his watch told him it was just after two. He had agreed to take a day shift in order to free up one of his evenings later in the week. Doing so also allowed the perfect opportunity to take Katelynn to work with him that afternoon so that she could interview Gabriel Armadorian, one of the nursing homes’ patients and Sam’s friend, for her thesis. Knowing he had to be there by three-thirty, Sam decided he had just enough time to grab a quick shower and a bite to eat before going to pick up Katelynn. He saved the fresh text he’d written on his computer, and then wandered into the kitchen, trying to hunt up the fixings for a sandwich or two, his thoughts wandering through the details of that night’s adventure.
He didn’t know it then, but before the night was through, Sam would find himself wrapped up a situation beyond his control, one that would make those he faced in the twilight realm of his imagination seem positively dull in comparison.
Across town, Katelynn Riley was anxiously awaiting her friend’s arrival. As was her habit when nervous, she checked through her book bag once more, assuring herself that she had everything she needed.
Notebook? Check.
Pencils and pens? Check.
Tape recorder? Check.
Tapes and extra batteries, just in case? Check.
That’s everything, she thought with satisfaction, and relaxed back into the chair by the front window where she sat watching for Sam’s car. He had promised to take her to St. Boniface’s today when he went in for his shift, to introduce her to Gabriel Armadorian, the nursing home’s oldest patient. He had assured her that the old man was still lucid and in complete possession of his mental faculties.
From the comments that Sam had made, Katelynn was fairly certain that Gabriel was privy to a good deal of information that she was unable to find elsewhere on Sebastian Blake, the man who was the subject of her thesis. She was eager to sit down with Gabriel to discuss the issue at length. What a coup it would be for her to uncover and support information that not even Dr. Hemington, her mentor, had previously seen.
A horn sounded from outside, snatching her from her musings. Seeing Sam’s car in the drive, she quickly slipped into her coat, snatched up her pack and hustled out the door.
'All set?' Sam asked as she settled into the passenger seat.
'Sure am. Thanks a lot for this, Sam.' She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
He smiled at her in return. The two had known each other for several years, having enrolled at Benton University at the same time. A chance introduction had blossomed into a deep friendship that had lasted well past college. At times Sam found himself wondering just why it was that they’d never been more than just friends. Wasn’t friendship one of the most important pillars in the foundation of a relationship? It wasn’t that he didn’t find her attractive; he certainly did. She kept herself in shape with daily workouts of swimming and aerobics, toning her body without losing its soft feminine curves. Her hair was the color of chestnuts and curled at the shoulders. Katelynn had a wonderful laugh, a beautiful smile, and a pert little nose that reminded him of an elf. Sam knew from past experience that she was kind, caring, and generous. So why hadn’t they fallen in love? Sam figured it was just one of the great mysteries in life and left it at that. Sometimes it didn’t pay to look too closely at such things. They were friends, and that was what was important. At least that was what he told himself.
Suddenly, Katelynn interrupted his thoughts. 'Tell me about Gabriel, Sam.'
He thought about it for a moment, and then said with a laugh, 'I’m not sure I can.'
Despite all the time they’d spent together, Gabriel was still pretty much an enigma to him. He had the feeling that the old man would remain that way no matter how well they got to know each other.
Sam remembered the day they had admitted Gabriel to the nursing home. The stretcher attendants were wheeling him in, his stroke too recent for him to be mobile, and as they’d passed the nursing desk were Sam was stationed for the night, the old man had opened his eyes, looked at him, and said, 'Come pay me a visit sometime, Sammy. I think we’ve got a lot to talk about.' It had taken Sam a minute or two to get over his shock, and by then the group had passed through the double doors and down the hall to the guest rooms. He’d wondered how the old man had known his name, and then decided he’d simply read it off his nametag. But when he’d been changing in the locker room after his shift, he’d discovered he’d forgotten to put his tag on that night. There it was, sitting right where he’d left it the night before, on the top shelf of his locker, the white letters of his name staring him in the face. Once the shivers had gone away, he’d convinced himself that one of the attendants must have been playing a
