Orlando dreamt he was in a seething crowd of men. A battlefield? Or a crowded room? It was too hot and murky to say.

Somewhere close by, Melora was calling him, but he couldn't see her anywhere. He whirled in circles, tripping over legs and arms, pushing and being pushed by the mass of sweat and flesh. No red hair, not a woman among them.

The man in front of Orlando turned; it was Mador, his face twisted into a sneer. "Stay buried forever," he hissed, drawing a blade from his belt.

"No." Orlando punched the other knight in the nose, not caring if it was honorable or not. "No!" He wrestled the knife from Mador and rose to his feet, only to see the human swarm all watching, all wearing Mador's face, all pressing in to kill him.

"ORLANDO!" Melora's scream, closer.

Orlando tore through the Mador crowd, flailing with arms and dagger, heedless of his own body. Trailing bloody streamers from countless slashes, Orlando broke through the crowd and out of the small room.

In the next room, a bear of a man cornered Melora. Her sword shattered, and the man drew back for the deathblow. Orlando threw himself at the man, tearing his hair back and sending his swing wide. He thrust his knife into the man's neck, casting him aside as he fell.

Melora turned to him, her hair wreathing her head like a fiery halo, her eyes jewel-bright. "You came!"

"I had to," he said, staring at her blood-spattered gown. "You're hurt?"

"Not much." She smiled at him. "But you look horrible."

Orlando winced at his own pain. "How did it happen?"

Melora cast her broken blade to the floor and took his hands. "It doesn't matter." Her smile was brighter than light, warmer than summer. "It just matters that you came." She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.

Orlando blinked, stepping back.

Something felt wrong. Melora wasn't forward like this. He didn't even know if she liked him all that much.

He stared at her, blinking. "Where are we?"

She leaned forward again. "Why do you care? We're safe now." She glanced over her shoulder and flashed him a conspiratorial grin. "No one will find us for a little while."

Her smile made his heart ache, yet still something seemed off. Orlando sheathed his knife and reached for her hand. "We should find the way out."

"There is none," she whispered, squeezing his hand and gazing into his eyes.

Her eyes were strange, the pupils slit like those of a cat. As she drew him to her, he caught the slightest hint of violet in the glittering green.

Orlando recoiled. "This is false!"

Melora laughed, shrinking and twisting before his eyes, warping into the tangled form of the Destroyer. "Round one to you, pretty princeling," she cackled, her voice still echoing Melora's rich tone. "What a pity. Won't you give a poor old woman a kiss?"

"If she was my mother," growled Orlando. "You're a monster."

The Destroyer continued laughing with glee. "Things change in time."

"Never," snapped Orlando. "Now let me out."

"Such a prince, such a fool," scoffed the hag. "I'll indulge you, though this world is so much better."

Orlando awoke with a start, his forehead slick with sweat. It was dark as death around him, and the smell of rot gathered in his lungs. Orlando gripped his face in his hands, rattling his many chains. He held back threatening tears and forced the thought of Melora from his mind. Lost to him, she couldn't hear him, and the Destroyer was the only one here.

Orlando wondered what his father was thinking, if Arthur had notified the king of his son's disappearance. King Gustavus still had Jason and Heracles, the former being his heir. Gustavus wouldn't weep or show concern. Perhaps he'd stroke his beard and sigh. Jason and Heracles might laugh or scoff. As the months turned to years, Heracles might offer to seek him out. Gustavus would deny him, not wanting to lose another son.

Orlando rattled his chains as he tried to make his position more comfortable. It was humid in the hole, oppressive and heavy. Orlando sighed and scuffed his toes in the muck. Even if one of his brothers elected to come after him (not likely), it was hopeless. No one could find him, the witch had said.

Even if they could find me here, I couldn't speak to them. Orlando licked his dry lips and shifted again. Despite the moisture, he hadn't had a drink in days. Or food, for that matter. If not for his dreams, he might have thought his captors had forgotten him, too.

Orlando's stomach rumbled and he grit his teeth. An eternity of this was more than he could bear thinking about. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly. If sleep were the only escape from the darkness, then he would sleep and dream.

Nevertheless, it was hours later before sleep claimed him again. The dreams rushed in, confused and troubled, until finally, the last dream sharpened into a vivid picture.

This time, Orlando descended from the clouds on the winged Pegasus. Rising from Hades to meet him was a giant clad only in lion skin. The giant rode a scarlet serpent, the beast's bloody tongue lolling and leathery wings flapping.

Orlando collided with the rider in the sky, driving his spear into the loathsome snake. Thunder was their meeting, lightning the sparking of their swords as they chased past the stars in pursuit.

Orlando was tiring in spite of dream strength. Blood ran from his body and his opponents', and Orlando felt his arms giving way. He swept past the serpent and leapt on its back. The giant hacked at him, but Orlando was quicker. He thrust his sword into the giant's shoulder, knocking him loose from the serpent. All three plummeted from the sky, a great flaming angel crashing into hell.

Orlando smashed into the ground, rolling down a steep slope. His breath was gone, and he felt his armor crushing the life out of him. A foot stopped him with a jerk and kicked him over.

Orlando gazed through dizzy eyes at the looming figure. It wavered and split into three, then five tall men. The man (men) cleared his (or their) throat, and the sound was like rocks tumbling together. "Who are you, knight, that you would enter my domain?"

Orlando gasped, but he couldn't speak. The tall man stomped once on his chest, making Orlando wretch. He gagged and coughed before finding his voice. "Orlando of Thessaly. But who are you?"

"Hades will suffice, though I have more names and faces than you could fathom. State your crime."

Orlando grimaced in both puzzlement and pain. His chest felt like it was on fire. "I don't know what you mean. Am I dead?"

"You fell from the sky, sent to my court for judgment." The tall man beckoned to another figure. "Weigh his heart in the balance; see if he lies."

Orlando recoiled in horror. The creature had the body of a man, bare-chested and glistening with muscles, but the head and shoulders of a black jackal. The beast's turquoise eyes were strangely flat, as if fashioned from tile.

"Who are you?" gasped the prince.

The flat eyes rolled and the jackal head bent close. "I am the devourer of oath breakers and dishonest men. I am the eater of hearts who must consume wickedness."

Orlando pushed himself to a sitting position, his head spinning again. "Then test me, fiend, and see if I lie."

The creature inhaled, his eyes shutting and his beast's fur standing on end. "Sent for love." The breathy voice reeked of old blood. "Loving wrong is his crime."

Hades crossed pale grey arms, stalking back and forth before them, his frame rippling and folding like a desert mirage. "This is not my arena. Perhaps you should fight the lad for his heart, m'lord. If he survives you, set him free; if he fails, take his heart with my compliments."

The jackal-man snarled. "I cannot die."

"Then he wins if he strikes you seven times."

Another snarl from the beast, this time at Orlando. "Agreed."

Orlando staggered to his feet. "Wait, Hades, uh, Lord Hades, I have no sword."

The lord of the underworld smiled a pale skull grin, his frost-colored eyes glittering with mirth. "Look at your hand."

Orlando held a wicked steel blade. The hilt was obsidian, cold as death, and the blade itself winked with icy malice. His left arm held a shield of ironclad ebony, carved with death's own face.

Orlando bowed. "Thank you, sir."

Hades laughed and raised a hand. "Begin." He turned in a swirl of indigo wrappings and was gone.

Orlando circled the jackal-man, waiting for it to make the first move. The beast gnashed his fangs and raised a sword of rotting metal, hilt wrapped in burial rags. It charged with a howl, and Orlando jumped aside. I'm fighting Melora-fashion. Smiling, he dodged another blow. His sword snaked under the rotting blade, catching the beast's shoulder.

Blood ribboned, and a distant voice said, "One."

Moments later, it intoned again, "Two."

Orlando ignored the phantom pain. In the dream world, he was tireless, sleepless, and possibly deathless. Knowing his strength fortified him, and he scored a third hit on the furious beast. The jackal-man retaliated with a storm of blows, breaching Orlando's guard to cut his arm. Orlando bit through his lip in pain, answering with a fourth hit.

Five through seven scored, and Orlando cast down his sword. "Surrender."

The jackal man sagged against the wall, his black tongue licking his wounds. His flat eyes regarded Orlando with hatred, but he made no move to resume the attack.

A door creaked open, though Orlando couldn't see it. A tall woman glided in, robed in night. She stopped in front of Orlando and inclined her head. Deep brown braids swung forward, and she raised her face to reveal eyes of sparkling sapphire.

"Greetings, fair youth. My lord bids you choose a prize from his treasury. Anything in this world can be yours, for he is lord of wealth as well." She gestured with her graceful crescent-moon hand. "Come with me."

Orlando followed the woman, though his wounds smarting and his face dripping with sweat. "Tell me, Lady, have you anything to free me from this place?"

She turned back, eyes darting over his face. "A key. If you can find it, you may claim it."

Orlando frowned. "How will I know it?"

She smiled, and a vague look crossed her face. "Where does your heart truly lie?"

Orlando followed her again, puzzled by her response. How was that supposed to help him? After several more paces, they stopped at a great door carved with grotesque monsters and solemn men. The woman pressed it with her slim hands. It opened, soundless under her light touch. "Come."

Orlando entered a room so vast, it could have easily contained both his father's palace and the Red Hall. He gaped at the arching ceilings covered in stalactites. Glittering dunes of gold and silver, coins and goblets obscured the floor. Where could Orlando find a single key among the rivers of jewels flowing in this underground hall?

He looked to the lady, who nodded her understanding. "The treasure you seek lies beyond, there." She indicated a small path winding through the gold. "At the end of that way, you will find it. Touch only what you intend to take, for the first treasure your hand brushes will be what remains with you."

Orlando bowed. "Thank you."

"Return to me here when you have what you seek, and I will guide you."

Orlando turned from the starlit woman and carefully trod the narrow pathway through the glittering hills. He ignored swords and daggers, helms and cuirasses, though they were exquisite. He passed by coats and capes fit for an emperor and goblets of precious stone.

The path ended in a smaller chamber. Orlando ducked through the priceless scarlet tapestry that was the door, careful not to touch it with his hands. He blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the sudden torchlight. A row of thrones lined the wall. In each sat a frozen woman, or the likeness of one. Orlando stared at them, fear prickling his spine.

He crept closer, his footsteps soft on beds of carpet and bolts of velvet. In the light, he made out the women's noble features and fiery hair, and recoiled in revulsion. Each woman was a perfect copy of Melora, down to the way she pursed her mouth.

"Tricks all around," muttered Orlando, remembering the woman's question. "Where my heart lies, indeed." He studied the figures, trying to spot a difference. "Where my heart truly lies?" Orlando frowned. "Does she mean Melora at all?"

Think, Orlando.

Orlando walked down the row, staring into each frozen face. They still looked the same. He sighed and buried his own face in his hands. Through his fingers, he glimpsed a small casket open on the ground in front of him. A skull was all it contained, cushioned in purple satin. Orlando frowned and stepped closer. The skull held something in its teeth. Orlando knelt to see it was a tiny key, shaped like a spear with a cross on the end.

"A key in the jaws of death, buried in the Underworld," muttered Orlando. He hadn't expected the solution to be so . . . literal. "Clever. I don't think they wanted me to solve that."

He snatched the key and turned, but the ground shook beneath his feet. A terrible scream rent the stillness, and Orlando slammed against the wall, key in hand.

He awakened with a jolt, his body sore as if it had all been real. Something was in his hands, something slimy, cold, and hard. Orlando shuddered, tasting blood where he'd bitten through his lip.

He felt the strange object he was still holding; running his fingers over its dips and grooves. It was an arm bone. Orlando cast it aside with a silent growl. Laughter crackled around him as the bone smacked into a wall.

"Round one may go to you, my dear," said the Destroyer's voice, somewhere nearby, "but forever goes to me!" She laughed again, a keening mewl that pounded through Orlando's skull, as her words echoed in the dark.

Forever.