One Dragon Master To Unite The Races Elf, Human, And

One Dragon Master to unite the races Elf, Human, and things from other places Lizard, Beast, Spirit, and Phantom’s might One dreaded evil, together they will smite

Slike “ A lone Shadow stalked through Laef da Elvon, the Forest of the Elves. Its black cloak easily concealed it in the forest darkness. It spotted its prey in a clearing in the forest ahead. The quarry was an elf who had threatened to do some very.....unlikable things to the Shadow’s master. The Shadow reached into his black cloak where all sunlight died, and slowly, very quietly, so as to not disturb the elf, pulled out a wicked looking throwing star. It nestled the blade gently between two of the Shadow’s leather gloved fingers, and started into the full wind up before throwing the blade that would end the unaware elf’s life. Out the darkness, a cold dagger flew up to the Shadow’s throat, while another hand pulled down the Shadow’s star-throwing arm. One tug of the dagger and the Shadow was a pile of ashes on the forest floor, leaving Slike standing alone in the darkness. The elf turned around and drew his sword, ready for a fight. More blades went flying out of the darkness. One of them pierced the elf’s arm. The elf lifted his other arm and shouted into the forest. “Reigno da Pero!” A wave of fire from the elf’s hand lit up the forest, revealing all four other Shadows, one of which was now on fire. The blazing Shadow ran into the forest, hissing, cursing, and trying to tear off his burning cloaks. No one noticed that the covering of dry leaves on the forest floor had been lit, and the fire was already spreading. One of the Shadows crept over to attack Slike while the other two got on either side of the elf. All of the Shadows drew their swords. One of them swung his sword around and attempted to bring it down on Slike’s head, but Slike easily deflected the blow with his jagged dagger, and in one swift motion slashed the Shadow’s throat and stabbed its gut. It turned into a pile of ashes on the ground. The

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other two Shadows, angered at the loss of their brothers, forgot about the elf and stalked towards Slike, hissing menacingly. “Run!” yelled Slike. The elf dashed off into the forest. He turned around just long enough to use an energy spell, and then continued running. A blast of magic came spiraling towards the Shadows. One of them rolled to its right, dodging the blast that obliterated its comrade. The last Shadow stood up, revealing a large, white, star shaped symbol on its chest. It hissed angrily, but with some happiness, knowing that it could not be easily killed. It stood a distance from Slike though, because it was wise, and knew that Slike would find some way to impair him. It walked towards Slike slowly, with its long sword pointed at him. Fire from the elf’s spell glowed all around them. Quickly, Slike grabbed a burning branch and set fire to the dry leaves between the two. The Shadow could go no farther. “Ay toce moyk yot maes!” hissed the shadow. I will cut out your heart! Slike winked a slitted eye at the Shadow. “Catch me if you can!” Slike shouted back. Then Slike turned around and ran out of the forest.

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Parrow It was midnight, one thousand years before, in the city of Cair Mac. The large city sat alone in the middle Cair Dracoon, or the Lonely Desert. In the city it was dark, and from the bottom of the city sewers to the tops of the Archer Towers most of its inhabitants were sleeping, unless you walked through the dark alley ways and entered the taverns where gambles were made and rogues hid from the Cairan Empire. There were levels of elevation, importance, and wealth in the city, and this area of the city was the lowest of all. That was why it was unusual for Parrow to be there. Parrow was Captain of the South Patrol, leader of the defenses on the south side of the city. The Cairan Crystal War had just ended, and Parrow was the hero. He had just ended two months of parties, ceremonies, and banquets. Now his life was starting to return to normal. But that didn’t cover up his life before the war. He was in debt with some very dangerous people. A tall man in a dark cloak walked into the tavern. He had an old leather hat, easily noticed because of its decayed look. His cloak and hat covered most of his body and only the gleam of his eyes showed. He walked along the aged clay flooring, and stopped at Parrow’s table. Parrow looked up at the man and his blood ran cold. “S-sit down, Quake,” Parrow managed to stutter. Quake sat down on the rotting chair across from Parrow. His chair creaked as it sustained the man’s weight. “The party has ended, Parrow, and you might end with it. Where are my gems?” Quake whispered menacingly. Parrow secretly put his hand on the hilt of one of his scimitars. “I left them at home,” Parrow managed to get out. It was a lie. Parrow didn’t have the fifty rubies he owed the man. Parrow wedged his feet against the inside of Quake’s chair legs. Parrow was ready to leave. Quake gave a low hiss and began murmuring an incantation. Parrow panicked. He put his plan to work. With a sharp push of his feet Parrow splintered Quake’s chair legs, sending Quake and his chair falling backward. Parrow quickly got up, pushed the round table onto Quake, and bolted for the door to the alleyway outside. At the door Parrow heard a shout from Quake in an evil language and swerved just in time to dodge an energy bolt from the tavern. The

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bolt destroyed the side of a building and Parrow thanked the gods for his speed, while at the same time he prayed that his pants stayed dry. Parrow knew Quake was a dangerous man. Quake had practiced dark magic for over twenty years. Eventually the magic had distorted Quake’s image, so Quake was forced to don his dark cloak and menacing hat. Quake enjoyed getting people into corners with bets, debts, and the law, and then he would kill the hapless victim with a reason. His latest prey had been Parrow. Parrow ran down the clay streets, banging on random doors for help even though no one would open at that hour of the night. He heard Quake’s shout behind him and dropped in time to dodge another energy blast. He got up afterwards and continued running. Up ahead was the Ancient Museum of Cair Mac. It would make a descent sanctuary if Parrow could find a hiding place. He ran up to the giant wooden doors and tugged on the ringed handle. The door creaked open. Parrow ran through the rooms full of mysterious gems, weapons, potions and scrolls. He climbed several stair cases and ran down a long hallway. He saw a small door ahead. Parrow dashed through the door and slammed it behind him. He noticed that this room was empty. He also noticed that there was no way out of this room except for a large window on the opposite wall. Footsteps echoed in the hallway. “Don’t run!” Quakes voice echoed. “Don’t you ever give up!” yelled Parrow. He climbed into the opening and sat, ready, in case he would have to use it. Looking down, he saw that he was about fifty feet off the ground. He heard Quake begin an incantation. Just then he noticed a ledge running along the outside of the building. It was only six inches wide but it would have to do. The door shattered. Parrow ran out the window and groping on the rough brick, eased onto the ledge and began to slide down it. Quake’s footsteps were getting closer. Parrow felt the brick and realized it might be climbable. So he pulled a small dagger out of his right boot and tried stabbing it into the wall. It ground through the soft rock, but held when it reached the solid rock underneath. Using the dagger to hold his weight, Parrow pulled himself up onto the wall, and then found a jagged brick to hold onto, while he stabbed the dagger again even higher with his other hand. Then he noticed Quake lean out onto the ledge. “You’ve made it pretty far, my old friend,” he cackled, “but you cannot outrun me.” Quake waited smiling behind his robe, and then burst out laughing. “I have seen many mice in my life but you scurry the fastest!” He continued laughing until Parrow cut him off. “You are calling me a coward, you who hide behind that robe and hat, and never fight anyone from more than ten feet away?” 5

Quake grimaced then started into an incantation. “A rock through time, you will stay. A stone in the wind, you will sway. Desecrated by birds, you have no control. Burnt by mold on your back, you pay your toll, until a touch will save your way!” Parrow felt strange inside, like it had suddenly gotten colder, though his outside was warm. Then the outside also received that strange feeling. Suddenly there was a strong weight on his back, and Parrow was forced to let go of the wall and crouch on the ledge. Somehow, the weight helped him keep balanced. His whole body became cold, and motion was impossible. Parrow had been cursed, and the last thing he would hear for a thousand years would be Quake’s laughter.

Steek Steek liked living in the forest, away from the cities, the crime, and the mistreatment his kind received. The latter was the main reason his family hid in the swamp.

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Steek was a Phantom, a very rare race. They can be good or bad, but it is dangerous to let one live either way because if it does decide to do something bad, the Phantom is rarely stopped. A Phantom occurs when a traveling spirit is weak and needs more energy. It will merge with either a pregnant woman or a young child, both assuring many years of life. Usually the host will be human, the most common race. The two form a symbiotic relationship. The host uses the spirit’s magic for defense and the spirit feeds of the host’s energy for life. As there are a wide variety of spirits, there are different forms of magic for all Phantoms, but all have the basic powers to hover, not breathe for up to a day, and take the form of their spirit. Each spirit has his unique abilities. Steek’s spirit was a blade spirit named Krakus. Steek’s great grandfather had received the spirit first and it had run in the family. Steek lived with some very old members of his family because Phantoms only die if they are killed, and could not be killed in spirit form except by powerful magic. Phantoms were easily distinguished because of their pale skin, red eyes, and superior strength. They also healed very fast. Because of their strength Phantoms had their own style of sword. It was a long, curved blade that got wider towards the end. At the end of the curve was a flat end with three spikes extending from it. Only a Phantom could lift the blade, which was ten inches wide at the end, and weighted by special magic that kept it from breaking. No sheath or scabbard could be made to fit it so it was tucked into the side of a belt. The handle had to be widened so that it would not fall out of your belt. All this made the sword as heavy as an ogre’s club. Phantom’s even accused of a crime were executed on the spot. That was why Steek and his family were hiding in the swamp. It was a small area in the northern area of the Forest of the Elves, and they called it the swamp because it had no particular name. Steek and his family lived well, hunting and living off the land. Sometimes bands of goblins would enter the forest, but they posed a small threat and were easily killed. Then one day it was Steek’s turn to hunt dinner for the day. He headed into the forest to catch a Bullizard. A Bullizard is a large reptilian animal with a cow-like head, and a scaly body. Though they look foolish, if you got too close it could gut you with its foot-long horns. They were also very agile in the treetops, and could camouflage at will. Steek walked away from the edge of the camp, found a strong vine hanging from a tree, and Steek climbed it with skill. Steek then walked along the path of criss-crossed vines and branches connecting the treetops. He traveled far into the swamp, the whole time watching for giant spider webs. Eventually he came to what he was looking for, the Watching Tree. 7

It was a tall tree with vines coming down on all sides. They were unneeded though because Steek had built a ladder to the top. Steek climbed the ladder, and after all five hundred, seventy-eight steps on the ladder, he reached the top. Standing under the canopy of branches that kept rain from rotting the ladder, Steek could see the whole swamp. That is why it was so easy to see the goblin raid heading toward his family’s camp, five miles away.

Drey Drey had an average, lower class life. He was a normal, sixteenyear-old half-elf. He lived in Treedorm, a small village of elves. It was a very unified village. This was because it was located in the middle of a large forest, and that forest was located on the edge of a chain of mountains. This meant that the village had to depend on itself for food, water, and soldiers. Drey himself loved the village life. He was an excellent bowman, and his longbow and a quiver of arrows were always with him. He was very good at hunting the wild Bullizards that lived in the forest. He had

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a job at the local butcher shop, and was paid in crystals however much the quarry weighed. Drey had no idea who his human or elven ancestors were, or where they were from. He had been raised by the villagers from early age, and they hadn’t mentioned anything about Drey’s past. The truth was, Drey hadn’t asked because there was no reason to; he was content with his present life, and in no hurry to change it. He had his own hut at the edge of town, and hunted his own food. One day Drey walked into the shop, Keet’s Meats. Keet, the gentle giant, was behind the counter weighing some meat. He seemed annoyed at something. Then Drey noticed as he walked closer that the small, hand made machine Keet had bought to weigh meat was giving amazingly high numbers to a three ounce chunk of meat. It consisted of a small platform, and when something was laid on it, a stick rose up a shaft next to the platform. The problem was the tiniest piece of meat would bring the stick near the top of the shaft. Keet was cursing under his breath. “You slimy troll. When I find you I am gonna—” “Do what?” Drey cut in with a smile. Keet brightened at the sight of Drey. “Tear all the trade out of that trader, the barbaric moron!” Keet roared half-jokingly. He gave up with the machine, and Keet turned his attention on Drey. “Are you looking for work, talk, or maybe you simply want to buy some meat?” “Work,” Drey said, motioning to his bow. “Anything you particularly need?’ “I’m fine, but I’ll still pay you in full if you hunt me something extra.” Drey was already out the door. Walking to the edge of the forest, Drey went through the usual protocol in his mind. First he would use a tracking spell to lock onto the closest Bullizard. Then he would kill it with a shot from his trusted bow. If it was of good size, he would keep it. If it was small, then he would repeat the process. Walking just past the forest line, Drey began step one. “Tracus Bullizard!” he said smoothly from years of practice. Suddenly a strange, magnetic attraction told Drey where the closest Bullizard was. He headed in that direction, while at the same time he strung his bow and loaded an arrow. Drey stopped. The force was coming from the branches above him. Pulling his string tight, Drey aimed into the treetops. He couldn’t see anything, but Bullizards could blend in with their surroundings, so he kept looking. “Visio,” He said. All the treetops seemed to darken, and one small area stayed the same. “Visio Déd.” The strange colors faded, 9

and Drey sent an arrow whizzing into the spot that hadn’t changed. A low squeak sounded, and a Bullizard blurred into view. In the diminished light due to the branches of tall trees blocking the sun, the animals back glistened and its eyes glowed. An arrow was set in the left side of its back. With a croak, it began hopping across the canopy of branches. Drey, who being part elf was naturally agile, climbed into the trees with his bow in one hand. Once he had established some balance and loaded his bow, he took careful aim at the back of the broad shouldered reptile’s neck. Drey let an arrow fly. The arrow hit the animal squarely in the back of the neck, and it tumbled out of the treetops without a sound. Drey climbed down and walked up to it, his bow carefully aimed in case it was alive, and checked. Closer inspection proved it was dead. Drey strapped his bow onto his back, and tested the Bullizard’s weight to see if he could carry it back to Treedorm. He could barely lift it. He decided to get Keet to help him carry it. Drey turned and began the walk back to town. Approaching the edge of the forest, the trees thinned out and much more sunlight shone through. That was why Drey could see the smoke. Rushing out of the trees, he got a good view of the village. It was destroyed. The buildings were burning. Sparks, ashes, and debris littered the ground. None of the inhabitants were to be seen, and Drey was thankful for this because even if he could see them, they would most likely be dead. Drey’s home was gone, a pile of ashes on the ground. His town was gone, lost to time, and no one would know except for the desolate forest surrounding the rubble. But Drey’s sorrow turned to amazement when he saw them. Their sleek, glistening bodies seemed to swim though air and cloud, each flap of the wing another graceful paddle. Steered by their human riders, they seemed to glide through an ocean of sky. But there was a certain grotesque nature to their grace. Each creature had a different number of limbs, eyes, wings, and even heads. Their rough skin had spikes and horns spouting from different points along their slender backs. With every sweep of their long necks and a single opening of their jaws, flame spouted, burning more of Drey’s native town. The riders on their backs were yelling to each other in joy over their victory. Then in one final cheer, every dragon launched a wave of flames into the sky, before turning and beginning their journey to the southeast. The town was a pile of ashes in a burnt out clearing. Drey no longer had a home, and knew he had to leave. His parents had died long before, and he hardly remembered them, so he had never felt

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truly at home in Treedorm. He had no idea why a fleet of dragon riders would have reason to attack his small town, but didn’t care to wonder. Once Drey was sure the dragons had gone, Drey walked out into the open. He wandered the village for a while, looking for anything useful. He came to the pile of debris that used to be the home of Typon, the weapon maker. Drey dug through piles of ash, dirt, and wood, looking for a suitable weapon for first hand combat. He found a couple of daggers, and a short sword, but he made a pile of weapons and kept looking. Then he found the most expensive blade Typon has for sale, Suk-Clet, The Silver Warrior. It was a mid-sized broad sword, the blade covered in ridges and waves of magically strengthened silver. The handle was made of gold, and carved so that it resembled a serpent. Its scabbard had carvings of a long snake, twisting and turning, entangled in its own body. Drey put the sword on his belt, and while looking for supplies in other areas, found a tinder box, boots, a money pouch with ninety crystals, and, best of all, Wode the Wizard’s spell book. Being half elf, Drey could practice magic, and the spells would be useful. Now Drey had to decide on a course of action. From what he had heard, the closest city was Kiev, about forty miles east. The small city was located on the other side of the ring of mountains surrounding Treedorm Forest. In the city he could get more supplies, then follow Cair Dracoon River until he reached Tiurnk, a very large city. In Tiurnk he could try to start a new life once he had warned the city officials that there was a dragon raid on the loose. Putting all the supplies in an old leather backpack, he started east, into the barren forest that had seemed so friendly before.

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Twisted Fates A large black lizard crawled through the midnight streets of Tiurnk, his path lit only by the half moon. It was not an ordinary lizard though. It knew exactly where it was going. It turned off the streets, into a small building. It was actually a shop, but it resembled a small, rotting shack on the outside. But if you went inside, the floors were clean and shined with wax, the walls beautifully painted to resemble leaves. The lizard crawled across this floor, and looked up at the table, and there she was, sitting in a chair, both hand pressed against a ball of sapphire, emerald, and ruby. She was the Prophet. She was a small woman, her skin wrinkled and pale with age. Her voice was soft, and she could hardly walk from the table. Yet she gave off a strong aura of power, courage, and honor. She removed her hands from the ball, and, staring into space, spoke. “Remove your disguise, young warrior.” The lizard seemed to nod, then in a bright flash, it disappeared, and standing in its place was Slike. “What have you seen? Are the Shadows up to something?” Slike asked hastily. “We are in luck, boy. The prophecy is being fulfilled.” “You mean the Dragon Master is coming?”

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“Yes,” said the Prophet with what could be a smile. “Where is he? If the Shadows get to him before I do, the prophecy cannot happen.” “Fortune smiles upon us, boy, for he is coming here, in the form of a boy your age. He will be carrying a long bow and a sword of silver.” “What of the other people in the prophecy?” “We know you are the lizard it speaks of. The Spirit will be in an Elven temple in the north. The Phantom will be found in the Western Fields. The beast will be on a building in this very city.” “Which will we find first?” “The Beast.” Steek ran through the forest, ignoring the pain caused by the whipping vines and the tear from brambles. His red cloak was torn in several places, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was warning his family. He could hear noise up ahead, whispers in goblin language. He drew his sword and began shouting. There was a ring of goblins with crossbows around the camp. Steek yelled again. “Hide!! Take cover!! Run!!” The goblins fired. In one second, every member of his family dropped, stuck full of arrows so that they looked like pen cushions. With one swing of his sword, Steek decapitated a surprised goblin. Every crossbow aimed at Steek. He rolled, and took cover behind a tree. The arrows thudded into the tree, and he ran out from hiding. “Krakus, I call upon thee!!” Steek shouted. His body evaporated into a cloud of mist, which then formed into a round ball, with arms protruding from the sides, and covered with spikes. It hovered where Steek’s head had been. Arrows were fired, but they passed through the spirit. The goblins drew their swords. Steek Flew through the goblins, his spiked fist more deadly than any sword. With a swing of the arm he took down two goblins. He tossed another into a tree, knocking it unconscious. He thrashed every one of them, throwing them, punching them, and breaking every bone in their treacherous bodies. They weren’t dead though. Ancient magical laws made it set so that no Phantom in spirit form could kill any creature. That didn’t mean a Phantom couldn’t harm anything though. And the longer it took to kill the little demons, the happier Steek would be. It was sunset before Steek reverted back to normal and actually murdered them. Then he walked through his camp, alone. He wept under the night sky, alone. Finally, he lay in his tent and went to sleep, alone.

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Drey begins his Journey Drey left his destroyed village at midnight, and entered the forest. It was dark, and all the torches and lantern oil had burned in the fire. He traveled by the light of the moon, shining dimly through the treetops. There was no real trail through the forest, so Drey had to pick his way through the bushes and thorns on his way east. The forest was filled the sounds of the night. Crickets chirped in the foliage. Frogs in the more marshy parts of the forest croaked merrily under the moon. Occasionally there was a howl from some unknown creature in the distance. Together it was a symphony of darkness played for free. Drey had decided to travel during the night and rest during the day. Then he could avoid the hot sun, and the goblins and kobbers that left their filthy nests during the day. So when he saw first light’s glow through the trees, he made camp on the largest branch of an ancient oak tree. Now that he had time to relax, Drey realized he had probably traveled about twelve miles during the night. It wouldn’t take him more than a week to get out of the forest at this pace, even with a day of rest added. Crossing the ogre filled mountains would be a different matter. He dug the spell book out of his backpack, and got comfortable by leaning against the tree and running his legs down the branch. He opened the book to the first page.

Contents Page 1-3 Energy Spells Page 4-5 Mind Spells 14

Page 6-8 Enchantments Page 9-11 Charms & curses Drey didn’t know any energy spells, and they were useful in combat. If he met a potentially dangerous foe, he wanted to be ready. So he turned to page two. He skimmed through the list until he saw an additionally exciting spell.

Flames of Tartaroth- Upon speaking the incantation, a wave of fire will spring from the user’s fingers, and will hit anything within fifteen feet away. Incantation-Tartaroth Tera Drey decided to test the spell. “Tartaroth Tera!” he recited. A wave of flames spouted from his fingertips, lighting up the early morning darkness. It dazzled Drey, to the point that he repeated the spell twice more. Each time he was amazed at the sense of power the single spell had given to him. Out of the dark, a mourning howl erupted like a volcano. Its sound filled the air, and all the other animals of the forest were silent, including Drey. He sat quietly; fear numbing the pride he had felt from a spell. He waited with his hand on the hilt of his sword. After ten minutes of waiting, he decided whatever it was had left. He repeated the spell; that entire area of the forest was lit up, and Drey saw nothing. His fear faded and he repeated the spell again. The howl sounded again, and Drey nearly fell out of the tree in fright. It was much closer. He decided it would be best to do a different spell. Looking back at the page of the spell book, he saw an extra note under the spell.

CAUTION-Spell strongly resembles dragon mating call. Do NOT use repeatedly. Drey had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach when he had started reading it, and his stomach was correct. There was a dragon

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somewhere in the forest with Drey. It was very possible, he thought, because the people who attacked may have left one. Another howl only reinforced his terror. Then it came. There was a sound like wind, and the branch quivered. Then there was the scamper of something running down the branch towards Drey. Drey drew his sword, and with a yell faced his attacker. Something rushed from the darkness, and Drey came face to face withA lizard? No, it couldn’t be a lizard. It had a miniature pair of wings on its back. It also had only one pair of legs, located in the front. The rest of its body strongly resembled that of a snake. Its head certainly looked lizard like. It was only about a foot long. Sitting there, looking at it, Drey couldn’t bring himself to stab it. He slowly sheathed his sword, and looked at it closely. It waddled up to Drey, and started doing something with its throat that strangely resembled a cat purring. Drey pushed himself as close to the tree as he could. He slid the book into the backpack, and hung one of the straps on his backpack on a knot on the tree. Drey wanted some rest- he was begging for it. But he couldn’t sleep with that thing staring at him like that. He had traveled all night, so he couldn’t block out all his weariness. He sat there, his eyes shut.....opened.....shut......opened.....squinted.....shut. Drey woke up with the sun setting. For a moment he believed it all to be a dream, until he saw the dragon in front of him, still staring. He stretched, gave a yawn, and stood on the branch. He slid on his backpack, and climbed down the tree. He heard a plop behind him and turned to see the dragon on the ground. “What do you want?” The dragon seemed to know what he was saying. “Are you going to follow me?” It nodded. “You’re feeding yourself.” It nodded again. “What’s your name?” The dragon looked at Drey and spoke. “Rytop,” it said.

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A New Travel Partner Drey grew to like his partner over the next couple days of travel. It turned out Rytop could speak many languages. Also, Rytop grew at an amazing rate. Two days after Drey had found him, he was ten feet long! Drey found that by sitting on Rytop’s back, he could be carried, even while Rytop was in flight, but only for short distances. Rytop also hunted very well; he not only fed himself, but Drey as well! Each day they would rest in the trees, and when night came, they were off. They hiked at least ten miles a day, and Rytop always caught a good dinner, which was then cooked over a fire. They lived healthy, and it only took three days to reach the mountain border. Rytop had grown to be twenty feet. They gazed up at the wondrous ring that was part of the everlasting Hook Mountains. In the sunlight the stony cliffs and jagged points seemed to glow with god-like power. It seemed impossible to scale its many peaks, and get to the other side alive. Drey realized why no one had ever entered or left Treedorm, excluding the dragon riders. “What should we do?” Drey asked Rytop, his eyes still locked on to the mountains. “We fly. I could lift you, and we would make it before the sun sets.” Drey agreed, and climbed onto Rytop’s back. In a rush of air, Rytop leapt into the sky, and moved at such an amazing speed that when he first accelerated, Drey was nearly thrown off. The mountains that had seemed so powerful were now sliding under them at high speed. Drey imagined that to someone on the ground, Rytop looked like a speck in the sky. Drey remembered how superb the dragon attackers had looked, and knew that at that moment he was seeing the graceful wing flaps and the majestic motions up close. The time went by unnaturally fast, and when they had landed on the ground on the opposite side of the mountain just after sunset, it seemed like minutes had passed. Drey viewed the town of Kiev through tired eyes. It was a small city, with low wooden shacks for buildings. There were no soldiers on patrol, and there wasn’t even a city wall. Drey briefly had thoughts that they would be better off getting killed by dragon attacks. He was too tired to worry about anything now though.

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About half a mile from the town, they found a small gully. It was hidden from anyone’s sight unless someone actually searched for it, so Drey and Rytop felt secure in it. They each found comfortable spots, and quickly fell asleep. Drey awoke to sounds of chaos. He awoke Rytop, and they flew into the air. Once they were up high, they saw that there was a cloud of dragons above the town. Some buildings were already burning, and every second wasted, another person was killed. Drey sped to the battle on Rytop, while stringing his bow. Once they arrived at the battle, they saw that a group of ten dragons had the city surrounded, and were blasting fire at it without mercy. There were no guards watching the surrounding area though, and were too busy laughing to each other over what would be another victory if they hadn’t let Drey sneak up on them. Drey had shot down two riders before they realized they were under attack. During battle, when the attackers are attacked they are unsure of what to do next. This is good for the defenders. Drey saw this when the dragon riders turned to face him leaving the city unguarded. The city archers were now able to come out of hiding, and open fire. Five more riders were taken down. The remaining few fled for their lives. More arrows were fired, and only one rider flew south, an arrow in his right shoulder. Drey walked into the village, and saw cleanup crews moving huge pieces of burnt wood. The remaining buildings were mostly unscathed, except for a few that had been only slightly burnt. Everyone had sorrowful looks on their faces, and some were weeping. After the battle, Drey had rushed back to the gully and hidden Rytop. Then he had come back to buy supplies before he left. He spent fifty crystals on a new lantern, some oil, a couple of torches, and a pair of gloves for protection on Rytop’s rough hides. With forty crystals left in his pouch and new supplies in his pack, he headed back to the gully. He and Rytop left and flew north east, where Tiurnk waited for them. The Prophet sat silently, her frail hands on the ball. Slike stood nearby pacing impatiently. The room was silent, except for the light patter of Slike’s footsteps. Finally, the Prophet looked up. “Is he coming?” Slike asked. “Yes,” the Prophet replied softly. “When will he arrive?” “Tomorrow.” Drey and Rytop found the desert easily traveled. Rytop caught food, and water was easily collected from the river. Hiking was tough 18

because of the loose sand, so they flew whenever possible. This was easy because there were few travelers who might see them. They rushed through the desert, looking forward to a long rest in Tiurnk. The next day they could see Tiurnk in the sun’s first light. It was a tall, stony city, with a round wall running around it. It had a large gate facing the south, with guards posted on both sides. The ground was paved with sandstone, and the buildings were all built of huge, clay bricks. Rytop found a small stream close to the city’s eastern gate, and hid Rytop in it. It was surrounded by trees, and shady enough for comfort. “Stay here. I am going to search for a good home or at least a temporary one until we decide on what to do next.” Drey said to Rytop. Then Drey hiked backed to the city. At the city gates, the guards inspected him, and then let him enter without trouble. The streets were packed with people, mostly traveling nomads looking for supplies. Drey looked in a couple hotels, but they were all too expensive. Finally he found one that was okay, with a payment rate of two crystals a day, provided you found your own food. Satisfied, Drey hiked back to the out of the city, and walked into the small wooded area in which the spring was concealed. Walking through the bushes and brambles, Drey got a bad feeling. He looked around and saw no one, but he knew someone was following him. He kept searching until he saw what it was. There was a large black lizard sitting on a tree stump behind Drey, giving Drey a cold stare. Drey ignored it and kept walking. He pushed through a small palm frond and—there it was! The same lizard was on the side of a giant oak tree. Drey pretended he hadn’t seen it even though it gave him the same stare. He walked into a large clearing in front of the spring. Rytop was in the spring, doing dives and spraying water into the air. “You were a tough one to track down, Sir Drey,” a voice said sarcastically. The “s” in “sir” was stretched into a hiss. Drey turned to see a tall boy, about his age, walk out of the forest. He had messy black hair, and black eyes. “Who are you?” Drey replied cautiously. He gripped the hilt of his sword ready for battle. “My name’s Slike.” That was when Drey noticed that Slike had slitted pupils. Drey quickly drew his sword and backed away from Slike. “What are you?!” Drey said. The boy merely smiled. “I am a werelizard, if you must know, yet not only. I’ve caused many changes for this better of this land. You might as well call me a guide.” Drey was silent. “I am here on a similar mission that involves you. Now sheath your sword and follow me.”

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He didn’t seem dangerous, so Drey sheathed his sword and followed Slike out of the forest.

Tiurnk Slike led Drey into Tiurnk without a word. The streets were crowded with merchants, travelers, and robed locals. At each street corner was a heavily armored Tiurnkish knight, guarding with an

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almost disturbing dedication. The buildings were tall and built of dried clay. Most were covered in windows so that heat wouldn’t build up. They arrived outside a small shack. Hanging on an ancient sign above the door were two words: ‘Fortune Teller’. Drey followed Slike in, doubtful-until he saw the inside. As they opened the door a pleasant bell tinkled. It was sparkling clean. A large oak shelf against the far wall held dozens of strange tomes. On a table in the center of the room was a large crystal ball. Drey bent and gazed into its depths… and a picture started to form! It was too foggy to make out, but was getting clear. Suddenly a forceful pull brought him from the ball. Whoever had done it had amazing strength, for Drey was thrown against the wall. He looked up to see Slike! This boy was giving lots of clues that he was more than he seemed. “Don’t look into the ball!” Slike said with what was possibly fear. “You never know what you’re going to see.” “Hello, Drey. I see Slike has proved that the Shadows haven’t assassinated you yet.” Drey looked up to see a frail old woman standing at the table. Strange, but there was no door into this room other then the front door, and it had a bell. “Hello, ma’am. You seem to know me, so who are you?” said Drey, forcing out his usual manners. He was slightly annoyed at knowing nothing about something apparently important while everyone knew him. “I am The Prophet. I guide Slike as he guides Maezak. To fully understand your role in this, you must have the full story. I doubt you would believe it if simply told so Slike will show you the proof.” With that, she stopped, and stared into the crystal ball, waiting for a vision. Slike turned and left. Drey had nowhere to go, so he followed. After Slike and Drey were out on the stone pavement a vision came to the ball. The Prophet saw this and the silence was broken by a chuckle. “They’ll never catch my boy.” Slike took Drey to the town monastery and led him down a seemingly endless path past hundreds of pews. At a platform on the end of a long crimson rug sat a giant red crystal. It was the size of a man and it took Drey a moment to notice that there was something in it. It was a gleaming sword. The handle was made of what appeared to be gold, and the long silver blade shone through the thick walls of the crystal. It sat there, frozen in time. “It is Skinta Loi, Sword of Light in the common tongue. It was created by an Elven holy man, Tartaroth,” Slike explained, “He invented dozens of holy spells and fought evil with his life. Finally, he was killed in his own home forest. Murdered.” 21

“What, or who killed him?” Drey asked. Suddenly, a large pane glass window shattered behind them, and a man sized, black cloaked figure sprang in. “Shadows!!” Slike growled. Slike pulled a large, jagged dagger from its sheath. Drey mimicked the action with his sword. “Don’t worry about battle,” Slike said, “This isn’t your time to fight. Just run!” Slike led Drey into the pews and weaved through them as fast as possible. A small jagged blade flew past Drey’s neck and crunched into a brick in the wall. Drey tried to count the enemies on the move, but it was impossible to keep up with each one. They looked like large black birds, jumping thrice as far as a normal man and climbing on the walls like spiders. Each one was slinging blades at Slike and Drey the whole time. Slike led Drey towards a small hallway on the west wall of the monastery. Just before they entered the hallway Slike began to glow with a blood red light. “Just follow the hallway!” Slike announced loudly. Great, Drey thought, now the Shadows know right where we’re going. He glanced back to see how many Shadows had followed them. There were three, one on a wall, one on the roof, and one on the ground. They were no longer throwing blades; they had drawn long crooked swords. Drey turned his head back—and Slike was gone! Drey kept following the hallway, as Slike had said, and saw a doorway. He slid in, and slammed the door on the other side. He turned around and found himself face to face with a Shadow. It had a large, white, star-shaped symbol on its chest. It raised its sword, and aimed for Drey’s head, when Drey suddenly felt something grab his collar and found himself being dragged through the air. He landed on the top of a ten foot brick wall, and looked to see Slike behind him, with his dagger out. Now Drey had time to see that had been in a small courtyard next to the monastery. The Shadow was running for the wall they were on. Slike jumped down on the other side of the wall, and Drey followed. He and Slike landed on a crowded street with wagons being pulled by and people running to shop in the market. Slike grabbed Drey by the arm and pulled him down the street at a run. “Are we going to The Prophet?” Drey asked. “No,” Slike answered, “They would follow us. We might escape, but they would easily kill the prophet. The best thing to do would be to leave the city.” Slike ran out of the city gates and headed to the spring Rytop was waiting in, with Drey close behind. They didn’t see any Shadows the whole way there. Drey boarded Rytop, Slike got on behind him and they took off into the air. Before they could fly far a Shadow’s blade zapped through

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the air and popped through Rytop’s wing. Rytop let out a roar of pain, but managed to get the group into the air. “Get over the clouds so they can’t see us,” said Slike, “then turn around and land on the other side of the city, so Rytop can heal.” So Rytop rose past the clouds, turned around, and landed beyond the cover of the western city wall. Then Drey and Slike reentered the city.

Two Wings & Two Scimitars Slike and Drey kept to the alleyways to avoid Shadows. At one time they passed the monastery. The Shadows had blown out all the windows in their fury. Drey wondered where Slike was taking him this time. “Why did you show me the sword?” he asked. “That sword is a holy sword. With one strike it can kill a Shadow — if held by the right person. Have you ever heard of King Draconis?”

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“Sure. He rules a fortress in Dragon Land.” It was legendary how once the evil King Draconis had tried to rise and take over Maezak with forces of dragon riding soldiers. Some unidentified man had somehow defeated the dark king and left without being recognized as a hero. No one knew who it was.... “He’s launching a war on Maezak. Somehow he has tamed the dragons again, and he has an army of dragon riders. Tartaroth, creator of the holy sword, is your great-great-great-grandfather. The sword will function if you use it for good.” Drey began to see where his elven ancestry was from. “What about the crystal over it?” “Legends state that you must build a party of righteous warriors. Have you ever heard the Dragonmaster poem? That’s it. It lists their race and tells that they will smite a dreaded evil. Dragonmaster, elf, and human you are. Lizard, I fill in. Beast, spirit, and phantom haven't been found. Once you find all the warriors, the crystal will disappear.” “Where is the first?” Suddenly Drey saw Slike glow red and in a blink he was gone. A rough hand grabbed Drey’s forearm. He turned to see a Tiurnk officer holding him. A scimitar was pointed at Drey’s back. “Let go!” Drey pleaded. The officer ignored him. “You are under arrest for demolishing the Monastery of Tartaroth. You will face the executioner shortly, delinquent.” Drey saw a shape rise behind the officer, baring a jagged dagger: Slike. In a flash the officer had a dagger to his throat, and Slike had him on his knees. “Tell the executioner his old friend is back from the dead,” Slike hissed. Then he smacked the officer on the head with the pummel of his dagger, and was leading Drey away. “What was that about being back from the dead?” Drey inquired. “About two hundred years ago I was labeled ‘demon’ and condemned to execution by flame. I escaped, and left traces that I had bled to death in the desert, after a....argument with the guards.” “Just how old are you?” “Two thousand, two hundred, sixty four years old—but who’s counting?” He gave a hiss of laughter. “How is the executioner still alive?” “He’s an immortal magician.” “Oh. One more question: just what happens when you glow red?” “I’m a werelizard. When I glow red I’m preparing to change.” Shouts sounded from behind them, and they to see four guards with slings chasing them. Slike took off, Drey following. They entered a large museum, and ran through many rooms. They ran through the rooms full of mysterious gems, weapons, potions and scrolls. They

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climbed several stair cases and ran down a long hallway. Up ahead was a small room. They went in and locked the door behind. It was a small room with some unshelved artifacts. On the wall was a small window with a thin ledge running along the outer wall. Slike stepped out, so, perilous as it seemed, Drey stepped out behind. On the ledge was a gargoyle. It looked like a man with wings. On his back were two scimitars in sheaths. He was crouched, gripping the ledge, with a look of horror and sorrow on his face. It was so realistic Drey felt shivers going his spine. Slike ran down the small ledge with supernatural dexterity. Drey, cautiously, tried to follow, but slipped and was forced to grab onto the statue’s shoulder to keep from falling off the ledge, and hitting the ground several stories below. He had just grabbed the ledge when—no. It was just a trick of his mind. Then the head turned and looked at him! The rock was falling off in flakes, revealing human flesh on the body, and leathery hide on the wings. Then it spoke. “I....I’m free!” Drey felt himself falling as the gargoyle flexed his arms as though he had just been born. Just where is Slike? Drey wondered. Then he fell. The air went whipping by him. The ground was approaching at an amazing rate. Then, just before Drey was claimed by death, he felt muscular arms grab his sides, and he was being lifted into the air. He wondered if he was dead, then saw what was happening: the gargoyle was flying him back to the ledge! They landed gently on the small ledge and Drey regained his balance. The gargoyle was a handsome, athletic looking Tiurnkish man. He was medium height, and had light brown hair and eyes as all Tiurnks did. When he spoke, he had a Tiurnkish accent; his vowels were greatly exaggerated. Strapped in an X on his back were the two scimitars. “I’m free!” he repeated, “You have freed me! What’s your name?” Now Drey saw Slike coming back along the ledge, quicker than usual. “There are more slingers on that side of the building!” he quickly explained, “Who is the gargoyle?” “My name is Parrow,” the gargoyle said, “But I don’t know who either of you are! I certainly want to know who this one is!” Parrow said glancing at Drey, “He saved me! I’m free!” “Who did that to-“ “Explanations later!” Slike cut in, “The guards will sling us off the building if we don’t move!” They all entered the window, and blocked the door with some of the artifacts. Just in time, too! They heard banging on the door, and someone was yelling for a battering ram. “Why are they after you?” Parrow asked. 25

“They believe we wrecked the Monastery of Tartaroth. Shadows did it, not us!” Drey said. Slike was lying with his ear on the brick floor. “Uh oh,” he said, “I think we will have a battle soon....a large enough one.” He stood up and continued. “From what I can hear, about twenty guards are coming to party with us. Parrow, you used to be captain of the guard, so I know you can show enough of them the meaning of war.” “You’re right, but how—” “I know a lot. Drey, how well can you use that sword?” “I’m okay, but I would be more comfortable using my bow.” “Fine,” Slike said, unsheathing his dagger. Parrow drew both of his scimitars and Drey took his bow from his back and knocked an arrow. They could here footsteps outside the door, and heard a man shout, “Pull!” and the battering ram was drawn back. “Heave!” The battering ram bashed through the door and men came streaming in. Drey was overwhelmed! He shot down two, but more men filled their places. Then he saw Slike stab one man in the gut, and parry another man’s blow with supreme talent. Simultaneously, Parrow was dispatching men as though he was Death himself. Whirling, he would strike one man with one sword while parrying and striking others with the other sword. Drey shot two more down and realized something: no man would get past his peculiar defenders. Then, just as the soldiers were beginning to dwindle, a strange man entered the room. He was wearing jet black robes and an ancient leather hat that covered most of his face. A look of extreme hate crossed Parrow’s face. “Quake!!” he screamed, and lunged past the soldiers towards the new foe. A blast of light from Quake’s hand sent Parrow unconscious on the floor. The same happened to Slike, and then a blast sent Drey into the wall. Then all went dark. Drey woke up in a small, musty cell. A barred wall was on one side, and a brick wall on the other. Slike was awake in the corner Parrow was pacing angrily, both scimitars out. “I’m going to kill him!!” Parrow shrieked. “What did he do to you?” Drey asked. “He changed me to stone! I was in debt to him, and he turned me to stone!” Then Slike spoke. “About a thousand years ago, back when this city was called Cair Mac, he was named executioner. He nearly got me killed once or twice. I can’t really remember.” “What is he going to do to us?” Drey asked somewhat nervously. He didn’t want to be struck by that spell again! “We’re going to have to fight for our freedom in the Arena of Blood. He built it himself, once he had control of the city. He has a 26

twisted sense of justice; if you kill your opponent, you get to leave. And you have to face the opponent alone.” They sat in the grimy cell and waited a couple of hours. They hardly spoke, and every now and then a guard would check on them. They were fed stale bread and what seemed to be dirty water, and each minded his own business. Drey wondered how he could possibly win against an adult opponent. He was trained only moderately with his sword! Slike just sat in the corner and thought. He hardly ever looked up, and sometimes he would pause and close his eyes for a few seconds. Parrow’s intent seemed simple: he was just waiting for something to kill. Drey kept wondering if someone had found Rytop. He was their last means of quick escape, and Drey had liked that dragon.

The Arena At noon the next day, a troop of guards had them cuffed and led them out of the building. Close by was a large, rounded off arena with a stairway leading up to it. Seats along the edges were packed with grim faced people. On a platform on the far end was Quake. “The culprits shall be judged by blood!” he yelled, and his voice echoed across the arena. The people were silent. “The demon child, believed to be dead long ago, will be judged first.” Slike’s cuffs were removed, and he walked into the arena. A large barred gate magically closed and locked behind him. Slike waited, but Drey did not know what for. Then he saw. A large creature was materializing in front of Slike. It looked like a small dragon, but it had eight heads. The dragon attacked first. It struck out with all eight heads, but only struck air. Slike had vanished! But Drey knew what to look for; if he looked closely, he thought he saw a small black lizard running along the ground. Then, there Slike was. He was standing behind the confused dragon, and was about to stab the body when a single head whipped around and Slike was forced to cut it off. Then Drey gasped—two more heads had grown back in the single head’s place! This was no dragon; this was a hydra! The whole body wheeled around and Slike was forced to cut more heads off,

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making this an even tougher opponent! Soon Slike was outnumbered: one Slike to some more than three score heads! This battle was not going well. Then Drey realized what Slike was doing. He was aiming for the body. But every time he was forced to defend himself, the foe merely became stronger. Then Slike used his cunning mind Drey had already sensed. “Hey, you stupid puddle monster! Here!” Then he picked up a stone and threw it at the creature. The heads went into frenzy, all trying to bite the stone. And that was just the distraction Slike needed. With a lunge, Slike gashed the monster’s stomach, and with a squeal it keeled over, several of the heads biting other heads. Slike had won the battle. “He has been judged!” Quake’s thunderous voice yelled. Drey was beginning to understand why he was called Quake: the stadium shook when he spoke. “This boy has proved that he is worthy of freedom!” The barred gate opened. Slike stepped out of the arena, with a neutral look on his face. “I won, you desert salamanders,” Slike whispered as he walked past the guards. Then he stood and waited for his companions at the edge of the stadium. Then Quake’s voice erupted again. “Now, the gargoyle shall fight!” he yelled. Parrow was un-cuffed and walked into the arena. He waited, and a humanoid creature appeared before him. It strongly resembled a scarecrow, dressed in ragged clothes with an old hat on its head. But then Drey saw past this disguise. The beast’s arms elongated and darkness radiated from it, putting an area of the arena in shadow. Then Drey remembered what this was. It was a Nightshade, much like a Shadow but more common. Some were good, but most were of evil intent. They were dreaded creatures, because they could only be killed by exposing it to direct sunlight, or decapitation. It was not sunny enough to kill it, but if a cloud passed over the sun and it became invincible, Parrow wouldn’t have a chance. Parrow seemed to understand this, judging from the look of terror on his face. The creature swung a large arm at Parrow, but Parrow ducked the blow and countered it with two of his own. This was useless though; the blades simply passed through the undead beast’s body. “Fly, Parrow!” Drey yelled. Parrow seemed to brighten, and leapt into the air, at the top of the leap pumping with his wings. The Nightshade stretched for him, but could not reach Parrow. It kept swinging....and was getting closer to a hit! Drey looked up, and to his dismay saw that a storm cloud was moving across the sun. Then Drey saw the cause for this problem: Quake had his arms reaching for the sky and was mumbling a strange incantation! 28

The Nightshade brought Parrow down, and pinned him to the ground with one arm while striking with the other. Parrow’s blades were simply passing through the creature’s arm. Then it reeled for the final strike: the Soul Thief. It was an attack that used the creature’s demonic magic to take its prey’s soul—and right now that was Parrow! Drey was tempted to shoot Quake with an arrow to the heart, but the guards would kill him in a blink. He glanced back at Slike in anguish-and saw Slike walking up behind one of the three guards, nodding to Drey. The answer was simple: shoot to kill. Drey unstrapped his bow and knocked an arrow. One guard protested, the other two intently watching Parrow die, but had his throat slit silently as a whisper in the wind. Neither of the other guards noticed. Parrow was held in the air by his neck, and the Nightshade was starting the Soul Thief. A strange pale light was being pulled from Parrow’s throat, and the Nightshade was eating it with a look of pleasure. There was no time to lose. Drey aimed for Quake’s chest and shot. The arrow struck on target sending Quake flying off the edge of his platform. Drey didn’t see where he landed, but Slike had killed the guards in two quick swipes. Drey looked to see if he had shot in time to save Parrow. The man was still wrestling with the Nightshade, but confident now that it was mortal. He swung his scimitar and cleanly took its head off. It disintegrated into a billion particles of dust. Parrow stood up, and gripped both scimitars in time to face the oncoming wave of guards. “Now, this is what I’ve been waiting for!” he yelled into the guards while hacking one’s shoulder, “A clean fight!” Slike was being Drey’s bodyguard while Drey was shooting death, one arrow at a time. He was going to be out of arrows soon though, and then he would have to use his sword. The audience of grim faced citizens was now cheering for the group of rag-tag rebels! They were standing, clapping and shouting for their heroes who had courageously stood against their unfair ruler. Then there was a roar, and a large, scaly beast came charging towards the stadium. “Rytop!” shouted Drey. His reptilian companion was fully healed from the looks of his wing, probably the effect of some form of dragon magic. Drey clambered onto his back and Slike followed, while Parrow continued to fight. “Take off; I’ll fly up once you are safe!” he called. They rapidly lifted into the air, and began flying out of sling range. Then Parrow came level with them. “Where are we headed?” Drey was about to say that he had no idea where, when Slike cut in.

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“North. We’ll pass through the Marshes of Madness then head to the realm of the ice elves.” “Fine with me,” Parrow called, “It’s not like I’ve got somewhere better to go.” Then they set off on their quest, fighting what was evil, and assisting what was good. The road may be hard, but, Drey was sure, every new friend would help.

The Marshes of Madness They traveled to the Marshes of Madness, a place rumored to drive a man insane with fear in only a brief time. Along the way they explained their quest to Parrow, who agreed that he was probably included in the legend, and decided that he would stay with their growing group of outcasts, oddballs, and outsiders. The swamp was large and menacing; with ancient willows and oaks with wild moss hanging from them that looked like it wanted to strangle you. They had to stick to the path, for to each side was mud and water, and none of them dared to see what was in it. At nightfall they made camp on one of the wider regions of the path. Slike said he was going to catch a Bullizard or the like for dinner, so Parrow and Drey waited in the camp and kept the fire bright. Steek wandered through the swamp. For one week he had sat in his old camp, and had finally left now. He wanted to find something he could feast on because he hadn’t eaten for several days. He saw a chunky Bullizard in the clearing ahead of him and drew his sword. He lunged out and killed in three strikes, then used his supernatural strength to drag it to a suitable camp. Then he felt a dagger flick up to his throat. Steek could have summoned Krakus, but was just too tired to do it. So he stood up and allowed himself to be led by the shaggy haired boy who had caught him, dragging his meal the whole time. Drey and Parrow had waited only ten minutes when Slike came marching back into camp. Following him was a young man that looked abnormally pale in the fire light. His eyes had a strange reddish tone to them. “Who is he?” Drey asked. “This is Steek, a Phantom. It seems that his family was killed by a medley of goblin warriors.” Introductions were made. Then Steek noted that they were eying his catch. 30

“I’ll share it with you three if I can cook on your fire.” That night they ate fully, and set up a night watch. None of them wanted to be caught off guard, especially if there were more goblins. The next day the group set off into the swamp. It was mostly just creepy, except for the occasion when a giant spider would attack. They traveled a few miles into the swamp, and made camp in a small section of road. Then there was a screech in the air, which came from a distance to the north: where the group was going. “What are those?” Drey asked Steek. The whole group had their weapons out and ready. “Harpies, probably a colony from the sound of it.” That wasn’t good! Harpies were vultures with the torso and head of a human woman. They were dirty in two fashions: they were covered in dirt and grime and they cursed like sailors. Their talons would tear flesh, and their wings improved their mobility; generally they were a formidable foe. The screeches continued, and the group kept to cover out of fear. Then all went quiet. For a moment at least. Then a low, ominous beating sound erupted from the marsh, at first quiet then intensifying. Suddenly Slike showed a look of horror on his face. “Wings! Run!” Suddenly Slike was whipped backward into the marsh, and screeches sounded again. Drey turned to face the sound and gasped: the harpies were less than a body’s length away! He yelled and jabbed one as it tried to snatch him, using the Silver Warrior for the first time. More harpies came though, taking the other’s place. None of them were sure where Slike was, but they weren’t going to join him unless it was in a rescue party. Harpies swooped, trying to carry away the remaining three possible meals. But they had forgotten about one thing: Rytop. He was flaming death, and no harpy who gained on him left. He blasted several of the ground harpies then took to the air, where the real battle would be. The harpies retreated, screaming in high voices the whole time. “Flee! Flee! A flaming beast is here! $@!*%! FLEE!!” Then they were gone. The party cheered but then hushed as Parrow spoke. “The filthy beasts carried away Slike!” he yelled, “Steek, where is the nest?” “To the southeast. But that would mean going off course.” “We will go off the trail and find Slike!” Drey interjected, “He would have done it for us, and he is part of the prophecy. He has to be saved!” But Steek was sharpening his strange sword on a stone. “Do you think I meant we shouldn’t go?” he said with a pale grin. “I was only saying that it would take time to get back. I haven’t had use for my sword in weeks!” “Maybe,” Parrow said, “but I haven’t used mine in ten centuries!”

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With that they were off, heading off the path towards, where Steek said, was the grimy she-buzzards’ nests. At sunset, the trio arrived at outside a small lake. Across the lake was a rocky hill, with a small cave in its side. Screeches and curses were echoing out of it, and it smelled of droppings and mildew. Some cries stood out among the rest. “Look at what I caught!” “I helped, you #&%$*!” “Either way, we have dinner—OW! The man-beast cut me! “It has got a knife! Get him!” Then a battle erupted from the inside of the cave, so rowdy it sounded as though the harpies were fighting each other, too. Drey led the way around the lake and in front of the cave. They looked at the raging battle and saw Slike; he was surrounded by harpies and was stabbing and dodging, an evil grin on his face the whole time. Drey heard another battle starting behind him and turned to see a strange sight: Parrow and Steek were fighting a huge scaly beast and more were coming from the slimy lake! They dripped of muck, were slightly larger than a person, and were shaped like standing fish. They fought viciously, using huge ridged fins as blades. Each one had a small hollow on his head, filled, more or less, with water. Parrow downed one, while Steek stopped fighting and started mumbling strange words. Then he transformed into a huge, spiked ball with arms and began punching and battering the fish men. Suddenly, something crashed into Drey’s back, sending him sprawled on the ground. He felt himself being lifted, and saw Slike pulling up. Harpies were flying out of the cave and taking to the air where they were at home. Slike was just starting to notice the fish beasts. “Kappa!” he declared. “Knock the water out of their heads, literally!” He knocked one on the head with the pummel of his dagger. “Blades will not work; the scales are too thick.” With that he punched the kappa, and then kneed it in the general area of its stomach. It keeled over, spilling the liquid from its head. Then it gave a shudder and fell over, dead. Parrow and Steek were copying the notion, while Drey shot the harpies full of arrows. They were getting away as fast as possible, shrieking and cursing. “The kappa! The kappa! Just you wait, no-feathered fools! You’ll be sorry! We won’t have to worry about you!” The party ignored the harpies’ shrieks of warning, and continued fighting. Then a rumble broke the battle, and the kappa leapt back into the water. Something gargantuan began rising from the water. Lily pads and reeds were growing off its monstrous back and its red eyes shone with anger at being disturbed. The harpies were long gone; they 32

must have known of this beast. Finally it was as far out as it would go. Half its body was out of the water, while the other was hidden. It was growling, a low, and deep, ominous tone. The whole lake was vibrating, and fish were jumping in fear. Who disturbs me? When it communicated, the words materialized in the group’s minds, startling them at first. Drey stepped up, at the glance of Slike. “We were rescuing our friend from the, uh, the harpies in that cave.” WHO?! “Well, I am Drey of Treedorm, that is Slike the Guide of Maezak, over there is Parrow of Cair Mac, and that’s Steek of the Marsh. We were only passing through when the harpies—” SILENCE, MORTAL!! Your earthly troubles mean nothing to me, half-elf. Tell me, what year might it be? “Well, it is mid-July, of the year 1000 of The Age of Peace. It will probably end soon, though.” When did this age begin? I began my sleep in year 12 of The Age of Discovery. “After the Battle for Cirka, during the Goblin and Kobber Wars. I was wondering, well.... just what are you?” I am the Timekeeper of Maezak. I was born when Maezak was. I will allow you to leave without harm from my kappa, if you allow a probing of your minds. I must discover what I can about recent history, and then I will time-sleep for another couple hundred-thousand years. Now, I will probe you. All the members of the party felt a strange intrusion on their minds, and felt as though their memories were being skimmed like a book. Then it was over as fast as it had begun, and the Timekeeper was slipping back under the water. In a moment he was gone. For a while the group waited, as though they had forgotten something they were supposed to do. Then they wandered away.

Proceeding North The group found their way out of the northern side of the Marsh, and proceeded across the Northern Plains towards their destination,

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the villages of the ice elves. When questioned, Slike said the Prophet said the spirit named in the prophecy was up north. Drey wanted to tell Steek about the legend, but Slike forbid it. He would not give any explanation, but severely warned Drey and Parrow against it. The land was pretty plain; in every direction were rolling hills, except for the Marsh, the only interesting landscape. They made some distance until sunset, when they made camp. At night several changes occurred. First of all, small rocks and boulders sprouted from the ground. This changed the land completely, changing the place into a rocky badland. Second, a yellow mist set in, covering the distance and limiting sight. Third, and most strange, torches lit in the fog. They floated in mystifying patterns just above the distant ground, never getting closer or farther. The whole group watched them suspiciously. “What are they?” Parrow whispered. “Fairies maybe. Possibly sprites,” Steek said, somewhat braver. “They might be nymphs. I’ve heard interesting rumors about them,” Drey said. Everyone in the group gave a mischievous grin except for Slike. “I think they’re spooks,” Slike said, and the grins faded quickly. “Wisps probably. It doesn’t really matter what they are. Just don’t look at them for longer then a glance.” Most of the group went to sleep, except for Parrow, who said he was going to watch for danger. Drey fell asleep quicker than he thought he would. Morning came and the rocks and the fog disappeared. Drey rose and looked at the camp. The fire had burned out, leaving nothing but hot coals. Slike and Steek were sleeping, but Parrow was nowhere to be seen. Drey decided he had gone hunting for breakfast. Drey waited, and soon Slike woke. “Where’s Parrow?” he asked sleepily. “He wasn’t here when I woke up. I think he’s getting breakfast.” When Drey said this, Slike’s eyes popped wide open. “He what! He looked, I bet he did! Let’s get going! See any footprints?” Steek had woken up during all the shouting, and Slike was running into the distance, following Parrow’s footprints. Drey waited for Steek to get up, and then they followed Slike. They arrived at a small grove of trees and shrubs, and the sand in the shady part of it was strangely textured. Slike was running around it, prodding all the trees. “Quick, find a vine!” Slike yelled when he saw them. Then Drey saw the situation. The shaded sand was quicksand, and Parrow was stuck in it. He was flapping his wings, desperately trying to free himself, but to no avail. Drey and Steek scrambled in search of a vine. 34

It must have been will-o-the–wisps they saw last night. They were spirits that could hypnotize a person if he looked at them too closely, and then led the victim to a place where he would be killed by some natural danger. While their prey died, the wisps consumed his spirit. Parrow had somehow survived to morning, so the wisps were gone. Slike pulled down a vine and tied the end into a loop. Then he tossed it out to Parrow, who caught it, and was then dragged in. He did a quick explanation, and it was exactly as they had guessed: in the middle of the night he had been hypnotized and led away, and he had fallen into the quicksand. They all went back to camp and packed up to leave. Then they continued travel, winding between the hills. Now they were noticing a drastic drop in temperature, and it was going to be uncomfortable during the night. They found the warmest place possible, a small cave in the side of a hill, built a large fire in it, and settled for the night. During the night, the cave walls kept them from seeing most of the wisps, and they would easily be able to hold off anything that might attack. Rytop was not worried about them, and he left to hunt himself a dinner. Steek stood guard this time, and they had a large pile of wood to keep the fire going. This time there was a reason for everyone to sleep quickly. Drey lay down in his bed roll and settled against the far wall of the cave. He was about to doze off, when there was a strange sound. Fffwip! He heard someone cry out, and Drey sat up and opened his eyes. Steek was facing away from him, and was grabbing his leg. Fffwip! He felt a strong pressure hit his shoulder, then pain. He looked and saw what it was: there was an arrow in his shoulder. More fired in, but Parrow and Slike were ready and dodged. None of the group could see what was shooting because it was cloaked by mist and darkness. They were all shooting at Parrow and Slike now, who simply kept dodging. Then they entered the cave. Ten goblins ran in, followed by three kobbers. This was a challenge. Goblins were short, and not good with weapons, but could shoot fireballs out of their miniscule trunks. Kobbers were man-sized, were very good with or without weapons, and each one had a large sting for a tail. They looked a lot like human scorpions. Parrow was at the goblins with Slike, while Steek summoned Krakus, whom the arrow didn’t affect. Drey struggled to shoot his bow with a punctured shoulder. He managed to knock an arrow, but couldn’t hold his arm straight to pull the string tight. Then a kobber noticed him.

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It launched its sting at him, but Drey rolled out of the way. He dropped his bow and stood, wielding his sword. The kobber charged him. Then Drey realized what the kobber was holding: a battle-axe. It brought the axe down, and caused a minor earthquake in the process. Drey rolled again, but his bow was chopped in two. He swung Silver Warrior at the kobber, but his blow was deflected by a block from the battle-axe. “Tartaroth terra!” Drey yelled, with his hand facing the monster. A wave of flame hit it, and its head combusted into a pile of ashes. Then he got an idea. “Parrow, defend me!” he called to Parrow, who moved in front of him, arms swinging death. Drey hastily pulled the forgotten spell book from his pack and began searching through the energy spells. Nothing was evident that could be used to kill the enemies without harming his friends. He turned to the mind spells and started skimming the pages. “Brain freeze—no. Psycho path—no, we aren’t lost. Hypnotism— yes!” Drey turned to the closest goblin, which was sneaking to backstab Parrow with a dagger, and pointed at it. “Hypnoteron,” he whispered. The goblin froze, staring into space. “Kill them!” he said, pointing at the group of goblins surrounding Slike. The goblin turned, and anger filled his eyes as he stumbled over to the mass of fighters. “Aye, Dimnot, help us fin’sh dis kid,” one goblin called to the hypnotized one. Goblins had trashy accents, because they were trashy creatures. Then it noted the glazed-over look in Dimnot’s eyes. “You all right?” Dimnot stabbed the goblin in the gut before it could say any more, then whirled and slashed another goblin’s back. In a few seconds, the goblins were fighting each other while Drey and his partners watched. The one living kobber slunk out of the cave, but Slike put a dagger in its back, and soon the battle was over with one goblin remaining. It stood, covered with wounds and blood, staring at the wall with a glazed look in his eyes. Slike wrapped up Drey’s arm after removing the arrow, and Parrow did the same to Steek’s leg. Then they tied up Dimnot, and Drey cancelled the spell. “Huh! Where am I? Oh. I remember.” He turned to Parrow. “Sorry I was going to stab you. I don’t know what came over me.” He laughed and smiled. The whole group gasped. No goblin ever apologized, as it was bad for his reputation. And the laugh hadn’t been a wicked laugh of evil, as the smile had not been of mirth or hate. The group turned to Drey. “What spell did you use?” Steek asked. “It was an average hypnotism spell. I ordered him to kill the other goblins.” “It was a good idea, too,” Dimnot interjected. Everyone looked confused—except for Slike, as usual. 36

“You influenced him,” Slike explained. “By having him kill creatures of evil, you reversed his evil nature. Simple.” He turned to the goblin. “Hello, goblin. I take it your name is Dimnot, from what that other goblin called you. I am Slike, and these are Drey, Parrow, and Steek, and Rytop will return from hunting soon.” Dimnot nodded. “I would bow to you in greeting, but would trip over these ropes I am tied in. A lone goblin would not make it through these hills. May it be possible of me traveling with you? You seem like nice people, even if you lack a trunk.” They all laughed at that, except for Parrow, though he seemed to be softening. They decided that Dimnot could travel with them as long as he wanted, and he turned out to be a decent goblin when he wasn’t raving for blood. They set out the next day and traveled far. When the sun started to set, and the rocks, mist, and wisps appeared, there was a strange new feeling: snow! That night they saw lights in the distance. “The villages of the elves!” Slike exclaimed. “Well, let’s go.”

Doing a Favor The group raced to the lights with high hopes, Slike leading and Dimnot in the rear. Suddenly Slike stumbled and fell in the front. He stood quickly grabbing his dagger. “Shadows!” he called out. A blade went flying to Drey out of the darkness, but with a swing of his dagger Slike blocked it. They all ran, continually moving erratically to make themselves smaller targets. They quickly closed in on the village. They came up to a small temple, and ducked inside quickly. At the altar was a statue of a female elf, wearing white gowns and having a sword of icicles. It had a look of stern goodness in its eyes. Drey avoided it, and ducked under a low table, sword drawn. He saw Dimnot close by, Slike and Parrow on either side of the door, and Steek floating over it. Then a booming voice broke the silence. “You dare desecrate my temple!” Drey froze. The voice sounded feminine, but if so it was a girl who could kill a Shadow. “Rise from beneath the table, Drey of Treedorm, and face me.” Drey slid out from under the table and turned to his commander.

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It was a female elf, with white gowns, a sword of icicles, and stern but good eyes. His jaw dropped, and he craned his neck to look around the girl; the statue was still there. “Who are you?” Drey asked. She almost smiled at him. “Fear not, Drey. I am Cleotia, Spirit of Ice. You have not dishonored my place of honor. The hideous snake-of-a-being behind you has, and must be killed.” Her voice was like an icy wind in a cave now that she was relaxed. Drey turned and saw Dimnot behind him. “We understand your feelings, divine being,” Slike called as he paced up. “This goblin was turned to goodness magically by accident, and he is a kind, good goblin now.” Dimnot’s green skin somehow blushed. “We didn’t mean to enter, but-“ Two of the windows blew out, and six cloaked figures jumped into the room. They all ran straight for Drey, deathly hatred shining where their eyes could be seen. Slike intercepted one, while Parrow grabbed another. Steek invoked Krakus, taking down two Shadows. Two made it to Drey. He was continually parrying to avoid being killed, and he didn’t have a chance at getting in a hit of his own. “You dare desecrate my temple!” Cleotia yelled angrily. “May the north wind serve justice!” Just as Slike stabbed his Shadow in the chest, a supernatural gust of wind fired from the north of the temple. The Shadows were whipped into the wall and kept against it by the wind. Cleotia pointed her sword at each in turn, and each froze onto the wall. When the wind stopped each Shadow shattered into chips of black ice. Cleotia waved her hand, and the chips evaporated into the air. “Now it is over,” she said, “and I must set things in line. First, I must correct you on what you called me. I am not of divine rank, only spirit.” Slike’s eyes lit up—a spirit was mentioned in the prophecy! “And it is blasphemy to title me unfairly. Second, if you will be here long, call me Cleo. Last, why have you come?” “We are on a holy journey,” Slike said, “We have the dragon master, Drey, the lizard, me, the beast, Parrow, the phantom, Steek, and we need the spirit, possibly you.” The ice elf went rigid, and then spoke. “I partially believe you, but cannot leave anyways. A band of trolls are in the nearby mountains, and terrorize my peaceful worshipers. If I weren’t here to protect them, the trolls would raze the village and kill its inhabitants. I will only leave if you eliminate the menace.” After that it was done, and the group found an inn to plan their mountain approach. Parrow wanted to crash a path up, Rytop flaming death, the group chopping limbs. Slike wanted a quiet stealth approach, with Rytop out of the way and a silent takeover. Eventually it was decided; Rytop would hunt in the hills for four days. The group 38

would takeover the trolls’ camp in silence and scare off the warriors. There would be time for the job to get done and rest afterwards. The group bought gear in the town. Drey found himself a new bow, and Dimnot got an average short sword, dumping his goblinmade dagger in a smith’s furnace. Each of the group members were healed by elven magic, and life felt wholesome. Iceleaf turned out to be a cozy little village. They weren’t able to defend themselves from the trolls because they didn’t like killing anything, and would rather be pillaged than end a beast’s life. The next day the group got directions to the bottom of the trolls’ mountain, and set off. Soon it loomed up before them. It was huge, with a rough path going up, and was covered in crevices, pits, and other dangers. Slike said one thing before they began the treacherous climb. “This is going to be fun, but I hope there are no ice spiders. I hate the things.” The path was easy at first, with the occasional boulder or pitfall in the way, but as the elevation grew, so did the cold. Soon it was hard to climb without slipping back down the trail, and everyone’s faces and fingers were blue from the cold. There were hardly any trees now, and no animals. At midday a blizzard started and travel was impossible. “Let’s stop for camp,” Slike called over the howling wind, “We can continue after the storm.” They pressed up under a small rocky ledge, and using a spell, made a fire the wind couldn’t blow out. Soon the heat made the ledge almost comfortable. Then a howl, animalistic, rang out over the winds'. “That is either the trolls or some wolves,” Parrow commented, “and I don’t care to find out which.” The howling lasted, getting louder and louder. “They must be closing in, and they probably aren’t peaceful” Dimnot said, “We should fight.” The howling was so close you could taste fear in the air. A club-like arm swung out of the blizzard and knocked Parrow from his spot in the coop. Red eyes shone out, and black claws glistened. Parrow gave a battle cry and drew both scimitars in unison. The creature jumped for Parrow, swinging its arms and howling. It swung at Parrow’s head, but Parrow swung both swords together like a pair of scissors, and chopped off the creature’s head. It dropped to the ground and lie still. The whole group settled back down as Parrow walked in out of the snow. “Don’t relax,” Slike breathed, staring at the monster. “If it is a troll, we may have to exterminate it in a different way.” The group watched the hairy pile of flesh, just trying to satisfy Slike. One of the creature’s arms twitched in the wind. Slike drew his dagger, making everyone jump at the sound. 39

“What’s wrong, Slike?” Steek asked. “It isn’t usual for you to be jittery. And that was obviously the wind.” Slike smiled. “Let’s see.” Then, everyone jolted as the creature rolled over in the snow, and started shivering. “Troll,” Slike said, with obvious horror. “Everyone scoot farther into the ledge, now. Dimnot and Drey, fire at will, and I hope your will is fast.” Drey pulled out his bow, and Dimnot made ready a fireball, but neither felt comfortable firing at a dead body, even if it moved. Then they watched in gruesome amazement as the creature sat up and grew a new head! It just sprouted out from the remains of its hairy neck. “Fire!” Slike shouted. Both fireball and arrow launched and struck the troll’s chest. Fireball charred fur as arrow gouged a wound, and the new head howled. It stood and tugged the arrow out of its chest, then painfully crawled towards the cave. Its chest wound was already healing over. “Run,” Parrow yelled, “before it turns you to stone!” Then the troll reared up and blew a strange blast from its mouth that resembled clouded gray fog and sand. Everyone moved out of the way, and where they had been the snow was now a pile of gravel. It opened its mouth again, but an arrow plunged down its throat. Drey gave a little cheer. “Burning is the only sure way to keep a troll from regenerating,” Steek said. “Drey, use that fire spell you killed the kobber with.” “Sure,” Drey said in response, “Tartaroth terra!” he exclaimed, hand pointed at the troll. A wave of flame burnt its body to ashes. Parrow began scooping through them, searching for unburned flesh that might grow back into the troll, while the rest of the group began lunch. Later they set off again, using fire spells to keep ice off the path. The sun set and it became deadly to travel, so they set up camp for the night. This time there was no howling. They were camped on a small plateau of ice that loomed over the rest of the terrain. It wasn’t the highest point in the mountain, but it was the highest in this area. They were lying, trying to sleep in the cold, when a strange groaning filled the air. “What is it?” Drey asked Slike. “It seems to be coming from beneath our camp,” he said, “It sounds like when you slowly bend wood. When you go far enough....” Suddenly the plateau caved in with an echoing boom, and the whole group was washed down an icy slide into a bleak, rocky, room. Drey looked up, and found Parrow on top of him, and Slike, Steek, and Dimnot tangled in the corner. Dripping water could be heard in the distance. “When you go far enough, the wood breaks,” Parrow finished. Then he got up, and Drey was able to stand and get a look around. 40

The walls were fifty foot high and sloped, but too icy to climb. An opening stood in one of the walls, and was lit by a strange light in the ice. Steek peered into the gloomy room, and found nothing except stalactites, stalagmites, and icicles. They all walked into the cavern, silent as the grave, and were standing in its center when a roaring voice broke out. “GOTCHA!!” it yelled. A net fell from the roof, covering the group of adventurers, and more cheers and growls called out. “We found the trolls,” Dimnot said. They walked out from behind the stalagmites holding torches that burned with a glowing blue fire, and waving spears and clubs. Three larger ones stepped in front. Each had a staff that glowed red, and each staff had a skull on top and a point on the bottom. “You kill Bash, when he go for snack. Face judgment trolls, me, he, and she,” one said. Drey had trouble believing one of them was a she. “Be in court, have fair sport. Might fly, might die. We see later.” It beckoned and ten trolls came up and tied the companions’ hands. Then they were led through a winding maze of tunnels and dropped off in a small room. There were furs on the floor for warmth, and buckets of food in the corners. It wasn’t touched though. It seemed the troll’s though everyone liked raw liver. A boulder was pushed in front of the door, blocking them in. “These trolls seem fair,” Steek said. “We may be able to win our freedom in court.” “If they don’t eat us, that is,” Parrow put in. “We might look tasty, though I wouldn’t know. Me not be troll.” He chuckled at his joke. “Let’s just wait,” Drey said. “These might not be the evil trolls we are looking for.” They slept comfortably, the furs being amazingly warm. In the morning they were escorted to a large cavern. There were rows of trolls to the sides, and at the far end was a dragon’s skull with three seats in it. In each sat a judge, the ones from the day before, and sitting on a high seat behind them was a troll with three horns. Now that he had a good look at them, Drey decided they looked more civilized then the other troll who had attacked during the blizzard; they were more human proportioned and less furry. “I am Wise,” the three horned troll called. “You are here to be judged for the murder of Bash the Wild yesterday. I am the only intelligent half-tame here, so I will be holding the proceedings, though the three below, Krasher, Payn, and Byte, will be judging you.” The three judges looked down, seeming to memorize every inch of their convict’s bodies. Then one spoke. “Do you done it, or not done it?” Slike nodded to Drey, so he stepped up. “We did it, but not out of cruelty.” 41

“Tell tale of battle.” “We were camping when Bash attacked us. We fought back, and killed him so that he wouldn’t turn us to stone.” “Lies!” a new, crisp voice called out. Drey finally noticed a tall thin man standing below the judges. Drey wondered what he was doing with the trolls. “They hunted down and killed Bash the Honorably Wild. Eat them!” There were murmurs of agreement in the crowds. Then Drey heard the man’s voice, but saw the man’s mouth wasn’t moving. He was just giving Drey a cold stare with fierce, gold eyes. Drey felt himself being drawn towards them with a strange hunger. He felt as though he was slipping into deep snow and couldn’t get out. Admit, a voice in his head said softly. I did it, I killed Bash. I stabbed him through the chest and burned him in cold blood. We will kill you all, and laugh in mirth. “I did it, I killed bash. I...” Then Drey realized what he was saying. He quickly cut himself off and continued normally, but he couldn’t drag his eyes from the man’s. “We were defending ourselves,” he managed to get out. Wise noted him eying the man. “I see that you are interested in our advisor. He is Doolin, part human, part will-o-wisp.” Doolin demonstrated by changing into a foggy mass and rising into the air. Then he landed. “May we continue?” Doolin said, annoyed. “Bring up the winged one. I believe he was attacked,” Wise said. Parrow walked up. “All I have to say is that the troll knocked me out of camp and tried to kill me. I fought back.” The trolls whispered to each other for a moment, and then Wise stood. “Our courts are short, and we have the story. You will now be judged. But I must correct you; we are not trolls. We are the halftame, part human, part troll. I am the only one who can talk without grammatical error, because I am only one-quarter troll. You may go now.” The group was led out of the room, and one last glance back let Drey see Doolin giving him a cold stare. See you in the kitchen. After waiting an hour, the group was led back into the judging room. Doolin was staring up at the judges and them staring back, and no one spoke. After he realized the convicts were present, Doolin quickly broke 1eye contact with the judges. They looked around with a confused look, then looked up and saw the group. “You been judged,” Payn said. “It be not fault, and....” He glanced at Doolin and drifted off. Then, with a blank face and eyes still 42

on Doolin’s, he said, “You be cooked. Boy for breakfast, lizard-human for lunch, goblin and gargoyle for dinner, and phantom for dessert.” The crowd began calling out complaints at the sentence, but Doolin glanced and they locked eyes with him in silence. Suddenly, Drey realized something, remembering what the wisps had done to Parrow.... “Grab him!” Drey yelled, pointing at Doolin. The other adventurers hesitated, then caught on and charged him. Doolin had to wrench his eyes from the audience before reacting, and by then Slike had a dagger to his throat. But Doolin turned to a foggy, man shaped specter, and began floating away. Drey remembered the brain freeze spell and pointed at Doolin. “Crano Iciop!” he shouted. The top half of the fog froze, and the whole shape sunk to the ground. Doolin materialized, grabbing his head and screaming in pain. “I did it! I took Bash’s mind and made him attack these travelers!” he shouted. The judges glared and the audience gasped. “I made the cross breeds attack the elves. End the spell, quick!” Drey cancelled the spell, and Doolin stood trembling. Then he turned to fog and disappeared down one of the halls before anyone could act. “I see we have been led to evil,” Wise said. “We will let you free, and send gifts of apology to the ice elves. Stay for dinner or leave now, your choice.” Then he turned and walked off. The group had no taste for raw meat, so they left, after the three judges apologized with true words. The way down was much easier then up, because the half-tames had a slide going to the bottom of the mountain. They made it back to Iceleaf in half the time they expected.

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To the West “I will gladly travel with you,” Cleo said, “but I hope you are aware that when I leave this town I become mortal, with only my icicle sword, which never melts.” “We don’t need your magic, we just need you,” Slike said. Dimnot had been looking uneasy the whole conversation, so Drey inquired. “What’s bugging you, Dimnot?” “I don’t want to leave. I really became friends with some of the elves, and I like it here. I was wondering if I could stay.” He looked at them hopefully. Slike gave one of his clever smiles again. “You can stay. You would make a good contact between the half-tames and the elves.” “Alright! I’m staying.” The group left the second Rytop returned. They planned to edge south, to warmth, then move west through the mountains. In the Rebels’ Forest there were said to be bands of people who fought against King Draconis when he rose up ten years before. Even after the Dragon Empire fell, they remained isolated in the woods for their own reasons. They would gladly rise again if needed. To the south were the plains they had come from. In three days they had arrived where it was moderately warm. Then they turned west, and the mountains were visible in the distance after a day’s walk. The whole time, Rytop circled overhead, watching for enemies. None were seen. These were the Barricade Mountains. They stretched hundreds of miles north and south, cutting Maezak in half. Dwarves were said to live in its dark depths, and, though good in nature, they were reputed to dislike outsiders. Going over the mountains wasn’t much easier; the tops were home to giants, kobbers, and ogres. As the mountains drew nearer, it became apparent from their size that the group didn’t have the supplies to go over. They decided that Rytop would have to fly over alone, while the group goes under. They planned to use the old caves miners used to travel through, and go as far in as possible. Then they would angle upwards and come out on top with only a small travel downhill left. After another day, they arrived at the mountains. A strong breeze blew down from the jagged peaks, as if warding them off. There were dense clouds in the distance; it would rain soon.

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“There should be a tunnel,” Slike said. “I have traveled through it before. It’s a dangerous path, but it is much quicker.” No one asked any questions, and they all began searching. Soon Steek called out— he had found the tunnel. It was a black hole in the mountain, concealed by ferns and vines. Wind pushed a current through it, making a low, moaning sound in the background. Once it was cleared of brush and light shown in, they could see it extended far into the mountain. Using torches from Iceleaf, they bid Rytop to leave, and entered the tunnel, Slike leading. It continued, straight and black, for several hours, before they reached a larger cavern. They couldn’t see far, but were able to resolve that it was very big, and opened up into an abyssal hole on their right. They kept on, keeping clear of the chasm, stopped to rest after another hour of walking. They decided to sleep, with two guards posted at a time, and eat a ration at will. None ate, the darkness keeping them on guard. Slike and Steek guarded first, then Drey and Cleo, because Parrow had guarded plenty in the past few days. While Drey was on guard, he became aware of noise other then the wind. There was a hollow dripping echoing out of the chasm. Sometimes a strange grinding could be heard. The dwarves might be nearby, in his reckoning. “Have you any plans what you will do, if we do beat the enemy?” Cleo asked from nearby. He thought. He hadn’t planned that far ahead, too concentrated on the mission at hand, but it was an interesting thought. “I’m not sure,” he answered. “I may rebuild Treedorm with some workers from Kiev. I’ve been busy with our travels, and haven’t thought about it.” “You do know what happens to you, if you defeat the Dragon King, and prove yourself to be the boy of legend?” Drey wondered. “Won’t I just go back to being a commoner?” He saw Cleo’s teeth gleam in the dark, and knew she was grinning. “You don’t know? If you defeat a king, you must either begin a nation or take his. In other words, become a king!” Drey gasped. He king? It wasn’t a pleasing thought. He was too young to be a noble, especially a king. What would his people think, being ruled by a teenager? He would have to dwell on the idea. Cleo seemed to understand. “You will have to think on the matter, I see. I will watch guard as you do it.” He sat back, and began thinking. He must have thought deeply, for it seemed only minutes had passed when Slike woke. “It’s sunrise. Wake the others, and we will continue our mission.”

45

Drey walked over to Parrow while Cleo went to Steek. Suddenly, Slike gave a hiss of silence, and the others hushed. Parrow was still half asleep, though. “What’s happening?” he said. Then he gave a yawn that certified that their stealth was lost. Once Parrow saw the others and quieted down, Drey became aware of flapping on the ground from not far away—footsteps. “Where you going?” a high, but rough voice called out. It was easy to distinguish the voice’s owner as a goblin. “I tink I heard some’tin,” another called back, closer. “I’m gonna check it out.” The footsteps grew closer, but no torches shone out, a disadvantage to the travelers; goblins had excellent night vision. Drey could barely make out Slike’s figure drawing his dagger, while Parrow had both scimitars half drawn, and he was slowly drawing them more. Suddenly, the goblin’s voice called out. “Hey! There’s some’ne—” Slike bolted, and stick the goblin through the throat. It keeled over and thudded on the ground. “What ’appened?” the other goblin called from farther away. “Crickey!” it abruptly gasped, “Intruders killed Tinok! ’Elp!” Parrow had stabbed the other before it could make another sound. But they were all wondering why it was calling out, unless other goblins were nearby. Then a high chatter of voices was heard from in the small chasm. Footsteps followed, along with bloodthirsty battle cries. “I think that it’s time to leave,” Steek said, and then he took off down the tunnel. Everyone else followed, not wanting to meet the goblin welcome party sent to meet them. They continued running for a while, and with their legs much longer than a goblin’s, quickly outran the enemies. They stopped for a short rest once they approached a tunnel leading from the chasm. They were all gasping for breath, and still had their weapons drawn just in case they were needed. Suddenly Cleo straightened. “I sense an extreme evil approaching,” she whispered. “There are only three things living down here that I know of,” Slike said, “and they are goblins, hobgoblins, and a few small dragons. Dragons are animals, goblins are just plain viscous, and hobgoblins—” “Are an extreme evil,” Parrow filled in. Hobgoblins were like giant goblins, with wings and bladed tails. They had been created by an evil magician brotherhood years before. Even though they were few, a lone hobgoblin could massacre a small town. “Let’s keep going,” Slike said, “and if we must, find a good place to take a stand. You four continue, and I’ll sneak out and scout the terrain. I will meet you wherever this tunnel leads. If you come to a fork in the trail, either wait or go left.” 46

Then he began glowing crimson and faded. A faint scuttling was heard as the Slike-lizard scampered away. Just as the group turned to leave, a strange call was heard from their right. Then quick, but stealthy, footsteps echoed from all around. Without hesitation, the group sprinted into the new tunnel. With no light and no way to light a torch while on the run, they had no choice but to run randomly forward. Drey had no idea if they had passed any forks or if he was going the right way, but decided the best thing to do was keep running. Drey had no idea how long or far he had been running. His legs were painfully sore, but it was better then being eaten by a hobgoblin. Suddenly, a strange light from ahead blinded his eyes, which had been adapted to the cave’s pitch black lighting. He felt himself run into something in front of him, and he fell, with it, to the ground. A groan sounded from under him. “Get off of me,” he heard Parrow’s voice say. He stood, and as his eyes adjusted to the new lighting he opened them. He was standing in a narrow tunnel, with a turn ahead and Parrow beside him. Cleo and Steek were nowhere to be seen, and behind them was pure darkness. “We lost the others!” Drey said with a moan. Parrow drew both swords, a look of joy on his face. That meant only one thing—battle. “We have different problems right now,” Parrow said, nodding to the darkness behind the pair. A shadow stirred in the dark. A large head with bulbous eyes and a small trunk poked out. They were followed by a large finned body with a winged back, legs with claws that could slice stone, and a long, bladed tail. The hobgoblin watched them with an excited expression. Drey pulled out Silver Warrior, and took a step forward so that he was next to Parrow. The hobgoblin studied them more, sizing up the chances of being killed. They must have been small, for it whipped forward like an arrow. It swung its tail at Parrow, and swung its claws at Drey. Parrow stuck at the tail, bouncing it back with a clang of steel on metal scales. Though it was meant to be offensive, it did successfully block the hobgoblin’s attack. Drey was less defended than Parrow; Parrow had two scimitars that could be moved quickly, while Drey had a single broad sword, which took time to use. He blocked the claws from reaching his body, but the huge hand tore Silver Warrior from Drey’s grip. The sword was flung to the side, but Drey was not defenseless. “Tartaroth terra!” Drey called out, the sound echoing down the tunnel. A wave of flame struck the creature’s nose, while, simultaneously, Parrow stabbed its side up under the scales. 47

The effect was brilliant; the creature’s hissing squeal erupted through the tunnels, causing pain in Drey’s ears. One thing the creature hadn’t added in his calculations: magic. It turned, directing all of its attention to Drey. With a shriek, it struck out with both claws and its tail. Drey blocked one arm, while Parrow blocked the other. There was no way to block the tail before it hit, so Drey jumped to the side. The hobgoblin mad an erratic tail swerve, and did his best to hit Drey. The effort was wasted. Drey was far enough to the side that before it could reach him, the tail had to go through its owner’s neck. The tail collided, and hacked into the hobgoblin’s own neck. It hissed what sounded as close as could be to a human word—and not a polite human word either. By then the monster had had enough. It turned and scampered away down the tunnel, squealing in submission. Parrow laughed. “Run, coward!” he called down the tunnel. Both he and Drey put away their weapons. They then left and proceeded towards the turn ahead. The strange yellow light still shown, and was getting brighter. They turned the corner and met the light: sunlight. The cave opened to the edge of a small field, with flowers and grass blowing in the wing. There was an occasional tree, and small bees flew between flowers in search of pollen. “We have to go back for the others,” Drey said, more to himself than to Parrow. “You’re right. This is probably the only exit, and we must lead the others to it,” Parrow replied. They both turned, somewhat sadly, and walked back into the tunnel. This time they had the chance to light torches, and saw the path ahead. After a few minutes of walking, they came to a split in the tunnel. It was barely noticeable, hidden by its own darkness. Parrow took the extra room’s advantage and stretched his wings while Drey looked for footprints leading into the tunnel. Then Drey remembered how he would hunt Bullizard back home.... “Tracus goblins,” he said, as a test run. He felt a strange sensation pulling him into the tunnel. “Tracus hobgoblins.” The same feeling. “Tracus Slike.” He was in the tunnel. “Tracus Steek and Cleotia,” he said with fear. He felt the same strange longing pulling him to the tunnel. That meant Slike, Steek, and Cleo were in there, along with the goblins and hobgoblins. Steek ran in the dark. He heard footsteps next to him, assuring him that one of his friends were close by. He decided to find out whom.

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“Stop! We aren’t being chased anymore,” he called out, hoping it were true. He slowed, and could hear the footsteps stop next to him. “Who is it?” he said, trying to see in the darkness. “Cleo,” her voice answered. “Where are the others?” Steek finally noticed that Parrow and Drey were missing. He looked around, trying to see where they had gone. If there had been a branch in the tunnel, he hadn’t seen it. “They might have gotten directed into another tunnel. If I become Krakus, I’ll be able to guide us down the path; Krakus can see in the dark.” “All right.” Steek summoned Krakus, and felt Cleo’s hand grasping one of the spikes on his shoulders. Then he was able to see the tunnel ahead and behind. Neither way had any evident extra paths. They continued down the tunnel they were in, Steek leading. Soon, Steek’s night vision started to fail. He reverted back to normal, and saw why: there were torches lining the walls ahead. Extra silent, they crept up to the end of the tunnel. A gruff voice was shouting something, and smaller voices were responding. A large metal door stood at the end of the tunnel, its hinges coated with rust. The noise was coming from behind it. As Steek approached the door, he noticed that it was cracked open. He snuck forward cautiously, even though the shouting would cover any noise he made. When he reached the door, he peaked through the crack. Fifteen to twenty goblins were crowded in a small cave. Another door stood at the opposite wall, and a large hobgoblin stood in the middle of the mass. He was shouting commands and the goblins were shouting agreements. “We must track down the intruders, and tear out their bones! Whoever brings in the lizard eyed one shall receive a hefty prize in gold.” “Yessir!” shouted back the goblins. Steek was surprised, not thinking hobgoblins could talk. He had always thought of them as wild animals, not leaders. The goblins suddenly got quiet, and the hobgoblin growled. “Seize him!” it yelled. The goblins all charged at the opposite door, screaming madly. “He’s mine!” “It’s the lizard boy!” The goblins pulled a tall, skinny boy into view—Slike. They argued over him, more intent on getting the gold prize than killing him. Slike glowed a strange red, and Steek knew what was about to happen.

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“Just kill him!” the hobgoblin suddenly cried, crashing through the crowd. It was whipping its tail wildly, and no goblin braved its path without losing a limb. Steek knew Slike wouldn’t have time to change before the hobgoblin reached its prey. He charged out and became Krakus at the same time, surprising every goblin in the room. They had been concentrated on catching the boy, when suddenly a ball of blades went flying into the room, followed by an elven woman swinging a sword of ice! They all charged the new quarry, leaving their backs to be stabbed by Slike. Steek battered his way through the room, never leaving Cleo too far behind. With one swing of his arm, he would send three goblins flying. Goblins were persistent creatures, though; they would get back up and charge again. Cleo was very efficient. She was leaving dead goblins in her wake, and was never struck by a goblin’s weapon. When they were within Slike’s hearing range, Slike called out to them. “Head for that door,” Slike said, pointing at the one they had come through. Steek was going to scold him for declaring it in front of the goblins, when the little creatures all weaved to the door he had pointed at. Slike gave a laugh and ran for the other door, which was now clear of goblins. The goblins realized their mistake too late: Steek, Slike, and Cleo had already gone through the door and closed it behind them. They were met with a large cave—and no escape route. It was full of space, but no doors or tunnels were to be seen. Crates of minerals and barrels of wine sat scattered around. In the middle of the room, a large hill of boulders stood, and in the middle of the hill the pile touched the roof. “I came from this room when I was caught,” Slike said, “I caused the cave-in during my entrance, just before the goblins arrived.” Steek was curious as to how Slike caused the cave-in, but his questioning was cut off by Cleo. “What do we do now? The goblins might find Drey or Parrow,” Cleo said. “They won’t,” Slike said with a grim smile. “Even if we are in here, they found their way to the exit.” Just then, the hobgoblin’s voice echoed through the door, which Steek had blocked with sacks of granite. “We do not think we will get into the room unless you let us,” he said, “but you will starve if you wait; you aren’t immortal.” “All three of us are!” Slike called back. It was true; Slike was thousands of years old, spirits didn’t require nutrition, and phantoms did, but only for comfort, not life.

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“I am not finished,” continued the hobgoblin. “We have your friends, and if you don’t open the door right now, they will receive brandings on their backs.” Slike smiled. “You don’t have them, you liar,” he said without looking up. There was a pause on the other side of the door, and then the hobgoblin roared in fury. “Yes we do, intruders!” he roared back. “They wandered in here looking for you after you ran into the storage room. The noise attracted them.” Slike closed his eyes, and cocked one ear towards the door. He listened for a moment, and then seemed to smile, even though Steek and Cleo heard nothing. “Three....” he whispered, “two....one.” Suddenly a voice shouted, “Tartaroth terra!” outside the door, and there was the terrifying sound of goblins screaming. The hobgoblin roared, and the noises of battle rang out. “Now we leave!” Slike shouted, heaving the bags away from the door. He flung it open and ran out into the frenzy, dagger raised. Steek ran out, summoning Krakus, and Cleo followed, waving her icicle sword. Slike killed the hobgoblin with one thrust of his dagger into its scaly neck—Steek wondered why he had not before—while Parrow spread his wings, knocking goblins everywhere. Drey was continually using the fire spell, burning up goblins by the dozen. Soon, they stopped fighting to look around them. All the enemies were dead, and corpses were scattered across the floor. Everyone put away their weapons and sat down to rest on the floor. Suddenly, an array of arrows went flying into the room. But, their reflexes increased from the battle, everyone dodged, and pressed themselves against the walls of the cavern. “Into the storage closet!” Cleo yelled. They all darted into the room, and Slike closed it behind them. Goblin cries of victory sounded from the other room, and the pounding of small hands sounded on the door. Parrow was blocking it with sacks again, while the others hastily searched for the nonexistent way out. Only one exit revealed itself: the door they had came in through. “Hide around the corners of the boulders,” Slike whispered to the group, nodding towards the avalanche of rocks. They all ducked behind the pile, which hid them completely. “Burn up the sacks, Drey,” Slike said. Drey pointed at the bags of ore and muttered the incantation. They burnt up in a wave of flame. Now, without the support of the leather sacks, the rocks began to shift, allowing the doors to open. It creaked open slowly, and goblin arms reached through, trying to gain leverage on the inner wall. As soon as it was wide enough, 51

goblins squeezed through, swinging their weapons and screaming in anger, which was common in goblins. Once they saw the enemies missing, they began mumbling in confused voices. One stumbled less than a foot away from Drey, who was hidden by pebbles on his back, and boulders at his front. “Now!” Slike cried. The goblins jumped in surprise, and the heroes went flying out of their rocky cover. Drey decapitated the goblin next to him, and twisted to block another’s attack. Slike backstabbed one, and then ran straight for the hobgoblin entering the room. Drey saw this hobgoblin, which had a strangely familiar gash on its neck. Now that he had a view of the goblin troop he was fighting, Steek realized that reinforcements must have arrived. More than thirty goblins were in the room, counting the dead ones. Two hobgoblins were also in the fray. Slike had just stabbed one’s throat, and the other was trying to avenge the loss by killing Parrow. Parrow chopped one sword at the creature’s nose, while blocking its tail with the other. A goblin jumped on Parrow’s back and wrapped its arms around his throat, leaving Parrow open to the hobgoblin. Drey ran up and stabbed the goblin, blasted the hobgoblin with fire, and Parrow brought both swords down on the hobgoblin’s head. It suffered a severe wound from the attack, and went down bleeding. Soon goblins began to dwindle, and only a little more than ten were left. They saw the opposition’s strength and ran, screaming, from the cave. This time, the group didn’t relax. Drey and Parrow led them straight to the exit, and left the cave hastily. When the sunlight hit their eyes, no vision in any of their dreams could have been more favorable.

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Unexpected Welcoming They waited in the field, and Parrow hunted a couple rabbits out for lunch. They were waiting around their fire, when, at about sunset, they spotted Rytop overhead looking for them. When they signaled him with some shouting, he circled down happily and met them in the field. They told Rytop the story of what happened in the caves, while he listened intently. By the time their tale was over, everyone was packed and ready to leave. Drey sat on Rytop’s back, who waddled, strangely, but quickly, along, while everyone else walked. They continued east, the tall grass itching at every part of them up to their chests. When it was too dark to see, the cleared out an area in the grass, and, after a head count, went to sleep. Rytop stood guard; even in this peaceful field, the goblins may have followed them. The field suddenly lit up, a cloud having moved from the full moon’s path. Luckily, no one spotted any will-o-the-wisps, so they looked at the field around them, eagerly taking in the scenery. To the west were the mountains they had crossed under, shining in the moonlight. To the south, the Charmed Sea lie, famous for its three charmed islands created by wizards long before. To the west, far in the distance, was the large Rebels’ Forest, the groups’ destination. North, fields stretched far into the distance. As Drey watched, he thought he saw something in the distant northern fields. The grass seemed to be moving, far off, as though something was coming towards the camp. He saw a path of tramped grass that only a huge creature could have made, behind the movement. A chilling howl broke the air, and Drey realized this wasn’t his imagination. Parrow ran up beside Drey, and looked into the distance. He certainly noticed what Drey was watching. “Wolves!” he exclaimed. “We must prepare for battle, even during this calm period.” His accented Tiurnkish voice made that lone sentence seem very dramatic. Slike jumped up behind Parrow, Steek 53

and Cleo following. Rytop looked over their heads with interest of battle. “That is a wolf,” Slike said. “Why is he without a pack of brethren?” Cleo asked. Suddenly, Rytop gave a wining growl and began dashing across the camp nervously. He kept swinging his massive head towards the fields in the west, wanting them to run. He was showing fear—not very common in the dragon species. “What’s wrong?” Drey asked fearfully. He certainly had reason to fear if Rytop did! Rytop looked at him with wide eyes. “He bears a human scent!” Rytop growled. “What does that mean?” “He is a wolf with human scent—a werewolf. Run! You don’t want to be bit by a creature like that!” Drey quickly comprehended Rytop’s fear. Werewolves were of evil intent, not neutral like werelizards. That meant if you were bitten, you wouldn’t have free will like Slike; you would change every full moon, and kill all in your wake. Getting bitten by one was worse than being killed by one. Parrow ran to the fire and grabbed his pack. He hefted one to Drey and then to Slike, while Steek and Cleo each grabbed theirs. They all took off towards the west, and more howls, closer, drove them faster. Soon they were running, Rytop circling above, acting as a watch guard. A howl suddenly broke behind them, and they could hear the grass shaking as it ran up. But Rytop spread his leathery wings and dived behind them, loosing a blast of fire on the spot. Whimpers sounded, and the movement stopped. Everyone stopped to rest, except for Slike, who continued running. “Run!” he shouted back. “Werewolves have healing abilities. Why do you think I have survived two-thousand, two-hundred, and sixty-four years?” No sooner had he said it than a low growl arose behind them. “Rytop, keep him at bay!” Drey yelled to the dragon. Rytop nodded his scaly head and continued circling. The group quickly dashed away as Rytop fired another wave of heat. The werewolf must have dodged this one, for there was no pleasing squeal. It fired out of the grass behind them, teeth bared. It was twice the size of a normal wolf, white furred, and with bright red eyes. It glared at them for a second, deciding who to bite first, then dashed at Cleo. Her icicle sword was already in her hand though. She brought it down on the wolf’s back, and shaved two pounds of fur. The wolf squawked, and then backed away. It wasn’t smart to attack someone who attacked back, in its primitive thinking. So it went for the smallest person, who it thought would be the weakest: Drey. 54

Drey wasn’t as defenseless as he looked, however. He cried an incantation, and the werewolf’s head grew a slight layer of frost—the brain-freeze. It keeled over, squealing. “Run!” Drey shouted, already doing it himself. The beast’s healing powers were already defrosting its head, and it stumbled about, trying to douse the dizziness. As they ran, the grass concealed it, but when they approached it showed—a tree, or to the group, cover. They climbed it like squirrels, scrambling away from the danger. Once they had comfortable places, high from the ground, they relaxed and waited. The wolf stumbled into the clearing around the tree, still partially confused from the brain-freeze. It sniffed, looked up, and saw them. Its growl and glare was terrifying, but it was better than its bite. It scratched at the tree’s trunk, but couldn’t find any footholds for its claws. Then it sat and waited. Hours went by, with Rytop overhead and the werewolf below. It growled menacingly, but couldn’t reach them. Then something strange happened. A shadow fell over the fields as a cloud moved over the moon’s path of light. The wolf groaned and began rolling in circles on the ground. The fir shrunk, and the wolfish proportions grew human as the adventurers in the tree watched with amazement. Soon, a man, naked and unconscious, lay in the clearing. He had white hair on his head and was muscular, though he looked to be over fifty years old. After a couple seconds, the man woke. “What....where....no!” he slowly groaned. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked around and saw the people in the tree. “Run! The moon won’t be blocked long!” he called to them. Then he mumbled to himself, “The curse was supposed to be broken....Wode said it was....” Drey remembered Wode as the traveling wizard who had lived in Treedorm. Drey carried his spell book now. “You knew Wode?” he called down to the man. The man looked at him questioningly. “Yes, but what do you mean knew ‘knew’?” he said, momentarily forgetting his curse. Then, more crackling sounded from the grass towards their west. “I thought that wizard broke the curse!” a feminine voice called out. A young woman with long blond hair ran into the clearing. She quickly wrapped the man in a cloth, making a toga-like suit for him. Then she saw the group. “Who are you?” she called sternly. A roar from Rytop broke the conversation. Drey looked up, and saw Rytop pointing his head into the air while flying. Drey saw what he was pointing at: the cloud was sliding away from the moon. “Climb up!” he called to the woman urgently. “The moon—look!” She looked up, and saw it. Already a light was spreading across the field. The man was groaning, and the woman had fear in her eyes. 55

She quickly began scrambling up the tree, and the man began coughing as the light struck him. Fur sprouted from his skin, and his head elongated into a pointed snout. He began growling, low and ominously, and sprang at the woman, only half-formed. She screamed and fell, pointing at the werewolf. Parrow sprang down from the tree, both scimitars over his head, screaming his battle cry. This time they all recognized what he said: “This mouse has teeth, evil!” He landed in front of the woman, and blocked the werewolf with a slice to its nose. It reeled back, and began circling the tree with a growl. Parrow followed its movements, both wings spread to their fullest. Drey wondered why, and then saw the werewolf looking at his opponent’s ‘size’ in fear. It seemed cautious. “Climb onto my back,” Parrow told the woman, eyes still locked on the werewolf’s. “What?” she said fearfully. “Do you think these wings are for attraction? I can fly us away!” “Oh!” she exclaimed gleefully. She walked up behind Parrow and hooked an arm over his shoulder. The man had fully changed to werewolf form now, and its evil thoughts were growing, along with some cleverness. It recognized that Parrow would be less mobile with the woman clinging to him, and it was only waiting for its chance. “Lower your swords,” the woman said. “What?” Parrow gasped in disbelief. He was—or had been— Parrow, Captain of the Guard of the South Patrol. A warrior never lowered his weapon to an enemy! “I have magic. Lower your metal weapons or you will suffer more than the werewolf.” Parrow slightly lowered them, but at a grunt from the woman, lowered them all the way. The woman put her arm over Parrow’s huge shoulder and pointed—at where the werewolf had been. “Where—” Parrow began, but a call from Slike caused him to spot the werewolf dashing behind them. He quickly turned, but knew he wouldn’t have time to fight. The werewolf was in the air, closing in on Parrow with a snarl of victory. A flash and a buzz sent the werewolf flying backwards through the air. The woman had her fingers pointed at the wolf. She was smiling at Parrow like a child who had washed the dishes when his parents had thought him too young. The werewolf got up again, and she fired another bolt of yellow from her finger tips. It buzzed the wolf, who then fell over twitching. It got up again, but kept its distance. It regarded her as armed and dangerous from this point on. It regarded them coldly, mouth dripping foam.

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“Kill it,” Slike said from the tree. “You’ll need a silver sword to do it. Drey can do that.” He beckoned to Drey’s pack. Drey pulled out the spell book and searched through. He decided the Enchantments section would have what he needed, and flipped to it. He skimmed over the lists of spells, deciding what was best. Finally he found a good one. Then he remembered he had a silver sword! Suk Clet meant Sliver Warrior, after all. He decided Parrow would like to finish his battle, though, and kept his thoughts to himself. The spell required contact with the blade, so Drey began climbing down from the tree. During the brief intermission, however, Parrow and the woman had dropped their guard again. As Drey climbed down, it leapt for Parrow’s back. No one saw it but Drey, so he took the last choice he wanted: he dived into battle. He landed on one knee and scared the wolf back with a swing of his sword. He was less skilled than Parrow, though, and wasn’t used to many tricks of battle. The werewolf feigned to one side, then, as Drey stabbed in that direction, it dashed forward and quickly closed the distance between it and Drey. Parrow could do nothing without the chance of hitting Drey, and the woman likewise, so no one could stop the werewolf from sinking its teeth into Drey’s left shoulder. It stepped back and howled in triumph, but the noise was ended as Drey swung the silver sword around and chopped into its neck. It fell over, buck didn’t heal this time. The group was already rushing around Drey to help him and bandage his bite, but he shook them off. He was getting a strange fever in his head, and he had a strange new enhancement to his senses. He could hear a quick thumping, and, looking around for its source, realized that it was all the others’ hearts. He smelled their sweat, a rabbit far from the tree, and a strange, flavorsome smell, like lemon juice—fear. It wafted off the others, and, though he knew it was fear for his health, he wanted...needed to kill them all. He felt his skin grow tight on him, and felt his nose stretching into that of a wolf. Then it suddenly ended. He looked up and saw that a cloud had crossed the moon, which was low on the horizon. The sun would rise before the moonlight was freed, so Drey did the most sensible thing someone hopeless could do —he passed out on the grass.

The Cure Drey woke in a small tent with leather walls, sunlight shining through them. He was on a soft mat, with an animal skin blanket covering him. He sat up, and found that a wound was bandaged on his shoulder. He slowly recollected the night’s events, and wondered briefly why they hadn’t stabbed him with his own sword of silver.

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“Finally!” a cheerful voice exclaimed from the door. It had a strangely familiar Tiurnkish accent. “You have slept for two days, hero! Slike guarded you for more than one of them. I replaced him this morning.” Drey sat up and saw Parrow in the doorway, sitting on a large rock. Drey thought Rytop had probably rolled it there, for Slike’s comfort. Drey realized that he respected the werelizard now. He walked out of the tent. He was at the edge of the forest, and it was only a little to the side of the tent. The woman, Slike, Rytop, Steek, Cleo, and now Parrow were seated around the fire. “You are awake!” Slike shouted joyfully when he saw Parrow. “Let me tell you what happened. This is Tesla, who was the werewolf’s sister, and she happens to be an exile from the Rebels. And, better yet, she knows a cure for you!” With that he jumped up and ran to Drey. “She says that only about ten miles south of here is an inlet from the Charmed Sea, where a witch has a tower. If we complete ‘a task for the witch,’ Tesla’s own words, the witch might cure you! And if not...” He drew his dagger and threw it at a tree nearby. It stuck five inches in. “All we need is time,” Steek said. “You sometimes had us afraid we would have to kill you. You would change into a werewolf at night.” He shuddered. “We always needed a guard to watch you; you might have woken.” “What do you mean ‘exile’?” Drey asked Tesla. “My brother and I...” she paused, and looked as though she would cry for a second. “We had talents dangerous to the village. My brother, Lunice, was a werewolf, as you know. I would discharge electricity at random moments. We have—had been living here for two months. We had planned on moving back since a traveling wizard cured, or said he cured, Lunice. We don’t need to cure him now....” She looked out onto the field, and Drey followed her eyes. A small grave was set in a spot near the tree he had passed out at. He wanted to ask more questions, but decided it wasn’t a good idea. Besides, in only a few hours the sun would set... “We should get going,” Drey said to the others. “Fine,” Slike exclaimed, “but we told Tesla she could come along. Fine?” “Fine,” Drey replied. A girl with the ability to shoot electricity could come in handy. He packed his bags, and the others put out the fire. Then they set off south. The way was safe, with grass stretching in every direction, forest in the distance. The sky was clear of clouds and the sun shone. Soon a great, blue mass of ripples was visible in the distance: the Charmed Sea.

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They ran faster, enjoying the slight breeze and warm weather, though Drey dreaded what would occur if his cure wasn’t found. Drey was directly behind Parrow, everyone else following. Parrow suddenly dropped through the grass. Drey halted, and everyone else did behind him. They called, but Parrow was gone. “Good thing I have wings!” a Tiurnkish voice exclaimed. Parrow flew up—through the ground. The rest of the group prodded the ground ahead with a stick, and, sure enough, it went straight through. “First of the witch’s tests,” Tesla said. “She only lets those most worthy to see her.” “I take it she doesn’t like company?” Cleo said. “No, she does not. If you do manage to pass every test, she’s still said to be moody.” They searched, and found a bridge of rock more then a mile east. Now that the illusion had been discovered, it faded, revealing that the sea was not in the distance, but right in front of them! The three Charmed Islands were out on its blue surface, specks in the distance. The bridge led out over the sea, and in the distance a small pillar of rock stretched up from the water. They followed the bridge for some time, always poking ahead with a stick, and finally came to the pillar. It stood high above their heads and descended far below them, where it met the thrashing waves. The bridge led them to a large outline on the wall of the pillar. “It’s probably a door,” Steek said, “so try prying it.” They tried with daggers, and swords, tied a rope around its corners and tugged, hit it, but nothing opened it. They examined it closely and found a small rune on its center. Cleo translated it as ‘turn’. “You can’t turn a square stone!” Parrow argued. “That is what it says, and I am confused also.” Parrow grew annoyed and turned around. “Look!” he gasped and the others turned also. The entire rock bridge had disappeared. Rytop had stayed at the camp, so there would be no flying back except for Parrow, and he was inexperienced. Tesla groaned in frustration and leaned back against the wall— and was gone! “What happened?” Slike said frantically. He suddenly realized something. “Ah! This witch is clever.” He turned and walked backwards towards the wall, the others watching hopefully. He disappeared into the wall as he touched it. The others mimicked him, and soon everyone was on a long, winding staircase. They went so far up that the end couldn’t be seen; the same happened when you looked down, along with a great fear of falling. Slike started up, so the others followed; he seemed to always be right when he made a decision. Parrow flapped his wings, and began

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hovering up the middle of the tower. The others were nearly knocked off of the stairway in the burst of air. “Sorry!” he called down. Then he turned his attention upward and disappeared into the never-ending sky of the tower. The others ran, trying to reach the top as fast as possible. They were all running full speed up the stairs when Parrow suddenly appeared before them. Slike ducked under one scaly wing, while Drey hit Parrow’s chest. Cleo, Tesla, and Steek all bashed into his wings, which were spread wide—he had probably just landed. “I think some form of magic is holding us back,” Slike said, peeking over the top of one of Parrow’s wings. They all looked up again, and found that the roof was still not to be seen. One feature stood out: a window just ahead, taking up the wall from the level they were on to the one above it. Drey looked through with fear, and his horror was confirmed: the sun was glowing red on the horizon. Sunset was approaching. “We must reach the top faster,” Slike said with an amazingly calm tone. Drey wasn’t as calm, not by far. He was remembering the lust for blood again, and didn’t want to experience it a second time. He began running up the stairs. The feeling suddenly began to grow at an amazing rate. The stairs slid by under him, but he didn’t go forward. The window remained to his right, and wasn’t going to move to his past. Even stranger, the sun was sinking at a rapid rate as he ran. The hate and the need for violence overwhelmed him as the moon rose, and he dropped to the floor. Pain spread through his body, and the feelings emphasized. He felt as if his skin was too tight once again, and he saw small black hairs sprouting from his skin. Drey saw his friends around him, shouting back and forth. The words were blurred out by a much louder noise: the beating of their hearts. Parrow rushed up to Drey and lifted him into the air. He rushed Drey back down the stairs; though the window remained right there, the sun sank in it. Almost immediately, relief surged through Drey and the feelings dimmed. The heart beats faded and the fur sunk back into his skin—Drey wondered where it went, momentarily—and he saw Cleo sigh in relief. “Time goes faster as we go up,” Slike announced, “and faster as we go down.” Drey was gasping for breath on the floor, sweat streaming, and Parrow was holding him steady. No one wanted the Dragonmaster to die from a trip down the stairs! “I have a theory,” Tesla said. “We had been running up these stairs for a good while before we reached the window. Couldn’t days have passed since our arrival?”

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The group looked in her in awe, and Slike slowly nodded. “She’s smart for a human. But I believe I have a way out of this,” Slike said, still nodding. Tesla looked at him in distress. “I’m sorry to say this,” Tesla slowly said, looking at her feet. “I am not a—” She was cut off by gasps of fear, and none asked what she was going to say—because Slike had just jumped down the center of the stairwell! Everyone looked down with fear, but he had faded into the lower reaches of the stairs. “I believe that the werelizard is a smart one,” Cleo said, “so I will follow.” Then she jumped down also, disappearing into the distance. Drey followed, Parrow, Tesla, and Steek close behind. Drey woke on a rough brick floor. He did not know when he had fallen asleep, but he was sore all over from laying on the hard surface. He saw Steek, Slike, and Cleo all sitting in a circle nearby. As he stood, Drey noticed several strange things. For one, his three visible companions were now much taller than he. Another, as he walked the tip of his sword’s sheath dragged on the ground behind him. Last, a familiar stone gargoyle was on the ground behind him. How had Parrow reverted back to stone? Tesla was lying close to his left, but she looked like a teenager, strangely. Cleo saw him, and she signaled the others. The others looked at him and laughed. “What? I do feel sort of strange,” Drey said. “We were all old enough to not be affected by the time change, but it seems you and the others were put into a strange shock coma from it. Look,” Slike said. He pulled out his dagger, which gleamed with Drey’s reflection, and Drey was shocked. The fall had made time move backwards—by about eight years. Drey was near four feet tall! He now realized why Parrow and Tesla had changed; Parrow had been a statue eight years ago, and Tesla had been a teenage girl. The others were immortal, never aging, so they hadn’t gotten younger. But Parrow was petrified, and Tesla was in the same shock sleep Drey had just awakened from. This was a problem! Now he surveyed the scenery. He was in a large brick room, the walls and floor stained with green and smelling of salt water. A large wooden door, rotted, was on one side of the room. A metal door would have easily been corroded by the salty air. “Should we wait for Tesla to wake up?” Drey asked Slike. He realized something else: his voice was high, like that of a child. Too many changes for his liking! “We’ll have to leave them, and find the witch,” Slike said, looking down at Drey. “Tesla has told us that she is a time witch, and will be able to reverse the effects, if we persuade her.”

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Everyone walked to the door. Drey left his sword and bow; they were too heavy for his childish body! Slike pushed it open, and it creaked loudly. On the other side was a long hallway, followed by another door. They walked up to this door and opened it. A huge laboratory awaited them. Clocks sat on every wall, and tanks stood on tables scattered throughout the room. They were filled with an assortment of things, from bats to baby dragons. Strange vines and shrubs grew along the walls and in between tables. At the very back of the room sat an old woman, with a nose that she could have touched her back with if she tried. The small glowing outline of a strange circle, small runes at the top, bottom, left, and right sides of it, was glowing on her forehead. The witch had been found. “Who invades my lab?” the witch screeched. Her voice echoed off the walls of the room, and the animals scrambled for cover in their cages. She stared forward, not turning to look at any one member of the group. Her eyes had a strange bluish color to them. Slike stepped forward, as usual. “We have come looking for help, not a fight. One of our members has a curse on him, and we wish for you to take him back to the time where he was healthy.” The witch straightened up and smiled, revealing black and orange teeth. “Who is cursed, and what is the curse?” She still had not looked directly at anyone in the group. “Drey was, over there,” Slike said, pointing to Drey. “He was bitten by a werewolf.” “Make some noise, Drey,” the witch called. Drey stamped his foot. The witch suddenly flicked her face towards the sound, and the whole group jumped at the sudden movement. “Gotcha!” she shrieked, and pointed a gnarled finger at Drey. “I’ve needed a new breed in my collection, but when I went blind it became rather difficult.” That explained one thing and made another mystery: that was why she had strange eyes, and never looked at anyone; why didn’t she simply go back in time to when her eyes were healthy? Drey saw everyone around him begin moving ultra fast, and found that he couldn’t move. The other members of the group saw nothing change, except Drey froze in the position he was in. “What did you do, wench?” Slike shouted at the witch, running up to her with his dagger drawn. The witch pointed at him, and Slike’s legs froze in motion. He looked down at them, and was putting forth an apparent effort to move them, but they didn’t budge. “While you are in my area you are in my time. I can freeze you in time, as I have just done to Drey and to your legs, or I can move you through time. So while you are here, the ‘wench’ has full power over you. Now, shut your mouth and sit over with your friends.” Slike decided to listen to someone else for once, something completely unnatural, and walked back over to the others—the witch 62

had taken the spell off of his legs—with a grimace. Drey was still unmoving. “We will go by my rules,” the witch continued. “I will either feed you to one of my animals, or—” “You can’t control us,” Tesla shouted at the witch. Parrow looked at her in surprise. This was one brave girl! “You are blind, and would not be able to stop us if we all attacked.” “You have nothing but weapons!” the witch retorted. “Only magic can harm a witch or wizard who is on guard.” “Actually,” Steek said, “I am a Phantom, Tesla has electricity magic, Parrow is part gargoyle, Slike is a....” He paused, not wanting to reveal Slike’s nature and have him captured like Drey. “Well, Slike is special, and Cleo is a sprit.” The witch seemed to consider this. “We must deal then. What do you have to offer? I have your friend and his cure.” “We won’t fight you if you release Drey without his curse,” Parrow said. The witch thought for a moment. “Deal. One warning though, young ones. I can take you back to the period in which Drey was bitten, but I cannot affect the outcome. You must kill the werewolf without anyone being bitten.” Slike was about to reply, but Drey suddenly loosened and fell to the ground. “What happened?” Drey asked, while struggling not to fall. He was dizzy, and he felt like his head had fallen off. Slike and Parrow were trying to hold him straight. Suddenly, the scenery changed. Drey was standing at the base of a tall tree, with branches seating Slike, Cleo, and Steek. Parrow and Cleo stood next to him, and a large, growling wolf was in front of him. He suddenly had the strangest feeling, as if this had happened before. “Drey!” Slike called down from the tree. “The scene is being replayed by the witch. You must not get bitten this time.” Tesla fired an electric blast at the werewolf, knocking it back. Parrow ran up and began stabbing it, but the cuts continued to heal at a faster rate than they could be inflicted. Drey knew he was the only one with a silver blade. He ran up to the werewolf, and brought the blade down on its neck. It finally lay still, and no healing occurred. Drey relaxed. Suddenly the wolf launched up at Drey in one last demonic effort. Drey tripped back, surprised by the sudden movement. Parrow, however, dashed forward at the last moment and hit the werewolf’s nose with the flat of one of his blades. It was out of life, and dropped, this time the last.

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Drey was no longer cursed. He had succeeded in killing the werewolf with the help of his good friends, and was safe to wander during full moons. Parrow had one last thing to say. A fighter, he liked having a smooth conclusion to the action. “Well, that was fun wasn’t it?”

The Rebels After getting Drey’s cure, the group picked up Rytop, who had been circling the tower nervously, and headed into the Rebels’ Forest. Rytop would not be able to fit through the trees, so he flew over and straight to the Rebel base, which Slike had said would be visible from the air. Drey was annoyed at leaving Rytop again. He liked the dragon, and he liked flight more than travel by foot. But he didn’t want to leave the group behind, so he always listened to Slike. Slike, after all, always seemed to have a good plan. The group tramped through the forest, knocking small ferns and reaching branches out of the way as they went. It was sunny out, so even the dense treetops could not stop all the sunlight from brightening the path. It was, overall, a calm day. “Are you really sure you want to take me with you?” Tesla said. She had been complaining about the idea of taking her to see the Rebels since it was suggested. She believed that the Rebels would kill her if they saw her, but Slike dismissed the thought. He wanted her to come, and he seemed to know something the others did not. “Yes, we are,” Slike said. “What if they do try to kill her?” Parrow said. He had been worried for Tesla’s health. He and Tesla had been talking more and more since the retrieval of Drey’s cure. “Everything will work out,” Slike said. “It always does, doesn’t it?” No one could disagree with that, and the trip became silent. The only noise was leaves crunching underfoot and brush moving, with an occasional squeak from a surprised woodland animal. Soon they were miles into the forest. At sunset they made a small camp and rested the night. They were all weary from the busy schedule over the past few days, and each fell asleep quickly. A guard was not posted, but, luckily, there seemed to be no dangers roaming that night.

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In the morning they continued their trek into the forest. This day was just as beautiful as the last. A light breeze kept them cool as they traveled, and soon they found a large path beaten into the forest. The path was hard, with cart tracks covering it, signaling that it was used often. They began walking this trail, and were moving at twice the speed they had been. Soon they had beaten the distance it had taken them hours to cover the day before. They were stopping for a break, when a strange, low, hooting call reached their ears. They looked around, and finally spotted a strange creature waving down from the branches that overhung the trail. It looked like the strange crossing between a person and a frog. It had human proportions, but a flat face and mottled green skin. Its eyes were huge and bright red. It wore nothing but a loincloth, and gripped a spear in its three-fingered hands. Its feet looked just like the hands, and clung to the branches so that it looked like the creature was standing at a slant. “Oy, travelers!” he called down gleefully. He had a grin so big it covered his face, revealing large, pointed teeth. It swung down a branch. Most of the travelers were drawing their weapons to kill the strange thing, but Slike was walking closer to its branch, smiling like the creature. This surprised the group for two reasons: Slike looked so happy when normally he was so serious, and he had shown that he also had pointed teeth. It was probably part of the werelizard curse. “Hello, happy one,” Slike answered the creature. “I didn’t know the Frippians lived in this forest.” The Frippian surveyed Slike, and then climbed another branch lower. Drey was beginning to notice that this creature was quite comical, with its big smile and strange form of climbing. “Aye, we do,” the Frippian replied. “What is your name?” “I am Slike. These are my friends from eastern Maezak. Who are you?” “I be Grikko,” it said, swinging down once again. “Where be you going through this booming forest?” “We are heading to the Rebel city. It seems that the Dragon King is up to something, and an army could be useful.” Grikko’s face turned grave, but the foolish grin remained. “I fear for ye, lizard-boy, for you be a-walking on one of the Dragon King’s trade routes. And on it, he be trading captured men as slaves.” Slike’s grin faded momentarily, but he quickly remembered to put it back on. “Slave traders? How often do they come?” “They are due today, and I was a-watching to see if they had captured any Rebel men.” “Shoot the frog!” a smooth voice shouted. It had a strange, entrancing call to it. 65

Arrows flew from the path ahead, and Grikko swung behind the tree’s limb. The arrows thudded into it, and Grikko made the same hooting call he had made before, but in surprise, not greeting. Twenty armed men ran up the path, with more behind them shooting arrows over the first men’s heads. “Flee!” Grikko yelled to Slike and the others. He turned and began scampering through leaves and limbs. A man ran under the branch and prepared to heave an axe at the Frippian, who was at an angle where he could not use his spear. Drey, however, had his bow out and ready by this time. He shot an arrow, and it whistled into the man’s back. “I owe thee a favor, sharp-shot!” Grikko said to Drey before disappearing into the thick ferns off the trail. The battle now turned to the travelers, who were seemingly not fighting for their lives. Even Drey, an inexperienced fighter, was noticing that all the enemy attacks were attempts to disarm him. Then he realized what was happening: they were trying to capture the group and sell them as slaves! The quest to stop King Draconis would be vain if they were made lunch for one of his dragon pets. But the enemies’ disability to harm was an advantage to Drey’s party. If they were not disarmed, they could win easily. The battle was more complicated than Drey thought, though. He heard that ominous, crisp voice in his mind, echoing from somewhere beyond notice. Drop the sword...sit on your knees...let the man tie your hands together... Suddenly Drey found himself on the ground, sword beside him, with the soldier tying his hands together with a length of rope. His travel partners were all around him, having their hands tied. And then Drey saw, and remembered, the owner of the brisk voice. Doolin walked up to the group, his golden eyes looking them over. He grinned when he realized who they were, and remembered what had happened during their last encounter. “We have met again,” he said. He cackled menacingly. With a wave of Doolin’s hand, the fighters carried Drey and his companions over the hill, where a cart stood in waiting. A leather top covered it, but groans were heard from inside. Drey was the first to enter, and the first to be chained up amongst the other rebel prisoners. He was stuffed into the small cart uncomfortably, more so when his travel partners were also chained. The cart set off, bumping down the hill. Travel lasted for hours, and the cart was a pit of sorrow. Every prisoner sweated from the immense amount of heat trapped in the miniscule area. Every bump in the trail jolted the prisoners into each other, painfully. Constrictive chains were wrapped around the unfortunate people, creating a very claustrophobic situation.

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Suddenly, a guard shouted. There was the sound of a hammer on metal, and the shout came to an abrupt stop. Arrows flew, and men gave battle cries. More clangs of armor sounded, and a cheerful voice cried out, “Take that, from my weapon a-whacking!” Drey realized that someone had returned to pay back a favor. Suddenly, the leather top ripped open, and sunlight—what a relief!—shone into the dreary cart. “Debt repaid!” the cheerful voice cried. A pair of keys dropped into the small section Drey had to himself. He quickly unlocked his waist, feet, and wrists, then tossed the keys to Slike. Drey climbed across the room towards the door, each rebel giving him a pat on the back. For once, Drey didn’t feel like he was fighting a war on his own! The door was torn aside, and a brutish guard thrust his head into the cart. “We can kill ye, now!” he growled. He climbed into the cart and raised a war hammer into the air. Drey slashed the man’s leg, and the warrior tripped with a cry of surprise: the prisoners were supposed to be chained up! Drey climbed out of the cart, and was quickly followed by Slike. Slike passed the keys to Parrow. “Unlock the prisoners!” Slike called in, and drew his dagger. The trail had become a battlefield. Slavers raced around in the chaos. On top of another cart was Grikko, waving two maces, his amazing grin gleaming. The maces were strange: each had an unnaturally elongated handle resembling a poker for a fire, tipped with a small ball of spikes. One soldier climbed to Grikko’s position, but Grikko crushed the poor man’s helmet with the whip of a mace. The soldier fell from the cart, and the others decided not to follow his example. Across the trail, a voice cried, “You—die! You, come here! Die, slaver-trash!” Drey spotted a man covered in silver armor launch a silver whip at a soldier, knocking the soldier onto the ground. Then Drey realized that the fighting rebel was not in silver armor—it was a Krayton! Kraytons were the magical mixture of humans and dragons, created by some powerful wizard long ago. They had human proportions, but were covered in gleaming armor from head to toe. Their tails were long and bladed, and Drey had just mistaken one for a whip. They had a Frippian’s hands, three fingered. Each male Krayton also had a blade, almost a foot long, running streamlined along the top of its head, along with fighting blades on their forearms and shins, and a stinger for a tail. Drey was entranced with the Krayton’s smooth fighting technique, so that he didn’t see Parrow, Steek, Tesla, and Cleo arrive behind him. The courageous Tiurnkish man’s shout woke Drey from his day-dreams.

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“Hoorah! A battle for me to win,” Parrow’s accented voice boomed. He charged past a very startled Drey began fighting a slaver, eagerly stretching his cramped wings. “He’s a fighter,” Tesla said from behind Drey. She turned and shocked a soldier then began walking towards the major battle around Grikko’s cart, Cleo close behind. Slike had already disappeared into the crowds, and occasionally a soldier would cry out as he was stealthily silenced by a quick stab. Drey decided to help the Krayton, who was completely surrounded by this time. Drey saw that only about thirty slavers were left. He quickly stabbed one in the back on his way to the Krayton—dishonorable, but practical—and slashed another who turned to attack him. Soon he was cutting off the outer ranks of the slavers surrounding the Krayton, who gratefully cheered Drey into battle. “Break bones with sticks and stones—or swords, in your case,” he laughed. Drey broke through the circle of soldiers and reached the Krayton. “I am Pion, Grikko’s blood brother. From what he has told me, you are Drey, the Dragonmaster. Honors!” “How did Grikko know I was a—“ “Watch your head!” Pion suddenly exclaimed. He swung a bladed arm over Drey, who had quickly ducked. The sword that nearly decapitated Drey was broken in half by the Krayton’s magical armor. With a whip of his tail, Pion downed the guard that had tried to strike Drey. The few remaining slavers had had enough violence for one day. So, as men who have seen that they are losing often do, they ran away. Once the scene had calmed down, Grikko leapt down from his perch, and asked a good question: “Where is Captain Doolin?” The bodies were searched, without any sign of Doolin’s corpse, proving that the half-wisp had not been killed. This was bad, for it meant he would be back to strike with a double-vengeance. Will-o-thewisps lived for vengeance on the living, so each failure to kill Doolin was only increasing Doolin’s magic. Once the prisoners had all freed themselves, they met with Slike. As usual he was guessed the group’s leader by the freed men. It was probably his eyes: they showed leadership, courage, and a background gleam of danger and hate from some unknown origin. Drey often wondered where Slike was from, but that wasn’t an appropriate or safe subject. Slike could keep his past if he wanted, and pressing him for a history lesson might not be smart. While Slike spoke with the men, Drey, Parrow, and Steek got to know Grikko and Pion in the shade of one of the slave carts. It wasn’t as uncomfortable when you weren’t crammed in. The rescuers told an interesting story. “Aye! The day I met Pion was a whisper of destiny,” Grikko said, “Which one of us do you want to tell the tale?” 68

“You’d best tell it,” Pion said. “You’ll probably make it more cheerful.” “Alrighty!” Grikko exclaimed. “A-rest your rumps and open your ears, friends. This is going to last a good bit!”

Grikko Tells his Tale I was an excitable Frippian from me birth date, and ran away from my parents’ treetop at young age. Without any elders to guide my life, I became a rogue of society. My childish personality stayed with my aging body, and I traveled abroad. My spear pointed the way,

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and my maces battered through life’s troubles. If either failed, I simply disappeared into the branches that were my natural home. This failed once, however. I was near the edge of Cair Dracoon, the Lonely Desert, and was traveling through a southern wood when I happened upon a town of Chemalions. Strange creatures they were! Each was a humanoid chameleon, able to blend with their surroundings, and every one of them were excellent bowmen. When I stumbled upon their small village, I had naught but childish mischief on my mind. I snuck through the branches above the village, watching the Chemalions in their daily activities. A bowyer worked quickly, a silversmith worked intricate patterns into a gleaming brooch, and they all seemed to be enjoying life. Not when the sun sets, I remember thinking, plotting every way to cause the innocent guilt and the happy sorrow. I tree-wiggled through the branches, and waited eagerly for darkness to set in. During the night I wreaked havoc on these towns-people. Vandalizing homes, releasing livestock, and without a single witness. These people seemed so witless, and I didn’t spot a single guard. Too witless, I realize today. I vaguely remember turning a corner, when I discovered that the Chemalions were all but unwary. I was tagged by five arrows, and painfully discovered my foolishness. Retreat seemed smarter than spear-point, for once, and I fled into the leafy trees above. However, Chemalions are just as agile as Frippians in the treetops, and I was followed with haste. Arrows whipped by and the only thing on my mind was fear. Here be where the Krayton comes in. For your interest, Kraytons are very racist towards Chemalions. One race is from the trees, the other from the desert, and difficulties arise from birth. So, back to the story. I was rounding a bend in the trees, when I see what looks like a man in silver armor weaving a path ahead of me. A ground-walker is better than nothing, in my mind, so I dive through the branches and onto the ground near the man. Finally I realized that this man is actually a Krayton. “Help!” I manage to cry out. A second after I land, I feel a club on the back of my head and fall facedown to the ground. As you would expect, I was already pained by several arrows, and a fall like this could only help the arrows kill me. I am not sure what happened exactly, for all I could do was moan from the ground. Vision was blurry, but I could hear a battle, and a violent one at that. After that, all was dark and dark was all.... I awoke in the light of a fire, with several bandages tied around my stomach and shoulders. The arrows were gone, probably used as fuel in the fire, and I felt like Chemalion guano. “Finally!” a voice exclaimed. “You were very close to the edge, but I guess Chemalion skin is magical.” 70

“Chemalion skin?” I managed to groan. “What—ouch!—what Chemalion skin?” “The bandages. They came from your reptilian pals, the ones who stuck you full of toothpicks. Don’t ask, please. It was a gory job.” Now I noticed a familiar green and bluish hew to the wrappings, and I felt disgusted. I was alive, however, and knew that I had no right to complain, so I kept my mouth shut. “Where are we?” I mumbled instead. The Krayton stood and looked at the sky. Then he sat back next to the fire. “As far as I can tell, somewhere north of where you were attacked,” he said with a shrug. “It’s not in my usual habit to carry maps; I follow my feet, and they usually pick the path of least resistance. The only reason I strayed from the trail was to avoid more Chemalion trackers.” “How do you know they didn’t follow they didn’t follow you?” I said, suddenly nervous. A camouflaged Chemalion with a bow was a deadly thing. “I don’t, really. You’re the only reason I’m still in this forest.” “One could be watching you right now, hidden in the trees, metal head!” “Hey, froggy, I’m not worried about any Chemalions with long bows.” He rapped on the magical armor covering his entire body to prove the statement. I was duped, and wasn’t in a position to argue with a battle friendly Krayton, so I changed the subject. “Where are my spear and my maces?” I said, managing to lean up enough to survey the area. The weapons were next to the Krayton, and he silently pointed at them. “Who are you anyway?” I asked curiously. The Krayton looked up. “Now you want an introduction?” he said in a friendly, if sarcastic, way. “My name is Pion, and I am from no tribe or desert. I go where my feet go, as I said before. And who are you?” “I am Grikko, and it seems that I have finally met someone who likes my version of life. This was the start of a strange but true friendship. We would travel both desert and treetop, fight all in our oath, and we both discovered the better morals in us. Eventually we followed our feet all the way to this forest, and we helped a good deal during the first time Draconis tried to rise. Now it seems that we will have to help the good guys once again!

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Severe Loss “Interesting tale,” Parrow said at the conclusion of Grikko’s story. “But how did you know that I’m a Dragonmaster?” Drey asked. “Oh, I know Slike from hundreds of years ago, and his quest to find a good Dragonmaster—I simply didn’t recognize him upon our first encounter. He was the one who stabbed Draconis during the first time the evil one tried to rise, and then ran away without recognition. It still pains the poor werelizard that he let the Dragon King go alive.” Drey gasped. There had always been a hidden soldier, someone who, in the legends, had stabbed the evil king into submission and then left before receiving any award or compliment. And Drey had been traveling with the hidden warrior this whole time! He was earnestly awaiting more news, but Grikko and Pion were silent.

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“Well?” Tesla whined. “Now you’ve gotten me interested, and you stop. Why did Slike leave?” “That should be obvious, zapping one. What army would reward a werelizard? He wouldn’t have been awarded; he would have been burned at stake.” Drey suddenly felt a rush of anger. Who made these rules? Slike was a better boy....man than most. He was being discriminated against because of the fear of some ruler who had made creatures like him illegal. If he knew who did that, Drey would find a nice place to put Suk-Clet. Drey suddenly realized that Slike was crouched on the entrance to the cart. Everyone was silent, and Grikko found himself interested in the cart floor. Slike stepped in, and the cart tilted slightly. Once again, Drey realized that this young seeming boy was actually an experienced yet unnoticed student of heroism. “The prisoners have spoken with me,” Slike said after a moment. “They were captured during a siege. Our trip into this forest has been for nothing—the Rebel towns were razed only hours before we arrived. The few we rescued are the only survivors, and that is because they didn’t put up a fight. So, basically, all we have for soldiers are cowards, and they may not join us anyway. Does anyone have any good news?” The adventurers were quiet for a moment, all locked in grim realization. Suddenly Grikko hopped up. “That can’t be!” he croaked, still grinning as always. “Pion and I visited yonder villages not thrice the sun’s rise ago. The dragon king’s soldiers can’t be this efficient!” Slike smiled grimly, and Drey knew whatever Slike said next couldn’t be good for the quest. “Actually,” Slike said, “from what the prisoners told me, commanding the enemy force was Draconis himself. And guess what he will do to us if he finds us and discovers our quest?” Drey saw the people around him pale and grab for their weapons, and Drey felt himself doing likewise. “We’ve got to leave,” Parrow said. He stood and tugged Drey and Tesla up with him. “Get the soldiers we rescued, Slike. We have to leave before Draconis arrives.” Slike smiled coldly once again, and Drey felt a chill move up his spine. Now that he was studying Slike closely, he noticed that the gleam was gone from Slike’s reptilian eyes. They were faint, and seemed to be growing more so. And now Drey noticed a red tint to Slike’s black tunic, seeping from Slike’s back to the front of the clothing, and Drey suddenly realized what Slike’s eyes were losing. “Oh, no,” Drey gasped. He dashed over to Slike, and pulled the werelizard into the cart. “Parrow, come here, hurry.”

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Parrow ran to Drey and Slike, and they rolled a suddenly limp Slike onto his stomach. The red was blood. Several arrows were still in Slike’s back, and a large, torn wound was set directly in between of Slike’s shoulder blades. “Maes Ropta,” Slike whispered, “Heart Ripper.” “That’s the name of Draconis’ legendary sword! It’s jagged and rough, like this stab wound, and it is said that it sucks out your heart if he strikes it,” Parrow said, just before his face gained an even lighter coloration. Slike grinned even wider than the last few times, and revealed all of his pointed teeth. “That sword is in this area,” Slike said, “I know, because Draconis himself just used it on me. The soldiers were killed by it. We certainly have bad luck, don’t we?” “Where is he?” Drey asked. Draconis could use a sword and magic, and Drey didn’t want his heart taken out. He didn’t think the whole group together would have a chance against King Draconis of Dragonland, especially with Slike out of the fight. “Oh, he just came walking out of the forest. I felt his sword, and several of the archers left over from the siege got me. I guess he was looking for the slave carts, and he found them. I ran, and the soldiers didn’t stand a chance. It kind of stung, but I guess being a werelizard helped some. Can’t help always....” Slike’s voice faded into silence, and Drey shook him back into consciousness. “Slike, you aren’t going anywhere,” Parrow said. “If you die, we go down with you. And I don’t want to die very much, so that means you aren’t going to die while I’m part of then group.” Parrow lifted Slike onto his back, and stepped out of the cart. Drey stepped out behind him, with the others following. He wasn’t greeted by a happy sight. A man in twisted armor covered in razor sharp spikes was standing where Drey suspected Slike had been speaking with the soldiers. He could tell, because the soldiers’ bodies littered the ground. The man, who could be none other than Draconis, was covered in blood and stood near seven feet tall. In one spiny gauntlet he held a man’s head, and in the other a spiked and jagged sword, resembling the armor. Behind the man stood dozens of men, and near Draconis were all thirteen of the Shadows. Drey felt his breakfast rising, and Slike managed to speak before fading to unconsciousness. “I guess all of us are going to die,” he whispered, than went completely limp on Parrow’s shoulder. Drey was worried for his sake, but now he had Slike to defend. Slike had protected him more than anyone in the group in them past weeks together, and now Drey was going to prove that he was no longer going to be the prize to keep. Drey realized in this moment of fear that he had always looked up to the werelizard in a strange sense.

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Drey made a silent vow that if Slike died, Drey would finish what Slike began: he would kill Draconis. “Parrow, fly.” “What!?” “Fly away; take Slike somewhere safe. Then send Rytop to find us.” “Drey, I can’t do that. I can also guess what Slike’s opinion would be.” “Fly or I’ll attack Draconis,” Drey said with resolve, and he drew his sword. Draconis was standing still, waiting to see what action the group would take. “Might we intervene?” Pion said. “Drey, if you go and be a-fightin’ against them that took down all the Rebels, that would be suicide,” Grikko said. “I won’t fight unless Parrow doesn’t fly away with Slike. I’ll count to five before charging to my death,” Drey said. “One...” “Drey, you’re a brave one,” Parrow sighed. “I’ll keep him alive as long as I can.” Then Parrow took off with a flap of his gargoyle wings. Drey suddenly felt the fear his argument had held out before, and wondered if this was a good idea. “Alright, group,” Pion said, “I have a plan. It is quite simple, really.” “What?” Cleo asked. “And will it keep us from dying a horrible death?” Tesla asked. “What I think we should do is run straight through that forest to the east. I am shaking in the legs a bit, and don’t think this would be a fair fight.” “Good idea!” Grikko said with his grin, and he took off into the forest. That was the start of the chase. Everyone took off, and pushed their way into the forest with little difficulty. The thick vines and crazily growing brush surrounding the trail kept most arrows from passing through, and if they did, most simply thumped to the ground. Drey was near the rear, trying to get a grip on his bow while running, and Pion was directly behind him. Any arrows that made it through the thick foliage simply bounced off the Krayton’s armor before hitting a softer target. Drey finally got his bow in a good position and loaded, and then spun to try to find a target. He was given an abrupt reminder of the Shadows, however, for blades flew by his head and neck. Three of the Shadows were not far behind, and small blades were putting dents in Pion’s silver shell. Drey fired an arrow, but it passed through its evil target like a hot knife through butter, and the Shadow was unimpaired. “Pion, are your blades enchanted?” Drey asked on the run. “Yes. Why?” Pion answered. 75

“Then fight!” Drey yelled. He spun, dropped his bow, and drew Suk-Clet in one smooth motion. Pion spun and sliced a surprised Shadow with a blade on his forearm, then ran closer to Drey. Drey stabbed a Shadow through the chest. The last Shadow paused, and five more ran up behind it. They charged, and Drey only kept them at bay with a swing of his sword. They were beginning to fear Suk-Clet, beginning to realize that it had magical properties. Pion stung one with his tail, and its ragged arm was torn from place. The Shadow screeched, and turned to flee. Another sting in its back turned it into a pile of ashes. The remaining Shadows were gaining some caution, and stood back. Suddenly, a volley of arrows fired from behind the Shadows. Drey realized that in this time, the footmen and archers were beginning to catch up. He was forced to turn his back on the Shadows and run, Pion close behind. Drey dashed through the underbrush and weeds, occasionally being tormented by a thorn plant or stinging fly, but not feeling any of theses pains. He was driven by fear for his life, and hate for the evil soldier who had stabbed Slike. He knew he had to survive this chase so that he could kill Draconis some other day—and that wasn’t going to be an easy accomplishment. Drey and Pion caught up with the others in a small gully. Cleo put a finger to her lips for silence, and Drey and Pion slid into the gully breathlessly. They covered themselves with leaves, and quickly laid still. The forest was quiet for several moments, and Drey was about to sit up when footsteps sounded. Drey listened, and heard a mass of soldiers approaching stealthily. The sounds ended near the edge of the gully, and complaints of exhaustion whispered through the air. The hissing breath of the Shadows echoed, and the men went silent with fear. One of the Shadows said something in a strange language, and several men wandered off in one direction. This was repeated several more times, and soon small groups of men were off in every direction, searching for the group. Most of the Shadow’s then ran into the underbrush, but one stood guard at the edge of the gully. The very top of its cloaked head showed at the edge, and it was hissing to itself while examining one of its throwing blades. Drey quietly turned to Grikko at his left, who motioned to his maces with a grin. Drey nodded, and he slowly drew Suk-Clet. Grikko quickly but noiselessly clambered up the slope and slowed almost to a stop when he was behind the Shadow. Drey followed, with Pion close behind. Tesla, Cleo, and Steek followed, side by side. Drey saw Grikko raise the twin maces, and both he and Pion lunged quietly.

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Both of Grikko’s weapons crashed down on the Shadow’s head, just as Pion clubbed its side and Drey stabbed it. It sank to the ground with a hiss and went motionless. Then Drey turned and helped pull Tesla and Cleo from the gully. He would have to go someplace the Dragon King and the Shadows wouldn’t expect—that would be tough because all of them were strategic experts—and Drey had to find Parrow and Slike. “Let’s follow the gully,” he told the others. “If we spot any enemies we can dive in and take cover.” “Good idea,” Tesla said, “but what if the Shadow’s entered the gully ahead of us?” “Still, I don’t think there’s any other chance of escape,” Pion said. He began walking along the gully, and the others followed. Every one of them felt like a fish being circled by sharks; stealth was a necessity, and detection meant death. They traveled for a good distance, and never saw any enemies, amazingly. They remained silent, however, for just because no enemies were seen did not mean that none had been encountered. No voice sounded as they crept through the forest, unaware of where they would arrive. Suddenly, Grikko, Tesla, and Steek were swept up into the air. Drey looked and spotted where a well hidden net had been. Steek, Tesla, and Grikko were hanging five feet above the forest floor. Even more of a problem, five archers sprang from the vegetation and took aim at the heroes who still had their feet on the ground. Drey drew his sword while Pion became a human shield for him, and Cleo drew her icicle blade. One arrow flashed by Cleo as four others clinked off Pion’s armor. Cleo lunged and stabbed one of the archers in the gut, and Pion tackled down two others. The remaining two archers began to knock arrows, but Drey quickly cast a fireball and they flipped off balance— and straight into the gully behind them. Drey had forgotten about the gully, until now. “Quick! Cut us down!” Tesla said. Steek turned to mist and floated through the net, while Pion sliced through it with a blade on his arm. Grikko and Tesla fell from the net and stood. A hiss made the hair on Drey’s neck rise. He turned and spotted a Shadow in the forest to the west. The Shadow gave a cry and raised its arm to the air. “Flare!” Cleo shouted. She threw herself onto the ground and covered her ears. The others looked at her perplexed momentarily. But when a ray of light shot from the Shadows hand into the air, the others mimicked her.’ The light silently hovered into the air, and Drey almost stood up to get a better view. The light was beautiful; Drey imagined it matched the legendary Aurora Borealis. But like a friend turned 77

enemy, it suddenly changed from a sifting rainbow into a blood-red point of evil. With a snap it shattered, and a boom echoed through the forest that would probably be heard back in Tiurnk. Drey and his companions were slid across the ground by a strange force, and several trees fell. Drey stood after the main blast, and as it echoed away he noticed strange red powder falling from the sky. It didn’t seem hot, and it collected in pockets on the ground with naught but a rustle. The whole group was standing by now, and the Shadow had disappeared during the blast. “That’ll signal every enemy within a hundred miles!” Tesla said. “You’re right. Why run?” Pion said wearily. His once shining armor was covered in dings and dust. He looked ancient. “Hush,” Drey whispered. He knew he had heard it....it must have been....Yes! A dragon’s roar echoed from the east, and a reptilian shape came into view in the distant sky. “I see that the blast alerted more than enemies,” Grikko said. “Friends are also coming.” Rytop circled down from the sky and landed with a low thump. “Be hasty,” Rytop growled to Drey, “I found Parrow and Slike, and they said to look for you.” Drey scrambled onto the dragon’s back, and Tesla and Cleo followed him. “There’s no more room,” Pion said after a glance to Rytop’s back. But Rytop lifted himself into the air with a flap of his wings and snatched up Pion in one claw. Rytop then moved towards Grikko, who quickly backed up. “Gently,” Grikko said before cautiously approaching. He was then lifted in the other large claw. Rytop flew higher now, and Steek, in Phantom form, hovered up level with the dragon. Rytop let loose a burst of flame, and then shot into the waiting dusk sky.

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New Plans Rytop flew several miles south, and below the flying companions a castle loomed into view. It actually wasn’t a castle if you moved closer, though; it was dozens of small stone buildings surrounded by one twenty foot tall wall. Towers were built against the wall at appropriate intervals, and a large gate sat in the western wall’s center. It was battered and broken down, showing signs of mass warfare. In the center of the castle-town sat the charred remains of what used to be a large tree. Near it was a small clearing that resembled a destroyed graveyard. Rytop chose this area to land, after setting down Pion and Grikko, and Steek landed nearby. Drey was jumping down from Rytop’s back when he noticed a large brick pedestal facing the tree’s ashes. Drey walked up to the pedestal, and as he grew closer he noticed that it had an inscription in it. The words were dented and sliced; it looked as though someone had mocked the site by slashing the inscription with a knife.

HopeRemains It was ironic in a cryptic way, seeing such a message surrounded by destruction. Maybe it was meant to be read in such a setting, which would give it much more meaning. Drey, however, saw nothing in the text. His hope had died with the Rebels—and, possibly, Slike. Drey was just beginning to think of the werelizard, when a hissing voice echoed through the buildings. “The Rebels planted this tree, a willow from the Marshes of Madness, when they established this settlement. It was magically enchanted: as long as there was hope for good to succeed, the tree would bloom. Draconis himself burned the tree once he had taken over the village.” “Where are you?” Cleo called out. She began wandering through the buildings. Drey followed, drew up next to, and finally passed Cleo.

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He was eager to see Slike’s condition. Strangely, Rytop hesitated and listened closely. “Come on!” Drey urged. “Sniff them out.” Rytop raised his head and breathed in deep. Drey was getting to the voice’s source, and was moving quicker and quicker. He was so anxious to find Slike and Parrow, yet he felt a small bit of caution in the back of his mind. It was as if a small boy were telling him to stop, while a grown man drove him on. “Wait....” Rytop said. He continued snorting at the air. “Something is wrong...” Drey continued towards the voice, and it seemed to continue speaking just to guide him. “The Rebels put up a petty fight. However, when they saw Draconis’ steed, Ashwing, torch the gate with one breath, the soldiers’ morale began to fail. As the Dragonmaster’s troops rushed in, killing women and children along with the men, the Rebel people felt true fear in their hearts. It was pure carnage....bodies littered the ground like autumn leaves, and blood ran like a slimy river.” Drey halted. This wasn’t Slike. The speaker was relishing the memory of the battle, liking the Rebels’ loss. Drey slowly and silently drew his blade, and crept forward quickly yet quietly. “There is someone else here,” Rytop murmured. “Drey, move!” Drey moved out from an alleyway, and jumped back at Rytop’s roar. He glanced around and saw no foe. Suddenly a thin, pale man landed in front of Drey. Doolin. Doolin swung a knife at Drey, who sidestepped and countered with a slash of his sword. Doolin dexterously slid out from the alley and into an open street. “What did you do to my friends?” Drey cried. He charged from the alleyway with a sudden rage. Doolin would have been impaled on Drey’s sword, but quickly dematerialized into fog. “Two can play at this!” Steek said from behind Drey. Steek went into Phantom form and flew at Doolin’s misty figure. The two slammed into each other as though they were solid, and Doolin, dwarfed by Steek’s mass, was pushed backwards. “Crano Iciop!” Drey shouted. Just as in the troll’s court, Doolin’s vaporous form sunk to the floor. This time, however, Drey didn’t stop the spell once Doolin solidified, head frozen by the brain freeze spell. “Where are Parrow and Slike?” Drey demanded. The others had arrived behind him and were listening intently. “You seem to know him,” Tesla said curiously. Grikko and Pion nodded in agreement. “He was leading the slave carts in the Rebels’ Forest. But you two seem to know him from before.” Pion said, and pointed to Drey and Steek.

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“Oh, Doolin and us go way back,” Steek said, and gave the agonized form on the ground a kick in the ribs. “Where are they?!” Drey repeated to Doolin. “Talk or I’ll cast a fireball on you!” Doolin looked up, still clawing at his frozen head. “They are up—oohh, my head—in the tower. Gahh! Stop the spell!” “Which tower?” Grikko asked. “There must be ten of them.” “The northwest tower. Turn off the spell!” Drey stopped the spell, and took off running towards the northwest tower. The others followed, and Doolin turned to slink away. He felt a metallic object rap the back of his head, and turned to see the Krayton standing over him. “Oh, no you don’t!” Pion said. He grabbed Doolin by the neck and ran after Drey. Drey entered the destroyed tower, and heard the walls groaning like they were on the edge of collapsing. He feared no danger, human, natural, or monstrous, at the time. Drey had to know if Slike was still alive. He charged hastily up the stairs. The smells of warfare filled the air: blood, sweat, and fear remained. Drey finally reached the top of the tower, and he halted to check his surroundings. It looked as though a catapult had taken down half of the tower—half was missing—and rubble littered the ground. Parrow had probably landed on the top and been surprised by a spell from Doolin. Then he saw Parrow and Slike. The two were lying on the floor, unconscious. Parrow’s hands and feet were bound, and Slike was still covered in his wounds. Drey ran up to the pair and cut Parrow’s feet and hands free. He shook and slapped at Parrow, and the warrior began to stir. He then did the same to Slike. Slike moved a little, but did not awaken; he must have been unconscious before a spell was cast on him. Parrow leaned forward and opened his eyes. “Hmm....” Suddenly he leapt up and drew his dual scimitars. “Doolin! Fight fair for once in your life, coward! This mouse has teeth!” Steek entered the room. The others followed, with Pion in the rear. Pion had Doolin by the neck. “You’re alive!” Parrow said enthusiastically. “Draconis was there, and the Shadows, and all—” “We escaped,” Drey replied. “And look who we brought for you to play with.” Drey pointed to Doolin. Hate shined in Parrow’s eyes. “Slike might have...gone,” Parrow managed to say calmly. His eyes were locked with Doolin’s as he spoke. Doolin’s eyes showed pure fear, while Parrow’s reflected the sorrow and anger of a man who 81

has lost a friend. “Doolin, I’m not going to play games with you,” Parrow continued. “This is how it will work. Doolin, you are going to check if Slike has died. If he hasn’t, you can go free.” “What!” Steek started. “But—” “However,” Parrow said, “If Slike is dead, you are going to tell me. And then I’ll put my swords through your chest.” Pion pushed Doolin forward. The half-wisp staggered forward and fearfully bent over Slike. He put his hand on Slike’s chest and paused. Then Doolin turned to Parrow grinning. “He’s alive!” Suddenly the grin changed to a silent scream, and a small sphick echoed across the dreary tower. Doolin fell back and lay still. A jagged dagger was stuck in his chest. Slike leaned up slowly, painfully, and drew the dagger from Doolin’s bloodied chest. The entire group stared at Slike in amazement. The were-lizard looked at them, the expression on his face showing obvious pain. “What did you expect? I wasn’t going to let you let him go again!”

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Due to Draconis’ success over the Rebels, the group’s travel plans were going to be very complicated. Slike said that without an army to back up the party, certain people would be needed. He described five people to the group, five heroes that, he said, could help the group greatly. However, there was a problem: the heroes’ current locations were spread vastly across Maezak. It was decided that certain people should find certain heroes. Pion and Grikko were to find Bayn, a warrior currently living in Grovyn, a town on the northern edge of Draconis’ lands. Parrow and Tesla had to find two heroes, the pair that traveled together. They were twins, Troy and Koy, relaxing in Circa City at the time. Circa City was a large metropolis in the northeast corner of Maezak. Steek and Cleo had to find Typon, a flame mage. He was living in Tiurnk. Steek and Cleo were sent because the guards would remember most of the others from the Arena of Blood. Slike and Drey were going after Krysis, the half-demon, halfhuman wanderer, who was thought to be living near the northeast coast of Maezak. Slike said it was very important that Slike and Drey be present when Krysis was found, though Slike did not explain why. Each pair prepared for travel, and Slike gave each group a map showing where to find their hero and where to meet back up with the others. The meeting point would be the tree in the fields where they had met Tesla after taking cover from the werewolf. Drey was putting on his pack and strapping on his bow, when Slike motioned for him to move away from the others. Drey followed Slike a distance from the other pairs, and Slike stopped at a demolished building. They had camped in the town for three days while preparing, and Drey had grown accustomed to the depressing atmosphere. However, he was struck with sadness when he spotted a child’s doll in the rubble of this building. It took moments like these for him to truly understand why they were fighting to stop Draconis. “Drey, I want at least you to know why both of us must find Krysis,” Slike said. “Krysis has become very suspicious of even close friends. For hundreds of years, assassins, both demonic and human, have been after him. Several extremely close calls have taken most of the friendship from Krysis. “He knows me, but won’t necessarily believe me if I tell him that I’m leading the quest against Draconis. I need you, the Dragonmaster, to be with me.” “He sounds paranoid.” “Oh, you wait till you meet him.”

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Each group set off. Drey and Slike climbed onto Rytop. The huge dragon flapped its leathery wings and flew to a low altitude. Drey and Slike waved goodbye to the others. “Remember: meet at the tree in the field. Be here within a month or we’ll assume that you’ve gotten into trouble,” Slike shouted down as the dragon soared away. King Draconis sat on his throne in the midst of his perfect palace. After two days of searching he had deployed the Shadows to assassinate several rulers and generals in the closest opposing countries, and had flown back to Castle Draconis on a standard battle dragon. A dark, cloaked figure stalked into the room. It wasn’t a Shadow, however. It was one of the few things worse. The creature crossed the room and stood tall. “I heard you have a job?” “Yes. Neither I nor my Shadows could kill him. He has friends....” Draconis rubbed a scar on his side, a scar made years ago by a jagged dagger. “Who?” the silver skinned elf asked. “I want you to kill your great-great-great-grandson, Tartaroth.” Tartaroth grinned.

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Finding the Heroes

Crossing the Mountains Drey and Slike would have to cross the Barricade Mountains, and the Hook Mountains. Then they would either have to circle around the Marshes of Madness or pass through. Both travelers knew that the journey ahead would most likely last more then a month. The flight to the Hook Mountains was very plain: it consisted of several hours of napping. Once the mountains loomed into view, Rytop landed and rested while Slike and Drey ate. However, as expected, the moment could not remain peaceful with the beginning war.

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Thunderous crashes boomed from the mountains, and Drey instinctively drew his sword and ducked for cover. Slike stood and examined the mountain range. After a moment Slike sat down and began putting away his half-eaten meal. Drey did the same, before his curiosity overcame him. “What did you see?” Drey asked. Slike walked over to Rytop and threw his leg over the dragon. Drey followed, and took a grip on the joints where Rytop’s wings met his body. “It seems,” Slike said, “that Draconis has gone to war with the mountain creatures. And right when we have to cross the mountains!” Rytop took to the air, and gained on the mountains with speed. Now Drey could see what Slike’s sharp eyes noticed earlier. Hovering over the mountains was a troop of dragons. They were spewing fire onto the mountains and ridges. Several large dragons were unloading small groups of warriors onto the mountain tops. On the mountains, goblins, hobgoblins, and giants were defending themselves. Giants were hurling rocks at the dragons, as the goblins and hobgoblins defended the giants from the human ground troops. “I thought the giants were at war with the goblins; don’t the goblins live underground and the giants on the mountain surfaces?” Drey asked Slike. “True,” Slike said, “but the goblins know that if the giants on the surface are killed, the goblins’ people will be next.” Rytop dived down towards the frenzy of flame and stone, and shot up just before colliding with the mountain side. “Hold on!” Slike shouted. “Rytop, let’s help the mountain people a bit.” Rytop grunted in glee and twisted like an acrobat. Ahead was a large, round-bellied dragon. Rytop gave a roar and head-butted the dragon in the stomach. It squealed and jolted, launching its rider into the air. Rytop bounced backwards and soaked the enemy dragon in flames. An arrow bounced off of Rytop’s scaly neck, too close to Drey for comfort. Rytop spun and faced the opposing dragon. Drey had his bow loaded, and spotted an archer on the other dragon’s back. The archer was knocking another arrow. Drey let an arrow fly, which struck the enemy archer in the chest, just as Rytop shot a fireball into the other dragon’s eyes. The opponent dragon reeled, dazed, and managed to keep from falling out of the air. However, a giant on the ground happened to notice this confused and unmoving target. Rytop was about to launch more fire, when a large chunk of stone shattered on the side of the other dragon’s head. The dragon was launched up like a cannon, before it went into a full dive and struck the mountainside.

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Drey cheered, but Rytop was forced to shoot forward and barely dodged an incoming boulder. Drey had forgotten he and Slike were also riding a dragon. Rytop began launching through the enemy dragons, blasting fire at some and ramming others. He slapped a larger dragon on the neck with his tail, and the large dragon spun, spilling human soldiers onto the ground. Rytop rose up and hovered above the enemy dragons, whose riders were beginning to feel that there was an enemy in the ranks. Rytop dived again to prove the fact, and knocked a dragon out of the air with a slap of the tail. Finally another dragon noticed the enemy, and he turned his steed towards Rytop. Drey fired an arrow, but the arrow bounced off the man’s shield. Drey put up his bow and drew Suk Clet. Slike climbed down from Rytop’s back. He climbed down the scaly sides and hung in Rytop’s claws. Rytop gently help Slike, to ensure that no accidents would occur. Drey slid forward and took the front seat on Rytop’s back. “Charge!” Drey cried. Rytop took off towards the enemy dragon. The dragons met, fired flame at each other, and passed in half a second. As they passed Drey was momentarily covered with flames, and was forced to close his eyes or go blind. He opened them just in time to block the enemy’s sword with Suk Clet. Rytop spun around and charged the opponent again. The same motion was repeated, but Drey was ready this time. He swung hard and with care at the enemy rider just as he opened his eyes when the enemy’s flames faded. The other rider blocked fearfully, and the magically enchanted Suk Clet sliced through the average sword and struck the rider across the stomach. The rider was thrown from the enemy dragon’s back. The opponent’s dragon turned to try to catch its rider, and Rytop attacked without resistance. Rytop tackled the beast, and Drey gave it a stab in the throat when he got close enough. The enemy dragon gagged and fell out of the air. Rytop had now been noticed by three more riders. They formed a makeshift triangle around Rytop and their riders raised spears and swords menacingly. “Fly over one!” Slike called up from Rytop’s belly. Rytop grunted and jumped upward slightly in the air. The enemy dragons were ready to fire, but one of them had caught the eyes of a giant. A boulder crashed into one of the dragons, knocking both rider and dragon to oblivion. Rytop charged then, crossing directly over one dragon’s rider, who ducked fearfully. Slike dropped onto the dragon’s back and slit the rider’s throat. The dead rider slid off the dragon and dropped to the ground far below, while Slike stabbed the dragon in the neck repeatedly. Just as the

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dragon began to fall from the pain in its neck and loss of blood, Slike jumped and was caught by Rytop’s waiting talons. The other dragon swooped at Rytop and swung with razor sharp claws. Rytop edged to the side and blasted the dragon with fire. Drey sliced the dragon’s rider across the chest and the rider cried out, but kept a strong grip on his dragon’s neck. Rytop once again soaked the enemy dragon in fire before it managed to turn around and charge again. The enemy dragon attacked viciously this time, acting like a maddened berserker. Rytop was sprayed with fire, and squealed when the enemy rider’s sword cut down his side. Drey was angered at this; Rytop was more than a steed, he was a friend. Drey swung wildly and smacked the other rider across the face with the flat of his sword. This time the rider was knocked off the dragon’s back and fell, screaming, to the waiting goblins. Seeing that this battle could not be won, the enemy dragon turned and tried to fly away, before being hit by a giant’s boulder. “Fly! Fly away!” Slike shouted up from below. Rytop was confused momentarily, but realized what was happening just in time. He dashed forward, and the oncoming boulder barely hit the tip of his tail. Drey sighed in ease, before quickly blocking an incoming javelin with his sword. An enemy dragon leveled with Rytop, its rider grinning evilly and waving another javelin. Drey felt Slike climb up behind him, and saw Slike sneakily pull a small dagger from his pant leg. Both dragons blasted the other with fire, and both drew back from the other’s heat. Also, the enemy rider aimed and prepared to throw the javelin straight into Rytop’s throat. But at that moment Slike stood and flicked the dagger in one quick movement. At first it seemed that nothing had happened, but the enemy rider suddenly gasped as a small red circle formed on his chest. The javelin slipped from his hand, and he fell forward, leaning against his dragon’s neck. The enemy dragon knew his rider had been struck and tried to turn its head to see. Rytop flew closer and bit the dragon’s neck, as Drey stabbed for its chest. The dragon hissed and fell out of the air. “Retreat!” cried a dragon rider in heavy armor. He waved a banner to the south and all the dragon soldiers took off in that direction. He looked all around him, searching for left behind riders, and was about to fly away when he spotted Rytop. “Retreat!” he shouted to Drey, mistaking the boy for a soldier. “We have a traitor in the ranks! We must...” The man examined Drey, and spotted Slike behind Drey. His eyes widened, and he took off towards the south. “Quick!” Slike said. “We have to stop him before he tells anyone where we are!” Rytop zoomed after the rider. 88

Splinter Parrow and Tesla had been walking for several hours. Their legs were sore, and their stomachs were empty. “Let’s take a break,” Parrow said. “We can keep walking later.” Tesla agreed wholeheartedly, so the two sat down to lunch. Parrow was biting down on a piece of flat bread when he noticed Tesla looking at him intently. She looked away once spotted, and silently ate. “What?” Parrow asked. “Do I have something on my face?” “Well, I was just wondering, how did you get those wings?” “That’s a long story. I might as well start it now.” Take a small step back in time, one thousand years—maybe not such a small step. Anyway, I was living in living in Cair Mac, which is now Tiurnk, and was a soldier for the king. I defended the city greatly in the War of Cair Dracoon, and was appointed Captain of the South Patrol. I controlled all the soldiers defending the city’s south. Now I bring in the bad guy of the story: Quake. Quake was a very bad boy, and still is, and I was one of the unlucky people who were in debt to him. Well, I nearly got Quake executed because I had evidence that he had tried to do some bad things that could have messed up the city. He was forced to go into hiding.

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The city has many criminals in it, so he was forgotten and no one was there to help me when Quake wanted revenge. Quake had made a vow that he would never harm anyone unless he had the right to their death. This is why he enjoys being executioner, and will remain so until someone kills him. He planned on killing me when I said that I could not pay him. So when I met him in a dark tavern, I was forced to run. He cornered me on a ledge outside the city museum and put a curse on me, changing me into a gargoyle. I remained there for the past thousand years, and would only change back when someone was stupid enough to climb out on the tiny ledge and touch me. Well guess who did it? Our friends Drey and Slike were being chased by guards and climbed out onto the ledge, looking for a way of escape. Drey tripped and bumped into me. I changed back into a human—no idea why the wings stayed, but they’re useful—helped fight the guards, and have been traveling with them ever since. “That’s interesting,” Tesla said. “What about you?” Parrow inquired. “What’s your story?” My brother and I were living with the rebels. We were originally of Xatian descent, making us special; all Xatians have an enchantment on them, beginning with Xatis, the man who started the line. All Xatians are born with a special a special ability, a unique effect, which shows up when they are children. Somehow I arrived in Circa City with my brother. I was eight and he was nine when we were adopted by Rebels and taken to the Rebels’ Forest. They wanted to train us and use our special abilities as a weapon against Draconis; he was beginning to rise for the first time. My gift is electricity; I can create and use it at will. My brother Lunice had a much more dangerous ability: he was a werewolf. The villagers managed to keep us until we came of age, but were so busy guarding Lunice that we were hardly useful in the war. In the ten years we spent with the villager, accidents from our abilities caused more than ten deaths. We became feared, but they tolerated us. Finally, on the day I turned eighteen, we were sent into exile by the villagers. We had been living in the forest for one week, eating plants and hunting small animals. Your group arrived the first night of the full moon, and that luck seems to have been following you. Parrow and Tesla were both silent for a moment, thinking of their lost pasts. They both knew the present tasks were very important if the future would be peaceful. It was very important that Troy and Koy be found and convinced to help the group.

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“Hello, friends!” a friendly voice called out. Parrow and Tesla turned to see a short man walking towards them from the west. He was clad in all black, and was wearing leather gloves. He was wearing a large black cloak that concealed any weapons he might have, but Parrow did not hear the rattle of armor. “Who are you?” Parrow asked. This man’s resemblance to a shadow made Parrow very nervous. However, the man had his hood down and Parrow could see a human face. “I am a traveler from the forest. And you are?” “I might be your death. Now, what is your name?” Parrow drew both scimitars; he didn’t want to use them on a human if he didn’t have to, but they would probably scare an answer out of the man. “Wait,” Tesla suddenly exclaimed, “I know this man. You’re...what was the name...Splinter! Yes, that’s it!” “Well, missy, where did you get that idea?” Parrow noted that this man never agreed that Splinter was his name. “I was twelve years old when you were exiled from the Rebels’ Forest!” The man flinched and reached for something under his cloak. Parrow knew what to do. He nicked Splinter’s reaching arm, leaving a small gash with one blade, and put the other to Splinter’s throat. “Who are you?” Parrow said. “Tell the truth or I’ll slit you quick.” The man sighed and waved down Parrow’s scimitar. He rubbed his bleeding arm on the sleeve of his cloak, without leaving a visible sign on the black material, and spoke. “I am Splinter. I am on course from the southern marshes in search of someone. I’ll leave without trouble and you’ll never see me again if you answer some simple questions.” “Like what?” Tesla inquired. “Like this: have you seen a boy named Drey or a werelizard called Slike? They are of dire importance to the Dragon Lord, and I was hired to bring them to him. If you have any information I could pay—” Parrow suddenly slashed the man across the shoulder, and he fell to the ground, bleeding and groaning. “Did you have to do that!” he said. “That’s my throwing arm!” “I’ll never take money the Dragon King touched with his scummy fingers!” Parrow hissed. “Draconis is hiring assassins. I wonder how many others are already on Drey’s tail,” Tesla commented. “Well, we picked a dandy time to split up. Right when he sends in the really bad bad-guys.” “Ow, man!” Splinter squeaked. “Well, are you gonna let me bleed to death or what?” “Actually,” Parrow said, “That’s exactly what I was planning.” “Not yet. He can give us useful information,” Tesla said. 91

“Fine.” Then he turned to Splinter. “Where’s this money you spoke of?” “I thought you said you would never take money the—” “I lied. Now hand it over. We are in desperate need of cash, rat!” Splinter tugged a small pouch from his belt and tossed it to Parrow, who let it drop to the ground. Parrow had successfully foiled the hit man’s first plan: when Parrow reaches for the sack and lets down his guard, slice the gargoyle’s throat. Then he could kill the girl. Tesla picked up the bag and poured the contents into her hand. She suspected she was holding about a hundred crystals. “We’ve got enough to pay for about a week’s supplies, and a couple rests at common inns. He must have more on him, or stored somewhere else; Draconis pays well.” “Well?” Parrow said, turning to Splinter. “Where’s the rest of the money?” “I don’t have any more!” “Well, I guess that means we can kill you—” “Wait! It’s in a small cave east of here. You won’t be able to find it without my help.” “Well get on with it then!” The sun was starting to set. Parrow, standing behind Splinter, had his scimitars crossed around the man’s neck. One false move and Splinter’s jugulars would be severed. However, Parrow felt that it might be hazardous to be traveling in the dark for who knows how long while trying to stay aware of the dangers of the night and keep an assassin in black cloaks hostage. Tesla was sharing Parrow’s thoughts. “How much farther?” she asked Splinter. He didn’t answer. “How much farther?” Parrow asked a bit more roughly. To show that he meant business, he slightly tightened his squeeze with the scimitars. However, he could tell from behind that Splinter was grinning broadly. Parrow felt a chill. “Here it comes...” Splinter said without turning. Then, as though Splinter’s words had somehow caused drastic changes in the universe, the sun dropped behind the mountains and blackness spread across the land. Parrow swiped with his blades at Splinter, but only felt empty air. He felt Tesla grip his arm. “Where did he go?” she asked nervously. As if in answer, cold laughter echoed in the darkness around them and faded to silence.

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Steek and Cleo For once, Steek felt like he would have an advantage over Draconis’ forces this time. He knew the route to Tiurnk, not being far from the swamps, so the trip could be completed more efficiently. Also, no one in Tiurnk had seen Steek or Cleo before, so stealth would be of great aid. His only worries were that there might be Shadows waiting in Tiurnk. He and Cleo both were very rational people, and they had planned an exact route to Tiurnk so that they could avoid as many dangers as possible. They planned to head north until they reached the end of the Barrier Mountains, right at the topmost coast of Maezak. They would go around the mountains, therefore avoiding the goblins, hobgoblins, giants, and any other scary things with fangs or red eyes, and come to the same plains where Parrow had been hypnotized by the wisps. South from there was the border of Cair Dracoon, the Lonely Desert, and from then on they would head west until they came across Tiurnk. How to retrieve Typon was the only problem. Slike had warned that he could completely destroy their stealth; he had a severe case of pyromania and also happened to be one of the strongest flame mages in existence. Typon, Slike had warned, could not go for more than an hour without blowing up, incinerating, or charring some object. He would randomly fire flames at objects and anybody who looked too suspicious, and if he went without fire for too long, he would get nervous and twitchy. Steek and Cleo walked for several hours, heading north. In fact, if they had kept better watch, they would have seen Parrow and Tesla off to the east relaxing. They didn’t stop to rest, however, Steek resorting to his phantom form and Cleo gliding along behind him, so they left Parrow and Tesla several hours behind. They stopped about halfway done with the journey north and rested in the middle of a roughly round group of boulders. It would be an easily defendable place if anything attacked. Steek and Cleo were lying on opposite sides of the small clearing inside the rocky circle. Both were falling asleep quickly after the long walk, but Steek stiffened when he heard soft, sneaky footsteps. He grasped his sword with one hand and placed the other on the edge of a boulder to slowly pull him up. 93

He saw a flash of light reflecting off metal, heard a sound like an arrow in course, and felt a sharp pain in his hand. He attempted to tug his hand back down from the rock, but found it pinned in place, and gave a small cry at the extreme pain his quick pull had caused. In the moonlight he could see a dagger stuck into his hand and the rock. Steek immediately guessed that a Shadow was attacking. Cleo the conflict and sat up, drawing her icicle sword. “Get down!” Steek called. Just as Cleo ducked, there was the flash of a dagger going over her. Steek hurriedly pulled the dagger from his hand and ducked behind the rock. A bright flash shined over the rock then quickly faded into darkness, along with a zapping, crackling sound. Steek let his eyes adjust to the darkness again, and then rose to the sounds of combat. He could make out three forms. Two were in combat, while a third, feminine form stood back and watched. One of the fighters kicked the other to the ground and shouted. “Get some light!” The woman raised her hands and a warm glow shone from them. Steek had to let his eyes adjust again, but before he could he heard the familiar voice of Parrow. “Steek? Cleo?” Parrow looked to where the third form had been, and exclaimed, “He’s gone!” before beginning a long string of curses. “Was that a Shadow?” Cleo asked Parrow. However, he was too busy creating new vocal obscenities to answer. “No,” Tesla filled in, “It was an assassin sent after Drey and Slike. We encountered him earlier and managed to hold him captive. But he escaped the second the sun set.” “What do we do now?” Cleo asked the rest of the group. “We’re heading to Tiurnk.” “We were just on our way to Circa City. Why don’t we stick together until we get around the mountains?” Parrow said. Steek and Cleo glanced at each other, and both nodded. “Okay,” Steek said, “We can split up at the edge of Cair Dracoon.” “Great!” Parrow announced, “But remember, if we find Splinter, let me kill him.” “You! He spiked my hand to a rock! I get the first blow.” The next day they made it to the end of the mountains. With Parrow flying while holding on to Tesla, and Steek and Cleo hovering along behind, they made very good distance in eight hours of travel. When they stopped they could see the coast in the north. After a brief rest, they continued on foot. It was going to be difficult to get around the end of these mountains. The water was over a hundred feet down the side of a completely vertical cliff, foaming and frothing like the mouth of a rabid 94

beast. Rocky spikes and plateaus rose from the side; winds ripped by, tearing rock down from these natural occurrences and turning them into deadly traps. Flight and swimming were impossible. The very ending bulk of the mountain was at the exact edge of the coast, leaving no space to walk around. It seemed like the only way to get by would be to climb over this last mountain, and even that wasn’t anywhere near safe. “What now?” Tesla asked. Parrow was sitting at the edge, looking down into the torrent, while Steek and Cleo looked up the side of the mountain. “We might be able to climb it,” Cleo said. “Why don’t we fly?” Parrow inquired. “Because there’s a chance that the wind is just as strong up there. You could get blown into the water, and then you would die very quickly.” “Ahhhh.” “The best thing to do would probably be to simply climb it as quickly as possible,” Steek said. He looked up the rocky peak. “It can’t be more than...eight hundred feet? We have more than four hours left before sundown, and we might be able to make it down on the other side before it gets too late.” “Well then, let’s go!” Parrow exclaimed. He used his wings like a booster and pushed himself to the base of the peak. With a heave he pulled himself up onto a jagged rock sticking out of the side, than flattened himself against the stone and began pulling himself up, using small cracks and bulges as handles. The group below began laughing and snickering. Parrow turned as far as he could while in his dangerous position on the mountainside, and asked, “What’s so funny?” “You look like a bat!” Tesla shouted up. Then she ran to the side of the mountain and followed Parrow up. Behind her were Steek and Cleo. The group climbed for a long while before having to admit that their arms couldn’t handle any more. They stopped on a large, flat ledge. It was pretty sunny by this time, and the group was fully exposed to the sunlight. They all backed against the side of the mountain, taking as much shade as possible. Most of them fell asleep; it had been a rough night. While they dreamt, the time passed, and the sun moved just far enough to unleash a barrage of heat on Parrow, who had placed his body at the most open angle. He groaned, half-asleep, and pushed harder against the side of the mountain. He wasn’t using all of his senses, just trying to sleep, so his dozing mind couldn’t figure out why his body was still uncomfortably heated. He simply pushed harder against the stone, but to the same

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results. Parrow, who’s natural instinct was mainly composed of violence, roughly elbowed the wall, and quite to his surprise. His whole arm smashed straight through the wall, with a crunch that woke the other members of the party. They all looked over, to see a very wide-eyed Parrow, who suddenly tugged his arm out of the wall in shock. A large panel of the rock, more than five feet, crumbled down into dust when he did this. They stared into the black cavern Parrow had discovered. Steek, Cleo, and Tesla all looked over to Parrow, and they all saw the curious, wide-eyed expression on his face. “No, no way!” Steek exclaimed, looking from Parrow to the massive cavern. “You don’t know if it just leads down into the mountain!” Tesla and Cleo now realized what Parrow was thinking. “We’re not going in,” Cleo said. “It’s just a bit farther up the mountain.” “Sure it is! Look up and say that again,” Parrow retorted. And it was the truth; the top was probably a day’s climb away, and then there was the other side to deal with. “But, Parrow—” He was gone, charging into the black abyss.

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Slike and Drey stood next to the corpse of the Banner Bearer’s dragon, and the soldier himself. It had been a tough chase—they passed over the most of the mountain range. Luckily, the soldier had panicked, and he had strayed from the rest of the army. “What now?” Drey asked. He looked around at the bleak terrain. The rocks were all pointed and jagged, with charcoal black dust littering the ground. If Drey tripped, he would rise covered in scrapes, dust, and puncture wounds. “Well,” Slike said, “we’re far enough north that if we go straight to the east we should meet up with Krysis, who I last heard was in north-east Maezak hunting vampires.” “Alright, let’s go.” “Wait a minute. Do you hear that?” Drey listened. Now he heard it...it was like a whistling breeze, but the sound was so high it stung the ears. Drey and Slike drew their weapons. Suddenly, an eruption of light and heat exploded in front of Slike and Drey, knocking them onto their backs and sending Rytop into a panic. Slike recovered with a graceful role, and flicked his dagger into a combat poise. Drey, who wasn’t quite as agile as Slike, landed roughly on his back and felt the sting of several sharp stones. “Get up, quickly,” Slike hissed, “We’re in trouble.” Drey grabbed the werelizard’s helping hand and brought himself up into a crouch, wincing at the pain in his back. He knew he was probably bleeding badly, and wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight against this newfound enemy. Drey now looked up, and saw the cause of the crash. It came in the form of a tall elf with pale, silver skin and moderate build. His eyes were very strange, for there was no whites in them; they were completely black. His hair was black with streaks of fierce silver, not at all the peaceful white tint of old age. This was no normal elf; he gave off an aura of power and relentless evil. Slike now turned and saw this foe, and what happened next was a sure sign that this was an enemy that they could not defeat. Slike showed fear! “Come on, Slike!” Drey said, standing slowly and trying to get onto Rytop’s back. “Kill him! He’s just an elf!” Slike stood, facing the elf with his dagger ready. The elf has one open palm pointed at Slike, and was prepared to cast a spell. Drey climbed onto Rytop’s shoulders and whispered to the dragon. “Better give Slike a head start, Rytop.” The dragon gave a huge nod and turned, taking careful aim on the elf. With a roar it let loose a stream of flame that entirely covered the elf. A spell fired out from the inferno, and Slike dived out of the way. He quickly recovered and sprinted to Drey and Rytop. “Let’s go!” Slike cried; Rytop lifted, and Slike settled into place behind Drey just as they were taking off. 97

“What was that!?” Drey asked. He was thoroughly shaken, and was still wondering what had come of the elf. Every time he looked back at the sight of the battle, there were no remains to be found. “Did I ever tell you what happened to Tartaroth after he died?” Slike said slowly, as though looking for the best possible words. “No....why?” Drey responded, sensing that he was uncovering something very sinister. “Well, as you know, Tartaroth was ambushed by Shadows while he was too weak to defend himself, and after a huge battle was finally killed by the lead Shadow.” “Which one’s the leader?” “The one with the white star symbol on his chest. Well, there’s something called the Mark of the Thirteen...” “As in thirteen Shadows?” “Yeah. Well, only the leader can make the mark, and he burned it into your great-great-great-grandfather’s arm seconds before killing him.” “What does the mark do?” “It binds the bearer to Draconis’ will, and to his life. Very few people have this mark, and if Draconis was killed, they would all go down with him. Doolin had the mark, but he’s already been dealt with. Every time you kill a mark bearer, Draconis is weakened. “But we’re getting off the subject. The point is, there are very few things worse than the Shadows, and what we just battled was one of them.” “That was Tartaroth.” “Exactly. And you know very well why he is dangerous.” Drey couldn’t count all the reasons why! The elf who hunted Shadows and demons in life, created some of the most powerful spells in existence, and had training with a sword few could match was now preying on Drey. It wasn’t a happy thought. “We might be able to kill him with the help of Krysis,” Drey continued, “So he’ll probably be trying to stop us before we make it to Krysis and your sword. Now that you have collected everyone mentioned in the prophecy, you can retrieve Skinta Loi from the Monastery in Tiurnk, though it’s going to be a tough job getting in.” “But if he’s the greatest thing Draconis could send after us then why is he still back there and not coming after us? Draconis would have at least given him a dragon.” “Look back.” Drey turned and looked behind Rytop’s swishing tail. Sure enough, Tartaroth was flying through the air, but without the help of any steed. Large ripples were whipping out from his feet, blasting him along with the same whistling sound Drey and Slike had heard just before the attack. Tartaroth was slowly gaining on them, and Drey knew they would have to either hide very well or face him. 98

“I’ve got a plan,” Slike said. “Do you have any wind spells?” “Sure I do.” “How about disintegration?” “Maybe.” “Well, than, grab anything you’re taking with you.” Drey quickly collected his pack and weapons, than he brought out his spell book and looked over the incantations he would need to recite. When he was ready he put away the book. “Okay,” Slike said. “First get a strong wind blowing to the east.” Drey muttered some strange syllables and a torrent of air began rushing to the east, their destination. “Now disintegrate us.” “What!?” “Just do it.” Drey nervously spoke the incantation, and felt Rytop slowly melting into sand below him. He turned just in time to see Slike’s last bits and pieces floating off. Now the spell’s effects finally reached him. He was free-falling, because Rytop was completely gone now, and he turned completely into dust just as he reached the wind. But now he felt all his separate particles and dusts being blown in the strong gust, and realized what Slike’s plan had been: they would blow their way to Krysis! There was no way for Tartaroth to harm them even if he could catch up. This was an amazingly fast way to travel; the landscape was going by like a blur. He knew they would be on the other side of Maezak in no time.

Pion and Grikko Pion and Grikko had learned during the years that when you were trying to break into or out of a place, it was best to have exact plans of what you were doing when and where. The more coordination you had, the easier it was accomplish what had to be done. They had everything worked out: first they would walk to the edge of the Barrier Mountains. Than, they would proceed through an area Pion had discovered long ago, where the mountain range had a dip the size of a small valley, and they would go right through. Then they could turn south and find the town of Grovyn, where Bayn supposedly lived. The first couple days of walking were easy travel over the plains surrounding the field where the group had fought the werewolf. They ate very small amounts of food, knowing that if they were in a jam they would need the extra rations.

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