The pale light from the triple moons of Belraous created conflicting shadows from the stocks of corn slapping Jon in his face as he tried to follow the elder Jon Black. The maze of paths in the cornfield only further created confusion and disorientation. Nothing made sense about how the cornfield was laid out. The rows of corn went north to south, then east to west, and just as quickly became diagonal to the next cornfield; this wasn’t how fields were supposed to be laid out. Something moved to his left, something big, something ancient, slipping between the rows of corn. He froze, watching the dark figure moving past. It seemed to take forever for the shadow to pass him; a long sinewy body undulating in the darkness. Light glinted off claws in its passing. Was it a… dragon? It couldn’t be, there were no such creatures. He came to an intersection of two paths with two white picket signs holding lances lowered and pointing into the darkness. One of the picket signs turned to him and whispered, “Hurry, you must get to the castle, we will hold the beast as long as we can.” The sign spoke in both word and print, neither of which should have been possible, this wasn’t the Crystal Universe, this was the mortal realm and white picket signs didn’t talk here, or hold lances and fight dragons. “What castle?” asked Jon. “The second of the white picket signs pointed. “That way, run!” The dark shadow turned at the sound and a massive head with red eyes nestled between deep boney ridges broke through the row of cornstalks; flames dripping from its mouth. The two white picket signs charged at the beast. Jon took a step back, then turned and ran the direction he’d been shown. He looked back over his shoulder. The beast raised up and flames erupted from its mouth. The heroic picket signs never tried to run, never cowered, never wavered, but instead held their ground in a final moment of truest bravery. A moment of anger for the two heroes rose in Jon. He tried to pull the twin guns from their holsters, but as every time before, the guns refused to allow him to use them. He jumped off the path, barely escaping the dragon’s flame. He scrambled away on hands and knees, crawling through several rows of corn before running into more of the picket signs, no less than twenty, and all of them with swords drawn. Jon looked up at the picket sign leading. It was larger than the others and had tin foil bordering its edges. The large picket sign looked down at Jon. “Well met, Master Mason, you must hurry, Prince Cael has need of your services, the castle walls will not hold much longer.” “Jon pushed himself up on his knees and pointed behind him. “The dragon got two of the picket signs.” “Their bravery will be sung for many ages to come,” declared the big picket sign. “Go now, make haste.” The group of picket knights flowed around Jon and headed towards the dragon. Jon got up and ran, the sounds of battle ringing not only behind him, but all around now. He could see the shapes of other dragons in the distance. He could hear the dragons roaring, and the battle cries of the army of picket signs. Jon stumbled out of the cornfield into an open area. In front of him were tall fortified walls surrounding a castle, and to his right was the drawbridge. The drawbridge was down and a knight on a great red warhorse was doing battle with a silver dragon trying to breech the castle’s defenses. Jon ran at the dragon screaming a war cry, but still the twin guns would not emerge from their holsters. Then he saw another knight standing next to the mounted knight – it was the elder Jon Black, but now he was in his nine-year old body. As Jon ran he saw tools lying in the grass; mason’s tools. Someone must have been working on the castle walls before the attack. He saw two mason’s hammers, the kind he’d used often to help Jack Enge build his bridges. Jon bent and snatched both hammers from the ground and charged at the dragon. He swung the hammers at the dragon, again and again, beating at the nearly impenetrable scales of the great beast. The dragon began to fall back. Jon redoubled his efforts and drove the dragon back into the cornfield. The dragon turned and fled. Jon’s chest heaved as he gasped for breath at the exertion of fighting the Dragon. He looked up at the knight on the red warhorse. The knight lifted his visor, and… it was Cael… a nine-year old Cael. “Well fought, Master Mason, we feared you would not come,” said Cael. “Your mighty hammers have won the moment, but the dragon damaged the drawbridge, can you fix it before the dragon army arrives?” None of this made any sense, but in the face of the unexplainable, all he could think to say was, “I can fix it.” Jon ran into the gatehouse, and then up the stairs to the gear room that lifted the drawbridge. The large turn-gear had been knocked out of place. He used the hammers to pound it back, then went to the arrow slit and looked out. “Clear the bridge,” he shouted. Cael and Jon Black retreated back across the drawbridge and inside the castle walls. Jon put his hands on the lifting-wench and slowly turned the gears to raise the drawbridge. When the bridge was up, he again used the hammers to pound a break-wedge into place, locking the drawbridge in the up position. Jon ran back down the stairs to stand before Cael on his warhorse. Cael looked down at Jon. “Master Mason, go to the blacksmith and get a helmet, the King of Dragons will be here soon, and then inspect the walls and shore up any weak spots you find.” Again, the mystery was too big and Jon only replied, “Yes, my liege.” The blacksmith shop was set against the wall of the castle with several picket signs outside at the billows pumping air into a forge set outside next to the shop. The blacksmith was a big man with a boxy chest, and a jaw that could have been chiseled from stone. Jon tucked the hammers into his gunbelt, then was given a helmet and slipped it on, though it was a little too big and kept falling over his eyes. He went back outside to observe the preparations for the battle coming. There were several places along the wall that would need reinforced. He could do that with some stout timbers braced against the stone. He was about to go looking for the needed timber when a voice cut through the sounds of the blacksmith pounding on metal. “Cael… Jon… time for breakfast,” shouted a woman’s voice. And in that moment everything froze and Jon saw through the fantasy, and understood. Cael sat in a small red wagon with his feet dangling over the sides while Jon Black pushed him around the yard; the little red wagon was Cael’s mighty warhorse, and probably his most prized possession. Cael’s family was poor and Cael had made toys out of whatever objects he could find. The Gate Tower was two chairs with a bit of rope stretched between them. Jon hadn’t climbed up to the gear room, he’d climbed up on a chair and pretended. Jon had been inside Cael’s imagination. Jon scanned the yard with his eyes. The blacksmith shop was the rusted tin can with a faded label that indicated it had once contained peaches. The crate with three stones stacked on it was the rock-chiseled blacksmith, and the left shoe with the missing laces was the forge. The oil lamp that looked like a genie’s lamp sat on a stump beyond the two chairs, a small flame burning from its spout; it was the dragon Jon had fought. And at his feet was the crude wooden box that contained all of Cael’s favorite crayons, worn down to nearly nubs. Cael’s drawings were on old newspaper pages and scattered around the yard. Jon knelt and picked up one of the drawings. Drawn in the distinct hand of a creative nine-year old was dragons, castles, and knights. Jon now knew that all the magical artifacts left behind in the Crystal Universe were the echoes of Cael’s most precious memories, brought out of the realm of mortals and given life as powerful magic in the realm where the gods had once lived. Jon knew how to save Jack Dreamer now. Jon’s hand dropped down to rest on the hilt of the twin guns, something he’d learned to do as a place to put his hands, but the guns were gone. In their place now hung the twin mason hammers; the manifestation of the god of time’s mantle had changed to an object that Jon could use. He wasn’t Jon Black, the Gunslinger, the guns had always been wrong for him, and the source of much of his frustrations. He knew who he was now, he was Jon Black, the Mason. The elder Jon Black was watching him, then nodded. “You are the ruling Jon Black of the Crystal Universe, Lady Cael’s First Knight. The hammers can be as devastating a weapon as the twin guns were, or they can be a divine blessing. You have what you came here for, go now, save Jack Dreamer, and bring order to the Universe, young demi-god of time.” Jon drew the hammers from the metal rings on the plain mason’s belt he wore. He gripped the hammers in his hands and brought them together with a loud thunderclap. A time portal back to the House at the End of the Universe opened. This was the power the twin guns had been denying him, but there was little joy in it. Four years of frustrations had been enough, he no longer cared what the Universe would do to him if he refused to serve. He stepped through the time portal and into the hall at the top of the stairs where all the Dreamers had a room within the house. He paused at the top of the stairs. His earlier self hadn’t left yet. He pressed himself against the wall as his earlier self passed him, unaware that his future self was waiting for him to depart. Jon heard the door to Dr. Kay and Clay’s room open, then shut. The Night Dreamer was the first to know he was back. She quickly stood, her gowns flowing like the shadows of the moon, and though he was still hiding, she knew he was there. “The hammers haven’t been worn since Jon Black the Conqueror,” she practically shouted. Warrior turned his head toward the Night Dreamer. “What are you talking about?” “Our mini demi-god of time is back, and he’s wearing the most powerful weapons ever worn by a Jon Black,” replied the Night Dreamer. Jon stepped from between the moments of time and appeared on the stairs. Warrior raised a brow. “Where’s your guns?” “I found myself,” replied Jon. “I am Jon Black, the Mason.” “What can create, can also destroy,” said the Night Dreamer. “Jon Black the Conqueror used those hammers to cause the disaster that destroyed the Atan Empire, then went on to try and destroy the fledgling Daria civilization. Jon Black the Conqueror is a monster and killed billions, those hammers must be destroyed.” Dr. Kay held up a hand. “Everyone calm down. A hammer did not commit a crime, a man did. I’ve read the Histories of the Jon Blacks. The Conqueror was imprisoned in the void for eternity, he is not a threat, and I’m not going to start destroying hammers because one was used in a crime. We would have to destroy rocks, sticks, arrows, swords, guns, and everything else that has ever been used in murder if we followed that logic. Jon, did you find the solution to save Jack Dreamer?” “I did,” replied Jon, coming down the stairs, but stopping at the landing and leaning against the bannister, he still had business upstairs when this was finished. “The person that stole the peaches can doesn’t understand the bigger picture. The peaches can is a blacksmith shop, but only part of it, it can repair and modify existing weapons, but not create them. The left shoe without the laces is the forge that goes to the peaches can. The forge can melt metal and create, or destroy weapons, or anything else. Put the dagger in the left shoe and it’s magic will be destroyed. But, there’s another problem.” “And that is?” asked Warrior. Jon yawned, it had been a long two days. “There are three missing magical items, not just one. Cael saw his cabin as a castle he had to defend from imaginary attacking dragons – and that’s the first missing magical item. The second is a length of rope that acts as the drawbridge to the castle. When the rope is stretched between two chairs, the drawbridge is up, and when the rope is laid on the ground, the drawbridge is down. And, of course, the third magic item is the peaches can.” Warrior looked at the Night Dreamer. “You’ve been here the longest, have you ever seen the cabin?” The Night Dreamer shook her head. “I did not know of its existence.” “Jon, you said you know how the peaches can was stolen,” prompted Warrior. Jon nodded. “This house became Cael’s new castle when he arrived. I think the rope doesn’t know if it’s the gate for Cael’s old castle, or this one. I think whoever stole the peaches can figured out how the rope works and now they have a portal past our defenses.” “Alright, you did well, but you look exhausted, head upstairs and get some rest.” Warrior turned to the other Dreamers. “Jax, you’re the Dreamer of Lonely and Forgotten places, send your brothers out and start looking for that cabin. Ember, the shoe is a magical forge, so there may be a danger of fire, I want you next to Lady Cael when she puts the dagger in the shoe. Akot, you’re the Crystal Dreamer, once the dagger is gone, build a crystal vault around the artifacts so they can never be touched again.” Warrior went to the tapestry hanging on the wall next. “Master Huntsman, instruct the picket signs to gather everyone, to include themselves, inside the mansion. Let the Night Dreamer know as soon as everyone is safely inside.” The Huntsman saluted and spurred his horse into a gallop. He disappeared at the edge of the tapestry; it was a mystery where he went when he did that, but Warrior had learned it was best just to not think about it. “Me?” asked the Night Dreamer. Warrior turned around. “You have the most important mission of all. I could gather all my army and it would do no good if someone can just portal over the defenses I put in place. Once everyone is inside the mansion, I want you to shroud the entire farm in a darkness so thick, and filled with terrors so horrible, that nobody can get to this house. We will bunker down here until the cabin is located.” The Night Dreamer’s eyes widened with delight. “Don’t kill anyone, just protect the house,” added Dr. Kay. “Oh, darling, if anyone dares to breech my defenses, death will be the least of their concerns.” The Night Dreamer caused an illusion of chains breaking free from her neck and falling to the floor. “At last, to be free of my bonds and appreciated for what I am.” Jon, still standing at the top of the landing, rolled his eyes and headed back up the stairs. The Night Dreamer could be such a drama queen at times. He didn’t know why his predecessor had such a problem with her, Jon liked her. She was the only person that he could ask about the emotions and feelings the god’s blood that flowed in his veins caused. He knew she wasn’t really a god, it had been mortals that had called her species that to explain what they didn’t understand. She was just another species like everyone else, though a very powerful one that had come into existence at the beginning of the universe, and it was that very person, or incarnation, that he needed to speak to now. He closed the door to his room behind him, but didn’t bother trying to lock it. The house was filled with people that any one of them could easily defeat a lock faster than turning the knob. He sat on the bed and looked up at the ceiling with a deep breath. He didn’t really need to look up, he could have as easily talked at a lamp, or a chair, or even the throw rug in the hall. The entire house was the incarnation of the universe; it didn’t matter where or in which direction he spoke. “Thanks for the hammers, I really like them,” said Jon. “But, it doesn’t change anything. I still hate it here.” Jon jumped when a voice answered, “You’re welcome, but tell me why you hate this place?” Jon turned to the source of the familiar voice and frowned. “I was actually talking to… you know… the house.” “I know who you were talking to, but you should call him by what he is,” replied the elder Jon Black, but now in his eighty-year old body. “What should I call him?” asked Jon. Jon Black gestured with a hand. Jon noticed that Jon Black did that a lot when talking. “You need to think of him as a grandfather that doesn’t speak often.” “I… I was going to tell him I’m going to refuse to serve anymore, and… I know what he’ll do to me, but the void would be better than this.” Jon Black chuckled, then held up a hand when he saw Jon getting upset. “I’m not making light of your feelings, I’m laughing because you are the last person your grandfather would ever throw into the void. He does not manifest as a man often, but for you he did, and to see the incarnation of the Universe changing your diapers was a cosmic event nearly unfathomable. Of all the Jon Blacks that have passed through this house, you, for whatever reason, are the apple of his eye.” Jon screwed his face to the side in disgust. “First, that’s way too much information, and second, I was never a baby, I came into existence when I was nine-years old.” “No, Jon, you are not a copy, you were born as we all were, and that is why I’m here.” Jon jumped up. “Oh gross, is this the talk! I don’t need the talk, Bran already told me everything.” Jon Black shook his head. “No, this is not the talk, but I suppose if anyone were to give you the talk, Father Nature was the best person to get it from.” “Yeah,” agreed Jon, “but I’m still a little confused about how much photosynthesis it takes to make a baby.” Jon Black blinked twice, shook his head, and sighed. “Let’s just leave that there for now, we’re getting off track, you need to know what happened thirteen years ago.” “Okay, I’m listening.” Jon Black pulled the chair out from the desk and sat down. He studied Jon’s face, it wasn’t that the boy wouldn’t be able to understand what happened thirteen years ago, but was he emotionally mature enough to handle it? “Jon, thirteen years ago you were born. We took the memories of the first nine years of your life to protect you from running off and doing something stupid. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do, but it’s done, and I think you’re old enough now to understand some of what happened.” Jon sat back down on the bed and folded his legs under him. “You’re trying to tell me something without saying it. I’ve always known there was a big secret being kept from me.” “You were kidnapped several weeks after you were born, and your parents murdered. I went and found you and brought you here. We’ve kept you here to protect you from the kidnapper, he is looking for you.” Jon’s hands went to his hammers. “Let him find me, I’ll kill him.” Jon Black shook his head. “No, Jon, revenge is not something you should pursue. A lot of people that love you went to a great deal of trouble to protect you from him. I was your age when I was sent to find you. I brought you forward in time and left you with my elder self, me, to hide you from him in the hopes he would lose interest by the time he arrived in this time period, but he hasn’t lost interest.” “I get it, you bent time, are my parents still here in the Crystal Universe?” Jon Black waved a hand and a door appeared in the wall. “Your mother and step-father were kept asleep in Limbo until three weeks ago. I had Jax take them to the most forgotten place he could find so they would be safe. They are beyond that door. I would like for you to continue your duties here, but, that door will remain for you regardless of what you choose. Your grandfather has insisted you be given free-will to choose, but always have a way back to him.” Jon rolled off the bed and onto his feet. He crossed the room and put a hand on the doorknob. “You shouldn’t have kept this from me.” “There’s one more thing you need to know.” “Jon replied with anger seething in his voice. “What?” “The moment you were born, your step-father knew what your mother had done in her desperation to have a child, but as he looked upon your innocent face, he forgave her, and loved you with all his heart. I was there the day the kidnapper came to take you. I was mortally wounded in the battle, but before I took my last breath, I summoned those hammers you wear now. I gave them to your step-father, not knowing if a mortal would be able to even lift them, but his love for you was so strong, he did, and I can tell you, I have never before or after seen a mortal fight so heroically against a god.” Jon snapped his head around to stare at Jon Black. “The…kidnapper…it was my father, the Ocean god of Carina?” “Yes, Jon. Our father betrayed us both.” Jon opened the door and stepped through to a clearing in the forest with dappled light streaming through the trees. He saw a cabin half built, and a man next to it preparing felled trees to be used in the construction of the cabin. Jon tipped his head to the side as he recognized the man. The man… was Henry, but not the fantasy Henry from before, but the real Henry. Jon walked purposefully towards the working man. A woman came out of the cabin carrying a clay water-jar. She saw Jon and dropped the jar. The jar shattered and water spilled across the ground. Henry looked up startled, the axe gripped in his hand like a weapon. The man saw Jon as Martha threw her hands over her mouth. Jon was close enough now to hear them speak. “Henry, it’s him,” said Martha. “Don’t jump to conclusions, this is the Land of the Dead and there are many Atans here,” said Henry. “Look at the eyes,” said Martha. “I’d know those eyes anywhere.” Jon stopped in front of the couple. “Hi, I’m Jon… I… I think you’re my parents.” The woman’s knees buckled and she dropped to the ground. “Hello, Jon,” said the man. “I’m Henry.” Jon lifted one of the hammers from his belt and held it out to the man. Henry nodded, understanding. “Yep, I suppose that would confirm it for both of us.” Henry took the hammer that no mortal should have been able to hold and hefted it in his hand. “It has a fine balance, son, well-crafted and sturdy. You could do war with this, or build something to last forever.” Jon took the hammer back from the man and dropped it into the loop on his belt, then knelt down to the sobbing woman as she held out her arms. Jon closed his eyes as he fell into her arms. “I’m home, Mama.”