He was tired of feeling the weight of the Realm on his shoulders, tired of being responsible for his friends' very lives. And every failure at Venger's hands, every setback, returned his mind to his fateful choice in the Dragons' Graveyard. He was tired of that one moment in his life reliving itself over and over, both in his dreams and waking thoughts. He'd come to the conflicted conclusion that doing what was right wasn't always the right thing to do.

He looked from the sinister sky above to the menacing orcs below and tried to figure their number. He tried not to think of the added stench of so many massed together and sweating from the heat of their torches in the already warm, dank air.

Must be every goddamned orc under his command in the entire realm!

He spied Shadow Demon among the horde, and the hand that would have held his bow clenched. Even from such a distance, there was no mistaking Venger's most cunning minion. The floating black figure was here, then there; would rise, then fall; would vanish, then reappear.

Hank had never given much thought to shadows back home, but here, he had developed the annoying habit of doing a double-take at even his own shadow out of sheer paranoia. If he'd learned anything while in the Realm, it was that constant vigilance was exhausting . . . and that he hated shadows.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Presto rise to peer down from the ridge where the rest of the group were all hunkered down, and then turn and sink back to the ground.

"It's hopeless," he heard him say. "I hate to say it, guys, but I think Venger's finally won."

"Don't say that, Presto," he heard Sheila whisper to him.

I should have done it. I should have finished you, there and then.

"Face it! It's over! Why are Presto and I the only ones who can see that?" Eric said, as loudly as he dared, in that angry and defeated tone that he was known for � a tone Hank despised; it only made him have to work harder to rally them to face whatever crisis lay before them.

"It's not over, Eric!" said Bobby. "Is it?"

Hank knew Bobby had turned to him with the question, though he hadn't taken his eyes from the castle.

No, Bobby, it isn't.

It was easy to answer to himself. He couldn't, however, bring himself to say it out loud. He wouldn't give any of them false hope. Not even Bobby. Not this time. Instead, he envisioned Venger within the castle.

He had to be alone. Shadow Demon would be with him, if anyone, he reasoned. Yes, alone with his prizes. He would not share his moment of triumph. That was his reason for so many orcs, meticulously supervised by his most trusted servant. It had to be. He wanted privacy.

But how confident was he? What added precautions might he have taken, if any? Could Venger be so preoccupied, so quick to assume unchallenged victory, that he could have overlooked a vulnerability and left an opening? There had to be something, some way.

"We've gotten out of tight spots before, right?" said Diana, obviously trying to sound optimistic.

Disheartening silence answered her, but Hank's mind ignited at her words. They had always gotten out of tight spots before. He had actually come to count on it. It was as though they were in a game they weren't meant to lose � yet weren't meant to win, either.

"She's right. Venger's taken our weapons before, and we've always gotten them back. Why should this time be any different?" said Presto, in an equally obvious attempt to revive spirits.

Too obvious, Hank thought. He knew Eric was about to shoot him down. He never passed up a chance to spout off at the mouth.

"Oh, come on! Do the math, guys: a gazillion orcs, six of us, and zero weapons! You tell me!"

Cue Diana.

"You're a lot of help, Eric, you know that?" she said.

So predictable.

"And we're seven, Eric! Uni counts, too!" said Bobby.

"Meeyeah!" Uni sounded in agreement.

"Oh, please," Eric retorted. "What's she gonna do? Slobber on them?"

"What are we going to do, Hank?" asked Sheila.

Uni . . . . Hank's mind lit up at the thought of the unicorn. A dim light, just a spark really, but at least his mind was working on something potentially productive. Trying anything was better than doing nothing. If Uni could get him inside. . . . If he could have another chance. . . .

"Hank?"

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Sheila's fearful eyes in the flashes of lightning. It broke the hold of his mind's dark designs; more than that, it reminded him that he wasn't alone. And it reminded him where his strength came from.

Sheila.

"Hank? Are you with us?" she asked, smiling nervously. "You haven't given up, have you?"

He found he was even able to smile, just for her, only for her. "Not a chance." He looked again to the castle. "I have an idea, but it's risky."

"See, Eric? I knew he'd think of something!" Bobby then turned to Hank, all confidence restored. "Just tell us what to do, Hank."

"What all of you can do is stay here where it's safe. As safe as safe gets, anyway," he answered.

"What do you mean, Hank?" asked Diana.

"I'm going to get our weapons back."

"Alone?" said Sheila, wide-eyed. "You can't!"

"I won't be completely alone." Hank looked at Uni as she stood at Bobby's side. Rather, he was looking at her horn.

Uni shrank behind Bobby, as though she knew what Hank was thinking.

Everyone shared disbelieving looks as they realized what he was planning.

"Well, I always knew he was crazy, but I didn't know he was suicidal," said Eric. Then he turned to Hank. "And to drag an innocent little unicorn down with you. . . ."

That got Eric a round of disdainful glares, but they all held their tongues. This wasn't a time to get pulled into yet another argument with the Cavalier.

Diana sighed. "Eric does have a point, Hank. You can't take on Venger alone and unarmed."

"And what about Uni?" Bobby asked. He was crouched with a protective arm around the little unicorn. "What if something happens to her?"

Hank spoke directly to Uni. "I can't make you do this, Uni. It's your choice. Venger has our weapons, and you're my only hope of getting inside and trying to get them back."

There was a loud crack, and the sky began to glow a dull and ominous crimson.

Looking up, Hank added, "And time is running out . . . not just for us, but for the entire realm." Yes, he thought, for the entire realm. If only I'd been thinking of that in the Graveyard when I could have killed him!

New guilt crashed atop old as he thought of how selfish he'd been to have let Venger live just to prove he was better than Venger. Just to make a dramatic show for his friends. Just to make Venger have to live with the fact that he'd been beaten by him. He remembered how it had felt to release Venger. How superior . . . how smug. He had felt like a sheriff in a Western who had just shot the hat off some low-down, would-be cattle thief and warned him never to come back to his town again. He could hear Venger's voice in his mind: Fool!

He watched Uni intently, willing her to agree and trying to shut out the part of him that regretted giving her the choice.

Uni looked around at everyone, as if, quite possibly, for the last time. But she seemed to understand the direness of their situation. She looked back at Bobby, licked him on the cheek, and then stepped away from him to stand at Hank's side. She looked up at him and nodded.

Hank smiled at her. "Thank you, Uni. I know you can do it." He then turned to Bobby. "I'll do my best to get her out of there, Bobby, no matter what. I promise."

Bobby nodded, weakly, in answer.

Suddenly, Sheila grabbed Hank's arm. "But what if she can't get you in? What if it goes wrong? What if something really bad happens to you? What are we going to do?"

"It's a chance we have to take!" Hank said, immediately regretting his tone. And, who knows? You all might be better off if something really bad did happen to me.

In the strobing lightning, he saw the tears welled in her eyes. He took her hand and stroked her hair. He wanted to say so much, knew this might be his last chance, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he released her and spoke to them all.

"No one comes for me. If I don't make it back, there probably won't be a me to rescue, anyway. I don't want any of you getting yourselves killed on my account."

Everyone stared at him in shocked silence, as though the danger hadn't truly hit home for them until now.

"Oh, Hank." Now, Sheila wept openly. Diana put an arm around her.

Eric stepped forward and faced Hank. "You're . . . you're really gonna do this?"

"Yes, I am," Hank answered, firmly.

He was amused, in a disdainful sort of way, at the look of surprise on Eric's face. It was like he couldn't imagine someone's risking all for others. But then Eric's expression changed, and the two of them looked at each other for a meaningful moment, words unnecessary, and there was understanding.

"You take care of your end, Hank. We'll take care of ours," Eric said, all contentiousness gone.

Hank gave him an approving nod. Despite his feelings about Eric, he at least knew Eric was capable of rising to the task of taking over as leader. He'd heard from everyone the story of how Eric had taken charge and led the rescue when he had been taken prisoner by the Darkling. Hank couldn't help but be impressed, not to mention thankful, with his heroic action.

Hank had always imagined Diana as becoming their leader if anything ever happened to him. She was more mature than Eric, more intelligent, more daring. The list went on. There were times he wanted to appoint her leader just to release himself from the responsibility. She was just as in tune with everyone's talents and skills as he was, he felt.

But what would all the skills in the world matter if they didn't have their weapons?

It was time to go. He crouched closely beside Uni, and placed a hand on her back. "Whenever you're ready," he whispered.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her horn began to glow with the teleportational magic natural to her kind. Soon, they both faded from sight.

Leaving Uni to wait where they'd appeared just inside the castle's immense doors, Hank immediately began to follow the familiar and dreaded reverberating voice as it intoned in a language he didn't understand. Whatever Venger was attempting to do with the weapons, it was probably about to happen. He hoped he could find him before he could complete his spell.

He ran blindly through doorways and corridors, unadorned and monotonous with their evenly spaced torches. He ran up spiral stairways, his legs aching horribly with the effort, but the sound of his enemy's voice told him he must continue the ascent.

Louder and louder, Venger's powerful voice resounded throughout the castle, making it hard to determine exactly which way it was coming from. Louder and louder. It was everywhere. It was pressing in on him. He felt the pressure of Venger's every syllable pounding against his temples, beating against his chest. His skin prickled and tingled, and he was sure his feet and hands were going numb.

Louder, still. It was inside his head now. He was shaking. Lightning flashed through every window. Torch fires blurred in his watery eyes. He felt on the verge of hopeless disorientation, close to losing consciousness.

No! I can't give up! I won't fail them again! I won't fail her again!

He threw his hands to his ears, and raced through the castle, sweat pouring down his face and neck. Rounding a corner on what had to be the castle's uppermost floor, he saw a light quite different than that of fire or lightning. An ethereal glow spilled out of an open archway at the far end of the corridor. A blinding flash, and then the light illuminated the whole of the broad hallway. He ran for it, but then slowed, trying to process what he next saw. He shook his head and blinked against the brightness.

Strange, glowing, ghostlike weapons were beginning to separate from the solid ones piled on an altar before Venger.

And then he realized Venger wasn't chanting anymore.

This is it! Move! he commanded himself.

Summoning all his remaining strength, he sprinted forward and leapt for their weapons.