Lan Martak stood and stared and then tried to compose himself. He hardly believed the white-haired man, and yet a ring of truth came through that pushed away any doubts he might have.

“If you are the Terrill who destroyed Claybore, why do you stay here?” Lan indicated the odd forest. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rising at the lack of sound in the woods. No insects chirped or flew. The wind refused to blow through the living, moving leaves and walking plants. Even the odors struck Lan as peculiar. None of the death-turning-to-life smells rose from the floor of the forest. It had an antiseptic odor to it, as if nothing decayed.

“I am bound. Claybore defeated me, even as I bested him.” The man sat down on a small rock and cupped his chin in gnarled hands. “Those were days of worth. Now?” He looked around, his washed-out eyes betraying no emotion at all.

“Are you under a geas?” Lan asked eagerly. Terrill was the greatest mage who ever conjured. If anyone could remove the geas Lan suffered, it had to be Terrill. And in return Lan might be able to free the master from his bondage.

“What?” Terrill said, distractedly. “No, no geas. I stay because I have no other place to go.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You haven’t seen it, then, have you? No? Come along.” Terrill motioned for Lan to follow. The younger mage sucked in his breath when he felt the force of the Pillar of Night growing. They walked directly to it.

“There.”

Lan peered through the canopy of leaves and spotted the bulk of the magical column. He tried to move closer and found his feet would not obey.

“This is as close as any can get,” said Terrill. “That is Claybore’s power.”

“Help me fight him. We need you. He has almost put himself back together.”

“I did tear him asunder, didn’t I?” asked Terrill. “I had forgotten that. There are so many other things to occupy me now. Important things.”

“More important than stopping Claybore?” Lan’s mind reeled with the concept of any danger being greater.

“Oh, yes, definitely, definitely. Come and I’ll show you. Don’t be afraid. They won’t hurt you.”

Terrill led him to a small clearing. “This is my home. Mine and my friends.”

Lan stopped at the edge of the clearing and stared. Crude dolls constructed of leaves and twigs, held together with sap and dried mud, stood in neat rows. Terrill went to one and gently stroked over hair made from dead vines.

“She is my favorite, above all others, my most cherished. We have important discussions and, well, you’re a young man. You can guess what else we might do. She’s quite good.”

Lan sampled the clearing for magics and found nothing but the overwhelming presence of the Pillar of Night. These stick and leaf dolls were not animated; they were exactly as they appeared.

“This is Rook, a doughty warrior and defender of my empire while I explore afield.” Terrill picked up a figurine with a caked mud head and brought it over to Lan. “Don’t be afraid. Even though he looks fierce, Rook is quite gentle with people he knows.”

An arm fell off. Terrill hastily glued it back on, spitting on dirt to soften it to sticky mud.

“Did Claybore do this?”

“What? On, no, not possible. Rook was injured in battle with a sixty-foot-long dragon. Killed it, he did. Fantastic battle. No, Claybore doesn’t dare approach any of us. Rook can protect us. And if he can’t, there are others.” Terrill’s voice dropped to a confidential whisper. “We are able to repel any invaders to our forest.”

“The others I met in the forest,” Lan asked. “What of them?”

“Other humans? All mages. All left here by Claybore. Ugly people. Rook keeps them away, don’t you, Rook?” Terrill shook the doll so that it bobbed up and down in assent.

Lan turned cold inside. This haunted forest held the husks of sorcerers who had opposed Claybore. Something about the Pillar of Night held them within the forest, and Claybore’s tender mercies had driven them insane before even coming here. Many Claybore had experimented on to find substitutes for his lost limbs and all he had tortured to insanity. What had he done to Terrill, his most successful adversary? Lan didn’t want to know.

“Tell me of the Pillar,” Lan asked.

“Nothing to tell. Claybore’s supreme magic, and it failed. Oh, yes, it failed him at the last moment. Didn’t drive home.”

“What do you mean?”

“Would you stay for our feast? Rook has slain a fire elemental and three demons and my paramour is especially amorous tonight.” Terrill gave Lan a lewd wink. “She has many ladies in waiting who would enjoy your company.”

Lan looked at the stick figurines and shuddered. Terrill’s power had fled with his sanity.

“How long have you been here?” Lan asked.

“Forever. Ten thousand years. Maybe more, maybe less. Who can say?”

“You are immortal?”

“That power remains,” Terrill said wistfully. “But do come and sit down. Our feast is just beginning.” Terrill started digging with his fingers in the soft dirt and produced a tuber. “More sumptuous than anything a king might dine upon!”

Lan waited until Terrill presented this fine viand to his champion, Rook. Then Lan slipped into the forest, repressing the urge to run until his feet wore down to his ankles. Out of sight of the demented sorcerer, Lan shook and felt hot tears of rage and frustration trickling down his cheeks. His hands clenched tightly and he wished for nothing more than the chance to slay Claybore.

He went to the edge of the forest again and peered at the blackness of the Pillar of Night. Gently, he sailed his light mote out to explore its vastness. The magical column tried to suck in his familiar, but Lan’s power was great enough to prevent it; he knew that he would follow the dancing mote in if it were to succumb to the immense negative forces of the Pillar.

Lan Martak tried minor spells and scouted the base, never actually getting close enough to touch it physically. Tired and disheartened, he turned away and went back through the forest. He passed near Terrill’s clearing. The once-great mage and his entourage were enjoying a millennia-long celebration.

“So this is what it means to live forever,” Lan said. As silent as a shadow he moved on through the forest, stalked by trees and wounded by spined plants.

He did not rest until he came to the far edge of the forest, where he found his demon-powered flyer. The demon trapped within cursed volubly at his sorry fate.

Lan forced such exertion on the demon that, by the time they returned to Brinke’s castle, the demon was too exhausted to do more than wheeze.

“You are certain it was Terrill?” the Lady Brinke asked. “I had never envisioned him in such straits. He was always bigger than life, a giant of magics. Long before I heard of Claybore I had heard the tales of Terrill’s fine deeds, his philanthropy and kindness.”

“Once, he might have been. Of all the humans I saw in Claybore’s forest, Terill is the only one who retained all his bodily parts. Claybore either didn’t or couldn’t experiment on Terrill.”

The tall blonde pulled a scarlet robe more tightly around her svelte body. “The power of the forest binds them, just as we are bound to Claybore.”

“Terrill did say one thing which puzzles me. He…” Lan snapped his mouth closed when Kiska k’Adesina blasted into the room. She shook with fury.

“How dare you leave me like this?” she screamed. “For almost three weeks you left me. And she treated me like a prisoner. I won’t stand for it. You love me, Lan, you know you do.” Kiska went on, in a softer, more seductive voice. “Why punish me like this?”

Lan wanted to burn her to a cinder with a single quick spell. “I love you,” he choked out. “I had to go and…”