

April

By Jim Murphy

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Jim Murphy

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter 1

He was old. He wasn't so old that he had seen the mountains being formed. But he certainly remembered when most of the hills had been mountains. He was so old that few living creatures, including him, remembered his name anymore. Everyone that he had grown up with was long ago gone and most of those that still knew about him just called him 'The Old One'. And, because he hadn't heard his name spoken in so long, it had ceased to be even a vague memory to him as well.

He spent his days just slumbering, in his cave, and dreaming of things that had been gone from the Land before anyone else was even born. But he was mostly content. He had been until today that is. Sometimes he had a dream in which he was falling and it felt so real that the shock woke him up. That had happened to him again, and now he knew that something was not right. The cave walls, around him, didn't seem the same, and there was a strange smell in the air. His favourite jewel, the large ruby that he had wrested from the dwarves, over half his lifetime ago, was not on the little rock shelf. In fact the little shelf was not there either, and what was that smell? Glancing around him he noticed the great ruby lying in amongst the rest of his hoard. He wondered what had happened to move the shelf and cast the gem down there. All of the rock formations seemed to be different, to what he remembered, now that he looked closer. What was happening? Had he moved himself, and all his cache, to another cave and then forgotten the fact? No; the last time he had moved caves it had been such a struggle that he remembered it well, and it had not been recently. So what was happening, and what was that smell? It seemed familiar but he couldn't place it.

Lumbering to his feet, he crawled towards the light that came in through the cave entrance. Strangely, the entrance seemed to be in a different direction than he thought it should be. Poking his head outside the cave he looked around. He was in a pass between two mountains that he didn't recognise. Why was he in a pass, he knew that was dangerous. It made access to his cave much too easy for his enemies. And, wherever this was, it wasn't the Mountains of Fire. The air was too fresh and there was no smell of ash, or sulphur. There was another smell though, what was that? Where was he? Looking down the pass he saw fields and beyond them, what was that? Was that a River? That was what the smell was that had been nudging the back of his mind since he'd woken up, water. He hadn't seen, or smelt, water in such a long time. Not since the third great war when the Ravers had nearly wiped out the dragons. Then he had had to flee to the centre of the Mountains of Fire on the other side of the Schism. Oh, he had fought at first, of course he had, but they just seemed to keep coming and coming. Finally he had had to leave. So, for what man called centuries, he had been ensconced in a cave atop the largest of the mountains, leagues away from any contact with humans, and also leagues away from the nearest water source. Now here he was looking at a river, and a large one at that. Something strange was definitely happening.

He looked out at the wide blue ribbon of the river, winding between the green fields, and felt a happiness that he had not known for many years. Oh, he had missed these simple pleasures in the harsh yellow and grey vista that was the Mountains of Fire. Old age, despite its disadvantages, also brings some advantages. Having witnessed so much before, and realised how much is new, the older tend to be more relaxed about things that are initially strange. They have a fair share of acceptance and patience. He would sort reasons out later, for now he would simply accept the fact that there was a river and he had not had a swim in a river for a very long age. With a cry of joy he leapt out of the cave mouth, his large red wings expanding as soon as they cleared the rock and cracking taut against the wind. Oh yes, he had missed this. Circling round, to get his balance, he revelled in the joy of flight. It was a joy that that he had denied himself for so long. And then he turned and, happily, headed towards the river.

Ralf had had a bad night, what with the pig birthing earlier than it should have done and the subsequent loss of half of the litter. He'd managed to get very little sleep and still he had the field to plough today. Walking along behind the slow, old carthorse he was letting his mind go over all of the things that he had to do next. The barn had to be cleaned, the cottage roof definitely needed new thatch and he really should make time for a trip to the market this afternoon to get some more salt. After all, he had more pork meat than he had planned for now and he had to treat it before it spoiled. He looked over to the other half of the field where Kurt, his neighbour, was working just as hard as he himself was. Maybe he could trade some of the pork for some eggs from Kurt's chickens. Then Kurt would have the worry of finding salt. Ralf could possibly save himself some money, and have eggs to go with the pork as well.

Kurt was also thinking about pork. However, his thoughts were more on receiving the pork in return for his help in ploughing the field. The arrangement, that they made every year, was that he would help Ralf in Ralf's field and then Ralf would help him with his field in return. But Ralf's field was bigger than Kurt's. Besides, didn't Jamie, from the next farm down the valley, owe him a favour? Kurt thought that, if he could persuade Ralf to pay him in pork, then he could get Jamie to help him plough his field. Hearing a loud noise, he looked up, into the sky, and saw something in the distance that had never actually been seen by anyone of his knowledge before. However, everyone had heard the stories. He shouted and waved at Ralf, to get his attention.

Ralf wondered what was wrong with Kurt. He was shouting something and waving his hands pointing into the sky. Was that a bird? No, surely it was much too big, and it was getting bigger all the while. 'No, dragons don't exist anymore' he thought to himself but if that wasn't a dragon then something was doing a very good impression of one. Ralf was first and foremost a farmer though and, whether it really was a dragon or not, this thing was threatening his farm. Shouting to Kurt to ride into Town for help Ralf dropped the lines from the plough and snatched up his bow. Let the thing come, he would show it. Was he not the winner of the Town archery competition for the last three years? He could draw and loose three arrows every two seconds. Some people could set more arrows in the air in that time. But they had to admit that, the difference was, when Ralf let them go they pretty much always ended up landing where he wanted them to. Taking a breath, to steady himself, he brought the bow up to aim, with the first arrow nocked. He knew that, if he got the first shot on target, he could follow up with a hail that had killed, or scared off, most things he had come against in his life. Ralf centred himself, sighted down the arrow, released and then he was in his rhythm; draw, glance, release, draw, glance, release. Arrows seemed to leap from his bow of their own volition and speed towards the dragon, or whatever it was. He was just releasing the seventh arrow when the first one reached its target. Ah, he thought to himself, a perfect hit right on the base of the throat. Then he forgot about releasing the next arrow as he noticed the first one crumple against the things neck and fall, harmlessly, to the ground. The others followed, one by one, and every one of them just crumpled against the hard hide of the dragon, because Ralf was sure now that it had to be a dragon.

Kurt, meanwhile, had unhitched his horse from the plough and was getting ready to, jump onto it and, ride to Town. He decided to pause, just a short while, though, to see how Ralf got on. His arrows were flying perfectly and he seemed to be hitting the thing every time, not surprising given the size of the target. However, none of the arrows seemed to bother the dragon at all. Kurt gathered the reins in his hand and gave the horse a mighty kick in the withers to get it started. Dragging its head around, to point it at the road to Town, he set off as fast as the old horse could go.

Just as Ralf was starting to worry, and think about running away, he felt a deep calm come over him. 'Come on, this is your livelihood and you cannot run off and leave it. Concentrate' he heard himself thinking. He relaxed his arm because he had held that last arrow at full stretch while all this was happening. Taking another deep breath, to steady himself, he breathed out slowly and, as he did, he raised the bow and pulled it back further than he had ever pulled it before. Sighting down the arrow he counted slowly to three, as he made sure of the aim, and then he released. The arrow shot from the bow with a mighty twang and flew towards the dragon. Hitting right at the juncture of the neck it found a small gap between two scales and penetrated. Ralf heard the dragon roar in surprise and smiled to himself. 'Fine, so you can be hurt. Get ready for some more pain then'.

The Old One was surprised to feel a small pain. He lived, daily, with the dull ache of arthritis and sore joints, although they didn't seem too bad today. It had been many centuries, however, since he had felt sharp pain, and it had been caused by that little man crawling on the ground beneath. Why? All he was doing was enjoying the flight, and heading towards the river for a swim and a drink, and yet that insect had tried to hurt him with one of its tiny sticks. He felt his rage growing, and filling him, and, with it, came other memories as well. He hadn't always been called the Old One. His true name was Ochoba, named after the very bones of the earth itself. And it was a name that these puny humans used to know and fear. Hotter and hotter grew his rage and then he felt something else that he had not felt for a long, long time. He felt his fire growing inside him. Hurt him would they, well he could show them hurt. Hurt that mankind had not felt in generations. Angling his wings he banked around, the river forgotten now, and circled round the tiny human. Ochoba gained height as he circled and then, when he was facing the human again, he started a steep dive. Diving towards the human he waited for the precise moment. No calculations were needed. This was the memory of his race, passed down from the dragons before him as they had received it from the ones before them. 'There, now I have him'. Ochoba opened his mouth and, with a mighty roar, breathed the fire out.

Just as he was doing so he noticed a glint of red in a ring on the hand of the man. Could that be what he thought it was? He looked again and he wasn't mistaken, he recognised that ring and its ruby, a smaller cousin of the one in his cave. Turning his head quickly he directed the stream of fire to one side where it obliterated a small copse of trees at the edge of the field, neatly cooking the carthorse as it skimmed over it. Was this insignificant man, who scratched at the dirt for a living, really descended from the mighty warrior who had aided Ochoba all those years ago against the dwarven armies he wondered? It would almost be his duty to incinerate this feeble thing now, just to spare the memory of his old friend from any more shame than it already had. But a deal is a deal, and a bargain is a bargain. Therefore, in the name of a friend long since passed from this world, the farmer would not be killed by him. However, if it fired any more of its little sticks at him then he would make it regret it. Turning on one wing he dove down and snatched the remains of the horse up as he flew past, no point wasting a perfectly good dinner. Calming down he remembered the river and lazily turned towards it for the swim that he had promised himself.

Ralf couldn't believe his good fortune. The dragon had breathed fire at him and the 'magic ring' had deflected it and protected him. When his father, on his deathbed last year, passed the ring to him, and told him that it was magic, he had privately thought that the man's brain had gone soft with age. Of course he had taken it and thanked his father seriously, so as not to insult the old man. And he had remained wearing it out of respect for his father's memory rather than any illusions about its worth. Now though, wonder of wonders, it looked as if it was true, he could never be hurt by fire while he wore it. He noticed the dragon snatch up the horse and veer off towards the river and he suddenly remembered his wife, Sara, and the two young ones. What was he doing standing here when he should be by their side so that they would be protected by the ring's magic also? Rushing towards the small cottage he called for Little Sara and Ralf junior to go inside and then followed them through the door. Slamming the door shut, behind him, he stood as his father had told him to and touched the ring to the wooden frame of the house, knowing that they were all safe now.

The man in the white robe watched from the smoking ruins of the copse of trees and smiled quietly to himself. It was a good beginning. The first game tile had been placed and, when the rest had been aligned behind it then, one push would start the inevitable sequence. It had taken many years to get the plans correct and even more to collect all the necessary things that were needed. The relocation spell for something that size had only been possible to make after sacrificing a whole village in the south of the Land. He wondered if the spirits of the villagers would rest happier knowing that the spell had worked perfectly, probably not. But it had worked well, as had the rejuvenation. The possession of the farmer Ralf was not even worth thinking about, possession he did with no need for spells or aids. Let's face it; there was no way that dirt scratcher was ever going to manage to get an arrow through the dragon's scales without his help. Mind you the dragon re-finding its fire was a surprise, he supposed it had been a side effect of the rejuvenation spell. He had not been worried when the dragon breath cleared all the trees from around him, of course. For someone born in the very fires of hell themselves the breath of a dragon was simple to deal with. He had just absorbed it into himself. Mind you he had had to be slightly careful not to absorb so much that the trees survived. His invisibility spell was always the match for the dragon's sight but if Ochoba had breathed on a copse of trees and they hadn't burnt then the dragon may have investigated and the man in the white robe didn't want that.

Thinking back, to when he had possessed the farmer, he wondered about the 'magic ring'. That could possibly be a problem. There was no point waiting for a shock later in the game if it could be decided, one way or another, now, and he had to be sure. Holding one hand outright he concentrated and expelled the dragon fire from inside him until it was a large ball sizzling on his palm. With a thought he cast the ball directly at the farmhouse. Unsurprisingly the door didn't stop it at all, in fact the fireball took out the door and most of the wall holding it as well and then crashed into the inside of the house. He leaned back against a tree, resignedly, as he watched the house burn. With a glance towards the dragon he softly whispered 'Eat well my large friend. For all that you will do for me a decent meal is the least that you deserve'. Then he settled down to wait.

Eventually, Ochoba returned from his meal, and his swim, and flew back into the cave. He noticed the burnt out farmhouse as he passed overhead but didn't worry too long about it. His deal had said nothing about aid or protection, just the forbearance of attack. Luckily the arrow had not had an iron point. It was just a sharpened stick really and it had slid out easily. It was unbelievable that the farmer had managed to get it to penetrate his scales in the first place when you thought about it. Maybe he had been descended from the mighty warrior after all. Crawling into the far reaches of the cave Ochoba gently took the great ruby and placed it in front of his nose on a small pile of diamonds. Settling down he stared into the red depths of the ruby until sleep overtook him. Flight, his fire inside, a whole horse to eat and a swim as well, it had been the best day that he had had for some time.

The man in the white robe gave the dragon a good ten hours to settle down. It would probably sleep for a couple of days, after all the excitement, so there was no point being in such a rush that he surprised it before it fell asleep. No-one had ever accused him of being impatient, as witnessed by this plan that had been so many years in the making. Once he was more than satisfied that the dragon had settled down to sleep properly he took a scroll out of his pocket. Smiling to himself he unrolled it and started to activate the spell that it contained.

Chapter 2

When the minstrels tell the story it always sounds incredible. The man leaps onto his horse and digs his heels into its flanks. The horse then goes from a standing start to a full gallop in about two paces. It keeps this pace up for a full hour, while it outdistances all of the pursuers. And then it settles into a ground-eating lope that it will be able to maintain for three weeks, or so, without pausing to rest. The rider, at one with his horse, sits peacefully on the saddle and will arrive at his destination fully rested and ready for anything.

In real life these things don't happen in quite the same way. Kurt didn't leap onto his horse, as such. It was more of a fast climb. Dragging its head around, to face the exit to the field, and digging his heels into its flanks produced a respectable canter from the animal. This, just about, lasted until they had left the field and turned down the road to Town. Then it very quickly slowed into what would, more accurately, be described as a fast walk rather than a slow run.

Kurt was scared, but also amazed, a real live dragon had just flown overhead and this stupid horse still wouldn't move. He'd never really classed it as the smartest horse that he'd ever owned but this was, almost, beyond belief. As a plough horse its unexcitable, plodding nature was an asset, as a vehicle to raise the alarm this trait was not proving to be half as useful. Kurt fretted and pressed his hands against the horse's neck, to try and get its pace back up again, but the animal was adamant that this was the pace it wanted. Hearing a roar behind him he turned to take a last look back at the farm. The dragon had breathed fire! Seeing that Ralf was still, so far, alive he turned back, to face his direction of travel, and attempted, once again, to speed up the reluctant horse. Another mighty kick to its flanks just caused it to shiver and, if anything slow down. Even with the slow pace though, they were now at the turn into the forest and, taking it, Kurt lost sight of Ralf and the events behind. He settled down to trying to get some pace from the unhelpful beast while, silently, wishing Ralf luck in his uneven battle.

After half an hour of cajoling, coercing and, mostly, cursing the reluctant beast Kurt had come to two conclusions. First that he was not going to get to Town in time to get any help for Ralf. Events at the farm would have played themselves out well before he could send any help back. In fact, from what he remembered of the old stories of dragons, encounters didn't tend to last long and it could even be all over by now. So, wholeheartedly praying for Ralf's safety, he had decided that his mission was now to warn the Town. Secondly he had decided that he really needed to learn some new swear words. Even he had long ago tired of his unimaginative repetition and he was now reduced to just muttering 'Tub of Lard' over and over again in time with the horse's hoof beats.

At least they had now left the forest and were on the rocky trail over the top of the pass. Riding out into the sunshine he could console himself with the fact that, once they were over the top of the rise, it would be all downhill to Town. At least the horse should go quicker then. Kurt suddenly felt cold as a large, quick moving, shadow passed over him. Without even thinking, he leapt off the horse and took refuge in the rocks at the side of the road. Looking skyward he was both relieved and embarrassed to see that the shadow was just a cloud passing between him and the sun. However, there was not much time for either emotion as he looked back up the road to discover that the horse had maintained the same, slow, pace. It was even now cresting the rise and starting downhill.

With a groan he picked himself up and started to run. Even with all that had happened at the farm, and the sudden panic that he had just had, he could not fail to see the irony of the situation. Just five minutes ago he was cursing the horse for its slow speed and now here he was chasing after the thing. Pushing hard he, finally, caught the beast just as it was going back into the woods at the other side of the pass. Breathless, and just on the point of collapse, he made a final lunge and dragged himself up onto the horses back again. The net outcome of this was that the horse staggered slightly. An unfortunate rabbit, that had poked its head out of the burrow, to see what was happening, was neatly despatched as the horse's hoof came into contact with its temple. And, of course, the horse noticed the extra weight and slowed down again. Kurt groaned and then settled back into his mantra of 'Tub of Lard, Tub of Lard, Tub of Lard, Tub of Lard'.

As even the slowest racer must eventually finish the course, they finally came out, on the far side of the woods, and saw the ford across the river. The other side of the ford was the Town and Kurt could see his destination at last. The horse, seeing the water, even put on a brief spurt and covered the last part at a respectable canter. However, reaching the water, it then stopped and dropped its head to drink. Kurt, tired from the journey and almost hypnotised by his own mantra, was taken completely by surprise and deposited in the middle of the shallow ford where the cold water quickly brought his attention back to the present. With a final glance at the horse and a last, heartily felt, 'Tub of Lard' he staggered to his feet and started across the ford. Another thing that the old stories don't tell you is that when you are not used to riding it can really cramp up your leg muscles. So it was that, after just one pace, Kurt found himself flat on his face in the water again. Reluctantly he started to crawl towards Town and the 'Kings Rest' Inn where he hoped to find assistance.

Otto was starting to enjoy life. Otto junior was old enough to work the bar now which gave him a lot more time than he used to have. He remembered, fondly, how his own father had been proud when he, himself, had started working the bar and could now fully appreciate why. Sitting with a few friends he savoured his mug of ale and looked around the barroom. It was plain and comfortable with wooden benches and tables. People came here to relax and talk and didn't want anything 'fancy'. Already a number of people were here. There was Sven, of course, Old Sam and Sam and even Sam junior. How lucky Old Sam was to see the son of his son, not many people achieved that. It was said that when Old Sam was a junior himself there was another Old in the village. This was the only one that Old Sam had ever seen in his whole life. Most people in the Town said that Old Sam was blessed by the Angels. That always made Otto, and Otto junior, smile to themselves. It was still early yet but the signs were that it would be a quiet night. Good. Later on he would have time to make preparations for his next trip to the trading post. As he had to go anyway, to pick up ale, he always took all of the Towns' spare goods, and provisions with him and did the trading for them all. Otto Junior could manage the bar by himself these days so there was more time free for preparation. Then the door flew open and Kurt staggered in. Drenched in water and bleeding from some minor scratches on his face and hands. Kurt stopped just inside the door and stood, uncertainly, looking around. Then he muttered 'Dragon Ralf fire help Tub of Lard slow ford' and collapsed on the floor.

Jumping up, off their chairs, Otto and a couple of the others got Kurt to a table and installed a large mug of ale in front of him. As he drank they waited patiently. Finally he seemed to recover somewhat and Otto decided that it was time to find out what was going on.

'Come on Kurt, what has got you in such a state, and why are you all wet and scratched?' He asked.

'Ralf was attacked by a dragon and I came for help. But Tub of Lard was too slow and I think it may be too late'

'Ralf was attacked by a dragon? If I didn't know that Otto was the only one that sold ale I would wonder if you had been drinking before you got here' said Old Sam. 'And what the heck has a tub of lard got to do with it?'

'Not a tub of lard' said Kurt 'Tub of Lard, my horse'.

Otto carefully placed his mug back onto the table. But, even placing it gently, the sound seemed to echo around the suddenly silent bar-room. Glancing around he saw some of the people linking their thumbs, and fanning out their fingers, to make the sign of the Angels' wings. He had better do something quick.

Calling Otto junior over to help him, they moved Kurt into the back room explaining, as they did, that something was obviously wrong with him and he should not be subjected to everyone firing questions at him. Otto would get to the bottom of what was going on and then come back and tell them all. Once the three of them were safely in the back room Otto had a few quick words with Otto junior and then sent him back out to the bar.

'Well this is a lively bar and no mistake' Otto junior said as he returned. 'Kurt will be fine, there is no need for you all to sit there silently staring at each other'

'You heard him' said Old Sam, 'He named his horse. He clearly said "Tub of Lard, My Horse"'

'Oh come on Old Sam' Otto junior said. 'We all know that Kurt isn't the fullest mug in the round. He was just shook up is all! What he obviously meant to say was "that tub of lard of a horse". Come on and have a fresh drink and we'll leave it to my dad to sort out'

Almost reluctantly Old Sam took another drink. Seeing him accept the explanation, others soon followed and the atmosphere in the bar eventually became relaxed again, if a bit quieter than earlier.

Otto wasn't quite as happy with his life as he had been some three hours earlier. After getting the complete story from Kurt he had reported back to the rest of the bar. Kurt had been to check on his wife and children who had, luckily, been visiting his sister in Town. Sam, with a group of others, had gone to see what had happened at Ralf's farm. They had returned with news of a burnt copse of trees and a burnt out house. One of them had found a ring with a red stone, which they had brought back and given to Otto, but there was nothing else. Now it seemed that the whole Town was in the bar. All of them were loudly discussing what had to be done. Otto knew what had to be done but, at the same time, he knew that he couldn't tell the others his true plans. Listening to them he heard all sorts of different conversations. Some of them were talking about dragons in the same sense as elves and dwarves as just the contents of old stories. Sam and the others that had visited the farm were more inclined to believe Kurt. And Kurt, of course, was sticking to his story and telling it to anyone who listened.

'All right' Otto said stepping forward and everyone stopped their conversations to listen. All problems were, traditionally, brought to the Kings Rest because Otto usually had good suggestions so people tended to listen when he spoke. 'This is what we have to do. None of us can fight this thing; I fear that Ralf has proved that. The only danger that we could pose to this beast would be if one of us got stuck in his throat and choked him. So we need help. I propose that I will go to the trading post and see what help, and information, I can find. I would like Kurt to accompany me and also, if he is willing, Sam. Everyone here' Otto continued 'should get the other farmers into Town as soon as possible. Tell them to bring with them all of their stores, you may need the food. Otto junior will collect whatever we have that has value in the Town and then follow me to the trading post. He was due to come with me on the next trip anyway and I have already shown him the way on a map. By the time he gets there I should have more idea of what our options are. Old Sam will be in charge while I am gone and I recommend that you should all stick to the Town limits for safety'.

Discussions followed, as they usually did, but eventually they all saw the truth in Otto's statements. After all he was the only man who ever left the Town, and met with outsiders, so he, obviously, was the best person for this mission. Having Kurt along, for details and corroboration, and Sam, the blacksmith, for muscle also made good sense. Otto junior was the obvious person to follow on afterwards. Although there was some sense, people argued, in sending accompaniment with him if he was transporting all the valuables. But that could be decided later. The main thing was for Otto, Kurt and Sam to get on their way. Sam junior was despatched to get the three best horses in the village and food was packed for the three.

As they left the Town Kurt looked back at all the people who had turned out to see them off, and behind them he could just make out where the ford he had arrived at so few hours ago was. This was a major day in Kurt's life. He had seen a dragon, ridden for help and now, with everyone's good wishes still ringing in his ears, he was leaving Town for the first time in his life. He didn't count the farm as being outside of Town because they were still part of the Town community even there. But the trading post, well that was definitely the outside world and he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Sam was also looking back. When you looked at it closely it wasn't much, this little collection of wooden houses. There was his smithy right by the road out of Town. The road they were on that, up until now, had only ever been used by Otto and his predecessors. Then there were nineteen, or twenty, other buildings all packed together tightly with, behind them, the Kings Rest by the ford. No, not much at all but until today it had been his whole life. He had been born here, met and married his wife here and had two wonderful children with her. And he had fully intended to die here as well. He wasn't one of these people who listened to the tales and wondered what it would be like to go adventuring. He was solid and dependable like the metal things that he made, and usually just as immovable. But Otto had said that he had to accompany him. And once Old Sam had agreed with Otto then there had been no choice really.

The three men rode at a gentle pace as Otto had assured them that there was no point tiring the horses out at the start of the journey. Winding down the road from Town they finally turned into the woods that would lead them away from everything that Kurt and Sam had known up until then.

'How far is it to the trading post?' Kurt asked and Sam looked up from his study of the road as they waited for the answer. However, the answer they received was not what either of them expected. 'We aren't going to the trading post' said Otto 'We are going to see the Angels to ask for their help'

Chapter 3

Kurt and Sam stopped their horses and stared at Otto. He rode on for a couple of paces and then also stopped. Turning round to face them he patiently waited.

'What' said Kurt? After thinking through numerous other responses and discarding them all.

'We are going to see the Angels to ask for their help. Or rather, to be more specific, I am going to hold the Angels to their promises. There are a few things that you should know before we get to our destination. So, come on, let's get moving again and I will explain as we go' Otto said as he turned his horse's head around and set off once more. Kurt looked at Sam whose expression clearly told him that he was as confused by all of this as Kurt himself was. Shaking their heads slightly at each other they set off to catch up to Otto and hear what he had to say.

By the time that they settled down to camp that evening Kurt was more than glad that the day was ending. He had seen a dragon, lost his neighbour, ridden to warn the Town, been conscripted to go for help and now he'd been told that Angels actually existed. Not in a 'speak and they will hear you' sort of way but more in a 'hold your hand out and they will shake it'. And, what was more they apparently looked after the Townspeople and would help them. Otto had opened the front of his tunic and shown them a gold medallion that he wore. This, he had said, was the physical representation of the Angel's goodwill towards the Town. It seemed that, long ago, their predecessors had helped the Angels in a time of great need. The Angels had rewarded this act by swearing a blessing on them, and their descendants, and promising to always watch over them. Otto didn't know exactly what help had been given and Kurt and Sam certainly couldn't imagine any way that their forefathers could have helped Angels. Kurt looked over at Sam who was checking the horses before settling down himself. In Sam's face he could read the same thoughts that were in his mind. It had started out as such a normal day. What would happen tomorrow? The way things were going there was a good chance that they were going to meet elves and dwarves next. What a day.

'It is time that we got going' said Otto.

Not surprisingly, the day had dawned with no signs of the threatened elves and dwarves. Just the three of them waking up, breaking their fast and washing their faces and hands in a nearby stream. They could almost be on a camping trip like they used to take part in as juniors over in the woods by Kurt and Ralf's farms. If it wasn't for what had happened the day before, and what had been promised for today, that was.

Completing their morning tasks Sam started to move towards the horses, to get them ready for the day's travel, but Otto stopped him.

'We won't need the horses Sam. Just make sure that they will be fine by themselves for a while. Lengthen the reins so that they can reach the grass to eat and we will leave them here for now.'

'Leave them here?' questioned Sam, 'and what if some beast comes along the road and finds them nicely tied up like a presentation dinner?'

'The Angels will watch over them don't worry' replied Otto

'Like they watched over Ralf I suppose' Kurt heard Sam mutter but, luckily, Otto didn't seem to catch it.

Getting their stuff together in backpacks they joined Otto, in the middle of the clearing, and waited to see what he would do next. He looked them both in the eyes for a couple of moments, as if to judge if they were really ready, then he seemed to come to a conclusion. Nodding he took the medallion out from the front of his tunic and, in a voice that it seemed no-one further away than Kurt and Sam could possibly hear, he just said 'Vezer, I would see you'. Kurt felt a little unsteady as if he had taken one too many mugs in Otto's pub and then things went black for a fraction of a second before brightening again. They were no longer in the clearing.

They were standing in a large, stone built closed in area. Kurt was reluctant to call it a room because it was easily big enough to contain the main square of the Town back home. And yet it was not natural. The sides and floor were not rough, like a cave would be. The floor was some sort of white stone, shiny and with pink veins running through it in designs that seemed to confuse the eye. Kurt quickly raised his eyes off the floor as he felt himself going dizzy. He had noticed though how incredibly flat and smooth it had been. The walls were equally as smooth and flat and, heroically, supported what must be a roof way above them with no need of any assistance from pillars. Although he could see no lights or torches, the room was easily as bright as the clearing had been when they'd left it. In the direction that Kurt was facing there was no sign of any doors. Turning slowly he surveyed all the walls one at a time. No. No. Ah, there was a door, in the final wall just behind that large white statue.

'Welcome Otto' said the statue 'I see you have brought some people with you, this is unusual'.

Kurt looked again at the statue. It was easily twice his height and yet there was, now, no doubt that it was a living being. Its tall, lean build was somehow intimidating and its movements, now that it had moved, seemed at the same time languid and yet incredibly efficient. And it had wings! Yes two large wings peeked over the top of its shoulders and trailed down to nearly the floor behind it. Its face was similar to theirs in layout but smooth and unlined. And all of it, skin and hair and clothes and wings were pure white. However it didn't seem threatening, apart from the way that it loomed over them of course.

Sam was also looking at the Angel. As a blacksmith he spent lots of his time working with, and looking after, horses. Some said that he could communicate with them but he always denied that. He did however seem to be able to pick up on their thoughts and demeanour. As he looked at the Angel his mind presented two thoughts to him. One was a memory of a horse that he had known long ago. This horse had steadfastly refused to eat anything but oats. The feeling he had now was the same one that he'd had whenever he presumed to offer the horse some hay or grass. And the other feeling, for some strange reason, was a weird sound something like 'Oh-War'.

'Greetings Or' said Otto, 'yes, we must see Vezer at once'

'Of course, Otto' replied the Angel 'you may see Vezer at any time. Would it not be better though for your friends to remain here?'

'No' said Otto 'we must all go'

Kurt noticed the Angel looking at Otto and wondered how his friend could possibly argue. It seemed that Otto had some sides to him that Kurt had never seen before. After a moments' consideration, the Angel nodded his head to Otto, in what almost seemed like a small bow and moved out from between them and the door. 'As you will' he said.

Otto headed for the door, followed by Kurt and Sam, who was looking at the Angel in a strange manner. They passed through the doorway and Kurt was once again astounded. He had thought that the last room was large but it would have fitted into this one a hundred times at least. The colours were the same as before with the white floor containing those confusing pink swirls and the off white walls. In the centre of the room, seemingly a day's walk away from them stood another of the Angels. Sam also looked at the Angel and his mind immediately gave him the name 'Vezer'. Otto continued walking and, to the surprise of Kurt and Sam, they reached the Angel in a very short time. Kurt looked back, to confirm that they had actually walked as far as it had looked at first, and was disconcerted to notice that the door had vanished. The wall behind them was now just as smooth and featureless as the other three. It did seem a long way behind them as well. Turning to face forwards again he regarded the new Angel and was not really surprised to see that it was an identical copy of the first one. He could see that this place would be very confusing for him.

'Vezer' Otto said.

'Welcome Otto' replied the Angel 'Who are your friends?'

'This is Kurt and Sam' said Otto indicating each of them as he said their names.

'Welcome to Talalkozohely, Kurt' said the Angel 'and welcome to you too Sam. The blood of your people obviously flows strong in you.

'We have dire news Vezer' continued Otto, before Sam could ask what the statement meant. 'Kurt witnessed a dragon attacking one of his neighbours. It was only by Ralf's courage that Kurt had the time to escape and bring us warning. Unfortunately Ralf seems to have paid for this with his life'

Vezer looked carefully at Otto and then Kurt. 'A dragon you say? And it killed Ralf? This is indeed dire news. Wait one second please and we will see if we can get to the bottom of this'.

At that moment another Angel walked up to them. He didn't appear out of nowhere, as far as they could see, but there was no door behind where he came from either. 'Thank you for joining us Olvaso' said Vezer, 'would you do me the favour of reading what you can about this unfortunate incident from Kurt's mind please? That is with your permission, of course Kurt. I assure you that it will not hurt and will do you no damage at all.'

Kurt was not at all sure but he looked at Otto and Otto nodded to him. Taking a deep breath he nodded to the Angels. He did not know what to expect, maybe a feeling of intrusion or perhaps even the conscience of another inside his head, as it was he felt nothing at all. The second Angel just seemed to look at him for a second and then turned back to Vezer. The two Angels didn't speak aloud but it was plain to the three Townsmen that they were communicating in some way. Sam was watching them closely and he suddenly said 'You know this dragon don't you?'

Both of the Angels turned to look at Sam and Vezer enquired 'What makes you say that, Sam?'

'A number of years ago Jed had a horse' Replied Sam 'Now Jed is not the kindest of people to animals and his idea of training seemed to involve an excessive amount of beating with a leather strap. Of course, when we found out about this, we took the horse off him. With kind training he turned into a fine horse, very peaceful and strong. Then, one day, I was riding this horse through Town and he suddenly stopped. For the first time since we took him away he had come face to face with Jed. That horse "felt" just like you two do now.'

Vezer and Olvaso looked at each other again but when Vezer spoke it was nothing to do with what Sam had said. 'Kurt, we thank you for your help in this matter and would see you safely home now. Are you ready to go back to Town?'

Once again Kurt looked at Otto and, once again, Otto just nodded so Kurt mirrored the nod and waited to see what would happen. Otto and Sam were about to say goodbye to Kurt when he simply wasn't there anymore. He hadn't vanished, as such. He just wasn't standing where he had been. And he wasn't anywhere else in the room either.

'Where did Kurt go and what will happen to him?' said Sam who seemed now to be less in awe of the Angels than he had been at the start.

'Kurt will wake up in the clearing that you came here from' explained Vezer. 'He will remember nothing of this. Instead he will remember that the three of you travelled to the trading post. Once there you discovered that the local lord was already aware of the dragon and had placed a bounty on its head. This had led to numerous people going out to hunt the dragon. While you and Otto decided to remain at the trading post until more news came in about the dragon, Kurt was sent back to bring the news to the village and stop Otto Junior from leaving Town with the valuables. He travelled back to the clearing and rested for the night. Waking up he will know this to be true and he will continue back to Town to pass the news and tell them that they should all wait until you two return'

'What happens when he wakes up and finds three horses, or gets back to the Town and realises that he has only been gone for a day and a half?'

'Sam, my young friend, it will be fine. We have brought the other two horses here so they will not be in the clearing when Kurt arrives there. And Kurt will arrive back in Town seven days after the three of you left. Perfect timing for a ride to the trading post, a day spent there and then the ride back. But now, to your earlier question, yes we do know this dragon, or at least it seems so. The dragon appears to be one of the oldest of the wyrmkind, a big red called Ochoba. However, there are some problems. Although, through Kurt's memory, we could clearly identify the dragon this cannot be true. Ochoba would be incredibly old by now. Certainly he would be much too old to fly or breathe fire. And the Ochoba that we knew would certainly not kill Ralf. So, either there is a problem with Kurt's memory, or something else is amiss.'

Chapter 4

'Or something else is amiss' muttered Sam. 'It doesn't seem to me that anything at all is right at the moment. The day starts off as normal and then we have dragons and Angels and some sort of weird blessing that means you will help us with the dragon. I wish someone would explain some things to me?'

Even though he had spoken under his breath it was obvious that Vezer had heard the smith when he asked 'What do you wish explained young Sam?'

Sam looked a bit sheepish but there was no stopping now so, taking a deep breath, he replied 'You could explain the relationship between our people and yours for a start. What was this favour that our forefathers did for you and what exactly is this blessing?

Vezer looked at Otto and Sam almost felt sorry that he had brought the subject up when he saw the apologetic look on Otto's face.

'My father's, father's father was a good man' said Otto. 'He fulfilled all of his obligations and he was a good husband and father. But he was not the best at remembering stuff. While he passed on the overall situation to his son, he was not clear about all of the details. Since then we have all been a bit embarrassed to admit it so we just went with what we have. We just know that our forefathers did you a favour and you blessed us and said that you would look after us.'

Now it was Vezer's turn to look embarrassed. 'Otto, my friend, there is no need to be sorry. We tend to overlook sometimes the number of generations that have passed for you since those days. It is only understandable that the story will not be as accurate to you, especially after we specifically asked that it not be written down. Hear then the full story from me and know that it is accurate because I was there.'

'Many, Many years ago my people were not as they are now. We had been fighting a long, hard war and we were almost beaten. Fleeing from the conflict we badly needed a place to rest, and recuperate, when we came across these mountains. Now, in those days, your people were a mountain tribe. Living up here rather than down by the river. We did not want to disturb you but our need was great. So I met with the King of your people. He was called Otto and you are his direct descendant. King Otto gracefully agreed to move his whole tribe out of the mountains and down to the fields by the river, to leave the peaks to us. Whilst we were badly injured and weak, we still had access to some magic so we used that to cast a blessing on your people. That and the promise of aid, if ever you needed it, were all that we had to give you. And these are the words of the blessing. They are written on your medallion, although you are not able to read it. Another oversight of ours'

'We the Angels, in grateful recognition of the help given by King Otto and his people, bestow this blessing on them and all of their descendants: We will provide them with rich, fertile land by the river to ensure that their crops will always grow. Further we will protect them from the other races in this world that would disturb their peace. All illness will be kept from them so that they grow and live healthy lives. Each of their number will meet their soul companion on the seventeenth anniversary of their birth. They will dwell together with them for the rest of their lives in peaceful harmony, and to each of these couples will be born a son and a daughter. To celebrate this blessing, and also to perpetuate it, the father shall pass his name onto his son and likewise the Mother onto her daughter. And no other living creature should be granted a name. For names are powerful things and by them will we forever be able to recognise our blessed friends'

'Now, if you have no more questions?' said Vezer. Otto and Sam both shook their heads. They wanted time to think about what they had just heard before they even knew if they had other things to ask. 'Then I will let you into a more comfortable room where you can rest and wait while we decide the best way that we can assist you.

Otto and Sam were in another of the strange white rooms. This one was about the same size as the first one that they had arrived in. In fact it could be the same one apart from the fact that this one had furniture, of a sort, in it. The furniture comprised of what seemed like blocks from the floor that had risen up to a convenient height. Sam was not too sure at first but, when he saw Otto sit on one, he took the other one himself. Immediately he stood up again and looked at the block. It looked just like that, a block of solid stone. But, when he sat down, it felt soft and seemed to give under him. It was actually the most comfortable thing that he had ever sat on. Otto had watched his antics and was smiling at him.

'Laugh if you want Otto' said Sam 'I am the new pony in the team, remember. However you seem quite comfortable. How often have you been here before?'

'Every year' replied Otto. 'The truth is that there is no trading post. Each year I bring the excess harvest, and goods, up here and I get from the Angels, in return, whatever the people have asked me to trade for. Then I take it all back to the Town. After the harvest this year Otto Junior was to come with me for the first time; as I first went with my father in my Sixteenth year.'

Sam seemed to think about this for a while before he continued speaking. 'So, you know these Angels a lot better than me, then. What do you think of the story he told us?'

'I believe him' Otto replied. 'And you?'

'I'll tell you what I think' said Sam. 'In the field outside my smithy there is a small patch of earth that grows the best grass in the whole field. Someone cleverer than me would probably say that it is something to do with underground water or drainage or something. Every day rabbits come out of the forests and they immediately go straight to that patch to eat. Now, when I let one of the horses into the field the horse also goes straight there where the grass is sweetest. As soon as the horse walks over, all the rabbits leave. And I have never yet seen one of those horses even give thanks to the rabbits, let alone presents, for going. No, I am sorry; I do not fully trust these Angels. I think there is more going on than they are saying. Everything that they have told us so far we have had to ask for first.'

'It is all new to you Sam so you are bound to be a bit unsure. Let's eat some of this food now and rest until we find out what is happening next.'

Sam looked at the table-shaped block full of food that was at the side of him and Otto. He was sure that had not been there when they came in. And there certainly hadn't been that wonderful smell of freshly baked bread in the room earlier. Now that he came to think of it he didn't remember coming into this room in the first place. They had been talking in the big room and then they had been here. What had happened in between?

'Can we talk while you eat?' said Vezer from behind him. Sam spun around, cursing himself while he did so. He was acting like a new born colt in a field, being surprised every time someone else came in through the gate. Otto, like a wise old stallion, hadn't even flinched. As it had been with Olvaso earlier, he could see Vezer walking towards them but there was no door behind him. Vezer came alongside the table and stood patiently. There was no sign of another block rising up for him and there was, also, no sign from him that he wanted one. He looked at Sam and Otto and said, 'Please don't let me keep you from your food. It has been some time since you last ate and you must both be hungry'. Taking him at his word Sam and Otto started to eat while he continued.

'We find ourselves with three mysteries and a problem I am afraid my young friends' Vezer said. 'I will lay them out for you, so that you may understand what the challenges are, before I start to talk about what we must do. I have already spoken of the first mystery, if this dragon is indeed Ochoba then he should be too old to be flying around and breathing fire. He also should be far, far away from here. The second mystery is that it cannot really be any other dragon than Ochoba. Not only could we identify him from Kurt's mind but, alongside that, he was the last of his kind. We would certainly have known if any more had hatched. Then comes the third mystery, if he is here then, from what Kurt saw, there is only one cave that he could possibly be in. This cave sits right alongside an ages old pass through the mountains. Yet why would an old, careful dragon ever build its home so close to an obvious route through the mountains. True the pass has not been used for many years, as it was one of the ones we closed to keep you safe from outsiders. But any sort of thoroughfare, no matter how old, would surely have dissuaded the dragon from nesting there.'

Vezer paused while they both considered his words. Then he continued 'and now we come to the problem. We are not a warlike people. Few of us study the arts of combat anymore. And then it is, mostly, just theory. We do have one knight, who specifically trained for situations like this, but he is currently away from here. There were rumours that a village, a long way to the south, had started to practise the old black arts. Some said that a cult was forming. So Halal was despatched there to investigate. He will not be back in the near future even if all is well. And so you now know as much as us about what faces us. Do you have any questions so far?'

Sam coughed diffidently and both Otto and Vezer looked at him and nodded. 'I remember a horse once' he said 'he was coming towards the end of his days. For weeks he had just lain in the barn on a soft mat of hay only briefly struggling to his feet to eat and relieve himself. Then one day I went out to the barn to find him standing up and looking like his old self. I opened the barn door and let him into the field. He ran like a colt, seemingly enjoying the day and the freedom. I was amazed and thought that I had witnessed a miracle. But I got no feeling of enjoyment from him. Wheeling round before me he suddenly started to run towards the far fence as fast as he could. I was worried that he may try to jump it but he didn't. It was almost as if he either didn't see the fence or had forgotten what one was. Or maybe he just didn't care. He ran straight into the fence and finished up in a heap on the ground surrounded by broken bits of wood, some of which had obviously injured him. I ran across the field but, by the time I got there, the old horse had passed on. I have seen it before since, this apparent final laugh right in deaths face.'

'It is possible' replied Vezer. 'Although my people do not age, and die, as the other races do, we have heard of this before. If this is true, and Ochoba is almost certainly towards the end of his days, he will be extremely dangerous until the end. But, as a plus, there is also a chance that, when the champions get there, he may already be dead. Oh, I see your confusion, let me explain. As I said, we do not have the capability to fight a dragon. So we are going to do something that we have not done in many of your generations. We are going to hold a tournament and choose new champions. Traditionally there were always seven champions of the Angels who were our arms in any conflict of this sort. We have had no need of them recently but now it seems that the time has come again. Finish your meal and rest now. Tomorrow will bring the tournament and then we can move forwards with this affair.'

'Seven Angel's champions and me against one dragon, that doesn't sound so bad.' Otto Said.

'Seven champions and us two' replied Sam.

'I am sorry' said Vezer 'but that will not happen. We will only send the champions against the dragon. We could not allow anyone as untested as you both are to go, the risks would be too great. The champions will travel alone.'

Sam and Otto looked at each other and knew that both of them were determined that they would go, no matter what the Angels said. With no other choices of what to do, they both settled down to sleep for the night.

Chapter 5

Otto wiped the bar with the cloth in his hand. There was no sign of any mark or spill there, it was just a habit born through the years. As he wiped it he thought 'If I had a copper for every time I have done this then, well I wouldn't need to stand here doing this.' It had been funny when he had first thought of it. But after all these repetitions it was starting to sound a bit sad, and slightly depressing now. His eyes wandered around the room checking if anyone wanted serving. Sven was sitting in the corner working on his sixth mug. Otto didn't understand how Anne put up with Sven's constant drinking but then he supposed it could be worse. Jon had been beating his wife for years before anyone else found out and they could put a stop to it. So, maybe coming home drunk, and falling asleep, wasn't the worst thing that a man could do, although it must be hard work for Anne with the two young children to look after as well.

Thinking about Anne and the children reminded him that he had more important things to worry about than Sven's home life. Mary was at Diana's house and she must be getting near to the birth time now. He looked across at little Mary, lying in her cot behind the bar, and wondered how she would get on with her new brother, if the Angels willed it of course. Like all of the people in Town he knew that sometimes the baby was the wrong sex and then it would be born already dead. The patch of land outside Diana's house told its own story about that, all those sad, silent mounds of earth with no markers. It would have been sacrilege to name the poor mites, of course. Oh, he really hoped that Mary was carrying a boy. He remembered well Diana's own experience, how she had got pregnant with seven girls, one after the other, before she finally had a healthy boy. Six of those girls were the first mounds in her garden. That was probably what made her start caring for the other mothers he supposed.

Glancing up again his eyes came to rest on Sam and Sam Junior who were sharing a drink, and a talk, by the fireplace. Sam junior's wife, Ellen, was with Diana too come to think of it. They didn't have any children yet so she was sure to be fine. However, if she also gave birth to a boy what an event that would be. Sam junior would become Sam and Sam would then become Old Sam and it had been a long time since they had had an 'Old' in the Town. In fact the only one that could remember when the last time had been was probably Sam himself. Otto thought again about his new son that was, hopefully, being born at that moment. He wondered if he would be lucky enough to see Otto junior have children, well that was in the hands of the Angels. Just let him be born today and Otto would be content with that for now.

Tell us a story, Otto. Help to pass the time' said Sam. Otto wasn't too sure he wanted to be storytelling as his mind was constantly wandering to Mary at Diana's house. However, he had been managing the Kings Rest for many years now since taking over from his father. He knew the benefit of the story telling, it kept people coming in and made the inn into a public gathering place. The Townspeople needed the companionship that it offered as much as they needed food and drink. Just thinking these thoughts he immediately knew which story to tell. Gesturing for silence he began.

'A long, long time ago our people were not as they are now.' He said. 'We didn't have the rich farm lands that provide all the food and grain we need, or the river that provides fish and clean water. We didn't even have the Town. This was well before even the Kings Rest was built, but I suppose that we already had ale, although I will bet that it wasn't as good as mine is.' That got a cheer, and a few raised glasses, from the audience which sufficed to get Otto warmed up.

'No, in those days we lived in the mountains to the North of here' he continued 'if, of course, you could call that living. Compared to now it was a very hard life indeed. Nothing grew there, and no river went conveniently past our doors, so every day was a struggle to find the necessities of life. Food had to be hunted and water had to be gathered. Both of them, then, had to be carried across long distances over the very mountains themselves. All of life was a struggle, to become ill or weak was a death sentence. And, even if you stayed fit, one false step could cause a slip and bring death just as easily. We were a lonely people and we did the best that we could to survive. Anything past survival was ignored, as a waste of time, in those days.'

'Even sitting around, drinking ale and telling stories' asked Sam, as he always did at that point.

'Especially sitting round, drinking ale and telling stories' replied Otto with a smile. 'And yet, even though life was harsh and survival a daily struggle, there were some who envied us. Other tribes lived in the mountains as well and would regularly raid us trying to take what little we had. We fought, and we killed, as we had to if we wanted to stay alive. Yes, I tell you my friends, we were no better than the mountain lions or the bears of today.'

No-one would have ever have called Otto a master storyteller, He would have been shamed if he was put against even the poorest of the minstrels. But he had told this tale many times and he knew his audience. He didn't even need to think, he just paused at this point. Let them consider for a second that he had just called their forefathers beasts. Then he could drag them back again. Not too long though, or some may leave in disgust and he didn't want that. His aim was to entertain not to drive business out.

'Did I say we were no better than the beasts?' He continued. 'No I am wrong, we were better because we knew about the Angels. Yes I can see some of you now making the sign of the Angels wings and we did that in those days. We may have had to fight for our lives, and our food, but we always remembered to thank the Angels. Even when we had a really bad day, and there was no food that evening, we would thank the Angels for the food that we would get the day after. All of us had heard the story of the Schism. We knew about the way the Angels had saved mankind. When the barmaid, having foully murdered the hunchback, had Sir Brightblade held captive and was casting the spell to rent the Land the Angels had heard Sir Brightblade's prayer and intervened. Not even they could stop the spell completely but they protected the Land as best they could. Severing the bonds of the young knight they had freed him in time for him to stop the barmaid completing the spell.'

'Yes those barmaids are always trouble' said a voice.

Otto looked over and saw that it was Sven who had spoken. There hadn't been a barmaid in all the years that Sven had lived here. Otto knew that for a fact. The man must be getting close to his limit, thought Otto. He would send him home when the story was over.

'Aye, Sven, true enough. That is why we don't have barmaids here.' Otto said while privately thinking that the real reason was that there was no way he would allow his daughter to have to serve people like Sven. 'But we were talking about the Angels' he continued. 'Even though we had a hard life, and we struggled daily, still we kept faith with the Angels. And it was that faith that saved our whole people. On one pivotal day all our lives changed. The Angels were making one of their infrequent visits to the Land and they heard of our loyalty. Finding us in the mountains they resolved to make our lives easier in return for our constancy towards their memory. The Angels transported us to this place and provided us with good farmland and a clean river full of fish. There were already buildings and farmhouses and all that we would need here, all we had to do was learn new skills. And we did. After spending a whole day hunting, only to come back with just one small goat, farming was not too hard. And those that took to the farms were blessed. The crops always grew without any disease or rot. Those of us that settled in the Town found other trades. We had the smith, the barrel maker and the carpenter. The traders who made sure that all of those goods passed from one person to another at a fair price. And my forefathers found the Kings Rest and took upon themselves the odious task of serving you all ale each night' said Otto smiling.

'Remember always that we are the blessed of the Angels, we are watched over and protected by them from any outsiders. And, in this wonderful protection, I stand as the person who provides you with somewhere to go. I am the one who listens when your wife, or husband, is being unreasonable to you. Most importantly I am the one who dispenses wisdom and ale. So who wants another drink?' He finished and, as always, there was a rush to the bar for refills. Otto served them in order until he got to Sven. He really should tell the man to go home he thought again.

Just then the door banged open and young Toby came running in. 'Otto, you have a baby boy' he shouted. 'And you too Sam, a boy as well.'

'This round of drinks is on me' said Otto giving quiet thanks to the Angels, and pouring a fresh mug for Sven as well, 'in honour of Otto junior and Sam junior. And let us not forget that we now have an Old one in the village. Let us give our best wishes, especially, to Old Sam.'

Every eye in the place turned to look at Sam, who was now Old Sam. What a truly momentous day this was.

'Congratulations on the birth of your son' said a deep voice and Otto turned to see the dragon sitting at the bar. The Mighty red beast was leaning on the bar with one front leg and holding a mug of ale in the claw of the other one. 'No, this cannot be right' thought Otto. When he looked at the dragon he could see that it was obviously too big to fit inside the barroom and yet he could also see it sitting on the stool holding a mug. 'Focus on the mug' Otto thought. That was a massive mug, it would hold more than even the largest of the barrels that Otto kept his ale in. And, appreciating the size of the mug, he then saw the size of the dragon for what it truly was. First the claw wrapped around the massive mug, the muscled arm behind it leading to the immense chest. No, this dragon would never fit in the barroom.

And, just like that, Otto was standing in a cave, facing the dragon. The dragon no longer held a mug of ale he was, instead, curled up on the floor and yet he was still looking down at Otto. Otto understood then that he was dreaming. The birth of Otto and Sam junior, on the same day, was years ago. He was currently in the Angel's home plotting to kill this dragon. At least he assumed it was the same one.

'Yes' said the dragon, 'I am the same one that you are planning on killing. I thought that I would ask you why you are so keen to see me dead.'

'Because you killed Ralf' said Otto.

'Ralf was killed by dragon fire that much is true,' said the dragon. 'But I tell you now that Ralf was not killed by any dragon. However, that will not change your course, I see, so let me give you two warnings young King pretender. First beware of Rangers. I see one in your future who would cause you grave harm if you give him a chance. And the second warning is for your young smith, who lies asleep with you in that den full of the vipers that you call Angels. Tell him that the general can be a valued ally and a good friend to him, but that he should never cross weapons with him or he will lose. Now, go back to your sleep. But make sure that you remember what I have said when you wake up.'

Chapter 6

Otto and Sam were in yet another room, although this one had a number of differences to the others. For one, this room was round, instead of square, and the floor seemed to be covered in soil and not the confusing white and pink stone. Where the other rooms had had plain walls this one had a balcony running around the walls, about twenty feet above the floor. Ten Angels were standing on the balcony evenly spaced around the room with Vezer among them. He was currently holding the attention of the group of people that were spaced out on the floor below.

'Buvesz, if you will' said Vezer. A small ball of white fire appeared in the air in the middle of the room and slowly drifted towards one of the people on the floor. 'Speak your name and why you feel you have the right to try and become a champion' the Angel said. And although he spoke quietly everyone heard him

The man, in front of whom the light had stopped, was a swarthy looking individual. He wore leather armour made of the skins of some sort of animal. Under them you could see the toned muscles of someone who led an active life. He stared at the ball of fire for a short while and then, deliberately, spat at it, the sputum hissing and evaporating as soon as it touched. Seemingly satisfied he then ignored it completely as he faced Vezer and spoke. Although the light seemed to pick up his words, and transfer them to all there, he had no need of this as he practically roared his words out. 'I am the mighty Johtaja, the ruler of the western Steppes. I am the conqueror of chiefs, the despoiler of cities and the gatherer of the tribes. I have many wives and uncounted sons and I am the leader of uncountable warriors. No man or beast has ever stood before me and survived.' His armour looked well used and he had a pair of curved swords at his side. The light moved on to the man next to him

Unlike Johtaja this man was very difficult to discern. He was tall and lean but, apart from that, no details could be made out. He was wearing some sort of hooded cloak that fell all the way to the ground and it seemed almost as if it rejected your eyes when you tried to look at it. The man was there but no-one could say what he looked like. 'I am Firth, a ranger from the dark forests to the west' was all that he said and then the light, again, moved on.

The next warrior was a complete contrast to the previous two. Only half their height he was wider in the shoulders than Johtaja. He had long, unkempt hair and an even longer beard and was wearing solid metal armour all over so that just hair and eyes poked out. A wicked looking axe was fastened to his back. 'Minearbejder,' he said 'and if any of thee deny my right to be here let he stand in front of me ere we start'. No-one moved and the light continued on its way.

The next two warriors were standing shoulder to shoulder. They were so alike that nobody doubted they were twins. Of medium height and slim build they stood with the grace of dancers. Each had a long thin sword fastened to his waist, one of them on the left hip and the other on the right. The light wandered between the two for a second. Finally it stopped in front of the one on the left, although it was the other one that finally spoke. 'We be Rom and Rem, named, at times, the right and left hands of the reaper' he said and the light moved again.

'Formuotuvas' said the small, slim man that the light stopped in front of next, although he looked tiny compared to the rest of the people he didn't seem in awe of the others, or the situation, at all. Looking at Minearbejder he continued. 'And I deny the right of that runt to be here.' Drawing a circle in the sand on the floor he said 'I will be in this circle from the start to the end if you wish to discuss the matter little one.' Minearbejder started to move but a word from Vezer stopped him, although it was clear to everyone what his intentions would be when the tournament got started. Formuotuvas didn't seem to be wearing any armour, or weapons, but his smile was relaxed enough; and the light moved on.

The next three warriors, that the light came to, introduced themselves as Algotnu, Cinitajs and Karavirs in turn. They were all similar, solid men in well worn armour, obviously professional mercenaries. And as they were not that young they were also, obviously, good mercenaries. Unlike the twins they did not, however, seem to be together.

The next warrior that the light reached was another being completely. He was at least as hairy as Minearbejder but a good three times his size. Standing a full head taller than anyone else on the floor he was dressed in dirty leather clothes and scruffy furs. A wooden club hung at his side that was so big it made you think he had just ripped a convenient tree from the ground to use. 'Revenire' he grunted 'and I have been fighting, and killing, things since a passing bandit ripped me off my mother's teat, in mid feed, as a baby'

The light moved on and stopped in front of a tall slender man who was dressed all in close-fitting black. He had no, obvious, weapons in sight but there was an air of menace around him. 'Sline' he said 'and I represent the assassin's guild of Kvorak.'

Next was a small, solid man. Although taller than Minearbejder he was easily the second smallest there by way of height. 'I am Yemno, the champion of king Yap from what you would call the wastes.' He was dark skinned from the sun and held his short sword and shield comfortably at the ready.

The light moved on and paused over the head of a large, grey wolf that crouched on the floor. The wolf growled, and snapped at the light, and the light dodged and then moved on again.

The last warrior could easily have been one with the three mercenaries that had come earlier. He had the same well used armour and weapons but, where they were slouched and relaxed, he stood tall and still as if his back was tied to a post. 'General Ton' he said. All of the others turned and looked at him. Then the light moved on again and stopped in front of Otto.

Sam was still staring at the general when he heard Otto start to speak. Even though he was expecting the words, they dragged his attention back to the current situation. 'I am Otto, King of the river people. As the attack was directed against my subjects I claim the right to be here'. The light floated over to him and he introduced himself in turn. 'Sam, I claim the right to stand with my king'.

It had started with a conversation, between the two of them, when they had woken that morning.

'So, what do we do' Sam asked?

'We play them at their own game.' Otto replied. 'Vezer said that they would only send Champions, so we take part in the tournament and become champions.'

'Oh right, why didn't I think of that? Hold on, yes that would be why, because they are talking about professional warriors and fighters, we wouldn't stand a chance.'

'Come on, Sam, it won't be that bad. The tournament is probably going to be a number of one on one matches leading to a final seven. With your strength and size you stand a chance. And I have been practising my sword work. Anyway, as I see it, this is probably our only chance.'

So when Vezer came in they told him of their intentions. He, naturally, was against it and an argument ensued. Otto pleaded, begged and demanded and Vezer refused. Then they went round again. Finally Sam felt that he had to step in because it was obvious that Otto was more than a little in awe of the Angel.

'Didn't you say yesterday that Otto was descended from a King?' Sam asked Vezer. Getting a nod of acknowledgement from the Angel, he continued. 'Well has that Kingship ever been stopped or is Otto, technically, still our King? And if he is still King Otto, and you swore to aid him, then you cannot prevent him taking part in this tournament can you? I mean as king he is well within his rights to enter and he also has a duty to try and be part of the group that goes after the dragon. Or at least have a representative of his in that group. So we should both be allowed to try, by your vow.' Vezer looked at Sam quietly for a while and then he asked if they both had sons. Sam looked at Otto and just smiled.

'Why are you smiling?' Otto asked.

'Because we have won' replied Sam. 'It is like a stallion in charge of a herd of wild horses, the only real priority is the safety and continuance of the herd. When Vezer starts thinking about our sons he has already resigned himself to the possibility of losing us so there is no longer any need to stop us taking part and trying to become one of the champions.'

'You are, once again, correct young Sam' said Vezer. 'Know this though; to get your own way in this you have invoked our obligation to you. This cannot be done many times and, having been done, you must stick to the agreement. You must both now enter the tournament and try to qualify. And, if you do qualify, you must go with the party against the dragon. Otherwise all our obligations towards you and your people will be cancelled. We are not your servants to be used as you wish. So, think carefully, are you both sure that this is what you wish?' Receiving nods from both of them he continued 'Very well then, if you are going to do this thing then let us get you some weapons and armour so that you will, at least, have some sort of chance.'

Otto and Sam could not tell whether they were transported to another room, full of armour and weapons, or whether the armour and weapons were transported to them. They were just suddenly in a room the same size as the one they had woken in but, instead of bed and chair shaped blocks, this one had arrays of weapons in racks around the room. There were dummies with all different types of armour and many different shields. And, of course, Vezer was no longer with them.

'Do you think we upset him' Otto asked Sam but Sam was too busy looking around to answer so Otto decided to join him.

Against one wall were two complete sets of plate mail. Judging by the sizes they could almost have been made for Otto and Sam. Otto started to study the smaller set to see how it came apart. Sam, though, had many years of experience in metal. Although he could see how strong the armour would be, and what defence it would give him, he could also see the weight of it. Even he, who was used to a hard days physical toil, would soon be brought to his knees by trying to carry that much weight and fight at the same time. Also he looked at the elbow, and knee, joints and pictured the restrictions that they would place on his movements. No, that armour would have been perfect if he could have had five or six years practise to get used to it. For a tournament that would happen today it would be foolish to wear that. He turned away from the suits, advising Sam to leave them as well. What could he find, he wondered, that would give him protection but little weight and minimum restrictions?

After much searching, and trying of things, Sam felt reasonably confident that he had found his best option. He was wearing a tough leather tunic that was padded inside for more comfort and protection. It left his arms bare but he was used to that from working the smithy. The leather trousers were a bit thicker than the tunic and impeded his movements slightly. But he was more than willing to put up with that for the extra bit of protection that it gave down below. A good comfortable pair of leather boots and leather sheathes, that protected his lower arms, completed the outfit.

Otto had not been able to get his mind fully off the protection of the plate mail. Although he understood Sam's advice he still felt that the defensive capabilities were worth some discomfort. Finally he had settled for just wearing the breastplate. He had found some leather armour similar to, but thinner than, Sam's to go underneath and had a metal helmet that would protect his head from blows. Both satisfied, in their own way, they turned their attention towards weaponry.

Sam stood admiring a rack of maces, flails and hammers. These were his sort of tool. They were all different weights, but some of them were almost the same as the main hammer he used for work. He would be able to swing one of these for long periods before he got too tired. And he didn't really want an edged weapon anyway. He had a great fear of losing an arm or a leg and being unable to support his family. It had only ever happened to one person that he knew, but sometimes possibility doesn't matter to fears. They are just there even if they seem irrational. Because of this he was loathe to use any weapon that could inflict that sort of injury on someone else. No, a good blunt, bashing weapon was more his style. Otto, of course, was examining the swords. He seemed to be taking this king revelation seriously and was currently holding a mighty two-handed sword that was almost as big as he was. Trying a practise swing he was suddenly made aware of how much weight, and momentum, the sword had when it continued the swing by itself pulling him around after it. Otto had lost his balance and the sword was heading directly for Sam's head when Sam's limbs seemed to move by themselves. Snatching a mace out of the rack he swung it in an arc to intercept the sword and both mace and sword stopped with a mighty clang before anyone got injured. Otto carefully put the sword down and, with an apology to Sam, moved along the rack to the smaller versions. Sam looked at the mace he had grabbed. It seemed to fit his hand as if it was made for it and so he, thoughtfully, fastened it to his belt.

Eventually Otto found a suitable sword, a good, plain long sword that was light enough for him to control the swing but heavy enough to hurt anything that it hit. Fully equipped now, they were wondering what to do next when Vezer spoke from behind them.

'So, my young friends, you are all ready I see?'

'Yes' said Otto, 'we should have a chance of progressing through the rounds and maybe making the last seven now.'

At that Vezer looked thoughtful. He paused for a short while before he continued. 'I feel you have misunderstood the situation, King Otto,' he said. And there was no mistaking the accent that he placed on the title. 'This is not like one of your little spring games festivals in the Town. This is a tournament to find the Angel's champions. There will be no rounds. It is a straight melee with the last seven remaining being declared the winners.'

'How do you know when you are eliminated, then' asked Otto, although he was sure that he wouldn't like the answer.

'Because you will be dead or mortally wounded' said Vezer.

Chapter 7

Vezer, along with the nine other Angels, stood on the balcony looking down at the group of people. He turned towards Otto and Sam and smiled at them, the first facial expression they had seen from any of the Angels. They were both cursing themselves for the stupid actions that had led to them being here. Because they had invoked the Angels promise, they now had to fight for their lives. Either that or they would permanently deprive the others in the Town of the Angel's protection and good intentions. Neither of them had any illusions about their abilities in a straight fight, the only chance they had would be to try and stay out of most of the fighting and hope that the others wiped each other out. Either that or hope to be too badly wounded to continue, and yet still survive until help could get to them. Not a great pair of options.

Vezer spoke 'When you hear the bell you may begin. As soon as the numbers have been reduced sufficiently a second bell will chime and you will all stop fighting. Everyone remaining at that time will be offered the chance to become a champion of the Angels and be involved in the dragon hunt. The combat is without rules or restrictions, alliances can be made, or broken, at will.'

Otto turned to Sam just as the bell rang out. 'Sam, there is something I have to tell you before this begins. I had a dream last night and seeing these people has reminded'

Sam stared at Otto as his companions eyes glazed over and Otto slowly slumped to the ground. The mace seemed to be working of its own volition as it swept across, where Otto's head had been, and down to the left. There was a sickening noise, that seemed to be a cross between a thud and a squish, and a patch of red appeared on the wall. Slowly the patch of red slid down the wall until it hit the floor. The cloak parted and the Ranger was revealed. He lay on the floor looking totally normal apart from a grey, red mess where his head used to be. Sam knelt down and held Otto's body. What had happened? He had been sent along to look after Otto and now, in an eye's blink, his friend was dead. At the back of Otto's head he could see the, almost laughably, small incision where the ranger had driven his knife under the skull and into the brain. At least Otto had died quickly.

Sam felt a dreadful rage building inside him. They may have killed Otto but no-one was going to touch his body while Sam still stood. And, if he could possibly manage it, people were going to pay for this. He badly needed to hit something. Looking away from Otto, and back at the action, he realised that, once again, the mace seemed to be handling this situation better than he was. Without realising it he had been swinging the mace the whole time and it was only this threat that had been keeping the wolf at bay. Standing up Sam growled back at the wolf and then gave his whole self up to the rage and the mace.

Vezer sensed suspicion, and confusion, from Buvesz. 'What is it?' he thought towards the other Angel.

'I don't know,' replied Buvesz 'there is something about the blacksmith. It is almost as if he has touched the racial memory in his blood. I haven't seen a fighting rage like this since we first met these people. Either that or someone is interfering in the tournament. But, if that were true, we would know it at once. So I suppose that it must just be that the old nature of these people is not buried as completely as we thought it was. Something to look into after this is all over, certainly.'

With the decision made the Angels looked back at the fighting below. The dwarf-like Minearbejder had finally reached Formuotuvas, the slight man who had poked fun at his size. True to his word Formuotuvas was still standing in his circle and didn't seem to have even taken out a weapon, much less stopped smiling. Raising his axe above his head Minearbejder let out a mighty roar and charged. Formuotuvas stood and watched as Minearbejder rushed closer and closer. Then Formuotuvas burst out laughing as Minearbejder reached the circle and bounced off it as if it was a wall. The short stocky warrior landed flat on his backside and proceeded to give everyone who was listening a short, but expert, course in swearing. His helmet, dislodged by the impact, was rolling across the ground. Standing up again, he approached the short man more slowly, and carefully, the second time. When he was almost upon the circle he drew back his axe and took a mighty swing. The axe connected with whatever force was protecting the circle and, with a mighty flash, it broke through. Now it was Minearbejder's turn to laugh and he raised the axe again as he stomped forwards. 'Thee will need better than that baby trick to stop mighty Rockbiter my axe' he said. 'Prepare thee to go back to wherever thee came from.' Another mighty swing and Rockbiter was cast against the man. And it went straight through him and out the other side. While Formuotuvas stood there, still smiling, with no signs of damage.

Meanwhile Rom and Rem had sauntered over towards the giant Revenire. As they walked over, Rom was pulling a pair of leather gauntlets onto his hands. They passed a little bit too close to the mercenary, Algotnu, and he, seeing them as distracted, launched a mighty blow at Rom's head. Swift as a flash, Rem's sword came out and deflected the blow to go high over his twins head. Rom finished pulling on his gauntlet and then, extending a finger, poked Algotnu in the chest saying 'Mark'. The pair carried on walking. Algotnu just stood watching them walk off with a pensive look on his face. Now that Rom was wearing his gauntlets Rem started to pull his own gloves on.

And so they finished up in front of Revenire, with Rem still adjusting the cuff of his second glove. Disdainfully they stood there and eyed the giant up and down.

'He is big' Said Rom.

'Aye he is big' agreed Rem 'but is he worthy?'

With a mighty roar Revenire grabbed his club and, much more quickly than seemed possible, swung it down on top of the twins trying to pound them into the floor. When the movement ceased he was amazed to see Rom and Rem standing each side of the club with Rem still finishing off the adjustment to his cuff.

'Aye, he is worthy. Let's dance' said Rem and leaped into the air, over the club. Rom had meanwhile drawn his sword and was holding it horizontal with one hand on the pommel and the other holding the end. Rem landed with both feet on the sword and Rom flung his arms up in the air, the strength of the throw, combining with the spring in the blade, sent Rem into an arc over Revenire's head. Somersaulting in mid air, Rem's blade flashed as he passed Revenire's face and then he was over and down the other side landing lightly on his feet behind the giant.

A trickle of blood ran down Revenire's cheek and he realised that it was only by moving his head quickly that he had kept his eye. Roaring again he hefted his club and spun around to swat this annoying man who had so nearly blinded him. This, of course, left Rom completely alone behind the giant. With a classic swordsman's lunge he sank six inches of his rapier into the back of Revenire's thigh. Revenire had spun around to find Rem out of range and then felt the pain in his leg which made him switch back to Rom. This allowed Rem a free shot at his other leg as Rom recovered his lunge and easily backed away before the giant could turn. And so it continued, like two wolves slowly wearing down a giant bear. With Revenire's size none of the strikes would be fatal, by themselves, but they would mount up as time passed.

Algotnu, after his brief brush with the twins, found himself facing Cinitajs, another of the mercenaries, and Johtaja. With a nod to each other the two mercenaries drew and faced the outlandish warrior from the steppes. 'So' Johtaja said 'it takes two of you to take on one man does it? So be it.' He drew both his curved swords and prepared to face the two mercenaries. They in turn locked their shields together, to present a solid wall, and advanced slowly forwards.

General Ton was facing the slight form of Yemno and, drawing his sword, he saluted the warrior. With a grunt, that may have been surprise, the young man returned the salute and then came to the ready position. Feigning an almighty swipe at Yemno's head the general skilfully swept it into a slice aimed at the lad's side. Quick as the manoeuvre was, Yemno was easily its equal as he blocked the sword with his shield and aimed a return cut at the general's thigh. This, in turn, was blocked by the general's shield. It was pretty obvious, just from the opening sallies, that these were two masters of the sword and that this would be a close contest.

Checking around to see that everyone was busily engaged the Assassin, Sline, concentrated for the moment on the third mercenary who was facing him. Sline was quite able to hold his own in a sword fight but that would not be his best chance. Thus he had no intention of doing so if it could be avoided. Besides, he had other business to look after. Extending his right arm he triggered the wrist mounted crossbow towards the mercenary and was moving, diving and rolling towards the left, even as the small bolt left the bow. Karavirs snapped his shield up and felt the impact of the bolt on it. He spared a quick glance at the front of the shield and saw the tell tale green stain dripping down it. 'Ware the assassin, poison' he shouted and then he was off in pursuit.

Sam was wondering what he could possibly do differently. The wolf was patiently keeping its distance. It was just lunging, now and then, and retreating when the mace was swung. He had not even come close to hitting it and, despite his strength; he would tire before the beast did. He risked a quick glance around to check that no-one else was near enough to attack him. And, when he turned back, he saw the wolf flying at his face. Throwing himself to one side he watched the wolf flash past his head and then hit the wall with all four feet. It pushed off and came back at him from a different angle dragging one set of claws across his arm leaving bleeding furrows behind it. Luckily it had been his left arm and the cuts were not too deep. However, he had certainly learned his lesson. Moving slightly he felt the body of Otto behind his left foot and had an idea. Deliberately stepping back with that leg he seemed to stumble over his friend. As he suspected the wolf was in the air at once and this time he was ready. The mace swung up and connected with the jaw of the wolf from below. He felt the same thump that he had felt when he connected with the ranger. This time, however, the result was different, the wolf vanished.

Minearbejder was stomping out the carved circle in the soil and swearing at the illusion that stood laughing at him. He was just starting to relate the intimate details of an encounter between the illusions mother and a band of wandering nomads when there was a mighty roar behind him. The mountain lion, that seemed to have come out of nowhere, stood on its hind legs and attached its mighty jaws to the dwarf's neck. Holding on with its jaws and front claws it brought its hind legs up and raked them down his back. The armour that he was wearing was shredded by the strength of the legs and claws and fell off him. Now the lion had access to his back. However, the surprise that the beast had so far enjoyed had now worn off. Throwing himself backwards Minearbejder crushed the beast between himself and the wall. He took some more damage to his back, as he did so, but the beast dropped off him temporarily stunned.

Rom and Rem were slowly wearing down the giant Revenire. The one that he was facing was always just out of range and the other was pricking him in the calves or thighs. Then the giant switched tactics. As Rem stuck his rapier into his thigh Revenire deliberately stepped back and turned into the pain. The rapier stuck in further and Rem was left with the choice of losing his sword or being caught by the Giant. He let go of his sword and stood calmly as Revenire then turned back towards Rom who, still being armed, was now the main threat. Rom saw the giant turning towards him and, incredibly, threw his sword between the giants' legs before rolling backwards, in a somersault, to take him out of range again. Rem caught the thrown sword and aimed a mighty blow at the Giants leg where his sword was caught in it. The two swords clashed and, along with a lump of flesh, the caught sword came free. Rem caught it in his free hand and casually flicked it back between the giants' legs where it was caught by Rom.

Despite his boastful stance one thing about Johtaja was clear, he could fight. He had so far held off the two mercenaries and even given them some damage. He would feign high and then slash at their legs with the other sword or feign low and then cut at their helmets. However, they in turn were no strangers to combat. Working as a team they were slowly forcing him towards the wall where he would lose the advantage of his speed. They advanced with the two shields side by side, their swords stabbing around them whenever they were close enough. Johtaja was giving up ground slowly, but he was giving it up none the less. The three of them were slowly heading towards the wall where Sam was standing.

General Ton was trading blows with Yemno with a speed that was almost impossible to follow. Slice after slice, cut after cut swept from one, and then the other, to be deflected, or stopped, by shield or sword. Then the assassin, pursued by Karavirs, ran behind the young mountain man. As they ran past, Karavirs slashed out with his sword at the back of Yemno's legs.

Chapter 8

Yemno staggered as Karavirs' sword dug into his hamstring and the general took his chance. A swift lunge forward and Yemno's stagger turned into a fall. He hit the ground twitching and died. The general started to salute the dead warrior and then he flicked his sword to one side just in time to deflect the dart that had been thrown at him by the assassin. Turning he saw the assassin already running with Karavirs in pursuit again. Assessing the rest of the battleground he saw the two mercenaries pressing Johtaja and he moved towards them.

Sam had a bit of breathing time now that the wolf was no longer pressing him. He greedily dragged air into his lungs trying to recover his poise. As he did so he checked what was happening around him. Johtaja, being slowly pressed backwards by the two mercenaries, was coming in his direction. It was soon revealed to be a purposeful plan by the chief of the steppes. Johtaja stepped lightly to one side leaving Sam with no choice but to face one of the mercenaries. This left Johtaja free to concentrate on the other one. Meanwhile the general approached from behind them both.

Revenire was just about finished. He was bleeding from multiple wounds and losing strength rapidly. The twins, on the other hand, didn't even seem to be breathing hard. Unless he could change the situation soon he was done for.

Sline was getting a bit annoyed by this damn mercenary. How could anyone that big, wearing that much armour, still be chasing him, and what is more, closing the distance. Faking a swerve to his right he sped left towards the battling giant who was being harried by the twins. He didn't even slow down as he passed behind Rom. Seeing Rom extended in another lunge, the assassin casually aimed a kick at the twin's back leg, as he sped past. He felt a satisfying crunch as he connected with the ankle. The twin screamed, and went down, with Revenire spinning around and Karavirs closing in on, what had turned into, bedlam. That left Sline free, for the moment, and he looked around the arena checking on the other contestants.

Sam had discarded any pretence at weapons skill now. He was a blacksmith battering metal. The fact that he was using a mace, instead of a hammer, and that the metal was wrapped around someone, rather than on an anvil, didn't really matter. He, instinctively, saw the weak points in the shield and armour and directed his full force there. Algotnu was hard pressed to defend himself from the battering. His head was ringing, from two or three blows that had struck his helm, and parts of his armour were already starting to come loose.

Johtaja was finding that fighting just one of the mercenaries was a lot easier than facing two. His greater skill level and the twin swords were giving him a definite advantage. He was slowly cutting the mercenary more and more and soon there would be an opening for a killing blow. He just had to get it finished before the general joined the fray. Johtaja had no idea who the general would decide to attack, but he suspected it would be him.

The general, for his part, was taking a moment before diving back into the combat. A good soldier rests when he can, even in the middle of a battle, and studying the remaining combatants wouldn't hurt. There was no doubt that the man from the steppes could really handle his twin swords. The mercenary, Cinitajs, was hard pressed to protect himself even with sword and shield. And, as he watched, the general gave a grunt of appreciation as a swiftly changed sword thrust dug inside the shield puncturing the man's arm. The shield fell and Cinitajs was now frantically backing off to try and protect himself. Standing to one side the general let both him and the pursuing Johtaja pass without any interference. He watched them, to make sure that they had gone too far to turn on him. Then he turned back to study the blacksmith. Who would have thought that a blacksmith could last this long against people whose sole business was fighting he wondered? The smith was big and strong, yes, but, even so, it should have all been over by now. The general had seen how long the smith's friend had lasted. So, why was this one still standing and still fighting?

There was something there. It was not a trained skill, like you see in warriors who have been doing the same drills for years. This was more an innate sense of how best to use what he had to counter what faced him. The smith was strong but he was also accurate. All of the blows seemed to be aimed at the places where blows had fallen before and damage was apparent. Incredibly as it seemed, the smith would defeat this trained fighter and it shouldn't take long now. The mercenary, what was his name Algotnu, was acting as if he was in the forefront of a battle unit. He was bashing himself against the rock that was the smith's mace rather than backing away and using his superior skill. For a second the general thought of how he would have handled this mercenary if he had ever fought with him. But then he supposed it wouldn't happen now. Even as he thought this the breastplate of Algotnu gave up the struggle and fell to the ground. He backed off, to try and protect himself, but not quickly enough. A mighty blow of the mace connected with his ribs, where the breastplate had been. He fell to the floor, not dead yet but he would be soon, and he wouldn't be getting back up before then either.

Bringing his sword into a salute the general faced Sam. The burly smith did not even seem to realise that his opponent had changed, and when the general looked closely, he could see a wild look in Sam's eyes. This wasn't good. Could this man really be a berserker? The general had fought berserkers during the Northern freedom wars and would always respect the danger that they posed. The blows came thick and heavy from the smith and the general reverted to the plan that he had decided while watching the mercenary fight this same opponent. The best defence he had was to stay back and divert the blows. He had already seen what happened to the armour of Algotnu from trying to take them full on. However, as he backed off, the smith stopped and didn't follow him. Flicking a glance downwards the general saw the body on the ground. Was the smith actually protecting his dead friend in the middle of a fight? Happily, that little piece of insight was the opening that he needed. The general slowly closed, until he was in sword length of the smith, and switched his tactics. Lunge in and stab then out again before the mace could swing around. The Smith was quick but not quick enough. And he would lose this type of battle.

Minearbejder was bleeding, from his back and neck, and battered. Most of his back armour, and his helmet, were now gone. He swung around and saw the mountain lion lying dazed on the floor at the base of the wall. Swinging his axe in a mighty overhand sweep he brought it down. Now everyone clearly saw how the axe had earned its name of Rockbiter. Minearbejder was so close to the wall that the axe actually drew a deep groove down it before connecting with the lions head. Then the lion vanished. Minearbejder had just enough time for a howl of annoyance before Formuotuvas stepped out of the circle behind him. Calmly the wiry man drove a dagger into Minearbejder's unprotected back and through his heart. The dwarf fell on top of his axe on the spot where the lion had been.

Looking around, Formuotuvas calmly assessed the rest of the battle then he stepped back into his circle and sat down. As he settled down, a wolf appeared from behind him, stalked around, and then settled down on the ground in front of him. He made a strange gesture with his left hand.

Revenire had Rom at his mercy. The kick by Sline had broken Rom's ankle and the twin was desperately struggling to crawl clear as the Giant turned. Rem was harrying the giant from behind as much as he could. Revenire, though, seemed prepared to accept the punishment, as long as he could just get his hands on one of the twins that had hurt him, for so long. Now the lack of damage caused by the rapiers was acting against the twins. Rem couldn't cause enough pain to distract Revenire from the easy prey. Swinging up his club Revenire brought it down, with a crash, right on top of the unfortunate Rom. And this time the twin couldn't dodge out of the way. Just at that moment, Karavirs arrived and the giant was still over extended from his blow. The mercenary's mighty sword took Revenire in the neck. Slowly the giant toppled on top of the fallen twin.

The mercenary looked at Rem. The man was obviously distraught by the death of his twin and could not defend himself. Karavirs then glanced around the room to see how many were left. Counting the wiry man in the circle and the wolf as one, which he was pretty sure he could do, there were only eight left. He could strike the twin down now and it would be over. But he would not attack Rem while he was unable to defend himself not even for this. Sheathing his sword, and muttering a silent apology to whomever it would be that his action would doom, he stood and watched the outcome unfold.

Johtaja had Cinitajs thoroughly beaten and was now playing with the mercenary. He seemed to be trying to inflict as many cuts as he could without actually finishing the man off. Darting in with his twin swords he seemed to hit where the armour was already damaged and split, or on the joints. Drawing blood each time but not doing any lethal damage. Cinitajs had been fighting for most of his life and wouldn't give up now but the cumulative damage that he was taking was horrifying.

Sam, for his part, was losing the battle with the general. If he stayed where he was, to protect the body of his friend, then he would die. And, he finally realised, that would not do Sam any good at all. Throwing caution to the winds he waited for the general to lunge in, and then retreat again. This time, he pursued him. The general, recovering from his latest lunge, suddenly saw the smith come at him swinging the mace at his head. He stepped back quickly and stumbled. This saved his life as the blow merely glanced off his helm rather than hitting it full on. As the general fell, he swung his sword upwards.

Sam felt a pain in his arm but ignored it as he saw that the fall, combined with the last swing, had left the general exposed. Stepping forward he swung the mace directly at the base of the general's neck. Or that is what he thought he had done. When nothing happened he glanced down to see the bottom half of his right arm, the hand still holding the mace, lying on the floor. His arm had been chopped off! As he realised this the pain truly hit him. Incredibly, the half arm was twitching as if it, or the mace, was still trying to deliver the blow that he had envisioned. The general recovered his feet and saw Sam wide open in front of him staring at his severed arm. The general breathed a sigh of regret. He had genuinely admired the young smith who had held his own so far. But the general was a man of duty and he would end this battle. Taking careful aim he launched his sword at the junction of the Smith's neck and shoulder where death would come quickest.

As Johtaja launched another cutting blow at the unfortunate mercenary, Cinitajs seemed to slip. The stagger forward turned what would be another nasty cut into a fatal strike as the sword pierced the mercenary's throat. Almost with gratitude the defeated man slid to the ground dead. A bell rang out.

At the last second the general bent his back leg and flicked his wrist upwards. It was just enough. The sword just cleared Sam's head flicking him on the temple with the flat of the blade. Young Sam would have a terrific headache but he would live.

Sam stared at the general, trying to focus eyes that had suddenly decided they would both rather look in different directions to what he wanted. He had survived. Just as he thought that he realised that his life, as he knew it, was over. He had failed to protect Otto as he had promised to do. Even if that were not true he could never go home. Who had ever heard of a one armed smith? No it was better to let Sam junior think that he had perished so that he would take over the smithy himself. Close behind that came the thought that all he had won was the right to fight a dragon and he couldn't help himself. He started laughing. Here he was deciding that he wouldn't go back to Town when, in reality, the choice probably wouldn't be his anyway. He had only just survived this, first, part.

Strangely enough, the laughing seemed to settle his eyes and he now clearly saw the general standing in front of him. He also clearly saw Sline, the assassin, as he suddenly seemed to appear standing behind the general. Reaching around the general the assassin seemed to whisper in his ear. Then he casually, and effectively, drew a small blade across the side of the general's neck. Blood spurted from the cut and the general's eyes went blank. As Sam watched him, he slumped down to the ground already dead before he hit it.

Loss of blood, pain and the exhaustion of combat, finally, overcame Sam and he slumped to the ground next to the body of the general.

Chapter 9

'Those stupid Townspeople' thought the man in the white robe. He had risked discovery to warn them and then had just watched them throw the warnings away. The barman was too stupid to even realise what the warnings meant, until he actually was face to face with the Ranger in the tournament, and then he got himself killed before he could warn the Smith. Of course, once the barman was out of the tournament, the man in the white robe had been able to assist the smith a lot more. With all his game pieces in this one's pocket he had no intention of failing twice. So he had guided the mace to take out the Ranger, the Wolf and the mercenary. And then the smith had ended up fighting the general, a battle that it was already fated that he would lose. The man in the white robe had had to quickly plan and make the other mercenary slip at just the right time. So that a wounding blow, from the man from the steppes, had turned into a killing blow, stopping the tournament. But, even in the short time that he had left the smith to accomplish that, the damn Townsman had managed to let the general cut his hand off. And, if it hadn't been for the skill of the general, the smith would have died anyway. The man in the white robe took a deep breath to relax. He had lost one of his game pieces but that was not the end of the game. Losses had been expected, and planned for. For now he had to go forward with the pieces as they were. So he would make best use of what he was left with, as he had always been taught to.

Chapter 10

A person dies and many reasons are quoted. It could almost be a menu, or a code. He caught '27'. She succumbed to '34'. He fought '13' for years and it finally beat him. And so on. The words that you put in place of the numbers don't really matter much. There are plenty to choose from and more come along regularly. The person dies for one reason, their heart stops. And yet, there is the enigma. A stopped heart will kill you, but a beating heart will not guarantee you living. It is not the heart that keeps the body going; it is the blood that the heart propels around it. The blood visits the lungs and the stomach and picks up oxygen and nutrients and supplies them to the other body parts, taking away waste at the same time. Yes a beating heart will not keep you alive if the blood cannot flow properly. A person dies for one reason, or for many, but a person lives because of only one, the flow of blood.

And, as the body lives because of the blood, the Land lives because of the minstrels. The minstrels travel from town to village and from outpost to city. They bring news with them. The news could be International, such as the births or deaths of Kings and the start and end of wars. Or it could be purely local. They take messages, and parcels, from people in every place they pass and drop them off at a different destination like early postmen. The minstrels are also the historians of the age. In their stories all of history is laid bare and remembered. A good minstrel is always respected and any inn, or public house, will gladly furnish them with food, ale and a place to sleep the night. The minstrel would just have to sit in the main room and tell the stories. And if the stories were good then they would be rewarded with money and provisions for the next days' journey.

The minstrels' stories are legion. In fact every minstrel even had some that only they knew. But there are common stories as well. These are the stories that must be known by anyone who would call themselves a minstrel. Stories that could be requested on any evening and woe betide the, so called, minstrel that could not recount them. These common stories tend to fall into one of three broad groups. They are called Legend, Fantastic and Heroic.

The tales of Legend deal with historical events of great magnitude. There are the tales of the Elven Divide, when the elf race split into two, and all of the troubles that had been caused by that event since. The great tales of the Northern freedom wars when men had battled against abominations from the far northern lands. There were the Berserkers and the Frost Giants and a dozen other races, all of them seeming to believe that the only good death was to be found in battle. Other tales tell of the horror of the Dwarven wars with battles being fought deep underground so that none of the dead even needed to be buried. But the most requested stories are always either the ones of the Schism or those concerning the Purge of the Dragons.

The Fantastic tales could almost be regarded as horror stories for the children. These are stories of Bogey men to scare them with when they are naughty. The tales of the Souleaters and the horrific Ravers, and of magicians, good and bad and, sometimes, good turning to bad as it usually did when people got involved with magic. These tales are cautionary. They teach people to check carefully before leaving lighted areas and going out into the dark. They teach them to learn how to protect themselves with weapons. And they teach them, especially, never to get involved in anything magical.

By far the most popular though are the stories of the Heroes. The mighty figures whose mere presence had shaped history. The lives and acts of people like Sir Brightblade, Good King Ralf and others.

People like Marvin the Mild who was totally dedicated to not causing hurt to anyone or anything in this world. He trained for years so that, when he walked, he didn't even crush the grass beneath his feet. And when he was, apparently, standing still his feet were still moving constantly, flicking from place to place so gently that they would not even squash an insect if it happened to fly beneath them as they descended. It was reputed that because he would never hurt any of her charges the Land Mother herself had made him immune to harm. He was captured during the Dwarven wars and they tied him to the barrel of their largest cannon. Setting off the charge they waited in vain while the cannon refused to fire, even though it had been fired successfully just five minutes earlier and then been freshly charged. Rather than risk the Land Mother's wrath the dwarves had set him free.

Not all of the heroes had been good people though. As witnessed in the tale of Louis the Tardy. Louis was the eldest son of Good King Louis, who had spent his life trying to agree peace with the Western lands after a war lasting for generations. Good King Louis was, unfortunately for his people, killed by a crossbow bolt just as he had fought his enemies to the stage where they had agreed to discuss peace terms. By the time that Louis the Tardy turned up for the peace discussions, three hours late, the Westerners had felt slighted and war had already resumed. Not unsurprisingly, Louis the Tardy was also known as Louis the Last.

But by far the most popular, of these very popular stories, tell about the life and deeds of general Ton. He was reputedly born the youngest son of a king in a far away land. Realising at a very early age that his life would be spent as a popinjay at court, deferring to his older brothers, he took steps to change his future. While some people, in other stories, would have planned to slowly wipe out their brothers one by one until only they remained, he decided on a different course. When he was just twelve he ran away from home and changed his name to the lowest, most common, one that he could find. Some stories say that he took his new name from the side of a wagon that was collecting manure from the fields. He then enrolled in his own father's army as a 'fetchme' boy, named after the way that the soldiers would treat the boys. His life was full of 'fetch me some water, fetch me some arrows' and so on. From there he proceeded to make his new name the most famous one in the world.

With hard work, dedication and intelligence he worked his way up through the ranks until he was Lord General of the army. Then he left and started to work for anyone who would pay him, and had a grievance that he agreed with. He had fought in all of the legendary wars, they said, and had never been beaten when it came to a pitched battle. His grasp of tactics and his courage to make the correct move, at the right time, was legendary. People also said that he was a pretty good solo fighter as well. You do not get to his level without quite a number of challengers. General Ton, the hero of the Northern freedom wars, the scourge of the Souleaters and winner of countless campaigns. There was one tale, called the rout at Grasser, where he had been heavily outnumbered, almost thirty to one, in a battle, Rather than sue for terms the general had, unexpectedly, led a charge and won the day when the opposing army broke in front of him.

Those are just some of the stories of the minstrels. They kept alive the Land's memory and preserve its history. Although it should also be remembered that the minstrels were, at their basest level, entertainers, so maybe the stories were changed slightly as time moved on. Regardless of this, changed or not, the stories of the minstrels reached every part of the Land. Even Sam's Town, which had had no contact with the outside world for centuries, had heard some of the tales. Every time that Otto visited the Angels they would tell him some of the stories. On his return to the Town he would spend evenings in the Kings Rest recounting the stories to the locals. He wasn't the best storyteller but the power of the stories was such that even he could not destroy their wonder.

And so Sam had heard of general Ton, in fact he was probably Sam's biggest hero in all of the heroic tales, just like he was for many. And just this morning he had fought against him, albeit in what should have been a losing fight. But he had then witnessed the famous figure being cut down by an assassin's blade during what should have been peace. What an ignominious end to a figure of legend. The gods must surely be laughing at the absurdity of heroes.

Sam had been brought up to believe in the Angels of his predecessors looking after the Town and the people, as a force for good. Now he had to contend with the fact that the Angels seemed to be a separate race and that they looked after the people of the Town because of an old promise. Further they seemed to make their own decisions over what that 'looking after' consisted of. A dragon, he still couldn't really grasp that, had appeared and killed Ralf and his family. Otto had brought Sam and Kurt here for help and what had happened? The Angels had let them argue themselves into a position where Otto had been killed and Sam had lost half of his right arm. As a parent he understood that some of his decisions did not make sense to his children, but were the Angels really that much more knowledgeable than him? Was it all being done for the good of the Town? How could the Town benefit from the loss of Otto, the nearest thing to a leader that they had? He didn't count himself as a loss, Sam junior would take over from him. Perhaps the Angels would say that Otto junior would take over as well. From that point of view they were all redundant as soon as their children reached maturity. Nothing more than brood mares and stallions at stud, waiting to be replaced with the next generation.

Sam fought against the pall of depression that was over him. He had to find some way to accept this and carry on with whatever sort of life he had left. At the very least he had to go with the party and try and render what aid he could. He supposed there were some things that he could still do. He could mind the horses perhaps, although he wouldn't be able to saddle or unsaddle them by himself. Sam was a proud man. He had looked after his wife and family as he was supposed to, and carried on the smithy from his father. And now, he felt totally useless.

It took a huge effort but he finally managed to persuade his eyes to open. He was lying on the block-bed thing where he had spent last night before the tournament. His right wrist itched and he was just about to scratch it when he remembered that it wasn't there anymore. Sul had lost his leg in an accident when he was a junior and he had once told Sam that he felt phantom pain and discomfort in it years later. One more thing that he had to try and accept, and get used to, Sam supposed. Last night Otto had been over to his left sleeping peacefully. He turned his head and then he very nearly lost his mind. Otto's body was lying on the other block. How could the Angels possibly leave him in a room with the body of his friend, the same friend that he had been supposed to protect but failed? Either he was badly injured himself, and they didn't expect him to survive, or the Angels had no sense of compassion at all. What did the Angels think of them, that they were just lumps of meat?

Vezer was, suddenly, standing next to him leaning over as if to examine him. Sam didn't even think. 'Have you seen enough, you heartless unfeeling monster' he shouted. His left arm swept up to try and strike the Angel. Vezer swayed back and Sam's fist sailed past his head harmlessly. Otto sat up and said 'What's all the noise about Sam? Can't you let me sleep in? I feel shattered'. Sam allowed the darkness to take him. His eyes shut as he passed into unconsciousness and slumped back onto the bed.

Chapter 11

Sam was hanging from the rope. He looked at the cliff face in front of him and wondered what he should do. Looking down he could see that the drop beneath him seemed to go all the way to the bottom of the Schism itself. He almost imagined that he could see straight through to the stars that people said were on the other side. There is no way the rope would reach, even if he could climb down that far. Looking up he saw that the top was only about ten feet above him, up it was then. He brought his right hand up, to grasp the rope above his left, and then groaned. His arm ended just below the elbow and he didn't have a right hand. Now what? Pulling himself up, with just his left arm, he managed to bend the elbow. Then he scrabbled with his feet against the cliff side looking for any purchase that would hold him for long enough. His right foot found a ledge. It wasn't much but it would have to do. Bracing his leg, as best he could, he got ready to unlock the grip in his left hand and slide it up the rope as far as possible. 'Ready now Sam, quick as you can' he thought. Releasing the grip he swiftly slid his hand upwards. As he did so, the ledge gave way and he started to slip down again. Grabbing the rope again he tried to stop his slide but all he managed to do was to burn his hand as it was dragged down the rope by his full weight. Then he woke up.

He was lying on the bed and Vezer was standing alongside him. Immediately he flung his head to the left but the other bed was empty. Vezer leaned over him saying 'Easy Sam' and Sam pushed him away, both hands on his chest. Both hands? Sam stared at his right arm. It was whole and undamaged, apart from the normal scars and burns that a life of working in the smithy had given him. He flexed his fingers and, as they moved, he felt the darkness coming back. Releasing himself to it he started to wrap it around him like an old, friendly blanket. But something was stopping him. What was that voice, who was that voice? Sam had never known his father's father but this voice sounded just like he knew that mans would have. It was old and wise and full of compassion and care. 'Sam, Sam, it is all right. Open your eyes and listen to me and I will explain.' Grudgingly Sam let go of the darkness and opened his eyes again to see Vezer looking at him.

'Sam' he said. 'It is fine. Your arm is whole and Otto is not dead.'

'You mean it didn't happen. We weren't there?' said Sam.

'It happened' said the Angel 'and you were there, just not physically. Let me explain if I can. Think of it a bit like the dream that you have just had. We collected the minds of all of you and put you all into the same dream. While there you had all the knowledge and experience that you would normally have and you fought as you truly would have done in real life. The outcome was one that would have happened if we had really let you all fight. The only difference was that no-one was truly hurt.'

'But if it was a dream then I could have breathed fire, like the dragon, or made my skin invincible so that no weapon could hurt me' said Sam.

'No' Vezer replied. 'We monitored all of you carefully to ensure that you only did what you could have done in real life. And that you only used what skills and abilities you had.'

'If all of that is true' Sam continued 'then why am I in bed? What is happening to me, and where is Otto?'

'Easy Sam' said Vezer. 'You are in bed, and having nightmares, because, although it was not physical, it was real. Your mind actually saw Otto killed and you experienced the loss of your arm and the damage to the rest of your body. People's minds can cope with a lot but when they truly believe something they can insist it is true even when evidence is presented against it. When you woke up and saw what your mind knew could not be true it just closed down again so that you didn't go mad. But it will be all right now that you have faced it. And for the last part of your question' he looked over to Sam's right.

Sam's eyes followed the direction of the Angel's and he saw a doorway. Otto was walking through it towards him.

'I will leave the two of you alone for a while' said Vezer as he left.

'Otto' Sam exclaimed 'Oh, I saw you die. It was awful'

'So the Angels told me' replied Otto 'although I don't remember it myself. They took the memory away so that it wouldn't disturb me.'

'You are lucky' said Sam 'I am still trying to cope with it. I remember every second. Well, to be truthful, I remember mostly a blur and just certain points really clearly. There was a Ranger and he had a cloak that stopped people seeing him and he crept up behind you and killed you. Somehow I knew that he would sneak around and try for me next. And he had to come at me on my unarmed side so I just swung the mace at where he should be. I was lucky, if he had backed off after killing you I would have been swinging my mace directly into a wall and would have left myself wide open to him. Then I fought the wolf, but it vanished as soon as I got my mace on it. Then I fought one of the mercenaries and I just pounded him to bits. And then I fought the general, by the Angel's blessing Otto, I fought general Ton! To be truthful he beat me but, still, I fought against general Ton!'

'You did well Sam' said Otto. 'But maybe you shouldn't swear on the Angel's blessing just now, given where we are.'

Sam looked abashed. 'Oh yes, maybe you are right but it is so good to see you again. I really didn't know what I was going to do. I could never have gone back to the Town by myself and tell them that I had failed to protect you.' Sam stopped talking and looked thoughtfully at Otto, 'Why did you bring me here Otto? You knew that you were only going to the clearing and then coming straight here. In fact, without me and Kurt, you could probably have been here the same day. So you didn't need me to protect you. Why am I here?'

'Truthfully, I don't know' Otto replied. 'My first thought was just to do as you say and come to the Angels by myself. Then I decided that I had to bring Kurt, as a witness. And, from there, the thought of bringing you just seemed to come naturally. So here you are and you are going to represent the Town on this dragon hunt. Here take this with you.' Otto held out a gold ring with a red stone. 'It belonged to Ralf and if any justice is coming from this for him then it should be there to remind people how this started. Maybe the ring will be able to witness things and ease his soul somehow, who knows it can't hurt can it?'

Sam took the ring and was surprised when it fitted his large hands easily. Ralf must have been bigger than Sam remembered. 'What happens next?' he asked.

Vezer appeared again and Sam wondered to himself how much he had changed when he didn't even jump anymore as the Angel was suddenly there. 'Otto will go back to the Town' the Angel said 'and will explain to all of the people there how you volunteered to go with the Lord's party and witness justice for the Townspeople. For your part, we will equip you and send you on your way. Already the others are being gathered, from where they were, and you will all meet up in a safe place that we have not so far from here. An easy ride of a couple of hours will see you there. After that it is up to you and the other members of the party as to what you do. We will tell you the directions to the cave from where you will all meet.'

'What others, and what do I say to them, do they know about all of this and why didn't you clean my memory like you did to Otto. Why did I have to get used to it when you could have just made me forget?'

'Sam' Vezer said 'when your questions come along they come like sheep, one after the other with no pause between. Let me take them one by one, the most important first.' Vezer paused and Sam and Otto waited patiently for him to continue. Sam thought that he saw the Angel glance at his new ring but he couldn't be sure.

'We changed Otto's memory because we had to' the Angel continued. 'Look how much trouble you had when you thought that you had lost your companion and your arm. Now consider for a moment if you had actually experienced your own death. Few people could live with that memory. Otto's mind would have just closed down and he would, actually, have died. But, for you, we took a chance. After you leave here you will be going into who knows what with a group of people that you have only met at the end of your mace. If we took away your memory of the tournament then the next fight you find yourself in would have been your first. We considered that the experience you gained was worth the risk. For the others they all have different amounts of memory left as to what actually happened. I will go through them one by one, to remind you who they are and also to let you know what they believe.'

'As we said, all of the people who were still alive at the time of the second bell were given the option to serve as champions. Sline, however, displeased us by pursuing his own ends after the tournament was over. He was offered a chance to join the group and told that, if he accepted, his part would be to report back to his masters in Kvorak that not only had he failed to kill the general but he had also given away the name of the person who took out the contract. Not surprisingly this did not appeal to him so his memory was cleaned.'

'General Ton, although he was killed after the bell, was alive at the end and he is the first of your companions. We offered to clean the memory of his death from his mind but he refused as that would also have robbed him of the name of the person who took out the contract on him with the assassins. He has an impressive will and seems to be handling the knowledge. General Ton believes that he has been hired by a group of magicians, after a magical audition. He has been tasked with leading the party to find, and kill, the dragon and he will be paid for success or failure.'

'Johtaja earned his place and will be the third member of your party. He fights for fame alone. You will have to ask him if you want to know more. Just suffice to say that he knows nothing about me or the other Angels.'

'Formuotuvas is the next of your companions. He is a long time associate of ours that has us served before so he knows the full details.'

'Karavirs, the mercenary, has accepted a paid task from someone he has dealt with before and trusts. He has been hired to follow general Ton and do as he is commanded. He is a good, straightforward man and this is nothing unusual for him'

'This brings us to Rem, the twin who was the only other survivor at the end of the tournament. Unfortunately Rem has declined the offer. He was unwilling to accompany you and leave his twin brother behind. Especially after thinking that he had lost him, and then getting him back. We, therefore, wiped the minds of both twins and they have resumed the life that they had before the tournament.'

'The rest, those that died, we have of course returned to what they were doing with no memory of what happened at all. If you should ever meet one of them again, although that is not likely, they will not even recognise you. And so your party will be five, not as many as we had planned but still an auspicious number. Now you two must say your goodbyes. Sam has a long journey ahead of him and Otto must get back to the Town.'

Sam and Otto looked at each other. 'Good Luck. Or whatever you are supposed to say when your friend rides off on an adventure without you' said Otto. Sam looked at him for a moment and then replied 'Just one last question, Otto. When you died, which one was it?' Seeing the look of confusion on Otto's face he continued 'I mean was it the bright lights and the comfortable places or was it the grassy fields and the naked virgins?' Otto smiled at his friend, recognising the two most popular views of the afterlife from the minstrel stories, and admitted that he didn't remember. Whatever Sam had been through, and Otto couldn't even imagine, he seemed to be handling it. Maybe this would work out after all.

Chapter 12

Sam was dressed once again, or for the first time, in the leather jerkin and trousers, his feet comfortable in the leather boots. A helmet and the familiar mace were tied to his side. He was riding his horse, the same one that he had left Town on when he accompanied Otto and Kurt. The saddlebags carried food and equipment that he would need. He had known this horse since it had been foaled and it was a good mount, strong and intelligent but, at the same time, quiet and dependable. It would never be a lead stallion but it was a worthy herd member, just like himself he hoped. Feeling a change in the horse's gait he adjusted his riding position, slightly, to make the journey less tiring for the beast. He was thinking back over all that had happened to him in the last day or so. To be truthful he didn't know how long it had been since he had left the Town. He had completely lost track of the days with all that had happened. Even if he took his time, and counted how many times he had slept since then, he could not be sure that he had been sleeping at nights and awake during daytime.

Losing track of time was not his major concern at the moment though. He, also, had no idea where he was or which direction the Town was from here. He was alone on a large open patch of grassland and was following the path that he had been pointed to by the Angel who had transported him there. The Angel had gone again now and Sam was alone for the first time in his life. Oh, he had been by himself before, but he always knew where other people were and he could have joined them if he had wanted to. Here, though, he had no idea if he was the last person in the Land or was just about to turn the corner and ride into a city. Idly he thought back to when the three of them had left the Town. The tale of the Schism had started out with Sir Brightblade, or just plain John the miller as he was known then, riding out with the barmaid and the hunchback. He hoped that this tale would have a better ending than that one. Everyone knew how that had turned out. The Land cleaved in two and the seas rushing in to fill the gap, killing thousands of people. And that had been the best ending that they could have had at one time. For long periods things had looked like they would be much worse.

Sam eventually reached the copse of trees that the Angel had described to him. Underneath the trees the grass was shorter, some combination of the shade of the trees and the demands of their roots he supposed. He dismounted, cared for his horse's welfare, and then lit a fire and settled down to wait for the arrival of his new companions. He had not been sitting there long when the general rode into his little camp. He rode right over to Sam and stopped his horse. Nodding to the Smith he simply said 'general Ton.' Face to face with the general for the first time Sam had a sudden recollection of losing his arm to the man in the melee. He glanced down quickly to make sure it was still whole and attached to him. It was. The general, mistaking the reason for his silence, sighed 'Yes, that general Ton, now can we please forget about the stupid minstrel stories and get on with what is actually important now'. Sam managed to splutter out 'Sam, the smith.' Dismounting, the general gave him a curious look. 'Well, Sam the smith' he said 'I hope that you have joined this party for more than the contribution you will make to our conversations.' He was smiling as he said it though. Fastening his horse next to Sam's, he loosened its saddle and then came to sit next to the Smith.

'I know you' the general said. 'I have never met you before but you were in that magical tournament that the arrogant mages put me in. You were with a man who called himself King Otto, a name that I had only heard in stories until then. Something is happening here that I have not been told about isn't it?'

Luckily Sam was saved from having to deal with the question by the arrival of the mercenary. The latest arrival rode over to the general and, giving him a military style nod, said 'Karavirs, sir, at your command.'

'Dismount' said the general and Sam watched as the big man rode his horse over to join the other two. He too loosened the straps on the horse's saddle and made sure that he tied it with plenty of loose rein, so that it could reach the ground to feed on the grass. Karavirs then joined the two of them by the fire and the general took the lead again. 'Welcome Kar' he said, 'this is Sam the smith. Watch out that he doesn't wear your ears out with his constant chatter.'

'Oh, one of those is he' said Kar with a friendly nod at Sam.

A timber wolf wandered out of the grass at the edge of the clearing and Kar was already standing, and drawing his sword, before Sam could shout 'Wait.' Kar looked at the general who studied Sam for a second before nodding. The mercenary released his hold on his sword, but he didn't sit down again. The small, lithe man walked into the clearing behind the wolf and, as everyone else seemed to do, he nodded. Seeing that the strange man was not going to speak Sam tried to explain 'this is Formuo something or other, oh, I am sorry; I thought that I had it memorised.'

'It matters little' said the slight man. 'Names are just labels, and one is as good as another. The one you are trying to remember is Formuotuvas but, if this is difficult, perhaps we could just use Form?'

'Form would be a lot easier if I have to shout orders in a hurry' agreed the general 'welcome to our little band. You seem to know Sam and this is Kar.'

'Form' said Kar, with the seemingly obligatory nod, 'I take it the wolf is with you?' Form just smiled and sat down. Kar looked at him for a while and then, shaking his head, he sat back down with the others.

They heard the last member of the party arriving well before they saw him. Form sat up straighter, and looked to the west, first and then, sometime after, the rest of them heard it. Pounding hooves and shouting. The noise got louder and closer and then, bursting through the grass into the clearing, Johtaja arrived. He dragged his horse to a standstill, using the bit, and leapt off it to land in front of the general. Sam noticed the spur marks, still bleeding, on the horse's flanks and the blood around its mouth, where the bit had cut into it, and immediately disliked the man from the steppes. Johtaja pulled himself up to his full height, which was quite a bit shorter than the general, and started shouting.

'I am the mighty Johtaja,' he said 'the ruler of the western Steppes. I am the conqueror of chiefs, the despoiler of cities and the gatherer of the tribes. I have many wives and uncounted sons and I am the leader of uncountable warriors. I will not follow an oversized, uncouth barbarian who is too old to satisfy his women. I will lead this party.'

Sam tensed up, ready for trouble. He had already decided which of the two he would be backing in this argument. Kar, as well, looked ready for trouble. Form and the general seemed almost as if they had not heard. They were both still lounging comfortably on the ground as they had been before the arrival.

'Have you ever been to the Western Steppes Kar?' asked the general to Sam's surprise. Kar also looked confused but he answered straight away 'No sir, can't say as I have.'

'I have' continued the general 'it is an interesting place. Do you know what I remember most about the Steppes? No, of course you can't, so I will tell you. What I remember most about the Steppes is tattoos and earrings that is what. You see Kar everyone, of any importance at all there, has tattoos. Some of the chiefs of the larger tribes are so covered with them that you can hardly see their skin anymore.'

Sam looked at the clear, unadorned skin on the rider from the Steppes. For his part Johtaja was staring at the general.

'And the earrings' the general continued. 'All the warriors wear an earring, and any clan male over the age of twelve is either a warrior or dead.' Sam didn't even need to look to know that Johtaja was not wearing an earring. 'So what, I ask myself, do we have here then? Well, let us try and work it out shall we. Gatherer of the tribes you called yourself, how can you gather the tribes unless you are part of more than one, and how can you be part of any if you do not have an earring? You are Sveste aren't you, a bastard son born to a tribesman and a captured slave girl, just another member of the breeding stock of new slaves. Which, of course, explains the many wives and uncounted sons, male slaves are positively encouraged to mate with as many female slaves as they can. The tribes count their wealth in their slave holdings after all. Although naming those liaisons as your wives is a bit of a stretch I would guarantee that no-one, not even yourself, has ever counted your sons, in fact the tribe would not consider them as yours anyway.'

Johtaja seemed almost to be shrinking in front of Sam's eyes as the general continued speaking. 'Now what is left? The conqueror of chiefs, how can that be? Oh yes, of course, you must have been fathered by the chief of the tribe, and then he committed the sin of having feelings for you or your mother, or maybe both. Any chief has a number of warriors, who are just looking for him to show weakness, they must have torn him apart, and probably her too. But not you, oh no, baby male slaves are too valuable. I will bet that it didn't improve your treatment at their hands though. And the leader of uncountable warriors, I personally liked that part the best. It makes sense that if there aren't any warriors, at all, then no-one could count them.'

The general paused and looked at the rider from the Steppes, who was now sitting on the ground in a very subdued posture. Sam didn't remember general Ton standing but now he seemed to be looming over all of them. 'Having said all that Jo, and that is what we will call you from now on, I do remember your part in the mages tournament and I know that you are a good fighter. We could use that, but make no mistake I am the person in charge.' And so it was settled.

Sam wanted to take care of Jo's horse, as it still stood where he had abandoned it when he rode into camp. However he was smart enough to know that the man would be looking for any excuse to start a fight after backing down to the general. He debated for a while and, finally, his pity for the poor animal overrode his common sense. Rising, he walked towards the beast. Jo looked up and watched him. As soon as he realised that Sam was going towards his horse he started to rise. The general simply cleared his throat and Jo went very still. He sat back down, seemingly nonchalant, and then shouted at Sam 'yes, that's right young smith. Sort out my horse for the evening. At least that is one task you can do for this party.' Sam's first instinct was to argue but at least he was now able to make sure that the horse was comfortable, and fed, before the evening came, so he held his peace.

Form turned out to be quite a good cook and, after he had prepared the meal, they settled down to do it justice. Sam found himself next to the general with Kar on the other side of him. He was not upset with the way it had worked out as he could still see the glances that Jo was casting at everyone when they were not looking. There would be trouble with that one, Sam was sure. As they were eating, the general spoke. 'I think it is time that we all found out exactly what is going on here. I want you all to tell me why you are on this dragon hunt and what you hope to get out of it. I will start. I was hired to lead the party and bring as many of you back with me as I could, preferably with the dragon's head as well. I am assuming you are working for pay too, Kar?'

'True enough' replied Kar 'although I was also promised that I could take as much of the dragons treasure hoard with me as I could get. They are reputed to have mighty treasure hoards and, with one as old as this one's supposed to be, I could retire after this.'

The general pointedly looked at Jo next; he scowled but then answered the question. 'I am here to get a dragon tooth or claw, preferably more than one. I will also take my share of the treasure though do not doubt that. With the tooth or claw I can go back and become a tribal leader despite my birth. I will get my own tribe and punish those that murdered my parents.' There was silence after this as they all measured the depth of Jo's feeling. Sam could almost feel sorry for him when he thought about what his upbringing must have been like. Then he glanced over and saw the horse, with scars down both flanks and mouth, and forgot the pity. The bottom line was that Jo was cruel to anything that he considered less than him. However he had got there, you could not pity him. You just had to make sure that he never put you into that group.

Into the silence Form spoke 'my life is a series of tests, this is just the next one in the line. I will get experience and I will move on to the next one, if my path leads that way. If my path ends here then I will get closure.'

Sam was still trying to work out what Form had said when he realised that the general was looking at him. 'I am here to represent the village that the dragon attacked' Sam said. 'It killed Ralf, and all his family, and I have the right to be here to see that the threat is removed.'

'Easy young smith' said the general. 'No-one is disputing anyone's right to be here, I just need to know why you are all here. Motives are very powerful things and the knowledge should help me lead this group better. Now I suggest that we all get some sleep as we will start early tomorrow. I will allocate watches of three hours each, two men to a watch and me by myself.' Sam was hoping that he didn't get paired with Jo when Form spoke up. 'There is no need general. I will watch all night by myself.' The general looked at Form for a second and then nodded. With Form sitting cross legged and the wolf nowhere in sight, the rest of them settled down for the night.

Chapter 13

Susan was at 'that' age. She heard her mother and father telling people this fact all the time. If the people had asked her then she could have told them differently, she was exactly twenty-seven days short of her eleventh birthday. She had gone past the days where they filled themselves and now had reached the point where, sometimes, she had 'nothing at all' to do. It seems that when you pass ten you discover boredom and it stays with you, in one way or another, for the rest of your life.

Tonight, though, she was not in bed. Tonight, for some reason, she had not only been allowed to stay up way after her normal bath time but she had also been taken out to a festival in the village square. As she looked around, it seemed like everyone in the village was there. Not that she could actually count them, of course. For one thing they were all packed together, and moving, so it would be difficult to get an accurate count, and for another she couldn't actually count to that many. There had to be a gazillion people in the village and she didn't know where that came on the one, two, three scale that the tutor was still teaching her.

There was a man standing on the steps of the meeting house and he was speaking. She was a bit upset about that because she had been hoping there would be a puppet show, or at least singing and dancing. Maybe they would come later. He was obviously speaking well as the grownups were clapping. All in all she supposed it was all right. If her mother and father were having a good time then they were less likely to take her home. She tried to focus on what the man was saying. If this talk was allowing her to stay up, way past her normal bedtime, then she should at least pay attention. She had been raised to always be polite. But it was grown up talk about gratitude, and giving, and such. She knew that gratitude meant being thankful, like when mother made fish pie, her favourite of everything, for tea. And giving was one of the words father used when he wanted her to let Sara play with one of her favourite dolls. That was the other strange thing, not only was she here but she could see Sara sleeping in father's arms. They had brought her as well, even though she had been asleep before they left, Susan determined that she would wake Sara up when the puppet show started.

The man was still talking and Susan couldn't see any signs of puppet masters, or singers, getting ready yet. She tried once more to listen to what he was saying. She would concentrate as hard as she had when Jill had told her about Tom taking her down the woods and dropping his pants to show her his man thing. She didn't really believe Jill's version and was sure, herself that Jill had probably dropped her pants in return, even though she said she hadn't. Why else would Tom show Jill if not to see Jill's in return? Susan may live in the village but there were farms all around and she knew who had what and why. Jill was the only one of her friends who had ever seen a boy's, as far as she knew, though. Remembering that she was going to listen to the talk she deliberately put away all thoughts of Jill and Tom and tried to concentrate on what the man was saying.

'I abase myself before your noble sacrifice, and I swear, by all the gods, that I will follow you one day shortly. And, when I do, I will go to a far worse place than that which you will be afforded' the man said.

Susan was a bit confused, she had absolutely no idea what abase meant and the only time she had heard of sacrifice was when father had tried to teach her to play Squares. And yet there was no sign of any Squares boards, or pieces, anywhere. She knew, of course, about swearing, that was bad. She had been punished the only time that she had ever done it in front of mother. Luckily she had never done it in front of father. Nobody seemed upset though, so maybe the man was just telling people how bad swearing was and not actually doing it. She was a little bit worried over this talk of going somewhere. Weren't they happy here, she certainly was. But, she supposed, if everyone went then the new place would be sort of the same as this, all of her friends would be there.

She noticed people moving through the crowds with trays full of little glasses full of green liquid. She supposed it was just for the grownups and wondered if mother would get her some bet juice, if she asked, because she was thirsty. It was a real surprise when mother and father took two glasses each from the tray of the man who passed them. She was going to get a drink as well. It wasn't bet juice but, even so, maybe it would be nice. Mother passed the drink to her and sternly told her not to drink it yet, she had to wait until everyone drank at the same time. It must be like when they had a toast on feast days she supposed.

She was really thirsty though, she supposed that the smoke from all of the torches was probably causing it. But she would wait like she had been told. If you drank a toast too early it was bad luck. And if she caused bad luck mother and father may take her home before the puppet show started. A long time seemed to pass. It was longer even than when she had to wait for Sara to finish being cleaned while she was desperate to use the toilet. And that could feel like a lifetime sometimes. Then mother told her that it was fine to drink now. As she did so, she noticed that mother was drinking her drink, as well. Father woke Sara up, and gave her a drink, before finishing his off in one mighty swallow. Susan had to use three mouthfuls to finish her drink but she managed it. It tasted a bit strange but it wasn't too bad. She handed the glass back to mother and waited to see if the puppets would be on next.

She was so tired now, she knew it was well past her bed time so she shouldn't be surprised, but she did so want to stay awake for the puppets. That was funny; she was lying on the floor with mother. She didn't remember them lying down. All around her the others were lying down too. Were they meant to sleep here tonight? This was unlike any festival that she had ever been to or heard of before. Oh well, she was comfortable here, cuddled up with mother. The talking had finished, and there was still no sign of puppets, so she settled down and snuggled up a bit closer. Slowly she drifted off to sleep unaware that she would never see her eleventh birthday.

The man in the white cloak watched them all take the poison with a face that was completely devoid of expression. Old, young, even children. He even saw one mother open up a drink bottle and pour one of the drinks into it before putting the top back on and feeding it to her baby. As they all fell, the ring on his hand sucked up their life force, storing it for when it was needed. Slowly the yellow gem on it turned blacker and blacker. When all movement had ceased he took a final look at the heap of bodies, in the village square, then he turned his back on them and walked away

Chapter 14

Sam woke up. He looked around and saw Form still sitting, cross legged, where he had been when Sam went to sleep the evening before. He nodded at the slight man who returned the greeting. The general and Kar were checking on the horses and Jo was not in sight, presumably taking care of the same thing that was Sam's first item on the agenda. Getting up he headed behind the trees to empty his bladder. As he came back to the camp he saw the wolf come walking in from the taller grass. The wolf reached Form, it vanished, and the slight man stood up and started to gather the provisions to make breakfast. Sam tried to remember if the wolf had been there when Form had made dinner the evening before, but he couldn't. He wandered over and checked his horse was fine before starting to put the saddle and tackle on him. Jo had re-appeared, from wherever it was that he had been, and was lounging by the fire as if he owned the camp.

Breakfast ready, and three of the four horses saddled, they settled down to eat. 'We need to keep heading south and west' said the general. 'In three or four days we will come to the mountains. There we turn right and follow them until we see the pass. A half day, or so, down the pass and we will come to the cave. So we have somewhere between four and five days to get ready. Let's get this camp tidied up and get on the road'.

Sam was glad that he had noticed the general and Kar saddling their horses, and had followed suit. Jo had not even started saddling his horse yet and would be pushed to be ready in time. Form didn't seem to have a horse and Sam wondered how he expected to keep up. They wouldn't be riding hard but spending even four days keeping up with walking horses would tire out anyone that Sam knew. They quickly washed their dishes, and packed them back into the saddlebags, and then started to mount.

'Smith' shouted Jo 'you didn't saddle my horse!'

'No, I didn't' agreed Sam as he swung himself up and set off after the general and Kar, who were already leaving the camp. Sam heard Jo curse and watched as he started to throw his saddle blanket on the back of the horse. Then the trees were between him and the camp and he nudged his horse to go slightly quicker and catch up with the other two.

He came up alongside the general with Kar slightly behind. Form was jogging alongside Kar. Sam saw a quick flash of the wolf as it ran out of the small copse of trees and headed off into the grassland again heading south and west as the general had said.

'So, Sam the smith' asked the general, 'just who are you?'

Sam didn't understand what the general was asking and he started to explain where he had been born, and who his parents were, before the general stopped him.

'No, I don't want your family tree, important as it no doubt is to you. I want to know, my young friend, if you are as much as liar as our hero from the Steppes.' Sam was completely lost now. Why would the general think he was a liar? He didn't know what to say so he simply kept quiet. Shaking his head the general continued 'A shame, I was starting to think that I could quite like you. But, if we must, then let us do this the hard way. Let's see, you turn up at a Magical tournament with a man who calls himself King Otto. You say that you are just a smith and yet you defeat a Ranger, who is wearing a masking cloak, and then a seasoned mercenary. Then you tell us a tale of a farmer called Ralf who was killed by a dragon. And you wear a gold ring with a ruby in it. At least Jo thought up his tales himself and didn't steal wholesale from the minstrels.'

Sam was now really confused, and he was starting to get a bit worried as well. He knew that he had to answer the general but didn't have any idea as to what the man was accusing him of. Nevertheless he had to say something. 'I don't understand what you mean' he said 'I am a smith and I didn't know anything about Otto being a king until the Angels told us. I am not even sure that he knew himself, really.'

'Angels' he heard Kar say, 'well at least that is new.'

'No, please, it is true' Sam said 'The dragon attacked and killed Ralf and then we came to the Angels for help and they told us that Otto was a king. We were allowed to join the tournament because we were from the Town. I don't know how I killed the Ranger I just seemed to know where he was. As for the mercenary that was just pure metalwork like I have been doing all my life. I pounded the weaknesses on his armour until it gave way. Then, when it was all over, just before we left, Otto gave me this ring. He said that it was the last thing left of Ralf and it should be with us to remind us of why we were doing this.'

The general looked at him strangely for a long time as the horses kept walking. Just at that moment there was a shouted curse and Jo came galloping up to join them. Not wanting to ride at the back, but at the same time seemingly reluctant to go in front of the general, he ended up riding alongside, slightly distanced from the main party.

'You call this riding' Jo shouted 'if it will cost us three or four days at this speed then we can reach the mountains this evening by riding hard.'

'Yes' the general said 'but I would prefer not to have to start walking at that point, myself. We will continue as we are. And as for you, Sam, you are either the most naive man I have ever met, or the biggest liar in the whole world. As I said, I am actually starting to like you so I think that I will believe the first one to be true for now. By the dwarves' beards man, haven't you heard the minstrel's tales?'

'Of course I have' said Sam. 'Otto used to tell them to us every evening in his inn, the King's rest. We thought that he'd brought them back from the trading post. However, I know now that he got them from the Angels'

'Oh, I do so hope that you are telling the truth my young friend' the general said. 'King Otto running an Inn called the King's rest that is priceless. No-one would ever try to put that in a story. But first, what are these Angel's you keep talking about?'

Sam told the others, for by now everyone was listening to the conversation, all about his time with the Angels. He mentioned the blessing, without detailing the actual words, but he was completely honest about the rest. When he had finished he pointed to Form. 'Vezer told me that you were a friend of the Angels and had worked for them before.' He said and was surprised to see the man smile.

'Oh yes Sam' Form replied 'I know these Angels of yours. And I have worked with them before. But I wouldn't name them as friends, even if they refer to me as such.'

'We are riding into the middle of a minstrel's tale' said Kar. 'I swear it by the nipples I sucked as a child. We are riding into the middle of a minstrel's tale.'

'Come on Kar, there is no need for that sort of language' said the general. 'Besides, minstrel's tales are not really all that they are cracked up to be. Believe me I have been in them before. Sam, you said that you have heard some minstrel's tales didn't you? Did you ever hear any with me in them? Which one do you remember the best?'

Sam admitted that he had heard quite a lot of minstrel tales concerning the general and, after a short while to think, he replied 'The Rout at Grasser.'

'Yes, tell us the real story of the Rout at Grasser' said Kar, and for some reason there was a chuckle in his voice.

'If that is the one that we have picked, then so be it' agreed the general. 'Well, the first thing you have to realise is that it was not, technically, the Rout at Grasser but more the rout of Grasser. You see Grasser was a young noble. Poor, in everything but ambition, he led a peasant revolt against the local lord in a pathetic attempt to overthrow him and take over. I was hired to lead the Lord's army and put down the revolution, such as it was. Here is what happened on that fateful day, the truth mind, not the story.'

'Outside a small village called Corl is a large field and that is where our two sides finally came together. The minstrels will say that I was outnumbered thirty to one or even more. I have even heard it told that I was outnumbered by three hundred to one. Well, truth to tell, they did have more men than we. Grasser had about three hundred peasants armed with pitchforks, sticks and spades. There were rumours of him having a small number of mercenaries too, but I do not know the truth of that.'

'He had four mercenaries with him' said Kar.

With a quick glance at Kar, general Ton continued. 'I was in charge of a hundred of the Lord's lancers. They were young, and inexperienced, but they were well equipped and, as young men often are, were raring to fight. So, three hundred, or so, peasants against a hundred well-armed mounted men. Grasser should have had the grace to admit defeat, and let his people go home, but of course he didn't. I was pondering the best way to end it, without having to butcher all of the people on the other side, when one of the damn young cubs behind me lost control of his lance and stabbed my horse in the backside. The horse reared and went forward a few steps. The rest of them took that as a signal and started to charge. The peasants broke as soon as the charge started so it turned out to be the right move as things turned out. As for me' he smiled 'my charge consisted of two steps and a stumble and then I fell off the miserable horse. When I picked myself up the field was empty, except for my men, and there was no sign of Grasser or his mercenaries.' As he said this last part he looked at Kar meaningfully.

'Well, it was like this' the mercenary said 'when we hired on, we were specifically contracted to look after Grasser and protect him from harm. As soon as you started to charge the young noble took off as if a thousand Ravers were chasing him. We decided that our contract meant we had to go with him, in case he was attacked by demon rabbits or something. Although, I must admit that the sight of a hundred charging lancers made us more intent on following our orders. As soon as we were clear, and managed to slow him down, Grasser paid us off and we left.'

The general burst out laughing, quickly followed by Kar and Sam. 'To protect him from demon rabbits' spluttered the general and Kar nodded seriously. Form smiled and Jo looked as if he was completely disgusted with all of them.

'But you see, Sam' said the general composing himself finally, 'the point is that minstrels' tales cannot be believed. They are always changed, and exaggerated, to make audiences more interested. That is what earns the minstrel his keep after all.'

The next few hours were spent in a companionable ride discussing the rout of Grasser as Sam now called it. At one point he told them what he knew of the ride that Kurt had made for help when the dragon first appeared. They happily passed the rest of that day's ride, and the evening meal, making up heroic versions of that unfortunate episode. Kar was especially interested to know that Kurt had killed one of the demon rabbits during his flight. He suggested that, when they got back, they should see if Grasser would present a medal to the farmer for his services.

Sam fell asleep that evening to the sound of Kar chuckling again. He could just hear the man mumbling to himself 'but the horse was too slow so he jumped off it and ran behind it, beating it with his sword, to make it go quicker'. Smiling he let himself drift off to sleep. Just at the last second, before sleep claimed him, he realised that he had not asked the general what he had meant about the minstrel's tales and himself. But he had managed to note that the wolf had been nowhere in sight when Form had made dinner.

Chapter 15

Sam woke up; he quickly looked around the camp but the General and Kar were already moving. He had woken up before Jo though so that was better than yesterday. He hurried off to take care of his morning tasks before Form started to cook the breakfast, he had had to hurry yesterday and wanted some more time today to enjoy a leisurely meal. Kar was still chuckling about 'Kurt's heroic ride for help' as he had now named the tale. Toilet done and horse saddled, he was sitting by the campfire when Form served out the food. Helping himself to a large plateful he settled down.

'How did we do for distance yesterday' he asked.

'Pretty good' replied the general, 'although the going was fairly easy. As we get closer to the mountains the ground will become more and more uneven and the horses will not go as fast.'

'My horse will not slow down no matter how uneven the ground gets' said Jo, but the others ignored the man from the Steppes. Any questioning of that statement would only have led to him driving his poor horse harder they realised.

Sam had his wish fulfilled as he managed to spend more time than the day before on his breakfast. Once finished, they all tidied up the camp and then mounted up to leave. As usual Jo had not even started saddling his horse by the time the rest rode out. They didn't wait though; they knew that he would catch them up. Without conscious thought they took up the same positions as the previous day, Sam next to the general with Kar and Form behind. Jo could fit in wherever he wanted when he finally joined them. As Sam looked ahead he could see the truth of the general's statement about the ground. The area they were moving into today had less lush grass than previously and had quite a few mounds and hills starting to show. It also had considerably more rocks poking through the grass. Sam would not want to gallop his horse through this country. The chance of a fall was too great. That, of course, did not seem to change the way that Jo rode as he came galloping up to join them at full speed. When he reached them he deliberately slowed down with a muttered comment about people going as slow as possible when they were scared of what was at the end of their journey. The general cast a glance over to the side, where Jo was riding, but never replied.

A short while later Form started to chuckle. Sam spun around in his seat with surprise and he noticed that the other three were looking at Form as well. This was the first time that the slim man had shown any emotion since they had met. What could possibly be making him chuckle?

'What is it?' asked Sam.

'You will see in about half an hour, look to the left' said Form.

And so they rode on keeping a careful eye to the left. After about twenty minutes the General pointed forward and to the left. Sam looked and could see some things bobbing up and down. He started to watch more carefully, keen to discover the reason behind Form's amusement. As they rode closer the bobbing objects turned into heads and then into people. And, finally, Sam realised that the people were naked. They seemed to be acting like rabbits, bounding about across the grass, and for a short while Sam was wondering if it was some sort of fertility dance. However, there didn't seem to be any co-ordination between them, they seemed to be hopping at random in different routes. They were all heading in roughly the same direction but their paths there were vastly different.

'What are they doing?' Sam asked of anyone who could answer.

'They are Marvinists' replied Form. 'Look carefully where they are landing.'

Sam studied the ground beneath the hopping nudes and realised that they were actually jumping from stone to stone. They would leap from the stone that they stood on to land on another. Then they would look around for another one and jump over to that.

'They are trying to travel across the plain without hurting the grass' Form continued. 'Never even considering what is happening to the insects that live beneath the stones they are landing on. And, of course, they are all naked because to create clothing they would have had to damage some poor plant or animal and that would be against their creed.'

'Where are they heading do you think?' Sam asked

'Probably to the mountains so that they can walk around normally' said the General, 'although, if they actually make it there, then they will likely freeze to death. Who walks around mountains with no clothes on?'

'Only idiots like Marvinists' said Form. 'How can people be so stupid as to follow a faith like that completely blind?'

'Come on Form' said Kar. 'I admit they look silly but you have to respect a man's faith. I am sure that Marvin the mild was a good fellow and didn't intend for his followers to end up like this.'

'Oh, that is partly true' said Form. 'In fact he didn't intend, or expect, any followers at all. Let me tell you the true story of Marvin the Mild, it will pass the time at least. Marvin was a cook. At a time when animals were just dragged from the fields, and slaughtered as needed, he devised a theory. Marvin reckoned that if the animals were killed quickly so that they didn't expect it the meat would taste better, something to do with the animal's terror ruining the meat.'

'I have heard that theory before' said the General. 'And there does seem to be some truth in it.'

'Yes, there is' continued Form. 'So, because he was concerned with how the animals felt when they were killed, the other cooks started to call him Marvin the mild. It had nothing at all to do with not crushing grass and everything to do with the fact that he loved eating meat. And he liked to eat the best meat that he could. Then came the Dwarven wars and Marvin went along with the troops. He had been discovered by a famous general who loved his food as much as his wars.'

Sam sneaked a look over at General Ton but the man smiled and shook his head. 'There are other generals besides me you know young Sam. Anyway this has to have happened hundreds of years ago, if it was the Dwarven wars. How old do you think I am?'

'So Marvin the mild went to war' continued Form and it didn't go very well. It seems that the General was a better eater than fighter and their whole unit was decimated by the dwarves. The remaining few were dragged before the dwarven chief for his entertainment. Now Marvin was a complete and utter coward and he was shaking so much that the dwarves thought he was really funny. They had a cannon that had not been used for some time, and decided that it would be quite interesting to see what would happen to a person tied to the front of the barrel when it was fired. Of course, Marvin was the obvious candidate for this. So they strapped Marvin to the front of this big, unwieldy cannon and proceeded to set it off. The cannon didn't fire but it was nothing to do with the Land Mother, or anything like that, it was simply bad powder, it happens all the while with cannons.'

'Yes, I never trust cannons' said the General. 'Too many people have relied on them and then been stuck when they didn't fire.'

'But, for whatever reason,' said Sam 'that part of the story would seem to be true. They strapped him to the cannon and it didn't fire. So did they let him go?'

'No, of course not' said Form 'they did to him what they did to all the other prisoners that they had captured. He was thrown in a deep hole with the others and buried alive in rocks. The cannon had just been a whimsical pastime and when it didn't work they lost interest. No, Marvin the mild, the divine one who wouldn't even hurt a piece of grass, died fighting his companions to keep his head high. He was stamping and scrabbling and climbing on top of people just like all the rest were.'

'So that story is just as much a lie as the rout of Grasser' Sam said. 'Are all the minstrel stories lies then?'

'Not wholly lies, Sam' replied the General. 'Each story has an amount of truth in it, to hold the lies together. Never believe that all the stories you hear are the truth. But don't think that they are all complete lies, either.'

They had left the unfortunate Marvinists well behind by this time and Sam rode on for a while in silence as he pondered the enigmatic statement by the General. How were you to know what was true and what wasn't then?'

'What would happen if the Marvinists came to a place that had no more rocks?' Sam wondered aloud.

'Well, the true believers would turn around as it meant that the Land Mother didn't want them to go there, I suppose' said Kar. 'Or, then again, they may sneak over the grass quickly if no-one is watching them. Just until they reach another area of rocks, of course, and can go back to their pious hopping.'

Sam determined that he would take the General's advice and stop accepting things too readily. From now on he would question everything as these companions of his seemed to do. He spent the rest of the day, and the evening reviewing all of the minstrel tales that he could remember and wondering which parts were true and which not. He briefly looked up before he went to sleep.

'So' Sam said 'if all the stories are mostly lies, then does that mean that the Schism doesn't really exist?'

'Oh, the Schism exists, Sam' replied the General. 'I have been there and looked at it with my own eyes. Maybe one day you will get to go and see it for yourself. But, for tonight, I think it is time we slept. Don't you?'

Chapter 16

Sam woke up and looked around. Once again he was, seemingly, the last one to rise. Thinking to himself that he must do better he went off for his morning toilet and then joined the General at the horses. While he was saddling his horse he looked across at Jo's mount. The poor beast was standing slightly away from the other horses and its flanks were covered with scars and dried blood. He moved towards it, to give it a stroke, and it flinched away from his hand. Shaking his head he went back to his own mount.

'Sam' said the General. 'I know how you feel about horses and what you think of the treatment that Jo gives his. To some extent I share your feelings but not for the same reasons. Listen to me carefully, young smith. I abhor the way Jo treats his mount but I do it the same way that I would abhor someone using his sword to cut firewood. It is a soldier's duty to look after his equipment so that it will be ready when he needs it. And that is the difference Sam, when the equipment is needed it should be used. So know this now, if I consider it is necessary for us to survive, I will order us to ride these animals into the ground. I will not like doing it, but I will give the order. And if you do not push your horse as hard as we do then I will leave you behind. You can look after your horse all you want, but don't get too attached to it for your own sake.' And then, finished saddling, the General went back to the fire, leaving Sam alone.

After the pronouncement by the General, Sam was quiet during the morning meal. He ate, and helped clean up, and then mounted, and rode out, with the rest. He knew that horses were not people and he, himself, had worked them hard before now. But the idea of riding one to death had never occurred to him before and he wondered if he would be able to. Hopefully he would never find out. Once again he was riding next to the General with Kar and Form behind. Jo was off to one side his horse struggling through the grass that was longer due to not having the others to tread it down. Sam decided that if the General wanted straight talking then he would go along with that. At least the man had told him beforehand rather than leaving him with, what might have been a fatal decision later.

'What did you mean about me and the minstrel's tales' he asked?

The General looked at him and seemed to think for a moment. 'Well, let's see, where should we start?' he finally said. 'You said that this dragon killed a farmer called Ralf, didn't you? And you also mentioned that the ring you wore was Ralf's?' Seeing his nods of agreement the General turned around in his saddle to look at Kar. 'Do you know the tale of Good King Ralf, Kar?' he asked.

'Oh aye, it is an old tale, and I haven't heard it for many years, but I believe I remember it' replied the mercenary. And, as they rode, he proceeded to tell the story:

'Long ago, before man even walked the Land, there was a war between the dwarves and the dragons. They constantly found themselves in conflict due to both needing caves, the dwarves as an easy start to their mines and the dragons for living and reproducing in. They also both had an insatiable appetite for jewels, and truth to tell this was the main source of contention. However, the two sides were well matched and, although they fought long and hard, no winner was obvious. After many years it settled into a kind of armed enmity rather than full out war. They would fight when they met each other but had long ceased going out of their way to search for the other. Then a third force emerged in the conflict. The High Elves had long hated the dragons and they found a way that they could tip the scales of the conflict with little risk to themselves. They cast a mighty curse that took the dragon's magic away from them. Without their magic the dragons were at a disadvantage to the dwarves. One to one or even one to a hundred or so a dragon could easily defeat dwarves, but there were thousands of dwarves to each remaining dragon. Lacking the ability to cast spells the dragons could not hope to prevail in a straight fight. And so the dwarves, realising this, attacked in force. The end of the dragons seemed certain. Then Good King Ralf took to the game board. Ralf had always been known as a friend of the dragons and now, in their darkest hour, he rallied his people and attacked the dwarves, repaying an incident much earlier when a dragon had intervened to save him and his men. This provided the respite that the dragons needed and the last few fled from the Land to no-one knows where. Before they left the leader of all the dragons, a great red whose name is lost in history, gave King Ralf a gold ring set with a ruby. This was a sign that Ralf, and his people, would always be dragon friends.'

'I don't understand' said Sam. 'If this was before man walked the Land then what race were King Ralph and his people?'

'Why, they were Ravers' said Kars sounding surprised that Sam didn't know.

Ravers, even the name had Sam looking over his shoulder and making the sign of the Angels with his hands. Since he had first been able to understand his parents he had heard tales of these mighty beasts. Twelve foot tall with large vicious fangs and claws, and covered in hair, they roamed the night looking for people to eat. He shuddered as he imagined a whole race of Ravers going down the dwarven mines to attack.

Jo, of course, noticed it and was not slow to taunt him. 'Don't worry little smith' he said 'you have some real men here to protect you. We won't let the nasty Ravers get you.' Sam glared at him but couldn't respond. The name had struck deep at him in a way that had been programmed, since birth, by all of the tales.

'Nah, there is no worry needed over Ravers' said Kar. 'When the High Elves found out what had happened they cursed the Ravers as well and they haven't been heard of since. Some say that they were all destroyed; others that they were imprisoned.'

'Trouble' said Form and the General stopped his horse and looked at the small man. The land had started to become more undulating now, presumably the start of the foothills to the mountains that they were heading for. Form looked forward. 'Ahead, about a mile away, a group of bandits' but, their line of sight was blocked by the rise and fall of the ground so they couldn't see anything.

'This would be good country for a bandit pack to ambush travellers' said the General. 'We go slow and quietly. How many are there Form?'

'Not many, about ten' was the reply.

The General ordered them into single file and they moved slowly, General Ton leading, followed by Kar, Form, Jo and then Sam bringing up the rear. As quietly as they could they rode up each rise, pausing before their silhouettes cleared the rise. They would dismount and crawl to the top of the rise and they carefully looked over before going back to their horses and proceeding. After three or four repetitions of this Form reported that the bandits were behind the next rise. Again they dismounted and crawled to the top to look over. Sam noticed that the wolf had been waiting for them just this side of the top of the hill.

Lying there, and sneaking looks over, they saw that Form had been correct, there were ten bandits and they were slowly riding towards the very rise that the party currently hid behind. 'They don't seem to know we are here' said General Ton. 'We will go back to our horses and head north to allow them to pass. If we can get past that next rise to our right then they will ride straight past us and we can carry on.'

At that moment Sam was startled by a loud yell, he barely managed to look around in time to see Jo galloping his horse over the top of the rise. Jo had both swords drawn and was charging at the bandits. With a muttered curse the General headed back to the horses, closely followed by Sam and Kar. Mounting up General Ton directed his horse after the man from the steppes and the three of them charged in pursuit. The wolf was already streaking through the grassland and Form waited for them at the top and then ran alongside them. Sam held onto the galloping horse and calculated what would happen. Jo would reach the bandits, who were already forming up, a couple of minutes before them. If he was as good as he was supposed to be then he should be able to hold on until they joined him. Unless he had any more plans as stupid as this one, of course. Between the five of them they now had to try and take out the bandits, when they could have avoided this. Unconsciously he was clenching and unclenching the fingers on his right hand as he rode into battle.

'Archers, left' shouted Form and they turned their heads to see a group of men, all dressed in identical tabards of red and green, rise up out of the grass and draw bows. Again the General cursed and he swung his horse to the right. His horse collided with Sam's and forced that one to collide, in turn, with Kar's. The three horses partly stumbled and then regained their balance, but they were now galloping away from the archers in a route that would take them past the bandits to one side. Form had easily swivelled to follow them, and the wolf had also turned and started back, but they were leaving Jo behind alone. Sam heard the thwack of bows being released and risked a glance backwards. He saw the wolf hit by three or four arrows and then it vanished. Form seemed to stagger, for a second, and he slowed down so much that they pulled away from him. A second later the wolf was alongside Form again. The two of them easily caught up with the three horses and then matched their pace. A glance at the General showed Sam that he too had noticed.

They ran their horses as hard as they could for an hour, randomly twisting and turning to confuse pursuers, and then, experiencing no pursuit, stopped to rest them and decide what to do. 'That stupid, impetuous young Sveste' stormed the General, 'not only does he think he can take on a pack of bandits by himself, but he leads us straight between them and the Lords men that are set up to ambush them. Now both parties will think that we are part of the other one and, whoever wins, we will probably be pursued. Damn him to hell, if he isn't already there. We will wait here until we know more of what is happening. Form, will you watch out for pursuit?' Form nodded and the wolf trotted away back in the direction they had come. Sam, Kar and the General dismounted to rest the horses, but they didn't loosen the tackle, just in case.

Some time had passed and they seemed safe, Form had reported no pursuit in sight. The horses had been unsaddled and they were waiting to see if Form could find out anything about Jo. As the small man was busy Kar was making his attempt at cooking food. Form sat up straighter and said 'Jo comes.'

At his usual speed the man from the Steppes barrelled into the camp following the wolf, he dragged the horse to a stop, by the bit, and leapt off in front of them. This time though, just as he cleared the saddle, the horse collapsed. They could clearly see the arrow in its side as it sighed once and then died. General Ton stood up, took two paces and punched Jo in the face. The blow was so swift, and unexpected, that Jo flew backwards and landed flat on his back. Two arrowheads burst through the front of his tunic in a spray of blood as he landed. Sam ran to the fallen man and, rolling him over, he noticed another three arrows that had also been stuck in his back. These ones had broken off rather than being forced further in. Sam hadn't noticed them when Jo rode in and he supposed the General hadn't either.

'I led them away, you are safe' said Jo and then he died in Sam's arms.

The General put Jo with his horse and covered them both with a cairn of stones. Sam and Kar had offered to help but he had refused their aid. While he worked they sat at the fire, ate and talked. Sam wasn't sure if Kar was a worse cook than Form, or a better one, because he never tasted the food at all. 'Five arrows in his back and he still made it back to us' he said for what must have been the fourth or fifth time. 'And the horse, that arrow punctured its lung, you know, and it still carried him back here.'

'Yes' said Kar, which had been his answer every other time that Sam had said this.

The General finished and came over to have his share of the food. It was cold now but he didn't seem to notice. He didn't offer any conversation and the others left him to his quiet. With Form taking up his normal watch, they settled down. Sam compared the feeling this evening to the laughing and joking that they had shared the previous one.

Chapter 17

The Mountains of Fire were not named sarcastically. Everything that wasn't fire was a mountain, and these were the biggest mountains in the Land. They were made of huge slabs of old, hard rock. The very bones of the Land itself, sticking up into the air as if from a badly broken limb. They soared over the surrounding land and the area around them was very sparse on growth, almost as if they sucked the life and nutrients out of the soil. Scattered among the mountains were a number of active volcano's still spewing molten lava out and building yet more peaks. A constant pall of ash and sulphur hung over the whole range, further dissuading visitors. In truth there were very few visitors as most could not breathe the fetid air for long before succumbing. The local wildlife, such as it was, would also discourage most outsiders. Salamanders do not tend to mix well with others and they are very territorial.

The man in the white robe was not dissuaded, however. He didn't like the taste of the air, but it would not kill him. He had no fear of Salamanders either and he did have a good reason to be here. Here, where the fires grew from beneath the Land itself was a place of great power, for those that knew how to harness it. This was also the only place in the Land where he had any possibility of accomplishing this part of the task at all. He had been working all night and the strain was beginning to show on him. His robe was now a dirty, yellowish colour and his face was drawn and tired. For the last eight hours he had scoured the mountains, carefully selecting certain boulders. These he had transported to a cave high in a peak in the centre of the range.

On the ground, in the floor of the cave, he had carefully scribed a circle. Inside the circle was a six pointed star, its points arranged precisely. Inside the Hexagon, formed by the lines of the star, was another circle which just clipped the sides of the area without breaking any. And finally, inside this smaller circle, was another star. This one twisted through thirty degrees, compared to the first one, so that the points of the small star pointed at the hollows of the larger one. At each point, and hollow, in both of the stars he had placed a boulder, twenty four of them in total. They were not evenly matched, in fact, now that he saw them next to each other, some of them looked a bit small. However, this was the best he could manage in the time he had. It would have to suffice for the task ahead. If he had built the circle earlier it would have been discovered long before the time for it came. Even now he could feel the magic start to gather as he placed the last boulder. That much build-up of magic would soon start to attract unwanted attention.

The cave had been chosen carefully to try and prevent anyone, or anything, disturbing the circle for as long as possible. It was high up in the peak and there was no path leading to it, just a straight drop from its mouth. Transporting the boulders up here, one by one, had taken nearly all of the magic that he had had stored and he would have just enough left to move himself back out of the Mountains. He made a final, thorough check of the circle and, whilst he did this, he considered how the plan was going so far.

One member of the party was already gone and they were now down to four. While this possibility had been planned for, the manner of it happening was causing him to consider carefully. On the face of it the reason was obvious. That damn mogrel had slipped up badly. When he had discovered the bandits he should have kept the party clear. The impetuous charge by the sveste from the steppes could easily have been predicted. But no, the stupid mogrel not only led the party to the bandits, he missed a whole group of archers completely until it was nearly too late. But the man in the white robe had been conditioned for years to look beyond the obvious and to suspect something else.

'Take the Meister, Bosszu' his father had said when he was just about able to walk. He had grown up watching his father and mother play the game that he would later discover was named Squares. Now he was standing looking at the pieces on the board and his father was giving him permission to touch them. He toddled towards the board, just keeping his balance, and reached out to pick up the largest piece. With no warning his father had conjured up a wind that hit him in the face blowing him away from the board and leaving him sitting on his backside.

Every day for the next few years the same thing happened. Then Bosszu learned to read. His father had a mighty collection of books and he was allowed free access to them. He studied carefully and practised when he wasn't reading. Then one day he went for the Meister as usual. When his father cast the wind spell he quickly cast his own spell that caused the wind to stream around him without affecting him at all. He didn't even have time to smile before his father had changed the wind to fire and he found himself surrounded by a raging inferno. Of course his father hadn't let him take any actual physical damage, but the mental scars were started that day.

And so his training went on. When he learnt to cast ice, to counter the flames, his father changed his cast to ice, as well. Bosszu spent five minutes frozen solid until he was released. Every trick he tried was countered but he still spent nearly all of his time planning how he could defeat his father. He spent a long time trying to construct the best defence and finally thought that he had it perfected. A solid screen of ice with just the smallest layer of fire inside to protect him from any attempt to increase the ice. His father, of course, had immediately attacked with lightning and it had passed straight through the ice, the fire, and him, a sharp lesson that the game can always change.

Finally he had gone outside and found a treemouse nest. Taking one of the newly born babies he carried it to his room and spent two years raising and training it. The day came when he was ready. He walked towards the Squares board, as usual, and his father cast the wind. Thus began their daily bottle of wills and reactions. Fire was countered by ice and ice by fire, the lightning strikes were taken on stone shields and the hundred other attacks were all balanced. Although he was countering he was not yet managing to move towards the playing piece and his father watched to see when he would make his big effort. Unknown to his father, though, that effort was already going on. While he held the balance of the magic the treemouse was sneaking around the side of the room. The animal was totally non magical and so didn't even register in the planes where he and his father battled. He kept his father distracted while the mouse reached the table and then, in a flash, it was up the table leg. It grabbed the Meister from the board and ran back to him with it in his mouth. His father smiled at that. Then he had started Bosszu on his next challenge.

It had not been a healthy way for a child to grow up, Bosszu knew that. But, from his position now, he could almost thank his father. He could not afford to fail in this task and the 'training' had been the only way that he would have a chance. For the whole of his life nothing in it had been constant. Everything could, and did, change at any time. So now he took nothing for granted at all. He evaluated every fact that he knew, or could determine, and made the best decisions that he could. But the memory of that first lightning bolt, flashing through him, also taught him that any plan could fail and that he had to be ready to adapt if that happened.

So what did he really know? That this Form character was a mogrel seemed pretty obvious. And the obvious should always be suspected. Form could do two tricks, reasonably well, and that seemed to be it. The fact that they had sent such a minor piece onto their side of the board was ample confirmation that the High Elves had not yet realised his scheme. However, what if he looked at it the other way around? What if they were more than aware of his scheme and were already countering it? Suppose that this, so called, mogrel, was actually a High Elf masquerading as useless. He could easily be deliberately looking weak to try and lure the strike, while at the same time ensuring that he would be in the right place to counter it. As is often the case, there was no way to know for sure at this time. Otherwise this would have not taken all of the years and planning that it had. It would be sensible, however, to watch this Form a bit more carefully than he had been. If Form did turn out to be more than he currently seemed then that would be as good a warning as he could hope for. He could react at that time with more knowledge.

Bosszu was satisfied, both with the construction of the circle and with his analysis. The plan hadn't originally called for him to fight a High Elf one on one. In fact a large part of the planning had been precisely to avoid that situation. But, if it did come to that, then he had a few options prepared just in case. He studied the circle for one last time. It was already starting to pull energy into itself in a very satisfactory manner so his task here was complete. He seemed to shimmer in the air for a second. And then he was gone.

Chapter 18

Sam woke up. He groaned when he saw how light the sky was. He didn't seem to be getting any better at this waking up on time. This adventure thing, so far, had consisted of a lot of boredom, five minutes of panic, a couple of hours of worry and a disaster. None of it was particularly tiring. In fact being a smith was probably a lot more, physically, challenging than what he had seen so far. Maybe that was why he couldn't get to sleep at night, he wasn't used to doing, what amounted to, nothing all day. He sat up and looked around the camp. Sure enough The General was talking to Kar and Form was still sitting cross-legged in his normal position. There was no sign of the wolf but, as Sam looked around, his eyes fell on the pile of stones that marked Jo's last resting place. Yes, he would definitely rather be back in his smithy. He hadn't liked the man from the steppes, that much. But the manner of his death was just so sudden. And the fact that Jo had gone through all that he had only to get back to camp, and die from an accident there, was worse than madness. The General and Kar noticed him stirring and nodded at him. That was something else about this adventure lark, there was an awful lot of nodding involved. Sam wondered if it was a military thing. He got up to attend to his morning toilet and noticed that the General and Kar seemed to have finished their conversation just as the wolf came walking back into the camp. The General seemed to slip on a loose stone, or something, as he got up. A cloud of dust rose from the ground, floated towards Form, and passed right through him. The General recovered his balance and walked towards the horses directing a meaningful look at Kar.

After dealing with his morning ritual, and saddling his horse, Sam joined the others by the fire to eat breakfast. Once again Form had cooked and the wolf was nowhere in sight. The General reached into his bag and took something out of it. 'What do you think of this, Form' he said, tossing a multicoloured object towards the slight man. Form caught it, fiddled with it for a second then tossed it back replying 'It is a simple puzzle ball from Tarsha. But that was not the point was it, General?' Sam noticed that the ball was now completely yellow. He felt that something had passed between the two that he had missed. It would, hopefully, be another quiet day's ride today so he would ask the General later. Perhaps they would reach the mountains today and, maybe, even find the start of the pass.

Sam was amazed that, apart from the incident with the puzzle ball, everyone else was acting so normal. For his part he found that his eyes kept wandering towards the cairn of stones. The other three didn't seem any different than they had the day before. Didn't they care that a member of the party had died. Would they be the same if it had been him? He was very glad when, breakfast over and camp tidied, the General gave the command to leave and they rode out. Sam did notice that the General and Kar both cast a look at the cairn as they left so they obviously had not totally forgotten their previous comrade. Form, however, didn't even do that much. His wolf appeared and the two of them moved out. The wolf took the lead and quickly vanished in their proposed direction of travel. The rest of them took up their usual positions with Sam next to the General and Kar and Form behind. Sam tried but he could not stop his eyes wandering to the side where Jo normally rode. He wondered if he would end up as composed as the rest of them by loss if this kept up and the thought worried him.

After travelling quietly for a while, Sam decided that he would use the time to find out some more. His knowledge of what was going on, and even what the outside world was like, seemed so much less than that of the others. He didn't want to directly ask the General about the puzzle ball, as that would make it seem important, so he decided to start with something else. He would work the ball into the conversation later.

'Kar mentioned High Elves yesterday, what are they? I have heard some stories of elves and dwarves but I always assumed that they were just stories. Do elves really exist then, and what about dwarves?' He said to the General.

Surprisingly, though, it was Kar that answered from behind him. 'Slow down Sam, otherwise I will have four days of talking to do before you even pause for breath. I will tell you about the elves, I suppose you have never heard the story of the Elven Divide?' When Sam admitted that he hadn't Kar continued 'Well you have to first of all understand some things about the elves. Let's see where should I start?'

'I've always found the beginning to be an excellent starting place' said the General. 'Then when you reach the end you can happily finish knowing it is all done'

Kar aimed a sarcastic gesture at the General's back and continued 'it is believed that all the elves descend from Anya and Apa the original two. Over the years they have multiplied and filled the earth but they all have a common root. Now Anya, especially, was very powerful when it came to magic. She is reputed to have been the one who first brought magic into the Land by some. She was also, like most mothers, a bit protective of her offspring. So when her first children were very young she cast a mighty spell. This is called Anya's defence. We don't know the full details but the basic idea was that if any of her offspring were killed they would be able to cast a curse at the person who killed them, in the moment of their death. However, magic may be a very powerful thing, but it is also unpredictable. When she cast this spell, the elves were the only race in the Land so the spell turned out to be more specific than she had planned. Anya's defence actually finished up stating that if any true elf is killed, or caused to be killed, by the direct act of another true elf, the elf which is killed can cast his death curse at the other elf. True elves are ones who are descended exclusively from Anya and Apa on both sides of their family. When the other races came along, you see, there came to be quite a bit of mingling between the two. The results were called, half-elves and then quarter-elves and so on until it got so complicated that people simplified it, as they do. Any being that was more elf than not was called an elf. Anyone that wasn't, and yet had elven blood to some degree, was called a mogrel. This is a very old elven term but it is so close in sound that most speakers of the common language usually refer to them as mongrels.'

Sam noticed the General glance at Form when Kar said this but there didn't seem to be any change in the behaviour of the slight man. What was going on between those two?

'So now' continued Kar 'the elves have a problem. No-one knows who is a true elf and who isn't. But they do know the penalty if a true elf kills another one. This has made dealings between the elves very complicated. It tends to be done using go-betweens and others. And even then they have to be very careful that they do not give the third parties too much instruction otherwise they fall prey to the "or caused to be killed" part. It seems that at some stage something happened to split the elves into two distinct camps. They could not fight each other, or try and wipe out the others, as other races would probably have done. So they split completely. And so we now have the High Elves and the Ground Elves. They both live in the Land but they have no dealings with each other at all. And that is the Elven Divide.'

'So there are not just High Elves,' said Sam 'but these others, the Ground Elves as well. What about dwarves?'

'No Sam,' chuckled the General 'dwarves don't exist anymore. The Ravers saw to that, remember?'

Sam pondered for a while and then remembered that he was going to slip a question about the puzzle ball into the conversation. Well there had not been a chance really. Maybe he would ask to see the ball and lead the conversation from there.

'Mountain face ahead' said Form. 'We will reach it within the hour.'

'Is there any sign of the bandits, or the Lords men, that we saw yesterday?' Queried the General

'No' said Form 'the Sveste must have been true when he said that he led them away from us' and then he fell silent again.

Of course they had been able to see the mountains since they had met up that first day, but looking over rolling grassland it was difficult to judge exactly how far away they were. They had been slowly growing larger and the general had said about three or four days to reach their face. It looked as if they had made good time despite the problems the day before. Sam was counting days and thinking 'we will have to face the dragon either tomorrow or the day after' when the General continued talking.

'And how about the pass, can you see that?'

'No sign' replied Form.

'I was afraid of that' said The General. 'While we were on our original course we were due to reach the mountain face to the left of the pass so it was simple. Reach the mountains, turn right and go on until you reach the pass. However, when we had to flee from the bandits, and the Lords men, yesterday it threw us out. I have tried to get us back to the same place but, honestly, I now have no idea if the pass will be to the left or the right of where we reach. We cannot afford to just guess, as we could waste days, so we will have to scout both ways. That means splitting the party up and we are already smaller than I would have preferred. Just because there has been no sign of the dragon yet it doesn't mean that it couldn't appear in the sky at any time.'

Sam had not even thought of the possibility of the dragon finding them and immediately started to check the sky to see if it was, even now, coming towards them. There was no sign of it but he resolved to keep checking from now on.

'I have a solution' said Form. 'The wolf can go one way and I will go the other. You three ride straight to the mountain face and we will meet you there when we know which way the pass is.'

The General thought for a while and then agreed with the plan. Form immediately started running and, incredibly to Sam, soon outpaced the horses and vanished into the grass. After shaking his head at the speed of the slight man, and checking the sky again, Sam decided that this was his chance to ask the question he had been holding all day.

'What was going on this morning between you and Form, General?' he queried.

'Sam' replied The General 'it is the duty of the leader to try and understand everything that is going on with a group. That is especially true when the group is this small. I have to understand the capabilities of each of us so that I can use the party to its best advantage. And I also want to understand what each person is capable of in case of treachery.'

'You expect treachery from Form?' asked Sam.

'Not really. But I plan for it, in case, my young smith. A good leader tries not to be surprised too often. Otherwise the price is paid by himself, or his men. So, yes, I have considered the possibility of Form, or Kar, or even yourself committing treachery and how I would deal with you all. Kar is straightforward; it would be a nice simple fight. Not easy, definitely, but straightforward, his combat skills against my own. It may even be enjoyable, eh Kar?'

'Maybe it would' Kar agreed.

'Form on the other hand' continued The General 'is a much more complicated foe and I need to know all that I can before I even consider a plan.'

'So, you are considering how to kill every member of the party if needed' said Sam 'me as well?'

'Of course' said The General. 'You I would fight at a distance, deflecting your attacks, until I got a chance to cut off your arm again.' He was smiling when he said it but Sam still felt uncomfortable. He found himself clenching and unclenching his right hand and forced himself to stop. Sam decided that he wouldn't pursue the conversation any further. He had almost forgotten the helpless feeling he'd had when he thought that he had lost his arm. So the three of them continued in silence and finally reached the mountain face to find Form, and the wolf, waiting for them.

'The pass is to the right' said Form. 'It looks like your estimation of the direction was well done General.'

'And what is the pass like?' The General asked.

'I don't know' Form said, and he looked a bit annoyed as he replied. 'I couldn't go into it. There seems to be some sort of barrier that is stopping me, or the wolf, from passing. If you remember Sam told us that his angels said they had blocked it as part of their Blessing on his Town. I am hoping that they have arranged some way that we can pass, but I assume it probably has something to do with Sam being there so I didn't try too hard.'

The General nodded and Sam, who had been waiting for just that signal, figured he was finally getting the hang of this military thing. Wheeling the horses to the right, they proceeded along the mountain face to the pass. When they reached it, The General turned the party and they all rode straight for the pass. Sam carried on without any problems but the other three came to a sudden stop at the barrier between the grass and the rocky pass. After he noticed this Sam immediately turned back and rejoined them. Checking the sky again quickly as he did.

'That seems to settle things' said the General. 'It looks like you are the key, Sam. Did the Angels give you anything that may be allowing you to enter the pass when we cannot?'

Sam thought and then said 'they gave me these clothes I am wearing, and the helmet and mace, but nothing specifically for this. As far as I know that is.'

'How about I take the mace and Form the helmet' said Kar, smiling. 'And maybe The General could borrow one of your boots to hold.'

'I don't think that will be necessary' The General said. 'Sam's horse managed to pass and he is not wearing any of those things. I think we just need to be in contact with Sam, or his horse, to pass through ourselves.' He looked meaningfully at Form as he said the last part.

Form shrugged and then the wolf vanished and he took hold of the saddle strap on Sam's left side. 'Looks like your little trick with the puzzle ball this morning was unnecessary' he said to the General.

'Information is always more useful the earlier that you get it' replied the General and he closed on Sam's right side. He leaned over and put his hand on Sam's shoulder.

Kar looked at the three of them and then he rode closer so that his horse was right behind Form. Reaching out he took hold of the tail of Sam's horse. 'What?' He said when Form looked at him. 'I am not going to trample you don't worry.'

So moving slowly, and keeping careful contact, they tried again and all of them passed through the barrier safely. The General immediately told them to stop and go back and they passed again out to the grassland.

'Good' said the General. 'We know how to get in, and out, now and your life has just become a lot more valuable young Sam. However, we have been riding for most of the day and I propose we make camp here rather than run the risk of reaching the cave as night falls.'

Sam thought that this was a very good idea and the others didn't argue either, so they laid out the camp and Form started to cook. As they were settling down, after eating their meal, Sam suddenly realised what this meant. Tomorrow they would face the dragon. He hoped that Form would keep a good watch tonight.

Chapter 19

He stood in the direct centre of the top of the hill. Around him vast powers crashed: fire, ice, lightning and others and yet he was not touched by any of them. It could have been a position of power, but it was, in truth, one of peril. Around him was ranged his army and around them, forming a barrier that stopped the forces, was a ring of a hundred warriors. The elves in the outer ring were all casting magical shields, and had been for hours now. He could see the strain on each face. Worse that than, though, he could see that under their feet the ground itself was starting to wither and die as they sucked more and more power from it to fuel the barrier. Even if this battle ended right now it would be a century before this part of the Land recovered enough for the sparsest of grass to grow. But the only way that it would end would be if they lost. No, he revised, when they lost. The accursed dragons were winning and it was just time from here on.

He scanned around the circle checking for weakness and any change in the attack. There was a cloud of smaller dragons, none of them older than two hundred years or so, circling around constantly harrying the shield wall and looking for chances. Further out, he could see the patriarchs, large dragons that had probably been alive longer than his history. These would take their part later when the elves' defences had been reduced by the young bucks. These were the dragons that could stand, alone, against ten or twelve elves and have good odds of coming out ahead, even deprived of their magic as they were. These were the very monsters that their whole plan had been devised to eliminate. And now they were circling round almost as if they taunted him before they joined in. Did they know that he, personally, was responsible he wondered or where they just attacking the High Elves as a folk because of what he had done? The reason didn't really matter. Having escaped the dwarves, the dragons had come after the High Elves. It seemed that the dragons were determined that this would be the end of his people once and for all.

A change to his left drew his eyes in that direction. The attack seemed to be lessening, almost as if the dragons there were drawing back. Why would they do that? Then he saw the answer, a large black was preparing to enter the fray and the rest were making way for him. They knew better than to risk getting caught between a senior and the elven shield.

Almost in slow motion the black wheeled, high up in the air, and then it stooped, like a hunting hawk. Diving, straight down, it headed directly for Aldozat in his place in the circle. As it dove, the dragon poured forth a stream of vitriol towards the unfortunate elf. For a long while Aldozat's shield held, helped by those around him. All around could see the strain on the elf's face as he battled against one of the biggest of the foe and incredibly held. But, eventually, the speed of the dragons dive, added to the extra potency of the vitriol as he drew closer, combined to overwhelm the defence. With an audible crack the shield gave way and the thick, black vitriol poured through the gap. Aldozat seemed to melt as the skin and flesh peeled off his bones and then the bones themselves followed, disintegrated by the horrific acid. Elves to either side of him were splashed and, hurriedly, shed clothes that were, even now, melting on them. Healers rushed to aid those that they could and other elves moved from the group in the centre to fill the empty places in the circle of hundred. The dragon had finished his stoop and was wheeling away so they managed to get the shields back in place before the young drakes renewed their attacks. But now that they had tasted the true power of just one of the old dragons the elves were worried.

He heard a commotion behind him and spun in that direction. A group of blues and whites were launching a consolidated attack at that side. He felt the elves there tune their shields, to provide the best protection that they could from the weapons these dragons would use. The time when they could maintain general shields that would protect against all of the different dragon breaths was long gone now. They had to quickly identify the colour of the attackers and tune the wavelengths. And, of course, the dragons had realised this and were attacking in mixed groups. He hoped that the defenders had got the shield mix right. As he thought this a winter-born hell broke over the defenders shields. Four ice storms and three lightning maelstroms mixed and clashed against the invisible barriers. He breathed a sigh of relief as he realised that they had defended successfully, the horrible breath of the dragons was being held back. And the dragons had made a mistake; they had all attacked at the same time. As their breath weapons petered out against the defensive shield, the elves went onto the attack. Dropping their shields, they launched twelve fire bolts at the swooping beasts. Again, the time for finesse had gone, now it was simple. If the dragon was red you cast ice and if he wasn't you cast fire. Not the most efficient method but the easiest to remember.

The dragons broke and scattered in front of the fireballs, one of them was clipped on a wing, by a bolt, and seemed to stagger in the air before recovering and flying away. That was one that would be out of the fight for a while. Then they saw the trap. As the dragons separated they revealed the red behind them. Flying through the fire bolts, as if they were not there, he aimed his horrible fire at the, now defenceless, elves. Three of them were vaporised and more wounded before people from the centre could replace them and close the shields again. He looked around. They had lost four elves, and there were another ten wounded, and they had managed to remove one young dragon from the fight, temporarily. This was a battle that they could not win. Damn the dragons, damn the Ravers. And, yes if he was honest, damn the biggest mistake that the High Elves had ever made, and the person that had made it, himself. Well, all right, he would be damned, but that could wait until later, for now he had to see what he could do about this situation. He quickly counted the people around him, the circle of hundred, that was protecting them all, was outnumbered by the elves sheltering inside the circle, but not by much. If this kept up then they would all take their turns in the circle, one by one, and they would all die. It was time to make a decision. This fight had to be abandoned and they had to seek out allies to help them before the dragons tracked them down. And the only possible allies were the people who had got them in this position in the first place.

With the decision made, he had to act now. Delay would just condemn more of his people to death. When the next elf in the circle fell he gave a command and the elf who was rushing to take the empty place stopped. The rest of the people in the circle closed the gap themselves, contracting the circle. It was now a circle of ninety-nine and they all knew what that meant. He saw the elves that made up the circle realise their fate. Then saw their backs straighten, as they accepted the decision. Wounded elves moved from the group inside to the circle. When they tapped one of the elves who manned the circle on the shoulder the other elf stood aside and the wounded one would take his place. The other elf would cast a glance of gratitude at the second elf before joining the group in the centre. Then, when it was time and with a muttered apology, Vezer and the others vanished from within the circle. There was a mighty roar from the dragons above as they witnessed this and the smaller dragons immediately straightened their necks and beat their wings harder as they arrowed away from the elven circle. High above fifteen of the greater dragons were forming up. With the mighty red in the centre and rearmost of the rest the other fourteen spread out seven to each side. Every dragon was slightly in front of the next one so that they formed a sort of reverse arc. The dragons had formed into a final flight, so called because, for anyone who saw it, this was usually the final thing that they saw. It was designed so that every dragon, in the arc, could bring his breath weapon to bear on the same point. The dragons dove downwards and, as they did, they released their mighty breath weapons. Fire and ice and lightning and vitriol poured out of them like a deadly rainbow. And in front of the dive the breath weapons met. Rather than cancelling each other out they seemed to mix and become something much worse. A large white sun seemed to come into being at the end of the rainbow of dragon breaths. Shining pure white it sparkled with red, blue, and black flecks. This was the fabled white death. The dragons had decided to end the battle. In the short lull after the smaller dragons pulled away a command rang out in the circle. Every second man in the circle stepped back and the circle closed to one of fifty. These fifty poured all their power into shields to maintain the defence as the other forty-nine transported out. Then the white death hit the shield. All of the elves on one side of the circle crumpled at the impact and the others fought to maintain some sort of shield. As the dragons closed they adjusted the aim of their breath weapons so that the white death was always focussed on the elves. The elves magic was no match for this horrendous attack and the remaining elves desperately grabbed at whatever power they could. They visibly aged, as they used up their own life force, and they raped the land, all around them, of whatever force it had. The land died first, drained of all ability to even hold itself together, then some of the elves started to fall. Finally, and inevitably, the shield gave way.

Vezer had had Buvesz transport himself and the others to the far side of the Land. They had gained time. The dragons lacked the magic to track them, and their only method of searching would be to fly around the Land. Thus it would be a while before they were, again, confronted. They thought briefly of those that had been left behind. There were no injured elves to care for. All of the injured had been in the warriors that had remained behind, buying the rest of them time with their sacrifice.

Vezer called his friend, and closest advisor, over to him. 'It is time Buvesz' he said. 'That which we have feared for all these years is now upon us and we have no resort but the last one. You must go to the Ravers and secure their support.'

'The Ravers' repeated Buvesz 'but they are as much to blame for this as us. Their untimely intervention led directly to this situation'

'Nonetheless' Vezer said 'they are our best, and indeed only, hope. If we can turn them against the dragons then we would be in a superior position. The Ravers know all of the dragons' haunts and hideouts. And the dragons would never suspect them until it was too late. You have to do this my friend, and it has to work. Good luck, take as many with you as you feel you need.'

'I know these barbarians' Buvesz replied. 'We cannot force them. We must be more subtle than that. Their allegiance to the dragons comes from their king, that accursed Ralf. But there are others in the Ravers that would look to oppose him and steal control for themselves. They have always been a warlike people and, even with the number of dwarves they killed, their largest number of victims has come from their own people. I will take two others with me and I will do this for you my friend and leader.' Buvesz chose two companions and, when the three of them vanished, Vezer was left alone to think. How had it come to this? The plan had been foolproof, or so they had thought.

Ever since Vezer had discovered the secret of flight the High Elves had been proud. They had laughed at their brothers and called them ground crawlers. Because an elf dare not fight an elf, they had finally tired of tormenting the others and left to seek what they could in the Land. The ground crawlers could have the great forests and the mountains of fire and they would have the rest of the Land. They soared off, in an impressively showy formation, and very quickly came to the attention of the dragons.

The dragons, at that time, had been as powerful as them in magic. In fact the older ones were much more powerful. They were also much bigger and had their breath weapons. They looked on the High Elves as an interesting new distraction and, laughingly, followed them offering advice and unwanted comments.

'Hey little flying elf' they would say 'you should fly closer to the ground. If your tiny wings get tired they will not be big enough to allow you to glide and you will fall back to your roots. And you may hurt one of your little ground brothers as you fall on him.'

As was said the High Elves were proud, too proud their brothers on the ground would say. Being treated like little hatchlings was an enormous affront to them and they immediately felt first offense and then hatred towards the dragons. They couldn't hope to face dragons in a fair fight so they went along with the dragons teasing and watched for any chance to harm them whenever they could. Yes the High Elves were proud, but they were also jealous, dishonourable, and nasty as most people with too much pride are when they face something greater than themselves. So they plotted and they waited.

The dragons saw the High Elves as interesting, they had little or no contact with the Ground Elves or most of the other nations of the Land but there was one race that they hated with a vengeance, the dwarves.

The dwarves thought of themselves as laborious and steady. They delighted in digging into, and carving, rock and they loved the jewels and gems that were uncovered. They used the gems and stones to decorate everything that they made. And this was the main cause of contention. No matter how clever, or wise, a dragon is they have a blind spot when it comes to shiny gems. They cannot see one without coveting it and they were single minded in their collection of them. Frequently this brought the dwarves and the dragons into conflict. But, even with all their power and magic, the dragons could not overwhelm the dwarves. There were too many of them and their stone built defences could stand up to any dragon attack, breath or magic, short of the white death. And using the white death would also destroy the gems. Thus it had come to an armed impasse, rather than all out war. But there was enmity between the two that would not, easily, be solved.

In this the High Elves thought that they, finally, saw their chance. If they could tip the scales, somehow, then the dwarves would wipe out the dragons for them. Then they would truly rule the skies and, from there, the Land. The elves plotted for many years before they came up with their plan and then it was many more years of research before they could put it into action. Six true elves had been found amongst their number and Vezer, of course, was one of them. As the highest ranking, the deed fell to him. He personally killed the other five one after another and they, in their turn, used their death curse to actually boost his magic rather than for revenge. Three of them increased his power, one cursed that Vezer's next spell would last forever and the final one cursed him so that he would find the spell that he needed. Some had said that it was a perversion of Anya's defence but Vezer reminded them that this was their only chance so they quieted. Using his own magic, vastly enhanced by the death curses of the others, he was able to cast a mighty curse against the dragons. He did the one thing that would alter the balance between the two races; he took away the dragon's magic. He couldn't destroy the magic but he could shield it so that the dragons could not access it any more. He realised, as he did so, that it was a two edged sword. The only way that it could be cast was against another magic user, using him as a symbol for all the dragons. In this, at least, Vezer was honourable. He used himself as the subject. As he cast the curse, he just had time to note the dragon's cries of frustration, and anger, as they vanished from the magical planes, their access to the powers there removed. And then he himself felt the barrier come down and his access to the magic died within him as well. He had succeeded but at the cost of his own talent. From now on he would have to lead a magical race without any magical access himself. That is where his oldest friend Buvesz would be so important. He was probably the strongest in magic of all the High Elves.

The other High Elves had watched Vezer and, as he signalled the success of his spell, they, in turn, cast their own. In every dwarf's mind, throughout the whole Land, one word rang out: 'Now!'

The youngest of the dwarven children wondered what it meant but all of the others knew. The dwarves went to war. Their children, and the pregnant females, had long ago, been gathered in Rockfist, the ancient home of the dwarves. So confident were the dwarves of its security that only five would remain behind to guard them. Those five were new mothers, who still suckled their babies. Everyone else marched. From every dwarven stronghold, city and citadel the dwarves poured forth. Men and women, to be truthful only another dwarf could tell the difference, shoulder to shoulder. They were dressed in strong leather armour. And every one of them carried the feared double headed axe that was a dwarf's favourite weapon. When you go to fight dragons you do not wear metal armour. Any of the dragons' breath weapons will make metal more dangerous than protective. But the lightning bolt strikes of the blue dragon would cause carnage amongst an army dressed in metal. As they poured out of the openings from the rocks and mountains, in their hundreds, the groups formed up into marching battalions. They headed out after their confounded foe.

All through the mountains tunnels had been dug to within fifty paces of the dragon lairs. Now these tunnels were hastily completed and the dwarves fell upon the unsuspecting, and confused, dragons from behind. These were the mature females, the young and the egg protectors. Every dragon, hatchling and egg was hacked as the dwarves essayed to destroy the next generation of dragons before it was raised. Not even stopping to pick up any of the hoards of treasure and gems that lay in each of the caves, they flowed out of the cave mouths. Like a leather river they swarmed down the mountainsides and joined up with the rest of the army as it marched. The battalions of dwarves, hundreds strong, met up and joined with other battalions. Clans that had not spoken in generations, and clans that had been fighting between themselves until just recently, marched alongside each other. The greatest army that the Land had ever witnessed was assembled and thrown into combat. Their single goal was to wipe the dragons off the face of the Land.

The shock of being stripped of their magic, followed by the savage attack of the dwarves very nearly signalled the end of the dragon race. Countless of them died in the first hours of the war, trapped and destroyed. Some of them fought, of course. They were too proud, or too stupid, or too tired to flee. When they faced the dwarven hoards they would kill hundreds of them before they fell. But in an army numbered in the hundreds of thousands these losses did not slow the dwarves down at all. The dwarves thought of themselves as laborious and steady and they waged war with the same determined purpose. Even if every one of the army was killed then, as long as the dragons were wiped out, they would win. The ones that were left at Rockfist would rebuild the dwarven nation. And, without the dragons in the Land, their descendants would have the mountains to themselves. And so the dwarves marched. To battle, to death, to whatever it would take to rid themselves of the dragons. And, as they marched, they drove their prey before them.

The remaining dragons had rallied and joined together, they headed for dragonsholme far in the northern mountains. The dwarves would know that they were going there but they had nowhere else to stand. That was where the first dragons had entered the Land, the second of the races to do so after the elves, and that is where they would end, if it was to be the end. They would have the Northern wastes behind them and the dwarves would have to come at them from the South. None of the dragons believed that they could win, or even survive, but they would make the dwarves pay dearly for every life of theirs. Slowly the dragons pulled back, conserving their strength and gathering together into one last flight. Behind them came the dwarves, relentless and still growing in numbers as more and more of the clans joined the army.

Barely twenty days after the dragons had lost their magic they found themselves at dragonsholme. This was where they would make their last stand. Behind them was the Northern Wastes and none of them would venture in there without their magic. No, here they would stand or fall. In front of them was massed the dwarven army. Thousands across and hundreds deep they stood like a solid barrier between the dragons and the rest of the Land. Barely twenty days since the spell and this, the twenty-first day, would probably be the last day of the dragons.

Then from behind the dragons, through the Wastes, another force took to the field, the Ravers. King Ralf, friend of the dragons, had learned late about the fate of his friends. Knowing where they would make their last stand, and how little time they had, he had marched his whole army through the Wastes. Without pause for a day and a night and half of this day they had marched to come to the dragon's aid. And, while they were less numerous than the dwarven army they were every bit as fearsome. These were barbarians from the mountains, and like the mountains, they came from, they were huge men. Twice as tall as the dwarves they were every bit as solidly built. Their whole life was based on combat, being given their first practise sword when they were able to stand. From the practise swords they moved onto the infamous bastard swords that all of them now carried at their sides. Called a bastard sword because it was not a two handed or a one handed weapon, but rather somewhere in between so that it functioned in either capacity. Every one of the Ravers was a fighter of vast experience and, unlike the dwarves; they were fully dressed in metal armour. As they reached the dragons they split into two groups and passed to either side of them. Coming around in front they formed up again into a huge arrowhead shape with the point directly towards the dwarves. Fifty deep and hundreds wide, with King Ralf right in the front, every man held his sword in the hand to the outside of the arrowhead so that they had free use of it, for in truth they could all use either hand with the same skill. The formation stopped and faced the mighty hoard of dwarves. No words were spoken but the message was plain. 'If you want the dragons then you must go through us first.'

And that is exactly what the dwarves were determined to do. They had the best chance they ever would of ridding the Land of the dragons and they were not going to stop now. They charged at the Ravers and hit against them like the sea hits the rocks of the coast. Wave after wave of dwarven fighters crashed against the Ravers and, like the water wears down the rocks, the Ravers lost men. However, like the rocks stop the sea, the Ravers formation also broke the power of the dwarven charge. Once the initial power of that was spent, the battle was one on one and the extra numbers could not be used. On a one to one basis the Ravers cut the dwarves down in immense numbers. The extra protection of their metal armour, the height advantage and the experience of many years of fighting all told in their favour. The dwarves were stopped and slaughtered. And, while this was going on, the dragons had taken to the air. Flying over the forefront of the battle they rained down death and destruction to the ranks of dwarves behind. Fire, Ice, Lightning and acid cascaded down from the sky and dwarves fell screaming and dying. Some of the dragons also fell, casualties of the crossbows that some of the dwarves carried and so the carnage on both sides went on.

After what seemed like many hours the dwarves faltered. The Ravers, feeling the lessening of pressure, started to move forwards. Not in a charge but in an organised push. Chopping, hacking and stabbing, with their large swords, they took the fight back to the dwarves for the first time. If the dwarven charge had led to horrendous losses then this was even worse, as the Ravers pushed forwards they spread out. With more room to use their fighting skills they started to annihilate the dwarves, most of which were miners and had never before seen combat of this ferocity. Finally the constant pressure, and the sight of all their slain companions, was too much for them. All thoughts of fighting to the last man, in order to clear the dragons from the Land, fled. And so did the dwarves.

A number of dragons laid dead, or dying, on the field of battle, along with roughly a fifth of the Ravers. The dwarves left the field with less than a tenth of their original numbers.

Ochoba, the leader of the dragons, watched as some of the younger dragons pursued the fleeing dwarves. He hoped that the young bucks wouldn't go too far before they turned back. Wheeling around he landed on the field fifty paces in front of the Ravers army. Stretching out his neck he looked the king of the Ravers in the eye. Behind the king the Ravers all came to the ready, holding their swords. Ochoba was amused and also a little impressed he had to admit. One breath from him now would wipe out a swathe ten men wide from this formation. On each side of the swathe another two groups three or four wide would die from the heat cooking them inside their armour and yet not one of them flinched. Then he saw King Ralf replace his sword in its scabbard. Ochoba slowly lowered his head a pace and then brought it back up so that he was again eye to eye with the king.

'Well met King Ralf' he said 'and I offer the thanks of myself, and my people, for your deeds this day.'

'To be honest' replied Ralf with a smile 'once they heard that there was fighting I had no chance of holding the lads back. We Ravers get upset when people hold wars and do not invite us'

Ochoba understood that the Ravers did not react well to thanks and good wishes so he continued in a more straight forward manner. 'They certainly fought well. That manoeuvre of the arrowhead was perfect for us. It broke the dwarven charge and left us a clear, safe area behind where we could take off from and land to rest when needed. It was a masterful tactic, enhanced by the excellent fighting skills of your men. We must discuss payment at some stage.'

Ralf seemed much more comfortable now that the conversation was on a business footing. 'Payment will be accepted' he confirmed 'but first we will see to our dead. Ravers, Form up!' The Ravers behind Ralf all came to attention and some of the ones who were lying wounded managed to drag themselves upright and join the formation. Then Ralf shouted again 'we salute our dead, go and take your place with the Angels and await our coming.' Every member of the Ravers drew their swords and raised them overhead pointing at the sky.

Ochoba watched, startled, as every one of the wounded Ravers, who had not been able to rejoin the formation, drew a small dagger from his belt. With a look at their saluting companions, they calmly slit their own throats. The Ravers re-sheathed their swords and Ralf spoke again. 'See to our dead, as they would see to you if positions were reversed.' The Ravers spread out and, as Ochoba watched, every dead body was stripped of weapons and armour, these he understood would be taken back for others to use. When the bodies were stripped they were arranged flat on their backs with their arms stretched outwards and slightly up towards the head, in the pose of an Angel taking flight. Sometimes limbs had to be retrieved to be placed in the correct position and some broken limbs were brutally snapped back to position so that the pose was correct. Then a Raver would draw his sword and plunge it down into the heart of the dead warrior. Withdrawing his sword he would move on.

While this was happening Ralf had moved forwards to talk to Ochoba more privately. 'When I went on my first campaign' he said surprising the dragon. 'We were contracted by a leader from the Steppes. Joining his army we were split into two groups to hold the ends of his battle lines. When the attack came the people of the Steppes were easily destroyed and that left two groups of us fighting alone. We attempted to join up but the whole of the opposing army was between us. Ravers do not fear death and yet, as I had said, it was my first campaign. I admit that I had a moments doubt. Then, when it seemed we would all die, a large black dragon came diving out of the sky and attacked the army between us. His horrendous breath cleared a huge path through them and gave us a chance to rejoin our brethren. I later discovered that the dragon had his own argument with the opposing leader and was taking his chance to confound his plans. When the dragon attacked I threw my doubts into his burning black breath and saw them destroyed. From then I fought as a true Raver and have never since been beaten, or even considered the possibility. However, because of my moment of cowardice I have looked for a chance to repay dragon-kind so as to redeem myself. I take this quest as complete now and would have your agreement that there is no debt owing to you, or yours, from me.'

'I gladly agree that you owe no debt to the dragons' replied Ochoba. 'Without your help we would have been hard pushed to survive so the debt is now on us. Allow me two days for the young dragons to return to the caves and collect what gems and precious stones they can and I will supply payment back at your camp at the rate of one handful of gems for each fallen warrior, whether they fell by dwarven hand or their own. Also I would give you this trinket.' And in saying this Ochoba held a ring out towards Ralf. Ralf took it and admired its gold mount set with a red ruby. It was a fine ring. Ochoba continued speaking 'of itself it is not worth much but, as a symbol, it will serve you well I hope. While you, or any of your descendants, wear this ring you will never come to any harm from a dragon. This I state and so will it be. Never will any dragon hurt the wearer of this ring, from this day forth. When we have rested and prepared ourselves we shall go after the High Elves that did this and they will pay for this horrendous deed of theirs. For now, though, is there anything else that we can do for you or your men?'

King Ralf considered the question briefly and then declined. "We will now go back home' he said. 'I would rather be back sooner than later in case any of our rivals decide to take advantage of our absence. We have left a number of youths behind but they can be impetuous and it would be better that we get there. Good Wishes to you dragon, Fare Well.'

Ochoba echoed the wishes and then took back to the skies to leave the area in front of the Ravers clear. The Ravers formed up and, carrying the weaponry of the fallen, wheeled around and headed back into the Wastes, this being the quickest way home. Some of the dragons wheeled around above the armies heads as they left, offering their own personal thanks. Then they were gone and the dragons were alone in their ancient home. They had lost their magic, most of the females and countless hatchlings and eggs. But they were not defeated, yet. And, when they had recovered sufficiently they would have a score to settle with the High Elves.

Chapter 20

The Ravers were a hard people. Most people said that the Ravers lived for war. Most people were wrong. To the Ravers there was no difference between life and war. You fought every day. You fought to wrest food, and water, from the mountains. You fought to get a share of what little food and water there was. You fought against others for territory, or pay, or other valuables or simply because they came in front of you. Yes, life was war, and every one of them knew that survival didn't mean that you had won. It simply meant that you had not lost, yet.

When a Raver boy was old enough to stand up, he was given a wooden sword. As is the case with most children, one of the first things a child will do with a long piece of wood is try to hit others with it. But, unlike other children, these boys were not discouraged. Their initial survival depended on them being able to use their wooden sword to stop the others from beating them too badly. As they got older they tended not to swing too hard at the young ones, but they would still inflict a swipe from time to time to keep them wary. And they would not hold back at all against someone who was around their own age. They very quickly got proficient at a very brutal, direct style of swordplay. Then, at the age of twelve, they were given a real sword. There was still no supervision over who they used it against, or how. They would only get into trouble if they were caught attacking someone with a wooden sword while they had a metal one. Child mortality, amongst the boys, was very high and any who were too badly injured, or maimed, were simply cast out. But the Ravers had prodigious amounts of children and all those that survived were fighters who could hold up their position in a battle formation.

The Raver women had but two uses, once they reached a certain age they were breeding stock, before they reached maturity they were simply replacements that would be available in a few years. There weren't any females that had passed the breeding age. Any of the warriors could mate with any of the women with the sole purpose being to make more boys. So the women fought as well. They fought to get food and water, they fought to find somewhere to sleep and they fought to attract the top warriors so that the lesser ones would leave them alone. The very best of the warriors would even, sometimes, mark a woman so that no-one could have her except him, unless they killed him first of course.

Yes, the Ravers were a hard people. They were hard for a reason, they came from a hard place and they had learned very early that the hard survive while the weak do not. Their tribe was set up very simply, the best warrior decided what to do and the rest obeyed, or fought him for the right to be leader. Some of the other tribes would use women, promises or gifts to form alliances with their neighbours. The Ravers did not have, or want, any alliances. They were alone and they stood that way by choice. They would, occasionally, fight for another's cause, if properly paid, but that would be a strictly business arrangement. They, personally, had no time for 'causes' of their own. They fought for payment, and a specific payment and that was how it had always been.

And there, was the root of the current problem. They had marched to the aid of the dragons and then, inexplicably, King Ralf had not gained the correct price for their work. To the Ravers the whole situation was confusing. They had no problem with marching for thirty-six hours, through the Wastes, only to go straight into battle when they arrived, that was normal. They had no problem with the amount of dwarves that they had killed, that had been the best bit of the whole trip for most. What they did have a problem with was the payment. Always, when they fought, their price was the same. They did not charge for the number of men that they supplied, or the work that they did, they charged one gold piece for every one of them that was still alive at the end of the campaign. This, to their mind, encouraged them to fight and gave a much better service to their employer. They had once, long ago, been accused, by Duke Casis of deliberately putting more men into the field than was needed, just to boost their pay. The very next time that Duke Casis had asked for help, King Sven had sent just two Ravers. At the end of the battle the two Ravers were the only ones left standing and they had taken their two gold pieces off the fallen body of the Duke, leaving considerably more gold behind.

But this time, for some reason of his own making, King Ralf had demanded, from the dragons, money for the ones that had fallen. He had explained that it was the way the dragons worked, and they had received more than the amount they would have, but it was still wrong. And the payment had not been made until two days after the battle. Ralf had also been given a ring by the dragon leader and people were calling him a dragon friend. That was, also, wrong. Ravers had no friends. Friends would pull you into fights that were not necessary and make you give up fights that you could win. No, Ravers had companions, who stood next to them in the formation, but the idea of a friend was alien to them. King Ralf was not a good Raver some said. He was, however, a very good fighter so they said it quietly.

Any point of internal dissention is a lever that can be used. Along with this the Ravers also had a weakness. They worshipped the Angels. In their stories the Angels had come down from the heights, wielding their mighty swords, to save the Land during the Schism. This was why the Ravers preferred weapon was the bastard sword. It was also why every piece of Ravers armour was engraved with Angels' wings. It was also why Buvesz chose the disguise that he used when he and his two companions visited the Ravers. He hoped to use the lever, of dissention, and the weakness, of their beliefs, to move the Ravers in the direction that he required.

'No' said Ralf once again 'we will not fight the dragons.'

'We take any contract offered to us. That has always been the way' said Otto.

'We take any good contract' replied Ralf 'and this is not a good contract, believe me.'

'But, you saw them yourself Ralf. This contract comes from the Angels themselves. We cannot refuse them.'

'Those were not Angels' Ralf said. 'The Angels do not appear to common men, you know that.'

'They explained that' Kurt said, joining in the conversation. 'They only come to the Land very rarely and, when they do, they appear to just a few, worthy, men. All those that meet them are sworn to secrecy. We have been judged worthy, and they have offered us our usual price, one gold piece for each man left alive, and they will add their personal blessing as well. We have always prayed to the Angels and, now that they have visited us, we must do what they ask.'

'I tell you again' said Ralf 'those were not Angels despite what they looked like. This must be a trick of some sort, probably by those elves that the dragon told me about.'

'Some would say that your love of the dragons is clouding your judgement' said Kurt. 'We wear the Angels' wings not dragon ones. And a true Raver would not turn down a contract from the Angels, especially if the price was correct. I say that you are not a true Raver.'

There it was. The unspoken thought had been given voice. Ralf knew it for what it was immediately, a direct challenge. It was a challenge that he must meet, with metal, in the next few seconds or he would be slaughtered. He quickly glanced around the room. The whole of the leading council were here. Counting himself that was thirty three men. He suspected that, at least two of them, were related to him in some way. But Ralf knew better than to expect that to mean they would help him. They would all fight for the side that they thought would win. He was probably the best fighter there but, if his arguments had not swayed them, he would be cut down. There was no way that he could take them all if it went that way. With a roar he drew his sword.

The ringing of the bell called the Ravers to assemble in front of the council building. They formed up in ranks, based on their skill and standing, and waited patiently. Slowly, the members of the council came out, or at least ten of them did. One of them, they noticed, was wearing the ring with the red stone and it wasn't Ralf. That could only mean one thing. Otto stepped in front of the other nine and spoke to the assembled troops 'Ralf is dead, I declare myself King Otto.' He paused, in case any wanted to argue the fact, but no-one spoke up so he continued. 'We have a contract to move against the dragons, purpose is total extermination and the price is one gold piece for each of us that survive. Ready yourselves we use the whole army.'

None of the Ravers in the crowd doubted that Ralf was dead. He could be captured or injured but they would both be the same thing as dead, eventually. Otto had obviously secured the backing of the surviving members of the council so he was their new leader. And, as their leader, he could take contracts on their behalf. The fact that he would lead them against the dragons, barely a year after they had marched to the dragon's aid, was not even worth considering. That is what happened in war. They had a contract and they would fulfil it to the best of their ability, or die trying. However, every one of the Ravers standing in front of the council house did notice that there were now spare seats on the council, for anyone strong enough to take one.

And so the Ravers went to war.

Some people think of war as heroic. It is a chance for a man to find himself and beat his fears. A chance to discover leadership qualities that he never knew he had. He can rise up through the ranks and end up, after the war, respected and honoured. These people are wrong. For every one who goes to war as a common soldier and comes back as a General there are thousands that don't come back at all. And for each of those thousands there are tens more that come back crippled, mentally disturbed, unwanted or any combination of those. The remainder of the soldiers just come back and all that has changed is them.

Some people think of war as tactical. They plot the movement of armies like pieces in a game of squares. They see the thrust and the counter, the sneak attack and the hurried defence. They admire the battle of wits between the two generals. These people are wrong as well. They totally ignore the fact that these are not game pieces; they are living, breathing creatures. A sacrifice of the flag bearer to gain position in squares bears no relation to sending five hundred men to their deaths just to get possession of a hilltop.

The Ravers knew war in the same way that they knew breathing. The purpose of war is not to prove how brave you are. The purpose of war is not to prove that your general is cleverer than their general. The purpose of war is to kill. When you kill all of the troops that the other side is willing to risk, then you win. War is a simple matter of numbers. The Ravers understood that this war was for one purpose, the elimination of the dragons so the number they had to kill was: Every one of them.

A year ago the dwarves had fought the dragons for twenty-one days. In the first two days they had destroyed over half of them. Then they had made two mistakes. They had allowed, no forced, the remaining dragons to gather together and they had thrown their whole force against the dragons in a pitched battle. Yes, if it had not been for the Ravers they would have won, but they didn't. The main thing about a pitched battle, in which both sides commit all their men, is that the loser is destroyed. The loser doesn't just lose the battle, they lose the whole war. And so it had been with the dwarves.

The Ravers had a theory 'Simple is best'. They had their objective 'Kill all the dragons' and the dwarves had shown them the best method 'take them out singly'. From these three things they constructed their tactics. Splitting into groups of one hundred warriors they moved to war. Each of the warriors carried not only their bastard swords but also a crossbow. They had seen the success that the dwarves had had with crossbows. These crossbows, however, were as similar to a dwarven crossbow as the Ravers were to dwarves. They were immense, strong constructions that would throw a foot long bolt of iron a hundred paces to their target with enough force left to penetrate metal. The heads of the bolts carried vicious barbs so that, if they hit the body, they would stay in and work against the inner organs. If they struck a dragons' wing they would tear it apart, bringing the dragon down to earth. The groups would travel across the Land independently. When they found a dragon they would also find a way to kill it and then move on. Losses were expected so any depleted groups that met up later would join together, as long as no group ever exceeded one hundred and fifty men. Although it would take longer, they would not cover the Land in a sweep, from one side to the other, as that would drive the dragons before them. They would crisscross, and quarter, the Land so that the dragons would never know where the next attack may come from.

And so the Ravers went to war. Not marching, and shouting, like the dwarves had, but quietly and determinedly. They began a deliberate, methodical extermination of the dragons.

Chapter 21

Her name was Rombice. She was one of the few females of egg-laying age that had survived the dwarven attacks, and she was beautiful. A mature dragon, she was as white as the new snow, lithe, sleek and graceful. As she flew through the air even other dragons paused to watch and to admire. And she was enjoying the flight. Things had been quiet for a long while and she had finally left the cave that she was sharing with the two year olds. She had been left behind to mind them when all of the other dragons went after the High Elves. Banking through the sky she enjoyed the wonderful freedom after the weeks spent in the cave. Oh yes, she would have to find food for the youngsters and go back soon, but she could at least enjoy this moment. Below her she saw movement. Her eyes turned to slits as she focussed. A group of men were pointing up at her. She was about to turn away when she saw the glint of red and instead she went closer. That wasn't Ralf but it was the ring. These must be Ravers and Ralf must be on the Land no more. That would upset Ochoba but men were short lived, especially Ravers. At least the ring had been passed on. It was time to go and look for food for her young. Suddenly her right wing exploded in pain, ten or twelve metal bolts had been powered through it. One of them broke the limb and all of them tore the membrane. She started to fall. Her first instinct was to send a warning to the other dragons, but they had not been able to do that since the magic was taken from them by those accursed High Elves. Her second thought, to her shame, went to the young dragons in the cave. Twisting in the fall, she tried to get her head around so that she could look at the cave. The last sight she had, before she hit the ground, was of Ravers climbing the rocks to the cave, swords at their side. Then she hit the ground. She was stunned by the impact and could put up little resistance. The group of Ravers put their crossbows aside and drew their swords as they walked towards her.

And so it was over the whole Land. Dragons landed at the mouths of their caves to be greeted by a hail of crossbow bolts from the Ravers that had climbed inside while they were flying. Dragons swooped down to take a cow, or some other animal, to suddenly see men, with readied crossbows, jump up from where they had been hiding in the grass. Dragons landed at a waterhole that they had been using for years, and, suddenly, men stepped from behind trees and loosed bolts. Efficiently the Ravers were doing their work. And, when the news spread across the Land of what was happening, the dwarves came out of hiding. They would avoid the groups of Ravers but they took as many dragons as they could. Learning the way to fight, from their previous enemies, they dug through rock and set drop falls and other traps. The dragons died one by one as the Ravers had planned.

This time there was no great gathering, there would be no final fight there would just be the end. Then, after a year and a half of debating and discussing, the last of the great races finally took to the board. The Ground Elves had been in urgent discussions since the High Elves had perverted Anya's Defence. They were shocked at the use it had been put to and felt that they were beholden to right the wrong, for the memory of their great mother. A group of them had been set up to study magic and try to find a way to cure the dragons, others were considering what they could do about the High Elves without leaving themselves open to the Death curse. The popular decision had been that if they could find a way to restore the dragon's magic then maybe they could use the same method to remove the High Elves magic at the same time. That wouldn't actually kill them. Then someone pointed out that they had been searching for over eighteen months with no success. While that was not a long time for an elf, at the current rate, there would not be any dragons to restore magic to soon. They had to do something now, while the dragons still existed. And so, for the first time in the history of the Land, groups of Ground Elves set out. They left the Great Forests and the Mountains of Fire and travelled in secret. Throughout the Land they went, desperately searching for the last of the dragons. They could offer healing and disguise, they could confound the searchers, with fogs and darkness, but they could not do any physical harm. That was against their beliefs. As they went they left word, in any manner that they could, hoping it would reach the dragons. 'Make your way to the Mountains of Fire and we will give you sanctuary and protection.'

There is no record of the groups of Ground Elves ever meeting even one dragon, but the message must have been heard somehow. A year later a mighty red appeared in the skies over the Mountains of Fire, he was wounded, exhausted and barely able to fly. Circling, drunkenly, he headed for the first cave mouth that he saw and landed in a tumble, a large red ruby falling out of his right claw as he did. The Ground Elves, that had remained, rushed to his aid. Healing spells were cast and they left when, reassured that he would be watched over, he fell asleep. Months passed, while he slept, and he remained the only dragon to make it to the mountains. Then, one day, word came that he had woken up and Segito, who was the leader of the Ground Elves, went to see him.

'How are you' Segito asked?

'My wounds are healed but I am still tired. How many others made it here' replied Ochoba, for it was indeed the big red dragon himself. But the answer was not needed when Ochoba Saw Segito's face. 'I feared as much' he continued 'before, finally, coming here I flew over the whole of the Land and did not see another living dragon. What the dwarves started the Ravers have finished. And both were working for the same masters I suspect.' And then Ochoba retreated inside himself and refused to talk anymore.

The Ground Elves tried all that they could think of to aid the stricken dragon. They could not, however, imagine the desolation of being the last of your race so they had no way of knowing what would help. They gathered jewels and gems, from throughout the mountains, and carefully carried them to the cave and presented them to Ochoba. They knew that dragons were fond of such things. Ochoba took them, silently, and placed them around the cave. He had found a small rock shelf, at one end of the cave, and his ruby stood there away from the rest. He hadn't spoken since that first day and he seemed resigned to just sleeping away the rest of his life. Maybe it would be kinder to let him, some said.

Then, one day, one of the groups that had gone out into the Land came back with a huge treasure. In a ransacked cave they had found one egg that had not been broken. They carefully carried it to Ochoba delighting in the fact that they could finally prove he was not alone. When they gave it to him they expected exultation, they expected joy. They did not expect the deep sorrow and tears that it provoked.

'Oh my poor little elves' he said, speaking for only the second time since he had arrived. 'You cannot know but this gift, that you bring me in joy, is a dagger through my heart. I have been hunted, attacked and sorely wounded many times in my life. Even with all that, this is the worst pain that I have ever been dealt. But it is not your fault, so I will explain. Our young needed the magic to hatch. Ever since our link to the magic has been broken not one egg has hatched. This precious gift, as you call it, is just a confirmation that I am truly alone. When I die my kind will walk the Land no more, and I pray it will be soon.'

Seeing the dragon's pain they quickly removed the egg from his cave. Any others that were found were placed well away from him so that, if he ever did decide to fly again, he would not see them. But the elves would not leave the eggs out of their protection. They redoubled their efforts to find a way to restore the dragon's magic. Now, the prize for doing so was much bigger than previously. A small few of them even raised the proposal of using Anya's Defence, as the High Elves had done, but the Ground Elves could not bring themselves to pervert the gift of their mother, not even for their friend the last dragon. They went back to their studies. And, while they did, they cast a secure barrier around the dragon so that none could find him magically. He may have lost his magic but his enemies had not and they would not take any chances.

Ochoba stared at the ruby. He had found it for his mate, Zena. She had often admired his deep red scales and the ruby was the same rich colour. If you looked really deep into it, she had said, you could see twisting shadows like the way that his thoughts twisted and turned when he studied a problem. Pushing this way and that and trying all different paths to reach the answer. He had lovingly answered that, when he looked at it, he just saw one flawless hard jewel, like his love for her. Now though, when he looked deep into the ruby, he just saw despair, but he couldn't stop himself looking despite that. Zena was no more, and neither were any of the other dragons that he had known in his life. He was the last, cursed to spend the end of his life alone because he had not been able to protect them. He hadn't even been able to lead them here to safety. Truly he deserved to die. And yet he couldn't find it in himself to end his own life. He had no right to the peace that death would bring him. Sometimes he dreamt about flying up into the sky, higher and higher until he could see the whole Land, and then just closing his wings against his side and falling. He wondered what it would feel like. Would he pull out at the last second too useless to even get that right? He alternated between praying to the other dragons for forgiveness and deciding that he didn't deserve it.

Buvesz, and his two companions, had come back to see King Otto of the Ravers. Once again they were disguised as his Angels. Tall, white and stately with wings on their backs, an image taken from the old statues they had seen in a long deserted city. It seemed to work for the Ravers though. The stupid barbarians didn't even know what their deities looked like. Oh well, as long as they served their purpose, and he had to admit that they had done that.

'So' he said to Otto. 'You are telling me that the dragons are no more?'

'The dragons are no more in this Land' agreed Otto. 'That was our part of the agreement. Of course we cannot speak for the Great Forest or the Mountains of Fire. Even we cannot cross the Schism to clear those for you.'

'Agreed' said Buvesz. 'We have scanned those areas carefully and can find no sign of any dragons there. It seems that you have completed your contract.'

'At which point, we usually get paid' said Otto.

'Of course' replied Buvesz. 'Call your people together in front of the council hall. You have all proven your friendship to the Angels and we would pay you, and reward you. Will one hour suffice?'

'One hour will be more than enough' replied Otto and went to ring the bell of the council hall. In no more than five minutes the Ravers had assembled but Otto left them standing there, with no comment. A large part of fighting is waiting, so the Ravers stood patiently to see why they had been summoned. Then, at exactly the time that Buvesz had said, he appeared on the steps of the council hall, next to Otto. Gasps went up from the crowd and all of them made the sign of the Angels wings.

'Yes' Otto shouted to the crowd 'The Angels have come down to us, and they are pleased with what they find. We have rid them of the scourge of the flying lizards as per our contract. For the Ravers always fulfil a contract. Do we not?'

'Yes!' roared thousands of throats. 'The contract and death, in that order, always.' Then they went silent as they realised that the Angel was about to speak.

'Hear me our friends the Ravers' Said Buvesz and his voice carried clearly to every one of the assembled. 'As your king, Otto, has said we gave to you a contract to get rid of the foul flying lizards that were perverting our holy sky. And, as he has also said, you have accomplished this for us. We are mightily pleased with you and would reward you. My appearing here is the first reward. We want you to know that we do exist, and we do hear you and watch over you. We have other gifts for our faithful but, first, we would see to the matter of payment. For the Ravers work for payment and that payment should not be slow in coming when the task is complete. So then, one gold piece for each Raver left, here we are' and Buvesz held out a small purse, which he opened.

Otto looked inside the purse and saw a solitary gold piece. His hand went to his sword as he considered the meaning. Although, in truth he did not know what he would do against an Angel.

'Easy, Otto' said the Angel. 'Take the coin.' And Otto realised that he, at least, would survive. Reaching into the purse he removed the gold piece, only to see that there was another one in there now. He moved aside and Kurt came forward. Kurt also reached into the purse and took out the coin, to see another one left in there afterwards. And so it went on. Every single warrior came up, and took a coin from the purse, and there was always another one left. Then, at the insistence of the Angel, the women and children came up and they also received a coin.

'Every Raver that was left was the agreement' said Buvesz to the crowd, after the last child had received their coin. 'And the Angels keep their word. Now you have been paid, although the gold will be of limited use to you when you have the good wishes of the Angels. Hear now our blessing that we give to you.'

For the High Elves had already decided that the Ravers were now their last, real threat in the Land. The dragons were no more, the dwarves were beaten and would take centuries to build up their numbers to the stage where they could fill even the halls that they had now. And the Ground Elves were not a factor, thanks to dear Anya. No, only the Ravers could be a threat in the future. So that possible threat would be taken away now, with a blessing. And so the Ravers, the mightiest warriors that the Land had ever known, ceased to exist.

Chapter 22

Sam woke up. He groaned when he saw how dark the sky was. Looking around he saw the General and Kar still fast asleep with Form sitting, watching, as usual. Form nodded at him, again with the nods. He tried to close his eyes and go back to sleep but couldn't resist a quick check of the sky first. No, no massive shapes flying past the moon, just like the other twelve, or so, times that he had woken up and checked tonight. He settled back down.

The next time that he woke up, the camp was light and active, thankfully. Form was preparing their breakfast and Kar and the General were doing something by the horses. He wandered off for his morning toilet and then joined them. They hadn't even started saddling their horses yet but, instead, were unpacking something from the large saddlebags at the side. Sam looked closer and realised that they had two large crossbows and they were cleaning them and spreading wax on the parts. He understood then that the horses were not coming with them. No-one would ride a horse with a crossbow that size. If you had it loaded then there was always the danger of firing it by accident, and if you didn't have it loaded you could not accomplish that on the back of a horse. These were the sort of bows with a stirrup at one end for your foot so you could hold it steady, against the ground, while you used your back muscles to cock it.

'We are walking, then' said Sam to no-one in particular

'That's right,' replied the General. 'Horses would be a dangerous liability from here on. They tend to panic when they see a large dragon and you will have other things on your mind than controlling the horse, believe me.'

'You sound like you have fought dragons before' Sam said.

'Unfortunately, no' replied the General 'all this is just theory that I have managed to accumulate. I don't think anyone is still alive that has fought a dragon these days. We will have to do the best that we can with what we know. And for the rest, well that is why the spirits invented improvisation.'

Sam wasn't completely happy to learn that the General, who he had started to respect and trust, was as innocent as the rest of them when it came to dragons. He wondered how big this dragon really was. Kurt had said it was bigger than his house, but that couldn't be right. The man must have been exaggerating, or just didn't see it properly in his shock. But then if it was big enough to cause that much shock it must be fairly big. Anyway, the crossbows that the General and Kar were readying looked as if they could take out the largest of animals. If they could get close enough for the two of them to shoot then there shouldn't be much trouble, surely. The Angels wouldn't have only sent the four of them if it was really bigger than Kurt's house would they? Sam remembered then that the Angel's had wanted to send seven people, originally. He ruefully concluded that too much thinking was bad for him. He made sure that his horse was comfortable and that the reins were tied loosely enough for it to reach the grass. Hopefully it wouldn't be by itself for long.

For the first time Sam wondered what he would do when this was over. They had a dragon to fight yet, of course, but if they won, what would he do? Could he go back to the Town and be a smith again, he didn't know. Of course he wanted to see his family, but, for the first time, he had realised that there was a lot more to the world than just the Town and the people there. When he had first left the Town he'd thought of everything in terms of horses. That was how little experience he'd had of real life. The horses' lives were a better reference than his had been. Oh well, the time to worry about that was after they had killed the dragon he supposed.

He finished checking his horse and wandered back to the campfire to eat. 'Will this be my last breakfast?' he thought and then immediately decided again that he should stop thinking. After they had all finished eating, and cleaned up, they assembled for the trek to the dragons cave. The General had his full armour on and his sword by his side, the crossbow was carried against his back, held by a strap over his shoulder. Kar looked very similar and Sam found himself thinking that the two soldiers were almost a pair, similar sizes, outfits and experience had made them almost like a couple. Form, as a complete contrast, didn't seem as if he was going anywhere, except for a Sunday afternoon stroll by the river. He was dressed in light clothing and there was no sign of any weapons on him at all, there was also no sign of the wolf. Sam, as he had been for the last four days or so, was wearing his leather armour. He had placed the helmet on his head and the mace was by his side in easy reach. On his back he was carrying a backpack that the General had given him with torches, tinderbox and rope inside. Not for the first time he was thankful that he General was there. He may know as little about fighting dragons as the rest of them, but at least he had remembered that they were going to a cave and brought the necessary equipment for that.

And so, the time came to set off. They huddled together, all being sure to touch Sam, and waddled through the barrier like contestants in one of the sack races they held in summer by the river back in Town. As soon as the barrier was past, they split and spread out. There was no sense giving the dragon one target to hit the General had said when he briefed them before leaving. As Form moved off to the side, a large mountain lion appeared beside him. With a quick look around it set off down the pass ahead of them. Sam knew that it was going to check where the cave was and if there was any sign of the dragon.

After a very short period of time Form spoke 'The cave is about half an hour's walk from here, laden as you all are. There are no signs outside, apart from paw prints, so the lion will wait for us there.'

Sam was glad to hear that it was only half an hour to walk. Already he could feel the sweat starting to break out on his back. It must be warmer today than the past few days he thought. Or it was just that, after all these days riding, he wasn't used to walking, and carrying stuff, anymore. It had nothing to do with fear, or trepidation, he reassured himself. 'How big are the paw prints?' he asked to pass the time.

'As wide as the lion is long' replied Form.

Sam heard Kar whistle under his breath 'seems like we have an old mature dragon, according to the stories' Kar said. 'They are supposed to be powerful fighters, or too old and weak to defend themselves, depending who you listen to.' Sam fervently hoped that it was the second.

'Keep it down now,' said the General, quietly. 'I would rather get there without it knowing, if you three don't mind.' And so they continued down the pass in silence, the General in the lead with Kar and Sam behind him and Form at the rear. After a short while the General whispered again. 'And don't forget, if things do go badly, and you get cut off, don't run back this way without Sam. You will have to try and get past the cave and see if the other end of the pass is clear of barriers. That way should lead to your Town shouldn't it Sam?'

'I suppose so' Sam agreed. 'The dragon was first seen by Ralf's farm, which is to the west of Town, so I assume that, if this pass goes straight through the mountains, it should reach the Town road by the farms. You would then just have to turn left and follow the road.'

'So there you have it' the General said 'through the pass, turn left and follow the road. Now, quiet all.'

Slowly the time crept past as they, for their part, crept down the pass. Sam spent half of his time watching the sky. He nearly stumbled over loose rocks a couple of times before he got into a rhythm. Sky, ground, sky, ground went his eyes. And then they arrived at a corner to find the mountain lion waiting for them. Form indicated that the cave was just around this corner on the right hand wall of the mountains. Quietly, they sneaked around the bend and came to the cave. As Form had said, there was an immense paw print on the ground in front of it and Sam couldn't help but notice the outline of the claws on it. By the Angels' Wings one of those would pass through the Generals armour with no problem at all so his leather jerkin wasn't going to be much help. He supposed that the General would say 'well, don't let it claw you then' and smiled grimly to himself.

The General was studying the cave and he shook his head, ruefully. Sam immediately saw what was worrying the man. Leading from the pass to the cave mouth was a slope. It wasn't steep but it was covered in a layer of dust and loose rocks. Going up that with a cocked crossbow would be the act of an idiot. But that meant that they would have to go all the way to the mouth of the cave before they loaded their crossbows. If anything came out of the cave, before they were ready, they would be in a perilous position. The General signalled to Form and the lion bounded up the slope in absolute silence. Reaching the mouth it glanced in and then withdrew a pace.

At a nod from Form the General started up the slope. He wasn't as quick, or as quiet, as the lion but he did manage to get to the top without too much trouble. Once there he immediately took the crossbow from his back and cocked it, raising it he loaded a large metal bolt. Then he pointed it at the cave mouth. Sam was next. He took the slope as fast as he could without slipping and reached the top. Behind the General was a flatter section so he stood there, unashamed to be seen hiding behind the armour clad warrior. Safe, for now, he removed a torch from the backpack and lit it with the tinder box. Not an easy task to accomplish quietly. He reckoned that he had never struck a flint so softly before in his life. While Sam was doing this, Kar had joined them at the top. Looking down Sam saw Form coming up the path as quietly as the lion had done, and there was no dust being raised when he passed, unlike the others. Even the lion had made some disturbance, little though it was. Kar cocked and loaded his crossbow and Form reached the top. It was time.

As they had planned, the General and Kar went first, their crossbows levelled at the cave mouth. Sam followed behind with the torch so that the glare would not affect their eyes, but they could still see from its shine. Form was to bring up the rear, but that place was currently being taken by the mountain lion and there was no sign of the slim man when Sam looked back. He snapped his head to the front quickly as he realised there was nothing he could do about Form, just yet, and there may very well be bigger problems than that straight ahead. The cave went in for about forty paces and then curved around to the left so they could not see much at all. Slowly and carefully, watching every step before they put their foot down, they moved forwards. They were twisting around the passage when Sam suddenly saw a change in the light. The torch was reflecting off a back wall, they must have reached a chamber. This had to be it. He took a firm hold of his mace and waited for the General and Kar to enter the depths of the cave. The two bowmen seemed to pause for a second and then they quickly rounded the last of the curve tracking their crossbows across the open area, looking for a target.

The cave was empty. Well, it was not totally empty there was all the usual stuff you find in caves, loose rocks, dust, debris, a large ruby. But there was no dragon.

'What do you think' asked the General. 'If it had flown out recently we should have seen it.'

'Looks like there has been no man, or beast, here for quite a while to me' replied Kar. They checked the cave carefully. There were signs that some large beast had been there. Claw prints marked the walls, and floors, and the dust had been packed down in one corner where it must have lain. But it seemed to have been a while ago, even now the signs were fading. And, of course, the sight of the huge ruby in the middle of the space would seem to confirm that a dragon had been here. But if that was so, then where was it. And why had it left the jewel behind?

'So, it seems Vezer was right' said a voice behind them. They turned to see Form standing in the entrance to the chamber, facing them. The mountain lion was crouched between him and them; with its eyes firmly fixed on the General. 'The once mighty Ochoba, greatest of all the dragons and leader of the worlds flight, is reduced to a pathetic magic less, witless remnant. Now he is reduced to bumbling around the world, chasing down his memories, and looking for signs of his long vanquished kin. No doubt he will succumb soon but, either way, he is not a threat any longer. That just leaves me with the small problem of you three.'

Chapter 23

And then, to Sam's mind, everything turned to chaos. The mountain lion, as if it had been waiting for a signal, leapt for the General's throat. The General twisted the crossbow that he was holding, to try and get the frame between him and the lion and keep himself away from its claws and teeth. Kar pointed his crossbow at Form, and triggered the bolt. And Sam stood and stared. Sam saw Kar's bolt hit some sort of shield in front of Form, the shield shattered and fell but, robbed of its momentum, the bolt fell too. Form made a strange gesture with his left hand. Meanwhile the General had been half successful, he was lying on his back with the mountain lion on top of him and he was doing his best to hold it off with the crossbow. The weapon was heavy, and unwieldy, but it was all he had to stop himself from being torn apart. Sam, finally, roused himself to action. He swung the mace at the lion and, as it connected, the lion vanished. Sam had to hurriedly yank the mace to one side to avoid hitting the General on the head and finishing off the job that the Lion had started. Kar dropped the, now useless, crossbow and drew his sword.

The General was hurt. The powerful muscles of the lion, allied to its strong claws, had ripped bits of his armour completely off and in the gaps that were exposed stood deep looking gashes, which were bleeding. Sam helped the man to his feet. 'I'm not done for yet, Sam, don't worry' said the General. 'As we planned, Kar' he said and then drew his sword. The mountain lion had reappeared, in front of Form, and now the element of surprise was over. Streaking forward it jumped this time at Sam, but the General's sword met it in the air and it vanished again only to re-appear in front of Form a second later. Sam understood that the lion couldn't actually take the three of them out, while they were armed and ready, but they would tire. Every time that they struck it, they used up energy. It just vanished and re-appeared again, whole and fresh. If this went on then their strikes would get slower and slower and, eventually, the lion would have a chance at them. For some strange reason the General was smiling, even as blood flowed down his side and his leg. 'Remember the tournament Sam?' he asked. 'I think the music has started. It is time to dance, as the twins so gloriously phrased it.' If that was to be the way then Sam was with him. Hefting his mace he stood, side by side, with the General. Maybe, if they took turns, the other one could rest. The lion sprang. Sam swiped it out of the air with his mace. The lion vanished, and Kar's sword smashed against the shield of Form. The Shield went down but, before Kar could recover his swing for another strike, Form made the strange sign again and they all knew that the shield was back up. Then the lion re-appeared.

The General had a thoughtful look on his face. Evidently the plan that he had worked out with Kar was not proceeding as they had thought it would. 'Damn' he muttered, 'I forgot about that shield of his. Can you keep the lion busy for a while Sam? Without getting yourself clawed I mean.'

Sam was pretty sure that his best hope lay in the General so he readily agreed to face the lion. The General stepped back and Sam was left alone facing the beast. This time it stalked him, staying out of reach and walking from side to side, looking for an opening or a lack of concentration. He half turned, to see what the General was doing, and the lion sprang. Swinging the mace around, he just managed to connect with it as its claws reached his bare arm. The lion vanished before it could break his skin. There was another crash as Kar's sword was thrown against the Shield of Form and then Form laughed as he brought the shield back up before Kar could launch a second attack. The lion re-appeared.

Sam stood ready. Then he heard the General behind him say 'When I shout, I want you to drop down to the floor as quickly as you can Sam. Trust me to take care of the lion. You just make sure to get out of the way.' Sam nodded. 'Move a bit to your right' he heard the General whisper behind him and he edged that way until he heard the General whisper 'stop'. He stopped and maintained his place, facing the lion.

'Now' shouted the General. Sam dropped to the floor, seeing the lion spring at him as soon as he did so. The lion was in mid-air when the crossbow bolt took it. The lion vanished. Immediately, there was a crash as Kar's sword took down the shield of Form and the slight man had an amused smile on his face as he started to make the gesture that would re-raise it. However, the General had aimed true. When the lion had vanished, the crossbow bolt had continued on its path, similar to Sam's mace earlier. It passed through the, now broken, shield and penetrated Form in the heart. The man died with the smile still on his lips. The lion, of course, didn't re-appear this time. With a loud shout, Kar brought his sword down on the neck of Form. The man's head rolled away from the body. 'Best to be safe, eh' grunted Kar. 'I never did trust those damn elves.'

'Oh, he wasn't an elf' replied the General, who was now using the crossbow to lean on, like an impromptu crutch. 'Mogrel at best I would say. I suppose our wonderful employers, the High Elves, use him when they don't want to get their hands dirty. That was lucky for us, this time. If he had been more of an elf we would never have escaped. I think they underestimated us.'

'Here's to being underestimated by elves' said Kar.

Sam had crouched down to check the backpack and see if they had brought anything to use on the General's wounds. He found bandages, herbs and a couple of jars of some paste, carefully wrapped in a blanket at the bottom. The General really had been prepared. 'I still don't understand what is happening' Sam said, as he unpacked the stuff.

'Sam' said the General. 'It is not your fault. You have led a very sheltered upbringing. I think it is time that we explained a few facts to you. Then you'

Sam looked over to see why the General had suddenly stopped talking and saw that Kar was standing in front of him with his sword held to the General's throat. Glancing around he saw his mace, where he had put it, on the floor. There was no way he could reach the mace, and get to Kar, before the General was dead.

'You, too?' said the General and he sounded disappointed.

'Me too' agreed Kar. 'Your father sends his greetings and hopes that you will find a nice, peaceful grave somewhere, preferably immediately.'

'Is this for money?' asked the General.

'Yes, purely for the money' replied Kar. 'There is nothing personal in it. In fact we have got on quite well during this little adventure. But I do need the money rather badly'

'So, it is for money that you haven't even been paid yet. Do you trust my Father that much? And is it as much money as that ruby is worth, for instance?' were the General's next questions.

'No, nowhere near that much' said Kar.

'Well, let's see then' said the General. 'You can kill me. Although believe me that is not a certainty, even starting as we are. Then, of course, you would have to cope with Sam. Assuming that you managed both of those tasks then you could take the ruby and leave.'

'That's about what I had in mind' said Kar.

'Or,' continued the General 'you could just take the ruby, now, and leave. I have no objections unless Sam does.'

'I have no objections' said Sam. 'And I would very much rather that solution than that the three of us fight.'

Kar thought for a while. 'And you will come after me as soon as I leave' he said.

'No' said the General. 'I give you my word that, if you take the ruby and leave, I will not come after you. Or hold this against you in the future. When I leave here I think that I should go home and have a long, serious talk with my father.'

Kar looked at Sam and, receiving a nod, withdrew his sword from the General's throat. He saluted the General with it before sheathing it. Then he picked up the ruby and left the cave.

Sam finished unpacking the supplies from the backpack and started to dress the Generals' wounds. 'Your own father is hiring people to kill you?' he said.

'That is about it, I am afraid, young Sam' said the General. 'He seems to think that, now I am fairly famous, I will come back and try to take his kingdom away from him. I have assured him that I do not want it but, if he continues like this he will force me to kill him to survive. Then I will have done exactly what he suspects me of plotting to do. But enough of that, I have to tell you some things.'

'If you mean that the Angels are really High Elves, and that I am descended from the Ravers, then I have already worked that out' said Sam.

'No, Sam, you haven't' said the General. 'The Angels, bless them, are real. But, they take no part in the affairs of men. These things that you call Angels are nothing more than charlatans who used your people's beliefs to control them. They made them go to war against the dragons and then, when the dragons were wiped out, well all but one apparently, they cursed your people and made them into nothing better than pets. Kept by the elves for who knows what purpose, so that you will raise their food for them, certainly, and maybe for entertainment too. We cannot do anything about the horrors they have dealt to the dragons but this, at least, we may have a chance to do something about.'

The General paused, while Sam pulled a bandage tightly around his side, and then he continued. 'I once met a very old minstrel. He was bowed with age, and walked with the aid of a crooked stick. Dressed in a white robe, with the hood pulled over his head, he looked like one of those snowmen that the children build in winter.' Sam had no idea what a snowman was, but he didn't want to jump in and disturb the General's tale so he kept quiet. The General continued talking. 'This minstrel told me tales that I have not heard from any other minstrel, before or since; tales that had the ring of truth almost as if he had been there. Though, of course, he wasn't so old that that could have been true. You remember when we were talking about the Ravers? We said that no-one knew what happened to them. Some said that they were cursed, some that they were destroyed, some that they were imprisoned. Well, this minstrel told of a definite end to the Ravers race. He said that the Ravers were cursed by the High Elves and that this curse imprisoned them, away from the Land. The curse, he said, could only be lifted if the High Elves ever named a Raver as their champion, once again, and he then, subsequently, rejected them. Do you see what this means?'

'I was named a champion of the Angels, I mean the High Elves. And I am descended from the Ravers' said Sam. 'That means that if I go back to them, and reject the Angels, my people will be free?'

'It seems a bit simple when you say it like that' said the General. 'But, that is what I believe. I suppose that the High Elves always thought they would never again name a Raver as their champion, given what they had reduced them to. I mean, no offence Sam, but you weren't exactly champion material when this started where you?'

'I suppose not' said Sam. 'But how do I get back? Do I have to ride the whole way? And, even when I get back to where we started the ride, which way are the Angels, I mean High Elves, from there?'

'All good questions, Sam' said the General. 'But one thing at a time, if you have finished patching me up, then we should be going. I mean you have to let me, and Kar, out through the barrier yet, don't you?'

Sam had forgotten that and, sure enough, when they left the cave, a very sheepish looking Kar was waiting for them. 'That ruined my grand exit' said the mercenary.

The three joined up again and walked back to the barrier. Kar, and the General, both put a hand on Sam's shoulder and they walked out back to the horses. This time, Kar shook the hands of them both before mounting up and riding off. The General also shook hands with Sam and then said 'Time to sort out some family business, I suppose. Take care, young smith. It has been a pleasure riding with you and I wish the best for you, and your people.' Then the man who had been in all the legends that Sam had heard as a young boy rode away.

Sam didn't bother saddling his horse. If this didn't work then he would have plenty of time for that. And if it did work then he wanted to leave the horse unencumbered. Thinking back to when it had all started, and he stood with Kurt and Otto in the clearing outside of the Town, he simply said 'Vezer, I would see you'. Once again he felt that strange feeling and the lights seemed to dim. 'I wonder what actually happened to the dragon' he thought.

Chapter 24

He was old, but he didn't feel it, so he woke up happily, for the first time in a long time. He looked around and saw, and smelt, the yellow ash, outside, and realised that he was still in the Mountains of Fire. It must have all been a dream, the flight and the horse and that wonderful feeling of youth. To comfort himself he looked towards his little rock shelf, where the ruby was, and noticed that the shelf was empty. Snapping his head around, he looked all over the cave. It wasn't here. The elves would never have taken it. So where was it? Ochoba ransacked his cave but he could not find the ruby. This was the last disaster that he could take, he thought. Dragging himself to his feet, he headed for the exit. Once there he paused for a second and then launched himself up into the air. His wings flew out and the wind caught them with an audible snap. He did feel younger than he had, but that didn't matter now. He started to beat his wings, the powerful strokes taking him higher and higher. He tried to work out how high he should go before curling his wings in, to make sure that the fall would kill him completely and quickly.

Sam had appeared in the main room with the High Elves. He was standing in the middle of the room and Vezer was facing him, around him stood other elves, all in their Angel disguise.

'So, young Sam' said Vezer 'you return to us.'

'Yes' said Sam, 'and it is not because of any plan of yours. Form told us that you had given him the task of making sure that we did not come back.'

'Not quite true' replied the Angel. 'We left it up to him as to what to do with you once he had determined if the dragon was a threat or not. I assume that, if he attacked you, the dragon was not a threat. I don't believe for one second that your pathetic little party could have taken out a dangerous dragon. What was he, old and feeble, or dead?'

'He was gone' said Sam. 'Form reckoned that he was just retracing his memories as he got old.'

'Very possibly' said Vezer. 'And that leaves us with the tricky question of what we do with you I suppose.'

'I know that you are going to kill me' said Sam. 'So, before you do, I am going to try and free my people. I, Sam, Champion of the High Elves, reject you and all that you stand for!'

There was complete silence in the room after Sam's pronouncement. Then, very slowly, Vezer began to shake. It took a while before Sam realised that the High Elf was laughing. 'Oh, very bravely said, young smith' Vezer said. 'To sacrifice your life so that your people could be freed from the curse. It, almost, makes me wish that the story was true. Tell me Tarsalgo, when was it that you visited the Land, disguised as a human, and, accidentally, let that piece of information slip while you were apparently drunk?'

'As the Raver spawn measures it, about twenty generations ago' replied another of the elves. 'I must admit that I was starting to think it had been a waste of time.'

'Well done Tarsalgo' said Vezer 'that has made an interesting day much more so. And now, we have wasted too much time enjoying ourselves. Kill him'

Sam heard someone behind him shout 'No' and then the sword took him. The elven blade slid through his leather armour as if it wasn't there. His body proved no more barrier to it either and he was surprised to see the point come out the front of his chest before the pain even started. But then the pain did start and he wondered how his body could cope. Then, the person holding the sword twisted it through ninety degrees before withdrawing it and he realised that what he had first thought of as pain was nothing compared to this. He collapsed to the ground. As he fell, blood started to gush out of the wounds in his body, front and back. Also, as he fell, he seemed to shimmer. Then the disguise gave way and they could all see that it wasn't Sam lying on the ground it was a completely different man, one wearing a white robe. A robe that was now stained, front and back, with his own blood.

Bosszu clenched his fist, inside the pocket of his robe, and the phial broke. A shield came up around him but, unlike the amateur effort of Form, this was a true elven shield manufactured by the greatest of the Ground Elves. It shimmered in the air with its own beauty. This shield would stop any of the High Elves from interfering in the next part of the plan, and also sustain him for long enough. He felt the pain overwhelming him and, desperately, fought against it. There was something that he had to do, despite the horrendous wound through his chest. Thinking of Ralf and his family, Sara, Ralf junior and Little Sara, he struggled to find the strength to complete this. Thousands, if not more, people had died as this plan was worked; but Ralf, and his family, were the only ones that he had killed with his own hands. He could not take the chance of even a potentially magic ring appearing at the start of the whole game and so he had killed the whole family. Then, as so often happens, the ring came into play anyway and turned out to be no threat at all. Bosszu would pay the price for the deaths of Ralf, and his family, soon enough. And he would pay it willingly. But, before that, he had to complete the plan so that their deaths would not have been in vain. Bracing himself against the pain, he fought his way to his feet. As he did so, he looked behind him to see who had tried to shout the warning. Of course, it had to have been Buvesz. He was always the strongest in the magic of this group. Luckily, and how often all the best plans eventually come down to luck, the guard had acted too quickly for the warning to be heard, and heeded. Standing up Bosszu faced Vezer. He didn't need to think about this part. He had rehearsed this speech every morning of his life so far, including this one. Now he would finally say it for the last time, and be free of it forever.

'Vezer' he said, into the stunned silence that his appearance had caused. 'Know this. My name is Bosszu and I am a true elf, as determined by our historians. You, yourself researched your lineage and found the same to be true of you. And yet you, as a true elf, have ordered my death. Thus, according to the Defence of dear Anya, the mother of all of us, I curse you. You proud, false elf, now hear my curse. I take from you your magic.'

'Oh what a day this is turning into' said Vezer, laughing 'first we have a remnant of the mighty Ravers thinking that he could just reject us and we would all vanish. And now, this ground crawler sneaks into our midst. No doubt the effort took much planning and work, and probably entailed people sacrificing themselves for the cause. That is how we elves always work, after all. He tricks me into ordering his death so that he can use Anya's Defence against me and then, after all that, he takes away from me something that I do not have. Oh, you poor ground crawler. You have spoken your curse and cannot change it now. So die knowing that you have wasted the best chance your people have ever had. You would take from me my magic? I lost my magic when I took the dragons' magic away and willingly at that. Even more so now, when I see your pathetic, little plans fail.'

'Pride, and lack of careful thought, was always your weaknesses said Bosszu. 'I don't mean that I am taking away your ability to do magic, we all knew that you lost that when you crippled the dragons. No, although I could use my death curse to wipe you all from the Land, I will not harm any of you personally. I mean, therefore, exactly what I say. I am taking your magic. I take, to myself, every spell, curse and enchantment that was cast by you, or your followers, and that is still active in this Land. I claim them all and tie them to me so that as I die, they will too.' Then the hero of the Ground Elves died.

Sam tried again. 'Vezer, I would see you'. Once again, nothing happened. The first time that he had tried it, he thought that it was working. Then it was, almost, as if something had pushed him back. When he had opened his eyes, he was still standing in the camp by the mountain pass. Since then he had tried all of the different ways that he could think of. He had tried saying it quietly, he had tried shouting it. He had even tried saying it as a prayer. None of them had worked. It was time to accept that this was not going to be successful. His only other option was to get to Otto and persuade the inn owner to take him to the Angels. He saddled the horse and then, mindful of the General's advice to look after your tools until the time came, he nudged it into a slow walk towards the pass. He should have plenty of time to reach Kurt's farm before dark fell.

He woke up and he was still trapped in the dark room, as he had been every other time that he'd woken. He threw himself at the walls. Bashing and kicking and punching, trying to break them down. The room was so small that he could brace his back against one side and kick, and push, with his feet on the opposite wall. But, as it had in all the previous times, the room refused to break. He was just about to give up, and wait until sleep recaptured him, when he suddenly felt himself filled with power. He renewed his attack and, this time, the walls started to give. Screaming like an idiot, he finally broke free. All around him, others were breaking out of their cells too. They were in an open space and blessed light was coming from a hole in one wall. They had to get help. As one, they started shouting 'Here I am, help me'. From outside the hole they heard other voices shouting the same words. Then there was a snarl, and a cry of pain, and one of the voices was quieted. They shouted even louder, as the voices outside were stilled, one by one. Whatever it was that was silencing the ones outside would come for them soon, if they didn't get help.

Ochoba had almost reached the height that he had decided on when he felt a sudden shock. He could feel the magic again. Rushing into him, it filled the large void that he hadn't even realised was there. Now he was complete and, if he was going to die, he was going to take those plotting, deceitful flying elves with him. He hadn't used the magic in a long time so his control was not perfect as he roared his challenge. Every mind in the Land suddenly heard a mighty voice inside their heads. 'Vezer, wherever you are, hear me little, flying elf, I am Ochoba, the greatest of the dragons, the leader of the world flight, in days gone by, and the only one left of a nation that you wiped from this Land. I am also your doom. I have my magic back. I am coming to get you and your companions, High Elf. And there is nothing in this Land that can protect you from me when I get there.' He wheeled around, to head over the Schism and return to the side of the Land where the High Elves were. Then, as he was starting to drive that way, he heard something else. Forgetting about the elves for a while, he quickly clasped his wings to his side and dove into the smog and ash that covered the mountains. This was not the planned dive for death though. Trusting to his reactions, and his magic, to miss the peaks he dove downwards. Faster and faster he dove until he, suddenly, snapped his wings out wide to his sides. Without the magic, his wings would have been torn off by the shock. With the magic, he managed easily to pull out of the dive and he came to a hovering stop facing a cave mouth. It was hatchlings, more than twenty of them, and there were Salamanders climbing up the mountain sides to get them. With a roar he let go his fire and wiped the Salamanders off the face of the cliff. They could stand normal fire, but he had laced his with magic and it burned them as easily as it would have done a blade of hay. The rock face melted and turned to glass. No-one, and nothing, could possibly climb it now. The hatchlings had all gathered at the mouth of the cave when they'd heard his roar and he could count them now, twenty four new dragons. He wheeled away.

They had seen a mighty red dragon come and kill the ones that were stalking them. Then he had gone. What should they do now? They waited and, after what seemed like a long time to them, they saw him re-appear in the sky, flying towards them. He headed straight for the cave mouth but pulled out into a steep climb at the last minute. Something dropped from his claws and headed towards them. The sheep carcase bounced once on the ledge at the cave mouth, and then tumbled inside. They had never seen a sheep before but they recognised food when they saw it.

Twenty four dragons, Ochoba couldn't believe it. They were young, helpless, inexperienced and vulnerable. He, on the other hand, was old and young at the same time. He had enough experience for all of them and there was not a thing on this Land that could face him now that he had his magic back. Once again he was the leader of the flight of the world and, this time, he would look after them properly. Nothing was going to challenge the dragons ever again.

This time he was more refined with the magic, as the memory was returning of how to use it. He again sent a message but this was only received by the ones it was meant for. 'Little Flying Elves, I have news for you. I have something more important to me than taking your insignificant lives today so you may go on living for a while. But be assured, when I have finished this task, I will be coming for you. And then, I will kill you all.'

Kurt pushed his empty glass across the bar and, without saying anything Otto refilled it for him. They all knew why Kurt was there, in the Kings Rest. Kate, his wife, was with Diana. Usually, once they had two surviving children, women didn't get pregnant again. It did, however, sometimes happen. And, when it did, it was a horrible thing to go through. Carrying a baby that you knew would not live. Her time was soon and Kurt was trying to drown the fact in ale. It wouldn't work, of course, but they would let him at least try. Then Tom junior came running into the Inn. 'Kurt, you have to go to Diana's house quickly' the young lad shouted. Kurt stood up, drained his mug in one swallow, and headed out of the door.

He stumbled down the street until he reached Diana's house, luckily it wasn't far from the Inn. Steeling himself, for what he would find, he went inside. Diana was standing in front of the bed and Kate was lying in it holding a bundle. He supposed that she wanted to cuddle the poor mite before it was taken outside and buried. He would have thought that would make it harder for her, but it was her choice. Then Diana spoke. 'You have a wonderful new daughter Kurt.' She said. 'How can that be' he answered 'we already have a daughter'. 'Well now you have two' said Diana, with a reproachful look. 'But' stammered Kurt 'I mean, what can we call her?' Kate looked up, from the bundle that she was holding, and said diffidently 'I have always quite liked the name April, if that is all right with you, Kurt.'

*** The End (if you enjoyed this then watch out for March coming soon ***

The Blurb

With Grateful thanks to Le Player, Short Stack and Tex for their proof reading, encouragement and, often ignored, suggestions and also for the many pleasurable times we spent discussing the story as it was born. If I am considered the mother then you, my friends, are the best midwives I could have wanted.

Dedicated to the staff, and customers, of the Cafe de Engel, my favourite place to unwind, here's to all the good times we have already seen there and the ones to come in the future.

'Gezelligheid is Alles'

