

The Nemesis

The Wizard

And

The Waterfall

Book One

Part of The Chronicles of the Tralatisis.

By

Albert and Matthew Benson

Copyright 2012 Albert and Matthew Benson

Smashwords edition, licence agreement.

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All the characters in this story are fictitious and any resemblance to heroes, gods, lesser gods, demi-gods, slobberlobbers, rotrobbers, killykarkins and gobbledegeeks, ceskarkias, siluns, hagges, vampyres and vampires, werewolves, banshees, ghouls, fiends, cacodemons, ghosts, ogres, bugaboos, hell-hounds, witches, warlocks, shape-shifters, seers, necromancers, shamans, giants, wizards, magi, thaumaturgists, philosophians, sorcerers, magical creatures, elves, supernatural beings, demons and, of course, actual persons, living, dead or undead, is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

In the woods, behind the imposing mass of rock, stone, wood and iron that was known universally as Dragoylia Castle and perched on a range of snow-capped mountains like a huge and inert dragon, waiting to pounce on the cosmopolitan swarm of Terrim Vorus, a huge city down below that defied the serenity of the Dragoylia area. Below the boughs of a massive, gnarled boak, covered in the lichen of centuries, stubbornly refusing to budge despite the light but steady winds. In a stream, flowing determinedly against the detritus of years.

Lights shone. Blue and eerie, alien to their surroundings, small points of blue light shone, as if the reality behind them had been punctured by an ethereal needle. And when any creature got too close, and looked behind these lights, they would see something that no natural thing should even know about. They would scarper away, changed in some inexplicable way by the light, and they would eschew the company of their litters. And for a few generations every other animal in the forest would remember, and they would avoid the tree and avoid the stream, and most of all, avoid the light...

It had been long enough. The last animal to lose whatever made any other living thing understand it was a rabbit. It came. It saw. It was conquered, and every other animal lived in a primal fear for the next twenty years. Statistically, the lights seemed about to take their next victim.

A badger cautiously walked around the trees, weaving through the long grass that constricted the growth of practically all other plant life, and peered at the stream. It opened its mouth and closed it a few times, in such a way that if it were a human it would be grumbling. And then it sauntered up to the stream, poked its head it, and stared at the lights, its eyes glistening blue. For at least an hour the badger remained, having neither suffocated nor fell into the depths of insanity, before it suddenly jerked its head out. Looking around for a moment, the badger seemed to reach a decision, and submerged itself once more.

It was suddenly disturbed by the sounds of human footsteps, looked at the lights in a curious way, and ran. It seemed quite unaffected by the lights. The source of the sounds, a hunchbacked young human slave, pushed the long grass aside and walked onto the banks of the stream. The badger saw with despair how he had crushed the dirt of the bank, destroying the tiny holes that the badger was looking at, and then ran off dismissively. The slave's name was Snorker, and he was about to be embroiled in events he only vaguely understood.

Snorker gave Muppy the puppy a stroke behind her ear, smiled, then turned his head towards the waterfall, something had caught his eye; a figure running swiftly, stooping and bending, as if chasing something. He couldn't believe his eyes, it was a dirty, mud-splattered, naked old man running towards the woods.

Snorker stood and followed the old man's progress. He'd never seen anything like it; the old man was sprinting faster than a games runner. He could see him, a baldhead, with wispy white, impossibly long hair flowing behind him. But what made him look again was the colour of the man's skin, pink, but with great swathes of blue. Then he realised, the blue was tattoos, he was tattooed from head to toe with squiggles, as if an hyper-active five year old had been let loose with a paint brush.

The old man fell over, but was up again like a sprinter out of the blocks, and took a headlong dive at something Snorker couldn't see. Then up again, twisting and turning, not really looking where he was going until he disappeared into a small heavily wooded copse.

Snorker watched the spot where the old man had gone, but all seemed quiet.

'Strange Muppy, very strange.' But if some of the tales the other slaves told were to be believed the whole area around the waterfall was strange. That's why he loved it, no one, not even wizards, ever came within a thousand steps of this place.

He lifted his withered arm and placed it inside his fleecy coat, it was beginning to ache, and continued limping, Muppy, his small white, black and brown spotted dog running beside him, hunting scents that only she could smell. He turned back, no sign of the strange old man.

He'd collected all the herbs and plants Ollivon Creap had given him pictures of. Perhaps he should have gone back to Dragoylia Castle, but it was more like a confining hole full of criticism, hate and numerous beatings than a place of refuge. Even worse were the rotrobbers, when they appeared even the tiniest bit of happiness would disappear, like a fart in a perfume shop.

He stopped and gazed around, glancing again at the copse, nothing. Perhaps it was his imagination after all.

This was the time of the day he loved; when the sun was still bright; when the animals seemed to be at peace with one another; when the world was relaxing, when he knew he was the only one here, except, of course for the strange old man. But had the old man been real? He'd been having some weird dreams lately, dreams where he wasn't Snorker the slave, but Snorker the brave. Snorker, the slayer of dragons. He smiled, unfortunately, that would never be true.

He worked hard to retrieve the herbs and plants the evil principal-slave Ollivon Creap ordered him to, however, Snorker still feared the whip, as Ollivon often beat him with a scrobble-skin whip for the slightest reason. Maybe it was his horrific appearance that made Creap hate him, his lop-sided face, with one eye lower than the other, his twisted nose, his absence of eyebrows, plus, he was also a hunchback, with a crisscross of many scars on his hump. He had a thick mop of shaggy hair, a sort of blacky-brown colour. He wore a filthy fleece with rips all over it, and the same could be said for his shirt-come-smock, trousers and hand-me-down boots.

He slowly climbed over the large boulders toward the waterfall and the lake, grasping for the hand and foot holds that Muppy seemed to have no trouble with, and only dared to breathe as he reached the shingle line.

He carefully clambered over the rocks towards the pool and kneeled, looking into the gently rippling waters. Then splashed his reflection with his hand, he didn't want reminding of his ugly, misshapen face. Scooping up a handful of water, he drank; it tasted so good, cool and fresh. Laboriously, he took off his boots, placed them to one side and rested his sweaty feet in the cool water. Oh, that was good, the water was just right, not too cold, but cool enough to refresh his feet.

The sun was just touching the tops of the wooded copse when he took his feet out, gave them a shake and put his boots back on. Painstakingly, he made his way to his favourite spot, a large boulder at the side of the waterfall, picking a handful of red berries on the way.

He sat, held out his hand with the berries in his palm and waited. Soon, one small yellow and red bird landed on his thumb and began pecking at the berries. Another, then another, and another, until his arm was aching with their weight. At times like this he wished he were stronger, so he could hold out his arm for hours.

The birds quickly finished their feast and one by one flew back to their observation points. He glanced at his red-stained palm and wiped it on the boulder, which was staining red.

He felt at peace, and the solitude was comforting; here there were none to laugh, none to point, none to call him names. A deer clambered by, sure-footed and confident, then stopped and looked at him. He held out his right hand and the deer slowly came to him, lowering its head expectantly. He stroked its head and rubbed its thick silky coat. The deer nudged his hand for more when Snorker stopped because of tiredness, and then licked his hand. Again he gently caressed the deer's fine coat, running his fingers through the close fur, but had to stop as his muscles failed him and the ache and fatigue once again made his body useless. The deer, recognising that its moment of tenderness was over, turned and trotted to the pool to drink.

He looked back towards the copse, still nothing, perhaps it was his imagination. He checked the bag over his shoulder, all the herbs and plants were still there, he should be going back now, if he was late he'd only get another beating.

Then he saw the old man again, running out of the copse, bent chasing something, unaware where he was running, until he smashed headlong into a tree, staggered back, stumbled and collapsed.

Snorker hurriedly began clambering over the rocks towards the fallen old man, his fatigue forgotten, as his only thought was to help. Muppy instinctively knowing which way he was going and leading, her nose close to the ground, her ears pricked and her legs and paws sure upon the rocky terrain.

She reached the unconscious old man well before he did, but didn't go near, instead kept a respectful distance, occasionally glancing behind to see where her master was, occasionally holding her nose up and sniffing the air.

Snorker was near as he saw the old man suddenly sitting up and look around, he could see the big bump, red and angry, forming on the old man's forehead. The old man was covered in mud, his feet nearly black, and with many small red scratches across his arms, legs and body, adding more colour to the blue and pink of his body. The old man looked confused, and was looking around as if he'd lost something. Snorker continued limping past Muppy until he was two steps from the old man. 'Are you hurt?'

The old man blinked and stared at him, then frowned, staring at Snorker's face, his hump, his withered arm and gammy leg.

Obviously stunned thought Snorker, then so would I be if I'd run head first straight into a big tree.

'Elijah?' asked the old man.

Definitely stunned, 'No, I'm Snorker.'

'Prithee, hast thou seen my teeth, shouldst be around her somewhere?'

Snorker did a double take, he could understand the words but they sounded strange, and he thought he had a funny voice, lisping, yet deep, as if someone was speaking inside a large cave. Teeth? He looked around, glancing at the roots around the tree. Teeth? He must have knocked them out when he was doing his bull impression on the tree. But why would he want his teeth back, not as if he could slot them back in. Perhaps he believed in the Tooth Fairy. 'No, but Muppy can find them.'

'Muppy?' asked the old man, looking a bit puzzled, 'Who's Muppy?'

Snorker pointed at his dog, 'She's excellent at retrieving things. Find the old man's teeth,' and pointing to his own mouth, then repeated, 'find the old man's teeth', saying it in separate bits so that he thought Muppy would understand him.

'Old man?' he replied indignantly, 'I'll have thee know I'm not yet a thousand years old. Old man indeed.'

A thousand, thought Snorker, obviously addled from the head injury?

At that moment a set of dirty, stained false teeth came chattering past, bouncing and somersaulting over the rocks. Muppy immediately ran after them, disappearing into some bushes.

Snorker could do aught but stare, astonished, dumfounded that a set of teeth could be moving by themselves. It must be magic, he'd occasionally seen wizards and witches doing magic at Dragoylia, more so to punish ordinaries, but had never seen anything like this. This must be strong magic; but how was it possible to make a set of teeth move on their own?

'Here, help me up,' the old man's reverberating voice seemed to echo through his mind. He leaned forward and grasped the old man's upper arm.

'Where're your clothes?'

Told you to put some clothes on.

The old man stood somewhat shakily, 'Clothes?' and looked down at his body. 'Oh no, no, no. That cheating, low life, usurping excuse for a wizard Zanatos.'

Snorker stepped back, surprised, shocked and shaken, 'Lord Zanatos?'

A low growl came from behind them, both turned to see Muppy standing, looking up at them, the old man's false teeth firmly clamped in hers. Snorker stifled a laugh, her bushy tail was waging, and the false teeth made her look as though she was giving an enormous cheeky grin.

'Thank you,' the old man said, reaching down to take his teeth.

Muppy dodged his hand, scampered off, turned, her tail wagging happily, and pranced from side to side, wanting to play.

'Dog,' the old man said sternly, 'give me my teeth.'

They look better on the dog than you.

'Shut up.'

'I haven't said anything. Muppy, give the old,' Snorker hesitated, looking at the old man, then back to Muppy, 'give the nice man his teeth.'

Muppy trotted forward, hunched down, growled and shook the teeth as if it was a rat she was extinguishing its last bit of life.

The old man again stepped forward, and again Muppy dodged his outstretched hand and scampered away.

The old man was becoming angry, he turned to Snorker, 'Dost thou know whom I am?'

Course he doesn't.

Snorker shook his head, 'If you don't know how do you expect me to?'

'Bah, thou most ignorant misshapen creature, lucky for thee I am Worlyn the Wonderful, the most gracious, the most kind, the most bountiful ruling wizard of the three continents, otherwise I would rack thee with terrible pains, fill thy bones with red hot needles, bring thee such agonies that even beasts would flee from your screams.'

Blah, blah, blah.

'Shut up.'

Snorker frowned, he hadn't said a word. Ruling wizard of the three continents? Definitely addled, crazy, perhaps he was mad before he challenged that tree to a head-butting contest. 'Muppy, come, here, give.'

Muppy obediently went to Snorker and sat before him, he stooped and took the false teeth out of her mouth, then handed them to Worlyn.

Worlyn took them, slotted them into his mouth, and gave a dirty teeth smile.

'Perhaps,' Snorker said, pulling a face, 'you should have washed them first.

Worlyn was chewing his teeth, slanting his jaws, moving his lips into impossible contortions and spat out small pieces of grit. 'Follow me,' he said, and began running so fast that Snorker couldn't keep up with him. Muppy could, but she came back to Snorker and stayed by his side.

Snorker soon lost sight of the deranged old man, every part of his body was hurting, his legs gave way and he had to sit, Muppy licked his hands and he, in turn, tickled her ears. The old man was nowhere in sight. Then he saw a glimmer of light that shouldn't have been there. He stared, but could see nothing, then again, a glimmer of blue light that again quickly disappeared.

He stood and picked his way over the rocks, boulders and ledges, Muppy following, until he was at the side of the spray and could see behind the curtain of falling water. Nothing, perhaps he was imagining things, then again, a beam of blue light, like a sword, sharp and gleaming, piercing the millions of droplets, causing little rainbows.

He slowly made his way, carefully stepping on the wet and mossy rock until he was behind the waterfall and found the source of light. Suddenly he was filled with an intense desire to see what the light was, where it was coming from, and why was it filling him with a powerful urge to go in?

Muppy whined next to him, he stroked her head in reassurance. It was a small opening, a tunnel just large enough for him to squeeze through.

He took off his fleece coat and pushed it down the hole before him. He crawled into the hole, and like an ungainly snake slithered and slid down, squeezing and forcing himself past a difficult bit, twisting his hump around and continuing, pushing his coat before him. Muppy jumped up and followed. Again, he had to lie flat on his belly and wriggled through. Water was seeping through his clothing, cold drips fell on his neck making him shiver, making his joints feel brittle. But he had to find out what the light was.

Unexpectedly, the blue light disappeared, leaving him in total darkness. Muppy whined. Panic spread its fearful fingers through his mind as he became stuck, unable to move either forwards or backwards, his withered arm trapped between his body and the rocks. The sound of the waterfall seemed to be increasing, invading his mind with a gushing and thumping that came from inside him as well as outside.

Thankfully, the tunnel was once again flooded with blue light and he was able to see. Trailing his withered arm behind him he quickly clawed, pushed with his toes, and wriggled his way forward. Then a mini-tidal wave washed over him, and he was sliding, building speed, down and down he went, the water more forceful. The tunnel became wider and Muppy had jumped on the back of his legs. The tunnel began twisting, dropping, levelling out, dropping again, and more water was coming from somewhere, until he was engulfed in a torrent, going down, further down.

Suddenly, without warning, he was flung out, there was no tunnel, he was a least thirty steps in the air, cold water cascading all around him, and he was falling, into an enormous lake. He screamed.

He and Muppy hit the surface simultaneously, and he was disorientated, not knowing if he was up or down. An instinct seemed to power into his mind, he was kicking his legs, pushing the water behind him, and he surfaced. Breathing in deeply, he body was tingling strangely, not unpleasant, but mysterious, making him feel stronger than he'd ever felt before. He looked around; the waterfall was two steps away. But where was Muppy? He saw her small head bobbing towards a shingle shore and followed. He'd never swam before but the waters appeared to enable him to float. He kicked his legs and followed her.

His feet encountered the bottom and he began wading onto small smooth pebbles that stretched out all around him. Muppy gave herself a good shake and was waiting expectantly for him, and when he was out of the water she instantly jumped up into his arms, and he cuddled her and began laughing uncontrollably. Muppy licked his face frantically, which made him laugh even more.

They'd survived.

After some tender moments he placed Muppy on the shingle, but she quickly went to the back of his legs and quivered, he reached down and stroked her head, reassuring her.

He stood and gazed with wonder at the large magical cavern that shimmered with a pale blue light coming from behind the glimmering cascading waters of the underground waterfall. It was beautiful as the blue light shone through the mists, forming vivid rainbows transfixing him with wonder. The walls were covered in what seemed like crystal pillars, sharp orchids, glittering ferns, seemingly made from dark green emeralds, transparent roses that shone like rubies, and rocks that glimmered with an inner luminance.

Directly in front of him was a large lake, and over to the left, what appeared to be another waterfall coming out of a large hole set in the rock. But the waters of the waterfall were blue, the source of the blue light. He couldn't see the end of the cavern; it seemed to disappear in a shimmering blur of incandescent light.

Movement at the edge of the lake caught his eye. He looked, and there, standing still, looking towards the waterfall, were two magnificent white eunicons, with long flowing manes and tails. But what made Snorker's mouth gape open was that each eunicon had a spiralled golden horn. They were magic eunicons, brilliant and majestic, heads held with regal dignity, so different from the ordinary eunicons. Muppy whined behind his legs.

Snorker could only marvel at their perfection, how each eunicon radiated a grandeur so powerful that Snorker loved them instantly. He wanted to go to them, to touch and to kiss, embrace and hold their splendour and sublimity in his hands.

Suddenly, the waters under the waterfall began to bubble and stir. Snorker watched awestruck and frightened, yet filled with an intense curiosity. Slowly, almost agonisingly, the old man's tattooed bald-pated head rose out of the turbulence, then his naked body, until he seemed to be swimming up the brilliant gushing waters. He stopped and slowly levitated out until he was suspended in mid air. He raised his arms and the eunicons nodded their heads, their manes waving like thick grass in a summer breeze, as if in acknowledgement and applause. The blue light increased in intensity until Snorker had to shut his eyes and put his head down.

Then it was gone. Snorker looked up and the old man had disappeared. The eunicons were slowly turning and walking away. Then he heard Muppy growl and a shiver ran through him as something wet and cold touched his cheek. It was a scrobble, perched on his shoulder, muzzling up to him, quivering with fear. Muppy was growling, barring her teeth, and on the verge of attacking the scrobble. 'Muppy, stop it,' he commanded. He stroked its small head and muttered words of assurance. Muppy sat, still glaring at the scrobble; jealous of the affection it was receiving. It gently whined, sensing it was in a place where it should not be; a place where different rules applied, where the normality and brutality of the outside world was of another dimension.

Once again he looked at the eunicons; the desire to touch them was overwhelming. The scrobble, realising his mood had changed jumped down and scampered off, going down a small corridor. Muppy watched it scrambling away, her ears pricked, her eyes bright, her natural instinct wanting to chase it, but her loyalty to Snorker holding her back.

Slowly he surveyed the cavern. Years of aches and pains ingrained into his mind of his body's weakness, made him weary of any sharp movements. But he felt nothing, his withered arm did not pain, his back felt good, and the hump did not ache as usual.

Slowly he walked around the lake towards them, feeling good, and his legs felt strong, as Muppy trotted behind him, occasionally turning back to look at where the scrobble had gone. He stopped the water's edge, stooped and put his hand in. As before a tingling sensation seemed to travel up his arm. Quickly, he withdrew it. The eunicons sensed his presence and as if by some collective instinct, lined up facing him. Fear and anxiety should have sprung into Snorker's mind, but he did not feel anything except love. Muppy gave a little whine, realising better than him that something was seriously wrong.

One eunicon stepped forward, a magnificent beast, taller than the other, and shook its mane and pawed the stones beneath its hooves. Snorker bowed, hoping that he was paying it homage and respect. Suddenly, without warning, it charged forward, its head held low, its horn aimed at Snorker's chest.

Frightened at the thought of this fantastic beast about to skewer him, he stepped back, but the eunicon stopped just in front of him and seemed to gaze into his eyes. Then, it lowered its head and pushed him gently with its nose. It was enough to push Snorker back and he tumbled into the blue lake. The water engulfed him, and the same tingling sensations like mild electric shocks spread throughout his body. The current, like thousands of tiny hands, grabbed and dragged him deeper.

He struggled, madly kicking his legs, wildly thrashing his good arm in an attempt to reach the surface for some urgently needed air. Deeper he went until his chest seemed to want to collapse in upon itself. He could hold his breath no longer and opened his mouth, the water gushed into his lungs. Realisation that he was going to die added to his endeavours, but the current pulled him further down. Black spots exploded in front of his eyes as darkness claimed him.

Snorker opened his eyes, he wasn't dead, but where was he, where was Muppy? The ceiling disappeared into blackness; the walls were of massive blocks of rough-cut, torch-blackened, sandstone. The room looked thousands of years old. The flames from the torches flickered and sparked sending weird shapes onto the walls.

Snorker sat up and looked about, the wall opposite was covered in shelves, containing old books, unusual shaped bottles, ornate containers of differing sizes and styles, figurines of warriors, dragons, jewel encrusted eggs, and other extraordinary things he did not recognise, nor could even name. Where was Muppy?

He thought he saw a small blue and yellow dragon-type figurine move, but that was impossible it looked to be made of stone.

It did, it stretched out its taloned wings and gave a long yawn, and, to Snorker's surprise, changed colour from blue and yellow to a dark red, and back again. It flapped its translucent wings twice and swished its barbed tail. Its graceful movements astounded Snorker.

Then it spotted Snorker staring, stepped to the edge of the shelf and launched itself towards him. Snorker couldn't move, he could only watch as the fearsome little creature glided towards him and landed on his chest. Its piercing blue eyes looking directly into his, its red tongue flashing in and out.

A number of things happened at once, Muppy jumped onto the bed and growled and barked at the minuscule dragon, Snorker screamed and the little dragon roared a fierce jet of yellow fire at Muppy, who yelped as her nose was singed, turned tail and scooted under the bed, the little dragon flapped its wings and quickly flew back to its shelf.

'What's all this noise?' said an old, irritated voice.

Snorker watched as the dragon again flew, circled and landed on the shoulder of the old man from the lake. The old man walked closer and Snorker could see he was dressed, wearing a long flowing robe made of the most luxurious red velvet Snorker had ever seen. Now he was nearer he could see his face, and he noticed things he hadn't seen before. The old man was old, so old it was impossible to judge his age, there were so many lines, so many etched deep into his skin. One line caught his attention, a line deeper than the rest, a line that was not an age line but a massive scar that went from the edge of his right eye to the bottom of his chin. His white beard was plaited, and from each plait hung miniature red roses, as did the wispy hair that fell from behind his ears, because his head didn't have hardly a hair upon it, instead it was tattooed with magical symbols, runes, gargoyles, astrology, the planets, it was so complicated. Then he noticed his eyes, icy blue, the same as the waterfall and the dragon, eyes that he could have dived into. A nose that had been broken more than once, so that it twisted and turned like a big fat maggot, looking impossible.

Muppy peered out from beneath the bed licking her nose.

'Why art thou screaming?

Dost the dead need waking from their eternal slumber?

Thou'st frightened the very life out of delicate Twinkle.'

Snorker did a double blink, he had to think hard on what the old man had just said, he spoke peculiarly, 'Twinkle?'

'Aye, Twinkle, my pet dwarf dragon. There, there, my sweet, did Elijah's shouting upset you?' the old man said tickling the little dragon's chest, who changed colour to red, mewed and rubbed its reptilian head against the old man's wrinkled cheek.

Snorker stupidly looked around, expecting to see Elijah: but there was no one else there. 'I've never seen a dragon, but from the tales I've heard aren't dragons supposed to be, well, big?'

'Fie, fie, well, yes, but Twinkle has some gargoyle i' her.

Fadge, she's a dragoyle, a mongrel of a dragon and a gargoyle.

I perchanced to breed the most propriety i' one.'

'Can I just stop you there, I don't mean to rude, but I can hardly understand a word you're saying.'

'Ah, yes, sorry about that, it's the curse you see, sometimes, without me realising it I lapse into old Xolcoran. If I do it again just remind me, it seems to break the curse. Now where was I? Oh yes.

'A dragon is a fearsome creature, a black cloud before the storm, always on the move, looking for prey. Very aggressive, very ferocious, ready to kill thee at the drop of a hat, mind you, not many of them left, it's their livers you see, very tasty, hunted for their livers. Whereas the gargoyle is a very passive creature, can sit and watch the world go by for a score of years. I tried to get the best of both. Unfortunately, it didn't quite work out, I'm not sure why, because both creatures are giants, and I ended up with a dwarf, more dragon than gargoyle, but Twinkle is very affectionate, fantastic nature, so loving, but as you can see, so small. And an added bonus is that she can change colour, which dragons and gargoyles can't. Funny that.' He looked around, 'Where's your dog? Nevermind, she'll turn up. Now Elijah, I've been waiting for you for nearly a hundred years.'

Again Snorker looked around looking for Elijah. No one. Obviously, this old man was a haystack short of a harvest. 'A hundred years?'

'Yes, a hundred years. Don't you know who I am?' the old man said, fingering the red roses in his beard.

How do you expect him to know, when you don't even know?

'Shut up.'

'I didn't say anything.'

'Do you know who I am?'

'No.'

'No? Haven't you ever attended any state functions?' He pulled a red rose out.

You're going off again.

'No.'

'No, no,' he pulled another red rose out as if in anger, and threw it away, 'don't you know it's a law that everyone must attend at least one state function every ten years?'

'No.'

'No, no,' another red rose was pulled out, this time accompanied by a large amount of grey white beard, 'by Twinkle's blue eyes what is my land coming to when my subjects feel as though they can do what they like? Remind me to remind them.' He held up his beard and peered at it, giving a look of dismay that he's vandalised it, and breathed deeply. 'Ahhh. Now down to business. Where's my book? Ah, there it is.' He held out his hand and a little book levitated towards him and hovered in front. 'Elijah Birthstoneson, under B's. Er, page nine hundred thousand three hundred and forty two, I think.'

Snorker looked at the little book, page nine hundred thousand three hundred and forty two? That sounded a lot, too big for that little book. He was definitely a haystack short.

The book opened at the requested page. 'Elijah Birthstoneson, only son of John and Margreeta, wholesale birthstone suppliers and wizards in the valley of the Dragoylia Castle, is that correct?'

'No.'

At that moment Muppy crawled out from beneath the bed and jumped up next to Snorker, clearly frightened and began licking his face.

The old man smiled, 'Told you she'd turn up. Anyway, is that correct?'

'No,' Snorker answered shaking his head.

'No, what do you mean no?'

'No, I don't have any parents, I never knew them, I am a slave to Lord Zanatos. I've always been a slave ever since I was born. I was told my parents were slaves, as were their parents before them.'

'Zanatos, that nasty backstabbing, creeping degenerate and number one supporter of Bagarnack.'

'Bagarnack?'

'You don't know who Bagarnack is? Tut, tut, what's my kingdom coming to? Bagarnack is the most evil, malicious, oops, shouldn't say too much, it never does well to insult the gods, especially Bagarnack. Right Elijah,'

'I know who Bagarnack is, and I'm not Elijah, I'm Snorker the Hunchback, slave to Lord Zanatos. And I thought this was Lord Zanatos's kingdom?'

The old wizard looked surprised, then raised his eyebrows as if realising, 'Yes, of course, I forgot, the muddlement curse you see, lasts for hundreds of years. Anyway, Elijah.'

'I'm not Elijah, my name is Snorker.' His hump and arm were beginning to pain him again.

'Snorker? No, no, no, a snorker is a six legged pigmoor trained to hunt for various plants.'

'That's what I'm good at, finding plants, herbs, fungi. The Principle-Slave tells me what plants he wants every day and I just know where to look, I can find them very easily, even the rare ones.'

'Mmm, that is very interesting. However, Snorker is not your name, Elijah is your name. But to be on the safe side, you do live in the valley of the twin waterfalls?'

'No, I live at Dragoylia Castle. I'm a kitchen slave in the main kitchen that cooks for Lord Zanatos.'

'Whistling wallababies,' the wizard smacked his hand against his forehead, 'Oww, of course it is, how stupid of me.' He began chewing on a fingernail. 'But, there's been a mistake.'

Snorker stared, the wizard seemed to be chewing his fingers, he moved back horrified, the wizard was chewing his fingers, blood was dribbling down his beard. The wizard spat out a whole fingernail.

The old wizard looked at his fingers and shook his head. 'I must leave now,' his blue eyes invaded Snorker's mind, he turned, then turned back, 'and a word of warning, do not leave these chambers, do not wander, there are things beyond these rooms that will shake your sanity to its foundations. Come on my beauty, back to your perch.' The little dragoyle flew off his shoulder and back to the shelf. 'There is food and drink by the fire. I must go. Remember my warning.' He raised his arms, fluttered his bleeding fingers and dashed out the door.

Snorker glanced over to Twinkle's shelf, the little dragon had curled into a ball and he knew it was asleep instantly as little rhythmic puffs of smoke were ejected out of its long snout.

He thought perhaps it would be better if he lay back down and closed his eyes, then maybe this nightmare would end, and he would wake up on his straw bed.

He looked around and spotted three doors, he would explore them after having something to eat and drink, after all how can a person be in danger in a dream?

He went to the table and looked at the food, picked up a long thick yellow thing and sniffed it, then took a nibble. He didn't like it, it was bitter and stringy, then realised that it was the skin. He broke the stalk and peeled back the skin to reveal a white inside, it smelled delicious and he ate it quickly. Then he sniffed a round orange thing, he liked that, biting through the skin, it tasted delicious. But there was some white meat, he didn't like that, the thought that an animal had died to provide him with food sickened him, but he knew Muppy liked it and picked it up, took it to the bed and gave it to her, she began eating it immediately, without even sniffing it. And some white wine, he liked that also, and the bread was delicious.

After satisfying his hunger and thirst he decided to explore, choosing the first door on the right. It was built of boak, so massive he had trouble opening it, and when he did he wished he hadn't.

The screams were spine tingling. He saw little people trapped in massive spiders' webs, with the spiders going from strand to strand wrapping their prey in cocoons of silken thread, then moving onto the next hapless victim.

He quickly shut the door. What sort of nightmarish hell was he in? The second door was locked. He went back to the bed, where Muppy was flat out, full after her large helping of white meat, but he couldn't stop thinking about all the little people being trapped by the spiders. He had to do something, he had to save them.

He went back to the first door, took a deep breath, pulled open the door and entered, determined to destroy the webs and save the little people.

Strange and unusual feelings invaded his mind, he felt as though he was falling, webs rushed past him, the screams of the little people became louder. Then it stopped and he was stuck to what appeared to be thick ropes that were smeared with large blobs of glue. He looked around as the little people were no longer little and their screams were loud and a gigantic hairy spider was slowly moving towards him. The realisation of what had happened struck him, he had shrunk, he had become one of the little people stuck in a spider's web.

He struggled, trying to free himself as the enormous spider came closer and closer. But the more he struggled the more he became stuck. The spider was above him, its mandibles making the most fearsome clicking noise, its palpi investigating his head. One of its legs twanged a strand of web making Snorker vibrate until he thought he would shake to bits. He strained every muscle in an attempt to break free, but to no avail. Panic brought him to a frenzy, he screamed.

Suddenly, in a blur of movement, the colossal spider was in front of him, its legs spinning him around, then it turned sideways and Snorker saw, underneath and near the end of its abdomen, three pairs of spinnerets open and a thick stream of silk line spurted out and stuck to the side of his head. Again Snorker was spun around until he was completely encased in a sticky cocoon, unable to move. He could just see through as the spider turned and seemed to stare right into his face. Again he heard the fearsome clicking noises of the spider's mandibles as they edged closer, its palpi investigating his body. He wanted to scream, but couldn't open his mouth. He wished the Wizard would come back and rescue him.

Suddenly the spider moved in a flash of speed up the web and he saw a gigantic finger gently prodding it further away. But it wasn't the Wizard's finger; it was a long slender finger with Mother of Pearl-like nails, part of a feminine hand. Then the most beautiful face he had ever seen looked directly at him and smiled. It was a young woman with red and green eyes that seemed to sparkle like the millions of stars he had often watched as he lay upon the roof of the battlements. Her skin was perfectly smooth and shone like the white stones he had often picked by the waterfall. Her hands gently cupped him and pulled him from the web. He was in blackness, but had the sensation of movement. Light suddenly flooded in as the giant hands opened and he was gently lowered onto the bed.

Once again he had peculiar feelings, that he was rising, floating upwards from the bed. Then suddenly, he was normal size, lying on the bed, not wrapped in webbing. He stared at the woman who had rescued him, her long auburn, wavy hair, flowed over her beautiful cheeks and onto the shoulders of her elaborate flowing golden dress. Her eyes seemed to be made of rubies and emeralds that sparkled and glistened from within. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

'You should not wander in here, it is dangerous.'

'Who are you?'

'I am Esme, and you are Snorker, but your real name is Elijah. He's been waiting for you for a hundred years.'

Snorker moved his legs, sat up on the side of the bed, watched, as Esme seemed to glide with movements so graceful she did not appear to be walking at all, and sat next to him. 'I don't understand what's happening. What was that room, why were there gigantic spiders in there?'

'Concern yourself not with that Elijah. It's a room created by Bagarnack to punish those that have maligned him. The spiders will not eat them, and Bagarnack will release them when he thinks they've been punished enough.'

Elijah nodded. 'The Wizard also said he'd been waiting for me for a hundred years. Why me? I'm only sixteen years of age. Besides people don't live beyond seventy.'

'Maybe, but the Wizard's a lot older than that.'

'This is so confusing. Where am I?'

'So many questions. Aren't you going to thank me for saving you,' she leaned over and opened her eyes wide and smiled, 'from the spiders?'

Snorker had never seen such perfect teeth, she was so beautiful, practically a goddess. Suddenly he became tongue-tied, and his words seemed to tumble out. 'I, I, I'm very grateful to you.'

She reached up and gently stroked his cheek, her touch was both calming, yet electric, he wanted her to keep touching him, to keep stroking his cheek, he'd never felt such tenderness before.

'Your destiny is a great one Elijah, it's been decided. Now you must sleep, and when you awake you'll remember nothing of what happened. Sleep now.'

His limbs became heavy, his eyelids felt like they'd weights attached to them, and he couldn't stop himself from falling backwards onto the bed. Dreamily, he saw her lift his legs, then her face was over his, and she leaned down and gently, so lightly, like a warm breeze scented with honeysuckle, kissed him. Sensations of pleasure washed over him, if this was love he wanted more.

'We'll meet again Elijah, now sleep.'

His eyelids obeyed her command and shut, but he forced them open just to see her face once more. He saw her twirl towards the locked door, and as she turned she seemed surrounded in a blue light that grew in intensity, with coloured stars and balls of light dancing around her. Then she was gone and he was asleep.

'Elijah, Elijah, wake up, wake up Elijah.'

Slowly Snorker opened his eyes to see the Wizard, still wearing his luxurious red velvet robes, sitting on the bed at his side, shaking his shoulder, and heard a low growl, then felt a presence next to his left leg. There was Muppy, lying next to him, still protecting him. He sat up and kissed her, and she, in turn, licked his face.

'I'm glad you took my warning and didn't wander. I expected to find you somewhere else. Time to rise, I've much to tell you.'

'This isn't a dream is it?' Was Esme saving him from the spider a dream?

'Many wizard philosophers have posed the question, "What is dream and what is reality?" It could be a dream, I could be in your dream, conversely, you could be in my dream. Alternatively, both of us could be in someone else's dream. However, we must still live this version of reality whomsoever's dream this is.'

Snorker blinked uncomprehendingly, his mind was still half-asleep to make out the intelligibility of the Wizard's words. Muppy snuggled closer into his hand, as if seeking reassurance.

The Wizard stood and walked towards his workbench. Snorker noticed that Twinkle was perched on his shoulder. One of Twinkle's wings was blue and yellow, the other near Worlyn's head was a deep red. Strange.

'Now Elijah, five hundred years ago, or was it four?'

'It was one.'

'One, how do you know?'

'You told me.'

'Did I? Oh yes, a hundred years ago a goddess came to me and told me to expect you.'

'A goddess?'

'Yes, Esme, the goddess of beautiful creatures.'

'Esme?'

'Yes, she comes to me now and again, it was her that entrusted me with the care of her eunicons some one thousand years ago, or was it two? Then again it could've been last year. Nevermind.'

'The eunicons belong to a goddess?'

'Yes of course they do, everything belongs to someone. Now stop asking questions and listen.'

'What does Esme look like?'

'More questions. I cannot tell you what Esme looks like because I've never seen her, well, not in the flesh, seen picture and statues of her, very beautiful. She visits me in the guise of an animal, or sometimes one of her eunicons. Surely you must've seen one of her statues?'

Elijah shook his head; no he'd never seen one of her statues. Strange feelings came over him, like he should remember something but couldn't. The name Esme sent his heart into a flutter.

'Now what were we talking about?'

'Esme.'

'No, before that.'

'You were saying you've been waiting for me for a hundred years.'

'That's right, yes, now.' The Wizard suddenly twirled, then put his fingers to his lips. 'What was I going to say?'

'You're going to tell me why you've been waiting for me for a hundred years.' Elijah moved Muppy over and stood, she lay and closed her eyes, as if disdainful of the chattering.

Worlyn's eyebrows lifted. 'Was I?'

Yes you were thick head.

'Shut up.'

Elijah shook his head. 'And, you were going to tell me what my part in this is?'

'Ah, I can't do that.'

'Why?'

'Because I don't know.'

'I'm confused.'

'Yes, well, you're not the only one.'

'It's obvious you must know more than I do.'

'Yes, you're correct in that supposition, I do know more than you. However, I don't know the reasons why you've been chosen to fulfil a destiny, which I also don't know.'

'What've you been told?'

'To wait, to guard, and help you in any way I can.'

'Is that all?'

'That's all.'

'But why a hundred years, why such a long time?'

'Ah Elijah, a hundred years is but a wink of the eye to the universe and the gods that control it. Is it my imagination Elijah or have you grown taller? Stand here.'

Elijah, more confused than before, obeyed.

'Yes, you're two hands taller, now that is a surprise, the blue lake's never made me taller, it's helped my gout and arthritis, but it's never made me taller. Let's conduct a little experiment. That candle there, concentrate on the flame.'

Elijah looked at the flame.

'Now, think about putting it out with the power of your mind.'

Elijah concentrated, nothing happened, the wick continued to burn.

'Are you concentrating?'

'Yes.'

Still nothing happened.

'No. Think about making the flame larger.'

Again Elijah concentrated; again nothing happened.

'This is very strange. Why've the gods chosen you when you don't have any powers?'

'I don't know.'

'No, neither do I.'

I don't either.

'Shut up.'

'I haven't said anything.'

'I wasn't talking to you.'

Elijah looked around, no one. This Worlyn was definitely addled. 'What happens now?'

'We carry on as normal.'

'But this isn't normal for me.'

'No I suppose not.'

'Normal for me is finding the plants and cleaning the kitchens, washing the pots and pans. I must get back, the Principle-Slave will probably beat me.'

'Does he beat you often?'

'Every day, morning and evening, he likes to see me cringe, but I don't mind.'

'You don't mind, someone is beating you morning and evening and you don't mind? Oh may the gods help you Elijah, you don't mind being beaten?'

'At first I did, and then I began to imagine I was made of stone, hard stone, and his belt would bounce off my back. The pain lessened, but he must've noticed because he began using a whip, and I began to feel nothing. I still cringed, still cried out as if in pain, because he'd other ways he could punish me, denying me food. That I could live with because I could easily find food. But locking me in the deepest dungeon was the worst, denying me light and freedom to roam, keeping me in the dark, not seeing the sunset, not visiting my favourite places. So when he beat me I cried out, screamed, begged him to stop. That seemed to please him.'

'Curious, very curious. Did you turn to stone?'

Elijah laughed, 'Course not, how could I turn to stone?

'How could you not feel the whip?'

'I don't know.'

'Take off your smock.'

Elijah looked at the wizard, but did as requested and pulled his smock off.

'Turn.'

Elijah turned, and felt the wizard run his fingers over his hunchback.

'Smooth as a tenesco's bum.' Worlyn shook his head.

'What?' said Elijah trying to look at his back, then noticed a large mirror and went and looked at his back, no scars, it was smooth, how was that?

'Well, there're four explanations for this.'

'What're they?'

'One, you've never been beaten and are telling lies.'

Elijah answered indignantly, 'I'm not.'

'Two, the Principle-Slave's been beating you with a feather duster and used magic to make you believe it was a belt or whip. Three, you've really been turning yourself into stone. Or four, the magic waters have healed your scars. I'm inclined towards the first two myself, probably the first.'

'I'm not lying.'

'Maybe, maybe not. You can put your, er, smock, is that a smock? Looks like you've been using it to clean an oven. Anyway, put it back on. Now, we need to find you a bed, because that's my bed.'

Elijah panicked, 'A bed, but I should be getting back, the Principle-Slave'll be waiting for me, he'll want the herbs, he'll beat me, and probably lock me in the dungeons. I must go back.'

'You're not going back.'

'Why not?'

'Haven't you been listening?'

'Of course I have.'

'The gods have told me to help you in any way I can; I've been waiting for you for a hundred years. Doesn't that tell you anything?'

'Only that the gods must be addled.'

'Shush,' the Wizard looked around. 'Don't say such things, don't even think them. The last thing we want is an angry god whisking us into a pit of burning sulphur, or even worse, a giant spider's web, and leave us there. Watch your tongue. Now, until the gods give us some sign or whatever, because they sometimes move in peculiar ways.'

'Their mischief to perform.'

'Will you shut up and stop criticising the gods, you'll have us turned into a pair of flies in a room full of frogs. Put your smock back on, you'll catch a cold. Now what was I saying?'

Elijah put his smock back on. 'That the gods are peculiar.'

'I didn't say that.'

'Yes you did.'

'I take it back; I didn't mean to say it. I was saying that until the gods give us a sign we carry on as normal.'

'What's normal?'

'Ah, a good philosophical question, one that has confused wizards for centuries. However, normal is you cleaning this place up, then stocking all the fires with firewood, then checking all the torches and candles, then cleaning the stables.'

'You've stables?'

'Then feeding the pigmoors and cattle.'

'You've pigmoors and cattle?'

'Then helping the cooks kill and pluck a couple of dozen chickens, six pigmoorlets, six lambs, six geese, peeling some fotatoes, some vegetables, arranging some fruit and flowers, I'm expecting some visitors, oh, bring up a hundred bottles of the Chestor red wine, no make it a hundred and fifty, then help to prepare the banqueting hall.'

'You've a banqueting hall?'

'And wait on my guests, then after we've all retired, you clean up. Then tomorrow.'

'Excuse me.'

'What?'

'I'm not your slave.'

'What do you expect to do, laze around all day eating me out of house and home, living the life of a Wizard, when obviously you're not?'

'You said the gods told you to help me.'

'I am helping you, I'm teaching you discipline.'

'But obviously if the gods wanted you to help me, it must mean in some way they consider me to be an important person.'

'Conversely, the gods could have made an almighty mistake, and you are just an ugly little nobody.'

Elijah gave an involuntary twitch at his insult. 'Can the gods make mistakes?'

'Course, well, not normally, but even the gods are fallible, well, no not really, the gods are infallible, the gods are great.'

'You're confusing me.'

You've been confusing me for a long time.

'Shut up.'

Again Elijah looked around, who was he talking to?

'Let's move on from the subject of the gods, it makes me skittish.'

'I don't understand any of this.'

'Do you believe in pre-destination?'

'What's that?'

'Divine determinism?'

'I'm lost.'

'That the gods have determined the future, and everything that's happening is meant to happen.'

'I don't know.'

'I don't believe in it myself. I believe that everything's in a state of flux, but the gods can, and do, influence the future.'

'Sounds reasonable.'

'Therefore, in some way, the gods have decided you've some part to play in influencing the future.'

'But why me?'

'Again, I don't know.'

'I think.'

'Very good, that's a beginning.'

'I was going to say, I think the gods have more for me than to be your slave.'

'You're not going to be my slave, I don't believe in slavery. I'll pay you, plus your board and three meals a day, the same as all my employees. I consider that to be very reasonable.'

'Again, the evidence would suggest.'

'Evidence, evidence, don't start getting uppity with me, you ugly little scallywag. What evidence?'

Elijah looked to the ceiling and took a deep breath. 'That the gods have chosen me.'

'I said, don't get uppity.'

'I was going to say the gods have chosen me for a reason.'

'Your logic is worthy of one of the great ancient philosophians.'

'Also, why ask you to help and assist me? I believe the gods want you to teach me.'

'Do you?'

'Yes.'

'What do you believe the gods want me to teach you?'

'Everything.'

'That's impossible.'

'Why?'

'Because I don't know everything.'

'Everything you know.'

'Everything I know. There's one flaw in your reasoning,' the Wizard put his hands behind his back and looked up into the dark ceiling, 'you don't have any magic powers. I'll admit that the waters from the waterfall have changed you more than I thought possible, but...'

Elijah stood directly in front of the Wizard and looked up into his eyes. 'Are you going to insult the gods?' He surprised himself by his audacity, where was it coming from?

'Insult the gods, what d'you mean?'

'If you don't help me, you are, by your actions, insulting the gods.'

'I most certainly am not, I would never insult the gods.'

'Then you must help and teach me.'

The Wizard stared deep into Elijah's eyes, and Elijah held his gaze. The Wizard's pupils seemed to expand until Elijah was engulfed in their blackness, then he saw stars, planets, moons, large clouds of multi-coloured gases, comets with silver tails, exploding nebula and solar flares. Elijah seemed to be flying at an enormous speed through the comet's tails, through the solar flares, past the planets, past the moons, through rings of brightly coloured ice particles, then the Wizard stood back and Elijah was once again staring into the Wizard's face.

'This's very strange,' the Wizard said rubbing his eyes. 'We must go back to the waterfall.'

'What happened then?'

'Again Elijah, I don't know, and I don't wish to speculate. However, you're right, I'll teach you; but, in return, you must work. Is that agreed?'

'Yes.'

'Just thought on, we cannot go to the waterfall today because my guests'll be here soon. Therefore, you'll do the tasks I've set for you, and tomorrow, after my guests have left, we'll go to the waterfall.'

'What'll you teach me?'

'As you said before, everything I know. But firstly to work, go through the first door on the right, down the corridor, take the sixth on the left, go down thirty five flights of stairs, take an immediate left, a right, another right, down twenty two flights of stairs, turn left and you'll find yourself in the kitchens. Tell the head cook to put you to work, he's expecting you.'

Elijah looked at the door, but couldn't move, he had the feeling that behind the door was lurking something unpleasant.

'Well, what're you waiting for?'

'That door on the right?'

'Have you opened that door?'

'No, I don't think so.'

'Well, go through it then.'

Elijah slowly walked to the door and tentatively pulled on the handle and stood back. The massive door swung tortuously open, its hinges squealing, Muppy looked up, then jumped off the bed to stand besides Elijah.

Beyond lay the darkened corridor, lit only by flaming torches. Elijah half turned, looked at the Wizard and gave a smile of relief. He then went to walk through.

'Elijah.'

Elijah stopped and turned.

'What did you think was behind the door?'

'I, I don't know.'

'Did you sense there was something behind that door?'

'I can't say.'

'Come back here Elijah and sit down.'

He did as the Wizard requested, Muppy trotted behind him and also sat.

'Now, watch my finger,' the Wizard stood in front and held up his right forefinger, and slowly began moving it to and fro. Elijah's eyes followed. 'You're feeling very sleepy, your eyes feel heavy, you cannot keep them open, you are asleep.'

'No I'm not.'

'You should be, you're not concentrating.'

'I am.'

'We'll try it again, this time look at my finger.'

'I was looking at your finger.'

'You're feeling very sleepy, your eyes feel heavy, very, very heavy, you cannot keep them open.'

'Yes, I can.'

'No you can't. If I say your eyes feel heavy, they feel heavy, now go to sleep.'

'I don't want to go to sleep.'

'Bah, do you realise you're undermining my position as Wizard, this's never happened before. There's something very strange here.'

'I've thought that from the moment I woke up.'

'Go about your duties, I've some thinking to do.'

'What about Lord Zanatos and the Principle-Slave, they'll be very angry when I don't come back, probably lock me in the dungeons for weeks.'

'Bosh to Zanatos, you're not his slave anymore. Go on, off you pop.'

Elijah, with Muppy following, reluctantly left the room and went into the long dirty and cobwebby corridor. Now, he thought, did the wizard say left, sixth on the left?

Yeah. Muppy stood beside him, her ears flat to her head and quivered.

But, he stopped before opening the door, something inside was beckoning him. Something that whispered to him, sounds that were indistinguishable, but made him want more, sounds that were warm and comforting, sounds that were like a mother soothing her baby, a father laughing and playing with his son, a grandmother wiping away tears and applying ointment upon a scraped knee, a grandfather telling a bedtime story. Sounds and voices he'd never heard.

He wanted more. But as he opened it he was astonished to find it was a massive junk room, filled with all kinds of weird and wonderful stuff. He took a step over the threshold and Muppy followed, giving a little whine. He spotted a human skeleton with horns, chained to the wall by its wrists and ankles, which growled as he approached. He jumped back, Muppy's hackles rose and she growled and barked, but kept a good distance. They were both ready to turn and run away as fast as they could. They both stared at the skeleton, watching to see if it made any more movements; but it was still. Had he just imagined that? No, Muppy had barked, she's seen it also. He'd stay away from that.

Voices, kind and pleasant, whispered to him, urging him forward.

They continued walking, occasionally turning to look at the skeleton. There were large and small jars filled with all kinds of horrible green entrails, but they both stopped at a large fish tank and could do aught but stare. Swimming inside was the weirdest thing they'd ever seen, a creature that had the top half of a little pink bald dog with gills and the tail of a fish; it swam backwards and forwards barking at him underwater. Muppy cocked her head to one side, her ears pricked up and her head moved from side to side, as if trying to figure out what this strange creature was. They watched it for some moments, hypnotised by its strange swimming and barking. The half dog, half fish swam to the back of the fish tank, lay on the bottom and closed its eyes. Muppy looked up at Elijah, he looked down at her and shrugged his shoulders. They continued.

There was a pyramid of crystal balls, some of them had different coloured fogs swirling inside, others, to Elijah's consternation, had little people trapped, trying to break out. What had he walked into?

He turned to go back out, but walked into a giant bat, which had a smoking pipe dangling from its mouth and wearing white flannelette pyjamas that had big red lips printed onto them. He staggered back and fell over Muppy. The bat's red eyes leered at him, and the talon pointed, then there was a loud crack and the bat disappeared. He realised he was sweating, Muppy had jumped into his arms and was shivering. He looked over to where the bat had pointed, something round was glistened like white gold, a thing that had jewels set into it, deep red rubies, sparkling green emeralds, rainbow diamonds. A shield. He'd seen shields before, but nothing like this. The shield was perfectly round and inset into the shield were many jewels, then he realised they were set as to make a figure, a figure of a eunicon, diamonds traced its shape, emeralds made its eyes and horn, and rubies its hooves.

He could not, even if he'd wanted to, stop himself from reaching for the shield. As soon as he touched it he was flooded with an electrical energy, a great chorus of voices swelled inside his head. Magical melodious voices that sang a dreadful prophetic song.

We are the White Shield of the Realm Dionysus

If you can hear you are the one sent to us

We were created by his hands to serve you well

To save the universe from an evil hell.

To handle this shield you must learn

Or else the stars and the skies will burn

The cosmos will be plunged into black

Sucked up until there is no turning back.

Beware of flattering gods with evil mission

By the rule of cruel slavery is their vision

To subjugate all beneath their will

And to dissenters they would kill

Listen hard and remember well

You have no magic to excel

They would grind your bones to dust

Just to satisfy their ambitious lust

But be assured of your role in this

The One would not send you amiss.

Well, he thought with some apprehension, that was jolly. He picked it up, expecting it to be heavy, but it wasn't, it was as light as a dry sycamore seed. At the back of the shield were two loops for his hand and arm, which fitted him perfectly.

'WHAT ARE YOU DOING?'

Muppy barked and Elijah dropped the shield, the noise echoed around the large room with a resounding clang.

The wizard was standing by the door, his hands held aloft, a look of utmost terror and fear on his old lined face. 'What're you doing?'

'I, I'm sorry, I didn't realise I was doing anything wrong.'

'How can you touch it, how can you lift it? You shouldn't have touched it, that is the White Shield of the Realm, made by the god Dionysus.'

'Dionysus?'

Worlyn's face twisted with anger, 'Oh, you are simple, the god of nature, of the land. How're you still alive? Why aren't you a pile of ash? See all this dust and ash,' he spread his arms expansively, 'that's what's left of stupid greedy wizards that thought they could own the shield.'

'You sound disappointed?'

'How did you get in here, how did you get into this room?'

'You told me to come here, you said it would lead to the kitchens.'

Worlyn seemed to deflate, 'Ah yes, silly me, it's the muddlement curse you see. Can you pick it up and put it back where it belongs?'

'You told me not to touch it.'

'Pick it up and put it back.'

Elijah did as the wizard said, picking the shield up and gingerly placed it back.

'Follow me.'

Elijah followed the wizard out and back to his room.

'Sit.'

'Are you angry with me?'

'No, of course not, it just came as a bit of a shock, no human should be able to lift up Dionysus' White Shield of the Realm. It's just that I'm totally confused, and it's not because of the muddlement curse. Esme told me to look after that shield, along with other things in that room. Elijah, I'm going to tell you everything I remember. Firstly, you must remember years ago, I cannot remember how many, I fought Zanatos for the third time in the Centuria wizard duel, he was winning, he was so powerful, more powerful than any wizard I've ever faced, and I've faced quite a few. He cursed me with the muddlement curse, and I knew he was going to kill me. I only just escaped. The muddlement curse makes you forget practically everything you've ever known and learnt, for instance, I forgot how to read, I've forgot how to even wipe my nose, all the basics of humankind. However, the muddle curse cannot make you forget what the gods have told you, that it cannot do, once the gods have told you something it is etched in your mind until the day you die. Esme, and Bearbert, have been very good to me, they've told me many things, shown me the basics on how to live a relatively normal life, how to cook, how to clean, how to read.'

'You've seen Esme?' Elijah interrupted.

'Of course not, to look upon the true image of some gods would mean instant death or madness, if they so wish. I told you she comes to me in the guise of an animal. Although, having said that many gods are so vain they wouldn't appear as anything but their true image. Bagarnack being one. Anyway, I still have many memories of the gods who had visited me.'

'More than one god has visited you?'

'Oh yes, many gods have came to me, more I think on the bidding of Esme than anything.'

'What are the gods like?'

'Ah, just like us, just like people.'

'No.'

'Oh yes, there are jealous gods, insecure gods, apathetic gods, philanthropic gods, evil gods, vain gods, gods that demand obedience, prejudicial gods that would destroy you just for the pleasure of it, and thousands of lesser gods, living in rivers, lakes, caves, all over the place. Ah Elijah, the universe is so complex. Imagine a pyramid with many layers, classified by the gods as those that can reason for themselves. At the bottom layer are slobberlobbers, rotrobbers, killykarkins and gobbledegeeks. Up to the next level are ceskarkias, siluns, and of course, humans, take the stairs up to the next layer and are, hagges, vampyres, werewolves, ghouls, fiends, cacodemons, ghosts, ogres, bugaboos and hell-hounds, and probably more I've forgotten. Then up again, there are witches, warlocks, shape-shifters, seers, shamans and giants, and probably more I've forgotten. Then up again to wizards, magi, thaumaturgists, philosophians, necromancers and sorcerers, then up again to demi-gods, that is where a god has taken a liking to a human and mated producing a demi-god. However, some gods will mate with anything, so you can imagine what sort of, er, creatures that will produce.'

Elijah didn't have a clue as to what sort of creature that would produce.

'And Kentauri. A word about Kentauri, if you should ever encounter a Kentauros, I advise you to throw yourself upon the ground, put your arms to your sides, and get really muddy.

'Why should I do that?'

'Because the Kentauri are a secretive, proud and ancient race, by lying down and getting muddy you're acknowledging their superiority, even the gods don't bother the Kentauri. But I doubt you'll ever encounter a Kentauros, they very really show themselves to humans. The Kentauri have an intelligence far beyond human understanding.'

'Have you ever met a Kentauros?'

'Oh yes, I met Grifted once. Grifted was a young Kentauros, a junior, curious and inquisitive, he wanted to know what I was. I told him, he'd never seen a human before, he laughed, seemed to find my shape ridiculous, then just galloped off. Then three hundred years later Esme invited me to the Kentauri Graduation, with their permission of course, well with Grifted's permission, as he had become Kentauros Overseer, that's the chief of the Kentauri. Ah what a wondrous occasion, magic you wouldn't believe, and Grifted even remembered me.' The wizard stopped talking and looked as though his eyes had glazed over and was remembering something fantastic, then he shook his tattooed head. 'Where was I? Oh yes, demi-gods, Kentauri, angels and saints. Angels come in two different types, good and er, not so good, but there's one easy way to recognise which is which, good angels, also guardian angels are completely white, even their eyes, whereas the not so good angels, although completely white have red eyes. Or so I believe, I've never met an angel. Now saints, they're a little bit different, saints are humans that have sacrificed themselves to save another human, not just an ordinary sacrifice, one where they've sacrificed their soul to save another human, most usually a relative. The gods place them very highly, and Daemons, stay clear of them, nasty things they are, keep you enslaved for all eternity if you don't have a protective god. Then there are the gods, twenty-four gods split into two groups of twelve. One group calls themselves the Titans, don't ask me why. Six male gods, Okeanos, god of the sea, Koeus, god of wisdom and intellect, Kreios, god of something or other, Hyperion, god of light, Iapetus, god of mortal life, whatever that means. And Bagarnack, also known as Kronos, leader of the Titans. And six goddesses, Theia, goddess of concepts. No idea what that is. Rheia, goddess of words, Themis, the goddess of law and justice, Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory and forgetfulness, Phoebe, goddess of time, and Tethys, goddess of retribution. Problem being is that they change jobs every now and again.'

'I've heard of Bagarnack.'

'I bet you have. Zanatos loves Bagarnack. Then there are the other group of gods who call themselves Olympians, don't ask me what that means. They are Zeus, the leader of the Olympians, the upholder of justice, law and morals, bit of a conflict with Themis.'

'I've also heard of Zeus.'

'Quiet, don't interrupt. Yes, well, he seems to have gone away. Poseidon, the god of the sea, more conflict with Okeanos.'

Elijah nodded.

'Apollo, bit of a contradiction, he seemed to be a god of many things, moral excellence, male beauty, music, prophecy, healing, archery, care of herds and flocks, of light, healing and medicine, but also plague, and philosophy and law, but also executions. Those who are about to die pray to him, hoping for a swift end. Then Hermes, god of fertility and good fortune as well as road and boundaries. Dionysus, I've mentioned him. Hephaestus, now Bearbert, god of fire and the making of weapons using fire, warriors give sacrifices to him. Ares, the god of war, instigator of trouble and strife, not a popular god, but as Bearbert said, someone has to do it. Esme, you already know. Aphrodite, besides Esme, she's the most beloved of the gods, she's the protector of towns and villages, a patron of arts and crafts and the personification of wisdom and good sense. She's sometimes known as Pallas Aphrodite; ready to anger the other gods to do what she feels is right. Also the goddess of love, beauty and fertility, and the protector of prostitutes. And, Artemis, a goddess of fertility and a protector of women in childbirth, she'd give a quick and painless death to those women that would otherwise suffer. And finally, Dementer, the goddess of grain and agriculture, but if she didn't receive her sacrifice your crops would fail. Then there are the lesser gods, no body knows how many of them there are, obviously the gods themselves know, and the one above them.'

'The one above them?'

'Ah, yes, but we're moving into the unknown here, it's only what the gods themselves have let slip, that there are, er is, for want of a better term, the One.'

'The One?'

'Yes, The One, what The One is I don't know, I don't think even the gods know. But The One, and this is only guesswork from snippets that the gods let slip, is that The One is the creator of everything.'

'Everything?'

'Everything that you can see, hear or feel, and lots of things that are outside those senses, outside our material world, outside the dimensions that hold us, the bad as well as the good.'

'The One created the bad?'

'Ah Elijah, you're judging The One on human frailties, you're judging him, or her, or even it, for creating the lion that kills the deer, the spider that kills the fly, what would we know of The One? We're less than ants. Our world is full of wonders; the universe is full of more wonders. I quickly learnt that I'm nothing but an eventual food source for maggots, an insect that the gods would prod with their fingers for their amusement, and just as quickly squash beneath their feet when they became bored. I've asked myself many times, the gods reminding me, why there's so much conflict, why has The One not made everything to live in harmony, why did he not make every creature herbivores, so that every animal would be in harmony with its neighbours? And the only answer I can come up with, with a little nudge and wink from whatever animal Esme has chosen to be at that particular time, is that there are two Ones, two with different goals.'

'A good and evil.'

'You see these are human concepts, which I'm not sure the gods recognise. Would you say that the lion that eats the deer is evil?'

'No, that's the nature of the lion.'

'What about the dragon that cooks the farmer then eats him, or the vampyre that drinks the blood of a maiden, or the werewolf that rips the throat of the traveller?'

'Yes.'

'Why? The dragon is only doing what the lion is, eating, so is the vampyre and the werewolf.'

'But they are eating people.'

'So that's your distinction, people are more important than deers?'

'Yes.'

'Maybe the gods don't think like that, really we don't know how the gods think. It's all very confusing, like a goldfish in a glass bowl, just going round and round, looking for a way out, but by the time it's thought of a plan, it's forgot it, like everything else it had learned. It's late, time for bed, tomorrow you'll start reading.'

'I cannot read.'

'Oh, I'll teach you, or is there a spell, maybe a potion, nevermind, I'll remember in the morning. Your bed is over there, now where's mine?' The wizard began looking around, as if he'd lost something. 'Silly me, that is my bed. I'm sure there's another somewhere around here, perhaps over there behind those bookcases.'

'Wait, you haven't told me your name.'

'Ah, yes, er, let's see,' he put his fingers to his lips, 'Artem, Hartiboff, Wigwhizzer, Dumbledore, Gandalf, Merlin? Oh, nevermind, I'll remember soon, goodnight, er, what's your name again? I remember, Elijah. Sure I knew a Gandalf once, or was that Bearbert telling me about a Gandalf?'

Elijah watched the ancient wizard walk behind the bookcases muttering incomprehensibly to himself. He was somewhat confused, he thought the wizard said this was his bed, yet, why had he gone behind the bookcases? He shrugged his shoulders, lay down next to Muppy and looked at the walls, a dark green lizard scurried across, he hoped he could get back out into the light, he wondered had the Principle-Slave ordered a search for him yet?

'Worlyn Wicklewart the Wonderful.'

Elijah sat up, the wizard's head was peering around the bookcases.

'Worlyn Wicklewart, that's my name. Goodnight Elijah.'

Elijah lay down, tickled Muppy behind her ear and closed his eyes. Worlyn Wicklewart, he's once heard the Principle-Slave yelling at the cook saying he'd end up like Worlyn Wicklewart if he didn't pull his finger out.

'Arrhem.'

Elijah sat up, Worlyn was standing next to the bed.

'That's my bed, yours is behind the bookcases, come on, off.'

The Commentaries of Asher the Dwarf. Trusted Slave of Alar Barton-Abercrombie.

It started with the voice, every slave heard the voice in their minds, "Seek freedom, the Nemesis is coming, rise and battle oppression, conquer the oppressors."

At first the slaves kept this to themselves, but once one mentioned it, it became like a tsunami of gossip, quickly spreading amongst all the slave population. Of course, certain slaves went and told their masters, who dismissed it as fantasy.

But it wasn't.

Some slaves heard more than the one sentence, some heard instructions telling them what to do. But I, not only heard the voice, I heard thousands of other voices; voices that drove me to the brink of insanity; voices that were petty, sarcastic, cruel, angry, every emotion I could think of. But this only happened when I was totally relaxed, laying on my straw pallet, in the dark; I couldn't do it during the day.

Then, after a long period, I realised what these voices where, they were the thoughts of thousands of people across the world. I could hear their innermost thoughts. After many years I became able to suppress these thoughts, drive them into the under-conscious of my mind, but I could cherry-pick, reading the thoughts of my masters, of warriors, but not wizards, and certainly not rotrobbers, because their thoughts are bestial at the best of times, all they think about is killing and eating their prey and victims.

I was very lucky as slaves go, my whole family stayed together, for some reason we were not split and sold as other slave families were. I was the youngest of four sisters and two brothers. When they realised that I would never grow any taller they became very protective of me, shielding me from the inevitable taunts. My brothers fought many battles on my behalf; the favourite taunt was 'runt'. My sisters washed and dressed me, and accompanied me everywhere, my parents took on the extra load of doing the work that was allocated to me.

But eventually we were split and sold. I miss them so much. I know they are all dead, because I would have found their minds.

My parents knew I would never be able to do manual work, so they enlisted the help of those slaves who could read and write, so began my education. I did have talents, my handwriting was fast and exceptional, I had an analytical mind and became second to none for my arithmetic abilities, plus my tutors, friends and relatives would always tell everyone that would listen that I would make an excellent counter and clerk.

Eventually, I was sold to the estate of Alar Barton-Abercrombie. I kept my head down and worked to the best of my ability. I found corruption amongst his overseers, his foremen, and his slave-masters to the detriment of the slaves. At least thirty percent of his produce was being stolen and sold on the black market and blamed on the slaves. I knew that to bring it to the attention of my immediate superiors would result in losing my head, so I wrote him a long letter detailing the wrongdoings of these freemen, and how they were blaming the slaves. A trusted friend of mine, also a slave, and a messenger, took the letter to his home.

Months passed, and my nerves were shredded, any moment I expected the slave-masters to come and drag me away. I thought my ability to hear their thoughts had failed me because I couldn't detect any malice or plans to have me killed. I searched out the mind of Alar Barton-Abercrombie, but it's difficult to find the mind of one specific person, when those minds that are closest to mine would intrude.

Then one day Alar Barton-Abercrombie himself rode into our town, accompanied by three wizards and a large force of warriors. I was brought before him. He dismissed the slave-masters, leaving only him and the three wizards in the room. He had all the accountancy books brought to him. For hours he questioned me, them made me sit behind a heavy curtain to his right, told me to whisper answers to his questions, and had the slave-masters brought in one by one.

He questioned them, and consulted me about their answers. The process took almost two months, at the end almost fifty slave-masters were executed, and to my shame I pitied them not one jot. Alar Barton-Abercrombie took me back to his headquarters in Terrim-Vorus.

I quickly proved my worth to him. At times he praised my abilities, but other times he completely ignored me. But I knew my bookkeeping had, and was, saving him millions.

It took him a long time to trust me, but when he did it put me in a privileged position, because the slaves instinctively knew I was on their side. I would point out where savings could be made, where better practices would make greater savings, and henceforth more profits, where better food would increase the productivity of his slaves. Well-fed slaves worked harder than starved ones. I became his moneymaker.

Then came the voice.

Chapter Two

Elijah awoke to strange chanting; he couldn't tell if it was morning or night, as there were no windows because they were deep underground. Muppy had her tail between her legs, her ears were flat, and she had cuddled close to him.

He stroked her head, looked at the source of the noise and saw Worlyn chanting to, what the hell was that? It was the giant bat he'd encountered in the junk room, still wearing the white flannelette pyjamas with the big red lips, sitting cross-legged in an armchair smoking a pipe and drinking a fuming black liquid from a glass. It seemed to be nodding at Worlyn, as if understanding Worlyn's chanting, and, its eyes were sparkling as if they were emerald, rubies and diamonds. Then it looked at him and raised three talons to stop Worlyn, and pointed. Worlyn stopped and turned, then the bat turned blue and vanished.

'Elijah, did you sleep well?'

'What was that?' Elijah said, swinging his legs off the bed.

'That? Oh, Esme's younger brother, Bearbert.'

'Bearbert?'

'Yes, he's the god of nightime creatures, also known as Hephaestus, but he likes Bearbert better, easier for humans to remember he said. Always comes to me as a giant bat, smashing god,' Worlyn laughed, 'the stories he tells, you wouldn't believe, one time he was visiting rats, having a frolic with them, dancing through the sewers, when a hagge grabbed hold of him, hagges love rats, it's their favourite delicacy, and she tried to bite Bearbert's head off, and her head exploded.' Worlyn laughed and slapped his hands upon his knees.

'What are hagges?'

'Foul creatures, the most despicable of the despicable, they're humans that have tortured children, that have made children's lives a misery, that have subjected them to the most depraved acts. The problem being is that some of the gods want them to suffer. I've met many hagges, and I've blasted them into infinity, but the gods have saved them, saved them for me to blast them again, so that the hagges suffer over and over again. Enough of hagges, the gods have given me orders, you Elijah, are to challenge Zanatos to a magical duel. You could've challenged him in the Centuria Wizards Tournament, but he's cancelled that.'

Elijah stared into Worlyn's bright blue eyes, 'What's the Centuria Wizard's Tournament?'

'The Centuria Wizards Tournament used to take place every hundred years at the start of the new century. It used to decide who'll be the ruling wizard of the three continents for the next hundred years.'

'Three continents?' Elijah repeated, rather confused.

'Ah, you don't know do you, you've never really had an education? On our planet are three inhabited continents.'

'What's a planet?'

Worlyn took in a deep breath, puffed his cheeks out and exhaled. 'A planet is like a giant ball floating in space...

'What space?'

'Oh ye gods, this is going to take forever.' Worlyn clicked his fingers and Twinkle flew from her shelf and landed on his right shoulder, he tickled her under her chin and she breathed out little rings of smoke. 'A giant ball floating in space, part of a solar system. A solar system is one where planets circle one sun. A galaxy is a collection of solar systems of stars, planets and moons. We know that there are a hundred billion galaxies in our part of the universe, our galaxy is a small irregular one containing only four solar systems and our solar system contains only one habitable planet, at, and this is the good bit, the perfect distance from the sun, so that it can sustain life.'

Worlyn looked at Elijah's confused look, and realised. 'Perhaps it would be better if I showed you.' He waved both hands in opposite circles and an irregular galaxy appeared, complete with miniature stars, and even smaller planets. Worlyn gave a one-handed wave and a beautiful, magnificently coloured planet, with shades of green, blue, white and even red, with a ring of many colours, constantly changing and glimmering, made of millions of rocks and dust particles, surrounding it.

'This is the planet we're on. Now each of the three continents is ruled by a wizard, every ten years each continent holds their own Wizard Tournament to decide the ruling wizard of that continent, then every hundred years each continent sends as many wizards as wish to compete in the tournament.

'It can be a headache, last time about three thousand wizards turned up all wanting to show off their powers, all wanting to rule the three continents. It was an organisational nightmare, I should know, I had to organise it.' He sighed, a big long sigh of utter disappointment. 'But I don't have to do it this time.'

'Why is that?'

'One, I'm no longer the ruling wizard, two, I lost to Zanatos, and three, he's cancelled all future tournaments and declared himself Wizard Imperator, that means Emperor. I'm still very confused as to why the gods want you to challenge him, you don't seem to have any magical power,' and under his breath he said, 'nor any intelligence.'

'I heard that. I picked up the shield.'

'Yes, you did.'

'I can find the most rare plants.'

'Yes, you can, and that will certainly get you far in your challenge, I don't think.'

'You said yourself that the waters in the blue lake has altered me, more than it did to you.'

'That's also true, but can you lift that apple into the air?'

Elijah picked up the apple. 'Yes.'

'I mean,' Worlyn rolled his eyes, 'using magic, this is a magic tournament, not a throwing custard pies at one another tournament.'

Elijah put the apple back on the table and stared at it, and stared at it, and stared at it. Shifted his position and concentrated, moved so that his nose was nearly touching it and stared. The apple didn't even wobble. He looked at Worlyn and Twinkle, both where nearly asleep, then picked up the apple and took a bite.

The crunch woke up Worlyn, 'Did it move?'

'No.' Elijah continued eating.

'Oh well, the gods must have a reason. Before I forget, Bearbert told me you should swim in the blue lake everyday.'

'I can't swim.'

'Well, paddle then, as long as you lie down and let the water completely cover you. And,' Worlyn pulled a yellowing parchment from inside his robes and handed it to Elijah, 'here's a list of plants you've to find, it seems I'm to make a potion for you to drink everyday.'

Elijah rolled out the parchment and looked at the words, it just looked like a load of black scribbles. 'I can't read.'

'By Arlberg's anvil I forgot.'

'Who's Arlberg?'

'A demi-god, his father was Pluto, the god of the underground.'

'Hell?'

'No, not hell, under ground, mines and caves, he's the patron god of miners and all creatures that live underground. He fell in love with a mortal girl called Singer.'

'What, did she sing?'

'What? No, she wasn't a singer, she was a seamstress, and a very good one by all accounts because the gods bestowed immortality upon her and she's been making their clothes ever since. Gods like clothes obviously. Don't know why, they can just conjure up a whole wardrobe whenever they like? What were we talking about?'

'This list of plants you gave me, but I can't read, I need to see the plants, or a picture, to find the plants.'

'Oh yes, right,' Worlyn said, raising his hands and rolling back his sleeves, revealing both arms covered in complicated blue tattoos. 'This is a basic summonere charm, the palms of the hands should be upward, the fingers have to be held just so, the forefinger and thumb should be touching, say or think what you want, "books on plants", and click your finger and thumb.' Click.

Suddenly, about fifty large heavy books came flying towards them at such a speed they would cause seriously injuries. Elijah jumped back, nearly squashing Muppy. Worlyn held up his hands, and the books stopped in mid air, except for one particularly large and heavy brass bound one that flew through his hands and walloped him hard on his head. Twinkle flew off his shoulder back to her shelf, her colour changing to yellow. Worlyn was knocked three steps backwards and landed with a heavy thump on his back. The books fell to the floor.

Elijah dashed to Worlyn's aid, who was rubbing his head, and helped him to stand. 'It's a good job we wizards are made of stern stuff, that book would have killed a mortal. I, I think I need to lie down, there's the books.'

'But I can't read.'

'Look at the words, look in the books if the letters are the same shape, triangular, square or whatever, if they all look the same, that's the plant we want.'

Suddenly, Worlyn fell into Elijah, knocking him backward, he managed to catch him and straighten himself before he also fell back. Worlyn was unconscious, and Elijah was amazed that he had the strength to keep Worlyn upright. He supported Worlyn in his arms, dragged him to the bed and gently levered him on, lifted his legs, then pulled a fur skin over him and made him comfortable, turned back and surveyed the books upon the floor. It seemed impossible that he would be able to recognise the letters, but knew he must try. He sat cross-legged on the floor, picked up the nearest book and began to turn the pages. Muppy jumped back on the bed and curled up next to Worlyn. Twinkle glided from its shelf, landed on Worlyn's chest and stayed there, giving Muppy her angry red stare, who jumped down and went next to Elijah. Twinkle breathed little puffs of fire every time he went near.

Strange things happened as he was trying to find the plants Worlyn wanted. A handsome stallion Kentauros with golden blond, waist-length, hair trotted into the room, looked at him, then Worlyn, turned and left. The giant smoking, white flannelette, (with big red lips emblazoned all over), pyjama clad, drinking something black and obnoxious, bat appeared out of nowhere, gave them both a disappointed evil look, cracked and disappeared.

Then a beautiful eunicon was standing staring at him. He nearly fell back with shock, he hadn't heard anything. The eunicon transfigured and Esme appeared, and Elijah couldn't move, her beauty transfixed him, made him immobile, she glimmered, sparkled and moved with a grace and majesty that Elijah loved.

Esme effortlessly sat on the floor next to Elijah, reached over and gently stroked his cheek; her touch was both calming, yet electric. 'Hello Elijah, has Worlyn told you about your challenge?'

Elijah could only nod, it seemed sacrilege to speak in her presence.

'Do not be frightened, you may speak.' she said, as if hearing his thoughts.

'I don't understand, and neither does Worlyn, why the gods want me to challenge Lord Zanatos? I, I mean, I don't seem to have any magical powers.'

'You were able to lift the shield.'

'Yes, but that didn't appear to impress Worlyn, it scared him more than anything.'

'Yes it would Elijah, no human should be able to lift it.'

'Then, I'm not human?'

'Oh yes you are Elijah, very human, but at this precise time I cannot tell you anymore. You are to do exactly as Worlyn instructs you, and you will find that you progress very quickly.' She floated to a standing position, as if their meeting was almost concluded.

He didn't want her to go and scrambled to his feet. 'He wants me to find plants, he's give me a list, but I can't read,' he said breathlessly.

Again she smiled, 'You will read, Worlyn will teach you.'

'Worlyn seems to have forgotten many things.'

'You will read.' She held out her right hand and the list of plants floated up, she caught it and passed it to him. 'These are the plants you will need to collect.' Then, totally unexpected, she stepped nearer to him, gently caressed both his cheeks and lightly kissed his lips. 'You will forget I have been here.' He closed his eyes and it was as if he was floating on a draught of luxurious warm air, and then it was gone. He opened his eyes and Esme was no longer there, but he could still feel her presence, still smell her scent; honeysuckle, that's what it was, but, he thought, she said I will forget she had been here, but how could he forget someone, something that was so perfect, so beautiful. It was impossible, and the list in has hands was no longer a list of words but perfectly drawn pictures of the plants he was to collect. He decided to do it now, there was only one problem, he didn't know how to get out of here, and every time he walked through a door there was something horrible and monstrous waiting to eat him. Worlyn was still unconscious, a big dark bruise obscuring the dark tattoos on his forehead. He realised he was dog-tired and went to find the other bed, Muppy jumped and followed him.

The Commentaries of Asher the Dwarf, Trusted Slave of Alar Barton-Abercrombie.

Then came the millions of voices.

And my performance suffered accordingly.

But one thing than redeemed me in the eyes of Alar Barton-Abercrombie was my ability to point the finger at miscreants, to warn him of shortages, of late deliveries to the Wizards, and especially Zanatos.

But firstly, the gods.

They came to our planet from another millions of years ago. They are powerful, and our planet contains large amounts of natural magic. From what I've been able to ascertain they were defeated by a Nemesis, and fled to escape retribution.

There are thousand of gods, supernatural beings that exist forever, and the most powerful is Bagarnack.

Many rumours and myths exist about the gods, but one thing that is apparent is their desire to interfere and control the lives of ordinary humans. There are numerous incidents of gods in different disguises, sometimes as animals, sometimes as their true selves, appearing to workers in a field and strolling through the corn, commanding them to go to temples and worship them. Of gods giving humans help, telling them how to make wine, where to cast their nets, to built temples in their honour, and perhaps the most telling of all, how to make the best weapons.

I could sense the presence of the gods, they seemed to flash by at the speed of lightning, but I couldn't read their minds, but I could read the minds of humans and many have had contact with the gods. It seems that there are two sets of gods, the Titans and the Olympians. The Titans encourage conflict, because only by conflict, they believe, could humans advance. And the Olympians, that only through education, help and assistance could humans advance. These two sets of gods, it seems, chose champions and put them in situations where they fought the champions of other gods about the best way to progress.

Into this mix was the Creator, the Voice, the Supreme One, which the gods denied, or, because they knew this Supreme Being would not interfere directly.

A lot could be written about the gods, indeed, much has been written about them already.

But I want to concentrate on the human side of my commentaries.

Two hundred years ago the wizard called Worlyn the Wonderful ruled our planet. Worlyn allowed free speech, there were no slaves, everyone was paid their true worth, happiness was a commodity in abundance. But every one hundred years was the Centuria Tournament, when every wizard who wanted could travel to Dragoylia and enter, the eventual winner would rule the planet for the next hundred years. No one knows who or what instituted this convention, its history is lost in the smog of time, but the common belief is the gods created it.

The tournament was simple, wizards were allocated ivory balls with numbers engraved into them, these were put into a large container and the balls were drawn in twos, these wizards faced one another in a magical duel, the winner's ball would go into the next bin, and so on, until two were left. It wasn't a tournament to the death.

Two hundred years ago Worlyn beat the much younger Zanatos in the final and continued his reign as Wizard Supreme.

Then nearly one hundred years ago at the last tournament Zanatos not only beat Worlyn, but crushed and humiliated him. Worlyn was only saved from certain death by his ability to open up the earth and vanish down the hole. Worlyn was never seen again.

Rumour has it that Bagarnack had helped Zanatos, giving him godly magic, but it's something I never been able to prove or disprove because Zanatos' mind is closed to me, surrounded by an almost tangible wall of magic.

Almost immediately Zanatos began his worldwide campaign of terror. Records were checked and families with slave ancestors before Worlyn freed everyone were enslaved, no matter what their present status. Millions fled, but millions were also caught and punished harshly. Fear spread throughout the planet. Zanatos' wizards were everywhere.

Of course there were uprisings, slave armies that sought to take back control of their lives. Zanatos and his wizards quickly crushed them. No army, no matter how numerous, how well trained, can hope to match the power of the wizards. Zanatos and his wizards killed hundreds of thousands. The oppression began.

Of course the merchants backed Zanatos, they would, they were making stacks and stacks of gold, they had to construct special buildings to house it all. There was only two ways a slave could be granted freedom, by the will of a leading wizard, or joining the rapidly growing army of Zanatos' warriors and proving themselves loyal and brave in battle. There was no lack of volunteers.

Chapter Three

Elijah and Muppy had a very disturbed sleep, the massive four poster bed he'd found seemed to have a life of its own, every time he or Muppy moved the bed complained, not verbally, but seemed to grunt, and the mattress bounced up, as if giving them a little reproach for disturbing it. He went to find Worlyn and found him bending over the fire poking something in a frying pan. The aromas made him feel slightly sick; he hated the smell of cooking flesh. Muppy was sniffing the air

Worlyn looked up, 'Sleep well?'

Elijah noticed the bruise had gone. 'Not particularly, the bed kept,' it seemed stupid to say prodding me.

'Waking you up?'

'Yes.'

'I never sleep in that four poster, I think it's possessed with the spirit of a long dead wizard, one defeated in the Centuria, I think his conqueror, trapped his spirit in the mattress, and he hates being disturbed.' Worlyn smiled and Elijah noticed that he had no false teeth, had they escaped again? 'Just cooking breakfast, a treat for you, some nice crispy pigmoor trotters, dragon's liver (thanks to Bearbert for them), floomore beans in a nice tomito sauce, fried gargoyle eggs, and black toast with pigmoor fat.' Worlyn shovelled all the food onto a large oval plate, stood and placed it on a table. 'Help yourself, I'm just going to put in my teeth, I keep them under lock and key, ever since that curse they keep trying to escape. That ratbag Zanatos, hoping I'd starve to death.'

Elijah suddenly realised how hungry he was, but stopped as he looked at the enormous plate, the floomore beans were swimming in the tomito sauce, not that the sauce was watery, the beans were swimming, undulating through the sauce, propelling themselves by fins, fins! And what were those sickly green things with scales, that seemed to have black smoke coming out of them, and why were the eggs a dark grey with a fluorescent orange yoke? He watched Worlyn unlock a stout wooden box and take out a full set of yellowing teeth that were chattering, and quickly force them into his mouth.

'They stop trying to run away when I put them in,' he smiled, showing a full pearly white set, and sat down.

This surprised Elijah, yellow one second and he put them in and now they're brilliant white. More magic, must be.

Then Elijah was sure he saw the pigmoor trotters move, trying to crawl off the plate, no, couldn't be. Worlyn picked up two mini tridents, sort of big forks with three tines, one in each hand and speared both the trotters. Muppy was sitting patiently, hoping for some food.

'You're not eating,' Worlyn said, holding the two trotters and pointing one at Elijah, then biting into one trotter with his caught teeth, the other trotter jerked in his hand and tried to scratch him. He smacked it hard down on the table, making Elijah jump, and the trotter became still. Worlyn swallowed. 'Try some of that dragon's liver, finest south of Suberia, but I must warn you, it's hot.'

Elijah shook his head, looking alternatively at Worlyn and the trotter. 'I'm sorry, I'm not hungry.' Those trotters were still alive, impossible.

'Not used to such fine food? What about the gargoyle eggs?' Worlyn dropped one trotter back onto the plate.

Elijah was sure it wriggled.

Worlyn picked up a knife, lifted one of the gargoyle eggs with his knife and placed it on top of a dragon's liver; it began bubbling, moving as if it had a life of its own. He picked up the pigmoor trotter and stared at it intently. 'Nevermind, what do you usually eat?' said Worlyn, taking another huge bite, grimacing, looking at it then throwing it over his shoulder.

The trotter flew, hit the floor and bounced, Muppy pounced, it was nearly as big as her head, caught it and began growling and shaking it ferociously.

Elijah watched her for some moments as she held the trotter down and began tearing at the flesh. 'I didn't eat at Dragoylia Castle.' Then turned his attention back to Worlyn.

Worlyn skewered the smoking green scaly thing with the gargoyle egg on top and shovelled the whole lot into his mouth, green and fluorescent orange juices ran down his chin into his beard, staining it with both colours; his face went very red. He chewed and chewed and chewed. 'Phew,' he blew four steam rings and took a large gulp of water, 'that was a particularly hot one. If you didn't eat at Dragoylia, what did you eat?'

'Berries, fruits, roots from the land.'

'Why didn't you eat?' Worlyn spooned up some floomore beans, but one bean leapt and hit him in the eye. 'Ouch, hate it when they do that, should have given them another half hour,' and shovelled the beans into his mouth.

'I was always given the slop from the evening feast, bits of fat that the guests had spat out, mixed with vomit, drink, bones and pipe ash.'

'Hmm, doesn't sound very appetising.' Worlyn was examining the other pigmoor trotter. 'So, your diet has been mostly vegetarian?'

'Completely vegetarian, except for bread, Bessie the bread-maker always saves me a small load and a meat pie for Muppy.'

'Have you ever eaten meat?' Worlyn sniffed the trotter, and then placed it over to his right, sliding it off the mini trident. Before Elijah could blink, Twinkle had swooped down from her shelf, and Elijah could do aught but stare, she was constantly changing colours, from red to blue to yellow. She grasped the trotter with her little sharp talons and was trying to carry it off. However, seeing as the trotter was bigger than her, and was flapping her leathery wings as fast as she could, she wasn't making any progress. Worlyn reached over, lifted the trotter from underneath and helped Twinkle on her way. Twinkle went up into the air, nearly reaching her shelf, but fell, the trotter weighing her down, her wings flapped faster, and slowly she rose, until with a great effort she landed on her shelf and instantly collapsed, breathing out four pairs of smoke rings.

Worlyn smiled proudly, 'You've got to admire her haven't you?' He turned back to his plate and shovelled another spoonful of floomore beans into his mouth, chewing, then looking at Twinkle, then at Elijah, and smiling, then back to Twinkle, then back to Elijah. 'What was I saying? Oh I know, have you ever eaten meat?'

Elijah watched Twinkle slowly recover, stand, hop onto the trotter and gingerly began tearing little strips of flesh away. 'I've tried it.' And again turned his attention back to Worlyn.

'And?' Worlyn speared another dragon's liver, but this one seemed to be pulsating, 'Hmm, should have given this another hour,' and shoved it into his mouth, again his face went red and little rings of steam came out of his nostrils. 'Go on,' he croaked, seemingly losing his voice, and taking large gulps of water.

Elijah shook his head; he was in a madhouse. 'I didn't like it.' He watched as Muppy tore strips of flesh from the trotter, then looked up to Twinkle who was also tearing into the flesh of the trotter, and Worlyn who was onto his third goblet.

'Why?' Cough, clearing his throat, more water.

'I don't see why an animal has to die to provide food.'

'Elijah,' Worlyn's voice was weak, cough, cough, 'people do eat meat.' More coughing, more water.

'Yes, that's their choice.'

'Oh well,' his voice regained some of its depth, 'if you go to that cupboard on the top shelf you'll find some fruit. Delicious, but I think I'll save the rest for my tea.' Cough, cough, more water.

'Worlyn.'

'Yes,' cough, cough.

'How do I get out of here?'

'Oh yes,' cough, cough, deep breaths, loudly clearing his throat, bringing up a great globule of dark green phlegm and spitting it into the fire, where it hissed loudly and caused a great mushroom cloud of steam, 'that's better.'

Elijah felt sick. Muppy had finished her trotter and was attempting to crunch the bone, but wasn't having much luck. He looked up at Twinkle and was surprised to see she'd finished off all the meat and was biting into the bone, and was cracking it, and licking out the marrow. Elijah was amazed, how could her little jaws get round that big bone?

'You came in through the blue lake,' he stood, 'but there is a tunnel which leads into the cave, then you have to go out through the hole at the back of the waterfall and up about ten thousand stairs. Now where is the tunnel?' He looked left, right, behind him, back to front, right. 'Ah yes, this way.'

Muppy, her stomach full, gave up on the pigmoor bones, jumped up onto Worlyn's bed, curled into a ball and was almost instantly asleep.

Elijah looked at Muppy, she raised her head slightly, her eyes heavy. 'Stay,' said Elijah and followed Worlyn out of the enormous room and into the dingy corridor, he wanted to tell him about Esme, about her kissing him, about her beauty, about the things she told him. But a little voice at the back of his mind forbade him, told him to keep his own council, Esme wanted him to forget their meetings, but how could he forget such beauty, he may as well forget how to breathe. He walked into Worlyn's back, who had stopped suddenly and opened a door.

'Oops, not that room, that door should be locked.' Worlyn waved his hand and Elijah heard the lock click, and Worlyn continued.

Words that Worlyn told him floated back into his mind 'Of course not, to look upon the true image of some of the gods would mean instant death or madness.' Madness, yes, Esme was driving him mad, he could not forget her face, longed for her touch, yearned for her kiss. Is this what was happening, was he being driven mad by some cruel god? Perhaps it wasn't Esme at all, perhaps it was some daemon torturing him, tormenting with fantastic images. 'Worlyn.'

'Yes Elijah, now is it this door?' He stopped and looked the door up and down.

'Can daemons, or demi-gods or witches or wizards impersonate the gods?'

'No,' Worlyn laughed, 'by Twinkle's twirly toes the gods would blast them into infinity, and beyond, and everyone knows that, no-one, no-body, no magical creature, no demi-god, not even another god, would impersonate another god. Oh no, the gods are very vain, if they choose to appear to anyone they would appear as themselves, and that person would die. If they so wished. The gods are very fickle Elijah.'

'Or be driven to madness?'

'Only if the god so chooses. Not this door.' Worlyn carried on to the next door.

'Has anyone ever seen the true image of a god and not died?'

'Course, thousands of gods want humans to see their true image. Yet again, some gods love appearing as all kinds of animals, creatures, bunny rabbits, giant spiders. Bagarnack likes to appear as a giant spider, but also most times as himself. Bearbert once told me of a god that kept appearing as a giant cucumber with a hundred legs.'

Elijah was surprised, 'A giant cucumber with a hundred legs?'

Worlyn nodded. 'Bearbert said he was addled before he became a god, and when he achieved godhood, he went completely mad.'

'What happened to him?'

'Don't know, Bearbert doesn't know, probably in some celestial salad somewhere.

Worlyn opened the door a little, and Elijah heard many loud snarls, 'Shut up, shut up, get down, stop doing that, you'll go blind.' Worlyn shut the door quickly. 'I forgot about that, I'll have to remind Bearbert, it shouldn't have been shut up for so long.' He continued to the next door.

'What was in that room?' Elijah asked, looking back.

'Tigerine, a big two headed tiger, Bearbert's creation, but he hasn't found a place for it in the order yet, nor told Esme, so he's had to hide it here. Comes every now and again to feed it.'

'The order, what's the order.'

'Everything that is created must fit into the natural order of things, the food chain, predator and prey. The only problem being is that tigerine has an uncontrollable appetite, two heads you see, it'll eat anything smaller than itself, thereby upsetting the food chain, which would in turn upset many of the other gods, who would create animals that would eat the tigerine, and probably other things, thereby creating chaos. Now is this the door?' Worlyn looked the door up and down, his lips making greater contortions than his fingers.

'There is so much to learn, it is very confusing.'

'Believe me Elijah, the more you learn the more confusing it becomes.' Worlyn opened the door gingerly and peered through. 'Ah yes, this is it, those steps lead back to the blue lake.' He gave a big toothy smile and his teeth jumped out and tried to escape, he quickly caught them and jammed them back in. 'Must remember not to grin so much, and get another set, these are rubbish. There was something else I had to do, what was it? Nevermind, off you go, see you later.'

Elijah watched Worlyn turn and walk back along the corridor. He peered up the steps, they seemed safe enough, but nothing was what it seemed down her. He put his hand over the threshold and quickly withdrew it, nothing. Then he tried his foot, and quickly withdrew it, again nothing. Okay, taking a deep breath, he stepped over and, nothing, he was fine, he smiled and began walking up the steps.

It took him a long time, and he was sweating by the time he reached the blue lake, but he was not aching as much as he normally did, and he spotted the eunicons, drinking from the blue lake. As one, they looked at him and he wondered if one of them was Esme. But they turned and cantered down one of the many side passageways.

He continued, heading toward the tunnel that would take him outside, into the fresh air, into the green that he longed to see. Oh Worlyn's underground home was interesting enough, containing many wondrous and magical things, but he wanted the light, the green, the sun warming his head and neck, the spongy feel of leaves, ferns, grasses and pine needles under his feet. He wanted to turn over a rotting log and watch the insects scurry into the dark and safety. Yes, to these insects he was a god, he had the power of life and death over them, but it was a power he never exercised, because they were part of the order. Oh he understood the order, he knew what the order was, he had lived and marvelled at the order. Each insect had a place, the woodlice that could reduce the mighty boak to compost, the other insects that lived upon the plentiful woodlice, then blowflies that could lay their eggs in the mightiest person on the planet and the maggots that would reduce that person to compost. The thought flashed into his mind, were there insects that fed upon dead gods? Insect gods. He shivered, if an insect could eat a god, what would it do to a person?

He found the hole leading to the outside and clambered in, crawling, pushing, and chivvying himself until he reached another set of long stone stairs. They seemed to go on and on, disappearing into the darkness. As he climbed the stairs began to spiral, sometimes into a tight spiral, sometimes large. It seemed never ending. How many times he had to stop he couldn't count. His muscles were aching, his chest hurt, until, finally he reached the end, slid out, stood and looked around.

The sun was shinning brightly, there was hardly a cloud in the sky, everywhere was lush green, he sniffed, he could always tell the different scents, honeysuckle was his favourite, faint wafts of it came upon the soft breeze, but it was always better of an evening.

He flopped down on a little clearing of lush grass, took out his list and scanned the plants. Yes, he should have no trouble finding any of them. The first he knew was growing in a clump inside a little hollow hidden behind some rather vicious brambles not far from here; he forced himself to stand and began walking.

After ten minutes he stopped, he smelt rather than hearing them, the smell of plain eunicons, of leather, of steel, of bad breath cause by a mainly raw meat diet, of repugnant body odour, and he knew. Lord Zanatos and his fearsome rotrobbers, the sadistic Ollivon Creap, the Principle-Slave, and his equally sadistic cronies, and he could smell hash ropes, and dogs, the big fierce black hunting dogs of Lord Zanatos.

He ran in the opposite direction, back to the opening, but knew, if he could smell the dogs, they could certainly smell him, and now he could hear them, they were blocking his way back. He had to make the river, he had to get kilosteps down stream, then double back to the waterfall, in through the hole and safety with Worlyn. He knew what would happen to him, it would be whippings and the dungeons, perhaps even broken ankles. Lord Zanatos had sanctioned that as a way of controlling runaway slaves, there must have been at least a dozen cripples who hobbled around Dragoylia, quietly going about their duties, neither looking or speaking to anyone, broken both in mind and body. It wasn't going to happen to him.

He continued to run, and again heard the dogs, and the sound spurred him, made his legs pound the earth harder, made himself run faster, but he was tiring, he couldn't get his breath, his body was hurting, the weaknesses were coming back.

He stumbled and fell, gashed his head upon a tree root, and cried out, but tried to get back up, tried to run, tried to get away.

Then he was knocked off his feet by a rope net, caught and tangled, the harsh ropes burning into his hands and face, the ground unforgiving, his head banging upon stones, he was rolling and rolling, caught and trapped.

'WE HAVE HIM MY LORD,' Creap's triumphant voice, 'WE HAVE HIM.'

Sharp pains in his back, and he realised Creap was kicking him. Stone, think of stone.

'MY LORD, MY LORD, THIS WAY.'

More pain, rope burns, fists hitting him, he was rolling, the ropes were tightening, he caught glimpses of faces, Creap's, his cruel cronies, hardened warriors, and rotrobbers. More pain, more fists, the taste of blood, flashing bright yellow lights as more pain engulfed him.

'STOP.'

He stopped rolling.

'IDIOTS.'

He had glimpses of flashing red lights, of screams of pain, of hands releasing him.

'I SAID TO CAPTURE HIM, NOT KILL HIM.'

More red lights, more screams, then nothing but blackness.

He awoke, no, no, please no.

He knew: he was in a dungeon, the flickering torch outside the cell, the bare damp floor, the mouldering straw bed, and the stink of death.

Voices, many voices, Creap's prominent 'BRING HIM OUT.'

The clang of the door swinging open, hitting the wall, and footsteps, many footsteps. Rough hands, forcing him up, pain, pain, pain, everything about him ached. He was nothing but searing pain. He wished he were dead. Heavy chains were clamped upon his wrists, more chains on his ankles, and he was dragged up steps. More steps, along torch illuminated corridors that were filled with noise, the noise of heavy boots, swords slapping against armour, laboured breathing, rough, uncouth voices, swearing, strong hands gripping, and hurting him, a calloused hand slapping him, a fist hitting his back. Then through a set of large double doors, and he was being dragged down a great high ceiling hall. He caught glimpses of great thick wooden beams, fantastic enormous statues of the gods, crowds of rotrobbers and fierce warriors, screaming people and workers hurling abuse at him, gigantic paintings of the gods, heroes, heroines and past wizards. And he was thrown to the floor and the pain was more intense than anything he had ever felt. Then he was engulfed in a yellow light and the pain vanished. The relief was instantaneous. He could relax, he could feel relief.

Suddenly everything was silent, and he could focus his eyes, he turned onto his back and sat up, but could not stand, the chains were too heavy.

'So Snorker, where have you been for the past week?'

He looked towards the origin of the deep, reverberating voice, standing some way away was the enormous figure of Lord Zanatos, dressed in his customary black leather blouse with dark jewel encrusted belt and scabbarded scimitar, black leather pantaloons tucked into knee high black leather boots. His black hair, with two silver streaks, just above his eyes, was swept back and went past his collar, his eyebrows were jet black above small black probing eyes, and just as Elijah knew he was ugly, Lord Zanatos was the opposite, handsome beyond belief, a countenance even the gods would be jealous of.

'I will ask again Snorker, where have you been for the past week?'

For the past week? He tried to speak, but could only croak.

'Answer me Snorker, Lord Zanatos commands it.'

He felt a green light come out of Lord Zanatos' hands and felt his body strengthen and his confidence heighten.

'M-my Lord, I was only lost for one night.'

'You lie Snorker, or else your mind has been befuddled by another wizard, which is it Snorker?'

'No my Lord, I was lost.'

Lord Zanatos laughed, 'I know Snorker, I know, you found Worlyn the Worm, who has been waiting for you for a hundred years,' he laughed, and everyone sycophantically laughed with him. 'Worlyn the Unwise has had this deranged idea that the hunchback who comes to him will restore him to power, will defeat Bagarnack and restore Dionysus back to a god. You forget my power Snorker.' He slowly raised his right hand, his smile twisted into a ruthless leer, and spread his fingers out, the two middle ones closed and lowered, his forefinger and little finger raised. Everyone moved back with fear and delight, they were to witness Lord Zanatos's power.

Elijah remembered, and tried to run, but it was impossible, the chains held him down, and where could he run?

He fell to the floor as a million long sharp invisible needles thrust into every part of his body, (STONE, STONE, STONE) he screamed in pain, and his mouth and tongue were pierced, his eyes shot open and his eyeballs were pierced with tortuous pain, he wanted to die. Then it stopped, and the relief was wonderful.

'Not too much Snorker, I'm merciful, but I can make the pain last for weeks, months, even years. I've other curses, and I can keep you down in the dungeons for years, until your death, you'll never see the light of day again.

'Now Snorker, tell me everything, what did Worlyn the Worm tell you?'

Elijah took a deep breath, he could not stand the torture, he could not stand the thought of being imprisoned in the dungeons, not seeing the sky, the sun, the trees, the animals he loved. 'My Lord, I saw a blue light behind the first waterfall in the valley of the two waterfalls, I found a tunnel behind it.' Oh forgive me Worlyn, forgive me Esme, I am a coward. 'I climbed through and it came out onto an underground blue lake. There were eunicons, beautiful eunicons, with golden horns.'

'Eunicons, golden horns, underground?' Lord Zanatos sounded surprised.

'Yes My Lord, one pushed me into the blue lake, and I was dragged deeper and deeper by the current. I awoke in an enormous room, and a dragon.'

'A dragon?' Zanatos interrupted again, he was beginning to sound irritated.

'R-Really a dragoyle, My Lord, a cross between a dragon and a gargoyle, Worlyn said he was trying to breed the best of both. It landed on my chest, and, and, Worlyn spoke to me.'

'What did Worlyn look like?'

'Old, My Lord, very old, with strange tattoos covering every part of his body.'

'Tattoos, yes, I see now, Bearbert. Go on.'

'He offered me food My Lord, he told me he had been waiting for me for a hundred years,' he hesitated, he didn't want to say the next bit, but also didn't want Lord Zanatos to torture him anymore. 'He told me I was to challenge you to a magical duel.'

'HA, Worlyn the fool. How could you, a slave with no magic whatsoever, challenge me, the greatest wizard of the three continents? Go on.'

'He left My Lord, told me not to wander, but I did, I found strange rooms with strange animals in, a skeleton with horns that tried to grab me, a half dog, half fish with gills in a water tank, then he found me and put me into a sleep. The next morning I awoke to him cooking pigmoor trotters and dragon's livers, but he had difficulty eating them because his teeth kept jumping out of his mouth and trying to run away.'

'HAA, YES,' triumphantly, 'my spell, that has lasted a hundred years. What else?'

'He kept forgetting things, didn't seem to know where his bed was, didn't even seem to know what his name was.'

'Yes Snorker,' his voice was as unctuous as honey, 'you are doing well, tell me everything and I'll be lenient.'

'He told me about the gods.'

Lord Zanatos voice changed, it was deep, menacing, 'What did he tell you about the gods?'

'He said there are many gods, and they're just like people.'

'THE GODS ARE NOT LIKE PEOPLE, THEY ARE GODS.'

Elijah cowered, sunk to the floor and curled into a ball.

'Stand Snorker, stand I say.'

Elijah was lifted to his feet.

'What else did Worlyn say?'

'He said there's The One, a Supreme God, the creator of everything.'

'And did he mention the name of this supreme god.'

'No My Lord, he doesn't know it.'

'I KNOW IT, IT IS BAGARNACK, BAGARNACK IS THE SUPREME GOD, BAGARNACK, BAGARNACK.'

His warriors, sycophants, workers, rotrobbers and slaves joined in, shouting the name of Bagarnack, raising their swords and shields in unison, banging their swords against their shields.

Elijah collapsed and tried to make himself as small as possible.

'Snorker, you've done well to tell me these things. Stand, I'm speaking.'

Elijah, against his will, was raised off the floor into a standing position.

'I'll be lenient, because I'm merciful, although you must spend time in my dungeons. Punishment must be seen to be done; I'll send you the finest meat dishes my chefs can prepare. You'll have LAMB, CHICKEN, BEEF, PIGMOOR, VENISON, you'll have the best meats, and when you tire of them my chefs, with my knowledge, will provide you with more exotic meats.' He grinned maliciously, because he knew.

Elijah looked at him horrified, he'd been condemned to death, Lord Zanatos knew he wouldn't eat meat, his faith and belief was being put to the test, eat meat and survive, or refuse and slowly starve to death.

'MY SUBJECTS,' Lord Zanatos shouted above the growing talk of sadistic glee at Snorker's plight, silence was immediate. 'The festivities are not over, tonight you'll marvel in the wonder, in the glory and majesty, you'll tell your grandchildren I WAS THERE. For the King of the Gods has been in our midst here tonight,' he stopped to let his words have dramatic effect. He was pleased at the look of fear upon his subjects. 'No one's to leave, anyone who tries will be killed by my wizards and rotrobbers.'

People looked around, and there stationed at the doors were the despicable rotrobbers, neither human, animal or spirit, but unthinking killing machines, cannibalistic beings that fed on the pain that occurred at the moment of death.

Elijah glanced over to them; they were big, ugly and monstrous creatures, holding an assortment of vicious looking weapons from swords and axes to spiked balls on chains.

'Be assured,' continued Lord Zanatos,' that none will die here tonight, because the King of the Gods, Bagarnack, does not wish it. But also be assured, you will die if you do not recognise Bagarnack as the King of the Gods.'

Elijah watched as Lord Zanatos backed from the head of the great hall, his head bowed, and, Elijah could not help but look as a gigantic tarantula appeared, so enormous it's legs spread from one side of the hall to the other. There were screams, thuds, as hundreds of people fainted and hit the floor. Then, the giant spider scurried towards him, its mandibles were like two enormous scimitars, clicking in front of him. He was frozen, unable to move, even if he had wanted to.

'Ah Snorker,' the gigantic spider clicked, 'do you recognise me?'

Bagarnack's voice chilled Elijah to his bones, a voice filled with ice-cold poison. Then before his eyes the spider became...him, a gigantic Snorker, a hunchback, with a lop-sided face. More people screamed and even Lord Zanatos was surprised.

'However, Snorker, look upon the real me.'

'No please, please, no.' He panicked; he didn't want to be burnt alive.

Slowly, Snorker's gigantic figure melted and changed. Elijah clasped his hands over his eyes and put his head on the floor.

'No, Snorker, remove your hands,' Bagarnack's voice changed, now it was deep and reverberating.

His hands shot away from his face, he tried to force them back, but they wouldn't move. Fear gripped his insides, making them squirm, he began trembling.

'Open your eyes,' he commanded.

His eyes sprang open.

'Stand and look at me.' Dust seemed to be dislodged from the high rafters at his voice.

He was on his feet, looking at the gigantic figure of a barbarian warrior, in full bronze and leather armour with black battleaxe. His black hair and beard were long and plaited, held in place by white human thighbones.

'See Snorker, you've not burst into flames, because it's not my wish. Although I'm here to give you a warning, do not challenge Zanatos, if you do, you will die.'

'Oh Great Bagarnack, I've never wished to challenge Lord Zanatos.' Elijah whispered the words, unsure if Bagarnack could hear him.

'Oh yes you have Snorker, it's been your greatest wish, cause you believe that defeating Zanatos will eventually bring about my downfall, and you'll defeat me. We both know Snorker that there's no such a thing as good or evil, it's a human concept, limited by their understanding of the universe. We both know there's only the Order. We both know that the Order is very flexible. I only wish to balance the Order in my favour. I'm half way to doing that, but there's one thing that stands in my way.' He stopped and looked at Elijah, as if waiting for the question, but Elijah was too frightened to ask.

'I'm sorry Snorker that you're not on my side.' He waved his hands and became the gigantic spider and the hall seemed to erupt with the cries of 'Bagarnack, Bagarnack, Bagarnack.

'Zanatos,' his booming voice silenced them, 'You'll lock Snorker in your deepest dungeon, you'll give him no food whatsoever.'

'Yes, my God-King.'

'Rotrobbers will guard him twenty-four hours of the day. Twelve rotrobbers will be on guard duty at all times. There'll be no deviation from this. Do you understand?'

'I do my God-King.'

'As a further measure I'll be placing even more enchantments on his cell, no living thing will be allowed to enter his cell, not even a spider, he's to have no living company whatsoever. And, he's not to be harmed.'

'Yes My God-King.'

There was a sudden flash of light and the enormous spider disappeared, the crowd gasped, even the rotrobbers grunted and growled their appreciation.

'You have heard Bagarnack, the King of the Gods speak, you have seen his greatness, I say to you now, marvel at his majesty, and visit his temple and make sacrifices. Because you do not want to incur his wrath.'

The crowd cheered, clapped and laughed, more with relief that they had not been burned to death by the sight of the giant spider, which many believed to be the true image of Bagarnack.

Lord Zanatos raised his hands for silence, which was immediate, except for the slobberlobber witches, who could not be silent, because they, and their descendants, were forever cursed (by Bagarnack) to cough, sneeze, vomit, have snot running from their noses, blow bubbles with their saliva, and bring up great globules of yellowish green phlegm, which were expelled from their lungs with the speed of a crossbow bolt in all directions, impervious as to which face it hit. Which obviously meant that they were never invited to christening, birthday parties, weddings, work's do's, hen nights, retirements or anything? But Bagarnack had specifically requested them to be here, to Lord Zanatos' dismay.

'Snorker, you heard what our God-King Bagarnack said. Take him away.'

Elijah wasn't aware of much as the rotrobbers rushed towards him, as rough, powerful hands grabbed and lifted him into the air. Their stench was overpowering, it made him want to vomit, it was the stink of rotting flesh.

His fate was solitude, deprived of the things he needed, light, air, plants, freedom to roam, the land, the sky, people, even insects.

He was in a torch lit corridor, carried down torch lit stairs. A fist hit his face, pain, yellow explosions in his eyes, in his mind, and a voice screamed, 'Bagarnack told us.' He was aware of nothing except movement and agony. Another fist into his hunch, more pain, more agony and all hell seemed to break loose, there was fighting behind him, he fell to the floor and was kicked in the face, his nose became wet, yellow lights flashed before his eyes. Shouts, curses, axes swinging, swearing, the rotrobbers fighting amongst themselves. A bloody mangled head, with bloody staring eyes landed in his lap. Two hands roughly lifted him into the air, a bloody arm somersaulted past his face, spraying him with blood. And then it stopped, the rotrobbers were frozen in mid battle, one had an axe embedded in his head, the blood stopping half way down his face, another was half way through decapitation, another's axe was frozen in mid air, there seemed to a foot sole thick layer of blood across the rough flagged floor.

Elijah didn't move, but knew magic had stopped them; he kicked away the head that was between his legs.

'My God-King, I am so sorry, so sorry.'

'Be quiet Zanatos.'

Elijah looked up to see the giant barbarian god Bagarnack standing before him with Lord Zanatos on all fours at the side of him, whimpering.

'It is not your fault, it is mine, I should have realised Snorker would be too much for the rotrobbers to control their basic instincts.' He pointed a finger at Elijah and the pain left him, the cuts and bruises healed, and a warm satisfied feeling swept over him. 'Rise Snorker, there's your cell. It's with some regret I do this, but you must not be allowed to tamper with my plans.'

Elijah did not want to look into those eyes, but he couldn't help himself, he looked up, and they were not as he expected, they were kindly, understanding, but moreover, sad.

'I will change the Order, because I want the order to be in my favour. Your cell, Snorker.' It was not a request.

But something rose in Elijah's chest, a rebelliousness that was tangible.

'Do not force me to act Snorker, please go in voluntarily.'

'No,' he surprised and almost shocked himself, 'you're supposed to be the King of the Gods, and you say please, no god would say please to a human.'

Bagarnack raised his hand, and before he even realised it Elijah was walking back into the cell, back until his calves encountered something hard and he fell back, landing on something soft. The door slammed shut with an almighty crash that seemed to echo in his mind, and then he heard their voices.

'Be warned Zanatos, no living thing, and that includes you, will be allowed to enter that cell.'

And then there was silence, and the silence was absolute, as was the darkness, and a terrible tiredness came over him, and sleep, glorious sleep was instantaneous.

Chapter Four

How long he slept, he had no idea, what time it was, he had no idea, what was happening outside, he had no idea? Because inside this cell it was permanently night, there were no chinks of light, no moonlight coming thought the bars, because there were no bars, and the silence was absolute.

He walked forward, his hands in front of him and encountered a solid wall, turned and walked the opposite way, his hands outstretched and quickly encountered another solid wall. And decided to explore with his hands. He felt his way around the cell, feeling the different textures of the stones. And stopped because his limbs were aching, his back was paining, and the tiredness was overwhelming, he felt his way back towards the bed and flopped down. Sleep was instantaneous.

He awoke to complete blackness, but did not feel refreshed, on the contrary, he felt even more exhausted, he only wanted to sleep. And sleep he did, and it was a peaceful sleep, without dreams, without disturbance, nothing whatsoever. It was like he was in a void, and when he awoke he still could not see anything, not the walls, not the ceiling, not even his hands. He knew he must use his other senses, and listened, and listened, nothing, not even a breeze. He sniffed, nothing but the smell of damp. Then he realised he was thirsty and stooped onto his hands and began crawling, trying to find a jug or pitcher of water. He crawled around for a long time, from corner to corner, along the walls, underneath the rough sawn wooden bed, and found no jug, no water.

'WATER, I NEED WATER,' he shouted, but no answer came, and he continued shouting for what seemed a long time, and stopped, his throat hurting, his tongue dry as sun bleached bones.

Tiredness overcame him again, his body was aching more than ever, exhaustion made him find the bed, he climbed up and collapsed, and was unconscious immediately.

After a while he no longer tried to explore his cell, but stayed on the bed, his body seemed to be shutting down, he no longer felt thirsty, no longer felt any hunger, nor any desire to do anything except sleep.

Then the dreams began, strange, weird dreams where different creatures visited and offered him advice and encouragement, but he liked it best when Esme came in his dreams, when she spoke to him and touched his face. When she reassured him, told him not to worry, and always left with a kiss, a kiss that gave him strength. Bearbert came in his dreams, seemingly to talk absolute rubbish in a language that made no sense whatsoever, blowing pipe smoke into his face. And Worlyn, humming and erring, not remembering what he was talking about a second earlier. Eunicons bowed, Kentauri looked haughtily and told him not to worry, yellow birds sang sweetly, deers came and licked his hand and face, and he knew his body was rotting, wasting away, and at times he thought he had died, and this was the afterlife.

He was awoken by the noise, a sort of scraping, and a very small chink of light, shinning up from the floor, even though it was faint, seemed to blind him. He tried to turn away but could not even lift his head, nor try to see what it was.

The scraping became louder and more jarring, as if sharp fingernails were being scraped over china plates. Then he heard a crack, a bang, a crunch, more scraping, another bang, stone hitting stone, a loud crack, more light.

'Elijah,' a voice crackled like old dusty paper.

He didn't have the strength to answer.

'Elijah.'

Painfully, he managed to lift his head, and what he saw shocked him; but it was a dream, not real, part of his imagination, it was a rotting corpse. The nightmares had begun. He could even smell the stench from the decaying flesh. Oh this was a good one.

'Elijah. ELIJAH.'

'What?' he had to chuckle, a corpse coming out of the floor, more torture from Bagarnack.

The corpse climbed out of the hole, and another decaying head appeared, this one with fat, white maggots, falling out of a sunken eye socket. That too climbed out and stood next to the first, then another head appeared, but this was different, mummy like, preserved, but shrunken, its skin stretched tight over its bones.

'You are to come with us,' said another strange figure in a black robe, who had just risen from the hole. He spoke in a male voice, kindly, yet with hardly any emotion, maybe none, and the tiniest of echoes followed his voice. His face was hidden inside his hood. He appeared fresh, not rotting, and gleaming white bony hands came out of the sleeves of his robes. The same could be said for the cloaked figure's feet, white bone, protruding from the bottom of the robe. This was Death himself, Elijah thought, the great Death, taking him to the afterlife.

Elijah chuckled again; oh this was a brilliant dream, three corpses and Death wanting him to go with them into the ground, into the netherworld. He found his voice, it was croaky and weak, 'You'll have to carry me, I cannot walk,' he said lightly, playing the dream game.

The corpses moved towards him, rotting, decaying hands outstretched and picked him up. A feeling of panic surged through his body; he could feel their hands, could feel their repulsive touch as they lifted him off the rotten straw bed and carried him towards the hole. This was not a dream. This was really happening. Was this death? Was this the way people died? Carried into the ground by cadavers.

The black-cloaked figure was at the front, leading the way. Elijah was lowered into the hole and more skeleton hands grabbed hold of him, more bony fingers dug deep into his flesh. The stench was overpowering.

Then everything moved so fast, he was travelling along a dirt encrusted tunnel, he could hear the corpses' bare feet, bare bones, smacking on the hard ground, some of them carried lamps, it appeared even the dead needed light. Some of the corpses banged their heads upon thick roots and jagged rocks that protruded from the ceiling, bits of flesh and bone fell onto him. None spoke, none even breathed; the corpses didn't need air.

They seemed to travel for ages, sometimes the tunnel dipped down, sometimes up, but mostly it was level.

So this was death, Elijah thought, it wasn't that bad, except for the stink, which was ever present and changing, different stenches that attacked his sense of smell. Perhaps this was part of death.

'Where're we going?' he asked.

None answered, but they slowed and stooped, closed in on him as they squeezed through a smaller hole of solid rock, then continued running along a larger tunnel.

Then stopped as they came to a dead end.

Elijah forced himself to look up. It was solid rock, as black as night, absorbing the light from their feeble lamps.

The skeleton wearing the black robe stepped forward, pressed his bony finger onto the rock and began tracing a complicated pattern repeatedly.

The other corpses continued to hold Elijah, but once again he was overcame with tiredness, but managed to keep his eyes open, forcing himself to stay awake.

The black robed skeleton was still tracing his finger in the same pattern, and Elijah could not stop himself from falling into unconsciousness.

How long he was out he couldn't tell, because when he awoke the skeleton was still tracing his finger over the rock. Suddenly a large, heavily studded, wooden door appeared, with a large black wrought iron circular handle. The skeleton grasped and turned it; the door opened and light flooded into the darkened tunnel.

The corpses carried him through, and he heard a familiar voice saying, 'On the bed, careful now, he's weak.' And the corpses' hands became gentle, placing him, with a lightness of touch they had not shown before, on the gloriously soft bed, and a large fur skin was thrown over him.

The skeleton was speaking, 'Tell Bearbert not to call us again, we've fulfilled our obligation, we've a right to eternal peace.'

And he heard the familiar voice again, 'Thank you my friends, I'm sorry that I had to tell Bearbert your names, and that he called you back to do this task, but it was an emergency, and you did say I could rely upon you. I know how much it has affected you all, but this relates to all the living ones, and you all know how much some of the gods favour them.'

Elijah heard noises of movement, he could see figures in his peripheral vision ducking back into the tunnel, and everything went black as he lapsed into unconsciousness again. How long he was out he had no idea, but when he regained consciousness, something hot and wet was licking his face. Muppy, he kissed and kissed and kissed her, then after a while, when he focused his eyes, when he looked around, he saw a long white beard, plaited with miniature roses, a head and face covered with tattoos, white teeth that seemed too big for the mouth. Worlyn was leaning over him, showing concern, smoothing his pillows and fur skin. The pipe-smoking, foul-smelling, bat-god Bearbert, and, and, his heart could not believe it, he leaned up to see better, a fantastic figure of such beauty that Elijah gasped. Esme, Esme. How he had dreamed of her. He reached out, wanting to touch her, wanting her to speak to him, but she vanished, and his strength failed him and he collapsed back onto the bed, only for Muppy to resume her licking.

'You're awake Elijah, good, it's taken us a long time to free you.'

A long time? 'How long?' his voice sounded very weak, as though it made no sound at all.

'Three years.'

'Three years?' That was impossible. 'No, I've only been down there for a couple of days.'

'No Elijah, the charms Bagarnack placed on you put you in a state of suspended animation. However, such is your nature that the charms didn't work properly, you had periods when you were awake. It took us a long time to work out the nature of the charms, and some of them were really complicated. An even longer time to dig the tunnel. Luckily Bearbert transformed himself into a rotrobber and heard Bagarnack say that no living thing would be allowed to enter that cell. It was Bearbert that attacked you and begun that fight, that made Bagarnack alter his plans, and that's why Bearbert had to call upon my departed friends, my dead comrades had to dig for thousands and thousands of steps to rescue you. That's why it took so long. But now, you're free, and the charms should have no effect upon you here. But you still need to rest.'

He heard Bearbert speak, but couldn't understand.

'Ah yes,' answered Worlyn, 'tomorrow you must bathe in the waterfall, and drink its waters with added herbs. Now drink this.' He brought a goblet up to Elijah's lips, and he took a great gulp, but it tasted foul and made him vomit. The contents dribbled down his chin onto his chest. 'Yes, we expected that. Sleep, close your eyes,' and he placed two fingers on Elijah's eyelids, and sleep was instantaneous.

Chapter Five

Elijah awoke in the first bed that he's slept in Worlyn's underground hideout to something very hot, practically burning, frantically licking his cheek. It was Muppy, then excitedly rubbing the side of her head against his long downy black beard, and then licking him again. He reached up and gently stroked her head, and she whined with pleasure, and rubbed her body against his hand.

'At last, you're awake!'

Elijah looked around to see Worlyn smiling at him. 'What time is it?'

'Better to say what month is it?'

Elijah was confused, 'What?'

'You've been asleep for nearly seven months, I've been force-feeding you the herb potion by spoon. Thankfully, the effects of Bagarnack's spells are wearing off. Now, I want you to drink all of this.' He gestured towards a large shinny steel goblet that was full to the brim with a sickly green liquid. 'Come on Twinkle, my beauty,' he gently took her off his shoulder and placed her on his chair, then reached over and scooped Muppy in his hands, 'go and play with Twinkle.' Muppy ran to the little dragon, resting her two front paws on the edge of the seat and began growling and harrying her. Twinkle, giving a little snort of flame that singed Muppy's ear, flapped her leathery wings and flew to the shelf.

Worlyn laughed, 'They get on really well, love one another.' Then he grasped Elijah's shoulders and helped him sit. 'Drink.'

But the room was spinning, black dots were floating before his eyes, he was disorientated, then before he realised he was staring at the ceiling, the back of his head hurting. He heard a strange voice, and then Worlyn's.

'Yes, yes, thank you, I know. No, I didn't forget what you told me. Stop going on, you're worse than my twenty third wife, or was it the twenty second? Actually, I think the both of them were champion nags. Yes, yes, yes, I'm doing it.'

Elijah felt his head lifted up and the goblet pressed to his lips and a cool bitty liquid was in his mouth. It was not unpleasant, tasting of sager, wilderflower, bettany, dickory and pelladonna. He knew each of the herbs and flowers, but did not know what their properties were when mixed, nor what this combination would do. He had tasted them all separately and had felt their effects. Sager was a restorative, a pick-me-up, a tonic, that was used after an illness. Wilderflower was supposedly good for the circulation. Bettany was good for curing nasty blood infections. Dickory was also good for the circulation, but only to one area of the body. Pelladonna was a skin restorative, used by aged women, and men, to make themselves look younger. It tightened the skin, banishing all fat, practically shrunk it until, if used in excess, the person looked like a skull with skin. He'd gotten it for Creap's mother everyday, and she looked like the screaming skull. Why was he being given that? And he could taste minger, but that was difficult to collect, it only grew during the night, died and withered with the first rays of the sun. It was supposed to contain magical properties that gave great strength and bravery. Creap was always telling him to get it, but had only managed it a couple of times.

He managed to drain the goblet.

'Well done Elijah, well done,' Worlyn smiled, his tattoos moving with his grin. 'I can see you're again exhausted, we'll leave you, but, hopefully, you shouldn't sleep as long.' Worlyn touched Elijah's shoulder and gave it a gently squeeze, stood and left, but Elijah still felt a presence and looked to where Bearbert had been sitting, but there sat, not the giant bat he'd been expecting but a rather stocky, ginger-haired man, smoking a pipe, wearing the same white flannelette pyjamas with the big red lips.

'Who're you?' Elijah croaked.

'You know who I am,' the man's voice was deep and strong.

'I don't.'

'I'm Bearbert.'

Elijah was shocked, 'But Bearbert was a giant bat?'

'That's the form I usually take when I appear to humans, unless I choose otherwise.'

'I'm human.'

'Yes, but you're different.'

Elijah was confused, 'I don't understand, how am I different?'

'Well,' Bearbert smiled as he took a deep suck of his pipe and blew the grey smoke into the air, 'you're still alive.'

'Why's that?'

Bearbert chuckled, crossed his other leg and took a great suck of his pipe, blowing the smoke into the air, and as though he couldn't help himself, burst into laughter. 'I don't know. I honestly don't know.'

'But you're a god, you know everything.'

'I wish I did, everything would be so much simpler.' He stared at Elijah for a moment, still smoking his obnoxious pipe and flicking his foot up and down as though kicking an imaginary football. 'There are so many things Elijah, the universe is so vast. I've travelled. I didn't have any ambitions, I just wanted to travel, I pushed the limits, I travelled. I found galaxies where there was no magic, where the inhabitants had developed their science so that it rivalled magic, where it could beat magic, where I could be killed. They were not gods in the sense we know it, but they were gods because of their intelligence, their science, their knowledge. They would have imprisoned, perhaps even killed me had I not fled, such was their power.'

Elijah was shocked, 'Can gods be killed?'

'I have not heard of a god being killed, but whilst I was there I had the impression their science could have killed me. They despised magic, deplored the idea that there were gods who had supreme magic, hated the idea that our society is structured in such a way that the gods are at the top when they haven't earned the right.'

'What were these beings?'

'Living machines, beings made from metal that lived, breathed and thought, beings beyond cruelty, that would destroy a planet, even a solar system, if it suited their plans.'

'How do they fit into the Order?'

Bearbert sat up with a start, quickly uncrossing his leg and removing his pipe. 'Who told you about the Order?'

Elijah knew he'd said something wrong, very wrong, and knew that he's landed Worlyn in a great pile of eunicon dung. 'I, I, heard it somewhere.'

'Worlyn told you.' It was not a question but a statement.

Elijah was scared witless, what had he done? But Worlyn didn't say never to mention the Order.

Bearbert sat back and waved his pipe hand irately, 'It doesn't matter: I suppose it will be common knowledge soon.' He pointed the end of his pipe at Elijah. 'You'll keep drinking the potion Worlyn prepares for you, you'll bathe in the blue lake every day, and you'll keep your questions to yourself. Oh, and shave that excuse for a beard off, it looks terrible. '

And before Elijah could apologise Bearbert disappeared.

When he was fully mobile the first thing he did was shave his beard off. For the next week he kept his head down, drinking the herb potion three times a day. Curiously, the potion filled him so that he never felt hungry. He bathed in the waterfall, which made him feel refreshed and stronger with every dip, but he kept his questions to himself, Bearbert's voice and admonishment ringing in his memory. He'd also noticed that Worlyn had removed all the mirrors, and the blue lake, even when there were no ripples, did not show his reflection. He knew it was magic, because he felt fantastic after. Every time he saw the eunicons he wanted to approach them, but Worlyn shooed him away, saying he wasn't ready, saying the eunicons would skewer him if he approached them. Bearbert had not visited since that night, and to his utter despair and sadness, Esme had not visited either. He was beginning to feel abandoned; perhaps they didn't care how he was. He remembered hearing two of Zanatos' cooks talking about the legend of the beautiful youth Savermaine, how one of the gods had fallen hopelessly in love with Savermaine's beautiful mother Brisbanie, a woman of such outstanding beauty that even a god had lost his head with love and infatuation. The god transformed himself into her husband, took on his human characteristics and made love to her, made her pregnant and she gave birth to Savermaine. He grew into the most handsome, tall and impressive demi-god, with the power to bewitch anyone who looked upon his face, so that they instantly fell in love with him and would do anything for him. The gods were much taken with Savermaine's handsome beauty and many wanted to be his patron, but the god who fathered him told the other gods what he'd done, and that he alone should be the youth's sole patron. The gods agreed, they were acquiescent to his wishes, and he became Savermaine's patron. But Savermaine let his beautiful countenance, powers to bewitch and special attention go to his head. He turned into a spoilt, ungrateful, criticising, faultfinding verbal monster that began insulting everyone who came within his sight. When he wasn't chastised he began criticising the gods, and the gods began to dislike him, and some warned him, but he ignored their warning. His patron/father warned him, and he ignored that warning, and questioned, and criticised, and shouted, and ranted until his father, exasperated, turned him into a marble statue and cast him into the bottom of the deepest ocean.

Elijah had heard many stories like that, where the gods took a liking to a human, favoured them, but became bored, and turned them into statues, pigmoors, horse dropping, ferrets, anything they liked. Was that his fate?

No, he'd keep his mouth shut and do as they said. But of course, if the gods wanted to turn him into a cockroach, what could he do about it? Nothing.

'Now Elijah.'

Elijah turned quickly, he hadn't heard anyone enter, so deep was he into his thoughts. Worlyn was standing before him, wearing a set of bright purple robes with orange piping, holding in his arms two pieces of wood, a walking stick, a long white bone, what looked like a stiffened bat's wing, a petrified shrunken hand, a feather duster, an umbrella, a polished dark wood staff, black coloured leather gloves, a wand, and a ripped sleeve from a leather coat.

'Esme has said it's time for your magical education,' he dropped all the items onto the bed.

Elijah was eager, 'You've seen Esme?'

'Course not; she came to me as a eunicon. She's just too beautiful, she knows her beauty can send most men, and plenty of women, insane. Now, before you choose your magical conductus.'

'My what?'

'The object which you channel and concentrate your magic through. For example this wand,' he picked up a step long, thin piece of light coloured wood, 'comes from the Yew tree, where the great wizard Ted Barley urinated after his daily sessions of drinking fairy made wine. Here try it.' He passed it to Elijah, who took it. 'Well do something with it.'

Elijah looked blank, wondering what was wanted of him.

'Give it a flick and concentrate on making that chair disappear.'

Elijah flicked and concentrated. Nothing happened.

'No,' Worlyn looked disappointed, 'nevermind,' and took the wand, 'this is what should happen,' and flicked the wand at the chair, it loudly cracked into big fat pig that squealed piercingly and ran off. Worlyn chuckled, 'Breakfast for the next week. Maybe, the staff.' He picked up a long thick staff made of a dark knobbly wood and held it out for Elijah to take, who took it in both hands. 'That was the staff of Sible. She lived for two thousand years, defeated the dark wizard Ukrend in a titanic battle that lasted for five years. They were evenly matched until Sible transmogrified herself into flesh-eating bacteria that ate Ukrend's wand arm off, only then was she able to defeat him. This is a little different from a wand, you have to hold it in both hands, pointing the end, and think what you want to do,' Worlyn took the staff back off Elijah and held the staff exactly so as an example. 'Channel all your mental energy into the staff; think it's an extension of your mind and magical powers. Point it at the bed, no, no, something smaller, that jug, and make it disappear.' He handed it back.

Elijah held the staff exactly as Worlyn had, pointed at the jug and concentrated on making it disappear. Nothing happened, he tried again, his face screwing in concentration, still nothing. He looked at Worlyn who looked both puzzled and disappointed.

'Nevermind, nevermind,' Worlyn chirped in a falsely exaggerated voice. 'Maybe the walking stick.' He picked up the beautifully polished dark wood stick, with lighter wood bands near the rounded handle. 'Wonderful craftsmanship. This was used by Unbready the Unsteady, great wizard, but was cursed at a Centuria tournament by two wizards that got mixed up with their venues, both came into the arena and cursed Unbready at once, that was their story, but I have my doubts. Anyway, the two curses were incompatible and left Unbready severely unbalanced, not in his mind obviously.'

'Obviously,' Elijah answered and Worlyn gave him a reproachful stare.

'To continue. Unbready's patron god was Phoebe, lovely goddess, do anything for anyone, well, within limits obviously. She's the goddess of loneliness. According to Bearbert she's the only one that wanted it. Unbready asked Phoebe if she'd bless his walking stick, which she did, therefore endowing it with great inherent magical powers, and that's why Unbready kept winning the Centuria for nearly three centuries, until the other gods caught on and began blessing all kinds of things. It all went a bit silly, wizards were using all kinds of things as conducti, gloves, boots, cucumbers that never decayed, carrots, sticks of celery, turnips, socks, back scratchers, fluffy dusters, you get the drift. So the gods all agreed to remove their blessings, but Phoebe only pretended to, so this walking stick still has great magical powers. Now, pay attention. You only need one hand with the walking stick, whichever hand you favour, point it and concentrate on making the jug, no, not the jug, maybe something even smaller, that goblet on the table, make that disappear.' He passed the stick to Elijah.

Elijah took the walking stick and put it into his right hand.

'Can you feel it vibrating?' asked Worlyn eagerly.

In truth, it just felt like wood to Elijah. Should he say no, or lie. 'It feels warm.'

Worlyn seemed to deflate before his eyes. 'Try to make the goblet disappear.'

Elijah pointed the stick and concentrated. Disappear, disappear, disappear, he thought over and over again, please, please, please, disappear.

Nothing whatsoever, the stick didn't vibrate, shake, move, become warm, or do absolutely anything.

'Not to worry, not to worry,' cried Worlyn artificially, really looking as though he was about to burst into tears, 'we've got loads to try yet. The thighbone, the thighbone,' he shouted, 'we haven't tried the thighbone. This,' he said picking up the thighbone, and waving it about, Elijah thought he saw it giving off golden sparks, 'is the thighbone of Lindante,' continued Worlyn, Lindante was an exceptional witch, she could do things that even the gods admired. It was rumoured that she was the result of a coupling between the goddess Dementer, who was the goddess of secrets, and the wizard Noveletty, who was also a powerful wizard, rumoured to be a demi-god. But, that's only rumour, none of the gods would confirm or deny that. The problem being was that Lindante upset Bagarnack.'

'How?'

'She ranted at Bagarnack about rotrobbers, calling them the most foulsome creatures ever to walk the earth, along with other things.'

'Had the rotrobbers upset her?'

'Only the gods know, and they wouldn't tell me so I never pressed it, never badger the gods for an answer. As you know, or do you?' Worlyn looked at Elijah in a puzzled manner, as though he wasn't quite sure what he was talking about. 'Nevermind,' Worlyn continued, 'rotrobbers are Bagarnack's creation, so he wasn't very happy about her criticising them. In retaliation he glued her lips together so she couldn't speak, but neither could she eat or drink, and Bagarnack conveniently forgot about that. Of course she died. But that's beside the point. This thigh-bone is a great magical conducti, used it loads of times. It's one fault is that it seems to favour some spells, and I'm not being misogynistic here,' he stopped and looked around twice.

Elijah didn't have a clue what he was talking about as he also looked around.

'It favours witch's spells,' Worlyn again looked around, as if expecting an angry witch to appear and blast him into infinity, 'more than others.'

'What sort of spells?'

'You know householdy type spells,' again he looked around, his eyes roaming like a sewer rat's, 'cleaning, cooking spells, that type of thing, not much good if you want to vanish a hundred rotrobbers.'

'Where did you get her thigh bone from?' Elijah had a mental picture of a dirt encrusted, sweating Worlyn digging up bones from her grave.

'Bearbert gave it to me about three hundred years ago, so you can be sure it genuine. Right, okay, yes, erm, what was I? Oh yes, you hold the bone exactly like the wand and walking stick, point it at the goblet and will it to disappear.' He passed the bone to Elijah who took it. Worlyn gave a big reassuring smile. 'It should start to feel very nice and warm and comfortable in your hand. Hold it up, that's it. Any second now you'll feel its power flood through your body, it should make you feel strong. Do you feel it, do you feel it?'

In truth Elijah felt nothing except the sweat of his palm making the bone slippery, he was beginning to think the gods had made an almighty mistake.

'Point it at the goblet, concentrate, and make it disappear.'

Elijah concentrated, and concentrated, and concentrated, and willed the goblet to disappear. Nothing happened, then a thought came to him, perhaps if he said it out aloud, shouted, it would happen. 'DISAPPEAR,' Worlyn stepped back, surprised, but nothing happened, 'VANISH,' he shouted, and Worlyn was looking at him as though he was an incantation short of a spell, and still nothing.

'What're you shouting for?'

'I thought it might work if I said the words.'

Worlyn looked exasperated, he looked around as if looking for a god to confide in, then raised his hands in the air and let them slap against his thighs. 'Have I taught you nothing?' his voice was taut and tense.

Elijah was about to agree with him then realised an answer wasn't required.

'The magic comes from inside you,' Worlyn pressed five fingers into Elijah's chest, and spoke with an urgency Elijah hadn't heard before 'from there,' and pressed harder, practically prodding him. 'The magic's inside you, it's a power that you can call upon whenever you want.' Worlyn gave a great sigh and looked totally lost and confused. He glanced around and found an armchair, that Elijah was sure wasn't there a moment ago, went to it and flopped down. He buried his face in his hands, then massaged his face, roughly rubbing his hands over his tattooed head, kneading his knuckles into his eyes, pulling at his beard, wringing his hands, then he took a great breath and sighed. He looked at Elijah with sadness in his eyes. 'I forgot, Bearbert wants me to tell you a morality story.'

'What's a morality story?'

'Shut up and listen. Many, many thousands of years ago thousands of wizards were exploring the three continents. They were on Chestor, grinding their way through the salt desert when they came across a large, weatherworn sandstone block, as big as a house, on it was carved "I am the Wizard King Ossiemandayous, to whom even the gods bend their knee. Look upon my great works and tremble."

'The wizards looked around, there was nothing but sand. They wondered where the great works were, and what had happened to them? Because they could find no evidence, except for the large, carved sandstone block. They came back and recorded their find, but no one had ever heard of this Ossiemandayous, and there weren't any records of him in the Great Library. After a number of years the records were stored and forgotten in the library. Twenty thousand years passed, and an apprentice came to me, asking who Ossiemandayous was. Obviously, I'd never heard of him, but then again, there were thousands of wizards I'd never heard of. I told him as much, but when he recounted the story to me my curiosity was aroused. I searched the Great Library and found nothing but that reference. I asked Bearbert, and this is what he told me.

'Ossiemandayous was perhaps the most gifted wizard that ever lived, his power was awesome. But he grew too much to admire his own skill and set himself up as a god. And when the gods didn't interfere he grew in his own vanity, he began to build temples to himself. And still the gods didn't interfere as he became absolute ruler of the three continents. His word was law, none would oppose him. The gods became angry that Zeus would not sanction him. But Zeus made them be patient and not chastise Ossiemandayous.

'Ossiemandayous decided, as great as he was that he'd build the greatest temple ever seen as befitting his prodigious skill, a testimony to the most powerful wizard that ever lived, himself.

'He enslaved the populace, had a million slaves plus working on his magnificent temple day and night. After nearly a thousand years the temple was finished. It was higher than a thousand man heights, longer than a million steps, wider than half a million steps. It was magnificent, stupendous, glorious, even the gods admired it, Ossiemandayous had used the finest sculptors to chisel statues in the finest marble of black, green and white, mostly of himself, in different outfits, but sometimes of his favourite dog, horse or butterfly, he liked butterflies. The pillars rose to the skies, the floors glittered, gleamed, shone and stretched until they disappeared into the distance. But what he didn't realise was that the people hated him, the slaves hated him, the merchants hated him, everyone hated him.

'The temple was perfect, except for three tiny flaws. One of the central marble pillars had a small crack in it that a wasp decided would make a good home. One of the foundation stones also had a small crack that a colony of ants decided would make a good home. And the massive timber support of boak that supported the great central dome had woodworm.

'For thousand of years these three colonies grew, enlarged, spread out, created other colonies, but all the time they were gnawing, chewing, eating away at the very fabric of Ossiemandayous' magnificent temple, until after a thousand years the temple was naught but a hollow shell.

'The two thousand year old Ossiemandayous had taken to banishing everyone from his temple and just began to walk its endless rooms and corridors devoted to his magnificence.

'Then one day, as he was passing one of the central pillars, he tripped over his sumptuous robes and reached to the central pillar to support himself. To his surprise his hand went right through the hard marble and thousands of wasps came out attacking him. Of course wasps wouldn't bother him, he was the greatest wizard alive and created a protective shield around himself.

'Unfortunately, no magic shield is strong enough to protect from millions of tons of stone, marble and wood falling on one's head.

'His temple crashed around him, like a pack of cards, killing him, leaving nothing but dust, and, of course, the big sandstone block.'

'And the moral of this is?'

Worlyn stared at Elijah, somewhat dumbfounded as though the moral was obvious. 'Work it out for yourself. Now, I want you to try the other things. The gloves, try the gloves,' his voice sounded weary, tired, as though it was a hopeless cause, but he was trying to be enthusiastic.

Elijah picked up the black leather gloves, separated them, then put them back together, and flicked them at the goblet, again nothing happened.

'DOZY DRAGOYLES!' Worlyn shouted, and then seemed to control himself. 'You're supposed to put them on.'

'Oh,' Elijah gave an apologetic shrug, and put each glove on.

'Now try various finger movements like this,' Worlyn demonstrated, his fingers making complicated motions as though they were made of rubber rather than skin and bone because they seemed to bend at unnatural angles, bend over backwards and touch the back of his hand, movements that made Elijah gasp and stare in disbelief.

'I, I, I can't do that,' Elijah spluttered.

Worlyn looked surprised, then continued in a stern voice, 'What? Even a ten year old trainee warlock can make these hand movements, they are basic to magic, if you can't do them, you can't do magic.'

What was the point, Elijah thought, he knew he couldn't do magic. With a sigh he clasped his fingers together then interlocked them and tried to bend them back, they would only go so far, then it became painful. The gods were mistaken, no, not mistaken, totally and utterly wrong, he had about as much magic as a toadstool. He wrenched the gloves off, threw them on the table, and stormed out.

'Where're you going, come back here now? Typical moody teenagers, it's all those raging hormones.' And stopped, and thought, what're hormones?

Elijah ignored him, he was becoming sick and angry at all this expectation of him being able to do magic. He ran down one dark, torch lit corridor into another, even darker corridor, and continued running until he came to a T-junction and chose the right and continued running. He could only just make out the sides of the wall as it became darker and darker. How long he was running for he could only guess, he passed doors and alcoves that seemed to hide things he would rather not see. Then the corridor ended at a large, roughly hewn dark wooden door, and he hesitated, he'd had two bad experiences of entering doors in these dark caverns. He had two alternatives, go back, which he certainly didn't feel like doing, because those alcoves scared him, he caught glimpses of dark things, shadows, things that threatened his mind rather that his body. He decided to risk it, grasped the handle and opened the door.

It was like walking into another world away from the bare gloomy rough-hewn smoke stained walls and dismalness of Worlyn's underground caverns and tunnels. Here it was bright, with mostly white and green marble that was reassuring, warm and comforting. It was a great hall, larger than any hall he had ever imagined, with Ionic columns that supported massive arches that seemed to stretch thousands of steps into the air, supporting domed ceilings with the most fantastic frescoes of muscled handsome heroes, lithe beautiful heroines, fantastic beasts, and gods cavorting with humans. He felt like an insect in a giant's living room. Every wall was painted, and the hall seemed to go on forever, until it disappeared to a point. The artwork was so fantastic that the figures, the landscapes, the creatures seemed to be moving, playing and depicting stories that, as far as he could make out, showed epic stories of heroism and bravery, showed battles, conflicts, acts of unselfish courage and gallantry. He was mesmerized to the point he couldn't move, but kept staring at the paintings.

How long he watched he had no idea, as one painting's story ended another would begin immediately. It was another tale of fortitude and fearlessness, Of another hero that had fought against the odds, had triumphed when all seemed hopeless, when dark forces, dark gods, wizards, monsters, evil giants, hordes of dragons, acting in unison, scorching cities, towns and villages with their fiery breath, threatened to engulf them, threatened to destroy the known universe. But, Elijah realised, it seemed to happen over and over, again and again. The Dark Forces gathered, building in strength, taking over, ruling, changing the order of things, imposing their rule, implementing their upside-down rule, and the hero, and this was the surprise, or the heroine, would save the day.

After a while his legs gave way and he slumped on the hard marble floor, but still he couldn't stop staring at the paintings, following the stories of the bravest of the brave.

And, then, without warning, he was lifted fifty steps into the air so fast it made his head spin, and was being carried along the great hall, past all of the frescoes, and the columns whizzed by, and he realised he was being held gently, cupped in a giant hand, the fingerprints were like ploughed ridges. He looked up but could only see the underside of a black bearded chin, then he heard voices: loud voices that echoed throughout the giant hall, and turned his head so quickly he almost cricked his neck.

Before him was an immense circular room with a vast domed painted ceiling, in the centre was a colossal white marble circular table around which were seated a large number of giants.

'Look what I've found,' boomed out a voice from above his head that Elijah thought sounded familiar.

The giant hand placed him gently on the huge table and withdrew. Elijah looked up and fell over backwards: Bagarnack, the enormous face of Bagarnack was staring at him.

'Hello Snorker, how did you escape?' But Bagarnack's voice was not angry, nor was his countenance; actually, he appeared to smile at Elijah.

'Now Bagarnack,' and Elijah recognised the stern voice of Bearbert, 'you know the rules.'

'I certainly do,' Bagarnack's booming voice was hard and uncompromising, 'but rules can be changed.'

'Bagarnack,' it was a feminine voice that Elijah turned to, and the giant face that he looked at was dark with anger, her eyes black with outrage, 'our rules cannot be changed, and don't you dare attempt to change them: you know as well as any of us the consequences.'

'Consequences,' Bagarnack laughed, and the whole great hall seemed to vibrate with his laughter, 'what consequences? Rumour, myth and legend. Are we not gods?'

And Elijah heard many booming voices agree and urge Bagarnack to continue.

'Are we to be constrained by a rumour of something that doesn't exist? Do we not have the power? Can we not make worlds collide, not make suns explode? We, who have existed since time began, we who can create life, take life, destroy.'

'Yes Bagarnack, you are excellent at destroying, at spreading disharmony and discord.'

Elijah instantly knew that voice and turned. There was the beautiful face of Esme, smiling at him, but also scowling at Bagarnack.

'You are mistaken Esme, I only have the welfare of the gods as my main concern.'

'Your main concern is your own welfare, your insatiable love of power, your desire to rule the universe so that you have already broken the rules, with no thought of the consequences to us.'

'There are no consequences to us.'

'There is when one god fights another.'

'Tell me Esme, which gods have been fighting one another?'

'Oh Bagarnack,' Esme practically spat his name out, 'do not add perjury to your long list of crimes against the gods.'

Bagarnack straightened and glared at her, 'What crimes would they be then Esme, and where is your proof?'

'Both of you are flouting the rules.' Elijah looked at the blonde haired handsome god that had spoken. 'We do not bring our differences into the Great Hall. This is where we honour one another's contribution. We do not resort to,' and he lowered his voice, 'violence.' He paused to allow his words to take effect, and then continued. 'Now, we must ask ourselves, how has a human found his way into the Great Hall of the Gods, and survived?'

Every eye turned to Elijah, and he quailed under their collective stares. All he could see were enormous, gigantic black pupils surrounded by irises that contained the universe, with stars, planets, moons and gas clouds staring questioningly at him, he felt so small, so insignificant. He collapsed onto the tabletop and curled into a ball, pulling his knees tightly into his chest and closing his eyes, expecting to be blasted into ashes any moment.

'Elijah, there is no need to be frightened,' it was Esme's soothing voice, 'No harm will befall you here, you are safe. The gods only want answers. Please stand.'

Quickly Elijah stood, when a god requested, you did it as fast as you could. He tried not to look at any of the god's faces, thinking they would be displeased at his brashness, but he wanted to look at Esme, to gaze upon her beautiful face, lose himself in her magnificent eyes; but he continued to stare at the enormous table top he was standing upon.

'Look at me,' the blonde haired god commanded.

Elijah turned and looked into the handsome features, but he noticed the eyes and mouth were not so handsome; they were giving exactly opposite messages, ones of dislike, impatience, disbelief and anger. And suddenly he knew why, he had entered into the Gods' great hall, when he shouldn't have done, he should have been killed in that corridor, and yet he hadn't been.

The blonde haired god continued, 'I am Hermes, you've heard of me?'

Elijah could do nothing but nod anxiously. Hermes, the god of the harvest of the grape, wheat, malt, hops and sugar, the god that had taught humans how to make wine, beer and spirits, the god that would destroy if he visited one of his temples and found it empty, or found that the gifts were not to his satisfaction. He was a terrible angry god that would take grotesque retribution on the people who had displeased him. Many times he'd heard the wine and beer makers in Dragoylia planning their gifts and sacrifices to Hermes, making sure their gifts were plentiful.

'I have been appointed Arbitrator of the Gods for the past millennium. I'll be the one questioning you. Do you understand?'

Again Elijah nodded, surreptitiously glancing upward.

'How did you gain entry into the Great Hall?'

Elijah took a deep breath, 'I was in Worlyn's underground chambers.'

'Ahhh,' Bagarnack murmured.

'Who is Worlyn?' asked a goddess, whom Elijah recognised from her statues as Mnemosyne.

'A wizard,' answered Esme.

'A human?'

'Yes.'

'Continue human.'

'We had an argument and I ran out, ran until I found myself in a long corridor with lots of deep dark alcoves.'

'The Corridor of Shadows, you're just an ordinary, how did you survive?' asked Hermes

Then Elijah knew, oh it was so simple, and he was so stupid, he thought he'd smelled it in the drink Worlyn had given him, gollyean, an hallucinogenic that put the victim into a deep and prolonged sleep, that caused fantastic dreams that seemed real, and could last for months, even years. Suddenly, he was no longer afraid, this was all an hallucination, a gollyean dream, it wasn't real, this Great Hall wasn't real, the gods weren't real, Hermes wasn't real, and he looked up and his eyes met Esme's gentle love, and wished it was real just for that look from Esme. This was all an hallucination, a fantastic dream, and then it struck him; was he imagining Esme's favouring him, even liking him? But, why not? It was his dream, his fantasy; he could have, could do, and could be, whatever he wanted, yes, whatever he wanted. First thing, he wanted to be a big as Esme.

Hermes's booming voice spoke, 'I asked you a question.'

He was still small; maybe that was part of the fantasy.

'My patience is wearing thin, answer my question or suffer my wrath.'

'Wrath, wrath? Who do you think you are?' Elijah felt their collective intake of breath. 'Oh, I forgot, you're the gods, you please yourselves what you do, without any thought of your actions.' He was on a roll, and he hated the gods, except Esme, he hated everything they stood for, everything they represented, after all, this was but a dream, an hallucination, he could say what he liked, it was his dream. 'You think you're all above reproach, because you are gods. You think every living creature is beneath you because you're gods. You think all are yours to command, yours to control, yours to destroy, yours to play stupid games with. You create life, create monsters that tackle and fight other monsters that other gods have created, because you are all cowards, because the gods will not face one another in combat, they use others to do their dirty work, and all the time the innocents suffer. Not one of you care if the child is orphaned, the parents murdered by rotrobbers, or the aftermath of your petty squabbles.'

'That is enough.'

'No it's not! You're not worthy to be called gods; you're corrupted by power, by greed, by selfishness. I challenge you, I challenge you to live as a human, this is the challenge, I, Elijah, a puny human, demand of the gods.'

'Demand?' shouted Hermes.

'Now, there's a thought,' said Bearbert in a soft voice, a large smile playing around his mouth, 'that's something we haven't tried before.'

All the gods seemed to burst into speech, Elijah heard the words, ridiculous, preposterous, we're the gods, this insect, should be blasted into infinity, why has he survived?

Elijah shouted, and his voice seemed to be magnified above the chatter of the gods. 'I challenge you to become human, to become wizards, reinstate and take part in the Centuria Tournament.' He was stunned, where were these words coming from? Then, again he realised, it was part of the hallucination. 'Or are you too frightened, frightened that an ordinary wizard may defeat you without your godly powers?'

'The gods are frightened of nothing,' Bearbert shouted, 'Even if we renounced our godhood, we are still magical enough to defeat any wizard.'

'Prove it.'

The blonde-haired god, Hermes, spoke, his voice was quiet, almost a whisper that contained a deadly menace, and all the gods stopped speaking. 'The gods don't need to prove themselves to a human.'

'No,' Elijah laughed derisively, 'that's a brilliant excuse isn't it? The indolent gods are above caring what their disposable, expendable subjects think about them.'

'You insult us Snorker?' Bagarnack said clearly in his powerful voice.

'My name is Elijah, is that so difficult for a god to remember?'

All the gods seemed to take a deep breath, none insulted Bagarnack, none insulted the gods, and lived.

Hermes spoke, 'You've insulted the gods,' his voice reverberated around the Great Hall, 'Your punishment will be eternal damnation, rotrobbers will rip your limbs off every day, and every night your limbs will regrow, with great pain, to be ripped off again. Is that agreed?' He looked around.

'No,' answered Bearbert loudly.

'No,' answered Esme softly, but everyone heard her.

'No,' answered Bagarnack, 'I want to prove to this human that even stripped of our godly powers we still have the courage that he accuses us of lacking.'

Hermes shouted, 'This is stupidity beyond belief! The gods don't accede to foolish requests from humans. Throughout the ages they have challenged us, demanded we show ourselves, and when we do, they cower and ask for forgiveness. The blink of a god's eye is a thousand years to a human. They expect too much.'

'No Hermes,' it was Esme who spoke, 'we gods have interfered too much in the affairs of humans. Elijah is right! We're cowards, fiercely protective of our godhood, never challenging another god directly, but creating creatures and monsters we hoped would overcome the creatures and monsters other gods had created. Playing our false games that create untold misery throughout the three continents. We come into this Great Hall, and are polite, abide by the rules, never questioning, never disagreeing, when really we should be sorting our differences here, in the Great Hall.'

'No,' said Hermes, 'the Great Hall, as all know, is the neutral place, where we leave all problems outside the door, where we gather in a social setting, where we respect one another, where we listen.'

'That is absolute rubbish,' shouted Elijah.

'HOLD YOUR TONGUE HUMAN,' shouted Hermes.

'No,' Elijah whispered, and the silence was palpable, all the gods were staring at him. There was no sound in the Great Hall at all. He could feel the gods' eyes boring into him, but that meant nothing, it was all a dream, his dream, he could do whatever, say whatever he liked. 'I challenge you all to either participate in the Centuria Tournament, or make me a god and I will challenge you all directly.'

Bearbert gave a great booming laugh. 'He is plucky this one.'

'He is insane to challenge the gods,' said a silver haired, smooth-cheeked god, whose name was Ares. 'Let me kill him?'

Some of the gods agreed.

'No,' shouted Bearbert, but then lowered his voice as if what he was about to say was sacrilege, 'and yet, we all know what will happen if the humans cease to believe in us.'

'That is a falsehood,' Hermes answered dismissively, 'nothing will happen to us.'

'Is it?' Esme's words were tinged with spite. 'There should be hundreds of gods here, and yet, we're only seven, where are the other gods, what has happened to them?'

'They've gone exploring,' a long, dark haired, exceptionally beautiful goddess named Artemis said, 'as Bearbert did. We didn't see him for aeons, and he turned up. The other gods will.'

'I doubt it,' Esme said, 'we know, but have forgotten, we've lived too long, we've been in conflict too long, we can't remember half the creatures we've created, nor half the creatures that have been exterminated by other creatures other gods have created. Where are Okeanos, Coeus, Tethys, Zeus, Dionysus, Iapetus, and Rhea? What's happened to their temples, to their disciples, their followers? I'll tell you. Their temples are dust, their disciples are dust, and their followers are dust. They are no more, they have ceased to exist.'

'That's rubbish,' Hermes shouted, panic in his voice, 'they are gods, they cannot cease to exist.'

Esme shouted, her voice cutting, 'You idiot, we only exist as long as we have followers. If we're forgotten we cease to exist. Why're we only seven? Because the other gods thought they were invincible, they ignored the basic rule, the rule of the humans.'

'The rule of the humans?' Hermes questioned, his face twisting with anger, his lips spraying spittle everywhere. 'The rule of the humans. That is a falsehood, a massive lie, a fallacy, humans don't rule. The gods rule.'

Esme looked defiantly at Hermes, she seemed to spark with power, her eyes flashed like lightning bolts, her hair seemed to cackle with electricity, 'You're a fool Hermes, and a cruel and spiteful god, you don't deserve any followers. What say you Bagarnack?'

'Ahhh,' Bagarnack smiled and looked at Elijah, 'I congratulate you Snorker, oh, my apologies,' by the smirk on his face he wasn't apologetic at all, 'Elijah. Not only have you entered the Great Hall of the Gods and survived with your life, but you've also turned the gods against one another. A feat which no other human, nor any other god, has ever managed.' He turned to face Esme, his lips curling with undisguised menace, 'But we all know Elijah has been receiving lots,' and he sneered, 'and lots of help. And we all know Elijah's not what he seems.'

'Of course,' answered Esme, with the same amount of menace, 'we all have our favourites, don't we Bagarnack?'

'What's going on here?' asked Hermes, 'is there something the rest of us should know about?'

Esme laughed, but it was a mirthless laugh, a laugh tinged with sarcasm and disdain. 'Hermes, you're the dimmest of the gods. Bagarnack banished Zeus and Dionysus by deception.'

'No Esme, you are looking for an excuse for their wanderings, their desertion,' Bagarnack answered smoothly, stroking his long black beard, which seemed to cackle with electricity.

'Ha, their wanderings, we both know Bagarnack, you lying two faced coward.'

'Esme,' shouted Hermes, 'you're breaking the rule of the Great Hall.'

'Tell me Bagarnack,' her voice was low, yet dangerous, Elijah could hear every word she was saying, 'how did you lure Zeus and Dionysus away?'

Bagarnack looked shocked, as did Hermes and all the other gods.

'You didn't think I knew did you?' her voice was cutting, accusing hateful, the injustice rankling in her voice. 'You tricked them, as you've tricked countless other gods. And only then did you attack them, when they could hardly fight back, when they were as nearly dead as gods can be, you bombarded them with every curse, charm, hex and jinx you knew.' She was shouting now, her voice reverberating across the Great Hall. The other gods were horrified, their mouths hanging open. 'I accuse you Bagarnack,' and she radiated an aura of blue power that shimmered around her and made the other gods lean back, then pointed her finger and the blue aura extended forwards, but stopped at Bagarnack's raised hand, 'of banishing another god.'

Bagarnack seemed to recover quickly, he smirked, 'You're mistaken Esme, you're looking for any excuse to exonerate Zeus' and Dionysus' desertion.'

'Then where are they?'

'Probably gone wandering, they'll turn up.' Bagarnack was contemptuous.

'Yes, they most probably will, when they find a way out of the void.'

'They're not in the void, the void doesn't exist, it's a rumour,' he waved his hands dismissively. 'Now Elijah,' he said, quickly changing the subject, 'you've issued the gods a challenge, which I for one, am willing to accept.'

'You cannot accept Bagarnack,' Hermes's voice was authoritative, 'I'll not allow it, I'm the Arbitrator.'

'Pipe down Hermes,' shouted Bearbert, 'you're only Arbitrator because we say you are. I'm also willing to accept.'

Bagarnack grunted and nodded, 'I knew you would Bearbert, you have an over-inflated view of your powers.'

Bearbert gave a great booming laugh. 'You think you know me Bagarnack? I who have travelled across the universe. Where've you travelled Bagarnack? No-where but the four planets we've been chased from. Now you're concentrating your powers on the three continents, your parochialism will be your downfall.'

Bagarnack ignored Bearbert, disdainfully waving his hands, and turned to Esme, 'What about you Esme?' Bagarnack's was challenging, 'are you willing to once again become human and face me?'

Esme took a deep breath that seemed to quiver her whole godly body, but her eyes were like arrows as she glared at him, 'I'm willing to face you anytime Bagarnack, god or human.'

'This is sacrilege, this is a betrayal of the ideal of the gods, of the rules of the Great Hall.' Hermes seemed to be in a great panic, his arms out wide, his face seeming to border on hysteria, and Elijah looked at the other gods, and saw apprehension and, he could hardly believe it, fear. Then, he realised nothing like this had ever happened in the Great Hall before. He'd done this; he'd done this to the gods. Whoa, wait, this was a dream, an hallucination, he was under the influence of gollyean, this wasn't happening, he couldn't be in the Great Hall of the Gods, in reality he'd be blasted into infinity.

'And what of you Elijah?' Bagarnack's voice was strangely - nice, 'are you willing to face me in the Centuria?'

He felt full of confidence, what a stupid question, of course he was willing, it was his hallucination, his dream, he could say what he wanted. 'I'm here now, facing you Bagarnack, in the Great Hall of the Gods, you're not frightening me now, so you certainly won't frighten me in the Centuria.'

And to Elijah's surprise Bagarnack smiled. 'Ah Elijah, there's a fine line between bravery, stupidity and insanity, which applies to you?'

'Whichever you want Bagarnack, I'm not particularly bothered either way.' Elijah smiled up at the enormous face looking down at him.

'Then Elijah,' his smile vanished, and was replaced by a scowl, 'you should go back to Worlyn and prepare.'

Elijah awoke upon the straw bed of Worlyn's, Muppy fast asleep next to him, and looked around, there was Twinkle looking down at him, breathing miniscule puffs of smoke, the fire burning brightly in the massive hearth, the furniture the same as it was when he left, the rough hewn walls. Yes, the hallucination had ended, and what a dream it was, so fantastic: him, in the Great Hall of the Gods, shouting at the Gods, criticising the Gods, challenging the Gods. He chuckled, fancy him challenging the Gods, fancy him challenging Bagarnack. Bagarnack, who could turn him into a cinder with the blink of his eye. And he'd mocked Bagarnack, challenged Bagarnack. He was grateful it was an hallucination, grateful that Worlyn had slipped him gollyean, because it made him feel good, actually, it made him feel great, confident and powerful. But it was the vision of Esme that lingered in his mind, her magical eyes that glimmered with the light of a billion nightime stars, her hair that shimmered both red and golden like a smooth cascading waterfall, her skin that was so clear, so, perfectly unblemished, that appeared to radiate like highly polished boak. Her impossibly white perfect teeth, and beautifully formed rosy lips. If this was love, then he loved Esme.

Ha, he laughed at himself, oh yes, and the fantastically beautiful goddess Esme would love a nineteen-year-old hunchback with a withered arm and a lopsided face in return. Idiot.

He decided to find Worlyn and hoped he had another drink of herbs prepared because he was starving. He stood and was pleased he felt no pain; the previous herb drinks were working wonders. He'd have to go and bathe in the waterfall soon; that always made him feel marvellous. The waters must contain magical properties. He heard voices from behind the bookcases, crept to, and cautiously peered around and saw Bearbert, in his true form, tall, with his bright red hair and beard, wearing black leather under bright shinning armour, and Esme, looking as beautiful as ever. He stepped out and Bearbert and Esme looked up at him, but it wasn't the welcome look he'd expected, but one of anger and reproachfulness. Then they both vanished, and Worlyn turned to him.

'What - have - you - done?' he asked in a quivering voice.

'Done, I haven't done anything.'

Worlyn was practically shaking, his hands held out before him. 'How, how did you find your way into the Great Hall of the Gods?'

'I went along the corridor you told me to go. But that's ridiculous, it was a dream, an hallucination brought on by gollyean.'

Worlyn was breathing deeply, as though trying to control his emotions, 'You insulted all the gods.'

'No, no, no, no,' Elijah was fearful, 'it was a dream.'

Worlyn took a great gasp of air and pointed his finger, 'You challenged Bagarnack.'

Elijah shook his head, something was very wrong, panic was surfacing in his chest, 'Only in my dream. How do you know, it was my dream?'

'It was real. He's accepted your challenge.'

Elijah was stunned, totally confused. 'It was a dream, an hallucination, somehow I drank gollyean, it made me hallucinate, I thought I was in the Great Hall, but I couldn't have been, how could I survive?'

'No one knows, not even the gods know.'

'But, it was a dream.'

'It wasn't a dream, Bearbert and Esme have just told me.'

'You saw them? You saw their true forms.'

'Of course not, Bearbert was his usual bat, and Esme her eunicon.'

'I saw them, their true forms, I saw them talking to you. Worlyn, tell me, tell me what's going on? Why's all this happening?'

'Impossible. Elijah, I don't know. At first Esme and Bearbert wanted me to teach you magic to challenge Zanatos, but you couldn't do magic, I told them you didn't even have a magic fingernail. Then it was the waterfall, then the herb drink, and now all hell's broke loose, the Gods are arguing, the three continents are in uproar, the Gods are taking their frustrations out on their subjects. Esme, Bearbert and Bagarnack are going to become human, reinstate, and enter the Centuria. Do you know what this means?'

Elijah was shocked at one, he'd really entered the Great Hall of the Gods, two, he'd insulted the Gods, three, he'd challenged Bagarnack, and four, he'd survived. He could say nothing but shake his head.

'I'll tell you what it means,' Worlyn snarled, his face suddenly looking angry, his lips contorted, spittle running down his chin into his white wispy beard. He no longer looked the befuddled, kindly old man, but a smaller version of an enraged rotrobber. Elijah stepped back, suddenly frightened. 'It means even the greatest wizard has no hope of winning against a God, it means the three continents will be without a ruling wizard, and that means anarchy, because whichever god wins will not be interested in the daily running of the three continents. It means that you, and many other great wizards and ordinaries will surely die, and finally, it means that you have set the gods against one another, and if the gods fight, millions die. That's what you've done.' Worlyn stopped and breathed deeply, still staring at Elijah with something bordering on hatred, then threw his arms into the air and shouted, 'Get out of my sight.' Worlyn turned and stormed off down between the massive, never-ending bookcases.

Elijah was stunned, paralysed with disbelief at what he'd done. But how could this have happened? How could he, a deformed hunchback, set the gods against one another? Gollyean, yes, that was it, gollyean. But, deep inside himself he knew it wasn't, this was real, so sickeningly real, and he wanted out, out of this hellhole, he wanted things to be as they were, he didn't care about the beatings, he could tolerate them, he just wanted to be Snorker again, the simple finder of rare herbs and plants. He realised he was happiest when people left him alone, when the Principle-Slave gave him the list and left him to his own devices, and he could take his time, explore the beauty of the countryside, watch and talk to the wild animals. Of course they never spoke to him, but they listened, and he was sure they understood what he was saying. But that had all changed, now he was just a plaything of the gods; a plaything that had gone wrong, and the gods were blaming him, Worlyn was blaming him. Why? What had he done to deserve such anger and derision? Did he request the help of the gods? No. The gods had chosen him, why? Only the gods knew.

'Hello.'

Elijah spun around and was faced by an abnormally tall aged woman, he stepped back as he looked up into her kindly face. She was wearing long robes of flowing lilac silk, her hair was chrome grey and tied back in a bun, her skin was milky white, and she stood with great composure, her hands clasped as if in prayer, smiling down at him.

'You are Elijah?'

Elijah could only nod, he instantly knew she was a goddess because her eyes contained the universe; stars and galaxies staring back at him.

'I am Isis.'

He couldn't move; he was petrified to the spot, this was no gollyean hallucination.

She smiled reassuringly, 'Shall we sit, we need to talk.' She sat upon the bed and motioned Elijah next to her, which he did, unable to take his eyes from her face, even sitting she was taller than him standing.

She smiled and Elijah drew strength from that. 'I sense your confusion Elijah, and I'm here to help,' she reached over and gently stroked his chin, her touch made the hairs on his neck become erect. 'I know you're troubled, I know you've seen things mortals shouldn't. I'm here to answer your questions, but, I'll not be able to answer all of them, because I don't know.' Again she smiled, and it reassured Elijah.

'Why's this happening to me?'

She gave a quiet chuckle, 'I knew you'd ask me a question I couldn't answer. I don't know, none of the gods know.'

Elijah could only look at her, then he plucked up courage and asked, 'Are you known by another name, I've never heard mention of a goddess Isis?'

She smiled affectionately, 'You wouldn't have heard of me.'

Elijah stared into her beautiful complexion, 'I don't understand.'

'The universe is so vast Elijah. The gods travel by magic, we imagine where our destination is, then will it to happen, if I imagined the end of the universe and willed it to happen I would be travelling for billions and billions of years, and never reach the end, because there's no end, and this is in every direction. And in our universe, I say this because there're others that we don't have access to, are billions upon billions of different life forms. In many galaxies the gods rule, however, in some there is no magic whatsoever, and if the gods visit them they lose their powers and are condemned to live as humans. In others science rules, and in others machines, or part machines, part humans. But, in all these galaxies, the Order remains.'

'I've heard that before, the Order.'

'Yes Elijah: the Order. No one knows exactly what the Order is, no one knows exactly how the Order is policed, yet, we know something, or should I say we have guessed about the Order.'

'What do you know?' Elijah asked hesitantly.

'We know, or should I say, we believe, that there is The One, the supreme god, but no god has ever seen, felt or met the One. We believe The One has the philosophy that all intelligent creatures should be helped by education and encouragement. However, there is some opposition to this, the question is, if The One is so benevolent why are there wars, why conflict, why pit one human, one god, one race against the other?'

'I don't know, but how can you believe there's The One Supreme God, if you've never seen it?'

'Because we gods can create life, create different species, but many times over the eons we've tried to create different life forms and have been unsuccessful, because we believe they've not fitted in with the Order, because The One, who we believe, works in harmony with nature, will not allow anything to upset or change the Order. However, Bagarnack is trying to change the order, and he's gone some way towards doing it.'

'Worlyn told me about the Order.'

'Worlyn?'

'A wizard.'

'A human?'

'Yes.'

'And what did Worlyn say about the Order?'

'That it's like a pyramid.'

'Ah yes, that's one theory, and a very good one. The pyramid can stand changes, even if some of the levels are removed or altered, the pyramid will remain intact, but if too many levels are altered or removed the pyramid is in danger of collapse.'

'And if the pyramid collapses?'

'So does the universe.'

'I don't understand, what's my part in this?'

Isis looked down and examined her perfect hands, her perfect nails, then looked back into Elijah's eyes, 'I don't know, none of the gods know, what I do know is eventually you must face Bagarnack in the Centuria Tournament.'

'I must face a god?'

'Yes, not only face him, but defeat him.'

Elijah was speechless, defeat a god, defeat the greatest of the gods, Bagarnack. 'That's impossible, you're asking the impossible, how can I, how can a mere mortal defeat the most powerful god?'

'We don't know, but, and I'm sorry to tell you this, you'll be on your own, none of the gods will be able to assist you in any way, we cannot jeopardise the Order.'

'I can't even do magic.'

'How do you know?'

'Worlyn tried to teach me, he tried all kinds of magical stuff, wands, staffs, even bones, but nothing worked, he said I didn't have an ounce of magic in me.'

'Worlyn is a human, and as such, cannot see what the gods can.'

'You mean, I can do magic?'

'You should be able to when the time comes.'

'At the Centuria Tournament?'

'Perhaps.'

'You mean I won't be able to do anything until I come face to face with Bagarnack?'

Isis nodded.

'That's, that is, ridiculous. I've to face one of the most powerful gods in existence not even knowing if I can do magic, not knowing what spells to use, not even knowing any spells. Bagarnack will blast me to ashes.'

'That is a possibility. However, there're other possibilities, you may be able to blast him, or Bagarnack's powers will be useless against you. Or when Bagarnack becomes human he will lose his godly powers'

'Will they?'

'I'm not saying they will be, I'm offering you possibilities.'

'And what will happen if Bagarnack defeats me in the blink of an eye?'

'Then Bagarnack will go on and succeed in changing the Order, and either the universe will collapse, or he'll be able to challenge The One, or, surprisingly, nothing will happen. We don't know which.'

'I don't understand, why me? I'm a slave, nothing, nobody, a crippled hunchback.'

She reached over and touched his shoulder. 'You're not a nobody, every human is a somebody. But to be honest, we don't know. There has been much speculation amongst all the gods.'

'What speculation?'

She smiled at Elijah, and he could see the stars, galaxies and nebulae glinting in her eyes. 'I'm not sure if I should tell you.'

'Please,' he pleaded, holding his hands together as if in prayer.

'Many gods have voiced the opinion you may be Dionysus reincarnated into human form because you were able to lift his shield. But, that is impossible because we believe Dionysus and Zeus were banished into the void by Bagarnack. No god has ever seen them since.'

'So, I am not Dionysus reincarnated?'

'Ah Elijah, I, and some of the cleverer gods, have learnt there is no such a thing as absolutes. You could be Dionysus, or you could be something else.'

'Something else?'

'Yes, there's more speculation you could be a demi-god, one of Dionysus' offspring, when he mated with a human. But that wouldn't make you powerful enough to defeat Bagarnack. The final speculation is that you've been sent by The One.'

Elijah was astounded. 'The One? But surely I'd know.'

'No, The One moves in mysterious ways, its wonders to perform. The One doesn't show itself, no one knows, not even the gods, what it looks like, what it can do, how it polices the Order. But we know it exists, and we know you must face Bagarnack.'

Elijah looked both shocked and frightened, 'What if I don't want to face Bagarnack, nor enter the Centuria Tournament.'

Isis gave a resigned smile. 'Then Bagarnack will win and change the Order.'

'But isn't there anyone else, another god?'

'No,' Isis sighed, 'even in our galaxy no one is powerful enough to challenge Bagarnack. There were two, a long time ago, Zeus and Dionysus, they were more powerful than Bagarnack, who never dared to challenge them.'

Suddenly Elijah became angry, he didn't know why, didn't know why he began shouting at a god. 'This is rubbish, I'll not be a plaything of the gods, I'm nothing special, and I will not be used by the gods. Do whatever you will, I don't care, you're the gods, you sort out your own mess, you sort out Bagarnack, why should I care, why should I worry, I'm going to die anyway? Bagarnack cursed me for years, kept me in a dungeon with no light, no food, and no contact for three years. Where were the gods then? No where, absolutely no where.'

'The gods don't need food or water, but humans do, how did you survive for three years without food or water?'

'Bagarnack must have put a spell on me.'

'That's a possibility, but I don't think he did, he'd have probably wanted you to die through lack of water. It must have come a something as a shock for him to find you were still alive after three years.'

'It came as more of a shock to me.'

'Yes, I imagine it did. There're rules throughout the universe that we know nothing of, and if we try to change certain things we cannot. Then there're rumours, even amongst the gods, of the rule of humans.'

'I've heard that before, in the Great Hall of the Gods, Hermes said it was rubbish.'

'Yes, but why has such a weak race of creatures, with no apparent powers, with little or no magical ability, with no great intellect, been able to thrive and prosper in such a harsh universe? Why do many of the gods secretly fear humans, openly seek to subjugate them, surreptitiously create creatures that prey upon them?'

'I don't know.'

'Neither do the gods, but the feeling's there, and the gods are worried. That's one reason why Bagarnack wants to change the order. Of course, he's other reasons, he wants ultimate power, ultimate control, and he's many gods on his side, even in my galaxy, and others across the universe. They see Bagarnack as restoring the gods to their true position of power in the universe, and obliterating the rule of the humans in the process.'

Elijah looked desperately around, as if hoping Esme or Bearbert would appear and save him, stop him from asking the question he already knew the answer to. 'And I'm supposed to be the one to stop this?'

'Yes Elijah,' she answered kindly, her face showing concern.

Elijah looked at her kindly countenance for a long while, then turned away as he thought he was being rude for staring, especially at a god. 'What exactly is the rule of the humans?' he asked.

Isis gave a resigned sigh, 'Again, we don't know, we have ideas.'

'Wha - what ideas?'

'We believe the gods need humans more than humans need the gods.'

'How can that be, you're the gods, you can do anything?'

'Not quite, however, many gods have mysteriously disappeared, the weaker gods, the ones who didn't have much of a following, nor many temples in their honour, were the first to go, and as some gods became more powerful, attracting more followers, so others became weaker, until they were gone. And none of the gods know where. Some say the void, some say destroyed by other gods, other powerful races, some say they are wandering the universe. But what none of the gods will tell you Elijah is what you really are.'

'I don't understand.'

'For millions of years all the gods have been chased from planets they ruled by a being called the Nem...'

She suddenly looked up at the ceiling, her face showing apprehension. 'I must go, but remember this; Bagarnack will be using a spear and shield in the Centuria. Watch his spear, it's not what it seems. Farewell.'

And she suddenly vanished.

Worlyn entered, stopped and sniffed the air, looked around, looked at Elijah, and again around, looking at everything with interest. Then stopped and looked once again at Elijah. 'Who's been here?'

Elijah was thinking, wondering what the Nem was, was he supposed to be the Nem? What was the Nem?

'Elijah, I'm talking to you, who's been here?'

Elijah felt uncomfortable, should he tell the truth or lie. 'No one.'

'A god's been here.'

'How do you know?'

'Gods always leave magical traces, each god leaves something different, Esme for example leaves a magical scent of honeysuckle, Bearbert of his magical pipe, but this I don't recognise, it's like the talcum powder my mother used to use. Was it a goddess?'

'No one's been here.'

'I know Elijah, so it's pointless lying.'

Elijah could feel Worlyn's eyes boring into his, much as a python would hypnotise a rabbit before devouring it. He turned away.

'It was none of our gods,' Worlyn said, 'tell me Elijah, it could be some trap of Bagarnack's.'

Elijah clenched his lips together, it couldn't have been a trap, she was so genuine, like the mother he never knew but always imagined her to be like. No, she wasn't false. 'If there was a goddess here she didn't make herself known to me.'

'So, it was a goddess,' Worlyn said triumphantly.

'I didn't say that.'

'I know Elijah; I can see it in your eyes. Which one was it?'

Elijah breathed in deeply, he knew it was pointless; Worlyn would keep nagging until he wheedled the information out of him. 'She called herself Isis.'

'Isis? Never heard of a goddess called Isis.'

'She said she was from another galaxy.'

'Oh, right,' Worlyn looked surprised, 'what did she want?'

'She didn't want anything, she wanted to help me.'

'How?'

'I'm not sure I should tell you; she gave me the impression the information was for me alone. Worlyn, what's the Nem?'

Worlyn eyed him beadily, sniffing hard until his tattooed face looked like it had been left in front of a fire for too long and had melted. 'Nem? Never heard of a Nem. Are you going to tell me what this god wanted?'

Elijah shook his head.

'Right, I wonder what Esme and Bearbert will make of this?' He stood looking at Elijah, waiting for an answer.

Elijah tried a bluff and smiled but knew his smile was more of a nervous twitch than anything.

Worlyn turned on his heels and left. Elijah began to worry; Esme and Bearbert would soon have the information out of him. No sooner had Worlyn left than Esme entered followed by Bearbert and behind him a subdued Worlyn, walking with his head bowed.

'Elijah,' Esme spoke, floating in the air and looking at him kindly, 'What did Isis say to you?'

For a fraction of a second Elijah felt a rebelliousness arise in his chest, but it soon disappeared as he looked into Esme's beautiful face. He took a deep breath, 'She talked about the universe, where she was from, Bagarnack and the, the Order. Oh, and the rule of humans.' He saw Worlyn lean into view behind Bearbert and shake his head and hands vigorously.

Esme turned to Bearbert, 'Do you know of this Isis?'

Bearbert nodded, 'She's a goddess two galaxies from the right; she's the goddess of beauty, gives human women beauty tips. She's very popular and has a huge following of loyal worshippers.'

'Would she be in league with Bagarnack?' Esme asked him.

'I doubt it, she cares about humans.'

Esme turned back to Elijah. 'Did she say anything else?'

It was a moment before Elijah answered, 'She told me Bagarnack would use a spear and shield at the Centuria.'

Once again Esme turned to Bearbert, 'How would she know that?'

Bearbert shook his head.

'Unless,' continued Esme, 'Bagarnack told her, and why would he do that? Bagarnack usually uses his axe with a shield.' She turned back to face Elijah, 'Did she say anything else?'

'She said the gods have been chased from the planets they ruled by the Nem. What's the Nem?'

Esme and Bearbert looked at one another, and Elijah thought they looked worried.

Esme spoke, ignoring his question, 'Tomorrow you will begin practising with the shield of Dionysus, Bearbert and I will visit regularly to see your progress.'

Elijah noticed her head appeared to have swelled like a balloon, and the pitch of her voice rose really high halfway through her sentence, then a bright blue swirling mass of stars enveloped her and Bearbert and they vanished. He stared at the spot, then Worlyn spoke, making him jump. 'It's late, get to bed, we start early in the morning.'

Worlyn left, without so much as a goodnight. Why were they all so angry with him? He didn't ask Isis to come to him, he didn't ask to be locked up in a dark dank dungeon for three years, and he didn't ask to be allowed into the Great Hall of the Gods.

But you did challenge Bagarnack, said a small voice at the back of his mind. Yes, and what made him do that? Something so massively stupid he could hardly believe it himself. Suddenly he was overcome with a tiredness so complete he thought he would collapse where he stood. He flung himself on the bed and sleep instantly claimed him. It was not a peaceful, untroubled sleep, but one populated with horrors; of gods that wanted to strangle the life out of him; of spiders that wanted to inject their venom into his neck, paralyse and eat him alive; of Kentauri that wanted to crush his head with their hooves; of Bagarnack laughing and mocking at his feebleness, his weakness, his mortality. Pointing his finger and making him dance like a demented maniac.

'Elijah, Elijah, wake up,' Worlyn shouted, roughly shaking Elijah's shoulder. 'Get up, we've work to do.'

Elijah opened his eyes and saw Worlyn's tattooed face bending over him, miniature red roses intertwined with his long white beard nearly touching his nose. He thought Worlyn was smiling, then realised it wasn't a smile, more of a grimace, as if Worlyn had trapped wind, his bleached false teeth seemed to be struggling, as if trying to escape.

Elijah sat up, his dream fresh and real, and he dismissed it, logging it to the back of his mind. Stupid dream.

'Get up, we've work to do, the gods have decreed it.'

'I need a drink.'

'A drink, a drink?' Worlyn raised his hands in the air in exasperation. 'The gods have given us orders.' Worlyn twirled around in a flash and blaze of long robes, ending up on the other side of the room. 'Thirst is unimportant; an order from the gods must be obeyed. Come, we go to the White Shield of the Realm, and then to practice.'

He sleepily followed Worlyn, picking up an old goblet of water on the way and took a quick gulp, out of the door and along the dark gloomy corridor, lit by the seemingly everlasting torches. His tongue still felt like sandpaper, as if rubbing it on the inside of his cheeks would scrape them away. He badly needed another long drink. His tongue seemed to be growing, seemingly to big for his mouth. It was so dry.

Worlyn stopped by an iron-studded door. 'Now is this the one?'

Elijah knew it wasn't.

Worlyn opened the door and an icy blast blew their hair and clothes back. 'Nope, not that one.' He forced the door shut and continued.

'Why do the rooms keep changing?' Elijah asked, following.

'This castle and these caverns have been here for hundreds of thousands of years, perhaps millions, gods, and countless wizards and witches, have each added their own little bit of magic, adding a room here, a gateway there, a door to one of the other three continents, all sorts of things.'

'Why?'

'Why? Why?' Worlyn was short-tempered, 'What a stupid question.' Then he took a deep breath and relaxed somewhat. 'All kinds of reasons, the gods were doing things they didn't want the other gods to know about, wizards and witches were doing things they didn't want other wizards and witches, or gods, to know about. Or they were doing a bit of magic because they could, or they saw great bits of magic and wanted to add their little bit for posterity, or they wanted a secret passageway to some ladies', or mans', boudoir. Or they wanted some wizard or witch to get lost and die a horrible death, dissolved inside a flesh eating plant, or wander around the inescapable maze until they died of starvation.'

'That's the door,' Elijah said pointing his grubby finger at a massive elaborate bronze door, elegantly carved with many ancient and fabulous symbols.

Worlyn laughed, a laugh full of derision and ridicule. 'A word of warning if you open that door, don't, and I repeat don't go in.'

'Why?'

'Why? Why? Because that door doesn't lead to Dionysus' shield. But how should I know?' His voice was tinged with sarcasm. 'I've only been prowling these corridors for a century. I've seen practically every manifestation of the doors, and that door leads to the three sisters, and we certainly don't want to go there.'

'Why? Who're the three sisters?'

'The three continents have a history beyond imagination, even the gods have forgotten half of what's happened, but the three sisters makes even the most powerful witch or wizard shudder, even the gods are weary of them. It's best not to talk about the three sisters.'

'Tell me why?' Elijah asked in a commanding tone.

'Right, okay, right. Many millennia ago, so the story goes, and this is only rumour, Bagarnack was sitting in his favourite glade, pondering on the mysteries of the universe, probably wondering how he could rule it, when a beautiful human female happened across his path. How she came to be in the realm of Bagarnack's private garden no one knows, but he was so struck by her beauty that he instantly fell in love with her. He pursued her, he wooed her, he sent her fantastic gifts, he bullied other gods to do his bidding, to frighten her, to submit to him. Anyway, she succumbed to his advances, and let him have his way. But a god's love can last for a million years, and to him, or her, it can be but the blink of an eyelid, but no human can, our lives are but the passing of a heartbeat to the gods. So Bagarnack granted her immortality, gave her the gift of everlasting life. Although, many would call it a curse. She'd remain the youthful beauty he'd first met. However, the next time he visited her she'd aged, and he thought some other god had been surreptitiously working against him. So, once again he granted her immortality, had his way, then went to discover who the culprit was. When he came back, to his shock and horror, he found once again his beloved had aged. And again, he granted her immortality, and again had his way, then went to create havoc amongst the gods. Little did he realise he was being duped.' Worlyn looked around and lowered his voice. 'The gods, for all their magical powers, can be pretty stupid at times, it's because they're invincible, they have a tendency to ignore the obvious, they don't see dangers humans see as course.' Worlyn smiled and suddenly his false teeth jumped out and began speed chattering across the floor. But not fast enough to escape Elijah, who reached down and quickly grabbed them, and shoved them back into Worlyn's open mouth, then wiped his hand upon his trousers, regretting even picking up the wet sticky teeth.

'Thanks, must remember not to smile so much.' Worlyn reached into the back of his mouth and pulled out a small pebble. 'That's always happening, I could build a nice four bedroomed detached house and stables with the amount of stones I've taken out of my mouth. Anyway, Bagarnack, being the type of god he is, ruffled a few godly feathers, because he thought two of the gods were working against him, and he thought they were Zeus and Dionysus. He came back to his beloved, and she complained, and cajoled, and wrapped Bagarnack around her little finger. She said she was being attacked, she said she was being stalked; she said a number of gods wanted her burned in hell. And Bagarnack gave her godly powers to defend herself. But when Bagarnack visited her again her found her unable to move, petrified, he removed the curse and, I think, sorry that he did, because she harangued him for hours and hours about her powers being insufficient to stop gods from petrifying her. He demanded to know which gods, and she said Zeus and Dionysus. Of course it wasn't, it was a ruse, it was one of her sisters, but she knew Bagarnack hated Zeus and Dionysus, and saw this as a means to ingratiate herself, and so fed him a lie. But she didn't expect Bagarnack to do what he did next.'

'What did he do?'

'He took back all his godly powers, leaving her, and her sisters, human again. Obviously, because he needed them all himself for his forthcoming battle with Zeus and Dionysus. He went back to his cronies and hatched a plan to defeat Zeus and Dionysus. Now Zeus and Dionysus knew nothing of this, although they and Bagarnack had always been rivals, they still respected one another. Bagarnack and six other gods, without a word of explanation, ambushed and attacked Zeus and Dionysus.'

'What happened?'

'This is all myth and rumour, I don't know if it's true or not, could be a load of pigmoor wash for all I know. Anyway, you must remember when gods fight it's not in a boxing ring in an arena, it's across planets, solar systems, galaxies, maybe the whole universe, I don't know. Zeus and Dionysus sent six gods into the void, because the gods cannot be killed. But they were greatly weakened by the battle, that's when Bagarnack attacked and sent them into the void, then he went back to his lover and restored her godly powers, and obviously had his way, and being happy, and satisfied, and cross-eyed, and feeling generous, gave her, perhaps, more than he should've. This is what I pieced together from snippets I've heard. A lot of it's supposition on my part.'

'But they came back from the void.'

'So the story goes, and no one knows, not even the gods know, how they did it. Somehow they found out about the three sisters and imprisoned them in the Unnel Mountains, in the Land of Fire and Ice, they're a couple of thousand kilosteps to the north,' he gave a shudder. 'Terrible place, three mountains surrounded by sulphur spewing volcanoes, all kinds of weird things there. Obviously, when Bagarnack found this he wasn't happy. Well, to be honest, he took his anger at being duped out on Zeus and Dionysus, whom had been greatly weakened by their exile into the void. Bagarnack defeated them easily and sent them back into the void. But Bagarnack couldn't touch the three sisters, the triplets, they were imprisoned in the mountains, held there by the magic of Zeus and Dionysus, so he couldn't have his revenge upon them for fooling him, and worse of all, they still had his gift of powers, albeit confined to the mountains. Bagarnack's rage was awesome, but still, he couldn't touch the triplets. And that's all I've been able to find out.'

'But it's still the door that leads to the White Shield.'

'You're dreaming.'

'I'm not, that's the door.'

Worlyn inhaled and breathed a deep sigh, but keeping his lips so tight that he made a noise like a quick breeze blowing through an outdoor toilet, then gave Elijah an uncompromising stare that would freeze the bones of an ordinary mortal. 'Well, obviously, I know nothing, obviously, you know more than me, a thousand year old wizard, a ruler of the three continents, been honoured by every university in existence, asked to open hospitals, civic building, concerts, games, bladder matches, sports. I'd my own following, a fan club, thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions, followed me wherever I went, just to get a glimpse of me. They fought to even touch my robe. Even the gods asked my advice. Well, some of the gods. Well, one god. Well, she wasn't a god, really a demi-god, and she asked me how her headdress looked because she was about to seduce a human, and she didn't have much experience of humans. What could I say? Obviously I said she looked beautiful, I said the human would be overawed, would be bowled over. I couldn't tell her she looked like an ostrich with a rhinoceros horn, it would've devastated her. Besides the fear she'd blast me into infinity kept my mouth shut.

'The gods are awfully funny, not funny ha, ha, not funny that they'll stand up and tell lots of jokes, or pull a rabbit out of a hat. But funny that they'll have vultures picking your eyeballs out day after day for all eternity, or have you rolling an enormous rock up a hill, and the next day finding it at the bottom and having to start all over again. Or turning you into a dung-beetle, or even worse a Mayfly in a swamp.' Worlyn seemed to twitch involuntarily then gained control over himself and smiled his false teeth smile, but quickly scowled before his teeth made an escape bid. 'Yes, my autograph, my signature, would you believe, was fetching a king's ransom in the markets. Everything to do with me became collectable, my hair, my fingernail clippings, my fungal infected toenails, my smegma. How they got that I'd love to know, because I certainly don't remember. And you're telling me that door leads to the White Shield. I say it leads to the three sisters. Well, be my guest, open the door and quickly go through, and...' He paused and took a deep breath. 'And, as quickly close it behind you. Go on.'

Elijah hesitated, what if Worlyn was right, and he was wrong? What if it led into some terrible peril?

'What're you fannying about for? You know it's the right door. Go on.' Worlyn gave Elijah a little push of encouragement.

Elijah steeled himself, took a deep breath, grasped the handle, pushed down, opened the door, quickly entered, shut the door, but couldn't let go of the handle. He stood, frozen with fear and anticipation that something was ready to come out of the darkness, ferociously rip the top of his head off and suck his brains out.

Nothing happened, it was silent; torches were burning along the walls, casting eerie flickering shadows upon the rough-hewn walls. He was right; this was the cavernous room where the White Shield was, except it's not here. But something was wrong, this room was enormous, at least a hundred times larger than he remembered. It was no longer just a spacious room, but so long and high that he couldn't see the end or the ceiling. The walls were lined with shelves stacked with all kinds of weird objects, cabinets overflowing with ugly busts, stuffed gigantic insects, multicoloured apothecary bottles, shrunken ugly heads pickled in large jars, daggers, spears, manacles, disintegrating books, a stuffed dog with two heads, old wooden, steel and brass trunks.

Elijah looked around in wonder; there must be millions of magical objects in here, but no sign of the shield. It should be leaning up against the wall, where he picked it up and was shouted at by Worlyn, then put it back. It should be there. What had happened? According to Worlyn no one could pick it up, it was the property of Dionysus, a god, it was magic.

THEN HOW DID YOU PICK IT UP IDIOT?

Elijah collapsed into the wall at the resounding voice that echoed into his mind. It seemed to come from everywhere, as if he was in a bell tower and the voice the resounding ringing of the bells. He steadied himself and went to the door, opened it and stepped out, to be greeted by Worlyn's superior smirk.

'Told you. Didn't I? Didn't I say it wasn't the room? Didn't I? Didn't I?' His lips were contorting as if fighting with his false teeth, which were dramatically trying to escape from his mouth.

Elijah grabbed Worlyn's sleeve and dragged him protesting, spluttering and spitting back into the room. 'This is the room,' he shouted.

Worlyn looked around, yes it was, it was the room, Elijah was right, but what'd happened to it, it had grown? Rooms had grown before he knew, but never to this size. And where was the shield? And why were his teeth putting up such an enormous fight, it was usually only near food when they kicked off. Worlyn looked about, and why had this room changed, why was it larger?

'It's not here.'

'Have you moved it?' Worlyn asked, somewhat bewildered, putting his hand to his mouth and capturing his teeth and shoving them back in again. 'Have you took it to another room?'

'No, I haven't touched it,' Elijah answered, walking further into the cavernous room, looking about him at the strange, wondrous and bizarre things he hadn't noticed before.

Worlyn tried to do three things at once, speak, keep his teeth from escaping, and look as nonchalantly as possible as a human skeleton with horns had wrapped its bony fingers around his throat and was trying to throttle the life out of him. He grabbed the skeletal fingers and broke them off, throwing and scattering them on the floor. 'Then where is it?' he shouted angrily.

'I don't know, I was hoping you'd know.'

'Wait, wait, I have to think.' Worlyn began pacing up and down, shaking his hands up and down, twiddling his fingers, then his fingers touching his lips, his forefinger touching his nose, all five fingers touching his bald tattooed head. 'Calm, calm, relax, settle down.'

'I am calm.'

'I'm not talking to you. Let's examine the facts, this is the room, and it pains me to say this, you were right.' He stepped forward, his hands in the air, as if he was walking in the dark, feeling his way forward, stopping and sniffing the air, his fingers moving as if feeling something that Elijah couldn't see. He stopped and seemed frozen for a good five minutes.

'Worlyn, Worlyn,' Elijah said fearfully, beginning to feel really worried.

'Shush, Elijah, I need help.' He began making complicated movements with his hands, waving them slowly around, his fingers doing impossible movements, bending back on themselves, his eyes glassy and unfocussed.

'Bearbert, Bearbert, I need your help.'

Elijah braced himself, ready for Bearbert in his unusual big red lipped patterned pyjamas to suddenly appear, but nothing happened.

'Bearbert, Bearbert, please, I need your help.'

Still nothing happened, and Worlyn began to flap, running around the room waving his elbows up and down like a young awkward gosling trying to take off. 'Okay, okay, don't panic, no need to panic, everything's alright,' he shouted as if trying to calm frayed nerves, and continued running around the enormous room, clearly panicking, knocking over a suit of ancient inscribed armour that screamed and yelped as if hurt. Then ran into an antediluvian set of moth eaten red velvet curtains that growled, enclosed and tried to asphyxiate the life out of him, until Elijah dragged them off, fought with them, wrestled them to the ground, wrapped them into a ball and threw them to one side, giving them a forceful kick as they tried to harass Worlyn again.

'Thank you,' gasped Worlyn, rubbing his neck and breathing deeply, 'I'd forgot about those red curtains. Bloofy gods, thinking they can leave anything here they like.'

Suddenly Worlyn went into another panic, running about the room, waving his arms in the air, and then putting his hands together as if in prayer and falling to his knees. 'I didn't say that, it was Elijah,' he pointed, his face and lips contorting, trying to keep his rebellious teeth in place, 'he said bloofy gods, not me, he threw his voice into my oral cavity by magic.'

Elijah stood looking at Worlyn, disappointed. 'You've just lied.'

Worlyn, like an old arthritic man climbed to his feet and gave Elijah a withering look. 'Oh really, you wouldn't be so critical if you've had a thousand years of experience with the gods, if you'd seen a hundredth of what I've seen the gods do to humans who have criticised them. Oh yes,' he said wagging his finger that suddenly elongated and prodded Elijah in his chest, then retracted back to normal, 'turned into a mayfly in a swamp, spiders, lizards, dung beetles in the desert.' Worlyn's head nodded up and down as if he was a puppet and his puppeteer had a case of the shakes. 'No dung, there's no dung in the desert, well, very little, and you've got to search for dung, because that's what you are. And after years of searching you finally find some kramel dung. And what happens? You touch it and it turns to dust.'

'Is that what happened to you, was you turned into a dung beetle?'

'I don't want to talk about it. Suffice to say Bearbert rescued me. Great god Bearbert, must remember to offer a sacrifice at one of his temples. Now, were where we?'

'Trying to find the White Shield, you called Bearbert, but he didn't come.'

'No,' Worlyn breathed out, his cheeks puffing, 'I've probably called for him a million times over my thousand years, and he's turned up, what twice. Turned up thousands of times when I haven't called him. But, you know, gods are gods, come day go day.'

'What do we do now?'

'Well, all's not lost. Look around for a silver acorn, quite small, about as big as my thumbnail, although how we'll ever find it amongst all this junk?'

'It's up there on that third shelf,' Elijah said pointing, 'beneath those swords.' But as he looked they seemed to change, bright blue lights, like stars in the sky, twinkling and flashing along the immaculate silver blades, rainbow coloured swirls of smoke, coalescing and turning in on themselves, constantly churning and spiralling, hypnotising him.

'Oh, you're so ignorant, there're not swords, there're scimitars, and...' He stopped, and stepped back, putting him dangerously close to a stuffed wild pigmoor, that quivered, a look of shock and horror upon his face. 'Oh no, they're the Scimitars of Dioscuri.'

'Can you see that?'

'See what?'

'The lights on the blades.'

'What lights?'

Elijah realised only he could see them. 'Who is Dioscuri?'

Worlyn breathed deeply, sucking in through tightly clenched lips, not giving his teeth a chance to escape, also not taking his eyes from the scimitars. 'Who are the Dioscuri?' he corrected. 'Twin goddesses, very powerful, names of Charissa and Clarissa, confusing I know. Sometimes they were with the Titans, sometimes with the Olympians, very independent. Bit before my time, well, a lot before my time. Bearbert said they went off exploring the twelfth dimension, whatever that is, a couple of million years ago. Now, the problem is, and I remember this because Bearbert told me, anything that is placed beneath the scimitars of Dioscuri is protected. That's it; if we try to get the acorn the scimitars will chop us to pieces. But how did the acorn get there? I never put it there, not that I can remember anyway, but I'm sure I would've remembered, it's not something you'd forget is it?'

The scimitars called to Elijah, their words enticing, alluring, making him step forward with such authority that Worlyn was surprised and astounded, 'Not necessary,' and with such speed that was unwatchable, reached beneath the scimitars and plucked the silver acorn out.

Worlyn was astounded, 'How the blinkinheck did you do that,' he said as he tentatively put his hand beneath the scimitars, and as quickly withdrew them, as they came crashing down, just missing severing his wrists, but trimming off his overgrown and fungal infected fingernails in a perfect straight line. Then Elijah noticed the lights in the scimitars stopped, and both rose in the air and pointed at Worlyn, as if an invisible warrior was holding them.

Worlyn and Elijah backed away, holding one another's hands tightly and looking in shock as the silver, ultra sharp blades hovered, and followed them, slashing, making loud whooshing sounds as they cleaved the air.

Elijah suddenly tripped over his own feet, falling onto his backside, releasing both Worlyn's hand and the silver acorn.

Worlyn continued creeping backward, watching the moving blades, and not giving a fig about Elijah.

But the blades passed over Elijah, ignoring him, continuing to follow Worlyn, continuing to slash the air, the blades humming and booming as their speed increased, as if determined to chop him into thousands of pieces.

Worlyn began running backwards, bouncing off an ancient wooden chest, that growled, cursed and swore at him, then falling to the floor, quite fortuitously, because the scimitars swung and missed his head by a hairsbreadth. He opened his mouth to shout out a yell and his teeth flew out and were sliced into eight by the scimitars. Then he was on his back, looking up, and one of the scimitars was poised to chop his head off, the other dangling dangerously inbetween his legs.

A movement.

Elijah had grabbed the handles, and the scimitars were trying to buck him off.

Worlyn scrambled backward until the back of his head thumped against the heavy wooden door. He stared in wonder and amazement as Elijah was trying to bring the flashing, menacing, blades under control. He looked like he was fighting an invisible swordsman. Then Worlyn, as Elijah had said, saw the lights dancing on the blades.

Then, it stopped, Elijah was standing still, holding the scimitars in both hands, admiring them, adoring them, almost worshipping them, looking like he was ready for a fight, and he was smiling, by the gods, he was smiling.

Elijah had never felt so exhilarated; he could feel the power of the blades surging through his hands, up his arms and into his body. He moved them slowly downward, then stopped, were they humming to him? Two female voices, two beautiful voices, singing to him.

'Oh Elijah you've saved us from imprisonment

Where we thought eternity must be spent

And with this gift you have us entrust

We will serve until your foes are dust.

We are scimitars of glorious renown

Our prowess known from town to town

Dioscuri, our maker, did order with magic

The next owner's life would not be tragic

Their spirit made us undefeatable

Their illustrious deeds made into fable

Of this we are justly proud

And will sing their praises out aloud

So Elijah, worry your head not

Because Dioscuri has not forgot

The promise made to The One

To serve until you are gone.'

'Did you hear that?' Elijah shouted.

'Hear, hear what?' Worlyn shouted back, his face contorting with indignation. 'Two cursed scimitars were trying to chop my head off.'

Elijah was speechless; the scimitars were whispering to him, their voices entrancing and seductive, powerful and alluring, and then, by the gods, he was standing on top of a mountain. A blizzard was swirling around him, snowflakes as large as his hands were whirling past, the fierce wind was whipping great snow flurries off the tops of the surrounding mountains, and yet, he stood there.

Impervious to the wind, the snow or the cold. He felt warm. Which was impossible, and yet he felt warm, unaffected by his surroundings.

He felt a presence and turned, before him stood two goddesses, he knew it straight away, their bearing, their clothing, their magnificent beauty, their perfect skin, their eyes that reflected the universe. How could they be anything but goddesses? Then he heard their voices, not in his mind but in his heart.

'Look into my heart, and what do you see?

Loyalty that my master gave to me

Power beyond the dreams of men

Power which none can ken

You have been selected for a task so great

An unwanted and terrible fate

For this mission you cannot decline

And for your past life you will pine

The gods themselves will become your foes

And will heap upon you many woes

But first recapture the White Shield

And with us three your foes will yield.

For salvation you must go to the west

For it is there you will begin your quest

Sisters three you must overwhelm

To save the White Shield of the Realm

Worlyn watched Elijah standing stock still, gazing up into the heavens, his eyes glazed, his face a religious rapture, his fists around the scimitars, held at an aggressive angle, ready to fight. The rainbow lights danced and jigged along the blades, travelling up Elijah's arms and Worlyn knew he was conversing with a god, and the god was telling him things, and he shivered because something inside him told him the gods were at war. And if the gods were at war men, women and children would be the only sufferers, because the gods couldn't be harmed, the gods were invincible, and the only option open to him was to run, out of the door as fast as his feet could carry him.

'We must find the White Shield of the Realm.'

Worlyn was frozen, like a runner about to start a race, his fists clenched, his right forward and his left back, his legs ready to propel him forward.

'What're you doing? Was you going to leave me?'

Worlyn stood straight, 'Ah,' rubbing his hands together, 'Ohh, er,' shaking his head, 'No, certainly not, no, no, no.'

'You liar, you were ready to run,' Elijah accused him as he lowered the scimitars, which seemed to both give a long sigh.

'Well excuse me, but two magical scimitars were trying to chop my head off, what would you've done in my position?'

'Nevermind, the Three Sisters have the White Shield, we must go to the Unnel Mountains and recapture it.'

'The Three Sisters, the Unnel Mountains? Are you mad? It's the worse place on the three continents. Even the gods don't go there.'

Elijah stood and faced Worlyn, his back appeared straighter, his withered arm no longer useless, both legs straight and muscled, and much older than his nineteen years. 'That's where I've been told to go, you can come with me or not, it's up to you.'

Worlyn put both hands to his mouth and his eyes went wide with fear, shock had seemed to invade every part of his body.

Elijah looked up to the third shelf and saw a thick brown belt with two curved scabbards attached. He placed the scimitars on the first shelf, reached up, pulled it down and fastened it around his waist. Took the scimitars and slid first the left scimitar into the scabbard, then the right. 'What's the problem?'

Worlyn, eyes still wide, slid his hands from his mouth, 'What's the problem, what's the problem? Have you had a brain bypass, haven't you been listening? No one goes to the Unnel Mountains, the three sisters have been imprisoned there, even the gods avoid it, it's a dumping ground for all kinds of weird creatures. Watch my lips, listen to my words, digest what I'm saying, it's the most dangerous place on the three continents, we go there and we'll die.'

'Fine, stay here,' Elijah's words were both angry and dismissive, 'hide away in the gods' rubbish dump, gorge yourself on decades old dragon's liver, pretend to be a favourite of the gods, when in reality the gods don't give a pigmoor trotter if you live or die. Go and ask Bearbert to make you another set of false teeth so you can chomp your way through another sack of floomore beans. Keep to your sad lonely rooms where you're nothing but a prisoner, deluding yourself that you were cheated out of the Centuria Tournament, when in reality Zanatos was a better wizard than you.'

'What?'

'And stop hiding behind the muddlement curse. I know, the gods restored you; they gave you everything back except your false teeth. Stop hiding behind a sham, you're playacting because you cannot accept the truth.'

Worlyn's mouth contorted, his nostrils flared and his eyes glared, 'Don't you dare speak to me like that, you, you, you whippersnapper, you, you teenager. I know magic you could only dream of. I was doing the gods' bidding before even your great great grandparents were born. I was fighting evil, righting wrongs, there was no slavery when I was the ruling wizard, the three continents enjoyed unrivalled prosperity.' Worlyn took a deep breath and turned away, but just as quickly turned back. 'But some gods found that boring, they wanted entertainment, conflict, death. Bagarnack turned me into a dung beetle for decades until Bearbert rescued me, then Bagarnack turned me into a mayfly, and Bearbert rescued me again. That's how I got all these tattoos; Bearbert did them so Bagarnack wouldn't turn me into some insignificant insect again. So don't you accuse me of being a coward, because I'm not.' Worlyn took another deep breath and turned towards the door.

'I'm sorry,' Elijah whispered, 'I know what a great wizard you are, the gods have told me, that's why I need you, I cannot do it on my own.'

Worlyn stopped, turned and looked at Elijah, 'Thank you for saying that,' he bowed his head. 'Of course, you're right, I've been hiding behind the muddlement curse, the gods did restore me, but not everything, there're still large gaps of nothingness. Perhaps my experiences have made me more fearful, maybe a bit timid, maybe my knowledge, of what I've seen, of what I've done, of what's been done to me, have shaken my confidence. But I promise you this, I swear I'll be beside you no matter what dangers we face, we'll face them together.'

Elijah smiled, and for only the third time in his life he wanted to hug someone. Quickly, he stepped toward Worlyn and held his arms out.

Worlyn looked confused.

Elijah shook his hands, gesturing he wanted a hug.

Worlyn was even more confused, but a memory, no lots of memories, came flooding back to him, of people that had loved him, of loved ones, of people he'd loved, of how he'd wanted to show his love by hugging them, by holding them, by telling them.

Suddenly, Elijah embraced Worlyn, holding him tight, burying his head into Worlyn's shoulder. And Worlyn responded, holding Elijah tight, feeling for the first time in a hundred years that someone liked him.

Elijah kissed Worlyn on the cheek and stepped back.

Worlyn was suddenly embarrassed, 'Yes, well,' he cleared his throat and made a sound like harrumph.

And both of them stepped back, hiding the tears that had come unexpectedly, like a sudden cold wind that made their eyes water. And they both felt something sharp clawing at their thighs and looked down to see Muppy wanting attention, wanting to be part of their adventure, wanting also to be hugged and loved. Elijah stooped and picked her up, holding her close to his chest. Immediately she went into a frenzy of licking, his chin, his cheeks, all of his face, even, her long tongue going up his nose. 'How did you get in here?' he asked Muppy, looking towards the door and noting that it was open.

Then Twinkle landed on Worlyn's shoulder. Worlyn was surprised, but stroked her chest. 'Something funny going on here.'

'What? asked Elijah.

'How did these two find us?'

Elijah laughed, 'Probably followed us. Does it matter?' He gave Muppy a reassuring stroke and placed her back down on the floor, but she stayed by his legs.

But Worlyn was unconvinced. 'Right Elijah,' he said, rubbing his tongue across his gums, 'wish I had my teeth, feel undressed without my teeth, even though they hated me.'

Elijah gave him a quizzical look. 'Your teeth didn't hate you, surely?'

'Yes they did, Zanatos cursed them, that's why they were always trying to escape.'

'Can't you mend them by magic?'

'No, not after they've been chopped up by the Scimitars of Dioscuri. Nevermind, we have to find the little silver acorn, we're going to need some help.'

They began looking around, avoiding the magical things that wanted to grab, strangle or envelop them. The red velvet curtains sprang at Muppy and wrapped themselves around her middle and neck. She began fighting them, tearing at the material with her teeth, but the curtains only wrapped themselves tighter about her body until she was yelping.

Elijah drew the melodious scimitars and with such speed and sweeping movements that they were only arcs of silver light he chopped the red curtains into hundreds of pieces, not once touching a hair upon Muppy who continued tearing at them with her ferocious little teeth.

Worlyn gave a deep sigh, 'Impressive, very impressive. I don't know which god those curtains belonged to, but I don't think they'll be very happy when they come back and find them in pieces.'

'I'm beginning to dislike the gods.'

'Shush, don't say such things.'

'Why not?' Elijah was angry, he looked down at Muppy, who was trembling and whining, and that made him even angrier. 'The gods don't care what happens to us. Look around, everything in this strange room would harm us, suits of armour that'd kill you, skeletons that'd strangle you, an abomination of half dog half fish that'd like to eat you, curtains that'd squeeze the life out of you. The floor's thick with the ashes of humans. Everything in this room is evil.'

Muppy moved to the back of Worlyn's legs, hiding and quivering, knowing something was wrong.

'Elijah.'

But he ignored Worlyn, 'Everything should be destroyed.'

'No, no, no Elijah.'

Elijah, holding the scimitars high, strode to the skeleton, which let out a deep growl, and with a two handed slash sliced the bones into pieces. The resulting scream made Worlyn cover his ears.

'Elijah, Elijah, please no.'

Muppy jumped high into Worlyn's arms, and Twinkle crawled down the back of his robe.

Elijah moved onto an ornate chest that seemed to back into the wall, as if realising its end was near, and in less than a heartbeat hacked it into pieces, the chunks of wood falling to the ash laden floor with dull clunks.

Worlyn backed into the thick wooden door, horror struck, holding Muppy tight, fearful for their lives, knowing the gods would have their vengeance.

Elijah continued to hew his way through the piles of magical junk in the massive room, ornate chairs were reduced to splinters, wooden chests chopped into unrecognisable slivers of wood, marble statues shattered into small glistening chips. His anger was terrible, the noise unbearable, the dust like a tangible entity trying to attack him.

Worlyn sank to the floor, holding Muppy to his face, hiding his eyes, putting his hands over his ears, but the thumps vibrated through the floor making him look over Muppy's trembling body at the rampaging Elijah.

Elijah was tireless, nothing was being spared from his wrath; sacred books reduced to fluttering pieces of paper, elaborately embroided cushions converted to strips of slashed cloth. All the time the scimitars sang, the blades circles of silver destruction.

Black rune candles, rolls of yellowing parchment, golden effigies, fantastically woven rugs, paintings, he was chopping every screaming, shouting, swearing thing to useless debris.

He stopped, and the bits of dust and flotsam floated around him like a mini typhoon.

Worlyn couldn't move, he'd never been so terrified in his life, he thought if he did Elijah would chop him into pieces, and then they had to face the wrath of the gods, many of their sacred possession were nothing but bits and dust. But they were gods; they would be able to restore them, wouldn't they? Or would they?

Among the many things Elijah hadn't destroyed was the fish tank containing the half-dog, half-fish.

Elijah turned to Worlyn, 'We should take this to the lake and set it free, it's not its fault, it didn't ask to be made that way.'

Worlyn stood, still holding the quivering Muppy, and spoke in a trembling whisper, 'What've you done Elijah? You've destroyed the gods possessions, you've destroyed priceless artefacts, the gods'll not let this be unavenged.'

'The gods, the gods, the gods, that's all you ever prattle on about,' Elijah spat the words out. 'What's the purpose of the gods? I'll tell you, to make people's existence, their life, as unpleasant as possible, to pit one race against another, one species against another, to force us into slavery, to do their perverted bidding, for their own amusement. The gods are stupid, like children with too much power. You spoke of ants once, how children can be like gods, holding the power of life and death over the ants, but there must be some control, someone in authority to say stop, that's cruel. But the gods don't seem to have that, they are unrestrained children with unrestrained power.'

Suddenly a bright red light hovered in the centre of the cavernous room, and began growing in intensity until it shone into the darkest corners.

Worlyn knew what it was, one of the gods, come to reap their vengeance, come to make the rest of eternity unbearable for him and Elijah, they were going to suffer unspeakable agonies over and over again for thousands of years. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, the words echoed in his mind but no sound came forth.

'What have you done Snorker?' the powerful voice echoed around the massive room.

Worlyn seemed to become smaller. Bagarnack. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

'I'm not Snorker, I am Elijah.'

'You've destroyed that which the gods created.'

'Why do the gods create such abominations?'

'It's not for you to question the gods Snorker, it's your duty to worship us.'

'No, never,' Elijah shouted.

'Then you must die.'

The bright red light moved to the side, close to the wall, and all became silent. The dust settled, the bits and pieces were still; the silence was oppressive, almost tangible, so that Elijah felt he could reach out and grab hold of it. The scimitars were also silent, no longer singing to him. He moved them slowly in a downward arc and they gently sighed, as if realising what was about to happen was inevitable.

If Worlyn had conscious control over his breathing he would have collapsed unconscious, but his motor control took over and made him breathe, made him suck in the air because he'd been frozen with fear. However, something happened that made Worlyn stop breathing again, more lights began appearing, bright yellow, brilliant blue, radiant green, vivid orange, luminous indigo and sparkling violet, all the colours of the rainbow, but much brighter than any rainbow Worlyn had ever seen.

Elijah could only stare as the dazzling lights coalesced into figures, the red became an enormous man wearing darkly decorated leather armour, leaning on a two headed executioner's axe, his face showed unrestrained anger, his eyes were red, and in them swirled the universe. He instantly knew this was Bagarnack.

The yellow changed into the strikingly beautiful Esme, she was dressed in a long flowing yellow toga, her sunset blonde hair tied up but with wavy wisps gently falling onto her wonderfully smooth shoulders. Her eyes were a lustrous yellow, and in them swirled the universe, she smiled at Elijah.

The green became another female god, as beautiful as Esme but not as kindly looking. She was dressed in a green tunic, tied with a black leather girdle, which stopped at her bare knees, she also wore fantastically decorated dark green sandals. Elijah looked into her eyes, and in them swirled the universe

The brilliant blue light expanded and became a god that seemed to be shimmering, not solid, then Elijah realised this god was appearing in a human form, but made out of light blue water swirling and splashing inside the human frame. This god was unclothed, but in his eyes swirled the universe. He knew this god to be Poseidon, the god of the sea.

Next was the vivid orange that coalesced into the slightly comical figure of Bearbert wearing his white pyjamas with the big red lips, still smoking his pipe. He gave Elijah a pronounced wink with an eye that swirled with the universe.

The luminous indigo became a woman who was clothed from head to foot in the deepest darkest blue that was almost purple. No part of her skin could be seen except her heavily painted eyes and they gave nothing away, except they swirled with the universe.

Lastly was the sparkling violet, twirling like a mini tornado as the figure of an impossibly handsome youth appeared. The youth was tall, his skin bronzed, his blonde hair long and luscious, he wore only a short tunic of an impossibly gold material that shimmered. In his eyes the universe swirled.

Elijah looked at them.

'He can see us.'

'He can hear us.'

'How's that possible?'

'He has the Scimitars of Dioscuri.'

'He has destroyed my books.'

'He must be punished.'

Elijah heard them speak, but did not see their lips move, the scimitars were tingling in his hands.

Worlyn could see only the different coloured lights, so bright they were almost blinding him. He knew there was no escape.

Hermes stepped forward, 'As leader of the council of the gods it's my duty to punish you. I sentence you to deat...'

'Wait,' Esme stepped forward, 'we know Elijah's the only one able to pick up the White Shield of the Realm, and now the Scimitars of Dioscuri, if you kill him, we'll never find the answer to this mystery.'

'The boy doesn't know the answer, he's destroyed our possessions, he must be punished,' said the handsome youth.

'But how Hermes,' answered Esme, 'how did he destroy our possessions?'

Bearbert took one step forward, 'We should test him, learn more about him, find out why he's no magic, and yet can hold the White Shield and wield the Scimitars of Dioscuri.'

'No,' Hermes spoke, 'he should die.'

The goddess in green spoke, 'Bearbert is right, the boy should be tested.'

'He still must be punished,' Hermes reiterated. 'He must be made to realise he cannot defy the gods.'

'His dog will be sacrificed,' said Bagarnack.

'NO,' screamed Elijah, 'No, you leave Muppy alone.'

Worlyn heard Elijah and realised the gods wanted to kill Muppy. Well, that's not too bad, he thought, better the dog than us, he could always get Elijah another puppy later. He pushed Muppy from him and she slunk to shiver behind Elijah's legs.

Esme spoke, 'It's the decision of the gods Elijah.'

'No,' Elijah shook his head fiercely, 'you'll not take her.' He crossed the scimitars in front of him and they sang.

'He thinks to fight us,' said Poseidon.

'Very brave,' said Bearbert.

'Very stupid,' answered the darkest blue covered goddess.

'I tire of this,' Bagarnack said, 'I have summoned the Twanguine.'

'Bagarnack, we've not agreed,' Esme said angrily, 'the Twanguine will kill them.'

'It's done.'

All the gods began shimmering and vanished. The massive wrecked room was unnaturally quiet, even the dust had settled.

'Elijah,' Worlyn whispered, 'Elijah, what's happening?'

'Bagarnack has summoned the Twanguine.'

'Ohhh, no, no, no.' Worlyn began crying, 'We're doomed, doomed I say, doomed.'

'What's a Twanguine?'

Worlyn was on his feet and at the door. 'A giant two headed snake.' He was pulling with all his strength on the door handle. 'Poisonous fangs as long as your arm.' The door wouldn't budge. 'I hate snakes.' He crashed his shoulder against the heavy door and cried out in pain. 'Use the scimitars, smash the door down.'

'No, we must face this Twanguine.'

Worlyn was jumping up and down, his face contorted, his hands and fingers contorting into impossible positions. 'Face it, face it, are you insane?'

'We've got to show the gods.'

'Show them, show them, show them what?' Worlyn shouted, bunching his fingers into fists and pressing them against his cheeks. 'How loudly we can scream as the Twanguine bites our extremities off?'

Then they heard it, faintly, a hissing, coming from the darkened end of the vast room. They both looked but could see nothing. The hissing was becoming louder, until its horrible sounds were echoing off the sandstone walls.

Muppy trembled uncontrollably and gave a high-pitched whine.

'Shush dog,' Worlyn whispered fiercely, 'you'll only attract it. Twinkle, where's Twinkle? Twinkle, Twinkle.'

Out of the darkness it came, two gigantic snake heads hissing alternately, its heads aggressively moving forward like boxer's fists seeking its foe. A sickly yellow forked tongue slithered out of each head and quivered as if tasting the air. The two heads were joined to long necks going into the one monstrous snake body, as thick as an ancient boak, which was undulating over the debris, further crushing the bits of rubbish. It was covered in large green scales, as large as shields, and as each head hissed in turn the hairs on the back of Elijah's neck sprung up, making him shiver.

'Now's your chance to prove what a great wizard you are.'

'What? D'yer think my magic would work against that behemoth, a creation of the gods? We may as well throw floomore beans at it. Which reminds me, the gods didn't even let us have a last meal. Typical gods, just because they don't eat, no consideration. Right, I've got a plan.'

'What?'

'Send the dog first, it may satisfy its appetite while you chop the door down, then we leg it.'

'No.'

'Okay, okay, second plan, chop my head off.'

'What?'

'My head,' his voice was so high it sounded like a fork being scraped across a china plate, 'chop it off, better a quick death than slowly being eaten.'

'No.'

Worlyn ran his shaking finger across his neck, 'Just here, not any higher or lower, and put some power into it, make it a clean cut, right through, I don't want to be walking around with my head dangling on a piece of skin.'

'You're babbling.'

'Oh I'm sorry, so sorry, I'll just go over there and lean against the wall and clean my fingernails shall I whilst the hundred steps long, two headed snake, with poisonous fangs as long as my arm, decides which two of us to eat first? Twinkle, Twinkle, where are you Twinkle?'

The Twanguine was slithering towards them, its hissing louder, its fangs extended with pearly drops of poison dripping from them.

'I'm going to kill it.'

'Best of luck, hadn't you best go and meet it, in the middle, just over there, because if you kill it, it could thrash around and squash all three of us. Twinkle, Twinkle. Yeah, that's good, go on then, I'll try and open this door.'

'You're babbling again.'

Elijah started forward, slowly swinging the scimitars in opposite arcs. They were singing to him, and their sweet voices gave him an inner strength and filled his heart with hope.

The Twanguine continued slithering forward, it's hissing becoming louder, its yellow eyes now distinguishable, glaring at them, slithering towards them.

Worlyn was trying everything he could think of with the door, his magic had failed, his knuckles were scraped where he'd punched it, his head had a great big scarlet bruise where he'd head butted it, both shoulders felt as though he'd dislocated them. If he'd his teeth he would have tried to chew the door, if he thought it'd work he'd suck it. Stupid idiot, you can't suck a four fingers thick wooden door enchanted by the gods. He turned, 'Twinkle, Twinkle, where are you Twinkle?'

Elijah and the Twanguine were about fifty steps apart, slowly, but inexorably progressing toward one another.

Panicking Worlyn began looking around, surely, there was something here he could use as a weapon. But everything was almost dust, except for the suit of armour, Elijah had missed that. He could use that, he could put them on, at least the Twanguine would have a job swallowing him with all that on, might even spit him out.

He looked towards Elijah and the Twanguine, they were about twenty steps apart, slowly walking and slithering towards one another. Muppy had slunk into a corner, where she lay quivering with fear.

Quickly Worlyn twiddled his fingers and tried to use magic to levitate the armour to him. Nothing happened. He wished he'd brought the magic staff; that was always good with metal. He realised it was made by one of the gods so no human magic would have been able to conjure it. Bending, he picked up the helmet, it was unbelievably heavy, and heard it groan, perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all, and dropped, where it gave a resounding clang. He looked over at Elijah and the Twanguine, both had stopped, staring at one another, and oblivious to him. Elijah was still swinging both the scimitars, the Twanguine was hissing, both heads showing their two steps long fangs. Worlyn noticed a pearly white liquid form from one of the fangs and drop onto the floor where it sizzled and sent up a small cloud of yellowish-green smoke.

Great, thought Worlyn, poisonous acid venom. The gods love their monsters, wonder which one created this? Probably Bagarnack. Twinkle, Twinkle, oh where're you Twinkle? He looked at the helmet and quickly hoisted it up to his chest. It seemed heavier than before, and placed it on his head. Nothing happened, except the moaning was louder. Stupid, he realised he should have put the leg and thigh plates on first, the two body parts on second, then the helmet and the gloves on last. He took off the helmet, placed it on the floor, and quickly began putting on the leg and thigh plates.

Elijah and the Twanguine were still staring at one another, he could feel its eyes boring into his, and he knew it was trying to hypnotise him, to make him lower the scimitars, it feared the scimitars. He crossed the scimitars in front of his face and both heads of the Twanguine spat venom at him. He pivoted and the venom missed, splattering on the spot where he'd been standing, sending up acrid smelling clouds of yellowish smoke.

Worlyn had both leg and thigh plates on and was struggling with the body plates, the back plate wouldn't fit properly, there was something sticking in his back. Twinkle crawled onto his shoulder. 'Twinkle, twinkle, thank the gods, fly up there, into the rafters, go on.'

Twinkle flapped her wings, slapping Worlyn in the face, 'Ouch,' and flew up to the rafters

Worlyn continued putting on the armour, but it was so heavy he could hardly stand. He saw the Twanguine's two heads eject a stream of poisonous venom at Elijah, who only just dodged out of the way. With much effort he fastened the body plates and grunted with exertion as he lifted up the helmet and placed it on. The groaning became louder, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. He could see out of the eye slits, Elijah was dodging the acid spray of the Twanguine's heads, brandishing the scimitars, using them to shield himself. He picked up the metal gloves and slid the right on first, then the left. The armour suddenly felt lighter. Then he began walking towards Elijah and the Twanguine.

'What? What?'

Worlyn had no control; the suit of armour was making him walk.

'Stop. Stop.'

He saw Elijah run in close and chop one of the Twanguine's heads off in one fluid motion.

'Brilliant, well done Elijah. STOP, STOP.'

The massive head fell to the floor with a dull thump and immediately exploded into dust.

'STOP, STOP, blinkin' armour, STOP.'

Elijah ran to one side to avoid the other head biting into his body and stopped in amazement as two more heads replaced the one he'd chopped off.

'Stop. Three heads, it's got three heads now. Stop, stupid armour, stop.'

Elijah again dodged a head and was inbetween two heads, he swung the scimitars outward and chopped off two more heads. They fell to the floor and exploded into dust, but four more spitting, hissing heads grew out of the two severed necks. A spray of the acid venom hit him in his chest and face, it burned deep, and Elijah screamed, trying to wipe the venom away with the back of his hand.

'Stop, stop, bloofy armour. Oh no, five heads, five heads.' Worlyn shouted, as he was uncontrollably doing a funeral march towards Elijah and the five-headed Twanguine.

Elijah began slowly stepping back, waving the scimitars in front of him, his face contorted with agonising pain, the venom burning into his flesh. The five-headed Twanguine advanced on him, and then it attacked, three heads, like lightning, flashed at him. He swung the scimitars and the three heads were severed from the neck and fell to the floor, only to disintegrate into dust. But six more heads grew from the necks, now there were eight hissing, spitting heads. He was confused; as he chopped off the heads, more would appear.

'Elijah, Elijah, don't, stupid armour, stop, stop.'

How was he to kill such a beast?

The scimitars began singing to him, their voices filling his heart with joy and lessening the pain of the venom.

Elijah, Elijah do not despair

We know it is almost too much to bear

For the savage beast to destroy

You must employ a cunning decoy

Worlyn you must send into the fight

To create the brightest light

Only then you can smite your foe

Into its heart we must go

The Twanguine attacked again and Elijah had to hack off two more heads before their massive fangs bit into him. As they disintegrated on the floor four more grew from the severed stumps. Now there were ten hissing, spitting Twanguine heads, albeit smaller than the original two, each one wanting to attack and bite into him. It came forward, seemingly unable to feel pain, if he chopped one off another two grew in its place. How could he direct Worlyn to go and create a blinding light, when it was taking all his energies and attention just to keep the many heads of the Twanguine from killing him?

'Stop, halt, desist, stupid armour, you're heading towards the Twanguine. Stop, stop, stop.'

The Twanguine was unrelenting, its heads attacking Elijah, he had no choice but to hack off the heads, otherwise they would have sunk their fangs into him. He had no idea how many head there were now, they just kept attacking, and the scimitars were guiding his arms, hacking off the heads, blocking the poisonous venom.

'Whichever god created this suit of armour is blinkin' stupid. Stop.' Bearbert, please help us. 'Please.'

Yeah that's good, be polite.

'Please armour, nice armour, lovely armour, please stop, you're heading towards the Twanguine, nice armour, I'd be ever so grateful if you'd stop and turn around. Turn around, you stupid pile of junk, turn around.' He was within twenty steps of Elijah and the Twanguine, and suddenly he felt a pride in Elijah so fierce it brought tears to his eyes. The little hunchback teenager was actually fighting a creature of the gods, and doing okay, no, more than okay, he was doing brilliantly. Then he was forced to bend and his hand reached out and picked up a broadsword. Where the hell did that come from? His other hand grasped the thick hilt, his two hands were holding the broadsword. But he knew this was wrong, it was the armour, not him that was wielding the broadsword. He was heading for Elijah, he knew it, the armour was controlled by a god, the armour wanted to kill Elijah.

'ELIJAH, ELIJAH, I CAN'T CONTROL IT.'

He saw Elijah was shouting at him, gesticulating, shouting again, 'What?'

'LIGHT, CREATE A MAGICAL LIGHT.'

'Light, what light?

'Magic light,' Elijah shouted as he hacked off another four heads.

'What magic light, where?'

The heads fell and disintegrated into dust only to be replaced by another eight ferocious heads.

'Create a magic light, as bright as you can.'

'Magic light, yes, course, what's the spell now? Brilliantinia? No. Coruscatia? No. Incandescentia?'

Instantly, a brilliant white light formed above Worlyn's head, sending blinding rays into every corner of the enormous room. The Twanguine reared up and jerked its heads back. Elijah sprinted in, knowing exactly where to go; the scimitars leading him, and thrust both scimitars into the centre of the gigantic Twanguine's body.

Both scimitars went in right up to their scrolled hilts.

The fifty heads of the Twanguine screamed, the unnatural sounds painful beyond belief. The heads were writhing in their death throws, some attacking the heads next to them, biting into neighbouring necks.

Worlyn watched horrified, but unable to stop the armour's slow forward march.

Elijah pulled out the scimitars and an enormous flow of deep red blood splattered him, sending him backward, making him stumble and fall over.

The Twanguine was in its death throws, its tail lashing against the walls, sending bits of sandstone flying in all directions.

Elijah instinctively began scrambling back, then he was on his feet, running backward.

The Twanguine, in a last desperate effort to kill Elijah, launched all its fifty heads at him.

He swung the scimitars, like arcs of white lightning; heads were flying everywhere and disintegrating as they hit the floor. Then it collapsed, flopped down, unmoving, still, dead, pools of blood leaking where Elijah had pierced it with the scimitars.

The bright light began fading, like a firework that had used up all its powder.

Elijah was breathing so heavily he thought he'd never get his breath back; his heart was hammering against his rib cage, as though trying to escape. He could only stare at the enormous green-scaled beast, its twenty severed necks, its ferocious heads, its eyes that were now clouded and devoid of life.

Worlyn slowly marched towards him, the armour raising the large broadsword above his head, continuing towards Elijah. 'Elijah, Elijah, help me, get me out of the blinkin' armour, it's got a life of its own. I can't stop.'

Elijah watched as Worlyn came towards him, the broadsword raised high above Worlyn's head, ready to cleave Elijah's head in two. He waited until Worlyn was in striking distance then darted forward, as the broadsword came down Elijah's scimitars flashed up and sliced the sword into three, the hilt spinning out of Worlyn's hands and across the room.

But Worlyn carried on, his steel gloved hands reaching for Elijah's throat. 'Elijah, I can't stop it.'

Elijah stepped back, but still Worlyn's outstretched hands reached for him. Elijah turned and walked away, stepping over the many necks. He watched as Worlyn reached the dead Twanguine, tripped over one of the necks, stumbled over another, fell, rolled over a couple of times and ended up on his back, with his arms and legs still trying to march, he looked like an enormous beetle stuck on its back.

'Elijah, Elijah, help me.'

Exhaustion and searing pain stole over Elijah's body, his limbs felt like lead weights, everything was going fuzzy, darkness, he couldn't hold the scimitars and they dropped to the side of his legs, no longer humming, suddenly he collapsed unconscious.

Chapter Six

The minutes passed, the armour was still trying to walk, and Worlyn was still on his back. The movement had become almost hypnotic. He was sure the gods had returned, he'd seen all kinds of lights, of movement, but had heard nothing, except Muppy whining in pain, then silence and gloom. He wished Elijah would wake and help him, but, the thought powered into his mind, maybe this was a punishment of the gods, to be imprisoned in this armour for eternity, stuck on his back, the armour trying to walk, moaning and groaning continuously. Oh yes, this was typical of the gods and their weird sense of humour and justice, condemn someone to be stuck on their back indefinitely. He'd would just waste away because the gods wouldn't let him die, or no, they'd keep him alive, being able to feel the agonies of thirst, or hunger, of starvation, of loneliness, of helplessness, of despair. Worlyn made a list of all the miseries the gods would put him through.

Elijah woke to the feeling he was on fire, his face, his hands, all the front of his body was burning. He cried out, screaming in pain.

'Elijah, Elijah.'

Then two separate movements caught his eye, Worlyn, inside the suit of armour, his arms and legs slowly moving up and down, like he was trying to walk, a ridiculous parody. And Muppy, still over in the corner, licking her side and whining in pain. He painfully stood, every muscle, every joint was hurting, sharp pains stabbed all over his body. He looked at the back of his hands; they were covered with deep pitted, pus filled burns that were smoking wispy yellowish clouds. He looked down at his body, his blood red stained clothing had scores of burn holes, and beneath the holes his skin was pock-marked with pus filled burns. The venom of the Twanguine.

'Elijah, Elijah, get me out of this bloofy armour.'

Elijah began stripping off his smoking bloodstained clothes. All the front of his body was covered in fuming burns. 'Worlyn, I'm burning!' he screamed in agony.

'Elijah, quick, get me out of this armour, but be careful the gloves want to strangle you.'

He staggered to Worlyn and collapsed on his knees next to Worlyn's head, and with shaking hands yanked off both gloves and then the helmet.

Worlyn turned his head to look at Elijah, 'Thank you.' He noticed the smoking burn marks, saw the agony etched deep into Elijah's face. 'The Twanguine's venom, it's still burning into your skin, we must get to the waterfall. Quick, get me out of the armour.'

Elijah was crying with pain as he yanked off the breastplate, then the leg and thigh plates, and rolled onto his back, yelling in agony.

Worlyn stood, grabbed hold of Elijah's wrists and yanked him up, twisted around before Elijah collapsed and draped his arms over his shoulders, stooped and grabbed Elijah's thighs and hoisted him onto his back. 'Hold tight.'

'Muppy, she's in pain.'

Worlyn staggered to her and picked her up in one hand, she yelped as he drew her close to his body and cradled her with one arm. He ran to the door, suddenly remembering that the door wouldn't open. He prayed the spell had been lifted when the gods went. He grabbed the handle, 'Yes,' he shouted as the door opened and ran into the corridor.' Twinkle flew down and landed on his shoulder, nearly unbalancing him.

'The scimitars,' Elijah hoarsely whispered.

'We'll get them later, we've got to get to the waterfall.'

Worlyn was pounding along the darkened corridors, he could feel Elijah's head bouncing on his back, could feel the burning heat coming through his robes, then sharp burning pains, the venom on Elijah was burning through, now burning through Worlyn's robe into his back. Muppy had gone limp and his arm was beginning to burn where it was in contact with Muppy's scorching fur.

'Am I going to die?'

'No,' Worlyn answered, taking a great lungful of air, 'now shut up.'

Elijah's voice was almost inaudible, 'Thank you.'

'Quiet,' Worlyn panted.

'I couldn't have done it without you.'

A lump of constricting emotion powered into Worlyn's throat, and tears were streaming down his face. He swallowed, 'Not far now, hold on, not far.'

'You're a great wizard.'

Worlyn grunted, his tears now a flood, running faster.

'It's been a privilege meeting and knowing you.'

Worlyn felt Elijah go limp, and leaning forward to counterbalance Elijah from falling. Twinkle was unbalanced, flew off and began circling around Worlyn's head.

The door to the waterfall was straight ahead. Worlyn ran at it, gave it a kick, the door sprung open and he ran through, running straight into the blue lake, splashing into the blue waters until he was waist deep, then flipped Elijah off his back and dipped the drooping Muppy in. Elijah limply splashed into the water then gently bobbed to the surface, head down. Worlyn completely submerged himself hoping to wash off the twanguine's venom. Twinkle landed on a partly submerged stone and began taking gulps of water.

Worlyn right-handedly grabbed Elijah under his armpits and with the other scooped Muppy to him, and began dragging them towards the waterfall, occasionally stooping so that both their heads went under the blue waters, washing away the venom.

They reached the waterfall where he laid Muppy on a large flat boulder being splashed by the waterfall. Holding Elijah in his left arm, he gently splashed water over Elijah's badly burned face, sweeping his singed hair out of his eyes. Suddenly, fear cursed through him like a bolt of lightning, Elijah wasn't breathing, his face was deathly white. Worlyn pressed his lips close to Elijah's and gently blew. 'Breathe.' He blew again, more forcefully, 'Breathe.'

But Elijah didn't breathe.'

Worlyn closed his eyes and began summoning all the magic he could, bringing it into his heart, then directing it into his lungs, and gently blowing into Elijah's mouth and nostrils, 'Breathe.'

Still, nothing happened. Elijah was now blue.

Again Worlyn tried, concentrating, convoking magic to his heart, gathering it, focussing it, directing it to his lungs, and blew, 'Breathe.'

Nothing, Elijah was dead.

'ESME,' Worlyn shouted to the great ceiling and his voice reverberated around the enormous cavern, 'BEARBERT.' He was sobbing, 'You can't let him die, you can't.'

Worlyn looked around, hoping to see bright lights, but there was nothing, no lights, no gods, not even a eunicon, no sign of life whatsoever.

He cradled Elijah in his arms, hugging him tightly and decided to try one more time. He concentrated, drawing on the magic of the waterfall, mentally bringing it to him, willing the magic into his heart, feeling the power surge through him, then he grasped and pinched Elijah's nose and held his chin and opened his mouth. He clamped his lips over Elijah's and blew as hard as he could. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Elijah's chest rise. Then Elijah coughed, spluttered and began breathing. Worlyn watched him intently, watched his chest falling up and down as Elijah was breathing deeply.

Worlyn was crying, laughing and sobbing at the same time, 'You're alive, you're alive.'

Elijah's eyes remained shut, but his breathing was now regular and colour was coming back to his skin.

Worlyn dragged Elijah out of the waterfall but left him half submerged by the shoreline, then went to Muppy. Again, he summoned Magic from the waterfall, into his heart, into his lungs, took hold of Muppy's head, clamped his lips upon hers and blew as hard as he could. Muppy breathed instantly, coughing and baulking, opening her eyes and looking pityingly at Worlyn.

'I hope no one ever finds out I kissed a dog. I'll never live it down.'

Chapter Seven

Elijah thought it was the silence that woke him, a silence so complete it was deafening. He raised his head and glanced around, Muppy was lying next to him, fast asleep, her breathing regular, all of her right side was scorched and scarred, her fur having been burned away. Worlyn was sitting on a dilapidated rocking chair, reading an old and worn leather bound book, his stinking pipe stuck between his gums, wafting smoke. Twinkle was perched on his shoulder looking as though she was reading it also.

Worlyn glanced up, as if sensing Elijah was awake. 'Ah good, how do you feel?'

'Tired, sore, knackered.'

'Knackered? What does that mean?'

'Exhausted, I think.' Elijah slowly swung his legs over the bed and sat up.

'Where did you hear that word?'

'Don't know, just came to me.'

'Well it's good to see you awake, I've been worried, you've been out for four days.'

'Really?'

'Oh yes, are you hungry?'

'No, thirsty more than anything.'

'I'm not surprised, although I've been spoon feeding you every half hour with water and potions, I haven't been able to get enough down you. That reminds me.' Worlyn stood, Twinkle gripping his shoulder tight, placed the book behind him on the rocker, walked to the table, picked up a goblet and carried it to Elijah.

'I've had the strangest dreams.'

'What sort of dreams?'

'I dreamt you were kissing me.'

'Ha, ha, with a face like yours.'

'And you were kissing Muppy.'

'Double ha, ha, why would I kiss your dog? Here drink this, it'll make you feel better.'

Elijah took the drink, drank it in one and passed the goblet back to Worlyn. 'Isis came to me.'

'Really, what did she say?'

'I must get the White Shield of the Realm from the Three Sisters and enter the Centuria Tournament.'

'Yes, well, we already knew that.'

'She said the gods have abandoned me.'

'Knew that also.'

'Have Esme or Bearbert come to you?'

'No, haven't seen hide nor hair of them.'

'We killed the Twanguine didn't we?'

'You did, I only created a light.'

'But without the light I wouldn't have been able to kill it. Where're the Scimitars?'

'Still in that room, I can't pick them up.'

'Is the Twanguine still there?'

'Yes, rotting quite nicely, terrible stink in there.'

'Why me Worlyn?'

'I don't know Elijah, I don't even think the gods know.'

'What happens now?'

'Firstly, you recover, get yourself better, get used to your face.'

'My face, what's wrong with my face?'

Worlyn gave a weak smile, turned, went to one of the shelves, took a small, ornate mirror down, went to Elijah, handed it to him and sat back down, and then standing and removing the book.

Elijah looked at himself and was shocked. He'd never have said he was handsome, not with a lop-sided face, but at least his skin was once smooth and of the one colour. Now he was a monster. There wasn't an area of his face that wasn't marked or pitted with purple and red scars, large holes that were black, others that exposed white bone, one side of his cheek had been burned away exposing his back teeth, much of his hair had been scorched, exposing a scarred and angry looking scalp. He threw the mirror into a corner, where it smashed.

Worlyn breathed out, seven years bad luck. 'At least Muppy still loves you, because she can see what's inside.'

'IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER? I'm a monster.'

Worlyn picked up his pipe. 'You'll never be a monster Elijah, ugly yes, hideous yes, terribly scarred for life, yes, but never a monster.'

Elijah glared at Worlyn, then stood shakily and staggered from the room, slamming the door open, and slamming it shut behind him.

Worlyn jumped up and tried to follow, but the door wouldn't open for him. He banged his fist against the solid wood. 'Don't go far, you've got to go back to the waterfall.'

Elijah ran down the dark torch lit corridor, bouncing off the sandstone walls, falling and scraping his elbows and knees. Then he was up again running, staggering, colliding into walls, scraping his hands, scratching his arms, wanting to find somewhere to hide himself, somewhere dark, somewhere alone, where he could hide from the world, hide from the gods. Then he saw the door slightly open and crashed through it.

He was falling, falling through thousands of steps, falling past snow covered mountain tops. He was screaming, and then he stopped because he couldn't breathe, because the air was being whipped away from his lungs. And he was falling into a valley, the snow covered ground coming up to meet him, and just when he thought he'd smash into the ground, he just went through it and was lying face down on hard and cold lavishly decorated tiles.

He looked up, he was in a vast classical hall, on both sides were smooth, black marble pillars, at least a hundred of them on either side, stretching high, supporting an enormous opulent vaulted ceiling. At one end were three large, elaborately cast, bronze doors. Each door was covered in strange bas-reliefs of figures, impossible shapes, moons, suns and stars.

Wearily, Elijah staggered to his feet and continued looking around at this fantastic place.

'Hello Elijah.'

He spun to face where the echoing female voice had come from. At the far end, raised to chest height on a brightly lit stage were three young women, clad in heavy long black dresses, sitting on sumptuous thrones.

'Come closer Elijah and sit.'

Elijah hesitated; out of the corner of his eye he noticed movement from behind some of the pillars. Dark undistinguishable shapes were moving, stalking him.

'Don't be afraid, nothing in this hall will harm you. You're our guest. Come, sit, take refreshments.'

He noticed a plain chair had appeared in front of the stage, besides it was a small table, on which was a cup and large plate filled with fruit. Slowly, he walked towards them, turning his head left and right, watching the dark shapes advancing with him. He reached the chair. Now he was closer he could see the faces of the three women. They were identical, and impossibly beautiful. Their hair was long and jet-black, combed in the same style, reflecting the light of the burning torches. They wore the same long black dresses with identical gold and silver jewellery. Their skin was pale, as if not seeing sunlight for a very long time, and their eyes were the most brilliant green. Then he realised who they were, the Three Sisters.

The one in the middle spoke, 'I'm Gremelda, the eldest, this,' she waved her right hand toward the identical women on her right, 'is Grinfreda, my sister and second eldest.' Grinfreda inclined her head in a bow. 'And this,' she waved her left hand, 'is my third sister Grunhilda, the youngest.' The identical Grunhilda inclined her head in a bow.

Elijah was somewhat confused; they all looked exactly the same age.

'Sit Elijah, partake in some refreshment.'

Elijah sat, but did not take anything, instead continued looking at the Three Sisters.

'We watched you defeat the Twanguine,' Grunhilda spoke.

'You were very brave,' said Grinfreda.

'It's left you badly scarred,' said Gremelda.

'How?' Elijah asked. 'How did you see?'

'We're prisoners inside this mountain, but we can see outside,' answered Grunhilda.

'The stories you've been told about us aren't true, we're not ogres,' spoke Grinfreda. 'We sought only to challenge the omnipotence of the gods.'

'And for that,' spoke Gremelda, 'they imprisoned us in this mountain.'

'For all eternity,' Grunhilda finished.

Elijah took a deep breath. 'You've the White Shield of the Realm?'

'Yes,' all three sisters answered.

'May I have it?'

'Yes,' answered Grinfreda.

'For three things in return,' spoke Grunhilda.

'What three things?'

'Firstly, the Probability Feather of Zeus,' answered Gremelda.

'What's that?'

'Our passage to freedom,' answered Grinfreda.

'Why can't you get it yourselves?'

'Isn't it obvious?' asked Grunhilda.

'Our magic'll not work outside our prison,' continued Gremelda.

'Where's this Probability Feather?'

'In the Great Hall of the Gods,' answered Grinfreda.

Suddenly Elijah laughed, he couldn't help it, it was so ridiculous.

'What amuses you Elijah?' asked Gremelda.

'You expect me to go into the Great Hall of the Gods and steal, what is obviously a prized possession of the gods, just like that?' He clicked his fingers.

'You've entered the Great Hall before?' it was a rhetorical question by Grinfreda.

'Yes, and the gods caught me.'

'You're the only human ever to enter the Great Hall,' said Grunhilda.

'Am I?'

'And you survived,' stated Gremelda.

'Even we three cannot enter the Great Hall of the Gods,' said Grinfreda.

Elijah shook his head. 'What's the second thing?'

'The Pyramid of Phoebe,' answered Grinfreda.

'And what's that?'

'It's a small golden pyramid that opens to reveal a small lock of the goddess Phoebe's hair,' answered Grunhilda.

'Where is it?'

'On the third continent Lemeno, hidden in the altar of the Temple of Phoebe,' answered Grinfreda.

'And what's the third thing?'

'The Sacred Book of Aphrodite,' answered Grunhilda.

'And where's that?'

'On the second continent Chestor, guarded by the Ni-Di warrior priests of Aphrodite,' Grunhilda continued.

'How am I supposed to get to these continents?'

'Worlyn will show you,' answered Gremelda.

'And why do you want them?'

In perfect synchronisation the three sisters put their right forefingers to their noses and tapped once.

Elijah was becoming angry, he thought these tasks were impossible, he decided to go back for the scimitars, come back and take the shield by force.

'You'll not be allowed entry,' spoke Grinfreda.

'We can see into your mind,' said Grunhilda.

'We'll turn our prison into a fortress,' said Gremelda.

'You'll never take the shield by force,' said Grinfreda.

Elijah nodded, he realised this to be true. Movement behind the pillars again caught his eye. 'What's behind the pillars?'

'Our pets,' answered Grunhilda.

'Our protection,' spoke Gremelda.

'Our love,' spoke Grinfreda.

'Can I ask you something?'

'We'll allow you three more questions,' answered Grunhilda.

'Which we'll answer truthfully and to the best of our knowledge,' spoke Gremelda.

'If we don't know the answer, we'll say so,' spoke Grinfreda.

'After that you and Worlyn must seek the objects we desire,' all three sisters spoke at once.

Three questions, Elijah took a deep breath, 'Why me?'

Again, they spoke at once, as if rehearsed, 'We don't know the answer to that.'

Great, stupid question. 'Will I survive?'

'We don't know.'

'Why have the gods turned against me?'

The three sisters were silent for a moment, continuing to stare at Elijah, then Gremelda spoke, 'Because Elijah, you're the Nemesis of the gods.'

Nemesis, Nem, that's what Isis was going to say. 'I don't understand.'

'The universe, Elijah,' spoke Grinfreda, 'is timeless. Planets, suns, galaxies have been born and died, new ones have been born, it is a cycle of death and regeneration, death and regeneration.'

'In that time,' Grunhilda continued, 'billions of different races have developed, flourished, become powerful, died and lost from memory.'

Gremelda took over, 'But for millions of years the most populous race in the universe has been humans. In some galaxies humans have developed science to such a degree as to make them gods.'

'In our galaxy,' Grinfreda continued, 'magic has developed. The most powerful humans made themselves into gods.'

'What, the gods were once humans?'

'That's another question Elijah,' spoke Grunhilda, looking at her two sisters.

'You must leave now Elijah, as you bring us one of the three objects we desire,' said Gremelda.

'We'll answer another question,' said Grinfreda.

'And when you have brought us all three objects, we'll give you The White Shield of the Realm.' Grunhilda finished and the Three Sisters waved their right hands in perfect synchronisation.

Elijah felt an enormous tiredness spread across his limbs and body, he felt exhausted and wanted to close his eyes.

But something inside him fought, what he knew was their spell. He knew, inside this mountain, they were all powerful. But not powerful enough, against him, he knew their magic was mightily inadequate.

'Well, Elijah,' spoke Gremelda, 'you're a surprise. This is our domain, in these mountains we're the rulers, and yet.'

'We've no power over you,' finished Grinfreda.

'Here we're the gods, and yet we've no power over you,' said Gremelda.

'Why's that Elijah?' asked Grunhilda.

'I don't know.'

'We know at first that Zanatos used magic against you, then Bagarnack, Bearbert and Esme, we know you can use magic in the form of magical objects,' said Grinfreda.

'The White Shield,' injected Gremelda.

'The scimitars,' said Grunhilda.

'The secret corridors of Dragoylia, the Corridor of Shadows,' said Grinfreda.

'Now we know that magic will not work against you,' said Gremelda.

'Even the magic of the gods will not work against you,' said Grunhilda.

'We know this because Bagarnack sent the Twanguine against you,' said Grinfreda.

'He tried, and nothing happened,' said Gremelda.

'You must go now Elijah,' stated Grunhilda.

'How do I get out?'

'The way you came in,' answered Grinfreda.

'I came in through the ceiling.'

The Three Sisters began gently laughing, looking at one another.

'You came in through the middle door Elijah,' said Gremelda, pointing to the three doors behind him.

Elijah turned, looking at the three, fantastically wrought doors. Something wasn't right, he was sure he'd dropped in through the ceiling.

As if she'd read his thoughts Grunhilda spoke, 'The Corridors of Shadows and the doors to other places can sometimes have a strange effect on humans.'

'Who're not used to their magic,' finished Grinfreda.

'Go through the middle door Elijah and you'll find yourself back in the Corridors of Shadows,' said Gremelda.

'One thing that puzzles me, how did you get the shield when no one's supposed to be able to lift it?'

'Except you Elijah,' answered Grunhilda.

'Yes, but.'

'No more questions Elijah,' interrupted Grinfreda.

'Go now,' said Gremelda.

Elijah stood, turned and began walking the long distance to the three great doors. On either side of him, behind the pillars, he saw the shadows matching his pace, he quickened his step, and the shadows kept up with him, he stopped and the shadows stopped. He began jogging and the shadows seemed to race him until he was running full pelt towards the doors. It was a race to see who would reach the doors first, because the pillars went right up to the side of the doors. He had no idea what sort of beasts the shadows were, but had the feeling if they reached the doors first they would have him. He wished he'd brought the scimitars.

He reached the doors first and crashed through the middle one, then he was falling, through clouds, past snow-capped mountain tops, into a green valley, and the ground was racing up to him. He screamed and appeared to hit it.

But he felt nothing whatsoever, and he was laying face down on the cold stone floor of the Corridor of Shadows, unharmed, but out of breath. He looked up, he was outside Worlyn's room, and the door was opening. Something warm and wet began frantically licking his face, in his ears, up his nose, everywhere. Muppy.

'Where the blinkinheck have you been for the past month?'

Elijah sat up, grabbed the frantic Muppy and held her away from his face, but she wouldn't be still, wriggling, trying to lick the skin off his face, neck, hands, any bit of skin she could reach and lick. He turned to see Worlyn standing behind him, hands on hips, Twinkle perched on his shoulder, and looking angry. 'What?'

'I said, where've you been for the past month?'

'The past month? But I've only been gone an hour.' He drew Muppy close to him and snuggled his head into her fur.

'You've been gone a month, and what're you doing lying on the floor? Don't you realise how worried I've been. I've been trapped, can't even open my own door, and then it opens mysteriously. I thought you dead from your injuries, and there you are, practically healed, still horribly scarred, but healed, no infection, which is good. Well?'

'Well what?' Elijah asked, pulling an even more ugly face, and looking up, which once again gave Muppy the chance to ecstatically lick him.

Worlyn began a rant, walking up and down the corridor waving his arms in the air, making Twinkle fly off his shoulder back into his room and her shelf. 'Where've you been? Oh no, don't think about me, stuck down here, with only your dog and Twinkle to talk to. No doors will open for me, no gods have been to see me, my magic is non-existent, I can't do anything. The gods are punishing me, they've taken away my magic. Oh no, nevermind about old stupid Worlyn, nothing to eat except decades old dragon's liver and a bag of floomore beans. And the two of them have been pooping everywhere, wouldn't think so much poop could come out of two little creatures. Before I could just incinerate it, but now...'

Elijah climbed to his feet, still holding Muppy to his chest, and still stroking her ears. 'I thought you liked dragon's liver and floomore beans?'

'I do, yes, I do, but not for breakfast, lunch, tea and supper for a month.'

'What's Muppy been eating?'

'Dragon's liver and floomore beans, same as me and Twinkle.'

'You can't do magic?' Elijah was surprised, what'd happened, how come a month had passed, when it only felt like an hour?

'Nothing, can't even conjure a sausage.'

'Is it the gods?'

'Of course it's the gods.' Worlyn took a deep breath, 'Anyway, where've you been?'

'To see the Three Sisters.'

'What?' Worlyn staggered back with disbelief. 'How come you're still alive?'

Elijah shook his head, he suddenly felt very thirsty, his tongue felt like sandpaper and his lips were swollen. 'I need a drink.'

'Oh yes, you need a drink, nevermind about me, you need a drink. What happened with the Three Sisters?'

Elijah looked at him, 'Worlyn, give me some moments please.'

Chapter Eight

The Three Sisters were startled by the shimmering red light that formed before them, coalesced, and became solid in the form of a giant barbarian warrior, at least four times larger than normal, with long black hair, and black beard plaited with small human thighbones.

'Bagarnack, how nice of you to visit us,' said Gremelda, with razor sharp sarcasm.

'Gremelda, Grinfreda, Grunhilda, looking as beautiful as ever. How long's it been, ten thousands years?'

'More like fifty, you Twanguine.'

Bagarnack gave a great belly laugh. 'Gremelda, even after so long your tongue is still as sharp as Clarissa's scimitar.'

Grinfreda spoke, 'What do you want Bagarnack, come to release us?'

'Not yet, although I might if you do as I ask.'

'Command more like,' said Grunhilda.

'Obviously this has something to do with Elijah,' said Gremelda.

'Perceptive as ever. You're to kill Elijah.'

'We guessed that,' answered Grinfreda.

'You cannot kill him yourself,' said Grunhilda.

'Because he's become too powerful,' said Gremelda, 'your magic doesn't affect him.'

'Which means,' said Grinfreda, 'our magic will not affect him either.'

'Ah ladies, in that you're wrong, one of you will enter his dreams and kill him.'

'That means one of us will also die,' said Grunhilda.

'Not exactly, Grunhilda. You could trap him in his dream, poison him, then escape quickly.'

'But what if he wakes before one of us can trap him?' asked Gremelda.

'Be quick, then.'

'Your plan is full of holes Bagarnack,' said Grinfreda, 'One of us will surely die.'

'It is a sacrifice one of you must make to free the other two. It's your choice. Two gain freedom and one might die, or three gain freedom if the one does it right. Those are my terms. Or do nothing and remain prisoners for the rest of eternity, and I'll send such creatures to haunt you every waking moment and nightmares that'll drive you to madness.'

'Your threats means nothing to us Bagarnack,' spoke Grunhilda, 'you forget we also have power.'

'Yes, power I gave to you, godlike power, but nothing compared to my full power. Think it over my lovely ladies, either kill Elijah or suffer my wrath.'

As he shrunk his body seemed to flash, and the last thing he said was, 'I'll leave so you may decide your plan. I'll return soon to review your progress.'

Bagarnack instantly disappeared in a blinding flash of red light that each of the Three Sisters knew he'd done for effect, to demonstrate the extent of his powers.

'Nevermind that,' answered Grinfreda, 'who's the one that's going to enter Elijah's dream?'

'Well,' started Gremelda.

'As Bagarnack said,' muttered Grinfreda.

'Then who'll do it?' asked Grunhilda.

There was silence. The Three Sisters stared at each other, lost in thought. Then finally, Gremelda announced, 'I'll do it.'

Grinfreda and Grunhilda gazed in awe and shock.

'I'll do it because... I, I'm the oldest.' stammered Gremelda.

Her sisters still didn't understand, so Gremelda explained, 'I've lived longer than you two. I want to give you a chance to live long, and as the oldest, I have responsibility, but I may still live.'

'Gremelda?' sobbed Grinfreda, 'you'll be killed.'

'It's our only choice. Anyway, we must prepare.'

The Three Sisters split up and walked into different parts of their mountain home, making preparations for an assassination...

Worlyn was striding up and down his jumble of a living room, ranting and raving, supplicating his hands to the sky. 'No respect, that's what it is, me a thousand year old wizard, you, still wet behind the ears. Me, the wizard that amalgamated the three continents, you, a whippersnapper. Me, that brought peace and prosperity, you, an inexperienced scallywag. Me, worshiped and adored, you, a kid with no magic whatsoever.'

Elijah sat and drank the wonderfully tasting water, feeling better by the moment, listening to the ranting of Worlyn with some amusement. Muppy had curled up on his lap, looking wonderfully satisfied and relaxed.

'Me, who brought democracy, you who won't even tell me what happened with the Three Sisters.'

Elijah shook his head

'You with a face like a colander. Me, whom the gods had invited to become a god, you...'

'What?' Elijah interrupted, suddenly taking notice, 'What did you say?'

'The gods, well, Bearbert to be exact, had invited me to become a god, he said I only needed to win the Centuria one more time, and he'd make me into a god. He'd tell me the secrets of the universe. But, alas, I lost. Don't know how, well, I have an inkling of how, Zanatos the upstart, Zanatos the usurper. It pains me. He didn't seem to have that much magic, just into power spells. I beat him the first time, my second time, I may add, and yet, the second time, my third time, at the Centuria, he beat me hands down. None of my spells seemed to affect him.'

'Couldn't he have been helped by one of the gods?'

'No, no way, Bearbert would've told me. The gods have given a pledge they'll never try to influence the Centuria.'

'And you believe that?'

'Don't criticise the gods, they'll turn us into worms on the end of a ten year old's fishing hook.'

'Worlyn, listen to me, the gods have abandoned us, they've become our enemies, they wish for our destruction. Remember they sent the Twanguine.'

'Elijah,' Worlyn shouted, 'don't say such things.'

'The gods are liars.'

Worlyn clamped his hands over his ears and began humming and singing loudly, dancing around the room.

Elijah made himself more comfortable, drinking more water, stroking Muppy's ears, and watching Worlyn with great amusement as he skipped around the room, singing like a demented dervish.

Worlyn kept looking at Elijah, and when their eyes met Elijah mouthed the gods, which only made Worlyn dance faster and sing louder.

After ten minutes Elijah tired of the show, and feeling somewhat guilty for tantalising Worlyn, kept his mouth shut, which made Worlyn stop dancing and taking his fingers out of his ears, stand and look at Elijah. For some moments they stared at one another, then Worlyn said, 'You still haven't told me about the Three Sisters.'

Elijah told him what had happened and Worlyn sat, not moving a muscle, not even twitching until Elijah came to the three things the Sisters wanted him to procure for them. Worlyn began a nervous twitch in his neck and shoulders when Elijah said 'The Probability Feather of Zeus' and began shaking and slobbering when Elijah said 'The Pyramid of Phoebe' and nearly fainted when Elijah said 'The Sacred Book of Aphrodite'. Elijah stopped and looked at Worlyn, with his mouth hanging open in shock, his head shaking in disbelief, muttering about being dead. Elijah continued, best get it over with, he thought, and told Worlyn about the shadows behind the pillars.

'Shadows,' repeated Worlyn, in a frightened whisper.

'Do you know what they are?'

'I've a good idea, not shadows, spectres, creatures of the night, of the dark, they don't have a corporeal form, they're assassins, sent by a god or wizard to kill rivals, but they're too unpredictable. I thought the gods had destroyed them. They kill by absorbing your shadow, once you've lost your shadow, you die.'

'How, a shadow's only a shadow?'

'I don't know, but it sounds like the Three Sisters have brought them back.'

'How do you fight these spectres?'

'You can't, weapons can't harm them, spells are useless.'

'What about light, that light you created?'

'That would keep them back until you escaped.' Worlyn stood and began pacing around the large room. 'That's it, we're doomed.'

'Why?'

'Why he says, ha, why? In case you haven't noticed, the gods are against us, they've taken all my magic away, they want us dead. Right above us is Zanatos and his multitude of wizards, his vast armies, and his god-created rotrobbers, wanting us dead. The Three Sisters, with their three impossible tasks, have surely condemned us to death. And why? Why? The gods were the ones that said you had to enter the Centuria Tournament. I told you not to destroy their things. And we're supposed to just walk into the Great Hall of the Gods, pick up the Probability Feather and walk back out again, blowing the gods a kiss on the way. How did I ever get myself into this?'

'You promised you'd be with me, whatever we may face.'

'Elijah, Elijah, reality check, haven't you been listening? Whatever happens we're dead, d, e, a, d, dead, dead, dead.'

'Right, first, we go back into the god's junk room and collect the scimitars.'

'You're not listening, we're dead.'

'We should leave the Probability Feather till last, that sounds the most difficult.'

'You're still not listening. WE'RE DEAD.'

Muppy raised her head at Worlyn's shout, but Elijah continued to stroke her ear and she settled again with her head on his lap. 'We'll go for the Pyramid of Phoebe first.'

'LISTEN TO ME, WE'VE GOT NO CHANCE.'

'How do we get to Lemeno?'

Worlyn breathed a deep sigh, 'I give up. Through the Corridor of Shadows. But it won't work.'

'Why?'

'Why, why, why? Typical, you haven't been listening. You have to have magic to use the corridor. My magic's been taken away from me. You've no inherent magic whatsoever. We're stuck, doomed, doomed I say.'

'I can find it.'

'Oh right, oh great magical being, you can't even snuff out a candle.'

'I can lift the White Shield of the Realm.'

'Yes, so?'

'I can handle the scimitars.'

'And? Can you create bright lights? Can you make things levitate? Can you cast spells? No, no, no.'

'I found the door to the Three Sisters.'

Worlyn pulled a face as though he was sucking on an under ripe lemon, his lips making impossible contortions, and began nodding, 'Yes, I'll give you that.'

'Although, I wasn't looking for the Three Sisters.'

'What?'

'I was looking for somewhere to hide, this door was open and I just went through it, and found myself in this big hall, with the Three Sisters sitting on their thrones.'

'So,' Worlyn said, his jaw sticking out aggressively, 'you didn't know that door led to the Three Sisters?'

'No, but what difference does it make?'

'The door was open, and you just went through it?'

'Yes. But I can't see what difference that makes, it still led to the Three Sisters.'

'The difference is you didn't find it, someone, something, some god led you to that door. The door was open, the door enticed you inside. You didn't find it. Someone wanted you to go inside. Someone wanted you to meet the Three Sisters, probably them.'

'It couldn't have been them,' Elijah said shaking his scarred head, 'they said their magic won't work outside the mountain.'

'Oh, you're awfully naive, they were lying.'

Suddenly Elijah stood, making Muppy's head flop onto the bed, she jumped to her feet, sensing her master was going somewhere and ready to follow him. 'The scimitars first,' said Elijah, and a thought powered into his mind. 'What did you want the little silver acorn for?'

Worlyn stood slowly and unsteadily, as if he had a sack of floomore beans on his shoulders, reached into his robes and pulled out the silver acorn. He looked at it for a moment, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. 'This was given to me by the Kentauros Grifted as a gift, many centuries ago, he said if I ever was in real need or serious danger to kiss the acorn and he would come.'

'Why didn't you use it with the Twanguine?'

'Because it was knocked out of my hand and lost.'

'Are you going to use it now?'

'I don't know.'

'Have you ever used it?'

'No.'

'Kiss it now, we could use his help.'

Worlyn was hesitant, looking undecided.

'What's wrong?'

'The Kentauri, although a powerfully magical race, can be, at times, unpredictable.'

'How so?'

'They'd as soon crush your head beneath their hooves as help you.'

Elijah was confused, why give Worlyn the acorn just to crush his head if he asked for assistance. 'I don't understand.'

'They're not like humans; they don't have the same feelings, the same rules and regulations, the same moral code of obligation, honour, or duty. Even the gods avoid them except when necessary. For example, you could say "pass me the butter please" and they'd kill you because you'd broken one of their fundamental laws.'

'What, just for asking for the butter?'

Worlyn showed his impatience, 'No, I've just said that's an example. What I'm saying is they have laws we know nothing about, laws that we'd probably find incomprehensible. You've got to be very careful around Kentauri.'

'Right, firstly, we go and retrieve the scimitars, then you kiss the acorn.'

'What about food?'

'What about it?'

'Don't you want any? I got no fruit left, or berries, but still got some floomore beans.'

'No.'

'When was the last time you ate?'

'Donnow.'

'Aren't you hungry?'

'No. Come on, Muppy come.'

Elijah went to the door, Muppy, and Worlyn followed.

'Mind you,' Worlyn muttered, clicked his fingers and Twinkle flew off her shelf and landed on his shoulder, 'I don't suppose I'd want to eat if I had a big hole in my cheek, all the food would come slobbering out, run down your chin onto your clothes, not that it'd make much difference to your clothes. We should get you a change of clothes and go to the waterfall, you're a bit stinky, well more than a bit, you smell like a pigmoor that's been rolling in its own sh...'

'Worlyn,' Elijah interrupted as he opened the door, 'we're not going on a social visit, this isn't a pleasure trip. Stop moaning, you'll get used to it.'

They began walking along the Corridor of Shadows, Muppy keeping close to Elijah's heels, occasionally growling at the flickering shadows.

'What's wrong Muppy?' Elijah asked.

'She's been like that ever since you disappeared, growling at anything. It's a wonder she hasn't got a sore throat. Are you sure you don't want anything to eat, it's near lunchtime? Then we could have an afternoon kip, a nice rest, Muppy appreciates her afternoon nap, then tea, then a rest, some reading, plan what we're going to do tomorrow, start afresh, straight after breakfast.'

Elijah continued marching on.

'And whilst I'm cooking breakfast you could go to the waterfall, have a good soak, it'd help your scars as well, put some clean clothes on, see if any gods turn up.' Worlyn glanced behind, then pirouetted, stumbling and nearly falling over his own shoes in the process. Twinkle flapped her wings to steady herself, slapping Worlyn in the face. 'Ouch.'

Elijah turned, 'What?'

'Nothing.'

Elijah continued then stopped at a large dark boak door that was studded with hundreds of black, pyramid-shaped, wrought iron nail heads, three large black hinges, and an ornately scrolled circular black handle. He reached forward to turn the handle.

'Stop,' Worlyn shouted, 'what're you doing?'

Elijah turned and faced him. 'Going to get the scimitars.'

'Oh, are you sure this is the room? Last time I came the gods' room had a different door.'

'I'm sure, I can hear the scimitars singing to me.' Elijah turned the scrolled handle and the door opened.

It was dark inside, with only the flickering torches from the corridors illuminating the room.

Muppy gave a deep growl, and the fur on her back stood to attention.

'This isn't the room,' Worlyn whispered, but Elijah had already entered.

He marched straight to the centre and picked up the scimitars. They felt so good in his hands, they sang to him, they welcomed him, they were happy, and he was happy as he swung them about, marvelling at their beauty.

Muppy jumped up into Worlyn's arms, she was quivering uncontrollably, and Worlyn knew why, circling them were shadows, the shadows of spectres, closing in, tormenting them, readying themselves for the right moment when they would swoop into their shadows and strangle them and claim their lives. Twinkle could also sense them and she began to crawl into Worlyn's robes.

'ELIJAH,' Worlyn shouted.

The Nemesis, The Wizard and the Waterfall, Book Two, out now on kindle and Smashwords.

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