Planeshifters

©2001 Dan Delwiche
All rights reserved.

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. In his normal life, Mervin was a confident and self-assured young man, just like most of his friends. He felt that at seventeen, he was a man grown, and ready to take on anything the world might throw at him. Everything changed when he went to visit Davron, however, and he felt like a child once more, humbled by his mere presence.

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 ... 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. Not long after that, Davron had hung a portrait of Galthus in the very room they now sat, and its stern features and piercing blue eyes were a constant reminder to Mervin of the grandfather he had never known.

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 — as far as Mervin knew, 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 ... 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 ... 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 ... 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 ... 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 ... 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?"

"There are several reasons, one of which is the tremendous benefits it confers to those who wish to use different forms of magic."

"What do you mean?" asked Mervin, who was unable to see how planeshifting could have any effect on magic. But then again, he thought, I guess there's an awful lot about magic I don't know.

"Permit me to give you a short demonstration," said Davron, holding his hands out in front of him as he had done before, when performing the 'disappearing coin' trick. Mervin knew there would be no trick this time, though; Davron had the gleam of magic in his eyes, and once more Mervin felt humbled in his presence. He watched as the old man began to move his fingers rapidly, and murmur strange words under his breath, and waited apprehensively for something to happen.

What actually happened was something of an anticlimax. Davron gave his fingers a final rippling wave, and a small blue-white flame appeared, hovering over his palm. Almost as soon as it had arrived, however, it winked out of existence again, with an unimpressive spark.

"There you have it," said Davron, dismissively, "The full extent of my magical powers - on the Prime plane, anyway."

"Oh," breathed Mervin, somewhat disappointed. He had known that magic was not as easy or spectacular as people generally thought - Davron had told him so years before. Still, he had always thought that Davron was capable of more, even if he never showed it. But the flat tone in which the wizard had spoke made Mervin certain that he was telling the truth.

"'Oh' indeed." Davron saw the disillusionment in his nephew's eyes, and so continued with greater enthusiasm. "But don't lose heart, my boy - I think you shall find the second half of this demonstration rather more satisfying." He smiled, and saw Mervin's face brighten once more. "However, you shall have to wait a while for that, and be content, for now, with my explanation of why magic is so difficult here on the Prime."

Mervin was more than happy to wait - he could tell by the way Davron had spoken that 'rather more satisfying' was something of an understatement. He did not, of course, have any idea of just how much of an understatement it was.

"On the Prime plane," Davron explained, "the material world is at its greatest strength. The laws of physics prevent our changing the world around us without a great deal of effort, and even then, as you have seen, the results are hardly mind-bending, nor particularly useful. However, if a wizard travels down to a lower plane, these laws become less of an obstruction. In other words, the material world exerts less influence, and so magic such as flying, or creating fire, becomes a distinct possibility."

"I think I understand," said Mervin. "So one of the reasons you planeshift is to have more magical power, then." Davron nodded, smiling a little at the way Mervin had phrased it. "You said there were several reasons for planshifting, though. What are the others?"

"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 probably 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 sniggered, 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 riveted 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. Trembling with fear, he could do nothing but watch as the apparitions closed in on him.

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 became more distinguishable as they approached 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 bore a strange resemblance to Davron. As he looked down at it, Mervin suddenly realized why its face seemed so familiar to him. It was the face that had stared down at him from above Davron's fireplace ever since he was a child.

"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 its blue eyes looked into Mervin's 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.

"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.

The sheer immensity of the situation, along with the terror he had felt at almost being killed by demons, had sent Mervin into a strange sort of calm. It was his way of dealing with the onrush of emotions that threatened to overcome him, and it was an effective one. He was able to put his fear behind him, and talk to his dead grandfather in a reasoned and composed manner.

"How did you know about me? My name, for example?"

"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. You see, Grandson, if a wizard is killed in the planes, as I was, he does not die in the same way as if he were killed on the Prime. Just as the material world has less influence on us in this place, so too does the process of death. But my body, alas, has no life in it, and so I cannot rise above the fifth sub-plane, where we are now. Fifteen years ago, Davron found me, and has been visiting me down here ever since. He made me remember my human self - in this, I am different to the other lichs, who are mostly twisted and evil, and seek to destroy life, not save it. Once I had remembered my true self, and how life was when I was alive, Davron 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, Grandfather. 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 Galthus. 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. Real magic! He had seen it with his own eyes, and been so close that he could feel its tingling sensation still lingering on his skin. Sure, he had almost died, and had never been so scared in his entire life - but even so, he wanted more. 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 he'd finished 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."

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