A Novel: The Quest For The Dragon Witch

This is a full novel set in a Dungeons & Dragons stylized world. The story is of three orphans who unite to avenge their parents death against the most powerful creature in the world. Notwithstanding the somewhat dark start, you will find the story has a lot of humor in it as it goes on. There is also a smattering of illustrations. Enjoy.

Chapter 1. Prologue: A Fallen Holy Warrior

“Why can’t I come with you?” said the impetuous seven year old with golden locks dangling ever so cutely. “I’m ready for adventure!” she insisted, waiving a broomstick like a sword. “Maybe I could see you slay an evil kobold, or goblin or maybe even” her mouth grew wide in the childish O of wonder, “a dragon!”

“Sweetie,” said the Panthea, Lord of Paladins, “mommy is going to give birth to your little sister. You have to stay home and take care of Daddy. He promises to teach you all sort of new things in your favorite game, ‘Paladins versus Demons.’”

“But mommy, I want to go with you and see my sister born. Oh and I could meet Amanita the Druid you did all your cool stuff with. Please, please mommy let me come. If you let me come I promise I won’t be in the way. I promise. I’ll be good, and quiet and sleep all night and everything.”

“Purthea, if you go with mommy who will take care of me while she is gone?” said Jacob laughing jovially while picking Purthea up and tossing her in the air.

“But Daddy, you are going with Mommy! You are leaving me here with Domineco to babysit me.” She said the word “babysit” like it was a curse.

“Daddy is only going for the first night, sweetie. He’ll be back the day after I leave” said Panthea kneeling to look her daughter in the eyes.

“Then let me come with you for the first night in the wilderness” Purthia insisted with intense desire her eyes getting moist in well practiced manipulative sincerity. “My first adventure in the wilderness, it will be AWESOME!” she concluded triumphantly.

Panthea looked up at Jacob, their hearts melting. For a moment they both feared inwardly that the other would acquiesce to this absurd demand from their persuasive little girl. It was Jacob, who put his foot down. “No, my dear. You will stay here. Perhaps next time” he concluded with perhaps the most ancient parental put off of all time.

Purthea looked to her mother, who nodded and said, “your father is right. You will stay here . . . perhaps next time.”

“Oh . . . dragon poo” she said summoning up the strongest curse the seven year old knew, as she stomped off. Then she came slinking back in. “Okay, but you have to tell me one more time about that time you went to the Moon . . . ”

* * *

The baby kicked Panthea awake. She rubbed her increasingly swollen stomach and beseeched the little girl to calm down. Jacob was cooking breakfast smiling as if he knew what had awakened his wife. He started the discussion as they began eating. “Let me come with you the rest of the way to Old Home.”

“First Purthea and now you” sighed Panthea. “We already worked this out. You came out the first day so we could split watches at night. Old Home is just a few hours up the road, I suspect Amanita will meet me nearly halfway there.” Amanita was a Druid of note who had adventured with Panthea in her earlier years. As she had before, for Panthea, she was to midwife the birth of her second daughter. “If you come with me the rest of the way you will have no one to stand watch for you on your return trip. We separate now because you can return to New Gont City before nightfall.”

He sighed, “I could stay with you for the birth.”

Panthea laughed, “I don’t think Amanita wants a man’s help, nor does she need it, she is the best midwife in all the world. Besides, you have to take care of Purthea. You promised her you would. We’ve done this before, when she was born, this is how we shall do it again. It won’t be that long. The baby is due in just under eight weeks,” she said rubbing her belly again.

He sighed again, knowing there would be no changing her mind.

“However, I send you back with what you will regard as good news” she said softly. “After much prayer and thought I have decided to retire. Upon my return I will no longer serve as Lord of Paladins, my adventuring days will be over. The True God shall have to find another to fight His battles. My role will be as mother, and wife.”

“Really, have you told The Church this?”

“No, not yet, I have only just reached this decision, but my decision is final.”

He frowned, there was little doubt it was final. His wife was not known for changing her mind once committing to a decision. “I wonder who the new Lord of Paladins will be,” he mused.

She smiled, “that will be decided at the Paladin Moot. If you ask me the smart gold is on Vis.”

Jacob nodded, “Vis would be your favorite, for obvious reasons. I assume you will speak for him at The Paladin Moot?”

She laughed, “I will, but not too loudly . . . It’s time we parted, or you won’t make it back before sunset.”

“Before we go,” he insisted, “what will you name our second daughter?”

“I think I shall name her ‘Valencia’” she answered.

Jacob swallowed, “after your stepmother, an appropriate honor.”

They mounted their horses heading in opposite directions. Jacob embraced his wife, there was a tender parting kiss and exchange of “I love you.” As he came to a small rise in the distance, his gleaming mythral armor so distinctive, Jacob blew her a kiss. Panthea pretended to catch it in the air and place it on her cheek.

* * *

Panthea could see immediately that disaster had struck the supposedly sleepy village of Old Home. Spurring her mount the legendary Lord of Paladins rushed to the splintered gate. She met the desperate eyes of the shocked populace. Torn bodies lay about those mourning, but Panthea saw other bodies blackened and blistered by the effects of acid. The village had been besieged by a black dragon, a young adult based on the damage to the gate and community. Not one of the great wyrms of legend, that even Panthea would fear, but still far more than this community could handle.

Still, this was most unusual. Old Home was both off the beaten path and of little interest or value. This protected it as surely as its sturdy walls and well trained militia. Most fell creatures just didn’t regard the village as worth the effort.

Quickly Panthea dismounted and began healing those who were not dead. “How long ago” she asked the nearest to her. An old man, pain etched on his face, said “about an hour.”

“Where is Amanita?” asked Panthea. Amanita’s curing powers were not equal to Panthea’s, but she could help the suffering here.

“Taken” said the old man.

“Taken?!” Panthea paused in her ministrations and prayers, “by the dragon?”

“Yes” said the man, flatly, “the beast sought her out.”

Panthea didn’t ask why. The only reason any young dragon has for taking a human was as a store of food. But why it would seek the druid, who had at least some capacity to resist, made no sense at all. “Where is the Commander of the Town Militia?” asked Panthea.

“Gone after them, with all his men . . . that survived” the man replied.

Panthea sighed, knowing that in the unlikely event they caught up with the dragon that more good men would die. She considered many things. She thought about her unborn. This was supposed to have been a quiet trip to stay for a few weeks and have Amanita deliver her second daughter. She thought about her first daughter, Purthea, playing “Paladins and Demons” with a small stick for her “Holy Sword.” But mostly she thought of her oath. As a Paladin she had taken the Oath of Devotion, which included a sacred pledge to protect those weaker than her and threatened by evil. A young adult dragon was not beyond her capabilities, even with child. She had to stop the Commander of the Militia, and his not up to the task Company, before they got themselves killed. She had to try to rescue her friend Amanita, if she still could. Her retirement would have to await one last quest.

She considered using her Holy Sword to communicate with The True Church. She had left the Sword’s mate at the Church and with either she could communicate to whoever held the other. An acolyte would currently have the honor of waiting for any such message. She decided to wait. This power could be used once per day, and she might need it later. Besides, the Church would only try to talk her out of a rescue mission . . .

So off she rode, as fast as she dared, after advising the town to get notice to The True Church of the events and her impromptu quest. The trail left by the rag tag part time soldiers of the Town Militia was easy to follow . . . and ended in gore. She found what was left of them only a few miles from Old Home. In a large open field the dragon had clearly turned on them and feasted some more. Only a short distance from the collection of the bodies of the militia and their mounts lay the half eaten corpse of Amanita. Panthea knelt at the body of her dear friend, and wept as she administered The Last Blessings.

In this moment of letting her guard down, a strange thing happened behind her. One of the bodies of the Militia began to shift in shape, and grow, and keep growing. In a moment behind Panthea was one of those huge dragons of legend. Causticia, as she was known to humans (she had her own much different name for herself). The fearsome Black Dragon Witch, was a constant bane to the efforts of The True Church. The old, bitter dragon, had only feigned a smaller one in the attack on Home Town, with same shape shifting by which she impersonated a dead member of The Militia. Almost instantly she resumed her full and natural form behind an unaware Panthea, vengeance against the Holy Warrior, who long ago led a party that destroyed a clutch of her eggs, was now her’s to take.

Panthea never saw it hit before losing consciousness. For only a moment she was aware of intense pain as a sea of acid poured over her. Her sword tried to heal her, but it was too much . . .

Panthea awoke still experiencing that pain. Unhealed grotesque burns across her skin. Bound in chains, gagged and drugged with potions designed to block any spell casting. She existed in this miserable state for three weeks. The dragon witch was there. Caustica realized the potential power in Panthea’s unborn and with additional potions and spells sought to amplify . . . and control it. The life of dragons is very long compared to that of humans. From the dragon’s perspective it would not be long before this soon to be born human baby would be a powerful ally. The irony of the daughter of a Paladin Lord loving her as a mother and living as her loyal servant pleased Cuastica very much.

Panthea was aware of little more than her pain, but she was aware of the ongoing corruption of the life inside of her. She feared the evil it would become under the Dragon Witch’s long term maternal control. She knew she would die anyway as soon as the baby was born, but she was powerless. Nothing could break her bonds, and no spell would function. What she must do was kill herself, and her baby, to keep it from The Black Witch, but even the release of suicide was denied her.

In desperation Panthea prayed within her own mind. She called upon the True God to grant her the ability to end her life. A short time later, He answered her prayer. She felt her sword. The two swords could communicate with Panthea because a piece of her life essence was in each. The Black Dragon Witch had taken considerable effort to ensure the sword was shielded from her mental contact in a special room for this sort of thing. But a random pebble had fallen in a sealed door jam, preventing it from closing properly. Fate works this way when the righteous prayers of the very Holy are heard. The inner seal was thus quietly breached. When the outer seal was routinely opened as one servant moved out, the sword’s life energy sought out and contacted its tortured Creator.

Panthea sensed the contact immediately and managed a tragic smile. Her sword was in the possession of a dark wizard who was casting spells of divination upon it. Her two swords had a variety of powers, among them the power to dance. Now it was her turn for surprise. The Wizard had his back turned, his head buried in a large scroll as in a trance state he worked a powerful, magic requiring his full concentration. He sensed nothing when the sword lifted off the table behind him, and with a swift sure stroke, separated his head from his shoulders.

Panthea ordered the sword to return to her, and it did, flying swiftly out of the room, past surprised guards, hundreds of feet through dark hallways and eventually straight into her bound hands. Her first sense was of connection to the sword’s mate back at the High Church. An all too young acolyte still had the duty to man the sword’s mate on the slight chance of a message from Panthea. Prayers of communing had told the high clerics that she yet lived, but little more due to the protective spells of the Dragon Witch.

Now the pain and despair of Panthea was communicated to that young acolyte. The acolyte gasped at what he felt through the sword, nearly dropping it, but holding on in his own display of courage. Without hesitation he sounded an alarm that he knew would go directly to the highest Clerics in the Temple. It was another brave decision. The use of that alarm was almost unheard of from one of his low status, but he felt the price would be higher to not sound it.

One reason for his panic was he sensed Panthea’s desperate intention. He tried to communicate to her, to tell her not to do this, that help was coming. She answered and the torture in her thoughts came with it. She must, there was no time. The Dragon Witch was coming, coming for her baby.

The acolyte sensed the final command she gave her sword, but was helpless to stop it. In front of the bound Paladin the sword completed a macabre final dance. With a swift sure stroke it severed Panthea’s head, and her pain at last ended. At the last moment she realized she should have had the sword stab her belly first, to ensure the death of the baby, but no matter, the baby would die.

There may not have been time anyway because even as Panthea’s head struck the floor Caustica erupted into the room in a rage. She could not imagine how this happened with her precautions, some unforgiveable careless mistake for which an underling would pay dearly. The Paladin was dead, but for the moment the baby still lived, though it too would die in just seconds. The Dragon Witch knew what had to be done. With a razor sharp talon, that she adjusted to the appropriate size, she carefully cut open the swollen abdomen of the dead Paladin. Then she called upon her magic to shape shift into the form of a human woman. With surprisingly delicate hands she extricated the baby, so young and small, it was hard to imagine the potential Caustica knew it had.

Its mouth moved, gasping, for a moment it seemed the slightly premature infant might not catch on to the art of breathing . . . but then it did. Willing itself to live, it sucked in a breath, then a deeper one, then another, and then it wailed. The Dragon Witch smiled, recognizing the universal cry of a hungry infant. She brought the baby to her breast, and the baby instantly suckled.

She had not finished with her potions and magics before this debacle, but no matter. Her Dragon Milk would, in time, complete most the work. She had in her arms a creature of great potential, to add to her own arsenal of powerful servants. This would be the greatest of all, particularly since in time it would come to love her as . . . mother.

But the Dragon Witch made a great mistake. She forgot the sword. It had fallen into a corner and was forgotten. The Dragon Witch assumed it just another Paladin’s Holy Sword, of no real interest or use to her. That it might be connected to a mate never occurred to her, thus she did not flee to a new lair, though she had many prepared to receive her. To be sure, with the death of Panthea that connection was broken, but the brief connection revealed to the holder of the sword’s mate the exact location of its partner, now communicated to the highest clerics of The True Church. That the baby could have lived was also communicated. While the Dragon Witch was protected against even the most powerful spells of divination (as had been Panthea when captured), the baby was for a time not, as Caustica had yet to cast those spells.

The Highest Priest of the True Church himself cast the commune spell that confirmed the baby lived. He then personally ordered a mission to rescue the baby, as quickly as possible. The full resources of The True Church would be applied and if the Dragon Witch was killed, so much the better. Her villainy had gone too far this time, it was personal now, and she must die while they knew where she was holed. In the end, he reluctantly approved a plan that was deemed to have a high chance of rescuing the baby, but a low chance of killing the Dragon Witch. The force necessary to kill her would be so overwhelming that the baby would almost certainly die in the massive conflict. The smaller extraction rescue mission to save the baby was the highest priority, and it is what Panthea would have wanted.

So when alarms sounded again in Caustica’s lair she knew from the timing that her arrogance had betrayed her. The baby was on the other side of the massive lair being prepared for a ceremony of binding that would increase Caustica’s hold on the two week old child’s psyche. The enemy had struck at the most vulnerable time and place. By the time she could get to where the baby was the battle there would be over and the baby would be gone, teleported away. Further, with the baby gone the full weight and fury of The True Church would be launched against her lair. As protected with minions and as powerful as she was, that had at least a chance to kill even her.

So she fled. The order to abandon the massive lair galled her, but she hadn’t lived this long by taking foolish risks. She gave the order, and well rehearsed actions to save as much treasure, magics, and the most valued minions as feasible went smoothly into effect. Still she knew much would be lost, to include the very useful Beholder Beast, Qz. At least her curse would make the lair an un-living Hell for all who remained.

As she made her own quick exit she knew the baby would grow into an adult and would be special, very special. Their time had been too short to complete the imprinting bond she had sought, but she could still hope the baby would someday seek to return to the one mother she had known . . . and serve her.

Not all from the True Church returned from the rescue mission. Among the dead was Panthea’s husband, Jacob, who insisted on accompanying the rescue mission. He died ensuring his younger daughter’s rescue was successful, orphaning both of his children.

Chapter 2-Two Sisters Bound By Destiny

Fourteen years later Purthea rode through the Kingdom’s capital to meet her younger sister, Causthea, on the anniversary of her birth, and their mother’s death. How does one celebrate a birthday under such circumstances? The two orphaned sisters had grown to love each other, different as they were. They shared a common hate for the powerful creature responsible for making them orphans. Purthea at least remembered their mother, though only barely. The two sisters had grown up with a pact, forged first as the fantasy of children, but later evolved into a completely sober commitment. They would avenge the death of their mother.

Causthea was not awaiting the arrival of her sister. She was deep in her studies of sorcery. While only 14 she had matured surprisingly fast, one of the effects of her early days of life. The maturity in her art had also been precocious. She already had more power than a typical sorcerer with no adventures in the world, particularly for one who had received no formal training in the art. Deep down, the source of her power, she believed, was hate. Killing the creature responsible for her mother’s death was her life’s passion. She recognized it would take time to grow in power to do this, but she had no doubt that power would come to her, more quickly and more readily than to others.

She was different. Anyone could see it. While beautiful, her quasi Draconic Origins changed her. One does not suckle on dragon milk without consequence, and there was no telling what the reptilian witch had done to her while in utero. Her dark skin had a scaly tint that glistened, particularly in her oddly shaped, vaguely Elven ears, that she kept mostly hidden beneath her flowing jet black hair. More than one had mistaken her for a Drow, the feared and despised Dark Elves, while others uttered fearful whispers of Tiefling, the magical half-demons feared by mankind. Causthea even kept a portion of the Dragon Witch’s name, as a constant reminder of who killed her mother. Her Draconic Origins made her beautiful, smart, powerful and . . . hateful. She must prevail upon her sister to begin action now to deal with the target of that hate . . .

Purthea returned to the Church in a heavy mood. The “birthday party” with Causthea was mostly another in the long series of talks of vengeance against her evil step mother of a fortnight. Causthea had again lectured Purthea, with that unique skill at persuasion of hers, to commit to taking The Oath of Vengeance. Purthea had again put her sister off on the question, much to her sister’s frustration. Purthea had long considered the Oath of Vengeance as an option, but to actually do it, to take an oath for Paladins different from the Oath of Devotion taken by their mother was a huge step. She felt doing so would dishonor the legacy of her mother.

Her sister also pressed her to begin adventures now, destroying evil to enhance their power. Causthea insisted her “book learning” had taken her as far as she could go. At 21, it was true, the time had come for Purthea’s first battles against evil in the world, but her sister, notwithstanding her unnatural growth and power, at 14 was clearly still too young. Causthea’s answer to that was terse. “Come with me, and protect me, or I will simply set out on my own.” She could be so persuasive . . .

Purthea’s self absorption was broken by a familiar voice. “Pondering your first adventure, young Paladin.” It was Domineco, the Initiate Cleric who was quite familiar to Purthea. They had long been friends as she was raised in The Church after her mother’s death.

“As a matter of fact I was” replied Purthea. “My sister insists on joining me.”

“That may be for the good” said Domineco, “your influence over her may save her life and give her life’s quest a chance.”

“But she’s only 14.”

Domineco shook his head, “Yes, that’s true as we tally years, but it is not true by any measure of her power. Besides, if you don’t bring her, she will go out on her own and get herself killed.”

Panthea forced of a laugh, “that’s just what she said.”

“So there you have it. I understand you both, better than you know.” His tone became serious and low. “Come, I’ve been told to show you something.” Purthea followed him through winding halls into areas of the Temple she knew existed but had not visited. They stopped at a door.

“Open it said” Domineco. “I can’t, only a Paladin can.”

The door opened like any other for Purthea. Inside the small room was a simple table, upon it an ordinary looking chest, with a lock fixed to it. This is double locked,” he said producing a key that glowed with magical runes that belied the mundane appearance of the lock. He inserted it into the lock, it opened and Domineco removed the simple looking lock. “The chest may still be safely opened by only three people in the world,” said Domineco “you, your sister, and the High Priest of this Temple who made the chest.”

A befuddled Purthea considered all this, before reverently reaching out and opening the chest. Inside was a sword. “What sword is this?” she asked.

“Pick it up” was the only answer she received.

“Strange swords are not to be trifled with” she said.

“You will find this one more familiar than strange” he said.

As a holy warrior should, Panthea grasped it firmly and lifted the sword out. Domineco was right. It did not feel “strange” at all. It felt . . . perfect. Never had she felt so attuned to the feel of a sword. Its hilt felt so natural in her grasp, as if custom made for her hand, and the balance seemed perfect for her. She examined it closely. A large gem laid in the hilt, surrounded by runes of the True God. Still, the only strangeness of this sword was its compelling familiarity.

“Examine the blade,” he said.

She looked closely, at first seeing nothing. But then the letters appeared along the blade, in the secret language of Paladins. They were fine, almost too small to see, but somehow she could read them easily:

To dream the impossible dream,

To fight the unbeatable foe.

To bear with unbearable sorrow

To run where the brave dare not go.

To right the unrightable wrong . . .

The words continued. “The Paladin’s Chant” marveled Purthea.

“Yes,” said Domineco, “very few can see them.”

“Are you among those very few?”

Domineco’s face grew pained and he choked on his answer, “Yes, he said, but only because I held that sword as your mother died. Other than me, and your mother’s daughters, only those with true sight can see it.” He paused as if steeling himself to continue. “You can see them, and the sword seems so perfect for you because a small portion of your mother’s life force yet remains in this sword, and of course, it’s mate. For you, this is as close to touching your mother again as you will ever know.”

“You were the one who had the duty to hold this sword when my mother made her last contact?!” gasped Purthea. “How can we know each other all these years and you tell me this only now?”

“I was told not to,” he answered simply, “until now.”

Purthea’s mind was a whirl. “It’s mate?” she queried, “it survives?”

“Yes,” he said, “we know this because of the power that yet resides in this sword, but we cannot divine where. That quest is for you . . . and your sister.”

She knew he was right. She and her sister would have to do this. By the True God if her sister knew of this she would set out immediately to recover the missing mate to this sword by herself. Purthea started to return the sword to its chest. “No!” said Domineco, “the decision has been made. What remains of your mother’s soul has been confined here for too long. You are of age, it is your time. Your mother’s sword is your’s now, as she would want it. In you hands it shall have powers that no others could reach. The sword knows who you are.”

Purthea wondered what part of her mother remained in this sword. She was vaguely aware of the possibility of creating swords such as this, where a portion of the maker’s life force, her mother in this case, is transferred to and imbued into the sword. Such powerful artifacts are not normally given to one so devoid of experience as her. What powers were within it? What of her mother lay within it still that she could reach?

On instinct Purthea closed her eyes, and focused on the sword. Domineco, sensing what she was doing stood silent.

Purthea turned her thoughts into the sword . . . and the sword answered. Understandings and feeling flowed first into Purthea. Understanding of what she could do with this sword, and understandings of potential things she could do later as her own power increased.

Then there were visions, and thoughts . . . of her mother, as if through the sword’s senses. She saw herself, as an infant. She felt her mother’s joy at becoming a mother and the joy of believing she would again . . . Then those memories faded, replaced by terror and pain. She saw her mother hanging in chains, burned by acid almost beyond recognition. Purthea realized she saw this vision was through the perception of the other sword that was there. It hovered before Panthea, and then Purthea heard her mother’s final command to that sword. She felt the desperation and regret of that command. She felt the sword’s reluctance and heard Domineco’s pleading, but the command was firm, and the sword obeyed . . .

Purthea nearly dropped the sword from the shock of this vision. She knew what must be done. With this sword, and perhaps its mate, she and her sister must kill the evil that had driven her mother to this. There would be no more waiting. She and her sister would leave as soon as they could for the Dragon’s Witch’s former lair to gather what clues they could find.

“It takes no divination to know what you are thinking” said Domineco. “I too shared in what happened to your mother. I’ll go with you, if you will have me.”

“I’ll have the experience and power you bring,” she answered grimly. “We leave within the week. And when the time comes, I shall take the Oath of Vengeance. I now know my mother would approve.”

Chapter 3-The Exiled Barbarian

Dragons are old, and their tales grow long. The most powerful and intelligent gather many minions to protect them. They also make many enemies, this is the story of another enemy.

This story begins about a year after the story of Panthea’s ill fated arrival at Old Home. It starts with a cow, and a woman milking it in her yard. Of course, “yard” is a generous term. The “house” was nothing more than a crude tent, but the woman regarded it as home. It was a pleasant, cool morning, the kind of day that made milking a cow seem not a chore. The cloudless sky also made the vision of a hungry dragon all that more extended. It was the cow she hungered for, not the little woman milking it, though the woman was irritatingly in the way.

The woman’s husband would not have acted to save the cow, but his wife was a different matter. Even Godless barbarians know love. As he returned from hunting with his eight year old son at his side, he saw the great dragon descend on his wife. He drew his large sword and in a rage his son had never seen before charged to defend her, leaving his bewildered and terrified son behind to watch the carnage of his parents’ quick death.

The nomadic people of the young boy’s tribe lived by a simple, and often brutal set of rules. One of those rules was that the tribe did not accept orphans. All connections to the tribe, even his name (his parents called him “Caun”) was stripped from him. He was sent out, with nothing but his torn animal skin clothing.

He grew hungry. He had watched his father hunt, and his father had begun to teach him, but he didn’t even have a knife to fashion traps. Starving, he snuck back to the tribe and in the night stole both a knife and food. The full belly emboldened him and he stole again. His life as a thief lasted a week, before it ended with his being caught.

The tribal meeting was harsh. They openly discussed removing one of his hands. In the end “compassion” won the discussion and the decision was for a more rigorous exile. They were near the ocean and the tribe had one boat, used for fishing, though the boy had never been on it, as that was not his father’s skill. He was taken to it, and his head hooded. He did not understand navigating at sea in any event, but he couldn’t even see the direction they head.

They dropped him on an island, the man, named “Gedder,” whose knife he had stole marched him into the middle of it, still with the hood on. The man then tethered him by his foot to a tree with a rope with many tight knots. It would take the boy nearly an hour to undo them.

Gedder sat down, and sighed as he removed the boy’s hood. “You’re so young, I have one almost your age, a scamp like you we call ‘Darkmoon’ because he was born on a night when the Moon went dark.” Gedder sighed, “I’m sorry this had to happen to you boy. The order of the Tribal Council is to leave you here like this, with nothing, not so much as a needle.” He then pulled out a nice dagger, much better than the small knife he had stolen from the man. “This would help you much” he said, “might even give you a chance. But I am forbidden to leave it with you. Funny how slippery these things can be though,” he smiled, “I best be careful not to drop it just up that ways,” he said pointing towards a large tree in the distance.

With that Gedder left, shuffling off towards that tree. When the boy finally freed himself he had the rope, and sure enough, he found the man’s dagger lying next to the tree. That was all he started his new life with.

Again he knew hunger. The island was at least safe of monsters and people. There were some berries and small fruits to be picked but not enough to really live on. He tried hunting, but caught nothing, at eight years his skills were not yet up to the task. Even if he somehow caught one of the rabbits, or other small animals on the island, he had no skill or means of making fire to cook it.

But there was one “monster” of sorts. A great eagle nested on the side of a cliff. Driven by hunger the boy waited till the eagle was gone and climbed to the bluff above it to look down upon the nest. There, plain as can be, was a large egg. The very sight of it made his empty belly growl. That one egg would make him full again, give him strength, perhaps his hunting skills would improve.

The boy used the rope and with the eagle gone hunting again, lowered himself to the nest. There sat the egg, even bigger up close, more than just one meal for his growling stomach . . .

Life is about decisions that steer where one goes. A decision to charge a dragon, rather than hide with your small son. A decision to steal a knife and food. The boy reached out and touched the egg, then drew his hand back. It occurred to him that the eagle was a mother, much like his own, and that he would be murdering her child. He thought of his own mother, this time he was the dragon. But he was starving and his stomach growled again, so he picked up the egg.

Was he no better than the dragon that killed his parents? With that, the decision was made, he sighed and put the egg back. He prepared to lower himself the rest of the way resigned to a few berries he might find for dinner.

That’s when the man appeared out of nowhere. One moment he wasn’t there, the next, a man was sitting on the outcropping, within reach of the boy. The man was dressed in a fine, brilliantly shining armor, and at his side was sword of equal brightness. Over his back was a long bow with a quiver of fine arrows. Then the eagle, whose nest the boy invaded, suddenly flew down and landed on the man’s shoulder.

The boy was terrified and plastered himself against the cliff wall. But the man just laid a hand on his shoulder, and said with a voice almost magical in its calming influence, “You could have taken my egg and eaten it, why didn’t you?”

Shaking the boy mumbled that “it just wouldn’t be right to the mother.”

“But you could starve to death without it” said the man. The boy said nothing. “Your choice has done me a great favor. This egg was special to me. I will not let you starve, at least not today.” With that he took a bag off his belt that the boy saw contained a dead rabbit. The boy’s eyes widened at the thought of that succulent meat. The man then gave the boy a small box and explained it would make fire when commanded, allowing the boy to cook. Finally, the man said, “this eagle is mine, and I now gift him to you. Treat him well and he will do all that you ask. I give you one more gift” the man said somberly, “a name. You shall be known as ‘Talon, Eagle Friend.’”

With that the man pocketed the egg, great eagle wings suddenly rose from his back and he simply flew off, quickly disappearing around a bend in the cliff. The eagle remained behind, looking curiously at the boy. In a panic the boy clambered down the cliff, using the rope of vines cut with the knife. He stood and looked up. The eagle leapt into the sky, spread its wings wide, and swooped towards the boy, its claws open. Terrified, the boy covered his head with his arms and closed his eyes. The eagle landed lightly on his shoulder, chirping as if amused. The boy sensed the eagle’s loyalty to him, and this relaxed him. He looked at the eagle and said “I name you Aerie.” He could tell the eagle understood.

Food was no longer an issue. Aerie provided. Talon feasted on rabbit and fish, cooked with fires started with the magic fire starter left by the man. A man that Talon sensed was worshipped by Aerie as a God.

Talon resolved to learn to hunt on his own, but he was helped by another remarkable development. It started with dreams, dreams that he was flying. But then they happened while he was awake. At first he thought them day dreams, but then in one he looked down and saw himself. He grew closer, and then Aerie landed on his lightly shoulder. He realized he was seeing through Aerie’s eyes, even with the unnatural sharpness of the eagle’s vision. With practice he learned that he could focus and control this ability. He also learned that his very thoughts would direct Aerie. He didn’t recognize this as magic, just friendship.

Chapter 4-Island Life

The island was now safe and abundant with food. Talon grew, and life in the wild made him quick and strong.

He was about twice the age he had been when left on the island when he found the cave. It was well hidden at the base of the cliff not far from where Aerie had nested. It was overgrown with vegetation, Talon found it only because he was pursuing a rabbit that ran into the bramble for cover. Talon cut away the prickly mess with his old dagger. A narrow entrance opened to a chamber with several tunnels running off of it.

For the first time Talon saw evidence that other humans had once been on the island, but it must have been ages ago. Bones were scattered amongst the floor with rusting and mostly broken weapons. He found nothing of use.

The front chamber provided shelter in cold and rain, another improvement to his lifestyle. For over a year Talon explored the maze, improvising crude torches to provide dim light. He found nothing but more of the same. Until one day he made the discovery that would again change his life.

It started with a door. A remarkably well preserved one at that. Even the floor in front of the door seemed clear of the usual debris of the labyrinth. Talon had little experience with doors and the mechanism of it confused him. Still he was about to pull on the handle when Aerie stopped him with a loud shriek and painful peck on his shoulder. Flustered at the bird’s sudden attack he paused. He focused, concentrating to feel the bird’s thoughts, as he had come to be able to do. He saw again through Aerie’s eyes, and her sharp vision noticed what he had not. A strange, almost invisible wire ran from the door to the floor. He sensed the danger Aerie was aware of and stepped back, backing down the narrow corridor. Aerie flew off his shoulder, to the door, and clawed at the wire. With remarkable suddenness a trap door opened up, and then slammed back shut with a forceful smack. Had Talon been standing there he would have fallen through to whatever was below, and been trapped there.

Talon didn’t come back for many days, devoting considerable thought to the near disaster. He wanted to see what was behind that door, or under the trap door. In time a solution came to him. He lugged a large branch to the location, stopping just outside the range of the trapdoor. On his direction Aerie again triggered the trap and as the door swung open Talon quickly shoved the branch so that it wedged between the door and its frame as it swung back up. Talon succeeded in jamming the trapdoor open.

He lit another torch and tossed it in. It fell about 20 feet. Peering in Talon could see it laying amongst yet more bodies, some noticeably more recent. Armor and weapons laid scattered about. Now he was REALLY curious!

Talon went back and retrieved his old rope. He secured one end to a large rock and climbed down into the room. He realized now that some of the skeletons were not human, they were way too big and the wrong shape in the skull. Past them was a flight of stairs going up. He realized the trap was two fold. First the trapdoor brought a party down here, injured or dying, and it was then set upon by these large creatures running down the stairs.

Swords and other weapons lay about, some of the weapons of types he did not recognize. Unlike the others in the level above, many were in good condition and usable. This would make hunting easier, as the dagger had become quite worn and dull. Amongst it all was a bow and a quiver with amazingly pristine arrows. Talon whooped at the fun it would provide!

Before him the stairs led up. What greater adventure and discovery might lie there? Talon bounded up the stairs, Aerie still on his shoulder, to encounter another door. Talon attempted to open it, but it would not move. He pushed it with all his strength, but it did not so much as budge.

Talon took the best sword he could find in the pile, some of the armor he thought might fit, and (of course) that wonderful bow with its arrows. He spent weeks and weeks practicing with the bow, finally teaching himself to use it with precision enough to shoot a moving rabbit. He and Aerie soon enjoyed bigger game meat, such as deer and the wild pigs that ran on the island.

He often returned to the room below the trapdoor, trying to solve the mystery of the door, to no avail. One day, when sifting through the stuff on the dead he found a curious item around the neck of one of the inhuman beasts. A length of metal, oddly shaped, with intricate cuts and grooves in it. It seemed its owner thought it important, but Talon could see no use in it. Still he put it around his own neck, viewing it a badge of honor for his discovery.

Much later, while fiddling with the door again, Talon noticed that it had a small hole near the opening mechanism. He could not see through the hole and thinking it might be jammed with something he stuck twigs, his dagger and so forth in it to no avail. He realized that chunk of metal around his neck would fit in the hole and attempting to dislodge whatever he supposed was jamming it he stuck that in too. It fit surprising well, he thought. He jimmied it about and while doing so there was suddenly a very sharp click, and to his shock, the door opened.

Light, quite bright for one used to working by an improvised torch, flooded onto the stairway. When one has lived alone for nearly a decade, such a thing prompts more curiosity than fear. Something new, different, remarkable, and most of all, exciting had happened. Grabbing one of the swords he had found in the trap room below he cautiously stepped inside. For a bored young man seeking excitement, he was not let down.

The room was square with a couple of desks. A great battle had obviously been fought in it, and somehow left scorch marks on the walls and furniture. The light came from a lantern that somehow shown with bright, enduring light. Never again would Talon have to fashion torches! But most remarkable of all were the two statues.

Laying on the floor was one of the massive creatures whose skeletons were below, the hyena like nature of its grotesque face preserved now in stone allowing Talon his first glimpse at what they really looked like.

It had been skewed with a massive, gleaming sword. Unlike the lightly rusted weapon in his hand, it was beautiful, it’s large hilt inscribed with symbols that were meaningless to Talon, not surprising since he had no experience or knowledge of letters. Standing above the creature was a second statue, of a man, his arm position suggesting he had delivered the death blow. The statues were carved with a stunning lifelikeness, so much so that Talon feared they might come to life.

Talon’s fascination with the sword overcame all fear. How he wanted that great weapon! Setting aside the much smaller one he held, he grasped the hilt of the sword and pulled, as hard as he could. It would not budge from the stone giant in which it was embedded so thoroughly that it stuck out his back end. He pulled and pulled till exhausted, to no avail. What was the point of embedding such a beautiful weapon in a statue?

Giving up for the moment he looked about the room. A large sack lay between the two statues and it bulged suggesting bulky contents inside. He opened it and his jaw dropped. There were coins, many of them, of various types and colored metal. There were also dozens of gems. From his prior life, an impoverished one, he guessed this to be a fortune of some greatness, though he was not sure how much. This he would take with him! He was now a wealthy man, if only he had things to buy.

He searched the room some more but found nothing of note, except another strange door. It did not go all the way to floor, starting about halfway up, it was more like a panel. Based on his prior experience with doors he did not expect it to open, but it opened readily to his pull. What he saw was the most petrifying figure imaginable!

It was the severed, or so he assumed, head of a woman except where there should be hair there appeared only a thick clumping of snakes, dead snakes. Of course, the head was dead, not only had it been separated from its surprisingly nowhere to be found body, but it was cleaved nearly in two, which did seem rather redundant to Talon. Beneath it lay paper with bizarre writing. Unwilling to touch the disgusting head, he pushed it aside with his small sword, letting it fall and roll onto the ground. He picked up the odd parchment and stared at the odd letters.

That’s when Aerie spoke to him. “Would you like me to cast that for you?” said the bird clear as a bell. With all that he had encountered Talon nearly jumped out of his skin. It took him a moment to realize that the voice came from his eagle.

“By the Gods,” cried Talon using an oath he had often heard his father say, “you speak!”

“Well yes, that’s pretty much it” chirped the bird.

“But how, and why not before?” asked Talon.

“It’s not really Aerie,” said the bird, “it’s the bird’s true master, the man you encountered on that ledge those years ago.”

“But how? Said Talon, “you aren’t even here.”

“I can see through the eyes, and hear through the ears of any of my subjects, if I choose” said the voice. “At this time I so choose because I want to help you again.”

A bewildered Talon asked “What do you want me to do?”

“It is not what I want you to do, but what you want me to do. If you wish I will cast the spell that appears on that scroll you are holding,” replied the God speaking through the eagle, “but if I am to do that, you must choose it to be.”

Talon knew virtually nothing of magic, except some old memories that his tribe viewed magic, the kind used by wizards and sorcerers, as an evil to be avoided at all costs. “What will it do?” asked Talon.

“It will turn flesh that has been turned to stone back into flesh” was the response.

Talon’s mind whirled as what his bird/God said sank in. “You mean those guys were really alive?” he exclaimed pointing towards the statutes.

“Yes, very much so, they might even still be. I cannot tell through only Aerie’s senses.

“So what is the risk in doing this?”

“Well who knows? Perhaps the statues shall return to life and kill you, but I think not. No, I think this is a great decision for you that will set you on a path for the rest of your life, one fraught with danger. I will tell you this. If you do not ask this of me then your life shall continue as it is. It shall likely be a long life, lived completely and safely on this island.”

“And if I ask you to cast this spell?”

“Who knows?” it was if the bird actually shrugged. “But your life will move in a very different direction, one that may even cross paths in time with the beastwitch that left you an orphan and doomed you to this exile. Your life will be far less predictable because you will live it facing great dangers.”

That seemed unimaginable to the young Talon, but preferable to the mundane life of tedium on this island. He yearned for human contact again. A choice to not have this spell done would ensure a lifetime of lonely banishment on this island, with only Aerie for company. “Do it” said Talon.

“Very well” did the bird actually nod? “place the scroll where I can see it.”

Talon did as asked. Aerie began chanting strange words Talon could not understand, with an odd musical rhythm within them. It took but moments, but seemed longer as the lilting language built to an end, and ended abruptly. The air shuddered and from behind Talon there was a loud thud.

Talon turned to look and saw that the man standing as a statue was now collapsed on the floor in a heap. He was dead after all, as was the skewered giant. Talon walked over and pulled again at the sword. It moved! It took awhile but at last he worked the huge sword out of the body. He attempted to raise it up in triumph, only to get it up only a couple of feet, before it crashed to the ground. It was too large and heavy for him to lift. How had the man who once used this sword done so? The best Talon could do was to drag it to the cave entrance he had made home. “This is going to change my life?” he glumly asked Aerie, but the bird did not answer.

Chapter 5-Flight and Fight

It was winter and the island unusually chilly, snow even fell, something that had never happened before in Talon’s time on the island. With his limited rags for clothing hunting was very cold. His hands were particularly bothered. Warming them by his fire at the cave entrance, he had a thought. The body of that fallen warrior whose sword he had dragged here, had gloves. Nice looking, thick gloves at that. Talon had seen no use for them before, but he did now!

So, carrying the Forever Lantern, he returned to the room and slipped the gloves off the man’s body and put them on. Putting them on felt odd, and made him flushed. As he went hunting that day he pulled back on his prized bow, and was startled to find the task so much easier, he nearly broke the string! It had always been a strain to pull that bow, even as he grew bigger and stronger. Now it was like lifting a rabbit. His first thought went to that sword.

He rushed back to his home and attempted to pick it up, anticipating the customary great effort he was shocked when it whizzed over his head. While still not light, he discovered he could carry it easily, and move it about. He danced about the room swinging the sword in clumsy, exaggerated motions but swinging it all the same, laughing at the fun of it. These gauntlets did more than just keep his hands warm, they made him a great warrior, a great warrior indeed!

Convinced of his great warrior status Talon became more determined to leave the island. But he knew no way off. His frustration mounted as he formed a plan, a plan of vengeance. There was but one means of being accepted back into his tribe, and that was for him to kill that which had made him an orphan. Flushed with the confidence of a young man who has never faced real danger, and believing himself super-human because of his sword, Talon believed he could do it. He could kill that dragon and regain his place within his tribe. That became all that he wanted, and he obsessed over it, in dreams he slayed the dragon over and over with his great sword. But there remained no way off the island.

One day he got the idea to use Aerie to at least find where the mainland lay. She did easily enough. It was perhaps an hour flying time for her. He had her fly over a road and, for the first time since he was left on the island, through Aerie’s sharp vision, he saw other people. A family, much like his own worked in a field. A small boy, about the age he had been when orphaned ran playfully among them. An older daughter in peasant rags appeared beautiful to the eyes of a young man who had not seen a woman since it would matter to see a woman.

Aerie returned and Talon’s obsession with leaving the island, and frustration at not being able to do so, increased. In the year that civilized men counted as the 20th of his life, the solution was remarkably easy, once it happened.

One day after a hunt he sat with Aerie in front of an open fire, on a warm pleasant evening, near the coast facing the mainland. Talon often came there, staring at the distance as if doing so could make it come closer. He turned to Aerie and simply said, “by the Gods, I wish I could get off this damned island.” Aerie chirped and looked up. In the sky there was the screech of an eagle. This confused Talon because there had never been another eagle on the island other than Aerie. Then he saw it, a particularly large one, bigger even than Aerie. It circled and set down next to Aerie from who Talon felt both joy and deference. Those feelings compelled Talon to kneel himself before the large bird.

In the flash of an eye, it was no longer a bird but the man Talon had seen all those years ago on the cliff.

“So you wish by the Gods to leave the island?”

“Yes” stammered Talon standing up.

“Then by at least one God you shall, though it shall come with a price.”

“What is the price? I will pay anything.” Talon thought of his wealth horded in the bag back at his cave.

“Simply a favor. Someday I may ask something of you and you must do it without question.”

“That’s it?”

“That is it.”

Talon made another decision, one that surprised the God before him. He knelt and said “I swear my worship and loyalty and love to you. I owe you my life and will give mine for you . . . and to you. I am your servant to be used as you see fit for as long as I may draw breath.”

The God’s eyes widened at this development, he had not foreseen this. “Are you sure?”

“I am sure.”

“The worship of one of your kind is rare for me, and it can be most useful. Your devotion is accepted, Talon, Eagle Friend.”

What shall I call you, my Lord?

He actually laughed in response. “My name is not pronounceable by your kind, perhaps you should have Aerie say it for you. However, you may call me ColBar. And now let you see my true form.”

With that ColBar changed again into an eagle of enormous dimensions, the size of a house. The enormous beak faced a trembling Talon and said “I shall give you a ride from this island. Go gather whatever things you wish to bring with you.”

Leaving his wonderful bow at the camp, Talon raced back to the cave, retrieving the sword he had left there, the Forever Lamp, the best but still ill fitting, chain armor salvaged from the cave, and the bag with the money and gems. Panting he returned half expecting the great eagle to be gone, but He was still there.

Pulling a bag from its feathers the great eagle said “Put all your things in here. Surely you don’t expect me to actually carry that sword? It weighs nearly as much a you and that lamp will allow me to be seen in flight at night, something I don’t desire. Put them in the bag.”

Talon looked dubiously at the bag. It was smaller than any sword. But then he put the bag of gems and money in it, and it practically swallowed that without filling at all. The same happened with the Forever Lamp, his precious bow, and the armor. So he carefully started to put his huge sword in, only to see it somehow easily disappear inside the bag. Yet, the bag just seemed to weigh as much as when Talon originally picked it up. “Magic really is amazing, I wonder that my parents spoke so ill of it,” thought Talon.

“Well, climb up on my back and let’s go.”

Overcoming the surrealism of it all, Talon did exactly that, clinging tightly and hoping the grip, magically enhanced by his gauntlets, didn’t hurt the God he had just sworn allegiance to. If it did, ColBar said nothing. His wings spread out, over 30 feet to a side, and with a mighty beat lifted them into the air. In seconds they were hundreds of feet in the sky. In minutes the island Talon had lived nearly his entire life on was reduced to a speck. Aerie followed along on her own as the vast, unending mainland grew before them. Talon marveled at the sheer immensity of land spread out before him, as big as the ocean that surrounded his island.

On a beach near the shore ColBar set them down. Nodding to a path the enormous eagle said “follow that to an establishment of your own kind. From there, you are on your own. To find and kill that dragon witch against whom you seek vengeance you will need experience and help. I command you to seek both.”

With that ColBar was off, flying along the coast and disappearing in just a few moments. Talon set Aerie loose to scout the trail ahead of them. It led to a large building, large at least by Talon’s experience. It was an inn and its sign welcomed travelers, not that Talon could read it. For those that could read the sign said “Bye the Sea: Beer, Wine, Food, Company and Lodging.”

Talon stood before the door. Doors, and their strange ways, remained unfamiliar to him. He looked at the mechanism with confusion. That’s when a party of haflings approached. As they leaned on each other drunkenly, Talon stepped aside to let them pass hoping to follow the little men in through the confusing door. It was through Aerie’s sharp vision behind him that he saw one of the haflings cleverly release the bag ColBar had gifted him from his belt and start to pocket it himself. “Hey” snarled Talon grabbing the offender’s wrist tightly and picking him up off the ground.

“Owwww” cried the hafling “you’re breaking my wrist” as Talon’s gauntlet empowered hands were doing nearly that. Talon snatched the bag back from the thief and growling shoved him against the wall, the blow knocking the breath out of the small man, the hafling’s feet still not touching the ground.

“Easy lad” said another, older one from behind him, “no harm done here and let’s leave it that way.” Talon felt a sharp point on his waist. He turned to see that the others in the group had all drawn short swords and the one who had spoke had his pressed his against Talon. Talon had never faced such a situation. He considered fighting, but his own huge sword remained in that incredible bag ColBar had given him that was now in the hand that didn’t have the thief pinned to the wall. He dropped the hafling who promptly fell to the ground, rubbing his wrist and gasping for breath at how it hurt.

“You’re lucky, Thisbe” said the elder removing his sword from Talon’s lower ribs, “and I think you must be losing your touch to be caught so quickly by one as green as this barbarian.” He then turned to Talon and said, “My name is Largo, and by the Hafling Rules of Gathering you are now off limits as a mark for a fortnight and we owe you a drink. Let’s go inside and Thisbe here will buy you a pint of their finest ale.”

Thisbe was still painfully flexing his wrist muttering that it would be at least a fortnight before he could use it again, but confirmed that he would buy the ale. Largo could see Talon’s confused and distrusting look. “C’mon lad, let’s go on in for a pint. Bye the Sea here has some of the finest mutton in the land if you’re interested in a good meal. What’s your name?” came the disarming question.

“Talon, Eagle Friend” he replied.

“Well, that’s an odd name but you have handled this well. Tonight you are also Talon, Largo Friend. Let’s go get that drink.” With that the tiny swords all disappeared and the haflings opened the door. Leaving Aerie to guard the outside, Talon followed them in and Largo ushered them to a table. The haflings talked among themselves while Largo summoned a serving wench and ordered ale and food. The serving wench bent low bringing the drinks, exposing enticing female charms, which Talon openly stared at, his mouth agape.

“Hey barbarian, eyes up here!” she said pointing to her own eyes.

“Huh?” was all a flustered and confused Talon could manage.

“He acts like he’s never seen a woman before” squeaked Thisbe.

“Umm, I haven’t, at least not in many years,” said Talon looking down.

There was a long pause. It was Largo who spoke next. “Lad, if it’s one thing we like it’s a good story, and it sounds like you have a good one to tell. All the food you can eat and ale you can drink if you let us hear it.”

Talon took a bite of mutton which smelled so good it was nearly as intoxicating as the sight of the serving wench. He had never tasted anything so amazing! Yes, he killed and ate mutton on the island, and cooked it as best he could, but he knew nothing of seasoning. The cook at Bye the Sea was quite skilled at her craft and the new experience of flavor exploded in Talon’s mouth. His eyes widened again, and the discerning Largo took note of it. When Talon swallowed it down with ale he experienced yet another explosion of taste as a man who had previously only ever had water to drink. He rushed to taste it again, and again.

“Where are you from, Lad?” Largo asked.

“Where am I from?” Talon was asking himself the same question. “It’s a long story, I guess.”

“Well, the only thing better than a good story is a long good story. Let’s hear it before it gets any longer from that ale.”

So Talon told them his story. He told them almost everything, not having the experience of lying or holding back. He ate more of that incredible mutton, and drank more ale. He concluded by telling them of his mission, to find and kill the dragon witch who murdered his parents. Setting his mug down he then turned to his unlikely first friends, and said, “now, my story is done and I want information from you.”

“I think that story was indeed worthy of whatever we know,” said Largo.

“Where may I find this dragon witch and end her life?” demanded Talon.

There was snickering from the haflings. “Whoa lad,” said Largo, “you’d be a fool to attempt facing such a powerful creature. Many stronger men have tried. Have you forgotten the ease with which it killed your father?”

“Just tell me where I can find her, I have a mighty sword,” Talon’s snarl was weakened by an odd slurring of his words.

Laughter continued, and Largo softened his tone. “If we told you, you’d die being stupid. But we can’t tell you. No one knows where she is. She is pursued by the high powers of the True Church and remains hidden. If they can’t find her, nobody can.”

“There is her daughter,” said Thisbe.

“Her daughter?” Talon’s mind whirled from this news, and perhaps the ale.

“Aye, that’s what some think, anyway,” said Largo. “There’s a woman, girl really, said to be a gifted young sorceress herself, who many say is the daughter of the Blackwitch. She certainly looks the part, she looks half dragon. She goes by the name of Causthea which is disturbingly close to the name of her supposed mother.”

“Where is she?” demanded Talon tersely. If he could not have the murderer of his parents, then some vengeance could be had against her through her child. Besides, perhaps this Causthea could be compelled to disclose the location of her mother.

“She is in the great city of New Gont, about a week’s walk along the King’s Road going East. That road is fairly safe, though you should stop in shelters at night, if you can afford to pay for a bed.”

Satisfied that he had all he needed for his first real quest Talon said firmly, “I shall start tomorrow at first light, but I have one more question.” He opened up the magic bag and the haflings gasped, as nearly his entire arm disappeared inside of it, as he pulled out the money bag. Pouring the contents of coins and gems onto the table Talon said, “can you tell me how much this stuff is worth so I can pay for food and lodging on the way without being made a fool?”

Thisbe’s face turned blue. “A King’s ransom. I had a King’s ransom in my hand and my clumsy fingers let it get away from me. I think I’m going to be sick,” quaffing an entire mug of ale in practically a sip.

“Well, barbarian, you are full of surprises” said Largo.

The next morning as Talon prepared to leave he had another surprise. He had just finished strapping the great sword across his broad shoulders, with his bow crisscrossing over it, when Thisbe appeared, obviously equipped for a walk. “Largo said I must escort you to New Gont for losing all that treasure for our family,” he said. “So, to New Gont we go.”

Talon was skeptical. “I don’t think I need company,” he said, “I never have.”

“Well, you never could have before,” said Thisbe looking up. “Get used to it. This road’s safer than most but it ‘s not safe for greenies like you.” It was then that Aerie flew down and landed on Talon’s shoulder. Thisbe was so startled he fell over backwards, landing flat. “By the Gods, that scared the effrin crap out of me” he sputtered. “So that’s the eagle?”

“Yes,” said Talon, “obviously.”

“Well with that thing keeping an eye on me, you don’t have to worry bout me trying to filch from you.”

Chapter 6-A Paladin, A Sorceress, A Barbarian & A Hafling Walk Into A Bar

“Do you think dragons really smile?” asked Talon?

“Only when they are about to eat,” replied Thisbe, “so it’s not something you want to see.”

The trip up The King’s Road had indeed been safe. Too safe for Talon’s thinking. He was itching for a fight. So far adventuring was . . . boring. But not the sprawling city of New Gont, which Thisbe advised was the capital of Gontland and the largest city of the world. When Talon asked Thisbe what happened to Old Gont, Thisbe shrugged and said, “destroyed by dragons a long time ago.”

Talon had not imagined so many people could possibly exist in all the world. How they would even find this daughter of the dragon witch in this incredible sea of humanity was something Talon could not imagine. However, Thisbe had advised that the thing to do was to come to this bar to casually ask for information. Thisbe said adventurers frequented here, sometimes acquiring others seeking quests and tips to begin them.

They stared now at the large building not far from the center of town. A large sign depicted a smiling dragon below which were letters that remained foreign to Talon. Thisbe read them to him:

“THE HAPPY DRAGON BAR AND INN” was the name of the place. Below that Thisbe advised that it stated:

Rules of the Happy Dragon

1. No fighting in the bar. All challenges must be settled in the pit.
2. If properly challenged you may accept or leave the bar. No patron will be forced into the pit, but the decliner of a challenge must leave.
3. Terms of combat are any the combatants agree to. The proprietor shall arbitrate all disputes. His decisions are final.
4. All pit betting must be through the proprietor’s representatives. The proprietor retains 10% to cover costs.
5. All services and products must be paid for in advance. NO REFUNDS!
6. Violators will feed the dragon!

“Is there really a dragon in there?” asked Talon.

“Of sorts” answered Thisbe. “Let’s go on in, and let me do the talking.”

They entered, Thisbe leading the way with Talon advising Aerie to stay outside where he could observe the entrance. The place was enormous. Dozens of tables of various sizes sprawled about. A central square bar area, 30 feet to a side, ringed the center and above this hung a cage, with sure enough, a small dragon looking beast, about the size of a deer. Way more people than Talon could count (which was not very high), milled about, in animated discussions at tables (or the bar). Buxom (which interested Talon greatly) serving wenches skittered about serving some food, and many drinks.

They found their way to the massive bar, which overlooked a ten foot deep pit, and sat at a couple of bar stools together. “Order some Dragonwine,” said Thisbe.“This place has the best there is and you can afford it, for us.” Thisbe couldn’t filch from Talon, but he could con him into buying the best drinks.

“What’s Dragonwine?” asked Talon.

Thisbe rolled his eyes before answering. “It’s just the most incredible awesomely delicious drink in the world. It makes that ale you have been drinking like a fish taste like swill.”

Talon was disbelieving this could be true, but nonetheless (as he had learned to do in their stops on the road) loudly shouted to the comely wench behind the counter “Two Dragonwines.”

The serving wench took a key from around her attractive neck and opened a locked cabinet. From this she retrieved an elaborate bottle shaped to resemble a dragon’s claw clutching an orb filled with the wine. The claw was embossed with intricate shimmering scales across its surface, reflecting hues of deep red, gold, and iridescent black. The cork, which she efficiently removed, appeared to be a carved dragon’s tooth. She poured, the wine into two fine looking glasses, that while attractive, seemed much too small to Talon.

The server promptly presented these small glasses while demanding 4 pieces of gold. Thisbe and Largo had explained to Talon how money worked. He had not paid more than some bronze, or maybe a silver for drinks before. Four gold was the price of an entire exorbitant dinner for several people. Of course, Talon had more than enough, and retrieved it out of his bag, providing a full silver as a tip (something else Thisbe had explained to him was customary).

The grateful serving wench accepted the generous tip saying, “Well thanks Barbarian, maybe we can talk later,” while slipping the coin down the front of her skimpy and tight front. Talon’s eyes followed the coin closely while wondering what she wanted to talk about. He decided he liked the less modest approach of these city serving wenches better than the more reserved approach of the ones in the country.

“Is it actually made out of dragons?” Talon asked Thisbe while looking curiously at his fragile looking glass. The deep ruby-red wine (looking nearly the color of blood) glistened with ethereal wisps of smoky tendrils swirling through it.

“No, you big oaf, it’s made by dragons. Everybody knows that,” Thisbe answered rolling his eyes, then adding, “but nobody knows how they do it.”

Talon picked up his wine and took a cautious sip. Wow! This was the most incredible sensation he had ever experienced. If the beer and seasoned food before was intoxicating to him, this was flat out addicting! He greedily chugged down the rest from the all too small glass like it was cheap ale, the taste of it simply incomprehensibly good to him. The serving wench raised an eyebrow as Talon declared that he would have another, and began fishing out the money.

“Careful,” said Thisbe, “that Dragonwine packs many times the punch of ale.”

“Its got many times the taste, I’ll have another” said Talon as he paid the serving wench again, with an even more generous tip. He promptly chugged it down and asked for another.

“Tell you what” said Thisbe speaking slowly, “you stay right here, drink all the Dragonwine you want, while I go ask some discreet questions.” Turning to the serving wench Thisbe said, “try to keep him out of trouble, I mean unless it’s the right kind of trouble.” With that Thisbe took his wine and slipped away, mingling with the crowd, trying to get information in the subtle way of Haflings, who most viewed as no threat, except as a pickpocket.

“So,” said the serving wench to Talon as he quaffed down yet another Dragonwine and asked for another, “what brings a big strapping barbarian like you into the big city?”

The Dragon Wine was rushing to Talon’s head like Aerie pouncing a rabbit, and besides, he wanted to impress this serving wench who was looking prettier by the second. “To kill someone,” he answered in low tones.

“Awww, who would a big sweetie like you want to kill?” she asked.

“The daughter of the Black Dragonwitch,” he answered loudly. “I think her name is Causthea, do you know of her?” he demanded as several nearby patrons turned to look at him.

“You mean the young sorceress said to be a Tiefling?” she whispered, her eyes darting about.

“A Tief . . . what?” shouted Talon, finding it suddenly difficult to think and speak clearly.

“Those rumored to be of Dragonspawn, legend has it they have great power,” she whispered back, trying to suggest to Talon that he lower his voice. “The person you name appears inhuman, with skin some say resembles dragon scales, and the ears of one too. I have seen her, and her holy warrior sister, in here recently.”

“Yes! That’s her” shouted Talon. “The sorceress spawn of that dragon, I want to find her” he snarled with a slur, “and find her now!”

It was then he felt a tap on his shoulder as a woman’s voice said, “what business do you have with my sister, barbarian?”

* * *

Talon whirled around nearly as fast as his head was beginning to spin, and found himself face to face with the most incredible creature in the world. A woman of impossible beauty stared him down with a serious look, that only further amplified her charms in his eyes. He was . . . bedazzled, all thought of the serving wench left his mind. He simply stared at her, slack jawed.

“I said what business do you have with my sister?” she again insisted with a firm tone that resonated like music in his ears.

“Sister?” Talon managed to mutter.

“Yes, my sister, the one you have been speaking so loudly about. If you have a cause with her, you may bring it to me.”

“You have a sister? I mean, she has a sister? How can she have a sister?” Neither thoughts nor words were coming easy to Talon.

“Yes, she has a sister, I am her sister, and if you don’t know how, then I am not the one to explain it to you, barbarian. Do you have a problem with my sister, and thereby with me?”

Talon finally managed to look past the beautiful figure in front him. Behind her was a middle aged man of stodgy build, but sturdy looking, also examining Talon with a careful look. But behind him was . . . it was her! The daughter of the dragon witch herself. The unnaturally black hair, the skin that nearly glistened with scales, just as Thisbe had said! What an incredible stroke of luck, he could kill her here and now!

With a roar, Talon reached behind him to draw his massive sword, only to see that before he could even touch it the beautiful woman’s sword was already out and pressed to his chest.

“Best calm down, barbarian,” she said calmly, “there’s no combat in this bar, except in the pit.”

Suddenly cries went up and down the bar “A challenge! There is a challenge! The barbarian challenges the Paladin!”

At that moment Thisbe appeared again, “I thought I told you to stay low!” he whispered.

“Do you know this man?” the beautiful woman asked.

“Uh, just met him” said Thisbe. “I wager on the Paladin,” he shouted mingling back in with the crowd.

Through all this Talon had been standing with his hands awkwardly behind him, still reaching over his shoulder for the sword. The Dragonwine continued to pour into his brain, muddling his thinking. He had never felt more confused.

Suddenly, an older, balding man appeared, his beer stained apron somehow getting deference from those around him. Speaking mostly to Talon he said, “I am the proprietor of The Happy Dragon.” Turning to the woman he said, “this man has challenged you by reaching for his sword, do you accept?”

“I do,” came the swift reply.

Turning to Talon the proprietor said “She accepts your challenge, barbarian, you must join her in the pit, or leave my bar, now. Which do you choose?”

A confused Talon hesitated. The proprietor leaned in and whispered in his ear, “you are clearly sotted with Dragonwine, in no condition to fight. I suggest you leave, sir.”

But there behind this woman called “Paladin” Talon saw the target of his quest. Not thinking clearly, he slurred “I’m not going nowhere.”

The proprietor stepped back, “The parties have accepted combat in The Pit.” He turned, looking at both Talon and Purthea before saying “What is your combat to?”

“To?” asked a befuddled Talon.

Thisbe spoke, “Yes, he means as in ‘to the death’ or ‘to the maiming’ or to one of you yields or surrenders. May I suggest that you accept to the yielding, and that you yield quickly?”

“To death or first yield” shouted Purthea.

“Is that acceptable to you?” asked the proprietor of Talon.

Talon’s brain definitely wasn’t drawing on a straight bow string at this stage. “Ummm, okay,” he muttered.

“The combatants shall now enter The Pit” shouted the proprietor. Ladders were produced and placed to allow Talon and Purthea to enter on opposite sides. Purthea lithely slipped down her ladder while Talon, unfamiliar with what seemed to him the wily way of ladders, tried to mimic what she did. He ended up falling half the distance, landing with an impressive “oof” flat on his back that elicited laughter . . . and groans from the few who had wagered on him. The betting line moved even further away from him.

“Are you going to get up?” asked Purthea.

For a moment Talon wasn’t sure. The soft sand of The Pit actually felt fairly comfortable at the moment. But he tried to shake his head clear and stood up to face his opponent, and was once again smitten by her beauty. He just stood there, his jaw slack.

“Are you going to draw your sword, barbarian?” the startlingly beautiful figure asked, already holding her own sword out in front of her.

“Oh . . . yea” responded Talon. He reached over the shoulder to perform the fast draw he had been rehearsing. His sword stuck, oddly, pulling him in a full 360 degree circle before he got it out, a process which made his head spin even more.

“My, but you do have a big sword, how do you ever hold it?” she said lowly. “We are supposed to fight now,” she said it in a way that Talon interpreted as meek.

Good, she was clearly intimidated by his big sword. All he had to do was scare her some more with it, get her to give up (cause he didn’t want to hurt her), and then he could get around to the real business of killing her sister, who didn’t look so tough, just weird.

Talon raised his sword high, rushed his opponent, swinging it in a great slashing motion just above the level of her head. She calmly ducked underneath it, stuck out her shapely leg, tripping him, and spun smacking the flat of her sword on his butt. Talon tripped awkwardly, smashed hard into the wall behind her and bounced off of it flat on his back, with his sword falling from his confused grasp.

Without hesitation the woman placed a foot upon his hand, kneeled placing her knee upon his chest, and with both hands still free placed her, gleaming, to the point of seeming to glow, sword firmly to his throat. “Do you yield?” was all she said.

“Huh?” said Talon.

“Yield, or my mother’s sword shall cut through your throat like flaming atomite through leather.” She pressed the sword with greater force, drawing a trickle of blood.

“Owwww” said Talon, “that hurts.” He didn’t realize how whiney he sounded.

“Do you yield or not, barbarian?” she demanded once again as the sword cut a bit more.

“Uh yes! I yield, I yield” squeaked Talon.

She pulled back her sword. Stood up and said “Well, that was easy” while carefully wiping the couple drops of blood from her sword.

Talon stumbled to his feet. “Do we have to fight anymore” he asked, still finding words difficult.

“That depends on how you answer my questions as to why you want to kill my sister” she answered. “For now, I suggest we talk.”

The ladders were again thrown over. Talon needed help getting out. Thisbe was nearby, collecting some money.

Purthea faced Talon again. “I suggest we get a private room,” she said.

“Huhhh?” said Talon.

“Huhhhhhhh?” said an even more incredulous Thisbe.

Purthea rolled her eyes. “I mean a side room here where we,” she said pointing at the holy looking guy, the scaly skinned girl, Thisbe and Talon, “can talk privately. I have a feeling about this, and about you, and want to know more.”

“A private room will cost a few gold pieces,” said the wise looking man. We really don’t have much to spare.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty,” said Talon reaching into his bag.

“Well, you are full surprises, barbarian,” said Purthea.

“Oh, you have no idea” said Thisbe.

Chapter 7-Common Purposes

They sat at a round table in a private room provided for such meetings at The Happy Dragon. A sign on the door identified it as “The Gnome Room” and it was adorned with various gadgets of questionable use you would expect from that race. Thisbe sat to Talon’s right, then an empty chair, then Purthea, the cleric Domineco, and finally the be all of his quest, Causthea daughter of the Black Dragon Witch. All had a glass of Dragonwine, except Talon. After introducing each other with names, Talon passed out in a puddle of his own drool.

“This barbarian seems oafish,” said Domineco, “but the magic on him is of significant power. His sword in addition to being an extraordinary giant’s sword clearly has magical properties. As do the gauntlets he is wearing, which I suspect are gauntlets of at least ogre strength, allowing him to lift that huge sword. In addition the bow across his back is also magic. The bag about his waist also reeks of powerful magic. I suspect it is a Bag of Holding. Finally, I sense something else. It’s magic about him, and extending out of this room, probably to something else. It’s very odd.”

“Ohh, that’s probably his eagle,” said Thisbe.

“His eagle?” hissed Causthea. “Are you referring to the large specimen sitting quietly outside as we came in?”

“Yep, that’s him” answered Thisbe. “This fellow you call ‘barbarian’ can see through that eagle’s eyes and talk to him like an old friend. I’ve seen it happen.”

“So why does he want to kill my sister?” Purthea interrupted. “I sensed no evil in him, if I had he’d be dead.”

“Yeaa, about that,” said Thisbe, “maybe you should just hear his whole story from him.”

At that point, Talon began snoring. “He’s in no condition to tell anyone, anything” said a disgusted Causthea.

“ Domineco, could you remove the poison of the alcohol from his system?” asked Purthea. “We need answers.”

“I am normally reluctant to reduce the pain of self induced alcohol, but on this occasion I agree,” he replied. “Besides, he did pay for this room.”

“If it makes you feel better, he really just doesn’t understand alcohol yet,” said Thisbe.

“Just a minute” said Causthea. “Let me see his sword.”

It took both Purthea and Domineco to remove it from its hilt and awkwardly place Talon’s massive sword on the table. “By the True God,” said Purthea, “that sword is heavy. If the oaf actually managed to hit something, it would do great hurt.”

Causthea leaned over the sword. She began chanting, the lilting language of sorcery. She touched the sword and her eyes rolled back, understanding reaching her through the magic.

She stepped back. “This sword” she said, “retains standard magic of note to hit more surely and to more effect when it does. But it also has a special purpose that I suspect even our friend here does not know.”

“What?” asked Purthea.

“To slay evil dragons,” her sister answered.

“I suspect this man’s story is worth hearing,” said Domineco, leaning over and beginning a prayer that would purge poison, to include that of alcohol, from his system.

Minutes later, a confused, but sober (though still somewhat hungover Talon), was telling his story. As he started with the death of his parents a sympathetic look of understanding came across the group. As his story went on they expressed great interest, and asked a few questions, about his discovery and recovery of his sword. But they did not interrupt him much, wanting to hear the rest of it. He finished with his arrival at the bar, and simply concluded, “I think you know the rest,” while he rubbed his temples.

Causthea, stood up, and leaned toward him “Would you like to hear my story, barbarian? I mean, our story,” she said looking at her sister.

A more sober mind had removed the mood to fight, and Talon said that he very much would. As Causthea and Purthea told their story, of the death of their own mother, he realized how wrong he had been. When their story was done, he wept for the first time since the death of his own parents.

Purthea said it first. “We have all independently come to the common life purpose to kill the Black Dragon Witch. Our finding each other cannot be by accident, but is rather the will of the True God. We must follow His will and combine our efforts toward the one objective with which we are all obsessed . . . with the exception of you, Hafling.”

Thisbe thought, and asked simply, “do I get an equal share of the treasure?” With that the party was complete. This party, barbarian, Paladin, Priest, Sorceress and thief, brought together to find the last known lair of the Dragon Witch, to recover whatever clues . . . and treasure, might be there.

It was a few days later but they had been busy days. Talon’s fortune was gone! With the guidance of his new friends it had been spent on equipment for their quest. His magic bow was now complimented with a quiver of magic arrows that he was assured would fly even more true to his already well practiced aim. In place of his ill fitting armor from the cave was custom made chain mail. They had the best of rations for the road ahead.

As they prepared to set out Talon remembered ColBar’s last advice to gather experience and help when seeking vengeance against the killer of his parents. He realized that with this group he had done as asked, and as they departed together on the quest he silently prayed, giving thanks to his God for such wisdom. When he did Aerie answered back with a screech and launched into the sky. He knew his prayer had been received.

Chapter-8 A Fireside Chat

For Talon the feel good lasted until that evening. The first day “adventuring” from his perspective involved no actual adventure. They walked North along a hot road, his brand new armor doing nothing but chafing. Notwithstanding nothing happening, the others (Purthea in particular) demanded vigilance. The only excitement came from various wagons of wares moving South. With each Purthea heightened the state of alert, only for all to pass with friendly waves from amicable merchants asking if they wanted to buy anything. In short, boring.

They camped near this boring main road and enjoyed a very nice dinner of freshly caught vicious rabbits trapped by Purthea and skinned by Thisbe. Boring. It was around this dinner fire that a surly mooded Talon created an excuse to be angry.

Purthea had just engaged in an extended prayer to her True God giving thanks for the evening meal. As she finished, Thisbe giggled, “and may the barbarian not recognize that his meal is actually eagle.”

“I’m sure the barbarian saw Purthea catch the rabbit in her snare,” said Domineco with a smile that just further irritated a bored and tired Talon.

“It’s difficult to judge what barbarians notice,” said Causthea joining in the fun.

Talon had had enough, “the ‘barbarian’ is right here,” he boomed, “and why do you insult me with what you view a belittling term? Just what makes me a ‘barbarian’ and not just another guy?”

“Well for starters,” said Purthea with that disarming smile of hers, “you can’t read and you do worship an animal God.”

Talon was not disarmed. He was pissed that they were insulting ColBar. “So have you seen your ‘True God?’” he demanded. “I have ridden on the back of my God, have you even seen your own?”

“I have felt my God and His power, barbarian,” was the terse answer.

“Calm down Barbari . . . Talon,” said Domineco. “Understand that your animal God is a lesser God than the True God or other Gods worshipped by people. That it is a lesser God is why you were permitted to ride upon its back. None of us could imagine such a thing with the greater God’s of mankind.”

Talon was enraged at this insult of his God. He stood drawing his sword. This time his sword came out in a smooth, sober, and more practiced motion. “I will not have you mock my God that I owe everything to,” he snarled. “I do not mock your own Gods that you have never seen or physically felt as I have my own. You will apologize to ColBar, cleric.”

Purthea arose, drawing her own sword, “do not raise your sword against my mentor, barbarian, lest you feel my own.”

Talon turned to face her, and that all to ready sword of her mother’s. This new challenge only amplified his fury. “I’m not drunk this time Paladin, and I have had some training. You will have to take me more seriously this time than in our last encounter.”

“Indeed that training was at my hand, barbarian,” she tersely replied, “and having seen it I agree that in your sober state I shall have to take you seriously enough this time to kill you rather than play with you.”

“Stop!” shouted Domineco stepping between them. He bowed low to Talon saying, “your God has my apologies, sir. Your God should also know I provoked you deliberately, it was a test.”

“A test of what?” snarled Talon.

“Your ease to anger,” responded Domineco.

“Wait” said Purthea, “are you suggesting . . .?”

“Yes, I am,” answered Domineco.

“What? What?” shouted Talon. “What ‘test’ is this?”

Domineco turned to him, “Talon have you ever been in true combat?”

“Well I guess that depends on how you define ‘true combat’” answered Talon feeling a bit more level headed.

“He fought me in the pit” said Purthea, still holding her sword at ready.

“His senses dulled to nearly passing out by dragon wine, and he wasn’t really hurt” answered Domineco. “In true, and sober, combat he could be more easily . . . aroused.”

“Enough of this”, shouted Talon. “I’m right here, stop talking about me like I am not here. What do you even mean?”

“I mean,” said Domineco, “that in real combat you could lose control. You could go berserked and while fighting effectively be unable to stop when the enemies are gone.”

“And then turn on your friends” added Purthea, lowering her sword.

“Yeah right” said Talon. “Cause I’m an ‘barbarian.’ This is just that prejudice thing cause you don’t like my choice of Gods.”

They set watches. Later that night Talon was on watch with Causthea. They didn’t say much to each other, but near the end she said looking at him with those near slitted eyes, “Stay strong barbarian. I too know the pain of people judging me.” Talon slept his half night thinking of that and how their first meeting reflected his own prejudging hate for her. What we all need is a good fight, he resolved. Then they will see his value.

Chapter 9-First Battle

Talon began to really believe ColBar was hearing his every thought and answering them as prayers to make him happy. They were only a couple of hours into the next day, still traveling on the road (though the others said they would leave it soon) when Aerie’s sight provided him advance notice of a chance to at last fight something. Trees had begun to thickly line the road, rather than the open fields of the prior day.

“We are walking into an ambush,” said Talon to the others.

“What do you see, Talon?” said Domineco politely.

Talon paused to focus on the vision from Aerie. “There’s some ugly little men hidden behind trees to the side of the road. Then further down the road a similar number of two rows of them, total of six in each group. I think there’s a few more hidden up in the branches of trees on the side of the road between those groups, but I’m not sure how many. At least four.”

“Hmmm” said Thisbe, “I hope we’re not riding a pony too large for us.”

“What?” asked Talon.

“He means he hopes we are up to this task,” said Domineco, “how are they armed.”

“Oh yeah,” said Talon focusing again. The ones in the road are in two rows, the front one has small crossbows and short swords, more like long knives really. The ones hiding closest to us look similarly armed. I’m not sure about the ones in the trees. Whoa, whoa, they are some deformed ugly dudes,” he added as Aerie got a particularly good look.

“In what way?” asked Domineco.

“It’s like they got . . . like pig heads,” answered Talon.

“Goblins?” asked Purthea.

“Sounds like it,” Domineco nodded.

“I have heard of this ambush strategy,” frowned Purthea. “They wish us only to see the group on the road first. That group will occupy our attention, feigning to parlay by demanding money to allow us to pass. Then they will spring the trap with the others attacking by surprise from behind, while those in trees fire from the flanks with crossbows or short bows, where we can’t reach them with our swords.”

“That’s pretty sophisticated strategy for goblins,” said Thisbe. “That’s a battle plan worthy of Hafling cleverness.”

“Well goblins are related to Haflings,” said Causthea, “they were created by . . .”

“To effrin we are,” screeched Thisbe, “you take that back.”

“Excuse me,” interjected Talon, “but what’s an ‘effrin’?”

“Oh sorry,” said Thisbe, “‘effrin’ is just a Hafling word for . . .”

“CAN WE FOCUS HERE?” shouted Purthea. “We got about a score of evil monsters who are all so cleverly plotting to kill us just down the road barely a quarter mile away. We need a plan here.”

“Well yes, I suppose there is that,” said Thisbe peering down the road which bent to the right about 150 yards away.

So plan they did. From Talon’s perspective the plan seemed to overly rely on sorcery from the strange lady who seemed more like a little girl. He gave her a detailed description of where the group was hidden beside the road that they would pass first. He emphasized that they were all huddled close together. They walked down the road, Purthea and Talon in front, Domineco in the middle, with Thisbe and Causthea in the rear.

Just past that bend in the road they could see the party of goblins arrayed across the road, about 100 yards ahead. It was just to their left that similar group was huddled off the road behind trees. Causthea was confident from Talon’s description where they were. Because she knew where to look she could even see the leg of one of sticking out. She quietly raised the pinch of sand she had already removed from her pouch and blew it that direction while muttering the quick spell.

“Holy effrin,” said Talon in low voice only they could hear, “I think it worked. They all just slumped over.”

“That’s not how you use the word ‘effrin’,” said Thisbe rolling his eyes.

“Of course it worked,” said Causthea.

“Focus!” said Purthea tersely, “we still have those six up front and the little devils in the trees.”

Suddenly a much bigger version stepped out from the side of the road in front of that group. He had a large hammer and a shield.

“Whoa, where did he come from?” wondered Talon.

“Make that seven up front, led by an orc,” said Purthea, “that changes the odds somewhat.”

“Stop,” shouted the orc. They did. “You trespass, this our road, you pay, you move on.”

“I don’t think so,” shouted Purthea back. “This is the King’s road and it is you who trespass. Step back and swear to the True God to never bother mankind again, and we will let you go.”

The orc laughed. The goblins behind him laughed to, sounding like hyenas. Talon began to feel angry. “There are things I know that you don’t know,” shouted the orc back. “You pay, live, tell your ‘True God’ you did good.”

“Allow me to confer with my friends” said Purthea. She turned around, “I think negotiations are at a standstill and we move on to Plan B. We need to move before they realize the group behind us won’t help them.”

“What’s Plan B?” asked Talon.

“We charge,” she replied.

“I love this plan,” Talon said.

“On my mark,” she said. “And . . . mark!” she said spinning around.

The group surged forward. Immediately crossbow bolts came flying from three directions. Three from the front, and three more from each side. Six more goblins hiding up in trees. That was going to be a problem. All six from the sides missed, firing behind the group whose sudden forward rush surprised the dull witted goblins. The three up front were more accurate. One struck Talon’s shoulder, the mail protected some, but still it drew blood.

Talon howled in rage, never had he felt such pain. Suddenly the pain caused his world to change. Talon could think of only one thing, killing. Domineco’s plea for him to pause for healing faded in his ears, he rushed ahead of the party and was confronted by two goblins with their little knives. Their stabs just scraped his chain mail. Talon’s sword suddenly felt familiar in his hands, not the awkwardness with it he usually felt, and he swung it a low arc at the midsection of goblins. It tore though the first one, cleaving him in two and cut deeply into the second, who collapsed dying.

The orc swung its large hammer, striking Talon’s shoulder. It hurt, a lot, but not as much as Talon thought it should. Suddenly Purthea was beside him, having caught up to his crazed charge, swinging her sword at the orc. Her mother’s sword struck true and deep and the most challenging of their opponents died in a single sword strike. Meanwhile, daggers of light leaped from Causthea’s spread fingers, striking a goblin high in a tree. It screamed and fell to ground dead.

Four goblins remained in front of Purthea and Talon, one with a short sword and the others with spears. Those with spears tried to stab at Talon from a standoff distance, while the swordsman swung at Purthea, he missed. Of the three spears one struck Talon in the thigh, again drawing blood.

Talon could only see blood. He bulled into the middle spearman and thrust his sword into him, another was down. Purthea quickly dispatched the swordsman on her.

For Talon there was no coordination with others. He swung widely at another spearman, just missing as the goblin leaned out of reach of his sword. Thisbe was firing his crossbow into trees. In Causthea’s hand suddenly appeared a black ball which she hurled at a goblin in another tree. It barely had a chance to scream before dying. Purthea parried a long spear, and struck the second spearman, his head rolled off his neck. Domineco was desperately trying to reach Talon to heal him, but stepping over the carnage of bodies prevented him from doing so.

Talon and Purthea both swung at the remaining spearman. Talon’s sword arrived first, once again cleaving a goblin in two. This caused Purthea’s sword to miss and hit Talon’s sword as it finished the follow through, the metal clashed and sparked.

In Talon’s blood rage he saw only another enemy. The pain of three wounds consumed him. He did not even realize that he was not in connection with Aerie anymore. Talon widely swung his sword at Purthea, surprised she weakly raised her own to block it. She succeeded, but the massive blow knocked her mother’s sword from her hand, where it spun landing 20 feet away. She was off balance, nearly falling when Talon raised his huge sword yet again against his now unarmed opponent.

None expected what happened next. Purthea’s sword lifted off the ground and with blinding speed rushed between her and Talon. It alone, dancing in midair, deflected Talon’s next blow, before returning to Purthea’s hand, a hand which accepted its return without her conscious thought.

This turn of events confused Talon, and the confusion made him pause. It also distracted him from his single-minded focus on his rage, which extended his pause even more. Domineco finally reached him, and touching him from behind uttered a prayer. The pain subsided, and with it the rage and battle lust consuming Talon. He dropped to his knees, dropping his sword. “What, what have I done?” he stammered, “I just tried to kill you.” He looked up pathetically at Purthea.

“And you failed” she said, “don’t forget that.” But for all her bravado, she too had a shock to overcome. Raising her sword to her face she marveled, “I had no idea, it could do that, or that I could do that.”

Domineco bowed, “it is your mother’s sword, with what remains of her soul in it. It activated those powers within it because it sensed you were in danger.”

“I wonder what other surprises this sword holds for me. If they are like that, I hope there are many. As for you barbarian, you have anger issues. We are going to have to work on that.”

Talon hung his head in shame. What could he say. He knew he would have killed her thoughtlessly in his rage. He effrin nearly did.

Chapter 10-Anger Management

Talon had long dreamed of this. When after a battle, he and his comrades in arms would discuss it, each good naturedly exaggerating their role in the glorious victory. They would laugh discussing the sounds the few remaining goblins, the ones slept and in the trees, made as they fled, or the moment he, Talon, slayed two with a single swing of his mighty sword. They would talk of the next chance to share words of glory with each other and speak of how bards would sing great songs about them.

Instead, Talon having taken off all his armor, put his sword, even his prized gauntlets, which gave him such strength, back in his bag of holding, sat at that evenings dinner fire wondering if he could ever go into combat with others again. He was so confused. He did not know what overcame him. He knew only that it had happened, and he could not control it. It had been an hour before he could reconnect with Aerie. A horrible hour during which he wondered if he ever would. The bird, a more noble creature than he, waited patiently for it to happen. Never had he felt so miserable. Perhaps he should return to his island, where he could have no friends to nearly kill.

For a longtime none spoke, except Thisbe who tried to claim credit for routing the whole pack of goblins. It was Purthea who finally addressed the dragon in the room and spoke directly to Talon.

“It’s a problem you have, and you have to face it and fix it,” she said.

“How?” asked Talon miserably. “Is it a curse that can be cured? A spell that can be broken?”

“No” said Domineco, “it is simply who you are. There is no cure, but you can train yourself to control it.”

“You must commit yourself to the True God,” said Purthea somberly. “Only through the discipline gained by worshipping the True God will you find the strength that He may grant you to control this.”

“But I worship a different God,” said Talon.

“Yes, an animal God, wild, like your anger. For all you know it is that allegiance that did this to you. You must come over to the True God,” she said.

Talon looked at her. Her words were so powerful, so convincing, so persuasive. Everything she said came across as truth. The God’s truth, or at least the True God’s truth.

He looked to Aerie, hoping his God would speak to him through the eagle, and give him guidance. But He did not. Talon went down on his knees, and pleading to the heavens “please ColBar, tell me what I must do. I will do anything.” There was no answer.

The others looked at him awkwardly. Talon stood up. He turned his back to the party. For ten minutes he just stood there, his thoughts his own. Finally, still not turning to face them, he sighed and he spoke.

“I will not renounce my God,” he said with a finality. “I will leave you tomorrow morning. I will go . . . somewhere else.”

There was a long silence. Crickets chirped. The fire crackled. Awkward looks were exchanged around the campfire among the party remaining there. Finally Domineco arose and walked to stand next to Talon. “There is another way” he said, “but you won’t like it.”

“Why?” said Talon choking on tears. “Why won’t I like it? I will do anything that does not require me to renounce my God.”

“It won’t require that,” said Domineco. “Your loyalty towards your God is . . . impressive, and reflects the values of the True God. The beserker power you gain, and loss of control from it, comes from pain, real pain. You must learn to control how you react to that pain, control it, so it does not control you.”

“If it is pain that brings out the beserked demon in me why is he not here now because I have never hurt more than at this moment,” wailed Talon. “I waited my life for this time, and now it is snatched from me by my own weakness.”

“Ah, my great blubbering barbarian friend,” whispered Domineco, “the pain in your soul is different from the physical pain that triggers that demon you refer to. But that pain in your soul speaks to your ability use that pain to control the physical pain.”

“When can we start?” Talon asked, feeling a glimmer of hope.

“We can start now,” said Domineco, “but it’s going to hurt.” He turned to Purthea, “we discussed this, you know what to do.”

Purthea stood up, drawing her powerful sword. She faced Talon.

“I am unarmed,” he said.

“As was I when you tried to kill me,” she replied. She stabbed him in the thigh.

It was a deep wound, deeper than any from the goblins earlier in the day. Blood gushed from it, and it filled Talon’s eyes with rage. But the rage was lost in his first mindless instinct to reach for his sword on his back, which was not there.

Domineco spoke, “Think Talon, think what you were saying only seconds ago about the pain in your heart you felt then.”

Talon heard the words, but they meant nothing to him. Forgetting that his gauntlets of strength were not on him, he turned angrily on Domineco determined to punch his smug True God nose to the backside of his head. That’s when a hafling jumped on his back and covered his eyes. Unable to see for a moment, Talon’s wild punch swung well wide, with the weight of Thisbe on his back he fell down backwards.

“Oof” said Thisbe, “you are heavy.”

This time Purthea’s words cut through the chaos. “Where is your worship for your animal God now?” she cried.

It was part of the power of Paladins, the words hit home. They triggered a suppressed part of Talon’s mind to remember ColBar and all He had done for him. That first memory with the eagle’s egg came to mind, and with that his connection to Aerie, gone for brief seconds, returned. His mind, for this moment cleared, but the wound still hurt and Talon could feel the rage returning.

“By the God’s of effrin Abyss damnation that hurts,” he said.

“That’s not how you use the word ‘effrin’” said Thisbe squeaking from underneath him.

The absurdity of it actually made Talon laugh for a second. His head stayed clear and he tried to focus, to keep his mind clear. But the pain came on again and he felt his control being lost, again. That’s when Domineco healed him, and the battle lust faded with the fading pain.

Talon and Thisbe stood up, brushing themselves off.

“Did you see that?” said Domineco to Purthea. “I think real progress was made.”

“I did,” said Purthea. “Do you have anymore healing spells left?”

“Just one” shrugged Domineco.

She stabbed Talon again . . .

Chapter 11-Demoted

The next day a sore Talon awoke to be told by Purthea that he was demoted. She didn’t use that word, but she made clear he would now “guard” the back of the party, firing on any opponents from a distance with his bow. “We just can’t take the chance that you get hurt and turn on us,” she said. “Besides, without the beserker rage your skill with the sword remains lacking, but your proficiency with the bow is undeniable.”

Talon had to admit this was true. Handling the sword still felt awkward to him, but that changed immediately when the battle lust overcame him. He had felt one with the sword. He also felt powerful, and he had to admit, that felt good. However, he lived in terror that he would lose control again.

They left the road as it bent Northwest as their direction stayed to the North. The forest thinned and the ground became hilly as they moved into the foothills of mountains that loomed ahead. It was Domineco who issued the warning. “We must be cautious, the road is comparatively tame vs the wild we are entering now. In woody hills such as this giants tend to roam, but be wary for anything.”

“I’ve never seen a giant,” said Talon. “How big do they get?”

“There are many kinds of giants,” said Domineco gruffly, “some bigger than we can handle. You think yourself strong with those gauntlets, but there are giants that can throw boulders that will crush a man.”

“Bah,” said Thisbe, “as far as I’m concerned everyone here is a giant.”

They were at least trying to move quietly, as it turned out their next encounter was not. They heard crashing and blundering from the right. Emerging from a group of trees was something they recognized from the encounter on the road, an orc. It headed right towards them, at full speed.

The party wheeled to the right to face it, Purthea up front with her sword. “Hold your major spells,” said Domineco to Causthea, “we likely don’t need them for a single orc and it could be a long day.” Causthea nodded, but mumbled a few words and bubble of black liquid appeared in her hand. She threw it at the orc. However, the orc saw it coming and turned sidewise as the blob of acid flew past it and landed beyond sizzling against the base of a tree.

Talon let loose an arrow and was satisfied to see it strike the beast in the left shoulder. Thisbe fired from his small crossbow a shot that hit the orc’s calf. With that Thisbe dropped his crossbow and rather boldly drew two short swords. Domineco raised his mace and moved alongside Purthea as the orc closed the distance.

Purthea was ready and as soon as it stepped in range of her long sword she swung it, and struck true and deep into the beast, instantly killing it.

“Well, that was easy,” she said stepping aside to let the beast fall.

It was then they heard more crashing from the trees. “Effrin, I think it was running from something,” said Thisbe.

Bursting out from the trees was something at least twice as tall as the orc, and impressively much more broad too. It had a huge club, befitting its size in one hand, and an enormous crudely made spear looking thing in the other. “Now you’ve seen a giant,” said Thisbe to Talon.

“No holding back this time,” said Domineco, “that’s an ogre.”

While itching to draw his sword, Talon did his job and fired another arrow. The good news was it thunked nicely into the midsection of the beast, the bad news was this only seemed to piss it off.

Reaching into her pockets, Causthea pulled out a small gem and muttered some words as she crushed it. A toxic looking sphere, much larger than the prior, appeared in her hand which she hurled at the ogre. She cursed as her aim was badly off, it landed behind the ogre, where an enormous amount of acid splashed. She began working on another spell.

Purthea invoked a power she sensed resided in her sword, one that would hurt the ogre with flaming damage when her sword struck.

Domineco, said a prayer that blessed the party, making their attacks more effective.

In the meantime, Thisbe seemed to have disappeared, melting into woods and rocks unnoticed.

As the ogre closed it threw that massive spear at Purthea, apparently either impressed at the short work she had made of his escaping orc slave or angry at her killing it. It was a bad decision. Purthea, the only among the party with a shield, adjusted it to meet and block the attack. She positioned herself to meet the ogre’s charge.

The ogre was big, but it was slow, and not bright. It closed on Purthea as Talon got off another arrow. It too hit, but only a glancing blow that drew little blood.

Causthea unleashed that spell she had been preparing and four bright daggers raced from her finger tips into the chest of the monster. The ogre seemed only more angry.

Purthea swung her sword striking solidly and Talon thought that should end the matter. So did Purthea, as she felt additional damage flow from her sword that gleamed with bright light of fire. But it was clear that while the ogre was badly hurt, it was not quite down yet, and it swung that massive club at Purthea. But the ogre was clearly weakened and it missed so badly that the ogre actually struck his own knee with that huge club. That knee collapsed, bringing the ogre down on its knees.

That’s when Thisbe struck from behind with the two short swords that finished the ogre off.

“All to easy,” said Purthea.

But more noise caused them to look toward that group of trees yet again. What emerged caused Thisbe’s face to drain. “It’s an effrin family of them” he said. Three ogres emerged, one just as big as the dead one at Thisbe’s feet, the other two a bit smaller but still very intimidating. They were all armed with large clubs and apparently angry at “Daddy’s” death.

Domineco grimly raised his mace and prepared to face them. The spell that blessed the party earlier was still in effect, and he had best reserve any remaining spells for healing.

Aiming for “Mom” Talon fired another arrow, but this time his aim was not true.

Causthea summoned up another glowing orb of acid and hurled it at the big ogre. This time it hit and the huge splash of acid badly burned the monster.

Purthea, invoked the sword’s power again and this time a shimmering shield of protection surrounded her.

Thisbe again melted into the ground, seeming to step away and all but disappear.

Two closed on Purthea, determined to avenge the death of their family member. Purthea swung at the big one. She was, “in the zone,” as they say, and the sword struck for full damage and the flaming white hot ignited the ogre’s skin, causing even more damage. Still, it did not fall.

Domineco squared off against one of the two “children” and swung his mace. It struck but did not seem to do much damage.

Sensing that the one against Domineco remained strong Causthea summoned up an inherent ability to her race useable but once per day. Pointing a finger at the one facing off with Domineco, words of power and darkness came from her. The monster was surrounded by flames, and it howled in pain.

Now the ogres struck. The bigger one on Purthea swung that massive club but the protections and armor surrounding her were too much. A similar fate followed for the smaller one attacking Purthea. Domineco similarly fended off his attacker with a shield.

Domineco found himself able to strike next but he missed with his mace. The ogre on him was finally got lucky, apparently enraged from the flames, the ogre’s axe bit deep into the cleric and he knew he was in danger of dying.

Purthea in the meantime found herself in an awkward position and having to reposition to get a strike. The two ogres on her were not so restricted. The blow, from the “mother’s” huge club was mortal and Purthea went down, dying. The remaining ogre on her prepared his own strike to surely end the life of the unconscious and helpless Paladin.

The sight of the Paladin near dead, and the cleric himself in mortal peril, launched Talon into action, and even though not wounded he felt the battle rage within him. He charged the ogre drawing and swinging his sword in enraged determination. He struck true at the surprised ogre. Amazingly the enormous blow did not bring the ogre down, but he turned his full attention to Talon, swinging his club at Talon rather than the defenseless Paladin. The shift in attacks threw the ogre off his mark and he missed.

It was then that Thisbe reappeared, behind the biggest one. Thisbe did that double short sword backstab from behind trick again. It was once again a fatal blow for the already staggering matriarch.

The two “kids” saw their mother go down. The one on Talon was already very near death himself, he certainly would not withstand another blow from that massive sword. The other was also badly hurt, though not as much as its sibling. However, on the side of the party, Purthea was down and Domineco was near death himself. The ogres might have run, but a beserked Talon gave them no chance.

Talon swung his enormous sword again even as the ogre in front of him turned to flee. It struck yet again, killing him. The one on Domineco took a half hearted swing deciding it was not going to get the chance to run it would have preferred. It fortunately missed because Domineco would not have survived another blow. Even though bleeding heavily from his own near mortal wounds, Domineco kneeled in prayer over the fallen Paladin, casting his most potent of healing prayers.

Causthea’s fingers again sent the bright and deadly daggers at the remaining ogre, it did not die, but it had enough and fled. But a crazed Talon chased it down and swung his sword again. The fleeing ogre never had a chance, and the last of the family died.

Talon’s rage had no target now. He angrily swung his sword again at the dead ogre. Then he remembered why he was mad and turned to look at Panthea. Her sister was helping her to stand, as Panthea was healed by the power of Domineco. Domineco was in prayer again, healing himself.

Talon was not wounded. He was in no pain, and he found himself focusing on the scene and calming himself. In a moment the blood lust drained from him, and he was himself. He felt good about that, he felt good about himself. Why not? He may have just saved the party, he certainly saved Purthea.

The others watched as they saw Talon calm down, by himself. He even cleaned his sword of the ogre gore. Purthea cleaned her own sword, as Thisbe did his short swords. Talon walked back to the party. Purthea extended her arm, and Talon clasped it with his own at the forearm. The traditional greeting of warrior comrades. Equal comrades. Soon they were all clasping each other and thumping each other on the back, well except for Thisbe. It was a wonderful feeling for Talon. “This” he thought, “is what it means to have friends, and to be a party.”

Together they went into the copse of trees the ogres came from. Within the trees was a crevice in the ground and in that crevice a small cave where the ogres made their lair. It turns out a family of ogres with an orc for a slave (or pet if you prefer) had some things worth having. Scattered about the bones of the ogre’s victims were several valuable gems, several hundred gold pieces, and even a few mithryl coins. Causthea was pleased to see a scroll. She carefully studied it, and declared it would be of value to her.

By the time they had finished in the ogre lair the day was late. Domineco and Causthea were nearly exhausted of spells. They decided to camp there for the evening. Tomorrow, they should reach the abandoned lair of the black dragon witch. Two in the party had near brushes with death, but it was a good day all the same.

It would become a better day. Aerie brought “home” to the ogre lair several large rabbits and it turned out that Thisbe could cook up the effrin best wilderness roast rabbit anyone could imagine. He added some spice to it that he insisted he got from his great grandmother hafling Gertrude. When asked what the spice was he insisted it was a family secret, but that great grandma just called it “all spice” because it was perfect with everything. He insisted it came from a rare plant that grew only in Verona, the homeland of haflings. “I don’t have much of it” he said, “but tonight is a special occasion.”

As they ate the succulent rabbit, the battle boasting began. “You should have seen the look on your face when I came up behind that first ogre,” giggled Thisbe to Talon, “I thought you would crap a dragon egg.”

“Well I thought you were going to crap a dragon whole when Purthea went down,” Talon responded, “you were afraid that ogre would turn on you!”

“Yeah, well that’s when you went all crazoid, and I have to admit, that’s something to see,” laughed Thisbe.

“Indeed, it is,” said Causthea. “But are you confident you can control it now.”

Talon thought about this. “I don’t know. It was different. I was not in pain this time and that’s what triggered it last time and my inability to control it.”

“That’s true,” responded Domineco, “but you had the power to trigger it this time to save someone . . . you cared about. Then you were able to turn it off yourself too. You need to focus on how you did both. Because the same power in you that could kill us all, could also save us all, if you can control it.”

Talon thought, he replayed the days events and what he thought and how he felt when it happened. “I have to admit I don’t know. It’s hard not knowing yourself,” he choked a bit.

“Talon, I trust you, I believe in you,” said Purthea. “I feel this from the True God,” she added. “You will do great things. Together you and I can do great things.” Then a bit self consciously she added, looking around, “together we can all do great things.” Never had Talon heard words that made him feel so good.

Sitting by herself in a corner, pretending to study spells, Causthea listened to a conversation that did not include her. Why should it? Her own role in today’s battle had been minor. She had missed with some of her spell attacks, and that had nearly killed her sister. She felt every bit the kid her years suggested she was. Today, Talon was the hero, his lack of control saving the day. That enormous sword of his was quite the thing. Her sister, once concerned only for Causthea, was becoming quite interested in another. Perhaps Purthea’s distraction would be to her advantage.

Today Talon was the hero. Yesterday he was the goat of the party. In that Causthea took solace in her own future chances. Tomorrow would be another day. That scroll might help, she smiled to herself.

Chapter 12-Of Swords and Sorcery

Causthea had the last watch, before the whole party would be awakened to start the new day. She intended to spend that time studying her spells, as she must do daily to use them. She was not worried about any distraction, Talon’s eagle perched on a higher rock of the hilltop where they camped, alertly searching for intruders. Unfortunately, that meant she shared her watch with Talon. He was also unconcerned they could be surprised and he wanted to talk.

“You must think I’m a horrible person,” he said interrupting her intense focus on the scroll they found in the ogre lair. She tried to ignore him with a non-committal, “hmmm” as she returned to a particularly difficult rune on the scroll.

“I mean, a really horrible person,” he said moving closer, “after all when we met I was wanted to kill you and a couple days ago I nearly killed your sister.”

Causthea realized she wasn’t going to be able to put him off. Rolling the scroll up she looked at Talon, “and yesterday the same magic in you that nearly caused you to kill her also saved her life.”

“Magic?” he said with a puzzled expression, “what do you mean ‘magic’? I’m no wizard, or whatever.”

“Magic comes in many forms, barbarian,” she responded, “even barbarian kinds of magic. It is magic that takes over your mind and body to transform you into a beserked warrior. It is magic that gives you the power to wield your sword with the proficiency of a well practiced swordsman when otherwise it continues to feel awkward to you.”

“I don’t understand,” he said. “Where would this magic come from? How did it get inside me?”

“I suspect you inherited it from your people, that it is a trait common among your kind, or your tribe, as you call them.”

Talon shook his head in denial, “no, that can’t be it. My people, my tribe, hated magic. My father always said to never trust those that use it,” he said looking a bit sheepish at saying this to her.

“Based on what you nearly did to Purthea, don’t you think it would be wise for your people to distrust magic and those who invoke it?” She watched as he considered this statement, realization slowly dawning on him.

“My, my . . . father,” he said his eyes misting, “on that day . . . when the dragon came . . . it all happened so fast but . . . but I remember I saw him enraged like I never had before. I called to him, and it was as if he never heard me. This magic you say I have . . . it killed my father.”

“Which has made you what you are today,” replied Causthea. “A man with powerful magic within him that is learning to control it as I control the magic I summon. A man who has a magical connection to a bird, a connection that saved his life. And now my barbarian magical beserker eagle friend, I believe I have given you enough to think about that you may leave me alone to my studies,” she said opening a spellbook. “If I don’t do this then I will be of no use should something in these mountains challenge us today, because that is how my magic works.”

Talon nodded, already lost in his own thoughts. “All too easy,” thought Causthea. She pulled out one of her scrolls, whose understanding still daunted her. Supposedly as her experience in the art grew such spells would come within her understanding. However, her attempts to decipher it failed. That time would not be tonight.

The next day started well. Aerie located a wild boar, and Talon brought it down with his bow. Thisbe, they discovered, was surprisingly deft at skinning such things. They had bacon for breakfast, and salted more. Still Causthea resented the delay. She wanted to start early, so they could reach the dragon witch’s former lair before the day ended.

They set out and the foothills gave way to true mountains by early afternoon. The climbing was difficult and slow. Thisbe suggested they slow down and find the abandoned lair the next day.

“No,” Causthea said, “we should try to reach there today. I have prepared spells with that in mind.”

“I agree,” said Purthea. “Just the getting there has already taken longer, and been more eventful,” she glanced at Talon, “than I would have preferred.”

So they trudged on up the mountains and were tired when Aerie saw it first. As they passed through a gap in the rugged terrain a huge “man” was atop a hill to their side. Huge is an understatement thought Talon looking through his eagle’s eyes. “It’s about twice as big, as the ogres we fought,” he told the others.

“Probably a hill giant,” said Domineco.

“We should kill it,” said Purthea, “I can sense the evil from it.”

“Ummm, I’m not sure how we are going to get to it,” Talon mused. “I think it got up there going up a way that only something that big could get up.”

“We have range weapons,” Purthea said.

It was fortunate they approached cautiously. As they did, the thing suddenly reached down, picked up and hurled a boulder. They were able to dodge to the side but the enormous rock shattered and splattered them with bits of itself.

“Pretty sure that would have killed any of us hit by that” said Causthea. “It appears this giant has range weapons far superior to our own.”

They retreated behind a bend in the rock. Domineco shouted, “we are just passing through and have no quarrel with you,” earning a contemptible look from Purthea that he ignored.

In guttural common the giant’s voice boomed back, “This place mine, no pass. You go.”

“Well, he sounds very territorial,” said Thisbe, “probably compensating if you know what I mean.”

“There’s no way we can go through here,” said Domineco. “I don’t think we could beat that thing in a fair fight, and there’s no way to get to him to have a fair fight. Causthea is right. Our range weapons will just anger that thing, whereas his own will likely kill anyone struck.”

“I know this sounds stupid,” said Talon to Causthea, “but don’t you have a spell that could sort of kill him mostly dead?”

“Barbarian, you think me one of the great masters of sorcery of all time, and not the neophyte to the art that I am,” she replied. “I hope someday to be able to call upon the kind of power you describe, but that day is not today.”

“Oh,” he said.

“Well we have to come up with a plan,” asserted Purthea. “We can’t turnaround, so we must find a means to fight it and win!”

“Actually,” said Domineco calmly, “we can turnaround and find another way, and that is what we must do.”

“Run from it, run from evil?!” said Purthea turning on him angrily. Surely we are not those kind of cowards!”

“We must have the courage to focus on what we came here to do, my Paladin friend,” he said staying calm, “and we did not come this far to die before reaching our goal fighting a random giant.”

“Don’t give me that claptrap old friend” she snarled. “We don’t run from evil.”

“We do if the alternative is to die at its hands” Domineco maintained his cool. “If we die today we will no longer advance the cause of the True God. You didn’t take your brain out and stomp on it when you took that oath. Think of those who will not be saved by your hand if our quest ends on this mountain, of the vengeance that you have sworn to take that will not happen. You said you brought me for my wisdom, and this is my wisdom.”

But it was Causthea who sensed something was different about her sister. “Sister, this drive is not like you, I feel something is going on, something is pushing you into this rash act and conflict with your own mentor.”

Purthea, turned sharply on Causthea starting to say something . . . and then hesitated. Causthea’s words sank in, and Purthea realized they were true. She did not feel normal. She did feel something pushing her to kill this monster. She looked at her mother’s sword in her hand, raising it before her. “It’s . . . it’s the sword. The sword wants to kill the giant. I can feel it, and that want pushes me to the same goal.”

“Well, that explains a couple of things,” said Domineco.

“Indeed it does,” said Causthea. “My dear sister, you are becoming more familiar with mother’s sword each day.”

“What do you mean?” Purthea asked.

“She means,” said Domineco that in that battle with the ogres your sword seemed to do more damage than it should. Some sort of special magic was working. Now facing another giant your sword is itching for more battle and agitating you to do it.”

“So?” Purthea asked.

“So, answered Causthea, “I think it now clear that amongst your sword’s extraordinary properties is a special purpose to slay giants. It’s clear the sword seeks to do what it was designed to do. That’s literally our mother’s soul calling you to this conflict with your mentor.”

Purthea, considered this carefully. Yes, she could still feel the pull, the urging by the sword to let it do what it was made to do. But aware of it now, she recognized it as not from herself, and thus she was able to set it aside. “You are right,” she said to Domineco, “we will find another way.”

As the party turned itself around Talon walked past Causthea, “You were right,” he said, “this magic thing is unpredictable stuff.”

“Yes barbarian” Causthea responded, “that’s why using it, predictably, is so hard.”

Chapter 13-To the Dungeon’s Door

Causthea watched as Purthea and Domineco studied maps considering the next best route to their destination. She was never included in such discussions. She considered crashing the discussion and wondered what would happen if she did. She decided against it because it would just reinforce their view that she was acting like a kid. Finally, they finished.

“There is another pass to the South that will get us there,” said Domineco, “but it will take at least another full day.” There was only a couple of hours travel time remaining in the day, but they made full use of it.

The night was uneventful as a tired party felt the futility of a mostly wasted day and the embarrassment of having to run from a fight. “Don’t worry,” said Domineco, “there will be more fights.” Talon had another training session where Purthea stabbed him and he tried to control his rage. He did better, but still would have lost control without Domineco’s quick healing.

During Causthea’s watch with Talon she found him uncharacteristically quiet. At a convenient break in her spell study she actually initiated a conversation. “You seem to be brooding” she said.

He looked up, “I was just thinking that I can never go back.”

“To your tribe?” she guessed.

“Yeah. I’m too wrapped up in magic now, what with Aerie and all. They would never live with that even if I avenged my parent’s death.”

“Barbarian,” she looked straight at him, “if we are able ever able avenge your, our, parents deaths then you will be far beyond anything your tribe could imagine and they would hold no interest to you.”

“That’s just it,” he said, “they already don’t. I don’t think of them as my people anymore. I think of you guys as my people.”

She nodded and went back to her studies. Talon walked about the camp, thinking. After a time he put his thoughts about his old family aside. He focused on his new family. He replayed in his mind the painful sessions aimed at controlling his magical rage, and tricks he used to do so, the ways he could distract him from the rage.

They set out early the next day. The mountainous terrain continued to make the going slow. On one they found their path blocked by a landslide. Fortunately, the path was on a switchback and they were able to shimmy down a rope in Talon’s bag to get there.

As they progressed they came upon an oddity. Outside a large mouthed cave was the body of a dead humanoid which Domineco declared a kobold. What killed the creature was not apparent. Talon looked to the cave and suggested they look inside for clues.

“It is best to not go blundering into unfamiliar caves,” said Domineco, as they all turned to peer at it.

“Ummm, I think I hear something in there,” said Thisbe.

“Yeah, me too,” said Talon as the party began to reorient itself facing the cave and Talon switched out his bow for his sword. It was fortunate they prepared so. Suddenly, with a great stereophonic, roar a two headed monstrosity came charging out of the cave. Only a bit smaller than the hill giant this beast was armed a large battleaxe in one hand and a morningstar in the other. The thing that freaked Talon out was the two heads, one was clearly male and the other female, and the thing sort of appeared split that way along its body.

Like the other lumbering giants this one was not that fast and Talon found himself ready for it. Swinging his huge sword, he struck home. Purthea’s blow hit immediately after, and now aware of it she could feel the magical effect of the sword doing unusual damage to the giant. Causthea decided to go for the big damage and threw her acid filled sphere spell at the monster. This time it struck solid and she could see it too did full damage.

The monster was clearly badly hurt, but now it struck. The morningstar bounced off Purthea’s shield but the big axe hit Talon, and bit deeply. It was a mortal blow and Talon felt himself start to die. However, Domineco had held back, preparing to heal if necessary at the first moment. He reached out, touching Talon, and whispering quickly the prayer to the True God for the most powerful healing Domineco had. Talon was mostly healed, but not completely. That he was not healed completely, combined with the pain of an initially mortal blow, was enough to trigger the rage in Talon.

Thisbe belatedly fired a crossbow but distracted by the near death of Talon it missed badly and actually glanced off Purthea’s armor without hurting her.

An enraged Talon did a complete spin with his sword, forcing Domineco to throw himself flat on the ground to avoid it, but the maneuver accelerated his huge sword into the the body of the beast where it sliced deep into the torso. The sound of the ribcage shattering was heard by all as the creature’s blood spilled from the massive wound. It collapsed and died before Purthea could even start her next blow.

Now they faced another problem. A still wounded and battle raged Talon turned to look for another target to kill. Domineco lay prone on the ground and couldn’t reach him. Purthea was next to Talon and he turned menacingly towards her. Purthea lowered her sword, and in her most commanding voice shouted, “NO! Talon it is us, your friends, it’s me who you once saved.”

The voices of Paladins are known to be persuasive. The rage didn’t leave him, but he hesitated. Purthea could see him struggling to regain control. She would not find out if he would win that struggle on his own. The hesitation allowed Domineco to recover enough to touch Talon, and heal the remaining damage. With the pain gone, Talon returned to normal.

“I . . . I felt myself dying,” was all he could say. “You, you saved me” he turned to Domineco. Then the memory of the fight sank in, “and then I nearly killed you.”

“Well, that’s how it works in this family,” laughed Domineco. “You are hereby authorized to save me next time.”

“Man, that was one effrin awesome full circle swing of a sword,” said Thisbe.

“You fought well, barbarian,” said Purthea. “We all fought well, and we brought down an evil monster of significant power.”

It was late that day they reached the entrance to the Dragon Witch’s abandoned lair. A long tunnel going into the mountain. They camped outside, preparing to enter it first thing in the morning. A bit of wine was shared at the dinner fire, a luxury in the wilderness.

“So what was that thing?” asked Talon as they discussed the battle. “It looked half guy and half woman.”

“It was,” said Domineco. “Ettins are hermaphrodites.”

“Her . . . whats?” responded Talon?

“Hermaphrodites,” said Thisbe. “You know, ettins are half man, half woman. One head a man, the other a woman, and married from birth. Which you got to admit, saves a lot of time. Though if you think human divorces are Hell . . .”

That produced a snicker around the fire. “Well, how do you pronounce the name of this creature?” asked Talon. “Domineco pronounced it ‘ettun’ and Thisbe just called it an “eetin.”

“Oh, it’s ‘ettun,’” said Domineco, “it’s named after the Etna Mountains, to the East of here, where it is believed they originated. The result of an experiment by an evil wizard who combined two ogres.”

“Not so,” retorted Thisbe, “it’s pronounced ‘eetin’ cause if you don’t kill them they will be eating you for dinner.” That produced a hearty laugh around the fire. The nervous kind of laughter of a group knowing they would enter a dungeon the next day.

Chapter14-A Day of Growth

Causthea and Talon had the first sleep cycle that night, with Purthea, Domineco and Thisbe on watch. As she often does Causthea dreamed, but this night the dreams were not the nightmares associated with her violent birth, or time with her evil “stepmother” “nursing” her. Instead she dreamed of magic, her magic. The runes of one of the scrolls she had been trying to learn danced in front of her, and suddenly they came together in coherent understanding, the riddle of the spell solved in her mind.

She awoke in a cold sweat, practically leaping from her blanket, scrambling to open her pack next to her. Her hands shook as she unravelled the mysterious scroll. The understanding was real, it was not just a dream! It was now so simple, how could it have ever frustrated her? She would now be able to transcribe this spell, into her spellbook. She grabbed her spellbook opening to a blank page, writing first the runic name for the spell, in the language known only to those trained in sorcery.

“Ummmm, are you okay?” asked Thisbe.

“Shut up!” she hissed back the hafling, “I must concentrate” as she feverishly turned back to her task.

“Does she need help?” asked Purthea, standing to go to her.

But Domineco grabbed Purthea’s arm, “hold here, my friend. Your sister has simply opened new doors to her sorcery that she must walk through now. What you can do for her now is to give her the time to concentrate that her spell learning requires.”

Talon also dreamed that night. He dreamed of a rabbit. There did not seem to be anything special about this rabbit. Until, in his dream, that rabbit approached him and matter of factly looked at him and spoke. “Do you have any lettuce?” it said, “I would like some lettuce.”

“Sure” said Talon, wait here and I will bring you some. “Certainly,” said the rabbit.

In his dream Talon went somewhere, in the fashion of dreams he really was not sure where, and somehow returned with some lettuce. “Here you are, little bunny.”

“Thank you,” said the rabbit, munching on lettuce. “It’s really very good. Best lettuce I have had in a long time.”

“You’re welcome . . . ummm what’s your name?” asked Talon of his dream rabbit.

“You may call me ‘Lepus’” answered the rabbit.

“Why are you here, talking to me?” asked Talon.

“To show you something,” said the rabbit. “Here reach out and touch me and concentrate on me.”

Talon gingerly reached out and touched the rabbit with his hand, but nothing happened. “Concentrate harder,” said the rabbit, “and you must close your eyes.”

So Talon concentrated harder, closing his eyes. Suddenly Talon was looking at . . . Talon. Further, the Talon, who looked unnaturally large, suddenly was reaching out and touching him. It was as if Talon was the rabbit. Talon could even taste lettuce in his mouth. In fact, as he thought this his head moved, and bit off some more lettuce. Talon did not control this, he merely saw it happen, and tasted it. Talon could see the other Talon, the real Talon, sitting as if in a trance, his eyes closed and a vacuous look on his face, he seemed to be chewing on . . . nothing.

It was then Talon realized he could hear things he normally could not. Small animals scurrying about in the woods. His nose twitched and he smelled them too.

“Then he heard the rabbit say, “well I guess that’s enough. You get the idea,” and it hopped off.

Talon awoke with a start. It was an odd sight. Purthea, Domineco and Thisbe mouths agape were looking at him like he had walked into the party naked. In the meantime, Causthea was obsessively pouring over her books and a scroll, and writing while mumbling a bunch of gibberish. Really obsessively. Talon had seen her study before but this was different.

“That was different,” said Purthea.

“What do you mean?” answered Talon, “I just had the strangest dream.”

“Well,” said Thisbe, “we were all watching Causthea suddenly go all spelly about 15 minutes ago, when you suddenly sat up, opened your vacant eyes, and started talking to a rabbit. Talking to a rabbit as if it was talking to you. You even asked the rabbit its name and asked why it was talking to you. Then you touched the rabbit and it got really weird. Your eyes closed, your jaw went slack, and you just sat there, I was beginning to wonder if you weren’t undead. Then, poof you wake up and seem to think we are weird ones.”

“You mean my dream really happened?” Talon asked.

“I don’t know anything about your dream,” said Thisbe, “but that’s what we all saw.”

“Anyway, it’s your watch” said Purthea. “Stay alert cause I think Causthea is a lost cause. I’m going to hit the bedroll and start counting unicorns.”

“Indeed, happy dreams Paladin,” said Domineco.

“Good dreams to us all,” said Purthea pulling her blanket over her.

Purthea awoke in a cold sweat, suddenly sitting up and shouting, “I will!”

“You’ll what sleepy head?” said Thisbe. Everyone else was already up. Causthea was still chanting over her books, while feverishly writing notes, Talon was muttering something about not being able to eat rabbit ever again, and Domineco was just staring at her with a knowing look.

“I . . . I had a dream. At least I think it was a dream,” she answered.

“What happened in the dream?” asked Domineco with his usual superficial calm, but Purthea detected an edge this time.

“I dreamed that I was before the True God and that he spoke to me.” She answered shaking for no reason she could understand.

“And what did He say?”

“He, this is crazy, He said it was time for me to take my Paladin’s Final Oath. As in this very day.”

“It’s not crazy. He did speak to you, and this means it is time for you to take that oath,” said Domineco.

“But, but, how?” Purthea said in a panic. “Who will administer the oath? Can you?” she looked at Domineco.

“I cannot, you know that. Only a High Paladin can do so,” said Domineco almost reprovingly. “But if the True God says you must do it now, then I suspect one of those shall be along shortly.”

“We have to enter the lair today,” whispered Purthea.

“Not if the True God has other plans for you today,” answered Domineco. “And I doubt you could pull your sister away from her books before tonight in any event.” This much was true. Causthea seemed more absorbed than ever. “She has refused to stop to even eat breakfast,” added Domineco.

“This is crazy,” said Purthea. “Causthea lost in her books, Talon still babbling about rabbits, and now that we get here we can’t act because I had a dream?”

“I think it will get more crazy before it gets less,” said Domineco.

It was then that Talon suddenly looked up with alarm and warned, “someone approaches!”

“What is it?” Purthea demanded. “What do you see through that eagle’s eyes?”

“A man, on horseback, heavily armored. He certainly has the bearing of confidence that suggests power,” said Talon. “He’s coming up the pass, from where we came in. But somehow I have a gut feeling he’s okay.”

“I’m not interested in your feelings about breakfast!” Purthea shouted. “Party on alert! Move to battle order!”

“Ummm, okay, if you say so,” said Talon.

Thisbe jumped up with a “yessir, I mean yes maam” scrambling for his crossbow.

Without any concern at all, as if she had not heard a word, Causthea continued her myopic focus on her books.

Domineco simply asked Talon, “what color horse?”

“White,” said Talon, “the whitest horse I ever saw, now that you mention it, and the biggest horse too. What in effrin does it matter what color the horse is?”

“Hey you did it,” said Thisbe.

“What?” said a befuddled Talon.

“You used ‘effrin’ right.”

“For the True God’s sake can we focus here?” shouted Purthea. “A heavily armored man on a huge horse is headed our way, and our sorceress has gone bye bye.”

“Do you sense evil approaching from that direction?” asked Domineco.

Purthea paused, and focused attempting to discern whether what approached was evil in nature. “No, I guess I don’t.”

“I think you can relax,” said Domineco. “I think we can all relax.” Purthea drew her sword anyway.

It was then the horse and man came around the corner. Purthea’s mouth fell slack. Before her, looking majestic, was Vis, the Lord of Paladins himself. The symbols on his armor and shield were immediately recognizable to her, even if not to Talon. He raised the visor on his helmet, looked at her with a bemused expression, and with a hint of sarcasm said, “it is good to see you on alert in the wilderness, Paladin, but I assume you do not actually wish to engage in combat?”

“No my Lord,” Purthea dropped to a knee, “I’m sorry,” as she clumsily tried to sheath her sword while kneeling. “I mean, I mean, I didn’t expect, sorry my Lord,” she stammered.

“Well, look who’s gotten all humble” smirked Thisbe.

“Humility is a good thing hafling,” said Vis looking around. “You do have an interesting ensemble of friends, Purthea. I remember your mother, did at one time too. Like your mother’s friends I sense they are all good people, even if sometimes a bit unpredictable,” he said with glance towards Talon. “Rise my Paladin, and daughter to the closest friend I ever knew.”

Purthea hesitantly stood, still murmuring apologies. She did not know the Lord of Paladins was a close friend of her mother’s. She had hardly met him, and never spoken with him alone. He had presided over her initial oath ceremony to become a Paladin, but that was administered in mass along with nearly a dozen other Paladin candidates. His face turned serious and he continued.

“My greatest regret is that we were unable to save her. I headed the team that rescued your sister. I also regret we could not save your sister and at the same time avenge your mother. I understand you now plan to take that responsibility for yourself.”

“I did not know you led that mission,” Purthea stammered. The mention of her sister made her realize how rude Causthea was being. “Causthea, stop it and say something . . . show some respect!” But Causthea did not even flinch the slightest from her focus on the books. “I’m sorry, she has suddenly been taken by a fit of spell study, she refuses to even eat,” Purthea stumbled over her words to Vis.

“There is no cause for apology,” Vis responded gently. “Your sister is deep in learning new spells. For her to break concentration would render all the study so far lost and she would have to start over. I suspect she will be lost to us in her books until dinner this evening.”

“Forgive me, my Lord,” said Purthea nervously, “but I must ask. Why have you come here . . . now?”

“To personally administer your Final Oath as a Paladin,” answered Vis. “Did you not dream last night that it was time to do so?”

“Yes, yes I did, but how, how did you . . .” Purthea tried to ask.

“You are not the only Paladin the True God speaks to. But it was my desire to administer the final oath to Panthea’s daughter. A final service to my deepest friend . . . and much more.” Said Vis, bowing slightly to her, then clearing his throat, “It is time for you to declare. Which of the Oaths shall I administer to you?”

“My Lord . . .” she started.

“No more ‘my Lording’ me daughter of Panthea. Please simply address me as ‘Vis.’ I insist.”

It was almost unheard of for the Lord of Paladins to “drop names” (as it was called) with one of such low station as herself, and Purthea’s mind was whirling. “My . . . I mean, Vis, I am not sure of what oath to take.”

“Ahh,” said Vis. “Come, walk with me, Purthea.”

She nervously followed as they moved away from the others in the camp. Domineco simply nodded as they passed, with a slight smile. When out of earshot Vis simply said, “speak your doubts.”

Purthea paused, before it all came out in a rush. “My whole life I expected to take the Oath of Devotion, as did my mother, but after holding her sword, with a vision of her death, I resolved to take the Oath of Vengeance against her killer. But now with the moment upon me, I again doubt and wonder if I should follow as my mother did. What would she say if she knew I took the Oath of Vengeance?”

“Ah yes, your mother’s soul sword. May I see it?”

“Of course, My . . . I mean, yes Vis.” She pulled the sword out and handed it to him. He held it reverently, closing his eyes. Then he opened them, and with his eyes misting returned the sword to her. “Purthea, if your mother was alive and before us right now, what she would say to you about this choice should not matter to you at all.”

“Yes, that is easy to say, but still my feelings are there,” replied Purthea. “And I wonder what my father would say as well.”

“Purthea, I knew your mother and father as well as any man could know other people. They are not here, and so with your forgiveness, I will take their role to tell you what I am quite confident they would have said. Please, let’s sit.” They were near a boulder, and she sat there as did Vis. He continued.

“If they were here, they would first tell you how immensely proud of you they are. They would tell you that for every parent the greatest joy is when their child becomes their own person. They would tell you that time for you is now and that you must make this choice for yourself, based on what you feel is right for you. Finally, they would tell you that no matter what that choice is, that they will be just as proud of you.”

Purthea wept at his words, and somehow she knew he was right.

“Let me tell you something of your mother, and that Oath of Devotion she took. Your mother was herself an orphan, an unwanted infant abandoned on the streets of New Gont. A kind woman, devoted to the True God, took her in and raised her as her own. That experience, the love given her by a stranger, is what moved your mother to take the Oath of Devotion. A thanks to the True God and her adopted mother. By the way, that stranger was my mother. We were raised by my mother as brother and sister, which is why I can’t help but to think of you as my niece. I speak to you now as a step-uncle.” Vis was choking up and turned away.

“I didn’t know any of this,” was all a weeping Purthea could say. “But what does all this mean for my own choice?”

“Only that your mother made the choice she did because of her own life experiences. Your experiences have been different, very different. I know you are conflicted. I shall leave you to decide on your own, but you must decide. Spend some time in prayer and meditation,” he started to stand.

“We shouldn’t split the party like this,” she said, “we could be spread out when att . . .”

“Don’t worry about that,” he interrupted. “Today this group is under the protection of the True God. Nothing shall molest you. However, before I return to the camp I wanted to warn you about what to expect when you do go into the lair.”

“We fear no danger,” she said raising her chin.

“And that is why your parents would be so proud,” he paused clearing his throat again. “The Dragon Witch placed a powerful curse on the entire lair, so that all who die within it would be cursed to rise as undead. The lair will be filled such horrific monstrosities, to include monsters so animated.”

“We have a cleric, we are prepared for undead,” she responded.

He cleared his throat again, and croaked the next words out, “Your mother and father died in that lair.” He turned and walked quietly away, wiping his eyes. Purthea sat dumbfounded. She did take some time to pray and contemplate her decision, but it was becoming more clear now.

It was early afternoon that Purthea returned to the camp. Thisbe was telling a distraught Talon about a great recipe involving his mother’s universal spice that he had for rabbit stew. All talk ended with her arrival, except for Causthea still muttering into her spellbooks. Vis rose to greet her.

“My decision is made,” she said with grim determination. The line was part of the ritual.

Vis, answered according to ritual. “And what is your decision Paladin?”

“I shall take the Oath of Vengeance. My decision is made.”

“Your decision is made. Upon what sword shall you make this oath?” he continued the ritual. “I offer my own,” Vis said, “it is worthy.”

“Your sword is worthy, sir,” she replied, “but I choose my mother’s sword for this blood oath that my blood may touch her soul as it is for her death I take this oath.”

Vis completed the preliminaries, “that sword is worthy.” He paused, he then bowed low to her, in a mild departure from the usual ceremony. “Purthea, daughter of legendary Paladin Lord Panthea, and a person I regard as my niece, it shall be my great honor to administer the Oath of Vengeance to you.”

“His what?!” sputtered Talon. “Did he say niece?”

“Well of all the trips to the Abyss, and people say haflings have weird families,” said Thisbe.

“It is time,” interrupted Vis. “Who do you name as witnesses, you must name two. Your sister is obviously in no condition and it must be from outside your immediate family in any event.”

“I choose my mentor, Domineco, to witness,” she answered. “I also choose Talon,” who has fought with me in battle.”

“Man, the hafling always gets overlooked,” said Thisbe rolling his eyes.

“Your witnesses have been stated,” said Vis. “Domineco do you consent to witness, swearing to the True God your fidelity in witnessing the oath taken?”

“I so swear, and it is my honor to do so,” said Domineco.

“Talon, do you consent to witness swearing to your own God your fidelity in witnessing the oath taken.”

Talon was a bit confused, but followed the lead, “I so swear, and this has been the greatest honor ever bestowed upon me,” he said bowing low.

“For one who has ridden on the back of a God, that is a strong statement,” whispered Domineco.

“Ah . . . well, maybe the second greatest honor,” said Talon.

There was a moment of laughter. In accordance with the ritual Purthea removed her armor.

“The sword upon which you swear Paladin,” chanted Vis.

“I swear upon this sword,” responded Purthea drawing forth her mother’s sword.

Vis and Purthea knelt, facing each other. Each grasped the sword, Vis with two hands, Purthea with but her sword arm. “Repeat after me,”said Vis.

“I shall fight the greater evil. When faced with the lesser and greater evil my choice shall always be to combat the greater evil,” he intoned.

“I shall fight the greater evil. When faced with the lesser and greater evil my choice shall always be to combat the greater evil.”

“I shall provide no mercy for the wicked. That which is evil must be eliminated from this world.”

“I shall provide no mercy for the wicked. That which is evil must be eliminated from this world.”

“I shall do this by any means necessary.”

“I shall do this by any means necessary.”

“If my foes prevail it is because I have failed.”

“If my foes prevail it is because I have failed,” she finished.

“It is time for you to seal your oath,” said Vis.

“I seal my oath with my blood upon the soul of my mother,” said Purthea. She took her free hand and ran it down the sharp edge of her sword, slicing it open. Blood poured upon the sword as she held the blade in a tight grip. Those watching, were then surprised, even Vis. The blood streamed down the side of the sword, and then disappeared as if absorbed by the sword.

“It would appear your mother has accepted your oath,” said a clearly surprised Vis.

Domineco came over preparing to wrap Purthea’s hand, but as he opened the palm there was no wound to wrap. Domineco gasped in surprise. The ritual normally held that the Paladin not be healed until the bleeding stopped on its own.

“Well, that’s a bit of a surprise,” said Vis. “It would appear that your mother also healed you Purthea. Did you know that sword could heal?”

“I did not,” answered Purthea, “but I do now and I feel that I know how to call it forth to do so again if I desire. I also sense other abilities within it that I had not before.”

About an hour later Causthea broke out of her spellbooking trance as quickly as she entered. She said she was exhausted and promptly went to sleep. She awoke a few hours later complaining that she was famished.

“That’s because you have not eaten since dinner last night,” said Talon.

“Well, I think I can help,” said Vis. “I have one final gift to offer this group before I leave.”

“Who in the abyss is that?” said Causthea. “What happened while I was studying?”

“Oh, not much,” said Thisbe. “Your sister just took the Oath of Vengeance, that’s all. Oh and Talon is now afraid of rabbits.”

“She what?!” shouted Causthea. “I missed that?”

“Yes,” said Purthea, “it’s true. Even the barbarian witnessed it which I suspect is the first time a barbarian has formally witnessed a Paladin’s swearing the Final Oath.”

“I study for a few hours and the world goes crazy,” pouted Causthea.

“I’m not really afraid of rabbits,” said Talon. “I’m just not sure I want to eat them anymore.”

“Speaking of eating, can we like do that now?” asked Causthea. “I am hungry enough to eat an entire banquet.”

“We shall see about that,” said Vis and with a wave of his arms an enormous banquet suddenly appeared. An amazing banquet at that. A heroes feast that would make them all stronger the next day. When they finished all agreed they had never had such a meal. Vis assured them they could all sleep it off, that the True God would ensure they were unharmed for the night. So without bothering to set watches, they all slept soundly.

They all awoke at sunrise, feeling fully refreshed, and eager to finally take on that dungeon. Vis was gone.

Chapter 15-Bones In The Dark

The entrance was a near perfect square ten feet wide. It had been created by a series of powerful spells when Causthea’s rescue party accessed the dragon’s lair by surprise. They entered in their standard order of battle, Puthea and Talon side by side up front, Domineco behind them, and Causthea with Thisbe in the rear, it quickly grew dark. Talon retrieved his Forever Lantern and handed it to Thisbe. They moved cautiously forward, with Talon wishing he had Aerie, who have been left outside at the recommendation of Domineco and Purthea.

It was the sharp eared hafling who heard it first. “Do you hear that?” he said.

They all stopped, “what does it sound like?” asked Domineco.

“Sort of like . . . teeth chattering” said Thisbe.

“I hear it!” said Causthea. “It sounds like there are many things making the noise.”

“I wonder how many,” added Talon.

During the exchange Purthea had paused to focus her attention ahead of them. “I detect evil,” she said, “so let’s go find out how many there are.”

They moved even more carefully now, towards a sound that increased so that they soon all heard it, and soon became near deafening as it echoed through the straight passage. When the source came into the vision of the lantern the party issued collective gasp, the sight was straight out of nightmares.

A roughly twenty foot chasm crossed through the tunnel separating them from the abominations on the other side, the undead Purthea had been warned about. Skeletal figures, armed with boney short swords, packed thick into each other and extending as far back as their limited light could reach.

“Holy effrin abyss,” breathed Talon, “that’s a lot of . . . of . . .”

“Skeletons” said Domineco. “We should be glad they are not armed with short bows, as they sometimes are. We stand on this side of the chasm, and they on the other.” He picked up a rock, muttered a small prayer, and instantly it glowed with a bright light. He tossed it into the midst of the seething mass of undead on the other side.

“Well, at least they don’t go on forever” said Talon.

“There must be dozens of them” marveled Thisbe.

“There are 51,” said Causthea. The others turned to her. “I counted.”

How anyone could count that constantly moving mass of bones was beyond Talon’s comprehension, never mind to as high a number as whatever “51” was.

“So how do we fight them?” asked Purthea. “There seems no way to get over there, at least while they resist us.”

“We shoot them,” said Talon grimly notching an arrow. He fired one into the mass, it was pretty much impossible to miss. The arrow struck one solidly in the shoulder, but just chipped off a small chunk of bone while having no apparent effect on the macabre thing’s ability to fight.

“That won’t work,” said Domineco. “Skeletons are practically immune to arrows. They have no blood to bleed, no organs to harm. I could try to turn them, but most are out of range and even those that run would return once the terror of the True God leaves them.” Looking at Talon’s huge sword, he added, “however, they would be very vulnerable to damage from the bludgeoning of your huge sword.”

“It’s too bad you aren’t a thief,” said Thisbe. “Then you could climb along the wall or ceiling to get over there and drop down behind them.”

“Right, like you could just crawl along the ceiling like a little spider to get past them,” snickered Talon.

“Sure I could,” boasted Thisbe. “It’s easier than eating rabbit stew. Just watch.” An astounded Talon watched as Thisbe somehow seemed to scamper up the side of the wall.

“Actually, I have something that might allow Talon to do exactly as Thisbe suggests,” said Causthea.

Everyone turned to her in surprise.

“It’s one of my spells, one of my new ones. I can cast it on Talon, or whoever, and they can climb along walls and ceilings even better than Thisbe.”

“No way it can make him climb better than me” said Thisbe. Though it would be fun to see Talon go all wildman beserker at those things from behind.”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” interrupted Talon. You want Ms. Magic here to sorcery me up to crawl over that chasm, which if the spell doesn’t work I’ll fall into, get to the other side to the back of all those damnations and go all beserker on them? Are you cr . . .”

“I would be so very impressed with your courage if you tried it,” purred Purthea. “Who wouldn’t be?”

“Wha . . . what?” stammered Talon, then shouting. “I love this plan, let’s do it!”

Causthea came over to him, “Will this hurt?” Talon asked.

“No,” she said rolling her eyes. “It’s just a simple transmutation spell, not an attack.” She reached into a pouch and pulled out a small spider. Crushing it with her hand, she placed that hand on his shoulder and muttered a few words in that bizarre lilting language of sorcery. She stepped back.

“That’s it?” said Talon.

“That’s it,” her eyes rolled again.

“Well, I don’t feel any different,” said Talon

For some reason she put her forehead in her palm, “what did you expect to feel, you big oaf?”

“Ummm, I dunno, all climby I guess.”

“So try being,” she made an air quotes gesture, “climby.”

Slinging his sword in the scabbard behind him Talon skeptically approached the wall. He stood next to it. He spit in his hands and rubbed them together. Casuthea again rolled her eyes. Gingerly he touched the wall with his hands. He still wasn’t feeling anything different. “Now what?” he turned asking Causthea.

“Just climb for devil’s sake.”

The new spell must have worn her out, thought Talon, she was acting like she had a headache.

Talon turned to the wall again, placed his hands on it again, and grasping the rock as best he could, tried to pull himself up. And up he went! To his surprise, it really was easier than eating rabbit stew. “Wow!” said Talon, “this really is fun!” as he scuttled about and even turned upside down on the ceiling. “Hey, look at me!”

“He really is doing it better than me,” grumbled Thisby. “Freaking magic. Cheating.”

“Yes, we see you. I’m sooooo impressed” said Purthea while Talon wondered if she rolled her eyes or if it just looked that way from this upside down position. “Now just climby yourself over there and start wailing against the evil undead. I’ll join you when I can.”

“Righto” said Talon and he began moving that direction. For a guy who had flown on a God this was still a pretty surreal thing. Talon crawled along the ceiling, as if it were the floor, quickly crossing the chasm. On the other side the skeletons could clearly ‘see’ him with those empty eye sockets, and swung at him with their short swords, but he was just out of their reach.

Talon got to the back ranks of the skeletons and then wondered how to get down without them hitting him first. He reached back to pull out his sword, only to discover a new trick he could do. He was hanging from the ceiling, upside down, with just his two feet attached. It was like he was standing on the ceiling, and it felt perfectly natural! With that, he gave a mighty swing of his sword.

Talon’s enormous sword swung from above them and he could now swing it well even without being beserked. The mass was so close together that his first effort slammed through one and then into another, shattering them both into a collapsed heap of bones.

On the other side of the abyss Causthea made a small ball of acid appear in her hands which she hurled, striking two of the tightly packed skeletons, their bones burned, chunks of them falling off, but they did not die.

Domineco uttered a prayer and a bright beam, like fire, came down from the ceiling and struck one of those Causthea’s spell had affected, killing it.

Purthea, looked to the other side, seeing that skeletons were turning toward Talon and clearing a narrow landing. A plan began to form.

The skeletons had to reach up to attack Talon, he was beyond the reach of some, and had killed two within reach. Still four of them managed to attack him from all directions, jabbing up at him with their swords. Two seemed to stick deep, but it didn’t hurt much. Talon felt he was under some sort of magical protection, from dinner last night of all things. It was enough that Talon felt tempted by the rage, but managed to check it for now. Two more shattered under the impact of his swinging sword. However, he overbalanced from the swing, losing his upside down sense of balance and dropped from the ceiling. He landed on his head, and that really did hurt. What’s more, the skeletons bore down on him, trying to weight him down, while stabbing him. This time six were able to strike at him, and they were in a better position to do so. Wounds poured blood from all over him, and there was no stopping the battle rage now.

Purthea saw Talon go down and knew he was in trouble, big trouble. Grasping her sword she called upon an ability she had become aware of only the day before. With a brief running start she leaped over the chasm and square into the first of the skeletons on the other side, swinging her sword in an arc as she landed, striking the skeleton from behind. It died as dozens of empty eye sockets turned to face her.

The skeleton’s efforts to hold Talon down never had much of a chance. Between his strength and his battle rage he threw them off like ragdolls and came to his feet swinging his massive sword in a huge circle. Four skeletons shattered from the fury driven blow, temporarily clearing a space around him. Only two stabbed at him this time, but one hit and Talon was near death.

Two dozen skeletons separated them, but Purthea saw the opening. Again she called upon the power of her sword, and she leaped over the skeletons, landing next Talon. Quickly, she touched him calling upon all her natural healing ability. Wounds closed, but Talon was still grievously wounded.

Spells cast by Causthea and Domineco managed to kill two more near the chasm.

Fortunately, the partially healed Talon stayed focused on the things that hurt him, and Purthea had moved behind him so they could face the undead back to back. Talon swung his huge sword in another great half circle around him, killing three more.

Purthea’s attack killed another. Then, reaching behind her, she touched Talon and quietly called upon the power of her mother’s sword. She felt the powerful healing energy flow from it, into Talon, it used most of the sword’s healing power, but Talon was completely healed, though that didn’t last long.

The skeletons pressed home their attacks against them, six surrounding them within range, three on each. One struck Purthea, a short sword piercing into her thigh that she was able to ignore because of the magical protection from the feast. But they seemed to have Talon’s number, and two struck him. Had Purthea not healed him he would have died.

From the other side of the chasm the combination of spells from Domineco and Causthea killed two more. Despite the piles of bones piling up, over 30 skeletons remained. The odds looked grim with Talon and Purthea outnumbered by over 15 to 1 and both hurt.

“How much of that healing have you got?” shouted Talon.

“It’s almost all gone” she shouted back.

“Is there anyway you can get me over there?” asked Domineco of Causthea. “If I can sustain them with healing they might just be able to kill all these abominations.”

“Yes, in a moment I can recast that spell that Talon used to get over there.”

“Don’t bother,” said Thisbe with a sigh, “I have something better.” He pulled a scroll out of one of his pouches and began reading it. Causthea recognized the language of magic, as a feather attached to the scroll disappeared. Thisbe touched Domineco, and simply said, “now fly.”

With almost no thought to it at all, Domineco lifted up and zipped across the void, landing neatly near Purthea and Talon. Domineco raised his holy symbol, “let’s even the odds,” he said.

Causthea looked hard at Thisbe.

“Oh, just a little item I found in my travels,” he said sheepishly. “I can’t cast magic, but I can read scrolls.”

“You realize if you hadn’t done that I could have used that scroll to add that spell permanently to my spell book?” she demanded.

“Yeah, but if I hadn’t used it now we would likely lose this fight.”

The press of undead around Domineco, Purthea and Talon paused as Domineco raised his holy symbol and began chanting a powerful holy prayer, channeling his divinity, calling upon the power of the True God against the undead pressed against them. He sought to banish and turn the undead and they were now all in range.

It worked, the majority turned and fled down the corridor. Only 13 remained to fight the party. Suddenly the odds seemed much better.

The odds got even better when Talon swung his sword again, shattering two more. Though Purthea’s swing missed as she had already focused on one that fled and it ran out of her range. Domineco whiffed at another fleeing skeleton.

Of the remaining 11 skeletons nine managed to maneuver within range, three on each of heroes. Two struck through Domineco’s armor, enraged at his holy symbol. One stab was particularly powerful, but still absorbed by the magical additional protection granted from the feast the night before. All three of the stabs at Purthea were deflected by her armor. But the abominations continued to seem locked onto Talon. Two struck, one for full damage, with the blade plunging deep, another more of glancing stab.

Talon had begun feeling like he might pull out of his beserker rage, but not anymore. He swung his sword again, but the more dispersed skeletons resulted in his only hitting one, as his sword struck the ground just short of another. But the one he hit shattered, leaving ten.

Purthea’s long sword unfortunately missed as she had to avoid Domineco reaching over to heal Talon. Her sword stuck into the ribcage of a dead skeleton and ribcage became stuck on the sword.

Domineco touched Talon with a quick prayer. The True God was particularly beneficent with the healing power provided and Talon was again completely healed.

However, three skeletons each still found their way to stab at the group. Domineco took yet another grievous stab, and this one drew blood.

Purthea was hit but the magical protections from the feast left her unhurt.

The luck of those against Talon ran out, as all three missed, perhaps respecting the length of his sword.

Again Talon shattered another with a wide swing, that nearly took out a second, but not quite. Nine skeletons left.

Purthea managed to miss again, and this was becoming embarrassing at this stage as her long sword was encumbered with the ribcage and swung in a cumbersome manner. Frustrated she slammed it on the ground, shattering the cage and freeing her sword.

Domineco took time to heal himself this time. But he was running out of healing power.

However, the tide was turning. This time Talon’s swing did manage to catch two. Purthea found her range with a solid hit that was just enough to shatter another. Domineco finally free to swing struck with his mace for maximum effect killing yet another. Suddenly, only five skeletons remained standing.

Only one remained on Talon and it missed. However, one of the two on Purthea got a stab in, which hurt some, but wasn’t close to stopping her.

Both skeletons on Domineco also missed, glancing off his armor.

Talon swung again and in his beserker state it was almost impossible for him to miss. Another skeleton fell in a heap of shattered bones.

Purthea managed to get another to go down as Domineco healed her.

The skeletons realigned to have one on each of them now. All three skeletons futilely stabbed at the armor of the party. Things were pretty much done for them now. On his next chance a still beserked Talon cleaved two. Purthea and Domineco both struck the one remaining felling it.

Purthea turned to the enraged Talon, who was working to calm himself. He wasn’t hurt, and with the practice they had been doing, he found it easy to turn the anger back inside. They all sat panting, heavily. Trying to catch their breath.

Thisbe wall climbed across the chasm. Ironically, it was the sorceress who was left with no ready means to cross. Domineco found that he could not fly carrying her, but Talon found that between Domineco’s help, and his wall climbing, together they could muscle Causthea across.

Once they were all on the dungeon side of the chasm they took stock.

“I have used all of my Paladin healing and most of the healing power of my mother’s sword,” said Purthea.

“My healing is also nearly exhausted,” acknowledged Domineco.

“I’m pretty good on my magic” said Causthea, “only the wall climbing spell used any magic of note.”

It was then that Thisbe turned his head down the corridor. “I hear it again,” he said, “the chattering.”

“By the True God, I forgot,” said Domineco rising as he tossed the still glowing rock that direction.

Moving quickly towards them were twenty previously turned skeletons, recovered from their fear of the True God.

“I don’t suppose you can do that turny trick again” said Thisbe.

“No, I can’t.”

“We are so effrin” said Thisbe.

A tired party turned to face the threat.

That’s when Causthia said, “I’ve had enough of this crap.”

She stepped forward, fished out a piece of iron from her robe, the magic words flowed. Suddenly a bolt of lightening leaped from her outstretched finger, slamming through the middle of the line of skeletons, with bones bursting and disintegrating everywhere. When the bone dust settled, only six skeletons continued to advance. Causthea put her finger to her lips, blew over the top of it, and said, “go get em boys” to the stunned Paladin and Barbarian up front.

They did, taking a little bit of damage, but they easily dispatched the half dozen remaining skeletons.

When they finished Purthea turned to her sister, “what in all the Abyss was that?”

“Just the most recent trick I picked up,” said Causthea, “though my magic is now greatly diminished as well.”

It was time to rest. They set watches, and decided to fully recharge themselves for the next day. They were hurt, and their spells nearly exhausted.

Chapter 16-Dark Thoughts

Deep in the lair a paradoxical figure shambled through a corridor. He had once been a respected man named Jacob, but now called himself “Juckas.” His armor gleamed pristinely in this otherwise dark and filthy demesnes. Bizarrely the armor’s breastplate was brightly emblazoned with the symbol of the True God.

By Orcus’s mace, he hated that armor with a passion that by now represented the only thing he felt. It weakened and contained his full power, being an artifact of the True God. He had spent years now trying to get rid of it but the True God’s curse holding it to him was too powerful. So that is why he searched for her. For years and years now, it seemed an eternity. She who had given him the armor, and imbued it with power. A woman he once called “wife.” In an academic sense he recognized that he once loved her, but how can a thing incapable of love know what that ever meant? He knew she was in here somewhere, but in years of searching he had never found her. Perhaps behind one of several doors he had pounded against for years but which did not yield. Or up and down shafts he could not fly to explore. He should be able to fly, but this damn armor kept him from many of his non-corporeal powers.

Now he perceived something, or that damn armor did, which meant he did. It felt familiar, and yet not. Some part of her was nearby. He must find her, and compel her to remove the armor as only his former wife could. Only then would he be free to achieve his true power. The sensation came from a new direction, generally towards where what remained of Qz resided. He owed Qz, without him he wouldn’t be what he was today.

“King” Qz sat on his “throne.” It was not really a throne, just the remnants of a collapsed spiral staircase leading to other parts of the old lair that Qz had now forgotten. Still, he regarded it as a throne and hoarded what treasure he retained on it. There was a time when Qz did not have a throne, for that matter there was a time when Qz did not ever sit on anything at all. Qz longed for the old days when he could fly, when his eyestalks could cast multiple spells at once, when those spells were more powerful than they are now. Qz longed to return to what he was when he was arguably the most powerful of the Black Dragon Witch’s colleagues.

Yes, colleague, not a servant or mere henchman, an equal, a peer, at least that was how Qz had always seen it. They had accomplished so much together in the service of chaos for the Dark Lord. Qz was one of the few who even knew the Dragon Witch’s true name. “Inyria,” which in the language of Beholders was similar to a word used to describe prey that when eaten becomes irritatingly stuck to your teeth. That coincidence had been the source of many jokes between them.

Even now, a shadow of his prior power, Qz could not believe that she had left him, abandoned him to the enemy assault on her fortress, used him to bide time for her own escape and the escape of other lesser “colleagues.”

Oh how he made those True God worshipping scum pay. They had not suspected he was lurking in the darkness above them when he unleashed his torrent of spells against the enemy party attempting to escape with the infant that Inyria deemed so special. “One day that babe will have more power in its little finger than you have in all your eyestalks, and that power will belong to me,” Inyria had told him. Qz had, laughed, inwardly of course, at the obvious joke.

To this day Qz believed that he could have killed that entire rescue party had he not tempered his fire to avoid harming the infant. For that had been Inyria’s last command, or request as he thought of it, received by him through a power of telepathy now lost to him. “See no harm comes to the babe,” she sent to him. “Even if it escapes it will someday return to me.” The last had been said hurriedly, and he never heard from Inyria again.

So he had held his fire, focusing on the foolish cleric who stayed behind covering the retreat. Qz killed him, and others in the group, but Qz succumbed to his own mortal wounds as well. So now “King Qz” sat on this “throne.” This room was his new Kingdom as he had no means to move at all anymore. He Lorded over his “subjects,” two minotaur skeletons.

Then he sensed something down the long corridor, which that cursed rescue party built with magic as they escaped. Could after all this time Inyria be returning for him? He did sense something . . . familiar. But then Qz recoiled. The power of his and Inyria’s arch enemy, the True God, was out there.

A malicious smile tried to form around the rotted lips of his great maw like mouth. He ordered his subjects to place themselves for battle as he attempted to ascertain what he sensed that seemed so oddly familiar. But he would kill any who serve the True God, it’s what he once lived for and even in undeath Qz relished the chance to do it again.

Chapter 17-A Battle To Behold

“I’m sure glad you have that Forever Lantern” said Thisbe peering into the dark beyond its light, “It’s darker than the last plane of the Abyss in this tunnel.”

“I could provide us light if we needed it, hafling,” chuckled Domineco connecting the last straps of his scale mail armor.

“When do we get going,” said Talon facing the darkness as he finished the last of his breakfast.

“I guess when she is done” answered Purthea shrugging to a still muttering Causthea with her head in a strange book.

As if on cue Causthea closed the book, “I am done.”

They all stood about, nervously looking down the tunnel. “I hope there aren’t any more of those skeletons” Thisbe said shakily. “Those things give me the creeps.”

“I suspect we will find far worse and more creepy things beyond that gloom,” grunted Domineco.

“Swell,” said Thisbe, “my great granddad said he once fought a Gelatinous Cube. I guess that would be cool.”

“I thought you said your great granddad spent years in jail after he stole one of the King’s royal horses,” said Talon.

“Oh, he did that too.”

“Can we have some discipline here?” growled Purthea. “Quiet, so whatever is down here doesn’t hear us. Standard order of movement, I’ll carry the lantern.”

They moved down the corridor, with its perfectly smooth walls that Causthea was convinced proved it was constructed by spells. It was as quiet as it was dark.

They moved slowly, at first, stopping now and again to listen carefully for threats, but not even Thisbe’s sharp ears heard any sound other than their own breathing. Hundreds of feet they travelled in the stifling dark and silence. The walls remained smooth, the floors perfectly level. The monotony of it caused them to increase their pace. Abruptly the monotony ended. The wall became rough and irregular, like a natural cavern, the ground sloped down and curved sharply to the right. Then back to the left and up for aways . . . and so it bent and turned for sometime.

As they approached another bend there was suddenly a faint flicker of light against the wall, as if reflected from a distance. Cautiously they came around the corner. The now rough stone went straight for about 60 feet. The source of the light was now clear. The corridor was blocked by a wall of fire.

They approached very slowly until they were within ten feet of it. They had an impression of a larger space behind it, but they really couldn’t see into it.

“Is that magic?” asked Talon.

“Of course it’s magic ogre brains,” said Thisbe.

“Yes, it’s magic” whispered Causthea staring intently at the flaming wall. She paused continuing to study the deadly barrier. Realization appeared on her face and she nodded, “It’s fake.”

“Fake!? What do you mean fake?,” asked Talon.

“It’s an illusion. It’s not real and it can only harm you if you think it is real.”

“Looks real to me” muttered Talon.

“Ummm, me too,” confirmed Purthea.

Causthea shook her head, “Of course it looks real, what would be the point of an illusion that looked fake? But do you hear the fire? Even magical fire would crackle and roar. But the real clue is that we don’t feel the heat from it. We would be feeling a lot of heat from a real fire this close,” she said moving to the front of the party and pointing to the flames.

“But if it’s a magical fire maybe it doesn’t work like a normal fire,” protested Talon.

“If it has no heat it cannot burn,” said Causthea firmly.

“Yeah, sure, right,” said a clearly nervous Thisbe. “Is there maybe another way in that doesn’t get us fried?”

“Oh for Tiamet’s sake, nobody is going to get fried. Here I’ll show you.” With that Causthea walked into and through the flames . . .

With his great eye Qz could partially see the party on the other side of the flaming wall he created. He watched bemused as they stopped in fear before his illusion. Over the years others had come this far and turned away in fear for what they thought those flames would do to them. However, this time one seemed to see through the illusion, a strange girl . . . there was something different about her . . .

Suddenly she fearlessly stepped through the flames. She looked about seeing Qz and her eyes widened. Looking to either side she saw the minotaur skeletons where Qz had placed them to quickly ambush the party if it stepped through. Even now they were preparing to rush this small girl with odd ears and strange, scaly skin . . . That’s when Qz realized who she was. He realized it was the babe. Mostly grown up now, but the babe that Inyria’s last order had said to protect.

Quickly Qz spoke ordering the two minotaur skeletons to stand down. They did, stopping in midstride, obedient to their master. Then Qz spoke to the babe, “welcome back little one.” Then Qz realized he had spoken in the language of Beholders. The babe would not know that speech at all. But Qz struggled to remember the language of humans, it had been so long. Then the babe, its mouth moving but not speaking for some reason (only vaguely did Qz remember humans did that when surprised or afraid) turned and fled back through the faux flames.

Qz saw her run into a woman and man in armor, standing in the midst of flames they no longer feared, who grabbed her and screamed at her. Clearly they were attacking the babe. She must be rescued! He had let others take her once before, not this time! Inyria would be pleased with him.

Quickly Qz ordered his minions to rescue the babe from this group, and to use whatever force it took, short of harming the babe. Qz prepared to nullify the flaming wall illusion which now only obscured his view to cast spells of true potency.

Causthea had seen it all. The room was enormous, 80X70 or feet. Four large blazers placed in it burned providing light. The incredible rotting beast with numerous tentacles of eyes, one large eye and a maw of jagged putrid teeth, squatting upon the rumble of a partially collapsed spiral staircase. To either side of Causthea two enormous skeletons, with the skeletal heads and horns of bulls, each held a large battle ax. As they started to rush her the nightmarish zombie of some sort spoke and they froze in their tracks. Then the thing looked at her, and seemed to speak to her, but the “words” were complete gibberish.

Cursing her stupidity Causthea ran back through the flames as fast as she could but ran hard into Purthea and Talon who were rushing through themselves. They nearly knocked her over, as Purthea grabbed her, screaming at her about her foolishness, they all stepped back from flames into the corridor with the others.

“You do anything like that again and by my mother’s sword I’ll, I’ll . . . give you the spanking you deserve,” screamed Purthea.

“We have to flee,” Causthea panted. “That thing on the other side, with the eyes, too much magic. We won’t be able to reach it, and there are two skeleton . . .”

Suddenly the wall of fire fizzled away and the two skeleton minotaurs attacked, quite literally bull rushing them.

The party stepped back into the corridor, forcing the massive skeletons to compete with each other for space, pushing Causthea towards the back of the party where she was supposed to be. The skeletons came in single file, their horns almost scraping the ten foot high ceiling, seeking to use their great battle axes to full sweeping effect. The first of them applied that full sweeping effect against Purthea and it struck her hard nearly knocking her over and inflicting a near fatal wound.

Off balance Purthea found the enormous skeleton beyond the reach of her sword, but it wasn’t out of the reach of Talon’s enormous blade. His swing struck home, bones splintered and flew, but the enormous thing did not seem badly hurt. A flustered Causthea hurriedly cast an acid splash, it struck solidly but seemed to do only minimal damage to something that big.

Thisbe drew his short swords and put himself between the monsters and Causthea. He sensed they were trying to get to her. Domineco reached forward touching Purthea with a prayer of healing. It cured most of her damage, but not all.

Talon’s strike on the minotaur skeleton attracted its attention and it decided to attack him next. The changing of targets proved a mistake as Talon successfully dodged the blow and answered with his own. For him the huge target was hard to miss, again his massive sword struck, sending splintered bones flying. It remained standing. These things were tough. A recovered Causthea quickly prepared a more potent acid based spell. She threw the orb with incredible precision as it struck to full and maximum effect. The monster stood for a moment, before collapsing into acidic goo.

Rather than striking, the second monster tried to use its mass to simply push past Purthea, apparently trying to get to the back of the party for some reason. It failed, Purthea used her shield to block its path and stay in front of the monstrosity even as its mass pushed her back a bit. She swung her own sword, striking true.

For Qz the battle had been a frustration. His only weapons were spells. By stepping back into the corridor the battle moved mostly beyond his vision. From the elevated perch of his “throne” he could see really only the bottom half of the minotaur skeletons as they fought. He saw one go down and knew the battle would soon move to him. Somehow he would have to fight this group, but without harming the babe.

Because the minotaur skeleton pushed Purthea back Talon found himself mostly behind the second minotaur, a position he intended to take full advantage of. His massive sword again sent huge chunks of bone flying. The undead mouth tried to roar, but had no voice as the beast turned and struck an entirely too conveniently positioned Talon to maximum effect. This time it was Talon who found himself near death and the rage boiled within him. Purthea sensed that Domineco couldn’t reach him, but she could. She summoned massive healing power from her mother’s sword even as she swung the sword. The glancing blow did minimal damage, but Talon was fully cured.

Emboldened by her success, Causthea again cast the acidic orb, realizing the spell was working to greater effect than it used to. Again, it struck and with equally satisfying effects. The monster became goo.

They paused, backing a bit further down corridor.

“What else did you say was in there?” asked Purthea.

“It’s called a Beholder,” I think, answered Causthea. “They are capable of casting many spells of great power at once. They are greatly feared and I don’t think even all of us could manage one such monster from what I have read of them. However, I think this one is not at full strength. It is undead and I think has lost some of its power. I don’t think it can fly anymore, which is fortunate for us, but it is out of our immediate reach, sitting on top of broken spiral staircase.”

“Can we climb the staircase enough to reach it?” asked a surprisingly calm Talon.

“I don’t know, I only got a glance.”

“You got any more of those acidy balloon thingy spells,” asked Thisbe.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” said Purthea, “here’s the plan. Talon, you try to run up the staircase and reach the damn thing. Thisby shoot at it with arrows. Causthea, let’s see some more of that acid stuff, and by the way, I’m not mad at you anymore. That’s a neat trick. Domineco, stand by to heal anyone hurt.”

“Sounds good,” said Talon.

“It does,” said Domineco, “but I would add one warning.”

“What’s that?” asked Purthea.

“It is said that no plan survives contact with the monster.”

“Even so, we will need to move decisively,” said Causthea. “This thing can spell us to death if it lives too long.”

“My sword has some spells that may give us an edge” said Purthea. “I will impart the blessing of the True God on the party,” she said her sword glowing slightly, and turning to Talon she said, “you will gain the additional strength of a true hero.” Talon felt a strange confidence, and decided he was ready for anything.

They rushed in their standard hourglass shaped battle order. Domineco had been right. No plan survives contact with the monster. As they entered an eyestalk twitched towards one of the flaming brazers that provided light. The blazer erupted in living flame that charged towards the party. A plan built around one monster suddenly had two.

“We must kill it quick,” Purthea tersely said to Talon. “Then back to the plan.” Talon agreed, he could definitely feel the heat from this thing. It moved rapidly and was on them in a moment. As it approached Talon swung at it with his sword, trying to engage it at the full distance. He struck, causing flames to scatter and sparks to fly, but it was impossible to tell if this thing was hurt. As the living fire closed on him Purthea missed with her own blow as she had to check her swing. The living flame had closed on Talon, he was now inside of it.

Talon felt like he was in an inferno. It was beginning to burn him. What’s more it turned towards Purthea and two flaming extensions struck at her. Fortunately, both missed.

Now Purthea had a dilemma, everyone in the party did. To strike at the monster was to strike at Talon. Talon was obviously trying to move out from inside the thing, but it just moved with him. Domineco had a spell up his sleeve though. A blinding bolt of light emanated from his hand, but as he adjusted to try and keep up with the swiftly moving pair, it struck Purthea instead. The radiant damage hurt quite a bit and made her more of a target for the monster’s next attack, both of which this time clearly hit, and bizarrely left Purthea completely unaffected. She felt a power of the sword invoked as she was struck. “Thanks Mom,” she muttered.

While this was good news the problem was the zombie beholder was not idle either. Another eyestalk twitched and this time a spell spread across the entire party. They all felt an overwhelming sense of lethargy. Purthea, Domineco and Causthea, all managed to shake it off. Thisbe and Talon could not. They were both moving now at only half speed, making it easier for the fire elemental to stay centered on Talon. Talon continued to burn, but only slightly. The spell Purthea cast on him afforded some protection. Talon swung his sword about, but couldn’t hit something that he was standing in the middle of. So far he seemed remarkably calm, even to himself, what with being burned standing inside living fire and being slowed and all.

Causthea summoned up her magic missiles, knowing they could strike unerringly and not hurt Talon. Again sparks flew from the monster, but there was no telling if it was really hurt. A sluggish Thisbe fired an arrow, hoping Talon’s armor would protect him. The arrow just burned up as it entered the thing.

Purthea’s immunity to fire gave her an inspiration. She rushed the monster slamming into it and and knocking Talon out of the flame. Now she was inside of it, but she could feel her mother’s sword somehow protecting her from the inferno. She was unhurt. The frustrated fire elemental decided to leave her and charge into Talon again. As it did so Purthea struck.

The slow moving Talon also finally got an attack. Preoccupied by Purthea’s strike the flame failed to dodge Talon’s slow moving hit. Sparks and flame scattered and for a moment it seemed the thing would dissolve, but it brought itself back together. This time striking at Talon. Talon’s attempts to dodge were too slow and one of the flaming extensions hit him. Burns welled up on him, he was hurt badly.

The Beholder struck again. Another twitch of an antenna and six bolts of magic missiles zipped into Purthea. The damage would have been mortal, but Purthea’s sword saved her again. It’s remaining healing power (partially drained to heal Talon) automatically cast and brought her back from sure death, though still badly hurt. Domineco stepped into the breach and with his own potent spell of healing cured even that.

Purthea struck again at the thing, her sword striking true, and this time it was done. In a flash of sparks the flame dissolved into nothing. Now they need only deal with the completely untouched Beholder, sitting 20 feet up in the air up a decaying spiral staircase and casting increasingly deadly spells with impunity, all with a party that had two members moving at half speed.

From Qz’s perspective things were not going well either. His minions, the Minotaur skeletons had too easily been bested all while out of his spell range. They had served him well for all these many years. His fire elemental had fallen too, he cursed his weakness that allowed him to summon from the plane of fire at only half strength. A full strength one would have bested them all. The party would now turn all its attention to him. He wondered who he should target with his limited spells.

That question was abruptly answered by Causthea. Recognizing the party’s weakened condition she again summoned all the powers of her sorcery. A lightening bolt lanced from her finger striking the immobile zombie beholder squarely. It screamed in pain, but it survived.

The power this young sorceress was able to command surprised Qz. She must be neutralized. Another attack like that could kill him. But he must not harm the babe. Fortunately, he had just the spell. Another eyestalk twitched and magic struck Causthea.

Causthea felt the attack, but not pain, which surprised her, confused her, befuddled her, how could that be? Her mind was a whirl. Why was she doing this? What was she doing anyway? People moved around but she didn’t recognize them. Maybe they were attacking her? She tried to prepare a spell against them, but couldn’t remember any.

Purthea saw it all. She didn’t know exactly what had happened to her sister, but it was clear she was out of the fight. Talon was slowly, all too slowly, trying to climb up the spiral staircase to get to the Beholder. What could she do. Suddenly, she knew. Closing her eyes, she raised her sword, and commanded it to dance. It did.

Purthea’s sword flew out of her hand and as if held by her struck the Beholder. It howled in rage again and unleashed the mightiest of its spells at Purthea. Purthea opened her eyes to see the lightening bolt coming at her. She had no time to even try to dodge it. It was an instantly fatal strike. Purthea went down, her breath stopped. Her sword fell to the ground 20 feet away from her, and it had no healing left in it in any event.

But Domineco was there. The True God gave him new power and touching Purthea he prayed “Revivify.” Purthea drew in a weak breath, and then a more strong one. She lived, but only barely. Domineco prepared additional spells of healing.

Qz smiled. Things had turned his way after all. The babe was neutralized and he would find a way to control her and give her to Inyria. Qz had to cycle through all his spells before starting afresh again but he had done so. The full array of all he had unleashed on the party was once again available to him. Another lightening bolt should take care of both that pesky cleric and his healing, and what was left of that damnable Paladin.

With his one great eye, and the others above him, Qz had a blind spot. He could not see the threat from below.

For Talon every step seemed laborious. The spell that slowed him was enormously frustrating. That frustration began to anger him, which he suppressed, but then he realized he shouldn’t. He did more than release the beserker within him, he called it forth. Doing so broke the spell slowing him, and he rushed up the stairs. The beast squatted on a platform, one with a yard wide hole in it. Talon could see the rotting flesh of the beholder upon it, and it was through that hole he thrust his massive sword.

As Qz prepared to unleash his death strike upon Purthea and Domineco a huge sword suddenly thrust completely through him from below, cutting through his entire body, it’s point sticking out of the top of the monster’s corrupt head by a few inches. Mighty Qz was truly dead. His eyestalks now hung limp at his side.

A still beserked Talon climbed to the top of the platform. Roaring with battle lust he hammered the rotting corpse several more good whacks. Then he pushed the remains off the platform with the strength of his gloved hands. It made a most resounding, and satisfying to Talon, “splat.” He laughed, and with that laughter the battle lust left him. He was Talon again.

He looked down. Purthea was lying on her back, being ministered to by Domineco. She smiled weakly at him. With the death of the beholder, its spells were broken. Causthea was now herself again. Thisbe approached the dead beast, cut off an eye from an eyestalk, split open the eye with a dagger and smeared himself with the putrid juices from the eye.

“I must be the most handsome hafling in the world now,” Thisbe declared.

“Why would that be,” asked Causthea wondering if she was still influenced by the confusion spell.

“Because, as everyone knows, beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.”

Everyone laughed, even Purthea, weakly. Talon laughed until his belly hurt. As he laughed he looked about him on the platform. “Hey everyone, there’s some stuff up here.”

“What kind of stuff?” shouted up Thisbe.

“Oh, I dunno, some gold and gems . . .”

“I’ll be right up!” as Thisbe sprinted toward the steps.

“. . . some moldy old book . . .”

“I’ll be right up, don’t touch it!” shouted Causthea bounding after Thisbe.

Chapter 18-Rest and Recovery

Talon left Thisbe and Causthea to the treasure on the platform and made his way back down the steps. He noted that the spiral staircase also went down, into darkness. He approached Domineco who was still ministering to a very pale looking Purthea. “Is she going to be okay?”

“She’ll be fine” he answered. “She was actually killed. I revived her from death with a powerful spell I did not believe was available to me until I felt the True God grant it. But dying and being revived takes a lot out of a person. She will need rest.”

“I think we all do. I’m tired and I didn’t even die today,” Talon smiled.

Purthea spoke, her normally strong voice weak, “We should move back to the corridor to rest. This is too open. We could be attacked from above,” she said looking at the hole ceiling above the broken staircase, “or from something coming from below,” glancing down.

“The corridor has its own risks,” said Domineco. “Something could come down it as we did, or from here.”

“Not the way we did,” Talon answered. “Aerie reports that nothing has come in behind us at the entrance.”

“That bird is a blessing,” said Domineco. “Your communication extends even now, with all this distance and rock between you?”

“It’s as if he’s right next to me, and nothing will come from that direction without us knowing it.”

“That is impressive,” sighed Domineco. “I agree, we should retreat to the cavern to rest. Perhaps Thisbe can set up some simple traps to warn us if something approaches.”

Suddenly Purthea grasped Domineco’s arm and while the grip was not strong it was insistent. “Speaking of impressive, I did not think you had the power to revive the dead, old friend.”

“I didn’t. It came to me only then. I believe I have moved to a closer relationship with the True God. With rest and prayer, I will have that power again. We should move now.” Turning to Talon Domineco said, “Purthea must get a full rest tonight. She will not be able to stand watch and be of any use tomorrow.”

“Got it” said Talon turning back to the remains of the staircase. “Okay you two, time to move out. Back into the cavern.”

“Oh man,” said Thisbe his pouches bulging with gold and gems. Causthea was gingerly turning pages of a book that looked like it could fall apart in her hands.

They moved well back into the twisting cavern. Back through all the natural winding cavern and a few hundred feet up where it became straight. They wanted to see anything coming from as much distance as they could. Purthea slung an arm over Domineco’s shoulder for support, too weak to walk on her own. She ate a light meal and promptly fell into a deep sleep. An enthusiastic Thisbe set trip wire traps on either side of them. While they wouldn’t likely hurt anything, they could provide warning of something coming.

They ate cold rations around the Forever Lantern while Purthea slept so deeply that Thisbe cracked, “she’s more dead now than when she was dead.” That earned no laughter and sharp looks from everyone else in the party, which seemed to subdue Thisbe for briefly.

Trying to make conversation Talon said, “Hard to imagine how that beholder could have been tougher. Just what makes the living ones so bad?”

Causthea snorted, “Imagine that it can cast three or even four such spells at once only each twice as powerful. Also imagine that it can fly to stay out of the reach of your sword, barbarian, rather than sitting there and taking it right up its . . . gizzard.”

“How could anyone hope to fight such a monster?” asked Talon.

“Hear this Talon,” a somber Domineco interjected, “that monster, in its prime, was but a servant to the Black Dragon Witch. Perhaps an important servant, but a servant nonetheless. We shall have to become nearly as powerful ourselves. Something gained only by fighting such dangers as we have today.”

“It’s strange,” said Talon, “but I kind of feel it. I feel more powerful, more competent with my sword, and stronger.”

“That’s how it works,” answered Domineco, “just as I felt myself more connected with the True God today and able to offer that prayer that revived her from death. We all get better at what we do, we shall have to get much better.”

It was then that Causthea spoke. “This book will help me get better, much better. It is the spell book of that beholder. I can learn much from it, and with magic, knowledge truly is power.”

Talon was skeptical. The book looked like it could fall apart into dust at any moment. “Really, is there anything in that better than that lightening bolt thingy you do, cause that’s awesome.”

“Oh yes, much better. But I will have to return with it to my library and laboratory to study. For one thing I have to translate key instructions from the language of beholders.”

This was becoming too technical for Talon. “So Thisbe, she got the book, what did you get?”

“What me? Oh nothing much,” said Thisbe trying to turn his bulging pouch away from view. “Nothing much at all.”

“Come now, hafling,” said Domineco. “We share treasure equally in this party.”

“Oh, all right,” Thisbe muttered and dumped the contents of the pouch. Coins of various sorts, and numerous gems fell out. “The gold isn’t much, but some of these gems look pretty nice.” At Domineco’s advice they were put in Talon’s bag of holding . . . for “safekeeping.”

The watches that evening had Talon and Thisbe for the early hours, and Causthea and Domineco for second watch. It was in that second watch that Domineco found Causthea surprisingly talkative. Closing a spell she was studying she turned to him, “tell me about my parents.”

“Haven’t you discussed this with your sister?” Domineco asked.

“Yes, but she was only seven when they died. You knew them much longer, or at least of them, and you did so with the understanding of an adult.”

“What is it you want to know?”

“When we find them in here, what can we expect?”

So that was it. She wanted to know about the fight ahead, not personal insights. “Your father was a High Cleric in the Church.”

“How high?”

“High enough to be in the leadership council, but not a Chairman of any of subcouncil.”

She nodded, “go on, what can we expect to face when we find him.”

Domineco paused, these were good intelligent questions that he had not thought to ask. Likely avoiding the questions even in his own mind because they were so difficult to think about. “His armor, we will likely have to deal with his armor. He had plate of solid mythral. It is said his wife, Panthea, put a piece of herself in that too, though not as much as her own two swords. If he still wears that armor now his undead form will be a challenge to kill.”

“What of my mother?” she seemed to choke a bit asking this.

“Your mother was one of the most famous Paladins in the history of The Church. Every bit as powerful as Vis is now, probably more so. In her most famous campaign she and her party travelled to the Moon to recover an enormously powerful technological artifact which they then used to slay the Demon Lord of Gnolls, Yeenonghu, and his Army that was threatening to take over the world.”

“Yes, I have read of that story. This party of hers, what happened to them?”

“The wizard, Lycus, died a happy old man. The druid, Amanita, died at Old Home. She was the bait that drew your mother out even though she was well advanced in her pregnancy. The irrepressible fighter, Charlie, found an artifact that turned him into a great gold dragon. You have seen him. He serves The Church to this day, curled atop its great gold dome as a deterrent to all who would attack it.”

Causthea smiled, “I had heard the story of that dragon once being human but thought that an old hafling’s tale. She paused, thinking. “Your vision saw my mother decapitated. Can undead rise from such a body?”

She was really pushing Domineco on this. “I don’t know. Normally undead rising from such a powerful figure would have lich, or demi-lich status, with special abilities unique to each. But I don’t know if Panthea would suffer that awful fate, only that if she did what is left of her would be very hard to kill.”

Causthea again considered her words, “I have read of liches. They can take almost any form, and their magic is always powerful.”

Domineco simply nodded.

In what passed as “morning” in these caverns Purthea continued in deep slumber. Eventually Purthea woke up enough to eat, but it was clear she was not ready to continue. She stood up shakily and insisted she was fine. Talon offered to spar with her suggesting that if she could best him that he would admit she was ready. She pulled her sword, and admitted she could not fight, barely able to raise it. They laid her down and she went back to sleep in moments.

“Does dying always allow you to sleep this well?” asked Thisbe, “cause I haven’t had a really good night’s sleep since I met Talon at that tavern and I was just thinking . . .” Again no one laughed. “Tough audience,” muttered Thisbe walking away.

Sitting around in the circle of light from the Forever Lantern was boring. Causthea tried to study the beholder’s spellbook but there were just too many words written in the language of beholders. She closed the book cursing and muttered that she wished she had learned the simple spell to comprehend languages.

“Oh, I got one of those” piped up Thisbe.

“What?!”

“I got a scroll that allows one to comprehend languages. Comes in handy in my business. Sometimes locks or traps have instructions in different languages. So when I had a chance to, to, ummm pick up one of those scrolls I did.”

“You stole a comprehend languages scroll?” an aghast Causthea asked.

“Stole? Stole? No that’s such a harsh word. I umm, found it and secured it. It was an honest filching, not stealing. If the guy really wanted it he wouldn’t have had it out where I could filch it. I gave it a better home.”

Talon chuckled remembering his own introduction to Thisbe involved an attempted ‘honest filching.’ Causthea proceeded to inventory all her things, spell components, the works.

“C’mon” said Thisbe, “don’t you know anything about hafling culture and the Rules of Gathering? You never steal from your own party, ever, I mean unless you really really have to.”

“Shut up and just give it me,” said Causthea holding out her hand.

“Just give it to you?” Thisbe was now aghast. “That’s not how this works, that’s not how any of this works.”

“Yes, just give it to me. Something I learn from this book may save your filching life. I’ll give it back, I just need to transcribe the spell so I can memorize it and cast it anytime I want.”

“So, it’s just a loan?” Thisbe asked.

“Yes, just loan me the damn scroll,” she insisted, “before I turn you into a toad turd.”

“I want you to know that I know you can’t actually do that,” he said handing over the scroll.

“I might after I understand this book,” Causthea snatched the scroll. She opened it, opened her own expanding spellbook and fell into that near trance like study they had seen just a couple days ago.

“Well, both sisters have gone bye-bye now” sighed a bored Talon. He looked down the corridor, “I think I’ll go poke around in that room some more, at least check what is down that staircase.”

“Absolutely not!” said Domineco rising.

“Why not?” asked Talon, “it beats just sitting around here.”

“NEVER-SPLIT-THE-PARTY,” responded Domineco emphasizing each word. “Never. If you leave we won’t have anyone in the party capable of handling a sword if we are attacked.”

“Well, anything coming from that direction” Talon pointed down the tunnel towards the dungeon, “I would encounter first. Nothing can come from that direction,” pointing the opposite way, “without Aerie warning me first.”

“Have you considered that something could up from that chasm we crossed?” asked Domineco.

“Ummm, no, I guess not, but what are the odds of that?”

“Too high. If you go to the beholder room and don’t come back what are we supposed to do? We can’t leave Purthea just lying here.”

“Ummm send Thisbe out to check on me?”

“And then I gotta deal alone with whatever got you?” squeaked Thisbe. “No thanks!”

“And if Thisbe doesn’t return, then what?” pushed Domineco.

“All right, all right. I get it” Talon threw up his arms. “I’ll just sit here and die of boredom instead.”

“I could tell you about the time my Great Aunt Finster stole the King’s favorite steed from the royal stable. Now that was a legendary filching.”

“I thought you said it was your Great Granddad that did that,” Talon responded.

“Oh, he was my Great Granddad and my Great Aunt,” said Thisbe earnestly, “Haflings have very extended families.”

Talon just stared at him. “So do you want to hear it?” Thisbe asked earnestly, “it’s one of my best stories, I promise.”

“Oh what the Abyss,” Talon said, “go ahead and I also want to hear how your Great Granddad and Great Aunt are the same guy, person, whatever.”

“Well you see Haflings are very sexually adaptable, which is one reason we never grow beards, and . . .” so the story began. It went on for a very long time, that seemed even longer. For Talon the minutes seemed like hours. Thisbe finally concluded with the horse eventually running off to become a Paladin’s War Horse, and satisfactorily declaring that what then happened was a different story. Talon turned and asked Domineco if he had a spell for a headache.

* * * *

From the room above Qz’s lair Juckas looked down through the hole in the floor at the top of Qz’s now empty “throne.” He recalled that in his prior existence he was known for a characteristic shoulder shrugging grunt in such situations. He no longer did that, not having any corporeal shoulder. Instead he felt the unfamiliar emotions of foreboding and fear.

He could see what remained of Qz, shattered and splattered on the floor 50 feet below. Something, or things, had slain one of the most powerful class of magical monsters in the world.

Qz had been powerful, very powerful. Qz had killed him, even as he with help from many others, killed Qz. Juckas did not fully comprehend how much of Qz’s power had been lost in its death and over the years as a decaying zombie. However, Juckas sensed that anything that could kill Qz would certainly be dangerous to him.

He no longer sensed Panthea’s presence here, perhaps it had left, but it might come back. Juckas considered making his way into the great room below, to seek out those who killed mighty Qz and dispatch them while compelling Panthea to remove this cursed armor. Again he cursed that this armor entrapping him kept him from flying down to take a quick look. With this armor off he would be more powerful, he would fear nothing!

But Juckas did not do so, he could not fly with this armor on. The truth was also that he was afraid to go down there. The enemy was strong, and this part of the dungeon unfamiliar to him. They would come to him and he should meet them in familiar territory, where he was strongest and had some minions to help him. He turned, retreating the way he came, to the area he now called “home.” Perhaps the surprise they found when they got up here would take of them.

Chapter 19-Dark Conversation

“Are you sure you are up to this?” asked Talon holding his sword at the ready before Purthea.

“Yes, and if sparring with you is the only way to prove that, let’s get it over with,” she answered her own sword at the ready.

They clashed, the swords’ ringing echoing in the tunnel. Five minutes later Talon stopped, conceding she seemed fully recovered. They formed up and began moving down the tunnel.

Causthea returned Thisbe’s scroll, saying she no longer needed it as she now had learned the spell herself.

“So did you figure out that spellbook with it?” Thisbe asked.

“Yes, much of it I did. I will have some new tricks up my sleeve,” she said.

“As good as that lightning thingy” asked Thisbe.

“Even better, you’ll see.”

They made their way back to the what had been the Zombie Beholder’s lair. All was as they left it. This time it was Causthea who cut off the remaining eyestalks, putting them in a pouch on her belt. “For one of those new tricks,” she said to Thisbe.

The room had no exits other than the spiral staircase going up, 20 feet short of the ceiling where a hole opened to another room. The spiral staircase also went down, into darkness. Thisbe took the Forever Lantern down with Purthea. They came back up stating that the spiral staircase similarly broke off about 20 feet above the floor which was covered in water that appeared to be about knee deep, “waist deep for me,” frowned Thisbe.

“Neither route seems very attractive” said Talon.

“The question is which is the right route, that leads to . . . the mate for my sword,” said Purthea firmly. Turning to Domineco she asked, “is there any guidance on that from the records of the expedition that saved Causthea?”

“No,” he answered frowning, “that mission did not find your mother. However, I also have a new trick that may be of some value.” He approached the body of the beholder and muttered a prayer. Then looking intently at the beholder he asked, “Which way do we go to find the prisoner, Panthea?”

“I do not know the name ‘Panthea,’” the beholder answered.

Talon and Thisbe nearly jumped out of their clothes. Talon pulled his sword, shouting “I thought that thing was dead!”

“It is dead,” said Domineco. I have just cast a speak with dead spell. He turned back to the dead beholder. “Where is the prisoner, the captured paladin . . .” suddenly Domineco had an inspiration, “the mother of the person who cast that lightening bolt?”

“Ahhhhh,” said the dead beholder, “the mother of the babe. I could not hurt the babe. Yesssss, I know of her. She is still here. I’m sure.”

Causthea bristled. “‘The babe,’ it’s talking about me.”

“Okay, this is just creeping me the Abyss out,” said Thisbe.

“Me too,” echoed Talon.

Domineco paused, forming his question. “Which way to the babe’s mother, up or down?”

“Uppp.”

“How far?” asked Domineco

“Far.”

“What kind of dragon dung answer was that?” asked Thisbe.

“The kind you get from the dead,” answered Domineco. “It was stupid of me to ask it that way, but this is my first try with this sort of thing. The spell allows only one question more.”

“Well, I, the one this thing calls ‘the babe’ have a pressing question,” said Causthea. Before Domineco could stop her, she turned to the body and asked, “why couldn’t you harm the babe?”

“Because she wants the babe, Inyria wants the babe. The babe is for Inyria. The babe will love Inyria and Inyria craves the babe’s power. I serve Inyria. The babe serves Inyria.”

“To effrin Abyss I do” shouted Cauthea.

“Ohhh, you will. You will” responded the dead beholder, and spoke no more.

“Well, that took a strange twist,” said Thisbe.

The rage on Causthea’s face subdued him though.

Chapter 20-Tentacles of Stone

“So how we going to get up there?” asked Talon from the top platform of the ruined spiral staircase looking up at the hole in the ceiling.

Purthea stood next to him. “I think that would be rather obvious by now.” Talon just stared at her. She sighed, “we have you spider climb up there and I use that jump spell from the top of the beholder’s platform to get up there at the same time. Then we lower ropes and haul the others up. Easy as eating fresh bread.”

Talon had to admit that was pretty clever, “Sorry, I guess magic is never going to be the first thing I think of. What if there’s something up there?”

“Then we kill it. That’s the idea of doing it this way. We get the two most capable fighters in the party into that room at the same time.”

“I love this plan,” said Talon.

“Careful barbarian, last time you said that it didn’t work out so well.”

Purthea stayed on the platform. Talon climbed back down and Causthea cast the spider climb thingy on him again. Thisbe muttered something under his breath at the ease with which Talon climbed the walls, and then the ceiling again. The room was big so he had a ways to go, but Talon made his way to the hole in the ceiling. He paused and looked down at Purthea.

“On three,” she said, “one, two and three . . .”

Talon hauled himself through the hole as Purthea jumped past him into the room. Purthea had her sword in hand and Talon quickly drew his own as he stood up. The room was almost a mirror image of the one below. Just as big and generally just as high, only lined with stalactites hanging from the ceiling, some dripping with water. A large 20 foot tall and wide exit was at one end of the room. They looked about, but the room did not seem to be occupied. Purthea focused for a moment and quickly dispelled any notion of safety. “There’s evil in the room.”

“Where?”

Purthea focused some more, “Above us, the ceiling, towards the exit, I think.”

They stared intently but saw nothing but stalactites.

“Hey, you going to throw down the rope?,” it was Thisbe shouting from below.

“Just a minute,” shouted Talon, “Purthea says we got company up here.” They waited examining the ceiling but nothing happened.

“Okay Talon,” Purthea said, “we need to get the others up here in any event. I’ll stand watch and you throw them a line. With your strength you should be able to pull them up easily enough. Start with Causthea. We may need her spells any moment now.”

Purthea turned studying the ceiling as Talon tossed the rope down. They had prepared a foot hold loop at the end which Causthea stepped into. Just as he started to pull the hairs on Talon’s neck stood up and he had a feeling something bad was about to happen. He turned again, looking at the ceiling with his sword raised. It seemed to him that his sense of sight sharpened, it was if he had the eyes of an eagle. Something was odd about one of the stalactites, its shape, and he could swear he saw a part of it move. “Over there” he whispered to Purthea, “what’s that?” he pointed to the odd stalactite at the end of the room, above the exit.

“Hey, watcha waiting on?” Thisbe shouted from below, but Purthea and Talon continued to stare at a stalactite that looked increasingly odd. It was fortunate they were not caught by surprise. Suddenly four very long tentacles snaked out from the suspect stalactite, two each towards Purthea and Talon.

Talon swung at one approaching him. He hit it, slicing a good chunk off, but Talon watched in awe as it began to rapidly regrow. Purthea swung at her own, but missed. Two tentacles threatened to ensnare her, but she fought them off. One grabbed at Talon, but he also managed to dodge it.

Talon managed to lop off another tentacle as did Purthea. But the one Talon had cut last time was back to full length already and wrapped around him, even worse it pinned his sword arm. One tentacle attempted to snare Purthea, missing badly, but the other tentacle was already regrowing quickly.

How were they going to fight this thing? Talon felt himself being pulled towards the stalactite which now bristled with an enormous maw with huge sharp teeth. It was becoming obvious how this thing worked. Talon didn’t want to face that with his arms entangled and the thing was about to get a better grip. Now that he was snagged by one tentacle he didn’t see how he could dodge the other.

For her part, Purthea considered attacking it by having her sword dance but that required her concentration, and she was using the sword to parry away those tentacles.

Talon suddenly had an inspired thought. First, he summoned and let the rage flow through him. Then Talon let the second tentacle wrap around his other arm, dug in his heels and pulled for all he was worth. It would take the strength of an ogre to pull that thing down from the ceiling, but Talon had that and a bit more when he was enraged. With a satisfying cracking sound of breaking rock the thing broke loose from the ceiling and fell to the floor with an even more satisfying crack like rock hitting rock. It’s tentacles splayed all over.

Purthea didn’t waste anytime. Still under the influence of the jump spell granted by her sword, she was upon it in two quick leaps. The thing was still picking itself up when she reached it and struck. The sword rang as if hitting rock, but still cut into the beast.

By the time Talon closed the monster had recovered and two tentacles again tried to ensnare him. They both succeeded and the monster drew him in and bit. Amazingly, the teeth did not penetrate his chainmail. Talon doubted he would be so lucky next time. Fortunately, his arms were free and with a mighty swing his sword arced in attack against this ten foot tall hunk of tentacled rock. Off balance from the tentacles holding him, he missed badly.

Purthea considered her options. She could strike at the core of the beast, which was the only way to really hurt it, or try to free Talon from one of the tentacles holding him. She chose the body. It was a hard shot, trying to avoid hitting Talon who was pressed up against the monster and being chewed on. She missed.

An enraged Talon swung again, but he had his own problems. Pressed as he was it was awkward to swing his sword. His blow glanced off the near rock hard surface of the thing without hurting it.

In the meantime, it mawed on Talon again, and somehow his armor held again. This was getting ridiculous.

Seeing that Talon was still unhurt, Purthea struck having better positioned herself to hit the monster, but not Talon. It worked, her sword again cut in and this time she unleashed from it a hot flame that did additional damage. Still the thing did not appear to be badly hurt. Talon’s own awkward attempt at a blow missed again. He had to find a way free of this thing if he was going to be able to hit it. That quickly became more difficult. The creature’s remaining two tentacles wrapped around him, and his arms. He wasn’t going anywhere and he couldn’t swing his sword at all now.

The creature’s bite on Talon finally found a chink in his armor. Rows of razor sharp teeth bit into him. Talon screamed in pain, but Purthea quickly called upon her sword to heal him. Still, this was becoming problematical. The creature’s strategy was clear. Force her to exhaust her healing on a helpless Talon, kill him, and then turn its full attention to her. It just might work. The thing was hard to hit, and could obviously take a lot of damage. They desperately needed the damage that Talon’s big sword could do. He was beserked and struggling like a maniac, but it was clear he could not escape being held by four rock strong tentacles. She was going to need a miracle.

It was then she got a miracle in the form of her kid sister. Causthea was suddenly there and bizarrely grasping a tentacle. A quick spell was spoken and there was a suddenly zap of electricity. The monster bellowed in pain, but most importantly the tentacles reflexively released Talon. As Talon staggered into position to swing, Purthea attempted to draw its attention from Causthea with her own attack. Her sword again struck, but did not seem to penetrate the rock like surface.

This time two tentacles each attempted to snare the two sisters. Purthea dodged the two on her but one snagged Causthea. In the meantime, Talon had been shocked as much as the monster by Causthea’s spell, but in his mindless rage he believed it was the monster that had shocked him. Still recovering his balance another wild swing missed.

Purthea was in a panic as the monster drew Causthea to it and prepared to sink its massive maw into her. However, Causthea was not having any of that and grasping the tentacle holding her calmly invoked the shocking spell that freed Talon. Again the creature bellowed and reflexively released the sorceress, shaken a bit from being shocked by her own spell.

The monster tried to grasp all three of them now with its three other tentacles. It missed a rapidly backpedalling Causthea, was put off by Talon’s sword, and nearly caught Purthea who was able to pull free. Talon and Purthea swung at the same time. An off balance Purthea missed but Talon had bloodlust in his eyes as this time and recovering his footing he struck true. Purthea watched as Talon’s sword struck deep into the beast. It was clear Talon did a lot of damage. Surely this would kill it she thought. Alas, it staggered but was not quite dead.

“Oh for effrin sakes” said Causthea as bright daggers light emanated from her fingers striking the thing. With that it finally fell, tentacles sprawling out in all directions.

Purthea quickly used her sword to heal Talon from the damage of being shocked by Causthea. She then proceeded to talk him down from his rage. In a few moments he was “normal” again. “You are getting better at controlling it” she said.

“Yeah,” answered Talon. “I’m still not sure my exercises would work if I was really hurt, but I’ve mostly figured out a routine that brings me out of it if I’m not in too much pain.”

“A little healing over here big sister,” Causthea said, “I managed to shock myself forcing that critter to let me go.” Purthea quickly healed her with a normal spell. Her sword was already about half spent of healing for the day.

“Hey, we got a problem down here,” came Thisbe’s shrill voice from the room below.

They ran to the hole in the floor, “what is it?” shouted Purthea.

“More of those Minotaur skeletons from the level below us,” answered Domineco from atop the collapsed stairway. “Lots of them. They are managing to stand on top of each other and are about to reach the stairway up.”

They could all hear the ominous clicking and clacking of massive bones from below. “No time to waste,” shouted Purthea. “Thisbe do your wall climbing stunt and get your hafling butt up here.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice” shouted Thisbe sprinting to the wall even as the first of the Minotaurs began to appear in the spiral staircase below. Domineco quickly stepped into the rope loop, laying where it was when the tentacled beast on the ceiling first surprised them as both Talon and Purthea pulled it up. The first of the Minotaurs had just started to climb the staircase below when Domineco came up through the hole. Thisbe took a bit longer, climbing carefully along the wall, and then the ceiling before Talon could grab him and pull him through.

They watched in amazed horror as Minotaur skeleton after skeleton emerged from below. Dozens of them filled the massive room below. It was apparent the level below had been a barracks for a Minotaur army under the Dragon Witch’s command. Some climbed the remains of the spiral staircase, getting to the top platform and strained upwards, but could not reach the ceiling.

“Do you think they can get up here the same way they did from below?” whispered Thisbe nervously.

“No, I don’t think so,” Domineco whispered back. “For starters they don’t have an entire floor to serve as their foundation this time. That stunt won’t work on that small, shaky platform. One thing for sure though, we won’t be able to get out the same way we got in.”

Remembering how difficult just two of those things were Talon marveled. “How did they get Causthea out of here alive?”

“It was a very powerful party” said Domineco, “and not all of them survived.”

“Is there another way out of here?” asked Purthea.

Domineco paused, “I don’t know. It stands to reason that there probably is, but I don’t actually know.”

“Swell, just swell. We are so effrin” said Thisbe.

“That’s not how you use ‘effrin’” said Talon with a chuckle.

The group laughed, nervous laughter.

“What in the Abyss was that thing?” Thisbe asked pointing at the body.

“I think it’s called a Rocktopus,” answered Domineco. “They are quite deadly though they usually are found on ceilings.”

“Oh this one was,” said Purthea. “Talon here got the inspired idea of grabbing a tentacle and using his strength to pull it down. Now that was genius.”

“Aw shucks” said Talon stammering.

“Still it looked bad” Purthea added, “Until Causthea showed up and somehow managed to free Talon.”

“Yeah, that was good timing” Talon said, “how did you get up here?”

“The same way you did. I just cast the climbing spell on myself when I heard all Abyss break loose up here. I guessed a bit lucky that an enhanced shocking grasp spell might force it to let you go.”

“Oh, that was you that shocked me?” asked Talon.

“Yes.”

“And I was so mad at the Rocktopus thing for doing it. Feel bad about taking it out on him.” Again they all laughed.

“We fought well as team,” said Purthea.

“So do we rest here or drive on?” asked Talon.

“We drive on,” said Purthea, looking down the only apparent exit, the wide tunnel before them.

“Just a moment,” said Causthea. “There’s something magic inside that Rocktopus thing. I feel it. It’s weird, it’s like calling to me.”

“I always say, ‘when magic calls, don’t answer.’” said Thisbe. “Besides, isn’t that thing going to come back as an undeady thing?

“I think I can take care of that,” Domineco answered. “I can bless the body to prevent it from reanimating.”

“Well, I guess we better gut it and see what’s inside,” said Thisbe pulling out a pair of daggers.

Gutting into the large, and almost rock hard corpse proved more difficult than it sounded, but it was eventually accomplished, with Talon helping out with some major chops with his sword. Eventually its gizzard was revealed to contain some gems and mythral coins that excited Thisbe very much. Then suddenly a perfectly round clear glass ball popped out and rolled across the floor. Causthea quickly snatched it up with a “I’ll take care of that,” placing it quickly in a pouch.

“So is that marble the magic thing?” asked Thisbe.

“Yes,” she answered, “it’s very dangerous for a non-sorcerer to handle. So don’t try to ‘filch’ it.”

“I told you, it’s a rule. You don’t filch from your party, that’s like filching from family.”

“Like you haven’t filched from your family,” Causthea said sharply.

“Well only a little . . .”

“Okay,” let’s get moving,” said Purthea. “Standard battle order and down the corridor we go.”

Chapter 21-Dark Encounter

Talon’s Forever Lantern was needed again. The corridor was dark. It appeared to be mostly natural, winding around, slanting up and down, and quiet. “Too quiet,” said Thisbe. They paused periodically and Purthea would attempt to detect evil. She wasn’t getting any bad feels. Nor did Talon get that weird feeling of danger he presciently felt just before the Rocktopus attacked. They came to various side tunnels that sometimes ended in small rooms, or dead ends. They explored them all but found nothing.

After several hours of this Talon couldn’t help but to say, “this is getting boring.”

“Would you shut up?” groaned Thisbe, “every time you say that all Abyss breaks loose.”

* * *

The darkness didn’t bother Juckas at all. He brooded deeper in the maze of tunnels his three “minions” at his side. Undead whose form he had helped shape. He again sensed the soul of Panthea coming from the direction of the former beholder lair. He also, having seen what this group did to Qz feared it, at least as much as he could still know fear. He needed more information and he had a way to get it.

He could see through the senses of the three specters of his creation in much the same way Talon could see through his eagle. He would simply send one to his servants against this party. They would likely defeat his minion, but he would have the information he needed. He didn’t know exactly where the party was, but he was sure the specter would find them. He chose one at random, they were no different in anyway to him, and sent it after the party. The minion obeyed without a second thought, it was incapable of second thoughts. Soon Juckas would know much more about those who somehow managed to slay Qz.

* * *

“This place is endless,” said Talon.

He was relieved when Purthea agreed. “Indeed, we are going to have stop for rest soon. I suggest we go back to that last dead end corridor we went down. That way anything roaming down here can only come at us from one direction. Thisbe can set up his trip wires again.”

“I’m both hungry and tired,” agreed Talon.

They move into the discussed corridor it was nearly 300 feet long before dead ending. They “enjoyed” cold rations for a meal. Thisbe set up a series of noise making trip wire traps. Watches were set with Purthea, Domineco and Thisbe up first. Purthea never relaxed her vigilance, and that was fortunate. Calmly she whispered to Thisbe, “wake the others, evil approaches!”

“Not possible,” said Thisbe. “No way anything gets passed my wires,” but he said that as he was shaking Talon and Causthea awake. Domineco stood up.

“What is it?” asked Talon rubbing his eyes.”

“It’s that!” answered Purthea.

Flying towards them was an apparition that was clearly not really corporeal. And it was moving fast, while making a chilling scream. It closed with blinding speed. Talon realized he had no time to don armor and picked up his sword as he ran to the front. By the time he got there whatever it was had already closed on Purthea. A strange unworldly sort of glowing claw struck her. Purthea seemed to sag with weakness, she swung her sword but the disorientation from the creatures soul sapping attack caused her to miss badly. However, Talon’s sword did not miss. It passed cleanly through the creatures body, its magic working to unbind the monster’s tortured soul. And just like that the monster was gone. Dissolving into nothing. The spell Causthea had been preparing never had a chance.

“Are you okay?” Talon turned asking a white faced Purthea.

“I, I, don’t know. I feel weak and odd.”

“Can you heal yourself? Domineco! Get over here,” Talon shouted.

Domineco shook his head. “There is no healing for such as this. However, the effect of a specter’s touch is temporary. She just needs to rest.”

“Again!” grunted Thisbe.

* * *

Juckas had “watched” from afar the quick death of his minion. He was surprised at the speed with which the party had dispatched the specter, with just one blow from that barbarian’s huge sword. This party was indeed dangerous. His caution had been wise, Juckas knew he had always been wise.

He had found out much, very much indeed. The specter touched the female warrior, discovering it was a paladin. Not just any paladin. His daughter, who had been but a child before he . . . changed. ‘Purthea’ they had named her. My how she had grown. That was one reason why he sensed the soul of her mother. The other was her sword. He recognized it well. One of her mother’s soul swords. With that, and his daughter, he might be able to get this armor off.

That was not all. A tiefling was in the party. Those weren’t exactly common and its draconic features were clear. This was the adolescent he had all those years ago saved as an infant. When he actually cared about others, particularly family, so much that he would gladly give his life to save it. He laughed at his folly from that time. He thought nothing of her now. He no longer could feel love. He noted only that she appeared to be a sorceress. She seemed far too young to be of much power. Unlike Qz Juckas had no regard at all for the Dragon Witch. He was quite content to kill his offspring as she was no use to him.

He recognized the Cleric too. The young acolyte, Domineco, who had held his wife’s sword, sounded the alarm, and who witnessed the last act of his former wife. He was also of no consequence, valuable to Juckas only in that by killing this Cleric of the True God Juckas could please his own Dark Lord.

The barbarian was obviously dangerous, and very strong. Juckas sensed more power in that large body than was even exhibited by his impressive display against the minion he sent. The barbarian would need to die quickly, or he could endanger Juckas himself.

Rounding out the party was a stupid little hafling. No doubt a thief brought along to deal with traps and locked doors. In that the little twit could be useful to Juckas. If the Paladin failed to remove this cursed armor, or he was forced to kill her, then perhaps that hafling could unlock doors that had long frustrated Juckas, allowing him to find Panthea. He was sure Panthea could remove this damned holy armor.

His servant had struck the Paladin, Purthea, with its life sapping attack. She would need to rest. They would not come to him until tomorrow. He had time to prepare, and prepare he would.

Chapter 22-Family Reunion

Purthea slept in a bit late, but seemed to be fine when she did get up. She was as grimly determined as ever. Once awake she pushed the group to get ready, complaining that they were “burning daylight.” This earned a guffaw from Thisbe in the sunless caverns. They continued their search in the same systematic fashion as the day before. The maze continued to unfold without incident.

It was about two hours into this search that they came across yet another darkened side corridor. As usual Purthea paused attempting to determine if evil lay behind the darkness. This time she bristled, “I sense evil,” she whispered.

“What kind of evil?” asked Thisbe.

“I don’t know, powerful evil.”

“Yeah, I got a bad feeling about this,” said Talon.

“I think it’s time I tried a new trick,” smiled Causthea wryly. She took out a small piece of glass, muttered some magic words, and . . . disappeared.

“Where’d she go?” exclaimed Thisbe.

“Causthea, Causthea?” a concerned Purthea nearly shouting a bit too loud.

“Don’t worry,” came her disembodied voice, “it’s a new trick I picked up. That Beholder’s Spellbook is quite useful. Hopefully this will provide at least one surprise for whatever is down that hallway.”

In their standard order they moved down. An open doorway appeared, arched at the top. It narrowed so just one of them could pass through at a time opening into a darkened room. Domineco picked up a rock, said a quiet prayer, and the rock glowed brightly. He tossed it into the room, and watched the darkness envelop the rock.

“That’s no ordinary dark,” he said. “It’s created by a spell. I may be able to counter it, but only from within the darkness.”

“Swell,” muttered Thisbe.

They had discussed situations where they could pass but one at a time. They had concluded Talon would advance first, kind of a shock troop. That discussion had not included the possibility of blundering into a dark room. Talon looked at Purthea and motioned his head towards the dark room in a way that asked if he should go. Purthea paused to consider. She too might be able to neutralize the dark from within. Perhaps she should go first. But Talon would undoubtedly go in sweeping that sword to clear enemies from around in a wide arc. She would let him go, then she would quickly follow with the spell for light. She nodded to Talon.

Talon considered his options. He could enter tentatively, or charge right in. “Effrin it,” he thought and summoning the rage within him rushed through entrance. It turned out that maybe was not the best approach. A few steps in, as he blindly swung his sword about, he was suddenly enveloped in blistering heat. He heard the ball of fire explode around him, burning him painfully.

Purthea was quickly in the room casting her own spell for light. The room brightened to a dim but visible level. The ball of fire that enveloped Talon exhausted itself, as a glowing pattern of lines on the floor, glyphs that apparently triggered that fire, faded. About 50 feet from the entrance of the equally wide room was a figure that brought a gasp from Purthea.

At first glance it might be confused for a noble knight, or powerful cleric of the True God. It was wrapped in shining armor of mythral, the coveted metal that conferred both near invulnerable protection and was light enough to allow free movement. Emblazoned on the breastplate of the armor was the symbol of the True God, shining with a fineness of its own. But any delusion that this was such a fine knight or cleric was shattered by what lay within the helmet. A dark shadow with no form to its face and eyes that seemed to glow blood red and hateful.

As the party filed in behind her the nature of the horrible corruption was clear to Purthea. This is what remained of her loving father. The memory of his armor was indelible to her. He had been a pure and good man, she could now feel the evil emanating from him in waves. She wanted to cry, but there was no time for that.

Nor was there any holding back an enraged Talon, who roared as he rushed his blistered body towards the thing, and blundered across another glyph. This time lightening seemed to envelop him. Though it was clear his quick movement allowed him to avoid the full effects, the shock was quite severe. Still, it just angered Talon more who quickly advanced to within range of his massive sword and swung at the figure. Talon’s huge sword simply bounced off that incredible armor.

Purthea was rapidly closing, seeing that Talon needed healing she quickly did that from her sword. The others moved into the room, attempting to retain their battle order. As they did so Domineco and Thisbe were suddenly struck from behind. This had been part of Juckas’ plan. The ceiling in this room was high, and above the door a short tunnel led in. The two specters lurked there, waiting to strike the party from behind and with surprise. Not seeing Causthea, they attacked Thisbe and Domineco.

Thisbe relied on his quickness to avoid attacks and not seeing this one coming gave him no opportunity to dodge. The specter struck grasping him with its soul sucking attack. Though Thisbe managed to break free to reduce the worst of the effects, he felt the life sapping cold. Domineco suffered a similar fate.

They all heard this hideous laughter of Juckas as he watched his plan unfolding to perfection. The bumbling barbarian had managed to trigger both his wards and his specters had struck the rear of the party to delightful effect. Just as he was figuring the sorceress was cowering outside she appeared materializing near the back of the party with a spell of glowing missiles aimed at his heart. He laughed again as they simply dissolved as they struck his armor. This cursed armor limited what he could become, but it was not completely useless. The sorceress would now be preoccupied with the specters.

First things first, kill the wounded barbarian. All Juckas needed to do was touch him, he reached out and grabbed Talon by the wrist. “All too easy,” smiled Juckas as he released the combined effects of his life draining and wound causing dark clerical power into Talon. The barbarian roared in agony, but he did not die. Juckas realized his mistake. When he grasped him the barbarian was not wounded at all. He had been healed. He realized that it must have come from his former wife’s sword, wielded now by his daughter. He had not believed she would be able to use that ability in the old weapon. Now he realized that he was in a desperate fight. Even now he felt the sword’s power again healing the barbarian as the wrist pulled free from his grasp.

Domineco knew he had no chance to turn the archwraith-cleric attacking Talon, but the specters were a different matter. Grasping his True God’s holy symbol he raised the crossed swords towards the shadow figures that had attacked him and Thisbe, calling upon the True God to vanquish them. Both paused, the fear of the True God, taking them. However, only the specter on Domineco fled. The one on Thisbe overcame his fear and turned back to deal with the thief. That thief struck at it with his short swords, but missed as the creature danced above his short reach.

The healing from her sword was nearly exhausted, and the abomination that was once her father remained without a scratch. Purthea aimed to fix that. She closed on the wraith swinging her mother’s sword. Again the blow glanced harmlessly off the seemingly impenetrable armor.

It was Causthea who finally put some hurt to her father. She unleashed that lightening bolt, her most powerful spell. She enhanced it, calling upon powers only those who practice sorcery can unleash to magnify the power of the bolt. She was putting all she had into this. Juckas was focused on Talon’s disturbing survival and didn’t see it coming. The lightening bolt struck Juckas squarely, but his spectral soul was resistant to its effects and the damage was minimal. Again Causthea’s spell had been frustrated. He still very much un-lived. With a flicker of thought Juckas ordered the specter attacking the useless thief to concentrate on the sorceress.

Thisbe was a bit put off at being ignored as the specter turned away from him. He pursued the specter striking it from behind with his two magic enhanced short swords. The creature howled with an unearthly scream of mortal pain and it appeared it might die. “Hah!” Thisbe shouted, “take that!” However, the creature reformed striking at Causthea. It missed, the timing of its attack thrown off by Thisbe’s strike from behind. It did not get a second chance. Causthea’s glowing missiles finished it off.

Talon and Purthea focused on Juckas, attempting to find some path through that armor. Purthea swung first but the wraith’s armor deflected the blow. Talon’s own effort also missed badly, enraging him further.

Juckas reached again for Talon and missed, partially because he was concentrating on a prayer, or more precisely a curse. He called upon the Dark Lord to blight this party with wounds. The Dark Lord answered and all in the party felt the pain of His dark touch.

The damage combined with the effects of the specter on her, was too much for Causthea. She collapsed dying at Domineco’s feet. Domineco himself was also near death, as dying he reached for Causthea to heal her. Purthea realized the crisis, used the last of her sword’s healing power to save Domineco as Domineco saved Causthea. While Purthea was not seriously hurt she realized she had to break from the fight to use her own recently acquired spells of healing on the party.

That left only Talon to strike at wraith cleric. It was once again an exercise in futility.

Causthea was out of the fight. Purthea and Domineco worked to heal her, Thisbe, and each other.

Juckas was pleased to have only the barbarian to deal with. He reached out to touch him yet again. He was able to only barely brush him, but that was enough. The chilling life draining touch again combined with a spell of wounding.

Now Talon was seriously hurt. In his enraged state he threw himself into another blow, screaming beserked gibberish and curses. It was a blow that finally penetrated the armor. What’s more, the right shoulder plate broke away and fell off. Juckas had not maintained the, cursed from his perspective, armor and over the years, even the magically enhanced connecting straps had weakened. While Juckas could do nothing to remove it, Talon’s blow broke the connecting straps for the shoulder plate, leaving a vulnerable spot. However, much of the force of Talon’s blow was still deflected by the armor and Juckas was not seriously hurt.

Leaving Domineco to minister to Causthea Purthea turned and lay hands upon the enraged Talon, using the gift of Paladins to almost completely heal him.

Recognizing the danger he was in Juckas again concentrated on attacking Talon, who he believed to be near death. The enraged Talon was completely focused on trying to hit Juckas rather than dodge that deadly touch. Again, Juckas’ touch flowed malignant energy into Talon.

The good news was that Juckas’ armor now had a weak spot. The bad news was that the party was rapidly running out of healing.

Talon again swung with a desperate blow. He aim was true and his massive sword cut deep into the undead apparition through the gap in the armor created by the blow before. Juckas was badly hurt and began fear. He even considered running, but he was backed into the corner of room the he had chosen to do battle.

Purthea recognized the opening and made her own stab at striking through the weak point in Juckas’ armor. She missed, but only barely as Juckas managed to shy his shoulder away from the blade. The shoulder did not dodge a crossbow bolt from Thisbe who fired it with amazing precision from a crouched position on the floor. The damage was not great, but it was beginning to add up on Juckas whose ability to heal himself had been lost when his allegiance went to the Dark Lord. The barbarian remained the biggest threat, and Juckas struck him again combining the last of his major wounding spells with his chilling undead touch.

It was almost enough. Talon was again near death, but that made his blow only that much more enraged. Again his aim was true and his sword cut deep into the void of negative energy that was all that remained of Purthea’s and Causthea’s father.

This time it was enough. The corrupted soul wailed and dissolved in fury. At only the last second did Purthea feel she saw any sign of anything resembling her father. She saw, or perhaps fleetingly felt, gratitude that his tortured existence was over.

Purthea quickly healed Talon, touching him with a prayer to the True God, but it was the last of her healing powers, and it was not enough to completely heal him. For Talon, the torturing pain of the Dark Lord’s touch still agonized him. Domineco could not help, his healing was also spent.

As Talon swung again at the empty heap of armor that was no longer animated by the undead, Purthea and Domineco tried to talk him down from his rage knowing that if they failed he could turn on the weakened party and potentially kill them all.

Purthea put all the charisma she had into it. “Talon it’s us, your family,” she said in a tone that moved even Thisbe. “We love you . . . I love you.”

Those last words penetrated Talon’s psyche and touched his true self. With a mighty effort he pushed the rage out, as he fell to his knees physically and psychically exhausted. Suppressing the pain he still felt Talon looked at her and said, “What’s next?”

“Well, we won’t be going anywhere,” said a flushed Purthea suddenly getting all businesslike. “Causthea can’t travel, many of us are hurt, and we have no healing remaining within us. We shall have to rest in prayer to recover it and heal again later.”

“No,” said Talon whispering weakly, “what I meant was what’s next with . . .”

“Did you see how I killed him with my crossbow?” Thisbe interjected. For once Purthea was grateful for the pompous hafling’s habit of interrupting conversations with the irrelevant. She went back to check on her sister as she mourned the memory of her father. Talon groaned and tried to focus on not letting the pain bring his rage back.

Chapter 23-Awkward Talks

They stayed in the empty room for three days. Nothing molested them. The expected return of the one specter Domineco had turned with his holy power never happened. Domineco speculated that it had no compulsion to return with its master now truly dead.

They talked little. Purthea mourned and seemed to avoid talking to Talon. Causthea recovered and studied her spells. Domineco healed the hurts that remained and prayed to the True God for more healing. Talon brooded over Purthea’s reluctance to talk to him.

That left Thisbe. “So if nobody wants that armor, I’ll take it,” he chatted up. “The mythral alone is worth a King’s ransom even melted down . . .”

That got Purthea out of her shell. “Nobody is melting that armor down!” she boomed. “My father’s armor shall go to Talon. He did most of all here to end the torment of my father’s soul.”

“What?” puzzled Talon. “But I don’t wear plate armor, slows me down too much.”

“You will find that mythral armor does not encumber you at all, Talon,” she replied quietly. “Pick it up, you’ll see.”

Talon hefted the armor, even removing his gloves to do so. He had to admit it was incredibly light. Lighter than the banded armor he wore now. “I can’t wear it. It will make me too powerful and hard to kill if my rage turns on all of you. I could kill you all.”

“I don’t think that will happen,” responded Purthea. “You brought yourself back from the rage even while hurt.”

Talon made the mistake of looking down as he said, “Yea but that was only because you said . . .” he paused as a flushed Purthea turned away from him. He sighed and tried a different approach. “But it was your father’s, and like your sword does not it also bear a smaller piece of your mother’s soul?”

Purthea hung her head, still not facing Talon, “I cannot wear armor that was worn by that, that . . . abomination.”

“I’ll wear the haunted armor,” piped up Thisbe ignoring that it would not even close to fitting. Purthea glared at him.

“This decision can wait until we return to New Gont City,” said Domineco with an air of finality. “The armor must be repaired, in any event, and fitted for whoever wears it.”

“I, I can’t wear it,” said Purthea again.

Domineco gave her a level stare. “Can’t or won’t? You took an oath Paladin! Do you remember the words? You fight evil ‘by any means necessary’ unhindered by qualms such as you display now.”

“I know but . . .”

“There are no ‘buts’” said Domineco firmly. “The oath is uncompromising. The armor will be well known by the High Clerics of the True God’s Temple. They shall know what powers your mother’s life force imbued in it. The armor was for a True God worshipping cleric, of which you are now in part, and which Talon most clearly is not. The armor may interact with your mother’s swords in ways we don’t yet know. The armor may be made for you as much as that sword you hold with such pride.”

Purthea was compelled to acknowledge the truth of her wise friend’s words. The armor was secured in Talon’s amazing magic bag.

Thisbe asked if anyone wanted to hear how his great Uncle Gertrude once stole a goblin King’s mythral crown. Nobody did. “I think this perpetual darkness has put everyone in a foul mood,” muttered Thisbe. He was right. That combined with the depressing nature of their last battle left all of them brooding.

“That and these effrin cold rations we are eating,” muttered Talon. I have to admit, hot rabbit stew is sounding better all the time.” That at least gave Thisbe something to giggle about. “Be thankful for the food,” said Domineco. “While we brought much we have used more than half of it.”

Chapter 24-An Eye Opening Experience

On the third day after the battle with Juckas the party again began searching the old lair. The corridors became wider, and the caverns more cavernous, but they encountered nothing. Talon was getting bored enough that he was trying to become bold enough to tell Purthea they had to talk when the immediate search ended. At the end of a particularly long and wide corridor they entered an enormous cavern, probably a half mile wide in its roughly circular dimensions.

“Great holes of the Abyss” whistled Thisbe, “this is so big you it could hold a . . . a . . .”

“Very large dragon,” said Purthea. She was right. This was one of the rooms where the Great Dragon Witch held court when this was her home. She could spread out across some of her enormous treasure. Now it was just eerily empty, with one odd feature.

In the rough middle of the huge room was a vertical shaft, about 30 feet wide, and square, going down. Directly above it, another similar shaft disappeared up. “Up or down?” asked Thisbe alternating between looking both directions.

“Down is easier,” said Talon.

“Shouldn’t we be wanting to go up?” said Thisbe, “to get out of here.”

“Either up or down could lead out,” snorted Domineco, “or both could . . . or neither.”

“Down could lead to the level with those eleventy billion Minotaur Skeletons,” said Thisbe. “I think down is a bad idea.” Talon was trying to figure out how many “eleventy billion” exactly was, his skill with numbers was not much better than his understanding of letters.

“We go down,” said Purthea determinedly. They all looked at her. “I do not feel my mother’s sword is up.”

Domineco made a rock glow again and drooped into the hole. It seemed to fall about 200 feet before hitting the bottom. “It looks like it just ends with a bottom full of broken bones” said Causthea, looking over the edge.

“If so, then we try up, but let’s make sure there is nothing down there that we can’t see from here,” insisted Purthea.

“How about we lower Thisbe by a rope to see what’s down there?” suggested Talon.

“Sure, sure, lower the expendable hafling into the mystery monster filled abyss,” snorted Thisbe. “Not a chance.”

“Lower me” said Purthea. “Talon has the strength to lower anyone and I can detect evil if there is any down there.”

“See, now that makes sense to me!” exclaimed Thisbe.

Several coils of rope had to be tied together to be long enough. Talon held it firmly while Purthea stepped into a base loop and Talon slowly started to lower her. “I know,” he said to her as her head began to go below the level of the floor.

“What? Why did you say that?” she asked looking up.

“I don’t know, it just felt right at the time,” he muttered.

Purthea descended down. They had tied the Forever Lantern to the rope at about waist height so she could see. She considered drawing her sword but thought it best to hold on with both hands. She sensed down into the shaft, but detected no evil. About halfway down she noticed the wall in front of her had odd scorch looking marks. She signaled for Talon to stop lowering her, and looked all around trying to figure that out. It was so hard to see in the dim light from the lantern that she almost missed it. On the side opposite of her was a door. Double doors, ten feet wide each and appearing to be nearly 30 feet tall.

She was roughly 100 feet down. Another 100 feet of shaft below her. This door was built halfway down a vertical shaft. “Now who does that?” she whispered to herself. “Someone who can fly” was her self answer. She used arranged hand signals for Talon to move her around to the other side of the shaft while remaining at this height.

When he finished working her around to the door two things became evident. There was evil somewhere on the other side of the door, though she didn’t think immediately on the other side, and as confirmed with two quick pulls, the doors were locked. She also noted another oddity. Each door had two metal rods on the outside of them running from near the top of the door down to the bottom. She signaled Talon to haul her back up and reported her findings.

Thisbe reluctantly agreed that it was best if he checked out the lock. “Your story about the metal rods makes me suspect something, but I have to check it out,” he sighed. So down the rope Thisbe went. He spent sometime, repeatedly signaling to be pulled up and let down the length of the doors several times. Once he asked to be lowered about ten feet below the bottom of the doors. Then he signaled to come up.

“First, the lock is easy peasy,” he reported. “It’s a simple rod and pin arrangement securing the top of each door. Unlocking that should be as easy as eating rabbit stew.” Talon’s stomach grumbled with hunger at the thought, which bothered him remembering “Mr. Lepus,” as Thisbe continued. “The interesting part are those rods. The doors are designed to open by hinging down from their base. The rods swing out at an angle to support against the wall. There are actual notches below the doors for this purpose. Once the doors are down you would have a ten by twenty foot platform to stand on.”

“With your backs to 100 more feet of pit,” muttered Talon.

“And whatever’s on the other side of the door to deal with” added Thisbe.

“We can’t have Thisbe down there face whatever it is alone,” said Domineco.

“Actually, you probably can,” sighed Thisbe. “Here’s what I suggest. The lock is at the top of the doors. Once I spring it they should both swing down. I suggest you lower me hanging upside down by the rope attached to my feet. Then I open the doors from above them let them swing down, Talon hauls me back up. Then we see what comes running out onto the platform that’s hiding behind the door.”

“You’ll actually do that?” asked Talon.

“Well, I’ll admit I’m not enthusiastic, but I’ll do it. You just haul my hafling butt up quick once those doors start to open.”

“Will do,” promised Talon.

The plan worked basically to perfection. Talon quietly lowered Thisbe down hanging by the rope tied to his feet. He got to the lock at the top of the door, examined it again, and reached into a his “tool belt” for a couple of lock opening tools. He tapped and jimmied the mechanism at the center between the two doors, and with an audible crack the doors started to fold down. Talon began immediately hauling Thisbe back up as fast as he could, which was pretty quick.

The doors, clearly working on springs, or perhaps counter weights, slowly folded down, squeaking in protest from years of no oiling as they did. They could see the rods hinging outward dangling at angles to support what was becoming a platform. They settled and locked into place as the platforms settled into position. That’s when the enormous fireball exploded on the middle of the platform erupting upwards towards Thisbe.

“Pull faster! Pull faster!” shouted an upside down Thisbe patting his hair that had been slightly singed.

Thisbe made it up safely and no more fireballs exited the doorway. They peered down.

“Okay, what could do that?” asked Talon. “Is there another sorcerer like Causthea down there?”

“I doubt that it’s a living spell caster,” said Causthea.

“Lots of things could do it” said Thisbe. “Most likely a magical trap triggered when the door opened. If so, it’s safe to go down there now.”

“You want to go down there and see?” Talon asked.

“Who me? No way! It could be a red dragon. My second step daddy told me red dragons breathe fire.”

“That’s true, they do” said Domineco, “but I think we would have seen a red dragon show itself.”

“So it’s a magic trap, thingy” said Talon growing tired of the conversation, “and we can just go down there now.”

Everyone just sort of looked at each other. “We can’t be sure of that” said Causthea. “I have a plan.”

“I’m all ears,” responded Thisbe pointing towards his disproportionately large hafling ears.

“I cast myself invisible again and go down and look.”

“How will you get down there?” pressed Purthea. “If we lower you by rope and something is there it will see the rope and fry you. That fireball filled up a lot of space.”

“I will cast the climbing spell on myself and crawl down invisible. Easy peasy, as Thisbe would say. I’ll just look over the edge and tell you what I see.”

Purthea in particular was uncomfortable with the idea but had to admit it made sense.

Causthea did the magic, disappeared (literally) and was last heard assuring everyone she would report back soon.

Casuthea clambered down the walls enjoying the sensation of climbing. She was embarrassed at her humiliating performance against her undead father. She sought to prove herself.

She approached the door from directly above and peered over the edge. A 20 foot wide hallway, well lit (apparently by magic) went back about 60 feet. At the end was a sight that made her furrow her invisible eyebrows. There was a pedestal from which grew a single eyestalk, similar to those of the beholder, the eye at the end of it twitched about in agitation, as if looking for something. It apparently did not see her.

Causthea crawled around the top of the door, onto the ceiling of the corridor. She scuttled quickly down corridor, knowing that she did not have much time before her friends became suspicious. Fortunately the effects of the climbing spell included light footfalls and she moved silently along the ceiling.

From directly above the thing she could see the eyestalk was embedded into a scroll, a scroll she would undoubtedly find useful. But she needed to kill the thing, without it detecting her, and without damaging the scroll. She also needed to position herself to view down the corridor towards the door, to ensure none of her colleagues came down and saw what she was about to do.

Causthea crawled down the wall behind the eyestalk, the corridor turned at a sharp angle to the right, she saw nothing down the long hallway going in that direction. She paused to make sure no one appeared on the platform, that her aim was true, that she would hit the eye, but not the scroll. She inhaled sharply and then breathed out forcefully, even as the eye seemed to sense her and orientate towards her. A spray of acid vomited from her mouth striking the eye squarely, which instantly dissolved and spattered to the floor.

A now visible Causthea scuttled to the floor, stood up, carefully picked up the scroll, and secreted it into her robes. She walked quickly down the hallway towards the door.

Purthea was getting worried. It was taking Causthea too long to give the all clear. Suddenly Causthea appeared on the platform below, quite visible, and shouted that it was okay to come down. The party lowered again by rope, with Talon coming last, climbing down the rope after tying it to a large rock at the top. All agreed the rope should remain in the event they sought to leave the way they came.

“Purthea was the first down and immediately demanded to know what happened. “There was an animated spell casting beholder eyestalk, and I killed it,” Causthea shrugged.

“You killed it! By yourself? That was not the plan. You were to get information and come back.”

“I saw it could not see me, and I killed it.”

“How?” Purthea demanded.

“With a spell” Causthea lied to her sister. The acid breath was one of her recently discovered secrets, a “gift” from her evil stepmother she would rather not have, but she did.

As the others joined them Purthea was still lambasting Causthea for “lone rangering” it as she put it, “when you are not even a ranger.”

“Oh shut up,” shouted Causthea back, “you’re my sister, not my mother and I’m an increasingly powerful sorceress, not just your kid sister.”

“Ummm, can we see what happened?” asked Talon releasing the rope.

“Sure,” grumbled Purthea, “standard battle order.”

There was not much to see. Just an empty pedestal and some putrid smelling goo on the floor.

“Stay away from that goo” said Causthea, “I think that eye had acid in it.” They moved on around the corner.

Chapter 25-Purthea Takes A Chance

It appeared the light was there for the benefit of the spell casting eye. As they moved down the corridor it quickly became dark and the Forever Lantern again became necessary to provide a circle of light in which they explored. They had not gone far when they came to a single door. A quick check revealed it was locked. Thisbe declared the lock a bit more of a challenge, but with some sweat managed to open it. Inside was revealed to be a small ten by ten foot room and another locked door at the opposite side. Thisbe declared it a similar lock to the outer door and so his experience with the first allowed him to open it more quickly.

Inside was a magically lit room about 30 foot square. Benches intermittently lined the wall. Several stools were included, one knocked over. Shelves lined the wall with various jars, cultures, bags, vials and whatnots also lined the walls. On the floor was a headless apparently human skeleton, a search quickly found the skull rolled underneath one of the benches. Between the body and the skull the bench had faded, strange markings, difficult to see after all these years.

“These inscriptions are for a potent spell of divination” said Causthea. “The kind used to safely reveal the nature of powerful magic items while containing the power of the items. These things on the shelves appear to mostly be various components for spells. I’m glad to see them, I need to restock some, and acquire a few more for some of my new tricks.” She began to sort through the stuff carefully taking some and putting them in pockets of her robe.

“Why didn’t the curse raise this as undead?” asked Thisbe picking up the skull.

“That’s a good question” said Domineco.

“What’s with this wall?” asked Talon wrapping a section with his fist. “It’s like it’s made out of metal, or something.”

“Not made” said Causthea examining closely. “Lined. Lined with lead. So are both doors,” she declared after quickly making a check. “I think I have the answer to your question about the curse not affecting this poor fellow. The room is lined with lead, to keep magics from coming in, or getting out. This was some sort of mage’s room. The spell components show that. This would allow him to cast certain spells safely. It might have also kept the Dragon Witch’s curse out of this room.”

“Then what killed him?” asked Purthea oddly looking at her sword.

Causthea shrugged, “something sharp enough to separate his head cleanly from his shoulders.”

“A holy sword maybe, one of vorpal blade quality?” said Purthea staring more intently at her sword.

“Yeah, maybe” said Causthea. “Why?”

“Perhaps the rescue party,” suggested Domineco. “Vis led it and likely had a holy sword with a vorpal blade.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” said Purthea vacantly.

“What difference does it make,” asked Talon.

“I think it makes a lot of difference,” whispered Purthea. “I think it means we are getting close to my mother’s sword.”

“This is interesting” said Thisbe who had been poking around underneath the counters. He pointed to a cabinet built against the wall below a counter. It had been cleverly designed to blend in so well with the area around it that it would be easily missed without a close examination, or the eye of a seasoned thief.

Causthea immediately expressed great interest, “can you open it?” she asked eagerly.

Thisbe spent an unusual amount of time examining the small space. At one point pulling out what appeared to Talon to be a magical piece of glass that made things look bigger.

“I don’t know about this one” he proclaimed. “It’s trapped, and the trap is of magical nature. That’s all I can tell.”

“Can you disarm it, that’s what you are here for thief,” said an irritated Causthea.

“Maybe, but it could be bad if I fail. The magic rune protecting it looks powerful,” said Thisbe.

“Can you show me the rune?” hissed Causthea.

“Sure, but did you just hiss?”

“Shut up, and show me.”

“Okay” said Thisbe taking out a sharp tool that he used to point with. “You can barely see the rune right here,” he pointed to a top corner. “Here you can see it better through this glass . . .”

“I see it just fine!” Causthea again had a strange tone to her voice. Her eyes narrowed, becoming almost vertical slits for a moment. “I know what rune it is. Thisbe is right, it would be bad. If the trap is triggered a fireball explodes, similar to the one on the platform, only even more powerful.” She looked about the room. “It will fill this entire room.”

“So a deadly fireball kills us all,” said Talon, “maybe we should leave it alone.”

“A wizard protected something of great value to him in here, I want it!” said Causthea emphatically.

“Thisbe, do you think you can disarm the trap?” asked Purthea.

“I don’t know. Magic traps are always tricky. There can be a layer that you miss. To tell you the truth I feel a little lucky to have even detected this one. It was well hidden and that tiny rune could be easily mistaken for a speck of rust.”

“Do you think triggering the trap would destroy whatever’s inside?” Purthea continued.

Thisbe’s brow furrowed in concentration. “I don’t think so” he said staring at the barely visible cabinet. “It looks like the trap triggers before the cabinet would have to separately be opened, which would protect the contents, maybe.”

“More proof it was valuable to the mage who put it there,” said Causthea. “He didn’t want to risk some bungler destroying it.”

“I think you are right about that,” said Purthea. “Thisbe can we set something up to remotely trigger the trap while we are outside?”

“I don’t think so” Thisbe answered. “It’s set so you have to be touching it.”

“Can you show me what to do to trigger it,” asked Purthea.

“Sure, that’s easy, the trick is not triggering it.”

“Are you crazy?” shouted Talon. “You can’t commit suicide just to get Causthea a new toy.”

“You forget,” said Purthea removing her sword. “I’m immune to fire.”

“I’m not sure you would be completely immune to this brand of magical fire, sister,” said Cauthea.

“I don’t need to be completely immune to survive and be healed.”

“I’m not sure this is a great idea,” said Domineco.

“The Oath, ‘by whatever means necessary,’” responded Purthea blandly. “For all we know we need whatever it is in there to recover my mother’s sword. I feel this room was somehow part of her story. Causthea, and the rest of you, get whatever you want out of this room. Then leave and close the door. Thisbe, show me what I need to do.”

Causthea gathered up all the spell components she thought she might have a use for. Thisbe showed Purthea how to “deliberately bungle the trap” as he put it. Talon was the most reluctant to leave Purthea to this, but she flat ordered him out. They closed the outer door behind them. It didn’t take long. There was a loud booming woof noise and silence. Talon was the first through the door. He saw Purthea standing there, burns all over her body rapidly healing under the influence of her sword.

“Wasn’t so bad,” she shrugged. Peering down, “but seems to have been a complete waste.”

Talon looked in the cabinet. “It’s empty!” he cried.

“No way” shouted Thisbe.

“Impossible!” hissed Causthea.

But the box certainly seemed to be empty. “I don’t believe it” said Causthea, crawling underneath the counter and sticking her hand inside. “Ah ha!” Her hand seemed to wrap around something and pull it out. Once outside the box a rod, about 3 inches thick and three feet long appeared in her hand. “The mage made the contents of the box invisible, a final precaution,” she said triumphantly.

“All that for a stick?” sputtered Talon.

Causthea laughed, “it’s not just a stick, you witless barbarian. Look at it,” she held it out.

Talon peered. The rod had delicate shapes carved into it, the kind he thought Causthea called ‘runes.’ Six gems, of types Talon did not know, were embedded along its length. The three top most gems seemed to glow with their own light. “Okay, a pretty stick. Why are those three glowing?” Talon asked suspiciously.

“Because a spell is in them, just waiting to be released,” she answered.

“What spells?” asked Purthea.

“I don’t know, but in time I will figure it out.”

Everything in the room had been thoroughly toasted by the fireball, but the doors, both of them, could be locked from the inside. It was a safe place to stay, “while Causthea studies her stick” as Talon put it, and the party rested.

Chapter 26-A Soul Speaks

In the locked lead lined room their rest was uneventful. They got an early start upon waking and continued their systematic exploration. This part of the Dragon Witch’s domain seemed of artificial creation. They found various hallways, doors and rooms but none with anything of note. Just as Talon was getting bored again there was a strange departure from the mundane.

Their progress was stopped by two sets of bars, portcullises really, blocking movement down the corridor. On their side of the first set of bars was an obvious lever, in the down position, about 20 feet from the bars. Thisbe examined the lever and pronounced it free of any traps or locks he could detect. Talon shrugged, looked at Purthea for confirmation, who nodded approval, so Talon lifted the lever to the up position.

With a grinding protest the bars in front of them raised. They stepped up to the next set of bars. This time a similar lever was 20 feet down the corridor on the other side of the bars, well out of their reach.

“It’s obviously designed so two sets of guards on opposite sides of the bars have to both raise the bars. This is what you would do for an entrance to a prison,” Purthea said. “I was right, we are getting close.”

“Yeah, but how do we get through?” asked Talon. “The lever is way over there on the other side of the bars.”

“That’s just irritating as all Abyss,” said Thisbe. “There’s no way to reach it from here.”

“Maybe there is” said Purthea. She paused. Making her sword dance required intense concentration and for this she was not asking it to just perform its natural function of swinging at a monster. She focused and moved the sword carefully through the bars and down the hallway. She positioned it so that the flat of the blade would push up on the lever. With sweat pouring from concentration she had the sword push up on the lever.

It did not move. She tried to get the sword to push harder, she felt it was exerting good force, but the lever still did not budge. “It’s stuck,” she said returning the sword to her hand and catching her breath.

“Could that one be locked when the other one wasn’t?” asked Domineco of Thisbe.

Thisbe shrugged, “anything’s possible.”

Causthea had been looking carefully between both sets of levers. “Maybe,” she said, “both sets of bars have to be down to lift one set of bars.”

“Huh?” said Talon.

“Oh effrin I think she’s right,” said Thisbe.

“So to test this theory we have to trap ourselves in this 10 by 10 cell hoping that will allow us to move forward,” said Purthea discerning the import of her sister’s words.

“It makes sense from a prison perspective” said Causthea. “Anyone wanting to move through would have to stand here, inside this cell, getting approval from both sets of guards.”

“Oh, I get it,” said Talon as it dawned on him.

“Technically we would not have to trap all of us in here,” said Thisbe. “One or more of us could go back to the first lever and lower it. Then they would be free to figure something out if someone was trapped in here.”

In the end they split it as they did watches. Talon and Causthea went back and lowered the outer gate trapping Purthea, Thisbe and Domineco inside. Purthea again focused on manipulating her sword to lift the far lever. With minimal effort it worked, and the gate opened. Domineco and Thisbe stepped through, as Thisbe declared the hallway apparently clear, Domineco lowered the inner gate again. This allowed Talon and Causthea to again raise the outer gate. Stepping into the “cell” Purthea used her sword again, this time to lower the outer gate. Domineco and Thisbe raised the inner gate, and the party was rejoined and ready to move on.

“I like that,” said Thisbe looking back at the process they had to go through. “That’s pretty effrin clever.”

“You won’t be saying that if we have to get out of here in a hurry,” grumbled Talon.

They moved down and turned a corner. Magical light barely lit the corridor, dim apparently failing after these years, but still enough to see the full length of the corridor. A series of doors spaced about 60 feet apart appeared on each side down the long corridor. Most of the doors had heavy metal rods locking them shut. Not far down the corridor one door was different. It had obviously been broken open from the outside, shattered, the parts of the door strewn about the corridor.

They paused before a near door that was locked. Purthea said she detected nothing behind it, “but I feel some odd sense of evil emanating from the room with the open door,” she said quietly. “Perhaps we should check it first.”

“I think you two sisters should first prepare yourself for what we are likely to find in there,” said Domineco.

“Whatever is in there is no longer our mother,” Purthea said tensely.

“It is one thing to say that, and know it in your head. It is another to feel it in your heart,” answered Domineco.

“I’ll not delay to steel myself,” resolved Purthea. “If what remains of her is in there, my love for what she was, commands that I end this tortured unholy existence for her without any delay. I’m sure my sister agrees,” she looked at Causthea.

Causthea’s scaly skin seemed to shine more in this light. She nodded her head, “I do.” With that she cast herself invisible again and they heard her voice say, “let’s go.”

The wide door would allow them to enter two abreast. “We go in standard battle order,” said Purthea. “Causthea, have your spells at the ready, this could be our biggest challenge yet.” Grimly she and Talon charged through the door as the rest followed quickly behind.

The sight was as macabre was it was bizarre. The room was large about 60 foot square, and equally tall. Chained by arms and legs at the far corner was the headless body of a human woman, badly burned, It writhed in silent agony. They looked about for the missing head and soon saw it. About 30 feet in the air floated a skull. Around the skull circled a sword, apparently identical to the one held by Purthea.

There could be no doubt this was the remains of Panthea, one of the greatest Paladins of history, and their mother. The skull turned to orientate on them. They all felt that it could “see” them with those eyeless sockets. The sword stopped orbiting the skull stopping to place itself between them and the skull.

“What do we do?” asked Talon.

“Spread out” whispered Purthea. “It may attack with dark magic . . . as our father did.”

“Is it possible it’s harmless?” asked Thisbe.

“No,” said Purthea. “It’s not. I sense horrible evil from it. I am sure it can hurt us.”

“Yeah,” said Talon, “I’m getting that feeling I get when something bad is about to happen.”

They spread out, half circling the thing, but the skull seemed to stay orientated on Purthea, as did that sword.

“How do we reach it to fight it?” asked Talon.

“I don’t know” was all Purthea could say.

Causthea knew how to reach it. Magic. She was attempting to decide what spell to use. She had maneuvered to directly behind the skull with just that in mind. She considered attacking the body writhing in chains behind her, but she felt it was no threat. She believed the only thing it did was anchor the real enemy, that skull, in this location. The lightening bolt was her most powerful spell, but the wraith that had been her father was unaffected by it, this might be too. Her magic missiles seemed a good choice, though that armor of her father’s had stopped those too. Her acid orb might also be a good choice, unless she missed when she threw it. She wished she knew what spells were in the rod, but she didn’t and she dared not release them blindly. She wanted to make this count, once she attacked she would lose her invisibility, though she had the uncomfortable feeling the skull could see her somehow.

Causthea settled on the magic missiles. She would use her sorcery to greatly enhance their usual power. As the others discussed what to do, she prepared to unleash her spell, endeavoring to do so quietly. With her motion and syllable of spell casting the sword suddenly swooped towards Causthea at lightening speed, swinging at her even as the spell released.

The magic missiles raced to the skull and simply dissipated as odd rays came from the skull’s eyes and seemed to absorb them. The sword swung at Causthea. It missed but only because a shocked Causthea had fallen backwards to the ground as the sword wooshed viciously over her. Both Purthea and Talon ran to her side, as she attempted to stand back up the sword swung again.

Purthea attempted to parry it with her own. She succeeded, the two swords striking as Purthea felt a surge in her heart similar to when she first picked up her mother’s soul sword.

Talon could not think of what to do. The skull remained hopelessly out of reach in the air. Thisbe fired a crossbow at it, which missed, the skull just dodging to the side quickly. It was then the skull showed no mercy for its two daughters.

A beam of necrotizing unholy energy emanated from each eye socket, one aimed at Purthea, the other at Causthea. Their very flesh seemed to rot as the sword again swung, this time at Purthea, who attempted again to parry it with her own as she healed Causthea of lesser wounds than her own. That distraction caused her parry attempt to fail and her mother’s second sword struck at her. Purthea’s armor held off that assault, but only barely.

Domineco reached Purthea casting his own spell of healing and was shocked when the spell had no effect. Knowing how such healing powers worked Domineco had an idea. Calling upon his more limited ability to preserve the power of life Domineco exhausted it, mostly curing Purthea.

Feeling useless Talon considered attacking the writhing body chained to the wall, but he had a bad feeling about that. He decided instead to also attempt to parry the sword that was attacking Purthea. That’s when the sword and the eyes attacked again. Between the two of them Talon and Purthea parried the sword, and this time the two sisters were prepared for it and managed to dodge the hellish beams.

Causthea had recovered and decided it was time to release her most powerful spell. A lightening bolt launched from her out stretched hand. The skull simply moved to the side again and the bolt completely missed. A stream of curses, inappropriate for a 14 year old, followed.

“What are we going to do?” asked Talon as he and Purthea positioned themselves to try and parry the sword again. “We can’t do anything to hurt that skull and eventually its attacks will wear us down.”

“I don’t know said Purthea,” as they again struggled to parry the blade. At least they were again successful at that, though Purthea wondered what would be unleashed on her should they fail.

Again the eye sockets attacked the two sisters. Purthea managed to dodge it, but Causthea did not. Again, Purthea used her sword to heal her sister, but she knew that would not last forever.

Causthea tried yet another spell. Flames from her Hellish Rebuke appeared briefly around the skull before dissolving, doing no apparent damage.

Purthea and Talon again successfully parried the sword, but again the eye sockets sent their deadly beams. This time they struck both sisters rotting their flesh so badly it stunk. Again Purthea healed her sister. She tried to think of something to do as she realized over half of her sword’s healing was exhausted.

She looked carefully at the sword they were fighting. They shouldn’t have to be fighting it. It had a piece of her mother’s soul in it. The sword should want to be with her daughter, and with its own mate . . .

The sword swung again. This time they were unable to parry it and Purthea found out what it meant to be struck by it. Cutting through already rotted flesh it cut deep, as if with the Panthea’s own strength, and released its own soul torturing pain from inside. Purthea was near death, but fortunately Domineco was there to heal and this time his standard prayers were effective. But the power of Domineco’s healing was limited. Purthea remained injured, but at least not near death.

“We may have to retreat and figure this out,” suggested Talon.

“No,” said Purthea. “There’s . . . something I feel about the sword. If only I could figure it out.”

The deadly beams from eyes lanced out again at the two sisters. This time Causthea managed to dodge, but Purthea did not as she was transfixed by the sword in front of her. She took massive damage, and had to heal herself, using the last of her swords healing ability.

Her mother’s sword struck at them yet again, this time fortunately missing. Purthea was beginning to wonder if they would be forced to retreat. Then it hit her. She knew what she had to do. Quietly she sheathed her own sword, and stood with her arms open.

“What in the Abyss are you doing?” shouted Talon shifting position to try and parry with only himself to do so. The eyes again sent forth their deadly rays. Purthea did not even attempt to dodge it, and Causthea distracted by her sister’s actions was also struck.

As the sword struck again Talon’s efforts to parry it were thwarted by Purthea suddenly stepping forward, toward the sword, as it struck her Purthea grabbed the sword by its hilt. Again, Domineco healed her of these more ordinary wounds.

Purthea hardly noticed the pain or the healing from Domineco. She was locked in a battle. In her hand was her mother’s second sword, the object of her quest, but still it was not her’s. The sword was controlled by the Dark Lich residing in the skull that was all that was left of her mother. But not quite all. Her mother’s soul within the sword tried to reach out to her, tried to create the sword bond. However, the Lich’s power, and connection to the Dark Lord was strong. Purthea tried to reach out with her own soul, to reach for that of her mother. But she felt her mother being pushed aside, the Lich preparing to cast a fatal spell through the sword.

“Mother! I love you!” Purthea screamed. The soul within surged in response to one of the True God’s greatest gifts, the love of child for a parent, and the love of a parent for a child. The soul broke free, it touched Purthea and the Lich’s control of the sword was gone.

Its power greatly weakened, but not dead yet, the skull floated gently to the ground. Talon wasted no time. He ran to it and struck, but his sword, his great sword, seemed to simply bounce off the skull. Purthea calmly walked up to the skull drawing her mother’s first sword to now hold both. She paused, taking a breath, and both swords sang through the air in a coordinated arc bringing them squarely down on the skull at the same time. It seemed as if the room itself screamed in agony, and the skull shattered. Purthea fell to her knees and wept at the dust of her mother’s skull.

All was quiet except the sounds of Purthea’s sobs. The clanking of chains was gone as the remains of the rest of Panthea’s body went limp within them, no longer in torment.

Causthea found herself overwhelmed with her own grief, but she had no tears to give. She never had tears, her eyes could not produce them.

The first words were spoken by Domineco. “I shall perform the final blessings.” Purthea’s sobbing increased. With his holy relics Domineco approached the body on the wall. He carefully released the chains and gently lay the headless body on the ground. He began to administer the last prayers.

Suddenly there was a great swirling in the room, Domineco looked up. When he looked down again the body seemed almost fresh and healed. The bone dust and skull fragments near Purthea similarly swirled and formed, but not into a skull, but rather a full head and face with long blonde hair that suddenly connected to the rest of the body.

Panthea, the great Paladin stood before them. “Of all the effrin . . . I didn’t see that coming,” said Thisbe.

“Mother, you live!” wept Purthea with a joy beyond anything she had ever felt. Causthea looked upon her with awe, the beautiful woman she had never seen.

“No, my daughter, I am gone. You have freed my soul to return to the True God. I am with him now and He is pleased with you, with all of you,” she said looking about. “The True God has granted me, us, a great and rare gift. He has given me these last few moments with you to say goodbye.”

“Oh mother!” sobbed Purthea as she rushed into her mother’s arms.

“I am so proud of you, my daughter, and know this. I approve of your oath. Avenge me!” Panthea turned to Causthea, “and now let me hug my daughter I never knew.” Causthea rushed into her arms, the hug was awkward, Causthea was not used to such things, but she felt her mother’s joy in seeing her.

“My time is short,” Panthea said sadly. “To my daughters I confer a command and I also give each a gift. The command is simple. Return my body to the True God’s High Temple. Let it rest in the Hall of Heroes.”

“On my life it shall be done,” knelt Purthea.

“My gift to you, my first daughter, is my swords. They are now fully your’s to command. They will respond to you as they would to me. They will dance at the merest whims of your thought and the full array of their powers will now be known and available to you. In that, my soul is forever bound with your own.”

Panthea turned to Causthea. “My gift to you, the daughter I never knew is to give you now what I could not give you in life. My love, Causthea. You have all the love from me that any mother could give any child. It is there even if you don’t feel it, and it will even be there if there comes a time you do not want it.”

“Mother I . . .” Causthea was not sure what she was going to say, but Panthea interrupted her.

“Perhaps you would have preferred a great spell, or maybe a Staff of Sorcery,” Panthea’s eyes glistened as she laughed, “but you will have to settle for this. Further, I think that in your darkest times, you will find it is your greatest power.”

“Finally, Talon Eagle Friend, I have a message from your God. He too is impressed at your loyalty, a loyalty which impresses even the True God. Know this your God, and the True God are of like mind about your quest.”

Panthea turned to face her daughters again. “Goodbye, my children. I love you.”

With that she sat, and then laid down. Her eyes closed and the breath stopped.

“I shall administer the last prayers,” said Purthea.

“We shall leave you alone,” said Domineco.

“I would appreciate that,” said Purthea. “With one exception. I would ask that my sister stay and witness the ritual.”

“Of course,” said Domineco. He, Talon and Thisbe quietly shuffled out of the room, even the hafling moved to absolute silence. They moved a discreet distance down the corridor and waited, out of earshot of that room.

It was, predictably, Thisbe who finally did break the silence. “Man, this is going to be an awesome story to tell. I wonder if anyone will believe it.”

Chapter 27-Dangerous Exit

It was Thisbe who pointed out that they were in as safe an area as could be imagined to rest. Causthea had futilely exhausted much of her magic and the party’s healing was nearly exhausted. Purthea remained injured from rotting effects that Domineco could not heal, and apparently could only be healed through Paladin powers or similar rare healing effects.

So they settled down for the evening. Purthea’s first quest completed, but now she had a new one, to return her mother’s body for honored internment in the Hall of Heroes. They fashioned a litter for the body, out of various furniture parts they scrounged up about the corridors and empty cells. There was even enough wood from broken furniture to make a fire for their first hot meal in quite sometime.

“How are we getting out of here?” asked Thisbe over dinner. “We can’t go back the way we came in, and the only other way we see is through a vertical hole way up on the ceiling. How do we get up to that carrying . . . um . . . you know.”

“Our mother,” said Purthea. “I don’t know how, but we will find away.”

“We could put her in the Bag of Holding,” suggested Talon. “It’s tight, but I think she will fit.”

“I don’t like that idea,” grumbled Purthea.

“I don’t either,” reasoned Domineco. “But it may be the best solution. After all, it’s the completion of this quest that matters.”

The next day they were healed and rested.

They moved through the barred gates more quickly this time. The technique was now familiar to them, and Purthea was able to now manipulate her swords with incredible ease. It required no concentration at all she reported. They made their way past the now desiccated remains of the fireball casting eye thing and to the platform at the vertical shaft they had come down. The rope remained as it was. Talon climbed up, and then one by one pulled the rest of the party up. They found themselves in the large cavern whose only exit was the vertical shaft directly over the hole they just came out of.

“Well, I suppose someone does the climby spell thing” Thisbe said looking at Talon “and sees what’s up that hole. I suggest Talon makes sure the coast is clear.”

“What coast? Huh?” said Talon.

“It’s a metaphor you big oaf,” Thisbe eyes rolled.

“A meta-what?”

“Okay, okay, Talon has a problem with figures of speech,” said Purthea. “Comes from being raised on a island. In any event I have a better idea.” With that Purthea drew one of her swords, lifted it, and flew up and into the hole above them. Everyone in the startled party leaped in surprise.

“Effrin Abyss of all the baked stews,” shouted Thisbe.

“How the Abyss did you do that?” shouted Talon.

Purthea appeared again, swooping down to join them. “A power of my swords I can now use. Give me the rope.” She said grabbing it from Talon and swooping back up through the hole with it, as Talon’s jaw just hung slack. Soon the end of the rope came back down. “Okay Talon, pull yourself up” shouted Purthea from above. Mumbling something under his breath about birds, Talon did as asked.

Arriving at the hole Talon saw the answer to their problems. The shaft was ringed with a stairway, spiraling up as it wound around the edge of the vertical tunnel. It was narrow but they should be able to climb it easily enough in single file. “You haul the rest of them up here. I’m going to see what’s up there,” said Purthea flying up the middle of the shaft.

“Hey wait” shouted Talon, but she disappeared into the dark. Talon had nothing to do but what she suggested. Domineco came last and it was just as he reached the stairway that Purthea returned. “It’s a hike,” she said, “but the shaft ends about 500 vertical feet up, in a tunnel.”

“Great,” said Causthea caustically, “but no more Lone Rangering it, you’re not a ranger.”

They moved slowly up the stairway, Purthea insisted on taking the lead. They encountered nothing along the way reaching the top. A large tunnel led away, with a waft of fresh air coming in. “I think it’s our lucky day,” said Thisbe.

The tunnel bent gently to the right and before straightening. About 150 feet ahead was glorious sunlight. Yet, they paused. Those hairs on Talon’s neck stood on edge. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he said.

“Me too” said Purthea. Suddenly a shadow seemed to fall over the entrance. They all reflexively stepped back around the bend.

* * *

Temir flew in a lazy circle over the caldera. Her mother’s old lair was a long extinct volcano, which explained the many large tunnels and chambers that her mother had found so convenient. Temir did not know the full story of the abandoning of this site, it was an obvious sore point for his mother, Inyria. She had sent Temir here. Inyria had sensed that one of her ‘toys’ that had been left behind had been moved. She had told Temir to see what, or who, was in her old demesnes and report back to her.

The main entrance was at the base of the caldera. There was plenty of room to land, that had been true even for Temir’s mother. Temir landed gently, something she was proud of. Soft landings were quite the art and she had mastered it well, better than most adolescent dragons, such as herself.

She had also landed perfectly before the 30 feet wide and tall entrance. Just big enough to accommodate her substantial bulk, which was probably one reason mother had chosen her for this mission. She sniffed at the entrance and . . . there was definitely the odor of humans in the air. Temir well knew this was wrong. The only thing that should be moving inside the old lair should be dead, and that smelled very different from the slight scent of something very . . . tasty.

What an incredible stroke of luck. Whatever had alerted her mother was on the way out. Temir need only wait for them, she could definitely smell more than one, and as they exited breathe on the entire group. Temir would be able to report back that she had killed the intruders. Mother would be pleased.

Temir moved to the side of the entrance, awaiting a chance to surprise the intruders within.

* * *

“Something’s out there,” whispered Talon. “I just know it.”

“There sure as Abyss is,” said Thisbe even more quietly. Thisbe peered around the bend, “but whatever was making that shadow, it isn’t there anymore.”

“That’s even worse,” said Purthea. “Whatever it is knows we are here and is hiding from us. Hoping to ambush us.”

“I’d sure like to know what it is before we go traipsing out into its trap,” murmured Thisbe.

“I think I can help with that,” said Talon. “There’s no reason for Aerie to stay where she’s been. I’ll see if he can’t discreetly go look.”

Talon closed his eyes and focused. Aerie didn’t know exactly where they were, but Talon had a general sense of Aerie’s direction from them and he figured Aerie did for him too. Aerie flew up, to a high altitude. Through Aerie’s eyes Talon could see that the top of the mountain was a big bowl. Along one side of that bowl something big seemed to be waiting. It was fortunate that Aerie’s sharp vision was able identify the monster at a distance.

“It’s an effrin dragon,” Talon whispered hoarsely.

“A dragon!” squeaked Thisbe. “My granddad, and Aunt, said ‘the only way you want to see a dragon is to not see a dragon.’”

“How big is it?” asked Domineco.

“I don’t know, about double the size of that hill giant we ran from,” answered Talon.

“Oh, it’s not but a young dragon,” said Domineco.

“Abyss of worms,” whispered Thisbe. “Does it matter how old it is? Look, we gotta go back. Maybe figure out how to get past those eleventy billion Minotaur skeletons. We can’t fight no dragon.”

“I believe we can,” said Purthea. “Further, I believe I will. I’m willing to bet this dragon is related to the object of our ultimate quest. I have sworn to avenge my mother. I shall start today.”

“We need a plan,” said Talon. “Didn’t you guys say dragons can breathe like fire and stuff.”

“If this dragon is what I think it is then it will breathe acid,” said Purthea.

“Well it looks to me like the dragon has set himself up so he can breathe on all of us as we exit the tunnel.”

“I can’t believe we are talking about this,” muttered Thisbe.

“I think I have a plan,” said Causthea turning herself invisible. They all listened. Purthea was skeptical but in the end conceded it might be the best shot. Though it seemed like her little sister was taking an Abyss of a chance.

Causthea moved quietly down the tunnel. As the rest of the party moved as quiet as they could behind her, Causthea dropping stones to mark her location. A larger stone was the signal for them stop as Causthea stepped out of the mouth of the tunnel.

Causthea could see the dragon’s head now, lurking to the side. She hardly breathed as she moved into the sunlight, blinking at its brightness. Her Tiefling nature blessed her with being able to move quietly, if she worked at it, and she was working at it harder now than she ever had. The thing’s pie plate size nostril’s flared. “There’s no controlling for smell,” thought Causthea, as she continued to move around to get behind.

* * *

Temir smelled them getting closer, the scents grew stronger. One became particularly strong, and it was odd. Familiar to her in a very strange way, and very different from the other scents. She moved her snout trying to orientate on it. Something else was wrong. The smell, it was coming from . . . behind her. Temir turned her head, just as she heard the chanting of the spell and a fireball erupted around her. Appearing before her was a sort of half human female, clearly a sorceress, and one with some power. The fire burned her but did not come close to killing Temir. Dragons were made of sterner stuff than to be killed by one fireball, even one enhanced by sorcery. Still, this was a threat, Temir knew she must make killing it a priority.

* * *

From just inside the tunnel Purthea saw the fireball erupt around the dragon, and knew that was the signal to act and act fast. They must get the dragon to focus on them, and not her sister. She and Talon raced out of the tunnel, Purthea sending her swords flying in front of her to strike first and distract the dragon. As they exited she saw they were not fast enough. A thick stream of acid erupted from the dragon’s mouth and struck Causthea squarely, who did not even seem to try to dodge it.

“No!!” shouted Purthea, but as the stream cleared, there stood Causthea, totally uninjured, even as acid dripped off her body, striking the ground in steaming, bubbling pools. Causthea seemed to smile as she pointed her finger again, this time unleashing a lightening bolt. The dragon seemed to partially dodge the effects, but once again took significant damage.

The dragon realized its breath was useless against this strange creature, but knew there was no immunity to bite and claw. Quickly, she struck at strange look female. Temir felt satisfaction knowing her bite struck to maximum effect, sinking deep into her. Both claws successfully raked and it was clear the sorceress was done for. These were mortal wounds, even though Temir sensed the acid in his bite had no effect. Then even as Temir reared back the death dealing wounds simply healed. Temir realized she was in trouble. This party had the ability to heal, and from a remote distance.

It was then that Purthea’s first sword struck Temir, dancing at incredible speeds and striking as if Purthea was holding it and cutting into the dragon twice. Talon was next, seeming to have closed the distance with supernatural speed, as he had summoned the beserker within him. Twice his huge sword swung before the dragon could act. The sword that had been specially made to slay evil dragons at last had one to kill. His first swing just missed the sinewy neck, but the second struck cutting deep into the body. “For my mother!” shouted Talon.

Finally came Purthea wielding the second sword in her hand (using the healing power of the sword required that she hold it) and she once again struck twice.

Temir was near death and realized she had but one chance. The female fighter, a Paladin by all appearances, seemed to be the source of the healing. She would unleash her full range of attacks on it.

Talon watched as the stream of acid struck Purthea, even as the monster quickly followed with bite and claw. Purthea seemed to dodge the worst of the acid, but it put her in a worse position preventing her from dodging the bite. The dragon might have finished her off, but the two claw attacks failed against her armor and Domineco quickly touched Purthea with a prayer of healing. Talon didn’t want to give this thing another chance. Neither did Causthea.

Talon missed once, but not twice, “for my father!” he shouted as his sword struck deep again. Magic Missiles stuck the monster from Causthea, and with a heaving last breath it died.

“We did it!” shouted Thisbe. “I knew we could!”

Chapter 28-Honors

It took about an hour for them to hike out of the caldera and it was early afternoon when they got a magnificent view from the top of the mountain. “Let’s keep moving,” said Purthea, “we should put as much distance as we can from this place.”

It was Talon, with his sharpening eyes that saw it first. It looked like a streak of fire flying through sky, and headed towards them. “What in the effrin . . . ?” said Thisbe.

“Everyone prepare!” shouted Purthea, “We’ve been found.”

“I dunno,” said Talon. “For once I got a good feeling about this.”

They could only watch as it rapidly approached. A massive chariot pulled by a half dozen fiery horses. On board, controlling the whole thing was Vis.

“Well, I’ll be a unicorn’s Aunt,” said Thisbe jaw dropping.

It landed, the flaming horses appearing completely tame and calm. Vis stepped out of the chariot. He approached Purthea, and bowing simply said, “your mother’s body.”

Purthea was flustered, “it . . . she’s in the bag of holding. That was the only way we could move with her.”

“Of course,” said Vis. “One makes way as one must in the dungeon and wilderness, but it is time for your mother to return to the True God’s Church with the honor she earned.” The chariot included a large and ornate coffin. Panthea’s body was carefully removed from the bag of holding, looking calm and as pristine as if she still lived, and placed inside. Together Vis, Purthea and Causthea somberly placed the lid on top.

There remained plenty of room on chariot for all. With a snap of the reigns it leaped into the air. The countryside raced below them, the thing moved at incredible speed. In just a couple of hours the city of New Gont came into sight. Central to it was the great Temple to the True God, its golden dome visible for miles.

Vis set the chariot down just outside the wide moat leading to the Temple. Panthea’s coffin was transferred to a separate ornate chariot drawn by a single gleaming white war horse. Purthea recognized it as the horse Vis rode into their camp on, seemingly forever ago. Paladins lined the bridge leading to the temple, on their knees with their swords raised in final tribute.

The chariot moved slowly across the bridge. Causthea held back. Vis asked why. “I am not of the faith,” she answered. “I know the rules of The Temple. I am not permitted to enter.”

“Causthea, daughter of Panthea, today you may enter. As may you Talon Eagle Friend, our two God’s appreciate your service.”

The procession moved on, leaving only Thisbe behind.

On the gold dome of the True Church the great dragon, Charlie, slept. He had not moved in years. In bars about the city bets were frequently placed on whether he was even still alive. However, now an eye opened. And then another. The dragon, once a man and once a member of Panthea’s famous party, awoke. He stood on this hind legs atop the great dome and trumpeted his own fierce honors to his fallen comrade. As the chariot moved across the bridge gasps from the crowd signaled that many bets would be collected this night. Charlie leaped into the air and with a flap of his huge wings flew over procession, flame spewing from his mouth, lighting the sky with dramatic draconic fireworks. As the procession moved into the Temple Charlie settled back down on the dome, curling up, and slept once more, dreaming of adventures from long ago.

The procession entered the High Temple and travelled through the wide hallways to the Hall of Heroes, as they passed clerics took to a knee in honor for one of the great Paladins in the history of the True Church. A pedestal for the coffin had already been prepared. The High Priest of the True Church himself was there to administer the Last Honors.

Panthea’s coffin was reverently placed on the pedestal. The High Priest said the Final Prayers. He closed with, “She remains in service to the True God, simply no longer with us.”

The crowd began to leave, each approaching the coffin and touching it once, the ritual of the last farewell. They filed out. The last was the High Priest, performing the last touch ritual no differently than any other. Talon stepped forward, and awkwardly executed the ritual, silently leaving as the others had.

Only Purthea, Causthea, and Vis remained. Vis, turned to them, “custom holds that the family stays to grieve. You have had little chance to grieve until now. The two of you may take all the time you wish.” He turned to go.

“Wait,” said Purthea. “You said the custom holds that family stays to grieve. You too are her family. Stay with us, Vis, and grieve our mother.”

Vis, looked visibly shaken. “Of course . . . thank you,” was all he said.

Chapter 29-An Unexpected Talk

Three weeks later Causthea was pleased with herself. She had deciphered all of the beholder’s spellbook, and learned all there was to learn from it. She was surprised at how easy it was becoming for her to learn new spells, powerful new spells. She had also learned the secrets of the rod found in the Wizard’s room. It was a rod of absorption and storing. Spells absorbed within its gems could be cast back out on command. She had learned to cast spells, taking a good amount of time, from the beholder’s book without destroying any pages of the book. Some of the spells were well beyond her usual powers, but now she would have access to them by casting them and storing them in the rod.

Some of her secrets had been revealed to her sister, such as her immunity to acid, but not all. Causthea stood in front of a large full length mirror, and removed her robes. She stretched her growing, and increasingly uncomfortable to conceal, wings. Releasing them now was such a relief. She flapped them feeling herself lighten. She could not yet fly, but felt that was eventually inevitable. The wings stretching two feet to either side of her had been mere buds when they had left for the Dragon Witch’s old lair.

They had killed one of her children, this murderous beast who called herself Inyria. She laughed at the joy of that accomplishment. The new powers coming to her would soon make her able to kill such a beast by herself.

She looked at that mirror again, recently installed to conceal another secret, one her sister would never know. She opened the mirror, it looked like the same wall as the rest of the room behind it. She knew better, another bit of magic that was a gift from the beholder. She stepped through the wall, as only she could, into a secret extra-dimensional space. Her inner sanctum. A private room none could find. The beholder’s book was there, laying openly on a shelf. In this room there was no need to hide it anymore than it already was. Shelves with various spell components laid about, to include one jar containing several beholder eyes.

A small table held what she came for. The crystal orb found within the Rocktopus. She had bought a dragon’s claw, a black dragon’s claw, at a novelty store and placed the ball on its half open palm. It seemed appropriate. She had recently concluded her studies on such orbs. She believed she understood now what she must do to discover its powers and tap into whatever connections to higher planes it might have.

She sat at the stool next to the small table. Closing her eyes she cleared her mind, breathing regularly and shallowly. When her mind was cleared of all other thoughts she opened her eyes, turning her complete focus on the orb. It began to swirl as if the complete darkness in it moved.

She felt a presence that seemed both familiar and foreign. The swirling began to take form, slowly coalescing into something recognizable. The shape was of a giant, inhuman head, the head of an enormous lizard . . . that of a dragon.

Suddenly it seemed that the shape became aware of her. The face turned to stare back at her. The reptilian lips curled in a grotesque mockery of a human smile, and it spoke.

“Well hello . . . daughter.”

Chapter 30-The Lesson (Part 1)

Six year old Causthea’s probing black eyes stared deeply into her tutor’s, too deeply for Domineco’s comfort. This child was incredibly precocious. She had learned to read normal letters, seeming to almost teach herself, at not quite two years of age. Four years since learning to read she was now a freakishly deep minded child whose questions could give even a seasoned cleric pause. Domineco was in such a pause.

“So just what does make the True God good and the Dark Lord bad,” she repeated the question with a patience suggesting an adult questioning a child. At this age her ears were only a bit pointed, and skin more spreckled with bright flakes, than the brilliant quasi-scales they would become as a teen.

Domineco had paused because he already knew the standard answer he would give a six year old would not work with this six year old. He would have to answer this child as he would an adult. “The Dark Lord advances evil causing harm to man, while the True God advances causes to the good and to the benefit of man.”

“That’s a circular answer,” she replied rolling her eyes.

“So it is,” agreed Domineco, “but it sets up what is next. You see, Causthea, have you given thought as to why the Dark Lord does bad and True God good?”

“No, I thought it best to ask you, after all you are an expert, are you not?”

She is a impudent one, Domineco thought, but she can back it up. “The True God wishes for us to do good but allows us all to decide. It’s called free will. The Dark Lord seeks to compel us all to do His evil bidding. With the Dark Lord there is no free will, only blind service and obedience to Him. His servants killed your mother and your father because they defied His rule.”

Causthea paused, seeming to consider, “So do I have free will?”

“Of course, my dear” he answered.

“I can do what I want, be want I want?”

“Well of course, and I know you have great potential.”

She smiled like an adult springing a rhetorical trap. “Then I want to learn magic.”

“Learning magic is hard,” Domineco believed himself prepared for this argument. “First you have to learn to read magic.”

“Then teach me how to read magic, I would love to start now,” was her immediate response.

Domineco pursed his lips, considering the six year old’s demand. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to call her bluff. “Very well,” he said smiling. He stood up and walked to a cabinet, producing his teacher’s key he unlocked it and removed a scroll. Unravelling it as he returned to his seat and table he set it down and weighted each corner with small stones set there for that purpose. “Here you go.”

Her deep black eyes studied the page intensely. She nodded her head. “So what kind of magic is this?”

Domineco smiled, finally something this child didn’t already know. “It is a spell to heal those who have been hurt.”

She tapped a rune, “this is a symbol for the True God.” It was not a question.

“Yes,” said Domineco, a bit surprised she knew this but surmising she deduced it from symbols around the High Temple.

She studied the scroll some more. “This is a nothing more than a prayer to the True God. It is not real magic, the true magic of power. That is the magic I want to learn, that is the magic I know I must learn to defeat the Dark Lord’s servant who killed my mother and my father. Can you teach me that magic?”

How had she known all that about the scroll? With a heavy sigh Domineco said, “no sweetheart, I can’t. I don’t know that kind of magic, but I assure you the magic of prayer to the True God is as powerful as any.”

She actually snorted, “even if it is, it is not for me. I can learn, and I must learn, the other magics. I feel it in me.” She said this and Domineco shivered at the intensity behind the words, and he feared the origins of those feelings within her she described. After only a brief pause she continued, “if you can’t teach me, can you find one who can?”

Domineco considered before answering, but there was only one answer. “No, any who could teach you would say you are too young. They would be right. You are too young.”

“Then I shall teach myself,” she replied with the matter of factness of a determined six year old. “Is this lesson over? I would like to get started.”

“I guess it is,” sighed Domineco, “but I really don’t see how you can . . .”

“Thank you,” she interrupted as she stood up and walked out of the room.

Domineco chuckled to himself while admiring the kid’s spunk. Nobody could teach themselves sorcery, that was simply impossible.

Chapter 31-The Lesson (Part 2)

“Well hello . . . daughter.” The last word reverberated in Causthea’s brain. It was Caustica, the Dragon Witch who killed her parents, the one the undead Beholder called “Inyria.” There was no doubt about it. This was no fake, no illusion, no subterfuge. Causthea could feel the power, and the majesty of this great creature. It was overwhelming, so overwhelming she marveled that she ever considered resisting something so powerfully beyond human understanding. Everything about humans, from intellect, to magic, to their role in the universe, suddenly seemed so very small by comparison. The always confident, and arrogant to a fault, young woman suddenly felt so small that Causthea nearly succumbed to the mind blowing exalted nobility of the creature.

Reflexively she started to kneel . . . but not quite would this monster take her mind so easily.

She stood, “I am not your daughter,” spat Causthea. “You are not my mother. You killed my mother, and my father.” She paused, the hate welling within her. Her next words came very slowly and deliberately. “And I am going to kill you.”

“Come now,” the dragon seemed to almost subtly purr, “this is not how it should be between us, you know you become more like me each day.” Those last words last words made Causthea shiver, and involuntarily twitch her wings, a response that Inyria sensed and Inyria felt the satisfaction of Causthea knowing what she said is true. “I saw you battle my daughter, who I named Temir. I was very impressed and I hold no grudge against you. You earned that victory!”

The dragon paused, as if to let a trembling Causthea process that before continuing. “You never knew that True God obsessed woman you now call mother. I did not kill her, she took her own life. She is a woman you never met, a woman you never knew. It was I who succored and nursed you. It was I who saved you when your so-called ‘mother’ tried to end your life by taking her own. It is I who has forgiven you for the death of my own daughter. You should be more grateful, my daughter.”

Those last two words burned like acid on Causthea’s brain. “You are wrong!” shouted Causthea in a silent mental scream. “I did meet my mother, a meeting I remember well.” The memories flooded into Causthea, calming her.

Causthea could feel Inyria’s frown more than she could see it, as she realized that in remembering that one True God gifted meeting with her dead mother that the dragon sensed at least the impressions of those memories too.

“I did not foresee this,” said Inyria with a disapproving tone that almost succeeded in making Causthea feel guilty, “but it matters not,” said the dragon with that kind and gentle purr almost returning to its ‘voice.’ “Surely you feel the connection we have, a connection you never felt with or about this woman you absurdly call ‘mother.’”

Causthea knew the monster was right, but tried to conceal that feeling, before realizing the creature had already perceived both the feeling and her effort to hide it. She began concentrating harder to communicate only what she wanted Inyria to hear. She needed to buy time.

“What do you want?” Causthea hissed.

“Only what every mother wants,” responded Inyria with what seemed genuine affection, “the love of my child. You were cruelly taken from me but I can still give you your greatest desire.”

“What is that?” Causthea believed she gave the dragon only that question, and not the deeper plan she focused inwardly on. Let the monster believe she was interested in what it had to say.

“Power, of course. You want to be the most powerful sorceress in the world, no that’s not quite true. You want to be the most powerful sorceress who ever lived! I know this. I know it is in your blood. I helped put it there, and I did more.”

“What more did you do?” Causthea was close she only needed to stall a moment longer. The effort to keep her focus segregated was exhausting her, but she was almost there.

“I made it possible!” the dragon witch cackled with glee. “I changed you so that you can be the most powerful sorceress that ever lived. Let me tell you what I can unlock within you. With me you shall be more than the greatest sorceress that ever lived. I shall be your patron, granting you the unique spells and powers of warlocks. I shall be your mentor and do the same for you with gifts of wizardry. Finally, I can give you access to a kind of magic unknown to any of human kind. Dragon Magic! The oldest and most powerful magic of all. You need only accept me, so that I may be your patron, your mentor, and the only true mother you ever had. Come to me my daughter! Together we can bring down the entire True Church, challenge the God’s themselves, and rule this world.”

Something within her felt that pull of that suggestion, a pull so powerful that she nearly lost the focus she needed. The distraction of wondering about Dragon Magic, which she had never heard of before, nearly doomed her. Causthea stumbled a bit in the answer, but pulled herself together and managed to say, “I think not today.”

Causthea then let loose the spell she had managed to furtively prepare. A spell of her own, unique creation and therefore hopefully unfamiliar to the dragon witch. As spells go it was not all that powerful, but it was tailored for this one purpose, to follow the magical connection between these two crystal balls to their source, to pinpoint exactly where Inyria was. Secrecy was the key to her survival. Causthea hoped to end that.

The spell worked, its custom nature catching Inyria by surprise. Almost instantly the spell followed the magical trail to another crystal ball. With frustration Causthea realized that crystal ball was not where Inyria was. She was relaying all of this through an intermediary device. “Damn!” she reflexively thought as she attempted to reroute the spell into pursuing through that unexpected device.

That frustrated expression doomed the effort. Inyria sensed it, and gained some understanding of what happened. She sent one last quick message, and cut the connection. There was no longer a lead to follow.

Back in her lair Inyria brooded. The discussion had not gone as expected, and the surprise that Causthea was creating her own spells, unfamiliar to even Inyria, was a significant development. “She has true power,” she thought objectively. “Power that comes from being self taught from the beginning. She understands the building blocks of sorcery better than any sorcerer alive today.”

She thought long on the matter, “even better when she comes to me. With her and those blocks under my control, anything is possible.” She summoned one of her servants. “I feel quite content this evening,” she told it, “but I am hungry. I feel like something special. Please bring me a virgin.”

In her own hidden sanctum Causthea allowed a shriek of frustration. She had received that one last message before the connection broke: “In the end, you will come to me.”

“The Abyss I will!” screamed Causthea. As she worked to calm herself she did not notice her wings twitching.

Chapter 32-An Introduction

About two hours later Talon sat with Thisbe carefully sipping his small thin stemmed glass of dragonwine at The Happy Dragon Bar & Inn. Talon had learned much of late, not the least of which was to sip dragonwine. He found, to his surprise, that one got more taste out of it that way, with the savoring of each potent drop. Speaking of more learning, Purthea had begun to introduce him to the strange ways of letters and how they had meaning. Talon found that difficult, but he certainly liked Purthea’s teaching of it.

This seeming magic of random symbols combining to make words and sentences was the subject of his current conversation with Thisbe. “It seems to me all writings must be true” said Talon, “who would go through the trouble to write down nothing but lies?”

Thisbe might be small but he could roll his eyes like a giant. “Talon, there are entire books that do nothing but tell made up stories.”

Talon gave his friend a befuddled look, “why?”

“To entertain you big barbarian berserker oaf. For fun. Heck I read this one book where this guy, a warrior named Strongarm, or something like that, who obviously never really existed, built this huge tall machine that took him to the Moon and back . . . must have been a heck of gnome,” mused Thisbe.

“You are pulling my scabbard, nobody could go to the Moon in a huge machine.” Talon was not as good at rolling his eyes, but he gave it a try.

“That’s the whole point” cried Thisbe, “it’s fiction, it’s a story, you read it to have fun.”

Talon laughed, “C’mon my little man, reading is way too hard for anyone to do it for fun.” Talon paused, “by the way, is it just the dragonwine, or are you looking a little more . . . um . . . feminine lately?”

“Like I told you in the cave haflings are . . .”

That’s when someone bumped Talon from behind, and hard causing Talon to spill his remaining dragonwine. Talon sensed right away that it had to be deliberate. Even as Talon turned to see who assaulted him a loud, young voice, boomed “I challenge you to combat in the pit!”

It was a young man, he looked a bit younger than Talon, broad shoulders, rugged features. Dressed in animal skins . . . the look seemed oddly familiar. “What is your problem?” Talon managed to get out before the man shouted again, “I said I challenge you to combat in the pit!!”

It was then the man with the beer stained apron, who Talon recognized as the proprietor, suddenly appeared. Talon could tell the proprietor recognized him, but he simply asked, “this man has challenged you to combat in the pit, do you accept? You are free to reject the challenge and leave the bar.”

“Well I . . . why should I have to leave? I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Do you accept?” he asked again. There were cries in the crowd of “don’t back down” and “let’s see what you got.”

Talon looked at the young man challenging him. Grim determination was on his face, and his hand was on his sword. He had the look of a man who would follow Talon out of the bar to fight him if he did not accept the challenge.

“Might as well get it over with,” mumbled Talon. “I accept.”

“The parties have accepted combat in The Pit.” The proprietor looked at both Talon and the man before saying “What is your combat to?”

“To death . . . or first yield,” said the man grimly. Talon simply nodded. He noticed Thisbe placing a bet and wondered who he was betting on this time.

Talon was sober this time and no longer regarded ladders a mystery, he slid down his with ease. The young man seemed more cautious but certainly did not appear drunk. They faced each other and drew swords, the man’s eyes widened as he saw how enormous Talon’s sword was and the ease with which Talon held it. “There’s still time to stop . . .” Talon started to say, when the man suddenly leaped forward and struck.

He clearly intended it to be a deadly blow, but Talon was experienced in swordplay now, and this man seemed only barely so. Even caught a bit by surprise Talon was able to parry a blow the man had telegraphed his full commitment to. Talon spun, knocking the man off balance with a shove from his gauntlet enhanced strength, and swung his own mighty blow, not aiming for the man, but rather his longsword. He struck it solidly, near the base, just as intended. The blade of the man’s sword shattered and the hilt dropped from his stunned and numb hand.

Clearly bewildered at the turn of events the confused man reflexively bent over to pick up his dropped hilt. Talon swung his double fists down on the man’s back, and the man collapsed, the air leaving his lungs as he gasped to recover. Talon quickly placed the point of his massive blade at the man’s throat. His sword’s width was nearly half as wide as the man’s shoulders.

“Do you yield?”

The man paused, gasping for breath, when he spoke he shook his head. “No, I yield not. My life is forfeit take it.”

“Son . . . why?” asked Talon as cries of “finish him” came from the crowd above.

Rather than answer, the man said, “tell my father I did my best. That’s all I ask, tell him I tried.”

Talon knew the rules of the bar required him to kill this man if he refused to yield. But he could at least honor this last request. “Tell me your name that I may find your father and let him know you died at my hand.”

“I am Darkmoon, son of Gedder.”

The names struck Talon like a boulder tossed by a stone giant. He staggered as the memories came back to him. He stepped away from the man, dropped his sword, knelt down and said, “I yield.”

Groans came from the crowd, but above them all Talon could hear Thisbe’s higher than normal pitched voice wailing, “Are you effrin kidding me??!!”

Chapter 33-A Talk

The three of them sat around a table in the same meeting room where a passed out drunk Talon required a cleric’s powers to revive him enough to tell his story. That seemed like forever ago to Talon. So much had happened. But in this room now, nothing was happening. Talon and Darkmoon stared across the table at each other, sharing only an awkward silence.

Thisbe broke the ice as only Thisbe could do. “This room cost us about what I lost betting on Talon, so you guys should really use it for something.”

Talon looked hard at Darkmoon’s eyes, but he saw only sadness. Which seemed odd since only a few minutes earlier he was literally on the pointed edge of certain death. “Why? Why did you challenge me?”

Darkmoon’s eyes looked away, there were tears in them. He could not face Talon. He struggled to find words. “I . . . my . . . I mean . . . I needed a cleric, for my mother. She is sick and must have healing. My tribe . . . it . . . we don’t accept such . . . magic.” He said the last word with disdain. “My father, he is different from some of our people, would accept . . . do anything to save his wife. He . . . he loves her very much.”

Talon knew this tribe. It had been his own. “How would fighting me get you a cleric?” he asked gently.

“I sought to buy a cleric, one of the neutrals. But I had little money, I bet all I had that I would beat you in the pit. Still don’t have much” he grumbled.

“Why did you pick me for the challenge?”

“I . . . I . . . because . . . I don’t know. It was just a feeling. I took the feeling as an omen that I would defeat you.” Finally Darkmoon looked at Talon, their eyes meeting. “Why did you yield to me, why did you let me win?”

“Yeah, I’m kind of wondering that myself,” said a clearly irritated Thisbe.

Talon reached into his magic bag and withdrew the dagger. The dagger given to him, in violation of the strict rules of the man’s tribe, when Talon was marooned on that island. The dagger that had allowed him to survive long enough to meet Colbar, and receive Aerie as His gift. The dagger that kept him from falling into the abyss of starvation. It had once been dull and rusting. Since returning from his first quest Talon had it professionally sharpened and magically enhanced to never lose its edge again. “Do you recognize this?”

Darkmoon’s eyes widened. “I . . . I recognize our family crest in the hilt. How did you come by this?”

“Your father defied your tribe and gave it me when I was left exiled from our tribe on an island. He did that even though my crime was stealing from him. When he left it for me your father said it might give me a chance to survive. It did. I owe your father my life, and I know where to find someone who can heal your mother.”

“But I tried to kill you.”

“But you didn’t. In desperation I was a thief, in desperation you sought to kill me. I have things I have had to ask forgiveness for, I once tried to kill my best friend.” Talon watched as Darkmoon raised an eyebrow that suggested he wanted to hear more, but Talon offered none. Instead he moved on. “Where is the tribe now?”

“About five days journey, West of here on the plains just North of GontPort.” he answered.

“I suggest we leave the day after tomorrow.”

“How can I thank you?” Darkmoon was choking with emotion.

“You can thank me by allowing me the honor of returning this dagger to your father.”

Chapter 34-Another Talk

“Let me get this straight” said a clearly irritated Causthea to her big sister. Causthea was irritated on many levels. The failure of her spell to locate Inyria, partially the fault of her own lack of control, irritated her. Then just a few hours later her sister insistently knocked on the door forcing her to hurriedly hide her wings under an increasingly awkward cloak.

Causthea continued, “you want us, me included, to go on a quest to return a meaningless knife to a barbarian? This may be the most lame quest in history, one certainly not worthy of the daughter of The Lord of Paladins, the wielder of Panthea’s great swords, and wearer of Jacob’s Armor.”

Purthea shifted uncomfortably on her feet. Her little sister’s words sounded true, too true, even to her. “The knife is not meaningless to Talon, and this is important to him. He says he will go regardless.”

“Then let him.” Causthea’s reply seemed uncharacteristically cold to Purthea. “I have my studies. I always have my studies.” To make the point Causthea moved to open a book, though she knew it was not really true. She had exhausted what she could learn from her books and scrolls for now. She needed more. More books, more scrolls, and more experience that brought with it more power. She had gained a sense now at how powerful her nemesis is, and how inadequate her own capabilities against that dragon currently are.

Purthea shook her head, the blond hair swirling. She was not in her armor now and the golden tunic she wore accentuated her striking beauty. “Talon remains . . . um . . . naive. We should not allow him to blunder about the wilderness without us to guide him, especially that part of the wilderness.”

Causthea smiled, she suspected other reasons for Purthea’s protective mood for Talon. She considered referring to that, but instead sighed, “and where in the wilderness is this?”

“On the great plains to the West, just North of GontPort. It won’t take long and you can be back to your studies within a fortnight.”

Causthea took in a sharp breath. The coincidence seemed impossible. Just North of GontPort is where her spell had traced the decoy crystal ball Inyria had spoke to her through. She had been looking for an excuse, even a lie, to convince her sister to go there. Now her sister had brought it right to her. She tried to look nonchalant as she shrugged her shoulders and sighed, “when do we leave?”

“Tomorrow, I know it’s short notice but Talon wanted to . . .”

“That will be perfect,” said Causthea flatly.

After some brief discussion of plans Purthea left thinking that certainly went easier than she had expected.

Causthea returned to her sanctum to prepare spells for the trip, thinking “these damn wings are becoming a nuisance.”

Chapter 35-The Band

“Looking at this place creeps me out,” said Thisbe, with a cracking voice.

“Yeah, me too,” admitted Talon. Though it seemed a nondescript cottage, with unkempt weedy gardens, it nonetheless had a foreboding feel to it. Talon could tell that even Aerie, sitting on his broad shoulders, was uncomfortable with the feel of the place.

“This is the home of the wizard you told me about?” asked Darkmoon.

“She’s a sorceress, don’t call her a wizard,” said Thisbe. “She won’t like that.”

“The one they say is a Tiefling?” continued Darkmoon, craning his neck to see more of the home. “Or a demon, or dragonspawn?”

“Don’t call her any of those things either,” urged Talon.

“If I were you, I would also pretend to not notice how she looks,” volunteered Thisbe. “Things could get . . . um . . . awkward if you do. She might even turn you into toad, or something worse.”

“Can she do that?” Darkmoon seemed incredulous.

“Oh yes,” replied Thisbe. “Why I myself was taller than Talon before I made a comment about her skin reminding me of something I’d seen at the fish market.”

Darkmoon’s jaw dropped. He looked at Thisbe and Talon, though Talon seemed be trying to turn around and his chest was shaking oddly. “She’s a . . . a . . . fish, or fish lady?”

With that Thisbe and Talon both lost it succumbing to howls of laughter.

“I see you two are still causing trouble,” came Purthea’s stern voice from behind them. Thisbe and Talon turned to see her and Domineco walking calmly towards them.

Darkmoon’s draw dropped lower. The vision approaching him was beyond anything he had seen or imagined before. Purthea was the striking figure of a noble Paladin. The gleaming armor of her father’s now fully repaired magical and mythral armor, emblazoned with the True God’s symbol, created an air of majesty and awe about her by itself. On either hip she wore a pair longswords that Darkmoon sensed had unimaginable power, at least to his mind. The armor could not hide that she was also a beautiful and striking woman. Darkmoon felt compelled to kneel before her, and his knee just started to bend slightly when the hafling suddenly irreverently said, “nice outfit, does it chaff?”

Purthea gave Thisbe an irritated look before rolling her eyes. Returning to business she said, “where is my sister?”

“She hasn’t come out yet,” said Thisbe.

“We were trying to work up the nerve to knock,” said Talon sheepishly.

“Oh for Abyss sake, just go ahead and knock,” said Purthea turning towards the home.

“That won’t be necessary,” came the voice from inside as the door seemed to open without being touched. “I was simply double checking my spell components. I didn’t want to forget the one for turning a person into a toad,” she said opening her cupped palm to reveal a small toad which hopped into the weeds.

Thisbe and Talon stared at each other, “how did she . . .” Thisbe whispered to Talon.

“I don’t know” Talon whispered back.

From the perspective of a terrified Darkmoon, Causthea seemed to magically glide towards the party, carrying a small, very ornate jewel encrusted staff, she stopped in front of Darkmoon and stared right at him. “So this is the originator of our quest?”

“Yes,” said Talon.

“Can he speak?” she said in a silky voice while continuing to stare deeply at Darkmoon.

Darkmoon thought that stare would pierce his soul. He tried to think to answer, but the bizarre, almost scaly, vision in front of him had him completely flustered. She smiled at him, were those . . . fangs? His mouth moved, but no words came out.

“You shouldn’t do that, it makes you look like a fish,” she said as if that were a completely normal thing to say.

There was an awkward silence as Darkmoon still had no words. Then Thisbe’s high laughter cut through the moment as Thisbe said, “well, it looks like the band is back together.”

“Band, what band?” said a befuddled Talon.

Thisbe’s eyes rolled, “it’s a hafling expression, a turn of phrase, a play on words.”

“It means we are all met,” said Domineco.

“The Sun’s travels will not wait for us,” said Purthea. “We should begin.”

“I agree sister” said Causthea moving to her. “We should begin.”

With that bizarre creature no longer staring at him Darkmoon recovered slightly and began to shuffle along with the others.

“Don’t worry,” said Thisbe whispering to him. “Once you get to know her she’s . . . well okay . . . she’s pretty much like this all the time. But she won’t bite you. Well, at least I don’t think she will. I’ve never seen her bite anyone, at least yet. And remember, I’m the one that first made the crack about the fish market.”

About 20 minutes later they moved outside the city gates, Talon launched Aerie to scout the area ahead. They were officially in the wilderness, and adventuring. “This should be easy,” thought Talon.

Chapter 36-The Hammer & The Anvil

As soon as they left the protection of the city Purthea directed the party into its “battle order.” They travelled in two columns. Purthea and Talon up front, Causthea and Domineco in the middle, while Thisbe and Darkmoon took up the rear. Their path West quickly took them off the comparative safety of the road and into lightly forested area. The area was pretty, and quiet. Too quiet thought Talon.

He was right. Late in the afternoon through Aerie’s sight Talon once again received advance warning of a foe. In whispers he informed the party, “we are being followed, tracked even, from behind, about half a mile.”

“What is it?” whispered Purthea back.

Talon focused on what Aerie was seeing. “It looks like a pack of dogs, or maybe wolves, only bigger. Mean looking bunch”

“Dogs don’t sound very dangerous” said Thisbe. “Are you sure they are after us? Maybe the puppies are just going in the same direction.”

“Valid point” said Purthea nodding. “We shall change direction for a bit and see if they do as well. Up there in that clearing so Talon and Aerie can get a better look at them.” They moved into the clearing and Purthea quickly turned them at a right angle to their prior direction. They also increased their pace.

A few minutes later, Talon made the call. “They are definitely following us. They moved into that clearing, sniffed around, and made the exact turn we did. There are a hand plus one finger of them,” he said holding up the described number of fingers. “But they don’t seem to be trying to get any closer to us.”

“That number is called, ‘six,’” said Purthea.

“Why would they follow us but not close to attack?” asked Thisbe.

“Perhaps they seek a more favorable time to attack” answered Domineco. “Such as at night when we would have a harder time seeing them and half of us are asleep.”

“Orient the party to face them” ordered Purthea, “and hold here. We will wait for them to come to us.”

After only a few minutes of tense waiting Talon announced that Thisbe’s “puppies” had also stopped and were coming no closer.

“They are definitely waiting for a better time to attack,” said Purthea.

“Or perhaps a better place,” suggested Domineco.

“What do you mean?” asked Purthea.

“My dear Paladin do you remember what I taught you about the hammer and anvil tactic?”

“Of course, are you suggesting these dogs are the hammer?”

“Yes.”

“So where is the anvil?” asked Purthea looking in the direction they were traveling.

“That’s the point. The anvil is supposed to be hidden, it waits in an ambush position while the hammer drives the prey into it, catching the prey simultaneously between the hammer and the anvil.”

“I don’t like all this ‘prey’ talk when we are the prey,” grumbled Thisbe.

“I don’t understand what in the Abyss they are even talking about,” said Talon.

“Me either,” agreed Darkmoon.

Purthea turned to face Talon, “the hammer and the anvil are metaphorical for an ambush tactic involving two elements. The hammer element drives the target of the ambush away from it and towards the anvil element which is hidden in an ambush position. The target blunders into the ambush at the anvil and is smashed between it and the hammer.”

“I also don’t like this talk of us being ‘smashed,’” said Thisbe.

Darkmoon again agreed.

“So what is the counter to this tactic?” asked Talon.

Glancing at her mentor, Domineco, Purthea smiled at Talon, “You are going to like this part. We turn first on the hammer, breaking it. We can then deal with the anvil at our leisure. That way we face each element separately and not in combination and perhaps we gain the advantage of surprise.”

“I like the way you think,” said Talon drawing his massive sword. “It’s puppy smashing time!”

They moved quickly through the woods in the direction of the monsters. Talon passed on that they were holding their ground, and sniffing the air in their direction. As they got close enough to almost see them Talon shouted, “they are rushing us!”

Indeed they were, and they were moving fast. The six of them attacked in a ragged line, as if seeking to encircle the party. Both Causthea and Purthea recognized that threat and each launched their attacks at the beasts at opposite ends of the line.

In a flash Purthea’s swords flew out of her hands each striking at the “puppy” to the far right of the line attacking. The creature stumbled, badly hurt but kept coming.

For her part Causthea snagged a small piece of iron from the components in her robe and quickly uttered some choice words of sorcery as she pointed at the attacking canine at the far left of the line. With a sharp crack a powerful lightening bolt snaked out from her finger solidly striking the advancing hound. The bolt scorched the creature and it screamed with a distinctly canine “yelp,” but it kept coming.

Thisbe followed Causthea’s lead quickly lifting one crossbow, and then a second, to fire two quick bolts in succession. Both of the magically enhanced bolts struck, and the creature collapsed.

Darkmoon’s longbow fired at the one Purthea focused on but missed, the arrow thunking into a tree that the creature was briefly behind as it ran.

On a quick prayer from Domineco a bolt of light sprang from his hand and raced towards the same dog. With that a second of the demonic canines died.

Purthea’s swords returned to her hands and a quick spell from one blessed the party.

Talon prepared to meet the first of these rapidly approaching creatures, deliberately releasing the rage within him. As he began to swing his great sword at one the first major surprise occurred. The creature’s disgusting mouth opened and a stream of black acid flowed out towards Talon. Talon quickly spun to his side, dodging much of it while still being well splattered with some painful acid, there was no suppressing his rage now! Talon’s great sword struck, and then struck again killing it.

Purthea faced a similar surprise as the foul creature closing on her also breathing a stream of caustic acid. She took only minor damage as she succeeded in mostly dodging the breath attack and Jacob’s armor protected her.

Domineco faced the wrath of one of the surviving creatures and unfortunately suffered the full effects as he found himself awkwardly trying to move in the center of the party. He was quite badly burned and quickly prayed for self healing.

Darkmoon swung his sword at the creature attacking Domineco, but missed badly.

The creatures were now upon the party with claw and tooth. Talon found himself at the working end of attacks from a bite and two razor sharp claws. He dodged the bite and his improved chainmail armor protected him from the claws. It was his turn and he once again struck twice. Both struck home and the damage from his great sword, enhanced by his berserker rage, killed the creature.

Purthea likewise found herself targeted for attack. All three bounced harmlessly off her mythril armor. She was not messing around. Her mother’s swords sliced five times before the monster would get another attack. All of them struck and the beast never had a chance.

The one remaining monster targeted Domineco, hoping to kill the badly wounded cleric. Domineco’s shield fended off the bite and the claws missed badly as well. Domineco swung his mace, striking the creature squarely on its foul snout.

Causthea’s hand reached out spreading her five fingers, each emanating a glowing dart, which struck the dog on Domineco, causing significant damage, but it still lived.

Thisbe had maneuvered behind the beast, and struck twice with his magic short swords. Both struck, producing a painful snarl, but the staggering near death monster persisted.

One more attack remained in the party, and Darkmoon made it. He struck with his longsword, the barbarian’s blow put an end to the last of the “puppies.”

Purthea quickly called upon the massive healing powers of her swords to heal the party. She started with Talon, so he could calm more easily from his rage. Domineco was next as the most seriously hurt, followed by Darkmoon. When all the others were healed, she healed herself.

“What do we do now?” asked a panting Darkmoon.

“We turn on the anvil before it can realize it has lost its hammer,” said Purthea tersely. Purthea quickly reoriented the party to continue in the opposite direction from where the acid breathing dogs had come and they started moving in that direction.

They had only taken a few steps when Talon stopped the party. “Something’s wrong, something’s coming at us, in the air.” They looked about but saw nothing.

However, the anvil was upon them, and it was invisible. Invisible to all but Purthea whose helmet for Jacob’s armor revealed the invisible realm. But it came at incredible speed, and from above. Purthea had a vague view of a swirling mass of living wind which struck Causthea and lifted her off the ground and began to carry her up and away.

Purthea did the only thing she could. Her swords flashed into the air striking at the invisible air carrying her sister away. Because she had to be careful, to avoid hitting Causthea, only one sword hit. The air seemed unbothered and continued to carry Causthea away. The swords returned to Purthea and she used their power to dance through the air to lift her, to give chase to the living air that sought to steal her sister.

Causthea was surprised and hurt by the attack and confused by an attacker she still could not see. She considered various spell options but none came to mind against this invisible kidnapper. Except one. A spell she would not normally be able to cast herself, but that she had imbued within her rod with the help of Qz’s spell book. Grasping the rod she released the spell.

From Purthea’s perspective Causthea was trapped within this creature one second, and suddenly gone the next. She simply disappeared. Purthea looked down and saw her sister reappear among the party. She moved quickly to join her, working to keep herself between this force of living air and her sister.

From the Stalker’s perspective its prey had instantly changed locations, from secured within itself to back on the ground. The Stalker knew where its prey was, it always knew where its prey was. The Stalker didn’t really understand this change in circumstance. It didn’t care. It had been summoned to take the thing it had seized and return it to that which had summoned it. Compelled to obey the command of that summoning The Stalker turned to quickly strike again. It found the flying human in its way, and swatted her away.

Purthea suddenly struck by a massive gust of wind that rattled and hurt her even within Jacob’s armor. It threw her to the side like a gnat and roared past her towards Causthea.

Darkmoon watched the surreal aerial battle unfold. Some invisible force carried the seemingly all powerful sorceress away like a rag doll. Her Paladin sister somehow flew in pursuit. Then, in the blink of an eye the sorceress, apparently having some tricks still up her sleeve, disappeared from the sky and appeared among them. From Darkmoon’s perspective, the magic being used, apparently casually, around him was mind boggling. Then, as if slammed by an invisible fist, the Paladin was thrown to the side, tumbling through the air over 100 feet away from the group.

Darkmoon looked at the sorceress. Her eyes darted about, attempting to see the enemy undoubtedly approaching. It was clear she could not see it anymore than he could. He knew this because he saw fear in her eyes. Fear as to where she would be taken if this impossible to see, and therefore impossible to fight, opponent found her.

Darkmoon knew he had to help her. But how could he? A man with nothing approaching the power of the woman he sought to protect? When he acted he felt it was not out of knowledge, but instinct, a wild guess. As her increasingly panicked eyes scanned above searching for an enemy to spell, Darkmoon tackled her. He dragged her to the ground, and lay on top of her, pinning her down with all his strength. His leather armor was not heavy, but he was a barbarian, and more than double the 14 year old’s weight.

As she squirmed beneath him that’s when he was struck by what felt like a hammer of air. It took the breath from him and he felt himself being lifted by the force of air. That’s when the other barbarian, the one called Talon, that he had fought in the pit, figured it out. Talon jumped on top of him, the two of them now pushing down on Causthea. Talon was even bigger than he was, and wearing chain armor. The invisible creature pounded on Talon but could not lift the three of them, all intertwined together now.

That’s when the Paladin, who could somehow see the thing, returned and she was pissed. Those incredible swords flashed through the air in cuts that made the wind howl in rage. The swords stuck again, and again, and suddenly the wind was gone. Within a second moment the hurt from the invisible thing’s blows to him were gone, cured by Purthea.

Causthea grimaced, “would you guys get off of me? I can hardly breathe.”

Darkmoon and Talon cautiously and sheepishly stood up. Causthea also stood up, gasping for air a bit and brushing herself off.

Darkmoon smiled and said his first meaningful words to her, “ummm, I hope you aren’t going to turn me into a toad over this.”

Causthea looked right at him, only this time it didn’t scare him. She knew he had seen the fear in her eyes. She smiled, “not today barbarian, not today.” The Sun was setting, somewhere nearby a toad croaked.

Chapter 37-Dark of the Moon

“What in the Abyss was all that?” panted Thisbe as the party looked about at the carnage of the dead dogs. The Stalker had disappeared without a trace, but the gore from the dogs surrounded them.

“The Abyss is right,” said Causthea grimly. “These demons were summoned from the Abyss. As was the Caeli Stalker that attempted to take me away, though that likely was summoned from the elemental plain of air wherein such creatures reside.”

“I have heard of such demons” said Domineco kneeling at one of the canine bodies, “‘Hunds of the Abyss,’ they are called. But I believed they were known for spitting fire, not acid.”

“They are,” interrupted Causthea tersely, “unless summoned to this plane by a creature closely attuned with, for example, acid. Then infrequently sought layers of the Abyss containing such creatures as these may be reached.”

Purthea whirled, “are you saying the Blackdragon Witch brought these things down upon us?”

“I am. I can feel that she did.”

“But why? pushed Purthea. And why did this Caeli Stalker focus only on you? Where was it trying to take you?”

Causthea turned facing Purthea, “It hoped to take me to the Dragonwitch, to Inyria. She spat as she said the name. “She wants me,” said Causthea flatly. “I know this.”

“How do you know this?” asked Domineco.

Causthea looked away from him, “because I can feel it. I was once hers and she wants me back. She doesn’t like to have her things taken from her.”

“It almost worked,” said Purthea looking about. “Their strategy is clear to me now. They intended to track us to nightfall. Then in the darkness they would strike with surprise. As we were engaged with Demon Hunds that air monster would have carried Causthea to its master. It might have worked, and even with our ruining that plan it still nearly did.”

“That was quick thinking to hold Causthea down like that,” said Talon giving Darkmoon a friendly slap on the back, “how did you come up with that?”

“I, I don’t know. It just came to me, seemed like the thing to do,” he stammered back.

“It sure as sorcery was,” said Causthea. “I’m not sure I could have escaped that Caeli Stalker again. That short range teleportation spell was the only one I had for today.”

“Perhaps we should move away from here, even if it is getting dark,” suggested Domineco.

“It doesn’t matter where we are” said Causthea avoiding everyone’s eyes. “Inyria can sense where I am, ever since . . . well she just can.”

“Well can’t you use some magic, or whatever to stop that?” said Darkmoon rather desperately. “Otherwise she could try again with something even more powerful.”

“Maybe I could research such a spell,” answered Causthea. “Back in my study at home, with the resources and tombs I have there, but not here in wilds. It would also take days of complete focus. The risk that she will try again is real.”

“That’s not good,” volunteered Thisbe who had been busy skinning a couple of Hund hides.

“Why are you skinning those things?” asked Talon, “we have to move on.”

“Oh, you’ll see, just a little trick handed down by my Great Aunt,” said Thisbe while separating a tough piece of hide from the underlying muscle.

“Is this your same Great Aunt who was also your Great Granddad?” asked Talon cynically.

“Yep, the one and the same!” answered Thisbe smiling broadly.

“Let’s get moving” interrupted Purthea, “before it gets completely dark. We shall get as far from here as we can while dusk. We camp without a fire tonight. Move . . . NOW!” she said urgently.

“I hate cold beans for dinner,” muttered Thisbe. “I also don’t like being the prey.”

“They ate their cold beans quickly that night, as everyone seemed to instinctively want to keep quiet. But a question pressed at Darkmoon, “Is it always like this for you guys?”

“Like what?” asked Talon.

“The magic. I never knew it could exist in such abundance. But magic flies about you as freely as the wind. It’s . . . well . . . kind of scary.”

“You have been conditioned by your people to fear and shun magic,” said Causthea. “As had Talon. So you think it rare. It is not rare, at least not on this world. Many things have magic about them, in one way or another. Some don’t even realize it, or don’t think of it as magic. For example Talon saw no magic in the power of his rage, or his ability to see through the eyes of an eagle. And my second barbarian friend, you are another. You have magic in you. I sense this.”

Darkmoon laughed. “Me? Magic? Are you kidding? I have nothing.”

“He’s right,” said Talon. “While my kind of rage magic may be common in our people, he clearly does not have it. He was wounded in battle and showed no evidence of losing control to anger.”

“My senses on this are accurate,” answered Causthea flatly. “Magic can take many forms, and he has some. Its presence to me is clear.”

“Well then, wizard, tell me more, what is this magic?” said Darkmoon as he continued to laugh.

“I’m not a wizard, I’m a sorceress,” answered Causthea coldly. “I don’t know what your magic is, but you clearly have some. Further, the magic is not some trifle. It may be subtle, but it is potent. You may not know what it is, you may not feel it, it is even possible that it works best if you don’t know exactly what it does, but you most definitely have strong magic in you.”

“Bah, I can’t cast even the weakest spell.”

Causthea continued. “Your name is DarkMoon because you were born on the Dark of the Moon?”

Yes.

“So, a lunar eclipse?”

“A what?”

“When the Earth’s shadow passes over the Moon.”

DarkMoon laughed, “How can the Earth’s shadow pass over the Moon? That’s just crazy talk.”

Talon laughed in agreement.

“Talon needs to spend more time with Purthea on his letters,” hissed Causthea. “So he can read books and learn of the world outside his experiences. As the Earth travels around the Sun it sometimes slips between the Sun and the Moon, casting its shadow on the Moon. However, the Moon becomes not completely dark. Light from the Earth reaches it, is reflected and returns to Earth. It is said this pure Earthshine has powerful magical properties. Some druids wait for such nights to gather and cast their most potent spells and initiate new members to their order.”

“What a load of dragon dung,” laughed Talon. “The Earth doesn’t travel around the Sun, the Sun travels around the Earth. I mean, you can see it do that every freaking day.”

Causthea rolled her eyes, a weird effect with those slits, “I give up.”

“We should start our watches, said Purthea. “Thisbe and I have the first one, Causthea and Darkmoon the second, and Domineco and Talon have last watch. Thisbe, with me. The rest of you get some sleep, now!”

Darkmoon shivered. The night was chilly without a fire, but he wondered if the real reason he shivered was because of his creepy watch-mate. She seemed unfazed by the cold, pacing the ground apparently lost in her own thoughts. Her scaly skin glistening was even more creepy in the Moonlight. He had a question he wanted to ask her from that moment of closeness when he was pressed down on her back. He walked up to her and she stopped. They stood face to face, so close the frost from their breaths mingled. Darkmoon towered over her lithe form, and yet he felt that it was somehow he who was looking up to her.

“What’s wrong with your back?” he whispered as quietly as he could.

Her eyes widened, he saw fear in them again. Her angry answer, based on the hissing nature of her response, was also quiet, “What are you talking about?”

“When I was pressed down on your back today, I felt something. It was weird but you definitely had something back there, your shoulders . . . they’re shaped wrong.”

“It’s nothing,” she hissed, “speak of it no more.” She reached up and pulled him urgently down towards her, the anger in her eyes frightened Darkmoon. “It had best remain our secret.”

Darkmoon recovered, he pulled himself up. He paused, for quite sometime. “Okay,” he said evenly, and with a slight smile, “our secret.”

Some 20 feet away Talon had awoke early for his shift. He was surprised to hear Darkmoon and Causthea speaking in hushed, tense tones. He couldn’t make out their words, but it seemed Causthea sounded angry. Feeling a bit guilty he listened in through Aerie’s much sharper ears. He did so just in time to hear Causthea say “it had best remain our secret” and Darkmoon’s response.

Chapter 38-Battling Stone

Talon and Domineco woke the party at first light, as planned. They packed their gear and ate cold rations silently. Talon situated himself where he could look at Causthea from behind, staring at her back. The more he looked the more he convinced himself that there was some sort of strange bulging near her shoulders. But the cloak and robes she wore fit loosely, confounding any confirmation. Talon considered asking a superficially innocent question, like “how is your back feeling,” but decided against it.

Talon also considered confronting Darkmoon about the conversation, but also decided the better of that. Instead, he would keep an eye out and figure things out eventually.

They set out again, moving quietly and cautiously. The scattered trees afforded little cover, but nothing molested them. From Aerie’s perspective it almost seemed like things moved away from them as they approached, a not so good sign in itself.

“I really don’t like this, it’s quiet, too quiet,” said Thisbe pausing to listen with sharp ears.

“Yeah, until you talk,” muttered Causthea.

But it was Causthea who suddenly brought the party to a halt with a sharp command, “Stop!”

Talon didn’t see anything unusual, and neither did Aerie.

“What is it?” asked Purthea.

Causthea was carefully eyeing the area ahead of them. “The ground ahead of us, it emanates magic. A lot of magic. Way too much magic.”

Purthea stared ahead, her eyes focusing from within her magic helmet, “I don’t see anything.”

“Your helmet sees into the material realm,” said Causthea quietly, “but my eyes sense the very fiber and flow of magic.”

“I don’t see anything,” muttered Talon, “and neither does Aerie, but I got a bad feeling about this.”

“Me too, it’s like I don’t want to walk through that,” said Darkmoon.

“An insightful comment young barbarian,” said Causthea. “The magic I sense is emanating from the ground.”

“The ground!” squeaked Thisbe, “I’m the one here closest to the ground.”

“It could be an illusion concealing a pit, or something,” suggested Domineco.

“Perhaps,” said Causthea, “but I don’t think so. The magic does not look of that nature to me. It has some similarities to the magic I sensed from the last group that attacked us, but it is also different.”

“Well, that’s real helpful,” said Thisbe sarcastically.

“Umm, maybe we should just move around it,” suggested Talon.

“I agree,” said Purthea firmly. They turned at a right angle to the area and walked on.

They hadn’t walked far when Causthea said, “it’s moving with us.”

Purthea stopped and sighed, “The Sun is getting low. Better to deal with it while still light.” Drawing her swords, she observed Talon swiftly pull his own from over his shoulder in what she had to acknowledge had become a well practiced swift and smooth motion. She smiled remembering the first time she saw him attempt draw that massive sword. But it was to Causthea she turned, “prepare yourself sister.”

“I believe I will,” Causthea responded quickly going through some incantations reflecting a spell being cast. She seemed to light up briefly, but otherwise nothing happened. “Ready,” she said nodding. “Let’s try to move through the area quickly,” she suggested.

Purthea nodded and party pivoted turning directly into the suspect area. Thisbe, in particular, was trying to walk gingerly. But it was directly underneath Causthea that the ground seemed to simply open up beneath her feet. Remarkably she didn’t fall into the sudden hole, instead, on a single magic word, she quickly rose 20 feet in the air. But the hole seemed to follow her, as it became clear it was actually the maw of a giant creature rising out of the very ground. The huge mouth lifting out of the ground towards Causthea was fully five feet across, lined with jagged teeth. It seemed a squat body, but it towered nearly 20 feet above the ground, on three stubby feet. Four enormous arms reached out from the body with claws made of stone. In fact, the entire thing seemed to be made of stone.

Save for Causthea floating in the air the eruption of the giant beast from the ground had knocked the rest of the party to the ground. As they struggled to get up Causthea did not hesitate. Invoking a spell of power she pointed her finger right at the maw, A bright marble sized ball streaked into the open mouth. The creature reflexively closed its mouth, which turned out to be a serious mistake.

The fireball erupted in the contained space of the monster’s body cavity with no space for its natural expansion. Even its body made of rock seemed to expand, and when its mouth reopened roaring in agony, hot gas escaped, some of which nearly seared Causthea.

The rock monster moved with its own surprising speed. A clawed arm reached up and grasped Causthea about the waist. The force of the grasp was crushing, briefly taking her breath away, as the movement of the monster’s arm made clear to Causthea its intent. It sought to drop her squarely into that enormous maw.

The monster’s remaining three appendages struck at the members of the party, now regaining their feet. The attack on Thisbe struck nothing but ground as the swift thief rolled out of range. A strike at Purthea bounced off armor stronger than even rock. Talon, however, was struck solidly, which succeeded in pissing him off.

Only the quick moving Purthea and Talon were in position to strike, and they did. Talon’s first strike whiffed at the moving arm that had struck him, but the second hit home, his massive sword cracking the body of the creature. Purthea’s own swords spun rapidly, four times, twice bouncing harmlessly of the creature, but twice striking for damage.

But with that the fight suddenly seemed over. The arm holding Causthea deposited her deep within its gullet, it closed its mouth and quickly merged back into the ground from which it came. The party stood helplessly on the ground beneath which Causthea, within the monster, had disappeared. “Nooo!” screamed Purthea.

Causthea found herself cramped, barely able to move in the beast’s belly, and in total darkness. That was easy enough to solve. She was still grasping her rod and one of its innate powers was to produce light. She activated that with but a thought. It was fortunate only thought was required as Causthea discovered she could not speak. Some sort of magic of silence had been imposed on the interior of the beast.

The gullet of the beast was nearly, but not quite, as hard as the rock its exterior was made of. It was also badly scorched. Causthea smiled at the damage her fireball must have caused in this tightly closed space. She also marveled that it had not killed the thing. She had a strange sense they were moving, almost as if the creature was burrowing, but she knew that was not it. This creature was of the Earth, and moved through it with the same ease as she could walk on the land.

Its intent was also obvious to Causthea. This elemental of the earth would move through the rock, as the prior elemental of the air would move through the air, with same purpose of bringing her to The Dragon Witch, Inyria. In the tight confines of this rock casting a spell would indeed be difficult. Further, in this magical silence she was unable to speak the words of power necessary invoke spells. They believed her helpless. They were wrong.

Causthea opened her mouth and vomited a stream of acid. Some bounced off the surface near her and back onto her face, but she was unfazed by it. Most of it boiled into the rock tissue of the beast. She felt the creature shake. The sense of movement changed direction. She vomited again, the last she could for some time, but it was enough.

On surface Purthea turned as the ground began to shake about 50 feet away. Then suddenly the ground erupted, with earth flying everywhere as the great creature emerged suddenly from the ground . . . and died. It’s great maw fell open, slack jawed in death. Every jaw in the party went into a similar state when Causthea calmly walked out of it, having to stoop only slightly.

Purthea, rushed forward sweeping her up in a hug, then stepped back shaking her hands painfully. “You are dripping with acid!”

“Yeah, neat trick,” Causthea smiled.

As Purthea rushed to heal the party, to include Causthea, Thisbe was intently staring into the creatures maw, taking even a couple of steps in. “Oh man, why did you have to use acid?” the hafling exclaimed, “you dissolved all sorts of gems and super precious metals in here.”

Chapter 39-King Under The Ground

Once the party was healed it was noted the Sun was beginning to set. “Should we move away again before settling down for the night,” Domineco asked of Purthea.

Purthea thought before answering. “No, I think Causthea is right. I don’t think it matters. When Thisbe is done we will move a short distance away and camp.”

Thisbe had crawled deep within the dead creatures maw, searching for whatever treasures might be found not destroyed by flame or acid. It wasn’t long before the hafling returned, pockets bulging with noble metal coins, gems, and even raw mythral and atomite. “There are always crevices for those clever and diligent!”

That night they lit a fire again and cooked meat. Thisbe laid out the treasure found within the belly of the monster. Thisbe divided it into six “equal” parts but when Darkmoon was handed his share, he objected.

“But I didn’t do anything!” he exclaimed.

Purthea turned to him smiling, “that’s not how it works with this party. We all share equally in the risk, and the rewards. That is the way it works among those who follow the True God.”

Darkmoon looked down, “but I don’t follow the True God, I don’t follow any one God. You call our people pagans.” Darkmoon said the last word with the contempt he had heard from others calling him that word.

However, there was no hint of such contempt when Purthea responded. “Yes, I know. You worship what you think are many Gods of nature. When you need rain you pray to the rain God. When you plant crops you pray to a God who will make them grow in health. When it storms you pray to the storm God to stop his wrath. But it is my hope that someday you realize that in all those prayers you are praying to simply different aspects of the True God.”

Darkmoon thought about that, considering the words carefully. The way she said it sounded so . . . right, made it seem as if his beliefs were not so different from her own He had no ready answer, so he went back to his original point. “Still, I didn’t do anything to earn this treasure,” he said pushing it away.

“Well if you want give me your share to me, I’m fine with that!” said Thisbe reaching for it.

“Not so fast my friend,” said Talon swatting Thisbe’s hand away. “That’s Darkmoon’s and he just needs to realize it’s his.” Then Talon chuckled, “that’s true even if the only ones in this group who follow the True God are Purthea and Domineco.”

“Think of it this way,” interjected Domineco. “No treasure was gained from the last battle, yet you very much participated in that. Your quick thinking saved Causthea, and it was Causthea who did the most to defeat this monster. Thus, your acts in the battle before contributed greatly to this battle. Those who follow the True God understand that all our fates weave together.”

Darkmoon looked at his share. While the pile was small, it shined with wealth. The only mythral Darkmoon had ever seen before was Purthea’s armor. He’d never seen so much as chip of atomite, and there was a fist sized rock of it in front of him, never mind the nearly dozen gems. “You don’t understand, never has there been so much wealth in all my tribe together.”

“Well there is now,” beamed Talon. Everyone paused to let Darkmoon sink that in. He quietly collected his share and put it reverently in his pack.

“You are wrong about one thing,” said Causthea to Domineco.

“What’s that?”

“Had Darkmoon not saved me against the aerial stalker you would not have faced this foe today at all. Having failed to take me by the element of air, the Dragon Witch sought to take me by an element of earth.”

“Yeah, what was that thing?” asked Thisbe.

“A creature not under its own control, summoned by Inyria,” Causthea answered. “It resembled that from the elemental plane of earth which we call a ‘kzorne,’ except this specimen was bigger, and more powerful. I suspect it was a kzorne noble, perhaps even a prince, of its kind. They are not inherently evil. To summon and control such a thing would require invoking magic of enormous power. She is expending much energy to catch me.” Causthea paused, in thought. “The use of such power, sometimes has . . . consequences,” she mused.

“Say, how did you fill that thing with so much acid?” asked Thisbe.

“You have seen me use acid based spells before,” shrugged Causthea.

“Yeah, but not that much acid, I mean it was crazy in there.”

“My powers have increased,” she hissed. Thisbe decided to let it drop.

***

During his watch that night Darkmoon’s thoughts were not of Causthea, or even her answers, that somehow seemed false to him, about how she killed the creature. Rather, he was lost thoughts of his sudden wealth, and what it could mean for his family, and the entire tribe. From his perspective it was so great that he did not have a firm grasp of how much it was. He was trying to work it out in terms of how many horses, or cattle, it could buy. But the answer always came back to more than the tribe could possibly need. So what to do with it? Darkmoon had a dim understanding that magic was incredibly expensive, but his tribe would never accept that.

Darkmoon was lost in such thoughts when the ground began shaking so much he was unsteady on his feet. He looked to see that his watchmate, Causthea, had completely lost her own footing. “Wake the party!” she shouted.

But the rumbling earth was already doing that. They had set their camp a couple hundred feet from the body of what Causthea had deemed a noble kzorne, and there was no doubt that was from where the rumbling emanated. Grabbing their weapons they managed to arrange in battle order as a mountain seemed to arise from the ground.

It towered over 200 feet into the air. It was shaped much like the foe they had slain, but its eight enormous arms were each the thickness of the body of that foe. It’s maw was fully 50 feet across. The massive arms sagged at what it saw. With a tenderness that seemed almost . . . human, one arm reached down and its claws easily encircled the body.

“Is it friend or foe?” Talon asked Purthea.

“I don’t know” she answered, “but I don’t detect evil from it. I also don’t detect good.”

It obviously heard them. One of several eyes about is massive circumference clearly focused on them, and the massive mouth moved. “I AM NEITHER,” it boomed. The thing paused, and it shook, as if sobbing, was that even possible? “I AM A GRIEVING FATHER COME TO TAKE BACK TO THE EARTH THE BODY OF MY SON . . . IT IS OUR WAY.”

“iyay ouldn’tway elltay imhay atthay eway illedkay ishay onsay,” [“I wouldn’t tell him that we killed his son”] whispered Thisbe in the joke language known as “Goblin Latin.” The code didn’t work on anyone, well, except for Talon.

“I KNOW WELL THE MANNER OF MY SON’S DEATH,” and that one eye on them seemed to look down. “I DON’T BLAME YOU, YOU MERELY DEFENDED YOURSELVES. MY SON WAS SUMMONED, AND CONTROLLED BY ANOTHER OF GREAT POWER. KNOW THIS, SURFACE DWELLERS,” those last two words were laced with contempt. “I DO NOT APPRECIATE MY CHILDREN BEING TAKEN AS PAWNS FOR THE PETTY PURPOSES OF THOSE THAT LIVE ABOVE GROUND.”

With that, the ground shook again, making them all unsteady on their feet, as the massive creature seemed to melt into the ground along with the body of what now seemed the insignificant foe they had beaten today.

“What just happened?” asked a befuddled Talon.

Causthea smiled, “ladies and gentlemen, that was the King of Kzornes, a legitimate demigod himself, and he’s on our side. Like I said, ‘consequences.’”

“Seems like someone nice to have on our side,” said Talon. “That was an Abyss of a thing.”

“Can you imagine all the treasure in his stomach?” asked Thisbe. They all just stared at the hafling.

Chapter 39-CHANGES

They were up at first light, prepared a fire and enjoyed a hot meal. Causthea assured them it didn’t matter.

Thisbe, of course, nattered on. “This was supposed to be an easy quest, you said. Just take a knife back to an old friend, you said. Now we are fighting dogs from the Abyss, the very air itself, and the son of a demigod. I’m beginning to feel a little over my head.”

“That’s because a kobold is over your head,” snorted Talon.

“The legends I heard said haflings are not afraid of anything,” chuckled Darkmoon.

“I didn’t say I felt afraid,” retorted Thisbe. “I said I felt like I was over my head. There’s a difference, you know.”

“What’s the difference?” asked Talon with another snort.

“Well, it’s like you and books,” the hafling answered with a flash. “They are way over your head but you aren’t actually afraid of them.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” joined in Purthea with a smile. “The way he sometimes cuts short our reading lessons, I think he may be afraid of books.”

That got a chuckle all around, and Talon had to answer back. “The books you have me read are boring. Why not let me read that one Thisbe told me about where the guy built a giant ship that flew to the Moon and back.”

Purthea’s eyes suddenly grew distant and sad. “My mother went to the Moon, she fought a desperate battle in a world without air and returned with a magical device of great power. With it she slayed the demigod Yeenoghu, the Lord of Knolls. To this day the scourge of knolls is now rare in this world.”

Talon had accidentally stepped in it again. “Aw gee, I’m sorry, Purthea. I didn’t mean to make you think about your Mom.”

But Purthea smiled. She walked over to Talon and put her hand on his shoulder. “Never apologize to me, my friend, for reminding me of my mother. For doing so only reminds me of my oath to avenge her. My loss was no greater than your own, and we both seek the same end. The story of my mother’s trip to the Moon is told in one of the great books of the True Church. When we return I shall help you read it.”

“Well perhaps we should all sing ‘kumbaya’ now,” said Thisbe sarcastically.

“Now what does that even mean?” asked Darkmoon.

“Oh, it’s an old hafling expression of sarcasm used when everyone is getting along so sickeningly well,” responded Thisbe.

“Aw c’mon,” said Talon, grabbing Thisbe and hoisting the hafling up to a bear hug, “why can’t we be friends?” Then he started chanting “why, can’t we be friends, why can’t we be friends?”

“Hey, put me down, that’s no way to treat a lady,” shouted Thisbe.

With that Talon said “huh?!” and dropped Thisbe to the ground. “What do you mean . . . lady?”

“You heard me, and don’t you get fresh again,” squeaked the hafling, storming off.

“What just happened?” asked a dumbfounded Talon.

“You really didn’t know about the transitory sexual dimorphism of haflings?” asked Domineco.

“The . . . what did you say?” responded Talon. “I mean he said something or other about ambiguity but he didn’t say . . .”

Thisbe turned around, stormed back, and kicked Talon hard in the shin, “She!” she shouted and stormed off again.

“Ow,” said Talon hopping around on one leg.

“I want you know to you deserved that,” said Domineco.

“Yeah, well how about a little healing here, cleric?”

“Not a chance,” Domenico answered. “Sometimes a little pain is good for the soul, especially when self inflicted.”

“But h . . .” Thisbe had already started to turn around, “I mean she, she, kicked me. It wasn’t self infected, or whatever you said.”

“Let this discomfort remind you to get it right,” Domineco bowed and moved on.

Purthea moved past Talon, “you’re still a . . . girl, I mean woman, right?” he asked. Oh damn, the look he got.

Darkmoon walked up to Talon, “you raised yourself on an island, right?”

“Umm, yeah, why?”

“Sometimes it shows,” he answered with a chuckle and moved on.

When the breakfast was done Darkmoon looked to the West, “we are close, we should be to the encampment by sundown.”

“Yeah sure, if that dragon witch doesn’t send another the Gods know what to get us,” responded Thisbe.

They set out, and despite their cautious, paranoid, approach, nothing molested them. Talon continued to report that it seemed from Aerie’s perspective like things moved to give them room. The light forest gave way to grassy plains. Purthea looked about and commented that they should be able to see anything coming from a good distance.

“Are you kidding?” asked Thisbe. “So far we’ve had to fight invisible air and something that came out of the ground itself to swallow us.”

“Yeah, this is boring,” snorted Talon.

“I have a feeling things will pick up when we get to the barbarian encampment,” said Domineco. “Something about this whole thing feels off to me.”

Causthea stayed quiet, in her own thoughts, which now had an impending sense of dread. She too sensed that something was not right. They were practically being led to this barbarian encampment, why?

They made good time. The Sun was still barely in the sky when the encampment came into view, silhouetted against the setting Sun. A series of tents arranged in a rough circle. They approached cautiously along a small gully, a mostly dry stream bed. They paused from a few hundred yards away and looked it over. Aerie flew over and Talon reported the camp was quiet, with almost no activity.

“What about the pickets?” asked Darkmoon.

“The what?” responded Talon.

“Warriors in pairs patrolling around the camp to provide early warning of an attack.”

“I don’t see any,” was Talon’s response.

“That’s not possible, that is a standard procedure to ensure the safety of the tribe.” They must be there,” insisted Darkmoon.

“If they are, Aerie can’t see them.”

“I told you something weird was going on,” said Thisbe with a know it all sound in her voice.

For the first time all day Causthea finally spoke. “More weird than you realize hafling. I thought you said your tribe despised magic,” she said to Darkmoon.

Darkmoon chuckled. “Despise is too mild a word. They fear it. Magic and those who use it are banned in my tribe, which is why I can’t just walk in with this group. You reek of magic.”

Causthea snorted. “If you think we reek of magic you should sniff that village.”

“What do you mean?”

“I see much magic in that encampment. It is everywhere, and it is powerful. I’ve never seen so much magic over so broad an area. It’s overwhelming.”

“My village? That’s impossible,” said Darkmoon incredulously.

“You also said not having pickets out was impossible,” said Thisbe evenly. “You keep using that word, I don’t think it means what you think it means.”

“Which tent belongs to your father?” asked Purthea.

Darkmoon scanned the village. “That one! We finally caught a break it’s at the edge of the camp and close to us. How do you suggest we sneak in?”

“Shouldn’t be hard,” said Purthea. “We wait till dark and just walk in to the unguarded camp.”

“Oh, I’m sure they will have pickets out for the night,” said Darkmoon with certainty.

They did not have pickets out for the night. The camp looked as still as during the day. A few campfires burned, cooking food, as barbarians milled about in the open wilderness apparently unconcerned with any possibility of attack. Causthea reported that the entire village continued to seethe with magic. She noted that magical emanations were particularly strong from the larger tent in the middle of the encampment. “That’s the tribal chieftain’s tent,” said a clearly befuddled Darkmoon. “I fear something horrible has changed my tribe.”

“I fear you are right,” answered a grim faced Purthea.

Chapter 40-Darkmoon’s Tent

They approached the Darkmoon’s tent spread out to avoid gathering attention. Thisbe snuck ahead, almost invisible in the darkness and high grass, alert for any guards or danger. There were none. The camp seemed completely oblivious to any concern for infiltration. As they paused at the entrance to Darkmoon’s tent Thisbe whispered that the conversation from inside the next nearest tent seemed to focus on the prospects for a hunting party that went out that morning, totally mundane.

As discussed previously, Darkmoon was the first to enter the tent. In the center was a small fire. Closest to it his mother lay, on a bed of furs, covered in them but still shivering, and pale as a ghost. Next to her, worried sick was Gedder, his father. Gedder’s eyes grew wide at seeing his son, and he started to exclaim, before catching himself and making a shushing motion at Darkmoon.

“We must be quiet,” Gedder whispered to his son, “a madness has set upon the tribe. Nobody seems themselves anymore, except me.”

“I understand, father,” responded Darkmoon in his own whisper as they quickly embraced. “Father, I have brought help for mother. Powerful people with . . .” he paused and lowered his whisper even more, “strong magic.”

Again his father’s eyes widened and in them Darkmoon saw the fear of a long lifetime of viewing any magic as evil. But then the eyes narrowed into grim determination. “Bring them in,” Gedder whispered, “your mother is near death.”

Darkmoon opened the tent flap and the others filtered in. Purthea attempted to make introductions, keeping her voice low. “I am Purthea, a Paladin of the True God and sworn to vengeance against my mother’s killer.”

Gedder’s mouth dropped. The armor on this warrior was like nothing he had seen. It was matched with two swords at her side that he marveled at. Purthea continued, “this is Thisbe, a hafling who has assisted us greatly. This is Domineco a priest of the True God. And this,” she said turning to Talon and pausing, “is an old friend.”

“I do not recognize you,” said Gedder peering at Talon.

Talon had to push his way forward in the tight quarters, “my name is Talon, and nonetheless, we have met. Perhaps you will recognize this,” he said holding out the knife the return of which was the object of their quest.

Gedder looked down upon the knife, his eyes amazed. Yes, he recognized it and looking at Talon you would have thought he’d seen a ghost. It is difficult stammer in a whisper, but he managed. “You, you, you, you are that, that boy. The one left on the island. Then the barbarian resilience set in, he lifted an eyebrow, and said, “I see you have changed, and you seem to have found an adequate sword to replace this knife.”

“I have,” smiled Talon, “but your knife, as you said it might, gave me a chance. It saved my life. I owe you my life.” Awkwardly kneeling before Gedder, Talon turned the hilt to Gedder, “my returning it to you is long overdue. You will forgive me, but I have had it imbued with minor magics to keep it forever sharp.”

“I knew you by a different name,” whispered Gedder.

“I am Talon, Eagle Friend, now.”

Gedder nodded. He reverently took the knife examining it closely. “You have grown from a frightened boy to a brave and honorable man, Talon. But I ask only one thing for the life debt you owe me. Save my wife.”

Before Talon could speak, Darkmoon did. “Father, he has already paid that life debt to you. He saved my life.”

“Is that true?” asked Gedder looking intently at Talon.

Talon snorted, “only in that I did not kill him when I could have.”

“Yeah, about that,” intervened Thisbe, “maybe somebody owes me something for that.”

There was brief chuckle, but Gedder’s shoulders sagged, as he nodded, “Talon, your debt to me is paid in full.”

“I do not see it that way, and I have brought friends who can help your wife.”

Gedder looked about, “how can I be so blessed by the Gods?”

Purthea smiled, “the True God rewards those who do good things simply because they are righteous. What you did to save Talon pleased the True God, and it is time for the True God to reward you.”

“But I don’t believe in the True God.”

“It matters not, the True God believes in you and has seen your deeds. I feel this.”

Darkmoon looked intently at Gedder. “Father, what’s going on? Should I go ask my friend Balston why there are no pickets out, no guards or sentries of any kind. We were able to just walk into the camp.”

“No,” hissed Gedder firmly. “Something is wrong with the tribe. I don’t know what. The Chieftain, Barauk, he told everyone sentries were no longer needed, and they just bizarrely all accepted it.”

“Balston is my best friend,” Darkmoon responded heading towards the tent door. “I will go ask him.”

“No!” his father hissed. “Trust no one.”

“Let us get on with this,” said Domineco pushing his way forward and kneeling beside the stricken woman. “What is her name?”

“Mayla,” Darkmoon and Gedder answered together.

Domineco nodded and quickly offered a prayer . . . nothing happened. Mayla did not open her eyes as Domineco expected. Domineco tried again, beads of sweat reflecting in the effort of his prayer to the True God. Nothing happened.

He turned to Purthea, “perhaps your Paladin power to cure disease?”

Purthea kneeled before Mayla and called upon powerful Paladin abilities that would cure any disease. Nothing happened. Purthea frowned, “this condition is not any mortal disease. I fear something much more sinister. I sense an . . . evil is involved.” She turned to her sister, “Causthea, what do you sense here.”

Causthea, overwhelmed by the magic around her in the village, for the first time focused on the patient that was supposed to be the center of the quest, at least Talon’s quest. She also knelt beside the woman and touched her. Causthea inhaled deeply. “You are right. There is dark magic here. This is not any mortal disease. This is a curse, a magical curse. A wasting curse, slowly leading to death.

“Can you not lift the curse?” Darkmoon asked anxiously.

“No, this death curse is of clever subtlety and even more power. It can only be removed by the mage who cast it, or by that spell caster’s death. It is the product of exceptionally powerful magic, of a nature unknown to me, . . . and yet familiar . . . oh damn, the crystal ball, oh the Abyss. We must flee this whole thing is a trap!”

Chapter 41-Revelations

The others saw Causthea leap to her feet, attempting to rush to the flap of the door. It took her only half a second to make her way to that flap which she unhesitatingly flipped open while rushing outside. “Of all the layers of the Abyss, we are too late,” she sighed sounding completely defeated.

The others quickly filed outside. The entire barbarian tribe surrounded them. Men, women (some holding infants), children. All that could be armed were armed ranging from great swords, to spears, to bows and crossbows all pointed at them.

“Effrin!” squeaked Thisbe. “There must be two hundred of them.”

“The tribe numbered 218 when I left,” muttered Darkmoon. He scanned the faces. He found a familiar one. “Balston, what is the meaning of this? Are we not friends?”

The one he spoke to took a step forward, his sword in hand. “Indeed, Darkmoon, we once were. Imagine my surprise to discover that you have snuck guests stinking of magic into our camp. No friend of mine would do that.”

Darkmoon was taken aback. “Snuck?!” he sneered. “How is it possible to sneak anyone into a completely unguarded camp? We walked in openly past empty spaces where none challenged us. This is not our way.” Looking more generally around, he pleaded, “what is wrong with you people, have you gone mad?”

A deep chuckle came from a couple rows back in the crowd. “They have not gone mad, they simply see the truth.”

Darkmoon recognized the voice. “Barauk, my chieftain, come forward. I wish to hear how your leadership could let this happen. How could you have left this camp unprotected.”

The sinister sounding chuckle came again, and part of the crowd parted. A man larger than most, in a tribe of large men, stepped forward, wearing only furs, holding no apparent weapon. Talon bristled. Despite the years, he knew this man. He was the same Chieftain who led that council that banished him to the island, remarkably still Chieftain all these years later.

Again the chuckling seemed to merge into speech. “You think this camp unprotected since you snuck in? Fools. Yet here we are and we obviously knew you were here. We let you in, as planned.”

“Causthea, what is going on?” asked Purthea.

“It’s the dragon-witch, Inyria. She has enslaved the entire tribe with her magic. That’s why this entire village reeks with magic. It is her curse that has Darkmoon’s mother at death’s door. This entire quest, it was all part of her plan.”

“To what end?” asked a befuddled Purthea.

“To get me. I told you, she wants me back.”

“And as I said, daughter, in the end you will come to me!” The dragon’s voice boomed over the crowd, hushing barbarians and heroes alike. Chieftain Barauk stood before them, his expression now gone vacant. In his hand he held a glass orb, the second crystal ball. It glowed and from within it the vision of a dragon’s head seemed to shift, changing perspective randomly. The head seemed to look at Purthea, and then Talon. “You Paladin, and barbarian, you two have been looking for me all this time. How pathetic. You have made killing me your life’s goal, how delusional.”

“You hide, coward,” spat Purthea. “You refuse to face us in battle. You fear the forces of the True God and cower in the shadows of the world from them.”

“Then let me reveal my secrets now, lesser of the siblings. I killed your mother, and your father, yet you think you can beat me? You are weaker than they, and I . . .” the dragon chuckled deeply, “I am unimaginably more powerful. You see, the Dark Lord has gifted me, made me one of His greatest servants. I am now a demigod, with layers of the Abyss under my control and legions of demons at my command. The forces of your True God will not face me in the Abyss they have no stomach for that.” The Dragon witch paused, they all could sense her malevolent smile, the perverse pleasure she felt. “But they won’t have to come for me. I shall come for them. I and my armies of demons will sweep across the world, destroying the True God’s worshippers to a man. We will turn this entire world into a temple for the Dark Lord. He has promised me rule of this world, if I but give it to Him.”

“Hoo boy, and I thought I was in over my head with the acid breathing dog things,” muttered Thisbe. “Is she actually talking to us from the Abyss, I mean I’ve never talked to someone who’s in the Abyss before.”

“No,” answered Causthea. “The casting of magic through that crystal ball can only happen while she is on this plane, and probably not too terribly far away.”

The dragon’s attention turned towards Causthea. “Indeed, daughter, you are clever. I am in the great mountain not far to the North of you. The peak known as The Stone Giant, though I think I shall rename it. Now that my secrets are revealed I believe, daughter, you have been hiding some rather dark secrets of your own, from even your friends, even your own sister. Perhaps they too should be revealed.”

“Enough of this, demon,” shouted Purthea. “My sister harbors no dark secrets from me.”

“Uh-oh,” said Darkmoon quietly.

“Uhh, Purthea . . .” Causthea started to say.

But the booming voice of the dragon interrupted. “Now let all be revealed. Let your sister and your friends see what you truly are, what I made you!!”

A wind seemed to sweep from the ball held by the barbarian chieftain, it swept over Causthea, a living manifestation of air, similar to what they fought before. The wind tore off the back of Causthea’s cloak and pulled free the binders on her wings. Before Causthea could even react her bat like wings sprung out on either side, each over three feet in length.

The entire party gasped. The dragon’s voice boomed again. “Heroes of the True God, I give you the demon-sorceress Causthea.” Chuckling again at the stunned silence, the dragon went on. “Why so surprised? How do you think I knew your every move? She is, and always has been, mine.”

“Got to admit, member of our party revealed as demon was not on my quest DANGO card,” said Thisbe.

But it was Purthea who spoke the damning words. “Causthea! How could you do this? How could you keep this from us, from me, your sister? After what we have been through? You have been living this lie with all of us?!”

Causthea simply hung her head in shame, her chest heaving in soft sobs, but her slitted eyes would not allow for tears, which she realized emphasized her inhumanity, how she was different.

It was Darkmoon who came to her side. “This changes nothing. Who you are is defined up here,” he said tapping her head. “Not by wings or anything else.”

Looking at the stricken faces of her sister and Talon, she sobbed, “it does change everything. All who see me think I’m more like her,” she gestured at the ball, “than I am like you.”

“That’s not true,” said Darkmoon.

“Isn’t it? Tell me my Paladin sister, can you ever look at me again and not see me as a demon?”

“Causthea, why didn’t you tell me?” was the plaintive reply.

“How could I?!” Causthea shrieked. “Of all people how could I tell you what I was becoming?”

“We could have done something!” Purthea screamed.

“Yes, you would have had your Church try to change me. Don’t you see? If you try to pull on one strand of what I am, you will unravel all that is me!”

The dragon spoke again, in that almost purring voice. “Now, now dear daughter. All is not lost. You are forsaken here, but not with me. Come join me, come be with your own kind.”

With that a bright ring emerged from the ball, it quickly grew larger, to an oval about five feet tall, positioned immediately in front of Causthea. “Step through my portal and come to my side, my daughter.”

Causthea took a deep breath. “I come my mother,” and she stepped forward.

“No!” screamed Purthea, “Stop! I love . . . ” But it was too later, she was in the portal and once she entered it collapsed, disappearing in less than a heartbeat.

“What, have I done?” wailed Purthea. “What do we do now?”

The smug voice of the dragon interrupted, “well my dear paladin, now, you quite simply die. All of you die, the first casualties in my war for world supremacy. This spell may take a moment, but there is no where to run to, and it will kill you all. Your life’s quest ends with your life.”

Chapter 42-End Quest

They could feel the magic rising in the crystal ball, enormous power beginning to swell.

“Well, there goes everything,” said Thisbe. “Looks like I’m not going to spend much time as a girl. Nice knowing you guys. As we say in Verona, it was a Helluva ride in the gondola.”

Purthea was frozen in shock at the betrayal and abandonment by her sister. Domenico’s head swam at the events and thoughts of a coming great war between good and evil. Talon simply stood baffled at the sudden turn of events in his simple quest to return a dagger. As the magic grew to the breaking point only one among them thought to act.

It was Darkmoon who stepped forward, with his own large sword, towards his Chieftain. He brought it down in a decisive stroke, not against his Chief, but on the crystal ball. It shattered spectacularly. Tiny shards were all that were left, some embedded in Barauk’s hands, who blinked, grunting from the pain as his hands bled freely.

All around them the barbarians of Darkmoon’s tribe seemed to come out of a trance. They tried to make sense of what they remembered, how they were controlled, but now the magic was broken. They were themselves. Confused but themselves.

Darkmoon quickly ran back into his tent, to his mother’s side, praying to the True God that his shattering the crystal ball cured her of this curse. It had not. She looked worse than ever. He remembered what Causthea had said. Only the death of who laid that curse could remove it, and this curse was the work of the black dragon witch, now demigod. The only way to save his mother was to kill the this demigod. Was it even possible for a mere mortal to kill a demigod?

He rushed back out, where the others were recovering. Purthea included. “Where did Causthea go?” she questioned Domineco.

He pointed to the great mountain in the distance. “For now, there. The dragon witch had to be on our plane to cast that last spell, which Darkmoon fortuitously interrupted.”

“Yeah, where did you get that idea from?” asked Thisbe turning to Darkmoon.

“I don’t know, it just came to me, seemed the thing to do at the time.”

“Well, I think you saved us all with that wild ass guess,” said Talon grasping him on the shoulder.

“We have to get there and save Causthea,” said Purthea to Dominco. “We must leave immediately.”

“We will never get there in time,” lamented Dominco. “The dragon witch will soon just take her to one of her planes in the Abyss.”

“Well, we will just have to figure out a quicker way to get there,” shouted Purthea.

“Yeah, like what?” asked Talon.

That’s when the ground started shaking.

The shaking ground knocked many of the assembled barbarian horde off their feet. It was all Purthea and the others could do to keep from falling. “What in the Abyss is going on!” shouted Talon.

“I don’t know” shouted Purthea back.

The sure footed hafling Thisbe, seemed unbothered by the shaking Earth. “Guys,” she said, “we’ve been through this before,” as she moved her head peering about. “Look, over there,” she pointed to just outside the camp.

An enormous hole opened in the ground. The hole moved in an eerie mouth like manner, and the voice boomed, “COOMME!”

“It’s the Kzorne King!” squeaked Thisbe.

“Guys, I think we . . .” started Talon.

“Found our ride to Causthea,” shouted Purthea. “Whoever stands with me to fight a demigod follow me!” she shouted as she without hesitation she turned and ran towards the huge maw.

“I stand with you!” shouted Talon drawing his great sword and following in close pursuit.

“The time is come!” sighed Domineco as he followed clutching his holy symbol of the True God.

“I will go to save my mother . . . and Causthea,” said Darkmoon grimly. “Halfling, perhaps you should stay behind,” he said to Thisbe turning to go.

“And miss riding in a demigod, to fight a demigod?! Are you kidding?” Thisbe ran in pursuit, “hey, wait for me!” By the time her short legs got her there the maw was beginning to close. Thisbe jumped in, and landed right in Talon’s arms.

“Hey, let go of me you big oaf,” grumbled Thisbe.

“You’re welcome,” Talon said gruffly, setting her down.

“Wow, would you look at this place!” said an amazed Thisbe. In dim light from a spell cast by Domineco the place sparkled. In a seeming cavern the size of a house they were standing almost ankle deep in the most precious of stones. Mythral and atomite gleamed in veins along the side. Thisbe started to reach down to pick up a large diamond.

“Don’t even think about it!” shouted Purthea as Thisbe quickly drew her hand back.

“I was just going to look,” she said trying to sound very sincere.

They swayed as they sensed they were suddenly in motion.

“How long will it take to get there?” Purthea asked turning to Domineco.

He frowned, “I don’t know, but elementals of the Earth fly through solid ground like a bird flies through the air. I would think their king moves at nearly any speed he likes.”

“Good, Causthea is certainly in great danger.”

“Can we be sure?” asked Domineco.

Purthea whirled on him, “What do you mean?”

“I mean it is possible we face a situation where you sister is in league with the monster you took the Paladin’s Oath to kill,” he responded flatly. “I will tell you the Church wanted me to keep an eye on your sister, they feared she would be tempted and would be turned. If your sister now stands with the Dark Lord, will you pass the test of your oath?”

Purthea paused. She lifted her chin. “She is in great danger, I . . . I know this.”

“Remember well your oath, Paladin. That which is evil must be eliminated from this world, by any means necessary.”

“I do not need a reminder of my oath, made to avenge my mother, cleric,” shouted Purthea.

Mentor and mentee stared at each other intently. Then the ‘ground’ shifted as if they were moving a different direction.

***

For what seemed sometime Causthea flew in a world, a universe, that had no ground to it. It had no air either, but she felt no need to breathe. There was no path but she moved in a certain direction she had no control over. Intellectually she realized she was traveling in the astral plane, mostly disconnected with the normal world, connected only where powerful magic made it so.

It was by such magic she entered this surreal plane, and by such powerful magic she exited. Suddenly a portal appeared, similar to the one she came through before, she felt herself stepping through it, back into her own world, though far removed from where she had been.

Before her, about 100 yards away was the newest demigod of the realms. Causthea had some sense of the size and majesty of the dragon witch from her contact within the orb, but the real thing was beyond imagination. It was huge, the 100 yards seemed a scant distance. The demigod’s tail was longer than that. It’s head was the size a house, with gleaming teeth 20 feet long. How could anyone fight this?

“Your life’s quest ends with your life,” the dragon witch was apparently ending a longer speech. It began preparing a spell. Causthea’s eyes widened at the impossible power of the magic she was assembling. She knew the purpose. To cast a spell through the two orbs that would kill everyone she knew.

The spell quickly reached culmination and the power entered the witch’s orb, but at just that moment something obviously went horribly wrong, the spell backlashed, multiple enormous balls of fire enveloping the dragon witch, the power was so incredible that Causthea wondered that anything could survive. Yet the demigod did survive.

But it was hurt. Causthea feared the scream of pain and frustration from her self designated ‘mother’ would bring down the enormous mile wide cavern they were in. To be sure, some rocks fell, but the cavern held.

The demigod’s head turned to Causthea, and Causthea saw the unimaginable. Fear in those eyes. “Quickly daughter, touch me so that you may come with me.”

“Where mother, where will we go,” said Causthea slowly approaching.

“To my realms in the Abyss. There I shall be able to make the sacrifices that will allow for me to be healed.”

Causthea paused, stopping for a moment her progress forward. “But mother, will I be safe in the Abyss?”

The dragon witch tried to take on that purring tone, but this time it was laced with pain. “Of course, my daughter. When you are with me you shall always be safe. Now hurry, I am so badly hurt.”

“Yes, mother. I come. Here, perhaps this will help. I have potion of healing.” Causthea removed a large flask from one of her pouches and held it before her.

“Oh my sweet daughter, thank you, yes that shall help. Quickly bring it to me.”

She approached the great head and it lowered. “Here you go mother,” she poured the flask fully in.

“Ah, thank you daughter, you are so kind to your mother, and I shall repay that kindness . . . wait, I don’t feel any better.”

“You don’t? Maybe, it doesn’t work on dragon kind. I made it myself and maybe I did something wrong. Here, let us return quickly to the Abyss,” she touched an enormous claw.

“We go,” said the demigod with a decisive nod, and the spell was cast . . . but nothing happened.

“What is this? . . . What have you done,” there was panic in the voice.

“Oh just a little potion I worked up on my own.” Said Causthea smugly holding up the flask. “I’m still trying to come up with a name. Perhaps Potion of Grounding? For a time you will be grounded to this plane. You will not return to the Abyss. You cannot summon help from there. You fight now, dear mother,” acid on her own voice, “and you die now.”

The bellow caused the cavern to shake once again. “You idiot! Do you think you can defeat me?! I am still a God, and you still one, puny mortal. Soon to be a dead mortal.”

The dragon witch’s maw opened and acid began to gush out, thousands of gallons of it. It poured onto Causthea, but it might as well have been water. It had no effect on her. Causthea just calmly prepared another spell. A liquid ball appeared in her hand and as she threw it into the dragon’s enormous mouth the ball grew much larger. It splattered quite satisfactorily deep inside the dragon’s throat.

Inyria, the great demigod, coughed it became a gasp, it was almost comical. “What is this?”

“A spell I worked up just for you, dear mother. A little chemistry. I call it ‘Alkaline Ball.’ For a time it will neutralize your acid making combat against you, more fair. And now one more gift for you, dear mother.”

A lightening bolt released from Causthea hands, one she channeled all her sorcerous power into, amplifying its strength. Again the demigod screeched in pain, but again, it still did not die.

There was no purr now from the dragon. Rather, a deep, pained growl. “I can kill you with a single claw,” and the dragon did swat at the sorceress.

Causthea had yet another trick up her sleeve. The minor teleportation spell, transporting her about a quarter mile away. “I will not let you escape me again!” Inyria shrieked rushing in her direction.

Causthea had one more spell, locked in the last crystal of her staff. A powerful scroll gained from the lair of the undead beholder beast they encountered in their first quest. She released the spell and she was surrounded by layers and layers of different colored lights.

“What’s this? I know this spell.” Through the lights Causthea saw the dragon witch smile, painfully. “You think you can hold me with this? I shall bring each layer down, one by one, and then I shall have you. I think I shall not kill you. When this grounding spell wears off I will return with you to the Abyss, and my demons shall have you, for their desires.”

The dragon witch paused, and adopted its more soothing voice. “Why? Why are you doing this daughter. Lower your protective sphere, remove the grounding spell, and all will be forgiven. What can you hope to gain from this? Your sister won’t come for you. You saw that. She hates what you have become, she hates you. All your friends see you as a monster now. Come with me to the Abyss, with the powers I grant you, you will someday own your own piece of it. Things can be as we always desired. Just come back to me, daughter.”

Causthea stood within the circle of protective lights and realized she was actually considering the offer. Everything the dragon witch said was true. There was no way her sister could reach her in time, she was unlikely to even try. The words of the evil demigod hammered in her head. But so did those final words of her mother in their brief post death meeting. Her one gift, love. Even though it was impossible, for some reason she believed in her sister.

“No Inyria! You are not my mother. You made me like this, and I hate you for it! Demons take me, but you will not have me as your’s!”

“Very well,” she seemed genuinely sad. “Your pathetic casting can’t hold me out for long. Down it will come and when it does I will have you, but as a slave, not a daughter.” With that the Inyria effortlessly cast a spell and the first outer layer of colored shielding dissipated. The demigod laughed, “this will not take long.”

Again Causthea knew she was right. It would not take long. Her sorcery was no match for that of a demigod. Even as she thought of this, another spell from the Inyria broke down another layer of protection, and then another. In just a few short moments they would all be gone. As the layers continued to fall Causthea prepared one last attack spell. She had only minor ones left, that could not possibly kill her faux mother, but what else was there to do? With one protecting layer remaining she prepared to strike.

That’s when the ground started shaking.

***

Darkmoon broke the tension. “Purthea’s right. We need to prepare. How are we even to get out of here?” They looked up, the surface they stood on was 20 feet below the great maw above them.

“My swords can lift me out,” said Purthea grimly.

“Yes, but what of the rest of us?” asked Darkmoon.

“I can climb up the side of this thing, easy,” said Thisbe. “Then I’ll drop this down for you guys,” said Thisbe pulling something out of a pouch and starting to unfold a hanging ladder that seemed to extend itself.

“Where’d you get that thing?” asked Talon.

“I’d really rather not say, or maybe I don’t remember,” said Thisbe. “I’ll start up now.” Thisbe began climbing the side of the elemental king. When she got to the top she fully extended the ladder down to them.

“I’m going to be ready when this happens,” said Talon climbing up.

“Right behind you buddy,” said Darkmoon.

Wordlessly Domenico followed him up the ladder.

Their timing was good. As everyone got in position the massive room lurched to a halt. Almost immediately the huge maw began to open. Purthea did not hesitate. Before the others could act her telekinetic swords lifted her up and out of the Kzorne King. “Thank you” she shouted as she flew through and towards a fascinating and frightening scene.

The dragon, larger even than the Kzorne King, loomed over a tiny Causthea who was surrounded by a thin layer of lights. The dragon’s attention was focused on Causthea, it seemed it had not noticed their arrival, yet. Causthea had obviously fought well and strong. The dragon seemed badly hurt, though not so badly that it couldn’t fight. As Purthea landed, a spell came from the dragon and the lights surrounding Causthea disappeared. Instantly daggers of light sprang from Causthea, striking the monster, nearly a dozen of them. It screamed, but the dragon’s maw turned to snap at Causthea with teeth much longer than her entire body.

“Time to dance swords,” said Purthea as she hurled her mother’s twin soul swords towards the monster. Her mother’s soul would at last inflict pain on the most feared monster in the realm. The swords arrived in a flash, striking at the dragon’s back, and drawing dark blood.

The dragon’s neck turned to see Purthea, “Die Paladin!” it boomed and it cast a spell, whose power to bring death seemed to suck life out of the room, that flew towards Purthea.

“Aventarri!” shouted Domineco and the spell aimed at Purthea suddenly turned up, flying over her and striking Domineco. He collapsed in a heap.

For a moment Purthea wondered if she should to turn to help him, to heal the cleric who had mentored her. Then the words of her oath seem to be whispered in her ears. “By any means necessary.” Grimly she rushed forward, her swords returning to her hands. Shortly behind her Talon and Darkmoon followed with their own swords. Talon unleashed the rage within him. This was the creature who killed his parents leading to his living alone for over a decade. The time for vengeance was now at hand. Darkmoon’s thoughts were for his own mother, and the one means by which she could be saved.

It was Thisbe who stopped to attend a clearly dying Domineco. He tried to speak, but a bloody cough was all that came out. Domineco motioned Thisbe closer and she put her sharp ear close to his lips. With his last breaths Domineco began to whisper to her.

As Purthea, Talon and Darkmoon closed on the black dragon, it rose, inhaling deeply and exhaled suddenly. Purthea braced herself for the flood of acid she knew would come, but no flood came. It was mere spittle, a thin spray of acid was all that emanated. It landed among them, lightly burning them, but the damage was not serious.

“What wizardry is this?” puzzled Purthea.

“Not wizardry, sister, sorcery,” said Causthea appearing at her side. “Just a gift I gave my ‘mother,’” with her own form of acid dripping from that last word.

Fear once again was seen in the dragon’s eyes as the party closed, to inside effective spell range. Purthea flew above, landing on its great back and raining blows from her mother’s swords upon it. The dragon’s hide was as hard as any armor, and effective hits were hard, but they came, in blow after blow, with dark, acidic blood flowing from the wounds.

Darkmoon swung his own large blade, but the non-magical sword bounced off the hard side of beast.

It was Talon, however, who would claim the final, mortal blow. In full rage he spun, his great sword striking the side of the demigod and splitting it open. His sword had a special purpose to slay evil dragons, and this evil dragon felt the potency of that magic in the strike. “For mother!” shouted Talon.

The dragon reared, preparing to come down upon him with its enormous fanged mouth. Continuing his spin Talon found himself under that massive throat and thrust his sword up as it came down on him.

Talon’s enormous sword, requiring the strength of a giant to merely hold, thrust into the dragon’s throat, all the way to the hilt. “For father,” snarled Talon.

The dragon’s eyes bulged. Inyria experienced a new sensation not felt before in hundreds of years of existence. The sensation of death. With an enormous exultation of breath The Black Dragon Witch, collapsed, dead.

In his rage, Talon would beat on the body for another full minute. That’s when Purthea, tugged on his shoulder with the words, “it’s over my barbarian friend.”

Talon spun, the battle rage still upon him his sword threatening to turn on Purthea. She stood there with a strange calm. “Talon, it’s over. For both of us. It’s our time now.”

Only coming from her would those words have stopped him. He caught his breath. He counted, he calmed down, and looked at her. “Our time?”

“Yes, it is time we were honest, that I was honest, about . . .” she stopped. She saw only then Thisbe cradling the head of the lifeless Domineco. She immediately ran to them with the others following.

As she approached, “stand aside hafling, I shall heal him.”

“No,” said a teary Thisbe looking up. “You can’t. He is gone. The True God has him now.”

“No!” she shouted pushing Thisbe aside and kneeling before her mentor, but as she did, she knew Thisbe spoke truly. Domineco had passed.

Weeping she looked up, “he summoned that spell, meant to kill me, to himself. Why?”

Thisbe place her hand on Purthea’s shoulders. “He spoke to me as he died. He said the ability to do that once was a . . . a gift given to him by your father. He said it was his fate. He said there was one other thing, that he wanted me to tell you.”

“What is it?” as she looked into the lifeless eyes of her lifelong friend.

“He wanted me to tell you that you passed the test. That the true test was that the love between two sisters would never die, and that this was your mother’s greatest gift.”

Chapter 43-Life Without A Quest

It was a long time before any of them could do anything. The hour of silent mourning was broken by Darkmoon who finally sighed and said, “I must return to my people, I must see if my mother has recovered. That was my quest, and it is still not over.”

The others nodded in agreement. They began to talk about what transpired while Causthea was separated from the group. She listened in fascination, as they did to her. She explained her end of it and how the backlash from the dragon witch’s massive spell as the crystal was broken had grievously hurt Inyria and was the trigger for all that followed.

Causthea turned to Darkmoon, “and you say it was Darkmoon who thought to shatter the Chief’s crystal?”

“Yep,” said Thisbe, who with a dagger was painstakingly collecting large gemstones embedded in the dead dragon’s body.

“Interesting,” said Causthea. “Very interesting.”

“Why is that so interesting, he’s been clever about coming up with ideas on the fly since joining up with us,” said Talon.

“Indeed he has,” she replied. “And his joining up with us was because of an idea he got on the fly. The random idea to challenge you in the pit. A decision that seemed to come out of nowhere. Much like his saving me with the idea of falling on top of me and holding me down, and now the decision to break a crystal when he could not possibly have any idea of what it could do.”

“So I got lucky, a few times,” mumbled Darkmoon. “I’m a horrible fighter, hardly able to hit anything compared to you guys.”

Causthea laughed. Something that made them all look up in surprise. “Don’t you see, Darkmoon? I told you there is magic within you. I also told you it was not trifling thing, that while subtle, it had power. I believe I now know what your power is. Though I hesitate to tell you for doing so might make it less effective.”

Now Darkmoon laughed. “Oh great sorceress, tell me my magic. I still don’t believe it is possible I have it, so I don’t believe I have anything to lose.”

Causthea walked to him, standing close looking up at him, her slitted eyes connecting with his own. “Brave barbarian, you possess magical intuition. You know what the right thing to do is, even when there should be no way for you to know.”

Darkmoon looked deeply at her, “and now that you have told me this you fear that might undermine this power?”

“Yes, as you may doubt whether a feeling is from the gift or just natural.” Then her wings twitched curiously, causing everyone but Darkmoon to jump. “Of course, I might be wrong. Perhaps by knowing this you can learn to control it, much as Talon does with his rage. Then you could call upon it when you desire, and it would no longer be by chance. This might be possible . . . particularly if you had proper training.”

“What would this proper training entail?”

Causthea stepped even closer, and the wings twitched again, as the others stood dumbfounded. “It would require working closely with a skilled sorceress. It would help immensely if she had her own unique power to see magic,” she added casually. “However, it would likely be a great challenge for both you and this sorceress. It could take quite sometime.”

“Quite sometime you say? How long?”

“No telling, would just have to see.”

Darkmoon cleared his throat. Her proximity was definitely distracting. “Do you know of any such sorceress willing to take on such a long, and difficult project?”

“I know of one. Are you willing to work with her?”

Darkmoon smiled. “I am. My instinct tells me it is a good idea.”

“Indeed barbarian, let’s start the training now. Push it further. What else does your instinct tell you is a good idea.”

“This!” Darkmoon wrapped his burly arms around slender Causthea, passing underneath the wings. He lifted her up off the ground, until her face was even with his, and kissed her deeply. Her wings flapped wildly as she returned the kiss, and when he released her she fluttered slowly the ground.

“I must say that tongue is a new sensation,” said a bedazzled Darkmoon. “And I guess those are really fangs.”

“Well I’ll be my father’s nephew!” shouted Thisbe. “I sure didn’t expect that. That’s going to make the ending to my book a whole lot more interesting.”

“Your book! What book?” they all practically shouted in unison.

“The book I’m going to write. With the wealth from today I am set for life. I can marry any hafling guy I want. You can be sure this Thisbe won’t marry a jackass.”

“Yeah about that,” interrupted Talon, “when your husband . . . umm turns, what happens?”

“You big barbarian dummy,” sighed Thisbe. “Once haflings are mated their turnings pair with each other.”

“So you mean, he’ll . . . and then you’ll . . . and you’ll both . . .”

“Yes, it means exactly that.”

“What about this book,” pushed Purthea. “A book about what?”

“Why a book about us, about all this, what we did. I think I will call it ‘The Quest For The Dragon Witch’ or something like that. Though I’ve also considered, ‘A Paladin, a Halfling and a Barbarian All Walk Into a Bar.”

“I’d like to read your book, someday,” grumbled Talon, “but I don’t think I’ll ever read well enough for a story that long.”

“I assure you, even a barbarian like you can be taught to read,” said Purthea. “At least if you get proper training.” She said the last two words mimicking her sister.

Looking at Darkmoon, his arm wrapped around Causthea, Talon asked, “what would this proper training entail.”

Laying the mimicking of Causthea on even thicker Purthea walked up to Talon as she removed her helmet. “It would require working closely with someone who has the patience of a holy warrior. It would help immensely if she had worked with you, teaching you to learn how to control other aspects of yourself. However, it would likely be a great challenge for both you, and this tutor. It could take quite sometime.”

Talon cleared his throat. “Quite sometime you say? How long?”

“No telling, would just have to see.”

Talon looked down sheepishly. “Do you know of any such tutor willing to take on such a long, and difficult project?”

“I know of one, are you willing to work with her?”

Talon smiled. “I am. I want to read Thisbe’s book, and the story about your mother.”

“Indeed barbarian, one key for your lessons will be to make you more enthusiastic about your studies. You require proper incentives to learn, and the lack of them has held you back so far.”

Talon looked deeply into Purthea’s eyes now, remembering their first meeting, where he sort of tried to kill her. “What incentives do you suggest?”

“Something like this.” She wrapped her mythral armored arms around him and kissed Talon deeply. Somewhere in the distance an eagle screeched.

“Holy extended families” shouted Thisbe. “Is my book ever going to reach ‘The End.’?”

Copyright/Legal Notification

The Quest For The Dragon Witch, by Keith Barber, is released subject to Open Game License v 1.0a Copyright 2000, Wizards of the Coast, Inc. System Reference Document Copyright 2000–2003, Wizards of the Coast, Inc.; Authors Jonathan Tweet, Monte Cook, Skip Williams, Rich Baker, Andy Collins, David Noonan, Rich Redman, Bruce R. Cordell, John D. Rateliff, Thomas Reid, James Wyatt, based on original material by E. Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson. A copy of this license is available online at: https://opengamingfoundation.org/ogl.html

As such any rights to the work are non-exclusive and subject to other use.