Date: Mon, 26 Feb 2001 12:55:58 -0500 (EST)
From: Rune Therain <mist_dark@yahoo.ca>
Subject: Powers of the mind: 8

So we've successfully survived another week.  Congratulations to all of
you.  If it weren't for out ability to survive from week to week the human
race would die out.  I'd give you all an award for you accomplishments, but
I don't have enough.  So you'll have to be satisfied with chapter eight.
Not as good as a medal I know, but it'll have to do.

I want to thank everyone that's e-mailed me.  It's really nice to hear from
you guys.  About what you like and dislike about my writing, and your
theories on what's going on.  I do try to make sure that I write everyone
back, and I'm sorry if I missed you.  Special thanks to Kenitra, Shade,
Aeoros, Gavalin, Apples, Casey, Dax, Mirage, JP and David.  If you want to
drop me a line you can reach me at either Mist_dark@hotmail.com or
Mist_dark@yahoo.ca I check both.

Disclaimer time now.  This story is in no way supposed to reflect anything
about the members of Nsync.  If you are too young, or it's illegal in you
area to be reading this, please leave.  If you're offended by homosexual
themes I'd leave as well.  Parts of this story are based off the RPG Rifts.
All trademarks belong to Kevin Siembieda and Palladium books.

Enjoy the story,
Until next time,
Rune


CHAPTER EIGHT


	The next day shone brightly.  The trees rarely allowed this type of
light into the jungle and most of the creatures had decided to wait until
the later afternoon to move around.  It was just too bright to move about.
The few that did venture out of their homes spent as little time out in the
light as possible.  But it wasn't the light that woke Joey and Sandy.  It
was Makyla tapping lightly outside the tent.

	"You may want to see this Joey," the warlock said.  "It might be
important."

	What Makyla thought important was a goblin.  The greenish creature
lay unconscious in the middle of their camp.  Nathaniel knelt next to it
praying quietly under his breath.  Phixt was off to one side of the priest;
she seemed to be watching everything.

	"What's with the goblin?"  Sandy asked.  "And what's Nathaniel
doing?"

	"The goblin apparently had a nasty run in with some of Phixt's
brothers and sisters," Makyla told them seriously.  "He's going to die, but
Nathaniel thinks that he might be useful before then."

	"How?"  Joey asked.

	"Nathaniel thinks you might be able to figure out how the link
between the Summoner and a summoned creature works.  That's why he's
praying right now.  I think it's got something to do with keeping the
goblin's soul in the body until we learn something."  She looked over the
goblin and then the priest.  "I don't know how much longer he'll be able to
have Tark keep the soul from leaving.  Tark isn't a goddess of death."

	"I'll see what I can do," Joey assured her.  "Try to keep it down
though.  It's going to take a lot of concentration to figure this thing
out."

	He sat crossed legged across from Nathaniel's kneeling form.  He
closed his eyes and focused his mental abilities on the goblin before him.
He thought a general scan of the mind should help him figure out what areas
could be ignored.  Thankfully Evelyn had taught him something about the
ways a psychic could control another mind.  She showed him enough to make
sure that he could defend himself against an attack like that.  She'd told
him not use it unless necessary.  That would be the first area he'd check.

Joey had touched a number of minds since he'd learned to control his
psychic abilities.  No two minds were alike and he knew that if the goblin
lived he would be able to pick him out of a crowed.  But just as he knew
this, he knew the goblin wouldn't live.  The poison in its veins was too
far advanced to be neutralized.  He pushed these thoughts out of his mind
as he focused his energy on finding the link.


	Slowly he took form inside the goblin's mind.  Not exactly a
physical construct, but he'd be able to interact here.  At least in a way
that he and the goblin would be able to understand.  Once his form
solidified he looked around him.  He was at the edge of a giant swamp.
Fallen trees were being claimed by the black muck, which was probably
supposed to be water.  Here and there grayish foliage clung to the few
trees that had managed to stay alive.  A thick mist hung over the swamp.

	"Just once," he muttered.  "I would like to find a path in these
situation.  I'm tired of blazing my own trail."

	He stepped forward into the swamp, but his feet didn't sink into
the black goo.  Instead the water rippled and bubbled.  When it stopped a
stone bridge had appeared out of the swamp and extended into the mist.
Satisfied that he wouldn't be getting filthy on his trip, Joey continued on
his journey.  He knew it was a foolish thought, after all this was just the
construction of one mind, he wouldn't be affected physically by what
happened here, but he still didn't want to go wading through the swamp.

	The swamp was deserted of all life.  Nothing moved an no sound was
made.  He assumed that it was because the body the mind was attached to was
dying.  All minds draw inward when they die.  It was a simple fact.  They
relived their memories in their last moments of life.  To remind them of
what they'd done before they passed on.  The outter edge of the swamp
probably corresponded to the more recent memories.  The deeper he traveled
the further back in the memories he'd go.  And he would have to go to the
very centre to find the link.  And to find the link he would have to find
the goblin.  Hopefully the two would be in the same place.

	The first memory he encountered startled the hell out of him.  It
loomed out of the mist so quickly that he barely had time to react to it.
It took him a moment to realize that he couldn't react to it.  It would
ignore him completely.  At least he hoped it would.  Evelyn had said
something about being able to erase memories from a person's mind,
temporarily and permanently.  As well as being able to create a memory, but
she'd never shown him how to do it.  And now certainly wasn't the time to
figure it out.

	The memory was one that Joey would have in his own mind.  It was of
the battle they'd had just before Selvar had appeared.  Only he was
experiencing it as the goblin had seen it.  The psychic had to laugh at the
way the scene was unfolding.  The goblins that had fled the scene during
the battle were the ones that were valiantly leading the attack against
Joey and his friends.  The scene ended with them begging for mercy from the
head goblin, who, coincidentally, was the same goblin who lay dying in the
clearing with them.

	That memory faded to be replaced by another as Joey continued
walking.  This one wasn't one that he remembered.  It featured the goblin
in a submissive position.  Not generally the way goblins remembered
themselves.  They liked to beef themselves up when they retold stories.
But this one featured the Summoner standing over the goblin with a rod that
was at least an inch around and probably two feet long.  He was mercilessly
beating the poor creature.  Joey had no real love for goblins, but his was
beyond cruel.  Twice while the memory played itself out he heard bones
break.  He shuddered as the memory returned to the mist.

	A few more that showed themselves were of the Summoner.  But once
the mage stopped showing up the memories took a turn for the happier.  One
that Joey knew he'd always remember was one with a dragon in it.  The
dragon had black scales and made Pyre look small.  Bright green eyes
flashed as it attacked the goblin.  The goblin was winning.  And not just
by a little.  He was single handedly defeating an adult dragon.  By the
time the memory ended Joey was in tears.  Through the course of the fight
the goblin had picked up five boulders that would have weighted five
hundred pounds each, put the dragon in a headlock, pile-driven the dragon,
poked it twice in the eyes, and clothes-lined it.  The fight ended with the
goblin ripping out the dragon's heart.  The whole thing was absurd.

	The further back he went, the more outlandish the memories became.
But there was a distinct note of happiness about them.  Before the
Summoner, this goblin's life had been good.  Not the best, but it wouldn't
remember the bad.  It would have lived out its life never remembering
anything bad had happened to it.  It had survived this long by fleeing when
things got dangerous, which is why it had remembered the dragon at all.
Though the memory of the dragon was slightly distorted.  At the rate things
were progressing he should reach the core of the goblin's memories soon.
And should be able to catch up with the goblin there.


	Joey wasn't sure what he was expecting to see, but what he saw
wasn't it.  The centre of the swamp was an island of sorts.  It was
probably constructed from vines and other fallen plant matter that had
built up until it was solid.  One large tree had managed to grow on the
island, until the lack of light and nutrients killed it.  Its branches
stood out against the dull sky.  A light came from a hole in the base of
the trunk.

	"Guess I've found him," Joey murmured to himself.

	The island was as solid as it looked, it wouldn't sink under his
weight, but it was a tricky trip to get to the tree.  Multiple roots had
over lapped each other in some bizarre pattern; they made walking almost
impossible.  He finally made his way to the tree without breaking anything.
Stooping he stepped inside and breathed in sharply.

	The tree had been hollowed out for a living space.  A fire pit was
off to one side and not far away from it were some moldy sleeping mats.  A
few poorly constructed shelves held various odds and ends from the swamp
and broken pots.  What Joey hoped was the remains of a meal, was pushed
against another of the walls.  The smell itself was awful, but that's not
what had caused Joey to gasp.

	In the centre of the room was the goblin.  He was suspended by his
wrists above the floor.  The shackles were made of the purest silver Joey
had ever seen.  The goblin's face was contorted in agony.  He had caught
Joey's movements when the psychic had come into the tree.

	"Please," the goblin begged.  "Let Horm go."

	"I'll try," Joey assured the goblin.  He had seen the pleading in
the creature's eyes and couldn't have refused under any circumstances.  He
wouldn't subject any creature to this kind of torment.

	"Thank you.  Horm die soon.  Horm not want to serve him anymore."
The goblin started to cry.  "Please free Horm."

	Joey walked over to Horm and tested the strength of the shackles.
He was probably right about their silver content, but they held stronger
then any metal he'd seen.  He knew that pulling Horm free of the shackles
wasn't going to work.  He couldn't find any clasp on the shackles; they
seemed to fuse together as one solid piece.

	"Horm," Joey asked.  "Do you remember when he first summoned you?"
The psychic saw the fear build in the goblin's eyes.  "Do you remember what
he did to you?  Tell me."

	"Horm not remember much," the goblin admitted.  "He made magic with
his circle.  He made me do what he wanted."

	"Before he made you do what he wanted.  Do you remember what he did
to make you do what he wanted?"

	"He made a collar.  Silver.  It was around my neck and then was
gone."

	Joey nodded.  "Thanks.  Let's see if we can find it."

	If the collar was on a mental level he would have seen it the
moment he entered the tree.  It would have been visible on the mental
plane.  He didn't have enough time to search the dream plane; he'd taken
too much time looking through the goblin's mind.  It might be on the
spiritual plane though, that was easy enough to check.

	Closing his eyes Joey altered his vision.  When he opened them
everything was surrounded by a nimbus of multi-coloured light.  Every thing
had an aura and if you could see and read them you could learn a great
deal.  Horm's aura was faint because he was dying.  The collar wasn't
faint.  It stood out against the aura, as a white dot on a black wall would
have.  A few silver wires ran from the caller to the shackles.

	He stepped forward to pull the collar off.  He had to be careful
because the other auras were making his sight difficult.  The collar was
smooth to the touch, but it had a clasp.  He ran his fingers of the clasp
trying to figure out how to release it.  There didn't seem to be anyway to
get it to open.  In a moment of frustration he hammered it telepathically.
The collar came apart in his hands and Horm dropped to the floor.

	"Thank you," the goblin told him.  "Horm die now.  Go."

	Joey spun around and sprinted for the swamp.  He made his way to
the swamp.  The moment his foot touched the bridge the island dissolved
behind him.  As he ran along the bridge, the stone behind him did the same.
He barely made it to the edge of the swamp ahead of the disappearing
bridge.  He touched the solid ground and returned to his body.







	He blinked his eyes a few times to accustom them to the increased
light of the jungle clearing.  When his vision cleared he noticed two pairs
of worried eyes.  The blue eyes of Sandy and Makyla.  When he focused on
them he saw the relief wash into their faces.

	"You had us worried there," Makyla said.  She coughed.  "When the
goblin died we weren't sure if you'd be coming back to us."

	Sandy had thrown himself into Joey's arms the minute he knew the
psychic was alright.  Joey wrapped his arms around the boy if for no other
reason then to prevent himself from being knocked over.  "I'm alright,"
Joey told them.  "Just a little shook up."  He met Sandy's gaze.  "Okay?"
Sandy nodded, but refused to let go of Joey.

	Nathaniel came over to them from where he'd been tending to the
body of the goblin.  "Did you learn anything?"

	"Yes, but I'm not sure fi it's going to help us at all."  Joey
sighed and shifted his position.  "I know how to break the bond, but I'd
have to do it to every creature that he controls.  And we don't have that
much time to work with."

	"What about severing the link at the Summoner's end?"  Makyla
asked.  "I'm not sure how summoning works for him, but when a warlock
summons an elemental the link can be severed at the warlock's end."

	"That might work," Joey said.  "But I'm not sure if he'd stand
still long enough for me to cut the links."

	"It might be one large link," Nathaniel offered.  "Like a leash for
many dogs can be held on one ring for the master to carry."

	"Guess we'll have to go find out," Joey said.  "But first we have
to find him."

	"I believe I already have a lead on that one," the priest said.
"Phixt has found a spider that's been to the Summoner's lair.  She'll be
able to lead us there."

	"Guess we should take the camp apart and then go after him," Makyla
said.  "We don't want to give him any more time then he's already had."

	It took them less then ten minutes to completely strike the camp.
When everything was safely stored in Joey's pouch they sat down to form
their plan.  The Summoner's lair was apparently an ancient city that had
sunk underground during an earthquake.  Not too much of the city had been
destroyed so it was still usable.  Though not many creatures willingly went
there.  They would be able to find an entrance in a clearing a mile or two
to the west.

	"I guess we go in guns blazing then," Joey said after Phixt, by way
of Nathaniel, had relayed all the information that she had.

	"Guns?"  Sandy asked.

	"Um..It's a saying that was used where I come from," Joey tried to
explain.  "It sort of means going in on the aggressive."

	"Gottcha," Sandy said.  "When do we do this?"

	"I think we should we leave now that we've got our plan," Makyla
said.  "There's no sense..Sandy?"

	Sandy had stood up while the warlock was talking.  He was clenching
his stomach and gasping for air.  A look of pain shot across his face
before he fell to his knees.  He gasped for a few seconds before he vomited
blood and collapsed.  The boy convulsed and then shifted into his feline
form.  He shifted again as another spasm wracked his body.  Then he lay
still.










	Night children are an interesting breed.  They are usually mistaken
for Werecreatures because of their similar powers.  However, they are not
Werecreatures and if you are facing one you should be well aware of the
differences between the two species.

	It's easy to understand how the two species are confused.  After
all the night child can transform at will into a humanoid animal just like
a Werecreature.  Unlike the Werecreature the night child can't turn into a
completely natural version of their creature.  Also night children can only
transform into mammals.  The most common animals are felines, though
various species of canines are common as well.  The different animals that
are common among Werecreatures will vary from felines to bats, to bears, to
birds, and there are rumors of werereptiles.

	Another of the chief differences is the variation in power.
Werecreatures are constant in their power levels.  Night or day they will
be able to call upon all their power.  Night children are called such
because they have their abilities greatly increased during the hours of the
night.  During the day they will be able to transform, but that's it.
During the night their transformation is that much more powerful, as well
as call upon a few extra abilities.  These extra abilities are more or less
standard for each night child.  During the hours of the night they gain a
regenerative ability that rivals that of a vampire and can control animals
of their own species.  Though they don't gain the vulnerability to silver.

	It is important to note that on the general scale of power, the
Werecreatures will win an outright battle.  They are far faster, stronger
and meaner.  Night children are more gentle in nature.  They'll rip you to
shreds if you provoke them, but they won't stalk you for fun.  However,
most people will hunt a night child as quickly as a Werecreature.  Both are
considered far too dangerous leave out in the wild, though many night
children spend their lives around humans.

	The last piece of information that I've collected is this.  Night
children and Werecreatures are mortal enemies.  They hate each other with a
passion that would scare most people.  They will attack each other one
sight and will rarely stop until one is dead.

	The first draft of a chapter in zoologist Marvin's book, The
Creatures of our World.



TBC

Okay my first cliff-hanger.  What did you think?  Let me know.

Rune