 
### RESURRECTION

### Book 1: The Chronicles of Chaos

by

Graham Carmichael

SMASHWORDS EDITION

*****

Copyright 2011 Graham Carmichael

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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*****

It was a strange night, thunder cracked in the sky and forks of lightning struck the ground. I witnessed this from the window of my bed chamber. I had an uneasy feeling that something sinister was afoot...

I was introduced to a peculiar stranger today. He went by the name of Rhyll. He was a tall and slender man with long blonde locks, his face covered in a full beard. He claimed he was a god sent down from the heavens to duel with his twin brother for the right to rule the land. The dungeon was the only place this idiot would rule...

A tired and obviously distressed messenger boy burst into my bed chamber in the early hours of this morning. I would have had his head removed from his shoulders for such an intrusion if it were not for the horrified look on his face. He reported witnessing a group of "monsters" slaughtering one of my patrols. I would find it hard to believe this man if it were not for the look in his eyes. He obviously witnessed some atrocity. The question is what?...

It is almost an hourly occurrence now; panicked messengers demanding to see me with news of more atrocities. I was planning to send out a legion of my best men to investigate when I received word that our crazy prisoner wished to see me regarding this matter. He informed me that the cause of these atrocities was his twin brother, Bhryll. I still think this man is crazy but I may be willing to give him a chance to prove himself...

I have had a report that a small mining town to the North has fallen. Crowton provided us with the stone we use to build our towns. This has gone on long enough, I am going to assemble several legions and I shall put an end to this tyranny. I shall take our prisoner along too...

On the evening of the sixth night of marching, I came across a sight that my eyes would not allow me to believe. A small army of men and monsters stood on one side of the valley. They saw us approaching and readied their weapons. From the centre of the army strode a "thing". It took the form of a man but even from a distance I could clearly see it was no man. It wore the blackest armour. It had an aura of pure evil. In my mesmerised state, I failed to notice my prisoner run off down towards the centre of the valley. The black figure on the opposite side did the same. Both met face to face on the valley floor. It was if their voices were amplified. I could hear them clearly. They talked of a feud in heaven, a curse that brought them here in mortal form and they agreed to a war. Both had one year to raise an army. The winner of one massive battle would be free to do with the Kingdom as they choose. It was clear that my crown meant nothing...

I cannot rightly believe a whole year has passed. It seems like yesterday that we first laid eyes on our enemy. I have spent the last year preparing for this battle, helping Rhyll. I have grown to trust him but I fear that his brother will prove too strong. We march tomorrow...

I have no idea what really happened. I only know the final outcome. We won. It looked like an unlikely outcome at the start of the day. Ranks of Men and Living Dead lined up against us. Bhryll alone wiped out our first charge with some magical force that I dared not dream of. Rhyll engaged Bhryll soon after and their battle was as destructive to all around as it ended up being for them. I don't know how to explain what happened but they both disintegrated in what I can only describe as a massive explosion of light. With their leader gone, the army of evil descended into chaos. They fled south. When they reached the coast they ran into the sea and continued. I know where they went. They went to the Isle of Natchera that from this day forth will be known as the Cursed Isle...

I passed my crown to my son today as I prepare to die. I hope that I have made the Kingdom safe and secure and that my son heeds my advice. It took a long time to quell the raiding parties that assaulted our shores from Cursed Isle. As I lay here, I sense that the evil we defeated is not entirely destroyed. I hope it does not return. This is my last entry.

\- Excerpts from the diary of King Thar, First Ruler of the Kingdom of Thorntonvale.

*****

###  Prologue

The final rays of the sun dipped behind the silhouette of the Sacred Hills to the west of the village of Horton Peak. Lanterns were lighting up the houses, emitting an eerie orange glow. The day's work was over for everyone and the entertainment about to begin. The sound of music began to echo out across the town. The local tavern had a good selection of minstrels and bards to keep the crowds entertained. Each night all the families in the village would gather on the village green, conveniently located right outside the tavern in the very centre of the village, just off the main through road. The locals and passers by came together to swap gossip and to relax at the end of a hard day's work in the fields surrounding the village. This would go on for a few hours before the women and children would go home. The children would be washed and put to bed; the women would do the household chores. The men would remain at the tavern, drinking themselves into a stupor. There would be a contingent of town watchmen located outside the tavern. This was to make sure that the peaceful haven the locals had worked hard to create stayed that way. Most of the locals could hold their liquor but occasionally, a traveller from another place would stir up trouble. The rest of the town watch would be patrolling the village perimeter. The village was of simple design. It had two main roads, one the main through road that ran straight from the east gate to the west gate. The other was a ring road all the way around the perimeter of the village. There were a series of small alleyways that connected the ring road to the main road and allowed the locals access to their houses. Each house was made from the timber of the nearby forest at the foot of the sacred hills. The village was protected by a basic wooden palisade; a series of wooden stakes hammered into the ground to create a simple fence. This would not be enough to stop an army but it deterred the few groups of bandits that roamed the countryside.

During the evening's merriments, there was a noticeable absence. The Turners, a well respected farming family, were not in attendance. Paddy Turner was usually the life and soul of the party. He had once been the leader of the king's army and as a result was not a man to be disrespected. Paddy was tall, powerful and strong. He was a hero to many. During his time in the army he had cleared the land of trouble. The highways were free of bandits, the towns and cities had highly trained watchmen to keep order and the inhabitants of the Cursed Isle were never allowed to reach the shores of the mainland. Unfortunately, the King decided that his son, Cohen, should lead his armies. This demoted Paddy to second in command, relieving him of most of his decision making powers. Prince Cohen was a hot tempered and arrogant man. He had the best interests of the kingdom at heart but he refused to take advice. Everything had to be done his way or not at all. Paddy could not work like this. He requested that he be relieved from the army altogether. The King denied his request. However, it was when an investigation was ordered to see what the population of Horton Peak were doing that things came to a head. The people of Horton Peak had stopped paying taxes. It turned out that they were stockpiling the money to buy provisions for building a simple defensive structure for the village. At that time, raiding parties were robbing the village of resources and stealing money from shops and houses. This was happening on a weekly basis. Requests had been made to the King to send help but neither the King or Prince Cohen were willing to take action. The Prince, Paddy Turner and a battalion of men were ordered to the village to get the money by whatever means necessary. However, the leaders of this little revolt refused to budge, the money was theirs. The Prince ordered his soldiers to cut down the protesters. Before they struck, Paddy gave the order to stop. Some of the troops did, others did not. Paddy rallied the troops who had ceased the killing to turn on the others and defend the people. A stand-off ensued. The Prince would not fight Paddy; he knew it would be foolish. They made a deal, Paddy would be released from the army to spend the rest of his days in this place. He would use his influence to get the people what they wanted whilst paying the King his taxes. This settled the dispute and made paddy a local hero. He took a wife within a year and had three children; the third to be born this night.

Ancient folklore of Thorntonvale has often spoken of the arrival of a special child who will rid the kingdom of evil and bring a new found prosperity to the land. It is widely believed that the child would be sent from the gods to do their bidding. This folklore also gave a stark warning. The power of this child may be used for noble purposes but in the wrong hands, could spell the demise of order and the abolition of law. In the wrong hands the child's powers could be used to bring a new reign of chaos to the land.

The special child was born this night, the daughter of Paddy Turner. His wife gave birth with no pain. The baby seemed to be in a hurry to enter the world as if it knew that it had a purpose, a destiny to fulfil. All who were present in the room, the Turner family, the doctor and the midwife stood looking at the child with wonder in their eyes. It was the most perfect child anyone had seen. She has thin blonde hair but her facial features and bone structure seemed like no other newborn. The child looked like a very tiny adult. She emitted a radiant beauty that touched all that laid eyes upon her. More than that, she had a strange aura. When in the presence of this child, calmness and serenity were the feelings one had.

"Isabelle" Paddy said, breaking the silence. "Isabelle Turner, my first daughter".

Paddy had the face of a true doting father. His face resembled the sculptor who had spent many an hour, day, month and year creating his finest work of art.

"Let me hold her" asked Paddy.

His wife, Maggie, handed the baby over gently.

"Be careful, you big ogre. Don't go dropping her now y'hear".

"Don't worry, Maggie. She is in safe hands" Paddy proclaimed.

"That is what you said before you dropped your first son on his head." Maggie stated in a matter of fact way.

"The poor bugger was never the same again" Said the doctor with a wry smile on his face.

"And who asked you, you cheeky beggar". Spoke Paddy in mock anger. With that the jovial man of the house burst out of his front door and carried his child towards the village green.

"Meet the newest member of the Turner family" he shouted at the crowds.

Cheers went up and people began to gather round for a good look at the child. It seemed that Isabelle had the same effect on all the villagers. Everyone stood silent, admiring the child with awe filled eyes. The moment lasted a few minutes before someone broke into a rousing edition of 'for he's a jolly good fellow'. The joy and merriment began.

The eyes of the villagers were not the only ones to be fixed on the newborn child. Atop a hill, outside the northern wall of the palisade, stood four figures. To look at them from afar, one would see only an effect similar to heat haze. However, upon closer inspection one would see that they were the black and ghostly figures of Wraiths. Dead souls trapped between the ether world and the real world. Only the upper part of their twisted torso existed fully in this world. The rest of their bodies were semi transparent and as untouchable as air. These were the minions of an undead demon called The Watcher; the guardian of Blackheart Castle on the Cursed Isle. His quest is to resurrect the spirit of his creator Bhryll, the god of chaos. The only way for Bhryll to take form upon the earth is to possess the body of the special child, the child sent by the gods. In this body, Bhryll would bring fire upon the kingdom and then the entire planet. The remnants of the living would become slaves to the dead. Hell would join Earth.

The minions had finally found what they had been looking for. The target was in their sights. They began moving towards the eastern side of the palisade, where the main gate to the village was. Their movement was eerily smooth and silent. They seemed to hover above the ground. They made no sound at all. As the Wraiths neared the gate, the guards were nowhere in sight. Distracted by all the noise and commotion coming from the village green, they had gone to investigate. The Wraiths could speak to each other in the ether world. This gave the impression that they were telepathic but they could also project their voice into the real world if needed. They drifted through the gate and down the dark alleys of the village behind the houses. Floating silently through the shadows they were not noticed by the few people that were not on the village green. They had moved towards the centre of the village. The village green was not the destination though. They were proceeding towards the Turners' house where only Maggie and the midwife remained. As the Wraiths approached, a small child was sitting at the window of the adjacent house looking at the stars with innocent wonder. Just then the Wraiths drifted past his window. The child was choked with fear. The colour drained from his face. He tried to call out to his mother but couldn't. Three had passed and that seemed to be the last of them. The boy relaxed and went to the window for a closer look. He had pressed his face against the cold glass not daring to open the window in case they dragged him out and ate him. Then the fourth Wraith went by. It stopped right outside the window. The boy froze, fearing to make even the slightest move, scared even to breath. The Wraith seemed to be sniffing the air for something as if it sensed someone was close by. The boy could feel his heart bursting out of his chest, his head pounded with the strength of his pulse. Thud, Thud. He was sure the Wraith could hear it. The moment seemed to last an eternity. The Wraith continued to sniff the air. Then for no apparent reason, it moved on. The boy went running to his mother, the fear had instilled him with newfound courage.

"Mummy, Mummy, there is a demon outside". The boy yelped frantically.

"Oh, don't be silly" his mother told him calmly. "It was probably just someone returning home from the tavern".

"B..B..but it was a demon, Mummy. It had no legs and was heading towards the Turners' house."

The woman cut him off.

"Stop being silly," the woman said more sternly, "demons cannot get into our village. There are only two entrances, both watched by guards. Remember, they were taught by Mr Turner and are the best in the land."

Realising that his Mother did not believe him, the boy slumped back to his room.

The woman went back to the job of knitting a new tunic for her husband. It was his birthday soon and she wanted to surprise him. There was something bothering her though. The look in her son's eyes was one of genuine terror, not the look of someone who just had a bad dream. She sighed deeply,

"I guess I better go and have a look", she thought to herself. She stood up and donned her cloak and sandals. She quickly had a look in on her son. He was fast asleep but was under his bed rather than on it. Smiling to herself, she closed the door very gently so as not to wake the boy. She then proceeded out of the front door. The Turner's house was the next house up the street. It was only fifteen feet away. Inspecting the house from afar, she noticed that there was no light inside the house. The normal flickering of candles could not be seen.

"Strange that there is no light," she thought to herself, "I would have thought that there would be a lot of activity going on in there tonight. The midwife would still be tending to Maggie. Paddy would still be at the tavern and would expect a light to be left on for him."

Troubled thoughts crept into her head. She stood there for fully five minutes, willing something to happen; some movement or a person to appear in the doorway perhaps. She was scared. With a deep breath she proceeded to the front door of the house. Knock, Knock.

"Maggie? It's Vera, from next door." She shouted. There was only silence.

"Maggie?" she called again. There was still no sound to be heard. She turned away from the door and looked around, unsure what to do. There was nobody around. Most people were either tucked away in their houses or at the Tavern. There was a faint sound from inside the house. It sounded like the back door closing. Vera moved to inspect the side of the house. As she peered into the black she thought she saw something move into the shadows behind her own house. It was only a brief flicker so she dismissed it as her eyes adjusting to the darkness. She went back to the front door. Knock, Knock. She hammered harder this time. Still there was no reply. Vera tried the handle. It was open. There was a foul stench in the air. The room was also deathly cold. It sent a shiver down her spine as soon as she opened the door. She decided to go and fetch a lantern from her home. Sensing that there was something very wrong, she moved with great haste. She took the lantern from inside of her front door and returned. Upon entering the Turners' house, Vera froze in shock. She could feel the vomit coming up from her stomach. Her legs went weak and wobbly. Then just as the vomit was entering her throat, she turned and lunged outside, washing the lane with the contents of her stomach. Vera felt angry, repulsed, nauseous and shocked. She tried to stand up but darkness overcame her. She fainted.

Paddy was walking home from the Tavern with his daughter in his arms and Vera's husband, Ted, by his side. They made a fine pair. Paddy stood over 6 foot tall and was fairly well muscled. In his middle age he had developed a rotund beer gut that made him look less athletic than he may otherwise. A well groomed and slightly greying beard covered his lower face. His friend was no less distinguished.

"A fine night had by all." Paddy proclaimed to the small grey haired man next to him.

Ted was a member of the original village guard and, like Paddy, served his time in the King's army. Ted was now old. "Some years over 60" he would tell people. His years belied his fitness however. He was a skilled blacksmith and the many hours spent crafting fine blades, shields and armour had maintained his health. His skill with a blade was legendary. The 'marauding midget' was the name he was given in the army for his fearless charges into battle. He was not a bright chap but he was brave.

"You are not wrong, my friend. I haven't had such a fill of ale since I was a lad. I didn't handle it quite so well back then. I was unconscious for the best part of three days."

"Well my vertically challenged friend," Paddy began, "you handle your ale like a true professional these days."

"I know it is not obvious by these dashing good looks but I have had years to practice." Ted replied.

"You haven't? I don't believe you." Paddy said in a sarcastic tone.

"I know it's hard to believe but I really have".

The pair broke out into laughter. They continued home, singing songs and telling stories. Ted was near hysteria when they rounded the corner onto their lane. Paddy looked down the road as he always did and stopped. With great urgency he tapped Ted on the arm,

"There is someone lying in the road outside my house, come on." With that Paddy charged up the lane closely followed by his friend.

"It's Vera" Paddy shouted as he arrived at the body. He put the baby down next to him and placed two fingers on her neck, feeling for a pulse.

"She is alive." He said as Ted scrambled down next to her.

"Vera, Vera, its Ted. Can you hear me?" Ted was shaking her gently and tapping her on her cheek.

"Come on Vera, Love, wake up." Ted was getting choked. Tears were welling up in his eyes.

She started to come round. As she opened her eyes she could see two blurred figures, then the image of what she had seen flashed through her mind. She shot up off the ground and began screaming and running away from Paddy's house.

"Get me away from there." She screamed. The rest of what she said was nothing but inaudible squealing. Her distress was very troubling to both the men. They chased her down and sat her on the porch of one of the other houses.

Words started to be heard in the ranting.

"Dead.....Blood......Maggie." These three words that came from Vera's mouth sent Paddy running back towards his house.

"Wait for me, Paddy." Ted shouted, but Paddy was deaf. He had to get to his wife. He picked up the lantern Vera had dropped on the porch and burst through the front door.

Words failed him as he stopped, a shocked expression crossed his face.. Paddy fell to his knees, his hands covering his face. A long silence ensued as he observed the horrific scene before him.

"Who did this?" He said again and again in a whisper, his vocal chords not fully working yet. Finally, he snapped.

"WHO DID THIS?" The scream was penetrating and horrific. The words were filled with hate, anger and shock.

With this scream Ted came running through the door to see what had happened. The sight before him was like a scene from his worst nightmares. Paddy was on his knees, head in hands, whimpering and rocking forwards and backwards. The floor, walls and ceiling were covered in blood. Hardly an inch of wood or furniture remained untouched by the crimson spray. The charred remains of the midwife were protruding from the fireplace. The fire was not long since extinguished but it was obvious that she had been placed headfirst into the fire. Her legs were unscathed but her head and torso were charred beyond recognition and still smouldering. Based on the scratch marks in the wooden floor and fireplace, she was held down and burned alive. The rest of the room was scattered with limbs. One arm could be found on the bookshelf, oozing blood over the books on lower shelves and dripping onto the floor like a dripping tap. The other arm had been mauled beyond recognition and was sitting on a plate on the dining table at the left of the room. The hands were in vases in the two windows on either side of the front door. The flowers that occupied the vases were scattered over the ground. Each leg had been hacked apart at the knee and the ankle. The parts were scattered in the kitchen and on the beds. It was an open plan area but the focal point in the centre of the room, was a large circular fur rug on the floor above which a chandelier candle holder used to hang. The chandelier was now in the centre of the rug. Hanging from the ceiling was the severed head of Maggie Turner. Her long blonde hair had been stapled to the ceiling with kitchen knives. Her teeth had been smashed and her eyes had been plucked out, only hanging on by the muscle attachments at the back.

Ted ran out of the house and down to the end of the street. There was a bell tower to call the guards not one hundred yards away. He climbed the tower as fast as he could and frantically rang the bell. Within minutes the majority of watch had gathered. Ted climbed down.

"Search the village for intruders. Someone has killed Maggie Turner and her midwife." Ted screamed.

The guards scrambled, each with a set area to search. Some went back to the east gate, others to the west gate to see if anyone had left. Whenever the bell was tolled, the gate watchmen would man their positions rather than going to see what the trouble is.

The master of the guard and a few of his men went to inspect the scene. The sheer horror was too much for even the master of the guard, who had seen some horrendous sights in his time.

Paddy finally looked up, anger and rage replacing his grief and sorrow. He began to walk further into the room. The master of the guard put his hand on Paddy's shoulder to stop him but he was shrugged off.

The commotion had awoken the entire village. Word had spread. It reached the ears of the three sons' of Paddy and Maggie in the small hours of the morning. They went home as fast as possible. They charged into the house and were halted by the scene.

Paddy turned to see who had burst in. His son's looked at him, trembling. There eyes asked the silent question "what has happened here?". Paddy ran across to the three of them and they all embraced. Paddy escorted them outside. They embraced further before Paddy realised something.

"Where is Isabelle?" He shouted loudly. In all the commotion and panic, he had put the baby down but did not know where. Everyone in the street started looking around but the baby was nowhere to be seen. One of the guards suddenly spoke up.

"Look over here."

Paddy, Ted and the master of the guard ran over. The guard was pointing at the ground.

"The imprint in the dirt looks like a baby was laying here." The guard announced.

"This is where Vera was lying." Ted stated pointing at another imprint in the dirt.

"I must have left her here whilst I was helping with Vera." Paddy said. Then it dawned on him.

"Someone must have snatched my baby."

"There are no trails leading to this spot." The master of the guards noticed. "If someone did snatch him, they must not have had any legs."

Vera was within earshot and became hysterical again.

"No legs....the boy said it had no legs.....the silly boy......told him to shut up I did."

Paddy ran across to Vera.

"Who had no legs, Vera?" Paddy asked in a remarkably calm tone given the situation.

"In the shadows......hiding in the shadows.......black."

"What was hiding in the shadows? Tell me, Vera." Paddy's tone was more forceful this time.

"THE DEMON" Screamed Vera. The force of Vera's scream sent Paddy jumping back with surprise. He stood there a moment reflecting on what Vera had said.

Paddy turned to face Ted and the Guards.

"Some sort of Demon." He began. "The only thing I know of that has no legs would be a Wraith. But what would a Wraith be doing here and what would it want with my child?"

"Whatever it is doing, we cannot let it leave. Block the gates. If it, or they, are still here we can hem them in." shouted the master of the guard.

The guards split up. Half ran to the west gate, everyone else, including Paddy, Ted and the Master of the Guard, went to the east. When they arrived they found all the gatekeepers lying on the ground. Their bodies were bloodied but not mutilated.

"This was a quick and precise strike." The Master of the Guard stated coldly.

After a few moments reflecting on this new scene of slaughter, Paddy spoke.

"All this has to have been a ruse. Whoever killed my wife only did it so viciously to distract us from their real target. They were after my daughter all along."

"But why?" asked Ted. What could they gain from kidnapping your daughter?"

"I think maybe I can explain that." The master of the guards stated. "Wait here, I need to go and fetch something."

He returned five minutes later carrying a parchment.

"I received this early last summer. It is an announcement from the King."

It read:

Attention all loyal guards

Extra vigilance is required at this time as something is afoot. It has been noticed that denizens from the Cursed Isle have been raiding the mainland. They seem to be looking for something. At this time we know not what their agenda is. However, we do know that there has been a spate of murders and kidnappings. We must assume that it is a person they are looking for. If anything unusual happens, report to the palace with all haste.

"I would suggest that we get the village cleaned up and then go and report what has happened." Ted stated.

"I feel that the sooner we set off the better." the master of the guards agreed. "Tomorrow a group of my finest men will escort Paddy to the palace. There the day's tragic events will be recounted and a course of action should be taken. The King respects Paddy and I believe that he will help."

"I would rather go tonight." Paddy said. "To wait until tomorrow will only give the kidnappers a head start. We need to move now."

"As you wish, Paddy. I will organise the cleanup and your departure within the hour."

"Thank you. I am going to say my goodbyes to my wife."

Paddy could not bear to go back into the house to see his wife's mutilated body once more. Instead he pushed open the door and sat on the porch with his eyes closed.

"My Love," He started, "every day we have spent together have been the happiest days of my life. You have given me love and enabled me to feel love. You were everything that was right in the world. It was a cruel fate that took you away from me. I want you to rest easy now. Do not worry about Isabelle. I will find a way to save her. She carries your spirit and I will have her back. I love you, Maggie. Goodbye." He closed the door, and walked away.

*****

### Chapter 1

The journey to the palace took three days of travel on horseback. They had made good progress. The only hitch came when one of the guards' horses fell over and became lame. The horse had to be put down and the guard had to double up on another horse. There were ten members of the party; Paddy Turner, his eldest son, John, and eight guards. Each day they rode hard. They stopped only when the horses could go on no longer.

They arrived at the city of Thorvale just after sunrise. The city had been named after the Kingdom two generations ago. It was going to be named Thorntonvale to match the Kingdom name exactly but the King of the time, King Thar felt that it would be too vein.

The city was majestic. The streets had quality cobbled paving. The buildings were equipped with running water and indoor sanitary systems. The city had a massive underground network of sewers. It was a haven for those with money. The palace stood in the centre of the town. The buildings and streets seemed to spiral out from the centre. The city looked like a spider's web from above. The palace itself was not overly flash. It was designed to be functional rather than majestic. To compensate for the lack of pomp in the palace itself, the rich locals had their houses and mansions decorated up in the grandest of fashions.

As the party marched through the streets of Thorvale, the people hardly gave them a passing glance, so used they were to the hustle and bustle of city life. If a small army marched through there would barely be a raised eyebrow. Some of the guards in the party looked upon the city with awe as did John Turner. Paddy had spent a lot of his life here so was not quite as impressed. The main street cut a straight line to the palace. The houses were all three and four storeys high, each one attached to the next in a sort of uneven terrace. Some of the houses had a balcony; others just had flags and other strange items hanging from the windows. One house had the skin of a dead bear hanging from the second floor window. It was perhaps appropriate as the market stall for the fur trader was located directly in front of the house. Stalls selling every item imaginable lined the street all the way to the palace. The traders shouted above the din to attract the attention of potential customers, each competing with the next to be heard over the natural din of the crowd. As the party neared the palace, the road opened up into a small plaza. At the centre of the plaza stood the palace. Around the edge, a number of different buildings stood. Most looked like modern mansions, built to house the numerous dignitaries that resided in Thorvale. However, one building stood out more than the others. It was an old looking building, a cross between a church and a town hall. The building was both long and high. This was the academy. Since the days of King Thar, the first ruler of Thorvale, this building had been used to train the military. Each member of the King's Army had to attend the academy at some point. It was a place that demanded respect. Unfortunately, things had taken a turn for the worst at the academy as the instructors of old were retiring or dying and the new instructors did not possess the same level of experience.

The party arrived at the palace gates shortly before noon. As they approached, the gate watchmen barred their way.

"Halt." the first watchman said. "State your business."

"My name is Paddy Turner and I bring word to the King from Horton Peak."

The watchman entered the lower room of the watchtower. He came back with a stern look on his face.

"You are not expected. What business do you have?"

"We are here to report on a disturbing occurrence that happened but three days ago." Paddy began. "The rest of our business is for the King's ears only. Let me pass."

"Do not presume to give orders to a member of the King's watch, farmer boy. I will have you hung if you do not show respect." the watchman stated angrily.

Paddy was beginning to get frustrated.

"Look you little weasel, if I have to hack my way through I will but time is of the utmost importance. Delaying my business may cost people their lives."

The commotion was heard by another watchman atop the tower. He leaned over the wall to see what was going on.

"Well I'll be damned." The watchman said to himself. He left his post and came bounding down the tower. By the time he reached the gate, swords had been drawn.

"Paddy" the watchman shouted with delight.

Paddy looked up. An amazed and delighted smile crossed his face.

"Well, well, if it isn't William Warhound. How are you?" Paddy sheathed his sword and walked straight past the first watchman.

"It has been a long time my friend" said William.

"Too long" replied Paddy.

"What brings you here?"

"I need to speak to the King urgently. It is a matter that cannot wait. Can you get me in?" Paddy asked.

"Of course I can but under one condition." William said.

"What is it?"

"You will spare me a bit of time to have a drink and a chinwag when you are done."

"You have a deal" replied Paddy.

The first watchman looked bemused. Paddy walked up to him and whispered in his ear.

"Take care of the horses, there's a good chap." He patted him on the back for good measure. The first watchman was incensed, his face visibly reddened. He turned towards Paddy and began to move forward to pick a fight when William Warhound spoke.

"Put that damn sword away and deal with the horses." He ordered.

The first watchman's shoulders slumped. "This is a job for a bloody dog." He stated.

"It is better to be the dog rather than the dog meat." William began. "And dog meat is what you would have been if you had picked a fight with that man."

"And just who is that man?" The first watchman asked in a nonchalant tone of voice.

"That, my lad, is Paddy Turner. He was one of the finest fighters to ever pick up a blade."

The name seemed familiar to the first watchman. He pondered it for a moment. William caught up to the party who were patiently waiting for him in the courtyard just through the gate. Then the realisation hit the first watchman.

"Chaos Slayer?" He shouted to William referring to the nickname Paddy had earned himself when he used to be in the army. Paddy had gained the name after single handedly repelling a raiding party of thirty monsters from Cursed Isle. Only one had managed to escape. The story had been told for many a year, each time becoming more and more exaggerated. William turned to the first watchman and winked; a wry smile on his face.

William escorted the party through the palace. The many corridors led to a great hall. Positioned around the walls of the great hall were bent and buckled swords, shields and armour.

The spoils of a hundred battles or more, displayed as a warning to all those who would enter the palace with thoughts other than peace and harmony. The party entered the hall from the North. To the East and West were the entrances from the royal wing of the palace and the barracks/servants quarters. At the Southern end of the hall was a flight of steps leading to the seats of the King, Queen and personal aids. The throne was of simple design. It was made out of quality wood rather than precious metal. Upon the throne sat, King Henried, the First of his name. He was not a particularly tall man only topping 5'8" in his prime. Now in his 50's the King was starting to look frail. His body was failing him. His many battles had left him scarred and weathered. Many injuries had failed to heal properly. Henried was a fearless warrior who now made for a shrewd King.

"Speak" the King said in a deep and authoritarian tone.

"My Lord," Paddy began, "I bring disturbing news from the town of Horton Peak. I also come to beg the aid of the royal court."

"Many beg the aid of the royal court. I never expected my former Commander to be doing the same. State your business."

At that point the door to the east opened. In walked a tall and muscular male dressed in the royal robes. His hair was long and black. He had the bluest eyes yet there seemed to be arrogance in them. His face was chiselled with an expression of supreme confidence. The sight of this character made Paddy's blood boil. It was Prince Cohen, second heir to the throne of Thorntonvale. Paddy resisted the urge to throttle him. The Prince took his place by his father's side.

"Three days ago, my wife gave birth to my daughter, Isabelle. As is the custom, I took the newborn child with me to the local Tavern and enjoyed merriment with the locals. When I returned I found the wife of my neighbour on the ground outside my house. She had collapsed from the sight she saw inside." Paddy began to choke with the memory of that night's events and struggled to tell the next part.

"I entered my house to find the midwife had been burned alive in the fireplace and my wife had been...." He stopped to compose himself. Tears were running down his cheek.

"...had been dismembered. In the shock of the moment I forgot about my child who I had laid on the ground outside whilst I helped my neighbour's wife. In the chaos and shock of the moment, someone or something kidnapped my child."

"What does this have to do with the royal court?" Prince Cohen asked looking visibly bored. "Surely this is a matter for the local town watch at Horton Peak."

Paddy looked at Cohen with a cold stare.

"Whoever stole my child, My Lord, we believe was not human." Paddy Replied.

"What makes you assume that?" The King enquired in a gentler manner.

"The baby and the woman both left definite imprints in the dirt where they had laid. The woman had made footprints when she awoke and ran up the street. They were clear and easy to trace. However, no footprints were left leading up to or away from my child."

The King contemplated this reasoning for a moment. Then it dawned on him.

"Your assumption can mean only one thing," he began, "a Wraith."

"Yes, My Lord. That is what we believe." Paddy confirmed.

"We have had many instances of kidnapping and murder over the last year. We believe that the denizens of the Cursed Isle are plotting something but as yet, we do not know what. We also are disturbed to see them acting in an organised way. Something is controlling them but again, we know not what. Most of the people who have been kidnapped were either newborn babies or infants of no more than one year old. Most have been from families who have special talents. Why would they kidnap a farmers' daughter?"

"I do not know. I do know that I need your help in getting my daughter back."

"Paddy, my friend," the King spoke in a soft tone, "you know I will help you but we cannot just rush into things. The Cursed Isle is almost impenetrable. Our armies would be cut down instantly."

"Adventurers" Paddy interrupted.

"That is what I was thinking. We will hire the best adventurers in the land, pay them whatever they demand and get them to infiltrate the Cursed Isle and find out what is going on. Once we know, we can take action."

"I would like to be in the adventurers' party." Paddy began. "It is my daughter that has gone missing and I deserve the chance to rescue her."

I would like to send you, Paddy. I would even like to go myself but look at us. Our minds may be as sharp as ever but our bodies won't allow us to do what we used to do. My friend, we need new blood." The King spoke the truth and in his heart Paddy knew this.

"Then let me send my son. He is well trained and will be an asset to the group."

Prince Cohen couldn't pass up an opportunity to embarrass Paddy. Ever since the day Paddy had stood against him with the Prince's own troops, Cohen wanted to get even. He wanted to make Paddy look foolish. Even in light of the current situation, Cohen felt no compassion; only the need for revenge.

"Your son may be well trained but is he experienced in mortal combat. A good adventurer needs to be so." The Prince had smugness written all over his face.

Paddy's answer shocked him with its boldness.

"He would hack you up into little pieces." There was a pause before he added "My Lord".

Cohen stood up sharply; a fit of rage had boiled up inside him.

"Let us prove it then."

Cohen walked quickly towards John. As he neared, the Prince drew his sword and lunged. John reacted quickly but did not have a sword at hand. He looked around franticly trying to find something he could defend himself with. Cohen lunged, slashed with a forehand and then carried the momentum into a backhand slice. John had magnificent footwork. He stepped to the side, slivered backwards and made sure he was well out of the way. He saw a battered shield lying on the floor near the north entrance. Sprinting to reach it before Cohen could stab him; he threw himself across the marble floor stopping precisely at the right point to pick up the shield. He grabbed it and scrambled to his feet. Cohen still felt that he had the upper hand. John too, was confident he could win now. Cohen threw a volley of thrusts, lunges and slashes. John used the shield well, encouraging Cohen to attack harder. He obliged. Cohen was getting angry. Every thrust was parried. He was supremely fit and John realised that he would not be able to wear his opponent down. As Cohen thrust again, John bent his knees deeply and angled the shield so the blade bounced of in an upward motion. John then tackled Cohen to the ground and sprang up onto the Prince's chest. Using his knees to brace Cohen's arms, John proceeded to punch the Prince several times in the face.

"Do you give up?" John asked calmly.

Cohen spat blood filled phlegm in John's face. Four punches later John asked again only this time a bit more forcefully.

"Do you give up?"

The face of the Prince lost all visible aggression.

"Yes" he replied dejectedly.

"Impressive, young Turner, you have shown great skill and resourcefulness." The King praised. "Paddy, I feel that it is most appropriate that your son goes on this adventure. I also believe that Cohen will benefit from this too. Maybe it will cure his hot head."

"As long as he doesn't endanger the mission; his hot head has caused many problems in the past." Paddy didn't like the idea of Cohen going on a mission with his son. He felt that he may betray him. Cohen may have lost in a fair fight but he was cunning and devious.

"Do not worry. I have in mind one adventurer who will keep the whole party under control."

"And who may that be?" Paddy enquired.

"Her name is Anree, otherwise know as The Healer. She is a Priestess of the Sacred Hills."

"I have heard of her. I also hear she is one of the few people left in the world to possess magical ability. Why do you think she will keep the group under control?"

The King looked at Paddy with a knowing smile.

"Because, my good man, she has more guile about her of anyone I have ever met. She possesses a level head and she can turn a man to stone just by looking at him. Fear and respect for this woman will make the others tow the line. Also, my beloved son here has had some dealings with her in the past."

Cohen looked down at the floor as all eyes turned to him. The King continued,

"Cohen felt that she would be good game for the hunt, if you catch my meaning. He tried wooing her."

"What happened?" Paddy asked with pricked ears.

"Oh, she cast a spell on him. It made him believe that his manhood had dropped off. I remember him running up to the doctor asking him to sew it back on. Of course it was a simple illusion. He actually had a sausage from the kitchen in his hand and his manhood was intact." The King began to chuckle aloud. Soon the rest followed. Cohen had gone a deep shade of red.

"I bet he didn't try wooing Anree again." Paddy stated, still trying to curb his laughter. "What did they call him after that?" Paddy asked.

"Sausage boy" Replied the King now in hysterical laughter.

With that the Prince stood up and stormed out of the great hall.

"That was cruel, My Lord." Paddy said to the King.

"I'm glad he has gone." The King said in a calmer tone of voice. "I should never have put Cohen as the General of my army over you. It was rash of me and in hindsight I admit it was a mistake; one that the Kingdom has paid for dearly. Your tragedy would not have happened if you were in charge."

Paddy appreciated the apology. He believed that he would never see the day. He was gracious in his acceptance.

"My Lord, do not feel bad. Family ties are the strongest in the world. You would not be human if you did not want the best for your sons. After all, leadership is what they have been raised for since childhood. You cannot be responsible for their temperament though."

"Ever the gentleman, Paddy." The king proclaimed. "Let us not waist any more time. Your child is in peril and we need to find out what is afoot."

The mention of Isabelle brought a feeling of guilt to Paddy. "How could I enjoy a laugh and a joke at a time like this?" He said to himself.

John heard this. "Do not fret, Father. Sometimes laughter is needed to keep you sane."

Paddy looked at his son and smiled. "How did you become so wise?" he asked.

"I had the best teacher." John replied returning the smile.

The King started to scribble upon a parchment the summons to those adventurers he had chosen.

"Guards" he called when he had finished.

Two guards entered the great hall.

"Send riders to deliver this message to those whom it pertains."

With that the guards went about their duty.

"I assume you will be gracious enough to accept my hospitality and enjoy a stay at the palace until this ugly business has been resolved?" The King asked Paddy.

"My Lord, I would be delighted. Even as the commander of your armies, I do not remember ever being invited to stay at your palace." Paddy replied.

"But that did not deter you from spending many a night here entertaining my serving wenches, if I remember rightly."

"Well my lord, even the servants need servicing." Paddy retorted. Both smiled at each other.

"Come" The King shouted.

The King escorted Paddy, John and the guards to quarters where they could stay.

That night Paddy went out to drown his sorrows and catch up with his old friend William.

*****

### Chapter 2

The ferry neared the landing. Mist swirled over the water, crawling down from the hills of the Cursed Isle. On board the ferry, the four Wraiths and Isabelle Turner were moving closer to their destination. It had been an easy kidnapping for the Wraiths but they had not been able to get back to the ferry. A patrol of the King's Guard, one of the many different units that made up the King's Army, had found their ferry beached on the shore about two miles away from Horton Peak. Figuring that something from the Cursed Isle had come onto the mainland, the patrol had laid in waiting for the owners of the boat to return. The Wraiths had returned just as the trap was being set. They saw the hiding places of each man. There were too many to take on, twenty soldiers in all. Three of the Wraiths took Isabelle and moved on to a series of caves that were once used by the now defunct smugglers guild. The caves were only an hour away from the ferry but they were warm. If they were going to have to hold up a while, they needed to make sure the child was well looked after. The stronger the child, the more likely the plan would work.

The fourth Wraith had to stand watch. Upon the first sign that the patrol were leaving, the Wraiths would have to take their chance. This didn't happen for two days. The patrol had to leave to re-supply. Only a skeleton watch remained; six men in all. The Wraith called to the others. They could communicate over this distance with their connection in the ether world. They could also move very swiftly when they had to. The hour long journey only took twenty minutes this time. They laid the baby in long grass to protect it from view and the elements. Then they proceeded to hunt down the remaining guards. Wraiths were fantastic warriors because they used their advantage of stealth and speed every time. They approached the guards from the rear; their approach inaudible to the human ear. Four of the guards never knew what hit them. Synchronising their attack, the Wraiths had struck. The remaining two guards heard the gargling of their colleagues as blood filled their throats. They jumped into the open, scanning the landscape, so they could get a better glimpse of anyone approaching. The Wraiths came at them with a classic flanking manoeuvre. Two headed straight for the guards whilst two circled behind. The guards braced for the frontal assault but it never came. As their last action, both guards looked down at the blade that was protruding from their bellies; shocked expressions on their faces. The Wraiths gathered Isabelle and departed on the ferry.

It was now the fourth night since the kidnapping. As they neared the landing, a horrific figure could be seen awaiting their arrival. The figure was extremely tall standing fully seven feet high and broad, too. If two heavily muscled men stood side by side, they would not even come close to how wide this figure was. No features could be seen. He was hidden by his armour. It was pitch black in colour with lethal looking spikes protruding from the shoulder plates, forearm protectors, knee plates and one large spike out of the toes of each boot. This figure was an awesome sight. This figure was The Watcher.

The ferry landed and some goblins helped moor the boat and keep it steady for the Wraiths departure.

The Watcher spoke. His voice was so deep and gruff that the words were barely audible. It was also slow and old sounding like The Watcher had been alive for thousands of years.

"Is this the one?" The Watcher asked pointing a long, twisted finger towards the child.

The Wraith replied in a high pitched whisper.

"Yes, master, I believe it is."

Another Wraith began.

"Can you feel the aura surrounding this one?"

All the Wraiths then talked in unison.

"The power burns, it burns."

The Watcher took the child in his massive hands. He examined it thoroughly as if trying to find a mark of some kind.

"It has no marks, no symbols." The Watcher said. "But the power is there. I can smell its purity like the vile smell of fresh flowers. It makes me sick."

The Watcher turned his attention to the child again.

"I could crush you in the palm of my hand, little one. But my master would be most angry if I did. No, you will be his." A strange glow seemed to emanate from The Watcher's helm. It was if he was smiling.

"Come," The Watcher beckoned. "Our journey back to Blackheart Castle may not be as easy as we anticipate. A horde of Barbarians have arrived from the mainland for their annual sport. They are hunting the Orcs and the Goblins in this region. They kill anything that gets in their way."

With the child, the evil minions began their journey.

The charge was on. They had spotted a group of Orcs just off the Western shore of the island. They looked like a pack of rabid dogs. Possessed and totally berserk with blood lust, they raced across the fields, screaming and shouting war cries. The Orcs had only enough time to draw their swords and turn to face their assailants. They had nowhere to run. Behind them were the cliffs overlooking the Western sea. They had to stand but the sight of a hundred fearsome barbarians charging across the fields gave them the overwhelming desire to flee. Fear for their lives made them stand and give the most spirited defence they could. Amongst the marauding horde of barbarians was Rhyll, a mercenary by trade but also a loyal member of his clan. His sword could be bought by the highest bidder but he would always make a point to participate in the traditions of his people. He stood at 6'5", was heavily muscled, wearing simple barbarian leather armour. He had long brown hair, braided, hanging down to the middle of his back. He was the typical barbarian cliché. His strength had been forged in the mines. Wielding a pickaxe and a mallet each day had developed Rhyll into a character of supreme strength and fitness. He wielded a two handed bastard sword with serrated edges for extra sharpness. This fearless warrior was at the forefront of the charge. The barbarians crashed through first three lines of the Orcs defence before their momentum failed. Rhyll had decapitated three Orcs on the way into the fray and run his sword through the midriff of a fourth. Now he was in the middle of them all and surrounded. His sword was five foot long and weighed a tremendous 8 Stone. Rhyll waved it around like it was a feather. He swung the sword in a wide arc around his body to keep his enemies back. One jumped at him to take a swing. Rhyll spun around and swung his sword to meet the oncoming blade of the Orc. Rhyll's blade shattered the Orc's sword and continued its motion straight through the torso his torso, cutting him in half. Momentum carried Rhyll on. One fell then two. Every parry was an attack; every attack drew fresh blood and severed limbs. The Orcs were no match for the barbarians. The battle was over in minutes. As the last Orc fell, an eerie silence spread across the battlefield like the silence of the land after heavy snowfall. The barbarians surveyed the scene, admiring their work and taking in a moment of quiet reflection. As Rhyll stepped over a seemingly lifeless Orc body, his large right foot stood on its hand. The Orc flinched with the pain. In an instant, Rhyll raised his bastard sword above his head and brought the blade bearing down on the Orc, tip first. The blade pierced the Orc between the shoulder blades and went straight through, cracking bone and ripping tissue, into the ground. Rhyll stood up, placed his foot on the lower back of the Orc and unceremoniously ripped the blade out. The torso of the now lifeless creature was violently yanked upward. A loud crack could be heard across the battlefield as the Orc's spine snapped. Rhyll looked around to see all eyes fixed on him. Still the silence hung in the air. Rhyll then broke the silence.

"That's the last of them." He shouted.

Cheers rang up all over the battlefield. As was the barbarian custom, it was now time to feast on the limbs of the enemy. Firewood was collected and large bonfires ignited. The edible limbs of the Orcs were severed and placed on splints to be barbequed. The only thing the barbarians missed when they came to the Cursed Isle was the ale. Songs were sung and stories penned about the latest triumph of the barbarians. Then there was the ritual comparing of numbers. The barbarians were an honourable and honest race. Each would call out their number of kills; the one with the most had the honour of spending the night away from the pack. If this person survived the night, he would be the leader of the tribe for the next year. If not, he who is leader at the moment will remain.

The numbers were called out around the fire.

"Six." came the first call.

"Ten." the second.

"Only two" came the next call, a bit softly.

"Fourteen" shouted Rhyll.

The calls kept coming but nobody could top the total of Rhyll. Then as the last call was bellowed out, the number was the same.

"Fourteen" The final barbarian shouted.

The leader of the barbarians addressed his men.

"We have a tie." He shouted excitedly. "As is our tradition, both men will be cast out into the wilderness for the night. They will go their separate ways. If one survives, he shall be our leader. If both survive, the contest will be settled in combat." A loud cheer erupted. The prospect of two barbarians fighting for the crown was mouth-watering. Barbarians never fight there own. That has been the rule for centuries in Thorntonvale. The only time it happens is when the leadership is contested. Most of the current generation of barbarians were not around when the last leadership contest took place. The ones that were witnessed one of the greatest duels in history. The fight lasted nearly two hours. In the end, very little was left of either man, the wounds of both proved to be fatal.

"Both of you will be escorted to a location near to a known enemy camp." The leader began, bringing everyone out of their little daydreams. "Your escorts will then leave you to fend for yourselves. When the first rays of light appear on the 'morrow, you can return to camp. Good luck and may the gods smile down on you."

With that the two men were escorted away from the camp.

Rhyll and the other Barbarian, Degg, were led towards a forest. From a distance it looked so dense that even a rabbit would not be able to get through. The real name for the forest was Fairthesal. However, the inhabitants of the mainland simply called it Terror Trees. The reason for this was evident as the group got nearer. Rhyll noticed that all the trees were ancient and crooked. Some looked like they had faces on them; evil faces. As brave as he was, Rhyll did not like the look of this. He had only one important piece of information that might work to his advantage; he knew who his enemy were likely to be. The goblins are a small and slender race. They prefer to fight from a distance using arrows rather than engage in hand to hand combat. The goblins are cunning and in their own environment, can be deadly. They also had one major skill that made them very dangerous opponents; they can see in the dark.

"Lend me your sword and shield" Rhyll demanded from one of the guards knowing that he would be cannon fodder if he only had his bastard sword. The guard was gracious enough to oblige.

"You can have everything I own for all the good it will do you" the escort said.

"What do you mean by that?" Rhyll asked, feeling a little uneasy.

"I have been alive for many years. I have been on the hunt many times. I have escorted the finest warriors into this forest and non have ever returned."

"Are you trying to fill me with confidence or is it just the motivational speaker in you?" Rhyll asked sarcastically.

The escort grabbed Rhyll's arm firmly.

"Listen to me. This may not be the barbarian way but you must do it. Hide. Bury yourself in the ground, climb the highest tree. Do whatever you can because once they know where you are, you will die." The escort let go of his arm and walked to the back of the group. Rhyll appreciated the insight. The party split up. Degg was escorted around the edge of the forest border until he was on the exact opposite side to where Rhyll was entering. Both competitors had the same chance of winning or losing. This was the ultimate test. The forest of Fairthesal was rarely used for this test. Only those that were exceptional warriors or not well liked were sent here. It just so happened that both competitors were exceptional warriors but, in addition, Degg was not well liked. Most felt that he never had the heart of a true barbarian. When not with the tribe, his life was far too civilised. He once ran the tavern in Horton Peak. This was a mundane existence in the eyes of the barbarian clans and as such, Degg was the person who the rest loved to hate. The escorts left Degg to ponder this fact.

At the other side of the forest, Rhyll was also contemplating the situation. He knew that if it were not for Degg, he would have been given a simpler challenge. The escorts left him as the sun was setting. The shadows of the trees crept forward from all angles. It felt like doom, closing in to engulf him. There was a dilemma building up inside. His nature was to stand and face whatever came at him, head-on. However, he knew that there was something to be said for being old and wise. His escort had knowledge and wisdom. It was clear by looking in his eyes. Only the foolish man would ignore the advice of the wise.

The forest was now black. Rhyll couldn't see the trees around him. It was like he had been blindfolded. He was used to being in such black conditions working in the mines but the forest was something different. Shadows seemed to shift. He tried walking around to test the ground and to see if he could form a picture of the land in his mind. He stumbled time and time again. When he thought he knew a small patch of land he was horrified to find that it seemed to change each time he walked across it.

Faint screams broke the silence. They were far away. Rhyll stood motionless, listening for the next sound. Again there were screams. This time there were more of them. They were coming closer. For the first time in his life, Rhyll was experiencing fear. His thoughts briefly turned to Degg, wondering if he was feeling the same thing. Rhyll's focus soon turned back to the matter at hand. His heart was beating hard; he could hear it in his ears. The screams came again only closer. It felt like whatever was coming for him was picking up pace. Rhyll started to feel around for a place to hide. He felt the roots on the ground desperately seeking a hole or a shelter where he would not be seen. There was nothing. They were all either too spaced apart or too tight to hide him. He tried feeling the base of a number of trees looking for a hollow. Again there was nothing suitable. The last choice was to climb a tree and hope the leaves and branches would hide him from the goblins. It was a difficult and clumsy task to get up the tree. The darkness hindered Rhyll each step of the way. His sheer size and bulk alone made the task seemingly impossible. Barbarians were not natural climbers. He made it just in time. The screams were nearly upon him. Footsteps could be heard in the rustling of the leaves. Rhyll was on a very thick branch quite high up the tree. He lay flat along it to hide his shadow. Whatever had been approaching was now directly below him. He was trying not to breath but every breath he took seemed to be amplified. He was sure that whatever was down there could hear his heart beating out of his chest. Then all the rustling below ceased. All that was left was the thumping of his heartbeat. The last remnant of the cloud blew over revealing a full moon. Suddenly the forest lit up enough for Rhyll to see. He cautiously looked down from his branch. There was nothing on the ground. Suddenly something caught his eye. Something was climbing the trunk of the tree. He looked more closely, squinting his eyes to try to focus better. There was not one thing climbing the tree. There were many.

"Goblins" He thought to himself.

He turned back and there was one stood over him, sword drawn above its head. The goblin struck down. Rhyll parried the flat edge of the blade with his hand and used the goblin's momentum to throw it off the tree. More came onto the branch, they came from below and some dropped from above. Rhyll backed away from the trunk to the furthest point of the branch that he felt would hold him. He had his sword and shield at the ready. A line of goblins were in front of him but not advancing.

"Come on then, lets get this over with" Rhyll shouted at his first opponent. Suddenly there was a dull thud in the branch just below his foot. He looked down. DING, his shield rang out.

"Arrows" he thought to himself. He needed to find cover. He could not see where the arrows were coming from. Rhyll charged the first goblin. His attack knocked the goblin back into those stood behind. Some fell off the branch; the rest fell on their backs. With precision and still on the move, Rhyll thrust his sword into each goblin in turn. The arrows where whistling past him. They were now coming from the left and the right. As he neared the trunk of the tree, another arrow struck his shield, knocking him off balance. Rhyll fell. He crashed through a couple of brittle branches that snapped under his weight. Then he landed stomach first, on another thick branch. He felt a rib pop; his breath flew out of his lungs. He scrambled to his feet. Looking around he could see that the leaves and branches were denser above him. This gave him a few seconds away from the gaze of the archers. The odds were against him, this he knew. There didn't seem to be an escape. The ground was the only place at this moment that didn't have goblins crawling all over it. Rhyll took a deep breath and flung himself from the tree. As he landed, the ground gave way and he fell into a pit. Rhyll scrambled to his feet, shook the dirt and leaves off his face and looked around. It was a tunnel. He wasted no time in running down the tunnel without a thought about which direction he was going in. He needed to escape. As he ran he noticed that the tunnel was supported by the tree roots. They had been positioned to form an arch all the way along. The tunnels were dimly lit with crystals. They were perfectly spaced. Someone lived down here. It didn't take long to realise that these tunnels were created by the goblins. There was writing at key junctions. These must have been signposts but Rhyll could not read them. At last, Rhyll entered a large chamber. The walls and ceiling were covered with rotting corpses and skeletons. Some were human; others were Orcs and other denizens of the Cursed Isle. In the centre of the room, there was a pit with a large grate covering it. Curious, Rhyll moved up to the pit and peered in. He could see nothing in the darkness. Suddenly, a giant snake smashed into the grate and then slumped back down again. Rhyll jumped away from the grate, heart beating wildly.

"What was that?" He said aloud.

Screams could be heard coming from the passageway that he came down. Giving the grate a wide berth, he continued onward. Only a couple of hours had passed. Dawn was not for another 6 hours. He pressed on further into the tunnels. Finally he found a passageway leading upwards. He followed this. It led to a set of ladders leading up into a hollow tree. Rhyll climbed up and peered out. There was a clearing. The moon made everything visible. This felt like as good a place as any to surface. In the centre of the clearing there was an altar. Cautiously, Rhyll moved in for a closer look. On the altar were words written in all known languages. It read:

The power of the gods fills those who are worthy. Blood will create a seal between the gods and the earth. Words will be spoken in praise. One wish we shall grant the worthy but no more. If greed consumes you, death will swallow you.

"Cryptic nonsense" Rhyll said out loud.

The forest suddenly came to life. Fires broke out around the clearing. There was no sound but Rhyll, blinded by the orange glow of the fires, could sense a thousand eyes upon him. The flames started to move closer. Each torch was so close together that it appeared to be one big ring of fire.

"Goblin's are afraid of fire" Rhyll reasoned to himself.

A large beast stepped forth in front of the flames. Rhyll felt his heart sink.

"Ogres" he said to himself.

He looked around frantically for an escape. Spotting the passage he had entered via, he dashed forwards. As he neared a Goblin jumped out. It was followed by many more.

"This is it" He thought to himself. "I am going to die."

He turned and looked at the altar. He didn't give it much thought. Rhyll ran up to the altar. He drew his sword and slashed his hand. Slamming his bloody palm onto the alter he offered a quick prayer to his god. He screamed,

"Let it be morning, let me be away from this forest."

The Ogres and goblins were closing in. Slowly they came, taunting their prey. Suddenly the altar began to glow. The light was pure and bright. Rhyll had no idea what would happen. He could feel his body being filled with energy. There was a flash.......

Birds could be heard chirping little songs. A cool breeze swept across Rhyll's face. Slowly he opened his eyes. The light was blindingly bright. It was the sun. Rhyll sprung to his feet with a newfound energy. He looked around. The edge of the forest was but a few metres from him but he recognised it as the entrance where he had been escorted to.

Relief washed over him. He felt a welling up inside. A tear trickled down his cheek. Rhyll then cleared his throat and said to himself.

"Pull yourself together, boy. You are a barbarian not a snivelling child. What would the rest of the tribe say if they saw you like this?"

He had one final look at the forest.

"Never again." He proclaimed, a shiver running down his spine.

Rhyll turned and headed back to the camp. As he wondered back, his thoughts again turned to Degg.

"If by some strange twist of fate, that bastard survived, I am going to skin him alive." He said to himself.

It was noon when Rhyll arrived back at the camp. Cheers rang up all around. His escorts ran up to congratulate him.

"I don't know how you did it my lad," began the old escort who had talked to him the day before, "but you are an amazing man."

Rhyll whispered his reply.

"It was run and hide all the way." He said with a smile.

The conversation continued until they arrived at the centre of the camp. Degg was standing there waiting.

"You took your time, Rhyll." Degg began. "I would have expected you to be back before me. After all, you were dropped off at the side of the forest closest to the camp."

Rhyll looked at Degg, closely inspecting his manner and condition. Degg did not have a scratch on him.

"You managed to get out unscathed I see." Rhyll said.

"I did. However, I am surprised that you managed to get out at all." Degg said with arrogant tones.

"How so?" Rhyll asked.

"Well I happened to stumble across a group of Ogres who somehow mistook me for one of their own. I know not if it was my size or the fact it was dark but they agreed to help me. I sent them in your direction as I knew they would also drive the Goblins to you."

Rhyll looked at his opponent in amazement. He could not believe this story. He felt there was more to it than met the eye but he also realised that Degg was very cunning. This was a quality that Rhyll did not possess in abundance and was necessary for leadership.

The leader of the tribe then shouted over the conversation the two contestants were having.

"Now both contenders are back, we need to decide who will be leader." the leader of the tribe proclaimed. Rhyll interrupted.

"After the night I have had, there will be no contest. I concede defeat. I have only one desire and that is to get off this island as quickly as possible."

Rhyll's words were met with a wall of silence. The moment seemed to last a lifetime. Finally the leader spoke.

"So be it. We have a new leader."

With that the crown was passed on to Degg.

Degg approached Rhyll, crown in hand, with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Why did you concede?" He began. "I have never heard of this happening before. You could have been the leader."

Rhyll stood upright with genuine pride. He shouted so that all around him could here.

"I did what I felt was best for the tribe. I have never had a desire to lead. In the best interests of the clan, I allowed you to take the title of leader and I feel no shame in my decision." All eyes were now looking at Rhyll. At this moment, Rhyll felt that he would be cast out of his clan and branded a coward. Then Degg addressed the horde.

"I know what a lot of you are thinking at this moment. You believe that Rhyll had displayed an act of cowardice. I challenge any one of you to call this man a coward. If we had duelled for the right to be leader, I have no doubt that Rhyll would be wearing this crown now. As it is, our finest warrior has stepped aside to allow someone with a broader knowledge of strategy to take over. Rhyll recognised this quality in me and although I have long been looked upon as an outcast, I want you all now to know that I will be working for the greater good of this clan and I want all of you to stand with me so we can be united against our enemies."

Each barbarian stood in contemplative silence. They digested the words their new leader had just spoken. Then the aged warrior who escorted Rhyll to Fairthesal forest stepped forward.

"Long have I fought with the horde but never in my whole life have I witnessed anything like what has happened today. Long have we needed a good strategist as a leader. If you swear to me that you will help our tribe evolve, I will swear allegiance."

"To that end, you have my solemn oath." Degg replied.

Rhyll spoke, "To that end, our new leader will have my support. My sword is his to do with as he sees fit."

Each and every barbarian that witnessed this event knew that this was a turning point in the history of the barbarians. All embraced the change willingly. All warmed to their new leader and no ill feeling was directed towards Rhyll. Loud cheers erupted.

The merriment was delayed until the barbarians had returned to the mainland. The barbarians were akin to Gypsies. They had no one place they called home. They did have places of worship however. One such place could be found at the foot of the Sacred Hills. The barbarian horde arrived here after three days travel. They arrived tired and hungry. Each man had earned his rest and non more than Rhyll. Upon arrival at their Sacred Shrine, a messenger approached.

"I would speak to Rhyll the Barbarian" proclaimed the messenger.

Rhyll stepped forward.

"I am he."

"You are summoned to the palace. The King requests that you attend to help with a matter most urgent. Name the price for your service and the king will pay it."

Rhyll smiled from ear to ear. He was a great adventurer and he already had a small fortune safely hidden away.

"Tell your King that I need to take some well needed rest but shall arrive exactly one week from now. If I can make it sooner then I will."

The messenger took a bow and departed. Rhyll pondered the message. The thought of being able to name his price to the King of the land was a pleasant one. With that thought, Rhyll returned to his shelter and took his rest.

*****

### Chapter 3

Thorntonvale has two major cities, the first being Thorvale. Home to all the rich and famous, Thorvale was very much the idyllic city. A thriving economy allowed traders of every conceivable type of consumable to ply their trade. Traders from far and wide all make regular trips to sell their wares and to make a living. The residents of the main streets had to literally fight their way into and out of their homes; such was the popularity of the city. The second city of Thorntonvale, Beskholme, was quite the opposite. This is where those who were poverty stricken came to try to carve out a meagre existence. In stark contrast to the cobbled streets and beautifully decorated white houses, Beskholme was grey and murky. It was very much an industrial city. Large factories stood towering over nearby houses, some sending plumes of smoke and soot high into the air which then settled on the buildings below. There was a small market in the centre of town. It paled in comparison with the market in Thorvale but it sold the basic goods the people of the city needed to survive. Alongside the legitimate traders, the rouges and the corrupt came to ply their lawless trades.

This was also where Conrad D'Abor could be found lurking in the shadows. Beskholme may not have been as grand as Thorvale but it had some rich inhabitants. The advantage for a thief like Conrad is that nobody was likely to call the guards if they found some of their possessions have inadvertently gone missing. Nobody in Beskholme likes the law snooping around. Almost everyone has something to hide. Conrad liked the thrill of an adventure. Every day was a new adventure for him. Pick a target, plan a course of action to get in undetected and steal whatever he fancied. This was his life. It was the life of a thief.

Conrad had been doing this since childhood. He had been raised on the streets and stealing was the only way of life he knew. Most days he would venture into the market place to "acquire" his food and drink. Conrad did not like the term "stealing". Somehow, he felt a little bit guilty if he used that term. However, to acquire an item free of charge, did not offend his morals. When Conrad had made a mistake and was forced to maintain a low profile, he would often leave the city and turn his hand to adventuring. The skills he had learned in the streets came in very handy. Conrad was not the sort of man to wade into a situation, sword drawn and ready to fight. He preferred to use stealth as a weapon. Well known in adventurer and mercenary circles, Conrad had adopted the nickname Conrad the Cowardly because of his preference towards using guile and stealth rather than adopting the brute force approach of most of his comrades. Despite the name however, Conrad was not a man to be taken lightly. At only 5'5" he was a man of diminutive stature. He was also very slim and slender. This disguised the fact that his muscles were toned to perfection. Conrad was like a gymnast; exceptionally strong and able to use and manipulate his entire body. He could move with more speed, stealth and agility than any other on the earth; or so Conrad believed. He was nearly the perfect sneak.

Tonight he had the treasures of a cruel Baron in his sights. Baron Harold had been dealing in slaves all his life. He would take the poor and helpless, promise them good employment and then work them to death in his gold mine. He had made a fortune this way. All knew about his reputation but his promises seemed genuine and he always gave his slaves an easy start. He would feed them well, shelter them and make them very happy. This would last anywhere up to a year. Then he would turn. He would put them in the hottest hell hole and work them until they could work no more. He even forced the women and children to do the same. His fortune was substantial; his vaults full of gold. Conrad was going to leave with as much as he could carry.

The day had been spent observing the comings and goings of the place. Donning a disguise, having a walk around the Baron's mansion before donning another disguise and starting over; Conrad had found numerous weaknesses in the Baron's security. The mansion only had one way in or out. This was through the front gate that led onto a busy thoroughfare. The gate was manned by at least four guards at any time. Working on a rotation of four hours, the guards were always fresh and alert. Even if Conrad was able to slip past the guards, he would surely be noticed by a passer by. The rest of the mansion was surrounded by a twenty foot wall. For most, climbing the wall would be impossible. Not for Conrad. A foot patrol inside the estate walls would be the most difficult obstacle to negate. Two guards circled the grounds looking for anything out of the ordinary. If they spotted him or any equipment he had left in order to escape, they would raise the alarm. This would wake the guards in the small barracks who would then organise a search of the grounds and house. Conrad figured that the barracks would hold between twenty to fifty guards but he was not certain. If they were alerted, he would have little chance of escape. The house itself had no security apart from a vault. This is where the baron stored his money. It could be accessed by a key. Conrad would need to find this but he already had a good idea where this may be. The Baron was reputed to be a greedy man who trusted nobody but himself. As with all greedy men, they like to keep their treasured possessions close to them. The key would most likely be in the Baron's bed chamber or on his person. To escape the premises, Conrad would use a small charge to blow a hole in the outer wall and slip through into the night. This was his plan.

The sun went down early in this part of the Kingdom but the streets were still noisy. Conrad decided that an early evening raid would be the best time as most people would be settling down to dinner and so the streets would be about as quiet as they got. Conrad had a self made grappling hook with a sturdy rope attached. He stood back from the wall to try and spot a grappling point he had identified earlier. The extra distance also allowed room for him to swing the hook. Conrad had a quick look around to make sure nobody was watching before launching the hook towards the top of the wall. It caught perfectly on an uneven part of the wall that had become rough and worn over many years. He had spent many years perfecting the skill of identifying a target and hitting it with the hook. It significantly reduced the chances of being detected. This lesson Conrad had learned long ago when trying to scale the wall of a similar mansion. Back then, he had taken five attempts to get the hook attached; four of which were witnessed by local guards. Conrad had spent the best part of a month in a dungeon cell.

Conrad scaled in seconds. He was like a human spider. At the top he changed the direction of the grappling hook and pulled the rope over. He quickly climbed down the other side. A quick jerk of the rope brought the hook over the wall to be caught by Conrad. Ducking into the shadows, he looked around the grounds and listened carefully. The guards were nowhere to be seen. Quickly, Conrad crossed the grass and pressed himself against the wall of the mansion. He had black clothes on. These almost matched his black hair and dark skin. Heading towards the back of the mansion he paused. There was a rustling in the bushes to his right. Someone was there. He stayed silent and still. There was a sound of water falling on to the grass. Once the guard had finished, he proceeded back to his patrol route. This was only one guard; where was the other Conrad wondered. For the time being it didn't matter. He watched the guard until he was a safe distance away and proceeded. He ran up to the first window he could find. There was a basic lock on the window but it didn't offer much resistance. Conrad inserted a long steel spike through the crack of the window, hooking the opening mechanism and pushed. The window opened with a tiny click. He climbed through into a darkened room and closed the window behind him. A small light crystal sat under a flap in his glove. He removed the flap to light the room. He identified his surroundings as the laundry room. From here, the safe was in the cellar below him, the key would likely be found in the Baron's private study or bedchamber. This was located in a room on the second floor at the east end of the building. The plans to all the buildings in the city were stored in the public library. This is where Conrad gathered his information. Before doing any job, he would spend hours learning every inch of the house schematic. This would come in handy if he needed a place to hide or just a swift exit. He covered the light crystal and proceeded to the door. Slowly and gently he turned the handle. He pulled the door, just a little at first, to see if it creaked. It didn't. Still being careful but with a little more haste, he pulled the door open enough for him to peer into the corridor. There was no-one around. He paused for a few seconds; listening for any sounds that would give away the position of any nearby person. There was nothing. Straight in front of him at the end of the corridor was a large door that led to the main stairwell. If there were any guards in the mansion, this is where they would be. Conrad's plan was to find the servants stairwell. He figured that it would be somewhere down the corridor to his left. The carpet on the floor was red, covering the marble below it. On the walls, rare and expensive works of art hung. Conrad headed to his left. There were three doors; one on the left, one on the right and one straight ahead. Using his knowledge of the mansion's architecture and his years of experience at breaking and entering, Conrad deduced that the door on the left would be the prime candidate. The door at the end of the corridor clicked. Conrad moved with haste and ducked through the door on the left. A servant opened the door and looked out. He saw nothing and continued about his business. Conrad had made his way up the first flight of stairs. There were two doors. The first, he believed, would lead to the top of the main stairwell; the other to a corridor to access the rooms. A quick glance through each door revealed he was right. He continued up the next flight of stairs; only one door this time. Slowly he opened it and peered through. There was a single hallway. It was bigger than the corridors of the two lower levels. At the very end of the hallway, the door he was trying to get to was guarded by a single man. Conrad noticed that there was an alarm bell next to him. The guard was looking down the hallway. Conrad couldn't move through the door until he looked away. Conrad heard a door on the lowest level of the spiral staircase open and then slam shut. Footsteps followed. Click, Clock, Click, Clock, rang the footsteps. Each one brought this person closer. Conrad listened carefully all the while looking for an opportunity to get through the door. The footsteps came yet closer. Still the guard at the end of the corridor continued to look straight on. Conrad was about to move from the door to hide when he heard the door on the next level down open and close. The footsteps ceased. Conrad let out a quiet sigh. Still he had to wait. This guard was obviously good. Only those who were highly trained would have the discipline to do their job so well. Finally, after what seemed like an age, Conrad heard a faint call from within the Baron's private study. The guard turned and opened the door. That was all the opportunity Conrad needed. Moving with extreme speed and stealth, he made it three quarters of the way down the hallway and ducked into a room on the right. This was the Baron's bedroom. It was lavishly furnished. A four poster bed sat in the centre of the room. A real bearskin rug, with head still attached, lay at the foot of the bed in front of a lavish marble fireplace. A large settee and a vanity chest were the other items on the floor. The ceiling was home to a magnificent chandelier. It was made from gold and the finest diamonds. It was a rare piece but too large for Conrad to steal. Yet finer artwork lined these walls. This room stoked the fire of Conrad's excitement. He couldn't wait to find out what was in the safe. Conrad proceeded to have a quick look around the room in the hope that the key he was looking for was here. His instinct told him that it was not. There were no secret hiding places, no loose bricks in the wall to store such an item. Conrad only hoped that the key was with the Baron. The door to the private study closed with a bang. Conrad had left the door to the bedroom slightly ajar. He pulled out a small mirror and a stick from his belt. He attached the two together with a piece of string and used it to see where the guard was. Once again he was staring down the hall.

"Time for the jester" Conrad said to himself removing another item from his belt. It was a clockwork jester. It would somersault forwards and always land on its feet. He twisted the dial and aimed the Jester at the door where he had entered.

"Here goes nothing" he said to himself, not entirely convinced such an experienced guard would fall for the trick. Conrad readied his bludgeon and let loose the Jester. It rolled out of the door, stopped, looked over its shoulder, juddered and rolled again. The guard moved instantly. He wasn't interested in the Jester though. He kicked open the bedroom door; eyes peering into the gloom. Slowly he poked his head through the door. There was nothing to the left or right. He pushed the door open until it touched the inside wall. The guard walked all the way into the room. There was a noise from behind the fireplace. The guard drew his sword and eased forward. Conrad was crouching behind the bed. As the guard moved one way, Conrad moved the other. When his back was to Conrad, the guard never even heard the wily thief come close. Thud, blackness took him. Conrad put his bludgeon away and went to gather the Jester. The next part would be fun. A simple bit of thuggish behaviour was in store. Knock, knock, went the Baron's door.

"Enter" The voice from within commanded.

Knock, knock, the door went again.

"I said enter, did you not hear me?"

Knock, knock.

"There will be trouble if this is some kind of joke." The Baron opened the door to be greeted with a kick in the face. He fell back onto the floor. Conrad pounced on him like a cat.

"Hello Baron, I have but one question. Where is the key to your safe?" Conrad said with a sadistic tone to his voice.

The Baron was a weak man. He cracked instantly much to the disgust of Conrad.

"It's in my desk, over there" he pointed whilst spitting out cracked teeth.

Conrad pulled out his bludgeon once more.

"Say goodnight, Baron." Thwack, the Baron was out cold.

Time was of the essence now. The guard would probably wake up sometime soon. Conrad knew he needed to be quick. He returned to the servants' stairwell and descended to the ground level. He went back through the corridor where he had entered and to the door leading to the main stairwell. The entrance to the cellar was through a door on either side of the main staircase. Slowly and carefully, he pushed the door ajar and peered round using his mirror.

"No Guards" he thought to himself.

He opened the door further and peered round. There was no dawdling. Conrad swiftly moved to the cellar door and proceeded down. To his surprise and delight, the entire cellar was the vault. The key fit the lock perfectly and the door opened to reveal a whole world of treasures. There were piles of money, bars of gold, priceless jewellery, all for the taking. Conrad filled his bags as quickly as he could. He would have to come back for some more. As he began his ascent from the cellar the alarm rang out. The unconscious guard had recovered and pressed the alarm. Conrad opened the cellar door and peered out. Through the main doors he could see the barracks emptying and the guards running towards the house. Conrad blasted through the main hall and back towards the laundry room. He waited there for a few moments whilst the guards reached their posts. There would be no time to set the charge. He readied his grappling hook and when it appeared that the guards were at their furthest away, Conrad made his break. He ran across the lawn swinging his hook at the same time to build momentum. He launched it towards the top of the wall.

"There he is" screamed one of the guards.

"This will be close" Conrad said to himself.

He scaled the wall and pulled up the rope only seconds before the first guard reached his escape point. As Conrad switched the hook to climb down the other side, a bolt whistled past his ear. He looked down. One of the guards was firing a crossbow at him. Conrad smiled. As a final act of defiance he pulled a smoke potion from his belt and dropped it onto the grass. Thick white smoke spread everywhere effectively blinding the guards. That was the last they saw of Conrad.

Conrad had a small hideaway just on the outskirts of town. It was in the slums where no thief would ever think to rob. He too had his own vault. It was accessed via the sewers, which in this part of town, were not nice. He deposited his findings quickly and then returned to his main house near the centre of town. The irony of it all was that the mansion could be seen clearly from Conrad's house. It was a permanent reminder of a job well done. There was a knock at the door. He was expecting the Baron to be paying him a visit at some point just not so soon. As always and like a true thief, a cautious approach was taken to opening the door. He was greeted by an errand boy wearing the colours of the King.

"Are you Conrad D'Abor?" The messenger asked.

"Who wants to know?" Conrad answered evasively.

"The King requests your presence for a task most urgent." The messenger began. "The King begs that you have an audience with him as soon as possible. You can name your price for your services."

"Inform the King that Conrad D'Abor shall be in attendance." He said brimming with glee.

The messenger departed and Conrad closed the door.

"Name my price, eh. All the money I desire." Conrad's tone grew higher and higher. Rubbing his hands together like a greedy toad, he began his preparations.

*****

### Chapter 4

The elegant frame of James the Messenger boy departed the barbarian camp. He was fairly tall standing just shy of 6 foot but he looked like a dwarf compared to the huge figures of the two barbarians that escorted him back to the road. James walked very upright and his motion was graceful. He was of slim build but he had strength in his limbs. The barbarians afforded James a respect that very few outside of the horde gained. The way he approached the horde, confident and calm, demonstrated to the barbarians that this boy had the heart of a warrior. James had short black hair and a chiselled face. His eyes were the most noticeable thing about his face. They were squat and hard looking. His glare could make anyone feel uneasy. However, this did not detract from the pleasant nature of the lad. He had spent the night in the barbarian camp enjoying the celebrations. James was of tender years. He had just turned 19 and this was his first major assignment. He wondered how his father would react to him drinking with the barbarians. His father was a member of the royal court. It was his influence that helped James to get a job in the palace. However, upon his father's insistence, he had to work his way up from the bottom. James was an accomplished swordsman. He had never been in any major battles but his knowledge of the blade impressed his teachers at the academy. At the moment though, James felt that the job of messenger boy was difficult enough. He had confronted the barbarian horde, a thankless task at best; one that would leave stains in your underwear at worst. Now he was going on to find Anree, a Priestess in the Covenant of the Sacred Hills. The only thing James knew about the Priestess' was that they were the only living beings left in the land that still had the ability to perform magical deeds. They were a dying breed because men with magical powers, Wizards, Sorcerers, and Mages, no longer existed. Because of this, each generation became less powerful than the last. Generations past had tried inbreeding. This only made matters worse. Some of the Priestesses became mad. This led to an uprising over a hundred years ago that further diminished their numbers. Anree, James' target, was reputed to be the most powerful Priestess left in the order. She had healing powers like no other. Rumours in the eastern towns and villages of the Kingdom even suggested that she had the power to raise the dead. James didn't believe in this but was curious as all youngsters are.

He had made it to the road that led up to the temple. It would be a journey of only a day but the hills would make it more difficult. They were not massively high, only about 3000ft at the highest peak but they were steep. He would do four long climbs and descents before reaching the hill with the temple upon it. The message he was to deliver was of the utmost importance and urgency. He decided to do half of the journey now, which would take him until just after nightfall. He would tackle the rest tomorrow.

The journey was unremarkable. He reached his campsite just after dark. The first thought that ran through James' head was to make a shelter. It was a cold clear night and winter was fast approaching. In his bag, James had a small axe and a large piece of canvass. He removed the axe and proceeded a short way up a hill to a copse he had spotted. The trees here were fairly new with thin branches that could easily be felled. James found the first tree he wanted. Raising his axe, he struck the tree with an almighty blow. The tree came crashing down. It was rather a lot easier than he had expected. He moved to the next tree. He had just raised his axe again when something caught his attention. Something had moved. He spotted it out of the corner of his eye. Looking back to where he had felled the first tree there was nothing to be seen. Then the realisation dawned on him. The first tree he felled was missing. It was like it just vanished into thin air. He turned back to cut down his second tree. The image before him made him jump back.

"Boo" the image said.

The tree had become a ghost. It was still as thin at the tree but it was clearly a ghostly apparition.

"Scared you didn't I?" the ghost continued. "You chopped down one of my friends."

The voice was slow and ancient. James looked around. All of the trees in the copse now appeared as ghosts. They didn't seem to be moving.

"Wh....Wh....Who are you?" James stuttered felling startled and a little confused. For a moment, he thought that he must have sniffed a poisonous plant and was suffering hallucinations.

"We are the spirits of men, long since passed, long since forgotten." The ghost replied.

Another ghost spoke, "Our lives were those cut short. Now we give life."

"We provide the air you breathe." Another continued.

James was getting a little bit flustered by the other ghosts talking to him. It was strange enough talking to one.

"How did your spirits come to be in the trees?" James asked inquisitively. He was starting to become intrigued.

"The Priestess' put us here." The First ghost said.

"They believe in life eternal." Another said.

"It is their belief that even the dead can be put to good use; preserving life." Another continued.

"But is it not a boring life?" James enquired.

The first ghost answered the question.

"We do not live as the tree. We live inside the tree. Controlling the way the tree works and getting the most out of it is what we do."

"So it is a bit like working in a factory?" James asked.

"Exactly." The first ghost replied. "Though it is a far more pleasant experience."

The conversation turned back to the here and now.

"Why did you try to chop down a life giver?" The first ghost asked in a saddened tone of voice.

"I required wood to build a shelter so that I do not freeze to death. I am trying to reach the Temple to deliver a message to the Priestess Anree."

The ghosts began muttering amongst themselves.

We will provide you with the shelter you need. With that the ghosts disappeared in a blinding flash of light. When James' eyes adjusted to the darkness once again the trees had returned. He waited for a moment but nothing happened.

"Does this mean I should cut some of you down?" He shouted into the copse.

There was no reply. Still he waited. Wary that the trees may come back to life he proceeded to raise his axe once more. A creak echoed though the copse. James paused to see what was happening. Another creaking noise echoed out and then another. James rubbed his eyes as he was sure that the trees were moving. He looked closer, the darkness of the night made it difficult for James to see exactly what was happening. The trees were moving. They were bending at the trunk and positioning their branches on the ground. When they had finished, a hut in the centre of the copse had formed. James could barely believe his eyes.

"They are never going to believe this when I get home." He said aloud. "Folks will say I had been drinking or had been taking hallucinogenic compounds. Maybe they will just think I am mad. I will be committed to a mental asylum." James continued to mutter to himself for many minutes. The ghostly voice of the first tree spoke.

"Do you plan on talking to yourself all night? Even we need to get some sleep and you are disturbing us."

Snapped from his deluded ramblings, James replied, "Oh, Sorry. I didn't realise."

With that, James gathered his belongings and bedded down for the night in the tree hut.

The morning brought glorious sunshine. Emerging from the tree hut, James was hit by a glorious sight. The hills were crawling with wildlife. Rabbits hopped merrily along. Squirrels darted up and down the trees. The birds were singing songs of such harmony that it spoke to your very soul. James felt invigorated. He had enjoyed what must have been the most restful sleep he had ever had. It was as if his very soul had been recharged. Feeling full of life, James thanked the trees and set about the remainder of his journey. He would be at the temple in four hours or so providing he made steady progress and did not encounter any more strange apparitions. After a couple of hours, approximately half of the way to his destination, James reached the summit of the third hill. In front of him, rising like a phoenix from the flame, stood the Temple. It was an awe inspiring sight. The temple was made up of four interconnecting pyramids. They looked like they represented the four hills that had to be climbed to reach the temple. The pyramid on the left was the smallest. The next was a little taller; the third was the tallest. Then the last one dropped down again. The pyramids were made from glass. They reflected the midday sun creating a glare that James had to squint against in order to get a good glimpse of the temple and surrounding area. The temple was surrounded by what looked like an impenetrable ring of fire. It appeared to be a mote of sorts, only without the water. James wondered if there would be any way in, worried that the journey he had undertaken may have been for nothing. James did not like failure. The last thing he wanted was to return to the King with the news that he had not completed his task. James had aspirations; he wanted nothing more than to be a high ranking officer in the army. Standing on the tallest summit in the land had inspired his thoughts. As he looked around at the panoramic view he could see everything. Far to the east, the imposing structures of the capitol city, Thorvale, could be seen. Further north the smoke and filth poured over Beskholme. Anything further east could not be seen. Smaller towns and villages could be seen scattered around the landscape. Horton Peak looked peaceful and tranquil from up here.

To the south, the shoreline could be seen stretching from the Sacred Hills beyond Thorvale. Across the sea, black clouds above the Cursed Isle could be seen. The thought of that place sent a shiver down his spine. He had a strange feeling that the evil on that island may someday be released. He could not explain the feeling, it was just there. For a couple of years now, this same feeling had come on when he thought of that place. James just dismissed it as being his fear. James' thoughts returned to the present and the task at hand. He continued on. It was another hour and a half before James finally reached the foot of the temple. As he had seen from the last peak, the flames surrounding the temple acted as an impenetrable barrier, affording protection for the temple and its residents without the need for guards. He could feel the heat from where he stood fifty feet away. He approached as near as he could bear before the heat became too intense. A few minutes passed as he paced along the perimeter of the fire to see if an entrance could be located. Not a single gap could be found in the flames.

"Hello" James shouted at last trying to attract attention.

He waited a few seconds but there was no reply.

"Is anybody there" He shouted again this time a little louder.

Still nothing happened. At a loss, James began looking around the grounds to see if there was a clue on how to get through the barrier. Again, his efforts proved fruitless. Frustrated, James returned to the fire. He was just about to call out again when the flames in front of him began to change. A two meter section of flame turned into a green/blue colour. A figure appeared from inside the fire. It looked like a fire Gollum but it had the features of a human woman. The figure's body was shaped with red flame. In the blue-green flames, the red figure could be seen clearly. The face of this figure was human. James blinked a few times to make sure this image before him was not a trick of the fire. When it spoke, James realised that it was no illusion.

"What is your business here?" the Fire Gollum said in the softest most relaxing tone.

The voice of this woman sounded like heaven itself. James found that all tension drifted from his body.

"I am here to seek an audience with the Priestess Anree." James spoke to the Gollum.

The flame, where the Gollum stood, changed colour. It now burned blue-yellow and not the blue-green colour it had been.

"What business do you have with her?"

"I have to deliver a message from the King. It is of the utmost importance and urgency."

The image disappeared from view for a few moments. James waited patiently not knowing what would happen next. The image returned a few moments later.

"If you prove yourself worthy in an act of faith, you will be granted an audience with the Priestess Anree" the Gollum stated.

The idea of performing an act of faith was one that filled James with dread. He believed in the gods but had never worshiped one.

"What would you have me do?" James asked tentatively.

"The task is simple," the Gollum began, "all you have to do is walk through the fire."

"Are you crazy?" James shouted. "I would burn like toast in there."

"That is the task set for you by the Priestess. What you do is up to you." With that the Gollum disappeared.

James paced backwards and forwards. The adrenaline was pumping through his veins. Thoughts were spinning around in his head. He looked at the flames and had to look away again. Then something changed. The flames grew higher. They changed colour to red and white. The heat intensified. James had to move further away from the flame as it burned his skin. There was only one thing he could think to do. He would take his camping canvass from his bag, soak it in a small stream he had come across a little way down the hill and then rap himself in it. He would then charge through as fast as he could. Was there any other way? James didn't think so.

He took his canvass to the river and soaked it for quite a while to make sure the fibres were as wet as possible. He ran back to the fire as quickly as he could to make sure the canvass did not dry out. He made sure all his skin was covered by the blanket. With a deep breath he charged. The flames were still ten feet away when the heat started to penetrate his blanket. By the time he stepped into the flame, the canvass was on fire; all the water had evaporated. He threw the blanket off and continued. His flesh was melting and the pain was making it hard to put one foot in front of the other. His clothes had been incinerated. There was no way he could make it to the other side. The darkness of unconsciousness was taking over him. Then he staggered free of the flames. Collapsing on the ground he looked around. He could see the priestesses of the Covenant watching him. For James to look at his body took some courage. It was not burned though. Not a single blemish could be seen. It was all an illusion. It suddenly dawned upon him that he was naked. He stood up and covered his groin with his hands. One of the Priestesses approached. The priestess was little over 5 feet tall but she seemed taller. She wore a silver robe that draped from her shoulders to her ankles. A large pointed hood covered her face. As she approached she pulled back the hood revealing a beautiful face. She had understated features but two things stood out; her smile and her eyes. The priestess had shoulder length, strawberry blonde hair. James looked at her and immediately felt a little calmer.

"Do not feel shy or ashamed" the woman said in the same calming tones the Gollum had used. "The human body is at its purest when it is naked." She handed him a gown. James took it and hastily put it on.

"I am Anree" The woman began. "I welcome you. Please come with me and partake in some food and rest."

James followed without speaking a word. The fear and shock of what he had just done had almost destroyed his ability to think. Anree escorted him to a bed chamber. It was simple but elegant in design. A comfortable looking bed occupied the centre of the room. Anree took James by the hand and guided him onto the mattress. James rolled onto his side, adopting the foetal position. This provided him some comfort for even though his body was unharmed, James had been traumatised psychologically. Anree lay down next to him and cuddled him from behind. "Sleep now brave messenger." She whispered in soft tones. "Rest in my arms and when you awake, you will feel much better." James was comforted by this. Anree's touch brought tranquillity to his soul. He fell asleep almost immediately. As he slept, Anree began to chant. A strange glow surrounded their bodies. James' healing had begun.

When he awoke, James had no recollection of the events that led him to this bed. Where was he? What was he doing here? Questions swirled through his mind. He looked around. Standing at the door, a beautiful woman waited. She noticed that he was sitting up.

"Are you feeling alright, sir?" the woman asked politely.

"Where am I?" James replied.

"You are in the temple. You had to take a test to enter. You passed." The woman smiled at him.

James had never seen such a perfect smile. It was like the most beautiful sunrise or sunset. One would never tire of seeing it.

"Are you a priestess?" He asked, praying the answer would be no.

"I am a priestess in training." She replied.

"Then I do not know if I am speaking out of turn when I ask you to join me for a meal and a dance one evening." James was usually quite shy but he seemed drawn to this lady. She was like a goddess, or so James thought. Standing at least 5'6" tall, the woman was clad in a simple but elegant dress of black and gold. It was the training gown of the priestesses but it resembled an evening dress that one might wear to a ball. She had long, mousey-brown hair that had been platted all the way down. Her eyes were the brightest blue and showed the same sincerity that James had seen in the eyes of Anree.

James spoke again before the woman could reply.

"Truly, you must be the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on."

The woman smiled and blushed.

"At this time sir, you are speaking out of turn. However, I finish my training in but a few short months. At that time, a priestess is encouraged to scour the land to find a suitor. I would be honoured to accept your invite at that time."

It was James' turn to smile.

"Could I please then have the honour of knowing your name?" James asked, bowing at his lady.

"It is Anna," she replied, "and what is yours good sir."

"James" he said.

"Well James," Anna began, "My lady wishes to speak with you, if you are able?"

James suddenly remembered his mission. With renewed haste and vigour he said,

"Take me too her."

The temple was intricately designed. The divide between private quarters and open plan communal halls was seamless. There were no doors. Strategically placed walls and screens guarded the privacy of the residents here. The glass roof allowed the sun to fill each chamber with brilliant sunlight. James was in awe at the spectacle, his mouth involuntarily hanging open as Anna escorted him to the meeting hall. Sitting at the far end of a huge circular meeting table, Anree waited.

"It is good to see you awake, sir." Anree began. "Thank you Anna, you may leave now." Anna turned and walked away. She smiled at James one last time. The smile was returned. Anree looked on, a knowing expression on her face.

"Beautiful, isn't she?"

James looked at Anree, surprised that she had noticed so quickly.

"She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen" James responded.

"You will have to be patient if you want her. The life of a priestess is difficult at the best of times. It is often the ones we love who get hurt." Anree's face had turned quite stern and serious.

"I can appreciate that" James said more from reflex than having a full understanding of the situation.

"I am sure that you cannot appreciate it yet, but you will." The room went quiet for a moment. It was a moment that felt like an eternity. Anree's gaze never lifted. James felt quite uncomfortable. Finally Anree broke the silence.

"You have a message for me, I believe."

"Y...Y...Yes" James stuttered trying to get rid of his unease. "The King requests that you attend the royal court as soon as you are able. He has an important quest for you. He will allow you to name the price for your services."

"Not the most elegantly worded message I have ever heard." Anree proclaimed. "Do you know what the mission is?"

"I know very little. I only heard rumours that some demons from the Cursed Isle have kidnapped a child; a special child."

Anree's face looked troubled, her eyes narrowed. She spent a moment deep in thought. Finally, her attention turned back to James.

"I will prepare immediately."

Seeing the troubled look on the face of a priestess left James with a cold unease within his heart. If something could trouble a priestess, then it must be bad. Anna returned to escort James from the temple.

"I hope to see you again, Anna" James said as they walked.

"In three months I will come." She replied. They walked in silence to the ring of fire. James took Anna's hand and placed a soft, gentle kiss on her knuckles. As he stood upright, Anna took the opportunity to peck his cheek. They both smiled. James turned to walk away and stopped. The fire was still burning strong. He looked back at Anna. She nodded. Her reassurance filled James with confidence. He marched through the flames without even feeling the heat. "Thank the gods that I still have my clothes on." James said to himself with a smile.

As he began his journey home, James recollected the events of the past few days.

"They are never going to believe this at home." James said with a smile.

*****

### Chapter 5

The Watcher and his Wraiths had made slow progress returning to Blackheart Castle. The way had been blocked on several occasions. Wishing to keep the presence of the human child a secret, The Watcher had adopted a stealthy approach to his journey. After leaving the ferry, the first day's travel had been rather uneventful. This was just the way The Watcher wanted the journey to go. Two Wraiths scouted the land ahead, to make sure that nothing was likely to see him. The inhabitants of the Cursed Isle feared The Watcher. However, a lot of them were ruled by primal instincts. Food was one such instinct. Many of the undead races on the island would attack anything for food. Man-child, as human children were commonly known, was one of the most sought after foods there was. Fierce battles between races would ensue if the opportunity to eat man-child ever arose.

The first sign of trouble came on that first night. The daytime was generally quiet on the Cursed Isle. Most of its denizens were creatures of the night; those that did roam during the day tended to be less primeval and more in control of their instincts. This is why The Watcher and his party were moving during the day. As the party moved across a dense marshland, one of the scouts returned.

"Master, there is trouble ahead." The Wraith said.

"What is it?" The Watcher asked bluntly.

"A party of Ogres are attacking a band of Orcs. It looks like feeding time for them."

"What direction are they heading in?" The Watcher demanded.

"This way, Master. They are heading this way."

The Watcher paused for thought. Ogres were probably the only race that he did not want to run into. They were a race of huge, powerful monsters. They had the appearance of humans but the desires of Zombies. Food and devastation were the only things they were interested in. A small Ogre would probably be about ten feet tall. A large one could be up to twenty feet tall. This made them difficult to defeat in open combat.

"What is the terrain like further on?" The Watcher enquired.

"It is all marsh land. The only thing that is different in a ten mile radius is the spider caves."

The options were hardly startling but if given the choice of fending off an attack by Ogres or spiders, The Watcher would choose spiders every time.

They headed to the spider caves with great haste. The cave had a massive entrance that narrowed considerably just a few feet in. It split into a series of smaller tunnels, each heading in a different direction. This wasn't just the layer of a single spider. It was the layer of many. One of the Wraiths was sent to monitor the trail of the Ogres. The other three were sent to scout the tunnels. The goblins in the party stayed with The Watcher and the child. They were to be the cannon fodder if an attack occurred.

Almost an hour had passed with no word from the Wraiths and no sign that anything had detected them. Suddenly, from one of the tunnels, a piercing scream was heard. One of the Wraiths was in trouble. The noise awoke the baby and it began to cry. The Watcher did not like this. The cries from the baby would give away their position before they were ready. From the tunnels, two of the Wraiths returned.

"The spiders are following, Master" The first shrieked.

"Defensive positions" The Watcher ordered.

The goblins drew their swords and formed the front line only feet from the entrance to the tunnels. The remaining Wraiths formed up on either side of The Watcher. At the first sign of movement from the tunnels, The Watcher began an incantation. Fire formed in the palms of his hands. At the end of the incantation he pointed towards two of the entrances. Fire burst forth from each hand, creating a barrier of flame in the tunnel entrances. There was still one tunnel that remained unblocked. It would take time for The Watcher to be able to conjure up any more magic. The first spider sprung out of the entrance at such speed, one of the goblins had been caught in the pincers of the spider before anyone could react. The two sharp spikes penetrated the ribs of the Goblin, crushing the life out of it. The other three goblins began hacking at the legs of the spider. It was huge. Its long legs made it difficult for the goblins to strike a blow at its body. It used all of its legs to defend itself. The spider turned to face another goblin. It lunged forwards. The goblin jumped backwards, landing straight in front of the tunnel entrance. The goblin readied itself for making a counter attack. Suddenly, something grabbed it from behind. The goblin disappeared into the tunnel. The screams were chilling. The spider engaged in battle with the party made short work of another goblin before The Watcher stepped forward. He swung his huge black blade with such force; it sliced through the spider's two front legs. The spider fell forward onto its face. As it landed, The Watcher's blade crashed through the centre of the spider, halving its body like a knife slicing an apple. The Watcher could feel that his power had returned. He began his incantation again. The spiders in the tunnel had feasted on the goblin that had been dragged in. They were now moving down the tunnel to get more food. They needed to be kept at bay. The remaining goblin stood trembling with fear. Its eyes were focused on the approaching doom. Suddenly he was lifted off the ground. The Wraiths picked the goblin up and tossed him deep into the cave. Again the screams echoed down the tunnels. This distraction had given The Watcher just enough time to finish his spell. Another ball of fire burst forth from his hand. The last entrance was sealed. Magical fire would burn until the caster was a good distance away. They were safe for the time being.

Later that night the Wraith who had been monitoring the Ogres returned.

"It is safe, Master. We can continue."

With that they left the cave and journeyed on.

Sunset brought the journey over the marshland to a close. They now had to cross the badlands. This was the name given to a series of large fields that were no more than flat terrain. However, long ago, the mountain at the southern end of the badlands; was a volcano. It had been dormant for many years now but all the rock that it had spewed forth many years ago had landed around this area. As such the landscape was now very rocky and jagged. It was difficult to cross at any great speed. It also had plenty of hiding places for the islands many creatures. The primary inhabitants of the badlands were the skeletons; evil human warriors re-animated as mindless monsters. Some of the skeletons still had memories of former lives; all had memories of former skills. The degree of decomposition to their brains determined their communication ability. Skeletons were motivated by power and death. They were the most organised race on the island. They required no food and no water to survive. They were dead already. Their bodies were reanimated many centuries ago by the evil gods. The only problem is that their numbers are finite. No skeleton has to power to reanimate more. The numbers they have at the moment, however considerable, would not swell unless some magical being would make it so. The Watcher was not too worried about the skeletons. They would not attack him or his Wraiths. The child however, was another matter. The magical aura surrounding the child may give the skeletons the illusion that she could be used to reanimate more of their followers. The Watcher had barely stepped foot onto the badlands when a group of skeletons made their presence known. The nature of the land afforded many places for the skeletons to hide their bones until they were ready to rise. This would make it difficult for the party to detect nearby threats.

"What do we have here? A human child?" The skeleton said more to himself than to The Watcher.

"Step aside, Skeleton. We are returning this child to Blackheart Castle." The Watcher replied.

"This child is magical, I can feel it." The skeleton began, reaching a bony hand towards Isabelle then quickly withdrawing it again. "What do you intend to do with it?"

"The child has been chosen to house the spirit of Bhryll." The Watcher proclaimed.

The skeleton group took a collective pace backwards.

"You would resurrect the God of Chaos?"

Random whispers were going through the skeleton group.

"He will be resurrected. Order will be restored to the denizens of the Curse Isle. The living world will descend into Chaos." The Watcher stated.

"Would we be able to reanimate more into our order?" the skeleton enquired.

"You would have all the numbers you desire, providing you swear your allegiance to Bhryll."

A discussion broke out amongst the skeletons. After a few minutes they turned back to The Watcher.

"We have decided to escort you on your journey back to Blackheart Castle." The skeleton said. "After all, we wish no ill to befall you. We know these parts well. Follow me."

The party set off. The badlands were behind them by early the next morning. The journey now led them to ascend the lower foothills of the mountain, across Pitfall Pass and down into the valley of the tortured souls. This was to be the final stretch of the journey before reaching the safety of the castle. The valley was home to bugbears. These were hybrid creatures of fierce rage. They were half bear and half ant. This gave them a number of advantages. Their bear characteristics brought them immense strength and unmatched aggression. It also brought them size, bulk and speed. Their ant characteristics gave them a solid exoskeleton that protected them from even the heaviest blow from the sharpest blade. They could also lift many times their own body weight. They were a territorial race and would attack anything that entered their land.

Again, the Wraiths scouted ahead trying to find the easiest route through. Bugbears did not act in an organised manner. They were scattered randomly around the valley. Many hours passed without incident. The group had been spotted on a number of occasions but were ignored. The steps leading up to Blackheart Castle came into view. They were still a mile away but they could be seen rising crookedly up the face of a sheer cliff. The castle sat at the top, looking over the valley like a god looking down on the earth. Nothing was ever easy though. It seemed that something had attracted the bugbears to this end of the valley. There were hundreds of them. The skeletons behind The Watcher were suddenly scattered all over the ground; a couple even being tossed into the air. Everyone turned. A bugbear had attacked from behind. The skeletons hacked at the exoskeleton of the bugbear. No damage was done. With a single swing of its huge arm, the bugbear sent skeletons flying. The Wraiths moved in. The first hacked at the bugbear. The impact made no impression. With both arms the bugbear hammered the Wraith. A loud popping noise echoed out around the valley. The Wraith's body had been crushed so easily, it could have been an egg. The only weakness in a bugbear's armour was around its legs. The exoskeleton was both weak and holed to allow flexibility and movement.

"Aim for the legs" Screamed The Watcher.

The skeletons duly obliged. More went flying with the force of another blow from the bugbear. The tactic was working however. Many blows later, one of the legs was severed. The bugbear howled with pain. The skeletons went to work on the other leg. It came off swiftly.

"Now leave it to bleed to death" The Watcher commanded.

They moved on. The howls of the bugbear continued to echo down the valley. Unexpectedly, it served as a warning to the other bugbears in the Valley. They did not approach the party. Upon reaching the stairs leading up the cliff, the skeletons departed; returning to the badlands. The Watcher and the two remaining Wraiths ascended the steps. Days and nights had passed but they had made it back, giving little indication to the inhabitants of the island as to what lay ahead. As they approached the castle walls The Watcher gave out a command.

"Wraiths, go ahead and make preparations for the child."

With haste they forged ahead.

Isabelle Turner spent her first night in Blackheart Castle.

*****

### Chapter 6

The week had passed slowly for the Turners. Paddy and John Turner were both very anxious to be on the trail of Isabelle's kidnappers. On the first night in Thorvale, Paddy went to meet his old acquaintance, William Warhound. The pair spent the night reminiscing about old times in a very posh tavern about a mile away from the palace on the main road from the city gate. Paddy had temporarily forgotten his worries but small things frequently reminded him of his daughter. Paddy had drunk himself into a stupor that night. He was barely able to walk home. Luckily his friend was very loyal, helping him back to his room at the palace. The following day, Paddy was awoken by one of the King's guards. The sun was barely over the horizon and Paddy was sporting a killer headache. The King had summoned both John and Paddy to join him at breakfast. He had some interesting proposals for the pair.

"Good morning gentlemen," the King began, "how are you both feeling this morning?"

"Fine thank you, my lord." John replied in an uncharacteristically chipper tone of voice for the time of day. He had enjoyed a great night of rest in what he perceived to be the most comfortable bed he had ever slept in.

A dull, inaudible groan was all that came from Paddy. John and the King looked at each other with knowing smiles on their faces. The King proceeded to pick up a bell from the table in front of him. He rang the bell with force, creating a loud series of chimes. Paddy felt like he was being clubbed on the head with a mallet. He put his hands over his ears to dampen the sound. The servants entered the room within seconds but to Paddy, that bell seemed to toll for an eternity.

"Could we have our breakfasts now, my good man?" The King asked the servant in a pleasant manner. The servant bowed and started to ring a bell of his own. This bell sounded like it was a few octaves higher in pitch. It further added to Paddy's woes. The breakfast arrived a few moments later. Hog roast; vegetables, chicken, potatoes and a variety of other attractions were on the menu. Paddy looked up from the small spot on the table that he had been focusing on to stop his world spinning. He was confronted with the sight of the hog roast, head still intact. The colour drained from his cheeks. The smell was also making him feel queasy.

"I think he's going to blow" John said to the King. Paddy had been deafened by his ill feelings and didn't hear the comment. John proceeded to start ripping bits off the hog roast. The sound was repulsive. As the meat was torn, the squelching of the juices and the snapping of the fibres finished Paddy off. He turned away from the table and vomited on the floor. It was several gags later before he had finished. The puddle he had created was worthy of a tropical rainstorm. As he was wiping the vomit from around his mouth the King spoke.

"The last man to do that in my courtroom was strung up by the neck." He said with a look of utter distain on his face.

"My sincerest apologies, my lord." Paddy uttered between deep breaths.

The King smiled. Paddy was pleased to see the King was only feigning anger.

"Do not worry my good man. On this occasion I will see fit to overlook your transgression." The King spoke jovially.

"Thank you." Paddy replied bluntly.

"I am very surprised that you are in the state you are. I always thought you could handle your grog." The King began. He turned to John, "I remember your father as a young man. This was shortly before I became the King. We had just defended the shoreline against an attack by raiders from the Cursed Isle and we went to a tavern in a village nearby; I forget the name now."

"Ings Pass." Paddy said.

"Yes that was it, Ings pass." The King returned to his story. "We made merry all night long. The poor bard must have been exhausted as we insisted he keep playing. Anyway, your father and I had a little competition to see who would pass out from the drink first. The others took bets on the overall winner and also placed side bets on who could down their drink the quickest. I remember being on pint twenty before everything went blank. Whilst I was unconscious, your father supposedly challenged another two men before succumbing to the blackness. Now look at him." The King and John both turned to look at the slumped body of Paddy. They smiled and chuckled at his misfortune.

"Bah, sod off the pair of you." He said rather grumpily. "Get someone to clean up this mess".

After the servants had cleaned the floor, King Henried and John enjoyed a hearty breakfast. Paddy had no desire to eat at all. He felt like he would never want food to pass his lips again. When they had finished the King became serious.

"I invited you here today to make a proposition to you both." The King began. Paddy and John were intrigued. He began by talking to Paddy.

"Your tragedy has been great and I feel the deepest sympathy for you. However, I would like to know if you are planning on returning to Horton Peak or not."

Paddy looked quite tearful from the memory of the recent events. He had almost forgotten the horrific sights he saw and the pain of his loss in the hustle of the last few days.

"That place now holds bad memories." He began. "I do not think that I will be able to return there for a long time." The King nodded showing that he understood.

"I figured that would be the case. As such I have a favour to ask. I know that you would very much like to go on this adventure to find your daughter but as we agreed, both you and I have left our best days behind us and would only hinder the mission. However, I would like to bring you back into the army."

Paddy's eyes narrowed. The way that he had been cast aside had never been forgotten or forgiven. The King noticed his anger and hastened to get to the point of the conversation.

"I would like you to train the new recruits at the academy. The soldiers under your command were the most fearsome warriors I had ever seen but they had one major asset; they fought with their heads. They had discipline, cunning and respect. These are the qualities that my current soldiers now lack."

Paddy spoke, "You ask a lot of me, especially considering you cast me aside all those years ago in favour of your tempestuous son."

"I know and I am sorry." The King began. "In hindsight I realise that I made a big mistake. I believed that my son had received the best training and that he had the right temperament for the job. I was also naïve. I believed that family could be trusted above all others. I realise now that it isn't always wise to involve family and that my actions were too hasty and had far reaching implications. Rest assured, the same mistake will never happen again." There was a long silence. Paddy's face softened a little.

"Why now?" He asked.

"Why now do I ask you to help me?" The King expanded the question. "Dark times may be ahead. We know not what the inhabitants of Cursed Isle want with your daughter. Given the calculated way they took her, it would be my guess that she isn't merely food for the hoards. Something more sinister is afoot. As such, we need to be prepared. It would take a long time to change the ways of the soldiers on active duty. Those still in the academy however, could be moulded into soldiers that our Kingdom can be proud of."

A smile had crossed the face of Paddy'.

"You do realise that the Kingdom will be occupied by soldiers who do not conduct their business with a yes sir, no sir attitude." Paddy exclaimed.

"We need reliable soldiers and not yes men, Paddy. This is what I didn't realise all those years ago." The King replied.

"There is something else we need to do if planning for the worst." Paddy said sternly.

"What is that?" The King asked.

"Realism Training!" Paddy said bluntly. "We need to create some realistic combat situations to get the soldiers used to the realities, and horrors, of battle. We need to be confident that if they have to line up on the battlefield, the lines will not break and the men will not flee."

"How do you propose to do this?"

"We train the academy instructors how to create combat scenarios and then send them to the outposts around the Kingdom. One outpost will battle another in mock combat using only blunt striking instruments. At the end of a battle the combat instructors will then analyse the battle and instruct the soldiers on battlefield manoeuvres."

"That sounds like a plan." The King stated, satisfied that he had chosen the right man for the job. His attention then turned to John.

"John, I have a specific job for you."

John listened intently.

"I would like you to be the training partner of my son until the day your journey begins." The King said this knowing fully the implications of what he said. He realised that Cohen would be very resistant to the idea and would probably make his life hell; but it was a risk he was willing to take.

"Prince Cohen will not like that at all, my lord." John replied feeling a strange sense of satisfaction grow within him.

"Whether he likes it or not is immaterial. His tempestuous nature could put the mission at serious risk. I believe that your influence could help him to curb his temper and become the man he was raised to be." The King was remarkably blunt. He had sacrificed diplomacy for honesty.

"What makes you think that he will even be in the same room as me after the embarrassment I caused him?" John asked bluntly.

"It is true that you caused him a great deal of embarrassment. However, you will have gained his respect. You defeated him, not by strength or superior swordsmanship, with cunning and tactics. Seeing such a level head on one so young will spare him into action; of this I am certain. One thing that can be said in Cohen's favour, he likes to be the best and will work hard to be that way."

Agreements were reached all around; the morning's discussions were over. An escort took Paddy to the academy to meet the instructors. Feeling a little better, he immediately began laying out his plans for the academy and the combat scenarios.

The King and John went to see Prince Cohen. The news was greeted with a tantrum of epic proportions. Cohen had screamed and shouted, picked up items and thrown them at the walls before he stormed out of the palace not to be seen again until the next day.

"He took that remarkably well, I'd say." The King had remarked.

It was the third day in Thorvale for the Turners' before John and Prince Cohen were placed in a room together; alone. John was willing to forgive and forget as was in his nature. Cohen on the other hand was not. He had to be escorted to the training court of the Palace by the King's guards. They literally threw Cohen into the training court and slammed the door behind. A rustling sound could be heard in the lock followed by a clicking sound. Cohen tried the door; it was locked.

"Bastards" He screamed.

This was a pre-planned arrangement. Cohen would not have come on his own accord. He now wished that he had not returned to the palace. John had suggested this course of action to the King in Cohen's absence. He had agreed that it was a drastic measure but the only way to get the pair together.

John spoke, "There are only two ways in and out of this yard, Cohen." The formalities were dropped. John would treat Cohen like a common servant. "If you want to get out of here, you have to go through me."

Cohen turned away from the door and looked directly at John. There was venom in his eyes. Despite being fourteen years older than John, Cohen seemed like the child. Cohen ripped off his cloak, revealing his muscled arms. He unsheathed his sword and began walking towards his perceived enemy. John also removed his cloak. His youthful physique was nowhere near as toned as Cohen's but he was still very strong. Cohen charged, sword hanging over his head, ready to strike. John had a surprise waiting. His right arm held his sword whilst in the palm of his left hand; a small stone was being positioned to throw. John took a sturdy stance, drew back his arm and launched the stone. It struck Cohen on his forehead. The force of the stone stopped Cohen's upper body in its tracks. The inertia of his charge lifted his legs off the ground and he fell on his backside.

"Rage will not help you to defeat me." John said bluntly. "You need to be calm and focused."

"I'll show you calm and focused." Cohen scrambled to his feet and continued his charge. As he came into range, Cohen started swinging his sword in a wild and uncontrolled fashion. In a couple of swift motions, John had dislodged the sword from Cohen's grasp and kicked the raging prince square in the chest. He hit the floor hard. Just as he was about to sit up, the tip of a blade pressed into his throat.

"As I said," John began, "rage will not help you win this battle. It will only make you an easy target."

Cohen muttered something under his breath. Stepping away from the disgruntled figure of Cohen, John sheathed his sword.

"You have to make a choice, Cohen." He stated clearly. "You can either continue to act like a spoilt little child, getting spanked like one each time, or you can train with me to control that anger and bring out the talent that your father seems to think you possess." There was a long pause. Both men looked each other in the eyes; John had a calm but stern look, Cohen was trying to figure out John's motives. John continued, "When all the adventurers arrive, we will be going to the Cursed Isle. There you will either die by your stupidity or you will be an asset to the group and help us locate my sister."

Cohen looked up at John, his face softened a little as if he realised the truth in what was being said.

"Remember what is at stake for me." John continued. "It is my baby sister that I have to rescue. She is an innocent child who deserves a chance to live a healthy, normal life. I will not allow anyone to jeopardise our chances of getting her back alive. If that means slipping a knife into your back along the way, so be it."

Cohen's face softened entirely, a look of respect replacing the one of distain he had previously. The Prince stood up and brushed himself off.

"We had better get started then" Cohen said calmly. They both got kitted up in their training gear. Padded armour and blunt swords were used to avoid injury.

"We need to find out your level of competency with a blade." John said. "Remember to keep calm. If you find yourself getting frustrated, step away from your opponent, take a few deep breaths and clear your mind. You should fight with an empty head. Never try and anticipate the outcome of the battle. Simply let it flow. Your motion should be fluid, your reactions instinctive, not choreographed. Do you understand?"

Cohen nodded.

On this occasion, Cohen did not attack first. The combatants were circling each other, looking for the right time to strike. Cohen was holding his sword just slightly out of his normal defensive position. This forced an advance from John. He thrust his sword towards the belly of Cohen. Clever footwork allowed Cohen to slip the thrust and be in the ascendancy. Cohen exploded in a series of slashing motions followed by some thrusts. John was on the back foot, struggling to counter and dodge the blows. He backed off.

"That was more like it." He said to Cohen with a smile. "Much more controlled."

John came in again. This time he feigned a few thrusts before dropping low to slice the legs. Cohen jumped over the arcing blade and launched into a counter attack of his own. This time it was far more controlled and prolonged. His movements were smaller and more precise, his focus was clear. John was forced backward at such a rate; he tripped over one of the equipment boxes that were scattered around the edge of the yard. Cohen went for the kill, thrusting his blade down towards the spot where John lay. A last second wild swing of his sword, parried the strike, sending it stabbing into the ground. He rolled over and scrambled to his feet as Cohen tried to dislodge his sword from the ground.

"You nearly had me there." John said between deep breaths. The duel continued for the next half an hour. John had done his best to frustrate Cohen but the hot tempered Prince had taken his advice. Each time he felt the anger boiling within, he would take a step back from the battle and breath. They finished with a respectable draw.

"Well fought, my friend." John said with a healthy measure of respect. Cohen had a strange look on his face. A tear welled up in one eye.

"Nobody has ever called me that before." The Prince stated meekly. The child in him was now beginning to emerge and tell the world what its problem was. John realised that the life that Cohen was born into was not really a life at all. As a child, John did his chores, trained with his father in both combat and schooling and then played with the local children. Cohen was forced to grow up ahead of time. There were no children with whom he could play and let out his aggression. He had no friends at all. The only people he would have interacted with were the members of the royal court, the academy instructors and the servants.

"I think you could do with a friend. If you want it to be so, I am he." John spoke sincerely. Cohen approached offering his hand. John took it with a firm grip.

"I would like that." Cohen said shaking John's hand. "Thank you."

"Enough of this mushy malarkey," John said drawing his sword, "to work." With that he lunged at the defenceless Cohen. Cohen fled. They chased each other around the training court like little children in the street. For Cohen, it was the release of the inner child he needed. It wouldn't change him overnight but it would go a long way to helping.

The next few days continued in much the same vein. Paddy was engaged at the academy. His methods had already made a huge impact. The pupils were enthusiastic and entertained all the while learning new skills and tactics. The instructors were preparing to head for the outposts. Each had specific instructions for when the mock battles should take place and where. The combat scenarios had been written. Some were open battles, others were simulated sieges. The instructors themselves moved with added motivation. The ideas that Paddy Turner had brought to the academy had everyone excited.

Cohen and John continued to train hard. The King had been in to see the progress they were making and was suitably impressed. Everyone had a feel good vibe about them. The King was wary however. He wondered if it would be a case of too little, too late. The adventurers were due to arrive any day now but he knew that the child would be somewhere on the Cursed Isle at this very moment. Whatever evil plan had been conjured up was now being put into action. He didn't know what it was and he didn't know how long it would be before it would come into fruition. The feeling in his heart suggested that time was short and they may be too late.

Six days had passed since he had been sent to deliver the Kings message but finally James had returned. The streets of Thorvale felt very familiar and very homely. He reported directly to the Palace. The King granted him an audience.

"It is nice to see you back in one piece, messenger boy. What news?" The King asked.

"I located Rhyll the Barbarian and the Priestess Anree. Both have agreed to come. They should be arriving within the next few days at the latest."

"Good. You have done well. Was your journey a difficult one?" The King was remarkably talkative today. James had never known this before.

"Yes, my lord. Finding the barbarian was simple enough but I had to endure some extreme trials to be granted an audience with Anree."

"Trial by fire?" The King asked knowingly.

"Yes, my lord."

"I remember it well" he said. "The pain was excruciating but I was assured that it was all in my head. Pah, it hurt for real."

"But to lay eyes on the beauty within the temple was well worth it." James was now speaking to the King like they were old friends. The King was obliging. This last sentence had the King curious.

"I hope you have not been cavorting with the Priestesses. That would be out of place for a man of your position." The King scoffed with mock displeasure.

"I did not cavort, my lord. There was one though. Anna. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on." James had a distant expression on his face. The King clapped his hands together making a loud slapping noise. James jumped, his attention brought back to the here and now.

"And what of this lady was she a priestess?"

"No, my lord, she was a priestess in training."

The King's smile spread from ear to ear.

"Oh, my lad," the King began, "'tis a joyous day indeed. How long is it until she completes her training?"

"Three months." James replied.

"Three months until the fair lady is let loose upon this land to find a suitor. Did the lady make any promises?" The King was almost mocking the lad.

"She said that she would be coming to Thorvale if I would like to meet her."

The King grew very excited.

"Well then," he proclaimed rising from his throne, "we do not want the fair priestess to beg for the hand of a simple errand boy. How are you at handling a sword?"

"Well versed, my lord." James replied confidently.

"We shall enrol you in the academy straight away" The King shouted. "You shall be schooled as a commander. One with the bravery and the obvious strength of will to get into the temple of the priestesses and leave with not only his sanity but the offer of companionship; should be rewarded. Are you worthy of this reward?"

"I would strive to be." James answered bowing low.

With that, James was taken to the academy to begin his training. This had been a glorious week.

The next day saw the arrival of the first two adventurers. Anree the Healer arrived at the city gates early in the morning. Being a priestess often attracted a lot of attention so she had travelled at night to minimise detection. People were just leaving their houses to go to work as Anree and her cohort were moving through the streets towards the palace. The respect for the priestesses was high in Thorvale. The men doffed their caps and bowed as the party from the Sacred Hills passed by. The Women curtseyed obediently. It was if royalty was passing through. The word spread as if carried on the wind. Windows and doors burst open as people tried to catch a glimpse of a priestess and pay their respects. The sight of a priestess was rare indeed. Only one other in the past ten years had passed this way. The party arrived at the palace a short time later. The noise from the streets had brought the royal court outside to see what the fuss was about. The King saw the sight and smiled. He beckoned a messenger over to his side.

"Run along to the academy and fetch Paddy Turner at once." He commanded.

The messenger was gone for only a couple of minutes. The academy was situated at the east side of the palace in the plaza. As Paddy was walking with the messenger he heard all the noise. Upon seeing the crowds he asked.

"What is going on?"

The messenger simply shrugged. He was setting a hasty pace and did not seem intent on chatting. Paddy approached the King.

"Ah, Paddy," the King spoke, "our plan has worked." The King was pointing at the cohort of people moving through the centre of the crowds.

"The Priestess?" Paddy said inquisitively.

"Yes, my friend. It looks like Anree has accepted the invitation to come here."

They stood together and watched the procession roll down the street and up to the palace gate. There it stopped. Anree emerged from the centre of her escorts. She walked up to the King and bowed in front of him.

"At your request, I am here." She said.

"You have made quite an entrance, my lady. It is good of you to come at such short notice." The King replied.

Anree looked around to see who else was in the palace courtyard. She caught sight of Prince Cohen and smiled. The Prince's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He removed his gaze at once.

"What was that all about?" James whispered in Cohen's ear as if they were friends

"It is none of your business." Cohen snapped.

There were scant few people that Anree recognised. Ten years was a long time to be away and much had changed.

"Your message seemed urgent, my lord, what is the problem." Anree asked the King.

"Not here and not now. We have others who should arrive soon. Once you are all here, we will begin."

Anree nodded. "Then I would very much like to rest. My journey has been a long one."

The King had Anree and her cohort escorted to their quarters. The crowds in the street dispersed once the priestess had entered the palace out of sight.

Paddy returned to the academy; new hope filled his soul.

Rhyll the Barbarian arrived at noon. The lone warrior was in stark contrast to Anree. Not a single person glanced in his direction. It was just the way Rhyll liked it. Being unknown did have its drawbacks however. He announced his arrival to the guards at the gate to the palace. The same guard who had refused Paddy entry the week previous approached.

"What is your business here, stranger?" The guard asked.

"I was summoned to the palace for an audience with the King." Rhyll said confidently not expecting any problems. The guard looked the barbarian up and down. He had a disgusted look on his face.

"You are hardly dressed for a meeting with the King." He stated bluntly.

Rhyll looked displeased. "Unless it has slipped your notice, I am a barbarian. I have no need for material possessions."

"You do need a wash though, you stink."

The big man's fist drove hard into the guard's nose, shattering it and sending blood spurting everywhere. The guard lay unconscious on the ground. The other guards drew their swords and approached cautiously.

"I am not here to cause trouble." Rhyll stated calmly. "I have an appointment to see the King."

The palace alarm was sounded. Within seconds the entire palace guard were at the front gate. The gate watchmen had attacked. Rhyll was not overawed by the guards, fending off their attacks easily and throwing the guards out of the way. He was trying his best not to hurt anyone but as the number of guards attacking him began to swell, he thought that he would have no choice. He would hold off as long as possible.

A guard charged into the courtroom.

"My lord, we are under attack."

"From what?" The King shouted.

"We don't know sir. A lone warrior approached the gate a few moments ago. He attacked one of the watch guards."

The King ran to the gates as quickly as possible. He could barely make out the lone figure in the crowd of guards attacking him. The warrior came into view only briefly, when he threw a number of guards from his back.

"Cease this at once." The King bellowed in an authoritarian tone.

The guards stopped instantly and backed away from the warrior. The King approached.

"State your name, man." He commanded.

"My name is Rhyll" the barbarian replied.

"Welcome Rhyll. I am glad you could make it."

"You certainly have a strange way of showing it."

The guards dispersed and Rhyll was escorted into the palace.

"Please accept my sincerest apologies," the King began, "my guards can be overly cautions at times."

"It was good exercise" Rhyll replied.

"I will take you to your room now and when our last adventurer arrives, we shall convene a meeting to discuss why I have summoned you here."

Rhyll was in agreement.

Evening came and there was still no sign of the last adventurer. The day had been long and hard for the King. He was tired and had retired to his quarters early. He made all the necessary preparations for going to bed. He replaced his formal clothes with a night gown. He groomed himself and went to the toilet. It wasn't long before the King was in bed. The lantern on his bedside table was turned down low. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to drift away.

His eyes flashed open but he dare not sit up. A sharp point was sticking into his neck. All he could see was the white glow of a crystal in front of him. What was behind it was hidden in shadow.

"Who is it and what do you want?" The King asked calmly. Henried knew that one day, someone may try to assassinate him. He was prepared to die.

The mysterious figure withdrew. He pocketed his blade and covered his light crystal. The King could not see anything again. Suddenly the lantern flared up and light filled the room. Stood over him was a figure dressed all in black. Even the skin of this man was black.

"Allow me to introduce myself," the figure began, "I am Conrad D'Abor; master thief."

The King sat up and looked at his mysterious assailant.

"How did you get in?" he asked tentatively.

"Your security is shocking. If I didn't ply my trade in Beskholme I would definitely remove some valuable items from this place. Alas, it is too great a distance to carry them home."

The king looked less than amused but he certainly respected the audacity this character had shown. He welcomed Conrad, as formally as he could given his attire, and had a guard show him to his quarters.

*****

### Chapter 7

The next morning a messenger went around the palace to inform the adventurers that there presence was required in the great hall. Upon their arrival, they found the hall was almost empty. There were no guards and no members of the royal court. The only people present were King Henried and Paddy Turner standing at his side.

The King spoke in a formal tone, "Prince Cohen, John Turner, Anree the Healer, Rhyll the Barbarian and Conrad the Cowardly, you have been brought here today to perform a task of the utmost importance. To explain, I present to you Paddy Turner."

Paddy stood up and began pacing up and down the line of adventurers. He checked each one over with an eagle eye.

"A little over a week ago my wife gave birth to my daughter. That same night, Wraiths from the Cursed Isle slaughtered my wife and kidnapped my daughter. We believe that there is something special about my baby, Isabelle, and that is why she was taken. We also believe that she was taken back to the Cursed Isle though we do not know for what purpose. We would like you to infiltrate the island, locate Isabelle and return her back to me. It may be too late, we don't know and nor do I wish to contemplate it. It is also important that we find out what the plan for my daughter is." Paddy stopped there. The emotion of the whole ordeal suddenly swept over him, making it hard for him to speak. The King continued:

"If you manage to rescue Isabelle, there is a good chance that another attempt to snatch her back will be made. If the child is needed for some purpose we can assume that the denizens of the Cursed Isle will not let her go without resistance. The task we ask of you is great and it comes with considerable risk. As I said in my message to you all, name your price."

The room was silent. Each individual contemplating what they wanted. It was John Turner who broke the silence.

"I require no reward. Isabelle is my sister, my blood and I accept this mission out of love. All I would ask is that if I happen to be too late, if my sister is dead; that you lend me a number of your finest warriors so that I can exact my revenge on those that did this." The King nodded his approval.

Cohen spoke, "I too demand nothing in payment. Since meeting Paddy and John, I have done nothing but embarrass myself and the royal court with my actions. I shall accept this quest as part of my training."

The King smiled from ear to ear upon hearing his son's words. Pride oozed out of every pour on his body.

"Perhaps we shall make a leader out of you yet, boy." He said. The King then turned to Rhyll and motioned him to speak.

"I have little need for money or wealth. I live and die by my ability to fight. All I require is a fine set of weapons. Just point me in the direction of your finest blacksmith before we leave."

"Weapons you shall have my barbarian friend. We have the finest Smithy and the largest armoury right here in the city. You shall be free to choose whatever weapons and armour you desire." The King replied.

Anree spoke next, "My order is expanding and the temple we have will soon be full to capacity. I would ask for nothing more than free labour to help us build an extension to the temple."

The King smiled, "My lady, such a simple request can easily be granted. However, I have a counter offer for you. If you are successful I shall send the finest architects in all of Thorntonvale to help you sculpture a building worthy of your order. How does that sound?"

Anree tried to speak but nothing but a choking sound came out of her mouth. She looked to the floor for a moment to regain her composure. Finally she spoke, "My lord is most generous. My order and I will be most grateful."

Finally it was Conrad's turn to speak, "All I require is this; one hundred thousand pieces of gold, a stately mansion in the centre of Thorvale complete with full furnishings, a number of fine guards to keep it safe, twenty or so beautiful women to fulfil my needs and an extensive wine cellar."

Everyone was looking at Conrad with amazement.

"Twenty women?" Rhyll asked with raised eyebrows.

"I have needs" Conrad replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I have needs too but I only have one..."

"Ahem," the King interrupted, "Is that all, Conrad?" He asked, changing the subject quickly.

"Yes I think that should do it." Conrad replied.

"Settled, I shall grant you all what you requested. You will leave on the morrow. May I remind you that speed if of the essence! I have a bad feeling about this and I would like to sleep easy before this year is through. Winter is fast approaching so watch your step."

Paddy joined the conversation.

"On a personal note, I have to thank you all. I will be forever in your debt."

With that, the adventurers departed.

That evening, preparations were made for the journey. The King personally escorted the party to the finest blacksmith in Thorvale. Here the sharpest blades, the toughest armour and the most durable shields could be found. The workshop was one huge room. The many different wares were displayed on the wall. As Rhyll entered the shop his jaw hit the ground. As Conrad walked past the large barbarian, he reached up and pushed his mouth closed.

"You will be catching flies, big fella." He said cheekily.

"I think I have died and gone to heaven." Rhyll said with a dreamy amazement to his voice.

They all wandered around the room looking at the different wares that suited their individual styles. Conrad was looking at the range of weightless armour that was available. The Smithy walked across to him.

"If you do not wish to be seen or heard, this is for you." He said pointing at a black tunic. "It is made from material, woven so that no blade, no matter how sharp, can penetrate. Of course you would still feel the blow so we have sown into the lining a series of small metal plates. The metal is the finest and lightest we have. It will protect you well."

Conrad inspected the armour closely. Using his knuckles, he began knocking on the metal plates. He looked at the blacksmith and enquired, "How do you ensure the metal plates do not make a sound?"

"The armour consists of the following," The blacksmith began, "the outer layer is a tightly woven material that is nearly unbreakable. Next is a layer of densely packed wool to dampen the sound of the plates on the outer material. Behind the plates is a similar layer of wool that stops them from hitting the inside layer of material. It is quite simple really."

"Sold" Conrad said bluntly, "put this on the King's bill."

Anree was busy inspecting the ranged weapons. She had sighted a beautifully crafted longbow. Its balance and tension were perfect. She cocked an arrow to see how it felt. The Smithy went into the opposite corner of the room and rotated a small target.

"Please have a go" he told Anree.

She pulled the arrow back, took aim and let fly. The naked eye would not have seen it leave the bow. It flew straight and true, hitting the target dead centre. She fell in love with it instantly.

"You could pierce the eye of an Orc from a mile away." The Smithy boasted.

Both Cohen and John were kitting themselves out in lightweight armour and elegant swords. John added a shield and a back plate with a shield hook. Cohen preferred a crossbow and mount. The pair of them looked like glorious knights.

Rhyll had gone mad. He had donned some leather holster armour. This was light padded armour with many places to holster tools. Traditionally designed for workers who worked in dangerous places who would need to take all their tools with them, Rhyll had found a new use for it. Attached to his armour was a war hammer, a double edged battleaxe, a bastard sword, two scimitars and a number of throwing daggers. He walked into the centre of the room; his posture oozing confidence.

"Well, what do you think?" He demanded with a broad grin on his face.

"I'm sorry, Rhyll, but there is something missing." Conrad teased. Rhyll's smile visibly sagged. He had a look around the walls to see what he could possibly have overlooked. Deep in the darkest corner of the room, a helmet was hanging from a rafter. It had cat eyes to see through and covered half of the head at the front yet dropped down and away at the back to protect the neck without limiting movement. Conrad walked over to get the helmet and returned to where Rhyll stood. In mock ceremonial style, Conrad placed the helmet on Rhyll's head.

Conrad took a pace back, nodding like a donkey, "There, now you look the part". He looked around the room at the other adventurers. They were nodding too.

"Now we are ready" Conrad said.

They all raised their weapons of choice and gave an almighty roar.

For two members of the party the night seemed to take an eternity to pass. For both John and Cohen, this would be their first adventure. Stories make adventures sound exciting and fun. The reality is often so different. For John, bad dreams were keeping him awake. Each time he closed his eyes he could see his sister in the arms of those Wraiths. Never in his life had he encountered a Wraith so his mind was creating a vision of a monster so hideous, fear filled his heart and soul. He would be unable to move when it looked at him. The Wraiths paraded the child around him whilst he stood there helplessly. They would then start tossing the child over his head, playing a twisted game of piggy in the middle. He could not jump. The only thing he could do was watch. Then the mouth of one of these monstrosities would open. It opened so wide, it could have fit a couple of large melons in. The teeth were razor sharp. Slowly, the Wraith would bring Isabelle closer and closer to his mouth. Its horrid slimy tongue would lick Isabelle's perfect little face. The saliva would melt the skin away, like it was pure acid, showing only a bloodied skeleton. Then the Wraith would bite her head clean off before devouring the rest of the body in a savage act of cannibalism. Once it had finished with Isabelle, the attention of the Wraith would turn to him. Each of the Wraiths would close in on him, mouths wide open, razor sharp teeth gleaming in the moonlight. The Wraith in front of him had blood stained teeth and blood trickling down the side of his mouth; Isabelle's blood. Then they would pounce.

As the blackness took hold of him, John would wake up. Sweat poured off him. His sheets were soaked, again. This dream repeated time and time again until morning came.

For Cohen, the dreams did not keep him awake. His own thoughts did that. He was trying to remember all the lessons he had learned this past week. He practiced the calming exercises in his head. He wanted to feel confident that they would work when it came to the time he needed to use them for real. He wasn't confident however. For too long he had suffered this rage. It was now a part of him, an evil monster awaiting its chance to engulf its host. One week of training would not bury his tempestuous nature for long. He knew this but was determined to keep it quiet. This was his opportunity to grow. It was his opportunity to gain the respect of those who did not respect him. Servants, Soldiers, guards and even the King all felt that he was ill deserving of the title of Prince. This is what he imagined in his head. He would show them though. He was determined more than anything else to see the same expression his father had shown earlier that day, again. Cohen had never seen pride in his father's eyes being directed at him. The feeling was amazing and he wanted more than anything to feel that way once more. Cohen then began to think about John. John had accepted him; the first person in his life to accept him for who he was. What must John be going through? He would do his best by John. He could deal with disappointing those that did not care for him but not John. He could not let down his only friend in his hour of need.

For many hours the Prince stewed. The thoughts rolled through his head and then repeated. He managed just a couple of hours sleep.

The next morning, Cohen and John made their way to the great hall together. They opened the doors and entered. Anree, Rhyll and Conrad were already tucking into a hearty breakfast. Each looked fresh and alert like they had just had the most relaxing night's sleep of their lives. John and Cohen looked like ghosts in comparison.

"You two didn't sleep so well then?" Conrad said. "First timer's nerves methinks."

"And a good morning to you too." John said wearily. They all ate a hearty breakfast and then packed their food provisions. They would have enough to last them a couple of weeks. If they were any longer, they would have to hunt. After breakfast, as the others prepared, John went to see his father.

Paddy was standing on the balcony of his room. It did not overlook the city but looked south towards the coast. John stood next to his father and for a moment both men just looked out in the general direction they thought Isabelle may be.

Placing his hand gently on his father's shoulder, John said, "It is time for me to leave".

Paddy turned and looked deep into his son's eyes. His voice was breaking as he spoke, "I am proud of you son. You have grown up to be a fine young man. I only hope that your brothers follow your example." Tears were forming in Paddy's eyes.

"You take care of yourself. I could not bare it if I lost you as well."

John was now in tears. He had never seen such a display of emotion from his father. He spoke as calmly as he could in the circumstances, "You will not lose me, father. I will return and I will bring Isabelle with me."

Paddy was about to reply but the words became stuck in his throat. He stepped forward and gathered his son in a big emotion-filled embrace that lasted fully a couple of minutes. Paddy knew full well that this may be the last time he would see his son. It would be a moment he would treasure for the rest of his life. As they released their embrace, no more words were spoken. They spent a moment looking at each other. Paddy smiled and patted John on the shoulder before John turned and walked away. Paddy watched him until he could see nothing more than the wood of the closed door that John exited through.

It was close to sunset when the adventurers gathered at the gates of the palace. The King and the members of the royal court waited there to send the adventurers on their way.

The King addressed the party, "I wish you all the best of luck. May the gods favour you in the days ahead?" The party bowed. With that they picked up their backpacks and departed. Horses had been provided to speed their journey. As Conrad marched towards his mount, he turned to speak to the King.

"Remember, twenty women, no less."

The King smiled, shaking his head in disbelief.

The party mounted up, turned their steeds and galloped out of the city. It would take them half a day to reach the ferry.

*****

### Chapter 8

It was just after sunrise when the band of adventurers arrived at the ferry. The group looked very impressive, especially in their new garb. Anyone who saw them on their journey from the palace to here knew that they should not get in the way. If someone had had the impudence to try to halt or slow the progress of these adventurers, they would have been swatted aside like a fly. This, at least, was the impression they emitted.

The ferry wasn't very impressive. It was really just a large row boat that could hold up to twelve people. An old, scruffy looking man sat on a stool on the beach. He wore scruffy grey rags for trousers and was barefoot in the sand. The lower half of his legs was showing. They looked very thin but incredibly hairy. The hair was thick black and longer than some have on their heads.

"You could make a toupee from hairs like that." Conrad jested. "Sorry, make that two."

The men in the group chuckled. Anree however, did not.

"You will find that everything has its place, Conrad." She said coldly.

"What do you mean by that?" He asked.

"Each day, the ferryman has to get into that water and take people wherever they wish to go. His body will have reacted to the years of differing temperatures, ranging from below freezing to tropical seas, to create a defence. Those hairs will protect him."

Everyone considered what Anree had said. Some were nodding approval at the words she spoke, others, like Rhyll, had no time for such tripe. He rolled his eyes and ploughed forward.

As they approached the ferryman they could see that he only had a string vest covering his torso; yellowed from years of sweat. Despite his years, his hair was not grey or white. It was dark brown (all except his foot hair) and quite well groomed for a man in his profession. He sported light stubble on his face. The ferryman had noticed the party approaching many minutes ago. He didn't react at all until spoken to.

"Good morning, sir." John spoke in a pleasant manner.

"I have seen better!" The ferryman stated being deliberately obnoxious.

"I should imagine that you have seen worse, too." John continued in his light hearted fashion.

"I have seen many a good day and many a bad day. Also, I have seen many people come and go. They come to me to ferry them someplace, taking me away from my business, expecting me to be nice."

"And what business do you have that we shall be taking you away from, good sir." The others in the party began to realise that John was playing mind games with the ferryman. They watched closely to see how this scene would play out.

"My business is my own and none of your business. Now do you want to do business or just distract me from mine?"

"But didn't you just tell me that if I gave you business, it would be taking you away from your business? Oh, I don't know, this business is confusing." John was mocking. There was method behind the madness though. He knew full well that the ferryman would not take them to their destination. Not, that is, unless he wants to prove a point.

"I know not what business you find confusing but mine is simple. I ferry people where they want to go and bring them back if they wish. Is that simple enough for you lad?" The ferryman was now angry. He had had enough of the horseplay.

"That is very simple, sir. Now if you would be so kind, take us to Cursed Isle."

The colour drained from ferryman's face. He looked ten years older quicker than the blink of an eye.

"I will not." He proclaimed. His tone had changed. The man before the party was no longer full of aggression and loathing. It was a far more primal instinct. It was fear.

"Why not, sir?" John asked.

The bravado returned.

"For no good reason. I just don't feel like conducting business today." He stood up from his stool and started walking towards a small boathouse. John ran after him and stood in his way.

"If you lack the courage to take us, you could at least make provision that we may take ourselves." John said sternly. The look in the eyes of the old ferryman made John aware that he had touched a nerve. Before he could react, a fist struck John's nose sending him crashing to the ground. The tears in his eyes blinded him and he could feel a hot liquid running out of his nostrils. John tried to scramble into a sitting position. With the back of his hand he wiped his nose. Crimson blood smeared across his skin, sticking the fine hairs together. He looked up and could just see a blurred silhouette blocking out the light above him.

"No-one calls me a coward. No-one tells me I lack courage. I have more courage in my little finger than you have in your entire body." The rant went on for quite some time. As John's head began to clear he tried to stand up. The ferryman put a large hairy foot on his chest to keep him pinned to the floor; to make him listen to the rant. When, finally, the ferryman had finished, he vanished into the boathouse. There were a series of loud creaks and bangs. After a few minutes had passed a large sliding door in the side of the building opened. The ferryman emerged carrying a large row boat. The boat must have weighed nearly four times as much as the ferryman but he lifted it like it was a small pebble on the beach. He threw the boat into the water and turned back to John.

"There," He said sharply, "you can take this. Be warned though, your chances of getting back are slim. Ghostly ships patrol the shores of that island."

"Could you give us some advice on how to get on and off the island undetected?" John asked directly.

"I should think your barbarian friend could answer that. His people have been doing it for years and a damn sight more effectively than I ever could." With that, the ferryman went back to his boathouse and slammed the door shut.

Cohen ran over to help John.

"That was one almighty slug you received there. Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine" John said adjusting his nose back into position.

All eyes turned to Rhyll.

"Well?" Conrad asked, breaking the silence.

"Well what?" Rhyll replied obtusely.

"How do we get onto that island undetected?" Conrad shouted.

"That is simple. We wait until there is a mist, which is almost every night over there, and then we sneak onto the western side of the island."

"Why the western side?" Anree asked.

"I do not know." Rhyll said bluntly. "My people have always infiltrated the island from there. I think it is because it is a disputed patch of land. Many different races fight for it so they do not look for threats from the sea."

"Well it sounds like the best plan we are going to get." Conrad said.

"Have you ever seen any of these ghost ships, Rhyll?" Cohen enquired.

"I have not but many years ago, before I was of the age to join them, barbarian warriors from our tribe set sail for the island on a large vessel. It was a small galleon or maybe a sloop; I cannot remember. Anyway, the story has it that they were within sight of the island when a number of cannonballs smashed into the ship from behind. As the crew turned the ship to fire back, the captain noticed that a mist had formed all around but not where they were. Cannon fire reigned in from all sides. The sails were damaged, the hull was broken. Many abandoned ship. There were a couple of lifeboats. Only one set sail with just a handful of men aboard. They made it to the island and set up a watch on these invisible vessels. They studied them for as long as they could before they disappeared into the darkness or the mist became too thick, I cannot recall which. They decided to track one of the ships along the shore. It seemed to have a set patrol pattern. The barbarians managed to determine that pattern and then plot their escape accordingly. They had been very astute and the plan worked. They returned home safely to pass on the secret to getting onto Cursed Isle."

The party pondered in silence for a moment. Anree broke that silence.

"I believe that we should go the way of the barbarians. We have to scout the island in any case so it makes no difference if we start from the east or the west."

"Would you be able to detect them with your magic?" Cohen asked Anree.

"I have some power, it is true, but my range is limited. I may be able to detect a vessel approaching shortly before it would be in visible range. I may only be of any great use in fog."

"That settles it then," Conrad said, "we set sail now to arrive in the dark hours of the morning. If there is a mist, Anree will act as our personal protection. If there is no mist, we can all keep a lookout."

The others nodded in agreement and boarded the rowboat.

"Just one last question, "Conrad said cheekily, "who is going to row?"

All eyes turned to Rhyll.

"That's right, pick on the big man." Rhyll said in feigned anger.

They set off across the sea.

The party of adventurers had sailed through many hours of the night. Anree's worst fears had come true. She had only agreed that she could spot an enemy vessel to put everyone's mind at ease. She thought that if they could relax whilst they had the chance, they would be fresh and focused when they arrived. Anree was not a telepath however. Nor was she able to cast any spells of destruction. All her powers enabled her to do is to heal and to create simple a simple barrier to defend against attack. The only thing that would get the group to the island safely was luck. Rhyll continued to row hard. He possessed true strength and stamina. The rest of the group were asleep. Occasionally, someone would have to kick Conrad. His snoring would give away their position to a ship a hundred miles away.

"Not very quiet for a thief, is he? Anree mused.

"A horde of my kinsmen charging into battle would make less noise than that." Rhyll replied. "The inhabitants of Cursed Isle will think they have a new breed of monster on their hands."

The pair chuckled.

A noise began to sound and grow. It was not noticed at first, Anree and Rhyll assuming it was just the wind. They continued their banter. The noise continued to grow; it was still fairly faint but definitely getting louder. With a sudden jerk, Conrad sat bolt upright.

"Something is coming." He proclaimed.

"You were dreaming." Rhyll stated dismissively.

"I tell you, something approaches. It's coming from the west. They all listened. Finally, Anree and Rhyll heard the noise clearly.

"Wake the others." Anree commanded. Conrad shook the others awake.

"What's the matter?" Cohen asked in a loud voice.

"Shhh," Conrad hissed, "there is something in the water."

The sound no longer seemed to be getting louder. It seemed like it had reached its crescendo. Suddenly, emerging from the mist, the battered remains of a large galleon came into view. It was right on top of them. Visibility was barely ten metres.

"It's going to hit." Conrad screamed and he launched himself over the side of the boat into the ice cold sea.

The ship crashed by the front of the boat. The waves it created pushed the boat away from its hull and prevented it from being dragged under. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the mist engulfed it.

"That was a close one." Rhyll said.

"We were all here, Rhyll," Cohen began, "you don't need to state the bleeding obvious."

"One of us wasn't here." John said flatly. The group thought for a minute and then realised.

"Conrad." They all began shouting. The group continued to call his name time and time again. It seemed like an eternity before Conrad replied.

"I'm....glub...here." He said between swallowing mouthfuls of salt water. Rhyll steered the boat to collect him. John and Cohen pulled him in.

"In the palace, the local merchants have brought some sorry looking fish to sell. You are by far the sorriest looking fish I ever saw." Cohen said.

The rest laughed. The only person who didn't was Conrad. He was pale white, shivering and quickly becoming hypothermic. Anree moved to the rear of the boat to help him. She began by taking his clothes off. Conrad flinched as she began to remove his trousers.

"I haven't got any underwear on." He proclaimed between chattering teeth.

"I hope the fish didn't feed on the tackle. It's bad for their health." Rhyll laughed.

Anree laid a reassuring hand on Conrad's shoulder.

"Don't worry, I am a professional."

Conrad relaxed and allowed Anree to remove his trousers. She piped up.

"Blimey, I know the water is cold but that is ridiculous."

Everyone burst out laughing. Conrad snatched the blanket from by her side and covered himself up.

"Conrad the Cowardly, I don't think that is fitting." Rhyll said. "How about, Conrad the Concertina?" Everyone erupted in fits of hysteria. Anree could not perform her healing spell for the split she had in her side. Amidst all the tension of the first leg of this adventure, they had all found something to warm their hearts; all except for Conrad that is.

*****

### Chapter 9

The morning rays of sun were swallowed up by the black and grey stone of Blackheart Castle. The uppermost room of the Keep spanned the full length and width of the keep, a series of pillars maintaining the structural integrity. In the centre of the room, an altar lay under a large open circle in the ceiling. In the middle of the room's four walls, archways led onto balconies. Almost the entire island could be seen from here. The balcony to the east looked out across Cursed Isle. Just below the castle, the Valley of Tortured Souls was still a hive of activity. The Bugbears went about their business, savaging any who stepped foot on their land. Beyond the valley and to the North, the mountains and Pitfall Pass could be seen standing far taller than anything else on the island. The badlands were largely obscured by the mountains but a small part could be seen. From where the badlands finished, the marsh spanned south. The caves of the spiders were nestled in the uneven landscape. On a clear day the forest of Fairthesal could be seen. The mist of the eastern ocean was visible also. The Watcher stood looking out across the land. The last couple of days had been spent making the necessary preparations. The first job that had to be done was to make a living space capable of supporting a human child. The undead did not feel the cold. As a result, the castle was largely damp and chilly. Many hours were spent preparing a single room in the upper levels of the keep. The room had a large fireplace. The goblin servants had gathered a large pile of wood and set a large fire burning. Unlike a lot of the rooms in the castle, this one was fully intact; all four walls were standing providing ample shelter from the chill drafts that flowed throughout the large structure. Once the child was comfortable, The Watcher and his minions set about making the Altar room, at the top of the keep, ready for the ceremony. They needed to clean it up so that the child would be unaffected by the environment. The ceremonial trinkets needed to be gathered and placed in easy reach. The ceremonial altar needed to be set up. There were lots of things to do. The day after arriving back at the castle, The Watcher had sent some of his minions north. They were to fetch the Priests of Bhryll; devoted followers of the God of Chaos. They lived in a small fortress high in the hills. They were feared by the dead and the living alike because they were said to have a direct link to the power of the gods. A party of greedy Orcs had once tried to claim the fortress as their own. One thousand Orcs attacked that day, not one even managed to reach the walls. This was only a rumour but one that no denizen of the Cursed Isle could disprove. The Priests would perform the ceremony to release the spirit of Bhryll from the abyss of cursed souls. Then he would possess the body of Isabelle Turner. It would take the Priests a couple of days to arrive as they would need to prepare their potions and incantations before making the journey to Blackheart Castle.

The Watcher could feel the day growing close. Soon, his master would be re-born and the world would descend into chaos.

"It is time." He said slamming his huge hands against the balcony railing. He turned and passed through the arch into the altar room. A couple of Wraiths were still making preparations. One was holding Isabelle Turner and testing her position on the altar. The Watcher spoke to this one.

"We need no surprises. When the ceremony begins, we can have no interruptions. The humans will send a rescue party. We need to make sure that we secure our borders and keep a lookout for any that approach."

The snake like, hissing voice of the Wraith began,

"Shall we send out the spies, master?"

"Yes, but inform them not to engage if they find anyone. Tell them to observe from a distance and try to determine their plans. Once they have this information, they are to report back to me."

"What about the mainland, Master" The Wraith asked.

"Yes, the mainland," The Watcher said thinking, "it is time. Forget sending the spies after the humans, one of the races will detect them and inform us. Send the spies to the mainland to carry out the orders they have been programmed to do."

The Wraith left Isabelle on the altar and disappeared in the direction of the stairwell on the south east of the tower. The Watcher stood over Isabelle. He ran a long, skeletal finger across the cheek of the baby. The Watcher spoke, "In a matter of days, you will not be recognisable. Bhryll will rip himself from your fragile little body, shedding your vile skin to once again become a living god." What could only be described as a hideous smile could be seen on his face. He then commanded another Wraith to return Isabelle to her room.

Meanwhile, the first Wraith had reached the dungeons below the keep. The cells were full of human males. Each had blank expressions on their faces. Some looked like they had endured years of the worst kind of torture imaginable. Whatever had happened to them, they were all broken. Their wills were no longer their own. They served The Watcher.

"You know your jobs." The Wraith announced. "Now it is time to do them."

The Wraith pulled a lever on the wall and the cell doors came crashing open. Like zombies, the men slowly dragged their battered and broken bodies out of the cells. They marched in order until they had cleared the dungeon and entered the courtyard. An armed escort awaited them. The escort was made up of the ghost pirates and skeletons. The Wraith commanded them, "See that the spies are escorted safely to the mainland." The Wraith paused for thought before he continued, "Also, inform any race you pass to keep a watch for a small band of humans. If found they are to be killed or their whereabouts reported to me." The leader of the escorting party nodded and with that the spies were led away. They were heading to the western shore as it was only an hours walk away. They departed aboard the ghost ship at midday. They would be dropped at a secluded alcove on the mainland under the cover of darkness the following night. They would then scatter across the mainland until they had something to report. The ghost ship would stay moored in the alcove and return to Cursed Isle only when news of any importance was announced.

The party of adventurers were in trouble; but they didn't know it yet. They had been walking for a couple of hours. Rhyll knew this part of the island well and figured that there was nowhere to hold a child around here. The only place he knew of was Fairthesal forest, the scene of his recent trial.

"There are very few beasts around these parts" Rhyll had said to the group. "We need to get to Terror Trees Forest where there is an extensive underground network of tunnels. It is occupied by goblins but we should be able to get in when it is light."

No-one questioned Rhyll as he was the one who had been here the most. However, on their way to the forest, many eyes had spotted them pass. Rhyll had not known that this was Troll country. Trolls by their very nature prefer to stay hidden from danger and strike by surprise. They will linger behind trees, walls, and bushes until their prey is upon them. Swiftly they will move in from behind to bludgeon their prey to death with clubs, maces or mallets. The landscape was very overgrown. The grass in places was waist high. There were many wild bushes growing out of the grass. Small hills created many hiding places for the Trolls. Large rooted trees were scattered around again providing the perfect place to launch an ambush. The adventurers continued on, blissfully unaware that they may soon be food on a monster's table. Conrad's astute hearing, honed by years of thievery, picked up a small noise from behind. He turned to look.

"What is wrong?" Anree asked.

"I heard a noise. At a guess I would suggest that we are being followed." Conrad spoke in a quiet whisper so as not to alert a watching enemy. The Trolls were closing in from every angle. Conrad started to hear faint noises, the snapping of twigs and the rustling of leaves and grass, from all directions.

"This is a trap." He stated hurriedly.

"Nonsense, you are hearing things." Rhyll stated.

"I hear nothing also." Anree agreed.

They all stood quietly, listening for any sign of movement. There was nothing. Even Conrad could hear no sound.

"Whatever is out there, they know we have detected their presence." Conrad stated. He looked around, trying to formulate a plan of escape. One of the small hills had a copse on top of it. The trees looked tightly packed.

"We could make a dash for that copse up there. It would at least give us a chance to defend ourselves if something is around."

"It's better to be safe at this point. We do have a job to do after all and if we are slaughtered here, or if it is just our thief friend's imagination, we can't take the risk." Cohen stated showing a maturity yet seen. This sent a feeling of pride through John, satisfied that his pupil and friend was becoming a better person by the day.

"I agree." John said showing support for his friend's statement.

"We will go on three as quickly as possible." Conrad stated. "One, Two, Three, go."

The party sprinted towards the trees. A Troll jumped out from behind a bush they were passing. With lightning reactions, Rhyll pulled the bastard sword from his holster and brought it crashing down towards the Troll. The Troll raised a mace above his head to block the blow but it had no effect. The heavy metal blade sliced through the wooden mace as if it wasn't even there. The Troll's head split in two, its body lunged into the air as Rhyll yanked the blade free forcefully.

"Nice shot." Conrad stated gleefully.

"Thanks." Rhyll accepted.

John looked behind as he ran up the hill. Like ants from the soil, the Trolls seemed to spring out from nowhere. There were fully two dozen. Each was only about five and a half feet tall but they were all very stocky and moved with great speed and agility.

"We may not make it to the copse before they are upon us." He stated, voice shaking from the adrenaline pumping though his body.

"Oh yes we will." Rhyll said turning. "Keep moving." The others duly obliged. Rhyll raised his bastard sword above his head and screamed a war cry that pierced the soul of all around. Two Trolls were well ahead of the pack. Rhyll charged them, again cutting them down like they were nothing but twigs from a dead tree. The pursuing Trolls paused for a second to take stock of this mighty human before them. Rhyll noticed the long grass moving to both his left and right. He turned and ran towards the copse. His speed was magnificent for such a huge man.

"Remind me never to pick a fight with him." Cohen said semi praying that he never lost his temper with the massive barbarian.

"Oh, don't you worry. I will remind you every day." John said in jest.

"This is not the time to be joking, lads." Anree began. "You two cover the rear entrance to the copse in case the Trolls come around."

The copse seemed to be formed by two sets of trees. The way the trees were set made a crescent shape around each side, forming a clearing in the centre. The trees were so tightly packed together, nothing could get through them. There were two ways in; through the gap in the trees that the adventurers had used or through the gap at the back that Cohen and John were now covering. Rhyll burst into the camp through the front entrance closely followed by a group of Trolls. Anree and Conrad took up arms against the Trolls. Cohen and John turned to assess the situation. Rhyll continued to charge through the clearing. He pulled a smaller sword from his belt and launched it towards John. It spun, end over end, whooshing passed John's ear, then stopped with a dull thud. John and Cohen turned to see a group of Trolls charging them and one on the floor with a sword sticking out of its chest.

"Can you take care of them?" Rhyll asked Cohen.

"Yes, you go back and help the others." Cohen commanded confidently. Rhyll had assumed that Anree and Conrad would need the most help. He turned to see Anree slicing through two Trolls with one blow. Their heads were launched high above their bodies.

"Now there is a woman not to be messed with." Rhyll said to himself. The Trolls kept coming. Two dozen had multiplied. There were now almost fifty Trolls. The adventurers had been driven back into a small circle, each person trying to cover the backs of the others.

"Fire, we need fire." John said quickly. "I remember my father telling me that Trolls hate fire."

"Rhyll, cover me." Anree commanded. The group moved round to fill the space left by Anree. She took the backpack from her shoulders and delved deep into it. After a few seconds she emerged with a couple of torches. She uttered a quick incantation and they burst into flames.

"Here." She said handing a torch to John and Conrad. The Trolls had been taunting the group. They were not attacking outright but they kept sniping at them, occasionally throwing stones and branches. Conrad charged the group near the entrance they had entered the copse by; John did likewise at the rear of the copse. The Trolls jumped back, knocking over those that were not prepared to move backwards. Seeing his chance amidst all the chaos, Rhyll's war cry rang out again. He stepped forward slicing the Trolls down as they tried to get to their feet. The rest of the group joined in. Many Trolls dropped in the first few seconds, sending fear ripping through the rest like a knife through paper. The panic caused the Trolls to flee. Anree cocked her bow and sent arrows flying after the retreating group. Any who were stationary for too long were hacked down mercilessly. The adventurers chased the Trolls away before reconvening in the clearing.

"Phew, that was rather intense." Conrad said. "I think I prefer the more subtle approach of backstabbing instead of these large battles."

"You certainly showed that you live up to neither of your nicknames." Rhyll said. "You are certainly not cowardly and you have huge balls, my friend."

"So that is what you were doing whilst the rest of us were fighting was it? Staring at my codpiece?" Conrad retorted.

The group laughed. It was brought to an abrupt end by Cohen.

"Look, I don't mean to break the mood here but hadn't we better be going." Cohen felt quite anxious and not entirely in control. He certainly was not in the mood for the petty insults and joviality shown by Conrad and Rhyll.

"The Prince is correct." Anree stated. "We have shocked the Trolls into leaving us for now but they will come again and in larger numbers if we linger here too long."

"The forest should be no more than an hour from here and providing we stick to the outskirts and remain well hidden, we should be able to rest for the night." Rhyll said, confident in what he said. The plan didn't go down well with John.

"Rest? We should not rest. My little sister is out there somewhere and we need to find her. Who knows what these beasts will do."

Anree handled the anger and frustration that John was feeling.

"When the time comes to attempt a rescue on your sister, would you risk both the lives of yourself and your sister because you are too weary to fight. It is wise to rest. The battle has tired us all."

John knew that Anree spoke the truth but even the soundest reasoning could not rid him of the feeling that they were not working hard enough.

The party continued on. That night they slept in a grassy field on the edge of Fairthesal Forest.

*****

### Chapter 10

The adventurers had left just four days ago. Paddy was already missing his son. He knew that there was a great risk that he would lose another member of his family. Paddy had been working hard at the academy to improve the training regimes of the soldiers. It was something that he would never have imagined doing less than one week ago. That morning, King Henried arrived for an unexpected visit.

"Good Morning, Paddy, how are things here at the academy?" The King enquired, curious to see what Paddy had been up to.

"Good morning, my lord. Things are going really well here." Paddy spoke in an excited tone. He seemed at his happiest when he talked about the academy. "I have made a number of important changes. We now have three groups in the academy. We have the beginners; for those who have had no training at all. We have the intermediates; people who have been in training for a while but still lack the skill and confidence to be effective on the battlefield. Finally, the advanced group consist of the finest students; those that are well trained but need to learn how to be cleaver with the knowledge they possess."

"These changes are quite substantial. What was wrong with the old class system that we had appointed; even before you left the army? Surely dividing soldiers into individual groups depending on their potential has to be the best way of training the troops. I am not convinced by a general course for the masses." The King stated, obviously a little troubled by Paddy's announcement. When Paddy had worked for King Henried previously, he had been one of the best commanders the military had ever had. Paddy had respect and sound strategies but that was now a long time ago. The King feared that Paddy may have lost some of his leadership skills and may also suffer from the distraction of his daughter being missing.

"The academy failed to produce the best students because consistency was not maintained." Paddy began in reply. "The old structure tried to train the soldiers differently. It would take their strengths and develop them but it did not address their weaknesses. This is because there was no basic training that each and every man had to go through."

The King looked on, his face softening with every sentence Paddy spoke. He could see the enthusiasm and confidence in Paddy's face. This reassured him.

Paddy continued, "The old system was totally detrimental to the workings of a functional army. Because the Infantry, Archers, Cavalry, and Scouts never did the same training, they believed they were individual armies and not a collective whole. It also promoted unhealthy rivalries. Infantry-men would actively intimidate the Archers thinking them weak. The cavalry-men felt they were vastly superior to all in the army. There was no respect from one group to the next. In the new system this will change. Each man will undergo the same Basic and Intermediate programs. These are designed to be all round skills courses. Only when a soldier reaches the advanced course can he choose the military strand they wish to join; with a helping hand from the instructors and I."

Paddy did not stop there. He continued outlining his plans to the King for another twenty minutes.

"I have to tell you that I am impressed." The King stated with a smile. "It is quite clear to me that you have put in a lot of thought into how you want the academy to be run. I would very much like to know how you came up with all these plans so quickly?"

Paddy looked at the King and smiled, "If I gave away all my secrets, I may find myself quickly out of work."

With mock sarcasm, the King replied, "Replaced? You? Now who could I possibly get to replace you?"

"You don't have another son hanging around here somewhere, do you?"

The King laughed a hearty laugh, "I am glad to see you can now make light of that situation."

"It has taken a good long time but it is now nothing more than a chapter in history." Paddy replied also smiling. "Come let me show you the new training in action."

Paddy's office was located on the right just through the Academy's archway entrance. Paddy led the King back into the entrance hall and turned right out of his office. In front of them was another archway, this one blocked by a large set of double doors; each one with a large ring handle.

"After you." Paddy said, motioning to the door.

The King twisted one of the large handles and opened the door. He had seen this hall many times before but the sight in front of him was awe inspiring. The room was fully thirty feet high. It had an arched ceiling with curved wooden supports. The ceiling itself was covered in intricate works of art depicting majestic and bloody battles. Large, stained glass windows ran from just below the ceiling and stopped about ten feet above the floor. The academy was designed like this to allow maximum usable space without the risk of broken glass. The floor itself had been split into three distinct sections using simple wooden screens. Each section was at least twenty feet square, providing ample space for the numerous soldiers in training.

"Are the divides to allow you to run the three classes?" The King asked.

"No they are not actually." Paddy began. "This is the advanced class. The divides are simply to focus on separate elements. The Infantry will be trained in one section, the Archers in another and the Scouts in another. As I said before, the advanced class is split to meet individual requirements."

The King looked around with an inquisitive expression on his face, "Where are the cavalry?"

Paddy looked at the King with raised eyebrows, "Would you have horses running around in here?"

The King shook his head.

"I thought not. They are being trained in the fields outside the city walls."

The King took a moment to thoroughly get his head around what he was seeing. The look on his face instantly told Paddy that he was impressed.

The King fired one last question at Paddy, "Tell me, who is your star pupil at this point?"

Paddy smiled, "Come, let me show you."

Paddy escorted the King to another room. This room was an extension to the great hall with lots of floor space but a smaller ceiling. Hundreds of young soldiers were practicing swordplay and battlefield tactics in a mock battle. In amongst the crowd, a young warrior was easily dispatching his rivals.

"There." Paddy said, pointing to the young man. "That is our star pupil."

The King's eyes opened wide with amazement.

"Well, well." The King began. "I cannot believe my eyes. James, my messenger boy! I only sent him here at the beginning of the week. How is it he has become so good?"

"He was good to begin with. He had all the attributes to be a great warrior; he just needed the thought process to go with them." Paddy said with a brimming smile; a smile filled with pride.

"He seems to have the thought process now. Look at him. He is amazing."

The young man had just taken the feet from under three assailants before striking each one in turn, effectively ending their session.

"Tell me, Paddy," The King continued, "how did you manage to get him to think properly in such a small space of time?"

"He came to me after the first day of training and asked me if I would continue with him. He said that he wanted to be the finest warrior in the land because soon the finest lady in the land would seek him out and they would marry."

The King nodded knowingly.

"For the love of a lady, a man would do almost anything." He said.

Paddy looked a little concerned.

"All I can hope for is that this lady does not break his heart. Instead of a level-headed young man, we may be left with a raging bull to control."

The pair watched the conclusion of the battle. James had made a huge difference in the battle and his side won quite comfortably.

"Right lads," Paddy shouted, "that was an excellent battle. Tomorrow we will analyse the result and look at areas where you can improve."

The King looked at Paddy with a bemused expression on his face. Paddy immediately knew what was on his mind.

"You are wondering why I have finished so early in the day." He said.

"The thought had crossed my mind. After all, I am not paying you to take time off." The King said in jest.

"I am departing to observe the soldiers in the field. At this moment, two armies are marching to a small valley just north of the city. There they will engage in a mock battle scenario. If you please, you can come along and watch. However, I do not wish to advertise this battle or my presence there-at so you would have to come alone; no guards.

"That can be arranged. How long until you leave?" The King asked.

"Within the hour." Paddy replied.

"I shall return presently." With that, The King departed. He returned to the palace to make arrangements for his royal court to conduct business whilst he was gone. Retiring to his bedchamber, The King changed into less conspicuous attire before proceeding to the academy once more. Paddy provided the horses and the pair rode out of the city.

They were barely a quarter mile out of the city walls when they could see the dust plumes rising into the air; one to the east, the other to the west.

"The two armies approach with heavy feet." Paddy shouted over the sound of the horses galloping.

"An army waiting in ambush would see them coming from a great distance." The King replied.

They continued their gallop, determined not to miss the start of the battle. They arrived just as the army from the east had arrived on the eastern slope. The army from the west appeared ten minutes later. The armies settled and faced each other. The slopes of the valley were nothing more than small hills with a gentle gradient but it was an adequate venue for the practice of a valley battle. A small figure approached the centre of the valley and raised his hands aloft. The two armies fell into complete silence.

"This is the combat instructor." Paddy whispered to The King.

The Instructor addressed the armies in a loud and powerful voice.

"The rules of this engagement are simple. Once you have been struck in an area of the body that would cause fatal wounds; you fall down and wait until the battle has finished. If you should be struck by an arrow, it does not matter what part of the body it hits, you fall down dead. Play fair for tomorrow may bring a real battle and you need to know if you are ready. Commanders, assume command of your armies." With that, the instructor raced towards a vantage position so he could observe the battle.

"The army to the east have no cavalry." The King noted.

"Yes, it looks like they have been cunning. I wonder when and where they will strike." Paddy replied. The two armies had been evenly matched. It was Paddy's intention that the battles be about tactics and not numbers at this early stage. More scenarios were planned for later in the year where numbers could make a difference.

Both armies began with a folly of arrows. Men from both sides fell. The commander from the west made the first significant move. He ordered his cavalry to move forward slowly with the infantry following closely behind. The cavalry were armed with jousts in place of the spears used in a real battle. The plan was to break the enemy lines and then have the infantry charge in to create a serious dent in their numbers. The cavalry and the infantry moved. At first the pace was slow. Then they picked up pace to the speed of a human jog. The arrows continued to reign in from both sides. Men were falling but there was no advantage either way as yet. When the cavalry and infantry got to within one hundred yards of the enemy, the cavalry charged. As predicted, the first few lines of the army from the east crumbled. The Infantry followed the horse charge into the breaches; cutting down hundreds of men in mere seconds.

"That was well executed." The King began. "I would think that the east will not last too long here."

"I beg to differ." Paddy said sternly. "If the east possesses the better swordsmen, they will be able to hold out for a long time. The West has created chaos in the first few ranks only. The rest of the army is as fresh and as stable as it was before. The east now has the advantage of the high ground and somewhere, probably flanking the west's archers, the cavalry are approaching."

Paddy's prediction came true. After another five minutes of battle, which saw the west struggling to make ground, a cavalry charge cut down every archer the west had in a matter of seconds. The Cavalry master then focused a charge to cut the enemy infantry down from the rear. The west would now be boxed in, cutting off their escape route, and they would be fighting a battle on two fronts. The east made short work of the brave westerners. With no chance of surrender, the army of the west fell.

At the conclusion of the battle the combat instructor sounded a large horn. The men picked themselves from off the floor and lined up in their ranks.

The King and Paddy went down to address the men. This may only have been a mock battle but the King was shocked by how many bloodied men stood before him.

Paddy spoke first.

"It seems that this was not a fair fight." Paddy's voice echoed across the battlefield. "The army from the east did not come to this battlefield with all men present. They cheated." A murmur went up from both armies. "The tactics used by the east could be seen to be shameful. However, I see them as being both cunning and cleaver. In a real battle the only thing that matters is winning. This needs to be done by taking as few casualties as possible. The west has proved that being noble in battle will only get you killed. There are lessons to be learned for both sides. I will talk to your combat instructors and they will then continue your training. For now though, you are free to make your way back home, or to your camps.

The two armies departed. Paddy had a long conversation with the other instructors; The King listened intently. The instructors departed at the conclusion of the conversation; their job was to go and instruct the commanders and the soldiers to improve their collective battlefield performance.

"By the time this training is over," Paddy spoke to The King, "our armies will be adaptive and strong. They should also be evenly matched."

"If you continue to give them such brutal lessons, I should imagine that there wouldn't be a Kingdom on this planet that would have an army to match ours." The King said jovially.

"Confidence is always good to have, my lord. Be mindful of being overconfident. That will be the downfall of both a good army and a good leader." Paddy was stern. The King could see that Paddy was trying to do his part in getting his daughter back alive. If outright war was required, the armies of Thorntonvale would be the best they could be.

They returned home shortly after nightfall.

*****

### Chapter 11

The party of adventurers awoke feeling quite refreshed after the previous day's excitement. The forest of Fairthesal was staring at them menacingly.

"I have no desire to go back in that place." Rhyll said, showing a hint of anxiety for the first time.

"You have been in before then?" John asked.

"This is where I had to do my trial." Puzzled expressions forced Rhyll to elaborate. "The trial is undertaken by the barbarian who gains the most kills in the hunt. This year it was another barbarian and I that killed the same number. The trial is used to select another leader. If a person can spend one night alone on the Cursed Isle, without being slaughtered, then they adopt the mantle of tribe leader."

"So what happens if two of you survive?" Cohen enquired, interested in the hierarchy of another race.

"Both men have to return to the camp the following day. If both make it back they have to enter into a contest; a fight to the death to determine who will become leader."

"So does this mean that you are the leader of the barbarians?" John asked, intrigued to be in the presence of yet another leader.

"No." Rhyll stated flatly. "If one man decides he does not wish to adopt the role of tribe leader, he can forfeit his right and the title is bestowed upon the other."

"Why did you give up the chance to become the leader of your people?" Cohen asked with a bemused expression. He could not understand someone not taking the chance to gain personal power.

"Being the leader would have stopped me doing what I love the most; adventuring." Rhyll explained. "I would have been forced to stay with the tribe at all times, commanding and giving guidance where necessary. That is not the way of life for me."

"I think you must be mad." Cohen started. "Think of the things you could gain from becoming leader; power, money and respect. These are things you will not find in adventuring."

Rhyll locked a stern gaze upon Cohen and said, "Not everything in life can be measured by wealth and power. The measure of a man is in his soul; his spirit if you will."

Cohen maintained eye contact with Rhyll as the barbarian continued, "The man who does not first find value in his own heart, in his own life, will never truly value anything at all."

Cohen thought about the statement Rhyll had just made. It touched a nerve and he unlocked his gaze from Rhyll's; feeling as though he had just been scalded by a truth he did not wish to hear. Rhyll may not have used his statement to indicate any one person but Cohen knew that it referred to him.

"What can we expect to find in this forest, Rhyll?" Anree asked, changing the subject.

"I encountered Goblins. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of them. Under the forest runs a network of tunnels. I didn't get chance to explore them because the Goblins were in pursuit. However, I did stumble upon the passageway leading down to their living areas and wherever else it leads after that." Rhyll then remembered the clearing he had found. "Oh, and one more thing; somewhere in this forest there is an altar to the gods. It has some sort of magical power that can help those with faith. I used it to escape. Only people worthy of the gods praise may use it and it can only be used once."

Anree's expression changed to one of deep thought. The others looked at her trying to determine what was going on in that mysterious mind of hers.

"I think we should split the group." She said after a long pause. "If we are going to infiltrate the tunnels, a group of this size will be noticed fairly quickly. However, our master thief here should have little trouble in scouting around undetected."

Conrad seemed to be keen on the idea but Rhyll had a concerned expression on his face. He was beginning to develop a friendship with Conrad. They had only known each other for a short time but they found each others' company to be both relaxing and reassuring.

"I am not happy about sending Conrad in alone. I think another should go to cover his back." He said with an authoritarian tone.

"I am more than capable of scouting some tunnels on my own." Conrad stated confidently.

"The tunnels run long and straight with very few places to hide. The Goblins will spot you coming with ease." Rhyll continued.

"I agree with our barbarian friend here." Anree proclaimed. "Goblins are not like humans. They possess senses that we do not. There is little way of knowing how successful your sneak tactics would be. That is why I propose that Cohen goes with you."

"Cohen?" John said inquisitively.

"A person of Cohen's status will have had a lot of practice at remaining inconspicuous. He may lack the thieving skills of our master thief here but I bet he can hide in the shadows with the best of them." Anree explained.

Cohen retorted, "You are making some serious assumptions about me and my life, Anree. Would you care to qualify your statement?"

A little smirk rose from the corner of her mouth as she began, "My good Prince, you have spent many years defying orders and sneaking behind your Father's back. Everything you have done up to this point has been for your own gain. I know people, Cohen, and these people have reported many things to me."

"Like what?" Cohen asked in an angry tone of voice.

"Your dealings with the rogue traders of the city have been no great secret. I understand that you were dealing in illegal substances, providing chemicals to the rich folk of Thorvale. And all for money I assume. There are numerous other activities I know of; should I go on?"

"No, you do not need to. I see that you have a greater knowledge of my life than most. I think that you should tell me the names of the people who informed you of my activities." Cohen said giving Anree a cold stare.

"I dread to think what ill fate may become them if you ever discovered who they are." Anree replied. She then addressed the group, "I hope you can all now see why I selected Cohen for the job."

The party nodded in acknowledgement, a stunned silence holding their tongues.

"It is settled then." Cohen proclaimed clapping his hands together to try and lighten the mood and to save face. Cohen felt slightly disgraced at hearing someone else talk of his actions. He was starting to realise that he had many faults and that he had done many bad things. This would be his biggest test so far and he wanted to do this task well to prove to the others that he could be trusted. He could feel the butterflies in his stomach. The nagging feeling that he would somehow let the group down had yet to disappear.

"What will you be doing?" Conrad asked Anree.

"The rest of us shall attempt to find this altar. I have read about something similar in the library at the temple. If this altar is similar to the one I have read about, we should be able to find out where the child is being held."

"I am with you on this one." John said to Anree with a hint of hope and excitement in his voice.

"First we should help Conrad and Cohen to find an entrance into the tunnels." Anree stated.

The group spent the next hour searching the ground and looking for trees that had hollows leading into the tunnels.

"There is no way down." Cohen said sounding very frustrated. "How did you get into the tunnels last time?" He enquired speaking to Rhyll.

"Well, I sort of...." He paused, "fell out of a tree." Rhyll flushed with embarrassment. A snigger spread through the group.

"I was being attacked from all angles." Rhyll said defensively, trying to save face.

"I can just picture the scene." Conrad began. "The barbarian climbed the tree with the grace of a squirrel. He leaped from branch to branch with the agility of a monkey. His silhouette glided across the night sky with the elegance of an eagle." The rest of the group were trying to contain their laughter at the mental picture Conrad was painting.

"Finally," there was a pause whilst Conrad allowed the tension to mount, "he crashed to the ground like a big fat elephant, shattering the surface and dropping through, into the dark pit."

The group were now laughing heartily.

"I think we should have a demonstration." Conrad continued. "Choose your tree my light-footed friend."

"Why you....." Rhyll started as he stepped forward to rough Conrad up a little. A chase ensued. Conrad darted in and out amongst the trees.

"When I get my hands on you...." Rhyll continued. The barbarian moved with incredible speed for such a big man but he lacked the agility. Conrad teased Rhyll like a matador teases a bull. Conrad stopped in front of a small tree. Seeing his chance, Rhyll charged towards Conrad to tackle him. At the last second, Conrad leaped high in the air. Rhyll disappeared under him and crashed into the tree. A creaking noise was heard by all. Rhyll stood up and dusted himself down. He looked up to see what was making the noise. The tree toppled. As the roots ripped out, a large hole in the ground could be seen. Rhyll looked down it.

"I found a tunnel." He proclaimed in a surprised tone.

The others gathered round to have a look. Conrad stood alongside Rhyll. He looked down the hole. Patting Rhyll on the back he said;

"Well done, my friend, you seem to have found the entrance." He let out a little chuckle. The sarcastic tone in his voice stirred Rhyll up again but before he could reach out and throttle the cheeky little thief; Conrad had jumped down the hole.

"Come on, Cohen." He shouted up. "We haven't got all day." Cohen duly followed.

"We will meet you back here an hour before sundown and for crying out loud, be quiet. You have probably woken most of the Goblins with your constant shouting." Anree whispered down the hole.

"How the hell are we going to know when sundown will be? We are in tunnels. We will meet you back at the camp when we have finished." Conrad whispered back.

Anree said one final word before turning away, "Guess."

Conrad looked at Cohen and said, "Well, wasn't that a helpful comment."

Cohen smiled and let out a little chuckle.

"Come, let's get moving. Remember, tread quietly and stay in the shadows." Conrad instructed.

With that, Conrad and Cohen disappeared into the gloom.

The search for the altar was to be a fruitless one. The surface party searched all day and discovered nothing. As the sun's rays began to fall, Anree, Rhyll, and John made their way back to camp.

In the tunnels, the gloom had been lifted by Conrad's light crystal. He had been impressed with Cohen's talent as a sneak. They had managed to get past a number of Goblin guards without being noticed.

"You can come and work for me when we get out of here." Conrad jested.

The pair had been scouting the tunnels for a couple of hours now. Tunnel after tunnel led nowhere. As they went along, Conrad was jotting notes and diagrams in a small notebook. He was trying to plot the layout of the caves so he could best determine where they should be going. Suddenly, loud noises could be heard coming from all directions.

"I am guessing that it must be close to sundown." Cohen said.

"Rhyll mentioned that they all go out into the forest to play." Conrad replied. "We need to find a place to hide whilst they pass. If we are lucky, we may even find the direction we should be heading. The tunnels had very few places to hide. They were perfect for mounting a defence. Cohen and Conrad looked around frantically for a small enclave to sit in. The sound of the Goblins approaching was getting louder and louder. Cohen was starting to panic.

"What shall we do?" He asked in a hushed voice.

The instinct of a master thief took over. He had spotted some tree roots sticking out of the ceiling and running the length of the tunnel.

"Follow me" he replied.

The tunnel was heading towards where the sound was emanating from. They arrived at a junction. Five tunnels intersected. Conrad looked at the Ceiling again. The roots had fallen through far enough for someone to climb up and hide. Conrad jumped up first. He offered his hand to help Cohen up. Cohen took his hand and began pulling himself up. The sound of footsteps could be heard from one of the tunnels. Cohen had just pulled his leg up on to the root when the first goblin emerged from a tunnel below. They both watched carefully as the goblins passed by, blissfully unaware of the humans. Conrad continued to write in his notebook. All the goblins come out of the same tunnel. This was a good indication where to start looking.

Once the noise had died down, Cohen and Conrad jumped down.

"That was a close one." Cohen said breathing a heavy sigh of relief.

"At least we have an idea where we should be going now." Conrad replied.

It wasn't long before the two adventurers stumbled upon the first room that Rhyll had encountered. They swiftly moved through. Three tunnels all descended deeper into the ground. They followed the left tunnel figuring that they may as well just pick one. They emerged a couple of minutes later into a low room. The room was very long and very wide but the Ceiling was only about five and a half feet high. Conrad had no trouble walking through here being of his small stature. Cohen had to hunch however. His six foot frame was too tall for this room. The room was filled with boxes that had dirty blankets in them. Conrad lifted a blanket from the nearest box.

"These are like coffins." Cohen said disgusted by the filth and the smell that was in the room.

"I think this is where they sleep." Conrad stated. He quickly counted the number of boxes.

"There must be at least one thousand boxes here." He said.

They had a look around. At the end of the room opposite to where they had entered, another tunnel led somewhere else. They continued through this tunnel into another room that was identical to the last.

"Another bedchamber, barracks, or whatever it can be called." Cohen said.

"It looks like there is yet another room ahead." Conrad said spotting another tunnel. There were four interconnecting rooms altogether. Each one housed about a thousand occupants. Conrad noted the layout and the numbers in his book. They went back up to the three tunnel intersection. They chose the middle tunnel this time. This tunnel seemed to go on and on. The light faded after a couple of minutes and everything went pitch black. Conrad unveiled his light crystal. It illuminated nothing. It was as if a black mist had descended all around them.

"What is going on?" Cohen asked feeling the panic rising from within his stomach.

"I don't know but it can't be good." Conrad stated.

Boom, Boom.

A sound like slow heavy footsteps could be heard.

Boom, boom.

It continued again. Cohen was really starting to loose his mind. He did not know if he would be able to contain his feelings any longer. Rational thought was fading, rapidly replaced with animal instincts.

"Come on, we need to get out of here." He said as he turned to run.

Conrad shouted after him, "Wait, you don't know which direction you are going in." He followed. Suddenly a scream echoed down the corridor. Conrad pressed on blindly. Then, as if a gust of wind had blown the mist away, he could see again. He was confronted by the sight of a giant snake with huge spider legs coming out of its body. They had entered into a large cavern that was at least twenty foot high. The room was square and the walls, roof, and floor were all made from rock, mud and tree roots. A strange orb of light hovered near the ceiling emitting a bright light. Cohen was pinned down in a corner. He had managed to avoid the creatures surprise attacks and scramble to relative safety behind a number of large, tangled tree roots. Cohen was using his crossbow to fire bolts into the creature. They didn't hurt it at all. The snake lunged forward again, tongue lashing out to pump its prey full of venom. It missed Cohen by a matter of inches. Conrad had an idea but it would be difficult. He shouted at the snake but it didn't react. It was too focused on Cohen. It was now trying to snap the roots that Cohen was hiding behind with its legs. Conrad had no choice. He ran up behind it, sword drawn, and hacked at one of its legs. The sword made no impression at all. The creature still didn't react and it was breaking through the roots at an incredible pace. Conrad looked around the room, frantically searching for some way of defeating the creature. Near the wall farthest away from the entrance, a number of what seemed to be eggs lay unattended.

Conrad ran up to the eggs and hacked at them with his sword. They cracked easily and with a lot of noise. The long snake head of the creature whipped around to see what was happening. It gave out a piercing shriek as it saw one of its babies slain. The spider legs turned the snake's body and it charged at Conrad.

"Run." He screamed to Cohen. A second invitation was not required. He jumped from his hiding place and ran for the tunnel entrance. Conrad stood facing the creature as it raced ever closer. He removed two smoke potions from his belt. Just as the creature was about to strike, he threw the first onto the floor in front of him. He disappeared. The creature lunged but hit nothing. It looked around as a second vile hit the ground creating smoke further around the room. The creature looked confused. Then it saw Cohen in the entrance. It charged after him.

"Go, go, go." Conrad screamed whilst sprinting towards the tunnel. Cohen turned and ran. As they entered the tunnel, the black mist descended again. They were running blind. The sharp tapping footsteps of the spider's legs could be heard behind them; their sound amplified in the darkness of the tunnel. Time and time again Cohen and Conrad crashed into the wall where a bend occurred in the tunnel. They finally came out of the mist, the light slowly brightened. They stopped, looking into the black for any sign of pursuit. There was nothing. The tunnel at this end was too narrow.

"Phew, that was a close one." Cohen said using his forearm to wipe the sweat from his brow.

Suddenly, the snakes head shot out of the black with one last lunge. Conrad and Cohen jumped backwards but were well out of the way.

"What the hell was that?" Cohen asked. He was trembling with fear and adrenaline.

"I have no idea but I don't want to face that again. Let's push on and get out of here." Conrad turned to leave.

"I can't do this." Cohen proclaimed. "I am scared."

Conrad turned back, a soft a sympathetic expression on his face.

"The very nature of adventuring means that from the beginning of a mission to the successful completion of it, you will be scared. Your first feeling is usually a nervous one as your mission is described. This then develops into anxiety then fear then panic and then instinct takes over as your brain shuts down. Every adventurer goes through this."

"How do you control it?" Cohen asked.

"It's simple; you don't. You learn to let it control you. The only thing you need to learn how to do is not to lose control of your conscious thought. That is what makes a good adventurer, soldier, and thief; the ability to think under extreme pressure."

Cohen nodded his head in understanding. He took a deep breath and said, "Shall we continue?"

They descended down the tunnel on the right at the intersection. The tunnel went on for a great distance but there were doors in the left and right of the hall.

"We will start at the end and work our way back up." Conrad said.

There was one large room that was obviously where the Goblins eat. It was decked out with basic wooden benches and tables. The next few doors along were supply rooms and the kitchens. The rest of the rooms seemed to belong to officers.

"So the goblins have a chain of command do they?" Cohen asked rhetorically.

One of the rooms they stumbled across looked like a war room. It had a detailed map of the forest and a detailed map of the island.

"I'll take these." Conrad said with a shifty tone of voice. "For safe keeping." He elaborated, winking at Cohen.

"Of course." Cohen said sarcastically.

"There is nothing down here," Conrad began, "let's leave before the goblins return." Cohen nodded in agreement. Conrad followed the map he had drawn. They managed to return to the hole they had entered the tunnel by, with little difficulty. The night outside was black. There was no moon. Conrad turned and spoke to Cohen.

"We will not be able to hide in the shadows. Goblins see at night better than we see during the day."

"How can they do that?" Cohen asked.

"I don't really know but I have a theory that they can see heat."

"That would make sense. We shall have to move quickly then."

They climbed out from the hole. As they stood up a loud shriek echoed through the trees. It was heard as far as the camp where Anree, Rhyll and John awaited.

"It sounds like the Goblins have spotted something." Rhyll said. "I would not be surprised if it is Conrad and Cohen."

"Should we go and help?" John asked, eager for a fight and also eager to help his comrades.

"We will only get lost too. We will wait at the forest's edge." Anree commanded.

Arrows whistled past their ears, footsteps could be heard crunching the leaves from all directions. Conrad had unveiled his light crystal so that they could see where they were going. A couple of goblins stood in their way. The edge of the forest was only meters behind them. Cohen pulled out his crossbow and launched a bolt whilst running. It pierced the eye of the first goblin that fell down dead. The second panicked and ran. They were out. Awaiting them, Anree, Rhyll and John stood with weapons ready.

"Let us make camp away from the forest tonight." Anree said calmly as Cohen and Conrad gasped for air. They grabbed their belongings and moved swiftly away, the Goblins did not follow.

*****

### Chapter 12

The priests of the God of Chaos Order arrived at Blackheart castle. They came with a convoy of horses; carrying a wide range of trinkets that would be used in the ceremony. As they approached the portcullis, The Watcher stood observing them from the northern balcony at the top of the keep.

"At last, they have arrived." He said aloud with nobody in earshot. He turned and began his descent to the courtyard in order to greet the priests in person. The huge, creaky wooden gates to the castle were opened by goblins operating the crankshaft on the parapet. It seemed to take a long time for the gates to open fully as they were large, impenetrable and extremely heavy. The priests could see the imposing figure of The Watcher staring at them through the iron bars. The portcullis came to a halt with a loud metallic clang.

"Welcome to Blackheart Castle." The Watcher greeted.

"We come only to serve." The High Priest replied bowing low. The priests were all dressed in maroon-red robes. They had a v-neck collar, low cut, which was lined with a black material similar to silk. Only the High Priest wore different. He wore an entirely black robe fashioned in the same style

"Follow me to the altar room." The Watcher commanded. The High Priest followed obediently. Before disappearing into the keep, the High Priest gestured with his hand. Immediately, the other priests began unloading the horses.

Once in the altar room, The Watcher spoke.

"What are the chances of this working?"

The Priest stopped looking around the room and turned to face The Watcher.

"There is no doubt that it will work. Providing, that is, that you do not object to the ritual taking a long time." The High Priest sounded like a man who had done this before.

"How much time will you require?" The Watcher asked with a hint of displeasure at the tone of voice used by the High Priest.

"There is no way of saying exactly how long the process will take. It could be a few days or anywhere up to one week. It will not be longer than that." The High Priest was a weasel of a man who only had the courage to be so bold due to his allegiance with Bhryll. He knew that The Watcher had to be more fearful of him than vice versa.

"Make your preparations." The Watcher commanded turning to leave.

"One more thing," the High Priest began, "there can be no interruptions to the ceremony; not even from you."

The Watcher hissed before reluctantly saying, "I understand." With that, he left the room.

The priests set about creating the perfect atmosphere for the ceremony to take place. A ceremonial blanket was thrown over the altar in the centre of the room. Important artefacts that originally belonged to Bhryll were strategically placed to help the priests entice the correct soul into the body. Candles were lit; the book of incantations was placed at the foot of the altar. Finally, the child was brought to them. The Watcher carried Isabelle into the room, his long skeletal fingers surrounding her. As she was placed on to the altar, a booming ripple of thunder shook the very tower they stood in. The priests undressed the child and began painting strange markings on her body using fresh human blood from the slaves they had in the dungeon. Once the markings had been drawn, the priests began to chant. The thunder grew louder and the occasional fork of lightning lit up the room. The High Priest picked up a bowl of blood and proceeded to pour it down Isabelle's throat. The High Priest opened the book of incantations and began to read from it. The ceremony had commenced.

The next day the adventurers awoke with a terrible feeling.

"Something is wrong. I have an unnerving feeling within my very soul." Anree stated trying not to be the foreteller of bad news.

"I feel it too." John started. "I had a dream last night that dark figures were doing something to Isabelle. They were casting spells I think."

"I think you may be right." Anree agreed. "Whatever reason Isabelle was kidnapped for, the conclusion is nigh. We should proceed with haste." Anree turned to Conrad and Cohen. "What did your search in the tunnels turn up?"

"There was no sign of the child but we found something most useful." Conrad said.

"We located two maps. One of the island; the other of Fairthesal Forest." Cohen continued.

Anree took the maps from Conrad. She looked closely at both. Many minutes passed before she spoke again.

"Our path seems obvious. The map of Fairthesal seems to be very clear. The clearing we were searching for is clearly marked. The map of the island is also helpful. It seems to me that Isabelle would be in one of two places." She showed the map to the others. "She will either be in the fortress to the north-west of the island or she will be in the castle directly west. Judging by the indicated size of each place I would guess she would be here." Anree pointed to Blackheart Castle.

"Blackheart Castle." Conrad shuddered at reading the name. "Just the name of the place sends a chill down my spine."

"If my sister is in that castle, then that is where we shall go. Come let us make haste." John commanded.

"Wait" Anree shouted. "We do not know for certain that your sister is in that castle. We need first to go to the altar in Fairthesal. If I am right about the power it holds, it will be able to confirm if my suspicions are correct."

"How much time will be wasted in doing so? You said it yourself, something is very wrong." John snapped.

"I appreciate your situation but if the altar can do what it is supposed to be able to, we may find that we get to Blackheart Castle far quicker than trudging across this island on foot."

John did not look happy but he accepted the situation. The party geared up and went back into Terror Trees Forest.

The journey was much quicker than before. The map guided them to the exact location of the clearing. Because it was daylight, they did not encounter any goblin resistance. The sight of the altar made Anree's jaw drop. She had read about altars like this but had yet to see one.

"An altar of the gods." She said to herself in a quiet whisper. The others heard.

"What does it do?" Cohen asked curious as to what use a lump of stone would be.

Anree was now walking around it, being careful to keep her distance, but wanting desperately to touch it.

"It allows those who have worshiped the gods for a long time, to be able to gain a favour." She said. Her voice sounded far away as if she was in a daydream.

"At what cost is this favour granted?" John asked sceptically.

"For those with a pure heart, the cost is nothing. For those whose intentions are anything but pure, the cost would be your life." Anree said forcefully, snapping out of her daydream state.

"So, who will try it?" Conrad asked praying that it wouldn't be him.

"I will do it." Anree said confidently. "It will be a test of my faith. This could be a life affirming moment for me."

No more time was wasted looking at the altar. Anree took the map of the island and laid it on the altar. She placed one hand on the map and one hand on the stone of the altar. She uttered her prayer before screaming:

"Oh, gods of my faith show me where the child I seek is being held and show me the safest route there."

Thick black cloud rolled in overhead. Thunder and lightning crashed and forked as if an angry god had answered. Anree felt the end of her left index finger split open. The pain was intense but she did not flinch. Then her arm began to move. The blood dripping finger began to act like a pen; drawing a line from Fairthesal Forest to Blackheart Castle. Then as quickly as it had arrived, the cloud vanished. Anree collapsed to the floor. She was totally unconscious but alive. Cohen picked up the map from the altar.

"Look," He began, "there is a line from here to Blackheart." The others gathered round to have a look.

"Anree was right. The child is in Blackheart Castle." Rhyll said.

"There is also something else written here." Cohen continued when the map was returned to him. "It is either a word or a name. It is very faint. Bhryll."

"Bhryll, that sounds like your name." Conrad said to Rhyll.

"I am named after a god." Rhyll stated. "I am named after the god of order."

"Then who is Bhryll? Is he some kind of god?" John asked dreading the answer.

Rhyll paused for a moment deep in thought before recounting a small tale from barbarian folklore.

"When the earth was born, many gods vied for position in the heavens. The gods wanted their families to be the most powerful; to command the most worship from the humans. Bhryll and Rhyll were born twins. Rhyll was born first and very easily. He didn't even cry when he came out. Bhryll on the other hand would not come out. He made his mother endure another day of labour; a labour that would kill her. Bhryll came out at the last second, screaming and crying. The gods bestowed the titles and gave them the power therein. Rhyll became the god of order; Bhryll the god of chaos. The legend has it that both brothers took on human form and battled each other to see what the people of the earth would act like. Rhyll gained the majority of the support but Bhryll had many loyal followers. The final battle saw the brothers slay each other thus humankind had to decide its own course. That is why the world is as it is; a mixture of good and evil."

"Why is the name of the god of chaos on this map?" Conrad asked.

"Maybe the people in the castle are the remnants of Bhryll's supporters." Cohen mused.

The party avoided saying what the worst case scenario was. However, they all thought it. Anree began to stir.

"Are you alright?" Conrad asked helping her to sit up.

"Yes, I am fine. Did it work?"

"It sure did." Cohen said passing her the map. "It looks like our route has been plotted for us."

"Then let us waste no more time." Anree said scrambling to her feet. "We go to Blackheart Castle."

Once again, The Watcher was looking out across the land. His attention had been caught by the sudden cloud movement to the east. He knew that something or someone had been sent to attempt a rescue. He was not going to let this happen. As part of the preparation that he had carried out to get the ceremony started, he had assigned a legion of Wraiths to be ready to move to intercept any approaching army. The Watcher figured that an entire army would have been seen by now and he would have heard the reports. The most logical course of action would be quiet infiltration. It was his guess that there would be between three and ten men on there way. He went to the courtyard where the Wraiths were in training.

"Attention." He demanded. "It seems that someone is approaching to try and sabotage the rebirth ceremony. This cannot be allowed to happen. There are only two paths leading to this castle. The road to the south, leading through the valley of tortured souls. The other leads over the northern cliffs. You will be split in to two groups. You shall take a path each and find these interlopers. Once you have found them; Kill them."

The Wraiths bowed, acknowledging The Watchers commands. Then they were gone. They travelled with haste to make sure that nothing got within ten miles of the castle.

"The humans will be dead very soon." The Watcher's evil laugh could be heard echoing between the walls of the castle. All creatures froze at the sheer penetrating force of it.

*****

### Chapter 13

Anree estimated that it would take one full day of solid travel to reach the castle. She was an expert map reader and she figured that with the aid she was given by the gods, the journey would be simple. Armed with the knowledge that the child was being held in Blackheart Castle the adventurers moved as swiftly as they could. If they could have run the entire journey; they would have done so. Their journey began by passing the southern side of Fairthesal Forest; heading west. The sun was shining brightly so there was no chance that the goblins would come out for another fight. The only leg of the journey that the adventurers were wary about was the next part. They would have to cross a series of baron fields. Areas like this are known for housing Orcs. That thought didn't fill them with too much fear. The party only feared being slowed. If they arrived at the castle too late, the child may die; or worse, some evil could be spawned. Once the party managed to get across the fields then they would have to hurry along the northern cliffs. This would lead directly onto the path to the castle.

It neared midday when the last tree of the forest was behind them and they started their journey across the fields.

"Now listen." Anree commanded. "We need to cross these fields as quickly as we can. If Orcs appear, we run and hack. Is that understood?" The others nodded in agreement. The jovial mood in the party had turned rather more serious since discovering the location of Isabelle. Anree pointed to the horizon.

"The path across the Northern cliffs is our destination. Keep your mind focused on the task at hand. If you start thinking ahead, you may not be prepared for what may come." Anree was speaking more to Cohen and John rather than the others. Rhyll and Conrad were veterans of adventuring and their temperament could not be questioned. However, the road can be long and dangerous for a fledgling adventurer. Anree knew this well and as such, had been doing her best to mentor the young warriors.

They set off at jogging pace. After only a hundred metres the wind changed bringing with it a foul smell like that of a decaying carcass.

"That smell is awful." Cohen shouted more used to the delightful smells in the palace.

"That is the smell of rotting flesh." Rhyll said sternly.

"That is the smell of Orc." Conrad continued.

The party could sense that there were Orcs all around. They couldn't see them though. They pushed on, picking up the pace a little. Sure enough, the Orcs were watching. They were not stupid however. They would wait until the humans were in a place where they could not escape; a place where they would be totally surrounded and fair game for all. They would wait until they were in the middle of the most central field so that it was as far to go forward as it would be to turn back. This meant no escape. The party were starting to feel a little more secure. Two hours had passed since their dash for the northern cliffs had begun. The foul stench never subsided but their noses were getting used to it.

"We are nearly half way there." Cohen shouted. "So far, so good."

"Don't jinx it you fool." Rhyll said, being the superstitious type. Suddenly a penetrating wail echoed across the fields from the direction they were heading. Nobody had ever heard anything like it. The high pitch cut through their bodies like the blade of the sharpest sword in the land.

"I don't like the sound of that." Conrad started. "Does anyone have any idea what it was because it sure was not an Orc?" Everyone shrugged their shoulders. Noises from behind suddenly caught their attention. They all turned to see the field they had left just a quarter of an hour ago was alive with motion. Dark figures were all moving at pace towards the group.

"I think we are about to be attacked." Conrad said stating the obvious. Figures emerged from both sides of the party as well.

"We have run straight into a trap. They have surrounded us." John said in a remarkably calm tone of voice.

"There are far too many to fight, especially if we have no cover." Cohen stated with a tremble in his voice. The young prince was struggling to control his fear.

"The path to our destination is still open to us. They have not boxed us in entirely." Anree started. "This fills me with fear and doubt. This may not be the trap. They are herding us someplace.

"You may be right. That shriek came from the west. I don't really wish to find out what caused it." Conrad agreed.

Anree started running towards the cliffs.

"Come on. It will be an hour to the cliffs at full pace." She said.

The party were running as fast as they could maintain. The Orcs continued to close in around them. They were not attacking though. The creatures would charge and then back off. This was the pattern for the next hour. The cliffs loomed high above them. The party bounded up the hill on the southern side to reach the cliff top path. They stopped and looked back. The fields looked like a swarm of ants had invaded them. Hundreds and thousands of black figures were running around wildly.

"May the gods help the world if ever these creatures are unleashed upon the land?" Rhyll said, despair in his voice.

"The armies of Thorntonvale would certainly fall to this horde. I think it would be the case even if your father had trained the armies from the beginning." Cohen said to John.

"Well, unless these beasts can organise and stop squabbling amongst themselves; the humans should be safe." Anree proclaimed.

"The chances of that many Orcs working in unison, is nil." Conrad said confidently. All the while they were talking, the silent killers were approaching. Floating stealthily across the cliff tops, twenty-five Wraiths approached. They drew their swords carefully to minimise the noise. They succeeded. Five of the Wraiths were armed with bow and arrows. They were only twenty metres away.

"How could a horde of that many manage to hide away so easily?" Cohen asked.

Conrad answered the question.

"Being a thief, I have to hide in some precarious places. Once I.....LOOK OUT." He shouted, suddenly. The party instinctively ducked or dived away. An arrow whistled past Rhyll's head. They turned to see who their assailants were. As they did so the Wraiths armed with swords were upon them. The group were frantically trying to parry the barrage of blows raining down on them. The Wraiths with the bows were trying to manoeuvre around the party to put them in line with their arrows.

"Form a sweeping line. Don't let them surround us." Rhyll shouted. The party spread out as far as they could. Each time a Wraith tried to pass by the line on the left or the right, the party moved out again. Rhyll was doing the best job of staving off the multiple attacks. He finally managed to manoeuvre into a position where he could launch a counter attack. He had opted for two scimitars to fight this battle. They allowed him to defend and attack with both arms. He sliced at the legs of one wraith before trying to decapitate another. The blades passed through both times causing no damage to either Wraith.

"They cannot be killed." He shouted. The others heard panic in his voice.

"Aim for the torso." Anree replied staving off numerous attacks. Rhyll did just that. At the next opportunity he had to attack he knocked one Wraith's sword away and thrust a scimitar through the centre of its chest. A piercing scream went up and the wraith disappeared in a puff of black smoke, its black robe dropping to the floor. Rhyll's confidence rose and he pressed on. Cohen and John were having a hard time of it. John was nearly surrounded and he had taken a few minor blows. He had a large cut across his forehead that was causing blood to run into his eyes effectively blinding him.

"Help me." He shouted, desperately hoping one of the others was fairing better. Cohen was nearest to him and heard his call. He was fairing better but could not find the opportunity to strike. The sheer number of blows the Wraiths were throwing meant that there was no chance for him to counter, especially because he only had a single sword and a crossbow for a weapon. He jumped backwards to avoid a series of blows. He briefly glanced across at John. A Wraith had managed to get behind him. John was using his shield for cover but the Wraiths were battering him to his knees. Cohen lunged at his assailants, forcing them to retreat a little, then, with an effort, he jumped a long way backwards. Pulling his crossbow from his back Cohen launched a bolt towards the Wraith attacking John's back. The bolt pierced whatever passed for a spine on these creatures. The Wraith went up in smoke. John took the opportunity to retreat from the attack and wipe the blood from his eyes.

"Are you alright?" Cohen shouted between parries. John only nodded; he had no breath in his lungs for speech. Collectively, the party had only managed to slay four Wraiths. Anree called everyone to her. When everyone was within a couple of feet she uttered an incantation. A barrier formed around them. The Wraiths hacked at it but their weapons did nothing.

"My shield will protect us for a few moments only so we need a plan and quick." She said.

"They are too fast and too strong." John said wiping more blood from his head.

"I have an idea." Conrad began. "It is very risky though and could put us at a disadvantage if it fails."

"We are going to fail unless we try something. Tell us your plan." Cohen said desperate for a way out.

"When we come out fighting again I will fall back. The four of you will engage the Wraiths with the Swords. You need to split the pack down the middle. That means that two of you shall veer off to the right; the other two to the left. I will then charge down the middle towards the archers. I will make a lot of noise to try to get them all looking at me. I will then use a flashlight potion. These potions emit a flash brighter than the sun. If these things are looking in my direction, they should be temporarily blinded. Then we cut them down."

"I assume we need to close our eyes." Anree said.

"Yes, you will need to or you will be blinded too."

"How will we know when you are going to throw it?" John asked.

"I will shout." Conrad replied.

"You will be shouting to attract the attention of these demons." Rhyll said.

"Just keep your ears open and your eyes closed." Conrad said bluntly.

"My shield is fading." Anree shouted.

"Let's do it then." Conrad said with a psychotic gleam in his eye. "Lend me your shield, John, so I do not get shot as I charge the archers." John duly obliged.

The magical shield failed and the Wraiths attacked again. Anree, Rhyll, John and Cohen formed a tight line and drew the Wraiths in to the fight. They then started to part slowly. Conrad had hidden behind a nearby rock. It seemed like the Wraiths had forgotten him. He was just about to make his move when he heard a noise behind him. He turned to see an Orc, with it's sword above its head, ready to strike. The sword came bearing down. Conrad tried to move but the blade caught him, slicing his arm drawing blood. A frenzied attack followed as the Orc tried desperately not to lose its advantage. Conrad searched for a vile of mist. They were all gone. As the Orc attacked again, Conrad kicked at the Orc's leg catching the knee of a straight leg. A loud snap was heard as the Orc's leg broke. The Orc came crashing to the ground hard. Like lightning, Conrad was up on his feet and struck; plunging his dagger through the neck of the Orc. He looked up over the boulder. His friends were in serious trouble. Conrad readied his flashlight potion, raised the shield in front of him and charged towards the archers. Time seemed to slow. He was shouting as loud as he could, looking at the Wraiths to see if they were looking at him.

"Now." He shouted as a warning to the others. Conrad smashed the vile on the ground closing his eyes first. A blinding light emanated from the vile that lasted a fraction of a second. The Wraiths howled their piercing screams. Conrad continued forward; arrows pinging off his shield. Two archers were still firing and three sword wraiths seemed unaffected. Rhyll ripped through five Wraiths in a couple of seconds. The party were pressing their advantage. It was John who was still struggling. He was almost blind from the blood pouring from his head wound. The Wraiths he was fighting knew this and had not stopped to look at the commotion. As John had closed his eyes, he had been struck again. His left arm had a huge gash in it and was nearly useless. Cohen charged over to help him; a fury was in his heart fuelled by a deep affection for his friend. He hacked mercilessly at the wraiths but they parried his blows and struck back. A blade penetrated his shoulder. The colour drained from his face. He fell to one knee. He was shocked into submission. A wraith had just raised its sword to hack Cohen's head from his shoulders when a huge war hammer spun by and struck the wraith in the chest. It was knocked to the ground. Rhyll had thrown the hammer but it was Anree who jumped in to help. She finished off the wraith on the ground with a swift, smooth lunge of her sword. She then turned to help John. Conrad dispatched the archers with ease. One puff of black mist came after another. At the conclusion of the battle, they all looked round to see if there were any more assailants.

"So they were Wraiths? John stated checking his wounds.

"They were Wraiths." Anree confirmed. "Ghosts that neither live on earth or in the Ether world."

"They were fierce fighters." Rhyll said tending to Cohen who had collapsed to the ground in shock.

"It seemed like a trap set for us. If this is so, someone or something now knows we are here." Anree stated. She moved over to Cohen. "Let me take a look at him." She said ushering Rhyll away. Anree began to chant. She placed her hand on Cohen's wounded shoulder. A strange red glow emanated from her hand. A couple of minutes later she stood up.

"There, he will be all better by morning." She turned her attention to John. "Now it's your turn." As she reached for him, he jumped back.

"I am fine thank you." He said bluntly.

"What is the matter?" Anree asked, surprised at his reaction.

"I would rather not be artificially healed; especially not with magic. I don't trust it." Anree accepted his explanation with the thought that she would heal him in his sleep.

Conrad spoke.

"We do not have time to sit around. It seems that the Orcs are now in pursuit. They will be here within minutes.

"We move." Rhyll shouted.

*****

### Chapter 14

Time was of the essence for the party of adventurers. However, the battering they took from the Wraiths meant that they needed time to rest. They spent that night, the whole of the next day, and the next day's night resting in a small cave they found carved out of a cliff. Anree had cast healing spells on all those who were injured. She had expected the spells to have worked after only one night of rest. They were taking longer than anticipated. For Anree, this was another sign of the dwindling power of the priestesses. For over a Millennium, the priestesses were on the forefront of magic. They were present when the gods came down from the heavens and blessed the fortunate few with their magical energy. Over time, the gift of the gods evolved based upon the temperament of humans. Those with destructive tendencies practiced their destructive arts at the expense of their other powers. Over time, different factions emerged. Wizards, Warlocks, Sorcerers, Healers, Priests, and a large variety of smaller factions would dominate the world of magic. As each generation passed, those with magical powers would breed with others whom did not possess any magical ability at all. This began the slow process of watering down the magical abilities in all factions. The Priestesses of the Sacred Hills were one of the last remaining factions to still hold any serious magical ability. It was realised only within the last century that their magical abilities were fading. It will only be a matter of time before their abilities fade altogether as there are no males with magical abilities left in Thorntonvale. Anree knew this and she felt deeply disheartened at the prospect.

As Anree stared at the last remaining embers of the campfire they had been burning, she felt a hand rest on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" John asked.

Anree's eyes lit up at seeing him. "You are awake at last." Anree said excitedly. "I was beginning to think that you were going to sleep for weeks."

"I did not realise how much those Wraiths had hurt me." John began. "I would like to express my gratitude for what you did. I despise magic but I am glad you cast your healing spells on me. It has saved me a lot of pain."

"It is my pleasure. I am just glad to see you on your feet again." Anree turned back to the fire, a troubled look crossing her face again.

"What is wrong, Anree?" John enquired in a more authoritative tone of voice.

"It is nothing," Anree began but John shot her a questioning glance. "Alright, I am feeling a little upset that my powers a not what they were. We have wasted a lot of time waiting for you and Cohen to heal. When I was younger, these healing spells worked within a day. Now I have to wait two. When time is of the essence, the last thing you want is a slow healing spell."

John smiled, "I think that wasting time feeling sorry for yourself is less productive than waiting for a healing spell to work. Come on, we need to make haste."

With that, the party packed their camp away and set off towards Blackheart castle.

For The Watcher and the priests of chaos, the extra time the adventurers needed to rest meant they could forge ahead with the ceremony. By the time the adventurers were ready to begin again, the priests were into their third day. The sense of anticipation was building now. A strange mist had formed around the altar where the child lay. The mist was perfectly cylindrical and rose up to the hole in the ceiling. It was as if the mist had been poured into a bottle and could not do anything except adopt the bottle's shape. The Watcher had worked hard to get to this point. It was nearly two centuries ago since Bhryll was vanquished from the world by his twin brother. The Watcher had been at the battle and slaughtered many men. Once Bhryll had fallen, the undead creatures, used to supplement his army of human followers, descended into chaos. They no longer had a focus for their aggression and animal instincts. They began to fight each other or to become panicked and flee. Seeing that the battle was lost, both the loyal undead and human followers took flight with The Watcher at the helm. It was he who led them to Cursed Isle. There they erected a huge castle so that they could defend against attack. That is what The Watcher told them. The truth was that he needed somewhere where he could prepare to resurrect his fallen master. Any who did not follow him to Cursed Isle were hunted down and slain. The Watcher found that the living monsters such as the Orcs, Goblins, and Trolls could not be controlled. The undead were also very reluctant to follow. The only creatures The Watcher could maintain control of were the Wraiths. This was because the Wraiths possessed the intelligence they had when they were living human beings. Using this army of Wraiths, The Watcher enslaved small groups of the different species. These acted as his servants. They were ruled by fear; the Watcher tortured and killed some of them as an example of what would happen if they were disobedient. Now it was time for the god of chaos to rise. Now was the time to reunite the sons and daughters of chaos, all the creatures on Cursed Isle, and destroy the humans. On this occasion, there would be no gods who would come to the aid of the humans. The world of man would be wiped out or enslaved. But first, The Watcher had to make sure that nothing disrupted the ceremony. Standing once again on his balcony, The Watcher heard the piercing screams of the Wraiths.

"They have returned." He said with what passed for a happy voice.

He dashed down the tower and into the courtyard.

"Open the gates." He commanded the winch men.

As the gates opened slowly, he could see his minions standing there. There were only twenty-five.

"How did you fair?" The Watcher enquired to the commander.

"We discovered no trace of the humans on the southern path, master." The Wraith Commander declared.

"That means they took the northern route." The Watcher said thoughtfully.

"Master, the others have been slain." The Commander proclaimed.

"The humans have been slain?" The Watcher asked hopefully.

"No, master," The Wraith corrected, "It was your servants who were slain. We felt the bond between us break. We heard their death screams."

The Watcher's eyes seemed to glow red with hate and anger. He paced around thinking what to do next.

"I would send you to finish the job but there is no way of knowing if you would succeed or not. I will not waste my finest warriors." He paused for a minute, another idea came to him. "Commander, take your men and spy on the humans. Discover where they are hiding. Track their progress and when they get near to the castle, return and inform me immediately."

"As you command, master."

With that the Wraiths turned to leave.

From the cover of the trees surrounding Blackheart Castle, the party of adventurers watched as the Wraiths departed and sped along the northern path.

"It looks like another group of Wraiths are searching for us." Conrad said to the others.

"At least this time they will not find us." Cohen replied.

They observed the castle, looking for weaknesses. The construction was jagged and the stone was black. Everything about the place made them feel cold. A thunder cloud hovering over the keep caught their attention.

"What is that?" Rhyll asked.

"It looks like a ritual or ceremony is taking place. Whoever is conducting it is using magic." Anree said knowingly. She had seen such things many times before.

"So they could be performing a ritual on my sister even as we speak?" John asked sounding a little panicked. He had two fears. The first was that his sister would be dead when he arrived. The second was that he may let his father down. He could not bear to be a disappointment to his father. It was the one thing in life he had strived not to be.

"We need to get in there and fast." John said with a sense of urgency about him. Anree was thinking about a conversation that she had with the high priestess before she left. She had been told about this moment. Anree was to be the distraction whilst the others rescued the child.

"I know what we must do." She said to the others. She recounted her plan.

As Anree approached the main gate to the castle, a grappling hook was launched over the wall to the rear of the castle. Rhyll, John, Conrad and Cohen climbed up onto the ramparts. There were few guards around this area as it was largely inaccessible. Now all they had to do is wait.

Anree drew her sword and banged hard on the portcullis. The tell tale creaking noise of the crank began. Anree began an incantation. She was forming her protective shield around her. She would be able to maintain it for a lot longer as she only needed to cover herself. It would also allow her to strike with her own sword at the dark and foul creatures within the castle walls. As soon as the portcullis was lifted high enough for her to fit through, she charged into the centre of the courtyard. The goblins manning the gate shrieked with surprise. Anree hacked at them sending panic through their ranks. The commotion caused all the guards to come running. Wraiths, Trolls, Orcs, Skeletons, and Goblins all attacked Anree. She was totally surrounded but their weapons had no effect on the shield. The commotion and chaos Anree caused gave the other adventurers their chance. They bolted down a flight of steps from the wall to the courtyard. Trying to hide in the shadows, they sped towards the rear entrance to the keep. There was a flight of stairs on each corner of the keep so they took the north-west flight. High in the damp, stone building, The Watcher heard the commotion and peered over a balcony.

"And so they are here at last." he said. Turning, he bolted towards the nearest flight of stairs. The Watcher planned to flank the enemy but he, too, took the North-West staircase.

John stopped.

"What is wrong?" Cohen asked.

"I feel cold. It is as if a chill wind has just blown down the tower." John replied.

"I felt it too." Rhyll said.

They stopped for a moment and listened. A strange sound could be heard. They could hear the chants of the priests echoing down the stairs but there was something else; a strange howling that did not feel or sound like the wind.

"I think something is coming." Conrad said quickly. "Hide!"

The spiral stairwell had lots of dark nooks that were used to hide the guards in case of an attack. However, all the guards were preoccupied with Anree in the courtyard. The tall black figure shot past the party members with great speed. None could help but shiver as he passed.

"We need to hurry." Rhyll said.

They progressed up the keep with great speed. They paused at the entrance to the altar room. Conrad removed the mirror from his belt and angled it to see in. There were no guards; just the priests. The mist in the middle of the room now had lightning bolts flashing through it each one hitting Isabelle square in the chest. The priests uttered one final chant and then bowed to their knees. The adventurers crept slowly into the room. As they closed in on the priests, they struck. It was over in a brief, bloody flash. The priests lay dead and decapitated on the ground. The adventurers turned to the altar. The mist and the lightning had cleared leaving Isabelle lying there, cold and naked. John reached out to pick her up.

"Isabelle." He began. "If only you knew what you have put us though." John was speaking in a soft voice but there was a hint of resentment there. It was due to Isabelle that all this had happened; and John still did not know why.

"What do you think they were doing to her?" He asked.

"I have no idea but whatever it was seems to have failed." Conrad replied. Then it dawned on them.

"Anree." Cohen shouted running to the southern balcony overlooking the battle. The Watcher had reached Anree and had commanded his minions to stand down.

"So, you are one of the adventurers come to rescue the child?" He asked.

Anree didn't speak a word. She attacked. She swung her sword time and time again but The Watcher stepped aside or parried her attacks with the greatest of ease.

"Your attacks are pitiful." He said snarling. "How long can you keep your defences up?"

"Anree cannot win this battle alone." Rhyll shouted running to the stairwell. The others followed.

The Watcher took a huge swing at Anree. His blade cut her sword in half before crashing into the barrier. A strange shockwave ran around the shield. Anree now had no weapon. The Watcher continued to smash his sword into the barrier. Each new shockwave visibly weakened the shield as the barrier increased in translucency. The others raced into the courtyard, led by Rhyll, just as The Watcher raised his sword to bring another blow crashing down. This time the barrier didn't hold. As the sword passed through it seemed to slow. Then it sliced Anree's body in half; from her right shoulder through to her left hip. The two halves of her body fell to the ground. Rhyll, John, Cohen and Conrad looked on in horror. The shock halted their charge. For a long moment they looked on, unable and unwilling to move; watching as the black figure admired his handiwork. Shaking his feelings away, Conrad spoke.

"We can do nothing now, let us away."

They all backed away still staring at the scene; all except Cohen that is. A rage, an uncontrollable anger was growing within him. He had never proclaimed it but he loved Anree. Ever since meeting her as a child, he had been mesmerised by her beauty. He hoped that she would one day see him for the fine man he was but that would never happen now. He let out a powerful, uncontrolled scream. The Watcher and his minions turned to see what was going on. The Watcher saw Cohen but it was something behind that caught his attention. John was carrying the child. The Watcher charged towards John. Cohen stood in his path, sword and crossbow drawn.

"Run" He shouted to the others. "This one is mine."

"No" John shouted but Rhyll and Conrad dragged him away.

Cohen fired a couple of bolts into The Watchers chest. They had no effect. The others dashed onto the wall and down the rope. They made haste to get away from the castle whilst Cohen distracted its inhabitants. The Watcher swung wildly at Cohen. Cohen did not parry with his sword, opting to bob and weave. The anger in him suddenly subsided as he was trying to keep calm using the techniques John had taught him. He realised the full extent of his situation. He backed away from The Watcher heading towards the wall. With no bolt to fire, he threw his crossbow at The Watcher and made a break for the exit. Neither The Watcher nor his minions pursued. Cohen reached the steps leading onto the ramparts and bounded up them like a tiger. He reached the rope then stopped.

Conrad, John and Rhyll looked at Cohen, bemused, as he stood there unmoving.

"Come on," John shouted, "what are you waiting for?"

Cohen reached around to his back only to feel a bolt protruding from it. He turned. The last thing he saw before the darkness in his vision took over him was The Watcher aiming his own crossbow at him. Another bolt had been loaded. With a pinging sound, the bolt flew straight into Cohen's chest blasting him off his feet and over the castle wall. The others watched in horror as the limp, lifeless body fell to the foot of the castle wall.

As the body disappeared out of sight, The Watcher turned to his minions.

"Fetch me the child."

John tried to run to Cohen's aid but was held back by Rhyll.

"We have to help him." John said emotionally whilst struggling to break Rhyll's grip.

"It is too late. He is dead." Rhyll said coldly.

"Then we must take his body with us." John stated, still never taking his eyes of his fallen friend.

The creaking sound of the portcullis opening was heard. It had been closed behind Anree to prevent her escape.

"Listen," Conrad said pointing in the direction of the castle, "they are coming after us. Any second now the evil within that place will spill out with the sole intent on getting Isabelle back, preferably with our decapitated heads as trophies. Think about your sister."

John ceased his struggling. With tears streaming down his cheeks he said, "Let us away."

With that, they turned and ran with the greatest of speed.

*****

### Chapter 15

Conrad, John and Rhyll had gained a head start on The Watcher's minions. Cohen had not died in vein. He had managed to delay the pursuit just long enough for the now depleted group to forge a small way ahead. They knew that there was no chance that they could outrun the wraiths. Rhyll and John had been tempted to run into the valley bellow the castle but the keen eyesight of Conrad had spotted the danger lurking below. A quick decision on the part of the thief saw them heading back along the path they had taken to get to the castle; in the cave on the cliffs. Here they waited until the danger passed. About half way between the castle and the Orc fields was a dense wood. It would be too dense to travel through at any great pace. However, no pursuer would be able to progress through the trees at a pace greater than the one they would set. It was a gamble but they hoped that the woods stretched far enough to see them clear of danger. John had given Isabelle to Rhyll to carry. He would not be slowed with the added burden of the child. Rhyll had dropped his bastard sword and many of his other weapons, instead using the holster as a sling for the child. The party ran for an entire hour before they arrived at the woods. Their pursuers were not very organised. Some had run passed them, some had returned, but they were spread far and wide. The party hoped they had not been spotted entering the woods.

"This is going to take forever." Rhyll said forcing his feet through the thick undergrowth.

"Just keep going. I do not think we were spotted coming in here so it may be a while before anyone guesses that this is where we are." Conrad replied not finding the terrain quite as tricky as his large barbarian counterpart. John simply followed Rhyll. He was keeping a sharp eye on Isabelle. There was no chance that he would let her out of his sight for even a second. Each step the party took was slow and cautious. Darkness fell as the sun set for the night. The wood was eerie and silent. It was if no creature could live in this environment. It was a dead wood. The lack of light gave the party no choice but to stop and rest for the night, for it was too tricky to proceed and Conrad dared not use his light crystal for fear of detection. Occasionally a scream could be heard. The wraiths were looking for them and getting increasingly frustrated with their lack of success. Little sleep was achieved that night. If the screams of the wraiths didn't fill them with enough dread, the nagging fear that the goblins, creatures that could see clearly in the dark, would search the woods and find them. To each member of the party, the night seemed to last an eternity but for John this was especially true. Each second felt like a minute, each minute felt like and hour. The hours felt like days. This and the total darkness of the woods instilled a fear in him that he had never felt before. This was the longest night of his life. All he wanted was to be safely home, reunited with his father. The burden of ensuring Isabelle's safety weighed heavy on his heart. All the while, his mind played out 'what if...' scenarios. He wondered if there was any possibility of getting off this island. He wondered if Rhyll, Conrad and he would have the energy to fend off another attack. All in all, he did not feel confident about completing his quest; and again, this brought forth the fear that he would disappoint his father.

Each person breathed a deep sigh of relief when the first rays of light emerged. They wasted no time in setting forth on their journey once more. As they prepared to leave, it was soon realised that there was a problem. The darkness had left the group feeling a little disoriented. They had no idea which way they were heading. They had to wait a little longer until the direction of the sunrise could be determined. It would be another two days and nights before they reached the eastern side of the wood, such was their slow pace. When they finally emerged from the dense forest, they realised that they had only just reached the southern end of the Orc fields.

"We spent all that time in that god forsaken wood and we are no better off than we would have been if we had just tried to avoid the Wraiths." John said sounding rather angry. The slow pace had started to take its toll on the novice adventurer; they were also running out of water and food for the child.

"Our pursuers should have no idea where we are. That is a small comfort." Conrad said trying to look for positives. "If anything is still in pursuit, they will assume we are much further across the island that we are. This should work to our advantage."

"Those wraiths moved faster than the wind. If they were on our trail we would not avoid detection for long." Rhyll added.

"Yes, we have masked our trail. If they discovered that we went into the woods and have tried to follow, they will be delayed as long as we were." Conrad stated.

John was not convinced.

"We still need to get passed the Orcs." He said negatively.

"That is true but we are faster than they. We have only one day's travel to reach the ferry. We can run that. We must." Conrad continued.

"We shall do it." Rhyll shouted confidently. "We shall do it for Isabelle."

This last statement filled John and Conrad with renewed determination. They had done the hard part. They had infiltrated Blackheart Castle and affected a rescue. They had managed to lose their pursuers and were within sight of the finish line. Rhyll led the sprint. They were not on the Orc fields themselves, opting to travel around the boundary, but they were within sight. It was only a matter of minutes before they were noticed. A screech went up from a small party of Orcs near to the edge of the field. This group tried to block the path of the adventurers. Rhyll had drawn his war hammer and swatted the Orcs aside like flies. As before, wave after wave of Orcs were heading in their direction. The party took little notice. They were focused on their task. They needed to reach the opposite side of the fields. After that they would make haste to the ferry. John was the only one to look around to see his pursuers. It may have been a trick of the light or maybe his fear causing his mind to hallucinate but he could have sworn that the Orcs were moving twice the speed that he was. His fear aided him. His legs were suddenly blessed with newfound vigour and haste. As the party neared the path at the other side of the Orc fields another shriek was heard piercing across the land.

"That was no Orc." Rhyll said.

"It may be that the commotion caused by the Orcs has allowed the Wraiths to pick up our trail." Conrad replied.

"Then let our legs carry us faster." Rhyll was not speaking to his comrades rather voicing a prayer to the gods. A further hour had passed. Then they heard that awful sound again only this time worse. There was not but one shriek but many. The sound was far away but in their hearts they all knew what it meant. The Wraiths had picked up their scent and were on their way. With the distance they had covered and the distance that was left to the ferry, it would be touch and go whether they would make it. They were sprinting now; their fear had turned their quick run into a mad dash for the finish line. There was no place left to hide. They had reached the open plains and black beaches of the coast. It was now a simple drag race. John, Rhyll and Conrad were twitchy. They regularly cast glances over their shoulders to see if their pursuers were nearing. They had seen no sign so far. Finally, they saw a sight that filled their very souls with joy and relief. The ferry was now visible but still at least quarter of a mile away. The screams echoed over the plains. Rhyll peered over his shoulder and the feeling of joy he had felt but a moment ago, disappeared in an instant.

"They have caught us." He said with worry in his voice. "We will not make it."

"Keep going." Conrad commanded. There was no doubt that he would not. Their pursuers were closing in rapidly. Each time one of the party glanced over their shoulder, the evil behind them had closed the gap even further.

"When we reach the boat, John, you prepare the ferry and cast off. Rhyll and I will hold off the Wraiths until we can depart." Conrad commanded. Since Anree had died, he found himself being the voice of reason and authority. "Rhyll, give the child to John." He continued.

Still in his stride, Rhyll pulled the child off his back and passed it to John. They were nearly at the ferry, only a hundred metres to go when Rhyll and Conrad turned. The enemy had gotten too close. Now was the time to turn and fight. It was only when he faced his pursuers that he realised the futility of his actions. Conrad felt sick with what he saw. The twenty five Wraiths had multiplied. The Watcher had sent forth all the Wraiths under his command; two hundred in total. It was a small army; one that could not be defeated by two men. Rhyll was swinging his war hammer in wide arcs to ward off his attackers. Any who stepped inside the arc would be smashed aside. Conrad did the same with his sword. The pair backed away carefully so as not to upset their balance. One mistake and they would be slain. John prepped the ferry with great haste. He focused hard to make sure he didn't falter.

"We are ready, let's go." He screamed to his overwhelmed comrades. It was too late though. The wraiths had charged. Conrad and Rhyll were busy fighting for their lives and could not break free. John desperately looked around for a way to help his friends. He could have waded into the fray but he realised the futility of that idea. He looked at Conrad's belt to see if he had any light potions remaining. None could be seen. Isabelle made a sound. John looked round and then an idea came to him.

"Bait." He said with a hint of guilt in his voice.

"Stop." He called to the wraiths. The battle continued. Nobody had heard John over the din of steel meeting steel. John tried again, "Stop now or the child dies." A piercing hiss sounded from one of the Wraiths. As the Wraiths ceased their attack, Conrad and Rhyll backed off to where John was standing, the baby held high above his head with the point of a blade at her throat.

"Back away now or we all lose the child. I have more kin at home. The loss of a child will not cause us to grieve for long. She is important to you though."

Conrad and Rhyll looked on in shock and horror. The look in John's eyes convinced them both that he was serious. John was twitching his head in the direction of the boat. It had not been noticed. He continued, this time exaggerating the movement.

"It's a ruse." Conrad began in hushed tones. Conrad placed his arm across Rhyll's chest and slowly began to retreat in the direction of the boat. John maintained the stand-off until the others were safely inside.

"Come on, John." Rhyll shouted breaking the tense silence that had ensued. John backed away very slowly. He held the blade against his sister's throat the whole time. The wraiths dared not advance. The last command given to them by The Watcher stated:

"If it comes down to a choice between losing the child or killing the child, let it go. We can play the waiting game."

John jumped into the ferry. Rhyll began rowing with all his might. As they moved away the wraiths screamed as one. The sound was as chilling as it was deafening. The sound spurred Rhyll to pull harder and faster. They were not out of danger. The ghost ships were nearby. Rhyll would not relax his pace until they were well away from Cursed Isle.

By the time the light faded, they were well clear of danger. Rhyll stopped rowing, exhaustion overwhelming him. He lay back trying to draw air into his lungs.

"It looks like we are safe." Conrad said at last. "You have a rest, Rhyll; I will take over the rowing duties." Rhyll swapped places in the boat and collapsed. He was asleep instantly.

"You had me worried for a moment back there." Conrad said to John.

"I am surprised you had the time to worry about me. I would have thought you had enough to worry about with all those wraiths."

"The look in your eyes when you were holding that blade to your sister; it frightened me. I thought you were genuinely going to kill her."

"Perhaps I was." John began with a hint of resentment in his voice. "We have gone to all this trouble. Anree and Cohen are dead. It may have been easier to kill Isabelle and be done with it." John was close to tears. He had anger and hate within him.

"Do you despise one so innocent because you have lost a friend?" Conrad asked.

"I despise the fact that people have died to protect my family. What have we done to deserve that? More so, what has this child done that is worthy of the loss of two brave and noble people?"

"She has done more than you know." Conrad said more forcefully. "She has given purpose and meaning to one young man. Cohen was nothing more than a spoilt, headstrong brat when you met him. He was worse when I encountered him a year earlier. Your sister provided him with a purpose, a goal in life. Your quest became his. You were his only friend and he died to protect that friendship. Would you have denied him that?"

"No, but what of Anree; what did she gain?" John was now weeping freely.

"She fulfilled the vows she made to her gods. She died saving a life. For the priestesses, this is the only way to be accepted into a higher state of consciousness. She is not dead. Her spirit now lives on as a goddess."

"How do you know this?"

"I listen and do not judge. There are many things in this world that are nearly unbelievable. With an open mind, even the unbelievable can seem possible."

The conversation died. John wept for a long time. Conrad knew that everything had been an ordeal for him. He also knew that John would become stronger for it. For now though, John needed to let his emotions escape. Conrad turned his attention to Rhyll. Rhyll had been snoring since falling asleep but as each minute passed, the volume rose by ten decibels.

"The only thing I need to escape it this infernal noise." Conrad thought.

He rowed faster.

*****

### Chapter 16

It was ten in the morning when a lookout spotted the returning ferry. He pulled out a makeshift telescope to get a closer look. He could see three adventurers. The realisation that there were two adventurers missing did not hit immediately. His focus was on something else. He was looking for the child. He focused in on the barbarian who was lying towards the back of the boat. Nestled in his cloak, just in front of him, was the child.

The lookout turned and shouted.

"The adventurers return. They have the child." Below the watch tower there was a small hut that had the other three lookouts inside plus one scout. They came running outside to see what the commotion was about. One of the other lookouts climbed the tower to confirm his companions delighted yelps. He took the telescope and looked out. It was true. The adventurers had returned and they had the child. He shouted down at the scout.

"Take this message to the King. The adventurers return. They are down two members but they have the child."

The scout nodded and raced to take one of the horses that were tied to the supports of the hut's porch. The scout raced off with haste. He arrived at the palace in Thorvale about one and a half hours later. He was granted immediate access to the King.

"My lord," The scout began, "The adventurers have returned. They are just finishing their ferry crossing. They have managed to rescue the child."

The King stood up, rising slowly from his throne. The expression on his face was one of shock, worry and delight all rolled into one. He was trembling; unable to comprehend the news.

"They all return?" He asked.

"No, my lord, two are missing."

The King sat down again. His expression turned to one of deep thought and concern. It was a short while before he spoke again.

"Do you know who is missing?"

"No, My lord."

"Leave me." The King commanded. The scout took a bow and departed. Henried sat back down; taking a few moments to contemplate what fate could have befallen the adventurers who had not returned. His thoughts then turned to his son. A few nights earlier, he had awoken in the night, sweating from a nightmare-filled sleep. He had a nagging feeling that something was wrong but he couldn't pinpoint what. Now he had the feeling that he would not see his son again. A tear ran down his cheek with the thought that the last time he saw his son as he had departed for his adventure, was the last time that he would ever see his son alive. He had a small weep but soon composed himself. It was not fitting for a King to show weakness, especially not in the great hall. He then thought of Paddy. Paddy would want to be the first to know that the adventurers had returned. Henried shot out of his throne and ran to the academy. He burst into the training hall to find it was a hive of activity as usual. Henried looked around; trying to spot Paddy in the crowd. An academy instructor passed by him. As he did, King Henried grabbed him by the arm.

"Where is Paddy Turner?" He shouted. The urgency in his voice made the instructor forget his formalities.

"He is out in the field. I think he is conducting another training battle."

"Do you know where?" The King asked.

"He should be conducting a battle in the Sacred Hills."

"That is too far to send a messenger. When is he due back?"

"Tomorrow, I think."

The King had to accept the fact that Paddy would not be around to see the arrival of his daughter. It would be a nice surprise though. The King wanted to make the return of the adventurers a joyous occasion. He hoped and prayed that his son would return with the party. He returned to the castle to get the preparations underway.

The ferry landed an hour after midday. Conrad was exhausted; Rhyll still asleep. Both were suffering from the effects of the rowing. The journey had taken little over half the time it normally would. John was the only one who was relatively fresh.

"We have made it." John said letting out a deep sigh. "We managed to infiltrate Cursed Isle, rescue my sister and return. I can't quite believe it." There was no joy in his voice. It was more relief and gratitude at the fact that he still had his life. Conrad was trying to wake Rhyll who was still asleep.

"This bloke sleeps like a cow." He said. "Come on you great oaf, wake up." Conrad was shaking Rhyll so violently; John thought he may cause injury. Finally, Rhyll woke.

"Have we made it?" Rhyll asked wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Yes, my friend, we have." Conrad replied. Rhyll sprang to his feet, rejuvenated by the news.

"What are we waiting for? Let us get back to the palace." He shouted.

Conrad and John were not so eager.

"I am not looking forward to delivering the bad news to the King." Conrad said glumly. John said nothing but the expression on his face showed a deep and profound sadness. He still could not help but resent his sister for the pain she had caused.

The adventurers walked slowly across the land. They would not make Thorvale before nightfall. As a result, they decided to make camp overnight. By the warmth of the campfire they had lit, John fell asleep. A strange mist swirled in his mind's eye. The mist swirled into a vortex. The eye of the vortex began to change. An image formed. At first, it was too far away to see. It was coming closer at a great rate. It jumped out at him, making John jump with fear. It was only a brief flash but John could see the teeth. They were razor sharp and dripping with blood. The lips were cracked and dry. The only other thing he could remember was the cold white light in the eyes of this creature. He was then pulled through the vortex. When the feeling of disorientation left him he looked around. He was standing outside his house in Horton Peak. The wooden house he used to live in was black. It was not painted black but burnt. The wood was charcoal. He reached out to touch one of the supports on the porch. As his hand touched the charred wood, the entire house began to creak. John took a pace back. The house collapsed in on itself. When the dust had settled he saw a strange pile of wood where the centre of the house had been. He walked closer to examine what was supporting the pile of wood from falling onto the floor. As he neared the wood twitched and moved a little. John stopped but then something caught his attention. He could hear something. It took a few moments to realise what the sound was as it was slightly muffled. It was coming from within the pile of wood in front of him. It was the sound of a baby crying.

"Isabelle." He shouted running towards the pile. John furiously pulled at each plank of wood, sending it flying away from the centre of the room. After removing only a few pieces of charred wood, the cot of the baby could be seen. He pulled the rest of the fallen roof away from the cot and looked down. The cot had been white but no more. The smoke of the fire had turned it a dirty charcoal colour. John looked into the cot. The blankets were totally covering the baby and had obviously protected her. Carefully, he removed the blankets. He lifted the final one to reveal, to his horror, a body that was hideously scalded. The skin had melted and blistered all over. In places it had blackened. Isabelle's head was covered with a strange bowler hat. John placed both hands on the rim of the hat and lifted it off. The face was that he had seen in the vortex. It was burned, cracked and hideous. The skin was a mixture of blistered white flesh and charred black flesh. The teeth were as he remembered complete with blood dripping from them. Then the hideous apparition in front of him spoke. The voice was deep and gruff but menacingly quiet. It was so quiet, it was nearly inaudible.

"See the future." It said.

A series of flashes ran through John's mind. First, he saw the city of Thorvale. The rooftops were on fire. He was standing well outside the city but he could see everything clearly. The palace had collapsed; the streets were full of rubble. A dark thunder cloud loomed overhead. In this cloud, the face of the apparition was smiling its evil, toothy smile. Then the scene changed. He was now overlooking the valley where his father had carried out the practice battle. On one side of the hill were the armies of the humans. On the other, all the hideous creatures he had seen on Cursed Isle were lining up, ready to slaughter the humans. The numbers were evenly matched but then his vision changed again. He was in the centre of the battle. Bodies were strewn around him. Some were missing limbs, others were decapitated and others had been impaled. All the bodies were human; not even one was a creature of evil. The grass was crimson from the blood of the fallen. He looked down to see that he was standing in a puddle of blood. His vision changed again. A hill of bodies had been created. On top of the hill a creature of unspeakable horror stood. By its side The Watcher stood guard. Surrounding the foot of the hill, the undead creatures were on their knees; bowing down to their master. All the while, the kingdom of Thorntonvale burned to the ground. Then his vision returned to the apparition. It looked John in the eye.

"There is no changing this future. Your sister and I are one."

The vision blurred and suddenly John awoke. His clothes were soaking. He was sweating profusely. Conrad also awoke; roused by the sense that something was wrong. He looked towards John and instantly he could see the fear on his face.

"What is the matter, John?" Conrad asked. There was no reply. There was not even a reaction to the question. It was as if John had been frozen. Conrad stood up and walked towards John. As he neared, the expression on John's face changed from one of fear to one of aggression. John sprang to his feet, unsheathed his sword and charged at the child who was sleeping in the giant arms of Rhyll.

"Rhyll." Conrad screamed at the top of his lungs. This time Rhyll awoke, his instincts sensing the danger. He pulled out a scimitar and parried the incoming blow from John.

"Have you lost your marbles, man?" Rhyll cried out, scrambling to his feet.

John came on again. This time Rhyll evaded the strike easily. With a swift kick of his large boot, he sent the unbalanced John crashing to he ground. Conrad moved in swiftly to disarm him.

"The child is evil." John cried out with madness in his eyes. "It is evil, it must die."

Rhyll knelt in front of him and looked John directly in the eye.

"We have not come all this way for you to kill this child; your own flesh and blood." The last thing John saw was a huge fist closing in on his face.

When he awoke, John found himself bound at the wrists and ankles. He looked around to gather his bearings. As he sat up, he could feel his head pounding. His nose was also blocked, the congealed blood making breathing difficult. The sun filled the sky and the campfire had been extinguished. Conrad was preparing his backpack for the remainder of the journey. John then looked at Rhyll. The barbarian's back was turned. He was doing something but John could not see what. Then after a few short moments, Rhyll turned. Isabelle was in the arms of the barbarian. The sight of the child sent John back into madness. He scrambled for a weapon but was unable to move.

"Kill the child. Kill it before it kills everyone." He was screaming.

Conrad and Rhyll looked at each other with concerned yet knowing expressions. Whilst John had been unconscious, they had discussed what they would do if he acted the same in the morning. Rhyll gagged John with an old sock and a piece of rope. He passed Isabelle to Conrad and then lifted John onto his shoulder. John would be carried back home a prisoner. The journey was slow but they made it to the palace gates a couple of hours before sunset. The streets of Thorvale were empty. As they walked down the main road, the town seemed almost eerie. Then a horn bellowed from a rooftop. People burst from their homes chanting and cheering and clapping. They had all been informed about the adventure in the local gazette. To Rhyll and Conrad, the reception made them feel like they had saved the world. As they neared the palace they could see the King and the entire royal court awaiting their arrival. King Henried looked at them closely. He could see that Cohen was not walking down the street. He could not identify the person being carried. He looked up and whispered a quiet prayer. Then the adventurers stopped in front of him.

"My lord" Conrad and Rhyll said bowing down. As Rhyll bowed he dropped John to the floor. The King bent to turn the captive over to get a look at his face. When he saw John a tear ran down his cheek.

"I am thankful for your safe return and relieved to see that you accomplished your mission but I need to ask, where is Cohen?"

Conrad stepped forward a sorrowful expression on his face.

"Our mission was both difficult and perilous. Both Anree and your son fell in battle. However, I hope you take some small comfort in the fact that if it wasn't for the bravery shown by Prince Cohen, we would not have escaped and our mission would have failed."

More tears ran down the cheek of the King. The words he heard spoken from Conrad's mouth filled him with grief and pride.

"What of John, here." He asked pointing to the figure on the floor. "Why is he bound and gagged."

"He has gone bloody mad." Rhyll stated less than diplomatically. "He has been trying to kill his sister."

"Why would he do this?" The King questioned looking rather perplexed.

"We do not know." Conrad started. "He blamed the child for the death of your son and Anree. This may be why."

"He has also been shouting crazy things. He said the child was evil." Rhyll added.

"You should take no chances, my lord. He should be kept away from the child or locked up." Conrad said again.

The King started pacing backwards and forwards in front of them. Many thoughts ran through his head. Finally he spoke.

"I feel that it would not be prudent to throw John into the dungeon; especially given what he has been through. I will however, confine him to quarters and place a guard on his door. I will get my doctor to examine him." The King beckoned some guards to take John away. He then ushered some of his servants to take the child and the baggage from the two weary adventurers.

"You are more than welcome to enjoy the hospitalities of the palace and the city; all free of charge of course." The King said to them.

"I don't know about you, Rhyll," Conrad began, "I could do with a nice bath, a massage and a week in a soft bed."

Rhyll nodded his approval at such a fine idea. "And plenty of food and drink." He added.

"It shall be done." The King replied. "You can stay in the finest suites the palace has to offer, enjoy the royal baths and each and every servant in my house will be at your disposal for as long as you need to recover." With that they all went into the palace and the crowds in the street dispersed.

*****

### Chapter 17

The minions of The Watcher had returned to Blackheart Castle empty handed. They feared that their failure would have reprisals. This was not the case. When they returned, The Watcher was busy in the alter room meeting with the High Priest of the Order of Chaos, who had just arrived at the castle. He was standing on the balcony observing his returning army whilst talking.

"My minions return but the child has eluded them." He said to the high priest without looking round.

"This may not be as bad as you may think." The High priest replied.

"How can this not be bad? Without that child, everything I have worked for since that fateful day when Bhryll was destroyed is lost."

"It is as I said to you before. The ritual was complete. Now, it is only a matter of time before Bhryll returns."

The Watcher turned to face the high priest. He looked long and hard at the face of the high priest trying to determine if he was being deceived.

"If the child is not in the place where the ritual was performed, the spirit of Bhryll will return with no body to possess."

"But that is not how it works. The ritual transforms the spirit of the child into a beacon. This beacon shines brightly in the spirit world. The only one who can see this beacon is the one we announced in the ritual; Bhryll. Once he notices the beacon, he will head for it. It does not matter where the child is. Once Bhryll reaches the spirit of the child, the door will be open for him to enter his new body."

The Watcher mulled over the words spoken by the high priest. He spent a long moment in silence trying to play out the scene in his head. Each time his thoughts came back to the negative possibilities.

"If Bhryll takes over the body of the child, the humans will soon notice that the child is not normal. Physical changes will occur given the fact that the child is female and Bhryll is male. At this point, the child will be killed and Bhryll will lose his only chance of returning to the earth for another thousand years."

The high priest let out a knowing chuckle. The Watcher thought that his words were being mocked.

"Do not laugh at me." The Watcher roared as he lunged forward and knocked the high priest across the room. The priest hit the eastern wall and slumped to the ground. His vision blurred and the room began to spin. It looked to the priest as if four figures were rapidly bearing down on him. He managed to regain his speech before the dark figure of The Watcher reached him.

"I did not laugh at you, master." The High Priest said quickly, his vision returning to normal. "I was laughing at the events we have set in motion."

The Watcher halted his charge, intrigued by what the High Priest was saying.

"Go on." He said calmly.

"We set up a spell so that once the spirit of Bhryll resides within the child's body, it will begin to grow and transform into the original form that Bhryll took to walk the earth. This transformation will be almost instantaneous."

"And what of his strength, will he be weak or strong."

"Master, he will be as strong as he has ever been. His powers will be available and his physical strength shall be unequalled on this earth."

A red glow seemed to grow in the eyes of The Watcher. His face took on an expression of pure evil and total excitement both at once.

The Watcher had one final question for the High Priest.

"When will Bhryll possess the child?"

"We have never had a possession take more than seven days."

The Watcher returned to his balcony.

The next morning saw the return of Paddy Turner to Thorvale. It was very early and the only people who wandered the streets at this hour were the town watch. It took Paddy quite a long time to navigate the streets to the palace. He talked to every guard that he passed. Then one very excited guard ran up to him.

"You are back, praise the lord." He said huffing and puffing.

"What is the problem?" Paddy asked not knowing if this guard was excited or scared.

"The adventurers have returned." Paddy's eyes lit up at the words that were coming from the guard's mouth. "They arrived back yesterday and they have your daughter."

"Thank you my good man." Paddy said patting the guard on the shoulder. He began sprinting towards the palace. He burst through the gates, catching the gate keepers off guard. He ran straight into the great hall. There was nobody around. He then bolted into the royal wing heading for the King's bedroom. He almost knocked the bedroom door from its hinges in his haste. The King awoke instantly and whipped his sword from its sheath next to the bed.

"Where is she?" Paddy shouted at the King.

"Calm down Pa...." The King started to say before he was interrupted.

"Tell me where she is, now." Paddy ordered. The King felt slightly aggrieved that all respect for authority had gone out the window but he understood his friend's feelings. "You will find her in your room. She is being looked after by some of my best servants." Henried said quickly. With that, Paddy was gone. He raced to his quarters. He burst in to see a beautiful young lady holding an even more beautiful baby. The sight brought him to a complete standstill. He looked at his daughter for a long time, unable to move. Tears of joy and relief poured down his face. The last time he had laid eyes on his daughter was on that fateful night in Horton Peak nearly two months ago now. The young woman walked over to Paddy.

"Here you go, Daddy." She said handing him his child. Paddy took the child in his arms and collapsed to his knees, the tears were now falling like a waterfall. The young woman beckoned the other servants out of the room. As she left, she placed a comforting hand on Paddy's shoulder. "If there is anything you need...." she began allowing the words to tale off. Paddy looked up at her and smiled. Then she left.

It had been a few hours since Paddy had been reunited with his daughter but he had not come out of his room. A gentle knock at the door was heard.

"Come in." Paddy said.

The door creaked open and King Henried entered. Paddy was lying on his bed with the child in his arms.

"Are you alright, my friend?" The King asked choking back the tears himself. The sight before him made him realise what he had lost.

"I never dared to dream of this moment." Paddy replied. "When Isabelle was lost to me on that most dreadful night, I felt certain that I would never see her again."

The King looked on. He did not have the words to say. Tears were now running down his cheeks but Paddy was facing away from him and did not notice.

"Isabelle is the last remaining part of Maggie on this earth. My sons are of my blood and appearance. Isabelle has her mother's blood. From this day forth, each time I look at Isabelle, I will be reminded of Maggie." Paddy sat up and turned to face the King. "What is the matter, my lord?" He asked formally but with genuine concern.

"You need to know the story of the adventure." The King replied.

"Come, sit by my side and tell me." Paddy said this time without the formalities.

The King sat next to Paddy on his bed. His shoulders were slumped and he was staring at the floor.

"The adventure did not go as smoothly as planned." The King began. "Tragedy was met along the way. Anree was the first to fall. She heroically created a diversion that she knew would come at the expense of her own life. Whilst the enemy were distracted, the party climbed to the top of the Keep of Blackheart Castle and slaughtered the priests who were performing the ceremony."

"What ceremony?" Paddy interrupted.

"It seems that Isabelle was kidnapped to try to resurrect Bhryll, the god of chaos."

Paddy looked shocked and horrified. He picked up his daughter and hugged her tightly.

The King continued.

"The ceremony was incomplete. Nothing happened to the child. As John prepared the child for travel, Cohen looked out from one of the keep's balconies. He observed that an evil beast of great power was attacking Anree and she was faltering. The name of the beast is The Watcher."

"I have heard that name before." Paddy interrupted again. "He is a minion of the purest evil, created to be the personal bodyguard to an evil god. That god must have been Bhryll."

Paddy's interruption did not stop the flow of the Kings story.

"Seeing Anree in distress, Cohen ran to help her but was too late. The Watcher then spotted the party trying to leave. In an act of bravery or foolishness, Cohen charged The Watcher. They fought as the others escaped. When the others were safely away, my son fell. I don't know how."

Paddy looked shocked. He placed his hand on The King's shoulder and spoke.

"Oh, my friend, I am so very sorry. How can I ever make it up to you?" Paddy felt totally responsible for the King's loss. Cohen may have been a weasel when he knew him but this weasel had laid down his life to save another; his daughter no less.

"There is more to the story." The King replied trying to complete what needed to be said before he could speak no more.

"Go on." Paddy said.

"On the journey home, something happened to John. The other adventurers do not know what happened only that something inside him snapped. Supposedly, John had been having bad dreams and he woke determined that the child was evil and that he needed to kill her."

"What happened to John?" Paddy asked with a hint of despair in his voice. He was expecting the King to tell him that his son was dead.

"Rhyll had to render John unconscious. He then bound and gagged him for the rest of the journey home."

"Where is John now?"

"He has been confined to quarters and is being held there by armed guards."

Paddy stood up and quickly donned more suitable clothing.

"I shall go and see him at once. When I am finished I will come back to see you." He said.

Henried stood up. The pair embraced for a moment; the emotions of the past weeks had taken their toll. Then they both departed. The King went to the great hall to conduct his daily business; today preparations would be made for a memorial service for Anree and his son Cohen.

Paddy went down the hall to his son's room. As he approached, the armed guards stood back from the door.

"Feel free to come and go as you please Mr Turner." One guard said. Paddy nodded and entered.

John was sitting in a chair next to the window at the back of the room. He looked around to see who had entered.

"Father" He said with delight.

He ran over and embraced Paddy with a bear-like hug.

"Hello son" Paddy said solemnly. "I heard what happened."

"They think I am crazy but I swear to you, Father, I am not."

Paddy looked at his son with bemused distain.

"You tried to kill your own sister; your own flesh and blood."

"That child is no longer Isabelle. She is something else. I saw it in a dream." John's words sounded like he genuinely believed what he was saying. Paddy could not believe them however.

"Son, I have just spent the entire morning with your sister. She is just as she was."

A panicked sound began to creep into John's voice as he realised that not even his Father believed him.

"I am telling you, Father, she has been possessed. We have no idea of knowing what those evil priests were doing to her. We do not even know if we managed to halt the ceremony before it was too late. If my dreams are true then the whole of this kingdom will burn to the ground."

"Do not be so preposterous." Paddy shouted angrily. "Even if something has happened to Isabelle, a small baby cannot change the course of the world. It is physically impossible."

John thought about this fact. He had seen a fully grown figure in his dream as well as a baby.

"It could be that it will take many years before anything happens." John conceded.

"And I am sure that we will notice changes in her behaviour before it is too late. I'm afraid, son, that you have panicked over nothing." Paddy added.

"Then I am crazy."

"I do not think that you are crazy. I do feel that the adventure has taken its toll on you. Go back to Horton Peak for a while and take some time to grieve for your mother and spend time with your brothers."

"I will leave at once." John said.

"I will see if your adventurer friends will escort you." Paddy said as he left the room.

John walked across to the window and looked out over the courtyard. Many thoughts ran through his head, the most prominent being that he would have to apologise to those who he now thought of as friends. Rhyll and Conrad had helped him to survive the biggest trial of his life to date. The way he acted would not lightly be forgiven. John's thoughts then turned back to Isabelle. He still could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Paddy returned to the great hall and approached the King.

"My lord, I have spoken with my son and we have agreed a course of action."

"What is it you propose?" The King replied.

"John shall return to Horton Peak to grieve for his mother and to rest. I ask that you commission his adventurer friends to escort him home as their experience of dealing with the horrors of adventuring should help him. In return, I shall remain here with Isabelle. I will continue to train your armies and will help to organise a war on the inhabitants of Cursed Isle if that is your intent."

The King looked at Paddy with a psychotic glint in his eyes, "It is my intent," he said coldly. "We shall rid the scourge of those monsters from our shores forever. I do not care if it takes a lifetime of war to do so, we will prevail." The Kings voice softened, "we must prevail." The King seemed to drift off into thought. The motivation for this war was the death of his son. Paddy knew this but he also knew that war was both inevitable and necessary.

Paddy cleared his throat snapping the King's attention back on him. Paddy began, "Ever since my time as the commander of your armies, I have long desired to march to war against the denizens of the Cursed Isle." The King said nothing, listening intently as Paddy continued. "When I was but a boy I witnessed the slaughter of a number of people from my village. One night a raiding party attacked our village and caught everyone off guard. Over a hundred people died that night, amongst them were my aunt and uncle. I can still recall the expression of terror on their faces. Then I remember hearing screams from across the plains. The raiding party had kidnapped some of the women and children. The men of the town rallied quickly and donned their weapons and armour. As they left on foot, I followed them on the trail of this raiding party. We discovered a campsite about half a day later. The women sat bound and gagged around a campfire watching the most horrific scene I have ever seen. The children had been impaled by huge wooden skewers through their groins to the tops of their heads. They were being spit roasted as their mothers watched. I remember feeling sick to my stomach. The men from the village could only look on in horror. They attacked; slaying all that remained of the raiding party and freeing the women. All the children were dead; at least twelve of them. From that day forth, I have been formulating plans on how to get revenge. That was my motivation for joining the army and progressing to a high rank. I wanted to power to be able to order a war."

The King looked sombre. He was looking at the ground just beyond his feet contemplating what paddy had just said. "My friend, you have my blessing to make this war happen. Formulate your plans then tell me what provisions you need. We both have plenty to avenge."

Paddy bowed low before departing. He had a purposeful bound to his stride as he departed.

The King sent a messenger to Conrad and Rhyll. They were ordered to prepare to leave for Horton Peak. The reward was great so they didn't complain. It would only be a four day round journey by foot and if they were provided with horses, it would be even quicker. They assembled in the great hall, with John, and then departed with little fuss.

Paddy had to watch John leave him again. As he watched his son move further and further away, the King's words were spoken from behind him.

"It is for the best."

*****

### Chapter 18

The night brought with it the first academy awards evening. This was a tradition that had long since been lost. It was a night for the trainees who were ready, to be initiated into active duty. The training hall of the academy had been decked out with a huge stage at either end of the great training hall. One stage was for the presentation of the awards, the other stage was for the members of the royal court to observe the proceedings. It may have only been a short time since Paddy took over the role of the master instructor but already, his first batch of soldiers were ready. They had been in training for much longer but Paddy had honed their skills; none more so than James, the ex messenger boy. He had graduated as the finest swordsman the academy had ever seen. He would be assuming the duty of King's Guard. Only the best of the best gained such an honour. Other graduates would go into the army, navy or town watch. The King was not in attendance on this night but Paddy had made the effort. He had left Isabelle in the care of the king's servants. Isabelle had taken quite a shining to the young woman who had cared for her in Paddy's absence.

A special guest was amongst the crowd. She was here to watch James receive his diploma and to watch him receive the colours of his profession. She was also here incognito to have one more look at James to make sure he was definitely the one she wanted. The mystery woman was Anna, now an ordained priestess. She had been ordained earlier than expected. The priestesses had decided just a few days ago to ordain all those that were nearly ready. She had sensed that something strange was going on, something that had the older priestesses worried. She did not know what and was not going to think about it now. Tonight was the night of her (hopefully) future husband.

The ceremony began. The crowd took their seats. Trumpets began to ring out, filling the massive hall with sound. Doors at either side of the crowd opened. Lines of soldiers wearing gleaming silver armour marched into the hall. They proceeded to the front near to the presentation stage. They remained standing until the last remaining soldier was in place and the doors were shut. Paddy Turner took to the stage.

"Tonight, we are gathered here to welcome in a new era. We are not simply here to welcome a new crop of soldiers into the ranks. The reason why this formal ceremony of yesteryear has been resurrected is because the achievements these men have made deserve recognition. The men sat in front of me now have had to undergo the most intense training ever seen in the academy in Thorvale. They have had to use not only their strength, but their minds and hearts as well. We welcome in the era of the super soldier; those who have the strength and skill of a regular soldier but the mind and tactical ability of a general."

The crowd applauded. Paddy turned the stage over to another instructor who started the presentations. Each person came up to collect their colours in turn. Towards the end of the presentations, there was a row of people who had not been called up. Paddy took to the stage once more.

"You may have noticed that there are a group of people, kitted out in their finest armour, that have yet to be called up on stage. Now I can see they are getting a little worried that we have forgotten them but I assure you, we have not. These people are extremely special. They have finished at the top of the class with the highest honours. They have not simply passed each trial. They have excelled in them. This group of warriors have banded together to show exceptional talent and courage on the field of battle. They are now given the greatest honour of all. They will become members of the King's Guards. They are the elite of the elite who continue to train until the day their skills are needed for real. They are charged with protecting the palace and the King from harm. Unlike everyone else, they start their duties this night. There will be no festivities for them; for the time being of course."

There was a booing from the crowd but it was not one of dissent. It was simply done in jest. Once again they were called up in turn. This time, Paddy presented their colours and a special tunic. The tunic was purple with a yellow symbol, depicting a round shield with a crown emblazoned to it, on the chest. It was the symbol of the King's Guards. As James went up to collect his award, Paddy stopped him.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to James. The reason I do this is because this young man has proved himself to be the best of the best. He is unequalled with the sword. His arrows fly from his bow so straight and true, it would take the mightiest of gales to blow them off course. He is our star pupil for this year and as such we offer him the medal of excellence."

A large cheer erupted from his fellow pupils. The crowd simply applauded but another cheer caught James' ear. He looked out to see a caped person standing from her seat. She sat down as soon as he noticed her. James completed his part in the ceremony and darted to where this person was sitting.

"Excuse me." He said to the person. "May I have the honour of seeing your face?"

"You may not" The voice replied. It was a female voice of such sweet tone that James had no doubt as to who it may be.

"Anna?" he proclaimed, a huge smile crossing his face.

She pulled her hood back and looked at him. James' eyes lit up. He could not believe that she was sitting in front of him.

"How did you know about the ceremony?" he asked.

"I did not. I only came looking for you. Someone told me that this is where I would find you." she replied.

"Why have you come now? Three months have yet to pass."

"It is a long story but I will tell you this much, I have been ordained. I am here to pick a suitor."

James' smile widened further.

"Do you still want me?" He asked feeling both dread and excitement for the answer.

"I do." Anna said with a smile.

They embraced each other before James stole a kiss.

"I cannot spend time with you this night." James began. "It cuts me like a knife but we will have to wait until tomorrow before we can spend time getting to know one another properly."

"I understand, where and when shall I meet you." She asked.

"Meet me at the gates of the palace shortly before midday. We shall leave the city and have a picnic by a lovely little lake I know."

"It's a date." She said. It was Anna's turn to steal a kiss. Then she departed. It took a while for the crowd to leave the hall but once they had gone, only Paddy, the instructors, and the new members of the King's Guards remained. Paddy spoke;

"I am now going to take you all to your quarters within the palace. You will have chance to return to your homes tomorrow to gather your belongings. Tonight you will be posted and you will meet your direct superiors who will instruct you in your jobs. It goes without saying that I am proud of each and every one of you. Take care out there."

The instructors led the way to the palace. They dropped each man at their post. Paddy escorted James.

"James, you are going to be in the King's personal bodyguards." He began. "Here you will be charged with the duty of protecting the King at all costs. You may even have to forfeit your life at some point. Will you accept this burden?"

James' jaw dropped. He had risen from messenger boy to being offered a position in the King's personal bodyguard in just a couple of months. He composed himself quickly.

"I will accept this honour." He said formally.

"I thought you may." Paddy replied. He escorted James to meet a man called Tarnoc. Tarnoc was not a large man by any means but he was legendary in these parts. He wielded a short sword but it had been rumoured that nobody had ever seen him swing it. This was because it was swung so quickly, the naked eye could not see it. As James approached Tarnoc, he could see that he was not a young man anymore. He was in his fifties with short cropped grey hair. He stood at about 5'1" tall but he didn't look that small. He was also quite slender. He was not what James was expecting.

"Tarnoc," Paddy began, "this is James and he is now under your command."

Tarnoc said nothing simply shaking James' hand.

"I will leave you now James. Good luck."

"Thanks, Paddy, for everything." James replied.

"You are most welcome."

It was getting late and Paddy left for his room.

As he entered his room Paddy could feel that it was deathly cold. He lit the lanterns. Isabelle was in her cot but was unattended. None of the servants were around. This angered Paddy as he didn't want Isabelle to be left alone again. He went over to the cot and looked in. Isabelle was fast asleep. Paddy gently picked her up and cuddled her in his arms for a while. Then he kissed her on the forehead and placed her back in the cot.

"Goodnight, princess." He said. Paddy readied himself for bed and went to sleep.

Only one hour had passed before Paddy was roused from his slumber. It was absolutely freezing. He tried to sit up to turn his lantern a little higher so he could see the whole room but he could not move. His joints felt like they had literally frozen solid. The only thing he could move was his head. He looked towards the dim flicker of his lantern. It seemed to be surrounded in a thick fog.

"How does a freezing fog get into a room like this?" Paddy asked himself. He then heard Isabelle begin to cry. A faint blue-white flicker came from above the cot. It caught Paddy's attention but he did not see it clearly. Another small flicker came. Then another and another. Each time they were getting bigger and brighter. It was lightning. Each fork of lightning came closer to striking the cot. Each fork also lit the room for a brief period. A vortex was forming above the cot where the ceiling should have been. The ceiling seemed to have vanished where the vortex was. As the mini storm grew fiercer, Paddy saw a face light up in the vortex. With each flash it grew bigger and bigger. It was heading for Isabelle. Paddy tried to cry out but his voice would not work. He couldn't even move his lips. He could feel the panic growing within him. This didn't feel like a dream. It was too real. At last a fork of lightning struck the cot. Instead of the lightning dispersing, it latched on and formed a constant electrical stream from the vortex to the cot. More forks attached themselves to the cot. Soon the cot was completely engulfed. Then the face moved from the vortex into the lightning and down into the cot. A blinding flash of light burst through the room and then all was dark again. Paddy tried to move and found that he could now move his upper body. He reached for his sword and then for the lantern to turn it up. His legs were slowly regaining feeling. There was no sound coming from the cot. Then, a rustling began. It sounded like the sheets in the cot were moving. A thud was heard on the wood on each side of the cot. The wood started to creak as if something was trying to bend it. Paddy tried to will his legs to get feeling in them so he could walk. He could make slight movements. The wood creaked even more, and then snapping sounds came. The bars began to snap one by one. Suddenly, to his horror, Paddy saw a leg grow through the snapped bar. It was growing slowly but it could clearly be seen. Greater feelings of panic started to spread through him. Something was happening to his daughter but he was helpless to do anything. At last his left leg started to move. He pulled himself upright on the bed and tried to stand. His left leg gave way sending him sprawling across the ground. He continued to try to get up. Two legs and two arms could be seen protruding from the cot. Paddy could not comprehend what he was seeing but he was determined to stand. At last he managed to raise himself to his feet. He turned to face the cot but it was nothing more than a pile of wood on the floor. Above the pile, standing at least seven feet tall was the most hideous creature Paddy had ever seen. It looked like a giant who had been burned in a fire and then resuscitated. The teeth stood out. Each tooth, top to bottom, was about four inches long and razor sharp. The creature's lips were cracked beyond recognition. There were two holes where a nose should have been. Its eyes emanated a strange white light like rays of moonlight only more menacing. The flesh of the creature was blistered, charred and bloody. It was truly a creature from hell.

"Ah, the Father of the child that allowed me to live again." The creature said in its deep, gruff voice. "What do you think of your precious little child now? Am I adorable?" The creature laughed out loud.

"Who are you?" Paddy asked sternly. His courage was faltering but he maintained his composure.

"I am the scourge of the earth, the ruler of chaos. I am Bhryll."

"What have you done with my daughter?" Paddy asked with his courage returning.

"Oh, you need not worry. She is well and truly dead." Again, Bhryll laughed.

"You find yourself quite amusing don't you?" Anger had grown within the heart of Paddy. He was ready to cut this so called god into pieces. He raised his sword and pointed it towards the creature.

"What do you think you will do to me with that puny blade, human?"

"I will kill you with it." Paddy stated boldly. Bhryll reached out his long arm and placed a finger on the tip of the blade. Instantly the blade melted. Paddy was left holding nothing but the handle. He looked around for something else to attack his enemy with. There was nothing. Bhryll started an incantation. There was a blinding flash of light. When Paddy's eyes had adjusted to the dim light again, he could see that Bhryll had a full suit of armour covering his entire body. Bhryll reached over his shoulder and pulled out a huge black sword with serrated edges. The butt of the handle had a picture of the sun being eclipsed by a vortex with the face of Bhryll in the centre. Then he pulled a smaller sword from the holster on his hip. He tossed this sword to Paddy.

"Now, let us see if you can challenge me." He said.

Paddy, finding he could move again fully, raised his sword and charged. Paddy controlled his balance as he swung the blade to try to slice his opponent. Bhryll expended no energy parrying the blows. As Paddy stepped in again, Bhryll reached out a huge hand, grasping Paddy by the face and tossed him towards the door. The wooden door shattered and splintered with the force of Paddy's bodyweight. A nearby guard raised the alarm before running to the aid of Paddy. As the guard neared the door, the huge, horrific figure of Bhryll stepped through. The guard froze; urine trickled down his leg. Bhryll stabbed his blade through the chest of the guard. He crumpled to the ground; his body lifeless. Bhryll then began a quick incantation. He reached down a touched the now dead guard. An orange glow surrounded the body before fading away. The guard then stood up. His skin was pale and grey and he had a stare on his face that would chill any living creature.

"Scout ahead and kill any you come across." Bhryll commanded. His tactic was sensible. Nobody would suspect the guard until it was too late. He would be able to clear at least part of the way for Bhryll to escape, leaving bodies for him to reanimate along the way.

Bhryll turned back to Paddy.

"I want you to be a general in my undead army." He said.

"Never" Paddy replied picking himself up off the floor. Paddy charged, mounting an attack far more ferocious than before. Bhryll never missed a single parry. He was playing with Paddy; using him like a rag doll. Occasionally he would throw Paddy to the ground. He would also give him a small cut here and there. Paddy realised that he could not win. He was exhausted. He made one last lunge. Bhryll swung his body around 360 degrees bringing his sword up to the level of Paddy's throat. Paddy raised his sword to deflect the blow but his sword was cut in two. The tip of Bhryll's blade just nicked Paddy's throat. There was a long pause. Both opponents stood looking at each other. Then blood splattered from the nick. Paddy coughed and spluttered then collapsed to the ground. Bhryll quickly reanimated his body. The spirit of Paddy Turner no longer occupied his body. The shell of Paddy was now totally evil; controlled by the will of his new master. When reanimated, the person retains all their skills and memories but loses their soul. This creates a being of unimaginable skill but with no emotion. This is what Paddy had become.

Bhryll and Paddy followed the trail of bodies that lay in the corridors. Bhryll reanimated every single one. By the time they had burst into the great hall, there were at least twenty of them. The King and his guards awaited them in the great hall. It was the easiest place to fight and the only way in or out of this part of the palace. Bhryll and his undead soldiers stopped on the stairs leading down from the servants' wing to the great hall. He looked across at the King.

"It seems that you have a mutiny in your palace, my lord." He mocked.

"Who are you, vile creature?" The King replied.

"I prefer to be addressed with a little more respect. Perhaps you should make your request on your knees. Oh, and one more thing; call me master."

"That will not happen, not while I have breath in my body and an army to defend me."

"If that is what it takes." Bhryll replied. He raised an arm and incanted a spell. A black cloud appeared in front of him. Suddenly, arrows and throwing knives started spilling out of the cloud, firing towards the King's men. Many fell almost instantly, the rest took cover. James was one of the few who managed to escape. He was trying to survey the damage when he noticed the slumped body of Tarnoc. His heart sank at the sight of such a legend, lying on the cold marble floor without even having the chance to fight.

"Your men are now all but gone. The rest will be too scared to fight. Now kneel before me and ask your questions." Bhryll said to the King.

"I will not kneel before you. Kill me if you must but you will never get the satisfaction of seeing me kneel at your feet." The King replied. "More men will be on their way. You will not escape with your life."

A hearty laugh erupted. Bhryll could barely bring himself to speak. Then he began another incantation. This time all the dead bodies that lay on the floor began to glow. Each one stood up and formed a line in front of Bhryll.

"I could destroy your entire army by myself. That would see me breaking a promise I made years ago. I promised the denizens of the Cursed Isle that they would be given the chance of revenge against the humans who drove them away. If they fail, then I will kill you all."

"Such a promise was made by one would-be god before being slain by his brother. You must be Bhryll." The King said remembering what he had learned of the chaos wars.

Bhryll nodded.

"Take your undead men and leave my palace. Make your preparations. We will be ready to fight you." The King continued with conviction. He was sure that Bhryll would leave.

"I will leave right now. But I cannot depart without the giving of a gift. Call it something to remember me by."

Another incantation began. From his mouth, fire erupted. It filled the hall, torching anything that would burn. Then Bhryll turned and ran. He had vanished in a flash. The screams of the people could be heard as the God of Chaos ran down the street. He continued to send forth his flames. Cloth, wood and even people all burned. Anna heard the commotion and looked out of the window of her rented room.

"The legend was true." She said to herself. She hastily packed her belongings and wrote a note. She had a messenger take the note and gave him strict instructions to deliver this to James the next day. She ran into the street only to find her horse had been burnt to death. She stole another from a nearby stable. In all the commotion, nobody noticed. She then departed for the Sacred Hills.

Across the plains, Conrad and Rhyll were escorting John on his journey back to Horton Peak. They had been travelling for quite some time but had stopped to make camp for the night. John had not been able to sleep. He had been staring in the direction of Thorvale all night long, wondering if he was crazy or not. Then, shortly after midnight, a small red glow could be seen in the sky over Thorvale.

"Wake up." He shouted to the others. Conrad woke at once.

"What is it, John?" He asked.

"What is that over there?" John asked pointing to the red light.

"It looks like the glow of a camp fire."

"If that is a campfire, it is very big."

They watched for many minutes. More small fires became visible. Then it seemed like the fires were spreading and joining together. The realisation dawned on Conrad first.

"They are no campfires. Thorvale is on fire." He shouted. He ran over to Rhyll and kicked him hard. "Wake up you big ox." Rhyll came too.

"What is going on? Can't a man get a descent night's sleep around here?"

"Thorvale is burning." Conrad shouted. Rhyll looked back along the route they had travelled. His face wore an expression of deep concern.

"I told you." John shouted. "I knew this would happen. I dreamt this."

Conrad and Rhyll said nothing. They wanted to investigate first before believing John but like true adventurers, they didn't rule anything out.

*****

### Chapter 19

The adventurers had packed away their camping gear and were about to head back to Thorvale when the sound of galloping hooves caught their attention. Rhyll looked up to see a cloaked figure on horseback, charging across the plains.

"Ho there." He shouted. The cloaked rider looked in the direction of the camp and turned his steed towards them. As the figure neared, Conrad noticed something about the cloak the rider was wearing. It had the symbol of the Sacred Hills on it.

"It seems our mystery rider is a Priestess from the mountains." Conrad said.

"Just how could you possibly know that?" Rhyll asked, always amazed at his friend's powers of observation.

"She wears the symbol of the Sacred Hills on her cloak. That means that she is either an impostor or a Priestess."

"And you can see the symbol, from this distance in the dark?" Rhyll asked, even more amazed.

"I did not become a great thief by having poor powers of observation my good barbarian." Conrad replied with a wry smile on his face. The rider was now upon them.

"Have you come from the city?" Rhyll asked. The figure remained hooded but the voice that spoke was clearly female.

"Yes. I departed as the fires began." She said.

"Do you have any idea how the fires started?" John asked eager to find out if he had been right but also dreading the answer.

"It seems that a terrible power has been unleashed. There was a commotion at the palace. People were awoken from their sleep and left their beds to see what was going on. I looked out from my bedroom window to see the palace on fire. A strange figure was running down the street; fire spewed from its mouth. Others followed this creature; guards I believe but they had strange, emotionless faces. I could not tell if they were chasing the creature or following. As quickly as they appeared, the creature and guards had vanished out of sight."

"Did they leave the city?" Conrad asked coolly.

"They were heading in the direction on the city gate. However, I could not say for certain. Judging by the trail of fire the creature left behind, I would assume that it is now beyond the city walls."

"Am I correct in assuming that you are a priestess from the Sacred Hills?" Conrad enquired.

"Your assumption is correct."

"You seem to be in an awful hurry to get to where you are going. May I ask, why the haste?"

"The evil that passed through the streets of Thorvale was an evil that my people thought was long since dead. I recognised the figure from the readings I had done as a student. If I am not mistaken, the evil was that of Bhryll, God of Chaos. If this is so, my people need to be warned so they can make the necessary preparations."

"What preparations do your people need to make?" Conrad asked again.

"If that was Bhryll, he will not be content unless he is ruling the world. We need to make sure the Sacred Hills are locked down so that if humankind falls, a bastion of hope will remain. Now, I must make haste."

"Thank you for your time." Conrad said. With that the priestess sped off into the distance.

"We should make haste as well." Rhyll said. "There is no telling what damage this creature may have done."

"Or who will be left alive." Rhyll added.

Conrad and Rhyll looked at each other, worried expressions crossed their faces. They both turned to look at John.

"Is this what you had foreseen?" Conrad asked warily.

"I do not know. I should be able to recognise the images I saw in my dreams if and when we come across them. However, I would not like to speculate. I do know that Isabelle is the cause. I can sense she is no longer with us." John never took his gaze away from the fires in the distance. Rhyll and Conrad looked at one another again.

"Let us get going, there is no time to tarry." Rhyll said. Conrad nodded in agreement and finished packing his gear. They had to make the journey on foot. They set off at a sprint but it would be at least half a day's travel until they arrived back at Thorvale.

As the party passed through the gates to Thorvale, they halted. In front of them was a scene of utter devastation. The cobbled streets were covered in rubble. Buildings on both sides of the street were burning; some had already collapsed. Amongst the rubble, charred bodies lay lifeless; the expressions on some of the faces showed that they had died in terrible pain. Lines of people had formed human chains to the city's wells. Buckets of water were being passed along as the people desperately tried to quell the flames. John did not stop for long. He dashed down the street, dodging the crowd, to the palace. When he arrived, the roof of the palace was burning furiously. In the courtyard, all the survivors were gathered. Many were hugging each other for comfort. Others were pacing around, desperately trying to think of something they could do to help. Amongst the people in the courtyard, John noticed the distinctive figure of the King. He ran over.

"My lord, what happened here?" John asked.

"It pains me to think that nobody listened to you, John. It seems that you were right." The King replied.

"Where is Isabelle?" John sounded desperate. He had a pressing need to know what had happened but in his heart, he didn't really want to hear it.

"I know not what fate befell your sister. She may have perished in the fire. It is more likely that she somehow spawned that terrible monster." The King paused for a minute, composing himself for what he was about to say. "John, I am afraid your Father is dead."

John felt his heart sink. For a brief second, all the noise and commotion from the streets and courtyard seemed to fade. A solitary thought crossed John's mind, 'I have lost my Father and Sister this night'. His thoughts then turned back to his Mother whom he had lost but one month ago. John managed to regain composure.

"How did he die?" John asked choking back the tears.

"From what little information I have gathered, he fought the creature. Your father bravely engaged the beast in an attempt to stop him. It was not an even fight and certainly not one your father could ever have hoped to win. Once slain, the evil creature reanimated your Father's body." The King paused for a second, finding it hard to find the words to say next.

"John, I hate to be the one to tell you this but your Father now works for the enemy."

Emotions were swirling around John's body. One moment he felt uncontrollable grief the next, pure anger. One emotion outweighed them all. It was desire. John had the burning desire for vengeance. Suddenly, John started to stagger. Felling both nauseous and dizzy, John collapsed to the ground. Vomit burst from his mouth before he passed out. Conrad rushed forward to tend to John.

"He has fainted." The thief stated. "Rhyll, fetch him some water."

Rhyll left to get the water Conrad had requested.

"What shall we do next, my lord?" Conrad asked tentatively, not knowing if he should address the King at this time.

"We now possess an understanding as to the reason Isabelle Tuner was kidnapped. She has been used to resurrect an evil and ancient god; one that holds the power to dominate this Kingdom unopposed. I can only speculate on his true intentions but I would expect he has a desire to wreak revenge on our race for destroying him and banishing his minions to Cursed Isle. I should imagine he has gone there to organise and unite the chaotic forces that inhabit that Island. When he has prepared, they will attack."

"Then we must organise a defence." Rhyll shouted confidently returning with the water. He handed the bucket to Conrad who proceeded to work on resuscitating John.

"If you had seen the power of this god, you may not have the heart to fight. He destroyed almost all of my guards in a matter of seconds. He then reanimated them to fight for him. He did this with no help from the guards he had already reanimated."

"If we cannot defeat them by hand then we strike before it gets to that. We mount hundreds of cannons along the coast. They will need ships to cross to the mainland. We will sink them before they arrive." Rhyll said still sounding optimistic.

"If rumours are true, the ships they will use are ghost ships. That means that our weapons will do nothing to them."

"You sound like you are willing to quit." Rhyll shouted at the King angry with the defeatist attitude. "You are the King of Thorntonvale. Even if a war against the creatures of Cursed Isle and their false god is impossible to win; it is your job to give the people hope."

The King did not reply. His shoulders slumped, his head dropped, and he let out a deep sigh of resignation.

"If you will do nothing, I will rally the barbarians and we will mount a defence in the Sacred Hills. The priestesses are preparing for this war as we speak. They will be ready, as will my people. If your people are not, you will be slaughtered." Rhyll stated boldly. He no longer talked to the King with respect. He was playing mind games to get the King to act.

John stirred on the ground. He opened his eyes and, aided by Conrad, rose to his feet.

"What have I missed?" He asked seeming to be more relaxed.

"It seems the King, here, will not act with haste. It seems that he may not act at all." Rhyll said wearing his heart on his sleeve. John moved to stand next to the King.

"My lord, with my Father dead, you will need someone to lead your armies. I will be willing to assume that role even though I do have the experience he had. I was taught well from an early age and feel that I could serve well. Conrad could help me."

Conrad's face dropped and he almost choked on his own saliva.

"I am no leader of armies, John." He said rather taken aback at the suggestion.

"Neither of you are." The King said quietly. "I am the only one remaining with the respect and the right to command the armies of Thorntonvale. I will need generals however. Are you with me?"

Conrad looked at John who in turn looked at Rhyll.

"I am with you." John said confidently.

"I will command my barbarians to fight by your side." Rhyll proclaimed. All eyes now turned to Conrad. He looked back at the people staring at him.

"What?" He asked trying to pretend he had not been party to the conversation. The others continued to stare at him. It was making Conrad feel rather uncomfortable.

"Alright, alright, I will do it. I would prefer to act as an advisor though."

"Very well then," The King began, "you will be John's advisor."

"That settles things then. Tell us which army we will be commanding."

The sound of someone clearing their throat, demanding attention, distracted them. They turned to see James.

"My lord," James began, "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation."

"Well, if it isn't the messenger boy. What can I do for you?" The King replied a little sarcastically.

"Sir, I have just graduated top of the class at the academy. I was told by Paddy Turner that I was the best swordsman and tactician he had ever seen. I would like the chance to command an army."

The King pondered his words. He began pacing up and down thinking how best to use this young man.

"Son, if Paddy Turner said that to you, you must be something special. As most of my generals were members of the King's Guards and have fallen this night, I see no other choice than to grant you your request."

The King then had a long conversation with the group. He told them where their armies would be, what he wanted them to do and when they should leave.

"We need to form plans for staging a defence. Go and get acquainted with your armies. Send out scouts and lookouts to look for any sign of an attack. We will meet back here in a week when the carnage has been cleared to formulate our plans."

With that the group dispersed.

Rhyll and James departed instantly. Conrad and John stayed until the sun had risen and fallen again to help extinguish the fires. Their army was only half a day's travel away. It was located in Conrad's home town and Thorntonvale's second city; Beskholme.

*****

### Chapter 20

Bhryll stood on the bow of the ferryboat looking at the shores of his island. It was two centuries since his human followers and undead armies had been driven here. Now, at last, Bhryll could finally see where his followers resided. He could not become sentimental however. His temperament would not allow this. He had a job to do. With all the different species on the island, it would be a difficult task for them all to unite under one banner. The Orcs hated the Goblins. The Goblins despised the Trolls. The Spiders would attack anything and anyone who was not of the same race. Then there were the Bugbears. These chaotic creatures had only one mission in life; to kill. The only way he was going to be able to unite each race was to make them fear him more than any of their hated enemies. The ferry touched down on the beach. Bhryll departed closely followed by his band of undead guards. Some had been left on the mainland as there was not enough room in the ferry. They would guard the ferry post to make sure that nobody pursued him. Bhryll turned to the ghoul that was Paddy Turner.

"Tell me, Paddy, how would you go about uniting the inhabitants of this island?"

Paddy spoke but not as he did before. His voice now seemed very distant as if it was not coming from his mouth but from a distant plain.

"I would go for numbers. The more men I had following me to begin with, the more chance others would follow."

Bhryll smiled.

"I can see that your services will come in very handy. The largest population on this island will be the Orcs. They breed like wild animals." Bhryll began sniffing the air. A look of disappointment crossed his face. He then uttered an incantation. A tornado of wind grew around him. He was standing in the eye. Dipping his head into the funnel, he breathed in deep breaths. After one breath, he would turn a fraction to the right and breathed again. He did this until at last he stopped and the tornado disappeared.

"They are this way." He said pointing. "I can smell their stench from anywhere." Bhryll set off in the direction of the Orc fields.

The early evening sun was low in the sky when Bhryll and the guards reached the Orc fields. As the adventurers had found them, the fields seemed to be deserted. Bhryll confidently strode into the centre of the field. He looked up at the sky and let out an almighty roar. The field instantly came alive. It looked as though every Orc that had been hiding away suddenly jumped from their holes. The ones closest to Bhryll unsheathed their weapons and surrounded him. For a moment nothing moved. Bhryll looked around at the many thousands of Orcs that stood before him.

"I am your master, your god. You will serve me." Bhryll shouted. This statement was met with nothing but silence. The Orcs were wary. It was obvious that the creature standing before them was powerful and confident but they did not know to what extent.

One of the larger Orcs emerged from the crowd. It had the physical structure of a human but it was slightly hunched over. The skin on this Orc was brown and grey. Flesh seemed to hang off his body as if it had rotted and dropped off. With his mace drawn at the ready, he approached.

"You presume to be the master of the Orcs." he hissed. "We have no master, we want no master."

Bhryll laughed.

"Many years ago, some of you here will have served me. You may be old now but you should remember the time you served Bhryll."

A roar rose up from the massive crowd of Orcs.

"Bhryll is dead. We watched him die." One said.

"I was killed, it is true. Now I return as I promised I would. I want you to join with me and the rest of the inhabitants of Cursed Isle so we may exact our revenge."

"If you are Bhryll, prove it." The large Orc demanded. Bhryll needed no second invite. He pointed his finger at the large Orc and uttered something under his breath. It was as if the skeleton beneath the Orc's flesh had been evaporated. The skin sank and sagged to the ground.

"How was that? Would anyone else like a demonstration?" He asked.

The Orcs stood in shock and amazement but they still did not believe this was Bhryll. Now, though, they were angry. One charged to attack followed by another and another. Bhryll felt that a more forceful demonstration of his power was in order. He closed his eyes and held both arms aloft. An incantation was uttered. Electricity enveloped his body. His black armour hissed and crackled. Then a huge cylindrical pulse of energy shot out from his body. All Orcs within a fifty meter radius were knocked to the ground, completely paralysed. The Orcs beyond this radius halted immediately. Bhryll addressed them.

"As you can see, you will not get within a few feet of me. I have chosen not to kill those that are now on the floor between us. They will be more valuable to me alive. Now what say you, will you join me or do you require more persuasion?"

There was no reply to Bhryll's question. Suddenly, something struck the rear of Bhryll's helmet. He turned around to see an arrow lying on the ground. He picked it up shouting the words:

"Kill your owner."

The arrow flew from Bhryll's hand like a bolt of lightning. It pierced the eye of the Orc who fired it.

"Does anyone else have any questions?" Bhryll shouted. He waited a few moments. Not one Orc made a sound. "Very well then, if you will join me, drop to your knees and swear to serve me and follow my every command."

Each and every Orc dropped to their knees.

"We swear" Was shouted by all.

"Then rise to your feet and follow me." Bhryll commanded. The sight was awesome. Bhryll and his guards were followed by hundreds of thousands of Orcs. They began a tour of the island that would take the next three weeks. Wherever a race lived, they would go there and force them into service. Most came willingly. The Orcs, Trolls and Goblins were united by a common fear for their lives. The spiders needed more persuading. Bhryll had to brainwash them with spells to make sure that they only attacked those they were commanded to. This went against the natural instinct of the spiders but the spells would control them long enough to be able to get them to the mainland. The skeletons pledged allegiance instantly with no persuasion at all. They had waited patiently for the day their master would return. Many had fought alongside Bhryll in the first Great War. The Bugbears had similar problems to the Spiders. They were difficult to control and their natural instincts made them quite resilient. Finally, all the races were gathered in the valley of tortured souls below the looming silhouette of Blackheart Castle. Bhryll climbed up to the Castle and entered the gates. Awaiting him, in the centre of the courtyard, was The Watcher and his Wraiths. They all bowed down as Bhryll entered.

"What a dark and dismal castle." Bhryll said with mock anger. "Just the way I like it." He walked over to The Watcher and beckoned him to rise.

"My loyal and trusted friend, it has been too long." Bhryll said sounding almost caring.

"My master, long and hard have I searched for the one who could hold your spirit. I can hardly believe that my task is complete." The Watcher said.

"You have done well. Now we must make our preparations. I have assembled the armies. Now, with your help and that of our friend Paddy, we will plot the downfall of mankind." Bhryll laughed which in turn started The Watcher laughing. It would take another week before the forces of evil were ready to put their plans into action.

*****

### Chapter 21

The newly appointed generals, Conrad, John, Rhyll and James, had met with their troops and had been working with the commanders to formulate plans. On a specified day, which was now two weeks ago, the adventurers gathered with the other generals in the academy war room. It was an exact replica of the war room in the palace. However, with the palace being nothing but burnt embers, the academy was the only place left that had the facilities to formulate battle strategies. By the time the generals had arrived back in Thorvale, the King had already created some initial strategies. He spent the entire first day going through them one by one. The proceedings were very democratic, each general analysing the existing plans, making alterations, and then presenting their thoughts back to the group. This was a process that was going to take many days. If the final strategy they chose was wrong, it would cost valuable time, effort and manpower to alter things. Once the initial ideas had been pondered and worked upon, the floor was given to Rhyll to address. He had been away to his horde to discuss, with their newly appointed leader, how the Barbarians would best fight the war ahead.

"Traditionally, my people have occupied the land at the foot of the Sacred Hills." Rhyll began. "A long time ago, we were considered to be nothing more than outlaws. In this time we were hunted by various lords who claimed that we occupied their land. We even had to do battle with the ruling monarchy of the time. Because of this, and our small numbers, we have devised many means of defending that area of land we call home. We have traps, ambush points and many ways to control the battle if it could be brought to the west."

The noise level rose as the gathered generals pondered on the Barbarian's words. Suddenly, a voice could be heard above the din. A leather-faced and clearly battle hardened general spoke. His name was Targe and his gruff voice quickly silenced those around him.

"What sort of contingency plans do you have? Do you know what numbers you could effectively defend against and what will you do if you cannot hold your ground?"

Rhyll stood up from his seat and adopted a confident pose.

"That is a fair question general. To answer your first question, how many men can we defend against? To be honest with you, I do not know. In the past, we have defended against armies of up to five thousand men. However, in my lifetime we have yet to use the defences our ancestors put in place. Training is currently underway and so I would estimate that we would still be able to hold off at least that many."

There were a few worried looks on faces around the room. Rhyll looked confident but his first answer had failed to inspire confidence.

"To answer your second question," Rhyll continued, "if we fail to hold the attacking army, we would retreat to the Sacred Hills. We have worked closely with the Priestesses for many years. They have provided us with essentials such as food and medicine in return for our protection, especially when travelling away from the temple. Our plan is not one of counterattack but one of consolidation. If we are driven from our homeland, it is likely that a great many of our kin will have fallen. The priestesses will be able to provide a safe haven at their temple for us to rebuild our forces and plan ways to take back what is ours."

"And just how will this be achieved?" General Targe asked.

"The priestesses will collapse the mountain." Rhyll replied.

Again a murmur went up around the room as the generals again contemplated what had been said.

Up to this point, John had sat quietly listening to all the proposals but now he had something to add.

"If I may?" He began and the room fell silent, each general showing the utmost respect for each other. "Having lived my entire life in the shadow of the Sacred Hills, I have heard rumours and stories. Many times has it been spoken that the Priestesses of the Sacred Hills still possess power over the land. Often they use it to enhance life; to make the area in the surrounding hills a haven for all kinds of animals and plants. But, they also have the ability to destroy the land. I am certain that what Rhyll has spoken of is possible."

James, the youngest general sitting at the table had also been quietly listening up until this point. He had felt a little uneasy about addressing such an experienced and battle hardened group, especially considering he had yet to see active duty. However, having listened to Rhyll and John, what he thought was a good idea popped into his head. He almost jumped out of his seat and began.

"This should not just be the contingency plan of the Barbarians alone. We all should adopt this plan."

"Explain yourself." The King ordered.

"Well, my lord, I think that it is wrong of us to assume that the West will be attacked first. I, like you my lord, was amongst the few survivors to witness the awesome destructive powers Bhryll possesses. When he attacks, he will not be thinking about destroying a few smaller towns and villages to the west of our kingdom. He will want to go straight for the jugular, Thorvale, and put our very leadership in disarray. This one victory could drain the confidence of our troops and put us at a grave disadvantage."

"I would agree with that assessment." The King replied. "That is why I have decided to move all this city's important functions to Beskholme. The royal court will move, so will the barracks and the academy. It is not the ideal city but it will afford us more time. If Thorvale does fall, we will have some advance warning of the type of defence we would need to halt them and the type of attack we can expect. This is a decision I have made on my own for the good of the kingdom. Thorvale is far too close to the coast and therefore is a prime candidate for an initial, surprise attack."

Everyone in the room seemed to be in agreement with the King's approach. Rhyll addressed the generals again.

"It seems that most are in agreement that the city of Thorvale will be the first target. Away from our homeland, we will not be as effective as we would be if we fought there. We are too few in number to act as an independent army. I propose another use for my men. We are fast and agile and despite our large frames, we can be quite stealthy. I propose that we act as an aid to the main forces engaging the enemy. We will perform hit and run assaults to try to weaken their resolve. By destroying smaller groups we would be able to make a prolonged indent into the strength and confidence of the enemy troops. If the enemy forces do not break away and spread out, we can stalk the main force; making them fight on two fronts and diverting some of their attention away from their primary targets. Is this proposal acceptable?"

The conversation between the generals became quite heated as they discussed the Barbarian's proposal. Fifteen minutes passed as each general added input on how best to use the Barbarian force. Finally, King Henried spoke.

"It is agreed." He said forcefully. "The first phase of our plan is set. Rhyll, you will position your forces in the Coastal Forest. From there you should be able to observe the landing of the enemy forces without being detected. You can then direct your troops as you see fit to maximise the damage. Be warned though, the Coastal Forest runs in a line from just one mile outside of Thorvale and all down the coast, finishing just a couple of miles shy of Horton Peak. These trees may be used by the enemy to get close to Thorvale without being detected. Do not become outflanked."

"Don't worry; if any enter the woods, they will be cut down quickly." With that, Rhyll's part in the planning was complete.

James took the floor again.

"My forces are currently located in the small town of Bowton. It is an ideal spot being located in the centre of the kingdom. We can act either as an attack force or, as I think it should be, a backup army to try to take the enemy by surprise. If scouts can locate the enemy, we should be able to set up a series of ambushes that could wreak havoc."

General Targe added his comments. "Your ideas are exciting James, but you have not fully considered the implications. The enemy will land on our southern shores; that is the only thing that is certain. Where on the southern shoreline is anybodies' guess. What you propose is to set up an ambush against an enemy whose positioning and tactics are a mystery. I am afraid what you propose is impossible."

James looked like he had just had the wind taken out of his sails.

Conrad felt a little bit uneasy giving advice to generals but he spoke nevertheless.

"I do not like to be the pessimist but I feel that this deserves to be said. Each scenario that has been considered has assumed that we can match or defeat the enemy in battle. We are taking on a creature we now know to be a god. This creature has hundreds of thousands of willing servants on that island. If they are made into an organised unit, the chances of victory against such a force are slim. It seems to me that we should be considering defensive strategies that will maximise the damage we do whilst minimising casualties. If we stand toe to toe with this force, we will be slaughtered. If we try to ambush this force, their numbers will still prevail. All the while we will be losing more soldiers than we can afford to."

There was a quiet, sombre atmosphere at the table. Conrad's words had struck a chord with many of the generals sitting at the table. Few had entertained to possibility of defeat, even fewer had thought about it in such graphic detail.

"What course of action would you suggest, Conrad?" The King questioned.

"We all seem to be in agreement that Thorvale will be the primary target. We need to mount a solid defence here. This will give us the information about their capabilities and their numbers. However, Beskholme should be the place of our first defensive structure. Someone needs to assess the land outside the city and determine what kind of traps could be set to allow us to take out as many enemy soldiers as possible." Conrad paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. He resumed his speech.

"I have got it," he said excitedly, "make Beskholme the trap."

The generals looked at each other, not entirely sure about what Conrad was intending.

"It makes perfect sense. The enemy come up against fierce resistance in Thorvale. If they take the city, they will come to Beskholme fully expecting a solid defence again. We have early traps laid out to catch them off guard and we have a legion of soldiers defending the city. Lined across the walls, they will appear to be a full garrison. They use Beskholme's existing defences to cause more damage and then flee through the rear of the city as the walls are breached. The enemy will pour into the deserted city quickly. When a large number are in, we destroy the city with a series of large explosions thus killing all within the walls. We could then use James' army to build defensive structures at Bowton. If we continue to do this, we will minimise our losses but maximise the enemy's."

"Blow up an entire city? Is that even possible?" General Targe scoffed.

The King answered the question. "I believe it is. Beskholme is a city that produces most of the explosive for the kingdom. There should be enough to execute this plan." The King turned to address James.

"Do you feel that you could erect some form of effective defensive structure in Bowton?" He asked.

James looked thoughtful for a minute before replying. "Yes, I believe that given enough time, we should be able to produce a fine defensive structure. I do have one question though, how do we guarantee that they will attack from the direction of Beskholme?"

Conrad spoke, "This should be fairly simple. There should be enough men of the legion escaping Beskholme to promote a chase. The men should be quick enough if they can gain a head start in all the confusion. We will assign our fastest and fittest runners to the legion and draw them into your defences."

"I think we have a plan. " The King said confidently. "That now leaves only the armies of the West to consider. The lords of every major town need to be informed of the plan and to provide similar provisions. Also, send a letter to the Priestesses. We need to know how much time they would need before sealing themselves into their temple. We do not want to lose any soldiers in the collapse of that mountain."

"It would be wise to send a couple of legions into the mountains from the start. They will be there to defend the temple if a surprise attack occurs. We do not want our contingency plan to be foiled." General Targe added.

"That is good advice. Add to the message to the lords of the west to send one quarter of their forces to the Sacred Hills at once. They are to provide aid in whatever capacity it is requested of them."

Messengers were dispatched to every corner of the kingdom.

"Where shall our armies be positioned, my lord." General Targe asked.

The King bowed his head in thought. "I shall stay in Thorvale and lead the defence against Bhryll's initial assault. In the event that the city is captured quickly, I shall evacuate and make my way to Beskholme. General Targe, your army will aid me in the defence of Thorvale."

The general nodded his head but said nothing.

"If we fail, then it will be John's army that shall take up the battle. Your first task will be to assemble whatever defences you can at Beskholme. Remember, leave only one legion behind to defend the city. You should then make your way to Bowton to aid James."

The King then looked at each general sitting in the war room.

"Gentlemen, this is going to be the biggest battle this kingdom has ever witnessed. I wish I could say that I am confident of success but I know there are overwhelming odds against us. All I ask is that each and every man stands and defends the country we love. We shall have archers and artillery lined on the shore to try to delay the attack. The Barbarians will be supporting them. Now it is up to you to organise your defences. Good luck Gentlemen and I hope to see you in the fullness of time."

The King stood up and exited the room.

In the two weeks that followed the discussions, the generals set about their tasks. King Henried had his archers move to the coast, dragging the cannons and catapults with them. The King himself, stayed in Thorvale. He was overseeing the defences. Oil had been spread in the fields around the city walls. The city gates were being reinforced. The streets were being filled with obstacles so that an invading army would have to scramble to meet the defending infantry; thus making them easy targets for the archers. The blacksmiths of the city worked furiously to created swords, shields and armour. They mainly worked at creating hundreds of thousands of arrows. Too much ammunition was better than not enough. Vats of oil were placed all around the wall, ready to be boiled and then dropped on the heads of the enemy. King Henried felt certain that they could hold out.

John and Conrad were busy preparing traps. They had their army digging lots of huge holes in the fields in front of Beskholme; the city they had been charged to defend. It was hoped that if they could not kill the enemy, they could at least trap them. At the entrance of the city and in the buildings immediately inside the walls, many explosive devices had been set up. They figured that fire would be the thing the undead would fear most. As in Thorvale, the city walls were well prepared but Beskholme had the addition of catapults. The catapults from Thorvale were being moved to defend the coast.

James had his army filling fields with wooden steaks protruding from the ground. This would be a hindrance for any large army. It would slow them down significantly and also tire them out. The field of steaks stretched for at least a mile deep by five miles wide. It had been a Herculean effort to get this done as hastily as they had. Behind the fields of spears, large trenches had been dug all filled with rivers of oil. James knew that no human army would ever come close to getting through the defence he had devised. But because it was not a human army he would be facing, he was not certain.

Rhyll and his barbarians were hidden in the Coastal Forest that overlooked the southern shores of the island. They were far enough West so that they would not be outflanked; or at least they hoped not. They figured that they were close enough to see when the first enemy ship approached. They would wait in the woods until the battle began and then creep up on the flank of the enemy.

Across the water on Cursed Isle, Bhryll and The Watcher organised their troops. Lined up along the shores were two hundred ghostly galleons. Even with this many ships, there would not be enough room for all the inhabitants of Cursed Isle. Bhryll knew that at least two trips would be needed, maybe three. He also knew that this would work to his advantage. He planned to be predictable when the initial force landed, led by The Watcher. His second force would land one week later when nobody should be keeping a lookout over the water. That force would head due north and then move in on Beskholme from the West. The idea was to kill any who fled. Then he would come across to assume control of the Kingdom. He would start by destroying the Temple of the Sacred Hills.

As his armies were all lined up awaiting the command to board the ships, Bhryll stood next to The Watcher examining his troops.

"I never thought this day would come." The Watcher said.

"But you never lost faith." Bhryll started. "Once the humans are crushed, I will grant you powers beyond your wildest dreams. You will be a god."

The Watcher turned his head towards Bhryll and smiled.

Bhryll turned away from his armies and looked out across the water.

"Let us begin." He commanded.

The Watcher raised a horn and sounded it. All along the shorefront the armies of chaos marched onto the ships.

*****

### Chapter 22

There was an eerie silence across the mainland that night. People stayed indoors tending to their families. The inns and taverns were deserted leaving weary landlords to close early. The animals were silent, there was no wind. Everything was dead quiet. There were two people in the land for whom things were not quiet; at least in their own minds. For James and Anna, although they were separated by more than two days travel, the same thoughts ran through their heads. Both contemplated their missed rendezvous. Anna had left the city of Thorvale in a great hurry, commanding a messenger to take a letter to her husband to be. She wondered if the letter had reached James. She wondered if he would be able to forgive the fact that she had ran off without being able to say goodbye. The biggest fear that ran through Anna's mind was that she didn't know James very well. She did not know how he would react to being treated in such a fashion. Anna had always possessed a good instinct. In her heart, she felt that things would be alright. In this age of uncertainty, however, things did not seem so clear.

James had different fears. It had totally slipped his mind that he had arranged to meet Anna. The trauma of the fateful night Bhryll had killed most of his fellow guards had affected him. He had struggled to remember anything of any importance. His head was full of horrific images. James could not get over the sheer horror of what happened. In his mind he relived the moment when his colleagues were felled by that dark cloud. Now, though, he remembered the meeting. He had not turned up and had not sent word. Everything had happened so quickly. He had departed the night before he was due to meet Anna to see to his newly acquired army. What he didn't know was that Anna could not attend the meeting and that she had sent him a message. James figured that he would not see Anna again. This thought stirred up profound feelings of sadness within his heart. Everything felt so right. He had seen women of greater physical beauty but for him, there was nobody who even came close to Anna. She was the complete package. She was perfect. Others may disagree but as far as James was concerned, that was their opinion and it didn't matter a damn to him. The final thought that crossed his mind was that if he survived the imminent attack, he would find Anna, sweep her off her feet in a whirl of romance before marrying her. An image passed through his head as he drifted into a daydream. Anna and he were sitting on the porch of a small wooden house. They were watching a couple of children, one boy and one girl, playing in the cornfield that began only a few feet from the porch but stretched for miles. This was their house, their field and their children. The little darlings looked very happy he thought. They were playing catch. The boy was slightly older than the girl and was evading the futile lunges of his sister. James turned to Anna and reached out to take her hand. They looked into each others eyes before looking out at their children again.

"We have done well." James said softly. They both stood up from their chairs and gave each other a loving hug.

The image faded.

James was brought back to reality by the faint sound of a horn echoing across the fields.

"It begins" He said to himself.

The lookouts on the shore had just sounded the alarm. In a watchtower only twenty minutes walk from Thorvale, two men stood. One had a telescope and was looking out. The other was furiously sounding a large horn that was pointing in the direction of Thorvale. The man with the telescope was frozen with fear at what he could see. From out of the black of the night, many ghostly white masts had appeared on the horizon. As the seconds passed, the sails grew bigger and bigger. More and more came, crowding the sea. Soon, the lookout could see the hulls of the ships. The realisation that they were actual ghost ships made the feelings of fear in his body turn to terror. It was difficult to judge exactly how many ships there were. At first, the lookout guessed that there could be no more than fifty. As more time passed and the ships were drawing nearer he realised that there were far more than that. He guessed at one hundred and fifty. The horn blower tapped him on the shoulder.

"What do you see now?" He asked.

There was no reply. The lookout hadn't even heard the horn blower. Another tap landed on his shoulder; still no response. The horn blower had to resort to violence. He thumped the lookout hard on the arm.

"What is it?" The lookout snapped.

"What do you see?" The horn blower replied.

"Doom" The lookout replied flatly as if the lookout's spirit was already broken. "There are so many. How can we hope to defeat this?"

The horn blower snatched the telescope from his hand and raised it to his eye. As he looked out, a loud gasp came from his mouth. He looked at the approaching ships for a few moments before slamming the telescope to the ground; shattering it into pieces.

"The King needs to be told about this." He said scrambling down the ladder.

"He knows they are coming." The lookout replied slouching to the floor, burying his head in his hands.

"I would be willing to bet my life on the fact he does not know how many approach."

The lookout thought about it for a few seconds, looked up and nodded his agreement.

"Anyway," the horn blower continued, "if we are in Thorvale when the fighting starts, we will live a little longer."

That was all the persuading the lookout required. He got up and climbed down from the tower. Both mounted their horses that had been tied up to the bottom of the watch tower and rode off. On horse, it took them only a matter of minutes to reach the walls of the city. They were ushered through the gates with haste. Within seconds they were taken before the King. Anyone who witnessed the expression on the King's face after he had received the news would not have held out much hope of victory against the approaching evil.

Along the shores of the mainland, archers and artillery men were preparing. Flaming arrows were lit, cannons were loaded. As the ships drew almost within firing range, a cold wind picked up. This was not the standard sea breeze. There had not been so much as a breath of wind all night. As the ships drew ever closer, the wind picked up even more. The fires that had been lit to allow the archers to light their arrows were starting to flicker in a northerly direction. At first, they leaned only a little. Soon they were in danger of being blown out completely.

A call was bellowed by one of the commanders.

"Take aim."

The archers all cocked their bows; the artillery men loaded the cannon balls into the barrels of their large cannons and the catapults were drawn back and loaded with large boulders. There was a brief pause. It was if every man who lined the shores of Thorntonvale had inhaled a large breath in anticipation.

"Fire" The commander shouted.

A snake-like hiss could be heard as the flaming arrows were loosed to light up the night sky. This was followed by the crackling of the cannon fuses.

"Reload" The commander ordered.

"Fire"

Another volley of arrows shot off into the night. This time the hissing was followed by the large booming thuds of the cannons firing. Lookouts with telescopes assessed the damage and informed the commanders.

"No damage sir; the cannon balls passed right through the ship." The lookout shouted.

"What of the arrows?" The commander bellowed.

"A number of creatures have been hit. Only those on deck are vulnerable and we are not hitting that many".

"We shall continue the assault." The commander replied to his lookout. As he looked again at the approaching ships, a terrible sense of desperation filled him.

"Double your efforts," he screamed at his troops, "fire at will."

The arrows continued to fly, the cannons repeatedly fired. Even the catapults were having no success. The commander continued to bark orders but the lookouts continued to tell him bad news. The ships were now very close to the shore. It was time for the commander to sound the retreat; he didn't. Determined to sink at least a couple of ships from this close range, he continued to order the barrage. Then the first ship landed. From this vessel, hundreds of vicious and frenzied Orcs stormed the shores.

"Sound the retreat." One of the commander's assistants shouted.

Whistles blew all along the shore. The neat and orderly retreat planned was no longer possible. As more ships landed, Orcs, trolls, goblins, wraiths, skeletons and a small selection of other creatures, poured onto the shore. They charged towards the humans with a ferocity that demonstrated their absolute hatred of mankind. The archers and artillery men were armed with basic short swords. These were not enough to stop or even slow the horde. The creatures wore full body armour and wielded large, brutal weapons of the like nobody had seen before. Some of the archers had no choice but to stand and fight. They had been charged too quickly and were surrounded. They fell almost instantly; the creatures were too fast, too powerful and too many. The story was the same all along the shore. Hiding in the foliage of the Coastal Forest, almost twenty miles west, the barbarians watched the same story being played out. They had the uncontrollable urge to break their cover and help out but to do that would take away their advantage and destroy their plans. They had no choice but to sit and watch as the humans were systematically slaughtered. Groups close to the small villages along the coast managed to retreat to relative safety. Those who were miles from anywhere died quickly; not having the pace to outrun the evil creatures.

A small group of archers were running for the cover of the forest closely followed by a group of large Trolls.

"Take cover." Rhyll commanded the men. He had taken over command of the barbarians with Degg's blessing, due to his now superior knowledge of the enemy. "Wait until the enemy get a good distance into the wood. This will enable us to take them out without being seen by those invading the shore. I will give the signal; do not move until I do."

The barbarians scattered into the foliage and waited. This was Rhyll's first action as commander of the barbarians. He knew his title was only borrowed and that he would be back to being a regular tribesman when the war was over but he could feel the excitement building within him. He was in charge, he had the power. This was a power that he would use wisely. Above anything else, Rhyll wanted to live up to his forefathers. His family were well respected as being great warriors. Rhyll desired the same respect. The archers came charging through the trees. Some fell in their panic and were cut down by their pursuers before they could get up again. The barbarians waited but quickly realised that they would have to move before they had planned. Rhyll gave it just a few more seconds. The Trolls were desperately close to the fleeing archers. There was no more time.

"Attack" Rhyll screamed as he jumped from behind the tree where he was hiding. Rhyll used his bastard sword to slice through the torso of one Troll. Another stopped and watched his comrade fall, stunned at the sudden attack; he fell just as quickly. The Trolls had been caught unaware but they already had their weapons at the ready. The rest of the barbarians joined the fray; some circling around to cut off escape routes. A couple of barbarians went to the edge of the forest to keep an eye on the progress of the invasion and to make sure that the noise of the ambush did not arouse suspicion.

The Trolls acted in a surprisingly coordinated way. Seeing the overwhelming numbers against them, they had formed a circle using the trees and each other to avert any attempts to outflank them. Their large spiked clubs were being swung ferociously to keep their attackers at a distance. Despite their strength, the barbarians could not compete with the sheer strength of the Trolls; they were forced to hold their ground. Then the barbarians had a stroke of good fortune. The archers they had helped returned. They formed lines and fired arrows into the Trolls. Quickly the tide of the battle turned the way of the barbarians. As soon as they could get in behind the Trolls, the creatures of evil were quickly destroyed.

The two barbarian lookouts had noticed a commotion amongst the hordes. The party of Trolls who were fighting the Barbarians in the forest were part of a larger group. This group had noticed the absence of their companions and were heading towards the forest to find out where they had gone.

"Hurry, more Trolls approach." Shouted one of the lookouts.

"How many are there?" Rhyll asked.

"I would guess at least sixty to seventy."

"It will take too long to destroy them now." Rhyll said to the lookout. He then turned to the rest of the tribe. "Hide the bodies and climb into the trees." A mad scramble ensued. Bodies were buried under leaves or tossed into the trees to be taken higher and out of sight. The last man had just pulled his feet up as the Trolls entered the woods. At the front of the group was a larger than normal Troll wearing a helmet made from numerous skulls, spliced together. It started sniffing the air.

"A battle has just taken place here. The smell of blood lingers." The leader said to the others. Slowly the Trolls searched the woods. They sniffed the trees and the ground. The humans in the trees were trying not to breath. To each of them it seemed as though their heart was beating fifteen times louder than normal. It was a tense few minutes. One of the Trolls started to cause a commotion below.

"I've found a body." It shouted time and time again. The leader walked over to this Troll and pushed it aside. The leader looked down on the body.

"One of our own." It said. "Hunt down and kill those that did this. They can't be far."

The trolls started sniffing again. As the leader was searching the ground, it felt a drip land on its head. Reaching up, the leader fingered this drip. Looking at it closely, the leader of the Troll party realised that it was blood; Troll blood.

"They are in the trees."

The leader's call sent the Trolls into a rage-fuelled frenzy. They began hammering the trees with their clubs. The force of this felled some of the smaller trees and was rapidly splintering the larger ones. Rhyll had no choice. He had to command his men to fight.

"Kill 'em boys and make it quick." He shouted wildly as he dropped out of the tree and squashed an unsuspecting Troll. This time the Barbarians and the Trolls were mixed in amongst each other. A slug fest ensued; tactics gone by the wayside. A great deal of barbarians fell. Even Rhyll had found the Trolls incredibly tough to beat. His bastard sword and war hammer were working in overdrive. Both were two handed weapons but Rhyll used one in each hand. The Trolls fell slowly but after ten minutes of intense fighting, the Barbarians triumphed.

"What is the damage?" Rhyll demanded after the last Troll fell.

"Nearly thirty dead." came the reply. This was bad news. Not all of the barbarians had embraced the war so eagerly. As a result, the barbarian tribe that numbered nearly five hundred men was now down to just two hundred. That number had just fallen again.

"We are going to need to persuade the rest of our tribe to join this war. This is no longer just the war of the civilised world. Our people will die too." Rhyll said to his men. With that the Barbarians changed their plans. They would now travel the day long journey back to the foot of the Sacred Hills to unite their clan in battle. This turned out to be a simple task. Degg listened to Rhyll's account of what was happening and instantly ordered the rest of the barbarians to prepare for war. Once they were united, they made their way to where James and his army stood. This is where the humans and barbarians and all free people would make their stand.

*****

### Chapter 23

The King, personally, hurried the fleeing survivors of the botched coastal defence, through the gates to Thorvale. Each man wore a pale, white expression on their face as if they had witnessed some unimaginable horror. They had seen their friends slaughtered; most were people they had been comrades with for many years. Almost one hundred broken and winded soldiers passed through the gate. The King noticed the commander of the defence force stagger through the gate. Henried gently pulled the commander to one side, mindful to keep their conversation away from the prying ears of the other soldiers.

"Commander, what news?" He asked.

"My lord, the enemy has landed with a force far greater than what we expected. Nearly two hundred galleons crossed the water and each carried more creatures than we could count." The commander responded.

"How many galleons did you manage to sink?"

There was a brief pause; the commander wore a look of shame on his visage. "None" he said at last.

The King's face changed from one of concern to one of anger.

"None," he began in a raised voice, "with all the firepower along the shore, how dare you tell me that not one single ship was sunk."

The commander slumped on his feet. His shoulders drooped and his head bowed down to look at the floor.

"My lord, the ships were ghost ships. I do not know how they floated or how the enemy were able to stand on the deck but our arrows and cannon balls just passed through causing no damage. We managed to hit some of the creatures that stood on deck but the ships were immune to our attacks."

The King pondered the news for a few minutes. He began pacing up and down in front of the Commander. Finally he spoke.

"Go and get some food and water. I want you to take charge of all the men who come through the gate. Get them onto the wall with their bows, ready to fire at the enemy. Soon, the city will be attacked. Make haste, Commander."

The Commander bowed down before departing. King Henried was worried. He had believed that lining the shores with archers and artillery was a sound strategy. It was believed by all in the meeting of the war council that the ghost ships would not be used for transport. It seemed physically impossible. The failure of this first part of the plan made Henried question the rest of it. Most of the inhabitants of Thorvale were still in the city. They had been moved to the town hall, the churches and any other large building in the centre of the city. The King now felt it would be prudent to evacuate them. He had little time.

He called over a handful of guards.

"I want to evacuate the Women and Children. Gather a group of your finest and most trusted men and move them to Beskholme as quickly as possible. The city is likely to be under attack within the hour. If you are not clear of the city walls and out of sight, it will be too late."

The guards bowed and raced off in the direction of the city centre. The King continued to organise the growing number of soldiers entering the city. He first directed them to what remained of the palace courtyard. There the soldiers could take in refreshments provided by the catering staff of the palace. The blacksmiths had set up stalls to rearm the soldiers. Army Commanders then directed the men to new posts on the city walls. It was a well organised operation.

Half an hour later, the Women and Children were just leaving the city. Many were crying. Some wept at the thought of leaving their husbands or fathers; others, at the thought of the journey and leaving their homes. They were escorted by only a handful of men. If they were attacked, there would be little chance of survival. King Henried bid them all farewell. He hoped that by being there to see his loyal people depart, they would take heart and comfort in the fact that he cared for them. The gesture was well received but there was still an overwhelming feeling of loss. The Women and Children were leaving husbands and fathers in the city, probably to die. Each man had been called upon to serve the Kingdom. They had been enlisted into the army. For many, this was the last time they would ever see their family again. Shortly after the refugees had departed, the last of the fleeing soldiers entered the city. The guards kept the gates open as long as possible. From the wall, a horn bellowed across the city. Henried raced onto the parapets looking west. The sight before him made his heart sink. From this distance, the advancing enemy looked like ants; hundreds and thousands of them. From here, the only creatures to stand out clearly were the huge spiders. The rest looked like a black haze. As the enemy drew ever closer, vibrations could be felt in the castle walls as the stomping of over one hundred thousand creatures caused tremors in the ground.

"Even the walls tremble with fear." The King said aloud. Those in earshot looked at each other and then back to the King for a comforting word that never came. A silence crossed the city of Thorvale. The archers and infantry standing on the ramparts could only watch in horror as the enemy approached. For the warriors who were waiting in the streets, unable to see the approaching horde, it was the tremors and the consistent thud, thud of the marching feet that kept them silent. The King finally plucked up the courage to speak. He turned to face his troops in the street.

"All hear me." He shouted. "Our enemy is vast in number but they lack heart. If you all could see the enemy, your courage may fail. However, I want you all to take a look at each other. Each person here has something to live for. It may be a wife, a child, a business or a house. It may be the anticipation of what the next day will bring. Whatever you hold dear, keep it close to your heart now and your courage will not fail. For if you can stand in the face of such hopeless odds, you may yet see the dawn of a new day." The crowd cheered. "Now take up your weapons and fight with courage and honour." The sound of five thousand swords being drawn filled the city with noise.

At the front of the attacking horde, The Watcher led the way. The walls of Thorvale were close now. The army of chaos was just out of range of the human archers when The Watcher gave the command to halt. He beckoned his generals to gather round.

"This is the plan." The Watcher began. "We shall use the spiders to gain entry to the city. They shall fire their webs up onto the walls then we shall charge. I want to surround the city first. The Trolls should attack from the rear. The Orcs shall attack the South wall. Goblins will attack the Northern wall and try to penetrate the gate. Each group will take four spiders. This should be more than enough to allow a full attack. I will lead the rest from here. We shall use the skeletons to nullify the effect of their archers. The spiders should be protected at all costs. Rig up shields on their bodies."

The generals departed shouting orders in the various different languages. The Watcher looked at the walls of Thorvale.

"Those walls will not protect you." He said aloud.

The King watched on as the horde in front of him began to split up. Four individual armies were created; each one far larger than the amount of men he had in the city.

"They are going to encircle the city." The King shouted to the nearby commanders. "Move your men around the wall to defend all sides."

Whistles were blown as the commanders barked orders to move the troops. When the movement had finished the King looked along the Western Wall. It looked barely defended. Thorvale was a large city, each wall spanning a mile in length. He ordered some more infantry up onto the wall to fill in the gaps. This left the streets with little defence. Suddenly, all noise ceased. The movement, both inside and outside the wall, had been completed and all that could be heard was the sound of the wind whistling across the plains. As the King looked out at the army that faced the Western Wall he could just make out a figure. It was a large cloaked figure. In its hand, a white horn was being clutched. For a moment, the King felt as though both he and the figure were looking each other directly in the eye. Then the horn was raised and a deep bellow echoed across the land. The skeletons started forward. They were being followed by four huge spiders.

"Archers! Prepare to fire." The King commanded.

The call was echoed and repeated all along the wall. The archers lit their arrows ready to send them crashing into the oil filled mud of the field. The skeletons came closer. Henried had never seen a sight like it. He never wanted to see one again.

"Fire" He commanded.

The arrows lit up the sky. As they did, Henried thought about the refugees. He prayed they had escaped to safety. The thought was soon taken from his mind as the ground in front of the city walls burst into flame. The front rows of skeletons seemed to disappear; engulfed by the fire. It was at least a minute before they could be seen again. This single minute felt like an eternity. Then, blackened and burning, the skeletons emerged. The King and his soldiers looked on anxiously. Some of the skeletons continued to burn, fragments of rotting flesh catching on fire. The rest were seemingly unharmed.

"The fire, it does nothing." One of the archers cried out.

"It has halted the progress of those spiders." Another said. The King listened to this conversation. He realised that the battle was hopeless. Soon the flames would die and the spiders would come. Suddenly, he noticed the enemy had no siege platforms.

The King addressed the archers, "Silence men, they cannot penetrate the walls as they have not siege towers or catapults." This calmed the men temporarily. The flames in the field finally died away. The spiders began their approach, their long legs moving jerkily towards the city. The skeletons had taken a battering but very few had fallen. Arrows had been raining down on them for some time. The arrows could not kill them but many of the skeletons had broken bones making them less effective for the battle. The spiders stopped about twenty metres from the wall. They rose up onto their rear four legs. They fired huge webs up onto the castle wall. Henried suddenly realised what they were doing.

"Take out the spiders, cut their webs." He bellowed to archers and infantrymen alike.

Archers rained down arrow after arrow onto the spiders. The enemy had done a good job in shielding them. Very few arrows hit anything other than wood and metal. Infantrymen hacked at the webs with their swords. They could hit only the part of the web that was attached to the top of the ramparts. As their swords connected, they seemed to spring off causing no damage at all. The skeletons had started their ascent. They were using the webs as a ramp to scale the walls of the castle. The angle of the incline was fairly gentle. This meant that the creatures could run up the web rather than climb; allowing them to be ready to attack as soon as they reached the top.

"The ultimate ladder." Henried said to himself, amazed at how organised the enemy seemed to be. The ringing of steel on steel sounded. The first skeletons had reached the top of the wall. Soon the sounds of fighting could be heard from all directions. From the south, north and east, the enemy had also scaled the walls. Over the noise of the clashing steel, screams echoed across the city and soldiers fell. The King watched events unfold around him. He looked out across the plane to see the rest of the enemy forces advancing. Henried tried to spot the black figure he had seen earlier. There was no sign of it. Henried wondered what or who the black figure was. He didn't really wish to find out. The fighting was drawing close to where he was standing. The King unsheathed his sword and cut his royal cloak from his shoulders. With a deep breath, he charged an advancing skeleton. The first swing saw the skeleton's head fly over the wall. It did not slow the skeleton at all. Although the skeleton could not see, it continued to swing wildly at the air. Henried jumped out of the way to avoid a huge swing of the blade before jumping in and hacking off the sword arm of the skeleton. He then continued to chop the rest of the body up into little pieces. His first opponent had been easy. However, soon enough they were attacking in numbers. The army of Thorvale were beginning to bunch up on the walls. The sheer number of enemy attacking overwhelmed them. Soon the King was forced down into the streets. He took a moment to look up at the walls. All he could see was skeletons. These were now starting to be joined by other creatures. His attention was brought back to the street as the huge wooden gate to the city, splintered and crashed open. The Watcher rushed through, his wraiths followed. They chopped through the infantrymen as if they were made of air. Limbs flew into the air. Blood was now running down the street, filling the cobbles. The fighting had been going for no more than ten minutes but the King realised that it was too late; the city of Thorvale had fallen. The wraiths were then in front of him, attacking his troops. As one of the men standing in front of him fell, the King lunged forward, stabbing his sword into the torso of the wraith. He had caught it unaware. The Wraith disappeared in a puff of black smoke. A penetrating screech came from the other Wraiths, symbolising the death of one of their own kind. The screech deafened some of the men and affected the balance of others. Many more men fell quickly. The King felt a tapping on his shoulder. He turned to see the huge black figure he had seen on the plain. Henried froze, the creature before him was hideous.

"Who are you?" He asked shaken by the awesome creature in front of him. "Are you Bhryll?" The King may have seen Bhryll before but this creature bore a likeness.

The Watcher laughed aloud; a laugh of pure evil.

"I am but a shadow of Bhryll." The Watcher began. "He created me. I am his child."

The King looked around to see if he could gain an advantage over his opponent but no opportunities presented themselves. Henried would just have to fight.

"Your city belongs to me now, human." The Watcher said raising his sword. The blade came crashing down from over the head of The Watcher. Henried jumped aside and the sword crashed into the cobbled stone sending shards of stone scattering into the air. The sword became lodged in the ground for a moment. Henried seized the opportunity and drove his blade into the chest of The Watcher. He howled and swung his arm. It struck Henried in the stomach sending him flying through the window of a nearby building. He landed on a soft bed. Winded, Henried picked himself up and headed out of the rear of the building. The street was empty; the fighting had not gotten to this part yet. The King knew that his city had fallen. There was nothing he could do now except escape and warn the others. He made his way to the palace. Hidden in his chamber was a secret passage that led out beneath the city walls and down to the shore. It looked like a sewage pipe and indeed was so nobody would suspect it was a secret way in or out. He just hoped that the damage the fire had done to the palace had not affected his escape route. Henried reached the palace in a few minutes. As he entered the courtyard, the servants and blacksmiths were doing their best to set up a defence. The King knew this would be futile.

"If you want to live, follow me." The King shouted. Then he added, "Make sure the palace gates are locked."

Two serving girls ran to the gates and pushed them closed. They locked them and followed the crowd. The palace was badly damaged. In places the ceiling had fallen in making progress towards the King's bedchamber difficult and slow. They passed through the great hall and into the royal wing. They moved through the corridors as quickly as they could. As they neared the King's chamber, their path was obstructed by a cave-in.

"We cannot get passed." The King shouted as he tried to move some of the rubble.

One of the blacksmiths came forward.

"We may be able to go round it." He said.

"These corridors are very linear. There is only one way in and out. It was designed like this to make it easy to defend." The King retorted.

"If we go into the room that we have just passed, I should be able to blow through the wall with these explosives." The Blacksmith said holding up some dynamite. The expression on the face of the King lightened.

"Feel free to try."

The blacksmith was the only one to enter the room. He positioned the dynamite at the foot of the wall and then lit the fuse. He burst out of there like a cat that had burnt its tail.

There was a huge explosion followed by the sound of rocks falling. They opened the door. The room was full of dust.

"I cannot see a thing." The King said. They waited a few seconds more. A sound came from down the corridor.

"The enemy has entered the palace." The King whispered. "We go through blind." He took the hand of one of the serving girls and commanded everyone to join hands. They formed a line through the thick dust. Henried tripped over many times as he tried to get through the room. He was blind and disorientated. Suddenly, a light emerged. He could see a fire in the next room caused by the explosion. Using this as a guiding beacon, they passed through the hole in the wall. They were not yet in the Kings room but they had negated the obstacle. They headed into the corridor again, this time on the other side of the blocked passage. A large thudding sound came from the other side of the rubble.

"They are close." The King shouted. There was a screech from the other side of the rubble. The enemy had heard them.

"Run" The King commanded. The group bolted into the King's room. He ran to the fireplace and pulled a lever hidden by the side of it. The entire fireplace shifted to one side leaving a small gap that only one person at a time could pass through. The King ushered everyone through into the small, tight passageway. Footsteps could be heard in the corridor outside the room. The King dived through into the passage and pulled a lever from within the passageway. The fireplace slammed back into position. The group had to walk, crouching down, for nearly two hours. They were safe now so they stopped for an occasional rest when it was needed. Finally they emerged onto the shore.

"Head for the Sacred Hills, it is the only place you will be safe." The King commanded.

"But what about you, what will you do?" One of the serving girls asked.

"I am going to correct a mistake. I have sent our people into great danger. There should be another branch of our army setting traps in the second city. I will go to Beskholme and lead our people to the Sacred Hills."

"That is folly. You will never make it." A Blacksmith said.

"I am the King of this land. It is my job to make sure that my people are safe; or die trying."

The blacksmith nodded.

"Good luck and may the gods smile down on you. I think you will need their help."

This time the King nodded. They went their separate ways.

*****

### Chapter 24

Beskholme was a similar city to Thorvale in terms of layout and size. Both were built around the same time period in the vision of the first king of Thorntonvale; King Thar. The biggest difference between the two cities was the colour. Thorvale had beautiful buildings of white stone and bronze timber. Its walls were high and majestic. They too seemed to shine white in the sunlight. Thorvale was a bright city. Beskholme on the other hand was completely the opposite. As a person approached the city gates from the outside, they would notice how dull the walls looked. They were a mixture of grey and charcoal. The gates, once polished dark brown, were now black and dirty. Once through the gates, the streets seemed narrower and nowhere near as clean. Beskholme was an industrial city. All the grime, grease and soot from the many factories covered the town in filth. Even the people did not seem as well attired or groomed. Their clothes were tatty and covered in dust and stains. Soot covered faces were a common sight in Beskholme especially in the early evening as people returned home after a hard day's work. Perhaps the most noticeable difference between the people of Beskholme and those from Thorvale was in the happiness and moral of the people. Those abiding in Thorvale were happy and vibrant people, instilling their energy into every street and building in the city. The people of Beskholme did not have the same enthusiasm for life. They seemed to amble around at a slower pace than their Thorvalian countrymen. One thing was for certain though, the people of Beskholme had been hardened by the conditions they lived in. They were a people not known for their warm and friendly welcome when a stranger entered the city. Soon, however, they would have to welcome half a city into their fold. A whistle started sounding loudly from one of the towers in the southern gate.

"Something approaches." The watchman shouted between blasts.

This went on for some time. Eventually, John and Conrad heard the news. They put aside the business they were doing and headed for the watch tower to investigate what the commotion was all about. When they reached the tower they looked out across the fields they had rigged with traps. The sun had risen at least four hours ago. The time was close to noon. Beyond the field there were a series of small hills no bigger than the walls of the city. At the foot of the smallest hill, closest to the city, shapes could be seen moving slowly around it.

"The enemy has arrived." John said solemnly fearing that their time was short.

"I don't think they have." Conrad replied. "They are moving far too slowly. The enemy would move quicker trying to give the impression that they were fresh and eager to fight. These creatures do not move like that. They look slow and weary."

The watchman approached and handed a telescope to Conrad.

"I cannon tell, sir, but I think they are refugees. I can make out that there are only women and children escorted by a few guards." The Watchman said.

Conrad raised the telescope and peered through. His keen vision could see the party clearly.

"By the looks of their clothing, I would say that Thorvale has either fallen or been evacuated. Its people come here." Conrad said fearing the worst.

John took the telescope from Conrad and peered through.

"You are right; they do look like the people of Thorvale. I wonder what sort of a welcome they will receive here." John replied. A thought dawned on Conrad.

"They will receive no welcome at all if they cross that field."

A look of worry spread over their faces.

"Get me a horse." John bellowed down into the street as he ran towards the stairs down.

Conrad followed shouting for the gates to be opened. This was going to be a race against the clock. A steed was waiting for John as he reached the bottom of the stairs. It had not been prepared. There was no saddle, reins or stirrups. John paused for a moment passing a questioning glance at the man who was holding the horse. He then jumped on and galloped bareback through the now opened city gates. A horse had not been prepared for Conrad so he went back up to the watch tower to observe the events unfold.

John had no difficulty in staying on the horse; he had often ridden bareback in his home village of Horton Peak. One of the tricks he had never learned though was to turn the horse using only his legs. John's horse had blasted out of the city heading straight into the field where the manhole traps had been dug. John tried pressing his legs into the side of the horse but it did nothing. He tried kicking the side of the horse one leg at a time. Still the steed galloped straight ahead. Getting desperate as the horse was charging straight towards the first camouflaged manhole, John leaned forward and grabbed the horse's mane. He pulled and tugged at it with all his might. Still the horse continued forward. The horse was about to hit the manhole when John let out a mighty shout.

"Turn to the left you stupid beast." He dug his legs into the side of the horse with all the strength he could muster. At the last second it turned, only now it was heading towards another hole.

Conrad stood on the wall with the watchmen, looking at the farce that was going on before him. Despite the serious nature of the situation, the comical sight in front of him had forced a grin to spread across his face. He watched as John headed towards one hole only to turn just in time before heading towards another then another. When the wind picked up, John's pleas for the horse to "Turn, turn, turn" could be heard. Finally, John got his horse under control. Conrad had forgotten about the approaching refugees. He looked up to see that they were nearly at the manhole trap furthest from the city gates.

"Come on John, move it." He said under his breath.

"Stop, stop." John cried out as he raced towards the massive group of people. He waved his arms furiously above his head. The people didn't stop. John was about a thousand yards away from the people, who in turn were only a hundred metres away from the manhole trap. John whispered in his horse's ear.

"Run faster than ever before, I beg you." John didn't know if it was his plea, his soft voice or the respect the horse had for him but he didn't care at this point; the horse was running faster.

"Stop, you are walking into a trap." He shouted again. The guard leading the group of people looked up. He obviously hadn't heard him clearly. The guard ran forward in John's direction.

"No, you fool, stop." It was too late. The guard had moved too far onto the manhole trap. Branches that had been covering the manhole gave way, sending the guard crashing through and plummeting to his death. The people who had been following came to a sudden halt. John rode his steed around the edge of the large manhole. Most of it was still covered with camouflage as it had been designed to only collapse when a certain amount of weight was upon it. John rode up to another of the guards.

"Where do you hail from?" John asked with a tremble in his voice. The adrenaline was racing round his body from the ride and from the sight of the guard falling through the hole.

"The King sent us from Thorvale. We were instructed to bring the women and children away from the battlefield." The guard said in a formal manner.

"Why did the King evacuate the city? When I left, the King had believed that the walls of the castle would hold strong; that no enemy could get through."

"I only know that the battle on the shorefront did not go as planned. Our men were slaughtered." The Guard replied.

John paused in thought for a moment before continuing the conversation.

"Our enemy must have an extensive and powerful army if it put fear into the King. Do you know any specifics about our enemy?" John asked.

"All I know is that two hundred ships landed. Hundreds of thousands of the foulest creatures march against us."

"Do you know what fate befell Thorvale?"

"I do not."

John looked rather worried. If the guard had not exaggerated the number of enemy who march against the people of Thorntonvale, the defences they had created around Beskholme would not even be a deterrent.

"You need to have your people follow me." John began. "The fields are rigged for trapping our foes. Any who try to cross will die as you have already witnessed."

With that, John led the refugees of Thorvale into the relative safety of Beskholme's walls. As John approached the city from the outside, the dirty walls that once seemed so high suddenly did not seem as grand.

The soldiers of the local garrison aided the refugees into the city. John and Conrad moved away from the crowd to speak in private.

"I have a bad feeling about this." John stated. "We did not put into place effective evacuation plans; it was overlooked by the war council."

Conrad looked thoughtful, "Are we assuming the worst has happened to Thorvale; that it has fallen to the enemy?"

"I do not feel we have a choice. If the King has sent only women and children, I would also assume that the men have been used to aid in the defence." John paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "The guard leading the refugees talked about there being hundreds of thousands of enemy creatures. If these numbers are to be believed, no city can stand a chance."

"Then we must evacuate this city and any other that we come across along the way. We must head west to the Sacred Hills." Conrad replied.

"We still have to set the explosives around Beskholme. It was to be another two weeks before evacuation was required; giving us time to organise the exodus."

Conrad looked sternly at John, "We no longer have that amount of time. We send the people away now and rig the explosives. That alone will take at least a couple of days; time that we may not have."

"Especially if the enemy forces are following the refugees." John concluded, ominously.

With that, the two men started about the task to clear the city.

The King had walked through the night and had made good ground. It would only take him another two to three hours to reach Beskholme. Henried felt totally exhausted. His feet felt like they had lead weights attached to them. Each step he took seemed to be a little bit slower than the last. On top of being physically tired, King Henried was also emotionally drained. The long walk had given him time to reflect on the defeat his people had suffered by the hands of the enemy. That was not the only line of thought he had. There was a shadow in his mind. It was a blank space where a memory should have been. He could remember his brief battle with the black figure in the streets of Thorvale. Everything was so clear; every word and movement. The only thing he couldn't see was the figure itself. It was almost as if his memory was a picture that had a section cut out. This disturbed him greatly. How could he possibly forget the face of his enemy? The King's thoughts then turned to the city itself. What would be left of the once great city of Thorvale, the city his ancestors build, and would he ever return to see it? He could imagine the scene. The streets would be filled with rotting corpses; the cobbles would have red rivers of blood flowing down their cracks. The once majestic buildings would be nothing but ruins. Where once white walls stood high and majestic, only partial charred black walls would remain. The symbols of power and unity that were scattered around the city; the statues, gardens, and monuments would be desecrated. The image in his head brought tears to his eyes. His final chain of thought was by far the worst. Homes, statues and monuments could be rebuilt. However, families could not. Thousands of good men died during the night. Some of them will have had wives, mothers, and children. Never again would their children set eyes on their fathers. They would grow up only knowing their mother's love; only knowing their father from the tales that were told to them as they were tucked into bed. Wives would be climbing into bed alone when the next night arrived not realising that they will do this for the rest of their lives. It was not just the men who had lost their lives, in a metaphorical sense, so had their families. Henried was crying now. He was in the middle of nowhere in a place where nobody would see him so he allowed his normally hard veneer to crumble. The King fell to his knees, head in his hands. He cried for half an hour. Periodically he would calm down but then his thoughts would overtake him again. The feelings would flood back like a tidal wave and the tears would flow. A strange drumming sound from behind finally snapped Henried from his grief. He did not recognise the sound of the drums so went to investigate. He had followed in the footsteps of the refugees for a lot of the way. They had taken a route through some uneven terrain that was easy to hide behind. It was a series of small hills that began only a couple of miles northeast of Thorvale. Back there, the hills were very petit. In fact they were really just slight slopes. These hills stretched northwards for nearly sixty miles. As each mile passed, the hills seemed to get progressively higher. The drumming sound was echoing through a very small valley. For those who were too lazy to scale a hill to get to the other side, small passes allowed a straight and flat route to be adopted. It was in one of these passes that the noise was being made. King Henried scaled one of the small hills that overlooked the pass. It wasn't very steep so he moved up the hill as fast as his tired legs would carry him. As he reached a point where the slope began its descent into the valley, Henried fell onto his belly to avoid being seen. He had not reached the top of the hill so his view of the valley was slightly obscured. Only a small part of the valley floor could be seen. The view west, where the drumming was coming from, was blocked. Henried did not try to improve his vantage point opting to wait for the drumming to appear before him. This afforded him an excellent chance to rest his legs and to catch his breath. The constant 'dum, dum, dum' of the drums sounded increasingly louder with each passing second. Henried started to feel the slight release of adrenaline pass through his veins in anticipation of what he may see. All of a sudden the drumming stopped. Everything was silent. Henried had no idea what was in the valley but a cold feeling ran down his spine. Ever since childhood he had a strange sixth sense when things were not right. This was one of those times. He crawled back below the brow of the hill before standing up. The last thing he wanted at this point was an unknown enemy spotting their prey. It was too late though and Henried had yet to realise it. The approaching party were Goblins. They had split from the main army to go hunting on their own. As they passed through the valley they smelt something in the air. It was sweat and fear. Goblins by all rights should not have been out in the sunlight; their eyes were not suited to the brightness. However, they could manoeuvre and act as efficient hunters using their keen senses of hearing and smell. They often practiced in the daylight to keep their senses honed. The Goblins could smell human flesh from half a mile away on a still day. When the wind was high, this range magnified greatly, providing the wind was in the right direction. Crawling on all fours but still moving as swiftly as if they were sprinting, the creatures of the night scaled the hill. They were trying to outflank their prey. As the weather was very calm on this day, they had been able to pinpoint their target to an area of only a few metres square. Each hand and foot hit the ground with incredible stealth. Even the grass they touched did not rustle. As they neared the top of the hill, the Goblins sensed that their prey was on the move. They moved even more swiftly. The King began to run. The nagging feeling of unease would not leave him. Instinct was the only impulse he was acting on. Peering over his shoulder, he saw the peak of the hill come alive with what looked like huge insects. His heavy legs would not move any quicker despite the instant increase of fear and vulnerability he felt grow within him. Each step plodded along. It was as if his legs were nice and calm; out for a leisurely jog. As the chase began, the King did not dare to take his eyes from his pursuers for fear that they may pounce on him from behind. If they were going to kill him, he would face his slayers head on. Up ahead, a small cave could be seen in the side of the hill. The King realised that he would not be able to outrun the enemy so he darted for the cave. When he reached it, the cave turned out to be very small and dark. Henried could barely stand up in it. It would make swinging his sword very difficult indeed. There was no other choice; he would have to enter the cave. This prospect held two problems. The first was that if the Goblins chose to pursue him, they would be able to see in the pitch black of the cave and he wouldn't. The second problem was that he didn't know if entering the cave would lead him towards a danger far greater than the Goblins. The lands of Thorntonvale were widely regarded as safe travelling routes but only the brave or the foolish would dare enter a cave alone. Feeling that he had no choice, Henried took the risk. With his arms outstretched feeling the sides of the cave wall, The King proceeded into the gloom. Many times he hit his head on the low ceiling. After a few minutes, the heat of blood could be felt running down his forehead. The good news was that there was little sign of pursuit. As he took another step, the ground disappeared. Inertia sent him tumbling forward. Henried dropped for but a second but it felt like a lifetime in the blackness. He landed to the sound of a huge snap. A burning pain shot through his shin. It was immediately obvious that a bone was broken. Nausea flooded over him within seconds. He had just enough time to look around. A tunnel was visible with a strange dim red glow emanating from deep within. Briefly, he saw the blurred outline of something approaching before all faded to black.

The King opened his eyes then rapidly blinked them as the bright light made him squint. A strange figure could be seen standing in front of him. The only thing that was visible was the colour of the figure's robe. It was deep red with yellow trim on the collar, the cuffs and striking a V shape across its chest.

"Welcome." A slow but mellow voice said. The words were spoken by what sounded like a very old and tired woman. The voice was strangely deep though. As Henried's eyes adjusted to the light he could see the features of this figure. It was definitely a woman. Her face looked surprisingly youthful. She had emerald green eyes, pronounced cheek and jaw bones, a short button nose and a large, but not unattractive, mole above her mouth on the right hand side. She stood no more than five feet tall but somehow seemed longer. The woman was very thin and had a slight hunch. It looked like the hunch of either an old or a shy woman. Her hair was long, down to her lower back, but it was grey and very tangled. She walked forward and helped Henried to sit up.

"You have taken quite a beating by the looks of you." The woman began. "If you feel like you are going to be sick, let me know. I would rather catch it in something than have to clean it off my floor."

As he sat upright, his leg fired a shooting pain through his body. He looked down, grimacing, to see that it had been placed in a splint.

"I noticed your damaged leg." The woman began again. "I thought that you would need to get it treated. Until that time however, my splint should hold it in place."

"Who are you?" The King asked feeling a little perplexed and disorientated.

"I am just a lonely woman, living a lonely life. I just wait here in my house for a lovely man to come along and sweep me off my feet. Or perhaps I will sweep them off their feet." She said with a wry smile.

"If you are after a man, the city is the place for you." Henried replied. "A beautiful woman like you would be able to have her pick."

"Flattery will get you everywhere." The woman said. This time the voice seemed to change. It had a slight hint of gruffness.

"It has been a long time since I got anywhere with a woman, flattery or no. Ever since my wife died giving birth to our son, my responsibilities have gotten in the way of romance."

"Responsibilities?" The woman enquired the smile growing on her face.

"Do you not recognise me?" Henried replied.

"I am very sorry but no, I have no idea who you are."

"I am Henried, King of Thorntonvale." He proclaimed.

The woman's face seemed to change. It grew instantly darker as if she had stepped from the light into shade.

"The King, eh? A good feast shall be had this night." Her voice seemed to twist and adjust its pitch from mellow to sharp. Henried did not notice. He figured that he was still slightly dazed from his ordeal.

"Please, do not go to any trouble on my account." He said honestly. "I do not wish to have any special favours at this time. I do not deserve them."

The woman turned her back and walked over to the other side of the room. There in the corner, a table stood. She started rattling some items but the King could not make out what she was doing.

"You deserve everything." She mumbled under her breath.

"Sorry, I didn't hear that." The King shouted across the room.

"I asked why you did not deserve any special treatment." She said in a less deceptive voice.

"I have failed my people. An army of chaos has come to destroy mankind and they have done a good job so far. I think that I may be the only survivor of the battle." Tears ran down the face of the King.

"There, there," The woman comforted, "soon everything will be better. Drink this." She handed him a goblet that was made out of pure gold. There was a strange engraving on the side. It was an engraving of a woman sitting on top of a man making love to him. Henried turned the cup around to reveal another engraving. This one was strange. The woman was still astride the man but this time her head and upper torso was that of a giant snake; its venomous tongue firmly lodged in the chest of the man.

"Interesting engravings." He observed.

"They show a Sinratta, or snake girl, ravishing her victim before devouring him." She replied.

"A Sinratta, I have not heard of them before." The King said.

"The Sinratta were a race born of witchcraft. The medalling into the dark arts by a novice Mage created a twisted marriage between a giant anaconda and a young girl of radiant beauty. The first Sinratta looked just like the one on the second engraving on that goblet. She drugged the Mage and then made love to him. As she did so, she stole some of his power. She gained the ability to take on any form she wished. An instant before he climaxed, she sent forth her venom and killed the Mage. Apparently he made quite a nice meal. She enjoyed eating each part of him." The Woman watched closely as the King took a sip of his drink.

"I am glad these things don't exist anymore." Henried said relaxing a little.

The woman only smiled. She could see that the King had taken the bait. She lay down next to him and started rubbing his chest.

"What large muscles you have, my King." She said. This time her voice was changing dramatically. It was much gruffer and was now piercingly sharp. Each word could cut through the very soul of a man. The King seemed not to notice.

Henried reached across and gently pulled her robe off her left shoulder. It dropped down exposing an ample, pert breast. The woman pulled open Henried's shirt. It had already been unbuttoned halfway, now it was gone completely. She started kissing his chest, slowly working her way down. As she reached his trousers, she gently undid his belt and buttons before slowly working her way into his trousers with her tongue. With blinding speed, she pulled his trousers off exposing Henried's naked groin and toned legs. Henried reached down and pulled her up on top of him. He grimaced as she knocked his broken leg. They indulged in a long passionate kiss as Henried forcefully ripped the rest of her clothes off. They made love with fire and passion. The King had never experienced anything like it in his life. He was experiencing extraordinary feelings of pleasure that even his wife had not given him. He could feel himself nearing climax. Suddenly, the images of the engravings he had seen on the goblet flashed in his mind. He opened his eyes to see the torso of the woman twist and mutate into the form of a large green and yellow snake. It was looking at the ceiling; leaning back in climactic ecstasy. Henried desperately looked around. Next to where he lay, his sword was within arms length. He reached out and grabbed it just as his climax was about to erupt. The snake looked down and opened its mouth; exposing the huge venomous tongue. It hissed. Then Henried sat up and thrust the sword forward. There was a brief pause. Everything was silent. The Sinratta keeled over to one side; dead. Henried gathered his clothes and got dressed with great haste. He left his shirt off, only donning his armour. He limped across to the table in the corner, picked it up and slammed it into the wall. It broke into many pieces. He gathered a few of the smaller wooden shards and then tore up his shirt. He wrapped a piece of shirt around each piece of wood. There was some liqueur in a vat next to where the table had been. Henried dipped the end of each piece of wood into the vat to allow the alcohol to soak into the shirt. He then lit one of the torches from one of the many fires that burned in this strange cavern. He then departed using the only exit there was. It wasn't long before he was out of the cave and at the bottom of the hills. Despite having a broken leg, Henried did not feel the pain. He wondered if it was the potion he had been given to drink. Night had fallen. He looked south and could see a red glow lighting the clouds in the distance.

"The fires of a city now dead." He said aloud in a resigned way. The incident in the cave had been quite an ordeal but it had been exactly what the King had needed to restore balance to his mind. He felt more focused than ever. He continued his journey to Beskholme with no sign of the Goblins who had hunted him earlier.

*****

### Chapter 25

The second army of chaos had waited nearly a week before the Ghost ships returned. Now, they were back at Cursed Isle and being boarded ready for the second invasion force to hit the mainland. Bhryll was giving the orders this time. The inhabitants of Cursed Isle feared The Watcher but that fear paled in comparison to the sheer terror they felt in the company of Bhryll. Over the past few days, Bhryll had been formulating plans. With his first army safely across the water, he knew that it would only be a matter of time before the Kingdom of Thorntonvale fell. He had bigger plans though. The world was a far bigger place than a single kingdom. On the same continent as Throntonvale, three other kingdoms joined borders. Far beyond the Sacred Hills to the west, the kingdom of Pentrik expanded to the western shores of the continent. This was a relatively small kingdom but its people were fanatics. They did not regard the lives of those in the other kingdoms as being worthy to share the same patch of land as they did. Their isolation suited them because it made them feel as if they were the only ones in the world. Many years ago, they instigated many wars on the other Kingdoms to try and eradicated them. Their failure turned them into terrorists; sending raiding parties to attack small villages. Thorntonvale was well protected by having the priestesses of the Sacred Hills blocking the way through. The other kingdoms, especially their immediate neighbours, were not so lucky. Spanning the northern border of both Pentrik and Thorntonvale, the kingdom of Velile covered the largest area of land. Velile was almost four times the size of Thorntonvale. It covered most of the northern shoreline and half of the western coast. Despite its land mass, the population of this kingdom was not much larger than that of Thorntonvale. A cluster of large towns built in close proximity in the very centre of the Kingdom, was the enduring image of Velile. To the east, spanning a small part of the northern shoreline and the entire east coast was the kingdom of Daldeline. Here lived a race of noble and powerful warriors. Their virtues meant that the only time they could go to war was when the cause was just. The neighbouring kingdoms were all separated by a massive set of mountains spanning from the south-east shores of Thorntonvale, north-west to the centre of the island. From there they ran through the centre of the island before dropping south to form the Sacred Hills. As Bhryll looked over his map of the main continent, he was plotting his next course of action. He figured that Thorntonvale would be destroyed and fully occupied within the next six months. He would then use the sea to manoeuvre his three main armies; one to each of the other continents. Bhryll figured that with effective planning, he could simultaneously take each continent whilst he remained in Thorntonvale to oversee the development of that kingdom. The first change he would make would be to build a massive fortress. It would be virtually impenetrable. Huge black walls would encircle a tiered city. The lower tier would be largely open space but it would be filled with crypts and statues for his skeletons to abode. Tier two would house the spiders. Both the first two tiers would be dug down into the ground. Actual ground level would start on tier three. Here, huge gothic homes would be built that would house the Orcs and Goblins. This would encircle the centrepiece of the city. A large castle would be created in the centre. It would be more like a huge manor rather than a castle. This was his dream.

A voice from behind brought his attention back on the job at hand.

"Sir, the ships are loaded and ready to depart." said the Goblin commander.

"Depart immediately." Bhryll commanded. "I shall lead the final force to the mainland when the galleons return."

The commander bowed and departed. Within minutes the ghostly galleons were crashing through the choppy water taking another army to the shores of Thorntonvale. In less than a week, Bhryll would arrive on the mainland at the head of the final attack force. It would not be long before the god of chaos claimed the throne of the kingdom.

Another day and night passed. The King had now taken almost four days to reach his destination; his injured leg hindering his progress. Finally, he could see the dull grey walls of Beskholme sitting on the horizon. This sight spurred him to hobble faster. His broken leg had pained him ever since leaving the lair of the Sinratta.

"I should have drunk some more of that stuff just to dull the pain." He thought to himself, referring to the drink in the goblet that had been offered to him.

Attached to his belt, a silver whistle shone in the early morning sunshine. It had been given to him on his coronation. The whistle was meant to attract attention in case someone or something attacked him. It was distinctive from other whistles due to its tone. Instead of being high pitched like most whistles, a blow into this one would produce a deeper, more forceful sound. It sounded like a higher pitched horn rather than a whistle. The King felt that it was time to give it a try. He had never before attempted to use it; there had been no cause. Clutching it between his thumb and forefinger, he pursed his lips around it and blew hard. The volume of the sound caught him by surprise making him jump. The whistle dropped from his mouth and landed on the ground.

"Boy, did that have some power." The King said to himself, chuckling. He bent down a gathered it up from the floor. He wiped it on his belt before trying again.

The watchman on the wall heard the noise clearly. He raised his telescope to see what was approaching. He could see nothing. The whistle sounded again. John was in the street sorting out a dispute between two guards over where a trivial defensive cover should be placed. Hearing the whistle, he shouted up to the watchman.

"What is making that noise?"

"I do not know sir, I see nothing." The reply came. One of the older commanders approached John with great haste.

"Sir, that is the King's whistle." He shouted.

"What is the King's whistle?" John said genuinely not knowing what the commander was talking about.

"It was given to the King, passed down from his forefathers, for him to blow if he was in trouble. It has not been heard for many years, long before Henried became the King."

John wore a troubled expression.

"Commander, send out a group of men immediately to investigate. I will gear up and follow shortly."

The commander started barking commands at the guards who were on duty. The gates swung open and out poured fifty men. John ran down the street to a small blacksmiths shop. There he gathered up a sword and shield and then ran to the stable to acquire a horse. As he rode down the street, trying to avoid the defensive obstacles in his way, he spotted Conrad. He pulled up along side his friend.

"We think the King is here and he is in trouble." John said hurriedly. Conrad immediately jumped onto the back of the horse.

"Let's go."

They galloped out of the gates as fast as the horse would carry them.

"I hope you exercise more control over this horse than the last one I saw you ride. I would like to return with all my limbs intact and with fresh undergarments." Conrad said sarcastically in John's ear.

John didn't reply being too preoccupied with reaching the King.

Henried watched the obvious panic as the guards approached.

"Well, I guess this thing works after all." He said aloud looking at his whistle. Then he noticed a horse approaching, overtaking the guards on foot. He couldn't make out who was riding it from this distance but he knew that whoever it was, they were friend not foe. As the horse neared, he could finally see the face of his rescuer.

"John, my lad, it is really good to see you." Henried shouted. Before John could reply, Conrad leaned over from behind the large frame of John.

"Hello." He said cheekily.

"Conrad, I should have known that you would be hiding somewhere." The King replied.

"Why change the habit of a lifetime?" Conrad retorted.

"Why indeed."

John pulled up and dismounted.

"Are you alright, my lord?" He asked noticing the cuts and bruising on the King's face and the splint supporting his leg.

"I am tired, battered and in great pain. I would like nothing more than to be bathed by a couple of buxom beauties. Do you have any in Beskholme?" He asked with a wry smile on his face.

"I am sure something can be arranged." Conrad said keeping the mood light.

Finally the dreaded question came. John dared not ask the question for he knew that the answer would be painful to hear. Henried dreaded the question because he would have to relive his entire ordeal again.

"What happened?" John asked.

"I would like to enter the city and refresh myself first. I shall tell you after we have shared a supper together." The King replied. With that, the guards finally caught up. Conrad helped the King onto the horse and they escorted the King to safety.

That night, after a healthy supper, the King recounted the events of the past five days.

"The enemy force was enormous, numbering many tens of thousands; too many to count. They used tactics we have never seen before. Giant spiders cast their webs to the top of the walls allowing the beasts to scale them like siege towers. The only difference is that each web had hundreds of routes to the top. The ramparts were overwhelmed within minutes. We were pushed back into the streets where the gates were battered down. A huge black figure calling himself The Watcher charged in with his minions and chopped through our men like a hot knife through butter."

"The Watcher is here? This is bad news." Conrad said interrupting the King's story, a look of concern on his face. "Was there any sign of Bhryll?"

"Not that I could tell." Henried replied. "If he had been involved in the battle, I did not see him."

"How did you escape?" John enquired. The King finished his story.

"As the black figure made his way down the street, he finally arrived in front of me. We talked, briefly, before he attacked. His first and only blow was so hard, it would have split me in two had it not missed. The blade became lodged in the ground. As The Watcher tried to remove it, I stabbed him. He used his huge arm to club me. The next thing I knew was sitting up in an upstairs room of someone's house. Seeing that the battle was lost, I fled from the rear entrance and back to the palace to use my personal escape route. There I met up with some blacksmiths and servants who I escorted to safety. I came here to tell you that we cannot stand and fight. They took my city in less than an hour. Yours will not last much longer."

"We have traps set; we should be able to do more damage than you did." John said showing his lack of experience in warfare.

"Traps will do very little to deter this army. Their numbers are vast; incomprehensibly so. Our only hope now is to unite all the armies that are left and to make one last stand." The King sounded sorrowful. It was as if he knew what the outcome of the battle would be before even attempting it.

"Where shall we make our stand?" John asked.

"What shall the people do?" Conrad followed on.

"The people will be taken to the Sacred Hills. There the priestesses will provide them with food and shelter. I do not know how they will cope but they made the offer and we shall accept it. As for where we shall make our stand, we shall use the land where James' army awaits. There, we should have the advantage. Defences have been erected and the land favours nobody. Fighting within the confines of Thorvale's walls; we could not move. To have any chance of victory, our warriors need manoeuvrability. Without it, all will perish very quickly indeed."

Silence filled the room as Conrad and John reflected on what the King had said.

"Do you have any idea when the next attack may come?" Conrad asked.

"I do not know but they did not seem to be in any great hurry. My best guess would be that they would wait a while, maybe a week or two, before continuing."

"It has been five days since the battle. That leaves us with precious little time until their army moves on us. We need to clear the city immediately, have everyone out by the end of tomorrow." Conrad stated.

"I agree. We need time to prepare though. My plan is to rig this entire city as one big trap." The King said with an evil glint in his eye.

"My lord, we have already pre-empted what needs to be done." John began. "The have been told to prepare for an evacuation. They are ready to leave at any time. Also, explosives have been gathered and fully one quarter of the city is ready to be destroyed."

"Who has been handling the operation?" The King enquired.

"We have had the artillery men working night and day to prepare. They seem to be doing a good job but it will take at least three or four days to complete the task." John replied.

"I just hope that we have that long." The King began. "I want to start evacuating the people now. Maintain enough troops to finish the operations in the city but send as many soldiers as you can spare to escort the people to the Sacred Hills. This will be the biggest exodus this kingdom has ever seen. We are moving the combined populations of both Beskholme and Thorvale We must protect and reassure them; we owe them that much."

John looked at the King with an expression of doom on his face, "One more question, my lord?"

The King looked at John, noticing the change of tone in John's voice.

"Who will stay behind to blow up the city?" John asked.

For a long time, Henried held John's gaze. Many thoughts ran through his head but by the time he spoke, his expression had turned almost as grave as John's.

"If I asked someone to do it, I would get many volunteers. If I ordered someone to do it, they would. However, the only person this responsibility should fall upon is me."

"Nonsense," Conrad scoffed, "you are the King of this land. You are the person the people look to for leadership and comfort when all is going wrong. In this time of crisis, you are too important to be allowed to do this."

Henried locked a stern gaze on Conrad.

"Who are you to tell me what I am and am not allowed to do? I, Henried, am the King, not Conrad the Cowardly."

Hearing his old nickname used, Conrad erupted into a fit of rage. "How dare you call me that, after all I have done for you? I do not care if you are the King, you have a duty, no, an obligation to help your people, but you are willing to throw your life away. I do not think it is I who is cowardly."

"You better start showing me some respect, Conrad. If you do not, I shall have you thrown in my dungeons for the rest of your life." The King was speaking a little more calmly but his tone was cold; he meant what he said.

"To be given respect, you first have to earn it. Giving your life up as a martyr to the cause is a noble gesture but it is the easy way out. As a citizen of this kingdom, I would like to see my ruler standing on the field of battle with me. I would like to see him take charge, offer a rousing speech and then lead us into what could be the last stand of the people of Thorntonvale. That would give me the desire to risk life and limb in a battle we are unlikely to win. I do not want to be commanded by a general."

The King's expression softened. He turned away from Conrad and looked around the city. Then, after a brief pause he began, "I have already failed my people once; letting Thorvale fall. I shall not fail them again. You are correct, Conrad. I do need to lead the people."

John had been listening to the argument between the two gentlemen. Finally he spoke.

"I feel that we should ask a citizen of Thorntonvale to carry out this task."

King Henried and Conrad looked at John with questioning expressions.

"It is not fair to ask someone who has family or other such commitments. As we were preparing for the evacuation the other day, I came across an old beggar woman. She had nothing, her last pennies had been taken from her and she had no food or shelter. I asked her why she lived like this. It turned out that she was once a successful young lady with a husband and two children and made lots of money. They were slaughtered by the lord she worked for. She had damaged some of his fine garments whilst washing them. In a major overreaction on the part of that lord, he had her family executed. She has been a broken women ever since; longing to die so she could rejoin her family. I think she would be the ideal candidate."

"Where is this woman now?" The King asked.

"I should imagine she is where she always is, outside the Working Mans Tavern where she begs."

"Bring her to me," The King ordered, "I would like to speak to her."

It took John only half an hour to find the women and bring her to the King. As she approached, Henried could see that this was a woman who had lived a long and hard life. Her cloths were nothing more than discoloured, stained rags barely enough to cover her skin. Henried thought it a wonder that this woman had not died of exposure, as she had nothing else to keep her warm. Henried guessed her age at fifty but she looked older. Her face was cracked and hard; taking on a tough leather-like quality. But Henried could also see that this was once a beautiful woman. Her blue eyes, despite being lined with dirt, shone brightly. Her hair, now matted and grey, would once have been a long set of flowing blonde locks. As the woman neared she curtseyed.

"Good lady," the King began, "I am grateful that you agreed to meet with me."

The woman looked up at him, "Why am I here, my lord, beggars and kings rarely share the same space."

"I have recently been told the story of your life. It is tragic and I offer my deepest sympathy. I offer you a chance to rejoin your family."

With no emotion evident on her face she replied, "So you offer me death?"

"No, I offer you more than just that. I offer you the chance to become a major part in this kingdom's history. I offer you a chance to martyr yourself to vanquish an evil that is rapidly spreading across the land. I offer you the chance to enter the realm of the gods and be freely accepted, despite dying by your own hand. My good lady, you will be reunited with your long lost family."

A single tear trickled down the cheek of the beggar causing a clean line to be drawn down her face.

"You offer me all I have ever hoped for since that fateful day almost twenty years ago. What do I have to do?"

"You will sit atop the highest building keeping out of sight whilst the enemy army march into the city. When as many as possible are within the city walls, you will light a fuse that will be rigged up to explosives, strategically placed around the city. The explosions and the falling rubble will kill most that are within the city boundaries. What say you?"

"What if I am captured?"

"As I said, you will be positioned on the highest building. You should remain undetected." The King looked confident in what he said. There was a long pause before a reply was given.

"I agree." The woman said.

The King smiled, "Thank you. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

"It is Arianna." The Woman replied.

"Well, Arianna, it is a brave thing that you have agreed to but I have an order for you that you will follow without question."

A dread feeling rose within Arianna; thinking that she may regret agreeing to this deal.

"What is it?" She asked tentatively.

"I want you to enter any house you like, take a long bath and get yourself cleaned up. I will provide you with some royal robes to dress yourself in."

"But why?" Arianna asked a little puzzled.

"We cannot have you going to meet your family looking like this; can we?"

Suddenly, forgetting all protocol, Arianna jumped forward wrapping her arms around the King. Henried was caught a little by surprise but he returned the hug.

"Thank you, my lord." She said gleefully.

"You are most welcome. Now go. One of my guards will escort you wherever you want to go. He will help you find your new garments and will tend to your every need. The city is yours to do as you will. Come and see me in two days and I shall give you your instructions."

With that, Arianna departed.

Work commenced that night and went on for the next day and night. All involved worked tirelessly. Some of the dynamite they were using was very old. Old dynamite becomes very unstable as it sweats pure nitro-glycerine. Luckily, there were no accidents. For once since this horrible ordeal had begun, it seemed as if the gods were helping them. As the new day dawned, the city of Beskholme was evacuated. The woman and children of two large cities set off West towards the Sacred Hills. The men, all of whom had been forced to enlist in the army, escorted them. However, they would only escort them so far. Theirs was a different destination. They would head to Bowton, where James had been preparing for battle, joining the last remaining force in the kingdom.

The King watched the evacuation from the Western Wall of Beskholme. As he did so, Arianna was escorted to his side. Henried turned and looked at her in astonishment. Standing before him was not the beggar woman he had seen two days earlier but a woman of beauty. She may have been fifty years or more but dressed in the royal robes and with her clean face and long hair draping down her back, she looked lovely.

"My lady, you look sensational." The King commented.

"I have not felt this good in years." Arianna replied.

Even though her skin was still cracked and leathery, the King could see a major change in her eyes. It was as if she had found the spirit within her that she lost all those years ago. Her eyes sparkled and her smile was that of an angel.

Arianna continued, "My lord, you have saved me. You have given me happiness for the first time in twenty years. I can never thank you enough."

The King smiled, "Arianna, it is you who has saved me. I have ruled this kingdom for a long time but never have I felt that I have made such a difference to anything or anyone than I have for you. You have made me feel good about myself and made me realise what it is I am fighting for."

"Truly humbling words, my lord. Once again, I thank you."

"Good luck, Arianna. I hope your reunion with you family is a happy one."

With that, Arianna was escorted away to get her instructions for destroying the city.

The Boats had returned to Cursed Isle. This time they were here to collect Bhryll. It had now been three weeks since the invasion of the mainland but at last the final army of chaos boarded the boats. Bhryll was the last to board. He stood on the bow of the ship looking back across Cursed Isle. No creature remained on the island except the priests who performed the ritual to resurrect him. All others were either on the mainland already or on the boats. As the boats departed, Bhryll let out an almighty scream.

"Now is the time of chaos."

*****

### Chapter 26

The next few days were strange. The initial battles were now only a memory. The land adopted a quiet calm about it; almost as if it was taking in a few deep breaths before the next big event. The refugees had been escorted safely across the kingdom. A warm welcome was extended to them upon their arrival at the Temple of the Sacred Hills. The Priestesses were very accommodating; helping the tired and weary women and children to their bedchambers. Many people had to share rooms with up to three strangers. This meant that a dramatic change in lifestyle was needed by some. To each and every person who took refuge in the temple, it did not feel as though they had lost their homes; such was the hospitality of the Temple. The way the priestesses worked tirelessly to help them, made the settling in process more than bearable. Anna was amongst the priestesses who were helping room the families. The sheer volume of people made the task very difficult. The heat was building within the temple and in the accommodation wings. The once tranquil gardens were now overrun with people. Anna could not help but feel deeply sad. These folk had worked hard all their lives only to have everything the hold dear snatched away in an instant. Worst of all though, was the fact that they had not only lost all their material possessions but many had lost the love of their lives'. Husbands and suitors had been slaughtered like cattle only with more brutality. Each and every refugee who lost someone would have to reflect and deal with this fact in the weeks to come. The Temple would not be a happy place. Upon rooming the last family, almost twelve hours after she had begun, Anna strolled out into the now slightly quieter gardens. She sat on a small bench that looked eastward across the Kingdom. The sun had dropped many hours ago. The stars were shining brightly in the sky. She began to think about happier times when she was interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

Anna looked around to see a young and most welcome face, "James". She jumped up and wrapped her arms around him. After an embrace that lasted several minutes, they pulled away from each other.

"Look....I....Uh" They both began, followed by a nervous chuckle.

"Go on" Anna said quickly.

"I have been so worried." James began. "It seems like a lifetime since we made our plans to meet up and get to know each other a little better. I was looking forward to it so much; I barely slept the night before. However, the events of that night brought pressing matters to the fore and alas; I forgot about our meeting. Can you forgive me?"

The smile that crossed Anna's face reassured him.

"My dear James, I fear a terrible mix up has occurred. On that fateful night when that creature appeared in the street, I was in my room contemplating and anticipating our meeting. The commotion below my window distracted me from my thoughts. When I looked out, I recognised the demon at once. Part of my study here at the temple covered the different gods. Anyway, I wrote you a message and asked that a messenger boy deliver it to you at the place we were due to meet. If you were not there, he was to take it to your room. I had to go back to the temple to inform my people of the danger and to prepare. I guess my message never reached you."

James breathed a deep sigh of relief; a relaxed look appeared on his face, "You do not know how heavy a burden you have lifted from my heart and mind." He said. "I thought that I must have destroyed any chance we had at having a relationship."

"That night stirred up the entire kingdom in some way or another. The events of that night were far more important than just you or I." Anna said reassuringly. "It is good to finally get our worries and doubts aired. However, now I fear that I shall only get to spend but a few short hours with you before you have to go again." She looked away from James and stared out across the land in thoughtful gaze.

"It is a sad fact, unfortunately. As the first rays of light shine in the east, our armies move to make what is likely to be our last stand. We will gather at Bowton and mount the last defence of Thorntonvale. If we should fail, our land will fall." James said his words with confidence but his eyes told a different story. He was afraid. Not in his wildest dreams could he imagine a victory against such odds.

"If I am truly honest, I am scared. I have never been so fearful of anything in my life. That is why I came to you tonight. By rights, I should still be in Bowton preparing. I have left good men to complete what I started. Tonight though, I want to forget everything except you. Come; let us take a stroll under the stars." James stood up and offered his hand. Anna duly grasped it with a firm grip. They walked and talked for hours. That night, the Sacred Hills took on a totally magical quality. For one night, everything was perfect. For the young couple, it was a night of total innocence that would be remembered for a lot longer than a night of passion could ever be. The next day saw James depart for battle. Anna did not let him leave without a final embrace.

"I pray that you come back to me. I knew from the moment I met you that we were destined to be together. Last night was the greatest of my life but if I should never set eyes upon your face again, I will relive that night in my mind every night until I die." Anna squeezed her man tighter.

James whispered back in her ear.

"A man could never have a greater reason to live than to come home to his woman; except to come home to his wife. If I return; no, when I return, I will marry you."

"I will hold you to that promise." Anna said with an overwhelming feeling of both joy and loss. In her heart, she did not think that she would ever see James again.

"I will come back to you." James said as his parting word. He gave her a wink and walked away. Then he was gone. Anna returned to her duties. The priestesses were now busy preparing the spells needed to collapse part of the mountain if the need arose.

Rhyll had sent James and his men to take a couple of days rest at the Sacred Hills. However, the refugees had been spotted and the rest period turned into escort duty. Rhyll had seen how worried James was about his lady friend and had persuaded him to go. The barbarians continued James' work whilst he was away. All around the small town of Bowton, where once open farmland stood, only dangerous looking traps could be seen. Massive lines of wooden stakes had been lined up to make sure that the progress of an attacking army was slow. This was made more dangerous by using a type of barb wire. The blacksmiths couldn't produce anything so fine but they could produce small strips of metal with jagged edges that could easily slice an unsuspecting foe. These had been attached between the wooden stakes at strategic intervals. Small manholes had been dug to take out many enemies before they even arrived at the defence. Finally, once an army had ploughed through that, all the forces of Thorntonvale, over fifty thousand men, would await them. If further defensive structures were needed, the town of Bowton had a small wall around it. The town itself had been completely transformed. The wooden buildings had been knocked down to allow for more people to be able to take refuge inside; should the need arise. Rhyll had been drilling his men and trying to formulate sound strategies for winning the battle. News of the slaughter at Thorvale had reached his ears a few days ago. This information Rhyll received was very detailed. Strategies had been formulated to take out the spiders and the skeletons; the most difficult creatures to physically kill. Large nets with sharp daggers attached had been created to throw over the spiders. The theory was that the net may not stop the spider but if it tried to move, the daggers would cut and slice it. Hopefully, this would render the spiders useless. The barbarians were charged with handling the skeletons. Their mighty war hammers would crush the bones of the skeletons with ease. Swords tended to do only minor damage to such creatures. The rest of the plans were all based on movement patterns. The plan was to try to outflank the army of chaos when their numbers were depleted. Perhaps it was a human trait but nobody had thought much about the possibility of losing. The only plan for retreat was to get to the Sacred Hills as quickly as possible. Rhyll had spent nearly four days preparing his men when he caught sight of a vision so awesome, he nearly wet his pants with excitement. Nearly fifty thousand soldiers were converging on to the battlefield. From a distance it was hard to distinguish individuals. The entire army was a blur of motion and dust clouds.

"This sight would be enough to instil fear into anyone or anything." Rhyll said aloud to one of his commanders.

"It truly is a sight to behold." The commander agreed.

"This must be all the forces in the land, well all bar James' force. I never believed I would witness such a large fighting force on these lands." Rhyll was awestruck for perhaps the first time in his life. He had seen a larger force assembled on the Orc fields of the Cursed Isle but they did not look as majestic as these. In the early morning sun, armour, shields and swords all glinted and gleaned causing Rhyll to squint. Finally he came to his senses.

"Commander, order your men to escort the different legions to their posts. Then make sure that they all understand the role they will play in the upcoming battle."

"Shall I order the generals to meet in the town for further instructions?"

"Yes, tell them to gather within the town walls at midday. We will discuss our plans then."

With that, the commander turned and began shouting instructions to his men.

It took a couple of hours for all the legions to adopt their appointed positions on the battlefield. As soon as the armies were settled it was time for the generals to meet within the town.

As the generals converged, it reunited four friends. King Henried, John, Conrad, and Rhyll had not been together as a group for nearly two months.

"It looks like we are all here." The King said to his friends.

"I think if we were all here, we wouldn't be here at all." Conrad said being ever sarcastic.

"We may be mad; Conrad, but we do not have a choice. On this spot we either take a stand for the liberty of our kingdom or fall victim of the worst evil of our time." The King replied. The tone of the conversation was already serious; there was little time for anything else.

The King then addressed all the generals, "Gather round, we shall begin."

The Generals all sat around a long square table that had been positioned in the centre of the town. There were no more buildings standing only scattered piles of rubble that had not been fully cleared. The wood from the buildings had been used to create the defensive steaks. When they were all settled The King began.

"Friends, as you are all aware by now, the city of Thorvale has fallen. I know that there will be a lot of questions about what happened but the only things that need to be said are these. Firstly; the enemy number in the hundreds of thousands, I received word from a scout the other day saying a further two forces has landed ferrying creatures of every type. We have approximately fifty thousand men gathered and ready to fight. We are outnumbered by this attack force by at least 3 to 1. The second point I shall make is that they are an organised fighting unit. Within ten minutes of attacking Thorvale, the city had fallen. The enemy were too strong and used tactics to spread thin what little army we had defending the city. Finally, I have been pondering on something that disturbs me greatly. We have yet to encounter Bhryll. This either means that he is not willing to engage in the battle or that he is leading one of the other forces. It the latter is the case, we should be very worried indeed."

There was an eerie silence at the table as the generals contemplated what had been said.

It was Rhyll who tried to inject some optimism into the proceedings.

"We are as well prepared as any army could ever be. If we fall here, it will be down to bad luck not bad planning." He said confidently.

"Your optimism is commendable but misguided." The King said abruptly. "I thought that whilst I was behind the walls of my city, I was invincible. The city fell in minutes. Here we have only a makeshift defence."

"But we have numbers on this occasion." John proclaimed.

"Even with all our men gathered in one place, we still only have one third the number they have." The King said. "Our only hope is that the traps laid at Beskholme will reduce their numbers to even the battle out a little."

John fixed a stern look upon the King, "I feel that you are being very negative about our chances." He began. "You make it sound like there is no hope of victory. If their king is not optimistic, the men will not make a spirited defence; they will fight with no heart, thanks to you."

The King looked quite shocked at being spoken to in such a way. He retorted in an angry tone of voice.

"You have not seen what I have seen. You did not experience first hand the sheer brutality of a force with only one intention, to kill humankind. If you had been there, if you had experienced it, then you have the right to comment and judge."

John stood up and slammed his fists on the table, "We cannot plan an effective strategy with such a negative attitude. Your troops outside these walls need hope; we need hope."

"But there is no hope." The King said in a more sympathetic tone. "This is a desperate situation, one that we will be lucky to escape with our lives intact. In the war council chambers, all of us sat at a table not unlike this one and we made plans for victory. That was our downfall. We now need to make plans for defeat. We may be able to hold this army at bay for a while but as soon as Bhryll joins the battle and raises our dead to fight against us, what hope will we have of achieving victory?"

John sat down again slowly, his icy stare never leaving the King.

In the absence of James, Rhyll addressed the table.

"It seems that my words have caused some friction but nevertheless, James and I have devised a suitable plan of action to hold this defence as long as possible."

Rhyll spent the next hour explaining how the defences had been positioned, where each general should position their troops and what role each legion would lead. Many questions were asked but each time Rhyll had a suitable answer. When Rhyll finally took to his seat again, The King addressed the table.

"Your plan sounds as good as any." He said directly to Rhyll. "Before we return to our troops, I have but one order for you all. Be optimistic in front of your men. John was correct in what he said to me. The men need hope and they need to see that their leaders are confident of victory. It is each mans' responsibility, whom sits at this table today, to show no fear or doubt; even when you see the enemy and your courage fails. Good luck to you all and may the gods favour us in our time of need."

With that King Henried left the table. The rest of the group disbanded and went back to their duties.

The Watcher arrived at Beskholme only to find the city deserted. The traps set in the field outside the gate had claimed many of his soldiers. He had not yet taken a head count but he guessed that at least three to four thousand of his soldiers had fallen. Another blow came with the fact that many of the fallen were the skeletons. They had been used successfully to mount the attack on Thorvale as the humans had not managed to work out a method to defeat them. Now, The Watcher would have to rely more on what he perceived as the weaker races of Cursed Isle. The Watcher called over one of his lieutenants.

"Organise a search of the city. Kill any survivors."

The Lieutenant duly obeyed. He gathered together the goblins. There were roughly ten thousand of them. With that many creatures searching the city, coupled with the fact that they could see body heat, the search would be quick. As they marched into the city they were under the watchful eye of Arianna. She had her hand firmly on the fuse. It was a fast burning fuse that would level the entire city within two minutes of it being lit. Arianna waited and as the goblins began their search. It seemed to take an age for the ten thousand goblins to enter through the gates. On a normal day, the gates to the city would seem huge. Today, they seemed as though they were forcing the enemy to walk in single file. Half an hour passed. Arianna was waiting to see if anyone else would enter the city. They did not. Then, from behind, footsteps could be heard approaching. Arianna was positioned on the flat roof of the library building. It formed part of what the thieves of the city called the sneaks' passageway; the collective name for a number of rooftops that were not easy to access but gave great panoramic views of the city. The limited access points to these rooftops allowed the thieves of the city, Conrad included, to evade capture by the law. Now, Arianna could wait no longer. She chose not to turn around to face her attacker. She scrapped the fuse hard along the stone floor. Sparks flew and the flame shot down the line. She heard the metallic ring of a sword being drawn. Arianna closed her eyes. When she opened them again, there, stood in the beautifully manicured garden of her former house, stood her husband and two children all looking just the way they had the last time she saw them. Smiling, Arianna ran to them and wrapped them all in an emotional embrace. She looked up to the sky, tears running down her cheeks and said "Thank You".

The first explosion went off only ten seconds after the fuse was lit. The Library was the first building to collapse. At least forty goblins had been inside or around it when it collapsed. All died instantly, either caught in the explosion or crushed under the falling rubble. Explosions were echoing all across the city. These were followed by loud crashing noises like boulders rolling down over each other. Panic spread through the goblins that were within the city walls They were running in all directions, trying to escape. The levelling of the city took longer than anticipated at nearly six minutes and some of the dynamite failed to blow. However, the overall goal was achieved. The trap had wiped out over nine thousand of the ten thousand goblins that entered. The rest were very shaken up. The Lieutenant who led the search left the city via the front gate. He was greeted by menacing figure of The Watcher.

"What happened in there, Lieutenant?" The Watcher asked coldly.

"I....I don't know, master. I guess it was a trap."

"You guess?" The Watcher said coldly. "YOU GUESS." He screamed. "It is damn well obvious that this was a trap. This entire area is a trap. Did you not see the explosives?" The Watcher was livid. Before the Lieutenant could reply, The Watcher drew his sword and cleaved the Lieutenant's head off. The Watcher grabbed one of the fleeing goblins as they exited the city.

"You are the new lieutenant of the goblins. Congratulations." He said dryly. The goblin looked shocked and scared. He bowed down to acknowledge his role.

"Gather your men, we march west."

With that, the now depleted army of The Watcher set off in the direction of Bowton.

Bhryll had arrived with his army on the shores of the mainland. The first thing he did was travel to the now deserted city of Thorvale and claimed it as his own. He would spend a few days here to make the place look presentable. A pack of wolves he had come across near where his ship landed made the perfect spies. He enchanted them to search the land for the humans. Using a spell of seeing, Bhryll could periodically look through the eyes of the wolves to see what they were seeing. This would allow him to effectively plan his attack. All these events happened three days ago. One of the wolves had found the humans at Bowton. Bhryll had decided to play things safe. He did not split up the two armies that he had brought across. Those from the second and third boat landings had been amalgamated into one army. It was very volatile. Bugbears and spiders tended to be the most aggressive. Fear of their new master kept them in check for the most part. It wasn't until the fifth day on the mainland that Bhryll decided to take his army and march on the humans. He would attack from the south at the head of nearly two hundred thousand troops.

*****

### Chapter 27

The King lay awake in his bed that night. He was pondering what tomorrow may bring. The nagging feeling that all was not well haunted him throughout the night. Nothing had been seen of Bhryll. So far, only The Watcher had been spotted. This sent a shudder running down his spine. The thought that there is one army in this world that is comprised of the foulest creatures alive was enough to turn anybodies stomach. The possibility of there being another army, headed up by Bhryll himself, brought swift feelings of nausea and panic.

"I would know if there was another army. My scouts have searched the land and returned with nothing to report." Henried thought to himself. The old cliché suggested that no news was good news. Henried did not believe this. Instead, he thought that knowledge was power. The enemy of Thorntonvale was a lesser god. He would be able to locate and destroy the entire human army without breaking sweat. However, this so called god had yet to get involved in the battle.

"He will come." Henried said aloud. Only the rickety wooden walls were listening. It was more of a bivouac than a real hut. He had put it together himself with some of the spare wood from Bowton. A few others had done the same but most slept in tents or just out in the open. At last the King drifted into unconsciousness.

Rhyll, Conrad and John could not sleep either. They had decided to share a tent. Each trusted the other implicitly and figured that there were no others they would rather be close to; in the event of a surprise attack.

"This must be the calm before the storm." John said referring to the stillness that hung in the air.

"That can soon be rectified." Conrad said letting out a large fart.

"Oh, that was just lovely, Conrad. Could you have picked a more confined space?" Rhyll said sarcastically.

"Sorry, I had beans for tea."

"Bloody hell man, that is ripe." John said holding his nose. "Have you been sleeping naked in the sewers again?"

"What do you mean?" Conrad asked.

"I think a rat has crawled up your arse and died."

They all began to chuckle. The next few hours were very light hearted. It seemed that from out of the fear, tension, and unease at waiting for their deaths, a glimmer of happiness was allowed to shine through.

For many in the camp, this night seemed the worst. Each and every man had a strange sense of impending doom. Not a single person on this field of battle had any psychic powers but everyone felt like they were in a vice as if something was closing in, squeezing them from all sides. As the first ray of light appeared on the eastern horizon, their fears were confirmed. The faint sound of a drum beat was heard by the watch. One of the guards ran to the King's makeshift hut to inform him. He burst through the door nearly falling over his own feet in his haste.

"My lord, they are here."

The King; still rather groggy from having only a few hours of sleep, sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"What are you going on about? Speak slower and speak clearly?"

"The enemy, it approaches. We heard the first drum beats barely five minutes ago."

Henried shot out of bed as if he had just discovered a deadly spider in his sleeping roll. He winced as the pain in his leg returned, forgotten overnight. He could walk again now but the injury still pained him some.

"Raise the alarm. Get the men ready." He ordered.

The guard raced out of the hut neglecting the formality of bowing. He ran across to an open plane where the embers of last night's campfire were still smoking. A large horn had been mounted on a stand. The guard raced up to the horn, wrapped his mouth around the end and blew with all his might. A deep bellow boomed across the plane. The first boom roused most of the camp from their slumber. The second bellow set people into motion. To an observer, events in the camp looked chaotic and uncoordinated. The reality was that the men were well drilled. They packed their tents away with lightning pace, donned their armour and weapons and raced to their positions. When all the chaos died down, there stood a magnificent army of human beings. They were not jus here to fight, but to make an impression. Standard bearers held aloft the flags of each city in the Kingdom of Thorntonvale. This looked like a long wave of colour. The armour of each individual had been polished and buffed to a glimmering shine. Some wore silver armour, others black. Shields had one of the four crests of the Kingdom on them. The crest of the north, engraved onto the shields of those from Beskholme, had a massive eagle standing on top of a rampart with an open portcullis below. The eagle had its massive wings spread from the top right to the top left of the shield. This indicated power. Soldiers holding shields with the crest of the south were few in number. These people hailed from Thorvale. Their crest was the picture of hundreds of men with their arms above their heads. They were lifting an image of the city of Thorvale. It was supposed to be a symbol of unity. There were few people from the east as well. Their crest was a forest on either side of a long winding road that led from the bottom point of the shield up to the centre. At the end of the road and rising majestically over the trees was a waterfall. This spanned the entire upper part of the shield. This was meant to indicate hidden beauty. Finally, the most common crest on the battlefield was held by the armies of the west. They had the image of the sacred hills in the centre of the shield surrounded by stars. This was meant to indicate tranquillity. This was truly the most majestic army of humans ever assembled. It was like each man knew that he would perish and as such had turned out in their best clothing so that they would go to the next world looking smart and clean. In the time it took to get organised, the enemy had neared. There was still almost a mile of land between the armies but the stakes and traps that separated them were now at the foot of the enemy force. The Watcher's army could not have been any more different than that of the humans. Few of the creatures wore armour. The Orcs were the only race with any real form of protective clothing. Bones and skulls covered their rotting flesh. They looked very intimidating. There were few goblins and skeletons. The goblins were the only other race with any armour. They wore leather and tree bark armour. The bark had been hardened so that it wasn't as brittle as it may have been. To look at the human army from afar, one would believe that everyone was the same height. The chaos army was very uneven. The Watcher could be seen standing nearly seven feet tall. Behind him, the hunched forms of the many thousands of Orc could be seen. Behind them, the lanky and slender row of goblins had formed. Then the Trolls stood awaiting their orders. Finally, two huge spiders towered over everything. The only race that was not clearly visible was the wraiths. They surrounded The Watcher like a cloak but from a mile away, where the humans stood, they were barely visible. One hundred Wraiths did not stand out amongst a crowd of around eighty thousand. Both armies quickly settled, eyeing each other up from a distance. When the last creature of chaos was in position, the drumming ceased. Silence spread over the land. Even the wind stopped whistling through the stakes that had been placed in the ground. It was a deafening silence. If a pin had dropped at that moment, all would have heard it. The King marched out in front of his army and broke the silence.

"I am not going to give a rousing speech. You all know what is at stake here. But I want you to do one thing for me. Look carefully at that army over there. They stand here ready to defile the land you live in. They will burn your homes and slaughter your families. They would claim this land their own and lay waste to everything we have spent centuries building. With these images in your head, find the one that hits home the hardest. Use the anger you feel at imagining this. This is our homeland. Are we going to allow the enemy to take it?"

"No" the soldiers shouted.

"Are we going to let them burn our homes?"

"No"

"Are we going to let our families be slaughtered?"

"No"

"Are we going to win?"

With that the entire army raised a cheer that lasted several minutes. The speech may not have been the most rousing speech he had ever given but on the spare of the moment, Henried felt it was effective.

The King turned from his men and shouted at The Watcher. "If you want to take our land and our lives, come and claim them or die trying.

The King let loose a mighty scream. It was more a scream to release his anger and fear but the troops saw it as a sign. They shouted with him. The noise of fifty thousand men screaming at the top of their lungs sent a deafening sound across the land. Some of the Orcs were spooked by this display of unity. Their small, feeble minds could not comprehend the sight before them. Each Orc saw the human army in its entirety. They themselves felt like individuals and could not comprehend that they had the superior numbers. They started to twitch nervously. If they had not been hemmed in by the other races, they would have run.

"We end this now." The Watcher said to his wraiths. A series of loud screeches echoed across the land. For the humans, it was time to be scared. For the creatures of chaos, it was time to march.

*****

### Chapter 28

The armies of chaos had no certainty of winning the battle. The odds were on their side but the will and determination of the humans, plus the extraordinary amount of planning they had done, could tip this battle in their favour. However, from the south, Bhryll led another two hundred thousand creatures to the battlefield. They would not arrive today but by the first light of the new day, they would march upon the forces of Thorntonvale. The humans knew nothing of this. Bhryll had recalled his pack of wolves after they had found the humans and changed his enchantment. Now, instead of scouting for a large army of humans, the wolves were to hunt down individuals. The wolves were tasked with finding any and all human scouts and killing them. Bhryll did not believe he needed the element of surprise but his sadistic mind wanted to see the reaction on the faces of the humans. He felt that it would be priceless and a lasting memory of the day he claimed the land he felt was rightfully his. There was nothing left to do now but wait. His loyal servant, The Watcher, had done his job and resurrected him. Bhryll's devastating escape from the palace of the humans had instilled the fear of the gods into them. The sight of his armies and the ease at which they landed on the shore and took the capital city should have broken the will of the people of Thorntonvale. This Kingdom was merely a stepping stone to greater things; world domination. This was also going to be the only Kingdom where he would leave nobody alive. For all the other Kingdoms, Bhryll only intended to enslave them; have them bow down and call him master. Thorntonvale was another matter. He wanted revenge. He wanted the soil of this Kingdom to be tarnished with the blood of thousands. By the morrow, either The Watcher will have completed his task, or he would have to finish the job himself. Either option was acceptable. The huge army continued its advance. Bhryll continued to ponder the future.

The drums began to beat. A howling roar boomed across the battlefield as the chaos army heard the thumping. The enemy began to look hazy from this distance as they started their advance, kicking up plumes of dust. The drums were not the only things beating. In the chest of each human who had graced the field of battle, hearts thumped furiously. The troops trembled in their armour from the sheer terror they felt and the amount of adrenaline that was pumping through their veins. This was it, the pinnacle moment in the course of the defence of the Kingdom of Thorntonvale. Each minute that passed, the advancing army drew slowly closer and the tempo of the drums increased. The Orcs were the first to enter the labyrinth of wooden stakes and sharp wire. As they moved they tried to knock the stakes down. Very few fell as they had been hammered deep into the ground. In the light of the day, the wire traps were clearly visible. They were still successful though. The Orcs did not have the heart for this battle. Being sent in first only added to their fear. They wanted to get into the fray quickly, so they could get it over with. In their haste, the Orcs would push each other forward so many injured themselves. By the time they were only a tenth of the way through the defences, nearly two hundred had been seriously wounded. Soon they would be faced with the manhole traps. The gap between stakes seemed to widen. The Orcs tried to adopt more organised lines to advance. This played right into the hands of the humans. The more Orcs that stood on a manhole at any one time, the more that would fall and die. The first group of Orcs arrived at one of the many traps. They walked across the camouflaged trap. It was rigged not to collapse until there was a lot of pressure in the middle. A lone figure would probably have made it across. However, there were twenty Orcs in the first party. The trap gave way and they all plummeted into a twenty foot pit. Most died as they hit the bottom but some landed on their comrades, breaking their fall. Some may have been alive but it did them little good; they were trapped. Many fell, the traps were highly effective. The casualty figures were rising but the two armies were yet to engage in battle. By the time the last manhole trap had been discovered, nearly five thousand Orcs had been slain or entrapped. The sight of this helped raise the moral of the human army.

"I cannot believe how well our traps are working." The King said to the other commanders. "What surprises do we have for our enemy next?" The King said turning to James, the organiser of the defence.

"The next bit is my favourite." James said with a wry smile on his face. "We managed to gather gallons of oil. We plan to set it alight when the bulk of the enemy are within range. This means that we may have to engage the Orcs but if my calculations are correct, the tougher creatures will burn making the fight much easier." James replied.

"For one so young, you have the mind of a master tactician." The King complemented. "I assume we can still fire at our enemy?"

"Of course we can. That was the plan anyway." James said.

"Good, let's get the archers firing." Henried ordered as he walked away to organise his archers.

Horns and whistles sounded throughout the ranks of humans. A lot of hustle and bustle went on before nearly ten thousand archers stepped to the fore.

"Fire at will but do not light your arrows until ordered to do so." The King shouted. The individual army commanders repeated the command so that everyone could hear. The twanging sound of the bows was followed by the snake-like hissing sound of the arrows racing into the air. Folly after folly crashed into the approaching Orcs who were now three quarters of the way through the defences. Bodies fell to the ground, seemingly at random from the perspective of the humans, as the arrows struck. After only a couple of minutes, large gaps could be seen forming in the Orc ranks. The advance was slowing as the already limited courage of the Orcs faltered. As the first wave of enemy neared the end of the static defence, the archers were ordered back and the infantry formed up ready to hack down anything that emerged from between the stakes. As the first line of Orcs charged through, they were cut down with ease. They had no will to fight but there was no turning back. They knew that the humans would kill them quickly. If they turned to flee, Bhryll would torture them for eternity.

Despite the damage done to their ranks, the Orc hordes were now attacking in their numbers. General Targe and his troops were the first to engage and up until this point, were holding their ground. However, the numbers were starting to overwhelm them.

The King looked across at John and sounded the horn he was carrying. John looked across and could see the King gesturing for his men to join the battle. John turned to his troops.

"We shall attack from the side. Remember; go in hard to disrupt their attack."

With that, the commanders John had appointed barked orders at their troops. Almost five thousand men began to move very swiftly. They moved to the left of where the attack was taking place and circled around. They charged as soon as the last line of men had rotated. Several rows of Orcs were cut down instantly. The addition of John's army to this fight significantly evened up the odds of successfully fending off the initial attack. Ten Thousand humans engaged twenty thousand Orcs. The odds may still have been two to one against the humans winning but the Orcs were now fighting on two fronts; the humans adopting a pincer attack.

All the Orcs had now entered the field of battle and were engaged in combat. The other creatures were now nearing the end of the defences and would soon enter the clearing where the battle was raging.

"It is time for the flaming arrows." James shouted at the King over the din of the battle. Henried nodded his approval before moving to the head of his army. It was nearly time for all remaining forces to join the battle. The Orcs were merely cannon fodder; their sole purpose was to weaken and tire the humans. The more powerful creatures were soon to enter the fray. Following his orders, Rhyll had not engaged the Orcs. It had been agreed that he would save his men for when the Skeletons and Trolls appeared. The sheer power and physical presence of the barbarian horde would have more success against them than the human soldiers would have. Using their large weapons, Bastard Swords and War hammers, the skeletons especially would be susceptible. The Trolls would be a different matter. They were strong and ferocious, just like the barbarians. It would be a test for both parties.

John swung his sword wildly. He had a bloodlust brought on by the need to avenge his father's death. He was going to cut down anything that moved until either the entire enemy had fallen or his own life was taken. Conrad, not always eager to get involved in open combat, acted as John's personal bodyguard. He had followed closely behind John as he entered the battle. He still engaged those that had pushed passed the raging bull that was John, but he did not openly jump onto the front line. A couple of times already, John had left his back exposed to an attack. Conrad was not engaged in battle when the first Orc attacked John from behind. Conrad had swiftly lunged at the Orc with his sword. The enemy creature was impaled through its right rib, sending it falling to the ground. A swift blow to the head finished that creature. The next time Conrad saved John's life was a close affair. The thief had engaged two Orcs and was rapidly dispatching them. Unfortunately, at the same time he engaged the enemy, another Orc approached John. As the two Orcs lunged at him, Conrad jumped backwards dropping his sword. He pulled out two daggers from his belt and launched them. Both hit their targets square in the chest. With blinding speed, Conrad gathered up his sword and launched it towards the Orc attacking John. The sword only impaled the Orc's leg but it distracted it for a split second. The gasp of pain alerted John to the danger and with a swift turn, he decapitated the Orc.

A whistling noise shot over their heads. There was no time to look up but judging by the way the battleground lit up, they guessed that the flaming arrows had been loosed. Sure enough, within seconds the telltale crackle of fire could be heard along with the crashing of steel. Terrifying screams shot across the plains from those that had been engulfed by the flames. James had not been able to get enough oil to cover the entire defensive plain but he had identified sections that the most susceptible creatures would be. Sure enough, many creatures burned to their deaths. It was a horrific sight. Creatures were wriggling and running to put out the flames. The flesh of the creatures that had any could be seen blistering and bubbling. A rotten, fetid smell filled the air causing many of the humans to feel quite nauseous. It was impossible to tell how many fell to the fires but another large dint had been made in the enemy ranks.

The last remaining Orcs were hacked down mercilessly only to be replaced by the charging, rage fuelled remnants of the Goblins. The small, wiry creatures used their swords with far more grace and skill than the Orcs had displayed. The two front lines were now very evenly matched but numbers were on the side of the humans in this instance. The more ferocious creatures were still either caught up in the labyrinth of stakes or were trying to circumnavigate the fires. Rhyll was tempted to charge his troops into the fray seeing that the humans were now finding the going a little more difficult. He somehow managed to curb his natural instinct. He felt like he could have raced in and demolished the goblins, just like his tribe did every year on their annual hunting weeks on Cursed Isle. The barbarians knew the weaknesses of the Goblins only too well. Rhyll had a more important job to do though. He had to remain disciplined, despite his instincts. He owed the humans and his own people that much.

Someone else was thinking similar thoughts as Rhyll. King Henried felt the time had come for an all out attack. He blew his horn several times to get the attention of the remaining generals. He indicated with his hand the signal for all out attack. Twenty five thousand more humans joined the fray. They temporarily had the advantage over the Goblins but this was soon to change. As more and more creatures engaged, the push of the advancing army was moving the humans away from their defences. All the traps had been used, the battle was now gathering pace. The traps had been successful; the humans now had the greater numbers.

The goblin lines were strong and holding. This had given the other creatures time to enter the battle. After nearly a couple of hours of intense fighting, the Skeletons entered the fray. They had only one thousand capable fighting units but they would still pose a massive threat to the swordsmen. Now it was Rhyll's turn to enter the battle.

"Let us do what we do best." He shouted at his tribe. "Leave none alive." A mighty roar erupted as the barbarian warriors charged the skeletons. The inertia of the charge and the rapid, controlled way in which the barbarians swung their war hammers allowed them to cut through the skeletons with ease. Bones snapped and bodies shattered as the Skeletons were systematically destroyed in the barbarian frenzy. They were fighting behind the goblin lines and were driving the skeletons back towards the defences. The next race, the Trolls, were struggling to get their huge frames through the narrow gaps. Many had fallen and speared themselves. As such, there would be no immediate backup for the outclassed skeletons. The five hundred barbarians achieved victory within minutes. However, they now found themselves in a precarious position. If they engaged the Tolls from their current position, they would have their backs to the attacking goblins. The Goblins may have been engaged with the human infantry but some would turn to harass the barbarians. Manoeuvrability would be paramount if they were to defeat the Trolls. The Barbarians picked objects from the ground and launched them at the approaching trolls. They needed to divert them away from the main attack. As they backed away, they were careful not to get to close to the ever advancing goblin backline. The ploy seemed to work. Angered at being taunted, the Trolls moved in the direction of the Barbarians.

The humans were still fighting bravely. John and Conrad had formed a very effective team. As John shrugged off attacks, he pulled goblins behind him. Conrad then struck with deadly accuracy. It was a tactic that nearby troops employed to differing degrees of success. Nobody had realised quite how far they had been pushed back. Losses were now difficult to determine. The chaos and the noise made issuing simple orders a difficult task. John and Conrad had adopted an 'every man for himself' approach to the battle. It only worked because his men were very experienced and very well drilled. The King commanded troops of massively varying experience. Despite the chaos, Henried remained determined to stay close to the novice warriors. He would often issue simple commands to keep the defensive lines tight or shout out words of praise and encouragement when he saw that courage was failing. He was doing the job of a good commander. He was doing his job as King.

The Trolls finally broke though the defensive barriers. A line of lone barbarian warriors acted as bait to ensure that the Trolls would not go near the main attack force. As the Trolls approached, they would turn and run, forcing the Trolls to chase them. Lacking in strategic awareness, the Trolls were gullible prey. This tactic worked better than Rhyll could possibly have hoped. He addressed his men, shouting at the top of his lungs just to be heard over the din.

"Divide and conquer is the tactic here. As they charge, separate and give yourselves plenty of room to move. If we get boxed in, we will die. Remember what you learned from our encounter in the forest." There were no roars of fury this time. All who had fought in the Coastal Forest when the army of chaos landed knew that this would be no simple victory. They would have to fight like they had never fought before. Only a small group of Trolls attacked them in the woods. Here, Two thousand or more were approaching. The initial charge sent most of the barbarians running to gain space. The Trolls were a fiercely strong race. Their only desire was the total destruction of almost all other races. They enjoyed fighting barbarians as they were one of the only races who could oppose them. Even the smallest Troll was at least a foot taller than the tallest barbarian. This gave them a massive physical advantage as well as a numerical one. Rhyll engaged a huge Troll. He swung his war hammer high to try and crash it into the chest of his foe. The Troll was surprisingly agile for such a large creature. It retaliated with a sideward swing with its spiked club. Rhyll dropped to the ground to avoid the blow. As he did so, he noticed that his enemy's knee caps were exposed. He saw an opportunity. Jumping back to his feet, he raised his war hammer as if he was going to attack high again. He swung but at the last second dropped to his knees bringing the trajectory of the hammer on a collision course with the Troll's knee cap. A loud cracking noise erupted as the hammer connected. The Troll howled in pain and dropped to the floor. Rhyll then jumped onto its chest and, with one mighty blow, caved in its skull.

"Aim for the knees." He shouted over the din. All but the closest barbarians did not hear him. However, the same tactic was soon adopted as they all followed each others' success. Soon the barbarians were gaining the upper hand. The size and temperament of the Trolls made them an easy target for dirty tactics. They could not formulate a plan to respond or adapt. Soon, the Trolls were falling as easily as the skeletons had before them. Whilst the barbarians were engaged, the Wraiths and the spiders had entered the melee. The Wraiths saw that the goblins were still engaged and doing fairly well so they advanced on the barbarians. The spiders began firing large webs into the human crowds thus rendering them unable to move. The humans still had the advantage but things were getting more and more difficult as tiredness set in. John had received a number of nasty cuts. He had started the battle with too much ferocity that he had burned himself out. He was faltering on a regular basis now. Conrad was still fresh but he had done only a fraction of the work that John had. One of the smaller goblins confronted John. It did not look like it had the physical prowess to defeat him but it had amazing speed and agility. It quickly tied the weary figure of John in knots with its quick thrusts and rapid slashes. John was disarmed by a dazzling display of swordsmanship but just at the moment the goblin was about to end the life of its foe, John was violently pulled away by Conrad. They disappeared through the crowd.

"I thought I was going to die back there." John said when they reached a safe distance. "Thanks for saving me."

"Hey, think nothing of it. You are hurt pretty bad though. You need to get seen to and stitched up. Come, I will escort you into Bowton where you can get medical aid."

John put his arm around Conrad for support; he suddenly felt very weak. They made their way inside the town walls that were now only a couple of hundred metres away from the main battle. Inside the town, the only remaining structure was the medical centre; hastily reconstructed after the original one was pulled down a little too hastily. They entered a rickety old hut that looked like a witches abode. Inside, the place was heaving with activity. Human healers worked in conjunction with a wide range of other people. A beautiful woman wearing a blood stained cloak attended to John.

"This should only take a minute and you will be as good as to new." The Woman said in a cheery voice. She then began an incantation.

"A priestess." John said to Conrad "What is she doing here?"

"I have no idea. I thought that they were all staying at the temple."

"We were going to." The woman said instantly replying. "We knew that our powers of healing may come in useful so a small group of us were sent to help."

"Your powers will come in most useful." John began. "My arm feels so much better."

"The rest of your wounds will feel better soon." The woman said beginning another spell. Soon all the injuries John had suffered were gone.

"Many thanks, good lady. Now I must go back to the battle."

"You are very welcome." The woman replied.

As John and Conrad left the rickety medical hut, they ran out of the gates to see a sight that filled them with dread. The goblins had pushed even further forward. The humans were tiring and falling rapidly. To the left of the main attack, the barbarians were being overwhelmed. The Wraiths had entered the battle and had been too fast and cunning for the barbarians. Rhyll had managed to destroy a few of them but he was quickly becoming surrounded. The spacing tactic that had worked so effectively against the Trolls had the opposite effect against the Wraiths. John and Conrad ran up to a large battalion of men, left leaderless when their general had fallen, and ordered them to follow. They obeyed instantly glad for the guidance. The newly formed group, led by John and Conrad, charged at the Wraiths. The charge forced the Wraiths away from the barbarians and condensed them into a single line. Now the humans and barbarians would have a better chance against these evil creatures.

"You are a lifesaver, John." Rhyll shouted.

"Thank me later or better yet, save my life if I should need it saving." John Replied.

"You've got a deal."

They continued the fight. The wraiths continued to make some ground but they were now outnumbered. Guided by the experience of Conrad, John, and Rhyll, the soldiers and barbarians started to gain the advantage over a powerful enemy.

The King continued fought valiantly despite his problematic leg. Adrenaline had taken over and he barely felt the pain. The novice troops he had been commanding were all dead. They had fought with bravery and courage but they never had a hope of surviving this battle. They had the fitness and the discipline but they lacked the skill and tactical awareness of a more experienced soldier. The goblin pack seemed to be breaking up where the King was fighting.

"Are we winning?" He shouted to anyone who could hear.

"You are losing." A deep, gruff voice said.

The King turned to see the imposing, black figure of The Watcher. This time he felt no fear. Henried was willing to lay his life down for the good of the Kingdom. Here was his chance to slay his would be oppressor. He did not know that the army of chaos intended to kill every last man, woman and child of Thorntonvale. He figured that those that would not fight would be enslaved.

"You will never take me alive." The King said boldly.

"That is the intention." The Watcher replied coldly. "We will destroy all the people of this puny little kingdom."

"You would even destroy the women and children?" The King asked to clarify his enemy's response.

"All shall perish."

"If that is to be the case, start with me." The King raised his sword and rushed The Watcher. Despite his years, the King fought with the speed, agility and intensity of a man half his age. He did not try to block the blows of his enemy as he knew that he could not. Instead, he looked like he was performing some strange dance. Each blow The Watcher aimed at him was met with nothing but air. The King thrust his sword into the chest of his enemy time and time again. However, little effect was it having. The demoralising factor was that it did not seem to slow The Watcher at all. The goblins were thinning out now. The archers had launched their nets over the spiders with surprising success. The spiders had gone berserk and had effectively ended their own lives as they struggled to get out of the nets. Rhyll, John and Conrad had finally managed to overwhelm the Wraiths. They were about to charge at the remaining goblins when they noticed the King's battle with The Watcher. The three of them looked at one another.

"Let's go." Rhyll said with an evil gleam in his eye. The others followed his charge. They waded through any goblins that stood in their way. They reached The Watcher just as he landed a sideward blow on the King. Henried was knocked to the ground. The Watcher was just about to kill his opponent when the adventurers began their assault. The Watcher defended himself well, parrying blow after blow and counterattacking when the opportunity arose. The three adventurers attacked savagely and relentlessly. The Watcher began to flounder, taking a number of blows to the arms and torso. The final blow came from Rhyll as he smashed his hammer down on the head of The Watcher, felling him where he stood. The evil creature managed to speak,

"You may think that you have won but you are wrong. Soon you all will be dead." An evil laugh bellowed out from the mouth of the now helpless creature.

"Shut your mouth." Rhyll ordered as he brought down the finishing blow.

They looked around. The battlefield was growing quiet. Only a few isolated noises could be heard as steel connected with steel. The sound of battle was replaced with the sound of the injured moaning.

"We have done it." Conrad said in an excited tone. "We have won the battle."

"Calm yourself, Conrad." The King began. "We may have won this battle but I fear the war is not over yet. We have seen no sign of our true enemy."

"That is true. Bhryll has yet to show his face." John said

"Surely he cannot have many more creatures left to send against us. I can't imagine that Cursed Isle will have held many more creatures than what turned out today." Rhyll quizzed.

The King responded coldly, "I doubt that Bhryll needs an army to take us down. He could probably resurrect every man who has died on this field and use them against us. If this is the case, we are doomed."

"Well, for now at least, we have won." Conrad said trying to keep the mood optimistic. "I say we get some well earned rest and worry about the God of Chaos tomorrow."

"That sounds like a good plan." The King agreed.

As they all walked back towards Bowton, they stumbled across a body that they all recognised. James was lying, face down in the grass. Rhyll bent down to turn him over. James let out a moan.

"He is still alive, but only just." Rhyll said.

"We need to get him to the priestesses; they will know what to do." John said.

"There are no priestesses for a hundred miles." The King replied.

"That is not true. There are a couple in Bowton." Conrad stated.

They moved quickly. Rhyll carried the injured and limp body of James to the medical hut. The woman whom helped John came to their assistance.

"I can only prolong his life a little." She said looking at his wounds. "You will need to take him to the temple to be healed fully."

"Ok, do what you can." The King ordered.

The procedure seemed to take a long time. Nerves were frayed from the battle but this was the worst part of all; the waiting to see if James would live. The woman finally finished.

"You need to send him off now. Others need to be transported as well."

"We will organise an escort." The King replied. "We shall send all those that bare injury. The ones who are not too badly injured can escort those that are. We cannot spare any who are fit. Organise this for me, John."

John did so immediately. Before the last rays of the sun had dipped below the western horizon, the wounded were on their way.

*****

### Chapter 29

The light of the day had almost faded; the moon was full in the sky. In the twilight, the King walked the battlefield escorted by John, Rhyll, and Conrad.

"Never in my worst nightmares have I seen such a truly horrendous sight." Henried said to the others. As they walked, the bodies of about thirty five thousand humans and eighty thousand creatures covered the fields. No rain had fallen for weeks yet with each footstep; the squelch of moisture could be felt in the grass from the spilt blood that had absorbed into it.

"I am glad it is dark, I do not want to see this sight in daylight." Rhyll said.

The King stopped and looked at the other men. He looked tired and pale.

"Few men should have to see this sight. I want all the human bodies cleared from this battlefield by the morning. John, go into the city and bring back one hundred of the most battle hardened men we have left. Conrad, Rhyll and I shall start a large pyre burning. We shall cremate the bodies."

John moved with haste to gather the soldiers. He returned within the hour with a group of men, strong in body and stomach, who had been found sharing drinks and stories of the battle just won. In their drunken state, John had felt it appropriate to use them as they would not become as affected by what they saw.

When John returned, a large pyre was burning near where the oil fires burned during the battle. Rhyll had found a huge war axe dropped by one of the creatures. With it, he felled many of the stakes that had been used for defence. These acted as perfect fuel for the fire.

The King addressed the men assembled before him.

"Gather our fallen comrades first. Strip them of their armour but leave their undergarments alone. Store the armour and weapons in separate piles near the city walls. We will determine what is salvageable in the morning. Put the bodies on the fire but make sure there is no metal on them. We do not want this fire to be extinguished. Do you understand?"

Most of the men just nodded their heads. One, however, had his hand raised. The King indicated for him to speak.

"My lord, what shall we do with the creatures?"

"Leave them for the moment. I do not mind if our men wake in the morning to the sight of the evil that has fallen today. That should encourage hope and pride. What I don't want is for our soldiers to witness how many of their fellow comrades, their friends, have died."

"Let's get to work." One of the soldiers shouted and with that the cleanup operation began.

John had been working for about half an hour. He had disposed of about fifteen bodies in that time. He placed another on the fire and walked back into the field to collect yet another fallen soldier. He came across a man lying face down. From the rear, no apparent injuries were evident. John pulled the body over and reeled back in shock. The man's face was crushed; bone was protruding and brain was exposed. The mush of this poor soldier's face looked like someone had vomited red meat all over it. John felt sick to the stomach. The other men he had cleared all had simple wounds; sword impalements and slashes. This was the worst so far. John tried to remove the helmet from the man. It would not move. The nose protector had been smashed so far into the skull, it had created a lock. John pulled as hard as he could. The cracking of bone and the squelching of blood could be heard but still the helmet did not move. John looked around seeking help but he knew what he had to do. It took him a minute to compose himself. He then placed the knee of his right leg on the forehead of the soldier, and the knee of his left leg on what remained of his chin. Pushing his hand into the mush that had once been the soldier's nose, John grabbed the twisted nose protector. He again composed himself then he pulled. With all the strength he could muster, John heaved at the embedded piece of metal. At first the metal did not move but after a couple of heaves, it finally came away. John fell backwards, the helmet in his hand. The head of the soldier twisted to the side, facing John. As it did, the face fell outwards, pushed by the weight of the brain. John looked at the now hollow skull and at the mess on the floor beneath it. He vomited. For a moment, John went dizzy, his eyesight blurred and more sickness feeling grew within him. Again, the vomit burst forth but this time was the last. John pulled himself together and proceeded to strip the body, all the while avoiding looking at the head. He was relieved when he tossed this body onto the fire.

At some point during the night, each man working to clear the bodies came across something that had a profoundly shocking effect on him. For some it was seeing the shocking and horrific injuries that had been inflicted. For others, it was the discovery of a fallen friend. This night took its toll on everyone.

The final human body had been cleared just a couple of hours before sunrise. The King had ordered each man to get some rest in preparation for the coming day.

Sleep was uneasy for many that night; none more so than John. His dreams were disturbed by bloody images of the battle flashing through his mind. When the still images had ceased, he found himself standing in a large puddle of blood in the centre of the battlefield. He looked around and on all sides he could see the humans and their enemies engaging in ferocious battle. None would enter the puddle. Those that charged towards him veered off before they got their feet stained. It felt like there was an invisible shield surrounding and protecting him. John could see his friends fighting in the battle. Conrad, Rhyll and King Henried all fought bravely, cutting down many creatures. Then the puddle began to bubble like boiling water. A strange haze of steam rose from the blood. Then, just in front of where he stood, something that looked like an arm flew out from the blood before splashing back in again. It arced like the arm of someone swimming the backstroke would. The same arm flashed out again closely followed by another arm. Then a figure began to form in the blood. It rose up, lying on its back, until it took on the clear shape of a man. The man stood up and faced John.

"Do you recognise me?" The figure asked in a ghostly whisper.

John tried to reply but he couldn't. His voice did not work at all. He could make no sound.

"Do you recognise me?" The figure said again only louder and more menacingly.

John continued his struggle to speak. Still he found his words were unwilling to sound. The blood man standing before him reached out and arm and took John by the throat.

"You will say my name or you will die." The man said.

"J...J...James." John finally managed.

The man let out a mighty belly laugh.

"Do I look like James to you? My son, you surprise me." The voice changed to that of John's father, Paddy. Suddenly, the blood that covered the figure drained away as if it had been washed off in the shower. It revealed the green skinned, lifeless face of the creature his father had become.

"This is not happening." John said aloud, closing his eyes to the unholy image before him.

"Not yet." The creature replied.

Suddenly, the grip was released from John's throat. He opened his eyes. He was back in his tent. The blanket John had been sleeping on was soaking wet. His body was covered in a cold sweat.

"Are you alright, John?" Conrad asked. "You were talking in your sleep. It woke me."

"It was just a bad dream, nothing more." John replied. "Go back to sleep."

Conrad was sound asleep again in an instant. John sat up for a little while to let his rapidly beating heart settle. He used one of his few items of clothing to towel himself down. John tried to go back to sleep but the visions kept haunting him.

The King was the first to be roused a couple of hours later by a strange vibration in the ground. The sun had just risen above the horizon. Having only managed a couple of hours sleep that night, it took him a while to come to his senses. The small hut he had built to sleep in was shaking and rattling. The floor seemed to pulse first with a large thud then followed by a small vibration. The King stepped out of his hut still in his sleeping garments. As he did so, he noticed others exiting their tents to investigate. Most of the remaining army had camped within the walls of Bowton that night; the bloody fields outside were unsuitable.

"Open the gate." The King shouted as he marched quickly towards it.

A couple of soldiers raced on ahead and pulled the not so large gates open. Henried froze upon seeing what lay beyond. All the fear and panic he had felt when he saw the army of chaos marching towards his city came flooding back. In front of him was an army of massive numbers. The early morning sun silhouetted the approaching army, making the numbers difficult to determine accurately. The King stood there for a minute, his mind trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Suddenly, he focused.

"We are under attack." He screamed. This was not the scream of a man in control of his emotions; this was a scream of pure terror.

The soldiers poured out from their tents to see what the commotion was all about. The ground began to vibrate and tremble with greater force. Henried looked around to see the army charging towards him. Suddenly, a clap of thunder was heard and a bolt of lightning flashed at the King's feet. A tall dark figure emerged from the smoke. Henried's first reaction was that The Watcher had returned. As the smoke cleared, he could see the true face of his enemy.

"Bhryll."

"I thought I told you to call me master." Bhryll began, "If I didn't, please do so."

"I knew we would see you sooner or later. I was hoping it would be later." The King said his courage returning.

"I am very sorry to disappoint you. Well, no actually, I am not."

"I thought we had destroyed your army." The King said inquisitively.

"Oh, no. You only managed to destroy my first landing party. I brought two more of equal size, just to make sure that victory was certain. I know how cunning you humans are. I like the traps you set up. It is a good job you were attacked from the east otherwise they wouldn't have worked." Bhryll was being very sarcastic. John, Conrad and Rhyll ran out to stand at the King's side in support.

"Well, well, if it isn't the remnants of the adventuring party that stole me from my island. It is nice to see you again; especially you, John. I feel a strange kinship with you. After all, you are my brother."

"You and I bear no relation." John said coldly. "Whatever you did to my sister, you are not her."

"I should hope not. After all, I am a little more...manly." Bhryll said laughing.

"You shall die by my hand for what you did to my family." John promised drawing his sword. The King stretched out an arm to hold him back.

"Are you here to gloat or do you bring a message?" The King asked.

"My good and noble King; I am here to gloat of course. In but a few short minutes, creatures from your worst nightmares will rip through this puny little town and destroy every last soldier you have. Once you are dead, I will hunt down those you sent to get healed. Oh, I almost forgot, the priestesses will fall shortly after and then the rest of your pitiful people."

"You may take the Kingdom for now but we will fight back. Thorntonvale will only be yours for a short time." The King said boldly.

"That is a promise I would like to see you keep. I wonder how you will return from the abyss. Maybe you will be able to fight through the many ferocious denizens of the underworld. Maybe you will get lucky and a mighty mage will reincarnate you. Your threat is idle. After all, you will be dead." Bhryll let out a mighty laugh. Another crack of thunder sounded and the lightning flashed as Bhryll disappeared.

"Close the gate." The King shouted. He turned to the others. "We cannot possibly hope to defeat this army. We need to evacuate as many men as possible. There is a secret exit in the Northern wall of the city. We will only get through in single file. When through, scatter to the four corners of the kingdom so they cannot follow. Organise the men into small groups and send them on their way. This is it my friends. Our Kingdom has fallen."

John, Rhyll and Conrad nodded their understanding and got to work. They bellowed orders at the top of their lungs. The entire army had just reached the Northern wall when a loud, persistent thudding noise started from the direction of the gate. This lasted only a couple of seconds before the gates crashed open. In poured creatures that most of the humans had never seen before. They looked like bears wearing armour made from bone. These were the Bugbears. A large group of humans turned and ran towards the enemy. The King was leading them. The Bugbears tore the humans to pieces. Limbs were ripped apart in a killing frenzy that lasted barely a minute. The King had been at the rear of the attack. Seeing the futility of their charge, he retreated. Many groups of humans were now beyond the city walls and fleeing in all directions. John grouped the men, Rhyll ushered them through the wall and Conrad directed them where to run. There were still many thousands of men awaiting their chance to escape. Only about one thousand or so humans had escaped. The King came charging back into the crowd. Seeing the charging Bugbears chasing after him, the soldiers parted to let the King escape.

"Protect the King." One shouted.

They drew their swords and turned to attack.

"Lets get out of here; it is every man for himself now." The King said to John.

John was rather surprised that the King had issued such an order but the futility of the cause was soon evident. Bodies and limbs were flying through the air as the Bugbears tore the defenders limb from limb. John quickly followed the King. Rhyll latched on with Conrad heading up the rear. They ran as a group in the direction of the Sacred Hills to the west. They hoped they would arrive before it was too late.

When they had made it a safe distance away, the King turned around to take stock of the carnage that had just happened. Small figures could be seen running across the fields. The early morning shadows kept many hidden from his limited sight but it was very clear that no more men were leaving the city.

"So many dead; how could we have let this happen?" Henried said as the tears began to pour from his eyes.

"We did not see it coming. The creatures that occupied Cursed Isle could never organise and work together. It was only logical to think that they would never be a major threat to a well prepared Kingdom." John replied.

"But that is exactly the point. We became complacent. I appointed my son, Cohen, as the commander of my armies over your father. That was the beginning of the end for Thorntonvale. When Paddy took command again, he had my armies doing things I never even knew they could. But alas, it was too late." The King fell to his knees. He looked like a defeated man.

"Remember your promise." Rhyll said to him sternly. "You will never stop trying to reclaim this Kingdom."

"It was an idle threat. Without an army of the size we have never witnessed before, we have no hope." The King replied solemnly.

"There is always hope. You just need to know where to find it." Conrad stated.

"What do you mean?" The King asked.

"We cannot wage the type of war we would like. However, if we could gather pockets of men around the Kingdom, we could train them to fight a Guerrilla war."

"That is a foolish plan, Conrad." The King retorted.

"Why is it a foolish plan? Would you just have us lay down in defeat whilst that so called god fouls your kingdom with his disgusting minions? I can't stand for that. This is the kingdom I call home. If we do not take a stand, other kingdoms will suffer our fate." The passion that oozed out from Conrad stirred something within the King. He got up from his knees and faced his friends.

"We have nothing else to lose. I always said that I would die for the greater good of this kingdom and by the crown that grants me the title of King, I will." The newfound optimism was short lived.

"I don't want to spoil the mood but if we want to make it to the Sacred Hills before we die, we should leave now." John said.

They all turned and looked in the direction of Bowton. The hordes were heading in their direction.

"We must hurry." The King said heading west. John and Rhyll followed but Conrad did not. John noticed and turned.

"Come on, Conrad; what are you waiting for?"

"I am not going." He stated. "I am going to find the scattered men we have left and I am going to make sure they are safe. Then I will train them."

"But why stay now?" The King asked.

"If we get to the Sacred Hills in time, the priestesses will collapse the mountains to stop the enemy attacking them. The only way back into the Kingdom is to circle through our neighbouring Kingdoms and enter to the east of Thorntonvale. This would be a complete waste of time; time that could be spent in mobilising the resistance."

"Your courage is commendable. In my eyes, you do not deserve the title of Conrad the Cowardly."

The King's praise lightened the burden Conrad had placed on himself. John looked at him in dismay.

"I will stay too. I can help." He said desperately. John and Conrad had grown close. They were now good friends.

"No, John." Conrad said sternly. "You have a talent that will be needed elsewhere. You possess skills in diplomacy. I think that to have any chance of mounting a defence, we will need to gain the support of the other three Kingdoms. The talents both you and the King possess should be utilised to that end."

"Well if he is not staying, I will." Rhyll stated. "I can't have a little runt like you trying to survive alone. After all, all my tribe are dead now. I have nothing left to lose."

"It is settled then." The King started. "This is a brave thing you are doing. If the going gets too difficult, lay low. I will return at the head of a great army and then you will help me claim back my kingdom. Good luck to you."

Hands were shaken and embraces shared before they parted ways. John and King Henried charged west to the Sacred Hills; Conrad and Rhyll headed north, hoping to circle round the advancing army.

*****

### Chapter 30

The journey, which John and The King made, was not a short one. They made great haste, having a huge number of Bhryll's men fast approaching from the rear, but it was still the best part of two days before they reached the foot of the Sacred Hills. As they approached they could see something strange. Three peaks could be seen; one behind the other. The third peak was the tallest and housed the Temple. A strange black line seemed to spread across the summit of the third peak, dropping out of sight but forming again on the adjacent peaks to the left and right.

The King asked, "What do you think that is, John?"

John stood squinting to try to make clear the vision before him. "I cannot tell. Having lived in Horton Peak for most of my life, I am quite familiar with the intricacies of the Sacred Hills. I have never before seen anything like that though."

They both stood looking at this strange phenomenon for a few moments longer before King Henried broke the silence. "We better hurry, the enemy are not far behind us and the Priestesses will soon collapse the mountain."

"That is it." John shouted hastily.

"What is it?" The King asked, puzzled by the sudden outburst from his companion.

"That black line we can see must have something to do with the collapsing of the mountain. I am willing to place money on it."

"You may be right." The King began. "If you are, we need to double our efforts. As soon as they spot that evil army approaching, they will seal their fate, and ours."

The two warriors turned their quick run into a crazy sprint. They would not be able to maintain this pace for long but the fear of the enemy behind and the necessity to reach the temple in time, spurred them on.

Atop the Third peak of the Sacred Hills, a lone watchman looked through his telescope. He could see a huge cloud of dust rising from the ground about thirty miles away. From this distance he could not make out what it was. The watchman figured that something was amiss but could not place it. The army of chaos had been wiped out. He had left the battlefield with as one of the injured. He had been one of the first to be treated upon reaching the temple sanctuary. His wounds had been serious but the healing powers of the priestesses had promoted a full recovery within a couple of hours. James had found Anna waiting for him as soon as the group of injured humans had arrived. She had escorted him to the High Priestess who performed the healing ritual.

When James walked out of the High Priestess's room, Anna's heart melted. She had feared that he may not be able to be fully healed. They spent some time together talking but that night, their passions overwhelmed them and they made love for the first time. It was a magical night for both of them. What they didn't know was that a seed had been sown. James had impregnated Anna with his child. This fact would cause problems later on because although James and Anna were due to be married, they were not yet. The Priestesses frowned upon those in their order who bore a child out of wedlock; sometimes even punishing them. But this was a problem that would be encountered in the future. At this point, James was not aware of any pregnancy and was only concerned with the approaching dust cloud. In his heart he knew that it was an approaching army. He falsely assumed it must be the remainder of the human army who had valiantly defeated the armies of chaos, coming to the temple to relax, heal and pray. Only last night he had held a conversation with Anna over dinner. Anna had told him that the priestesses were going to collapse the mountain as the sun dipped below the western horizon the next day; today. He could not understand why, especially since the threat was gone. Anna explained that the humans had been slaughtered and that all the Priestesses had felt their passing. This put James into a rage and caused the two lovers to have a major row. They parted ways to allow one another to cool off. They had not spoken since. It was now almost two o'clock in the afternoon. James still refused to accept what he had been told but as the dust cloud neared, he noticed something else. Small dots seemed to be moving in a random fashion far ahead of the dust cloud. These dots looked like ants, hurrying about their business but not knowing where to go. A realisation dawned on James. The little ants he could see were people; scattered people. At first he thought that it may be the scattered remnants of the chaos army. Then he remembered what Anna had told him. A feeling of panic shot through his body; his veins filled with adrenaline.

"An army approaches." He shouted.

A light hand rested on his right shoulder. "We already know." The voice spoke. It was a soft and fairly deep female voice. All feeling of panic was lifted as soon as the voice was heard. It was so calm and serene that James could not help but feel the same way.

"Members of our covenant are already in place. We will wait until the last possible moment before collapsing the mountain so as to give those that flee a chance to seek refuge. We will not jeopardise ourselves though."

James stared out over the land; the realisation had finally hit him, the humans had lost and Thorntonvale was no more.

Henried and John had picked up a few stray humans along the way. They had now formed a fairly large group. There were at least 50 of them in total. They had made their way over the first peak. The sun was rapidly falling over the western horizon. They did not know the plan of the priestesses to collapse the mountain after the last ray of sun had fallen but they knew that the approaching army will have been seen and that they would collapse the mountains very soon. Tired and gasping for air, the party charged up to the top of the second peak. It took only half an hour; it would normally take three to four. Finally they could see what was lining the hills. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of priestesses formed a huge line crossing all the scalable peaks from the south to the north of the temple. The priestesses were dressed in black robes. They had no pattern whatsoever. It was a formidable sight. As the party stopped to look, Henried noticed something.

"There is a sound. Can you hear it?" He whispered to John. John shushed those around him who in turn shushed everyone else. When all was quiet, they could hear.

"They are chanting." The King shouted. "Run." With that, The King set off down the hill to the foot of the final peak. He had no idea how long it would take for the priestesses to finish their incantation but he knew that they would all perish if they were caught in the fall. It took little time for the party to charge down the hill. The speed they were travelling claimed a few fallers but all picked themselves up and continued their charge. As the party began their final ascent, the ground began to shake. Slowly, cracks began to form in the ground. Trees fell and any animals that had been hiding underground began to pop their heads out from their holes. The panic that the party felt spurred them on to greater speed. It was a difficult climb when walking but when running, it was deadly. The King knew that not all would make it but he didn't have the time to be the hero. If he, or anyone else, went back; they would die. A huge crash echoed behind them. John afforded himself the luxury of a quick glance over his shoulder. He saw a huge puff of smoke rising from behind the second peak.

"I think mountain number one has fallen." He shouted to The King.

"Just keep moving." Henried replied.

John did not need telling twice. Nearly ten minutes later, the second mountain fell. This time the dust cloud flew over the party who were just over half way up the mountain. A dusty fog washed over them making it difficult for any to see or breathe. Still they ploughed forward. The cracks underfoot were becoming bigger and more dangerous. The party of fifty had fallen in number to forty. Suddenly another crash was heard. They all looked around, totally exhausted, to see what had happened. The dust fog grew thicker and nothing could be seen. The ground ceased to tremble and everything fell silent. Then a wind picked up from out of nowhere. It blew a gale for nearly ten minutes. King Henried and the rest of the party had to lie on the ground to avoid being blown away. Then, just as quickly as it had arrived, the wind died down. They could all see now. The first two mountains and all those adjacent to them had collapsed. The mountain they had been standing on had the appearance of being cut with a large knife. It had a perfect, sheer edge; one that could not be scaled by even the most talented climber. Henried had not realised how quickly they had moved. The line of priestesses was just twenty metres above them. They pressed on until they reached the temple. There, James greeted them.

"Oh, it is a joyous sight. I never dared hope that our King would still be alive." He said with a beaming smile.

"Your joy at my survival is touching. I would have thought that I was now hated." The King replied.

"Hated you shall never be. You tried your best, the people know this." James said before being interrupted by another.

"Your actions from this point forth will determine your people's reaction to you." The voice said. They looked around to see a tall, slender woman, all dressed in white with golden stripes on her robes. Her face could not be seen due to a golden vale covering it. She had the mantle and the demeanour of a woman of great power. She introduced herself.

"I am the High Priestess of this Temple. I welcome you in these dark times."

"Thank you M'lady." The King replied bowing down. This was the one woman The King had never met but respected more than any other in the world.

The High Priestess continued, "Bhryll, the God of Chaos, has yet to develop his full strength. He possessed the body of a child" – John's head bowed – "and he is still bound by the restricted powers a child can possess. However, in a couple of years, with the aid of growth acceleration magic, Bhryll could be most powerful. That is how long you have to mount a challenge. If you fail, we will all die."

"Will you help us?" The King questioned.

"I will do all I can. The other races have never responded well to us. It was your people alone who accepted us for what we are. I feel that our presence would hinder your cause. However, I will send one. Anna shall go with you. And I am sure that where she goes, James will follow."

"But where should we go? The other races barely even know us so how do we enlist their help?"

"You will follow your heart. The will to succeed is a powerful force. It will drive you ever forward, even through the darkest days. You just make sure that you can march a powerful army against Bhryll before it is too late. When it is time, the priestesses shall join in the fight. We shall need time to prepare though. We will need to be at our most powerful."

"What do we do now?" Henried enquired meekly. He had lost all strength from the journey and the trauma of the previous months.

"You shall rest for one week only. My priestesses will attend to your needs and refresh you. You will then travel into lands unknown on beasts you are not familiar with. We will provide you with camels. The other Kingdoms all ride them. Yours was the only one we knew of that didn't."

"I assume we will have some training on these beasts."

"Never fear, good King. You will not need training. We shall cast a basic spell on you that will allow you to handle a camel like you have been doing so all your life."

"Thank you." The King said a little lost for words.

"Rest now. Relax and forget about all your worries. There will be enough time for worry later."

Bhryll's army had not yet reached the Sacred Hills when the first mountain collapsed. He watched on, intrigued.

"Do you really think that will stop me?" He cried aloud. "Nothing will stop me."

Realising that there was nothing left to do at this point, Bhryll gathered his commanders around him.

"We have taken the kingdom. Now we need to consolidate our positions. I will take fifty thousand back to the city the humans called Thorvale. Here I shall build my fortress. I want each of you to divide the rest of our forces and head for the major cities. Make sure that strong garrisons are left in place before sending the rest of your troops to the local villages. Again, make sure these are suitably garrisoned. I do not want the humans that are left in this kingdom to form any sort of resistance movement. Do I make myself clear?"

The commanders agreed to this and after a number of hours sorting the different hordes into groups that could work together, Bhryll departed for Thorvale.

The challenge for Bhryll now was to make sure that he maintained control of the kingdom but more importantly, he maintained control of his armies.

The King together with John, James and Anna all took the opportunity to rest for the week as the High Priestess had instructed. Back in the heart of Thorntonvale, Conrad and Rhyll were busy hunting for survivors. They had found a couple of strays but so far they had only managed limited success. Bhryll returned to Thorvale to begin construction of his fortress. For all, it was a new beginning.

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About the Author

Graham Carmichael is a secondary school teacher, teaching ICT. He has a love of sport, Badminton, Tennis and Martial Arts in particular, and a passion for writing. Resurrection is book 1 of the Chronicles of Chaos trilogy. At the time this book was published, Graham had commenced work on book 2 of the series and is currently about one third of the way through. Graham has a wife, Ann, and a daughter, Holly, and without their support, this book may never have seen the light of day. Graham would like to thank everyone who has purchased this book and he hopes that you enjoyed the story.
