Calling all gods, calling all gods . . . The creature landed, crashing through the flaming trees. The huge clawed hands, the tentacled mouth, dripping slime, all blindly lashing about searching for the Bard. Who was sprawled in the smoldering leaves, less than twenty feet away. Oh God—oh God—it's trashing the Grove, trying to find me. If I run, it'll zero in on me in a few seconds, there isn't anything else I can hide behind. And if I stay here— Eric brought the flute to his lips, and played for all he was worth. "Banish Misfortune"—oh, God, please, if there's any resident deity around here, get me out of this! Eric Banyon, musician, is out playing the blues on his flute one day, but he couldn't have known that the desperate sadness of his music would free a young elven noble from the magical prison he has been languishing in for centuries—nor does he believe it!
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