TEXT: Word Count: ~108000
  Richard Kingston
  Spice
  By Richard Kingston
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /2
  Prologue
  The Blue Star merchant vessel pulled in to the Findon docks with 
  a gentle bump of her wooden hull and a riotous cacophony of 
  noise, as crew members swung like monkeys from the rigging on to 
  the quay side and more crew emerged like fleeing rats from the 
  below decks. The waft of musky, sweaty men’s bodies accompanied 
  the crew as they raced about, eager to off load their vast cargo 
  as quickly as possible and hit the taverns for an evening of 
  drinking and whenching and to do their utmost to spend their 
  pay-packets all in one night.
   Four months they had been on the seas, a long voyage half way 
  around the continent of Vallilea, to the northern trade ports of 
  Highdown and Falo and the return home south to Findon. The men 
  were sick and tired of the sight of each other even though they 
  were all friends. They acted now quite brilliantly, as one 
  amorphous unit setting down planking and lifting and shifting 
  all the crates up to the deck and off. Within a few moments, 
  wagons were arriving to take the cargo to the safety of the 
  ships proprietor’s warehouse and put the treasures securely 
  under lock and key.
   No more than a half hour later the men were done, the vessel 
  bobbed a good foot higher against the docks and the crew stood 
  in line to receive their pay.
  
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   Captain Travish was a veteran of these journeys and sat with 
  the ships bursar with strict orders to withhold a quarter of all 
  the men’s pay to ensure two things; firstly that they returned 
  to continue their contracts and secondly to stop the dogs from 
  drinking it all that night.
   Jaspar and his best friend Evar waited in line with some 
  patience. When finally they received their silver and coppers 
  they shot off the ship faster than an elf’s bowshot. The two 
  young men, both of some twenty five years, knew the tavern 
  district well. They both knew deep down that had it not been for 
  the shipping business they may well have never escaped the 
  districts pull and perhaps have even ended up as ‘residents’ of 
  the slum district, alcoholics begging by day and drinking 
  everything they earned. 
   They turned on to Brewers Street and entered their favourite 
  tavern, the Red Dragon, a large and boisterous drinking house 
  owned by a large red haired former adventurer called Run 
  Wyrmsbane. There was some conjecture as to which name Run had 
  lived up to when he was an adventurer, he swore blind he had 
  defeated a mighty red wyrm in the Shuddering Peaks just to the 
  north, though the incident was not remembered or chronicled by 
  anyone else except his best friend, a bard who sang a song about 
  the terrific battle most every night. Others jokingly implied 
  
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  that his first name was more apt for his prowess in battle. 
   The friends found a table and drank the night away, taking 
  periodic turns to catch the serving whenchs eyes and pinch a few 
  ample buttocks. 
   Jaspar even turned his attention to a half elf, sat alone at 
  the bar, who gently chastised him about his level of drunkenness 
  before, after making enquiries about his family history, 
  informed him that he reminded her greatly of his grandfather who 
  had also been a letch after a few ales. This was enough to send 
  a slightly confused and embarrassed Jaspar back to the safety of 
  his friend.
   Another hour passed before the inebriated crewmen staggered out 
  of the Red Dragon and tried to find their way back to ship.
   As the volume of alcohol they had consumed started to take hold 
  of the pair, they found themselves somewhat disorientated. They 
  collapsed onto the street and crawled on hands and knees to the 
  side of a building which they lent against for support.
   ‘Eh, Ev, I’m smashed, evryfings spinnin’
  ‘You’re not kiddin Jash. Lesh jush shtay heer for bit.’ 
  Ev duly turned his head to the side and vomited next to himself.
  ‘Shbetter’ he said.
  Catching a wiff of the smell Jas duly followed suit.
  ‘Hwwuuurrr’.
  
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   The pair sat back propped against the wall and closed their 
  eyes. After a few moments Jaspar spoke
  ‘We bedda move. Could ged picked up by the watch here.’
  ‘Yesh’ came the reply.
  ‘Where are we Ev?’
  ‘No’sure Jash’.
  Slowly Jaspar opened his eyes to a spinning world and tried to 
  focus. He didn’t recognise his surroundings even in the state he 
  was in.
  ‘Fink we’ve gone the wrong way Ev. We’d bedda go, fink we’re in 
  the slums.’
   Evars eyes popped open and he too didn’t recognise where he 
  was, but the tell tale signs were there. Derelict buildings 
  surrounded them, there were shipping crates in the street as 
  well as other piles of rubbish. Faintly just over the smell of 
  their own fresh vomit they could smell alcohol in the air, and 
  it wasn’t coming from them.
   ‘Ol right lads’ the husky voice whispered in their ears from 
  just behind them. They both jumped as best their drunken bodies 
  could manage as the unshaven slum-dweller dropped out of the 
  window just above them. They both staggered and turned to face 
  him lifting their hands up in a pantomime of a boxing stance, 
  both gently swaying left and right. The filthy slum-dweller 
  
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  laughed a raucous hacking laugh, and was joined by several more. 
   Jaspar and Evar could handle themselves in a fight, under 
  normal circumstances, but this was not looking good. Three more 
  shambling wrecks of humanity began to close in and a hissing 
  noise filled the air.
  ‘We’re being attacked by shnakesh’ Evar said somewhat confused.
  ‘Fink so’ Jas replied.
  They both had a brief moment of clarity and pulled daggers from 
  their belts, ones they always kept there just in case of trouble.
  ‘Naughty naughty’ the man who had first interrupted them said. 
  ‘Ow bout you just give us you’re money and you can go, no need 
  for them daggers, you only goin to get hurt lads.’
  ‘No,‘s hard earned this cashh’ Ev managed.
  ‘Ssssspicccce’ came another hiss from around them and the three 
  shambling men closed in.
  Daggers and knives rose and fell as Jaspar and Evar put up a 
  valiant effort to defend themselves, but the strength of the men 
  from the slums was too much. Bones began to break under the 
  weight of the blows, first Jaspar’s forearm then he fell to the 
  floor with a man atop him. Evar looked to his friend and was 
  punched hard in the back. He tried to turn but could only just 
  move as his mouth let out a long wheeze. No it hadn’t been a 
  punch, it was a blade, straight through his lung. A second blow 
  
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  landed to his temple and he fell heavily to the floor. Jaspar 
  cried out for help as a flurry of blows landed. He managed to 
  scream for nearly ten seconds before he was finally silenced for 
  good.
   In the tavern district the local watch, a squad of six, thought 
  they heard a cry for help come from the slums nearby. They 
  looked to their duty captain who merely shook his head. The 
  slums were not a place for his boys at this time of night. 
  Anyone fool enough to be there would have to accept the 
  consequences.              
   Within moments the jubilant slum-dwellers stripped the two dead 
  crewmen of the remainder of their possessions and money and sank 
  back into the darkness, waiting for the next drunk wandering 
  about their territory.
   
   
    
  
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  A Deal is Struck (4334 words)
   A few days earlier
  ‘Lord Nyrex grant me the power to smite my enemies with your 
  Holy Flame, Strike!’ A huge pillar of green-tinted flame some 
  ten feet across shot up from the floor directly beneath 
  Lazargass, the hovering eye-tyrant. Its face twisted in rage and 
  horror as it tried for one last time to use its eye-stalk powers 
  to obliterate the human, but to no avail. The flames roared and 
  roiled for a few brief moments, fully engulfing the huge 
  beholder. His mouth sagged, his eye-stalks went limp and his 
  charred outer body wobbled and dropped the four feet to the 
  floor with an almighty crash. A blast of blackened flesh flew in 
  all directions as Djemmini took evasive action. The human High 
  Priest of Nyrex, Lord of Death and Murder, took a quick pace 
  back and covered his face with his black robe.
        Repugnant creature, he thought. These dangers were always 
  the biggest problem when working with the secretive shadow 
  gnomes, you had to come down to the lightless and lethal under-
  dark. Already today he had dispatched four huge and murderous 
  spiders, a small clan of kobolds that tried to rob him as he 
  
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  first entered the deeper tunnels, a couple of strange colourful 
  oozes that had nearly got the better of him and now this 
  beholder. Where would it end? Probably in the jaws of some great 
  red or grey dragon, he thought; that would test the 
  effectiveness of his contingency spells. He chuckled to himself 
  for he was not a dour man, far from it. He had simply found his 
  calling following the Lord of Death and Murder, with his green-
  tinged evocations, and he loved inflicting death, for the 
  feeling of power it gave, to take life, to have that control 
  over any living being, he revelled in it. Djemmini smoothed down 
  his blond hair and pulled on the cuffs of his white silk shirt 
  under his robe to straighten himself as he prepared to continue 
  on his way.
        First he stepped over to the remnants of the beholder. How 
  many adventurers had this one snared, he wondered, probably 
  many. He had hidden well, not in a cavern but high in a natural 
  funnel that allowed him to see his prey first as they walked 
  down the tunnel below him. This was the creature’s undoing 
  though, as the great orb’s anti-magic ray had cut off Djemmini's 
  spell of infravision, albeit very briefly. Ever alert, the High 
  Priest had readied his best evocation battle spells and the 
  flame strike had finished Lazargass off. He took a small vial 
  from an inner pocket of his black robe, one of its many extra-
  
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  dimensional pockets, and collected some of the creature’s blood. 
  He replaced the vial and looked at what was left of the 
  creature. He decided one eye-stalk was still salvageable and 
  took out his ceremonial dagger.
       ‘Praise be to Nyrex!’ he said with a smile.
        He swiftly cut off the eye-stalk, and tucked it away in 
  another robe pocket.
         ‘It may be of use to someone,’ he muttered to himself. 
  ‘We may even be able to regenerate the whole thing and use it as 
  a guardian at the Citadel.’ This set off another brief chuckle 
  before he rose and looked around. 
       ‘A pity there isn't enough time to look for his trinkets,’ 
  he whispered to himself.
        ‘Still, ever onward, the Shadow gnomes aren't known for 
  their patience when kept waiting, especially by a human!’
        He continued silently on, down a dank, winding passage, 
  which was wide enough for four humans abreast. This was one of 
  the main routes down from the surface to the under-dark for 
  anyone brave enough to venture this far underground, anyone 
  foolish enough. The dampness came from an underground river some 
  distance away but in the near silent tunnels it could be heard 
  well. Clever, he thought, just enough background noise to cover 
  movements. The Shadow gnomes were certainly not fools.
  
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        ‘Indeed!’ came a voice from just behind him.
        Not usually one to give anything away, Djemmini still 
  visibly twitched; a lesser man would have jumped out of his 
  skin. He turned to face the speaker, a shadow gnome. This was no 
  ordinary shadow gnome either. Three feet in height, bald on the 
  very top of his head and radiating strong magic, he was like 
  many shadow gnomes but the two jagged knives at his hips and 
  crossed bandoliers across his chest gave away his identity. It 
  was the very lethal Darios, chief assassin of the Galavan Clan 
  and one of the most feared creatures in all of Vallilea. 
        ‘Greetings, Darios!’ Djemmini said in a soft, smooth voice.
        ‘Follow me Priest, you are running late and the masters 
  are not for waiting around, nor are they keen on excuses from 
  their associates,’ the wispy voice replied.
        ‘A few of your underground colleagues tried to block my 
  way and needed removing,’ he began.
        ‘I, we care not. Follow!’
        The gnome walked several paces back up the passage and 
  turned on a soft-booted heel. He held out his left arm 
  indicating the rock wall.
        ‘After you, Priest,’ he whispered with a grin.
        Djemmini had seen many things in his forty or so summers, 
  but this most self-assured gnome in his home tunnels was truly 
  
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  one of the scariest beings he had ever encountered. He was not 
  about to disobey his order, so advanced to the point in the wall 
  Darios was indicating. Strange, he thought, he could see nothing 
  unusual. He had several detection spells active and yet this was 
  simply a wall to his vision.
        ‘Through you go, Priest,’ Darios encouraged. ‘I'll be 
  right behind you, as always, heeth, heeth,’ he chuckled.
        Djemmini stepped up to, then, amazingly, through the wall. 
  He felt his stomach lurch as he was teleported to another 
  location and staggered out of another wall. Somewhat 
  disorientated, he stumbled slightly and took several seconds to 
  regain his poise. He then became aware of more, whispery 
  chuckling, firstly from behind him, as Darios appeared from the 
  wall, and then from just up ahead. He straightened himself, 
  smoothing down his priest’s robe with both hands, and looked 
  towards those in front of him. Two elegantly dressed shadow 
  gnomes stood ten yards ahead.
        ‘Welcome Djemmini, Priest of the Murderer, I trust your 
  journey was not too harsh. We are glad that you are skilled 
  enough to make it this far. Please forgive us for sending out 
  the escort but time is short and we have much to discuss.’ 
        The gnome then brought forth a faint light from the end of 
  the staff he was holding in his left hand. The light grew slowly 
  
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  so that Djemmini could use his real vision and see colour rather 
  than relying on infravision. The gnome was slightly taller than 
  Darios, and had magnificent indigo-coloured skin. His eyes were 
  as black as the underground tunnels themselves. He wore a fine 
  black tunic and was adorned with numerous pieces of jewellery, 
  all radiating magic. The staff was almost blinding in its 
  magical radiance. Kymru Galavan, head of Clan Galavan, stepped 
  forward,
        ‘Let me introduce my partner and the head of Clan Puttnik, 
  Braden Puttnik’.
        ‘Greetings Clan Leader, may my Lord and Master allow you 
  many successful murders,’ said Djemmini as he half bowed to 
  Braden Puttnik.
        ‘Your Lord has been most accommodating in the passt’ 
  Braden whispered, ‘I hope it may continue.’
        Braden had a very different appearance from Kymru Galavan, 
  while he was of a similar height and bald on top, his colouring 
  was radically different. His skin was mauve, as was his hair and 
  his eyes were also a purple colour.
        ‘I ssee you study my colouring, human. Different is it 
  not, but much like you humans we differ greatly too. Mauve is a 
  feature of our Clan; you will always be able to sspot a Puttnik 
  by his colourss.’ 
  
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        ‘My dealings with you are as ever an education, Clan 
  Leaders.’
       ‘Indeed, but enough formality, Djemmini. Follow us to our 
  crop. Darios, you are dismissed, you may continue torturing the 
  earth halfling we found yesterday.’
        ‘With pleasure,’ Darios replied and then simply vanished 
  into thin air. 
        Djemmini maintained a blank, unreadable expression, but 
  was starting to feel unnerved down here, a half mile or so 
  underground. He wondered whether anyone on the surface was 
  really aware of just how powerful the Shadow gnomes were. Were 
  it not for their aversion to sunlight they would surely be able 
  to rule the whole of Vallilea and enslave the surface races to 
  do their bidding.
        He followed the two gnome leaders out of the small cave 
  they had been in and out into a vast cavern. This was the Shadow 
  gnome city of Imar, home to Clans Galavan, Puttnik and possibly 
  many more that Djemmini had no knowledge of. They skirted the 
  edge of the cavern following a path that was slowly descending. 
  The sound of running water was growing louder the further they 
  travelled down the path, with the cavern wall becoming slightly 
  damp here. Luminous mosses and lichens were attached to the 
  walls making the most of the damp atmosphere. After several 
  
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  minutes they arrived at a beach where the river meandered and 
  the Clan Leaders stopped. 
       ‘There you are Priest. On the other side are the mushroom 
  fields; our future, your future, death to the surface and more 
  deaths for your Master,’ said Kymru.
        ‘Come let uss take a closser look,’ whispered Braden. He 
  made a brief gesture and began to fly across the churning, pitch 
  black river towards the mushroom fields.
        ‘Do you have transport?’ Kymru asked Djemmini.
        ‘I can always send you over with this,’ he indicated his 
  staff. ‘It’s perfectly safe’. His grin was not one that inspired 
  much confidence in Djemmini and he did not want appear either 
  weak or in need of Kymru's help.
        ‘I can make my own way, thank you Clan Leader,’ he replied 
  with a half smile.
        He made a few gestures casting his spell and boldly 
  stepped on to the thin air in front of him, proceeding to walk 
  on the air to the other side as though a solid stone bridge were 
  under his feet. It was far too powerful a spell to have used 
  simply to save face but it set the right tone among such 
  powerful allies. If he could waste such a spell on crossing a 
  river then they would imagine him to be truly powerful, or so he 
  hoped.
  
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        Kymru gave a whispery chuckle,
       ‘I like your style, Priest,’ he called, ‘very impressive!’
        Kymru simply lifted off and floated over to the other 
  bank, using the power of his staff. He dropped down next to 
  Braden and Djemmini and gestured to the mushrooms. 
        ‘We should be able to manufacture enough here to cripple 
  half of Vallilea, maybe more.’
        ‘Excellent’ murmured Djemmini. ‘So, let's get down to the 
  details’.
        ‘Yess, the details,’ Braden butted in excitedly.
        ‘Where shall we target, how can we infiltrate towns and 
  cities, who will we use to peddle the spice and what safety 
  measures do we have in place?’ Kymru began. ‘Speaking on behalf 
  of the Shadow gnomes we would dearly love to bring down the city 
  of Findon first, home to that pompous, pious Lord of all Sir 
  Theobold. We could then move to the smaller outlying cities of 
  Ingles and Abinger. If we succeed then we can move further 
  afield to another large city such as Salvington and on from 
  there,’ Kymru said, outlining his initial ideas.
       ‘You appear to have a very clear plan,’ Djemmini replied, 
  ‘and it is a good one. Findon is a large enough city for us to 
  infiltrate without being spotted. The mushroom powder will take 
  hold in the poorer slum district there before anyone realises 
  
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  and by the time they do that part of the city will be too far 
  gone to recover.’ 
        ‘And you would be able to operate there?’ questioned 
  Kymru. 
        ‘I am well connected. The Lord of Murder has aided us with 
  a secret temple in the city. We have several High Priests and a 
  coterie of thieves and rogues to help with distribution. It is 
  an ideal place to start!’
        ‘I knew there was a reason we had to do businesss with a 
  human,’ Braden muttered with half a grin.
        ‘We work toward a common aim, removing those in power. 
  When their cities have crumbled the common folk shall turn to 
  the Lord of Death and Murder for salvation as they make their 
  last journey and he shall gather up their souls and become ever 
  more powerful. You will no longer be bothered by the do-gooders 
  of the surface world and will be free to do as you please.’
       ‘We will welcome the lack of interruption in our affairs,’ 
  Kymru said. ‘Now let us show you more of the mushroom fields.’
        The three made their way to the edge of the fields. The 
  mushrooms stood some two feet in height and in amongst them 
  could be seen the heads of several shadow gnomes as well as 
  larger figures, mainly humans and elves, who were being forced 
  to work. 
  
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       ‘As you can see, the slaves are doing a fine job of tending 
  the crop,’ said Kymru. ‘Though less strong, the elves are 
  actually better workers than the humans. The humans seem to 
  fatigue far too quickly for our liking.’
       They approached a gnome standing next to two male humans 
  who were busy digging around the mushrooms. He stood whip in 
  hand with a scowl on his face.
        ‘How do they fare?’ asked Braden.
        ‘Running out of energy,’ replied the guard, ‘as always.’
        ‘Then show some initiative, gnome, give them a little of 
  the Spice!’ said Kymru.
        ‘But it makes them near uncontrollable, master,’ replied 
  the guard.
        ‘We will take care of any trouble, don't you worry,’ said 
  Braden.
        The guard pulled a small leather pouch from his pocket. He 
  loosened the top and held it open to the two humans.
        ‘Stop work, slaves, and take some of this,’ he hissed. 
  ‘You know you'll feel better for it!’
         The two approached tentatively and reached for the pouch. 
  The guard tipped a little fine powder into the palms of the two 
  slave workers. They looked at it hungrily.
        ‘Go ahead slaves, lick it up!’ he ordered.
  
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       The slaves did as they were told, licking their palms with 
  big hungry strokes of their tongues. They grimaced slightly 
  after, the taste being somewhat bitter, and stood back. 
       ‘Now, Priest, you will see what we have created here,’ 
  whispered Kymru.
       The slaves started to breathe more heavily, their nostrils 
  began to flare as they drew deeper and deeper breaths. They 
  could feel their hearts starting to pound in their chests and 
  the sound of it beat strongly in their ears. The slaves 
  instinctively took in huge breaths with wide open mouths and 
  stretched their no longer tired and aching arms and shoulders. 
  Their eyes started to widen and as their arms returned to their 
  sides their fists started to clench. The slaves’ jaws started to 
  make a side to side motion as the Spice surged through their 
  bodies.
        ‘Now you two, back to work and no slacking!’ the guard 
  barked at the pair.
        The slaves slowly turned their heads toward the guard with 
  a half snarl, half rictus grin.
        Djemmini started to ready his hold-person spell just in 
  case; these two looked for all the world like they were about to 
  cause trouble. 
       ‘I said “Back to work!”, or do you want to feel my scourge 
  
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  again?’ the guard snapped.
        The slaves gave him one last semi-psychotic, murderous 
  look and moved back to pick up the small trowels they had been 
  using to tend to the mushrooms. They began to dig and move soil 
  like men possessed. Every now and then one of them would let out 
  a guttural snarl and both were frequently rubbing the back of 
  their necks and giving little shudders.
        ‘Ssee priest, effective for this purpose, but they do sso 
  seem to enjoy taking the SSpice,’ said Braden.
        ‘It certainly appears to have that effect, though they 
  look almost possessed. Are they in control, do they know what is 
  going on?’
       ‘Let us ask them, shall we?’ replied Kymru.
       ‘Slave, stop digging and come here!’ ordered Kymru.
        The slightly taller of the two men looked up and then 
  stood up.  He was still breathing heavily and flaring his 
  nostrils. He also appeared to be chewing as he stood before 
  them. 
       ‘Do you like the Spice we so generously give you, slave?’ 
  asked Kymru, his fingers rhythmically tapping on his staff.
       ‘Huh, huh, oh yeah. It's good alright.’ He took in a deep 
  breath. ‘Makes you feel proper strong, like you can do anyfing. 
  Even give you a little slap eh! Huh, huh.’
  
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        You are always welcome to try slave, I have a new spell 
  that needs testing, so feel free,’ chuckled Kymru.
       The slave started to chew more vigorously and his breathing 
  quickened. He started looking from side to side and sweat was 
  beginning to trickle down his forehead.
       ‘I can really try and give you a slap? You deserve it after 
  what you've done to me. Yeah, why not, why not?’
       He started to shift his feet, squeeze his fists into tight 
  balls and then relax them. His breathing was now coming in great 
  gasps.
       ‘Yeah, why not?’
        He let out a roar and lunged at Kymru who was standing 
  only two feet away. His fist shot towards Kymru's head but was 
  stopped short as he hit a protective spell - a stoneskin. But 
  this was no usual defensive spell; this was Kymru Galavan’s new 
  personal protective spell.
       Kymru turned his head to Djemmini and whispered ‘Watch 
  this!’
       The slave’s hand was stuck fast in mid air, to the point 
  where he had tried to strike the Clan Leader. He tried to pull 
  away but to no avail. He snarled and growled as he pulled with 
  all his strength and then he started to cry out. 
       There was a loud ripping sound and a bloody line appeared 
  
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  down the stuck and stricken slave’s forearm. Then the skin on 
  the hand started to peel back and slowly roll down the forearm. 
  The slave stared at his hand as the muscle and tendons were 
  slowly revealed to him. The skin continued to roll back up his 
  arm all the way to the armpit. Bleeding muscles and bulging 
  veins writhed and danced on his now skinless arm.
       In the background Djemmini was aware of Braden laughing at 
  what was happening.
       ‘Excellent, Kymru, excellent!’ he cried out.
       There was another huge ripping noise as large red gashes 
  appeared down the front and back of the slave’s torso and 
  another line around the neck appeared.
       ‘Wait for it, Braden, Priest,’ said Kymru excitedly.
       The skin began to peel back from the centre of the spine, 
  opening like curtains to expose the spinal column and muscles of 
  the back. To the front, the abdominal muscles and the chest were 
  now visible.
       Djemmini was fascinated. This was one of the most horrific 
  spells he had ever seen and he had invented a few grisly ones 
  himself.
       The skin continued to peel away till the whole torso was 
  just muscle, vein and tendon. A pile of flayed skin lay at the 
  slave’s feet. The slave was still breathing furiously almost 
  
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  unable to comprehend, or perhaps to feel, what was happening to 
  him.
       ‘And now friends, my favourite bit,’ Kymru, barely able to 
  contain himself, said. 
       He clicked the fingers of his right hand.
       The skin on the neck rolled up an inch, stopped and then, 
  as though yanked up by the hand of an unseen giant, was ripped 
  off in one hard, fast movement, to leave the skinless face of 
  the slave before them. The bloody ‘bag’ of skull skin plopped to 
  the floor.
       ‘Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!’ The piercing scream was one of the most 
  blood-curdling Djemmini had ever heard. He was truly horrified 
  and massively impressed. The slave hyperventilated several more 
  times before suddenly collapsing onto the floor. 
       Djemmini heard clapping coming from Braden and gently 
  started to join in.
       ‘A most impresssive defence, Kymru’,’ whispered Braden.
       ‘My latest one, Kymru’s Back Lash, it’s called. It is 
  essentially a fire shield with a few added extras as you saw. 
  Particularly useful when dealing with a group as it tends to 
  unsettle those you are fighting, somewhat,’ he grinned.
       ‘But is it not a little slow, if you were being attacked?’ 
  asked Djemmini.
  
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       ‘Ah, you are not familiar with the Spice are you?’ replied 
  Kymru. ‘What did you try and do when he lunged for me?’
       Djemmini thought and then realised that he had readied his 
  hold-person spell and had set it off as the slave had lunged at 
  Kymru. The nail component had been used but the spell had not 
  worked. Djemmini had almost forgotten in the horror show that 
  followed that his spell had been ineffective.
       ‘You tried to hold him but it did not work,’ uttered 
  Braden. ‘It never workss on those under the influence of SSpice. 
  They become unstoppable, double in strength, feel almost 
  nothing. It will cause chaoss in the cities of Vallilea, 
  hahahaha!’.
       Djemmini was unsure what was most unsettling, that his 
  spell failed or that these shadow gnomes seemed to know what he 
  was doing all the time. Even if they had E.S.P he had defences 
  to mind reading, yet they seemed to know just what he was 
  thinking.
       The flayed slave was still quivering on the floor; ragged 
  rasping breaths escaping from the grotesque form. 
       ‘May I?’ asked Djemmini.
       ‘You may,’ Kymru nodded.
       Djemmini dropped to one knee next to the dying slave. He 
  pulled out his ceremonial knife and said a prayer.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /25
       ‘Nyrex, Lord of Murder, please accept this offering, this 
  soul, into your mighty army. I am ever your humble murdering 
  servant!’
        He plunged his knife into the space between the collarbone 
  and trapezius muscle of the neck and wiggled the knife. He 
  yanked it out and was rewarded by a fountain of bright scarlet 
  blood shooting two feet from the body. The breathing stopped, 
  the body finally went limp. A shadow slowly coalesced around the 
  body like a dark blanket, growing ever more opaque. When the 
  body was covered completely the shadow dissipated and the body 
  was gone.
        The guard who had been watching the proceedings raised an 
  eyebrow to Kymru, who merely shrugged in return. The guard then 
  turned his attention to the other slave who was working the soil 
  furiously and completely oblivious to what had happened to his 
  fellow slave. He was breathing hard rubbing his neck from time 
  to time and arching his back at regular intervals. The guard 
  pulled out his scourge and lashed the slave, yelling ‘Faster, 
  slave!’
       The slave appeared not to notice and continued at the same 
  frenzied pace as before.
        ‘Sso,’ Braden broke the silence, ‘we will supply you with 
  enough SSpice for the first city; we will send it by caravan 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /26
  through the mountains and down. We can meet with your people 
  anywhere you choose along the way for the hand-over, but the 
  further from Findon the better for uss for now. You will 
  distribute it as you see fit, drip feed it onto the streetss. 
  The more people you have craving it the better. It takess about 
  three dayss for the real cravingss to take hold, then the 
  pitiful creatures will do anything to get hold of it. More 
  murders for your Lord. More chaos for uss. You may keep any of 
  the money you make, it has no relevance to uss, we can take what 
  we want when we want should we require anything.’
       ‘Any questions, Priest?’ asked Kymru.
       ‘I have no particular wish to return here, as welcome as 
  you have made me,’ he began.
       ‘Ah yes,’ butted in Kymru, ‘take this.’ He gave Djemmini a 
  piece of platinum that he appeared to pluck from thin air. ‘We 
  will be able to locate you with it. We can communicate though 
  scrying very easily when you have this with you.’
       ‘Then that is all’ said Djemmini, examining the coin. It 
  had no visible markings on it, which in a way made it easily 
  distinguishable from other coins. He slipped it into a pocket in 
  his robe.
       ‘Excellent, Priesst’ whispered Braden. ‘We will contact you 
  in less than a tenday. Be ready for the first shipment, don't 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /27
  disappoint uss!’
       ‘You will not be disappointed Clan Leaders’.
       The two Shadow gnomes approached Djemmini and looked hard 
  at him. Djemmini breathed slowly to keep his calm. He held out 
  his right hand.
       Kymru and Braden grinned large.
       ‘Are you sure you want to shake after what you just saw 
  Priest?’ 
       Djemmini looked into Kymru’s eyes first, then Braden’s and 
  kept his hand out.
       ‘Hah, we will be a good team with you, Priesst,’ whispered 
  Braden as he shook the offered hand.
       ‘Deal done,’ said Kymru as he too shook the hand. ‘I can 
  send you back to where you need to go now if you require.’
       ‘I can manage of my own accord,’ replied Djemmini, ‘but 
  thank you.’
         The Priest of Nyrex whispered the words to a prayer to 
  his Lord and promptly disappeared, recalled to a far safer place 
  for himself.
       Certain he was gone, the two gnome Clan Leaders turned to 
  each other as another gnome appeared next to them.
        ‘Greetings, Mentza, thank you for your help. Can he be 
  trusted?’ asked Kymru.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /28
       The Galavan Clan wizard, distinctive by the gold sigiled, 
  black skull cap he wore on his bald pate, nodded.
       ‘He has significant magics at his disposal and his mind 
  wanders and plots, but he is enough in awe of us to not try 
  anything. His magical defences were strong, but no match for me. 
  He was never aware of my presence here.’
       ‘Then let uss begin the manufacture,’ hissed Braden.
       ‘Guard! Guard! Spice up all the workers and get this crop 
  cut and powdered. We need it out in two days!’
       
       
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /29
  An Urgent Meeting
  ‘Almost there, almost there,’ the young lad Kaylin said to 
  himself as he struggled up the last of the nearly three hundred 
  steps he had taken on his errand across the castle. He couldn't 
  stop now since Sir Theobold had stressed to him the importance 
  and urgency of the summons. He was to bring Chief Court Advisor 
  Argyll to the audience chamber as soon as he possibly could.
        Up two more steps and he arrived on a landing and half 
  dashed, half stumbled the last few steps to the Advisor’s door. 
  His legs were burning from the effort, sweat fairly poured off 
  the end of his nose and his mouth was dry. 
        He rapped on the stout oak door in front of him, calling
  ‘Mister..huh....huh....Argyll....huh, Sir.  Huh.....huh’.
       The wall behind him opened and Kaylin nearly jumped out of 
  his skin. That was the trouble with dealing with illusionists, 
  nothing was as it seemed. A gnome, fair of skin, with snow white 
  hair surrounding his bald crown and large blue eyes, looked out.
       ‘Yes, Kaylin isn't it?’ said a soft and soothing voice.
       ‘Yessir..huh..huh.’ he panted ‘Sir..Theobold wants you in 
  his...huh...huh...audience chamber as soon..huh...huh..as 
  possible...huh..huh. Sir’.
       ‘Then I shall come now. Don't hurry yourself though Kaylin, 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /30
  you look like you need to take your time.’
        The soft spoken gnome of gentle spirit patted the boy on 
  the top of his head as Kaylin slid down the wall to sit. Argyll 
  uttered a few words and vanished in a twinkle of lights. Kaylin 
  sat there staring at where the trusted Advisor had been and 
  wished he too had the ability to move around the castle like 
  that. 
       ‘Maybe one day,’ he muttered, and hung his head as he 
  contemplated the route back through the castle to the servants’ 
  quarters.
        Argyll appeared in Sir Theobold’s main audience chamber. 
  It was a vast, high-ceilinged hall, with both stained glass and 
  clear glass windows rising fully twelve feet up the walls. The 
  sun was strong today and poured through the windows, creating 
  fabulous colour designs on the stone floor of the Great Hall. 
  Sir Theobold often held public audiences in this room, as it 
  could hold well over a thousand people, and Argyll often felt 
  somewhat exposed when it was just Sir Theobold and himself. He 
  stood in an aisle between wooden pews, some twenty feet from a 
  dais upon which was a large raised throne. The throne, though, 
  was not ornate, merely carved oak with a padded seat, because 
  Sir Theobold was not an ostentatious man. He walked towards the 
  dais and the man standing by it.
  
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       ‘Ah excellent, Argyll! Spot on with your timing. That 
  messenger boy did well, may use him as a runner again.’ Sir 
  Theobold was as ever clipped in his language, invariably making 
  several points at a time without the chance of a response.
       ‘I came just after the summons, Sir, the swiftest way I 
  could,’ Argyll softly replied.
       ‘Good, good, good. Now then, important issue this. Yes, 
  we've got a real problem Argyll, a real problem. It's no good, 
  no good at all,’ Sir Theobold rattled off.
       ‘A real problem, Sir?’ Argyll replied, angling his bald 
  head to the left as he asked.
       ‘Yes, yes. The workers’ district or rather that area 
  between the workers’ district and the docks. Were you aware we 
  have a slum area within our city? Total mayhem. Total and utter 
  chaos down there. The low lives of this city have all gone 
  completely mad. Foaming at the mouth, so I'm told; violent crime 
  at an all time high; daylight mugging; the city guard attacked. 
  Unprecedented, Argyll, unprecedented!’
       ‘And the cause for this is, Sir?’ Argyll prompted.
       ‘Is why your here, Argyll! There are, of course, rumours as 
  there always are when anything sweeps through like this. Who can 
  forget the month of burnings we had a few years back? Every 
  darned warehouse by the docks burnt to the ground. Every fire 
  
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  halfling from here to the Shuddering Peaks was rounded up for 
  questioning. Turned out it was a specter, some ship’s wizard 
  who'd been murdered and was hell bent on revenge. What a fight 
  that was to finish him off,..yeess. Where was I?’
       ‘Rumours, Sir’
       ‘Yes. Rumours. Good, Argyll, that's why I like you. Focus.’
       Argyll did his best not to let out a sigh and roll his 
  eyes. As goodly a creature as he was, and there were fewer purer 
  in thought and deed than Argyll, these conversations did often 
  take their time and test the patience of, well of a Light gnome.
       ‘They say that it may be some sort of drink, certainly 
  looks as though it could be imbibed. Nasty stuff though. Rumours 
  of great strength increases and all that. But there's a crazed 
  look about them. Desperation in the faces of those afflicted. 
  There doesn't seem to be any sleeping it off either. That’s 
  unusual in stuff like this.’ Sir Theobold, tall and broad-
  shouldered, started to pace around the dais with his hands 
  clasped behind his back. He looked down and was frowning, a look 
  of serious contemplation on his furrowed brow.
       ‘Have we tried to scry the situation, Sir, if it is too 
  dangerous to go there physically?’ Argyll enquired.
       ‘Loriana is trying that as we speak. I'm expecting her here 
  to report at any moment. Trouble is we are only getting people 
  
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  that have been affected, not when they are becoming affected. Do 
  you see, Argyll?’
       ‘Yes Sir Theobold, I do. And the guards, they aren't strong 
  enough to go in there and get to the bottom of this?’
       ‘It's resources, Argyll. It seems to be individuals and no 
  one knows who will blow next or where. They've been to taverns 
  to make enquiries but have either turned up nothing or started 
  fights just by their mere presence. You know I didn't realise 
  quite how unruly parts of this, my own city have become!’
       ‘It’s a large city though, Sir, and has grown more so in 
  the last few years. The rebuilding after the aforementioned 
  month of burning brought in a lot of workers and those that 
  thrive on a busy port city.’ Argyll tapped his top lip with his 
  index finger. ‘Not all those come to contribute to our society, 
  Sir.’ He added.
       ‘Of that I am becoming increasingly aware, Argyll!’ Sir 
  Theobold stated. ‘I once had all black hair you know,’ he 
  chuckled, ‘not this salt and pepper nonsense. Stress, Argyll, 
  Stress. It'll be the end of me!!’
       The pair, human and light gnome harumphed in unison and Sir 
  Theobold continued his pacing. Just as Argyll mulled over the 
  possibilities the doors to the chamber opened and a woman walked 
  in. She was of medium height with bright orange hair and pale 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /34
  yellow skin. Her hair had braids pulling the front back from her 
  face to expose her distinctly elven features. She was wearing an 
  orange sunset coloured dress to complement her hair and was 
  adorned with jewelled rings and an amulet upon her skin above 
  her breast. It was just possible to tell that her figure was too 
  full for an elf. Argyll tried not to stare for too long at the 
  half-elf as she strode down the aisle towards them.
       ‘Loriana, excellent! Good. What have you found? Do you have 
  answers? Have we caught anyone?’ Sir Theobold enthusiastically 
  greeted her as he stopped his pacing.
       ‘My scrying has helped somewhat, though I will need more 
  time. I definitely saw some sort of deal happen. Down a back 
  alley a regular street urchin came up to a fairly nondescript 
  man in dark clothing and gave him something silver or a silver 
  coin in exchange for what I couldn't even guess at, and then he 
  left. I followed the one that had given the silver. He left that 
  alley and disappeared down another alley where he emptied some 
  type of powder into his mouth. After a few moments he started to 
  breathe really heavily, nostrils flaring, and he rubbed the back 
  of his neck a lot. He then let out a huge sigh-come-roar and 
  stretched. He then came out of the alley on to the main street 
  but his whole manner had changed.’ 
       ‘In what way?’ Sir Theobold interrupted.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /35
       ‘Big striding, a real air of confidence’ Loriana replied. 
  ‘He looked as though he was invincible, or thought he was at any 
  rate.’
       ‘Intriguing,’ pondered Argyll. ‘It is as though they have 
  had some sort of haste potion or strength potion, but they 
  aren't easy to come by, and I've never heard of a mass 
  manufacture of these things’.
       ‘I would have continued on but he went in to one of the 
  taverns, and as you know they seem to revel in the fact that 
  they have anti-scrying magics these days. So who knows what is 
  happening in some of them, or what happened after that. I'm 
  sorry I could not do more, Sir Theobold, but I can scry again 
  now I have a better idea of what is happening,’ Loriana 
  apologised.
       ‘My dear wizard you have done well,’ Sir Theobold said 
  comfortingly. ‘We had very little idea of what was happening at 
  all, so this is at least a beginning.’
       ‘So what direction do we take now?’ Argyll asked of the 
  ruler and his wizard. ‘ We could formalise the guards and have a 
  mass sweep of the worker and dock districts to try and drive out 
  this stuff whatever it is,’ he suggested. 
        ‘Pushing water I'm afraid, Argyll, like pushing water. The 
  reports also suggest, as you commented, that this thing makes 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /36
  the people afflicted very strong and energetic. Many of the city 
  guards are not all that competent in a real fight. Oh, they're 
  fine for every day stuff and a few drunks, but not enhanced, 
  crazy people. The last thing I need is a host of angry mothers 
  that have lost their dear sons because I sent them into danger. 
  No, that won't do at all.’ Sir Theobold walked a little down the 
  aisle, hands clasped again, and left Argyll and Loriana staring 
  at each other.
        It was not a stare Argyll could hold for long. He was a 
  reasonably elderly gnome, impervious to outside influences. He 
  could smell a lie at a thousand paces and could see the intent 
  upon every face he ever saw. But..she was just incredible! The 
  depth of knowledge, the intelligence, the mixing of worlds all 
  in that stunning half-elven face, those slightly almond 
  vermillion eyes that..that were looking right into his.
       ‘I'm not sure where this is going do you?’ she said 
  quietly. 
       ‘Er, I'm not sure Lori,’ he replied, then realised that he 
  had used her familiar name. ‘Er, Loriana,’ he blustered.
       She looked at him and gave him a half smile. Argyll felt 
  his knees turn to water. 
        Then it happened. Lori hadn't been expecting it, but 
  suddenly, by Sir Theobold’s manner, or change in it, she knew 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /37
  what Sir Theobold was thinking and that he was going to ask a 
  question she didn't want to hear. 
       ‘Loriaaana’ said Sir Theobold, in that slightly lengthened, 
  pleading voice that most people use when they want something 
  they know the other person doesn't want to give.
       ‘No!’ she stated, quite clearly and quickly with all the 
  polite strength she could muster.
       ‘Loriana’ he began again, ‘would you by any chance be able 
  to..’
       She knew where this was going now. The pit of her stomach 
  dropped through the floor. She began to sweat and could feel the 
  blood draining from her pale yellow face to give her an almost 
  ghost-like appearance.
       ‘Perhaps,’ he continued ‘you would be able to get in touch 
  with...’
       ‘NO. En Owe. No! No no no no no no! Don't even say the 
  name! Sir, Please!’ She was desperate and nearly in tears.
       ‘It's just he's the best qualified for this sort of thing, 
  well, the Company of the Compass certainly are, and he is the 
  founder member.’
       ‘There are other adventuring bands, Sir,’ she pleaded 
  forcefully.
       ‘But none as good, Loriana. Ethandril Thililisfarne..’
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /38
       ‘Nnooo’ she wailed. ‘Please. Not him’.
       ‘Is one of the finest adventuring mages around and one of 
  the few with enough experience and backup for this sort of 
  thing,’ Sir Theobold finished.
       Just the mention of her father’s name nearly drove Loriana 
  crazy. He was, with due respect to any that history has 
  forgotten or missed out on, the most reckless being the world of 
  Estrella had ever seen. They say there is a fine line between 
  madness and genius, but never has anyone so willingly and 
  deliberately straddled that line and thumbed their nose at the 
  consequences.
       ‘That elf’ she began with a deep voice now rising in anger 
  ‘is the most irresponsible creature on this planet. That the 
  Gods themselves ever decided to allow creation to produce him is 
  a mystery.’
       ‘But he is your father,’ Argyll chimed in, in an effort to 
  defuse the situation.  For someone so skilled in diplomacy 
  Argyll could not have said anything worse at that moment, even 
  if he had said that the Gods had just landed on the castle lawn 
  or the fires of the Abyss were in the castle itself.
       Loriana turned, very slowly and deliberately around to face 
  Argyll. He wished he could shrink. He wished the ground would 
  open up and swallow him.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /39
       ‘Don't. You! Ever! Say! That! AGGAAAAIIIN Argyll!!!!’ 
  screamed Loriana.
       ‘Loriana Thililisfarne,’ Sir Theobold was back in control 
  again. ‘Your emotions are unbecoming to your station. We need 
  Ethandril and his band, and you must summon him. That is an 
  order!’
       She stared open-mouthed and wide-eyed at Sir Theobold. She 
  was dumbstruck and slowly closed her mouth but continued to 
  stare.
       ‘You may use the crystal ball behind the dais; I wish to 
  see him too,’ Sir Theobold instructed with an air of total 
  finality in his voice.
       Loriana felt numb and slightly dazed. Her feelings for her 
  father were one part love and unadulterated admiration for his 
  passion and genius and nine parts loathing for his attitude 
  toward the rest of the world, especially her poor dead mother. 
       She followed Sir Theobold behind the dais where he pulled 
  open a secret compartment from the main structure. From a 
  cabinet built into it he brought forth a crystal ball sitting on 
  a plush velvet cushion.
       ‘Here, my dear, use the family heirloom, it gives such a 
  clear scrying’.
       Loriana stood staring at the beautiful crystal ball and 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /40
  cleared her mind of everything. She was well attuned to the 
  court scrying device and started to go through the motions of 
  her scrying spells. She opened her mind to the image of her 
  father and focused on the centre of the ball. Soon she was away 
  from the room and whizzing across an ocean.
       A slender, bright yellow right hand held a pair of 
  alchemist’s tongs that were holding a delicate glass vial filled 
  with a frothing, white vapour-producing, purple liquid.  The 
  left hand had a similar set of tongs and a vial only this one 
  held a clear liquid with a silver coloured ball in the bottom of 
  it. A melodic voice spoke in Elvish.
       ‘Now Thelandril, if I'm right then the lead mercury 
  compound ball in the bottom of the potion of flying here,’ he 
  said indicating the clear vial in his left hand, ‘should 
  stabilise the reaction long enough for the potion of fiery 
  breathe to mix with it and hence allow flight and fire breathing 
  and you can pretend to be a Dragon, son!’
       ‘The secret is to go nice and steady with the fiery breath, 
  because it's pretty unstable, even at the best of times.’
       The small elf, with bright orange hair and vivid yellow 
  skin, looked on in awe as his father, of similar colouring, 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /41
  began to pour the purple liquid into the clear. Just at that 
  moment, he felt a tickle. Not a big tickle, but one he knew well.
       ‘Oooohh’ he squealed ‘I'm being watched.’ His hands began 
  to waver. The purple liquid began to flow a little faster. ‘Who 
  DARES to spy on Ethandril Thililisfarne, mage and inventor 
  extraordinaire in his own home?’ The Flame elf looked up and in 
  his mind’s eye he saw the face of his peeping tom.
       ‘Why if it isn't my darling daughter, Lorikins, Darling! 
  Sweetness! Apple of my almond eye,’ he gushed. But as he gushed 
  he completely forgot about what he was doing.
       ‘Dad, Ethandril!’ his offspring cried simultaneously.
       ‘Oh!’ was all Ethandril had time for. 
       
       The crystal ball was at once a roiling mass of flame as an 
  almighty explosion rocked the laboratory. Sir Theobold, Loriana 
  and Argyll could see nothing. The crystal ball winked out.
       ‘Oh, Lori,’ said Argyll. ‘I'm so sorry. I, I don't know 
  what to say.’
       ‘Loriana. I can't help but feel partly responsible,’ 
  started Sir Theobold. But she held up a slender hand.
       ‘It's OK. It's OK.’ She said clearly and with finality. ‘It 
  was bound to happen sooner or later’.
       ‘Exactly,’ came an elven voice from behind them. With a 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /42
  start the three turned and walked to the front of the dais. 
  Standing before them, with a smoke-blackened face and a bit 
  charred around the edges, was a Flame elf, Ethandril 
  Thililisfarne, Loriana's father.
       ‘Which is why I have so many fabulous contingencies in 
  place when these things do happen,’ he said with a beaming 
  smile, showing pearly white teeth against bright red gums.
       ‘And what of my half-brother, Ethandril; what has happened 
  to Thelandril?’ demanded Loriana.
       ‘Ah, I may need to check on, er, him. Or, er what’s left 
  of, him.’
        ‘You see’ she yelled turning to Sir Theobold ‘he cares 
  nothing for anyone else’. ‘How many times Ethandril, Ethan, 
  DAD?’ she yelled, staring right into his almond eyes. How many 
  times has poor Thelandril been resurrected? It's a wonder he 
  came back last time or that the Gods will let him. They should 
  keep him in the Elysian Fields for his own safety! Well,’ she 
  demanded, ‘how many?’
       ‘Erm, seven, maybe eight,’ Ethandril whispered.
       ‘You've accidentally killed your own son maybe eight 
  times!’ she said in bewilderment
       ‘Actually, Ethandril you aren't telling the truth,’ stated 
  Argyll. ‘I can tell, I'm sensing,’ he paused, ‘twelve’.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /43
       Ethandril hung his head in shame, but only briefly. He 
  looked up and staring straight at Loriana cried ‘but it's 
  character building! Ha ha ha’
       The Flame elf continued to laugh and jig around the chamber 
  shouting ‘Character building!’ as though he had an imaginary 
  friend he kept telling.
       ‘Now you see why I hate him so,’ she said, glaring at Sir 
  Theobold.
       ‘But Loriana, it's his friends, they calm him, get the best 
  from him, he's a real asset when they are about.’
       ‘Well let's get on with it then,’ she said. ‘Ethandril, you 
  are summoned to the court of Sir Theobold in the city of Findon 
  in order that you may reunite the Company of the Compass, for 
  the sake of the Crown and the safety of the Kingdom of 
  Castleford,’ declared Loriana.
       Ethandril abruptly stopped his jigging and singing to 
  imaginary friends and walked over to his daughter and Sir 
  Theobold.
       ‘Oooohh’ he said as he pulled a silver compass from his 
  robe,’ you must really be in trouble then!’
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /44
  Our Heroes
  It was mid-morning and the sun was shining bright in the western 
  sky. On the Eastern elf home island of Solaria, in the courtyard 
  of one of the many military training compounds, a tall, stately 
  Solar elf was preparing to give a lesson. He walked, almost 
  glided up and down the courtyard, swishing his gleaming sword 
  from side to side to loosen some very ancient muscles. He was 
  almost impossible to look at for any length of time in the 
  sunshine such was the gleam of his second skin like armour. The 
  sword in his hand shone too, with a faint green light that 
  appeared to pulse from time to time. He paused with his back to 
  the door of the castle building behind him as he heard the group 
  of trainees he was to instruct ever so quietly enter the 
  courtyard. He swept his shoulder length golden hair back behind 
  his finely pointed ears and looked with his deep indigo, almond 
  shaped eyes at the sword in his hand. 
       ‘Here we go again, brother,’ he said quietly, before 
  sheathing the sword and turning to face the new batch of 
  trainees standing before him.
       ‘The secret to the rhythm dance fighting style,’ he said to 
  his group of wide-eyed young elves, ‘is not to force the fight. 
  You must settle into your level and speed, bring your opponent 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /45
  to your pace and use his strength and uncontrolled aggression 
  and power to your advantage’.
        The line of beautiful golden faces stared on in awe. This 
  was their third year of martial training with the long sword, 
  the favoured weapon of the Solar elf army, and they finally got 
  to meet and receive instruction from the legendary Apollo 
  Shiningblade himself. 
       ‘This is just the most basic step today, which will allow 
  you to have some idea of what it is you may be able to achieve 
  should you show enough natural skill and potential to be trained 
  fully in the rhythm dance style.’ The tall elf stopped at an 
  ornate marble stool, which stood in front of the class of eight, 
  and which had a small, pyramid-shaped box placed upon it.
       ‘Now who knows what this is?’ he said as he faced the 
  group. Eight sets of eyes stared up in unison, several gulps 
  could be heard.’
       ‘Is it, is it a metronome,’ stuttered a young female.
       ‘Indeed it is, young lady. Well done, Talliana, isn't it?’
       ‘Yes Sir, it is,’ she stammered in reply.
       ‘At least someone has the nerve to make the suggestion.’ He 
  raised his voice as he addressed the others. ‘Come now, you 
  should all recognise it from your music studies, a simple 
  metronome. This is the single most important thing to have when 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /46
  starting out as a rhythm dance fighter. It will be your guide to 
  the speed at which you must operate and an indicator of your 
  improvement in the future!’  
        He turned to the metronome and opened the front, pulling 
  the long counter out and placing the weight right at the very 
  top. He pulled it over to one side and let go. It slowly swung 
  over to the other side causing a very faint ‘tick’. He turned 
  back to his captive audience just as another tick was heard.
        ‘Beginners level one! The speed is a tick every three 
  seconds.’ He murmured under his breath the command word to 
  activate the latent magic and suddenly the ticking could be 
  heard clearly by everyone.
       Tick, two three, tick, two three.
       ‘Talliana, as you correctly answered, please come forth and 
  we shall spar,’ he said as he drew his own blade.
       Talliana's huge eyes grew wider still, her heart pounding 
  within her tiny delicate chest. She walked forward and faced the 
  grand master.
       ‘Now,’ Apollo began. ‘Raise your sword in front of your 
  face, draw your sword back, high and wide to the right, yes 
  that’s good.’ The two elves mirrored each other. ‘Now we swing 
  together and meet in the middle.’
        There was a resounding ‘Ting’ as the two fine elven swords 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /47
  met in the middle at the same time as the seven other young 
  elves heard the first tick from the metronome. As the swords 
  connected Apollo reversed his direction, spinning back clock-
  wise, all the time talking to the class.
        ‘I use Talliana's momentum to bring me around and a 
  backhanded slash,’ he paused, as a suddenly fearful Talliana 
  lifted her sword up again to stop the incoming blow from her 
  right from decapitating her, ‘can end your fight in one blow.’ 
  The swords tinged and the metronome ticked in unison. Apollo 
  again reversed direction, spinning anti-clockwise and allowing 
  the sword to dip and then rise as he swung around. As he came 
  back to deliver the next blow it was coming from high over his 
  right shoulder, the speed was too much for Talliana and Apollo 
  stopped a few millimetres above her forehead as the metronome 
  ticked again.
       ‘A very brief introduction class, but you can see the 
  effectiveness.’ Talliana stared in awe at the sword that had 
  moments before been so near to ending her life. The ease with 
  which the grand master moved had been astonishing.
       ‘Well young lady, your turn. Do you think you can manage 
  this simple manoeuvre?’
       She took a deep breath and replied ‘I believe I can, Sir.’
       ‘Then let us begin again, sword to the face and...’ 
  
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        They went through the manoeuvres and little Talliana began 
  her second spin around the sword dipping low then coming back 
  high. The slim blade whipped over her right shoulder and struck 
  the waiting blade of the grand master. She looked slightly 
  shocked remembering how hard she had found it to get into 
  position.
        ‘A very good start, young lady, well done! Now please 
  return to your position with the class. Now class, I would like 
  you to practice the manoeuvre you have just seen in pairs. 
  Before you start, close your eyes and listen to the rhythm of 
  the metronome; that is the speed you must go at, no faster. 
  Faster may seem easier now, but you are learning to fight to a 
  rhythm, you will be able to fight more efficiently with less 
  effort and for longer should you master this technique!’
       The young elves paired off and all eight closed their 
  almond eyes and listened to the rhythm. Some began to sway a 
  little, a good sign. They took their guard and began. Apollo 
  walked around and liked what he saw. This appeared to be an able 
  bunch, Talliana in particular was very adept, but most of the 
  others showed signs they could grasp this even if only to a 
  modest level. Briefly his mind drifted back to the time he and 
  his brother had started to use the style, a freak fight with an 
  ogre had made them look into the possibility of using their 
  
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  opponent’s momentum. As an act of self preservation, a very 
  young Apollo had blocked the swing of an ogre’s club, but so 
  powerful was the blow that he spun a full three hundred and 
  sixty degrees round and sliced halfway into the brute from the 
  other side. It dropped instantly with a look of utter 
  astonishment on its face.
       ‘Sir, Sir,’ an insistent voice was calling. ‘Sir, how was 
  that?’
       Apollo looked at the expectant face, then looked around at 
  the other youngsters.
       ‘You are all doing very well,’ he said in a clear voice. ‘I 
  see potential in all of you.’
       The excited elves beamed at each other, when a small voice 
  piped up. ‘Sir, if we are at the top of the metronome, three 
  seconds, how far down are you?’
       Apollo let out a half smile and chuckled; it was a familiar 
  question. His pupils always wanted to know how fast he was. He 
  smiled at them and walked over to the metronome, reaching for it 
  with his left hand.
       Just then, the weirdest sensation went through his whole 
  body; a vibration, coming from his left breast. His brow 
  furrowed and then lifted in surprise. He reached into a 
  concealed pocket over the left side of his chest and pulled out 
  
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  a compass, a compass that was now glowing and vibrating. It had 
  been so long since he had heard from the Company that he had 
  almost forgotten it was there. He stared long and hard at it. 
  What adventure would it bring this time, he wondered? After 
  several moments and for the benefit of his pupils he turned to 
  face them and spoke in a clear tone
        ‘Class, my apologies. It would appear that a rather urgent 
  matter needs attending to so our lesson is at a close. Well done 
  today, I saw potential in all of you. You are dismissed.’
        The young elves looked crestfallen as their question 
  remained unanswered.
       Apollo looked at the compass in the palm of his hand and at 
  the sword in his other. He sent a telepathic message to the 
  sword.
       ‘Well brother, we had best go and see what they want!’
       
       It had been another cool and windy day in the North West 
  town of Highdown. Up here, even in summer temperatures never 
  rose much above sixty five degrees and the north westerly wind 
  made sure it was always a cloak and jacket kind of evening. 
  Business was good, however, with shipments coming in from all 
  around Vallilea; the local merchants were trading and dealing to 
  their heart’s content. Food from the harvest was arriving ready 
  
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  to be stored for the winter and just about any goods anyone 
  could want could be had at this time of year while ships were 
  still prepared to come this far north.
        A slightly-built, nondescript figure was out for an 
  evening walk, cloak pulled close, with no obvious features 
  showing. No one would be able to recall anything of such a 
  person and that was how he wanted it. He paused in a shop 
  doorway on the main trading street, perusing the myriad of items 
  for sale: Flame elf-made crystal goblets that were constantly 
  changing their swirling colours, dwarven blacksmith’s tools 
  supposedly so well balanced even a novice could create excellent 
  work, and a host of cloths and silks from the east of the 
  continent, ready to be made into the finest of garb. He pondered 
  whether to return at a later date for some more silk for his 
  suits, it was so good for silent night-time activity and strong 
  too.
        He continued along, stopping at irregular intervals, just 
  to make sure he wasn't being followed, not even by a local 
  cutpurse or such. He wasn't and he hadn't yet attracted any 
  attention as he approached the main intersection of the 
  merchants’ boulevard. This was the main housing street for the 
  wealthiest of Highdown’s merchants, with large mansions, 
  glorious gardens and high levels of security. 
  
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        He turned right down the tree-lined road, and with no one 
  watching began to disappear. The evening shadows were his 
  friend, and when he wanted they and he became one. Even to a 
  trained fellow elf he would have been virtually invisible; to 
  human eyes, well, they saw what they wanted to see and that was 
  never him.
        He slipped from shadow to shadow like a will-o’-the-wisp, 
  never a false move, never a noise. He stopped thirty yards short 
  of the mansion he was after, the one he had been surveying all 
  week, the one whose weaknesses he now knew so well. The front 
  entrance was a large, well-guarded iron gate, magically locked 
  and reinforced with spells, mostly electrical in nature. He knew 
  there were usually four guards on duty. 
        The walls surrounding the mansion gave off an alarm if 
  scaled or if anyone used magic to fly over them. They had 
  magical blocks on passwall spells and teleporting was considered 
  virtually impossible or far too risky. Dimension doors were 
  similarly out, since it was alleged that a misdirection kicked 
  in when that spell was cast, taking the caster to a whole 
  different dimension, the Abyss. The merchant had paid wizards 
  well to protect him, but you would expect a man that made his 
  money from buying and selling the living to feel the need to 
  protect himself. The shadowy figure smiled under his cloak. What 
  
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  he really loved about wizards was their complete disregard for 
  what was physically possible. As they spent most of their time 
  poring over books and ancient tomes they lost touch with what 
  the body was capable of. He had to admit, though, that he had 
  been stumped for a long while until, purely by chance, a 
  squirrel had run along the top of the wall of the merchant’s 
  house and jumped off into a tree in the garden. The top of the 
  walls did not react to movement as the wizards obviously assumed 
  they could not be reached through non-magical means; how wrong 
  they were. 
        He turned and silently began to climb the tree next to 
  him, twenty feet from the mansion’s perimeter wall. Up he went, 
  not a sound, stealthy as a leopard. He gained the height of the 
  wall and continued on up, to the upper branches, his lightness 
  of foot and body aiding him well. Thirty-five feet up and in the 
  smaller branches he carefully made his way out toward the wall. 
  Fifteen feet from the wall, fifteen feet down and a landing 
  point of only nine inches across. To most this would have been 
  impossible, but to Orion Lutin, the only known Snow elf 
  assassin, it was like a game from his childhood, descending 
  scree slopes as fast as possible and trying to chase the wild 
  snow leopards of the Snow elf homelands. He leaped with the 
  grace of a ballerina, barely moving the branch he launched 
  
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  himself from and landing as softly as a snow flake on the top of 
  the wall. He crouched down and looked slowly around, no sign he 
  had been spotted. He quickly dropped the twenty feet down the 
  other side, landing in a roll and slipped once again into the 
  shadow of a large sycamore tree. He looked over to the gate 
  where four guards, dressed in plate mail and carrying gleaming 
  halberds, were staring out oblivious to his presence. He reached 
  into his cloak for one of his favourite darts, a sleep poison-
  tipped one, and looked for the next obstacle to come his way. 
  His pointed ears could just make out the faint sniffing coming 
  from his left, for the guard dog was doing its rounds. He held 
  up a slender white finger to feel for the wind direction. It was 
  still the prevailing north westerly so he was down wind. He held 
  very still as the dog moved into sight. 
        A blink dog! The merchant had paid some wizard very well 
  indeed. The creature sniffed around the base of one tree, looked 
  several yards away and blinked to another tree. It lifted its 
  leg to mark its territory then blinked away again. Orion held 
  still, this was an opportunity he thought. He didn't want to 
  give his position away or miss with a dart throw, so drew his 
  dagger with the wicked black blade that had been so helpful in 
  bestowing new powers upon him. The idea of being able to blink 
  was very appealing. He held still as the dog roamed the garden. 
  
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  He had to draw it in. He made a noise, a little scratching noise 
  the like of which a squirrel would make. The dog’s ears pricked 
  and it sniffed the air; still it could smell nothing but it 
  listened intently. Orion made the scratching noise again. The 
  blink dog reacted in an instant, suddenly it appeared at the 
  tree right in front of Orion, but it was expecting a small 
  rodent, not a highly skilled assassin. As soon as it appeared, 
  the black dagger flashed down hard onto the back of its neck 
  with the strength of a mighty fire giant. The spinal cord was 
  severed in just one blow. The blink dog died instantly and the 
  evil blade sucked the blinking power out of the dog, bestowing 
  it upon its wielder. Orion shivered, he couldn't wait to start 
  practising using the new power.
        He was off and running in an instant. He had studied the 
  maps of the mansion and knew exactly where he wanted to go. With 
  no more disturbance than a strong breeze he rushed for the back 
  of the mansion and the servants’ entrance to the kitchens. It 
  was always a weak point for nobles and merchants; they defended 
  themselves up to the eyeballs then let the servants’ areas slip. 
  He approached the back door to the kitchens swiftly and stopped 
  abruptly to listen at the door; just the usual sound of a 
  working kitchen. He slowly eased the door open to see two fat 
  cooks working hard, one kneading some dough and the other 
  
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  chopping vegetables. They were far too engrossed in their work 
  and banter to notice the lithe shadow slide through their 
  kitchen to the stairwell on the far side. He wondered how the 
  blinking would change his need to move like this as he silently 
  passed them by. He lightly bounded up the stairs two at a time, 
  keeping close to the wall as he went. At the top he gently eased 
  open the heavy oak door and looked out into the main hallway, 
  which was the artery of the first floor of the house and the 
  main living quarters of his target.
        Agnos Sapwith was in his library, sitting in his comfy 
  chair with a small glass of exceptional single malt whiskey from 
  the highlands of Vallilea. The room was one of his favourite in 
  the whole mansion, finished in fruit woods and heavily carpeted 
  with fine silk rugs.  He felt every inch the success he was. How 
  many bodies had he sold to pay for it, he wondered. Hundreds? 
  Thousands? Probably more in the region of tens of thousands he 
  thought to himself. He smiled and looked in to his crystal glass 
  at the pure amber liquid it contained and rolled it from side to 
  side and caught a reflection of something.
        He froze.
        His heart skipped two beats. A shadowy figure stood behind 
  him. Feigning confidence he did not feel, while wondering how an 
  intruder had got in here, he stood, turned and smiled. He 
  
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  mentally ran through his defences, a protection ring and his 
  bracers were about it, but he had a few real spells in the other 
  ring if it was needed. He had no weapons to hand except the 
  buckle knife in his belt, which was more than handy against most 
  foes. This however was no novice before him, he could feel it. 
  Only a highly trained assassin would be capable of entering this 
  room with no alarm raised and no sound,.
        ‘Good evening, intruder’ he began,’ pray what brings you 
  to my house?’
       ‘You seem very at ease with my sudden appearance, Agnos, 
  were you expecting me?’
       Agnos slowly moved his hands together at the front of his 
  body, nice and close to his buckle knife. He could still not see 
  the intruder for his cloak and cowl but guessed by the accent 
  and build that he was elven or half-elven. He began going 
  through the command words for his ring. The only two he could 
  remember were for the lightning bolt and the fireball, neither 
  of which he really wanted to use in his library, unless he had 
  to. No, he thought, I can take an assassin with my knife, as 
  long as I play it cool.
       ‘I am shocked to be so interrupted in my own home, but as a 
  man of power and position I expect the occasional anomaly,’ he 
  replied to Orion.
  
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       ‘I am here for you, Agnos,’ stated Orion in a clear and 
  factual tone. ‘You cannot continue your trade anymore, too many 
  people have had their lives ruined by you, many want you dead 
  and I am acting for the many. Vallilea and all the islands will 
  be better off without you!’
       Agnos gulped, this was a serious threat delivered with 
  chilling certainty. It was him or this assassin. 
       With a flurry he drew the buckle knife, a powerful magical 
  blade the size of a short sword. At the same instant he 
  remembered the command for the spell he really wanted from his 
  ring, he pointed at the assassin.
       ‘Destructo!’ he yelled.
       He was too slow. Most creatures of Vallilea were too slow 
  for Orion Lutin, master assassin.
       As the slaver’s hands came up, Orion pulled a baton from 
  his left hip and with a flourish sent the magical whip out at 
  Agnos. Agnos just managed to say the command and a green beam 
  began as the whip of entanglement struck. 
       His arms were instantly wrapped to his sides, the 
  disintegration beam scoring a huge hole in the floor and carpets 
  of the library. He dropped the sword as the whip began to 
  squeeze.
       ‘Immobilize!’ said Orion and the whip secreted a thick, 
  
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  gooey poison onto Agnos. He could not move much anyway, but 
  slowly he could feel the effects of the poison. His whole body 
  went rigid, paralysed by the ichor. Holding the magical whip in 
  front of him, Orion advanced upon Agnos.
        ‘Too many have suffered because of you Agnos. Just be 
  grateful that you will not suffer as they did. Immobilize!’, he 
  said again, and more thick poison was secreted. ‘This will be 
  enough. The first dose will paralyse you but the second will 
  stop your heart and lungs from functioning.’ Orion drew back his 
  cowl revealing his shaggy white hair and pale almost translucent 
  white skin. His hard, cold, pale pink eyes stared into the 
  rapidly dimming brown orbs of Agnos. ‘Your slaving days are 
  over!’
       The light went out in Agnos’ eyes as his heart stopped 
  beating and his lungs ceased to draw breath. Orion quickly 
  retracted his magical whip and sheathed it back on his left hip. 
  He said a brief rite for the dead, a much abbreviated version of 
  that from his homeland to the north, but asking that the dead be 
  judged with fairness for their life. He didn't hold out much 
  hope for Agnos. He looked around the beautiful library, and 
  thought that what he had to do was such a pity. He reached for 
  the rings on the dead slaver’s hands, as proof of the success of 
  his mission, and popped them in a hidden hip pouch. He swiftly 
  
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  drew his scimitar and said the command to make it ignite 
  ‘Torch!’. The scimitar burst into flame and Orion flitted round 
  the library setting light to the whole place, books, silks, 
  drapes and furniture.
        He rushed out of the room and back the way he had come, 
  carefully flitting through the kitchen where the two fat cooks 
  were still oblivious to anything but food preparation. He 
  slipped out through the back door in time to hear an alarm being 
  raised and shouting from the guards on the front gate. He turned 
  to see flames licking out of the library window and saw the 
  guards rushing from their posts. Staying in the shadows and 
  moving silently, Orion approached the now deserted front gates, 
  gently opened them, and without a care in the world sauntered 
  off down the boulevard, leaving chaos behind him.
        As he approached the intersection with the main street he 
  felt a buzzing sensation in his hip pouch.
       ‘Uh-oh’ he said in shock, thinking that this was one last 
  surprise. He grabbed the contents of the pouch and flung them to 
  the floor, the two new rings and a host of other trinkets. He 
  was expecting to see one of the new rings glowing and ready to 
  explode, or worse, but they just glinted in the street lights. 
  He looked closer at the treasures on the floor and it was 
  several moments before he found the cause of the buzzing. His 
  
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  highly arched eyebrows arched even higher as this was possibly 
  the last thing he ever expected. He picked up a small silver 
  compass, that was buzzing and glowing gently, and held it up 
  before his pale pink eyes.
       ‘The time has come for a reunion then,’ he said to no one 
  in particular. ‘There must be some real trouble somewhere if I'm 
  needed by the Company again.’ 
       He set off down the main street, jogging this time, in a 
  hurry to hear the communication from the rest of his adventuring 
  band, eager for a new adventure, something that would really 
  test his skills!
       Standing on the cliffs overlooking the great southern 
  ocean, Quin-Helwig never felt more alive. The wind was strong 
  and fresh in his face and his brown locks flowed out behind him 
  revealing his pointed elven ears. It was around midday and he 
  had to squint slightly into a watery sun moving across from the 
  west. He could just make out Lomu isle as a black blob in the 
  distance, some ten miles or so away. He smiled as he remembered 
  the time he had made that swim, from his home isle of Zinzu over 
  to Lomu. 
        It was a day much like this when he had felt, as he often 
  
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  did, that he needed to test himself. He had dived off the cliff, 
  keeping only his short sword attached, and decided to swim. He 
  had had some help of course. His swim caused much mirth among 
  the merfolk who ribbed him almost all the way, but were none the 
  less impressed. Dolphins had come to see how he progressed and 
  swim with him just to enjoy the ranger’s company. He had also 
  been watched by other denizens of the deep, though the presence 
  of the merfolk had meant they kept their distance. Sahaguin were 
  plentiful in the southern ocean and loved nothing more than elf 
  meat, though even they were only too aware of who was making the 
  swim and thought better of trying to attack. 
        He inhaled deeply through his nose, savouring the fresh 
  salty sea air, and took one last look over the sea before 
  turning round and looking at the forest that covered most of 
  Zinzu. In there was how he would test himself today. Arian was 
  waiting for him somewhere, not too far away, and all he had to 
  do was find her and slap her rump. Arian was a tough target, a 
  doe of some eight winters now and a close companion of the 
  ranger. She could see, hear and smell better than almost any 
  other creature and had become wise to Quin-Helwig's stalking 
  technique. Getting within a hundred yards of her was nigh on 
  impossible, but that was the challenge and that’s what helped 
  Quin to stay in such good condition. And what extraordinary 
  
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  condition it was! The southern elves were known for their 
  muscularity and, although they still seemed slight of stature 
  compared with humans, they all moved with fluid grace and light 
  steps, but Quin's physique was legendary even amongst his own 
  people. His back flared up like that of a cobra from a tiny 
  waist to his barn door shoulders; his sweeping thighs and 
  bulging calves gave him the appearance of enormous strength and 
  power. Even with all that muscle he was still fleet of foot and 
  light as a feather, especially when stalking. 
        He followed a path some two hundred yards into the forest 
  and stopped; the wind was behind him, so he had to get past 
  where he thought Arian might be if he was to have any chance of 
  getting her. He looked up at the trees and canopy above him.
        ‘Best to get up there,’ he thought. He took a short run up 
  to the nearest tree, a horse chestnut, placed his right foot on 
  the trunk and bounded up from there, catching branches and 
  swinging and pulling as he went, making no more noise than a 
  gentle breeze through the trees, till he was high in the 
  branches. He then began to move swiftly from tree to tree. With 
  the agility of a monkey he hopped and swung, leaped and vaulted, 
  all the while on the lookout for his target. After several 
  minutes and a good half-mile, he spotted a clearing up ahead; 
  cautiously grazing in the middle of it was Arian. Her ears were 
  
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  pricked as ever, keeping all her senses on full alert. He was 
  confident that he was far enough away and she hadn't detected 
  him yet. His old trick used to be to create a diversion, to make 
  a noise on the opposite side of the clearing to where he was. 
  Arian would then run the other way and he would ambush her as 
  she came past. After a few times she had become wise to this and 
  started to run to where the noise had come from, knowing that 
  Quin-Helwig never made a noise and that it was safest to go to 
  where she had heard the rustle. This time he hoped to make the 
  noise himself and hope he was well hidden enough so that when 
  she ran towards him he could whack her rump as she ran past and 
  so win the game. As he was more likely to be seen approaching 
  the clearing while up in the trees he gently dropped down onto 
  the forest floor and began to work his way toward the clearing. 
  Every footstep was a measured one. His heavily muscled, tattooed 
  body, twisted and contorted around the foliage, so as to not to 
  move a leaf. He kept to the shadows too for extra cover, 
  blending in seamlessly to his surroundings, his tattoos helping 
  with the dappled affect the sunlight caused. He was within ten 
  yards of the grassy meadow now and the doe was fifteen on from 
  that. He slowed his breathing and relaxed his muscles, less 
  noise, less sweat, less smell. He inched ever closer, moving 
  around twigs and branches like a puff of smoke, not disturbing 
  
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  anything. 
        She bolted. Arian was off and he couldn't believe it, she 
  was heading some twenty yards to his right though, what was 
  going on? Quin-Helwig, ranger of the island elves, was not the 
  only one out stalking this day. He heard an almighty roar come 
  from his right and he knew Arian was in trouble.
        He leaped the last few yards into the clearing in time to 
  see Arian swerve violently to her left and make for the centre 
  of the clearing. In hot pursuit was a bear, a huge brown grizzly 
  creature. Ursula!
       ‘Ursula, no!’ yelled Quin. The gigantic grizzly slowed her 
  run and turned to face Quin. She slowly lifted her upper body to 
  stand on her back legs and stood a full twelve feet, towering 
  over the advancing Quin. ‘Not this doe, Ursula, not today!’ Quin 
  commanded.
       ‘You dare to deny me, little elf?’ she replied. ‘I am the 
  queen of this forest and I decide which meals I will take,’ she 
  continued.
       ‘Then you are too late today,’ stated Quin indicating the 
  far side of the clearing where Arian had just vanished.
       ‘Then perhaps it will be elf meat on the menu today’ she 
  growled.
       ‘You know you can't beat me Ursula, leave while you can.’ 
  
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  Quin drew his short sword from under the leather cloth at his 
  left hip.
       ‘Prove your worth to me then Quin-Helwig, no weapons, just 
  as nature intended!’
       ‘No weapons, eh, no claws then,’ he said as the two 
  combatants began to circle each other, ‘just wrestling.’
       ‘Just wrestling,’ she replied.
       Quin threw his sword to one side and continued to circle 
  the enormous bear. She almost appeared to be smiling and to the 
  unknowing ear kept letting out howls and roars. But to the 
  ranger they were taunts, she was goading him.
       ‘Maybe I'll have a little doe after my elf today.’
       ‘Perhaps I'll use deer bone as a toothpick to get the elf 
  meat from between my teeth.’
       Quin lunged for her left leg. He grabbed hold wrapping his 
  arms around the furry pillar and attempted to lift. Ursula beat 
  down with both paws and smacked Quin full on the back.
       The thump of the paws sounded like the boom of a bass drum 
  and blasted the air from Quin's lungs as he collapsed to his 
  knees. To avoid a second hit he rolled forward through Ursula’s 
  legs and scrambled away behind her trying to catch his breath. 
  She turned surprisingly quickly for such a huge creature and let 
  out a snort of laughter.
  
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       ‘Was that it Quin, not very impressive for such a fabled 
  warrior?’
        Quin looked up, sweat dripping off his brow, panting hard 
  and trying to refill his lungs. He leaped forward again, aiming 
  for the same left leg but planted both feet as he landed in 
  front of her and bounced into a forward roll going between the 
  giant furry legs for a second time. This time though it was to 
  attack. He sprang to his feet and grabbed the right leg and 
  pulled with all his strength. Ursula fell to all fours, the more 
  natural bear position, but at least her paws were out of the 
  equation for a moment. 
       Now in a real rage at the indignity of being upended by 
  Quin she turned with lightning speed to her left, all the way 
  round and swiped Quin with her right paw, claws fully extended!! 
  Inches long knife like claws ripped through the skin and flesh 
  of Quin’s chest as he jumped back to avoid the blow he thought 
  would be heavy but blunt. He stared down in disbelief at the 
  open wound.
       ‘Ursula. What have you done’ he cried. ‘How could you, how 
  could you cheat?’
       ‘All is fair....‘ she began, but abruptly stopped. ‘Me a 
  cheat,’ she said, lifting her right paw indicating his chest, 
  ‘you cheat too.’ 
  
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       They were both looking at his chest which was rapidly 
  healing, not slowly, but resealing in very real time. 
       ‘Trust has to be earned Ursula, and now I know you a little 
  better, I trust you less.’
        Quin rushed the massive bear. He closed the ten yards 
  between them in a heartbeat and began a tumbling manoeuvre, 
  flipping, springing and rolling as he did so.
       She let out a roar, startling the wildlife for miles 
  around, and raised both paws to grab Quin as he approached. His 
  tumbling put him just out of reach as he landed two footed and 
  sprang in to the air for all he was worth. He sailed past the 
  now clumsy looking paw swipes and half turned in the air, 
  landing facing the way he had come and upon the back of the 
  titanic Ursula. He immediately fell forward and wrapped his 
  heavily muscled, heavily tattooed arms around her thick neck, 
  and began to squeeze.
        Suddenly aware that she was in real danger, Ursula roared 
  again and stood up on her hind legs and began to shake to and 
  fro. Quin held on for dear life and continued to squeeze. Ursula 
  began to feel a little weaker and headed for the forest edge. As 
  she approached a large oak tree she turned and fell back against 
  it with her full weight, attempting to flatten the elf who was 
  strangling the life out of her. For the second time in minutes 
  
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  all the air was crushed from Quin's lungs in one go, but he held 
  on and squeezed tighter. She crushed him a second time, but with 
  less force, then dropped to all fours. 
       ‘Quin, you're killing me,’ she rasped. ‘I'm sorry, mighty 
  warrior, release me.’
       Her pleas were to no avail, the ranger held on, squeezing 
  ever harder as her resistance dropped.  Her back legs collapsed, 
  then the front, and with an almighty thump she hit the ground, 
  unconscious, but very far from dead.
        After a few moments and just to make certain she wouldn't 
  rouse too quickly, Quin let go and rolled off the slumbering 
  behemoth. She would be fine he thought, though not immediately, 
  and it would take a great deal for her to undo the damage she 
  had just inflicted upon herself and her reputation. He walked 
  over to pick up his short sword and resheathed it, lifting the 
  leather cloth that hid from view the lion’s paw scabbard, 
  finished in finest gold, the envy of all, and the reason cuts 
  were no real threat. He took a deep breath and felt a strange 
  sensation come from the scabbard. He looked down, wondering if 
  maybe its power was waning finally, only to see a small silver 
  compass he had long forgotten glowing and buzzing.
       He pulled it out from its safe pouch and held it before his 
  eyes.
  
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       ‘This day is full of surprises’ he said to himself ‘old 
  friends have come calling!’
       Deep in the Daphinium forest in the southern part of 
  Vallilea a late summer festival was taking place. Copper elves, 
  or continentals as many humans preferred to call them, had 
  gathered from across the continent to say farewell to the warm 
  summer months and enjoy the end of long warm evenings in the 
  forests before the coming of the autumn and winter. 
        A small pack of young elves had congregated around the 
  archery competition and were laughing and joking with each other 
  over who would win the target contest. After a knock out 
  competition it was down to the final two, Lloriss Greenbow and 
  Harlana Elmsleaf who were both archers of considerable skill. 
  Harlana, a female with two children in attendance, had 
  adventured in her youth and had many tales to tell and the odd 
  scar to show for it. She was now a trainer of the youngsters and 
  captain of the home guard should the forest ever come under 
  attack. Lloriss was a young pup by comparison, eager to go 
  adventuring in the near future and desperate to prove his worth 
  to anyone watching, especially the elders. After three rounds 
  they were level; the target had moved to four hundred feet away 
  and was becoming harder to see. Lloriss shot first and scored a 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /71
  nine. Harlana raised a copper eyebrow, nodded at her young 
  opponent and advanced to the shooting line. She took a deep slow 
  breath to relax herself and started to raise her bow when two 
  cloaked figures appeared, as if from nowhere, at her shoulders. 
  The one to her left lent forward and whispered:
       ‘Surely you can still manage that, Harly!’ 
        Her eyes widened at the name, only one person ever called 
  her that, not even her husband. She lifted her polished bow, 
  drew back, took aim and let fly, straight and true. Bull’s-eye! 
  The youngsters cheered and Lloriss looked down and kicked the 
  dirt in front of him. 
       ‘Well done Harlana Elmsleaf,’ he murmured.
        The cloaked figures removed their hoods simultaneously and 
  there was an audible gasp from the crowd.
       ‘Don't be so down cast young Lloriss; you have shot well 
  this day.’
       Lloriss just stared, into the eyes, one green, one copper, 
  of Elwood Farfadet, high Priest of Yllana the Elven goddess, and 
  the greatest archer on Vallilea. His sister Catarina stood just 
  behind, smiling at the poor, shocked boy.
       Harlana broke the silence. ‘It is good to see you again 
  Elwood; Catarina it has been so long, too long!’
       ‘I'm afraid state business has kept us away, we have been 
  
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  travelling all across Vallilea helping the Copper elf nation 
  with diplomacy with the outside world. Copper elves have 
  travelled extensively, as you well know, and there have been 
  many that have required our help.’
       ‘Elwood,’ a small voice from one of the youngsters piped 
  up, ’can you give us a demonstration of your shooting?’
       ‘Yes,’ they shouted out in excited unison. ’Oh go on 
  Elwood, show us your skill!’
       ‘Do the magic missile shot! Do the magic missile shot!’ 
  they cried.
       Catarina and Elwood smiled at each other. They had had 
  several hard months locked in negotiations with Thunder and 
  Chalk dwarves, not known for their sense of humour when dealing 
  with elves, over mining rights and trade routes, and the 
  festival was a welcome change for them.
       Catarina raised her right hand to quieten the crowd of 
  youngsters.
       ‘OK, OK. We give in. We'll do the magic missile shot.’
       Elwood pulled his bow out of the quiver on his back. The 
  shining, highly polished willow positively radiated magic. It 
  had no visible string. Catarina turned to her brother.
       ‘OK. Ready?’
       ‘Ready.’
  
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       Elwood pulled back an invisible string and an arrow 
  appeared. He fired it high into the air as Catarina began a 
  chant. A bright blue missile shot from Catarina’s finger tip, 
  chasing the arrow, its target.
       Swiftly Elwood pulled back again and tracked the magic 
  missile. He released his arrow and it chased the magic missile. 
  A loud crackling bang was heard and an explosion like a firework 
  going off happened as the magic arrow intercepted the blue magic 
  missile just before it could hit the original arrow. There was a 
  huge cheer from the crowd, and even the heads of the other 
  revellers were now all looking skywards to see the remnants of 
  the ‘firework display’.
        Lloriss raised a copper arched eyebrow at Elwood.
       ‘Though very impressive,’ he began, ‘how much of it is just 
  that bow of yours and Yllana's blessing?’
       ‘If you have any doubts Lloriss, feel free to try,’ 
  responded Elwood, and he held his bow out to him. ‘Let’s swap 
  bows!’
       Lloriss was shocked. It was well known that Elwood’s bow 
  was a gift from the Goddess herself and he had thought only 
  Elwood would be allowed to use it. Seeing the look of surprise 
  on Lloriss' face Elwood encouraged him to take it. ‘Yllana gives 
  gifts to us all, not just the few. Try this bow Lloriss and I'll 
  
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  take yours.’
       ‘Why don't you shoot together’ suggested Catarina. ‘Both of 
  you fire an arrow, I'll set a magic missile after each one and 
  you can try to hit it before it hits your arrow, just as before. 
  How's that?’
       ‘Fine by me,‘ said Lloriss, feeling more than confident 
  with the godly bow.
       ‘No problem at all,’ said Elwood, weighing up the bow in 
  his hand. He placed three arrows on the floor in front of him 
  and readied himself. It had been a while since he had used real 
  arrows.
       ‘In case you miss with the first?’ enquired Lloriss. Elwood 
  just smiled.
        Elwood nocked the first arrow and they drew back together. 
  Catarina began a chant. They released simultaneously and the 
  arrows soared. Catarina released two bright blue missiles to 
  give chase. Lloriss hastily drew back the invisible string and 
  let fly. Ellwood just watched him. The arrow passed just behind 
  the magic missile as it rose, chasing the first arrow. In an 
  instant Elwood bent, took one arrow and fired, bent again, 
  whipped the second arrow onto his string and fired again. Elves 
  all around gasped and looked skyward. Some two hundred feet up 
  Elwood’s arrows struck the two magic missiles. First, Lloriss' 
  
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  then his own, with the original arrows disappearing on their arc 
  to fall further away into the forest. Lloriss just stared open-
  mouthed, a position now being taken up by almost all at the 
  festival. Catarina smiled and patted Lloriss on the shoulder. 
  ‘Your shot was excellent; most people don't get that close ever. 
  Keep up the practice and maybe you will hit it next time!’
       ‘Uh huh,’ said Lloriss, still agape.
       ‘Nice bow that, look after it,’ Elwood told Lloriss. He 
  turned to his sister and was about to say something when they 
  both visibly flinched. A vibration tickled the pair of them, and 
  a very faint buzz could be heard. They reached into tunic 
  pockets simultaneously and each withdrew a small silver compass, 
  glowing brightly and making a buzzing noise.
       ‘I don't believe it,’ Catarina stated.’ I never thought we 
  would hear from our friends again. There must be some serious 
  trouble somewhere, that or Ethandril’s blown apart half the 
  world, again.’
       ‘We should find a quiet tent and listen to our message. 
  Let's go sister, more serious things await than blowing missiles 
  from the sky.’
       
  
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  Life on the Street
  ‘Mam, Mam! I'm just heading out to market. I've got the shopping 
  list. Can you think of anything else we may need?’ 
       ‘No Rollo, darling, it's all there; just get the best deals 
  you can, especially on the tatties. We have six mouths to feed, 
  remember!’
        Rollo Redfearn headed out of the door of his family home, 
  a simple five-roomed, two-storey town house in midtown, into a 
  pleasantly sunny autumn morning in the City of Findon. He was 
  the man of the house now, after his father had passed away a 
  year back, victim of the respiratory disease that claimed so 
  many during hot summers. Although only seventeen summers old, he 
  was capable and enjoyed the responsibility of looking after his 
  Mam and four siblings, three sisters and a little brother. The 
  early morning fog had burnt off now. His blue eyes squinted into 
  the rising sun as he headed out west along Coach Street, towards 
  the farmers’ market. Rollo thoroughly enjoyed the weekly shop, 
  the challenge of bartering for the best deals he could get; he 
  treated it like a game that let his sense of humour shine 
  through as he played one farmer off against another. If truth be 
  
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  told, some of the farmers knew of his father's passing and 
  frequently gave him better than average deals on their produce, 
  knowing there were several mouths to feed and only his mother, a 
  talented seamstress, to earn any money.
        Rollo continued on briskly, striding down the walkway of 
  Coach Street, leather boots clacking on the stone, and gearing 
  himself up for the battle of wits that was to come. He wondered 
  to himself if his wits would be enough when he became an 
  adventurer. He had seen several adventurers over the years as 
  they came through the city, great warriors in plate mail armour 
  accompanied by robed figures and non-humans. There were many 
  other races in Findon, and they always fascinated him; short, 
  wide dwarves, elegant and colourful elves, serious and neat 
  light gnomes and jovial little halflings of every element. He 
  loved them all and desperately wanted to adventure with them to 
  learn their ways, to go forth and smite evil armies or hordes of 
  the undead or dragons, to become wealthy and famous and...
       ‘Aha! Rollo, you're back to steal my goods again are you?’ 
  a shout broke his reverie.
       ‘Morning to you, Jathro! I shan't be needing any of your 
  inferior fare this day,’ he called back with a beaming grin.
       ‘Why you cheeky pup! Don't come back to my stall looking 
  for any deals, they won't come your way!’ Jathro bellowed back. 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /78
  Rollo ambled past Jathro's vast stall with the red and white 
  striped awning, turning his nose up at all the fruit and 
  vegetables feigning disgust, and continued on to the next stall. 
  ‘Greetings Hommit, Jathro appears to have nothing edible this 
  day, so please, let me see your goods and let’s strike a deal.’
       ‘Ahrr, young Rrollo. The very best herre. What will you 
  haave?’ Hommit replied with his drawling tones.
       ‘Tatties, sweet tatties, carrots, corn and whatever else 
  you have in season, and I need it for six remember.’
       ‘Verry weelll,’ said Hommit, a hairy barrel of a man with 
  black hair that was thinning on top, as he bagged up the 
  vegetables for Rollo and gave him a selection of apples and 
  pears too. He turned to tot up the cost and declared ‘thaat'll 
  be two silverr and eight copperr, please, young man.’
       ‘How much?’ shouted Rollo with mock incredulity. ‘How can 
  that be, it was only half that a month ago!’
       Jathro started to chuckle in the background. Rollo's antics 
  were becoming well known but they still entertained the stall 
  holders. After all, he never stole from them, just played them 
  for what he could, to get the best for his family. He called to 
  Rollo. ‘Perhaps if you don't like his prices, Rollo, you may 
  want to take a look again over here.’
       Hommit twisted his head to Jathro and gave him a withering 
  
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  look and snarled like a cornered badger.
        He looked back at Rollo. ‘Fine, trry someone else if you 
  don't like my prrices.’ Hommit started to unbag the veg when 
  Rollo interrupted. 
       ‘No, no. I was merely remarking that the prices had gone up 
  somewhat. Perhaps a few less apples and pears if you please, as 
  I only have two silver and six copper to spend on groceries.’
       ‘I'll match his lot and throw in this melon too,’ Jathro 
  called, staring at Hommit not Rollo.
       ‘Really, that's very kind Jathro, though perhaps as your 
  produce looks inferior, two melons,’ retorted Rollo.
       Hommit's jaw was firmly clenched as he stared hard at first 
  Jathro then Rollo. Business wasn't great at the moment, it had 
  taken a downturn lately, and a sale was a sale in anyone’s 
  language.
        ‘Two silverr, two copperr for yourr original orderr, I 
  caan't go any lower,’ Hommit bellowed. Just as Rollo was heading 
  over to Jathro, he stopped, looked over his shoulder and grinned 
  at Hommit.
       ‘Done’ he said in a conspiratorial tone.
       ‘Bah!’ roared Jathro, ‘Conniving little whelp, you'll ruin 
  us all.’
       ‘Oh I doubt that, Jathro. Thank you for your assistance. 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /80
  Thank you Hommit, a very reasonable price.’ Rollo reached over 
  the stall and took the large hessian sack full of fresh fruit 
  and vegetables, dropped the coins into Hommit’s outstretched 
  hand and headed away from the market. 
       ‘Thank you gentlemen,’ he called over his shoulder as he 
  went.
       
       He decided not to go directly home but take a brief walk 
  along the riverside. The river Fin meandered its way through the 
  surrounding countryside, creating the famous interlocking spurs 
  that could be seen from the northern city walls, and flowed down 
  through the middle of Findon. It wound on through its muddy, 
  sandy flood plain till it reached the sea only a mile away. It 
  had a large bustling dock district, which Rollo decided to avoid 
  as it had a reputation for being quite rough, and a more 
  upmarket walkway in what was generally upwind of the docks. He 
  strolled along this tree-lined promenade, a mix of poplar and 
  willow trees, nodding to the occasional passerby, and trying 
  hard not to stare when a group of continental elves passed by. 
  There were five in all, two male, three female, and all dressed 
  in soft green leathers. He nodded as they passed and received a 
  broad smile from one of the females. He blushed. He tried not 
  to, but he did. Fortunately or maybe not, she was well past him 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /81
  as his youthful cheeks flushed.
       ‘So beautiful,’ he quietly whispered to himself, with a 
  sigh.
        He reached his right hand into his shirt pocket and felt 
  for a coin. He knew he had done well today and smiled as he 
  pulled the leftover silver coin from his pocket. He would be 
  able to buy more groceries when they really needed it. He turned 
  off the promenade down a narrow alley, one of many that led away 
  from the river, to head back to midtown, Coach Street and home. 
  He put the silver coin on his thumb nail and flicked it into the 
  air and caught it. He opened his hand and there was the head, 
  the shining face of Tuke, God of luck. Perhaps it would be his 
  lucky day or year, he thought. He flipped his coin again but a 
  hand shot from the shadows and grabbed it.
       ‘Mine now, young man,’ a gravelly voice said. A dark haired 
  man, unshaven, and dressed in dark leathers, stepped from the 
  shadows. There was nothing very remarkable about him. He had no 
  obvious features to remember him by and wore no jewellery that 
  Rollo could see.
       ‘Day dreaming were you?’ he enquired. ‘I saw you looking at 
  the elves. The girls are pretty aren't they? Probably older than 
  your gran's gran though,’ he chuckled, giving Rollo a nudge.
       ‘Look, I don't want any trouble from you, but I really need 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /82
  that coin back, please,’ Rollo began trying to be polite to 
  avoid trouble, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never 
  been involved in a street fight and didn't want to start now, 
  especially with a real man, one that looked very capable.
       ‘Not sure about that,’ the street man said, drawing air in 
  between his teeth. ‘Perhaps I can find a better use for it.’
       ‘No, I, my family, we have very little money, we g-
  genuinely need it, we’ve been really s-struggling for coin s-
  since my Pap died,’ Rollo stuttered.
       The man held up his hand to silence Rollo. ‘The way you 
  looked at those elves all dreamy like. I bet you want to 
  adventure don't you? Every young man wants to adventure. Think 
  of the stories you would have to tell. Think of the adventures 
  you could go on. You could lead a grand life, make your family 
  proud and not want for anything again? Mix with pretty elves and 
  burly dwarves?’ The man chuckled again. ‘Perhaps I can help’. 
       ‘You know someone? ‘Rollo asked excitedly. Of course he 
  wanted to adventure. It was all he had ever thought about since 
  he was young. There were many elves in Findon and Rollo found 
  them fascinating and beautiful. He had even been lucky enough to 
  have a talk at his school once from Sir Theobold's high wizard 
  Loriana. The fact that she was a half-elf had made his 
  imagination run riot for months. If he was an adventurer he 
  
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  could meet elves and maybe...
       ‘I have something that acts as a short cut for young men 
  like you. You'll feel full of confidence; have the strength of 
  an ogre and the constitution of a dwarf. Reflexes like a 
  panther. You could go adventuring tomorrow!’ he stated with a 
  wink.
       Rollo’s eyes widened and his mouth went dry. This street 
  man was putting his dreams there in front of him, just like 
  that. 
       ‘How?’ he asked simply.
       The street man reached into a pocket and pulled something 
  out, hidden in a closed fist.
       ‘Take this,’ he said presenting his closed fist to Rollo. 
  When you are alone or about to go out, swallow the lot. It'll 
  take a few minutes but you'll know when it takes effect.’
       Rollo reached out and took the packet and quickly put it in 
  his pocket.
       ‘If you like it you can get more from me here. It'll help 
  get you out adventuring soon.’
       ‘And here,’ he said flipping the silver coin back at Rollo, 
  ‘be a bit more careful with your money if it's that precious to 
  you.’
       Rollo dextrously caught the coin in his right hand while 
  
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  managing not to drop the sack of vegetables and nodded to the 
  man. ‘Thank you’ he said, slightly bewildered.
       ‘Anytime?’ the man said indicating he wanted Rollo's name.
       ‘Rollo,’ Rollo said, ‘and you are?’
       ‘Kollin,’ the man replied. Kollin then turned on his heel 
  and disappeared between two buildings, down a dark alley barely 
  noticeable if you weren't looking for it, little more than a 
  foot wide.
       Rollo fiddled with the packet in his pocket; it felt like 
  it had some sort of powder in it. ‘Tuke, I hope it's not 
  poison,’ he murmured.
       
       ‘Mam. I'm off out to see friends, I'll be on the 
  promenade,’ Rollo called.
       He had swallowed the packet ten minutes before and had 
  spent that time praying to Tuke that he wouldn't drop dead as it 
  had indeed contained a powder. Then he felt a shiver. It coursed 
  all down his spine, creating a tingling feeling in his back and 
  up his neck. He felt the need to keep rubbing his neck. His 
  breathing started to get a little faster and he could feel his 
  heart rate increasing. He decided to go out.
        As he was walking down Coach Street he could feel it, 
  whatever it was, really start to take effect. It felt like waves 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /85
  of excitement, his breathing was deep and exaggerated, and he 
  was walking fast with real purpose. He let out a moan as a large 
  shiver took hold. He felt fantastic! He felt alert, strong and 
  powerful. He felt he could do anything. He puffed up his chest 
  as he walked. He winked at a girl, a little younger than himself 
  as he passed her. Yeah, he thought, I am the man!
        He reached the promenade and turned towards the docks. 
  ‘Why not?’ he thought. Shoulders back, head held high, he strode 
  towards the dockside. It was around midday and the sun was high, 
  with a soft breeze rustling through the poplar tree. The city 
  was busy with market traders. Many boats from the north, which 
  would soon be cut off for the winter, were arriving with their 
  last stocks and goods from those regions.
        Half way to the docks, Rollo saw the elves he had seen two 
  days previously sitting outside a riverside inn. Five elves, no 
  longer dressed in their leathers but casual clothes that only 
  helped to accentuate the lithe and firm forms beneath. Rollo 
  looked over at them, smiled and again thought, ‘why not?’ 
       ‘Hail, fair elves,’ he called as he approached. All five 
  looked up at him somewhat quizzically. A smirk crossed the face 
  of the two males.
       ‘Hail, young man, good afternoon,’ replied a female, a 
  broad grin across her delicate face. ‘An unusual way to 
  
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  introduce yourself, but come!’ She indicated the end of the 
  bench she was sitting on. The four others turned to each other 
  and conversed quickly and with obvious amusement in elven.
       ‘Thank you, fair maiden,’ Rollo replied. ‘I am Rollo and 
  you are stunning.’ Deep down Rollo knew what he had just said 
  was not right but he was no longer able to control himself, nor 
  did he care to.
       Her copper eyebrows rose even higher than their usual 
  steepness, shocked by his boldness, but somewhat flattered. 
  ‘Hello Rollo, I am Lishiana, these are my brothers and cousins. 
  What a bold young man you are. We are not often approached so 
  openly by young human men.’
       ‘I am seventeen summers now, not so young,’ he replied 
  leaning in, a twinkle in his eye. ‘I plan to start adventuring 
  in the near future so I decided to gain more information from 
  those that know more about it, namely you.’
       All five elves stopped their tittering and stared at him. 
  He had no idea how funny he was but they could tell he was 
  deadly serious. 
       ‘Perhaps a few more summers of making these inquiries and 
  doing some background work would be good for you, Rollo, before 
  you head out. Adventuring is a harsh business and skill with a 
  weapon is paramount,’ one of the males responded.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /87
       ‘You think me incapable?’ Rollo enquired turning a dark 
  stare upon his questioner. ‘I have many skills, not all of them 
  obvious,’ he emphatically finished.
       Changing the mood, Lishiana asked ‘Do you have any friends 
  that have adventured, Rollo?’
       ‘None as yet,’ he replied, still staring at the male, 
  Raimiss, and starting to grind his teeth.
       Lishiana placed her slim elven right hand under his jaw and 
  turned his head to face her. Her copper and gold flecked eyes 
  stared into his. Rollo calmed immediately. By Lavinia, he 
  thought, she was beautiful and only a foot away.
       ‘Rollo relax, you seem tense,’ Lishiana started. 
  ‘Adventuring is a dangerous business and should not be taken 
  lightly; we have lost brothers and sisters to adventure, and 
  have been close to death ourselves. We are virtually retired 
  now, which is why we like it here, where we can enjoy a gorgeous 
  day in a different city and meet new people, like you.’ 
       His mind was racing, he was transfixed by her copper and 
  gold almond eyes, old eyes that knew so much. He couldn't help 
  himself.
       Rollo lunged forward to kiss her. She pulled away just in 
  time.
       ‘Whoa, Rollo!’ she exclaimed.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /88
       He dropped his head forward as if in shame, then looked up, 
  a huge demented grin on his face. ‘Worth a try, though!’
        Rollo jumped up from the table and leant in towards the 
  five of them. ‘So long fairies. See you when I'm rich and 
  famous. Then you'll want me,’ he taunted, nodding to Lishiana.
       Rollo strode off towards the docks, looking for more fun. 
  Perhaps a tavern would be the place; his throat felt dry, he 
  could use a drink.
       The elves stared after him as he marched down the 
  promenade, still in utter shock, bemused and saddened by Rollo's 
  behaviour.
       
       The following day Rollo woke to a banging on his bedroom 
  door and on the inside of his skull. Sun was streaming in 
  through a gap in his bedroom curtains and nearly blinding his 
  overly sensitive eyes.
       ‘Rollo, get up! There are jobs to do and you are running 
  late,’ his younger brother, Alic, called.
       ‘Eurrgh’ he groaned. His mouth was so dry and furry it felt 
  like he had been licking an owl bear’s armpit all night. He 
  squinted at the light coming from between his curtains and 
  rubbed his hand through his matted and dishevelled hair. He felt 
  awful. After leaving the elves he had found a tavern and stopped 
  
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  off for a drink. He felt amazing, especially after ale, and had 
  had he didn't know how many more. He couldn't even remember how 
  he had made it back home. He rolled out of bed and staggered to 
  his wicker chair. He picked up his shirt from the night before; 
  it smelled of ale, so he dropped it and picked up his breeches 
  which were somewhat fresher. He slipped them on, and felt an 
  unfamiliar bulge in the pocket. He vaguely recalled that he had 
  spent most of the silver that he had but couldn't be sure 
  exactly how much for ale was cheap. He reached into the pocket 
  and was shocked to find a small velvet pouch. He opened it and 
  emptied the contents onto his chest of drawers. Three silver 
  pieces and six copper settled in front of him. His jaw fell 
  open. He had no recollection of how it had arrived in his 
  pocket, who it was from or how it had come to be there. He 
  hurriedly scooped the coins back into the pouch and stuffed it 
  back into his pocket. He couldn't possibly have stolen it, could 
  he?
        A memory briefly flashed through his mind. He was full of 
  bravado, ultra confident, and when the group of well dressed men 
  had entered the tavern he decided that perhaps they had some 
  spare change about them. He had never done anything like it 
  before; though he had played tricks on his siblings, picking 
  their pockets and making coins disappear before their very eyes, 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /90
  he had never actually stolen from anyone.
        Rollo stood, emotionless and expressionless for a few 
  moments. He walked over to his wall mirror and stared at 
  himself; what had he done? Then a broad grin started across his 
  face. 
        What had he done? 
        He had money in his pocket now and it had been easy. The 
  man in the street, Kollin, was right. Maybe this powder would 
  get him adventuring, and sometime soon. The pounding in his head 
  suddenly became a little easier to cope with. Perhaps, he 
  thought, he should avoid drinking quite so much in the taverns 
  next time. But first, he should try and track down Kollin; he 
  needed a little more of that powder before he went out again.
       He pulled on a fresh shirt, a tunic, socks and his boots 
  and headed out of his room and in to the family kitchen.
       ‘Rollo, you look awful,’ his mother declared. ’Your hair 
  needs a good brush and you have big dark bags under your eyes. 
  Have you been drinking all night? The groceries were all bruised 
  and half spilled across the kitchen table when I came down this 
  morn. What have you been up to?’
       ‘Just a late night with friends, Mam. Doesn't happen often 
  though does it?’ he argued, as he crossed the kitchen towards 
  the front door. He picked up an apple off the dining table and 
  
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  put it in his pocket for later as he wasn't really feeling 
  hungry now.
       ‘I'm just off to meet them again, I'll do jobs later,’ he 
  gabbled as he dashed out the front door.
       Rollo swiftly made his way to the side street off the 
  promenade, ‘Smugglers Way’, he discovered it was called. He 
  walked back and forth a few times, even peering down the dark 
  alley where Kollin had disappeared, but no Kollin. There were, 
  however, a few street urchins, real down and outs, that he 
  hadn't noticed before. He knew Findon had a slum area on the 
  other side of the dock district, between it and the workers’ 
  district and well away from midtown and the merchant areas of 
  the city, but he didn't think the down and outs or homeless ever 
  really left that area. 
       A man of medium build, with dark brown hair and unshaven 
  but not unclean, appeared in the alley. It wasn't Kollin. 
       ‘Want Spice?’ he simply enquired of Rollo.
       ‘Err, Spice?’
       ‘Yeah, Spice, I haven't got all day. Do you want some?’
       Many thoughts raced through Rollo's mind at that point, 
  almost as quickly as the many thoughts he had been able to 
  conjure up the night before. So this powder had a name. Who was 
  this man and how did he know that Rollo may want ‘Spice’? Why 
  
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  had he been offered it in the first place? But the one 
  overriding memory was of his walk along the promenade and his 
  overwhelming self-confidence when he had met the elves. That was 
  what he wanted again.
       ‘Yeah, two packets,’ Rollo replied somewhat hesitantly and 
  held out his hand.
       ‘Money first! One silver for two packs,’ the man said. ‘No 
  money, no Spice.’
       Rollo was taken aback. That was a lot of money, he hadn't 
  really thought that he would have to pay for it and certainly 
  not that much. Still, he did have the money and that was thanks 
  to the ‘Spice’ and his little escapade the previous night. As 
  deftly as he could he pulled the velvet pouch from his pocket, 
  opened it and pulled out a silver. The man took it roughly and 
  thrust out a fist and nodded for Rollo to take it. He did. 
       At that moment, a shambling, rag-covered man rushed them. 
  Rollo leaped back, staggered and fell on his rump. From his 
  sitting position he saw the action unfold.
       ‘Give me Spice,’ the rag man screeched as he tried to grab 
  the street man's lapels. ‘Please, I must have it’.
       ‘Shut up or regret it,’ the street man growled back, 
  clearly trying to keep his voice down.
       ‘Please,’ the urchin replied, ‘I need it, I..’.
  
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       He went silent, his mouth still open. Rollo frowned. Then 
  he saw the bent right arm of the street man jerk back, and the 
  urchin looked down. The street man pushed the urchin away from 
  him and dashed for the narrow alley. He vanished. The urchin had 
  a large crimson stain in the middle of his rags; he had been 
  stabbed. He had a look of incredulity on his face. He staggered 
  back to the side of the alley and collapsed. Rollo looked on 
  dumbfounded; he had never seen a crime like that close up. Who 
  was the street man, someone skilled enough to kill just like 
  that? The Spice, what had he gotten himself into?
       Rollo realised then his predicament and scrambled to his 
  feet, all the while staring at the dying urchin. Soon a passerby 
  would find the body and alert the city guards; he didn't want to 
  be around for that. Rollo ran back up the alley and out, heading 
  for home as fast as he could, heart pounding. The two packets of 
  Spice securely stashed in his pocket.
       A few days later, Rollo headed out the door to go to market 
  to buy the week’s family groceries, the fruits and vegetables 
  like he had the previous week. He didn't, however, have the look 
  of that young man.  He had a wispy stubble and dishevelled hair 
  and appeared to have forgotten all about washing. The most 
  
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  striking thing however was his eyes. Instead of the sparkling, 
  mirth-filled baby blues, they were a lifeless grey with large 
  bags underneath. He looked awful, as though he hadn't slept in a 
  week. As it happened, he barely had. Since the first night, when 
  he had used the Spice, drunk excessively and passed out, he 
  hadn't slept again. He found that the Spice kept him up most of 
  the night, even if he had had a few drinks, and he didn't have 
  time during the day to catch up as his Mam kept him far too 
  busy. How he loathed her at the moment, always getting on at 
  him, never leaving him alone to pursue his own interests. It 
  wasn't his fault Pap had died, why should he have to take over 
  as the man of the house, just because he was the eldest? Why 
  couldn't she just leave him alone? It was in this seething rage 
  that he entered the market square. His Mam had given him three 
  silver as usual but he wanted to keep as much as he could. He 
  had managed to pilfer a small purse the night before so he had 
  two silver stashed in a pocket already. If he could get a deal 
  or even nick some vegetables he could get enough Spice for a 
  couple of days.
       ‘Ah, the thief returns,’ yelled Jathro as Rollo walked up 
  to his produce stall. Rollo jumped at so openly being called a 
  thief and gave Jathro a wild-eyed stare. He realised then that 
  Jathro was joking and tried to laugh it off. 
  
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       ‘Hah. Hail Jathro, you know I am no thief,’ he tried to 
  quip but the tone of his voice was not convincing and lacked his 
  usual light-heartedness.
       ‘Are you feeling well young man, you look a little under 
  the weather?’ Jathro enquired. ‘You usually bounce in here like 
  a Labrador puppy!’
       ‘Just a bit tired, Jathro, so please, if your good self and 
  Hommit over there would like to decide between you who will give 
  me my usual order, I'll just have a rest and be on my way as 
  soon as possible. I have only two silver and a copper for you 
  today.’
       Jathro was quite taken aback; this was not at all like the 
  Rollo he had come to know. He waved to Hommit to indicate that 
  he would see to the order, Hommit waved back in acknowledgement, 
  not too concerned as he had had the last order, and Jathro 
  turned to fill a sack for Rollo. He carefully placed carrots, 
  tatties, sweet tatties and a selection of greens into the sack 
  and was about to add the apples when, out the corner of his eye, 
  he saw an errant hand, swiftly pocketing some fruits from the 
  front of the stall. He turned on Rollo
       ‘What are you doing?’ he yelled. ‘How dare you, after all 
  we've done?’
       Rollo balked and held his hands out wide in a passive 
  
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  gesture. He didn't expect to be caught, and his brain wasn't 
  functioning that well, so he had no excuse ready.
       ‘He's stealing, he's stealing from me. He's a thief, a real 
  one. Guards!’ bellowed Jathro. If there was one thing the 
  traders couldn't stand it was a thief. They were always more 
  than happy to barter, since they still made a profit on 
  everything, even if they slashed their prices, but theft could 
  not be tolerated. It affected everyone, him, his family, the 
  farm workers.
        The city guards, three sturdy looking men dressed in black 
  leathers and steel helmets and carrying polearms, advanced on 
  the stall. Rollo ran off. At least his brain worked well enough 
  to register danger. He ran up Coach Street, then cut left 
  towards the river Fin, thinking to go to the dock district and 
  disappear for a bit. He may even have to get a boat somewhere 
  for a few days. He was dashing down a familiar alley now and 
  ahead, saw a familiar man. Kollin was in the alley. Rollo slowed 
  to a jog, then to a walk and approached slowly but breathing 
  heavily.
       ‘Hi, two packets.’ He pulled out a silver, but got two. 
  ‘Make that four, Kollin, and I'm in a hurry.’
       Kollin stared hard at him and reached into his pocket. He 
  looked around to see if Rollo had been followed, but no one was 
  
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  there. He held out a clenched fist and reached to Rollo. 
       ‘Here's four, but you won't find me here again, 
  understand!’ He had a look of total seriousness on his face. 
  ‘You need to go to the slum on the other side of the docks if 
  you need more; there are a few of my lads over there. Now get 
  out of here before anyone sees us.’
       ‘If you say so Kol..’ but Kollin had already slipped in to 
  the dark alley and vanished. 
       Rollo stuffed two packs into his pocket and wolfed down the 
  other two; he found he needed that bit more now to get the full 
  rush. Within a few seconds he felt a tingle. He continued to 
  walk down the alley, and exited on to the promenade by the river.
       He didn't think he had been followed but wasn't sure. As 
  the Spice kicked in he began to shudder, shrugging his shoulders 
  and rubbing the back of his neck. He thought he could feel the 
  eyes of passersby trained on him, everyone was looking at him. 
  He began to walk towards the docks, passing the willows and 
  poplars along the stone promenade. He shuddered again and again 
  and even let out a moan as he yawned. 
       ‘Ooh!’ Suddenly he felt great. Who cared if he was being 
  followed, he could outrun any of the useless city guards, failed 
  adventurers all of them. He lifted his chin and began to walk 
  with a swagger, breathing heavily and with sweat dripping from 
  
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  his brow. He wouldn't have to leave Findon; he would lay low in 
  the docks for a couple of days till it all blew over. It would 
  be fine. He reached in to a pocket and pulled out a pear, one he 
  had stolen. He bit into it and enjoyed the moisture as his mouth 
  was now very dry.
        A few hundred yards behind, the city guards emerged from 
  Church Street onto the promenade and were scanning both 
  directions for any sign of Rollo. It wasn't easy to see with all 
  the street cafes and spill over from the outside areas of 
  taverns but as they walked towards the docks they spotted him. 
  The three city guards broke into a run, shouting at those on the 
  promenade to get out of the way as the lethal polearms they 
  carried in both hands were being swung side to side as they ran. 
  Only twenty yards from Rollo he heard their calls. Rollo turned 
  his head and cried out in a half roar, half laugh and began to 
  run away.
       ‘Stop that thief!’ yelled the lead guard. 
       ‘Silver if you stop him,‘ cried another.
       A burly dock worker heard their calls and stepped out to 
  intercept Rollo. As Rollo was not fully looking ahead he crashed 
  into the man and they tumbled to the ground. 
       ‘You idiot,’ Rollo snarled into the man's face, ‘I'll kill 
  you for that,’ and Rollo's hands went for the old seaman’s 
  
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  throat. The dockworker was a strong man, he had worked manually 
  for nearly thirty years and had been involved in more than his 
  fair share of scraps and brawls over the years, but he had never 
  felt anyone as strong or frenzied as this. Rollo seized him by 
  the throat and pressed his thumbs down as hard as he could. The 
  burly worker tried to grab the two wrists, succeeding, but was 
  unable to stop the pressure. He heard the sound of the cartilage 
  snapping and an immense pain from his throat surged through him. 
       Rollo delighted in the feel of the man’s throat crunching 
  and giving way under his thumbs. He pushed hard again, driving 
  the broken windpipe deep back into the voice box. The burly 
  dockworker's eyes glazed over in pain as he fought for breath.
       ‘Leave him,’ yelled the lead guard as he arrived at the 
  scene. Rollo ignored or didn't hear anything. The guard whacked 
  Rollo across the back with the handle of his polearm in an 
  effort to subdue him. No effect.
       Rollo leaped up snarling and faced the guard hands up and 
  at the ready to attempt to catch or deflect his polearm strike. 
  The other two guards arrived and surrounded Rollo. There was no 
  escape.
       ‘Ha, city guards! Failed adventurers or gutless wimps,’ 
  Rollo snarled. ‘I can best you all even without a weapon.’
       ‘Stand down thief! We have you,’ said the largest guard. 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /100
  ‘Don't make any more trouble for yourself.’ The dock worker 
  wheezed in the back ground and tried to sit up.
       ‘I’m no thief, I'm an adventurer, and soon you'll know it,’ 
  said the frenzied boy.
       ‘Stand down, now, or there will be trouble!’
       ‘Pah!’ spat Rollo. He lunged forward, but it was a fake 
  move. The guard he lunged for backed away as the largest to his 
  rear left moved in with the point of his glaive. Rollo spun, 
  catching the large veteran guard by surprise. He grabbed the 
  handle of the glaive, just below the steel head and pulled it 
  away from the guard. The guard had been caught off balance and 
  was powerless to resist. Rollo wrenched the glaive free, spun it 
  around and jabbed the point into the gut of the leather-clad 
  guard.
       ‘You see’ he screamed in triumph, ‘I am...’
       Umph!
       He was stopped short by a blow to his back. In his frenzy 
  he had overlooked the third guard, who was now withdrawing the 
  five inch steel point of his glaive from Rollo's back.
        The stabbed guard dropped to his knees, a large blood 
  stain appearing on his black leathers.
       Rollo turned and faced his attacker.
       ‘You dare attack mee!!’ his voice becoming more high- 
  
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  pitched and maniacal. ‘I'll finish you!’
       He lunged for the guard who parried his effort and jabbed 
  back, catching Rollo in the thigh.
       ‘Stand down, young man!’ the guard bellowed at him in 
  desperation.
       Rollo swung again, this time across from right to left, 
  attacking with the blade. The guard parried the blow with the 
  long handle and then turned his head away so as not to watch 
  what happened next. The first guard attacked Rollo from behind, 
  using the blade of his polearm, and struck down onto Rollo's 
  left shoulder. The blade went in a foot deep and wedged there.
       ‘Nnraaaah!’ yelled Rollo, still struggling to stand. He 
  dropped to his knees, blood now gushing from his three wounds.
       ‘Nraaah!’ Rollo yelled again, but he was fading now. The 
  superhuman qualities the Spice had lent him were not enough to 
  survive that blow. He felt suddenly cold.
       All along the promenade people were alerted to the incident 
  by the noise of the commotion. A group of five elves moved 
  swiftly to see and even swifter once they saw who it was. Just 
  after the fatal blow was struck and Rollo collapsed to his 
  knees, Lishiana pushed through the crowd and approached the 
  dying boy. Everyone had gone quiet as Rollo collapsed back, 
  dislodging the glaive from his body and causing a fountain of 
  
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  blood to spray everywhere. She ignored it and crouched down over 
  him.
       Rollo's last image of life was that of a beautiful elven 
  face with tears in her copper gold eyes, but his addled brain 
  could not make sense of it. Then there was only darkness.
       
       
  
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  Upping the A
   
   nte
    
  In a dark cavern close by and overlooking the mushroom fields on 
  the edge of the Shadow Gnome city of Imar, two great Clan 
  leaders, Kymru Galavan and Braden Puttnik, were deep in 
  discussion. They were accompanied by their high mages, Mentza 
  Galavan and Akkron Puttnik, as they put together their plans for 
  the further spread of the Spice trade.
       ‘I think, Braden, that we can safely say that our 
  infiltration of the city of Findon has been a complete success. 
  Djemmini has served us well,’ said Kymru.
       ‘I could not agree more, Kymru, hence it is time to sspread 
  our network. Akkron is keen to get on with his summoningss and 
  has already made contact with Cheragai, a particularly nassty 
  and deceitful devil, but highly skilled in shapechanging and 
  esspionage,’ replied Braden. 
       ‘Excellent, my friend! This Cheragai has friends?’ enquired 
  Kymru.
       ‘Indeed he does,’ Akkron jumped in. ‘He can bring a legion 
  of subordinates with him to assist him in his work of 
  corruption.’
       ‘And you have enough control over him to stop him running 
  amok?’ asked Mentza, fully aware of the dangers of relying on 
  
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  devils.
       ‘I have something of his,’ chuckled Akkron. ‘He was a 
  little careless in his information to me some years ago and is 
  now effectively my servant. And it's more than just his true 
  name!’
       ‘Intriguing, Akkron. Best keep it secret then. I don't wish 
  to be on his list for vengeance should he ever get whatever it 
  is back!’ replied Mentza.
       Akkron stared at Mentza with a look of surprise. ‘You doubt 
  me Mentza? You believe that you are the only shadow gnome who 
  can control Demons and Devils? You only have that crazy whore 
  Leileilii under your control.’
       ‘Take care Akkron,’ Mentza began, but was interrupted by 
  the sound of hard boots on the stone floor. A topless woman, a 
  huge batwinged devil of a woman, entered the cavern from a side 
  alcove - Leileilii.
       ‘Little shadow gnome, how sweet, calling me a whore,’ the 
  fiendish being said looking straight into Akkron’s eyes. ‘I 
  have, of course, been called far worse than that,’ the husky, 
  bold voice continued. ‘Not that anyone who did is still here to 
  repeat it.’
         She shot forward and produced an evil-looking red trident 
  from nowhere, dripping acid and poisons from its tips, and 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /105
  thrust it under Akkron's nose.
       ‘Haaaa!’ she rasped into the face of Akkron Puttnik. ‘No 
  more warnings little shadow gnome, or I'll skewer you for rat 
  meat, whatever magical spells you think you have protecting you!’
       ‘Apologies, Leileilii, I spoke out of turn,’ said Akkron 
  with a shallow bow, trying to backtrack. He wasn't unduly 
  worried by Leileilii; Akkron believed he was far too powerful 
  for her but she was meant to be an ally in this, not an enemy.
       ‘We digress’ stated Kymru interrupting the face off. ‘A 
  pleasure to see you, as ever, Leileilii. We are sure you will 
  enjoy your work on the surface – a whole town to corrupt, 
  relationships to be had!’
       The succubus smiled at Kymru, a shudder rippling through 
  the devil’s body as she imagined the fun she would have. The 
  shadow gnomes of Clan Galavan were always a pleasure to work 
  with and this mission looked like it would be no exception. She 
  cast a spell, and ever so slowly the bat wings retracted and 
  disappeared, she shrank slightly in height, her hair turning a 
  deep luscious red, till there was just a stunning human woman 
  standing before them.
       ‘Do you like my disguise little gnomes? It is not one I 
  have used in anybody here’s lifetime, but it served a purpose a 
  long time ago. I seem to recall that it beguiled many a surface 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /106
  dwelling human fool back then. I'm sure it will suffice this 
  time’. She tossed her shaggy long red hair in an alluring manner 
  and ran her hands down the sides of her curvaceous body. Her 
  black eyes locked onto Mentza.
        ‘Thank you for this opportunity again Mentza, you won't be 
  disappointed!’ The succubus woman whispered a few arcane words 
  for a spell of teleportation and was gone.
       ‘She has already been fully briefed on her mission,’ Mentza 
  began, ‘she will begin with lesser nobles within the town. I 
  believe there are a great many that reside in the town so as to 
  be a little further away from Theobold’s influence. They 
  shouldn't be too hard for her to seduce. She will ensure they 
  turn a blind eye to any unusual activities, perhaps turn some of 
  them on to the Spice. As you saw, she can be most persuasive. 
  She should pave the way for Djemmini and his followers to trade 
  freely within the town. I have told her not to lose control in 
  the town though and that there will be dire consequences if she 
  does!’
       Akkron looked at Mentza with an expression of surprise. 
  ‘You have threatened her?’ he asked.
       ‘She and I understand each other, let us say. Like you and 
  your Cheragai, Akkron, I have a certain hold over her,’ Mentza 
  replied.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /107
       ‘Akkron,’ Kymru Galavan began, ‘you will summon this 
  Cheragai and any of his cohorts you see fit. Send them to 
  Abinger; try to peddle as much Spice as possible. Give them as 
  much Spice as they can carry and start giving it out to the poor 
  and the lowly; they are always the easiest target.’
       Akkron turned to Braden to confirm he could accept the 
  order from someone other than his Clan leader. Braden simply 
  nodded. 
       ‘Very well, I shall return to my summoning chambers right 
  away. May Shylar grant us all the darkness we need to succeed?’ 
  Akkron said in a brief reference to the god of the shadow 
  gnomes. He twisted a ring on his middle finger and vanished.
       ‘We will be in touch, Braden. Let us meet again in a tenday 
  and assess the progress of our devilish allies.’ Kymru nodded to 
  Braden and he and Mentza walked calmly out of the cavern.
       Braden smiled, twisted a ring on his finger and was gone.
  ****************************************************************
  *************************************************
       On a particularly unpleasant, hot, arid, hostile and 
  noxious region of the seventh plane of hell, the eight-foot tall 
  bearded Devil, Cheragai, was laying down his law to a handful of 
  his subordinates. The smaller devils, some winged, all horned 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /108
  and tailed, hopped around, half out of fear, half out of 
  excitement for the mission that was to come. All were 
  shapeshifters and they were going to be humans, a favourite 
  disguise, for humans were not far off devils in their drive and 
  personal ambitions. So pretending to be them, while infesting 
  their worlds, was always a pleasure.
        ‘We go to this plane, a prime material, and we do exactly 
  as we are told. It is imperative that you follow my 
  instructions. Is that understood?’ barked Cheragai, staring hard 
  at the bobbling fools before him. He loomed over them, much as 
  his forbidding residence, a five-storey tower made of red blood 
  stone and the bones of those Cheragai had conquered, loomed over 
  them all.
        Cheragai was in a foul temper, a rage he hadn't been in 
  for millennia. He had been stupid, he knew that, but to let slip 
  both his true name and the whereabouts of the phylactyr he kept 
  some of his essence in was unforgivable. That evil, tiny, creepy 
  shadow gnome had conned him into revealing all with the promise 
  of more power, and he had fallen for it. But this would be a 
  short-lived state of affairs. The gnome, Akkron Puttnik, would 
  not last long, for he would surely make a mistake somewhere 
  along the line and Cheragai would gain his revenge. In the 
  meantime, he may as well wreak some havoc on a prime material; 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /109
  it had been a while.
       ‘Assume human form now!’ he ordered the gathered throng. 
  The hopping devils briefly calmed and slowly they became humans 
  or as human as they could. Of the twenty gathered, at least four 
  were not well disguised, with the odd horn or tail nub still 
  showing. 
       ‘Imbeciles!’ roared Cheragai as he grabbed the nearest 
  malformed. He held the smaller devil by the throat and squeezed 
  the humanesque form with his huge right taloned hand. The head 
  started to bulge and the eyes popped out of their sockets and 
  rolled and dangled down onto the creature’s cheeks. With a roar 
  Cheragai grabbed the now bulbous head with his left hand and 
  tore it off.
       ‘No more mistakes!’ he roared at the rest. He turned away 
  back towards his tower, moving several yards from the others to 
  begin his own transformation. A few moments later he was a human 
  himself, a particularly handsome one, he thought, and cast a 
  spell to contact his now master. A few moments later, a gate 
  appeared, on the other side of which the devils could see their 
  new home. What they could actually see was a small back alley in 
  the large town of Abinger, the gate the handiwork of a certain 
  Priest of Nyrex.
       ‘Get through and don't cause a stir yet! We must 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /110
  infiltrate, not destroy, not yet at any rate,’ barked Cheragai. 
  One by one the human devils jumped through the gate and arrived 
  in the unwitting town of Abinger. Before he stepped through, 
  Cheragai took a last look back at his cherished tower, and 
  instructed himself, ‘Infiltrate! That’s the job, spread this 
  ‘Spice’. Only after that would he feel confident enough to try 
  and end his misery at the hands of Akkron Puttnik.
  ****************************************************************
  ****************************************************
       
       Not long before the unwanted arrivals in Abinger, a 
  beautiful human woman had sashayed in to Ingles, on a warm 
  autumn evening. She had beguiled the guards at the city gates to 
  such an extent that they had taken her personally straight to 
  the best inn in the city. Once there and after several desperate 
  attempts by the guard to secure a further meeting, she set about 
  seducing the inn keeper and the other guests that were giving 
  her more than a lingering glance. She wore a long red velvet 
  dress with no back; she loved the irony of exposing the flesh 
  there, and frequently tossed about her flowing red hair as she 
  laughed at the very poor witticisms of the innkeeper and the 
  growing number of potential suitors. As the night wore on she 
  
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  drank, seemingly without effect, but began to discreetly tell 
  tales of a wonderful substance that made her feel... Well, a 
  batting of eyelids and a slight shudder gave all concerned 
  enough of a hint and did anyone know if it could be found in 
  Ingles?
        During the following days there was a frenzy of activity 
  as men, mostly young and wealthy but some old enough to know 
  better, made discreet enquiry after discreet enquiry, mostly in 
  vain, until one young man was fortunate enough to ask a dark 
  haired unshaven man he hadn't seen before. He was in luck. The 
  unshaven man said he had just come from the city of Findon and 
  this substance was all the rage. He fortunately had a little on 
  him, and the young man could have it if he wanted. The young man 
  whooped with delight and visions of the gorgeous, voluptuous 
  flame-haired woman flitted through his mind. He thanked the man 
  profusely, whereupon he was informed that if there was such a 
  demand he would see if he could pick up some more. Perhaps if 
  they were to meet there again in, say, three days time he could 
  give him some more to distribute himself?
        The young man was in the finest inn that night and 
  approached the flame-haired beauty. She squealed with delight 
  when he told her of his success. She insisted on inviting him up 
  to her room and sharing the Spice with him.
  
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       The following morning, the battered, bruised and shell- 
  shocked young man sauntered into the main feasting room of the 
  inn with a grin the size of a slice of watermelon. They had 
  tried the Spice and, Pow!, all he could remember was feeling 
  like a god and physical pleasure like he had never known before. 
  In actual fact, Leileilii had planted the memories into his 
  psyche after knocking him cold once she could no longer tolerate 
  his amorous advances, after the Spice had fully taken hold. He 
  couldn't help but brag about how great it was and that, if they 
  were lucky, he might be able to help the others find this 
  amazing, stuff, and they too could know this sumptuous woman.
       Three days later, the young man received ten packets of 
  Spice to distribute to his friends. The downfall of Ingles had 
  begun.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /113
  A Call to A
   
   rms
    
  ‘Companions of the Compass! Greetings from your erstwhile 
  leader, mage and good friend! Yes ‘tis I, Ethandril 
  Thililisfarne. Though it has been some thirty years and very few 
  conversations between us, it would appear that our skills are 
  required once again to solve problems as only we can. Should you 
  be able to and chose to accept this, rather exciting if I'm 
  honest, mission, then please say the companion rhyme and you 
  will arrive here with me, in the court of Sir Theobold. He was, 
  if you remember, just little Theo before, in the city of Findon 
  on the great continent of Vallilea. Please adequately equip 
  yourselves as this may be dangerous. 
        ‘Come Abyss or high water, we shall always stick together, 
  whatever the slaughter, companions forever.’ 
  Ethandril.
       
        Sir Theobold, his chief advisor Argyll, his mage Loriana 
  and her father, the head of the Company of the Compass, all 
  waited impatiently in the vast hall of Sir Theobold’s palace. 
  The waiting was excruciating. Would any of the companions heed 
  the summons? Could they manage the mission if one didn't show 
  up? Would Ethandril ever stop wittering away to himself? The 
  
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  ever beautiful Loriana had her chin in one hand and stared at 
  her father. How could he have ever produced her she wondered? 
  Certainly she had his gift for magic but he was borderline 
  insane. From what she could remember, he appeared to be getting 
  worse. The constant monologue was not all that new, but 
  generally it was a musing when a question had been asked or a 
  problem needed solving and not just the insane workings of his 
  copious mind.
        To the relief of all those waiting, there was a twinkling 
  of lights in the middle of the hall. At least someone had chosen 
  to come, they thought. There was a collective sigh, followed by 
  looks of slight embarrassment between the three of them that 
  they had been on such tenterhooks. A dark-haired elf, with 
  shoulders as wide as a grizzly bear and covered in exotic 
  tattoos, stood before them.
       ‘Quin-Helwig!’ exclaimed Ethandril. ‘Quin, Quin, Quin, 
  ranger extrordinaire, stalker of the unstalkable, scourge of the 
  undead, defender of the living, friend to animals, foe to 
  monsters,’ Ethandril paused and beamed. ‘You have more tattoos,’ 
  he stated, tilting his head to the right to further examine his 
  friend.
       ‘Hello Ethan, master magician, and scourge of...’ he held 
  back from saying anymore so as not to offend Ethandril, and came 
  
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  forward to hug the wizard, now much cleaner than when he had 
  first arrived at the palace, slightly charred. Up against 
  another elf, the sheer enormity and muscularity of Quin-Helwig 
  could clearly be seen and Loriana felt her stomach flutter 
  slightly. She had been only fifteen when the Company went their 
  separate ways and as a half-elf she was now mature, where a true 
  elf would not be. 
       ‘Now Quin, you know most of these people, I know, but let's 
  do the introductions,’ Ethandril began, being as helpful as he 
  could. ‘Sir Theobold, now ruler of this great city of Findon, 
  merely a boy of eighteen when last we were here.’
       ‘Greetings, Quin-Helwig! A pleasure and thank you for 
  coming. Real problem we have here, hope you can help. Wish I had 
  aged as well as you, ho yes, trouble with being human and all!’ 
  Sir Theobold greeted Quin slightly awkwardly.
       ‘The Company would always come to your aid, Sir Theobold,’ 
  replied Quin emphasising the Sir. ‘We were very close to your 
  grandfather and would never let down a member of the Blackstone 
  family,’ he continued with a heavy elven accent. 
       ‘Splendid! Splendid! This, Quin, is my most trusted 
  advisor, Argyll, a rock for me he is, a true rock. I don't know 
  if I could make a decision without him.’
       ‘Sir Theobold overstates my importance, Quin-Helwig, but it 
  
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  is my pleasure to make your acquaintance,’ Argyll said.
       ‘Likewise, Argyll, you fill an important role here.’ The 
  mirth and understanding in the pair’s eyes was not lost on 
  either of them.
       ‘And Quin, Quin, this,’ interjected Ethandril, ‘this 
  glorious, heavenly creature is my daughter, Loriana. You may 
  remember her when she was young, but she has blossomed into 
  something rare, Quin, intelligent beyond compare, beautiful 
  beyo...’
       ‘Alright, Ethan, enough,’ Lori butted in to stop her 
  father's embarrassing rambling. ‘Greetings Quin-Helwig! Thank 
  you for coming, you are much as I remember. I hope you can 
  help,’ she finished.
       ‘You are little as I remember, Lori, ‘tis a pleasure to see 
  you again, and how you have indeed blossomed’.
       She felt her cheeks flush as the burly ranger looked her up 
  and down in an extremely inappropriate manner.
       ‘So this problem,’ Quin began, ‘it must be serious, for no 
  one has felt the need to assemble the Company for, what thirty 
  years? What's the story, and is it your fault, Ethan?’ he ended 
  turning to face the taller flame elf.
        ‘I,’ replied Ethan, thrusting his long, elegant, sharp 
  pointed nose into the air, ‘have nothing to do with this. It 
  
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  would appear to be a man-made problem.‘
        ‘Man-made, with due respect to you, Sir Theobold, does not 
  surprise me. On the southern isles we are starting to get more 
  and more curious boats in our waters, especially the last ten 
  years. The southern elf council is even considering turning 
  Zinzu island in to a defensive position, much as the Solar elves 
  have with Floreal and Sangreal islands to protect their 
  mainland.’
       ‘And we have with Wye,’ interrupted Ethandril.
       ‘Men are starting to spread and fast,’ Quin finished.
        Sir Theobold was unable to think of much to say as it was 
  almost impossible for him to understand the fears and feelings 
  of these two elves. He knew from Loriana that her father was 
  over a thousand years old, and that Quin-Helwig was not a young 
  elf either. They had seen the rise of man from small towns and 
  villages to the cities of today and it was not easy for them to 
  witness such a speed of expansion.
        The slightly awkward pause in conversation was thankfully 
  broken by more arrivals. A twinkling of lights preceded two 
  elves arriving simultaneously, the brother and sister, Elwood 
  the Priest and Catarina Farfadet, both dressed in green leather 
  and travelling cloaks. They smiled as they saw the collected 
  throng.
  
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       ‘Siblings!’ screeched Ethandril in delight. ‘My, how you 
  have grown.’
        The brother and sister were the youngest of the group, now 
  a little over two hundred years apiece, and both had matured to 
  full adulthood in the years they had all been apart. It was 
  noticeable that the pair, as copper elves, had a tendency to be 
  broader than other elves and they had certainly filled out since 
  the Company had last been together.
       ‘Ethan, good to see you again, all in one piece too,’ 
  Catarina said as she advanced towards the smiling mage with open 
  arms. They hugged as old friends do, though Lori couldn't help 
  but notice her father's rather lingering hug.
       ‘Ethan, it’s great to be back in your esteemed company 
  again. You'll be pleased to know that I am greatly in Yllana's 
  favour now. I look forward to her aiding our cause,’ Elwood said 
  as he followed his sister into embracing Ethan. 
       ‘Oooh Elwood! You’re not going to beat me with the ‘our 
  God’ stick are you, you know I'm not a huge fan, especially as 
  she seems to have it in for me,’ Ethan said with a slightly 
  concerned look.
       ‘Yllana is always looking out for you, Ethandril 
  Thililisfarne, and those around you. She loves you just as much 
  as she loves all her children,’ Elwood replied.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /119
       Ethandril winced at the use of the word children as he 
  received a grim stare from Loriana and had a momentary pang of 
  guilt about Thelandril. But it passed.
       ‘It's good to see you again, Elwood,’ a smiling Quin 
  declared, as he advanced upon the Priest, ‘and with such 
  strength from our Goddess too.’ They hugged in greeting before 
  Quin turned his attention to Catarina. ‘Cat, how the years have 
  flown and they have touched you well I see. I presume your 
  training has developed too?’ he asked as his eyes travelled up 
  her body to meet her copper eyes. 
       ‘Hello Quin, I see the years have lent you no more 
  subtlety, but a few more tattoos.’ She replied grinning as she 
  appraised the heavily muscled ranger. They embraced as those who 
  have shared intimacy do, an act that left the rest of the room 
  looking away rather awkwardly. 
       ‘Siblings, here please,’ Ethan called.’ This is young 
  Loriana, my daughter. You may remember her from our last days 
  together. She is now very important around here, advising,’ 
  Ethan paused and pointed at Sir Theobold, ‘him, Sir Theobold.’ 
       The rapid nature of semi-introductions had heads spinning, 
  so Sir Theobold took control.
       ‘Elwood, high Priest, welcome, and thank you for coming in 
  our time of need. Catarina, likewise, your skills will be most 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /120
  helpful with our situation. I welcome you both with open arms, 
  and should you require anything, anything at all, do not 
  hesitate to ask either my advisor here, Argyll, or Loriana,’ Sir 
  Theobold stated. 
       Argyll gave a small bow to the two continental elves. He 
  could feel the godly presence emanating from Elwood. 
  Fascinating, he thought, he hadn't been near a priest emanating 
  such godly power before; Elwood was clearly in high favour.
       ‘So this situation, ‘Elwood began, ‘what has been going on? 
  It must be serious if you felt the need to call on us? It must 
  be local, too, as we haven't heard anything in the Daphinium 
  forest and we're not that far away.’
       ‘Yes. Indeed it is local,’ was the clipped response from 
  Sir Theobold. ‘We actually have a witness to some of the goings 
  on too. Aside from Loriana's scrying, a copper elf, Lishiana is 
  her name, witnessed a tragic event recently. She should be here 
  to recount her tale shortly.’ 
        ‘I will ask what I can of Yllana to help guide us in this, 
  once we have all the facts together,’ replied Elwood.
       ‘So, Catarina, how's the spell craft coming?’ Ethandril 
  interjected. ‘Mastered anything particularly exciting yet? 
  Anything that may whet old Ethandril's appetite?’
       ‘Nothing particularly new Ethan, as I spend as much time on 
  
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  my sword craft.’
       ‘Oh do you have to?’ Ethan stopped her. ‘You’re such a 
  capable wizard; you have no need to use a metal stick too. I 
  never needed one.’ 
       Quin coughed as he tried to suppress a laugh. The reference 
  to a metal stick was fine for now, Apollo hadn't arrived yet. 
       ‘I believe metal sticks have saved you on more than one 
  occasion, Ethan,’ Quin said. ‘And remember we don't all have 
  your talent for sorcery.’
       ‘Yes Ethan, sometimes a sword can be more specific when 
  dealing with a problem. Not every situation can be dealt with by 
  utter annihilation of the opposite side,’ Catarina finished.
       ‘Hhmmph’ said Ethandril. 
       
       A twinkle of lights from the centre of the room indicated 
  another arrival. Had anyone unfamiliar with what was occurring 
  watched the scene, they would have thought that an avatar of the 
  gods had just arrived on Estrella. A tall and slender being, 
  with shoulder length golden hair stood before the gathering. He 
  was hard to look at such was the nature of the highly polished 
  chain mail he wore like a second skin, emphasising the steely 
  nature of the slight body beneath. He walked forward with such 
  fluid grace it was like watching smoke travel effortlessly 
  
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  across a room. He stopped before the others and cast deep indigo 
  eyes around the room taking in each and every one of those 
  gathered.
       ‘What a motley rag-tag crew of half breeds we have 
  assembled here,’ he said. ‘Dwelf, I see full clothing has yet to 
  make it to the southern isles. You are supposed to cover 
  yourself with them, not ink. Continentals, yes I see you have 
  grown and filled out, anymore so and you will look like humans.’
       Ethandril beamed at the new arrival.
       ‘Furnace face, wipe that ridiculous grin off your visage, 
  you look even more demented than usual. I can only assume that 
  she,’ he said turning to Loriana, ‘is your half-breed bastard.’
       Jaws went slack around the room. Sir Theobold couldn't 
  believe what he had just heard. This was meant to be a friend.
       ‘I take it the ghost is not here yet, or is he lurking in 
  the shadows as ever?’
       No one replied.
        ‘Well then, what's all this about? It had better be good. 
  I was very busy training Solars before this summons so you had 
  better not be wasting my time, Ethandril,’ he said, his ancient 
  indigo eyes boring into first Ethan then Sir Theobold. 
       Quin-Helwig slowly approached the taller elf, locking gazes 
  with the stately creature. He stopped a mere six inches short 
  
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  and stared hard at the solar elf. Slowly the corners of his 
  mouth began to turn upwards and a smile appeared on his brown 
  skinned tattooed face.
       ‘It is good to have you back with us Apollo Shiningblade; I 
  see time has not blunted your disdain for the rest of us,’ Quin 
  said. He lunged forward and wrapped the taller elf in a huge hug 
  and lifted him off the floor.
       ‘Dwelf, is it really necessary to show such coarse physical 
  emotion? Put me down. You repulse me and are leaving greasy 
  sweat on my mail,’ Apollo said as he struggled to get out of the 
  ranger's grip.
       Quin let go and turned away laughing. The pair had 
  adventured together for several centuries and there was nothing 
  that Apollo could say that could upset Quin, not any more. He 
  even accepted the name Dwelf with good nature, the supposition 
  that he was part dwarf due to his muscular stature.
       Not everyone was as accommodating of Apollo's caustic wit, 
  however. Loriana, visibly upset, started to speak.
       ‘You have been summoned here,’ she began, but Apollo cut 
  her off.
       ‘Half-breed, my, you have grown, you even look like some of 
  the other ones Ethandril fathered.’
       Loriana's eyes widened, because she had never heard this 
  
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  before.  She looked over at her father for confirmation but he 
  was busy looking everywhere else except at her.
       ‘Oh you didn't know, never mind. I forget that when you 
  have been around as long as I have that these things can have an 
  impact on the shorter-lived. Your father has quite a history of 
  half-breed creation. Just ask him,’ Apollo sneered.
       ‘Now listen here, Apollo Shiningblade,’ Sir Theobold jumped 
  in, furious at the treatment of his mage and the general 
  attitude of this so-called hero. ‘You are in my palace and if 
  you didn't want to accept the summons, you didn't have to come. 
  Now apologise to my high mage and...’
       Apollo held up a slender golden hand to silence Sir 
  Theobold. He approached to within a foot of the ruler of the 
  city of Findon and looked down his nose at him. 
       ‘When last we met, you were just Theo and not much more 
  than a boy. In the time since you have become virtually an old 
  man. I believe I have had one haircut in that time and needed to 
  trim my nails perhaps twice. I am here because you asked me and 
  I choose to be here. Now, if there is a problem perhaps I may 
  help but do not suppose to tell me how to behave. I'm sure you 
  would like me to speak well of you in another millennium when 
  few others will remember you, never mind there being anyone else 
  still around that met you!’ Apollo finished. 
  
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       ‘It is good to have you with us,’ Catarina broke the 
  standoff. ‘Lord Shiningblade, I have much to show you. I have 
  improved my rhythm dance significantly since last we met and 
  have found several excellent spells to accompany it.’ 
       Apollo looked her up and down. ’I am delighted you have 
  made such improvements, truly I am. Just make sure those don't 
  get in your way too much,’ he gestured indicating her breasts. 
  ‘I see you and you brother have fully acquired the usual copper 
  elf physiques.’ Catarina closed her eyes and suppressed any 
  retort, since she knew it would be useless against the beyond 
  arrogant elf.
       
       A twinkle of lights heralded the last arrival, much to the 
  relief of Sir Theobold, Argyll and Loriana. They were unprepared 
  for the caustic Apollo and were trying hard not to lose their 
  tempers with him. Even Argyll was astonished that he could be so 
  hurtful and yet he radiated no malice; it was extraordinary.
       A cloaked figure stood before them. No features were 
  visible. The cloak seemed to be made of shimmering shadow, 
  giving an indistinct edge to the person underneath, and both the 
  leggings and boots that were visible beneath were midnight black.
       ‘Oh dear,’ sneered Apollo, ‘the ghost has arrived.’
       Orion Lutin pulled back his cowl and shook out his long 
  
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  shaggy white hair. His white skin did indeed give him the 
  appearance of a ghost, but the hardness in his pink eyes 
  revealed he was very much alive.
       ‘How wonderful to see you again too, Apollo, though please 
  don't sneer too hard, I'd hate for you to crease that beautiful 
  face of yours on my account,’ Orion replied.
       There was a sudden burst of laughter from all assembled, 
  except Apollo, and an easing of tension in the room. Just when 
  Sir Theobold was wondering how anyone would be able to spend any 
  time in the company of Apollo Shiningblade, the answer, and the 
  antidote arrived. Orion Lutin did not suffer fools; in fact, any 
  fools he had had to suffer were dead. Apollo was no fool, but 
  Orion knew just how to keep him in check. The final piece of the 
  Company jigsaw was now in place. They fitted together perfectly, 
  youth and experience, intelligence and wisdom, strength and 
  guile, openness and cunning, magic and steel, all the attributes 
  needed for a successful adventuring band. They were an awesome 
  outfit.
        ‘If I may, Sir Theobold,’ Argyll began, ’I'd like to bring 
  in Lishiana so she can tell her tale and we can plan a course of 
  action.’
       ‘Yes Argyll, very good. Lishiana. Well done, staying on the 
  
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  task at hand as ever,’ rattled off Sir Theobold, now reverting 
  very much to his default self. ‘Bring her in right away!’
       Argyll left the main hall through a side door and returned 
  a few minutes later with the copper elf. She carried herself 
  with confidence and gave a small curtsey to Sir Theobold when 
  she approached. Apollo raised an eyebrow.
       ‘Oh good, more curvaceous continentals,’ he said in a tone 
  dripping with sarcasm.
       Sir Theobold shot him an angry glance but Lishiana appeared 
  not to have heard, or had chosen not to.
       ‘Lishiana, please tell us your tale,’ prompted Sir 
  Theobold. She turned to the assembled elves and told the story 
  of the preceding week and the demise of the young lad Rollo.
       When she was done the elves looked at each other, each 
  wondering where it left them.
       ‘You have dragged us all here to deal with a few humans 
  with a drink problem,’ said Apollo incredulous. ‘I shall be on 
  my way.’
       ‘Wait’ Catarina interrupted, ‘we should at least go and see 
  for ourselves. If this happened on the main promenade what are 
  the slums like?’
       ‘Chaos from what I have scryed,’ Loriana butted in. ‘There 
  are people behaving like rabid animals all over the place. We 
  
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  can't get enough guards into the area at any one time, as the 
  frenzied state happens quite quickly and randomly. That's why we 
  need you, to go in and try to get a handle on it. We are fairly 
  sure that something is being imbibed, but you need to go to a 
  tavern or two to see if you can find out any more. I'm sure I 
  have witnessed some sort of deal in the street but it is so hard 
  to tell from a scrying. We summoned you because you are the 
  best, and you can protect yourselves. Those under the influence 
  are unusually strong.’
       ‘I will happily come with you,’ said Lishiana. ‘I was an 
  adventurer a while back and would gladly help out, in poor 
  Rollo's memory.’
       ‘I'm not sure sentiment will be helpful,’ said Quin. 
  ‘Emotions in this could hinder us’.
       ‘Nonsense Quin! Nonsense, nonsense! This lovely lady can of 
  course accompany us,’ said Ethandril. ‘I am the leader of this 
  Company and I say she can join us.’ He smiled a great broad and 
  salacious grin at Lishiana. She returned the smile, a little 
  nervously.
       ‘Well, if that is agreed, I think you should get some spare 
  cloaks so you don't stand out so much if you are going to the 
  docks district and on from there,’ suggested Sir Theobold. They 
  were just spreading out, moving towards the side door from where 
  
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  Lishiana had come, when Orion stopped them.
       ‘Wait!’ he said in a very clear and uncompromising tone. 
  Everyone turned to look at him. ‘She can't come’ he finished.
       ‘But..’ several voices began in unison.
       In an instant Orion disappeared and reappeared right behind 
  Lishiana, her chin now in his left hand and an evil looking 
  black dagger pressed to her throat. Loriana audibly gasped.
       ‘What are you doing, elf?’ roared Sir Theobold.
       Calmly Orion spoke ‘what happens if I draw my dagger across 
  your neck?’
       Lishiana tried to swallow but couldn't. She was terrified. 
  Orion gently pressed the wicked edge against the pale milky 
  green skin and drew a little blood.
       ‘As I thought, he said’. Suddenly he was a flurry of 
  motion. He leapt from behind Lishiana and threw the dagger at 
  Catarina's head. He produced darts from nowhere and hurled them 
  at his remaining companions, all straight and true for the heart.
       The first dart hit the vast pectoral of Quin-Helwig and 
  dropped to the floor at his feet, the point of the dart bent 
  from the impact. The dagger hurled at Catarina hit her stoneskin 
  and likewise dropped to the floor. Apollo drew his shining blade 
  faster than most people could blink and parried away the dart 
  aimed at him as if swatting a particularly slow fly. The dart 
  
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  flying at Ethandril simply passed straight through him as though 
  he wasn't really there and flew on to stick several inches deep 
  into the wooden door on the far side. The final dart aimed at 
  Elwood was consumed by holy fire as it came within a couple of 
  inches of hitting him.
       Orion looked around the room into the eyes of each of his 
  friends. They all realised why he had done it. There wasn't a 
  mark on any of them.
       ‘My apologies, lady Lishiana, but we are all protected all 
  of the time and you are not. Even after thirty years I knew I 
  would not hurt any of my friends.  It is just how we are. We 
  cannot afford to take along anyone we may have to protect; it's 
  too dangerous, for everyone.’ He beckoned Elwood over to see to 
  her cut.
       Not for the first time that day Sir Theobold had to shut 
  his open, slack-jawed mouth. He had never seen anything like 
  what he had just witnessed. The speed and ferocity of it all was 
  staggering and the nonchalant way the Company dealt with it... 
  He felt sure he had made the right decision in calling upon 
  them. If anyone could get to the bottom of this, the Company of 
  the Compass could.
  
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  ****************************************************************
  *****************************************************************
       
       There was a murmur, a whisper going around the slums that 
  evening. Vagabonds and street dwellers were eyeing up intruders 
  suspiciously. The slums had their own rules. It was an area of 
  five streets across, where the last few warehouses of the docks 
  and the first few streets of the workers’ district should have 
  met, except that they didn't. Anytime anyone tried to use the 
  area for that purpose, fires were started, goods stolen and 
  murders were common place. In that area the people, if they 
  could still be described as that, were the homeless, the 
  displaced or the addicted. It was not uncommon to see the odd 
  body slumped by the side of the road, unconscious from too much 
  grog. They were mostly human, addiction seemed to be a 
  particularly human trait, but there were a few half-elves, 
  continental half-breeds, and a few thunder dwarves down on their 
  luck and who had succumbed to the bottle. 
        A group of six cloaked and cowled strangers were walking 
  the alleys, effortlessly gliding along the road, turning to look 
  at those propping themselves up against solid walls of burnt-out 
  
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  houses. Although their faces were not visible, the street people 
  knew they were elves, there was no disguising it. Bloodshot, 
  half-mad eyes stared back as the group passed, ravaged minds 
  searching for the possibility of an attack. What did these elves 
  have on them that could be sold, could be traded, for Spice? 
  That was the issue. The last month a new epidemic of madness and 
  addiction had swept through the slums like wild fire and its 
  name was ‘Spice’. They all wanted it; all wanted more of it and 
  were willing to do anything to get it. Those not yet comatose 
  started to follow the group, nipping in and out of old and 
  burnt-out buildings, watching for any signs of either power or 
  weakness. They were more than adept at this. Often a sailor, new 
  to the town, would stagger out of the taverns of the dock 
  district the worse for wear and go the wrong way to his ship. 
  Few of them ever made it anywhere again if they entered the 
  slums.
        ‘Ooh, we're being watched on all sides,’ whispered 
  Ethandril, trying to suppress a squeal of excitement. 
       ‘Calm down, you over-excitable fool, of course we are. It's 
  why we are here. I don't as yet see anything that unusual in a 
  place such as this,’ replied Apollo.
       The Company turned from one street to an alley that linked 
  across to the next street; they were right in the heart of the 
  
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  slums and it's denizens decided now was the time to say ‘Hello’.
       A group of at least six shambling men appeared at the other 
  end of the alley. They began to make weird gestures, raising 
  their hands to their mouths, and letting out roars and whoops of 
  excitement. The Spice was going down well. They stood blocking 
  the alley some twenty yards ahead, raising their arms high above 
  their heads and drawing deeper and deeper breaths.
       ‘It's like some sort of shamanistic ritual,’ Catarina 
  noted. ‘Did they all just take something?’
       ‘It looks that way,’ Orion answered her. ‘We have many such 
  rituals on the northern isles, but I don't recognize it. If they 
  have taken something, I'm sure I can work out what it is,’ 
  finished the assassin.
       There was a shuffling noise from above and behind, several 
  rag-covered heads appeared over the edge of the roof tops above 
  and the way behind was now blocked off by at least another half-
  dozen men.
       ‘It looks like we shall be getting some answers tonight,’ 
  said Quin.
       ‘Hail! Slum residents and unfortunates of the city of 
  Findon,’ began Ethandril. ‘I, Ethandril Thililisfarne, and my 
  trusty friends here would like to ask you a few short questions, 
  then we shall be on our way.’
  
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        The Company were used to Ethandril but it had been thirty 
  years since they had been together and even they were caught by 
  surprise at his behaviour. 
       ‘You are quite mad, aren't you?’ said Apollo staring at 
  Ethan.
       ‘They probably want to kill us and strip our bodies so as 
  to sell anything valuable we have, Ethandril, not chat,’ 
  finished Orion in his usual realist tone.
       ‘Oh no, we can achieve a whole lot more from parlay, don't 
  you think?’ replied Ethandril, aiming the last part of the 
  sentence at the gathered slum dwellers.
       Those blocking the alley whence they had come seemed to go 
  through the same ritual as the others. Hand to mouth, stretching 
  and excited roars. There was a brief pause as the two sides eyed 
  each other, then, as the six members of the Company all felt the 
  moment the balance tipped, the slum dwellers attacked.
        An almighty roar came from the twenty or so Spice-addled 
  slum dwellers on all sides and they charged. Orion vanished 
  almost instantly, much to the irritation of Quin-Helwig and 
  Apollo, both of whom preferred to stand their ground. Apollo 
  drew his dazzling green pulsing blade and awaited the rush from 
  the direction ahead. The siblings turned to the direction they 
  had come from, with Catarina whizzing through her spell and 
  
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  letting loose a volley of missiles. Elwood unleashed three 
  arrows from his divine bow into separate men, Catarina four 
  green magic missiles into four others. They barely flinched as 
  they rushed on. That really caught the brother and sister by 
  surprise. Only ten yards away now, Ethandril finished a chant 
  and a wall of fire appeared between the onrushing crazed slum 
  dwellers and Elwood and Catarina. 
       ‘Ha! Ha!’ Ethandril proclaimed.
       The Spice-addled lunatics rushed straight though it.
       
       Rushing in from the other side, Quin-Helwig strode forward 
  to meet them, short sword in his left hand, long sword in the 
  right. The slum dwellers were not heavily armed, mostly they 
  held daggers or knives while a few held clubs. Quin met the 
  first attacker and parried a dagger with his short sword, 
  forcing the thrust out to his left, and swept down on to the 
  neck and right shoulder of the man with his long sword. There 
  was a huge bang as the sword exploded on contact with the 
  vagabond. What was left of him collapsed to the ground. The rush 
  didn't stop despite the brutal killing. Two more jumped in to 
  attack Quin as Apollo stepped forward. Quin took a step back to 
  allow Apollo room while his attackers’ bull rushed him. He 
  dropped to the ground, doing the splits in the process, and held 
  
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  both swords out for the onrushing madmen. The long sword 
  exploded a second time, removing the man's midsection and 
  leaving three cauterized parts, two legs and a shoulder girdle 
  and head, to drop to the alley floor. The short sword slid into 
  the other madman like a hot knife through butter. The man 
  appeared not to notice and furiously stabbed at Quin's arm with 
  knives in both hands. Although Quin could not be cut, attacks, 
  if hard enough could leave bruises or worse. He heard a snap.
       ‘Aarrgh!’ Quin roared in pain as he felt the smaller bone 
  of his forearm crack under the assault. He had never felt such 
  power from a human and let go of the short sword. He jumped to 
  his feet, leaping three feet into the air, and swung down with 
  his long sword onto his frenzied assailant’s head. The sword dug 
  in, cleaving the head in two. There was no bang this time, a 
  situation that always disturbed the goodly ranger, since the 
  sword only tried to obliterate evil beings.
       Apollo meanwhile was thoroughly occupied by three others, 
  though they were now down to four arms between them. He was 
  spinning vigorously in both directions and the extra strength 
  these men appeared to have only increased the power of his own 
  attacks. He was awesome. A low parry to his right caused an 
  anti-clockwise spin, the sword coming down over his right 
  shoulder, and a head went flying. He spun anti-clockwise again 
  
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  of his own accord, only to meet a dagger thrust at his middle; 
  he parried it and spun clockwise back, while stepping back. The 
  last six inches of his blade slashed across the belly of the 
  dagger wielder, spilling his guts. The frenzied creature, a 
  half-elf by the look of him, continued to try to attack, even on 
  his knees with no innards. He collapsed moments later. The last 
  one-armed frenzied lunatic rushed in holding a dagger, point 
  down, in his white-knuckled fist. He raised his hand high to try 
  to stab Apollo in the head or neck. The regal solar elf gave a 
  push of his left leg and thrust forward by two feet, skewering 
  the one-armed man. The slum dweller shook violently as the 
  green-hued sword pulsed and burned his insides, yet still 
  furiously tried to swipe at Apollo. It was to no avail; with his 
  life blood pouring from his severed arm and opened gut he 
  dropped to his knees. As Apollo swiftly withdrew his shining 
  blade and stood back, the urchin collapsed at his feet.
       Even though they were seasoned adventurers, Elwood, 
  Catarina and Ethandril were all caught by surprise as the slum 
  dwellers rushed through Ethandril's wall of fire. The leading 
  two, rag clothing now burning, took hard swings at Catarina. 
  Their blows were blocked by her stoneskin spell, though she was 
  shoved backwards by the enormous force behind the blows.
        Bow still in hand, Elwood reacted quickly and let off two 
  
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  arrows from point blank range into two more vagabonds that were 
  heading his way. This time they did drop with large smoking 
  holes in their chests.
        Catarina pulled out her trusted long sword in a bid to 
  engage her assailants. She whipped the magic blade out in front 
  of her to parry the first incoming blow, using the rhythm dance 
  to help her. An overhead blow came from a club and she angled 
  her sword horizontally. The blow struck hard and Catarina lent 
  slightly forward and gave a small jump. The momentum from the 
  strike spun her head over heels. Her blade came down held in 
  both hands and split her foe in half, from the top of his head 
  to the middle of his chest. She barely had time to worry about 
  her second attacker as a thin green beam passed her back by a 
  matter of a couple of inches. It struck the second man in the 
  chest and with a loud ‘puff-pop’ he was nothing but ash. 
       ‘Ethan,’ she called out ‘be careful! You almost hit me’.
       ‘Almost, but I didn't, did I?’ Ethandril replied. ‘Have a 
  little faith, young Cat.’
       The last two that had rushed through the wall of fire 
  seemed unsure whom to attack. In their momentary pause of 
  indecision, Elwood unleashed two more god-blessed arrows, this 
  time aiming at their heads; he was taking no chances. The arrows 
  exploded into the slum dwellers, virtually decapitating them 
  
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  both; their knees buckled and the remains of their bodies 
  flopped to the ground, what would have been face first had they 
  still had faces.
       ‘Bravo! Elwood, cracking shot. I'd almost forgotten how 
  good you were,’ praised Ethandril as he stepped forward to 
  examine the fresh corpses and admire Elwood’s handiwork.
       ‘Where did that pasty shadow dweller go?’ Apollo enquired 
  as he turned to the others after finishing his last opponent. 
  ‘He just loves to slip away when we have martial affairs to deal 
  with, the coward.’
       Just then, two bodies came crashing down from the roof top. 
  The five members of the company looked up, just in time to see 
  two more hurtle to the ground around them. They all hopped out 
  of the way in time but continued to look up, weapons ready. A 
  lithe figure vaulted off the roof top, landed on a window ledge, 
  barely visible from the ground, and vaulted and somersaulted 
  down to the ground, landing ever so lightly on its feet. Orion 
  pulled back his cowl and looked at Apollo with disdain.
       ‘Coward, eh? That's one more than you managed, granddad,’ 
  Orion boasted.
       ‘This time, ghost, only this time. And I stuck around to 
  aid us all,’ Apollo retorted.
       ‘We've attracted enough attention. See if there is any of 
  
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  that stuff they all took, search the bodies,’ Elwood urged the 
  group.
       Orion waved a packet in front of them all. ‘Already done, 
  Elwood. Let’s get back to the palace and see what this stuff is, 
  before we have any more run-ins.’ 
       The group gathered in a circle just as Ethan finished his 
  teleport spell. They vanished from the slums together in a 
  twinkle of lights.
        
       
       
       
       
       
      
  
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  P roblems with the Supply Line
   
   
  Hurder was bored. The days were getting noticeably shorter as 
  winter drew nearer and the snow began to fall. That meant there 
  would be fewer and fewer travellers passing through the 
  Shuddering Peaks. He hadn't seen as much as a caravan come 
  through his region for several days. Nothing to throw rocks at, 
  no merchants to terrorize, no flesh to rip apart nor bones to 
  crunch.
       ‘Bah’ he said to himself. ‘Da little fumans and ilves are 
  avoidin’ uses, knows we is here. Bah, s'borin,’ he said to no 
  one but himself. 
       He was sitting on a hillside in the foothills of the 
  Shuddering Peaks. In the distance to the south he could see the 
  urban sprawl of the human city of Findon. He had a large pile of 
  what he termed rocks, but any normal-sized creature would refer 
  to as boulders, next to him, to use both as camouflage and as 
  weapons. He looked at a few wild sheep in the distance but 
  couldn't even be bothered to go after any of them, he was bored 
  with their taste and he fancied human meat for a change.
       He was interrupted from his dim-witted thoughts by the 
  ground vibrating. His first reaction was a rock slide and he 
  stood up and turned to face up the slope to see if he was in any 
  danger. Coming down the slope towards him were two huge forms, 
  
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  not dissimilar to his own, which were silhouetted against the 
  sky so he couldn't make out their faces.
       ‘Hurder,’ boomed a male voice, ‘we's have a need for yous, 
  fink you gonna like id too.’
       ‘Dat you, Roban?’ his own booming voice replied as he held 
  a huge hand up to shield his eyes.
       ‘Who else'd come a see you?’ Roban replied. ‘Got me sis 
  Doris wid me too if you can na see all dat well, she's dis 
  smaller one next to me,’ he stated and let out a huge ground-
  shaking laugh. All three hill giants started to laugh together, 
  causing the sheep a mile away to run off in alarm. Several 
  people in Findon looked up to the sky expecting to see grey 
  clouds and the promise of rain after the thunder they had just 
  heard.
       ‘I'ms bored, Roban, not seen mes no wagons for dayses, what 
  yous got goin on?’ Hurder managed to say once the laughter had 
  died down.
       ‘Plenty of wagons, Hurder, we’s got loads, and deys all 
  coming out a tunnel, wid fuman guards. Goin off to dem towns dan 
  der, Findon and Iggles and wotnot. Wes been watchin for days 
  now, Grunt n Brawny are still watchin dems,’ replied Roban, an 
  edge of excitement to his deep voice.
       ‘We's finkin to attack uses one, see what’s it all abaht,’ 
  
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  Doris chipped in her slightly lighter voice.
       Hurder thought about this for a second whilst staring at 
  the visiting pair. This was music to his hairy ears. His face 
  split into the broadest of grins.
       ‘What’s wes waitin for den?’ he said. ‘Let’s not be wastin 
  time.’ With that he picked up one of the rocks from his 
  stockpile and hurled it with all his might in the direction of 
  the sheep. Though it dropped well short the shudder from its 
  impact sent the poor skittish sheep running off in all 
  directions for a second time.
       The five hill giants had organized themselves well. Though 
  they were not blessed with the greatest of intellect, they knew 
  their way around a battlefield and were very happy to work 
  together, especially as this was a seemingly well-prepared 
  target. They had seen one caravan leave the dark tunnel several 
  hours earlier and had noted four guards and a driver, which was 
  probably it, but they couldn't rule out the possibility of a 
  wizard lurking somewhere, as was often the case.
       Their approach was simple. Wait till the wagon came to the 
  designated spot, equidistant from them all, which was a fairly 
  wide flat area about a hundred yards across. It was perfect for 
  
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  the hill giants as it seemed to be too far from cover for an 
  ambush, so the caravan’s guard would be down, yet was wide 
  enough for all five hill giants to rush in and attack. They 
  would start with the rocks and then race in with their clubs to 
  finish off what was left.
       They waited, completely absorbed with the task at hand. Not 
  one of the slow-witted creatures dared to look away just in case 
  they missed the mark. Hurder was almost drooling in anticipation 
  of the battle and the possibility of crunching some bones.
       After several hours another caravan appeared. Large hands 
  slowly reached out for the boulders next to them, with five 
  pairs of beady eyes staring intently. Four guards again, though 
  this time there appeared to be a robed figure next to the 
  driver. Brawny would target them, which was his assignment as he 
  was the most accurate boulder thrower. The caravan rolled 
  forward. It was being pulled by two bay horses that appeared to 
  be well under control and even to such edgy creatures all seemed 
  as it should be.
        There was no warning, although if you had the hearing of 
  an elven thief it might have been possible to hear the whoosh of 
  the flying boulders, but the first the caravan and horses knew 
  of it was when five two-foot across, hundred-pound granite rocks 
  landed on them. Brawny's aim was true and his rock hit first, 
  
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  smashing into the robed figure and the driver; there was a 
  blinding flash as some sort of contingency spell was activated, 
  and the robed figure was no more. The weight of that throw 
  collapsed the front of the caravan, causing the reins on the two 
  horses to be yanked down hard. They would have reared up, but 
  following in closely on Brawny's throw, Doris and Grunt had 
  targeted the horses. Caravans don't go anywhere when those 
  pulling them are dead. Huge dark boulders crashed into the two 
  bays, snapping bones and sheering off limbs. The horses died 
  instantly, without even time for a whinny of protest.
        The remaining two boulders hit the sides of the caravan. 
  While Hurder’s shot clipped the back axle and a rear guardsman, 
  Roban’s effort landed on the front of the cart, smashing the 
  axle. The stricken guard yelled in pain as his left leg was 
  flattened in a shower of blood. Although they were stationed 
  yards apart and unable to see each other, all five hill giants 
  grinned simultaneously, grabbed their tree trunk clubs, leapt 
  out of hiding and advanced upon the smashed wagon.
        The shocked guards drew swords, a subconscious reaction to 
  being attacked. When they came to their senses several seconds 
  later they were less sure about their reaction.
       ‘Gord, this is serious!’ yelled one, except Gord was no 
  longer able to answer, his blood loss taking his tongue.
  
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       ‘Jordo, we're in trouble, less ged outta here!’ yelled 
  another. The hill giants, twelve-foot tall hulking brutes with 
  sloping foreheads, were still just far enough away for the 
  guards. They ran as fast as they could. They knew that those who 
  had hired them would not be happy but they would take their 
  chances; it was more promising than facing five of these 
  behemoths. They ran for the dark entrance of the tunnel and 
  didn't look back.
        ‘Bah, dem fumans ain't providin no challenges anymore,’ 
  moaned Hurder. ‘Dat was too easy,’ he finished as he bore down 
  upon the mangled guard’s body and tore off the good leg.
       ‘Cos we is good and all and knows what we is doin,’ Roban 
  retorted as he heard Hurder crunching through a thigh bone.
       ‘My thot wasth the bestht,’ lisped Brawny. ‘Mustht have hit 
  a mage or sthomething.’
       Doris looked at the remains of the horses, pleased with her 
  handiwork, and bent forward to remove a haunch; she liked 
  nothing better than fresh horse! She ran the limb she had just 
  ripped off below her nose, savouring the smell of the kill, and 
  took a bite. It was delicious!
       ‘Let’s see whads so important to'em,’ Roban continued as he 
  approached the shattered wreckage of the caravan. He looked at 
  what was before him, shrugged massive shoulders and wrenched the 
  
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  roof off in one movement. 
        He peered down into the caravan. There were four large 
  sacks and that was it.
       ‘Hmmph,’ he said, disappointed, ‘nuffin. No gold, treasure 
  or nuffin, just sacks full of...’ he didn't know what.
       Roban lifted the four sacks out of the remains of the 
  vehicle and dropped them all on the ground. They were not heavy, 
  even by human standards. As delicately as a creature with such 
  gigantic fingers could, he opened a sack to reveal a dark 
  powder. He dipped a huge shovel like finger in the powder and 
  sniffed it. He thought he knew the smell.
       ‘Whad is it, Roban?’ Hurder enquired.
       ‘Smells like...,’ he paused, ‘like damp.’
       ‘Sthmellsth like damp, how sthtrange, let me sthmell,’ said 
  Brawny as he came over to Roban. Brawny dipped a finger in the 
  dark powder and sniffed. It did indeed smell like damp. He 
  decided to taste it.
       ‘Tasthtesth like...’ Brawny looked as thoughtful as he was 
  able, staring up into the sky as his huge tongue rolled the 
  flavour around his mouth. He suddenly convulsed, shrugging his 
  shoulders and letting out a ‘brrwwer’ noise as his whole body 
  shuddered.
       ‘Is it poison Brawny?’ asked Roban with a start. ‘Spid it 
  
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  out, quick!’
       ‘Na, itsth, ok. Itsh...’ another shiver went through him. 
  ‘Itsh good.’ A huge hand reached up and rubbed the back of his 
  neck.
       ‘Is good?’ Hurder enquired. ‘Les give id a try,’ he went on.
       Hurder moved across to the open bag and dipped a finger in. 
  As he was doing so, Roban decided to join Brawny and sucked the 
  powder from his massive finger. Doris, who had finished her 
  haunch of horse and was watching the others, and Grunt, who 
  until this point had lived up to his name by saying nothing and 
  grunting infrequently, stared on. 
        Roban and Hurder both began to shudder and rub their necks 
  as the Spice kicked in. All three dipped massive fingers in a 
  second time and took some more. They began yawning and 
  stretching in unison making strange animalistic noises.
       ‘I feel amazthing,’ said Brawny as he beamed at the others. 
  ‘Letsth go to Findon and ransthack the place.’
       ‘Yeah, leds go and smash da place,’ chipped in Hurder.
       ‘Doris, Grunt, yous gotta try this stuff; is amazing, we 
  could take over the wholes of da Peaks wid dis. Dem Frosty 
  giants wouldn have a chance da way I feels now,’ Roban urged his 
  sister and Grunt. Doris and Grunt approached the sack, but after 
  two giant fingers each there was very little left for them. They 
  
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  opened a new sack and dipped two fingers in, just so they could 
  catch up. Twenty minutes later when all the shuddering, rubbing 
  and heavy breathing had died down the five Hill giants started 
  to wonder what it all meant. The only difference in them now was 
  the speed of their conversation.
       ‘So why d'ya reckon dis is so important den?’
       ‘Its feels good and da fumans will like its a lot.’
       ‘Yesth, muthsth be for the fumansth.’
       ‘Dey like stuff like dis, dey is always makin dem drinks 
  and fings.’
       ‘Nrr,’ Grunt added as his sole contribution so far.
       ‘Is good, but maybe we should exchange some of its for 
  gold?’
       ‘Dats not a bad idea Hurder, who da we know?’
       ‘That fuman Treffa's always good for stuff with usses, we 
  cans try to gets him here and dos a swaps.’
       ‘Get him here as quicks as you can den Hurder. Leds just 
  have a liddle more first, we can swap one sack, whaddya reckon?’
       All five drooling, Spice-affected giants nodded in unison 
  and hurriedly set about the third sack. Hurder ran off, after 
  getting his last fix, to light his small signal fire that was 
  located high up a mountainside ledge but which was just visible 
  from the city of Findon if you knew what you were looking for. 
  
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  The fire would burn for several hours and the rogue and fence, 
  Treffa, was likely to appear in their midst sometime within a 
  day or so. Hurder had never managed to scale the rock face as 
  fast as he did that day. Once the signal was lit he raced back 
  to join the others. He was barely out of breath.
        The addled giants spent the rest of the day whooping and 
  hollering, having rock tossing competitions and chasing after 
  any creatures they saw. A curious wyvern had to perform aerial 
  acrobatics to avoid becoming a victim, and several yetis decided 
  that the Shuddering Peaks were large enough for them to move 
  well away from the Hill Giants. Even a particularly ancient 
  wyrm, asleep atop his treasure pile several hundred feet down 
  below in a large cavern, shifted his position for the first time 
  in a century such was the commotion.
       
       The following day, Treffa duly arrived. He had had little 
  difficulty in locating the giants after the previous day’s 
  antics, though they had gone much quieter now. He was a small 
  man and dressed well but in simple and unremarkable clothing, 
  the sort that would never attract attention. He had learned as a 
  youngster the value of stealth and going unnoticed, as well as 
  being as pleasant as possible to the physically superior. It had 
  served him well through his thirty or so years, as he had 
  
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  elevated his position within the Findon underworld from being a 
  thieving toe-rag to an almost respectable trader, even if his 
  trade was stolen goods.
       ‘Hallo Hurder, whotcha got for us then?’ he said.
       Hurder, who was flat on his back with his left arm draped 
  over his eyes to shield them from the too-bright daylight, 
  lifted his other arm and pointed at the one remaining sack.
       ‘Iss over der,’ he replied. ‘Iss real good stuff, but my 
  ‘eads hurtin’ like nuffin else todays.’
       ‘Per'aps I should call you Hurter then, eh Hurder? Hahahaha 
  ha,’ Treffa responded and continued to laugh at his own jest. It 
  was well beyond Hurder even if he hadn't had a hangover.
       ‘Judgin’ by the state of you all, it doesn't look like it's 
  worth a whole lot; I mean, you lot can barely move,’ Treffa 
  carried on.
       Roban stood up, and Treffa went quiet as the behemoth 
  stumbled over to him. 
       ‘Ids good stuff dat. Give us a fair price, and we can ged 
  more. Whadhave ya got?’
       ‘Silver? Or a few gold?’ Treffa questioned Roban.
       ‘A hundred gold,’ Doris called out from a supine position 
  some fifty yards away.
       ‘A handred? That's a lot you know. I ain't sure I got a 
  
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  handred.’ Treffa complained.
       ‘Well you know whad you're option is don't ya?’ Roban 
  stated as he looked over at his tree trunk club.
       Treffa didn't need this to turn ugly.  He was no mage, and 
  although he could probably escape, why risk it? He may not get 
  away and, even if he did, the giants were an excellent source of 
  loot from their regular ambushes. He made an awful lot more gold 
  for himself than they ever realized from their bounty.
       ‘Aright, let’s see what I've got,’ Treffa said, reaching 
  into a seemingly bottomless pocket. He pulled out a sack that 
  was clearly heavy for him. ‘That's a handred. You can caant it 
  if you like, but it's all there.’ He opened the top just to show 
  Roban it was gold. Satisfied, Roban walked over to the last sack 
  of Spice. 
       ‘Take dis wid ya. Iss good. Come back in a week or so, we 
  have a bi' more for ya.’ 
       Treffa threw the light sack over his shoulder and walked 
  out of the clearing and then magically dimension doored, 
  courtesy of one of his many rings, still further away to his 
  waiting horse and companion. They then trotted back toward 
  Findon, Treffa suspecting that he was in possession of this new 
  Spice that had been going around and looking forward to setting 
  up a rival supply.
  
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  Later that day, after the giants had slept off their sore 
  heads, another caravan emerged from the tunnel. It was guarded 
  in much the same way as the previous one but with no robed 
  figure. Clearly news of the first attack had not filtered down 
  to the people supplying the stuff. The giants were far less 
  coordinated this time, in fact they were spotted almost straight 
  away by the driver and guards. They didn't care though. Brawny 
  threw two boulders in quick succession with his usual accuracy 
  and hit a horse and the driver with the two shots. The four 
  other giants ran hard for the caravan, the guards hopping down 
  from their posts to intercept them as the ground shook with the 
  weight of the rampaging hill giants. The remaining horse rose 
  onto its hind legs to escape but was dispatched in one mighty 
  backswing by Grunt.
        The battle was swift and bloody. The guards drew their 
  weapons, fine steel long swords, and each managed one parry but 
  they were no match for such mammoth creatures. The return swings 
  by the giants were enough to send all the guards flying several 
  feet, chests caved in and skulls crushed. With a roar of triumph 
  the giants hauled the wagon to the centre of the clearing and 
  ripped the top off the back. Four more sacks of Spice were 
  inside and they let out yells of excitement.
       The scenario was repeated later that day. This time the 
  
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  giants were even more ferocious as they were under the influence 
  of the Spice. The caravan was smashed to smithereens and the 
  guards ripped limb from limb, even having chunks bitten out of 
  them as they were torn apart.
        However, this time the attack did not go unnoticed. A 
  shadow gnome, with crossed bandoliers and a pair of jagged 
  daggers, stood at the entrance way, invisible to the giants, and 
  watched the scene unfold. Darios Galavan squinted against the 
  bright light and wiggled his fingers in anticipation. He thought 
  better of trying to finish them himself; if Kymru found out he 
  had jeopardized himself he would not be pleased. He turned 
  quickly and headed off down the tunnel, back to his Clan leader 
  and high mage to report what was disrupting the supply line, and 
  to work out how they could best deal with it.
       
        Several days and several more caravans later the giants 
  decided to summon Treffa again. They had had their fill of the 
  Spice for now. They had been dipping fingers into it for three 
  days non-stop and the rush was diminishing; they felt in need of 
  a rest. There were still several bags left and Roban had 
  suggested that they sell some off, so Hurder had lumbered off to 
  his rock face ledge to light a fire to summon the useful fence 
  Treffa. The giants were in a melancholy mood. None were truly 
  
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  able to sleep; they were lying down around the edges of the 
  clearing, slightly camouflaged, and trying to rest but with 
  minds still racing. They were all looking at each other too, 
  just to make sure no one had a little extra Spice. They were 
  finding sharing it harder and harder over the previous day and 
  all were convinced that one of the others would be trying to 
  have more than his or her fair share. Doris lay on her front, 
  staring hard at Grunt, who in turn pretended to have his eyes 
  closed but was staring at Brawny. Brawny lay on his back with 
  his eyes shut, but listened intently for anyone moving about. 
  Roban lay on his side where he could watch the pile of the six 
  remaining sacks. All jumped when Hurder came jogging back in to 
  the clearing, sweating heavily from the exertion of the rock 
  climb, fire building and jog back. It had been a far tougher 
  journey than the last time he had done it and he was exhausted.
       ‘Dun it,’ he exhaled at the other four. ’He should be heres 
  wiv usses soons.’
       Hurder looked for a comfortable place to lie, one where he 
  could see as many of the others as possible, and lay down. His 
  tiny mind worked overtime as he tried to sleep.
       
       ‘So, Clan leader, these giants seem to have come across our 
  supply train purely by chance,’ Darios said at the end of his 
  
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  report to Kymru. I suggest that I can handle it myself; it 
  shouldn't be too much work. They may be big but they are stupid 
  and Spice addled, so they will prove no match for my skills.’
       ‘Whilst I do not doubt you, my chief assassin, I do not 
  wish to risk you in any way with such serious operations afoot. 
  You are far too valuable to me, even if I could resurrect you. 
  That can always go wrong and it is tiresome retraining clones,’ 
  Kymru replied. ’I wish you and Mentza to go together and use 
  whatever denizens Mentza sees fit. I know you like to prove your 
  worth but they are only hill giants and you are not to put 
  yourself at risk.’
       ‘As you instruct, Clan leader, ’said Darios as he bowed to 
  Kymru.
       Mentza stepped out of the shadows and nodded at Darios. 
  ‘Shall I do the honours, Darios? It will be quicker and we may 
  surprise them.’
       ‘Certainly, Mentza, but just teleport us to the tunnel 
  entrance. We can observe the brutes from there and should you 
  feel the need to summon any lower planar creatures you can do it 
  within the cavern before we engage them.’ 
       The pair of powerful shadow gnomes touched and vanished 
  from Clan Galavan's meeting hall. Kymru smiled at the skill and 
  loyalty of his closest henchmen.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /157
       
       When Treffa arrived in the clearing the following morning 
  he was alarmed to see the difference in the giants and it had 
  only been a few days. They were all up and about, milling around 
  the clearing, circling the Spice sacks like sharks in the ocean 
  sizing up potential prey. There hadn't been any more supply 
  caravans to attack either and the giants were concerned that 
  maybe this would be all there was. They were all eyeing each 
  other suspiciously, and Treffa was worried; he wanted this over 
  quickly.
       ‘Treffa, yous can av three sacks fors five hundred, then 
  gets outta heres,’ Hurder said aggressively without even looking 
  at Treffa. Treffa raised his eyebrows at the price increase but 
  said nothing.
       ‘No gonna talk to us den, Treff?’ Roban snarled. ‘Fine, den 
  da price jus wen up, six hundred.’
       ‘Nnnr,’ grunted Grunt in agreement.
       ‘Yeaah, Treffa,’ Doris chimed in. ‘You won't be gettin’ 
  much of a deal this time. Now it's seven hundred.’
       ‘Nah hang on,’ Treffa started. ‘I ain't all that bovered to 
  be honest, I fought I was doin you all a fava.’
       ‘Yous, doin usses a fava? Why yous cheeky fuman. Yous is 
  lucky if wees lets you outta here in one pieces,’ Hurder 
  
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  interjected.
       ‘Nah Hurder, my old friend, this ain't like you, we've 
  always had a good relationship, mutually beneficial like. I've 
  always given you a fair price for everything,’ Treffa moaned.
       Hurder was barely listening, more intent on watching the 
  others about whom he was becoming increasingly suspicious. He 
  was beginning to wonder if they had stashed more of the powder 
  away when he had gone to light his summoning fire.
       ‘Thatsh our final offer, piddly fuman, takesth it or go 
  sthwiftly, before I useth you for target practicthe!’ Brawny 
  lisp-growled at Treffa.
       Treffa decided he had run out of options. He did want the 
  Spice, he had sold about half the first sack and made a huge 
  profit. It was risky work though, as there were clearly other 
  powerful dealers in the city, probably working directly with 
  whoever the giants were stealing from. He reached in to the 
  pouch on his hip, one of several extra dimensional spaces about 
  his person, and pulled out a small bag.
       ‘I ‘ave gems,’ he said to Roban. ‘Any good to you as 
  payment, they're worth plenty?’
       ‘Bah, fuman. Yous tryin to makes fools of us. Dems not 
  gems,’Roban roared. With that he lunged at Treffa. Something in 
  the drug addled minds of the giants just snapped at that moment 
  
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  and Treffa was their target.
       Treffa twisted his ring and a dimension door opened but 
  just as he was trying to step through, Doris slapped the back of 
  his head from his blind side. He couldn't believe he hadn't 
  spotted her and he knew he was in serious trouble now. Roban 
  grabbed his left arm as he staggered forward, the pull of the 
  giant dislocating his shoulder. If he could just get to that 
  door he might escape this yet. Roban tossed Treffa into the air 
  by that loosened arm. The pain Treffa felt was excruciating. He 
  screamed in agony as he was launched skyward. As he fell back to 
  the ground he saw Roban, Brawny and Doris waiting for him. Three 
  feet from the floor he was met by the huge foot of Brawny who 
  kicked him six feet back into the air. All the air in his lungs 
  was blasted out of him as ten of his ribs shattered with the 
  blow. Not even his protective cloak or quickness could do 
  anything to help him at the moment. As gravity pulled him back 
  down to the giants he was caught by Roban and Doris, both had 
  one arm and a leg. They gave him a pull just to teach him a 
  lesson.
       ‘Like dat do you, fief, maybe we can make ya tall as us,’ 
  Roban spat at him.
       The giants were rewarded by the squelching pop of three 
  more joints. Treffa screamed his loudest scream as the waves of 
  
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  agony shot through his mangled form. He was then launched back 
  up some thirty feet into the air, both giants laughing as he 
  flew.
        Treffa was spared anymore punishment except for his crash 
  landing.  As he flew high into the air, the three giants beneath 
  him all felt sharp stings in the backs of their legs.
       ‘Aah!’ yelled Doris. ‘What was thats?’ she said looking 
  around.
       ‘Dunno, but it hurts,’ Roban replied.
       ‘Been sthtung,’ Brawny added.
       They looked around for the bug, which surely would be huge 
  if it had hurt them all. In horror they looked over at Grunt, 
  who was lying face down in a pool of blood, with the strangest 
  of creatures next to him. A snake-bodied creature with six arms, 
  each with a ferocious blade in the hand, smiled at the three of 
  them. She was blood spattered from her kill and began to slither 
  toward them, demonic red eyes flaring.
        Hurder was unable to move, he had felt a sting in his leg 
  just as the others had lunged for Treffa and within seconds 
  couldn't budge an inch. He stared on as Grunt was hacked to 
  pieces by this slithering thing that had appeared from the 
  tunnel. He couldn't even raise a warning to the others. 
       The three stung giants didn't appear to have been slowed by 
  
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  their stings and backed away from the demon, but in the 
  direction of their tree trunk clubs. They then moved as swiftly 
  as they were able to pick them up. Doris, Brawny and Roban 
  advanced to meet the marilith, thinking that they were all 
  powerful and that even though Grunt was lost to them, they would 
  take revenge.
        Roban swung hard from the right, but was met by three 
  razor sharp blades. His swing seemed to speed up after the 
  impact but he soon realized it was because he only held a small 
  stump of a club, the rest having been removed by the super sharp 
  blades. Two blades from the other side slashed at him, cutting 
  thin red lines across his abdomen and thighs.
       ‘Bah!’ he roared, ‘dat all you got missy?’ The full extent 
  of the wounds then became apparent. The abdominal wound began to 
  open, it was far deeper than Roban had realized. It grew wider 
  and wider, his intestines pushing to come out. At the same time 
  he began to feel a burning in his thigh, as more and more blood 
  gushed out of the ever-widening wound.
       ‘Nah!’ he cried as he backed away.
       The smiling marilith advanced upon Doris and Brawny, who 
  still had enough Spice floating around their system not to fully 
  comprehend that they were in mortal danger. They raised clubs 
  simultaneously and swung from opposite sides. Six arms came up 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /162
  to block, and the clubs were again chopped to bits. The marilith 
  went for Doris, darting forward like lightning, two arms from 
  each side criss-crossed in a flash, and the marilith backed 
  away. Doris looked dumbfounded, and then simply fell apart in 
  neat chunks, a bemused look on her giant face. Brawny's small 
  brain did not know what to do. The marilith hissed at him and he 
  wanted to run but his legs wouldn't work. He was held by her 
  demonic gaze and continued to stare into those evil eyes as she 
  reared up onto the back of her tail, rising to a similar height 
  as the giant. The blade in her top right hand slashed across him 
  and Brawny never flinched. Brawny's head rolled off his gigantic 
  shoulders and a huge fountain of blood sprayed five feet into 
  the air, showering the grass all around with giant’s blood. His 
  body collapsed forwards and Brawny was no more.
        Hurder was terrified although the marilith did not advance 
  further. She just stood looking at her handiwork of dismembered 
  giants. A small creature, one Hurder did not recognise, came 
  forth from the tunnel entrance. As it approached, Hurder could 
  make out its deep purple colouring and the black, gold sigilled, 
  cap it wore. It was the strangest being Hurder had ever seen. 
  Mentza Galavan wiggled an index finger at the immobile and 
  speechless Hurder and the giant thought he could hear a tutting 
  sound.
  
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        The small robed purple creature began to chant. This was 
  something Hurder did understand and knew it would not be good. A 
  thin green beam shot out of the raised hand of the small man and 
  struck him in his midriff. Despite his size Hurder was no match 
  for the spell. There was a loud popping sound and then a huge 
  pile of ash was floating in the air where the giant Hurder had 
  once been. Satisfied it was over, Mentza quickly called the 
  marilith over and with a gesture dismissed her back to whatever 
  part of the abyss she had come from. As he walked to the tunnel 
  entrance, keen to get back into the darkness, he heard a groan 
  coming from the human lying prone on the ground. Also hearing 
  the noise, the previously invisible Darios walked over to 
  examine the man. 
       ‘Excellent,’ he said in shadow gnomish. He whipped out his 
  right jagged dagger and swiftly plunged it into the still alive 
  human, letting the abominable dagger have a good long drink, and 
  consigning Treffa the fence to eternal hell.
       
      
  
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  Renegades see an O
   
   pportunity
   
   
   
  It had been some fifty years since the end of the time 
  of The Persecution, a time when the humans of Estrella, 
  driven by jealousy, had decided that the halflings were 
  too powerful and a danger to human civilization. The 
  halflings had been hunted down and slaughtered for who 
  they were. Not based on their actions or deeds, but 
  purely because they were or had the potential to be 
  powerful and the humans did not like it. They could not 
  stand this child-like race potentially having a huge 
  elemental power at their finger tips. Men both wanted it 
  and were frightened by it. In the end, they decided to 
  try to destroy it. The halflings of all four elements - 
  earth, air, fire and water – with all their potential 
  power were neither aggressive nor power hungry by nature. 
  So they tried to reason with the humans who sought to 
  wipe them off the face of Estrella, but to no avail.
        Many thousands of halflings were killed, as evil 
  men decided to teach them a lesson: they would never be 
  allowed to use their amazing powers. The halflings tried 
  to fight the slaughter, mostly by fleeing and pleading. 
  Some sought refuge on the Elven Isles or in the Daphinium 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /166
  Forest, where they were accepted. Others tried to flee to 
  other human towns but were rounded up there and 
  butchered. 
        Being trusting and lacking the evil cunning of man 
  and by nature unaggressive, the halflings took what 
  happened with a stoical attitude. They were too upset at 
  losing loved ones to mount any resistance; they put their 
  trust in their God Clovis, believing that he would take 
  them to a better place. In fact the ritual slaughter was 
  stopped by other men, led by the Paladins of Keelee, the 
  Goddess of kindness and charity, and backed by other good 
  warriors and light gnomes who could no longer stand what 
  they were seeing. They confronted the leader of the 
  Persecution, a particularly unpleasant man, later 
  discovered to be a warrior in the name of Nyrex called 
  Horbrace. For the sake of man and so as not to start a 
  continent-wide war, the two factions agreed on an end to 
  the Persecution. Secretly the leaders of the slaughter 
  felt they had done enough in the previous years to send a 
  strong message to the halflings never to antagonize man 
  in the future. 
        That other men had stepped in to aid them helped to 
  mend the relationship between the halflings and humans. 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /167
  For many, especially the short-lived humans, The 
  Persecution became a footnote in history but for many 
  long-lived elves it was only yesterday and a reason to 
  watch the rise of the humans with care. For the 
  halflings, it was in the past; they had put it behind 
  them and decided to carry on as best they could. At least 
  most of them had. 
       
        In a remote part of the Shuddering Peaks, in a 
  small cavern, behind a magically reinforced steel door 
  which was behind an illusionary wall, at the end of a 
  short tunnel off the edge of a vast, stalagmite-filled 
  cavern, which was at the end of a long winding tunnel 
  that had a hidden entrance and many other exits, a 
  meeting was taking place.
        Nine colourful halflings were seated around an old 
  oak table. They were having a lively discussion about the 
  state of the human towns to the south while they waited 
  for their leader. They were the Renegades, a group of 
  halflings that had taken a vow not to forget. The 
  Persecution had happened, some at that table had even had 
  to flee from it, and they would remind the humans forever 
  of what they had done. Life in a human town would never 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /168
  be a simple thing. When they needed water, rivers would 
  dry up; when they were hungry strong winds would keep 
  fishing fleets in the harbour; buildings old and new 
  would ‘accidently’ burn down; stores of grain for the 
  winter would become soaked and rotten; a town’s treasures 
  would disappear from safe vaults without anyone knowing 
  how. The Renegades swore to make life for mankind as hard 
  as possible but they would do it all without sinking to 
  their murdering level. Halflings were better than that!
        The general chitchat was interrupted by the arrival 
  of their leader. Materializing out of thin air, hovering 
  on his magical board an inch above the centre of the 
  table, a ruby-cloaked halfling addressed the others, his 
  right arm drawn across his face, so only his black and 
  red eyeballs showed.
       ‘Greetings Renegades, the humans are in strife to 
  the south, and we are in a position to add to their 
  misery,’ the whispery voice stated. ‘A strange new 
  affliction is gripping the cities and a perfect 
  opportunity to compound their ever growing problems is 
  upon us.’
       A blue-green water halfling responded, ‘Red Baron, 
  what would you have us do?’
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /169
       ‘I propose, Nilo, that you and your fellow water 
  halflings create some freshwater difficulties. It is an 
  excellent strategy, one that has brought the humans much 
  inconvenience in the past. Perhaps you can start by 
  drying out the River Fin and reducing the supply to Sir 
  Theobold's beloved city.’
       ‘An easy enough task, Lord. We can get on to it 
  straight away,’ Nilo replied.
       ‘My intention is to add to their difficulties, to 
  make them suffer because you know I do not approve of 
  their murdering ways. I want humankind to be here for 
  eternity and always aware of what they did to the 
  superior halfling race. I want them to grovel to us for 
  assistance, I want them to plead with us for help and to 
  be eternally grateful when we give it,’ the Red Baron 
  continued to address the group. 
       ‘We shall cut back water supplies to all their 
  disintegrating cities and then start wildfires, which we 
  shall allow to get out of their control but not of ours. 
  I would also like strong winds to keep fishing fleets 
  away from their grounds, to disrupt merchant vessels by 
  backing them up in the docks and damaging a few so that 
  the dock workers grow frustrated. We can condense the 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /170
  human population in their over-crowded dock areas. Humans 
  will soon cause more problems among themselves, as they 
  always do.’
       ‘Excellent planning as ever, exulted leader,’ said 
  Sederic, a brown earth halfling, genuinely appreciating 
  the Red Baron’s ideas. ‘What would you like me and my 
  loyal followers to do?’
       Spinning to face Sederic, swapping cloaking forearms 
  as he did so, the Red Baron spoke, his fearsome red eyes 
  staring directly into the dark brown eyes of his loyal 
  henchman.
       ‘At first you watch and sympathise. Then you begin 
  to suggest that you may know some people who may be able 
  to help - for a fee of course. Then slowly, through you 
  and the other earth halflings, we gain their trust and 
  their gold and increase our influence over them. By the 
  time you do this, Sederic, these cities will be on their 
  knees. Halflings will be seen as the saviours of men, 
  they will be eating out of our hands like the uncouth 
  animals that they are, and we shall all be the richer for 
  it. You see, Sederic, all the rest of you, that, once 
  again, the Red Baron holds the balance of power in the 
  world!’ With that dramatic final statement the Red Baron 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /171
  slowly rotated to look at the rest of the Renegade 
  council, staring intently at each and everyone.
        ‘I leave the final details to all of you. I can be 
  contacted at any time in the usual way should you need my 
  help. Halflings, seize this opportunity! We shall rise 
  above these humans once again and treat them with the 
  disdain they deserve. Till next time.’ 
        The self-styled Red Baron disappeared in a blinding 
  flash that left only a small candle like flame flickering 
  for several seconds where he had been, then nothing.
       The nine halflings that remained in the room - three 
  red-skinned, flame-haired fire, two aqua-skinned, green-
  haired and gilled water, two whitish blue-skinned, 
  silver-haired air and two chocolate brown-skinned, brown-
  haired earth - looked around at each other. The Renegades 
  had a purpose and they would all go back to their loyal 
  groups of followers and add to the desperate situation in 
  which the human cities found themselves.
       
       
  
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   Spice Richard Kingston /173
  Capturing a S
   
   upplier
   
   
  The Company of the Compass teleported back to the quiet 
  surrounds of the gardens of Sir Theobold’s palace. For all his 
  faults, Ethandril Thililisfarne was a master of magical travel. 
  The worst teleport he had ever done only landed him a foot above 
  the ground and that had been to a location described to him by 
  another equally exuberant flame elf friend of his with a 
  tendency to exaggerate. The six looked at each other, glad to be 
  out of the slums all in one piece.
       ‘Marginally tougher than I was expecting, it must be said,’ 
  stated Apollo.
       ‘Did you see them come straight through Elwood’s arrows? No 
  one except a berserking barbarian has ever done that,’ Catarina 
  put in, ‘let alone ordinary men, unarmoured ordinary men! They 
  even went through Ethan's wall of fire. Whatever that stuff is, 
  it's going to cause serious problems if they can't be subdued at 
  all.’
       ‘Look at my arm,’ Quin raised his broken left arm. ‘I've 
  not been hit that hard by a man ever, it felt more like a 
  cyclogre hitting me.’
       Elwood moved over to Quin-Helwig's side and said a small 
  prayer to Yllana. Quin felt the bones of his forearm realign and 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /174
  knit back together with the blessing of his goddess. Though at 
  first it hurt, a warm wave soon engulfed him as the arm was 
  healed and he was touched by the love of the elven goddess.
       ‘Thank you Elwood, you certainly do have Yllana's favour. I 
  can feel it in the way the healing took hold, like nothing else 
  I have ever felt.’ 
       ‘She just wishes to look after all her children.’
       ‘As I have said before, Elwood, she's not my biggest fan, 
  nor am I hers, so please refrain from too much preaching,’ 
  Ethandril butted in.
       Elwood just smiled since he was fully aware of the 
  relationship between his god and Ethandril Thililisfarne.
       Orion addressed the group. ‘Let's get to our beds for 
  reverie. We'll meet in the morning when refreshed and talk to 
  Sir Theobold about the dire state of his city. I have the 
  beginnings of a plan forming, but I need the rest to sort 
  through it all.’ 
       He turned and made for the palace and the room he had been 
  allocated by Sir Theobold. The others nodded their agreement to 
  each other and followed a few paces behind, separating as they 
  entered the palace and then heading to their own rooms. Each of 
  the Company members then went through their own security checks, 
  just to make sure they would be safe.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /175
        Ethandril cast his own powerful spell of detection that 
  detected just about everything at once, such was his paranoia 
  about being spied upon. He stared round his room with the 
  intensity of a tiger stalking its prey, looking for the tiniest 
  sign of an intruder, with a lightning bolt spell on the tip of 
  his tongue and a wand of magic missiles next to his right hand. 
  His room was empty. He stalked over to his bed, still looking 
  around suspiciously, and cast another spell. He was now sealed 
  behind a dome-like force wall. Feeling slightly more secure, he 
  giggled to himself, hopped onto the bed and was soon lost in his 
  own half-mad reverie, letting out more giggles all the time.
        Orion approached his door and vanished, blinking directly 
  into the middle of his room - how useful that ability was 
  proving - and dropped to a low crouch, dagger in hand. There was 
  no one else there. He looked all around at all the small spaces 
  he would have used had he been on a mission but detected no one. 
  Satisfied that he was alone, he walked over to the door and set 
  a thin wire across it, one that would snag any intruder long 
  enough for him to react and kill him. He did the same to the 
  window but fought back the urge to poison the trips. He didn't 
  want to have to explain any nasty accidents just in case any 
  servants came by. He stripped off his shimmering cloak and went 
  to his bathroom. Removing the rest of his shadowy clothes he ran 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /176
  a bath and jumped in to enjoy a rare moment of relaxation from 
  his work as a killer for hire. 
        Elwood and Catarina said goodnight and went to adjacent 
  rooms but not before Elwood had first cast a spell of detection 
  to check both rooms. He then prayed to Yllana to watch over 
  them, effectively sealing the rooms off from any outerplanar 
  creatures and evil beings. 
        Once alone, Catarina spent the next half hour going 
  through her rhythm dance exercises, spinning and pirouetting in 
  her room, practising her lightness of step, and remaining 
  orientated even after several spins back and forth. After the 
  exertion she too bathed, then went to her spell books to prepare 
  for the following day. As it appeared that their task mostly 
  involved these frenzied humans, she chose defensive spells and 
  spells of evasion. It appeared that the more subtle spells of 
  hindrance that she knew, such as slow and web, would be of 
  little use.
        Elwood washed himself down and settled into his own 
  reverie but unlike the others his was more of a trance and a 
  communing with his god. The whole night he sat cross-legged on 
  his bed, softly chanting and feeling nothing but love for the 
  elven goddess and asking for her guidance.
        Very little concerned Apollo Shiningblade as he strode 
  
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  boldly and happily into his room. Once he had shut the door 
  though, he pulled out his magnificent sword, looked long and 
  hard at it and sent it his thoughts.
       ‘Well brother, it looks as though we have an intriguing 
  mystery on our hands. What did you make of the slum dwellers? 
  Could you pick up anything?‘ The spirit of Apollo's long dead 
  brother sent a telepathic message back.
       ‘Their minds were so bent that it was hard to gauge any of 
  their humanity. The word ‘Spice’ kept going through all their 
  minds, which must be what they call whatever it was they took.’
       ‘Hmmm. We will be having a look at it in the morning. The 
  ghost made sure to take some off his victims before he nearly 
  dropped them on us.’
       ‘He only does it to rile you Apollo. He means no harm. He 
  is utterly calculating in everything he does and not a danger to 
  his friends. Remember he is a snow elf even though he excels as 
  a killer for hire. He has years of ceremonies and rituals 
  drummed into him about the sanctity of life and doesn't kill for 
  fun.’ 
       ‘Indeed, he has never caused any problem to me, except with 
  his little snipes, and has more than pulled his weight in our 
  past adventures. He just irritates me with his sneaking off.’
       ‘True, but remember he did save you all that time with the 
  
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  vampire king and his minions.’
       ‘You have a point, Horan, but I still say it was a lucky 
  shot.’
       ‘Lucky for you or you would be a mindless vampire slave now 
  and I would be in that horrendous creature’s hands. But still, 
  it's the rest of your group we should be talking of. I am 
  concerned that Ethan is slipping slightly in his perception of 
  reality.’
       ‘You mean he really is going mad rather than just playing 
  at it?’
       ‘Perhaps, but maybe he just needs some time in all your 
  company again. I suspect he has been locked away in his lab for 
  the best part of the last thirty years driving himself on to 
  find and create bigger and better spells and potions. Even we 
  went a little odd when you took the grand tour and got lost for 
  six years and we only had each other for company.’
       ‘Agreed, but the Abyss is not much fun for a wander is it?’
       ‘Elwood has grown in power too. I can really feel the 
  goddess' power emanating from him.’
       ‘Perhaps she just wants a closer look at me!’
       ‘Who knows her reasons, but it is good for you all. 
  Catarina is in some conflict with herself too. The dual roles of 
  rhythm dance fighter and mage are at war within her. She seems a 
  
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  little undecided whether it's worth all the effort to do both 
  when she sees how powerful you and Ethan are with just the 
  single skill.’
       ‘Then I must encourage her to continue, even though very 
  few can manage both disciplines. She has a rare talent. I have 
  only seen about, what, five others who have managed to combine 
  the two.’
       ‘I think she would appreciate your letting her know that, 
  as she greatly respects you, but you may have to tone down your 
  way with the others though. She is older now and has more 
  experience with the outside world and other races but I think 
  she found your initial entrance hard to take.’
       ‘Hmm, we'll have to see about that and what of Quin-Helwig?’
       ‘The same, he just seems to glide on as ever, happy and 
  content, stoical almost carefree, as though the natural order is 
  being played out and he is just going with it. He has a real air 
  of serenity about him.’
       ‘He becomes more like one of his beloved animals every time 
  we see him. Still, he is a loyal friend, I just wish he would 
  put a few more clothes on and stop ruining his body with those 
  tattoos, and he’s embarrassing! Imagine him coming back to 
  Solaria again now; he's got five times as many tattoos.’
       ‘Ha-ha!’ The idea made Horan Lutin, long-deceased twin 
  
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  brother of Orion, chuckle. He would never be able to see the 
  mighty Quin-Helwig but he knew all about him, all about all of 
  them. His spirit would be forever held in the elegant longsword 
  his brother used.
       ‘Well, I must turn in. It has been a long day and I need 
  reverie to refresh myself.’
       ‘Good night, brother,’ Apollo said to an empty room.
       ‘Good night, twin,’ was the familiar reply from Horan.
       
       Quin-Helwig entered his room quietly, short sword never far 
  away from his left hand, though in truth he worried very little. 
  Because it was nigh on impossible to wound the ranger when he 
  wore his lion's paw scabbard, most assassination attempts would 
  be easily foiled and indeed had been more than once in the past. 
  His agility and skill would account for anything else. Anything 
  that would really scare him was unlikely to be hiding unnoticed 
  behind the door of a palace room, since demons and such were not 
  known for their subtlety. He looked around and found nothing 
  amiss so relaxed and decided to bathe, to wash away the sweat 
  and blood from the battle and to examine more closely his 
  recently broken and healed arm. It was remarkable; there was no 
  sign of any damage.
        He removed the garments he was wearing and went to the 
  
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  bathroom to fill a tub with cold water since he always felt it 
  refreshed him more to bathe in cold water. He said a prayer to 
  the goddesses Yllana and Daphnia, the nature Goddess. The water 
  took on a bluish tinge and he slipped in, disappearing under the 
  surface and rubbing away the day’s exertions. He stayed under 
  for more than three minutes, eyes closed and remembering the 
  woodland streams and rivers of his home isle. He resurfaced, 
  opened his eyes and nearly leapt straight out of the bath. He 
  hadn't heard the intruder, which was most unlike him, since 
  there had been no vibration on the floor, nothing. He could 
  normally feel a field mouse approaching from fifty yards but how 
  different it was in cities with all this stone and noise.
        He looked into the almond-shaped vermillion-coloured eyes 
  as the water dripped off his muscular naked body.
       ‘This is unexpected,’ Quin started. ‘I didn't even hear you 
  knock!’
       Loriana Thililisfarne held a finger up to her full bow lips 
  to keep him quiet, turned and walked to his bedroom. She looked 
  over her shoulder and beckoned him with a nod of her head. There 
  was something about the animal magnetism of the broad ranger 
  that made him irresistible to her. 
       He watched the curvaceous half-elf as her robe slipped to 
  the floor. He jumped out of the bath as quick as a leopard after 
  
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  its prey. There would be little reverie this night for Quin-
  Helwig.
       The following morning the Company met with Sir Theobold and 
  his advisors in his private chambers well away from prying eyes. 
  They sat at a long table that had been lavishly set for 
  breakfast with a multitude of fruits and breads and thinly 
  sliced meats and cheeses. They were all there except Orion. When 
  he finally arrived, some ten minutes after the others, Quin-
  Helwig had already demolished almost half the food on the table.
       ‘Dwelf, I had almost forgotten what a savage you really 
  are,’ Apollo sneered.
       ‘Jus hungry, need to keep my energy up.’
       ‘He's always had a monstrous appetite, Apollo, it's what 
  keeps those shoulders how they are,’ Ethandril quipped.
       ‘I've seen wild pigs truffle hunting with more manners,’ 
  Apollo replied.
       ‘Jus’ hungry,’ Quin managed to say between mouthfuls and he 
  gave Loriana a quick glance. ‘Need to keep my energy up.’
       She gave no sign that anything was amiss and simply looked 
  around the room trying to stifle a giggle.
       ‘Quite so, Quin,’ Orion said, ‘as we'll need your trapping 
  
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  skills today.’
       ‘So. A plan. You've formed one then. Excellent,’ Sir 
  Theobold jumped in excitedly. ‘Knew we could rely on the 
  Company. Good eggs all of you. Competent and skilled, I like 
  that.’
       ‘I believe that in order to fully work out what's going on 
  we must capture one of the sellers of this stuff,’ Orion began. 
  ‘I have been looking at it over night and my guess is that it's 
  a powdered mushroom of some sort. I tasted a small amount and it 
  certainly has that odour, though I'm not aware of a mushroom 
  that has this effect, and I know my poisons.’
       ‘Splendid idea! Go in, grab one of these men and bring them 
  back here. Yes, good idea!’
       ‘I don't think it will be that simple. I propose that 
  tonight, Quin and myself will disguise ourselves as slum 
  dwellers and enter the slums. We are the least likely to attract 
  attention as we can best disguise our elven appearance.’
       ‘Too right,’ Apollo muttered.
       ‘We'll wait and see if anyone is approached or approaches 
  us then make our move. Between us we should be able to capture 
  someone quickly and get out. Perhaps Elwood can put a scry on us 
  and Ethandril, you can watch and teleport us away so as to cause 
  minimum fuss. We don't want another great long struggle like 
  
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  last night; it will attract too much attention. We'll return 
  here where we can question the prisoner, and hopefully get some 
  answers.’
       ‘I'm glad you have so much use for me in all this,’ Apollo 
  said.
       ‘We may well need you when we drag someone back. I doubt 
  this will be the end of it all, more likely just the beginning,’ 
  Orion answered.
       ‘Marvellous. I like it. Any more questions?’ Sir Theobold 
  rattled off.
       ‘Tis a pity you don't want me in there with you, Orion, but 
  I can't wait to work on your disguise. How about a few warts, 
  and some stubble, yes, I can do human stubble, and lank hair and 
  a limp. Ooohhh this will be fun!’ Ethandril smiled at the others.
       There was a collective sigh as they all privately 
  questioned the sanity of their 'leader' once more.
       ‘Oh do simmer down, Ethandril, you're excitement is 
  unbecoming for such a mature elf,’ Apollo said patting the 
  excitable flame elf on the arm as he spoke.
       
       At dusk that day, two heavily disguised elves entered the 
  slums via the docks. They kept to the shadows, almost invisible 
  as they went, and stopped in an alley where they had a good view 
  
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  in both directions. They could see several humans slumped by the 
  side of the streets, some lying flat, either unconscious or 
  asleep, others rocking back and forth, seemingly talking to 
  themselves. It wasn't long, once it had gone truly dark, before 
  a figure emerged as if out of nowhere. The hiss of the word 
  ‘Spice’ could be heard, firstly from certain individuals, then 
  the air all around was filled with soft hissing.
       ‘Ssspicce.’
        The two elves could see quite clearly in the dark due to 
  their infravision, but were cautious in case either the seller 
  or any of the other slum dwellers were able to see clearly too. 
  The seller approached a man standing up, rocking back and forth. 
  They gave each other something and the seller moved on. Orion 
  felt he should try and attract the seller’s attention.
       ‘SSpice!’ he hissed. The dark figure looked over and began 
  to walk towards them. He stopped as he was called by another 
  wretch, lying on the floor. Nothing happened for several 
  moments, then the seller pulled his leg away as the urchin tried 
  to grab for him. No exchange had taken place. 
       ‘SSpice!’ Orion hissed again as the seller approached. As 
  he got there his gruff voice simply said:
       ‘Silver!’
       Orion reached under his clothes and his binding whip 
  
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  flashed out. Simultaneously Quin threw off the cloak he was 
  wearing and prepared to grab the seller. The whip struck first 
  and wrapped around the stunned man, binding his arms tight to 
  his body. Quin-Helwig quickly dropped his cloak over the man’s 
  head, punched him hard twice, and the man went limp. 
       ‘Now, Ethan, get us back!’ Orion called.
       In a twinkle of lights and much to the utter confusion of 
  the Spice-addled slum residents, the three of them vanished, 
  materialising moments later in a quiet part of Sir Theobold's 
  garden. 
        Apollo, Catarina and Elwood waited there, weapons drawn, 
  but there was no need. Quin dropped the still unconscious body 
  to the floor and Orion withdrew his whip. Being hit by Quin had 
  been likened to boxing with a cyclogre, the huge and ferocious 
  cross-breeds of the north, and it was unlikely the man would 
  awaken without assistance. 
       ‘Let's get him inside and start with the questioning,’ 
  Orion said. ‘We need to get a handle on this quickly, because as 
  soon as he appeared in the street slum dwellers started to call 
  for the Spice. I fear this problem is worse than we originally 
  thought.’
       Quin-Helwig slung the unconscious man over his broad right 
  shoulder and followed the group into the palace. They were 
  
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  heading for Sir Theobold’s rooms when they were intercepted by 
  Loriana.
       ‘This way,’ she indicated to a different corridor. ‘If, as 
  we suspect, he's part of something bigger he may be being 
  tracked or scryed. We'll take him down to the cells.’
        The five followed the palace mage through several doors 
  and down three flights of stairs into the bowels of the palace 
  where there were holding cells. They had a musty smell to them 
  since they were little used any more, not since proper jails had 
  been built in the city some twenty five years before. Sir 
  Theobold had thought it best to keep undesirables away from the 
  palace and under tight security, in a jail fit for purpose with 
  a full time guard and mage. Argyll greeted them and showed them 
  to a cell where the rest of the Company and Sir Theobold joined 
  them.  
       ‘Good work, splendid, bravo Orion,’ Sir Theobold began. 
  ‘Now tie him up and we'll question the bugger, find out all he 
  knows and get on with finding the rest of them.’
       Quin dropped the still unconscious man into the waiting 
  chair and removed the hood. There was an audible gasp as the 
  group saw the state of his bloody, puffy and swollen face.
       ‘I only hit him twice,’ Quin said in his defence. ‘We 
  didn't want him waking up.’
  
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       ‘No worries there, Dwelf, it's more a question of whether 
  he'll wake up at all. At least he's still alive.’
       ‘I'll heal him somewhat, Yllana will allow it. Orion, I 
  suggest you bind him first.’
       ‘Ooh let me, I'll use a spell, I have a fabulous one.’ 
       ‘Just be careful, furnace face. I don't want you to bind us 
  all for the next millennium or anything stupid.’
       Elwood lent over the man and began a small spell of 
  healing. As the street seller began to come round, emitting a 
  low groan, Ethandril stepped forward with his 'fabulous' spell. 
       ‘It's like a hold person, but leaves the head free to 
  move,’ he said grinning broadly at the others. He pulled a 
  marble and some sort of sticky substance from his magically deep 
  pockets and cast his spell. A few seconds later a huge blob of 
  goo engulfed the recovering street seller, leaving just his head 
  poking out of the top. There was a sweet smell in the air, like 
  honey. Ethandril grinned again, and received several scowls in 
  return.
       ‘He's all yours,’ he said, still smiling and nodding to 
  Argyll.
       Argyll stepped forward; this was one of the great areas of 
  expertise of the light Gnome race. Their ability to detect lies 
  made them the best interrogators in the world; they just kept 
  
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  repeating the questions till there were no more lies. They were 
  happy to keep going for days in order to seek the truth, it was 
  just their way.
       ‘Who do you work for?’
       No response. The seller now had one eye fully open, the 
  other only half due to the remains of his injury, and was 
  staring at the Company.
       ‘Who do you work for? You may as well come clean. You won't 
  leave here till you tell us.’
       The man struggled but was very effectively held by Ethan’s 
  spell.
       Quin stepped forward and snarled. The man gulped and let 
  out a whimper.
       ‘Ain't for sayin!’ he said.
       ‘Let's try ‘What is your name?’ Sir Theobold interjected.
       ‘Ain't for sayin!’ came the response.
       ‘This is my city and you will tell us. Name!’
       The man began to look around; he could feel a voice in his 
  head. 
       ‘His name is Lesta,’ said Apollo, looking down his nose at 
  the man. ‘Care to tell us more?’
       ‘No it ain't,’ he replied.
       ‘Yes it is,’ said Argyll hearing the truth. ‘It is Lesta.’
  
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       Lesta looked worried, because he didn't want all his 
  knowledge given up, but this voice kept goading him, telling him 
  he could read his mind.
       ‘So, Lesta, I ask again, who do you work for? Come now, it 
  can't be so hard to tell an old gnome like me. I have got all 
  day and perhaps even longer. So just tell me who it is and maybe 
  you'll be out of here soon,’ Argyll said pleasantly.
       Lesta was getting nervous; perhaps letting this lot know a 
  bit might be safer than going back to his masters. He really 
  didn't want them to find out he had been captured, for their 
  interrogation would be far worse than this. Perhaps he could 
  negotiate relocation if he said something.
       ‘Getting nervous?’ Apollo asked.
       That elf seemed to know, seemed to sense his feelings. 
  Perhaps he was the voice but then it could be any of them. 
  Lesta's mind was racing. What if the Shades found him after he 
  had run away, he'd be done for?
       ‘Ah, the Shades! Thank you Lesta, you're too kind,’ Apollo 
  said.
       ‘Noo!’ Lesta screamed. Everyone was taken aback, the sudden 
  outburst, but also the name, the Shades.
       ‘I'll be killed!’ his gruff voice continued.
       ‘What else do you know?’ Argyll said with a calm demeanour.
  
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       ‘Nothing, I just take the Spice and sell it. That's all.’ 
  His head had drooped, his shoulders slumped within their gooey 
  confines and resignation entered his voice.
       ‘He speaks the truth,’ Argyll told the group. ‘I don't 
  believe there is any more from him but we do have our answer and 
  if it is the Shades, then this is very serious indeed.’
       ‘They were only a small group thirty years ago,’ Orion 
  spoke up. ‘But they are a nasty network of evil, causing trouble 
  everywhere. They include mercenary soldiers, Priests of Nyrex, 
  some even suggest Shadow Gnomes and deranged Halflings. I have 
  crossed swords with a few of them.’
       ‘Hmm. Then where do we start? What next? Any suggestions?’ 
  Sir Theobold asked, looking round the room.
       ‘I shall ask for guidance from Yllana,’ Elwood replied. 
  ‘Let's meet back in the main chamber this afternoon.’
       ‘Yes. Good idea Elwood. This afternoon.’ Sir Theobold 
  seconded the idea. ‘What about him? Shall I throw him in the 
  cells or leave him here?’
       ‘He has told his tale. He should be locked away,’ Argyll 
  responded.
       ‘Ooh let me, let me send him, please, you know I can, I'm 
  good at this, I have just the place too,’ squawked Ethandril, 
  jumping up and down in excitement.
  
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       ‘Oh for goodness sake calm down, lava lips, you're 
  embarrassing. You should really show more decorum at your age.’
       ‘Very well...’ Sir Theobold began, but before he could 
  finish, Ethandril had begun his spell. Lesta vanished and Ethan 
  turned to look at the group with his inane broad grin.
       ‘Exiled, but it could be worse. I quite enjoyed my time 
  there,’ was all he said as he slapped his hands together as 
  though washing away the problem.
       
       Lesta arrived sitting on a beach staring at the ocean. He 
  couldn't see anything in the water, no other islands, boats or 
  anything. He was glad to be away from those lunatics, and 
  perhaps even the Shades and he was free of the holding goo. He 
  looked all around, there appeared to be a wood behind him, so he 
  stood up and started walking in that direction. He had only gone 
  a few paces when he thought he saw some people running down the 
  beach in his direction. He stopped, and then decided to make for 
  cover, just in case, and headed behind a small sand dune. As 
  they approached he could see them more clearly, they were women. 
  He breathed a sigh of relief and decided to make himself more 
  conspicuous by sitting up on top of the dune where he could also 
  get a better look. When they were within a hundred yards, he 
  could clearly see their weaponry too, daggers, axes and clubs, 
  
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  and he felt a little less sure of himself, but it was too late. 
  They had spotted him and were heading his way fast. In a panic 
  he jumped up but lost his footing on the loose sand and tumbled 
  over backwards down the dune. He stopped rolling at the bottom 
  and spat out the sand that had found its way into his mouth, 
  just in time for him to be surrounded. He looked up to meet the 
  gaze of ten women, several human, some half-elven and a couple 
  of full elves, all staring hard at him.
       ‘Pah. Another human male,’ said a half-elf. ‘He'll have to 
  do. Take him to camp; we'll get what we can from him.’
       And so that was how Lesta spent his remaining years as a 
  slave on the mythical Amazon isles of the southern ocean, 
  enduring hard labour by day and often harder labour by night!
  When they met that afternoon, Elwood announced that Yllana had 
  instructed him to go to the temple of Keelee, goddess of 
  kindness and hope. There the Company would find help in the form 
  of a priest with exceptional talent for scrying the unknown.
        A half-hour later, the Company arrived at the temple, 
  dressed in their dull cloaks to avoid unnecessary attention. 
  They were met by high Priest Johna, a tall slim man of middle 
  age, who welcomed them in and led them through to the temple's 
  
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  scrying room. There they found a huge cauldron, said to have 
  been blessed by Keelee herself so that her priests could best 
  watch over her people and look after them. Sitting beside the 
  cauldron was another priest, who Johna introduced as Eclaine, a 
  woman of young appearance but with old and wise eyes.
       ‘Eclaine here has an amazing ability with the cauldron; she 
  has been truly touched in the art of divination. Tell her what 
  you are after, and you should be able to get some assistance 
  from her. I wish you well,’ Johna said and then left the room.
        ‘Thank you for seeing us, Eclaine,’ Elwood said. ‘We are 
  trying to look into the underworld. We believe the Shades and 
  therefore shadow Gnomes are behind some of the city's problems.’
       ‘Very well, I shall try to look in on Imar, their home 
  city, but it is heavily protected by magic. This may not be very 
  successful.’
        Eclaine began her ceremony for scrying, sprinkling holy 
  water and oils into the cauldron, as well as lighting incense 
  that smelled like sandalwood. The Company looked on in 
  anticipation. She stood over the cauldron and began to chant. 
  She swayed back and forth, chanting over and over until the 
  water went still, and an image appeared. A dark cavern, that 
  almost looked like a field with several figures bobbing around. 
  They looked as though they were farming. The image then seemed 
  
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  to veer away from this, as though it was being pulled by 
  something. Eclaine began chanting again, but it looked as though 
  she was no longer in control. The image was moving quickly now, 
  whizzing down corridors and tunnels, till it suddenly stopped 
  and the whole cauldron was filled with the image of a shadow 
  gnome wearing a black skull cap with gold sigils on it. He 
  stared straight at them.
       ‘Waff!’ he yelled as he flung his right arm across himself.
       Eclaine screamed and fell over backwards as the image 
  vanished and the water in the cauldron went into a rolling boil. 
  The company gathered around Eclaine as Johna came rushing back 
  in.
       ‘What happened?’ he said with urgency as he knelt down to 
  see to Eclaine.
       ‘Shadow gnomes,’ Orion replied. ‘They attacked her through 
  the scry.’
       Johna began a prayer to Keelee as he tried to help Eclaine, 
  now foaming at the mouth. 
       ‘Can I help?’ Elwood enquired.
       ‘No. Go back to Sir Theobold and try and stop this by 
  whatever means you can’ Johna replied. ‘This should never have 
  been able to happen, not through the cauldron. Be very careful 
  though, you have a very powerful enemy’.
  
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  We Have Attracted A
   
   ttention
   
   
  Kymru Galavan was relaxing in his fortress home in Imar. He had 
  just received a report from Djemmini that all was going well. 
  Findon was rapidly being overrun by Spice addicts and the 
  summoned devils were doing their work in the towns of Abinger 
  and Ingles. The flow of Spice to the towns had been restored, 
  after the brief interruption by the errant hill giants, and 
  general chaos was happening on the surface world. He was pleased 
  and, feeling satisfied, poured himself a Whelf, a drink of 
  particular delicacy made from distilled elves’ blood. It was 
  hard to come by and expensive but well worth it. He sipped the 
  strong liquor, savouring the flavours as he rolled it around his 
  mouth before swallowing, almost as though he could taste the 
  death of the elf that had gone to make it on his tongue. He held 
  up the glass and swilled the contents around looking at the pink 
  liquid, smiling all the time.
        There was a knock at the door.
       ‘Yes,’ Kymru said, somewhat irritated that his enjoyment 
  had been disturbed. 
       ‘It's Mentza, Clan Leader. I have urgent news for you.’
       ‘Come Mentza, you have no need to knock; we have no 
  secrets.’ 
  
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       The Clan wizard walked through the still-closed door and 
  gave a barely perceptible bow.
       ‘Whelf, Mentza?’
       ‘A pleasure, Clan Leader. Thank you.’
       Kymru poured a second glass of the elf liquor and handed it 
  to Mentza.
       ‘So, what has occurred to bring you here with such urgency?’
       ‘A powerful scrying has been used upon us. It is unusual in 
  that it can get past the outer city wards but my personal 
  detections caught it as it was looking at the mushroom fields.’
       ‘I presume you have dealt suitably with the perpetrator?’
       ‘Indeed, their mind will take many years to reassemble 
  after my blow back. It was priestly magic and they are always 
  far more casual about defending themselves than wizards. It must 
  be because they believe their God is watching out for them. No, 
  what concerned me was that I caught a glimpse of several other 
  hooded figures watching the scrying too. The connection was not 
  long enough to see exactly who they were or what was going on 
  but there is the distinct possibility that someone may be on to 
  us. Perhaps we should check with Lord Djemmini to see if he has 
  any news on this. Is anyone missing or has anything suspicious 
  happened that we aren't aware of?’
       ‘I shall indeed contact Djemmini soon. His last report, 
  
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  which was only a few hours ago, suggested all was well. I wonder 
  how closely he monitors his subordinates.’
       ‘Perhaps you would like me to go to one of the towns or 
  cities and see if anything is amiss. Perhaps that fool Theobold 
  has got wind of us, Clan Leader.’
       ‘Unlikely and no, you are far too important to me and the 
  whole Clan and the operation here to go off to the surface 
  pursuing who knows what. I'll send Darios. He's keen to return 
  to the surface after his foray with the giants. He was hugely 
  disappointed by that battle, you know.  They barely put up a 
  fight; he didn't feel he had been tested at all.’
       ‘Yes, I know of his disappointment but then the marilith 
  made rather short work of the giants, as they tend to do with 
  everyone.’
       Kymru chuckled at that. Mentza was a superb summoner of 
  lower planar denizens and somehow seemed to keep them under 
  control when many others were unable to. His ability with the 
  mariliths, six-armed snake women from the Abyss, was 
  extraordinary. He seemed to be able to summon them at any time. 
  Perhaps, Kymru thought, I should investigate further what he is 
  offering that keeps them coming back without question.
       ‘Keep an eye on the surface but don't attract any attention 
  doing it. See if you can spot anything unusual but don't concern 
  
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  yourself too much. I'm sure Darios and Djemmini between them 
  will be able to inform us of events,’ Kymru stated.
       ‘Indeed, I believe you are right, Clan Leader,’ Mentza 
  replied.
       ‘Perhaps you would like to accompany me to the fields as we 
  have developed something new and have managed to increase 
  production too,’ said Kymru.
       ‘Of course, Clan Leader.’
        The two shadow gnomes vanished through a door, which 
  Mentza had brought into existence, and stepped out on to the 
  edge of the mushroom fields, just in time to see a human being 
  flogged to within an inch of his life.
       The flogging stopped the moment the bald, deep purple, 
  shadow gnome handing out the punishment became aware that he was 
  being watched. He was even more surprised to see who was 
  watching.
       ‘Clan Leader,’ he said in respectful tones.
       ‘Carry on with your work,’ Kymru replied. ‘Just pretend you 
  didn't see us.’
       ‘Yes Clan Leader,’ he replied and immediately thrashed the 
  man three more times.
       The two most powerful gnomes of Clan Galavan wandered the 
  fields, watching slaves hard at work, picking and hoeing, with 
  
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  the odd gnome handing out a thrashing. They were pleased with 
  what they saw.
       Towards the back of the field were some smaller mushrooms, 
  with a gnome standing guard. He pulled a wand as he saw them 
  approach, raising it to eye level. 
       ‘Halt! Names,’ he said.
       ‘Clan Leader Kymru Galavan and Chief Wizard Mentza,’ Kymru 
  responded.
       Mentza looked astonished that Kymru had even answered. He 
  was about to ask why when Kymru spoke.
       ‘Randar here will fire that wand at anyone who doesn't 
  answer and they aren't magic missiles in that thing. It's chain 
  lightning.’ Mentza nodded in understanding, though he was 
  surprised he hadn't been informed of this development by Kymru.
       ‘Our little secret,’ he continued. ‘I have discovered that 
  if you pick the mushrooms early, like they are now, and then 
  process them, you get a much milder but no less addictive form 
  of Spice. It's almost as though you can still function on a 
  daily basis, still getting a high, but without all the over-the- 
  top madness and neck rubbing that accompanies the real thing. 
  With this, we may even be able to infiltrate higher up the 
  social order of the human cities, perhaps create something,’ he 
  paused, ‘socially acceptable, but all the while it eats away at 
  
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  the psyche, little by little. We're manufacturing the first few 
  batches now. I thought we'd try it in a fresh city, Salvington 
  perhaps, and this time work from the top down; aim for officials 
  and the town council first. That way we can knock out the whole 
  place, not just cause trouble through the undesirables, I mean 
  bring the whole place under our control. What do you think, 
  Mentza?’
       ‘If it really does work, it's genius and has far more 
  potential than the regular Spice.’
       ‘Yes, indeed. I have yet to tell our erstwhile colleagues 
  from Clan Puttnik of this little development. Who knows what the 
  uses for this may be?‘ Kymru turned to Mentza and gave a sly 
  wink.
       ‘Excellent again, Clan Leader. You show real vision in 
  this,’ Mentza replied. 
       ‘Stay well on guard Randar, no one but me and the 
  harvesters approach this area. Understood?’
       ‘Yes Clan Leader,’ came the reply.
       The senior pair of shadow gnomes left the fields the same 
  way they had come, through one of Mentza's instant dimension 
  doors, arriving back in Kymru's private chambers. Mentza was the 
  only living being able to by-pass Kymru's fortress wards, by 
  using a special inflection in the casting of his transportation 
  
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  spells.
       Within moments of their arrival there was a knock at the 
  door.
       ‘Enter, Darios,’ Kymru said and sure enough the malevolent 
  assassin walked through the door the same way Mentza had done 
  before.
       ‘Greetings, Clan Leader, you have use for me? Something 
  more testing I hope?’ Darios stated.
       ‘Indeed, my chief assassin, it is testing. We may have a 
  watcher or watchers so I'm sending you back to the surface. Try 
  Findon first and see if there is any sign of Theobold getting to 
  grips with this, or if he has any idea that we are behind the 
  misery in his sorry city. We were scryed by powerful magic and I 
  want to know by whom.’
       ‘Excellent Clan Leader, I'll be on my way immediately. I 
  shall report back when the problem has been dealt with,’ Darios 
  replied, eager to begin the hunt. The assassin turned his back 
  and headed out of the room, passing straight through the door as 
  he did so. He was on a mission to Findon and nothing would get 
  in his way!
  
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  Renegades cause chaos
  When they put their minds to it, the halflings had the capacity 
  to be the most powerful of all the demi-human races of Estrella. 
  The humans had been right in fearing them. However it was not 
  within their nature to seek power. Most halflings that came by 
  it had done so by chance or had been part of powerful 
  adventuring bands. They enjoyed the thrill of the adventure far 
  more than the rewards that had come along with it. While they 
  never quite understood why the humans hated them so much, since 
  they couldn't help how they were, a small band of halflings, The 
  Renegades, were now ensuring that the humans would suffer for 
  the atrocities they had committed against their kind.
        Some twenty miles outside the city of Findon, four members 
  of the Renegade council, earth halflings Sederic and Graanti and 
  water halflings Marian and Nilo, were working on the project. 
  They were on the lower slopes of the Shuddering Peaks, standing 
  on the banks of a small, fast-flowing river, a tributary of the 
  river Fin. This tributary would get steadily bigger and bigger 
  through the autumn as more rain fell, before slowing again as 
  the precipitation turned to snow and settled over the winter. 
  The four halflings had other ideas though. 
       ‘So, if we dig out a pool here,’ Sederic began, ‘then we 
  
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  can create a dam and slow the supply. If we do that here and 
  further up stream, the water supply into the Fin will 
  significantly decrease.’ 
       ‘I can stop the water here for a while if you wish to dig,’ 
  Marian replied. ‘I like the idea, it is more permanent than if 
  Nilo and I just reduce the flow for a while.’ 
        Marian drew on her innate powers and began to wave her 
  hands at the flow of water coming down from the Shuddering 
  Peaks. At the same time Sederic began summoning his elemental; 
  he was hoping that he would get a large earth elemental today as 
  it would speed up the whole process no end. The river started to 
  reduce in volume as Marian initially reduced the amount of water 
  flowing, then started to bank the water up in a wall until it 
  had completely stopped, showing the river bed. Sederic stopped 
  his chant and waited, wiggling his fingers in anticipation. He 
  stared at the river bed, believing that to be the most likely 
  place the earth elemental would come. He felt the earth 
  shuddering and his eyes widened in excitement. Graanti looked 
  hard at the earth too, craning her neck forward to see what size 
  of being Sederic had managed to bring forth. The rumbling of the 
  earth stopped, but there was nothing there. Sederic's shoulders 
  sagged in disappointment, it must be a tiny one if he couldn't 
  even see it; this was going to take ages.
  
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        Nilo let out an audible gasp. The two earth halflings 
  looked at him but he was staring straight back at them, or 
  rather over them.
       ‘Oh well done Sederic,’ he said, pointing.
       Slowly Sederic and Graanti turned and came face to face 
  with a shin. A great big shin made of earth. They looked up in 
  unison at the largest elemental either of them had ever seen.
       ‘Wow! You're enormous,’ Sederic exclaimed in awe of what he 
  had achieved.
       ‘You called, little one,’ the gigantic Earth elemental 
  rumbled.
       ‘So good of you to come to my aid, friend,’ Sederic 
  replied, quickly gathering his wits. ‘We need to dig a pool here 
  for the water to flow into, as big as you can, so it will reduce 
  the flow down into the main river.’
       ‘My pleasure, little friend,’ boomed the voice. 
       The earth elemental slid into the ground and reappeared in 
  the river bed and with huge hands began to excavate a bowl shape 
  to serve as a reservoir for the river. Each great scoop and 
  shovel widened the basin till it was some thirty yards across. 
  The halflings were all most impressed with their friend. 
       ‘Now I shall dig it deeper so it holds more,’ the earth 
  elemental said to them. 
  
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       ‘As you see fit,’ Sederic replied.
       The massive being began to take great scoops of earth and 
  pile them up by the side of the basin he had created. As he did 
  so, Sederic and Graanti began to shape and mould the earth, 
  making sure it was compacted and landscaped, thus attracting 
  less attention than a new excavation. The elemental was now as 
  deep as his shoulders, some sixteen feet down, and still digging 
  away furiously.
       ‘This would have taken all year with a little one,’ Graanti 
  said. ‘You must get his name in case we need him again.’
       ‘Agreed, he really is the finest specimen I have ever 
  summoned!’ Sederic replied.
       After just over an hour of frantic activity, a thirty-yard 
  wide, twenty-foot deep bowl had been created, with high levees 
  on either side. The finishing touches of channelling the water 
  out of the reservoir were added by the earth shaping skills of 
  Graanti, and they gave Marian the go ahead to slowly release the 
  water back in. Sederic dismissed his elemental companion but 
  never did get his name, much to his disappointment.
        It took a full two hours for the basin to fill and begin 
  to slowly trickle out down the other side. Nilo turned to his 
  earth brethren and said
       ‘Now this is in place, it makes regulating the flow a lot 
  
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  easier.’ 
        He turned to the full reservoir, muttered a few short 
  phrases and the water level dropped almost instantly by half.
       ‘There you go,’ Nilo said. ‘Pretty much any water halfling 
  can do that, so we now have almost full control over the supply 
  from this river. I shall send one of my friends up here 
  immediately to keep the flow regulated.’ Nilo finished as he 
  cast a spell of sending to one of his many useful friends.
       The four halflings all grinned at each other, and patted 
  each other on the back for a job well done.
       ‘Right,’ said Marian. ‘Shall we go further up stream?’
       ‘I don't think we really need to now,’ Sederic replied. 
  ‘Let's go further up the river Fin and do the same there. We may 
  well have to do more of these pools on such a big river and 
  we'll have to be less conspicuous with our excavations. We may 
  not get such a helpful friend next time either.’
       ‘True,’ said Marian. ‘We'd better get going then. Shall we 
  travel by river?’
       ‘If we have to,’ Graanti replied, ‘but you know I'm not 
  that keen on the water’
       ‘It is the quickest way,’ Nilo added.
       ‘Okay, okay,’ Graanti's resistance crumbled.
       The four held hands as Marian whispered a spell of travel 
  
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  and the four jumped in to the reservoir they had just created. 
  They resurfaced some fifteen miles away, still in the water, but 
  right on the banks of the river Fin.
       ‘Oooh, I love that,’ Nilo shivered. ‘Gives me goose bumps.’
       ‘Glad you do, I just feel like clay,’ Sederic responded, 
  and indeed his wet appearance did make him look a lot like wet 
  clay fit for the potter’s wheel.
       They hopped out of the river, and began the process again. 
  This time the elemental was less impressive, though no less hard 
  working, and they excavated a lot further down rather than 
  across. By the end of two days hard slog, the Renegades had 
  control of the river and hence the freshwater supply going into 
  Sir Theobold’s beloved city of Findon. 
        **********************************************************
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       ‘What do you mean, the river is low?’ Sir Theobold asked in 
  a slightly confused state, scratching his salt-and-pepper haired 
  head.
       ‘The River Fin, Sir,’ Argyll continued in his most 
  placating voice ‘is, well, there's less water in it than perhaps 
  
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  there should be.’
       ‘But why Argyll? How does this happen? Surely there has 
  been enough rainfall?’
       ‘We don't really know, Sir, but although it has only been a 
  few days, it could start to affect the water supplies, Sir.’
       ‘The water supplies? You mean real drinking water. Don't we 
  have a store?’
       ‘We do, Sir, but if the river stays this low we'll have 
  problems in the future. We store water in case of dry summers, 
  not for now. If the summer was to be dry and we have used up the 
  reserves we could have a serious drought on our hands.’
       ‘I'm at a loss, Argyll. How low is the water in the river?’
       ‘About a quarter of what it should be, Sir,’ Argyll 
  replied, looking down as he did so.
       ‘A quarter!! A quarter!! How can a river be only a quarter 
  full at this time of year? Where has all the water gone? Are any 
  ships afloat in the docks?’ Sir Theobold said, aghast.
       ‘Only just, Sir, and the unusual on-shore breeze is keeping 
  the deeper-keeled boats in the docks when it would be best if 
  they went out to sea. It really is a dire situation, Sir.’
       ‘By the heavens, Argyll. I really could do without this 
  right now you know. What with addled madmen on the streets, half 
  crazy adventurers in my palace and now this.’
  
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       ‘I understand, Sir’
       ‘Do you, Argyll? Do you really? Then what do you suggest?’ 
  said Sir Theobold in a slightly desperate tone.
       ‘Drinking water is most vital, Sir. If that runs low there 
  will be anarchy. Not many citizens have noticed the significance 
  of a low river yet, but it won't take long before there is a 
  drinking water shortage. The problem with the river running low 
  is that what water is left becomes, er, thicker with mud and 
  city waste. It is harder to clean up so the supply slows.’
       ‘Then get started, Argyll! Do we need priests or what?’
       ‘Actually I thought we may be better off seeking out water 
  halflings, Sir. That would probably solve the problem quicker.’
       ‘Uuhh. Very well, Argyll. See to it, whatever the mercenary 
  little blighters want. This is far too serious to be allowed to 
  continue. And try to find out what has happened. If a group of 
  giants has dammed the river for their own amusement, I want to 
  know about it!’
       ‘ I'll get on to it all straight away, Sir,’ said Argyll, 
  as he gave a small deferential bow to Sir Theobold and headed 
  for the door.
       ‘Very good, Argyll, very good,’ Sir Theobold replied with a 
  wave of a dismissive hand.
        Sir Theobold walked over to his large comfortable chair 
  
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  and flopped heavily into it with a sigh.
       ‘It's not meant to be this difficult, surely,’ he said to 
  no one.
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        Over the next few days a network of secretive palace 
  workers set about subtly informing the locals that they should 
  consume less water in their homes, and telling businesses that 
  they too should make a few cutbacks. Blacksmiths were told not 
  to change their cooling water so often, the stables didn't need 
  to be cleaned quite so often, nor the horses within them 
  exercised quite so much. The agents of the palace were very 
  discreet, but their actions didn't go unnoticed. Seeing a chance 
  to add to the chaos afflicting Findon, the Priests of Nyrex 
  informed their street sellers to spread rumours of a water 
  shortage. The rumour took hold and wasn't helped by the turning 
  off of several of the city's drinking fountains, some of which 
  had been authorised by the palace, others the malicious 
  handiwork of the Shades. There was a tension in the city; it was 
  underlying, but everyone could feel it. All was not well in the 
  city of Findon.
  
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        Three days after Sir Theobold and his light gnome advisor 
  had met, a fight broke out. Several Spice addicts from the slums 
  had gone into the dock district and tried to steal water from a 
  tavern. The ensuing fight had seen seven dead, including the two 
  perpetrators, a dozen wounded and two score city guards had gone 
  in to try to control the fighting. It was chaos and there 
  appeared to be very little Sir Theobold could do about it.
        The following day Sir Theobold was invited to a meeting by 
  Argyll. When he entered his audience chamber he was greeted by a 
  small blue-green halfling with slightly darker blue-green hair 
  and vibrant teal eyes. He held his hand out and smiled a jovial 
  halfling smile.
       ‘Good morning, Sir Theobold. A pleasure to make your 
  acquaintance. My name is Nilo, and I believe you have some need 
  of halfling assistance.’
       ‘Morning, morning, yes. Help, more like it. That's what I 
  need. Let's not beat about the bush. I need help and I believe 
  you can help,’ Sir Theobold rattled off.
       ‘If it involves water, and I noticed the river is a little 
  low on the way here, then I and my friends will be more than 
  happy to help.’ There was a pause. ‘For a small fee.’
       ‘Nilo believes that it is just a small matter of..’ Argyll 
  started.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /213
       ‘How much?’ Sir Theobold asked, his voice one of 
  resignation as he cut Argyll off.
       ‘Hmm, oh, well. It is a fairly large and important task we 
  will be undertaking. It could be dangerous too. Does anyone know 
  what has caused the low level? I mean you could have any number 
  of monsters or other such. I remember once in the north a 
  situation where a green dragon had blocked the river in a forest 
  and used it as a lure to bring in adventurers and...’
       ‘How much?’ Sir Theobold interrupted a second time.
       ‘Five hundred,’ Nilo said.
       ‘Fine. Five hundred,’ Sir Theobold replied>
       ‘A day,’ Nilo continued
       ‘A day?’ Sir Theobold said incredulously.
       ‘Well, it's your city, and we can supply the water, 
  probably. Your gnome here tells me it was quite a fight 
  yesterday. You don't want too many of them now do you? And what 
  if there was a fire, in the docks or surrounding areas. It could 
  spell disaster.’
       ‘Is that a threat?’
       ‘No, no of course not. I was merely outlining a worst case 
  scenario for you.’
       ‘Thief!’ Sir Theobold said, resigned yet again to go with 
  what he had to do.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /214
       ‘I prefer, saviour,’ Nilo replied with a broad grin. ‘I'll 
  contact a few of my friends, and we should be able to get the 
  river level up a fair bit over the next few..’
       ‘Days?’ Sir Theobold asked hopefully.
       ‘Weeks,’ Nilo finished .
       Sir Theobold looked down his right hand holding his 
  forehead. ‘Fine, just get us some water. Meet Argyll for 
  payments when you have accomplished something. I presume gems 
  may be suitable as payments as you will probably struggle to 
  carry all that gold,’ he said sarcastically.
       ‘Gems, marvellous. Pleasure doing business with you, Sir. 
  We shall have you up and flowing again in no time,’ Nilo beamed. 
  Argyll escorted the water halfling from the room and Sir 
  Theobold slumped into his comfy chair once again. He felt like 
  crying but at least he felt he had saved his city from 
  catastrophe.
       
       The halflings were not quick in their work. They took 
  several days to make any real impact on the river, citing any 
  number of different reasons as to why it was so hard to raise 
  the river level. During that period, more fighting had broken 
  out in and around the docks, with slum dwellers trying to steal 
  drinking water from people’s homes as well as ships’ supplies. 
  
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  Several died in the fighting and the city guards were becoming 
  seriously over-stretched. Sir Theobold toyed with the idea of 
  sending the Company in to help, but didn't want them to attract 
  any further attention and detract from their main mission. They 
  had been wandering the town observing for the last few days, 
  heavily disguised by magic, in an attempt to uncover more 
  secrets of the Spice trade, but to no avail. The city was on the 
  verge of meltdown and Sir Theobold was at his wits’ end. The 
  chaos did, however, please some. The city was being observed by 
  several interested parties. Lord Djemmini was enjoying the 
  chaos, and the fights were offering up more spirits to his God 
  Nyrex who was very pleased with Djemmini's handiwork. Kymru 
  Galavan was also enjoying the spectacle; unrest and deaths on 
  the surface world were what he lived for. The Red Baron was also 
  pleased with what he saw. The suffering of humans brought about 
  by their own stupidity always gave him pleasure.
       
       
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /216
  Some chance help
  ‘Quite frankly, Ethandril, my city is in meltdown and we are no 
  nearer to solving this infernal problem than when you arrived!’ 
  Sir Theobold stated in a harsh tone.
       ‘Not true, Theo; we do know something that you didn't about 
  YOUR problem,’ Apollo retorted.
       ‘Let's not,’ Catarina jumped in, desperate to steer the 
  conversation away from a heated row. It was hard as everyone was 
  feeling the strain. 
       Just at that moment Argyll and Loriana entered the main 
  hall.
       ‘Sir, we have a most interesting visitor, an elf with some 
  fascinating information that we may want to investigate,’ Argyll 
  said.’ He is just outside seeking audience with you and I 
  believe you may want to share his information with our friends 
  here.’
       ‘Ah, good news at last. Excellent Argyll, show him in,’ Sir 
  Theobold replied with a sense of relief.
       Argyll turned to the side door of the main hall and called, 
  in a loud clear voice:
       ‘Mikalis the wanderer, please come and join us.’
       At this summons an elf appeared, a most unusual looking elf.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /217
       Apollo let out a sigh of disgust. ‘Oh by Yllana! Why does 
  she allow such aberrations?’
       The guest, Mikalis, had the bright red hair of a flame elf, 
  the pale green skin of a continental elf and the pink eyes of a 
  snow elf. 
       ‘In all my many years, and I've been around for over two 
  thousand, I believe I've only seen one other like you before, 
  but a different combination,’ said Apollo.
       The rest of the group just stared, not quite knowing what 
  to make of the newcomer.
       ‘He's a Harlequin elf!’ Ethan yelped in surprise. ‘I was 
  never sure they really did exist!’
       ‘A Harlequin?’ Quin-Helwig asked, unsure of the term.
       ‘Yes, yes, Quin. Heavens, do they teach you nothing on your 
  southern isles? Well, let me tell you, all of you,’ Ethandril 
  was getting very animated at this point. ‘So! You know that we 
  don't have any combined elves, we always look like our mothers, 
  even if our elf parents were of two differing types and that is 
  in fact rare.’
       ‘Extremely, where we are concerned,’ Apollo the solar elf 
  chipped in.
       ‘Not where you're concerned, Ethan,’ Orion muttered.
       Ethandril ignored the two catty comments and continued.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /218
       ‘Well, if one of these elves with different parents has a 
  relationship with yet another type of elf, then it appears that 
  it is almost impossible to keep all that fantastic elveness in, 
  and - ta da! All three types appear on the child and you get,’ 
  Ethan said waving an arm at Mikalis, ‘a Harlequin elf. And 
  they're meant to be bringers of good luck.’
       ‘I couldn't have put it any better myself,’ Mikalis said 
  with a bow. 
       ‘He's not one of yours is he Ethan?’ Quin asked.
       ‘Not that I'm aware of,’ Ethandril replied with a grin, and 
  turning to Mikalis just to check.
       ‘No, no, my father was a snow elf, my mother a copper, or 
  so it was believed’
       ‘He could be your grandson,’ Apollo couldn't help but let 
  out.
       ‘Enough, please on the lineage or otherwise of the elven 
  race. We may be here all day, and I simply do not have time to 
  waste,’ Sir Theobold interjected. ‘Mikalis, please tell us your 
  story.’
       And so the unusual harlequin elf told his tale, the sort of 
  thing he was used to doing, though normally in rowdy taverns. 
       ‘I was wandering the Shuddering Peaks in search of 
  inspiration for new songs and poems, hoping for something to 
  
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  kick start the creative process, and sure enough I found it. I 
  came across a battle scene, one not long finished and among the 
  most extraordinary I had ever seen or heard of. Hill giants, cut 
  to pieces on a small clearing right in the heart of the 
  mountains. There were several shattered carts around along with 
  the bodies of dead guards but no sign of large numbers in 
  opposition. Some creature had clearly been slithering around the 
  clearing but again it was impossible to tell what; at a guess, 
  perhaps a yuan-ti or such like. I have no idea how so many 
  giants could have been slaughtered and just left, but it surely 
  warrants some sort of investigation. I left the scene swiftly 
  and made my way here, as it’s the largest city in the region, as 
  soon as I could’
       ‘We must go,’ Orion said. ‘We've had little luck here and 
  maybe this is linked.’
       ‘It is intriguing,’ Sir Theobold said, rubbing his bearded 
  chin. ‘Do you all agree?’
       The Company all nodded in agreement.
       ‘I suggest we spend the day sorting ourselves out,’ Orion 
  continued. ‘I'm sure Elwood and Cat need to organise their spell 
  repertoires.’
       ‘Me too, me too,’ Ethandril joined in.
       ‘Furnace face, try and make them useful. Think about 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /220
  targeting individuals,’ Apollo said ‘We don't want the 
  Shuddering Peaks shuddering because you thought a meteor swarm 
  was the best way to kill a band of kobolds!’
       ‘That was only once!’ Ethandril retorted, his face taking 
  on a slightly sulky expression, ‘and they were goblins!’
       ‘We're just saying that you should think small,’ Elwood 
  said. ‘Think about some of those purple magic missiles you like 
  or the orange lightning bolts, stuff like that.’
       ‘Oh yes, now you're talking! Did I tell you I managed a 
  blue fire ball? It was beautiful, it created this wonderful 
  silhouette around a pirate ship I used it on, just before it 
  sank!’
       The company all looked at each other and decided that 
  perhaps that was a story for another day. They all went back to 
  their rooms to prepare for the Shuddering Peaks the next day.
       
       The information Mikalis had given them was so good that 
  Ethandril managed to teleport them right into the middle of the 
  clearing.
       ‘See, you should never doubt my ability with a teleport,’ 
  Ethan said. ‘Do I ever get it wrong?’
       ‘Best not tempt fate, Ethan, but well done,’ Catarina 
  whispered.
  
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       ‘I have to hand it to you, flame brain, you are very good 
  at it, just don't get cocky. As much as it pains me to say it, 
  we do need you with us,’ Apollo said as looked around the 
  clearing, his pulsing green sword in his right hand. ‘Anything 
  brother?’ he imparted to the sword. He got no immediate response.
       The six members of the Company of the Compass all looked 
  around the clearing, though there were no longer any hill giant 
  bodies strewn around. There were, however, several smashed up 
  wagons and, upon closer inspection, the remnants of a battle 
  that seemed very like that which Mikalis had suggested occurred.
       Catarina and Elwood went over to the shattered remnants of 
  a cart, while Orion and Quin-Helwig used their tracking skills 
  to map out the fight scene.
       ‘Certainly something slithered around here,’ Quin said, 
  turning to Orion, ‘but judging by these scorch marks, it wasn't 
  any ordinary Yuant-ti. These look like, like demon tracks if you 
  ask me.’ Orion raised his eyebrows and came even closer to take 
  a better look. The Company had fought summoned beings from the 
  lower planes several times over the years and it was never an 
  easy battle, especially if they started to gate in more of their 
  kind.
       ‘Quin, I have to agree with you,’ Orion said. ‘The weight 
  of this creature was enormous, much heavier than you would 
  
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  expect from a lizard, and if you look closely there are burn 
  marks all around, and blood. Look!’
       Quin looked hard at where Orion indicated and, sure enough, 
  could see the huge quantity of blood that had soaked into the 
  ground. The pair continued to look and found more and more, as 
  well as finding the footprints of several hill giants.
       ‘I think,’ Orion began, ‘we're looking at a marilith here. 
  Do you remember when we fought one..’
        They were interrupted by a huge boulder sailing through 
  the air and landing in the middle of the clearing with a mighty 
  thump. It was a poor shot and only served to alert the company 
  to the danger. And, indeed, they were in danger.
       ‘Company, ready yourselves,’ Ethandril shouted, trying to 
  be as commanding as possible. He muttered several incantations 
  as quickly as he could and began to move with purple flames 
  licking all around him. ‘It protects against hot and cold at the 
  same time,’ Ethan said to Apollo. ‘I merged the spells.’
       Elwood finished a short prayer as quickly as he could and 
  all the members of the Company glowed with a faint holy light. 
  He drew his bow and looked up for his first target. Finding one 
  was not a problem.
        Coming down the path into the clearing was a band of some 
  eight hill giants all brandishing huge clubs. Standing on the 
  
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  top of the ridges either side of the clearing were another 
  dozen, all armed with boulders which they were in the process of 
  launching at the Company. Twelve huge stones sailed through the 
  air, and this time there was no problem with the accuracy, all 
  six elves had to take evasive action, tumbling, rolling, jumping 
  and blinking out of danger.
        Orion vanished, blinking halfway up the slope towards the 
  giants on the west side. He merged into the shadows behind a 
  boulder as he observed the hill giants for several seconds and 
  worked out a route to take him through them all with as little 
  risk as possible. He knew he could take them with his poisoned 
  darts if he could get close enough.
        Apollo having elegantly side stepped a boulder walked 
  forward toward the on rushing throng coming down the main path. 
  He felt very little toward them, certainly no fear. Hill giants 
  were their own worst enemy when fighting such an accomplished 
  rhythm dance fighter. He was actually quite looking forward to 
  the extra power these ridiculous brutes were going to lend to 
  his sword strokes.
        ‘Don't learn a meteor swarm, they said, concentrate on 
  individuals, they said,’ Ethandril called out to the group with 
  as much indignation as he could. ‘One good swarm, and this would 
  barely be a battle,’ he continued. ‘Instead, I have to rely on 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /224
  other ludicrously less effective spells,’ and promptly unleashed 
  a bright orange bolt of lightning up the eastern slope and 
  grinned his broad inane grin as it slammed into the first hill 
  giant, sending the behemoth flying backwards with a huge smoking 
  hole in its midriff.
        Quin-Helwig drew his long and short swords and, having 
  rolled away from the first volley of boulders, strolled forward 
  to join Apollo to meet the eight onrushing giants. ‘I'll go to 
  the right if you’ll take the left,’ he said just moments before 
  the stampede was upon them.
        The siblings, Elwood and Catarina, went back to back in 
  the middle of the clearing and prepared themselves for the next 
  boulder volley. It wouldn't get very far they both knew and, 
  sure enough, as the giants reached for and launched the next 
  wave of massive rocks, Elwood and Catarina let off their own 
  volleys. Five green magic missiles shot from Cat's finger tips 
  and blasted the boulders, thrown by the five remaining giants on 
  the eastern side, out of the sky. The hill giants ducked so as 
  not to get struck by rock shrapnel from the explosions, and 
  looked slightly perplexed. This had never happened before. 
  Elwood let loose a volley of his arrows, sending six into the 
  six rocks that were thrown from the west. The boulders shattered 
  high in the sky, fragments landing all over the western slopes, 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /225
  much to the disappointment of the hill giants. 
        The hill giants on the western slopes had more than 
  disappointment on their minds a few moments later when two of 
  them slapped at their legs, thinking they had been stung. As 
  they looked down they both saw a small dart sticking out of 
  their thigh, and soon began to feel the insidious rise of the 
  poison. A quite terrible burning pain began to assault the pair 
  and they cried out to their fellow giants.
       ‘We's been attacked. Little darts. Aahh really hurts!!’ was 
  all they managed to blurt out before they both sank to their 
  knees, then slumped to the ground quivering in pain. A shadowy 
  figure vanished from all sight and reappeared some fifty yards 
  away, between the next two giants and some fifteen yards behind 
  them.
        The rush of giants made the ground shake and less well 
  balanced fighters than Apollo Shiningblade and Quin-Helwig might 
  have struggled with their footing. But these two had millennia 
  of experience between them and stared right into the eyes of the 
  half-crazed club wielding giants. The first, his club held high 
  over his head, smashed down at Apollo but the elf had left his 
  sword out in front of him at a slight angle and took some of the 
  blow on it but this gave him the momentum he needed. The giant's 
  club smashed into the ground with a massive thud as the agile 
  
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  elf was flipped three hundred and sixty degrees and swished his 
  sword down upon the creatures shoulder. The left arm holding the 
  club fell off, blood spurting everywhere, covering several of 
  his companions. 
       Next to him Quin was attacked with a swipe from his left. 
  He jumped back out of the way and came in fast behind the club. 
  He delivered a backhand with his longsword to the creature’s 
  right knee. There was a loud bang as a chunk of flesh was 
  removed from the vast creature leaving it looking astonished as 
  it stood on one leg, its foot unattached on the ground next to 
  it. Quin dashed in further, stabbing into the Achilles tendon 
  behind the left ankle and slicing straight through. The monster 
  roared in pain, but what was left of his lower legs could not 
  support the thousand pound body weight above and he crashed face 
  first to the floor in absolute agony, with the ever agile Quin 
  dodging swiftly out of the way. The fallen bodies provided an 
  advantage to the smaller elves, so the hill giants at the rear 
  of the charge began to circle round to surround the pair, 
  leaving two in front. They too began to fan out until Apollo and 
  Quin were surrounded by six hill giants.
        Still irritated that he hadn't memorised a meteor swarm, 
  Ethandril paused to go through his many memorised spells. 
  ‘Disintegrate, dull bit far away, chain lightning, done 
  
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  lightning, fire ball. Hmm, bit old school. Prismatic spray, hmm, 
  not bad, maybe later.’ His thoughts and personal conversation 
  rolled on till he yelped in excitement ‘Yes, yes, yes, oh yes!’ 
  He began waving his arms frantically and muttering the spell as 
  quickly as he could. From nowhere he had pulled a black glove 
  and a small rock hammer and was waving them around too as part 
  of his spell. When he finished, the glove and tiny hammer had 
  disappeared and Ethandril stared expectantly up the hill, and 
  appeared to be concentrating as much as he was able. Suddenly 
  there was a shuddering form the slopes and a large hand, some 
  six feet long and holding a six foot hammer, emerged from the 
  ground
        ‘Ah ha! You've got nothing on me, Bigby,’ he yelled and 
  waved at the hand.
        The disembodied hand and hammer hovered over to the 
  nearest startled giant and took a swing. The creature had no 
  time to react, such was its surprise. The huge hammer crashed 
  into the side of its sloped forehead, caving in the thick skull 
  and killing the poor beast instantly. The four other giants on 
  the eastern slopes had seen enough, deciding that they were at a 
  disadvantage at range, possibly for the first time in their 
  lives, and hurried down the slopes, to escape the hand and 
  hammer, and engage the enemy up close, the enemy that had 
  
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  slaughtered their friends several days ago. They would have 
  their revenge.
        As the four giants stumbled their way down the slopes they 
  were greeted by a new problem. The one small elven girl that had 
  blown their rocks from the sky had become eight, and they were 
  advancing, each with a glowing sword in her hand.
       Though it was a simple spell for Cat, it always started a 
  battle well for her, giving her enough time to reduce the number 
  of her opponents before they could work out which one was the 
  real elf. The trick worked just as well this time, as the real 
  Catarina waltzed up to the first giant and slashed him across 
  the knee. The wounding ignited several more spells stored in her 
  sword, and the giant was jolted with electricity and burnt with 
  acid and cold simultaneously. Although well trained in the 
  rhythm dance style, there were times when Catarina just enjoyed 
  her status as a fighting mage and let her opponents have it from 
  both her resources! The behemoth jumped back, raising its huge 
  club above its head.
       ‘It's dis one ere,’ it called to its friends, though none 
  were too certain he spoke the truth. He swung his club down as 
  hard as he could and Catarina managed to swivel out of the way, 
  the massive club missing her by a matter of inches. The club 
  smacked into the ground and sent up a puff of earth, some of 
  
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  which stuck to Cat.
        ‘Dis one, da one wid da erf on it. Dis is da real one,’ 
  the giant yelled again, and this time, the other three could 
  make out which one he was indicating.
        Elwood sent another volley of six arrows up the western 
  slope, just in time to see two giants fall over even though he 
  clearly hadn't hit them. Orion he thought. Must be the assassin, 
  it's what he does best. His volley had disrupted the rock 
  throwing a second time, making the giants duck for cover, 
  catching two on hip and shoulder respectively. They looked down 
  at him, and like the hill giants on the eastern side decided 
  that coming down to battle the piddly little elves close up may 
  be a better option. Then he heard Catarina call out.
       ‘I may need some help, Elwood, I've got four on me,’ she 
  yelled.
       Had he not turned to assist his sister, Elwood would have 
  witnessed the true genius of one of his friends. As the giants 
  set off down the western slope, Orion threw two more highly 
  toxic darts, both scoring hits, and pulled out his whip of 
  entangling. The two struck by the darts yelped in pain and began 
  to shudder, much like their comrades had, as one of the most 
  lethal poisons on the whole of Vallilea coursed through their 
  veins. They began to stumble on their descent and fell face 
  
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  first for the final twenty feet to the clearing at the bottom, 
  convulsing as their bodies were overcome with Orion's special 
  brew. Orion swiftly blinked down the slope and lassoed another 
  hill giant, his whip entangling the legs and holding the monster 
  like a boa constrictor. The creature staggered and fell to the 
  ground. Quick as flash, the assassin was upon him. He drew his 
  lethal jagged black dagger across the monster’s neck and let his 
  blade savour the kill. Though he had no need of the hill giant’s 
  strength it was trying to confer, he didn't want to become 
  weaker. He murmured a quick snow elf prayer as he resheathed the 
  blade and looked down the slope at the scene below, where the 
  one remaining giant was about to give Elwood and Catarina a 
  nasty shock. 
        Apollo and Quin were almost too small a target for the 
  hill giants to get at having circled them. None of the creatures 
  seemed quite sure of how to engage successfully and the elves 
  were happy to dodge and parry, feeling no great sense of danger, 
  as long as they didn't try to overextend themselves. The 
  creatures were too slow and deliberate in their movements to be 
  able to catch the pair, and because they were in a circle, they 
  couldn't even take their usual great swipes that might have been 
  more effective.
       ‘We seem to have hit an impasse,’ Apollo called to Quin.
  
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       ‘I think you may be right, we need to separate them,’ Quin 
  replied in the elven tongue.
       Apollo stared into the eyes of one of the dim-witted 
  creatures and beckoned him forth, goading him into action. 
       ‘Is that all you can manage big boy. Pretty poor for a 
  creature of your size, I've felt more power in an orc!’
       This was far too much for any hill giant to take and the 
  ridiculously simple plan worked a treat. Five of the giants 
  backed away to give their friend more room so he could take on 
  the challenge and put this elf in his place, squished into the 
  ground as far as they were concerned.
       Apollo let out a sigh, these great lumps never learned, 
  they still reacted just the same as they always had, for two 
  thousand years.
       The giant swung his club around twice to limber up his left 
  shoulder then continued with a sweeping backhanded swing at 
  Apollo from his left. Apollo stepped back out of the way, and 
  the giant growled in anger. It reversed its swing and came back 
  from the right. As he did so, Apollo stepped in closer, spun 
  around so turning his back on the giant and only a foot in front 
  of the creature. The giant could not stop the momentum of the 
  swing and his mighty club smashed into the out held shining 
  blade. Apollo was spun one hundred and eighty degrees in a split 
  
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  second, his razor sharp sword slicing through the giant’s 
  midsection, which seemed to offer as little resistance as a 
  cobweb.
        Nothing happened, as the sword reappeared from the left 
  side of the giant’s torso, and Apollo stepped back. His 
  assailant stared at him, then gravity did its work and the top 
  and bottom of the giant slowly fell apart. The gush of blood was 
  horrific, spraying some twelve feet into the air, but none of 
  the giants reacted for several seconds as they watched their 
  friend fall into two pieces.
         Knowing giants well, Quin decided now was the time to act 
  first. He launched forward swiping and stabbing at the first 
  giant he came to, still transfixed by the death of its 
  colleague. There was a bang as the longsword struck home and the 
  short sword took a great gouge out of a leg, and Quin whizzed on 
  to the next one, slashing and stabbing at it too, as it began to 
  regain its senses.
        Apollo was faced with two hill giants, their initial 
  horror now turning to anger and rage. They roared as they lunged 
  forward, determined to flatten this shiny elf with the glowing 
  green sword. One smashed down, just missing the slick elf, the 
  other came with a swipe. Apollo again used this momentum to send 
  him spinning. He jumped just above the club as it swished at 
  
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  him, letting it clip his sword which he held down. He span anti- 
  clockwise, raising his sword straight out in front of him, as he 
  spun through two full revolutions. He landed in front of his 
  attacker who now had two thin red lines on his chest and 
  abdomen, both growing in width by the second. Blood began to 
  pour down his front and he backed away from this terrifying elf, 
  clutching at his wounds as he did so.
        The broad brown elf, with the two swords, continued to 
  whirl through the giants. He had been clipped on one shoulder 
  but had barely felt any pain. All three he had faced down were 
  now on the floor with large cauterised chunks missing from their 
  legs and bodies. They were now all quite dead.
        Apollo stood before the last of the ten giants, elegant 
  green pulsing sword held before him. Although hill giants were 
  not bright, they did have a sense of self preservation. The last 
  of that group turned and lumbered off, as quick as he could, 
  back up the path the way he had come.
        The eight Catarinas looked ready for a fight. However, the 
  real one had been spotted and was now facing down four furious 
  giants, although one was severely wounded. She moved around her 
  wounded opponent, using him to shield her from the others. As 
  she did so she saw the great black hammer-wielding hand come 
  floating down the slope. The three other giants were so intent 
  
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  on her they had forgotten the potential danger they were in. Not 
  even a single thought was going through the head of one of them 
  as it was removed from its shoulders by a mighty stroke from the 
  hammer.
        ‘Boom!’ Ethandril yelled, overwhelmingly excited by his 
  handiwork. ‘Did you see that? Did you seeee, that!!’ He began 
  chuckling to himself, completely wrapped up in his own genius.’
       Cat tried not to attack the wounded giant again for fear of 
  finishing him off. She could keep him at bay with little danger 
  to herself and hoped that her allies could help dispose of any 
  of the other giants.
        Sure enough, her brother said a prayer to Yllana and a 
  huge column of searing flame shot up from the ground and 
  engulfed another one of the giants. Catarina could feel the heat 
  from the spell as could her opponent and his remaining friend. 
  They turned to see their crisp companion fall to the ground, 
  blackened from head to foot, and quite dead. 
        Elwood hadn't noticed the last of the giants Orion hadn't 
  managed to finish off, however, and just as he finished his 
  flame strike spell, was struck from the side by a mighty blow. 
  There was a blinding flash as his body protection spell flared, 
  blocking most of the damage, but nothing could stop the sheer 
  force of the blow sending him ten feet away, landing heavily on 
  
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  his left side. He just managed to regain his feet, clutching his 
  hugely bruised and broken right arm that had taken most of the 
  blow. He tried to breathe, but there was little left in him, and 
  it took him several moments to reorientate himself. 
       ‘Wow!’ Ethandril said in his ear. ‘That must have hurt but 
  don't worry, I'll get this one.’
        Ethandril rapidly went through the motions of one of his 
  favourite spells and a seven coloured beam shot forth from his 
  hands straight into the giant. The great beast was hit by so 
  many of the colours, five of the seven, that it was hard to tell 
  whether he had been turned to stone, sent to another plane or 
  disintegrated first. All anyone knew was that there was nothing 
  left in front of them.
       ‘Ha! Ha!’ Ethandril cried in triumph. He hadn't noticed the 
  pained look on Catarina's face yet though, as she was nursing a 
  wound from the red part of the prismatic spray. The giant she 
  had been fencing with was now on its knees, having been struck 
  too, and she decided to finish it off with one great spell 
  releasing stroke to its shoulder.
        There was now only one giant left and a disembodied six 
  foot hammer wielding hand, a hand that was no longer being 
  controlled. It moved towards the last giant and took a swing, 
  missing before it carried on past and headed for Catarina.
  
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       ‘Ethan, why do you do these things?’ she cried out.
       ‘Oops!’ he replied, realising his mistake. He closed his 
  eyes and searched within himself to try to bring the hand with 
  the hammer back under control. It was no good. Once his 
  concentration had been interrupted the hand moved of its own 
  accord, seeking out life and attempting to destroy it. 
        As Catarina readied herself to block or avoid the hand a 
  curious thing happened. The last giant, that had just avoided 
  being hit, dropped to the floor. Once the puff of dust from its 
  impact subsided, Orion calmly walked forward wiping his black 
  bladed dagger clean with a piece of rag.
       The hammer swung but Catarina was equal to it, she blocked 
  the blow and swung back the other way, much as Apollo did, and 
  landed a clean blow on the glove. The black hand gave a little, 
  but nothing else happened, except for the hammer rising into the 
  air to try and hit her again.
       ‘Ethan, can't you stop this thing?’ she called out.
       ‘Well, yes, but you may get hit,’ he called back.
       ‘Just do it!’ she yelled, stepping back from the ominous 
  glove.
       Ethandril muttered through his dismissal spell, the one he 
  used to dispel any of his magic. It was a little something he 
  carefully wove into all his spells so that should anything ever 
  
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  happen to him his magic wouldn't just disappear. That was all 
  well and good for him but in situations like this it was 
  somewhat hazardous.
       He finished his spell and flung his hands out wide so as to 
  disperse his magic. It happened in the nick of time. The hammer 
  rose up some fifteen feet into the air and was just on the down 
  swing to hit Cat again when there was a loud puffing pop and the 
  whole thing exploded. The force of the explosion sent Catarina 
  flying some twenty feet back and she landed at the feet of Quin-
  Helwig who had just finished off the last of his giants. Half 
  dazed, he helped her to her feet and looked at her soot 
  blackened face.
       ‘I'm fine,’ she said, her brow furrowing. ‘Not a scratch 
  from the giants, but he,’ she pointed an incriminating finger at 
  Ethandril, ‘is accountable for this,’ she indicated her face, 
  ‘and this,’ she pointed to the blackened area of her back caused 
  by the prismatic spray. 
       ‘Up to his old tricks is he?’ Apollo enquired as the last 
  of his giants ran off. ‘Dear, dear, Catarina; we'll have to get 
  you cleaned up before we go back. Can't have people thinking we 
  have been in a serious battle or anything,’ he finished.
        The Company looked around at the dead giants, all the huge 
  bodies in several bits and charred, and wondered what had led to 
  
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  the attack.
       ‘My guess is revenge for the other dead,’ Elwood said as he 
  walked over to Quin, Cat and Apollo.
       ‘You're probably right,’ Apollo agreed. ‘My brother says 
  all he could make of their thoughts was a strong sense of 
  wanting revenge.’
       ‘Over here!’ Orion called and the other five, including the 
  moderately contrite Ethandril, looked some fifty yards away to 
  where Orion was standing at the entrance to a tunnel, one that 
  obviously went down into the mountains.
       ‘This is where all the wagon tracks are coming from; the 
  ground is quite rutted here,’ he called.
       The others walked over and, sure enough, the tracks were 
  obvious if you looked for them.
       ‘Let's go back to Theo first, tell him the good news,’ 
  Apollo said. ‘Then we'll come back and take a look down there. 
  And flame brain, get us back safely, OK!’
       ‘Circle up boys and girls, no harm coming to you here,’ 
  Ethan replied, as he whizzed through his teleport spell when 
  they were all assembled.
  
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  Meddlers
  Nilo, Mariana, Sederic and Graanti, the halflings chiefly 
  responsible for disrupting the river Fin, were pleased with what 
  they had achieved. They were staying in a small cottage owned by 
  an earth halfling farmer in the countryside several miles 
  outside Findon. The farm was some ten miles from the lower 
  slopes of the Shuddering Peaks and, needless to say, had not 
  been suffering from the recent water shortage.
        The four were chatting away freely about their great 
  success.
       ‘So I told Sir Theobold that of course we would help; he 
  offered to pay in gems and look!’ Nilo said, holding open a 
  small velvet sack. ‘That's just the first week’s worth.’
       ‘Our leader will be pleased; the more we have in the 
  coffers the better,’ Sederic replied.
        ‘The Baron always says that if you can buy others to do 
  our dirty work it removes suspicion from us and helps to keep us 
  all safe.’
       ‘Well remembered, Sederic,’ a whispering voice said to the 
  room. ‘My friends and loyal companions you have indeed done 
  well. However, we must now target two more towns, Abinger and 
  Ingles. Both seem to be suffering a similar fate to that of 
  
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  Findon. It would be remiss of us not to add to their woes.’
       ‘Certainly, Lord, what would you suggest?’ Sederic inquired 
  of the unseen voice.
       ‘A different approach to both is in order. Since it is on 
  the coast, I believe that Abinger requires a particularly high 
  tide in the next day or so. A minor flooding of their docks 
  should cause more than a few problems there and, of course, you 
  can once again follow the disaster with an offer to help, for a 
  fee of course. As for Ingles, it is surrounded by hills. I'm 
  sure that after a heavy storm the chances of a mudslide would 
  increase dramatically. Perhaps get one of the airs involved; 
  Icari should be able to help. Get him to create a stormy night; 
  lots of rain, thunder and lightning, perhaps a whirlwind or two 
  if you are feeling adventurous. Then, drop the side of one of 
  the hills that run down into the town. It should be enough to 
  wipe out that stick fence they use as a city wall there and 
  flatten some houses. Again, follow your handiwork in and try to 
  help, but not too much. Let the pitiful humans see you as 
  saviours in their time of need. Good luck, fellow Renegades! I 
  will contact you soon as the balance of power tips further in 
  our favour!’
        The four halflings looked at each other and smiled.
       ‘He is a genius,’ Mariana spoke in total admiration for 
  
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  their leader, the Red Baron.
       ‘He certainly is,’ Sederic confirmed. ‘Let's get our rest. 
  We'll start on this in the morning’.
       
        Two days later, a freak high tide washed into the town of 
  Abinger, causing devastation to the dock district. The people of 
  the town, already suffering with the rising crime level from the 
  Spice addicts, wondered what it was they had done that had so 
  angered the gods for them to be punishing them so. Many were 
  openly praying in the street to Tuke, the god of luck, asking 
  for his favour to end the bad luck. Others were openly cursing 
  Kaspian, the god of the seas, and offering treasures up to him 
  in an effort to stop any further damage being inflicted.
        There was one fortunate occurrence for the people of 
  Abinger that went little noticed, however. The dock region was 
  where the devils-come-humans had been plying their trade. It had 
  proved a most convenient place for the invading, Spice-peddling, 
  shape-changed devils to inhabit and they had had great success 
  in selling the Spice to dock workers and those coming into the 
  town on boats. Cheragai, still well disguised as a good-looking, 
  tall and elegant human, was far from impressed. Although he was 
  not born of a prime material world, he had a sense that this 
  high tide was no accident. These types of random events did 
  
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  happen occasionally but this seemed a bit too orchestrated to 
  him. He called his demons to him to stop them being scattered 
  throughout the town and being discovered. He dismissed over half 
  back to the Hells, so the operation would be less conspicuous 
  for a while, and set about trying to establish a new area from 
  which to peddle Spice. Later that day, in a quiet warehouse he 
  had bullied the owner in to giving him use of, and well away 
  from any prying eyes, Cheragai contacted his master.
       ‘Akkron, there has been a freak incident here,’ he began.
       ‘Oh really, Cheragai. Of your making, I presume,’ Akkron 
  replied. Cheragai winced as he heard his real name being used so 
  openly and had to control his rage towards the filthy little 
  shadow gnome. One day he would have that snivelling creature's 
  head in the palm of his hand and would take great pleasure in 
  ripping it from his pathetic little body. 
       ‘No Akkron, it had nothing to do with me or any of my many 
  minions,’ he put special emphasis on many. ‘A freak wave has hit 
  the docks and virtually wiped away our trading area. Though I am 
  not of this world, I know enough to suspect this was no weather 
  front. It has been calm here for weeks. Someone or something has 
  caused it,’ Cheragai finished.
       ‘Hmm. Do you think it wass an attack on you?’
       ‘Unlikely. We have been very careful and I have just sent 
  
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  some of my cohorts back to the Hells to avoid detection. I 
  suspect this has been done to add to the city's problems rather 
  than directed at us. These humans have many enemies, as you well 
  know,’ he chuckled at this. ‘Perhaps it is an opportunist 
  strike.’
       ‘And  have you managed to sset up a new point of 
  disstribution?’
       ‘I am involved in that process at the moment; we have 
  several possible areas to operate from.’
       ‘Very well, Cheragai. I shall look into thiss ‘freak wave’ 
  with my brotherss. Keep up the sthpread of Sthpice and report 
  back again if you disscover anything. I will contact you if we 
  have any firm leads. ‘ 
       The connection ended abruptly. Cheragai stood in his human 
  form, hands on hips, seething about a great many things. He 
  couldn't wait for this to be over and to get back to his tower 
  on the eighth level of Hell with a certain shadow gnome’s head 
  on a pole outside.
       
        At the same time as the freak tide occurred in Abinger, 
  some hundred miles away the town of Ingles suffered a torrid 
  night of storms. It rained all night, the like of which few had 
  seen before. As morning broke and the sun rose in the western 
  
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  sky the residents came slowly out of their homes to inspect any 
  damage. The rain still fell but not like the torrent of the 
  night before. 
         On the outskirts of the town, Nilo and Graanti were 
  putting the finishing touches to their mud slide. They had to 
  add just enough water to the already saturated slope and then 
  off it would go. Graanti had magically dug a hole some ten feet 
  deep at the top of the slope, and Nilo filled it with water, he 
  was now gently feeding more and more of that water in to the 
  saturated ground in front of him and...
        There was a rumble, much like thunder. The two halflings 
  had reached the tipping point and the mud on the slope of the 
  small hill just above the town gave way. Several tons of mud 
  raced down the hillside and smashed into the town wall, a twelve 
  foot high wooden barricade. The mud smashed straight through and 
  swept in to the town. Nilo and Graanti both looked on in awe at 
  the fruits of their labours and scarpered, not wishing to be 
  seen anywhere near the area. 
        The people of Ingles were devastated by the destruction of 
  a large chunk of their town. They spent the whole day and night 
  desperately trying to dig people out of the mud and collapsed 
  buildings. They were, therefore, full of appreciation the next 
  day when a pair of earth halflings sauntered into town and 
  
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  offered to help with the clean-up operation, for a small fee of 
  course. They marshalled the locals into an effective group and 
  used their innate abilities, as well as summoning a pair of 
  small earth elementals, to help. They made the best of a bad 
  situation and got most of the mess cleared as best they could. 
  The human population were overwhelming in their thanks, putting 
  these two halflings up in the best inn in town for free. It was 
  also the same inn that a certain shape-changed succubus was 
  staying in, leading the local men astray with the promise of 
  nights of unbridled passion as long as they managed to get hold 
  of some Spice. 
        After the initial horror of the mudslide, Leileilii took 
  very little interest in the following events. However, she was 
  no fool. The chance arrival of two earth halflings was almost 
  too much of a coincidence for her to believe, especially as 
  halflings were quite rare in the town even though the population 
  neared twenty thousand, mostly humans. She began to eavesdrop on 
  the unsuspecting pair and sure enough overheard their 
  celebrations of a job well done, and their comments that their 
  leader would be pleased.
       Leileilii contacted Mentza immediately and informed him of 
  what she had heard. The ever-thoughtful Mentza thanked his loyal 
  servant and told her to remain in close contact in the coming 
  
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  days and inform him of any further developments. The succubus 
  was more than happy to comply with her tormentor and master; she 
  was having far too much fun toying with the human boys in the 
  town.
       
        In the small cavern overlooking the mushroom crop, the 
  leaders of two large clans of the city of Imar, Kymru Galavan and 
  Braden Puttnik, and their chief wizards were meeting.
       ‘Greetings, Clan Leader Galavan and Chief Wizard! We appear 
  to have achieved great things in a short period of time,’ Braden 
  said nodding to his allies.
       ‘Greetings back, Braden Puttnik! Indeed we have. Spice 
  appears to be causing as much trouble as we had anticipated, 
  perhaps more. Maybe we have underestimated the greed of the 
  humans and their hedonistic desires; they seem quite 
  uncontrollable.’
       ‘Even our devil friends have exceeded expectations and as 
  yet have not been discovered. Akkron tells me Cheragai has 
  performed well in Abinger and, despite a recent mishap, 
  continues to do so,’ Braden went on.
       ‘Mentza tells me Leileilii is doing a fine job in Ingles, 
  though there has been an intriguing recent development there 
  too,’ Kymru said in response.
  
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       The two members of Clan Puttnik raised their mauve eyebrows 
  and nodded for Kymru to continue, which he did.
       ‘There was an accident in Ingles, a mudslide, a rare 
  occurrence. It came after a night of heavy rain that didn't seem 
  to affect anywhere else along the coast. The mudslide badly 
  affected the city, wrecking buildings and leaving a significant 
  part of the town under mud. But wouldn't you know it, a day 
  later a pair of earth halflings came to town to help with the 
  clear up.’
       ‘I think there iss a pattern emerging here,’ Akkron 
  interjected.
       ‘These halflings helped the town, for a fee of course, but 
  were overheard by our very own succubus celebrating a job well 
  done,’ Kymru finished.
       ‘Cheragai had his doubts about the freak tide in Abinger 
  too. He was unconvinced it was natural and this may well point 
  the finger at our elemental friends,’ Akkron said.
       ‘Leileilii mentioned that the earth halflings said their 
  'leader' would be pleased. Perhaps we should make some 
  enquiries,’ Mentza added. ‘I can cast a guided scry if you like. 
  It should give us a better idea if the halflings are up to 
  something and who this leader is.’
       ‘Excellent suggestion, Chief Wizard,’ said Kymru.
  
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       ‘Be our guest,’ Braden added.
       Mentza Galavan walked a few feet away and withdrew a large 
  book from a concealed space within his robe. He pored through 
  the book and found the page he was after. He studied the spell 
  for several minutes; it was one he had used on many occasions 
  before. He reached into another extra-dimensional pocket and 
  drew forth some incense, some precious metal and red stones and 
  uttered the spell. A large viewing portal, like a black mirror, 
  materialised in the air in front of him and a face appeared.
       ‘Ask your question,’ the featureless face said.
       ‘Who is the leader that has caused these so called natural 
  disasters in the towns of Abinger and Ingles? Show the person to 
  us,’ Mentza asked.
       The face vanished and the mirror went black. Moments later 
  it began to fog. Slowly the fog cleared and a scarlet red image 
  could be seen filling the whole viewing screen. It slowly became 
  clearer to view but no clearer to understand. The viewpoint 
  moved further away and began to move around the subject; it 
  became clear it was a person. The image was that of a scarlet-
  cloaked halfling with the hood pulled down and his left arm 
  raised, obscuring his face except for the eyes. The scry moved 
  closer in to look at the eyes; the black eyeballs and red irises 
  were those of a fire halfling. The eyes stared hard back into 
  
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  the scry and began their own squint of scrutiny.
       The mirror went black and Mentza turned to the other three. 
       ‘There you have our answer. Halflings are involved, however 
  unusual that may be. Perhaps we can use this to our advantage. 
  Perhaps we can use the halflings as scapegoats for the Spice 
  dealing and keep the town authorities away from our real 
  sellers.’  
       ‘I like the idea, Mentza,’ Braden said. ‘Framing the 
  halflings in human towns should not be too hard.’
       ‘I agree,’ Kymru said. ‘Let’s make it happen. Tell all our 
  contacts to capture and kill a halfling or two in each town. 
  Plant some Spice on them, then leave their broken bodies to be 
  discovered by the authorities. Pretend they have been caught by 
  vigilantes or something. That should make them the focus for a 
  while and we can continue unaffected, as well as teaching those 
  pesky little meddlers a lesson or two. They obviously don't know 
  who they are dealing with.’
        The group all nodded agreement and left the small cavern, 
  setting off to deliver their orders to their eyes and ears in 
  the three Spice-influenced cities.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /250
  Start of the 
   
   Journey Down
   
   
  The sun was shining on the city of Findon and the white marble 
  palace of Sir Theobold looked stunningly beautiful as it 
  sparkled and twinkled in the Autumn light. Unfortunately the sun 
  was the only bright thing around the palace. The dark cloud that 
  hung over Sir Theobold was still there as he sat, more slumped, 
  in his comfortable chair in his private chambers. He was 
  surrounded by his trusted advisors, Argyll and Loriana 
  Thililisfarne, his court mage. 
        The third person there was the strangest looking elf any 
  of them had ever seen, the red-haired, green-skinned and pink 
  eyed Harlequin elf, Mikalis the Wanderer, a travelling minstrel 
  and teller of tales.  It was he who was providing a necessary 
  distraction for Sir Theobold while he waited for the Company of 
  the Compass to save his city from the disaster for which it was 
  heading. Mikalis was recounting yet another, more than likely 
  embellished, tale when the doors to the private chamber flew 
  open and in walked the slightly battered Company.
       Sir Theobold leaped out of his seat and stood straight and 
  tall as the graceful elves marched towards him.
       ‘What news? Any joy? Found anything, anything at all?’ he 
  gabbled.
  
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       ‘Just a few hill giants,’ Apollo said with a sneer, as he 
  pretended to pick something out from under a slender finger nail.
       ‘Excellent! So you found the ones Mikalis was talking about 
  then?’ Sir Theobold tried to confirm.
       ‘No,’ Apollo replied. ‘These were their friends more than 
  likely. All twenty of them.’ Apollo looked into the face of the 
  astonished Sir Theobold. ‘And they weren't there for a chat.’
       ‘He's quite right, Theo,’ Ethandril jumped in. ‘I had to 
  use my crushing hammer spell, worked a treat, it knocked off 
  heads and...’
       ‘And nearly flattened me,’ Catarina butted in.
       ‘Only nearly, dear Cat, only nearly,’ Ethan retorted.
       To stop the conversation from getting away from the point, 
  which it had a habit of doing where Sir Theobold was concerned, 
  Argyll stepped forward and spoke to the whole group.
       ‘So you met and I presume dealt with these giants. Are they 
  anything to do with the problem though?’ he asked.
       ‘It doesn't appear so. We found no Spice on them, though 
  some was scattered on the ground near the remains of a couple of 
  wagons,’ Orion replied stepping forward. ‘We've found a tunnel 
  into the mountains up there, and several wagon tracks. There had 
  also been another fight, the one Mikalis here found the 
  aftermath of. We believe the giants were slaughtered by the real 
  
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  perpetrators, more than likely the shadow gnomes we scryed, and 
  their demon allies. We've decided to go down the tunnel and take 
  a look, but we thought we should keep you informed first, just 
  in case!’
       ‘Just in case? You believe this to be that dangerous, even 
  for yourselves?’ Sir Theobold asked tentatively.
       ‘What happened to Eclaine during the scrying at the temple 
  of Keelee would suggest so,’ Orion stated clearly.
       ‘Indeed!’ Argyll spoke up. ‘Shadow gnomes are as evil in 
  all that they do as we are good. Their minds are bent and warped 
  to evil. They will let nothing get in their way if they are 
  carrying out some sort of scheme. They want nothing more than to 
  destroy the surface world and they are certainly happy to use 
  summoned demons to help them, no matter what the cost.’
       ‘We should spend the rest of the day preparing,’ Elwood 
  said.’ I need to pray for guidance from Yllana and ask her for 
  my spells to be replenished. I'm sure we could all do with a 
  day’s rest to restore ourselves. Perhaps we should leave tonight 
  or at dawn, the less time wasted the better, though, in case our 
  handiwork from earlier is discovered by our adversaries.’
       ‘Most definitely a good idea, Elwood. Now that we have a 
  place to go to and we know our enemy, I have several fabulous 
  spells which will help us no end and..’
  
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       ‘Flame brain, if you even come close to harming any of us 
  again, I will personally remove your fingers so there will be no 
  more spell casting. Understand?’ 
       ‘Apollo, my oldest friend, you wouldn't, would you?’ 
  Ethandril replied, more than worried and holding up his hands in 
  front of his face while wiggling the fingers.
       The stony look Apollo gave him made Ethandril gulp and 
  quickly hide his hands in his pockets.
       Ever the practical member of the group, especially when it 
  looked as though battle would be joined, Quin-Helwig posed the 
  next question.
       ‘What can you tell us of shadow gnomes, Argyll, do they 
  have any weaknesses?’
       ‘Very few. They are very powerful magicians and, dare I 
  admit it, highly skilled assassins. However, they are nowhere 
  near as powerful as you in ordinary combat. Very few are 
  warriors as you would understand it, so this is where their 
  summoning comes to the fore. If you are engaged with them expect 
  to have to deal with summoned creatures; devils are often the 
  favourite but demons aren't uncommon. They will use poisons and 
  traps and stealth.’
       ‘Ghost, you should feel right at home,’ Apollo interrupted.
       ‘They also work well together. Remember, they are 
  
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  calculating, but not chaotic and reckless. They will live to 
  fight another day if they're in trouble,’ Argyll finished.
       ‘So that would be a none to the weaknesses then?’ Quin 
  responded.
       The six members of the Company looked at each other with 
  grim expressions. They were, however, aware of a strange 
  scratching noise. Orion looked over to the corner of the room 
  where Mikalis was frantically scribbling away. The white haired 
  snow elf strode over to the Harlequin elf and stopped just in 
  front of him, reaching forward to lift the pale green chin and 
  stared into the pink eyes which were not unlike his own.
       ‘What are you doing, Mikalis?’
       ‘An accurate record of heroic deeds could be priceless. For 
  nearly two centuries I have wandered the continent looking for 
  inspiration and recounting tales told to me. Never have I been 
  the one to actually witness the events as they unfold. You are 
  history in the making, whether you succeed in glorious triumph 
  or die trying in glorious failure.’ He looked at the slightly 
  shorter Orion with a disarming smile.
       Orion squinted back and took a quick glance at the 
  parchment in the bard’s hand. It did appear to be a record of 
  the current conversations.
       ‘Very well. We'll be keeping a check on you, though. You 
  
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  had better keep what's going on here quiet, or, well you don't 
  need to guess, do you?’ the assassin finished.
       
       By early evening the Company had finished their 
  preparations and reconvened in the private chambers of Sir 
  Theobold’s palace. Ethandril described, in minute detail, to his 
  daughter, Loriana, the location they were heading for, just on 
  the off chance that should they not return within a reasonable 
  time period. A week was suggested as the limit, after which a 
  search party might be sent out. Apollo sniggered at this; the 
  supposition that the group might not return was ridiculous in 
  his eyes. 
       The group teleported away just as dusk was falling, 
  arriving some twenty yards from the cave opening and well to the 
  side, just in case anyone was waiting for them. They scanned the 
  clearing, looking at the bodies of the dead giants. Some were 
  definitely missing, others had been used as meals since lumps of 
  flesh were missing in various bite-size chunks. The perpetrators 
  were the other denizens of the Shuddering Peaks, ranging from 
  vulture-like birds to a wyvern or something even bigger. 
        Before they could move, Quin-Helwig held up his right hand 
  to quieten the group. His sensitive ears had picked up a noise 
  on the slopes just above them on the eastern side, those dark in 
  
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  shadow. He scanned the rocky out cropping searching for the 
  noise maker. Orion looked to his friend as he too could hear a 
  noise and wanted permission to blink up the slope to 
  investigate, but the mighty ranger shook his head. He made a 
  gesture indicating a cat like creature. The group made no sound, 
  though Ethandril was almost bursting at the seams trying to keep 
  quiet. After a minute they were rewarded as they all saw a furry 
  head and ears appear briefly above a rock. Quin walked forward 
  and began a series of low growls, eerily similar to a great cat. 
  He heard nothing in response. He started up the slope, still 
  growling in the back of his throat. There was a flurry of motion 
  as two hundred pounds of fur leaped onto him from behind a rock. 
  The immensely furry beast tried to pin the ranger to the floor 
  but knew surprise for the first time in its life as the ranger, 
  using his extraordinary strength, simply picked him off and held 
  him up by the throat with one hand. Quin mumbled through a brief 
  prayer and suddenly the communication between him and the beast 
  was clear.
       ‘Do not attack, friend, I meant no harm,’ Quin began as he 
  looked in to the eyes of the snow leopard. ‘I am a friend of all 
  animals.’
       ‘Didn't know what you were, your language was strange,’ the 
  leopard replied.
  
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       Quin-Helwig gently lowered the beautiful animal and it 
  shook itself to reorganise its copious amount of fur.
       ‘Many strangers have come through my areas lately,’ the 
  leopard continued.
       ‘Have you been threatened?’ Quin asked.
       ‘They threaten all things.’
       ‘They are giants?’
       ‘No. Very small, and with unnatural creatures.’
       ‘Ones that slither?’ Quin asked.
       ‘Yes. Lots of arms. Killed giants. Very dangerous, a threat 
  to all.’
       ‘Did you see this?’
       ‘Yes, this is one of my areas, clearing is good for 
  catching food. I am always here.’
       ‘And did they come from the cave here?’
       ‘Yes. They all come from there. Small ones, humans and 
  wagons.’
       ‘Thank you for your help. What is your name?’
       ‘Aravinda. How have I helped? I have just told you all I 
  have seen.’
       ‘You have confirmed what we needed to know, Aravinda. Take 
  care friend. I would suggest moving a little away from this 
  area. Keep yourself safe. Should I see you again, I am Quin.’
  
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       ‘Farewell Quin’ Aravinda growled as he bounded up the slope 
  and disappeared from view.
       Quin-Helwig returned to the others who had all witnessed 
  the conversation but only heard growling coming from both.
       ‘Well. The leopard confirmed what we suspected. A marilith 
  did kill the giants before us and everything is coming from the 
  cavern,’ he said.
       ‘Well, let's be on our way without further ado,’ Ethandril 
  said smiling at the others. ‘We are adventurers at heart are we 
  not, and this is what we are here to do.’ 
       The part-demented flame elf headed for the cave leading 
  down into the mountains. The others followed a little more 
  circumspectly than their 'leader'.
       
       Once through the ten-yard wide entrance the cavern expanded 
  almost immediately to some twenty yards across. It also became 
  dark very quickly and all the elves adjusted their eyesight to 
  infravision. As they moved along Apollo and Quin swiftly caught 
  up to and got slightly ahead of Ethandril, both to protect him 
  and anyone else. Catarina and Elwood followed just behind and 
  Orion moved randomly around occasionally using his blinking 
  ability to get further ahead. They were as silent as a puff of 
  wind, even those least trained in the art of silent movement 
  
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  made very little noise and Orion and Quin were inaudible. As the 
  cavern started to wind down a series of side tunnels branched 
  off. They paused and quickly looked down a few looking for any 
  signs of recent passage, but the wagon wheel tracks were only 
  found in the dirt straight ahead, so they continued on. The 
  floor was still slightly muddied as they carried on, with the 
  wheel marks clearly visible, but after another hundred yards the 
  path became solid granite, and the wagon tracks disappeared. 
       ‘I can still make out the tracks,’ Quin said turning to the 
  others. ‘There are enough indicators, moved pebbles and things. 
  I don't think it will be too hard to stay on the right route.’
       ‘I can cast a route finding spell,’ Ethandril piped up 
  flourishing his slender yellow fingers.
       ‘Perhaps not Ethan,’ Elwood said soothingly. ‘If it's the 
  one I remember it will attract every creature down here; we're 
  trying to be subtle.’
       Ethandril nodded, slightly crestfallen.
       After only a few more minutes of stealthy walking, the path 
  widened substantially as it entered a vast cavern. They could 
  hear water dripping and the cavern was filled with stalagmites 
  and stalactites. There was a clear path winding through the 
  forest of obstacles and the Company followed it till it became 
  an open space with several paths leading off in different 
  
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  directions. Quin-Helwig and Orion looked around cautiously.
       ‘I believe the wagons are coming from there,’ Quin said, 
  indicating the widest path. 
       ‘I have a suggestion,’ Orion whispered. ‘We wait here, 
  there's plenty of places to hide, and we wait for another 
  caravan to come through. Let's take a closer look at our targets 
  and learn more about them. Let's keep surprise as our advantage.’
       ‘Indeed, ghost. As much as I hate your sneaking I agree,’ 
  Apollo added.
       ‘I can hide us by illusion,’ Ethandril said, confidence 
  returning. ‘I could make us all look like stalagmites and when a 
  caravan comes through we could jump out and..’
       ‘The shadow gnomes will probably spot the magic, Ethan,’ 
  Catarina said putting a placating hand on Ethandril's forearm. 
  ‘But how about a rope trick? I bet you can make one last ages.’
       ‘Oh yes, days. Did I ever tell you the time..’
       ‘Lava lips, just do it,’ Apollo cut in, trying to keep the 
  scatter-brained flame elf on task.
       ‘Let's move a little away from here, then I can stay out 
  here and keep watch,’ Orion said. ‘Make sure you put it where we 
  can see all these paths, Ethan.’
       The six Company members moved ten yards away from the main 
  clearing until they were hidden from view by the forest of 
  
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  stalagmites. Ethandril produced a thirty foot rope from one of 
  his many deep pockets and cast his spell. The rope stiffened and 
  went up high till it cleared the stalagmites and stopped just 
  short of the stalactites.
       ‘Perfect!’ Ethan exclaimed.
       Five highly agile elves climbed the rope and bundled into 
  the extra-dimensional space. Orion made sure the rope was 
  inconspicuous, hanging against a stalagmite, and began to 
  silently patrol the immediate area, practising his blinking till 
  he was able to whip around a fifty foot area in an instant. He 
  returned to the base of the rope and smiled, drawing his dagger. 
  The powers that lethal instrument had bestowed on him over the 
  years he would be ever grateful for, especially that blink dog 
  guardian, what a wonderful bonus that had been from his last 
  mission.
        The rest of the group up above in the rope trick settled 
  in to their slightly cramped space, sitting against the walls 
  and chatting. Apollo took the opportunity to heed his brother’s 
  words and talk with Catarina.
       ‘So Catarina, how are you finding the rhythm dance style? 
  You said you were improving.’
       ‘To be honest I have had far less opportunity to use it 
  these past years. Elwood and I have been involved in a lot of 
  
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  local diplomacy issues, none so far have ended in a battle,’ she 
  laughed softly.
       ‘But when you do use it, do you drop into it, or do you 
  just use some of the techniques?’ Apollo pressed.
       ‘I suppose I have just used the technique, for one off 
  blows. I tend to use spells stored in my sword as well which 
  often finishes a fight quickly.’
       ‘That's fine, but perhaps you should come to me for some 
  more training. You are one of the very few spell casting rhythm 
  dancers ever. It's a constant war between the two disciplines I 
  know, as you don't often get caught up in battles hard or long 
  enough to fully lose yourself in the rhythm zone. When was the 
  last time you did drop in to the zone, I mean completely?’
       ‘Honestly, not since we were last together.’
       ‘Really. Hmm. Then yes, it is imperative we do some more 
  practice after all this. I will see if you can come to Solaria 
  if you would like. I have King Sempero's ear; you could maybe 
  even help me train a few youngsters. I sometimes wonder if I'm 
  getting a little old for them now.’
       ‘I must ensure my duties are finished here on Vallilea, but 
  it would be an honour to come, if I'm allowed. You don't really 
  think you're too old do you?’
       ‘Perhaps.’
  
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       ‘But you are still the most skilled fighter on Estrella 
  aren't you? Surely you can teach the youngsters more than anyone 
  else?’
       ‘Thirty years ago I would never have hesitated to say yes. 
  But the humans are becoming more powerful very quickly. The fact 
  that they can become warriors anywhere near my level of ability, 
  when I am over two thousand years old and they are in decline by 
  forty, is extraordinary. It's something all the elven nations 
  should be aware of. The human level of ambition is totally 
  beyond us too. They will only continue to make advances in 
  everything - fighting, magic, building - which is not to be 
  discouraged but nurtured. We must, though, help them make good 
  decisions for the future. That's why I came to Theo's aid; it 
  could be important to be thought well of by humans on Vallilea.’
       ‘I won't tell anyone you said that,’ Cat said with a grin.
       ‘It's all about perspective, Catarina. We must continue our 
  ways and be slightly mysterious to humans. That's why I want you 
  to continue with the rhythm dance so much: it's why Ethan's half 
  breed makes me so uncomfortable. It's not that I don't like 
  Loriana, but I don't like the fact that half-elves are possible. 
  There aren't any half-dwarves are there?’
       ‘Except for Quin.’
       ‘Except for Quin-Helwig,’ Apollo just managed a smile.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /264
       ‘Do others share your feelings on this?’
       ‘Well we do have guardian isles for our main islands, the 
  Solars and Flames. Quin revealed that even the island elves are 
  considering having a guard isle. The snow elves are possibly too 
  remote, but anything is possible. I think all the inhabitants of 
  this world can feel the humans’ influence spreading. And of 
  course the halflings all remember the Persecution even if they 
  don't talk about it.’
       ‘Don't talk about that, it still makes me feel ill.’
       ‘What we are doing here is important well beyond just 
  helping out Theo and his city. And it's good to catch up, I have 
  seen many come and go in my life time so I'm pleased to see you 
  all progressing well.’
       ‘You don't always seem like you're pleased’
       ‘There are standards to maintain Cat, I wouldn't want 
  people thinking I cared overly. Besides, when you asked am I the 
  best warrior on Estrella, perhaps my only competition for that 
  mantle is here. Quin-Helwig is as strong as ever and Orion 
  appears to be gaining power rapidly. I may need to keep a little 
  more of a check on him.’
       ‘Why? He's invaluable.’
       ‘Certainly, but mortals should be careful about acquiring 
  too much power, it can corrupt. If I'm honest, that blinking 
  
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  ability he's gained makes him seriously powerful and, if you 
  consider some of the foes we've fought in the past, he could be 
  picking up some extraordinary powers. Can he regenerate? How 
  strong is he? Hill giant? Stone? Who knows?’
       ‘I hadn't really thought about it. I barely noticed the 
  blinking, he's always been hard to keep track of in a fight and 
  I just thought it was an extension of that.’
       ‘I'm afraid not. And I noticed he was slaying giants with 
  just one throw of his poisoned darts, the force he must be 
  imparting is massive. You saw that when he attacked us at the 
  palace on our first meeting; the dart that hit Quin was not so 
  much bent as compressed.’
       ‘But aren't the deaths just due to his poisons?’
       ‘A fair amount of the damage is, but the darts are going in 
  far enough to have an immediate effect.’
       Catarina was silent for a while, so Apollo continued.
       ‘Then there is the potential problem of where he got that 
  dagger from, of course.’
       ‘Where? I didn't realise there was any issue there.’
       ‘He's hidden it well, perhaps it didn't function so well at 
  first, but the dagger has its own intelligence.  I hope Orion is 
  in control of it. It belonged to a very powerful demon, and you 
  can imagine how powerful it was with a dagger that conferred the 
  
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  abilities of the slain on to the wielder. Imagine a demon 
  killing other demons for millenia.’
       Catarina gulped.
       ‘Exactly,’ Apollo finished.
       ‘And where is this demon?’ Cat asked tentatively.
       Apollo just shrugged. ‘Orion would never say, but Ethan, 
  Quin and I don't think he's been finished off entirely!’
       If they had been in daylight Catarina's normally radiant 
  pale green face would have gone almost white. As it was Apollo's 
  infravision just picked up a loss of heat from her face.
       ‘Still, he seems to be fine. I believe his snow elf 
  heritage keeps him well grounded and stable, all those rituals 
  he still performs when he thinks we're not looking. You know he 
  still says a shorter version of the snow elf death prayer for 
  every life he takes.’
       ‘I had noticed him mumbling away, I just thought he might 
  be trying to keep his calm around Ethan.’
       ‘Talking of which,’ Apollo said, ‘Ethandril, shouldn't we 
  check Orion is alright?’
       Ethandril, Elwood and Quin had been having their own 
  discussion, mostly a debate about the various merits of wizardly 
  magic and god-given magic and their uses.
       ‘Why yes, yes of course, just poke your head down through 
  
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  there, see what you can see,’ Ethandril instructed Apollo.
       Raising an eyebrow at Ethandril as if to suggest this would 
  be the last order he would take from him, Apollo poked his head 
  back through the hole where the rope entered the extra-
  dimensional space. He peered all around, it was certainly an 
  excellent view of the cavern, but he could see no sign of Orion. 
  After several minutes of blood rushing to his head, Orion 
  materialised below him.
       ‘Anything?’ Apollo whispered.
       Orion shook his head. Just as Apollo was pulling his head 
  back through the hole, Orion began to wave his hand. He could 
  hear a rattling noise coming from the path, still some distance 
  away. Apollo tucked his head back into the rope trick.
       ‘Something is coming, be ready!’ he told the four others.
        Orion meanwhile blinked off in the general direction the 
  noise was coming from. Less than thirty seconds later he was 
  back at the foot of the rope. Apollo's head appeared again and 
  Orion nimbly climbed half way up to meet him.
       ‘It's a wagon, but there are a lot of guards, I've counted 
  ten humans in armour and at least six shadow gnomes; there may 
  be more. I think we should sit tight for now, it's too risky 
  fighting them on their terms down here until we know more about 
  them and their numbers.’
  
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       ‘You always were a coward when it comes to battle, ghost, 
  but you're probably right. Can you stay out there to observe 
  them?’
       ‘They'll never know I'm here, but get that rope in, just in 
  case.’ 
        Orion Lutin, the snow elf assassin, blinked back down and 
  began blinking circuits around the coming caravan, never in one 
  place for more than a few moments. Apollo Shiningblade 
  dextrously and silently pulled the rope up and informed the 
  other company members what was happening.
       ‘But I want to see too’ Ethandril moaned. ’I am in charge 
  here and I really think I should be able to see what’s going on. 
  Do you really think I can't see off a few poxy shadow gnomes and 
  some metal encased humans.’
       ‘Just sit tight, Ethan, we'll all get our chance,’ Elwood 
  said soothingly. ‘If we observe this caravan, learn more about 
  it, then we can be fully prepared for any more.’
       ‘Hmmph’ said Ethandril.
        The caravan filled with Spice rolled no more than twenty 
  feet away from where the Company was hidden. The ten human 
  guards stood rigid to attention, five on each side of the wagon. 
  There was obviously a shadow gnome driver and what appeared to 
  be a mage sitting with him, but the remaining gnomes were hard 
  
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  to spot, using illusions and shadows to conceal themselves from 
  prying eyes. Orion was impressed and assumed that the numbers of 
  guards had been increased due to the giants’ attacks. He stood 
  quietly behind a particularly thick stalagmite and watched the 
  wagon roll away, following the path the company had used to come 
  down into the underground world. His right hand tapped on the 
  handle of his black-bladed dagger as he imagined what powers a 
  shadow gnome might be able to confer upon him. He walked 
  silently the few yards back to the bottom of the rope trick and 
  waited. After several, seemingly endless minutes, Apollo poked 
  his head through again. Orion gave him a nod, and the rope was 
  silently lowered once more. Orion climbed the rope swiftly and 
  with ease and entered the somewhat cramped space above.
       ‘Well, we now know where these caravans are coming from, 
  and they are heavily guarded. I think we should perhaps follow 
  one and, if we're going to attack, wait till we're outside as 
  that'll put us at an advantage over the gnomes.’
        ‘Can't I just immolate them here?’ Ethandril enquired. 
        ‘And bring the whole cavern down on our heads too, Ethan. 
  Think about it,’ Quin-Helwig chided the mage.
        ‘I sometimes wonder who’s in charge here. This is my 
  adventuring group, and if I don't have the opportunity to 
  express myself the way I want, then I'll just have to get a new 
  
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  crew!’
       The other five members briefly looked at one another. Quin 
  cracked first and a small giggle slipped out. Catarina was next, 
  a high pitched squeal escaping as she pretended to cough. Her 
  brother and Orion both started to cough laugh too, and Quin 
  cracked again and started to laugh properly.
       ‘Oh, a figure of fun am I, that's all I am to you now, not 
  the vanquisher of Dolomite the red, or the one that freed at 
  least three of you from Orcus and that wand. No, a figure of 
  fun. Fine, perhaps I will just...’
       ‘Ethandril Thililisfarne, stop taking yourself so 
  seriously. You are amongst my oldest and dearest friends on the 
  whole of Estrella and I want to keep it that way,’ Apollo said, 
  placing a hand on Ethandril's shoulder. ‘We have something 
  important to do here that does not require meteor storms, orange 
  lightning bolts or any of your other tremendous spells. Who 
  knows, maybe we'll need them later but for now, let's just 
  gather the information and then we will act. And no, I will 
  never be grateful enough to you for saving us from Orcus!’
       This seemed to appease Ethandril somewhat and as he looked 
  at the others they all nodded encouragingly at him.
       ‘Hmm. Perhaps you are right. Well, who’s next for down 
  there to await the next wagons?’
  
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       ‘I'll go, I can set up a clairaudience on the tunnel and 
  stay hidden here, just below,’ Catarina volunteered.
       ‘Excellent, Cat! Be safe and let us know as soon as you 
  hear anything.’ Ethan replied, now much more sedate and yet more 
  confident and less scatty, having said his piece.
       Catarina dropped the rope out of the extra-dimensional 
  space and slid down, casting her spells once she landed. The 
  rest of the group shifted positions a little and Elwood and 
  Quin-Helwig began chatting about the dwarves Elwood and Catarina 
  had just been involved with on a diplomatic mission.
       ‘They really are very uncomplicated,’ Elwood said. ‘You 
  know exactly where you stand with them and they'll certainly 
  tell you if they don't agree with you, that's for sure’
       ‘I've been on the southern isles so long that I've almost 
  forgotten what they're like. Even in all the years I have 
  travelled with Ethandril, Orion, and Apollo before you joined us 
  we had very little contact with dwarves. I think it's because 
  those three are so elven they can be off putting even to the 
  most broad minded of non-elves.’
       ‘I can well imagine,’ Elwood said with a smile. ‘The races 
  are also very distinct, very much like us. We were dealing with 
  the local thunder dwarves, but they refused to speak for the 
  chalk dwarf community even though it was less than twenty miles 
  
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  away.’
       ‘I suppose I can understand that. On the southern isles we 
  allow each island self rule, though any of us are free to come 
  and go from any island. There is pretty much universal 
  agreement, but a few local issues do crop up, things like 
  dealing with Sahaguin attacks or trading with the merfolk.’
       ‘It is interesting how we all differ so much. You have a 
  free fluid society where as we have fairly close governance, the 
  Daphinian forest is one community for us. As for the solar 
  elves, well, you only have to look at Apollo to see what they're 
  like.’
       ‘Yes, I know exactly what they're like.’
       ‘You've been there? You've never said before.’
       ‘It never really came up before. Your growing up now 
  Elwood, becoming quite the curious politician, you should go 
  there, ask Apollo for an invite, I'm sure they'll let you on to 
  Solaria.’
       ‘Would you come too?’
       ‘I? I'm not entirely sure that I'm allowed back.’
       Elwood gave Quin an encouraging look to continue and after 
  several moments of thinking of a suitable response came up with,
       ‘Let's just say that there is a possibility that some more 
  Harlequin elves could be born under the right circumstances. 
  
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  Even the King’s great grandchild could be one,’ Quin gave Elwood 
  a knowing wink. Elwood's jaw dropped and he just stared at his 
  ranger friend.
       ‘If Yllana didn't want Harlequin elves they wouldn't be 
  possible, my friend,’ was his carefully chosen, smiling response.
       Quin grinned back as his mind wandered back to the summer 
  many, many years ago when he had visited Apollo on Solaria. He 
  was the first island elf to be allowed there, and had been a 
  real novelty for the many sheltered solar elves who only knew of 
  island elves from books and tales from other solar elves. He had 
  caused quite a stir among the girls, including King Sempero's 
  daughter, Princess Abriana. She came to visit Quin-Helwig many 
  times during his stay to learn more about the ways of island 
  elves. Her surprise marriage and the subsequent birth of her 
  first child, Princess Helarina, within two years of Quin-Helwig 
  leaving, had not gone unnoticed.
        ‘How did your diplomacy with the dwarves go?’ Quin-Helwig 
  said bringing the conversation back to the original topic.
       ‘We achieved a lot. The thunder dwarves will trade with us 
  and we have worked out clear boundaries with them about where 
  their tunnels finish under the forest and where our territory 
  begins. I don't think they particularly like or understand us 
  but we have at least agreed these things. I've even learned some 
  
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  of the dwarven language.’
       ‘That's impressive. I have enough trouble with the language 
  of humans. I even struggle with Ethan and Orion's accents 
  sometimes,‘ aQuin laughed gently.
       They paused in their conversation and eavesdropped on the 
  other three, in part to take in the range of accents the snow, 
  flame and solar elf had. They were all quite distinct. 
        At that moment, a pretty green face with copper hair 
  appeared through the entrance.
       ‘Another wagon’s coming, it's still a little way off, but 
  it sounds like similar numbers to the last one,’ Catarina said 
  softly.
       ‘That was quick,’ Orion replied 
       ‘Perhaps they're sending out extra to make up for the 
  wagons they lost to the giants,’ Elwood added.
       ‘Okay, come in little Cat, let's let it pass and then we'll 
  follow,’ Ethan said attempting to assume control.
       ‘Let me follow closely,’ Orion said with determination,’ I 
  can move back and forth to keep you informed of the situation. 
  We can't risk us all being right up behind them.’
       ‘Agreed, ghost. I quite like it when you put your neck on 
  the line for us,’ said Apollo with a wry smile. ‘It makes such a 
  welcome change.’
  
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       Catarina pulled herself into the space as Orion went the 
  other way, ignoring Apollo’s comment. When he hit the bottom he 
  blinked well away from the area of the rope trick and waited for 
  the caravan. Sure enough, several minutes later another wagon 
  came past with a similar number of armour clad humans and shadow 
  gnomes as the previous one. Orion, ever silent, watched them 
  pass. When they had gone fifty feet away he silently climbed the 
  rope and told the others to come after him after a count of 
  twenty, the way they had entered the cave system. As the caravan 
  continued up the cavern path to the exit in the Shuddering 
  Peaks, a shadow flitted back and forth around them, watching 
  their every move. As the wagon came within sight of the tunnel 
  opening it stopped. Orion observed a party of at least four 
  gnomes and six humans cautiously approach the exit. They left 
  the tunnel, Orion assumed to make sure they wouldn't be 
  attacked, and it was some ten minutes before they returned. The 
  caravan continued on and Orion swiftly returned to his friends.
       ‘They checked the clearing and left. Let's follow them on 
  to Findon and see how they're getting this stuff into the city.’
       ‘Sure. We can give them a bit of a start. I'm sure I can 
  find a vantage point to watch them from without getting too 
  close,’  Quin put to the group.
       ‘OK. Let's go quickly and see which path they take,’ Orion 
  
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  finished.
       The Company moved with fleet feet as only hurrying elves 
  can and paused at the tunnel exit, just in case, but there was 
  no one there. Ethandril cast a simple spell of invisibility to 
  hide them and they hurried out in to what was now becoming the 
  all too familiar clearing. Much to their surprise they saw the 
  wagon heading off west into the morning sun, the opposite 
  direction to Findon, but the direction of the large town of 
  Abinger, beyond which was the city of Salvington. The Company of 
  the Compass ran up the western slope, where there were still a 
  couple of decomposing giant bodies, and watched from the ridge 
  as the wagon made its way down the mountain path heading for 
  Abinger and beyond. It was definitely not going to Findon.
       ‘This really doesn't look good. I shall pray to Yllana for 
  answers.’
       ‘Never mind the gods, Elwood, they don't always know 
  everything, as I've tried to tell you on numerous occasions. We 
  should have made enquiries of these places ourselves.’
       ‘You're right, Ethan. I can't believe we overlooked this. 
  This Spice stuff is going along to all those towns and cities,’ 
  Orion stated, still staring at the rapidly disappearing caravan. 
  ‘We need to get back to Findon and see Sir Theobold, tell him 
  the good news. Then, we must act and fast, this could be a lot 
  
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  worse than we ever feared.’
       The six all nodded agreement and slowly moved closer 
  together for Ethandril's teleport spell, all still staring at 
  where they had last seen the caravan  move out of sight, the 
  caravan and Spice bound for Abinger.
        
       
       
       
       
       
       
  
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  A  New Strain
   
   
  Lord Djemmini stood on his private balcony in the great keep of 
  the Citadel of Nyrex, the secure and impenetrable fortress 
  devoted to the worship of the God of Death and Murder. He looked 
  out to sea at the Bay of Kas, named after the sea God Kaspian. 
  He didn't like the name, he didn't like any of the other gods 
  and resented having to look at anything that represented them. 
  However, as he turned his head slightly further towards the west 
  he could see the five large islands, Nyrex's Fingers, and he 
  smiled. The five islands were home to countless pirates and 
  murderers, all of whom gave thanks to the Lord of Death and 
  Murder and carried out his work. The islands were a wonderful 
  base from which to attack ships going to the huge city of Adur 
  and on to Highdown, and the Citadel of Nyrex helped protect them 
  in their work. The evening was drawing in, the temperature was 
  dropping as the sun faded in the east and the last of its rays 
  glistened on the rough sea; it was pleasant to behold. He 
  particularly enjoyed watching the sea crash against the lava 
  rocks a few hundred yards out to sea, rocks created by the 
  volcano, Pyre, from one of its regular eruptions. It was the 
  more active of the two huge volcanoes that helped shield the 
  Citadel from the rest of the great continent of Vallilea. He 
  
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  basked in the fresh breeze and knew that his god was pleased at 
  the chaos he was helping to spread and the souls it was offering 
  up to Nyrex as a result.
        He turned on his fine-booted heel and headed back through 
  the magically-warded, glass double doors to his beautifully 
  appointed bedroom. Just because he practised death and murder 
  didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the finer things that the 
  world of Estrella had to offer. In fact, many of the things he 
  possessed had come from those he was about to slay, from last 
  ditch attempts to save their lives with the offer of some 
  fabulous bauble or family heirloom. He always accepted and 
  stashed the prize away. The look of horror on his victims' faces 
  as they realized their bartering had been in vain was something 
  he always savoured; it was one of his very favourite things. No 
  one was spared, ever.
        He walked around his large room and stopped in front of 
  his ornate mirror. He leaned forward and looked closely at his 
  reflection. He was still a good looking man, the slicked back, 
  blond hair still showing no signs of grey. As he stared at his 
  handsome face the mirror began to transform, its second purpose 
  coming to the fore. Djemmini stepped back as an image appeared, 
  one he was coming to know and understand quite well.
        A deep purple shadow gnome, wearing a black cap with gold 
  
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  sigils upon it, stared out at him.
       ‘Greetings, Lord Djemmini! You honour us by continuing to 
  keep the platinum coin with you at all times; it makes it so 
  much easier to contact you.’ 
       ‘Greetings, Mentza Galavan! I am finding the swiftness with 
  which we can conduct our business to be very helpful. Our 
  arrangement seems to be working extremely well.’
       ‘Indeed. That is why we have decided to push on with the 
  next stage. It is time to head for Salvington and we have a 
  little something special in store for them there. While we are 
  happy with the results so far, we have manufactured an even more 
  potent form of the Spice. The greedy and weak willed will have 
  even less defence against it, we may even have made something 
  that in time could become socially acceptable.’ Mentza grinned 
  after he said this.
       ‘I am intrigued by this development, Mentza. What have you 
  created now?’
       ‘It is much the same as normal Spice, but the negative 
  effects and the general frenziedness of the imbiber are absent. 
  If anything, a user should be able to function fairly normally.’
       ‘Then what is the advantage?’
       ‘Like normal Spice it becomes addictive. The longer you 
  take it the worse it gets with irritation, paranoia, sudden 
  
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  bursts of temper, things like that. It gnaws away at the psyche. 
  All the types of thing that will make decision making poorer and 
  allow us greater influence over those caught under its spell!’
       ‘It sounds intriguing. What would you have me do?’
       ‘Set up distribution in Salvington. Commandeer a warehouse 
  or whatever it is you do. When you've done that, contact me. We 
  will begin the supply and I will accompany the first batch. We 
  won't be focusing on the slums this time; we're looking at the 
  top end, politicians and those in charge of the city.’
       ‘Really, that's quite a change.’
       ‘We want to see if we can bring down the whole city, not 
  just have it at war, or one part trying to contain the other. We 
  want to affect and have influence over the decision makers.’
       ‘It sounds excellent. I'll go to Salvington immediately. We 
  have many covert worshippers there; we should be ready in two 
  days.’
       ‘In that case, we'll leave tonight with the first batch.’
       ‘I'll contact you as soon as we are ready to receive it.’
       ‘In two days then,’ Mentza replied as his image faded from 
  the ornate mirror.
       Djemmini stared at himself in the mirror and wondered 
  exactly how this was all going to turn out. His Lord Nyrex 
  seemed to be pleased, though, and that was all that mattered to 
  
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  him. He turned back to the rest of his room to pack a few things 
  for his journey.
       
       Two days later, a well guarded caravan rolled up to the 
  gates of the large walled city of Salvington. They were allowed 
  through as they had exotic goods and spices to trade; a brief 
  inspection and even a taste of the new version of Spice, only 
  confirmed that. While one of the guards on duty wondered why he 
  could no longer feel his tongue against the roof of his mouth, 
  the wagon rolled into the city where it was swiftly met and 
  directed on its route by several nimble, dark clothed and 
  unremarkable men. After several minutes it arrived in the 
  warehouse district and entered a large store through open doors. 
  Once the doors were shut, a murmuring of spells could be heard. 
  A tall blond, elegantly dressed man appeared from the shadows 
  and spoke.
       ‘We are quite safe now from prying eyes and ears. Lord 
  Nyrex sincerely approves of our actions and is more than willing 
  to grant me the powers I need to make this happen.’
       A small, deep purple shadow gnome became visible sitting 
  next to the driver. He spoke in a heavily accented version of 
  the language of the humans.
       ‘Congratulations, Djemmini! You have worked swiftly and 
  
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  well; you are becoming invaluable to us.’
       ‘I am well connected in this city so it was one of the 
  easier assignments I have had. Do you have the new Spice, 
  Mentza?’
       ‘New and old. After I spoke to you, Clan Leader and I 
  thought why not try a two pronged attack by hitting the top and 
  bottom of the city simultaneously? So, the poorer areas will be 
  supplied with the original Spice while we will infiltrate the 
  upper echelons with the new Spice. I believe this is a very 
  democratic city with many races, including plenty of those 
  disgusting dwarves. We must get after the decision makers.’
       ‘They have an elected council here, with some fifty-one 
  representatives from many different areas and aspects of the 
  city. How do you propose we infiltrate? I do know..’
       Mentza held up his right hand to quieten his associate.
       ‘I have been working with the ideal candidate for this job. 
  She has already spread the Spice in Ingles with great success, 
  where she infiltrated the higher end of the town’s society 
  first.’
       ‘She is with you?’ Djemmini asked, looking around to see if 
  he had missed anyone.
       ‘If I may, a small gate spell will bring her to us.’
       ‘Be my guest, the wards will allow it.’
  
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       Mentza Galavan, high mage of his clan, spent several 
  minutes in concentration, gesticulating and speaking arcane 
  words. When he was done a black portal appeared and, moments 
  later, a stunningly beautiful woman with flaming red hair and a 
  silken red dress to match, walked forth.
       ‘Djemmini, this is my, associate, Leileilii. She is more 
  than exceptional when it comes to espionage.’
       Djemmini was well aware of how powerful the shadow gnomes 
  were but calling up portals just like that was truly unnerving. 
  Even more unnerving was what had come through. Djemmini knew 
  full well that this was no human, but he was transfixed by her, 
  her allure was so great. He was feeling emotions he hadn't felt 
  in years. He wondered if it was a prompting from his Lord and 
  master.
       The creature spoke. ‘Ahh, Mentza, what fun do you have for 
  me this time? And what fine friends you are now keeping company 
  with,’ Leileilii said, as she glided towards Djemmini.
       ‘This is your contact here, and someone to whom I wish you 
  to show the utmost respect, Leileilii. May I present Lord 
  Djemmini, Priest of Nyrex?’
       ‘Ooh, a powerful one you are! It would be nice to meet a 
  human with a bit about him after all those dim-witted fools I 
  have had to deal with in Ingles,’ she said admiringly as she 
  
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  slowly walked around Djemmini, examining him in fine detail.
       A wry grin crossed his face as the succubus circled him. He 
  smoothed down his blond hair before replying.
       ‘I fear it will be more of the same for you here. We need 
  you to lead some councillors astray, this time with a new 
  Spice,’ he said, looking at Mentza for confirmation of what he 
  was saying.
       ‘Indeed Leileilii, you will probably have minimal contact 
  with Lord Djemmini but his people will help point you to where 
  your skills are most needed.’
       ‘A pity,’ the seductress replied with a pout. 
       Mentza turned to one of his guards and gave an order for 
  the Spice to be unloaded. At the same time more grey and black 
  clothed men, coming out of the shadows of the large warehouse, 
  moved the different Spices into container boxes, from where they 
  would be distributed around the city so that the street dealers 
  would have ready access to their own supply. The unsuspecting 
  population of Salvington would soon fall under the Spice spell.
        In spite of the activity around them, the human Priest of 
  Nyrex and the succubus, a mere five feet apart, stared into each 
  other’s eyes, an unspoken simmering passion building between 
  them.
  
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   Spice Richard Kingston /287
  S witch of Allegiance
   
   
  In an impossibly secure, well-hidden and secretive cavern deep 
  in the heart of the Shuddering Peaks, the Red Baron, leader of 
  the Renegades, was holding another meeting with his council. 
  Covering the four elemental aspects of the halfling race, there 
  were the usual nine members, most of whom had been involved with 
  the recent incidents afflicting the human towns and cities to 
  the south. The nine were seated around a sturdy oak table with 
  the Red Baron hovering in the centre, cloak flapping as he 
  slowly rotated to look at them all, with his left arm drawn up 
  across his face so that just his black and red eyes were showing.
       ‘My friends! May I be the first to properly congratulate 
  you on our most recent accomplishments? The skill with which you 
  have carried out my instructions has been phenomenal. You are 
  all a credit to the halfling race.’
       The nine multi-coloured halflings sitting around the table 
  turned to one another and shook hands. Some shrugged as though 
  it had been nothing, others started to tell a short tale of how 
  it had all happened. The Red Baron interrupted them with his 
  next line.
       ‘We have certainly caused the humans some severe 
  difficulties, a sight I like more than anything, as you well 
  
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  know.’
       Nine heads bobbed in agreement around the table.
       ‘However, there is a cause for concern.’ The Red Baron 
  paused for dramatic affect as nine child-like, awestruck faces 
  looked up expectantly, hanging on his every word. ‘Firstly, the 
  scale of the other problems in these towns and cities is vast. I 
  do like to see humans suffer, I do want them to be reminded 
  every day how superior the halfling race is to them, let them 
  know they are nothing more than upright pigs. Yet I do not want 
  their total destruction. Rather, I want us all to lord it over 
  them; I want them to do our bidding.’ He paused again, before 
  lowering his voice as he lent forward and turned a full circle. 
  ‘I want them to be our slaves!’ This elicited spontaneous and 
  excited applause from the other nine council members. The Red 
  Baron stood back upright and switched his hiding arm, now using 
  his right to shield his face as he continued his address.
       ‘I have found that, as humans have progressed, their cities 
  are of benefit to us. We can lead comfortable lives there, 
  taking advantage of their weak wills and lack of spirit, not to 
  mention their lack of power. That is why what is occurring is 
  starting to become troublesome. I want human cities, human 
  cities we can rule without them even realising it. I want the 
  best life available for all halflings on Valillea, lives of 
  
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  luxury and comfort, paid for by the humans for what they tried 
  to do to us.’ He paused again and the nine faces just continued 
  to stare upward, transfixed by their leader.
       ‘This epidemic, this problem that they are experiencing in 
  these towns and cities, is running out of control. Whoever 
  started it has total destruction on their minds, and that does 
  not suit us well. I have personally been the recipient of an 
  attempted scrying recently.’
       There was an audible gasp from the other nine.
       ‘Yes, friends. Someone has both the power and audacity to 
  try and spy upon our affairs, to try and spy upon me. I have 
  surmised that these are the people inflicting the real damage on 
  the human cities. To what ends we can only guess; it would 
  appear to be total destruction of these cities.’
        The nine council members turned to each other after the 
  Red Baron's monologue and began discussing the possibilities. 
  The Red Baron was the most powerful being on the whole of 
  Vallilea as far as they knew; anyone able to scry him must be 
  truly, terrifyingly powerful, perhaps even a deity.
        ‘We must act,’ the Red Baron continued. ‘Let us ease the 
  pressure on the cities, increase the water supply again, but 
  just make sure that the humans are truly grateful for what we 
  are doing for them. Make sure that they pay you and pay you 
  
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  well. Now may even be a good time to acquire future favours, or 
  property, something which we can use to take a hold in these 
  places. I rather fancy a mansion house in Findon. By the time I 
  have finished warding it, it could act as a fortress and a safe 
  haven for all halflings in the south!’
        The nine began chattering excitedly again, their emotions 
  stirred by the brilliant vision of their leader. 
        ‘Friends, we will meet again here in five days. Go and do 
  your work, and take pride in yourselves. You are halflings, the 
  master race, never forget that!’
       With that and a dramatic puff of red smoke, the Red Baron 
  vanished from his floating position above the oak table. The 
  council members looked at each other and smiled, they would be 
  about their work as soon as they could, inspired by the Red 
  Baron.
       
       
  ****************************************************************
  ****************************************************************
  ***********************
       
        ‘Salvington you say?’ Sir Theobold asked in dismay as the 
  
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  six members of the Company stood before him. ‘I could try and 
  contact someone there.’
       ‘I believe we could try and contact the speaker of their 
  council, Sir,’ Argyll added. ‘That would be the proper way to do 
  this.’
       ‘I believe I may just take us straight there, to 
  Salvington,’ Ethandril stated to the pair. ‘We can be there 
  tonight once we have prepared a few things here, and you won't 
  have to alert anyone to our coming either, just in case,’ he 
  added, leaning forward and patting his long, slender, yellow, 
  flame-elven nose with a long, slender, yellow flame-elven finger.
       Loriana rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of her 
  father; she often wondered how it had come to be that he had 
  seduced her mother to go to bed with him. Perhaps he had used 
  magic after all.
       ‘Very well, prepare yourselves quickly and be off, but try 
  and stay in contact with us here. We may need you as things are 
  going haywire all the time,’ Sir Theobold said, with something 
  of a scowl.
       ‘Yllana will watch over you as she does all of us, Sir 
  Theobold. She will let me know when you are in need,’ Elwood 
  said.
       ‘Really? Well that's very kind of her. Just do what you can 
  
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  and return.’
       The Company went to their private rooms and prepared for 
  travel, adding extra rings and magical trinkets to secret, 
  extra-dimensional pockets, or reacquainting themselves with 
  court wizards, if only for a short time.
       
       
  ****************************************************************
  ****************************************************************
  ************************
       
        Darios, chief assassin of Clan Galavan and one of the most 
  deadly creatures on the continent, was watching the comings and 
  goings of the palace of Sir Theobold with great interest. He had 
  arrived after a fairly uneventful journey through the underdark, 
  a journey he completed swiftly using the secret gates and 
  tunnels of his people, as well as his own shadow-jumping and 
  walking abilities, and a relatively trouble free surface 
  journey. He moved only at night to protect himself from the 
  hideous sun and had only been forced to deal with one overly 
  curious, overly observant human who had tried to hinder his 
  progress. One well-aimed dart had been enough to send him on his 
  
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  way, to hell as far as Darios was concerned. 
        Getting into the city was child's play for him. He 
  couldn't help wondering how humans thought they would ever be 
  able to survive or rule the world since they were as useful at 
  guarding things as moss, soft and easy to walk over. He met the 
  associates of Lord Djemmini, led by a particularly helpful and 
  unpleasant man called Kollin, perhaps the first human Darios 
  thought he could like. Kollin had shown him around the city, how 
  the operation of Spice peddling worked and where to find Sir 
  Theobold.
        He was now some fifty yards from the palace gates, well 
  hidden in shadows. By using magic and a favourite magical 
  crystal he was able to get a better look through some of the 
  palace windows. There wasn't an awful lot to be observed and it 
  would never do for any of the ruler’s guests to be assassinated 
  from the street, but he had glimpsed several elves walking 
  around the upper floors and towers and even a pair of 
  continental elves walking in the gardens late at night.
        ‘So, there are meddlers working for the bumbling Sir 
  Theobold,’ Darios said to himself. ‘A group of pretty elves. I'm 
  sure they would make fine Whelf,’ he sniggered to himself. He 
  looked all around the perimeter wall and the gate and decided 
  that, although it wouldn't be too hard to break in, not knowing 
  
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  the capabilities of your enemy was always a dangerous game. A 
  game he was not prepared to play. At the shadow gnome assassins’ 
  school they had a mantra, drummed into all the students.
       ‘Trackeeolayhaa.’  
       They had to repeat the mantra over and over again till they 
  understood that all assassinations were based on knowledge and 
  planning, and that the need to be particularly adept at stealth 
  or killing were secondary once the ground work had been laid. 
  Darios stayed all night, taking in what he could, using another 
  small magical item, a tiny conch shell, to listen into the 
  palace. He could make out the voices of several elves chatting 
  and with different accents, not just continentals then. They 
  were clearly discussing the Spice problem and the wagon train. 
  Darios raised his eyebrows at this. He was unaware that anyone 
  had that much knowledge of their operation. He was just thinking 
  through his choices when he overheard talk of the other Spice-
  affected cities, and Salvington was mentioned. The group, 
  whoever they were, were planning to go to Salvington. He made 
  his decision then and there. He was going to Salvington. There 
  he would lay a trap and they would be his. Perhaps he could even 
  make a new elf-ear necklace. The deep purple shadow gnome killer 
  smiled, but no one was able to see it. 
       
  
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       The day after Darios' observations of Sir Theobold's 
  palace, the River Fin started to flow a little better. By the 
  afternoon, it was rising fast and causing great alarm in some 
  parts of the dock district. Boats that had been aground for the 
  past few weeks suddenly began to float again; they were bobbing 
  around all over the place on their moorings, banging into each 
  other and the dock walls.
        ‘Sir!’ said Argyll, as he knocked on the door of Sir 
  Theobold's chambers. ‘You have a visitor, the halfling Nilo, 
  whom you met two weeks ago.’
       ‘Just what I need. Is the river any better, Argyll?’
       ‘Actually, Sir, it is.’
       ‘Really!’ Sir Theobold said, as he jumped up from his comfy 
  chair. He crossed the room quickly to the slightly open door 
  behind which Argyll stood and threw it wide open. ‘Excellent!’ 
  he bellowed. ‘Where is that little thief? I need to thank him 
  properly.’
  
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       ‘He is currently in the audience chamber waiting for you, 
  Sir. Loriana is keeping him occupied and trying to ascertain how 
  he and his colleagues managed it.’
       ‘Super! Let's go, no time to waste. Perhaps, if this is all 
  over, we can concentrate on the real problem at hand. That 
  bloody Spice stuff. Stuffing up my city it is, Argyll. Ruining 
  everything! Drastic measures will be coming, henceforth, mark my 
  words on this.’
       ‘Very good, Sir. I'm sure you have the best and boldest of 
  plans,’ Argyll replied.
       Sir Theobold stopped just as he was passing his chief 
  advisor and turned to look at the honest light gnome through 
  squinted dark eyes. ‘You’re not just humouring me are you, 
  Argyll?’ he enquired in a slow and somewhat threatening voice.
       ‘Absolutely not, Sir. You should know well by now that we 
  light gnomes do not lie, humour, or in any way manipulate the 
  truth. You genuinely appear to have a good idea. I am merely 
  reinforcing your confidence to go through with it,’ Argyll 
  stated truthfully.
       Sir Theobold stared for a few more seconds, his mind still 
  not entirely convinced that his advisor was as truthful and pure 
  as he always claimed. ‘Bah!’ he said and continued on his way to 
  meet with the blue-green water halfling awaiting him.
  
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        The tall, salt-and-pepper haired Sir Theobold breezed into 
  his private audience chamber, where his chief mage and secondary 
  advisor, Loriana Thililisfarne, was entertaining his child-like 
  and colourful guest. The slender half-elven mage wore a bright 
  yellow dress accentuating her natural fire-like colouring while 
  the water halfling wore a deep blue tunic to match his teal and 
  blue colouring. Sir Theobold had to squint as he looked at the 
  clashing pair and wondered whether it was only humans who 
  preferred browns and greys.
        ‘Good morning to you both! Nilo, I believe congratulations 
  are in order. You have solved the water problem.’
        ‘Marvellous to see you again, Sir Theobold. Indeed it 
  would appear that we have.’
       ‘What, may I ask, was the problem?’ Sir Theobold enquired.
       ‘You had blockages,’ Nilo stated with a smile. ‘Something 
  or someone had cut off the water way upstream. It could have 
  been giants or very large beavers,’ he said with a child like 
  grin.
       ‘Giant beavers? Oh, very good Nilo, very good. Well, you 
  appear to have solved the problem and we are very grateful for 
  that. I presume everything has been in order with your payments 
  and we can call an end to this episode.’
       ‘I was hoping to discuss that with you actually, Sir 
  
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  Theobold. You see, there is the possibility that it could occur 
  again. The giants or beavers. I and several of my friends who 
  assisted me were wondering if perhaps you wouldn't like to keep 
  us on permanently, just in case.’
       ‘Just in case?’ Sir Theobold repeated slowly.
       ‘A retainer. But you wouldn't have to pay us,’ Nilo said 
  innocently.
       ‘In which case, yes,’ Sir Theobold jumped in.
       ‘No, no payments. All we would request is that you could 
  house us in the city. Perhaps, in one of the mansions on the 
  upper side of town, one with views of the river so we could keep 
  an eye on it.’
       ‘But the only mansions in that region belong to the richest 
  merchants and, of course, there is the royal lodge.’ Sir 
  Theobold stopped abruptly, realising where this conversation had 
  just gone.
       ‘So, it won't be a problem then,’ Nilo confirmed and held 
  out his hand. He swiftly grasped Sir Theobold's hand and shook 
  it vigorously. ‘Deal done. We shall be your halfling river 
  wardens and we will help you whenever the river runs low or you 
  have any other water supply problems. I'll let my friends know. 
  There are a few of us. We'll move in straight away if that's OK?’
       A bewildered Sir Theobold looked at the blue-green 
  
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  trickster before him and wondered how this could happen. He 
  looked to Loriana for help but she was equally at a loss.
       ‘Nilo, perhaps this is a bit quick,’ Lori began. ‘I believe 
  Sir Theobold may need more time to assess the situation before 
  making a Royal home available.’
       ‘You don't want our help then?’ Nilo said, his head 
  dropping and looking utterly crestfallen.
       ‘Oh we do, it's just...’
       ‘Excellent,’ Nilo interrupted. ‘We'll move up there this 
  afternoon. ‘Does the lodge come with any staff?’
        ‘It usually has a stable hand and butler as well as the 
  cooks,’ Sir Theobold said responding without really thinking.
       ‘Fabulous. That will suit us perfectly. Thank you so much, 
  Sir Theobold. You won't regret this.’ Nilo turned on his heel, 
  gave Loriana a salacious wink that made her eyebrows rise in 
  shock, and swiftly left the room so that he could tell his 
  friends the good news. 
        ‘We'd better warn the Lodge they're coming then,’ Lori 
  said to a still stunned Sir Theobold.
       ‘How did that happen?’ he asked. ‘I am the ruler of this 
  entire city, I command a watch of several thousand, have you and 
  several other powerful mages and clerics at my beck and call, 
  and yet that little trickster has just procured the Royal lodge.’
  
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        Loriana shrugged her slender shoulders before replying. 
  ‘Water is essential, we need him and his friends. Besides, they 
  aren't exactly dangerous, just cheeky. It's best to be friends 
  with halflings, especially after all the history.’
       Sir Theobold just nodded slowly, agreeing with his wise 
  advisor.
        In a secure and hidden space, that almost no living beings 
  were aware of, a red-robed figure listened to the wise words and 
  nodded its head in agreement, a broad smile on its small red, 
  child-like face.
       
        
  
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  C haos in the City
   
   
  Garth Miller was a fine upstanding young man, tall and broad 
  shouldered, with unkempt blond hair. He was a farmer by trade, 
  growing cereal crops on the fields outlying the city of 
  Salvington, as his family had done for over fifty years. He was 
  also the newest and, at twenty six, the youngest member of the 
  elected Council of Salvington, having been elected to a seat 
  himself when his father had stepped down earlier in the year. He 
  represented the farmers and outlying workers and voiced their 
  views in Council debates. 
        Today Garth was in a hurry. He dashed through the streets 
  with long strides, along the wide thoroughfares of Salvington, 
  determined to raise a very personal issue with the council. 
        He had been walking through the city two nights before 
  when he stumbled across a man behaving strangely; it was only 
  blind chance that had saved him. The man, a lunatic, had tried 
  to rob him but as Garth had slipped from his grasp the frenzied 
  man had staggered in front of an oncoming coach on the main 
  street. Even though he had been hit by both horse and carriage 
  the man got up and tried to run off. He succeeded in going a 
  good quarter-mile, bleeding profusely and leaving a bloody trail 
  along the streets, before finally collapsing. When the City 
  
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  Guard found the man he had died from his injuries but they did 
  find a small packet of a strange powder on him. Garth had made 
  some enquiries afterwards and discovered this was not the first 
  such incident recently. In fact, the tavern district was 
  becoming increasingly dangerous. He was incredulous that no one 
  had said anything in council and that the general public had not 
  been made aware of the situation. Having had his own safety 
  threatened, he decided he would raise the matter with his fellow 
  Councillors.
        He marched swiftly down Main Avenue, the oak-lined street 
  on which all the main temples were situated, and arrived at the 
  large stone building of the Council House, the House of Marr, 
  the god of Law and Order. He strode through the double doors, 
  nodding to the guards as he went, and veered off to the side 
  door where the Councillors went before entering the chamber. The 
  general public were allowed in to the upper gallery to watch 
  proceedings but were intensively searched before entering. 
  Several robed priests and the Council mage were also on hand to 
  stop any trouble makers or assassination attempts. 
        Garth entered the pre-meeting chambers perspiring heavily 
  from the speed of his walk. He spent a moment trying to slow his 
  breathing and generally compose himself before proceedings 
  began. He knew that some on the Council did not think all that 
  
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  much of him and he knew that he needed to give the right 
  impression to those who didn't know him. Sweating like a pig was 
  not a great way to show he was more than just a farmer. A bell 
  sounded in the chamber and slowly the Councillors filed into the 
  round debating chamber. There was a large central dais, some 
  fifteen feet across, with a swivelling chair for the Speaker, 
  who organised proceedings, in the middle of it and three rows of 
  benches circling it with intermittent breaks. Garth's seat was 
  in the third row back, even though his father had been on the 
  front benches when he retired, having served for twenty-one 
  years. He would have to wait his turn, maybe in years to come, 
  for his chance to sit at the front and lead proceedings. For now 
  he would have to wait for the free questions at the end of the 
  session before he could raise his questions, since the council 
  had a strict agenda. He sat in pensive mood, preoccupied by what 
  was to come, only half listening to debates over the taxes of 
  the seasonal merchants, trade agreements with the chalk dwarves 
  and the need for greater mining rights and the debate with the 
  thunder dwarves over them. 
        When the agenda had been concluded the Speaker, a small 
  wiry man with grey hair, stood and called for free question 
  time. At this point anyone could ask questions or raise points 
  with the Council that concerned them. Garth leaped off his bench 
  
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  and even raised his right arm, as a child in school would do. 
  There were a few muffled guffaws from the chamber and one or two 
  age-related comments being whispered, but the Speaker did turn 
  to him.
       ‘Yes. Councillor for the farms and outlying workers.’
       ‘Thank you Speaker,’ Garth said nervously and coughed to 
  clear his throat. ‘I have been witness to a very grave situation 
  in the city, one I find hard to believe has not been brought to 
  our attention already in this chamber.’
       He then related the tale of the attack the two days 
  previously and the discovery of the strange powder on the body.
        ‘So, I believe we have a real problem, one we should be 
  looking into,’ Garth finished.
       ‘Young man,’ a tall dark man in the front row began in 
  response. ‘I believe you have just witnessed someone a bit the 
  worse for drink. I may add that a young farmer such as yourself 
  has probably had little contact with those down and out types of 
  the big city, but these things do occur.’
       Garth was shocked at the condescending tone. He was about 
  to respond when a second front bencher stood and turned to 
  address him.
       ‘In support of my colleague, while I regret that you were 
  attacked Councillor, these things do happen in a big city; it's 
  
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  why we have a Guard. If you are feeling vulnerable it may be 
  wise to step down from your role on the Council and head back to 
  the farm where the pace of life is a little slowerr,’ the man 
  said, deliberately slurring the last word to mimic the accent of 
  many farmers. This brought a ripple of laughter from the 
  Councillors.
       Garth stood again and blurted out ‘But surely this isn't 
  normal, people being run over and trying to walk away, and what 
  of this powder?’
       ‘Young man, if I shook the robes of the council wizard up 
  there I'm sure you would find any number of things falling out 
  of his pockets, including powders, potions and who knows what 
  else. I'm afraid it just isn't that significant. Now, let's move 
  on shall we,’ the tall dark man said.
       Garth sat back down feeling stupid and small. He couldn't 
  believe his point had just been dismissed so quickly, and with 
  such apathy. He stared long and hard at the two Councillors in 
  the front row and wondered who they were. As he stared at the 
  backs of their heads he couldn't help but notice that they both 
  appeared to be looking up into the gallery. He couldn't see from 
  his position at whom, but he kept watch on the pair. 
        After a couple of questions from other Council members 
  were answered, the Council was dismissed till the following 
  
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  week. Garth rushed out of his seat to the front of the benches. 
  He looked up and was shocked to lock eyes with a stunningly 
  beautiful red-headed woman. She stared back at him and gave him 
  a smile and a wink before turning her back on him to leave. He 
  was delighted but then deflated as he realised that the two 
  Councillors had obviously just been admiring this beautiful 
  visitor to the public gallery and were not in fact communicating 
  with some suspicious third party.
        Back in the chambers Garth tried to find the two men who 
  had opposed him but they were nowhere to be seen. He spent 
  several moments scanning the room but they appeared to have left 
  already. He hurried out of the door and through the double doors 
  on to Main Avenue. He looked left and right up the street and 
  thought he caught a glimpse of one of the men heading down the 
  road in the direction he usually came from. He set off, running 
  to try to catch up, dodging in and out of other pedestrians, but 
  he couldn't see the Councillor anywhere when he looked up again. 
  Perhaps he has turned off, Garth thought. He turned off Main 
  Avenue as well and realised that he was heading for the tavern 
  district. In spite of his recent attack in the area, Garth kept 
  going. It was still daylight and he was too worked up to have 
  any fear of the streets at this time. 
        The tavern district was a busy place in such a large city, 
  
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  with all types of drinking dens available for whatever need a 
  man or being of any other race fancied. There were quiet 
  taverns, where a relaxed drink and a chat could be had, and 
  raucous ones where a fight was almost a nightly affair. There 
  were inns for specific races too; ones favoured by educated 
  light gnomes, like the Cerebral Celestial, many dwarven taverns, 
  such as the Gold Mine and Foaming Tankard, but there was only 
  one elven tavern, the Yllana's Idle, such was the scarcity of 
  elves in the city. Garth peered in through the windows of 
  several of the human establishments as he walked by but with 
  little joy. He had no idea where the other Councillor might have 
  gone, perhaps not even this way. He decided to make his way home 
  and started to head out of the district and back to the 
  boulevards for the mile long walk to the city's edge then 
        He had gone no more than a few hundred yards when he heard 
  a call.
       ‘Councillor! Councillor!’
        Garth turned to see who was there but could see no one.
       ‘Strange,’ he thought, ‘perhaps it's another Councillor.’
       ‘Over here, Councillor!’ the call came.
       Garth stopped and looked all around. He turned back and 
  came to a side street where a man stood smiling.
       ‘Councillor, please,’ he called. ‘I need to talk to you.’
  
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       Garth was suspicious but he was a burly farmer and thought 
  that, even though this seemed odd, he could handle himself if he 
  had to get away. He strode toward the man who continued to smile 
  at him.
       ‘Hello Councillor!’ he beamed as he threw a huge right hand 
  punch at Garth.
       Garth was struck just on the left side of his head and 
  staggered back, thumping against something, someone behind him. 
  The man behind, who felt like a bear to the confused farmer 
  turned Councillor, held him upright in a firm grip. The thug who 
  had struck him advanced and thumped him in the guts. Garth 
  doubled over. He was then smashed on the back of the head with 
  something made of steel, probably the pommel of a dagger. He 
  fell to the floor, clinging to consciousness as the booted feet 
  came for him. Both men set about him without any mercy, kicking 
  him in the stomach and back. He could feel blood running down 
  the back of his head from the blow and he could hear his ribs 
  cracking under the force of the kicks.
       ‘What have I done to deserve this?’ he thought, as he 
  accepted more and more blows. He tried to call out but the 
  kicking continued, seven, eight, nine blows from each side. He 
  wasn't going to survive this he knew. His mind desperately tried 
  to work it out, why, who, what is happening, but the relentless 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /309
  pounding kept on.
       Surely they would stop but he needed a miracle now he 
  thought.
        Garth's miracle arrived in an unusual form. Just when he 
  thought he could take no more and he was losing all his senses, 
  he was brutally reminded that he had not. A shout, a great 
  booming shout that almost burst his eardrums and made him shake 
  stopped the pounding. His two assailants stopped their kicking 
  and turned to face the newcomers, a pair of dwarves. They 
  advanced upon the dwarves, who had been walking past the end of 
  the side street and had witnessed the shoeing poor Garth was 
  receiving. The Thunder dwarf pulled a mighty hammer from behind 
  his back and advanced too. The assailants thought better of it, 
  turned tail and ran off. There are few ways to placate an irate 
  thunder dwarf, and they both believed their job was done.
        The thunder dwarf, with ragged, dreadlocked, grey-blue 
  hair, hurried down the street to see the virtual pulp that was 
  Garth. He knelt down and placed a thick hand just above Garth's 
  mouth. He could feel the Councillor’s breath.
       ‘He breathes,’ said the thunder dwarf to his colleague. 
  Let's get him back to ours. Let Downna take a look at him. He 
  may be able to piece the poor creature back together. The 
  thunder dwarf’s friend lifted Garth and put him over an 
  
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  impossibly broad shoulder as delicately as he could and the 
  dwarves set off to their rooms in a nearby dwarven tavern, an 
  unconscious and gravely wounded Garth bouncing around like a 
  small sack of potatoes on the companion’s back.
       
       He didn't know what had really happened or how long he had 
  been unconscious but when he came round Garth was surprised that 
  the first face he saw was that of a chalk dwarf, with soft 
  creamy coloured skin and straw coloured hair. His soft brown 
  eyes stared down at him. The equally smooth, soothing voice 
  spoke.
       ‘Don't try to move too much young man. You may break again!’
       ‘Where am I?’ Garth asked.
       ‘In a tavern. My friend Alto found you and brought you back 
  here. You're lucky he did, those wounds took a great deal to 
  heal and you'll still feel it for a while. What had you done to 
  deserve that type of assault?’ the chalk dwarf asked.
       ‘I don't know. I am a Councillor, Garth Miller. They called 
  me over and just attacked.’
       ‘The dangerous life of a politician, aye. Some say you're 
  no more than thieves anyway,’ the chalk dwarf joked. ‘Anyhow, I 
  am Downna, priest of Kronk, and you are a lucky boy.’
       ‘Thank you for helping me,’ Garth uttered and lifted his 
  
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  head slightly. He looked around the room and saw several other 
  dwarves. Another chalk dwarf, three thunder dwarves, a lightning 
  dwarf and could that really be a granite dwarf! Garth's eyeballs 
  nearly bulged out of his head
       ‘I take it you haven't ever see this many of us up close 
  before?’ Downna asked.
       ‘Not really, I have seen some of you, but, is he a...’
       ‘A granite dwarf, yes,’ Downna finished.
       The extraordinary looking dwarf stood up and walked over to 
  Garth’s side. He was about four feet in height, slightly shorter 
  than the other dwarves, but must have been close to five feet in 
  width and three in depth. He had jet black hair and completely 
  black eyes that shone in the daylight. Most extraordinary though 
  was his skin. It was like a shiny rock surface of deepest 
  obsidian with little silvery flecks in it. Garth just stared.
       ‘I am glad to see you recovering,’ the granite dwarf said, 
  his voice so deep it was hard to hear; it sounded like a 
  rumbling of huge heavy boulders. ‘You look better now than when 
  we found you at least. I am Barakello, and, yes, I am a granite 
  dwarf.’
       So he had been with the thunder dwarf. What had Downna said 
  his name was, Alto? ‘Thank you,’ was all Garth could manage.
       The burly thunder dwarf Alto approached and lent over 
  
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  Garth. ‘So, what precipitated that little scuffle then? It's not 
  every day anyone gets so public a beating without having done 
  something. We're not going to regret having rescued you are we?’ 
  Alto said, trying his best to whisper.
        ‘I really have no idea. I have just come from the 
  Council's weekly meeting. I asked a question about...’ Garth 
  stopped. Surely this couldn't be related, could it? But he only 
  asked a brief question and had been silenced so quickly that 
  barely anyone would have registered what he had said. Unless.. 
  Garth felt faint. What if the Councillors were in on this 
  problem? What if they were causing the trouble? 
       Seeing the anguished look on his face, Alto asked ‘what 
  troubles do you have then young man?’
       ‘I.. I'm  not sure. I may just be seeing conspiracy where 
  there is none, but I don't really know,’ Garth replied.
       ‘Then tell us and see if we can all make sense of it. We 
  have been around a few more years than you and seen a great many 
  things, perhaps we can help. Besides, we're between adventures 
  at the moment, anyway.’  
       Garth related his story to the dwarven band who listened 
  intently, nodding and shaking their heads at the appropriate 
  moments.
       ‘There may well be something going on then,’ Alto said to 
  
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  Garth and the group. ‘Rest here a day or so, lie low. We'll take 
  a look around this area and see what we can find out too. See if 
  anything matches what you saw.’
       ‘Thank you,’ was all Garth could manage before he felt the 
  need to rest his head and drift off to sleep again.
       In a plush villa in the north of the city two Councillors 
  were entertaining their favourite new friend. The stunningly 
  beautiful red-haired woman had appeared in the city only a week 
  previously but she had totally beguiled the pair of them. She 
  had appeared in the public gallery at the Council meeting and 
  had been anxious to meet with them afterwards. After a couple of 
  days of dining and drinking, she had introduced them to this 
  wonderful snuff, as she called it, a delicate powder made from 
  rare flowers. It was all the rage in Findon and Adur, she 
  assured them. It made you feel fantastic and allowed for much 
  greater clarity of mind and thought. Wouldn't it be helpful to 
  such commanding men as themselves, she had enthused. 
        They had both tried it and found that this woman, Leila 
  she called herself, was right. They did feel fantastic. After 
  another couple of days the subject of the downturn in the tavern 
  district came up as they were endlessly chatting. Leila put it 
  
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  to them that perhaps whatever was happening might be a type of 
  social cleansing. The Councillors, desperate to stay very much 
  on Leila's good side, agreed. They could definitely see it that 
  way. So what if a few drunkards went a bit madder, the city 
  would be better off without that sort of person, the pair 
  thought.
        Leila expressed her delight that they agreed with her. 
  That night, the Councillors both believed they had had the night 
  of their lives with the beautiful woman, though they didn't 
  remember bumping their heads. She had given them all they could 
  handle and more, or so they believed.
        
       
       
        
        
       
  
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  Making a 
   
   Wrong Enemy
   
   
  Cheragai received his orders from Akkron Puttnik with glee. 
  Though he hated the little shadow gnome, who had effectively 
  enslaved him, this new mission was much more to his liking. 
  Capture several halflings; beat them to within an inch of their 
  lives then leave them in the street appearing to have been 
  attacked by vigilantes for peddling the Spice. Cheragai let out 
  a guttural snarl, one he hadn't managed in weeks since being 
  stuck in his infernal human form. He stormed out of his private 
  room and quickly made his way to the street corners, where the 
  remaining few disguised devils who were working for him were 
  distributing Spice to an ever growing number of the residents of 
  Abinger. He took the devils, fools each and every one of them, 
  to one side.
       ‘We seek halflings. Any will do. Capture one and disable 
  it. When it is subdued plant Spice on it and dump it in the 
  street, somewhere prominent, not round here. Somewhere where we 
  aren't. Got that?’ Cheragai barked the order, a touch of his 
  devil nature starting to come through in his voice.
        ‘Yess, yess bosss,’ the three transformed devils he had 
  rounded up replied. They started to jump up and down in their 
  excitement.
  
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       ‘Stop that!’ he ordered, his eyes burning with infernal 
  fire.
         Cheragai had had to dismiss most of his invading force 
  already as the longer they had been in the city the more 
  unstable they had become and the more of a liability they were. 
  He had tried the usual threats to calm them, even ripped open a 
  few throats, but the amount of time they were spending in human 
  form was becoming difficult for them all to maintain. How he 
  would make that gnome pay for doing this to him!
        ‘Just get on with it! And don't attract any attention 
  while you do it or you'll have me to answer to, both here and 
  when we eventually get back to the hells. You wouldn't want to 
  be gone permanently would you?’
       There was a collective swallow from the three devils. They 
  all nodded, then shook their heads in unison but were not quite 
  sure what the correct response was.
        Cheragai just looked away. It amazed him that, having 
  spent all this time on a prime material, there were hierarchies 
  everywhere and that the more intelligent had to suffer the 
  interminable stupidity of an underclass on all planes. Perhaps 
  one day he would create his own plane. Just him and perhaps a 
  consort. And a gnome to torture and resurrect on a daily basis. 
  He smiled at the thought.
  
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        The three devils in human form walked back on to the 
  street, intent on doing their master’s bidding. They slowly left 
  their peddling area and made their way to the main avenues of 
  the town. There they tried to be inconspicuous as they surveyed 
  the street, keeping an eye on any halflings that wandered past. 
  There were a few in the town, mostly earth halflings, though a 
  couple of blue-green water halflings were still around helping 
  to rectify the damage they had caused from the high tide.
        A pair of cheerful earth halflings then passed them by and 
  smiled at the group. Just after, the pair turned off down a 
  quieter side street and the devil band seized their chance. They 
  followed just behind and called out a greeting.
       ‘Hey there!’
       The halflings turned round and were greeted by an 
  unexpected onslaught of fists and booted feet. The devils showed 
  no mercy, quickly knocking the poor halflings into 
  unconsciousness, then binding and gagging them. They threw 
  cloaks over the bodies and carried them as fast as they could to 
  their secure store room, where they kept the Spice hidden, just 
  a few streets away. 
        The devil band quickly contacted Cheragai, who arrived 
  minutes later. 
       ‘Excellent work! You have excelled yourselves. I thought I 
  
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  might have to wait a while but you have done well,’ he said as 
  he examined the beaten pair of halflings. ‘OK. Put ten packs of 
  Spice in the pockets of each one and dump them in the street but 
  wait till it's nearer dusk. I don't want anyone to see you do 
  it.’
       ‘What if they wake up before then boss?’ a devil-human 
  asked.
       Cheragai smiled and drew back his human arm. As he swung to 
  slap the face of the first halfling it transformed back into the 
  great paw of the real Cheragai, the eight-foot devil fist bashed 
  the already dazed halfling. The poor little creature's head 
  snapped back and flopped forward.
       ‘Is he dead?’ a devil asked. 
       Cheragai shook his head with a wicked smile on his face. He 
  had practiced torture for many years and knew exactly how to 
  draw out a punishment beating.
       He advanced upon the next halfling and slapped the second 
  poor creature hard too. ‘There, they won't wake till tomorrow, 
  maybe not even till the next day. They may never be the same 
  either but that is not our concern.’ 
        Several hours later the two bodies were dumped in 
  conspicuous places in the town, where they were quickly 
  discovered by concerned passersby. The town watch was called 
  
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  along with a priest, at which point the Spice was discovered.
        News of the find quickly spread around the town. Halflings 
  were to blame for the problems. Of course, the people thought it 
  all made sense too. They had caused the high tide as well and 
  now were selling this evil stuff on the streets. The people of 
  Abinger began to take to the streets that night on the lookout 
  for halflings. It was just like the Persecution all over again, 
  with those that could remember it muttering that maybe they 
  should have finished the job back then.
       
       While the devils of Abinger went about their work, a 
  similar message had been sent to the street dealers of Findon 
  and Ingles. Though the human associates and subordinates of 
  Djemmini were not naturally as violent or malevolent as the 
  devils, they were equally efficient.
        In Findon, a water halfling was found badly beaten on the 
  boulevard by the river, but carrying twenty packets of Spice. He 
  was swiftly dragged away semi-conscious, to the palace for 
  further interrogation.
        In Ingles an earth halfling, one some recognised as having 
  assisted in the clear up of the town after the mudslide, was 
  found outside the town hall. Again he had been badly beaten and 
  was carrying a vast quantity of Spice.
  
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        As news travelled around the city of Findon and town of 
  Ingles a similar reaction to that in Abinger began to take hold.
        Halflings were to blame for the Spice epidemic and the 
  ‘natural disasters’. People began to take to the streets in 
  search of any of the little people.
       
       ‘Sir, we have a situation,’ Argyll called loudly as he 
  knocked on Sir Theobold’s door.
       ‘A situation?’ the call came back, ‘but it's nearly 
  midnight. Can't it wait?’
       ‘No, Sir. We need you now urgently,’ Argyll replied.
       The door flew open and a dishevelled Sir Theobold, dressed 
  only in his nightshirt, stared at his closest advisor. ‘What is 
  it?’
       ‘Put something on, Sir, and come with me. I'll explain on 
  the way.’
       Sir Theobold dressed as fast as he could and rejoined 
  Argyll, who led him down through some of the palace’s secret 
  tunnels to the chambers where the water halfling was being held. 
  Loriana was already there, somehow looking as immaculate as ever.
       ‘So. What is this all about? Who's he? Why am I up?’ Sir 
  Theobold rattled off.
       ‘He was found beaten but alive on the riverside boulevard 
  
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  with twenty packets of Spice on him,’ Loriana replied.
       ‘Oh, really! Your habit or distributing it, were you?’ Sir 
  Theobold asked the blue-green childlike creature.
       The badly bruised halfling looked up through swollen eyes 
  and spoke through puffy lips and a bloody nose.
       ‘I was attacked. This isn't mine. It's a set up.’
       ‘He tells the truth, Sir’ Argyll butted in.
       ‘Well of course he does, Argyll. Firstly we have some 
  information on who we think is behind this. Secondly I've just, 
  somehow, handed over the Royal lodge to some of his mates. I 
  would be very surprised if they were going to jeopardise that. 
  No. This is sinister, Argyll. Those responsible are trying to 
  deflect attention from themselves. Has word of this got out yet?’
       ‘Apparently there are rumours Sir.’
       ‘Well, quell them. Do it now. I will not have a halfling 
  cull on my hands as well. We have quite enough to deal with at 
  present.’
       ‘Certainly, Sir. I will get our operatives out countering 
  the rumours.’
       ‘Any word from your father yet, Loriana?’
       ‘Not since they left for Salvington.’
       ‘Blast! I really could do with them here.’
       ‘I will try and contact him, Sir.’
  
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       ‘Good, do what you can.’
       ‘Argyll, heal him and get him cleaned up, but he remains 
  here. Don't let anyone know anything other than it was a mistake 
  and the halfling found was an innocent party. I've almost had 
  enough of this!’
       
       From an impossibly secure location a small childlike figure 
  was watching the events unfold in the three locations his 
  Renegades had affected. His blood was beginning to boil as he 
  saw the people turn their anger upon the halflings of the towns 
  and city. 
       ‘No! This cannot be happening. I will not allow this to 
  happen. How dare they do this to my halflings, how dare they 
  cross the Red Baron! How daarree theeeyyy!!’ He yelled at the 
  top of his voice.
       The nine members of the halfling Renegades received an 
  urgent summons to attend a meeting. Time was of the essence.
       
       
  
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  O ff to the Next City
   
   
  Salvington received two sets of visitors under the cover of 
  darkness the day after Garth had been beaten to within an inch 
  of his life.
        The Company arrived in a quiet back street in the tavern 
  district, an area that Ethandril seemed to know well. He 
  explained to the group that on his many travels over the years 
  he had been to Salvington on several occasions. Initially it was 
  no more than a stopping post village before entering The Chalk 
  Dwarf Kingdom of Danbury, a hilly region covering a vast swathe 
  of the south west of the continent. He claimed to have seen it 
  grow into the city it was today, carefully leaving out any 
  mention of the time he accidentally burnt a third of the town 
  down some three hundred years ago in a show of bravado to 
  impress a group of impressionable human maidens. Fortunately for 
  Ethandril Thililisfarne, neither humans nor dwarves lived long 
  enough to remember his recklessness. The company, all wearing 
  their drab grey cloaks so as not to attract too much attention, 
  exited the side alley on to the main thoroughfare.
       ‘OK, Ethan, which way?’ Orion asked in a whisper.
       ‘Well, we could try Yllana's Idle, the only elven tavern I 
  know of.’
  
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       ‘Too risky, let's just have a wander around and see what 
  the general feeling's like,’ Orion continued. ‘You can always 
  hide us in another rope trick if you've remembered it.
       ‘I'm never without it.’
       ‘Let's do this incognito,’ Catarina said. ‘Mass 
  invisibility?’
       ‘It'll do for the general masses,’ Apollo replied, ‘though 
  remember this place is crawling with dwarves and they can 
  usually see through it, so walk as normally as possible, 
  especially you, furnace face, unless you want to have to explain 
  yourself.’
       ‘Do you take me for a fool Apollo?’ Ethan said indignantly. 
  He got only stony silence in response from the haughty elf. 
  Catarina cast her spell and to the many humans and some dwarves 
  of the city they were no longer there. The group set off in the 
  night and it wasn't long before they saw the tell-tale signs of 
  the Spice. There were one or two shabby looking humans muttering 
  to themselves in alleyways and the soft but distinctive hiss of 
  the word, Spiccccce.
       
       The second arrival also came as quietly as possible. Using 
  the innate ability of powerful shadow gnomes to shadow walk, the 
  assassin travelled from Findon to Salvington, skirting the real 
  
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  world in the realm of shadow. It was the type of journey he had 
  done on numerous occasions but it still gave him chills. Darios 
  was not a natural magician; unlike many of his race he only used 
  the ability out of necessity. He preferred his own skills of 
  stealth and was glad to arrive safely and without incident. He 
  arrived in the tavern district, too, an area he knew his 
  brethren and fellow shades would target. Those under the 
  influence of alcohol were always the easiest to persuade to try 
  Spice. He remained in the shadows, barely drawing breath. Where 
  would the elves go, he wondered? He decided to move around and 
  check the taverns; there must be an elven one here, even in a 
  predominantly human and dwarven city. He slunk around the 
  streets, flitting swiftly from shadow to shadow, never making a 
  sound. He peered through tavern windows and side-stepped drunks 
  tottering their way out of them. He saw a sign in the human 
  tongue, one he though he understood, ‘Yllana's Idle’. The sight 
  of the Elven Goddess’ name made him spit into the ground in 
  disgust but he stopped and waited. It was not long before a 
  group of elves came gliding down the street, approaching the 
  inn; he counted four of them. Was this the group. he wondered? 
  Although he could see perfectly well in the dark he was unsure 
  of the sub-race of all four. He knew full well that not all the 
  group he was after were continental elves but was not sure of 
  
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  either the numbers in the group or what the other sub-races 
  were. These four seemed to be two continental and two others, 
  all wearing long cloaks.
       Move or stay? Move or stay? 
       The question raced through the skilled assassin’s mind. He 
  surveyed the area quickly; there were several alleys to escape 
  down or he could shadow jump to escape if needs be.
        Strike! Act now with surprise.
        Making no more noise than a gentle summer breeze he 
  approached the four, staying in the shadows just as they were 
  coming to the front door of the tavern. In a flash of hands he 
  threw four small shadow gnome darts, each tipped with lethal 
  poison. One dart hit a protective shield with a blinding blue 
  flash but the other three struck home. Before the elves or 
  anyone else could see their attacker Darios was already well 
  hidden in the shadows across the street. The three fell to the 
  ground, two quite silent, one calling a prayer to Yllana in 
  utter agony. The fourth with the protective shield looked all 
  around the area, lips visibly casting spell after spell, some 
  Darios recognised as protections, others attempting to find him. 
  He managed a smile. No simple spell would locate him. He watched 
  on as the elf crying out was engulfed in a green glow and 
  appeared to improve, but the other two, still prone, were quite 
  
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  dead, of that he was sure. Darios watched, enjoying the 
  spectacle but feeling disappointed. He felt it hard to believe 
  this was the group he was after. Surely they would be a harder 
  target than this.
       
       The Company had been meandering around the tavern district 
  for more than an hour when they heard a shout. Elwood also felt 
  a strong reaction from his goddess. 
       ‘Something's wrong,’ he said. ‘We must see what's going on.’
       ‘That shout. It came from that way, south,’ Quin pointed.
       ‘Let's go with caution, just walk briskly, don't alert 
  anyone that we're here,’ Apollo added.
       ‘I'll go ahead,’ Orion said and with that blinked further 
  down the street.
       Moving at all speed with long elegant strides the other 
  five hurried to where they heard the shout. They were advancing 
  down the street  towards a group some fifty yards away when 
  Orion materialised in front of them.
       ‘Quick, get in here!’ he said, pulling Quin's arm into a 
  side alley. ‘It's right in front of Yllana's Idle, the elven 
  tavern. There are, were, four elves up there. They've just been 
  attacked by someone as they were about to enter the tavern, and 
  guess what, they can't find the assailant.’
  
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       ‘You were right, Orion,’ Catarina said, peering down the 
  street. ‘It was risky. Do you think they were mistaken for us?’
       ‘Well, we do know that the shadow gnome that caused the 
  blow back from Eclaine's scrying was very powerful,’ Ethandril 
  began. ‘Not as powerful as me of course but they may well have 
  picked up on our snooping around.’
       ‘Shall we go and offer help?’ Cat asked.
       ‘In my considerable experience,’ Apollo said quietly, ‘we 
  have two choices. We can be bold and saunter up there and offer 
  assistance. Let the city know we are here and who we are. Send 
  the rats scurrying for their bolt holes. We then try and weed 
  them out and use boldness as our weapon. Inform the Council of 
  what is happening and get them to crack down on it straight 
  away.’
       ‘Which, of course, carries the risk of whoever just did 
  this having a pop at us,’ Orion added.
       ‘Thank you, ghost, I was just coming to that. That is of 
  course the draw-back. How powerful is our enemy? I am assuming 
  very. So, our other option is to stay in the shadows, make 
  enquiries, be subtle and not take any risks till we know more 
  about whom we are dealing with.’
       ‘I'm for the latter,’ Orion said.
       ‘There's a surprise,’ Apollo sneered back.
  
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       ‘I think the Company should be bold. We should be fearless, 
  we should cut down evil in its tracks and smite them where they 
  stand we should...’
       ‘I think Orion's right,’ Quin cut Ethan off, just as he was 
  warming to his monologue.
       ‘I think so too,’ Elwood agreed. ‘This situation is big. It 
  covers, what, four towns and cities now and involves seriously 
  powerful shadow gnomes and who knows who else is helping them on 
  the surface. We must find out as much as we can so when we do 
  strike against them, we strike hard and true.’
       Ethandril gaped at Elwood for a few seconds. ‘I like the 
  sound of that, strike hard and true. Yes, I may use that myself. 
  You have grown up since we were last together, haven't you?’
       ‘So I think we're agreed, as much as it pains my Solar 
  elven sensibilities. Let's just observe this and make further 
  subtle enquiries before we act. I don't know, I remember when 
  the mere sight of me and my brother was enough to send humans 
  scattering from our path like overgrown bald rats, ‘Apollo 
  lamented.
       
       The following day, after several hours rest in a well 
  hidden rope trick of Ethandril’s making, the Company  arrived 
  without incident at the main Council building on Main Avenue, 
  
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  the House of Marr. The large double doors were guarded by two 
  humans dressed in plate armour and holding large poleaxes. 
  Elwood approached the guards, the company perceiving him to be 
  the least unusual of them for making enquiries.
       ‘Good morning, would it be possible to see the Speaker?’ 
  Elwood enquired.
       The taller of the two guards standing by the right door 
  looked down at the elf of modest height dressed in a grey cloak. 
       ‘S'unlikely. Wha’s ya bizniz.’
       ‘I am an emissary of Yllana and wish an audience with the 
  council to discuss her role in your city.’
       ‘Anyfing that might bring in more elven gals is worf a chat 
  I s’pose,’ the guard chuckled. ‘Dan't move. I'll go and see if 
  ee's araand.’
       ‘Thank you,’ Elwood said in his most amiable manner. He 
  tapped his head twice, the signal to the rest of the group that 
  he was having some success, and stood patiently.
       Five minutes later the brute returned. ‘He'll meet ya, just 
  froo ere,’ the guard said, pointing at the double door.
       Elwood went through to be met by a human of less than 
  average height and grey hair. Did they all look the same he 
  thought? 
       ‘I believe you wish an audience with me or the Council’ the 
  
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  Speaker said quickly. ‘What do you have to say and I'll see 
  whether it's of import to us.’
       ‘As an emissary of Yllana I come with a warning.’
       ‘Oh really! Go on.’
       ‘There is a terrible plague, one afflicting the towns and 
  cities along the southern coast and maybe further afield. It is 
  a powder for imbibing, a highly addictive powder, we believe 
  manufactured by shadow gnomes and..’
       ‘OK, hang on a moment. We are in the grip of a terrible 
  plague, but not a disease,’ the Speaker said, rubbing the back 
  of his neck. ‘Something that must be taken, you mean like a 
  drink, so it's voluntary.’
       ‘Well yes, but those distributing it are..’
       ‘Like grain beer or fruit wines or spirits. There is 
  choice. And how has this come to your noble attention, emissary?’
       ‘We have come from Findon, where the problem is much more 
  widespread but we have seen signs of it here too, especially in 
  the tavern district. It is referred to as Spice and...’
       ‘Emissary, while your tales of woe in Findon are, I'm sure, 
  deeply concerning to you, I can assure you that we, as a 
  democratic council here, are able to look after our own affairs, 
  perhaps a lot better than that bumbling fool, Sir Theobold.’
       Elwood raised an eyebrow at the description. He was unaware 
  
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  of any animosity between the cities and Sir Theobold had 
  indicated that he knew the Speaker. He stared hard at the man, 
  looking for any hint of, of anything. He certainly wasn't addled 
  with the Spice, so what was wrong? Could he be in on it?
       ‘I thank you for your time, Emissary, but I think that 
  there is no need to worry either yourself or the Council with 
  this.’
       ‘But we..’
       ‘Who is this ‘we’ you keep referring to Emissary? You 
  seemed to have come alone, yet you use ‘we’.’
       ‘I have friends. We are trying to solve this problem 
  together.’
       ‘Yet you do not feel you can bring them before me? 
  Emissary, I think it is time you left. If you wish to parlay 
  more I think a little honesty on your part wouldn't go amiss. 
  Good day. Guard!’
       The Speaker turned and walked off through a door and the 
  front door opened.
       ‘Ahht ya come! Time’s up,’ the guard called
       A slightly stunned Elwood walked through the door and 
  linked his hands behind his back, the sign that he hadn't been 
  successful. He turned and walked off down Main Avenue, shadowed 
  by his five friends some distance away.
  
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        Back in the tavern district and under another cloak of 
  mass invisibility Elwood recounted his meeting to the others.
       ‘Something's not right,’ Orion said, when the tale was 
  finished. ‘I've spent a lot of time in human cities since we 
  were last together. Something like this should cause panic to a 
  Council unless they are hiding something.’
       ‘Indeed, these humans are becoming increasingly devious,’ 
  Ethandril added with indignation. ‘Perhaps I should just raze 
  the town again and teach them a lesson?’
       ‘Again?’ Quin asked.
       ‘Ah! Oh, never mind, it was only an accident,’ Ethan 
  replied.
       Just as they were wondering what to do, a shambling 
  creature started towards them.
       ‘Uh Oh!’ Cat said. ‘Spice alert!’
       The man stopped and squinted in their direction and began 
  to advance more quickly. He looked dishevelled, wearing a cloak 
  that looked like it was also his bed and having several days of 
  growth to his beard.
        ‘Stop right there urchin!’ Ethandril called to the man, 
  now no more than ten yards away. ‘You'll find nothing on us, 
  you'll only get hurt.’
       The realisation that these were elves seemed to appeal 
  
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  further to the addled man. He leered at the Company. Then he 
  charged. Having faced addicts before the company knew there was 
  really only one response. Quite whether it was Orion’s dart or 
  Elwood’s magical arrow that killed the man it was impossible to 
  say, but the impact blew him back ten feet. A small sparkle of 
  orange fire faded on Ethandril's finger tips as he stopped his 
  spell, while the other three resheathed their swords. They all 
  just stared at the dead man, another victim of the Spice. 
  Unfortunately, there were also witnesses to the event, as the 
  drawing of swords and loud spell casting had attracted 
  attention, and the invisibility spell was broken. A woman in the 
  street saw the six standing over the body and screamed for the 
  guards, while a young politician had witnessed the whole thing 
  as he made his way back to a local tavern. Garth ran down the 
  alley to the Company and was abruptly stopped by Apollo's sword 
  an inch from his chest.
       ‘You don't seem under the influence, unlike this poor 
  unfortunate. It was necessary to end his suffering quickly, I'm 
  afraid. We've encountered a few like him and sadly they're not 
  stopped by any easier means,’ Apollo said, by way of explanation.
       ‘You've se-seen more like this?’ Garth stammered. ‘I mean 
  elsewhere?’
       ‘It's why we're here,’ Apollo replied, ‘but we may need to 
  
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  leave as we're attracting attention we didn't want to attract, 
  so if you'll excuse..’
       ‘Come with me, I can get you out of here but I would really 
  like to talk more about this.’
       ‘Listen boy, we really don't have time.’
       ‘I am Councillor Garth Miller,’ Garth said standing 
  straight to his full height of a little over six feet. He looked 
  directly into the ancient indigo eyes of the solar elf who was 
  holding a slender shining sword to his chest. ‘I could have you 
  arrested.’
       Apollo just smiled as the others gathered round Garth. 
  ‘Quickly then, Councillor!’ 
       They left the alley from the opposite end from where they 
  had entered, dashed down another small street and on to the 
  tavern where the dwarves were staying.
       ‘I made some new friends the other day and they stay here,’ 
  Garth said. ‘Somehow I seem to be making a lot of non-human 
  friends at the moment.’
       ‘Non-human?’ Quin asked.
       They entered the tavern and soon realised what Garth was 
  talking about. Nearly thirty dwarven faces looked at the seven 
  non-dwarves as they entered and the raucous tavern sounds all 
  died a death in an instant.
  
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       ‘Oh! This day is just getting better and better,’ Apollo 
  said in utter dismay, as he looked back at those staring at him. 
       A burly thunder dwarf near Apollo stood and was about to 
  challenge the slender elf when another thunder dwarf rushed over 
  from a back table.
       ‘Garth,’ Alto said in his deep and phenomenally loud voice, 
  ‘what trouble have you brought to our door now?’
       ‘What I was telling you about this problem, crazed people. 
  Well, these elves know something about it.’
       The whole room was now listening and staring at the still 
  cloaked and hooded elves.
       Ethandril spoke next. ‘This should be conducted a little 
  more privately, I think,’ he said with a smile at Alto. The 
  dwarf nodded.
       ‘Go to our rooms, Garth, the others are there,’ Alto 
  instructed them. Then, looking round the room, said, ‘all of you 
  forget about this, it's for our own good.’
       Noise of an unbearable cacophony for sensitive elven ears 
  started up again almost immediately as the Company followed 
  Garth to the back stairs and up to the dwarves’ rooms.
       Garth had never felt an atmosphere like it. You would need 
  a two-handed sword to cut it, he thought, not just a knife. He 
  was standing in a large room with four beds, with six squat, 
  
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  broad muscular dwarves on one side and six slender elegant, and 
  with their hoods pulled back now, colourful elves on the other. 
  They all just stared at each other. Yhey couldn't have looked 
  more horrified had the Abyss opened up there and then in the 
  middle of the room. The dwarves were repulsed by the elves 
  pointy ears and vivid colouring; how could anyone stand to be so 
  gold as the solar elf or orange as the flame elf? 
        The elves found the dwarves repugnant. The bedraggled 
  appearance of the two thunder dwarves with their dreadlocked 
  hair and beards, the slightly mad-looking lightning dwarf with 
  his white streaked beard and hair all standing on end. The chalk 
  dwarves were the most ordinary looking, all creamy and soft in 
  appearance, but the last creature... the obsidian coloured one. 
  An image went through Quin-Helwig's mind of a normal-sized dwarf 
  being repeatedly bashed over the head with a war hammer till he 
  had been shortened and widened to look like that.
        The silence was broken as Alto came through the door, 
  nearly barging into the back of Quin-Helwig and Catarina as he 
  did so.
       ‘OK, Garth,’ he boomed, ‘explanation time.’
       Garth explained what had happened to the dwarves and turned 
  to Apollo for further confirmation.
       ‘Indeed,’ he added, looking down his slender nose at the 
  
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  dwarves. ‘This is a serious problem and it is certainly here 
  now.’
       ‘I think you should try again at the Council, Garth,’ 
  Elwood suggested. You have further evidence now and perhaps they 
  will listen to you a second time. It is a concern that they 
  knocked both of us back when we brought it to their attention 
  though. They couldn't be in on it could they? I mean, being paid 
  or...’ Elwood paused. ’They weren't under the influence were 
  they? I don't think it's possible to act even remotely normally 
  if you have this stuff.’
       ‘Definitely not,’ Orion added ‘I tried a bit when I was 
  analysing it and I could feel little waves shudder through me 
  and that was just a pinch.’ 
       ‘What do you think is the best way to combat this?’ Downna, 
  the chalk dwar, asked.
       ‘Well, personally, I would go for an assault on the shadow 
  gnomes,’ Ethandril began.
       The mention of the shadow gnomes elicited a deep growl from 
  the granite dwarf, Barakello.
       ‘They are our sworn enemies. If it is them then you have 
  two things I can tell you right now. A very serious problem and 
  any help I can offer. Many years have granite dwarves and shadow 
  gnomes battled unknown to the surface world. Raging wars that 
  
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  last years, I have lost three members of my family to those evil 
  spawn of Hades.’
       The company were all quite taken aback by the offer of 
  help. They looked from one to another before Orion spoke.
       ‘We will leave Salvington. We stand out too much here 
  anyway to operate effectively. So we'll go back to Findon and 
  work out a plan from there. If you can assist Garth here and 
  work on the Councillors that would be of most help. Inform all 
  your brethren about the Spice and how evil it is. There are 
  tell-tale signs, the moaning and hissing of the word. People who 
  look like they've been awake for days. If you can find out who's 
  selling it on the streets even better; they tend to be humans, 
  as we captured one in Findon but he wouldn't say much.’
       ‘We will do what we can,’ Alto offered. ‘Though it is 
  unusual to work with elves, this would appear to be a problem 
  for us all to solve.’
       ‘In fact we were brought in to help by my charming 
  daughter, so it's already spreading out across the races, 
  humans, elves and now dwarves,’ Ethandril beamed. He received 
  only grim nods in response from the thunder dwarves, though the 
  lightning dwarf, Clement, seemed a little more excited. 
       ‘We'll cause a few sparks to fly around here, don't you 
  worry,’ he said as he clicked his fingers, which sparked 
  
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  lightning, a look of mischief on his face. Ethandril smiled back 
  at him, delighted by the display. That was his kind of dwarf!
        ‘I'll take you out of here so you can travel back then,’ 
  Garth said. ‘These rooms are magically sealed against travel.’
       ‘Probably not mine,’ Ethan grinned, ‘but I'll humour the 
  proprietor.’
       The elves and dwarves nodded to each other in grim mutual 
  respect, then Garth led them out of the building to the back 
  street.
       ‘Good luck, Garth’ Elwood said. ‘Yllana will watch over 
  you. We will contact you soon.’
       The Company circled up as Ethandril cast his teleport spell 
  and they vanished. 
         
       
       
  
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  Darios is on the T
   
   rail
   
   
  After attacking the four elves outside Yllana's Idle, the wrong 
  ones as he subsequently found out, Darios decided to make 
  contact with his Clan wizard. Mentza was very informative during 
  their brief magical communication and gave Darios the location 
  of the warehouse in the heart of Salvington. Still under cover 
  of darkness, he arrived at the warehouse being used by the 
  Shades to store and then to distribute the Spice. He could see 
  several human guards on the doors and two more on a roof top 
  opposite. He kept to the shadows, melding into them as he waited 
  for the doors to open to let someone in or out. He was rewarded 
  when, only a few minutes later, the doors opened briefly to 
  allow a man out. Simultaneously, Darios used his innate shadow 
  jumping ability to move into the shadow the doors had created 
  and then move silently into the building. No one had seen him; 
  no one had heard him. Once inside, he silently crept around, 
  taking a good look at the operation. There were no shadow gnomes 
  as far as he knew in the warehouse, just some human lackeys and 
  an old friend. He skirted the inside of the warehouse and 
  arrived at a small room in one corner. Two men were holding a 
  conversation there. Darios listened in and recognised the voice, 
  Lord Djemmini of Nyrex. 
  
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        The two humans were startled when their conversation was 
  interrupted by the intruder. Djemmini started the first four 
  words of a holding spell when he recognised the newcomer. The 
  height, the crossed bandoliers holding very small but lethal 
  shadow gnome darts. 
       ‘Why, Darios, not here for me, I presume, or you would 
  never have alerted me to your presence,’ Djemmini said, smiling 
  at the gnome.
       ‘Greetings again, Priest. No, I am not here for you. I have 
  other targets; perhaps you know of them?’
       ‘Not that I'm aware of. Who has crossed you this time?’
       ‘Clan leader has sent me after a group of elves that he 
  believes are trying to follow our movements. They are to be 
  eliminated before they cause any trouble. I have followed them 
  from Findon to here.’
       ‘From Findon! We lost one of our street dealers in Findon 
  in strange circumstances. He hasn't been heard of for some time 
  and all attempts to scry him have been thwarted.’
       ‘Then perhaps we have a common enemy, Priest.’
       ‘Indeed. What else do you know of these elves? We can keep 
  a watch out for them.’
       ‘They are a mixed group, not all copper elves. There are at 
  least four of them but in all likelihood more.’
  
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       ‘They shouldn't be too hard to find in Salvington; there 
  are almost more shadow gnomes here at the moment than there are 
  elves,’ Djemmini laughed.
       Darios was unsure of the humour and let out a small hiss, 
  his version of a chuckle, so as not to feel out of alignment 
  with his associate.
       ‘I will tell the street dealers to keep watch. In the 
  meantime, stay here as the day comes closer. You are quite safe 
  in this place, it's well warded against intruders.’
       ‘I did not find it so, but I will accept your offer. I must 
  also congratulate you on how well you have done for the Shades. 
  Mentza has been most impressed as has clan Leader Kymru.’
       ‘I accept your most gracious praise, Darios. They will be 
  even more pleased to know that their plan is working. We have 
  infiltrated the top end of society here too. Two members of the 
  Council and the Speaker are all now using the new Spice at the 
  behest of a certain red-headed ‘woman’ they entertain regularly.’
       Darios smiled. He was impressed with this unusual human, an 
  emotion he had never felt for one before.
       
       In spite of their attempts to remain anonymous, the Company 
  were not too difficult to spot for those actually looking for 
  them. Word reached Darios the following day that a group of 
  
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  elves were moving, possibly in the direction of the House of 
  Marr, and although it was daylight he should try to follow. 
  Darios left the warehouse and stuck to the shadows as he made 
  his way across the city. It was to his advantage that it was 
  autumn and not too hot and sunny but he still wore his cloak and 
  hood. He arrived at the House of Marr Council building just as a 
  copper elf was being escorted out by a tall, burly human guard. 
  Staying well hidden, he followed the elf as he walked 
  nonchalantly down Main Avenue towards the tavern district.
       Was this one of them?
       The copper elf crossed over the street towards his side of 
  the Avenue, one street further down. Darios moved swiftly to 
  intercept him. As he reached the next alley he nearly gave 
  himself away as there were now six elves all openly discussing a 
  meeting with the Speaker. They must have been with their friend 
  all along, or were following along also hidden.
       This was definitely them. They were his target.
       Shadow gnome hands moved to poisoned darts in the 
  bandolier. At that moment a man, clearly a Spice addict, 
  wandered into the alley and began to advance on the group.
       What an excellent opportunity!
       He flung two darts just as the group reacted to the Spice-
  addled human. The addict was blasted backwards by a magical 
  
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  arrow and perhaps a dart thrown by one of them. His darts 
  meanwhile had failed to harm the group at all. The dart aiming 
  for what he could now see was a female copper elf had been 
  clipped in flight by another magical arrow and knocked off 
  course. The second dart had hit the broadest of the elves and 
  simply dropped to the floor. He hadn't even noticed. Darios was 
  surprised but strangely pleased.
       A real challenge then!
       At that moment an alarm was raised for the City Guard while 
  a young human arrived and took the elves away with him. Darios 
  followed, staying well hidden in the shadows. They ended up in a 
  dwarven tavern and remained there for some time. It was nearing 
  dusk when they eventually reappeared with the human from the 
  back exit of the tavern. They then vanished almost immediately 
  using a teleport spell. Darios stared long and hard, angry at 
  his inability to finish them off and at his stupidity in not 
  getting to them before.
        He watched as a thunder dwarf came out after a few moments 
  and put his arm around the human before escorting him back in.
       So, dwarves colluding with humans and elves, whatever next? 
       As darkness fell, Darios again used his innate ability to 
  shadow jump to get into the tavern. Once inside, he hid under an 
  unused table from where he observed the young man and his 
  
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  dwarven friends. He counted seven in all. Not wishing to be 
  found as the numbers in the tavern grew, he shadow jumped back 
  out to stay hidden. He waited and watched, moving in and out of 
  shadows past the windows to keep an eye on the group.
        He was rewarded when one chalk dwarf left the table and 
  went to the flight of stairs at the back of the tavern.
       Darios stepped into a shadow outside and shadow jumped back 
  inside the tavern again; he then silently followed his new mark 
  up the stairs. The dwarf stopped at the first door and, using a 
  key, opened it and let himself in. Acting quickly with years of 
  practice at his disposal, the killer shadow gnome rushed in 
  behind. Two poisoned darts were flung into poor Chedda’s back 
  before he could react, but his dwarven resistance to poison 
  stopped him flopping instantly to the floor. Chedda began a 
  prayer to the dwarven god Kronk while turning to face his 
  attacker, as the shadow gnome drew out two wicked blades from 
  his hips. Using his innate powers again, Darios shadow jumped to 
  the other side of the room and rushed forth, plunging both 
  blades into the confused Chedda’s back. The chalk dwarf’s eyes 
  rolled back into their sockets as Darios pulled and twisted the 
  evil blades. Chedda felt the cold pull of death as his soul was 
  destroyed forever. Darios yanked the blades free and searched 
  the room. There was very little of interest to him but the 
  
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  dwarves had left some of their weapons in there. He hid them out 
  of sight and dragged Chedda’s body out of immediate sight from 
  the door way. Then he waited.
        In the main tavern room, the dwarves were discussing the 
  day’s events and the meeting with the elves.
       ‘Are they to be trusted though?’ Alto asked his brother, 
  Rialto.
       ‘I have met some continentals before and, though they are 
  different to us, they are a good race. They have slightly 
  different rules by which they live but I believe them to be 
  trustworthy,’ Rialto replied.
       ‘I have learned some magic from a flame elf before,’ 
  Clement added. ‘Mad as a box of frogs he was but not evil or 
  malicious. I think they are speaking the truth and their story 
  certainly matches what we are seeing around here.’
       ‘Then I think we sit tight here and work with you, Garth. 
  Find out more and perhaps be ready to help,’ Downna, the chalk 
  dwarf priest of Kronk, added.
       Garth shrugged and nodded agreement. There really seemed to 
  be little they could do except observe for now.
       ‘Chedda's bin a while,’ Handle, the third thunder dwarf 
  broke in. ‘Was he OK, not ill or nuffin?’
       ‘Not that I was aware of,’ Downna replied.
  
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       ‘I'll go see where 'e is, check on the room.’
       Handle stood up and crossed the tavern to the back stairs. 
  Having climbed the stairs, he entered the room and was dead 
  forever as a small shadow gnome dropped on him, plunging twin 
  daggers into his neck. The blades sunk deep and fresh dwarf 
  blood sprayed out as the arteries carrying the blood from a 
  strong pumping heart fired it across the room. Darios licked 
  some off his face, savouring the taste. He jumped off the 
  deceased dwarf, and dragged the body out of immediate sight from 
  the door. He didn't try and clean up any of the blood, only 
  wiping a little with his finger and enjoying the taste again.
        After ten minutes and some idle chatter about the state of 
  the rest of Salvington and the Dwarf Kingdom of Danbury from 
  which they came, the group and their new found Councillor friend 
  realised something was wrong since neither dwarf had returned.
       ‘Something's wrong, boys. Weapons ready!’ Alto said. The 
  five remaining dwarves stood up abruptly, causing many in the 
  tap room to look at them warily at first and then with concern, 
  as they hurried to the stairs at the back.
        The five gathered round the door and on the third nod of 
  three burst into their room. Alto was first and nearly slipped 
  over on his third step as he slid on the blood of his dead 
  friend, Handle. Rialto barged in next followed by Barakello, 
  
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  Clement and Downna.
       ‘What in the name of Kronk?’ Rialto began but lost the rest 
  of his sentence as a small dart found his neck. 
       ‘Bah!’ he cried with the volume only a thunder dwarf could 
  manage. The noise could be heard down stairs, down the road and 
  across half the city. The assailant seemed to materialise out of 
  thin air across the room from them. A shadow gnome!
       ‘Shadoowww Gnooommee!!!’ Barakello yelled with the full 
  force of his racial hatred rising within him. 
       Clement was first to react firing off some of his excess 
  static in a small blue bolt of electricity. It hit a magical 
  field inches from the body of the evil looking, grinning, deep 
  purple gnome. The gnome reacted by throwing four more darts. 
  Another hit Rialto, who sunk to his knees fighting with all his 
  will against the poison. One hit the breast plate of Alto and 
  rebounded leaving a dark spot on his armour. The other hit 
  Barakello in the leg. 
       ‘You know full well that has no effect on me, you vile 
  spawn of Hades. I'll send you back to the dark depths from which 
  you came with your evil skull split into three,’ he yelled as 
  the usually lethal gnome poison only seemed to enrage him 
  further. He charged across the room, his black adamantite hammer 
  in both hands and death on his mind.
  
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       Downna was torn between attack and defence but it was clear 
  Rialto needed him. He said a prayer to Kronk to stop the poison 
  and laid his hands upon the stricken Rialto. A green glow 
  engulfed the poor thunder dwarf and the look of pain on his face 
  eased somewhat.
        Darios side stepped the onrushing frenzied granite dwarf 
  with ease. He had fought many before and though fierce fighters 
  they were no match for his agility. Barakello gave a furious 
  swipe just as the gnome moved inches out of reach and shattered 
  the bedstead he had been standing on. The gnome drew his wicked 
  daggers as he moved and nipped towards Alto who had drawn his 
  own hammer. The experienced dwarf didn't rush forward and held a 
  defence against the gnome, who decided to back up to a darker 
  corner of the room. Barakello came rushing in from the side but 
  Darios had backed into the shadows and once again shadow jumped, 
  reappearing in the doorway, just behind Downna and Clement, who 
  was preparing another spell. 
        Clement released a bolt of lightning into the corner of 
  the room just as Barakello swung into it to hit the gnome. The 
  lightning bolt hit Barakello, the force knocking him over into 
  the wall. Though wounded he still managed to lift his head to 
  see what had happened. Alto stared ahead unsure where the gnome 
  had gone. He was rewarded with a gurgling sound from behind. The 
  
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  evil creature was bent over Downna's back, both blades bedded 
  deep into the genial chalk dwarf’s throat. Downna slumped on top 
  of the grievously wounded Rialto as his life force was sucked 
  away forever. 
        Alto stared at the malevolent creature, who smiled back.
       ‘Don't mess with me, Dwarf!’ was all he said. Darios hopped 
  off the back of Downna and out of the door before Alto could 
  react. Darios shadow jumped out of the building to the street 
  outside and called upon his other more powerful ability to 
  shadow walk. 
       ‘No sense staying here,’ he said to no one. He slipped into 
  the realm of shadow and headed back to Imar, City of the Shadow 
  Gnomes, to report to his clan leader, Kymru Galavan.
       
       In the room there was only silence. Alto rolled the body of 
  his fallen comrade off his brother, only to discover that he had 
  lost his battle against the shadow gnome poison. He too had been 
  a victim of the assassin. Barakello was slowly getting back to 
  his feet after recovering from Clement's lightning bolt, his 
  hair still on end. Clement was trying to help Alto while also 
  weeping away tears for two his friends. The granite dwarf 
  staggered over to the thunder dwarf and lightning dwarf.
       ‘This will be avenged!’ his deep rumbling voice said. ‘We 
  
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  will travel to Kronkton, my home in the very depths of the 
  Shuddering Peaks, and move our forces once again to do battle 
  against the shadow gnomes. They have blood on their hands and we 
  will avenge it.’
       Just then there was a very timid knock at the still-open 
  door and the horrified pale face of Garth Miller, the city's 
  youngest Councillor, appeared.
       ‘What have I got you into?’ he asked.
       ‘It's not you, though you will need to take care, young 
  human. There is great evil in this world and it is at work as we 
  speak. Let this be a lesson to you Councillor, so that you may 
  act wisely and know these things,’ Alto replied, still staring 
  at the body of his dead brother.     
       
       
       
       
       
  
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  Renegade 
   
   Meeting
   
   
  The Company arrived back in the gardens of Sir Theobold’s palace 
  and immediately made their way inside, heading for Sir 
  Theobold’s private audience chamber. It was evening and they had 
  much to discuss with the ruler of Findon and the Castleford 
  Kingdom about the serious nature of the Spice problem. There was 
  no doubt in their minds that the malevolent group, known as the 
  Shades were behind this, most of whom would appear to be shadow 
  gnomes in this instance.
        Sir Theobold was already in his audience chamber, meeting 
  with his closest advisers, the light gnome Argyll and the half-
  elf Loriana Thililisfarne, the court mage. They were busy 
  planning the own rumours which would counter the rumour that the 
  halflings were responsible for bringing the Spice to Findon, 
  when the door burst open and the six elves glided in.
       ‘Don't you ever knock? I know you're important and all that 
  but surely I deserve a little more decorum from you?’ Sir 
  Theobold moaned.
       ‘You do still need our help, don't you Theo?’ Apollo drily 
  asked. 
       ‘Well of course. It's why we're all here.’
       ‘Then decorum, as you put it, can wait. We've had an 
  
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  eventful time in Salvington and it's not much better than here,’ 
  Apollo went on.
       ‘We met with dwarves you know, extraordinary they were, all 
  squat and bristling with indignation,’ Ethandril continued. 
  ‘They are really fascinating, you should have more of them 
  around in Findon, they'd soon let you know a thing or two about 
  your city, ha!’
       Sir Theobold merely scowled at the flame elf before 
  continuing his own story of events.
       ‘Well, things have moved on apace here since you left. Yet 
  more troubles.’
       ‘It seems to be the way of things,’ Elwood responded.
       ‘Halflings!’
       The Company simply looked at him.
       ‘One was beaten and left for dead on the river boulevard 
  with his pockets stuffed with Spice.’ 
       ‘A set up, surely?’ Catarina interjected.
       ‘Of course, a set up we know it's not them. They'd have too 
  much to lose here now anyway.’
       The last statement drew only blank expressions, so Sir 
  Theobold thought he would tell the story of how he gave away the 
  Royal lodge at another time.
       ‘We brought the poor fellow here for his own safety and, 
  
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  obviously, to ask the relevant questions and he protests his 
  innocence. We accept that but, of course, the rumours have 
  started. Bad situation it is. The general populace think that 
  halflings are now the source of the Spice and there is bad 
  feeling in the air,’ Sir Theobold finished.
       ‘Are you suggesting another Persecution could be on the 
  cards?’ Catarina asked, her face one of utter horror.
       ‘Well, the Shades have clearly tried to implicate them, if 
  it is them behind this.’
       ‘We're running out of options,’ Orion spoke for the first 
  time. ‘Maybe we should let you loose a few meteor swarms down in 
  those tunnels, Ethan.’
       The flame elf's face lit up in absolute delight. 
       ‘Just what I've said all along. There's not much arguing 
  with a meteor swarm.’
       Loriana, not for the first time, stared at her father and 
  seriously began to doubt her heritage.
       ‘Ethan, no meteor swarms, they're just too destructive,’ 
  she said to her father.  
       ‘When you have reached my level of competence, my darling 
  daughter, then feel free to lecture me. Till then, keep your 
  advice for him!’ Ethan said, waving a hand in Sir Theobold’s 
  direction.
  
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       Catarina tried hard to stifle a giggle, since the words 
  Ethandril and competence were rarely used in the same sentence.
       ‘No matter, Loriana, we need drastic action, and our many 
  years of experience tell us that you must go to the source of 
  the problem. In this case that means we must go and visit the 
  shadow gnomes and put a stop to their fun and games,’ Orion 
  stated in all seriousness.
       ‘Direct action, ghost, the best proposition you've almost 
  ever managed. Well done!’ Apollo added in his usual 
  condescending tone.
       ‘Enough, friend!’ Quin-Helwig interrupted. ‘Orion is right. 
  We must go back to the under-dark and deal directly with these 
  gnomes, however powerful they may be.’
       
       The conversation was stopped by Loriana suddenly shaking 
  her head and putting her slender finger in her ear.
       ‘Ooh, some insect or critter has flown into my ear or 
  something. It's buzzing right through my head,’ she moaned. The 
  buzzing stopped and Loriana heard a whisper right inside her 
  head.
       ‘Meet me at the old hanging tree outside the city. Come 
  now. Bring your friends.’
       She looked dumbfounded.
  
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       ‘A voice just said to meet it at the old hanging tree now. 
  We're all to go,’ she said, shocked that any external uninvited 
  message had managed to penetrate either the palace defences or 
  her own.
       ‘A trap?’ Orion enquired.
       ‘I.. I don't think so. We should go, but let's be 
  prepared,’ Loriana replied.
       ‘Wait just a moment. Ethan,’ Quin suggested ‘who should go? 
  All of us, or should some stay?’
       ‘It said bring your friends,’ Loriana answered.
       ‘I wish to come, this is my Kingdom after all and if there 
  is some strange force trying to help I wish to know who or 
  what,’ Sir Theobold said boldly. ‘However, I think Argyll you 
  should stay here, even though you would be useful, but if 
  anything goes wrong, you'll be in charge. OK?’
       ‘Agreed then. We all go, but let's be ready,’ Orion said, 
  looking at the Company, Loriana and Sir Theobold.
       
       After several minutes of spell casting the members of the 
  Company were ready. Elwood had attempted to scry the area first 
  but there was nothing visible exceot a large, ancient tree with 
  a few thick, low-hanging branches. All weapons were drawn, 
  Quin’s fine-bladed a long and short swords, while Apollo had his 
  
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  sword out pulsing green light. Catarina had enspelled her sword 
  with electricity, ready for the first strike, and Elwood had his 
  bow at the ready.             
        Ethandril cast his teleport spell and they were instantly 
  under the ancient oak tree as daylight was fading. They looked 
  around, searching for their contact, but there was no sign of 
  anyone. Orion started to blink, in and out of sight of the rest 
  of the party, but he too could find no one.
        ‘Well, I hope they hurry up,’ Sir Theobold said ‘We've 
  things to do and if..’
       His mutterings of displeasure were rudely cut off by the 
  thunderous noise of the earth all around them moving. Out of the 
  ground on four sides of them, elementals rose and surrounded the 
  company. Towering earth elementals, some sixteen feet or more 
  high stared down at them and the buzzing of an air elemental or 
  two could be heard above.
       A deep voice coming from one of the elementals spoke.
       ‘Wait, here comes the one you need.’
       Two of the elementals stepped slightly apart and the 
  Company stared hard, still all on tenterhooks, weapons drawn and 
  ready for any strike by the elementals.
       They could make out a small person flying towards them. It 
  was merely a silhouette as it flew in from the east, with the 
  
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  fading sun behind it. Now only twenty yards away they could make 
  out the red cape flowing in the wind wrapped around someone the 
  size of a halfling.
       ‘Is that a halfling?’ Sir Theobold asked.
       ‘I'm guessing it is and there are probably more judging by 
  all these elementals,’ Orion replied.
       ‘I knew they could do this but I never realised they could 
  summon such big creatures,’ Catarina added.
       ‘They're capable of a lot more too,’ Apollo said. ‘Before 
  your time there were stories of them doing more damage than even 
  you have managed, Ethan. There were even tales that a water 
  halfling created a giant whirlpool that sank an island.’
       The Red-robed halfling approached and the elementals gave 
  way further. The small creature was riding some sort of floating 
  disc, with his right arm drawn across his face. He stopped in 
  the middle of the group.
       ‘Greetings, long lived ones! It has been many years since I 
  last worked with any elves but now the time has come. You will 
  soon learn that it is I, the Red Baron, who holds the balance of 
  power on Vallilea.’
       ‘Now that's what I call an entrance!’ Ethandril squealed. 
  ‘Delighted to meet you, Baron. I am Ethandril Thililisfarne, 
  mage extrordinaire, and this is my adventuring group, the 
  
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  Company of the Compass.’ 
       ‘I am aware of who you all are. I have been observing you 
  all for some time as part of my ongoing operations.’
       There were a few raised eyebrows at this.
       ‘Greetings, Sir Theobold! May I say thank you for the Royal 
  lodge; my lieutenants are finding it most comfortable for their 
  work.’
       ‘You are behind that then. So the halflings are involved in 
  this after all!’ Sir Theobold began in indignation.
       ‘Whatever has been done is now of no consequence. We face a 
  much greater threat from a more sinister enemy. I believe you 
  are close to the answers you seek but I find, after the recent 
  attacks on my people, that I must help speed up the process.’
       ‘What do you know?’ Sir Theobold said abruptly.
       ‘Everything, good ruler. The Shades, led by a contingent of 
  shadow gnomes, are supplying the surface world with this Spice. 
  They have now infiltrated four places: Findon, Abinger, Ingles 
  and, more recently, Salvington. They aim to bring down the 
  surface world as much as they can. They are working with 
  summoned devils in the two other towns and, I have recently 
  found out, followers of the god of Death and Murder, Nyrex.’
        ‘Yllana spare us!’ Elwood said. ‘Of course, Nyrex must 
  love all of this death, all being aided by his followers.’
  
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       ‘We should try and shove them back into their hole of a 
  Citadel,’ Quin-Helwig growled. ‘I remember when it was being 
  built; we should have stepped in back then.’
       ‘All in good time, Quin, all in good time,’ Apollo said 
  with an air of compassion. ‘I still believe we must attack the 
  gnomes at source first, just as Orion said. Destroy that 
  mushroom crop that produces the Spice, then see what happens on 
  the surface.’
       ‘You are right, wise golden one,’ The Red Baron said, 
  swivelling to face Apollo and changing his arms over as he did 
  so. ‘I have decided the same and am willing to accompany you on 
  the mission. It will be dangerous but for all halflings of 
  Vallilea, I will avenge them. Nothing will stop the Red Baron 
  from his vengeance!’
       ‘I do so love the way you refer to yourself in the third 
  person, too,’ Ethan said after the Baron’s dramatic statement. 
  ‘Don't you think it adds such drama? Ethandril Thililisfarne 
  will help the Red Baron blow away the evil gnomes ...’
       ‘Lava lips, shut it!’
       ‘What of us in the city?’ Loriana asked the assembly. ‘What 
  should we do?’
       There was a pause as the group thought. It was the Red 
  Baron who answered the conundrum.
  
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       ‘Shut the city down. No one in, no one out,’ he said, as he 
  slowly rotated on his board so as to stare at each one of them. 
  ‘Weed out the dealers and rid your precious city of this Spice. 
  You are powerful enough to do this and I will give you all the 
  assistance that you need. Go to Nilo at the Royal lodge and tell 
  him to help; tell him I have said so.’
       ‘You think it will work?’ Sir Theobold asked tentatively.
       ‘All the city's exits will be blocked by the likes of 
  these’ he said gesturing at the summoned elementals. ‘You and 
  your guards, court wizards and such should be able to do the 
  rest.’
       ‘I hope you're right,’ Loriana replied.
       With a hint of amusement in his voice, the Red Baron 
  replied: ‘Never forget where true power lies, young lady!’
       ‘Back to the palace then for final preparations,’ Elwood 
  suggested. ‘Then we should teleport directly to the stalagmite 
  cavern and begin from there.’
       ‘Agreed,’ Orion said, ‘and what of you Baron?’
       ‘I will find you there. I know where you speak of and shall 
  follow.’
       Again there were raised eyebrows but the Red Baron did at 
  least appear powerful enough to do such a thing. Ethandril cast 
  his final teleport of the day and the group arrived back in the 
  
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  palace gardens, ready to begin what might possibly be their 
  final preparations.
       
       
       
       
       
  
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  Darios 
   
   Reports, the Dwarves Descend
   
   
  Darios Galavan, his Clan’s most lethal assassin, arrived back in 
  the shadow gnome city of Imar and headed straight for Clan 
  Leader Kymru's private home. He had a great many things to 
  report and was even mildly anxious with the way things were 
  proceeding. Too many people seemed to know what was happening 
  for the liking of the secretive killer. He walked straight 
  through the magically warded false door to Kymru's main 
  receiving room,where he found his Clan Leader and Clan Wizard, 
  Mentza, enjoying yet another glass of whelf. How ironic, he 
  thought. They may soon have more base ingredients to add to 
  their crystal decanter.
        ‘I presume your mission was a success, Darios. Whelf?’ 
  Kymru asked.
       ‘Not entirely Clan Leader, though I return with more 
  information about the surface world.’
       ‘Then continue, trusted assassin,’ Kymru urged, as he 
  handed Darios a large glass of the elf blood spirit.
       Taking a large draught, savouring the taste and admiring 
  the colour in his glass, Darios continued.
       ‘I tracked down those trying to observe us – a group of 
  elves - and followed them from Findon to Salvington. I observed 
  
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  them for more than a day as I waited for the ideal opportunity 
  to strike. When it came I was foiled by Tuke's will, though a 
  clean shot on one, an island elf, made no impact whatsoever. I 
  presume he has some type of magical resistance, though my darts 
  are enspelled to pierce such things.’
       Mentza couldn't conceal his surprise; he couldn't remember 
  Darios ever failing to hit a target. ‘They are powerful, then,’ 
  he remarked.
       ‘Indeed it would appear so. I struck during a brief street 
  fight and the weaponry they pulled out in an instant was quite 
  considerable. They were then commandeered by a human who took 
  them to meet with, would you believe, a dwarven adventuring 
  group? They were a mixed bunch even including a granite dwarf.’ 
  He spat after saying the words. ’I was unable to follow them 
  into the building and only saw the elves leave and teleport away 
  some hours later. I decided to meet with the dwarves a little 
  later and their numbers have now been reduced from seven to 
  three,’ Darios finished.
       ‘Excellent work, Darios. Perhaps we should take a look at 
  what these two groups are up to and how that may affect us,’ 
  Kymru said, turning to Mentza. ‘If you would be so good, Clan 
  Wizard, and attempt to scry our newest foes.’
        Kymru stood and left the room, returning several moments 
  
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  later with a crystal ball. He placed it on the cloth-covered 
  table, where he and Mentza had been sitting, and indicated for 
  Mentza to begin. The Wizard, wearing his familiar black cap with 
  gold sigils, moved over to the ball and began to chant arcane 
  words of great power, summoning the strength of the world’s 
  magic to guide him in his sight. After a short moment a fog 
  appeared roiling in the crystal ball, which slowly dissipated to 
  reveal nothing but a distant view of Sir Theobold’s palace in 
  Findon.
       ‘Well well. Then the elves are meeting with old Theo 
  again,’ Kymru said, not in the least surprised. ‘We have no 
  further need to scry them then, if that is the best we can get. 
  I shall pass a message on to Djemmini's people in Findon to keep 
  an eye on their comings and goings and to inform us should 
  anything change.’
       ‘Indeed, Clan Leader, I met with an excellent subordinate 
  of his in Findon,’ Darios said with a wicked smile.
       ‘Oh really?’ Kymru inquired, surprised.
       ‘A human by the name of Kollin; the best compliment I can 
  give him is that he would make an excellent shadow gnome! We can 
  contact him; he'll do the job for us.’ 
       ‘If you say so, Darios; I have the utmost faith in your 
  judgement,’ Kymru replied.
  
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       ‘Mentza, see what you can of the dwarves, a thunder, a 
  lightning and the, peuh, granite,’ Darios suggested to the 
  magician.
       Mentza refocused his energies and babbled more arcane words 
  and the crystal ball clouded over again. As it began to clear an 
  image formed, that of three dwarves marching in the foothills, 
  heading with determination for the mountains in the distance. 
  They all had faces set in stone with scowls that could be seen 
  quite clearly even from afar.
       ‘That's them,’ Darios said, ‘what's left of them. So clumsy 
  they are, so predictable. How we've never managed to best those 
  granites once and for all I shall never know.’
       ‘They are a fearsome foe down here, Darios, especially in 
  tunnels. They always lead major battles out of the caverns and 
  into their tunnels; they are more cunning than you may believe,’ 
  Kymru chided the assassin.
       ‘Indeed, they are fearsome opponents, very resistant to our 
  magic too,’ Mentza added. ‘Judging from this they're headed 
  somewhere in a hurry but even if they go underground those hills 
  are nowhere near here - but we shall keep an eye on them.’
       ‘Indeed we shall. I feel it is time to call on our brethren 
  of Clan Puttnik. We need to make everyone aware of how things 
  are progressing. We knew it would never all be fair mining but 
  
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  they must be made aware of these developments,’ Kymru informed 
  his two henchmen. 
       
       Three hours later the Clan Galavan counterparts in Clan 
  Puttnik arrived at the Galavan house and were led in to a 
  meeting. Braden, his chief wizard Akkron and his silent but 
  deadly assassin, Vander, all nodded their greetings to the 
  contingent of Galavans.
       ‘Our scourge upon the surface world is progressing very 
  well,’ Kymru began. ‘Findon is in chaos and the halfling rumours 
  are well established, Abinger and Ingles are starting to crumble 
  with the level of Spice use and those unaffected are baying for 
  halfling blood.’
       The whole assembly chuckled at the devious plan’s success. 
  They all liked nothing more than hearing a halfling squeal! 
       ‘The city of Salvington is also firmly within our grip 
  following the new approach we tried there.’
       ‘Oh really, Clan Leader?’ Braden asked. ‘I was not 
  informed.’
       ‘It's just details, Clan Leader, but we have made a 
  slightly less strong version and are using it to infiltrate the 
  upper classes. It has the gnawing long-term affect of regular 
  Spice but without all that shuddering and growling. It is 
  
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  proving most effective.’
       ‘I should have been informed, Kymru,’ Braden said, 
  decidedly unamused.
       ‘You just have been,’ Kymru retorted. There was a brief 
  moment of tension as all six stared at each other wondering, 
  just wondering how well their alliance would hold.
       ‘Let's not be silly. It was my oversight for which I 
  apologise Clan Leader,’ Kymru said. ‘We are against them on the 
  surface, not each other. Besides, it has been a resounding 
  success.’
       ‘Apology accepted,’ the mauve leader of Clan Puttnik began. 
  ‘So what is next on our mutual agenda?’
       ‘We are under investigation by a group of elves working in 
  conjunction with Theobold in Findon. They appear to be able to 
  travel easily around the cities and Darios, who tracked them in 
  Salvington, believes they are powerful,’ Kymru stated.
       ‘Then let us eliminate them,’ Akkron said matter-of-factly.
       ‘It is not as easy as it may seem,’ Darios interrupted. 
       ‘You have already tried? And failed?’ Akkron said.
       ‘You're slipping, Darios,’ Vander added, a hint of mischief 
  in his voice. ‘I hope no one else gets to hear that you missed a 
  mark.’
       ‘As I said, they are powerful. Now I know them, they will 
  
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  not survive a second time,’ Darios retorted to the barb.
       ‘I believe we should recall our prime devils, Leileilii and 
  Cheragai. I would like a report face to fang. Then we can 
  perhaps use them to aid us against these troublesome elves. 
  Besides, I fear my whelf stores may be running a little low; 
  it's time they were topped up,’ Kymru said, looking at his near 
  empty decanter on a shelf to the side.
       ‘A good suggestion, Clan Leader. Shall we go somewhere 
  quieter, the cavern by the mushroom fields?’ Mentza enquired.
       Kymru nodded as did all the members of clan Puttnik. With 
  no further words they all disappeared through a multitude of 
  magical means and reconvened in the cavern they had used many 
  times to plan and instigate their plot.
       Akkron was already casting his spell and Mentza followed 
  soon after. Two large black portals appeared and soon after the 
  two devils, both still in human form, stepped through. 
       ‘Greetings, my lady Leileilii!’ Kymru said addressing the 
  beautiful half-dressed succubus. ’I assume your work for us is 
  proving satisfying?’
       ‘As much as I should hate you for your frequent summoning, 
  working with Clan Galavan is always a pleasure. Mentza does set 
  me the most entertaining of tasks,’ she purred.
       In contrast, the handsome man who stepped through the other 
  
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  portal was already transforming back into his natural state. 
  Soon, the real eight-foot tall bearded Cheragai stood, towering 
  over his summoner, Akkron Puttnik.
       ‘Yes, gnome,’ he growled.
       ‘Behave, Cheragai! I could make this a lot more painful for 
  you if I chose to. Now, what of Abinger? Tell me how you and 
  your cohorts have fared.’
       ‘The town is in chaos, halflings are being chased out of 
  the town, and...’ he paused ‘I believe my work there is done.’
       ‘I'll decide when your work is done, Cheragai,’ Akkron 
  answered the fearsome devil. ‘Still, you may be right, which is 
  why you are here. We may have some problem elves for you to get 
  to grips with.’
       The grin that split the devils face left everyone in the 
  room cold. The look of utter evil and excitement could only 
  appear on the most malevolent of faces. Even Leileilii was 
  slightly taken aback. 
       ‘You may have saved your own skin Akkron. Where are they?’
       ‘Don't dare to threaten me, Cheragai! We are just in the 
  process of tracking them down. You can remain here till I say,’ 
  Akkron said with finality.
       ‘Leileilii, what of Salvington?’ Mentza asked, his 
  relationship with his enslaved devil being far more cordial.
  
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       ‘I have infiltrated the Council as you asked. There are now 
  ten Members using the new Spice, including the Speaker. At the 
  same time the rest of the city is slowly starting to fall to the 
  regular Spice. Distribution is being handled very well. I do 
  like that Djemmini human; should you ever wish him dealt with, 
  you will let me know, won't you?’ she pouted.
       ‘Whore!’ Cheragai muttered at the succubus, disgust on his 
  fanged devil face.
       ‘What can you expect when my choice of devil partners 
  consist of the likes of you,’ she replied, looking Cheragai up 
  and down as though he was something a dog had regurgitated.
       Kymru stepped into the middle of proceedings to ease the 
  obvious tensions. ‘Enough, all of you! We will continue to scry 
  the elves and the dwarves, and react as we need to. Till then, 
  anyone out of step...’ and the gnome Clan Leader waved his staff 
  at them all.
       ‘Er, what dwarves?’ Braden asked.
       ‘Probably nothing, Darios killed a few in Salvington that 
  may have been aware of what we were doing but there are only 
  three of them now. They've left the city and they're not heading 
  anywhere near us,’ Kymru answered.
       The statement received an accepting nod from the Puttnik 
  Clan Leader. Dwarves could be troublesome but no real threat to 
  
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  shadow gnomes.
       
       The three dwarves reached a small cavern in the foothills 
  that ran into the tail of the Shuddering Peaks only a few hours 
  after they had been scryed by Mentza Galavan. They were indeed 
  nowhere near the shadow gnome city of Imar but that was not 
  their destination. They were off to Barakello's home town, the 
  granite dwarf city of Kronkton, in an attempt to get help from 
  the dwarf elders to battle against the shadow gnomes, their most 
  hated enemy.
       ‘I know these passages like the back of my hand,’ Barakello 
  said in his low rumbling voice to his two companions.
       ‘And roughly how far is it?’ Clement asked. ‘I know my 
  spell made us go quicker and the journey seem easier but I'm 
  still exhausted. My constitution is no match for yours, 
  Barakello’
       ‘A day’s travel if we're lucky. Then we will hit our outer 
  mining tunnels. About another half day from there.’
       ‘Then there is no time to waste,’ Alto boomed, slapping the 
  smaller lightning dwarf on the back.
       ‘OK. Look, can we do an hour? Then I must rest. Besides, 
  I'm almost out of spells and isn't it dangerous down here?’
       ‘That it is. You are right, little friend,’ Barakello 
  
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  conceded. ‘I'll find us somewhere defensible and we can rest. 
  Then, we press on hard. I can't stand the thought any longer 
  that shadow gnomes are ruining the world. I must get to 
  Kronkton.’
       ‘Agreed then,’ Alto said. ‘I'll take your pack, Clement.’
       The smallest of the three dwarves gladly gave his small 
  pack to the biggest, his friend Alto, the thunder dwarf. The 
  three headed into the tunnels that would lead to Barakello’s 
  home, following the granite dwarf with his amazing sense of 
  direction.
        After a little more than an hour's walking the three found 
  a small cavern with two exits.
       ‘Perfect,’ Barakello said. ‘We can rest here. We can defend 
  either tunnel and escape through the other should we need to.’
       ‘Clement, get your rest,’ Alto said trying his best to 
  whisper. As much as he tried, Alto's attempts at quietness and 
  stealth were not very successful and the group had soon 
  attracted attention. Their stay in the cavern was uneventful and 
  a half day or so later, once Clement had rested and learned some 
  more spells, the three continued on, only this time, they were 
  not alone.
        Barakello set a good pace that they could all just manage 
  to keep, Alto trying to be as quiet as he could, Clement moving 
  
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  as quickly as he could. After two hours of fast walking with few 
  obstacles, the group came to a large cavern where they could 
  hear running water at the far side.
       ‘The underground river,’ Barakello said. ‘We call it the 
  Troll’ 
       ‘That's a strange name for a river,’ Clement said. ‘Why 
  would you...’
       His question was cut off by the answer. Four large spindly- 
  legged, warty, rubbery creatures were making their way towards 
  the three of them.
       ‘Oh!’ Said Clement. Small as he was, however, Clement was a 
  most capable mage. He muttered under his breath and released a 
  forked lightning bolt at the onrushing trolls. The blast knocked 
  the first two flat on their backs and staggered the next two.
       ‘Good work, Clem,’ Alto boomed, the excitement of battle 
  ending his attempts at silence.
       He pulled out his large dwarven axe and rushed in after his 
  friend’s magical bolt.
       Barakello pulled out his hammer and charged in too, hot on 
  the heels of the eager Alto. 
       The two trolls still standing waved filthy clawed hands at 
  the onrushing dwarves, eager for the battle. Alto arrived first, 
  roaring to Kronk, god of the dwarves, and taking a mighty swing 
  
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  from right to left at the first troll. The blow clean severed a 
  grasping hand and sent it flying some ten feet away. The troll 
  screamed and swiped back with its right hand. It raked its claws 
  across Alto's studded leather but failed to tear through. 
        Barakello rushed in low and swung hard for the knees on 
  the spindly legs of the other troll. He connected with the 
  trolls left leg and it buckled instantly. The troll toppled to 
  the floor, swiping for the granite dwarf as he did. The claws 
  raked the obsidian skin of Barakello’s face but failed to cut 
  him. Barakello swung again hitting the back of the troll’s head 
  as it toppled. There was a welcome plop-splat noise as the skull 
  was caved in. The creature was dead, for now.
        Alto reversed his swing and went low. He cut clean through 
  the right leg of his attacker who over-balanced and fell over. 
  Just as it did so, the first two trolls hit by the lightning 
  bolt began to stir.
       ‘They're regenerating, damn them!’ Barakello yelled.
       ‘Get back here, I'll finish them,’ Clement called back.
       The two dwarf fighters began to retreat as Clement began 
  his spell. They had just made it back to their friend as he 
  released a pea-sized ball of flame at the trolls. It exploded in 
  searing hot magical fire, burning away the flesh of the 
  previously regenerating trolls. The foul creatures screamed in 
  
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  rage and agony, knowing that their lives were at an end. The two 
  standing were running about flailing their arms, the two 
  dismembered ones on the floor twitched and writhed as they died 
  permanently.
        Unfortunately the fireball had perfectly illuminated the 
  three dwarves and they came under attack from the opposite side. 
  Their stalker, a fearsome beholder, who had been on their trail 
  for nearly half a day, decided to strike.
        A huge gaping wound appeared in Alto's back and the tough 
  thunder dwarf roared in pain. He turned to see the eye tyrant 
  floating towards them.
       A second beam struck Clement who gasped and sunk to his 
  knees as his mage’s body did it's best to fight off being turned 
  to stone. A third beam struck Barakello only to be turned aside 
  by his natural resistance. The green beam bounced off his 
  shoulder and struck the cavern wall blasting a large chunk of 
  rock away. The beholder lifted the chunk of rock with another 
  beam and bashed it into Barakello sending him staggering to his 
  left.
        Alto charged forward, axe raised in two hands, as he 
  rushed to meet the orb. He was struck again, this time by a cone 
  of freezing cold. Shards of ice fired at him, penetrating 
  through his armour and magical defences, freezing him as he 
  
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  rushed on. His charge slowed as his knees buckled and nearly 
  gave way.
        Clement regained his composure, having won his battle 
  against petrification, and managed a simple quick spell. Five 
  missiles of pure magic launched forth from his finger tips and 
  swerved unerringly at the orb. They all struck home causing the 
  eye tyrant to roar in pain. 
        Barakello, blood boiling with rage, marched towards the 
  orb, hammer in both hands, ready to swing. Meanwhile, Alto 
  managed to stay on his feet and stagger forward too. The 
  beholder let rip its cone of cold at Barakello and aimed to 
  disintegrate Alto. The granite dwarf was assailed by the cold 
  but his sheer rage helped him shrug off the worst of its effects 
  as he marched on, icy shards bouncing off his black armour and 
  tough obsidian skin. Alto was even luckier as he staggered again 
  just as the green beam reached him and missed his head by less 
  than an inch. Another chunk of wall behind him disappeared. 
        Clement steadied himself and prepared another spell but 
  was interrupted as a huge gash appeared across his torso as the 
  wounding beam hit home. He crumpled in agony as his spell was 
  lost. 
        Barakello suddenly rushed forward and hurled his hammer 
  with all his might. End over end it sailed striking the 
  
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  surprised beholder hard on the side and wobbling it towards the 
  cavern wall. As it tried to right itself it was attacked by a 
  steadily recovering Alto. The mighty thunder dwarf swiped with 
  all his might, slicing a great chunk off the bottom of the orb. 
  The noise as it yelled in pain could be heard for miles in the 
  underground cave system as its life blood and ichor gushed out 
  of its bottom half. Seizing his chance, Barakello picked up his 
  hammer and rushed in again. He hurled the hammer once more using 
  all his strength and momentum as he threw it at the eye tyrant. 
  The head of his whirling hammer crashed into the great central 
  eye with a squelch and a hard gush of fluid rushed out of the 
  wound Alto had created at the bottom.
        The dead orb dropped to the floor as Barakello retrieved 
  his hammer. He patted Alto on the back.
       ‘Well done, friend, one of the troubles of life in the 
  tunnels. I hate those things,’ he said puffing and winded.
       The pair staggered to the still doubled over Clement, Alto 
  pulling open his magical belt pouch as he went. He pulled forth 
  several bottles and handed them to each of the others as well as 
  unstoppering one for himself.
       ‘Dowwna is still helping us,’ he said, as he toasted their 
  dead friend and quaffed his healing potion. The two others drank 
  theirs too and instantly felt better, though not a hundred 
  
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  percent. 
       ‘Come, we must get to Kronkton. This is too hard as only 
  three,’ Barakello said, still breathing heavily.
       ‘Lead the way, friend!’ Alto replied in his best effort of 
  a whisper. ’Lead the way!’
       
        
       
       
  
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  The 
   
   Company and the Red Baron
   
   
  The six members of the Company, rested and ready with their 
  heads near bursting, having memorised almost their full 
  repertoire of spells, arrived in the depths of the Shuddering 
  Peaks. They found themselves in the large cavern where they had 
  spent time in before, only a few yards away from where they had 
  been in their rope trick. 
       ‘Very impressive, Ethandril,’ said Catarina in awe. ‘You 
  must let me in on your secret for mastering teleports this well.’
       ‘He's only this good at it out of necessity, Cat, so he can 
  run away from all the messes he creates,’ Apollo interjected 
  acidly.
       ‘You may take lessons from me anytime, Catarina, especially 
  if it means you aren't wasting time with him and metal sticks,’ 
  Ethandril replied.
       ‘Hey, let's keep the noise down,’ Orion reprimanded the 
  bickering pair. ‘We know which way to go, let's keep quiet and 
  go down that way,’ he said, indicating the path from which the 
  wagons had come.
       ‘Wait a moment,’ Quin stopped them. ‘Where’s the Red Baron?’
       The Company looked around, scanning the area with their 
  full attention, but there was no sign of their new accomplice. 
  
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  Several minutes later he materialised and floated towards them 
  on his little hovering platform, red cape flowing behind him.
       ‘About time,’ Orion said cooly.
       ‘Do not underestimate me, elf. My power is enough to drop 
  you stone dead right here,’ he answered, his left arm drawn 
  across his face.
       Orion just laughed off the threat. While he did believe, as 
  they all did, that this Red Baron was indeed powerful, they 
  sincerely doubted he had enough power to harm any of them. ‘Come 
  on!’ he said, waving them all down the path.
        The Company left the vast stalagmite and stalactite 
  cavern, heading down further into the bowels of the Shuddering 
  Peaks and on to the shadow gnomes. The path was around ten feet 
  wide and sparkled in places with veins of minerals and gems. 
  These were of little interest to the elves, though, since they 
  were surface creatures first and foremost; deep mining issues 
  were for dwarves. They passed several slick walls where lichens 
  grew and several side tunnels, which Orion or Quin-Helwig 
  silently checked before they moved on, but they were not 
  interrupted in their progress.
       
        Mentza Galavan stood over the Clan crystal ball in a 
  private room in his Clan Leader's heavily fortified home. The 
  
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  roiling clouds had just begun to disappear and an image formed. 
  Three dwarves, a thunder, a lightning and a hated granite dwarf, 
  were all now underground in the tunnels of the Shuddering Peaks. 
  They were still nowhere near the City of Imar - the outer 
  warning systems would have been activated if they had been - but 
  Mentza was surprised by how much ground the three had covered 
  since he had last scryed them. The three had obviously been in a 
  battle, zooming in closer he could see that they were all 
  carrying wounds and the huge double-bladed axe carried by the 
  thunder dwarf still had some fresh blood on it. They were 
  marching with a purpose, too. Hmm, Mentza thought.
       ‘I shall be keeping an eye on you,’ he said to no one in 
  particular.
       Just as he finished talking to himself, an alarm did go off 
  in the Clan Leader’s house. Mentza jumped as it happened, since 
  it was most unexpected and clearly not caused by the dwarves who 
  he could still see in the crystal ball. 
        He rushed across the room and knocked on the door to the 
  Clan Leader's private room.
       ‘Yes Mentza, I heard it too. Come in and take a look,’ 
  Kymru said in response to the knock.
       Mentza entered the Clan Leader’s private room. There on the 
  wall was a large hologram map of the city and the surrounding 
  
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  tunnel system. There were a series of small green dots all over 
  it, places where the Clan had set up alarm spells to warn them 
  if they were under attack. One of the outermost dots was 
  flashing red. The system only reacted to groups of more than 
  three and only reacted to certain bipeds so as not to be set off 
  regularly by the numerous under-dark denizens wandering the 
  tunnels.
       ‘Mentza, back to the ball and scry that area! Perhaps we 
  have guests.’
       ‘Certainly Clan Leader,’ Mentza said deferentially and left 
  the room to go back to the crystal ball. He concentrated on the 
  area he knew well and the rolling fog in the ball cleared to 
  reveal a group of four elves, two continental, one solar, and 
  one island, the last with the widest shoulders Mentza had ever 
  seen on an elf. ‘Could be a dwarf,’ Mentza muttered.
       
       Apollo's sword pulsed at his hip. ‘We're being scryed,’ was 
  the telepathic message.
       ‘Are you sure, brother?’
       ‘Certain. And I think we're being followed; there is some 
  sort of intelligence around us that I can't explain.’
       ‘We're being scryed,’ Apollo whispered to the Company.
       ‘Ooh, yes I can feel it too,’ Ethandril whispered back. He 
  
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  cast a spell that took a few moments before saying: ‘that should 
  be that, for now,’ a beaming smile broad across his face.
       
       Back in Imar, Mentza's crystal ball had just gone blank, 
  his scrying terminated.
       ‘Hmm, this bunch is powerful,’ he said to himself. 
       He went back to Kymru's room to report.
       ‘Darios' meddling elves appear to be on their way here, 
  Clan Leader. I have just seen four of them but they are 
  obviously powerful enough to pick up on being watched. They cast 
  a counter spell, some sort of non-detection and the ball went 
  blank.’
       ‘Very interesting, Mentza. I suggest we watch our little 
  map from here and mark their progress. When we get a better idea 
  of their movement we should send a welcome committee. Do you 
  agree?’
       ‘Most definitely, Clan Leader. I'm sure Akkron’s devil 
  would love to rip out a few fresh elf hearts; we should invite 
  him to go, along with a few of my better underlings. We should 
  ask Darios to send some of his apprentices too. With the aid of 
  surprise we should be able to end their little expedition before 
  they get anywhere near here.’
       ‘Excellent planning, Mentza. Contact those that must be 
  
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  involved, including the Puttniks. Then, tell them to prepare for 
  battle with a surface group; you should have no shortage of 
  volunteers. Tell them to be ready; we will give them the exact 
  location just as soon as one becomes apparent.’
       ‘Yes, Clan Leader.’
       
        ‘Well, someone or something knows we're here now,’ Apollo 
  whispered. ‘I didn't think we could be located, Ethan.’
       ‘Maybe we went through a trap or something. I'm sure we 
  can't be seen now anyway,’ Ethandril replied.
       ‘They will never have seen me,’ the Red Baron chipped in. 
  ‘They will only become aware of my presence when it is too late 
  for them.’ 
       ‘You are without doubt the most confident person I have 
  ever come across,’ Catarina said to the Red Baron.
       ‘Why thank you, but it is not misplaced or arrogant, as you 
  will see, Catarina.’
       ‘Brother, he is not all he seems,’ came a telepathic 
  message to Apollo. ’I can't get any sort of mental reading from 
  him, I am totally blocked from him. I can't remember that ever 
  having happened before’
       ‘You think he's using some sort of spell?’ Apollo sent back.
       ‘I'm not sure but, if it is, it's a hugely powerful one. He 
  
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  positively radiates magic and yet is completely undetectable to 
  any other means.’
       ‘I don't quite understand.’
       ‘Neither do I. Just keep an eye on him.’
       ‘Do you wish to share your brother’s thoughts?’ Orion 
  enquired, staring at the pulsing green sword.
       ‘No, ghost, you just concentrate on your job.’
       ‘Has he found anything?’ Quin asked more congenially.
       ‘We're not sure, he's probing around,’ was Apollo's reply.
       The group came to a fork in the path, both tunnels 
  appearing to be of a similar width. 
       ‘I believe this is your territory, Quin,’ Elwood said, 
  encouraging the ranger to use his skills.
       Quin-Helwig duly examined the cold stone floor of the 
  tunnels looking for the wagon tracks that had guided them so 
  far. He didn't like being this far underground; it felt very 
  unnatural to the elf born on a small remote island. After 
  several minutes and a few sighs in order to prompt him from 
  Apollo, he made a decision.
       ‘Definitely right. There are track marks that are just 
  discernable,’ Quin informed them.
       The Company trusted their ranger implicitly and headed off 
  down the right hand tunnel, with Orion leading the way, followed 
  
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  by Quin and Apollo.
       
       In the private room of Kymru's house in Imar a second green 
  dot on the magical hologram map started to flash red. The Clan 
  Galavan Leader and his chief wizard looked at each other and 
  smiled.
       ‘Let’s send the group then. Use gate twenty eight, ambush 
  them in the Korash cavern.’
       ‘Excellent, Clan Leader, I will send the message to leave 
  immediately.’
       ‘And how many do we have going? Enough, I presume?’ Kymru 
  asked Mentza.
       ‘Ten of Darios' crew, all proficient assassins, accompanied 
  by three of my mages, one of whom is particularly able. Cheragai 
  was delighted to receive the message from Akkron and is most 
  eager to leave, Clan Leader.’
       ‘Well done, Mentza. Let us sit back and watch shall we? 
  Bring the crystal ball in here. Whelf?’
       ‘Thank you, Clan Leader.’     
  
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  Sir Theobold 
   
   Takes Control
   
   
  Sir Theobold stood on the raised dais in the large audience 
  chamber of his palace, the very same room from which he had 
  summoned the Company of the Compass some five weeks previously. 
  His court mage, Loriana Thililisfarne, stood on his right hand 
  side, resplendent in a red gown. On his left stood his most 
  trusted advisor, Argyll, a light gnome of untouchable virtue who 
  surveyed the gathered throng.
        Before them, seated in the pews, were almost the entire 
  City Guard minus a few that had been strategically left on the 
  streets so as not to arouse too much suspicion among the local 
  populace. The front pews were occupied by new friends, including 
  Nilo, the water halfling who was currently resident in the Royal 
  lodge, and several of his friends, Sederic and Graanti, the 
  earth halflings, Etnus a fire halfling and Icari a pale, almost 
  translucent air halfling. There was also a collection of the 
  most trusted priests of the good gods: Johna, the high priest of 
  Keelee, was there having already been dragged into the crisis, 
  as well as several priests of the god of magic, Lorin, and the 
  nature goddess, Daphnia. At the back were a group of some forty 
  human adventurers, carefully vetted by Argyll for their pureness 
  of heart, from all parts of the continent; elves, including 
  
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  Lishiana and her brothers and cousins; a few earth halflings and 
  thunder dwarves and, much to everyone’s amazement, a huge 
  cyclogre, an extremely powerful and rare three-eyed specimen.
        The room had been by magic completely cut off from prying 
  eyes and ears by several hours of hard work by Loriana, as Sir 
  Theobold stood to address the assembly.
       ‘Firstly, may I just say thank you all for being here. As 
  you have probably become aware, these are troubled times, 
  troubled times. This city; my city; your city - is in grave 
  danger. ‘Spice’, as it is called, is causing mayhem here and, as 
  I have discovered, in several other towns and cities across the 
  southern coast as well. It is not coincidence. It is not luck. 
  We have discovered the perpetrators and are closing in on them. 
  Shadow gnomes are our enemies; the enemies of all of us.’
       There was an audible gasp from the room at the mention of 
  shadow gnomes.
       ‘We must act now. We know how Spice is being supplied and I 
  am about to put a stop to it.’
       A murmur went round the room.
       ‘Total lockdown of the city, with your help.’
       The murmuring grew louder as guards and adventurers turned 
  and whispered to each other.
       ‘We will close all the gates. No one in or out! My friends 
  
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  at the front, the halflings, who, I must reiterate to anyone who 
  is still unsure, are not involved in supplying Spice in any way, 
  will prevent anyone from leaving, whether via the river or the 
  gates, with the help of their elemental friends. We will take a 
  soft approach to the quieter residential districts; go door to 
  door as much as we can to keep those obviously not involved out 
  of harm’s way. We will then sweep in, coming from all sides, 
  into the dock and tavern districts and the slums and round them 
  all up. Anyone we suspect is on the Spice we will subdue, by 
  whatever means necessary. We will capture any dealers till we 
  have the information we need to weed out those responsible 
  within our city, and drive them out or lock them away.’
       There was a tinge of both excitement and trepidation in the 
  whispers.
       ‘Guards, my loyal Guards. You will be teamed with a priest 
  and an adventuring band in all your normal watches. That way we 
  can combine local knowledge and my authority with the extra 
  power and protection I'm afraid to say you may well need. These 
  people are dangerous, make no mistake. We have captured one 
  before and he was an unremarkable human but strong and fearful 
  of his superiors. We are after the ringleaders here. Beware of 
  anyone you think is distributing but stop them at all costs. 
  It's them we really need. Now, my court mage will split you into 
  
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  the groups you need to be in, so please show some patience and 
  good luck. The City, in fact the whole of Vallilea, needs you to 
  be successful. May Tuke be with us!’
        Sir Thebold turned to Loriana. ‘How was I?’
       ‘The Blackstone family will be looking down proudly upon 
  you, Sir Theobold. We will not fail you.’
       Argyll back-handed a tear of emotion from the corner of his 
  right eye ‘You are just like you grandfather, Sir. This will 
  work, I can feel it.’
       ‘Thank you Argyll. I couldn't do it without you.’
       Loriana stood forward on the dais and addressed the crowd. 
  ‘Guards, please split into your normal ranks of six.’
       The Guards promptly stood and filed to the front of the 
  hall just in front of the dais, where they split into twenty 
  teams of six. 
       ‘Please, priests, if you would be so kind as to pick a 
  Guard rank and accompany them.’
       The priests stood and shuffled forward introducing 
  themselves to the captains of each of the ranks.
       ‘Adventuring bands, please, I know there aren't twenty 
  bands, but if you could sub-divide yourselves as you feel best, 
  that would be a great help. The adventurers filed to the front 
  to join a rank, several of the bands discussing how they would 
  
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  divide themselves up. The huge cyclogre left his two companions, 
  an earth halfling and a thunder dwarf, and presented himself to 
  a rank captain.
       His three eyes stared down from his head some nine feet up 
  and he smiled.
       ‘Fear not captain. We cyclogres are not all murderous 
  savages as you humans would believe. I am not even a warrior; I 
  follow Marr, the god of Law and Order. His authority is my 
  weapon. I wish to help end this evil scourge in your city for 
  his name, just as much as you do for yourselves.’
       ‘Then welcome, friend, and thank you,’ the captain managed 
  in response.
       Loriana raised her voice to address the crowd once more.
       ‘Please, as you leave, Argyll will give you your 
  instructions as to where to go in the City. You will have a 
  first mission which will expire in four hours. You will then be 
  given a meeting place, one of three, where we will reconvene for 
  the main push into the worst affected area around the docks and 
  the slums. Good luck and be safe!’
       The reinforced ranks slowly left the main hall, each 
  listening intently to Argyll as he gave them their instructions 
  and meeting point. 
       When they had all left, only Nilo and his halfling friends 
  
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  remained.
       ‘Fabulous speech, Sir Theobold,’ the ever jovial halfling 
  said as he walked up to the dais. ‘Shall we go and do our thing 
  now?’
       ‘Thank you, Nilo. If you are able, keep the elementals out 
  of sight for about three hours or so. But keep watch; just 
  because you are staying out of sight doesn't mean trouble makers 
  won't catch wind of this and try to get out early.’
       ‘You can count on us, Sir Theobold. But just one thing. How 
  will you stop magical transport? I mean surely anyone powerful 
  enough to be a major part of this can just hop in and out of 
  here by magical means.’
       ‘Yes, thank you for your concern, Nilo. We have a way of 
  combating it.’
       ‘Really?’
       ‘Yes, but I'm not at liberty to say.’
       ‘Oh!’ said Nilo, a little downcast.
       The halflings representing all the elements trooped out of 
  the hall and off to the main gates in and out of the city. Nilo 
  made his way to the docks and was delighted when a particularly 
  large elemental heeded his summons. There was no way anyone 
  would be able to even swim past it, never mind get a boat past.
       
  
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       Once alone, Sir Theobold turned to his court mage.
       ‘You're sure of this spell, Lori. Nilo is right, it's 
  definitely a risk.’
       ‘For all his faults, my father is a genius at teleportation 
  spells and naturally he devised this counter,’ she replied.
       ‘So, when any type of transportation spell is cast or 
  activated...’
       ‘...it activates his shield spell, becomes wrapped up in a 
  sticky net and is delivered to a location of the caster’s 
  choice.’
       ‘Which you have set as this room, where we can monitor 
  who's really trying to get out of here.’
       ‘Exactly.’
       ‘And the net restricts any further spell casting...’
       ‘...and movement or just about anything else,’ Loriana 
  finished. ‘Ethan thinks it's one of the funniest spells you'll 
  ever see, as it usually captures quite powerful entities. It's 
  the last thing they expect when they think they are about to 
  flee an area.’
       ‘It sounds just like your father’ Sir Theobold said, with a 
  sigh.
       ‘Part genius, part lunatic,’ Loriana finished.
       
  
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       The next four hours in the city of Findon were ones of 
  fervent activity as twenty ranks of Guards and their new 
  colleagues slipped around the town, mostly in the wealthier 
  parts, quietly closing down the better taverns and shutting inns 
  for the night. They were closely watching everyone they came in 
  to contact with but there was no sign of the Spice. Several 
  captains went door to door warning people to stay in and that 
  all travel had been suspended for now. It met with a mixed 
  reception by some, but was grudgingly accepted as a necessity, 
  as the state of the City was a concern for even the most wealthy.
        After four hours the separate groups began to coalesce at 
  the three meeting points: one at the top end of the riverside 
  boulevard, one at the bottom, where the group made ready to come 
  up, and one to the east of the dock and slum district. 
       The meetings now made it very apparent that something was 
  up. Sir Theobold had decided to act early in the day so as to 
  use the daylight to his advantage; the thieves and dealers liked 
  the darkness to hide in. As the groups began to assemble a buzz 
  was going around the slums that something was happening. Addled 
  Spice addicts didn't care, they continued to sit and rock back 
  and forth muttering to themselves and occasionally hissing for 
  Spice. Others started to look for exits from the area and began 
  to try to move with purpose.
  
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        The three assembled groups, each some eighty or so strong, 
  began to fan out from their positions so that every road in the 
  area was blocked by a rank or part of a rank and an adventuring 
  accomplice. Slowly they began to move in.
        The initial skirmishes were brief. Those still with the 
  wits to want to escape were generally not under the influence of 
  the Spice. Although they put up a fight, they were relatively 
  easy to subdue. Those captured were either bound and gagged and 
  left where they were or magically held depending on their 
  captors. 
        In the docks the crew of one small ship loosed its 
  moorings, having decided that this was enough for them. They 
  slowly manoeuvred into the now free flowing river Fin and began 
  to turn down river and head for the sea. They slipped past the 
  dock district pleased to be leaving the city and whatever 
  authoritarian action was taking place. They continued for 
  several minutes, leaving the last of the city buildings behind 
  and picking up pace in the swift river. Suddenly there was a 
  judder and nearly everyone on board fell over as the boat 
  stopped dead.
       ‘Rocks!’ the ship’s captain yelled. ‘We've hit rocks! But 
  how..?’
       His question was answered as the boat slowly began to lift 
  
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  up from the water. The captain rushed to the side to see what 
  manner of creature had done this, fearing serpents or who knew 
  what.
       The gargantuan water elemental slowly rose up from the 
  river Fin, the escaping boat in one of its massive hands. It 
  rose to a height of nearly twenty feet, towering over the modest 
  sized ship.
       Slowly the elemental moved back up stream towards the city 
  and the docks. There were gasps and shouts coming from all the 
  crew, as well as those on the river bank who could see the ship 
  being carried back to the docks. The elemental placed the small 
  ship back into its original place in the docks and held it 
  there, whilst several crew members jumped off and retied the 
  moorings that had only been released a few minutes previously. 
  The elemental loomed over the boat for several moments and then 
  moved in a small circuit of the docks, towering over all the 
  other ships moored there, several of which had crews aboard that 
  had had the same idea of departure. All work on leaving appeared 
  to stop immediately, while the elemental slowly sunk back into 
  the water. On the far bank of the river a small, three and a 
  half foot blue-green halfling was crying with laughter at what 
  his friend, the water elemental, had done. He almost hoped 
  another boat would try and escape; it had been ages since he had 
  
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  seen such fear on the face of a bunch of humans and had laughed 
  quite so hard.
        Word had also reached some more important people in the 
  slum district. The street sellers working under Kollin could 
  hear the buzz of excitement and trepidation and started to look 
  for a way out. Several men in plain dark clothes were flitting 
  from shadow to shadow, observing the tightening noose of City 
  Guards as they swept inwards towards the slums, rounding up and 
  subduing Spice addicts as they went. Already the clean-up had 
  seized over a hundred desperate creatures, all talking complete 
  nonsense and addled by the Spice. The majority of addicts were 
  yet to be engaged, though, and all the street sellers had come 
  to the same conclusion; that it was time to make a break for it. 
        The City Guards and their helpers swept ever further in, 
  in a tightening circle, battling against desperate and frenzied 
  people. They would be ever grateful for the forethought of the 
  City's leader, Sir Theobold, for adding adventurers to their 
  ranks. More than one guardsman was injured but there were as yet 
  no full casualties.
       At the same time as the press into the slums, the effects 
  of Loriana's spell, the one her father Ethandril had been kind 
  
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  enough to share with her before he left, began to take effect. 
  First to be ensnared were a wealthy merchant couple. They 
  arrived in the middle of the great hall, dressed in country 
  clothes for travel, with a look of utter dismay on their faces.
       Sir Theobold walked over and peered into the two separate 
  sticky nets.
       ‘My apologies, Sir, Lady Goodhume. But as you were made 
  aware. There is a curfew in place. No one in or out.’
       ‘But we only tried to take our private portal to our 
  country house,’  Lady Goodhume wailed.
       Sir Theobold raised an eyebrow. People in his City had 
  personal portals to other houses. This was going to be an 
  interesting day, one in which he would find out a whole lot 
  about his City.
       Another sticky sack appeared and an irate looking man, 
  clearly a mage, stared out.
       ‘Theobold,’ he bellowed ‘how dare you! What have you done? 
  Release me now! How dare you! I could raze this palace, I could!’
       The ever elegant and virtually unflappable Loriana 
  sauntered over to the mage.
       ‘Oh dear, Dragen, our apologies, but for someone as 
  educated as you are not to understand the instructions doesn't 
  look good.’
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /401
       ‘Why, you miserable half-breed I'll...’ he tried to move 
  and begin a spell when Sir Theobold stormed over.
       ‘When this is over, Dragen, you will be leaving my City 
  after remarks like that. I'll make sure of it personally!’ he 
  said, dark brows knitted together with anger clearly etched on 
  his face.
       Over the next half hour an assortment of the wealthy and 
  magically capable all arrived in the hall, trapped by the 
  magical sticky nets. Sir Theobold and his advisors were amazed 
  at the numbers but there was still no sign of those they were 
  really after. No shadowy men, simply dressed.
       
       In the slums, things were beginning to get much tougher for 
  the clearing crews. They had managed to get pretty much through 
  the tavern area, which thankfully due to the time of day was 
  fairly empty, with just a few patrons finishing a late breakfast 
  and a few of the usual early regulars with something of a drink 
  problem. They had all been easily dealt with since there was no 
  sign of Spice being involved.
        Now they were into the slums. On all sides, the ranks 
  pressed in, compressing the area into four streets by four, 
  covering about a quarter mile square. Strewn behind the ranks 
  were now some four hundred or so people bound or held by the 
  
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  side of the road with just a few Guards roving to keep an eye on 
  them. The adventurers moved to the front of their respective 
  ranks. All around the hissing of the word Spice could be heard 
  as the true horror of what had been happening in the slum 
  district became apparent.  Adventurers drew weapons, mages 
  readied spells and in they went. 
       The battles were vicious; there was much less chance to 
  subdue these poor frenzied men and women, as the Company had 
  found many nights before. Blood was spilled all over the streets 
  as Spice addicts attacked out of desperation and the adventurers 
  and Guards tried to protect themselves and the whole city from 
  the onslaught.
        The addicts were also being prompted by shadowy figures, 
  unseen but watching the whole show. Kollin and a pair of his 
  dealers were right in the middle of the final push. They were 
  trapped. Well, at least it would have appeared that way but at 
  as the noose tightened Kollin made his decision.
       ‘Lads, it's time to leave Findon behind. We'll go back to 
  Lord Djemmini and give him a full report but our work here is 
  done for now.’
       His two accomplices nodded agreement.
       The three stood in a near derelict house and moved over to 
  a blanket covered mirror. Kollin pulled it off to reveal the 
  
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  portal, the one that led to safety, the one which had been 
  central to the shades moving the Spice into Findon, and now the 
  dealers’ means of escape. 
       ‘Back to the Citadel, boys,’ Kollin said, stepping through 
  first and uttering the activation words to take him back to the 
  Citadel of Nyrex.
       
       Another sticky net appeared in the middle of the main hall. 
  The thirty-fifth so far.
       ‘How many more?’ Sir Theobold said to Loriana.
       The pair were still in shock from the arrival of a vampire 
  in their midst. The look of surprise on the undead’s face would 
  be remembered for ever by the pair, even though it had only 
  lasted a split second before the daylight robbed the vampire of 
  his three-hundred-year-old life. 
       ‘Hang on a minute. I think we may have someone here. Lori, 
  come quick!’ Sir Theobold called to his court mage.
       Two more sticky nets arrived then, next to the most recent, 
  and Sir Theobold and Loriana stared at the baleful and confused 
  faces of three ordinary looking unshaven men, wearing dark yet 
  unremarkable clothes.
       ‘Who are you? Speak up man, I don't have all day!’ Sir 
  Theobold barked at Kollin.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /404
       The main Spice dealer in Findon kept his council. He wasn't 
  sure what had happened but he chose to say nothing. It could 
  just be a loyalty test by his superiors.
       Argyll walked over and began to stare at Kollin and his two 
  fellow dealers. He cast a spell.
       ‘Ooh! They are certainly radiating evil, Sir. It's 
  positively oozing from them,’ he said, taking a step back.
       ‘Who are you men? Nothing to say for yourselves?’ Sir 
  Theobold enquired again in a stern tone.
       ‘Not to you, Theo,’ one of the underlings said.
       ‘Aah! So you can speak. Excellent!’ Sir Theobold replied.
       Kollin shook his head at the stupidity of his man. He 
  wouldn't see another summer that was for sure.
       ‘We know it's you, of course,’ Sir Theobold went on. ‘We've 
  been watching your operation for weeks. We're even now going 
  into the under-dark to destroy the source.’
       ‘Impossible! You'll never succeed,’ the other underling 
  said.
       ‘Shut up!’ Kollin growled, unable to contain himself.
       ‘Ah, good! Thank you. Now I see the hierarchy. So, boss, 
  leader, whoever you are. What would you like to tell me? You 
  work for the shades, the shadow gnomes. Lesta, your colleague 
  has already been most forthcoming.’
  
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       This statement, the name Lesta, did cause Kollin to flinch. 
       ‘Bet you were wondering where he had gone aren't you?’ Sir 
  Theobold said, goading Kollin.
       Kollin shrugged. He wasn't about to give away anything.
       Loriana had been quietly casting spells while Kollin’s 
  attention had been taken by Sir Theobold. Suggestions, charm 
  persons and her own favourite, a powerful beguiling spell. That 
  coupled with her natural beauty had often helped in the past 
  with interrogation. She leant forward to speak to Kollin, her 
  tight red dress heaving as her bosom pushed forward. Her bright 
  red eyes bored into the human rogue. 
       ‘It's been easy hasn't it?’ she said playfully. ‘I mean all 
  this. The Spice, the selling. Can't have been hard for a clever 
  man like you?’
       Kollin didn't want to say anything but he couldn't help 
  himself. He chuckled before replying.
       ‘No. It's been quite easy really?’ he said coyly, looking 
  down so as not to stare too hard at the heavenly body before him.
       ‘We're quite a soft touch here too. Old Theo over there, 
  he's a bit of a fool really isn't he?’
       ‘You can say that again. We knew he would be, though. 
  That's why we targeted here,’ Kollin added with a shy 
  flirtatious smile.
  
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       ‘Still, it's not worked out too well for you now, has it?’ 
  She paused prompting for his name.
       ‘Kollin,’ Kollin said. ‘No I don't suppose the boss will be 
  too happy, or his associates.’
       ‘The shades?’
       ‘Who else?’ Kollin replied. ‘Lord Djemmini says.....’
       Those were the last words Kollin ever said. The mere 
  mention of Djemmini's name activated a contingency that he knew 
  nothing about, a safeguard for Djemmini that he placed upon all 
  his subordinates.
       There was a deafening boom and in a split second the entire 
  hall was engulfed by a massive wave of magical fire. Kollin 
  disintegrated instantly as did his underlings next to him. 
  Loriana was launched back across the room, her various magical 
  defences stretched to the limit by the force of the explosion. 
  Sir Theobold's own contingencies were activated by the blast and 
  he disappeared from the hall the millisecond that the first bit 
  of magical fire touched him. Argyll was not so lucky. He was 
  blasted across the room and badly burnt, even with his 
  protection in place. He slumped against a wall with his right 
  arm bent at a very unnatural angle.
        The thirty-five captives had fared little better. Dragen, 
  the mage, clearly had contingencies of his own and vanished too, 
  
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  but there were another thirty-one smoking bodies in the room, as 
  well as a lot of new real estate in the city. Three others had 
  vanished too. Fortunately the Sir Theobold’s palace was made of 
  stone and, although all the pews had been incinerated, the 
  integrity of the building was unaffected. 
        There were several minutes of silence with just the wind 
  blowing through the empty windows, the shattered glass lying in 
  molten chunks on the stone floor, before Sir Theobold came 
  rushing back in.
       ‘In all the gods names!’ he said as he looked at the scene 
  of utter devastation.
       He rushed over to his court mage as she was just starting 
  to stir. He knelt beside her as she opened her red eyes.
       ‘Wow!’ she said. ‘Even dad would have been proud of that 
  one.’
       ‘Are you hurt, dear Lori?’
       ‘I, I think I'm OK. Just bruising, but I think,’ she said 
  as she scanned the room, ‘I may be the luckiest one.’
       She slowly rose to her feet and the pair of them made 
  straight for Argyll. Loriana held a hand in front of his mouth.
       ‘He's still breathing.’
       ‘Excellent! Get this down him, and get that arm straight. 
  No hang, on I'll do it,’ Sir Theobold said as he lifted Argyll 
  
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  and pulled the mangled arm back into something resembling the 
  correct angle.
       Loriana tipped a healing potion into the barely open mouth 
  of the light gnome and within a few seconds he opened his eyes.
       ‘Didn't see that coming,’ he said.
       ‘None of us did,’ Sir Theobold replied.
       Argyll’s arm straightened and knitted together with an 
  audible crunch. He winced but then felt immediately better. The 
  three of them looked around the rest of the room, taking in the 
  devastation of the fireball.
       ‘I suppose that's it for here, then,’ Loriana said. ‘I 
  mean, he must have been top dog here. I caught the name too, 
  just before he exploded. Lord Djemmini,’ she repeated, half 
  expecting another explosion.
       ‘I know that name,’ Argyll said, tapping his fingers to his 
  mouth. ‘Where have I heard it? It's not good, I can assure you 
  of that.’
       ‘Well, just think on it, Argyll, and we'll see what we can 
  do about him. I tell you, at least I know that my contingency 
  works, and a stroke of luck it takes me to my chambers too,’ Sir 
  Theobold, said trying to raise a smile. Loriana returned his 
  smile before replying.
       ‘I just hope they're having more luck in the city clearing 
  
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  the slums.’
       
       The battle in the slums had been raging for over an hour. 
  The final street was now nearly clear, though there had been a 
  high price. The Spice addicts had killed over a score of City 
  Guards, while many had been badly hurt but healed by the 
  priests. It was now down to a few adventurers to finish the 
  remaining addicts.
        Two thunder dwarf brothers, Caddogan and Stannard, stood 
  side by side. Lishiana, fighting in memory of the poor boy 
  Rollo, her brother Eldon and behind them the vast nine-foot 
  three-eyed cyclogre, Pwellin, stood with the dwarves. The clutch 
  of Spice addicts, now down to five, milled around in front of 
  them. These seemed to be the final five, the blood of more than 
  a hundred was splattered about the streets of the slum district.
        As one the addicts charged, all hissing ‘Spice’ as they 
  rushed forth. The dwarves readied their axes and braced for the 
  superhumanly strong men. They rushed in with abandon, meeting 
  the strokes of the dwarves with knife chops of their own. A 
  human arm went flying as Caddogan hacked off a limb. Stannard 
  buried his axe in the leg of another but still they fought, 
  their strength penetrating the dwarven armour and inflicting 
  grievous wounds. 
  
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        Lishiana fired off her bow and slowed another as her 
  brother impaled the fourth on his long sword. The man just 
  laughed and ran down the sword seeming not to notice as he 
  stabbed at Eldon repeatedly. Three, four, five, six times he 
  plunged his knife into the face and chest of the now weaponless 
  elf. His life blood began to spray everywhere as he sank to his 
  knees his grip still on the sword that had impaled the man with 
  seemingly no effect. Again and again the addict slashed and 
  stabbed at Eldon. But he too began to slow as no matter what the 
  Spice masked, he could not continue with a sword impaling him. 
  The pair dropped to the floor simultaneously into an ever 
  growing pool of blood as their hearts pumped their lives away. 
        Lishiana screamed in horror and stepped back to her 
  brother, now quite dead. The last Spice-addled man reached for 
  her, a dagger in each hand and a dark look in his eyes. He got 
  no nearer than a foot as, from nowhere, a huge wooden mallet, 
  some six feet long and weighing two hundred pounds, came 
  crashing down on his head. The skull exploded, showering 
  Lishiana in brain and blood, and the body crumpled. She turned 
  to look at her saviour and looked along way up to the gentle 
  face of the cyclogre priest of Marr. 
       ‘Law and Justice are not always just spells,’ he said.
       With tears in her eyes she smiled back and mouthed the 
  
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  words, ‘thank you’.
       The dwarven brothers were making short work of the last 
  men. Their razor sharp axes now hacking away in tandem; the 
  dwarves were bleeding freely but were in such a frenzy of blood 
  lust that neither could stop.
       Then it was all over. The dwarven brothers turned to each 
  other as the last piece of human pulp they had been hacking fell 
  over.
       ‘Mnnaahahahha! Aahhaa!’ They yelled. The thunder dwarven 
  voices deafening Lishiana and Pwellin for the moment. Pwellin 
  bent over and picked up the body of Eldon and the four of them 
  left the slums that were now free of Spice addicts   
       
       
       
  
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  March of the 
   
   Granite Dwarves
   
   
  The three dwarves continued on from their mighty battle with the 
  beholder, even more determined to get to Kronkton and the 
  granite dwarf elders. The further they went the more Barakello 
  convinced the other two that this was all the fault of the 
  shadow gnomes; they would be made to pay. The dwarves continued 
  down twisting winding corridors for another half-day by which 
  time the tunnels had noticeably changed shape. Alto noticed 
  because he could feel his head occasionally come very close to 
  hitting the top of the tunnel while the sides were now further 
  away.
       ‘Spotted the difference, have you?’ Barakello asked Alto.
       ‘The tunnels are lower and wider than before,’ he replied.
       ‘That's because you're in our territory. The tunnels’ 
  shapes are an indicator of how far into our territory you are; 
  we've been inside our area for about an hour now. It's hard to 
  spot at first but you'll see it becoming more obvious now.’
       ‘Is there any other reason for it?’ Clement enquired, 
  slightly less bothered by it than Alto as he was considerably 
  smaller in stature.
       ‘Of course. Look at me! Me and all my brethren are wider 
  than we are tall, that's the way we make our tunnels. It's of 
  
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  most benefit to us when defending our territory. Very few other 
  creatures have our dimensions or know how to fight properly in 
  our tunnels.’ 
       ‘Oh,’ Clement responded, ’what about the shadow gnomes, 
  they're smaller than you though, aren't they?’
       ‘Indeed, but not by much, and they have to adapt their 
  fighting style to the low ceiling.’ 
       ‘Is that why you always swing at opponents across your 
  body, then?’ Clement asked.
       ‘You catch on fast. But don't go telling everybody,’ the 
  obsidian-skinned granite dwarf said.
       ‘Don't worry I won't. I was just thinking about how well a 
  lightning bolt would ricochet down a corridor like this. It 
  would be amazing!!’
       ‘Indeed, just don't try it when I'm in front of you!’ 
       The three continued on for another hour and the tunnels got 
  lower and lower, wider and wider. Alto, being nearer five feet 
  than four, had to stoop regularly now to keep going. Eventually, 
  Barakello stopped them.
       ‘Just ahead lads. Welcome to the glorious city of Kronkton. 
  Just beyond this bend is the secret entrance and the Hallway of 
  the Elders; we'll be met there by a guard. Just stick with me.’
       They turned the corner and the tunnel continued with no 
  
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  doorway in sight.
       ‘You are in the right place aren't you?’ Alto enquired. 
  ‘That beholder hasn't befuddled you overmuch, has it friend?’
       Barakello stopped another two paces further ahead and 
  turned to face the unremarkable stone wall. He said a short 
  sentence in the ancient language of the granite dwarves, one 
  long forgotten by everyone else. The wall slid apart and a 
  draught of warm air, with the smell of a city attached, wafted 
  into the tunnel.
       ‘Quick lads - in you go!’ Barakello indicated.
       The three entered the Hall of the Elders. In front of them 
  the ceiling certainly did rise. Up and up they looked, though 
  they couldn't see it. Ahead was a wide corridor, flanked by a 
  series of plinths spaced three feet apart. At the top of each 
  plinth was the most amazing life-like carving of a granite 
  dwarf. All were seated on a high-backed throne, looking serious 
  and thoughtful.
       ‘I had no idea,’ Clement, the lightning dwarf, said in awed 
  tones.
       ‘Me neither and I'm pretty well travelled,’ Alto replied. 
  ‘How come I know so little about my fellow dwarves?’ he asked.
       ‘We keep our society quiet. Only a few chalk dwarves really 
  know much. You two are probably the first surface dwarves to 
  
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  come down here in years.’
       ‘Are you sure we're welcome?’ Clement asked a little 
  apprehensively, somewhat overwhelmed by the splendour of it all, 
  little sparks of electricity dancing in his eyes.
       Barakello turned quickly and stopped Clement with an 
  outstretched hand. He stared hard with his huge pitch black orbs 
  for eyes. Clement flinched. 
       ‘You are a dwarf, Clement. All dwarves are welcome.’
       They continued their walk down the Hall, passing in excess 
  of a hundred sculptures. When they reached the end they were met 
  by a group of four granite dwarf guards.
       ‘If it isn't Barakello,’ one said, a particularly broad 
  specimen.
       ‘The adventurer returns...and with friends,’ rumbled 
  another.
       ‘Brothers, I have returned but not with good tidings. I 
  must meet with the Elders; it is a matter of urgency.’
       ‘Really? Something from up there will affect us down here?’ 
  another enquired in disbelief.
       ‘Shadow gnomes!’ Barakello said emphatically.
       There was a brief pause as the granite dwarf guards 
  digested the fact that their mortal enemies were once again 
  causing problems for them. 
  
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       ‘I'll summon the Elders, Barakello. I'll try to arrange a 
  meeting immediately.’ 
       ‘Thank you. We need a brief rest too and some food. We, my 
  friends and I, have travelled hard for several days to get here 
  and fought hard on the way. I have many stories for you all but 
  they must wait for now.’
       One guard turned and went his own way, off to arrange an 
  audience with the Elders. The other three guards led the three 
  adventuring dwarves through the city streets to a tavern often 
  frequented by the guards.
       ‘I no longer have a family home here,’ Barakello said, 
  turning to Alto and Clement. My parents are no longer with us 
  and I have lost my only siblings in the tunnels around here. It 
  is why I left to adventure all those years ago,’ he explained.
       Clement and Alto were still marvelling at the architecture 
  surrounding them. The quality of the work was beyond 
  extraordinary. Fabulous columns with intricate carvings upon 
  them depicted all aspects of life in the tunnels and the city. 
  There were row upon row of perfectly symmetrical houses, with 
  only a few carvings to distinguish between them.
       ‘I'd get lost very quickly here,’ Clement remarked.
       ‘You’re not alone in those feelings,’ Alto replied. ‘Make 
  sure we don't lose sight of Barakello.’
  
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       Inside the tavern the three were shown to a perfectly round 
  table with four stools. 
       ‘Order what you like. We'll arrange a room for you too,’ a 
  guard informed them.
       ‘Thank you,’ they said in unison as they slumped onto the 
  stools.
       ‘It would be my pleasure to order some food for you, my 
  friends. It has been a long while since I have had home 
  cooking,’ Barakello said.
       Ten minutes after ordering three bowls of steaming liquid 
  arrived.
       ‘Under-dark soup and a lump of lichen bread,’ Barakello 
  said excitedly. Tuck in!’
       They did, and in spite of their initial apprehension it 
  proved to be delicious.
       ‘What was in that?’ Alto asked.
       ‘It changes daily but, essentially, whatever the mining 
  crew have killed in the tunnels during the day they bring back 
  to the kitchens for everyone. I believe I recognised behir, 
  kobold and, if my palate remains true after all these years, the 
  chewy bit was otyugh tentacles.’
       Had it not been so dark Barakello would have seen both his 
  friends go green in the face.
  
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       When they had used the room and refreshed themselves, one 
  of the guards arrived to inform them the Elders would see them, 
  since it was a matter of urgency. They followed the guard along 
  the streets of the city passing numerous granite dwarves, many 
  of whom stopped to get a better look at their two strange- 
  looking surface brothers.
       ‘They all look the same,’ Clement whispered to Alto.
       After several minutes they stopped at a large double door 
  with another guard on each side.
       ‘Welcome Barakello. The Elders will see you now. Follow 
  me!’ the guard on the left said.
       The heavy stone doors opened inwards to a dark corridor and 
  the guard set off, being closely followed by the three friends. 
  They arrived at a second stone door.
       ‘Through here are the four Elders of our society,’ the 
  guard began. ‘Surface brothers, do not be alarmed by their 
  appearance; what is happening is completely normal. They are the 
  special ones of our society, remember that.’  
       The doors swung open and the three walked forward. They 
  entered a room wider than it was long. There was a faint 
  illumination in the room coming from magical faerie fire on each 
  side.
  
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       Clement and Alto could only see four more columns, four 
  plinths in front of them. Barakello looked up and swept into a 
  low bow. Alto and Clement looked up too and their jaws dropped 
  open. Atop the columns or as they now realised, plinths, were 
  the four Elders seated on thrones, the same type of throne as 
  those on the plinths in the Hall of Elders on the way into the 
  city. More remarkable, though, was the condition of the dwarves. 
  Though it was hard to see cleary, they were all undergoing some 
  sort of transformation. The two to the right were the furthest 
  along. Their skin now more rock than flesh. Large parts of their 
  faces were now solid as were their fingers and large parts of 
  their arms. 
       ‘Welcome back, Barakello,’ they said in unison, ’and 
  welcome, friends. Do not be alarmed by our appearance. We are 
  the chosen ones, ones that will live on forever and help the 
  granite dwarf people for all time. It is a mark of how out of 
  touch we dwarves have all become from each other that you do not 
  even know of this transformation. Indeed, we can't even remember 
  the last visit we had from a surface dwarf. So welcome with open 
  arms and tell us the nature of this problem.’
       ‘As you will remember,’ Barakello began, ‘I left here after 
  the last war with the shadow gnomes. I had nothing left and felt 
  I had to leave.’
  
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       ‘We all remember well, Barakello. We felt it was right for 
  you to leave, and also for our surface brothers to reacquaint 
  themselves with the granite dwarves’
       ‘Well, after several months I met up with my new friend 
  here, Alto, and his brother and their adventuring band. My 
  lightning dwarf friend, Clement, here joined us too on our 
  travels. We crossed much of Vallilea and I saw many 
  extraordinary things that I shall never forget. For nearly two 
  years, with a few battles, some treasure piles and some monsters 
  I can't even begin to describe, and all has been well. Until 
  now. We came back south and ran straight into a most dire 
  situation, something much bigger than just an adventuring band 
  could deal with.’
        Barakello continued to tell the tale of the group’s time 
  in Salvington, meeting the Councillor Garth, the elven group of 
  adventurers and, lastly, the encounter with the shadow gnome 
  Darios and the death of the four other members of their team.
        The granite dwarf Elders listened intently. They rarely 
  had decisions to make concerning the surface world and they 
  turned, as much as possible due to their rock-like condition, to 
  each other to discuss it.
       ‘Barakello. This situation is most regrettable. No one 
  knows better than us what the shadow gnomes are capable of. 
  
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  Alto, we are very sorry for the loss of your brother and your 
  other friends.’ They paused.
       ‘However, we do not feel it would be in the best interests 
  of the city of Kronkton to engage the gnomes yet again in war. 
  Granite dwarf numbers are low at this time and we could face a 
  virtual wipe-out. We have to think to future generations.’
       Alto, Clement and Barakello looked to each other in dismay.
       ‘Hold yourselves. We said we cannot engage in a full war, 
  that was all. Barakello, you and your friends and twenty of our 
  best will go and attack by stealth the city of Imar. Wage your 
  own small war with the shadow gnomes and, before you go, make 
  sure you have every available weapon we have at our disposal 
  here. Use the maps, drop tunnels in and out of their city, set 
  up traps, kill any of their scouting parties and cause as much 
  chaos to the fiends as you are able. You have our blessing and 
  that of Kronk himself on this.’
       A smile broke upon the faces of the three companions.
       ‘Thank you Elders for your aid and wisdom. The whole of 
  Vallilea will be a better place for this,’ Barakello said.
       ‘Thank you Elders. It has been a pleasure. Consider surface 
  brother and deep dwarf reacquainted,’ Alto boomed.
       ‘And meeting you too, Alto, Clement. Remind all dwarven 
  brethren not to be strangers.’
  
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       ‘Indeed we will,’ they replied together.
       The three gave a low bow and turned and left the room. They 
  met the guard, who helped escort them out.
       ‘Can you get us the recruits we need?’ Barakello asked the 
  guard.
       ‘Oh yes. Beats guard duty for a while. Leave it to me. I'll 
  have thirty ready for you in no time. The name's Novakello, and 
  I'll meet you with your new crew at the inn when you’re done 
  with the maps.’
       ‘So be it, Novakello. We'll see you there shortly.’ 
  Barakello replied. 
       They then split up as Barakello led his friends to the 
  famed city map room.
       ‘Weren't we supposed to take jus twenty?’ Clement asked in 
  a hushed tone just in case the Elders could hear.
       ‘Don't you worry about that, Clement. They know what 
  they're doing.’
       
       In short order they arrived at the city library and 
  information store where the under-dark maps were kept. Barakello 
  explained his purpose to the attendant and the three were led to 
  a private room with a large flat table. After ten minutes in 
  which no one spoke, just waited with patience, the attendant 
  
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  returned with a roll of magical parchment. He unfurled it across 
  the table to reveal the whole known tunnel network from Kronkton 
  to Imar and the surrounding areas for both.
       ‘By Kronk!’ Alto said. ‘These are extraordinary!’
       ‘They were necessary during the wars; we had to try to keep 
  track of everything as we lack the magical ability of the 
  gnomes. They just seem to flit about through magical portals and 
  shadows everywhere, so we marked all the gates we could and 
  dropped tunnels around them to trap them. We were very 
  successful since most portals only go one way and then you have 
  to find another to move on.’
       ‘Don't they just escape by using the shadows?’ Clement 
  asked Barakello.
       ‘Firstly, it's risky shadow walking, as any cleric will 
  tell, but not all the gnomes can do it. It seems to be a power 
  that they only acquire if they are already quite powerful,’ 
  Barakello answered. ‘Their shadow jumping only works when they 
  can see or know where they're going. Anyway, they can't get 
  through walls of rock!’
       ‘Right then,’ Alto said, examining the maps more closely. 
  ‘We've got work to do.’ He looked up at the others. ‘For our 
  fallen friends,’ he said. The other two just nodded and they 
  began their project to work out where they would be going and 
  
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  which tunnels they should drop to cause most difficulty to the 
  hated shadow gnomes.
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /425
  Djemmini's 
   
   Fate
   
   
  Lord Djemmini, high priest of Nyrex, fifth in command at the 
  Citadel and contact for the Shades, was not happy. He had just 
  felt a tremor pass through his whole body, causing him to 
  shudder involuntarily, and it wasn't a feeling he had enjoyed. 
  At first he was unsure of its source, wondering whether he was 
  perhaps mistaken. However it only took a short prayer to his 
  Lord and Master, Nyrex himself, to confirm his worst fears. 
  Kollin's contingency had been activated and his mortal body 
  blasted into oblivion. Nyrex, though, was most pleased to have 
  Kollin's soul for the rest of eternity; there were several tasks 
  he had lined up for the evil human and he couldn't wait to put 
  him to work. Djemmini's communing also revealed the status of 
  the city of Findon. He was surprised and very deep down slightly 
  impressed that old Theobold had had the nerve and will power to 
  shut down his beloved city. At this moment it appeared he had 
  succeeded in his aims and that the Spice epidemic would slow and 
  perhaps even end.
        Djemmini paced around his room in a large town house in 
  Salvington, one that doubled as a centre for the worship of 
  Nyrex with a small temple, altar and sacrificing table in the 
  basement, and pondered his next move. The contingency only 
  
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  activated if his name was mentioned but hopefully anyone who had 
  heard it would have been obliterated by the fireball. However, 
  he couldn't take that chance. The missions in the cities had all 
  been going smoothly but he couldn't be involved anymore. It was 
  time for him to withdraw and allow the Shades and, more 
  importantly, the shadow gnomes to take over.
        He felt for the platinum piece in his robe pocket as he 
  walked over to the mirror on the wall. He began to cast his 
  spell while thinking of his contact, a certain Mentza Galavan.
       The mirror clouded over and, as it cleared, a dark purple 
  face topped with a black hat with gold sigils appeared.
       ‘Lord Djemmini, so good to hear from you. I trust all is 
  well,’ Mentza said, tipping his head in greeting.
       ‘Actually no, Mentza, all is not well. Findon has been 
  brought under control by Theobold. He's shut the city down and 
  my head distributor is no more.’
       ‘No more?’
       ‘He resides with my Lord and Master as we speak. This is 
  not a good situation for me, so I must insist that I remove 
  myself back to the Citadel for a while.’
       ‘You must do what you feel is right, Lord Djemmini. You 
  have proven to be most valuable to us and your withdrawal from 
  the front lines would be a blow, but things seem to be 
  
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  progressing well with the Spice in Salvington, especially the 
  new version. So, please take your leave with our blessing.’
       Djemmini wasn't sure he liked the way he was being spoken 
  to. Why should he need their blessing?
       ‘Thank you, Mentza. Our relationship has been an excellent 
  one and I hope it can continue in the not too distant future. 
  Nyrex is pleased with the number of souls that have come to him 
  of late due to our actions.’
       ‘Keep the platinum coin with you, Lord Djemmini; it will 
  aid our communication for future projects. There are other large 
  cities in Vallilea that I'm sure would enjoy the Spice.’
       ‘Until then,’ Djemmini replied.
       Mentza nodded, the mirror went black and then returned to 
  being a mirror. Djemmini stared long and hard at his reflection, 
  with its smoothed back blond hair and good looks. He looked 
  closer into his own eyes and wondered. He walked over to the 
  small window looking out into the street and spoke a word to 
  deactivate the wards surrounding it. He took the platinum coin 
  and hurled it into the street; best if some street urchin had 
  that for a while.
       
       Braden Puttnik, leader of his Clan, and his chief wizard, 
  Akkron, received a summons to meet with the Galavans in the 
  
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  cavern they used regularly for their clandestine meetings. The 
  meetings were happening more frequently and the pair were 
  beginning to suspect that the overthrow of the surface world was 
  being derailed. They arrived through magical means and found 
  their deep purple counterparts, Kymru and Mentza, were already 
  there.
       ‘A meeting so soon, Kymru; are we having troubles from our 
  surface forays?’ Braden asked. 
       ‘Djemmini of Nyrex wishes to remove himself from our 
  service as he feels slightly threatened after Theobold acted. 
  One of his main contacts, Kollin, a man Darios became acquainted 
  with, was found by the guards and murdered.
       ‘And the death of a subordinate worries him so much that he 
  has to go running off back to his Citadel?’
       ‘It would appear so. However,’ Kymru paused, ‘we are not in 
  the business of allowing people with a full understanding of our 
  affairs to continue to run around telling anyone they feel like. 
  Especially someone as powerful as he is.’
       ‘I agree entirely, Kymru. What do you have in mind?’ the 
  mauve leader of the Puttniks asked.
       It was Mentza who answered. ‘Leileilii is still in the city 
  of Salvington. I have just contacted her and given her a new 
  mission. Her pretty face should be the last Lord Djemmini ever 
  
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  sees!’
       ‘Excellent thinking, Mentza,’ Akkron praised his wizard 
  counterpart.
       ‘And where are we with the other situation?’ Braden 
  enquired. ‘The elves and the dwarves. I assume they are being 
  dealt with.’
       ‘Let's all go back to my house. I believe the welcoming 
  committee have just arrived at the Korash cavern and are 
  awaiting the elves, even as we speak,’ Kymru replied. 
       The four extremely powerful shadow gnomes departed that 
  instant, arriving back at the main house of Clan Galavan ready 
  to watch the action unfold in the Clan's crystal ball.
       
       Djemmini finished rounding up the last of his things that 
  had been scattered around the room he had been using for the 
  past week. He wouldn't miss Salvington. He longed to return to 
  the Citadel and get on with other plots, such as rising further 
  up the chain of command. His master, Nyrex, actively encouraged 
  progression through the ranks of the Citadel and he had his 
  black heart set on being number one in the not too distant 
  future.
        There was a knock at the door to break his reverie, an 
  unexpected one. Djemmini paused, many thoughts racing through 
  
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  his mind, the main one being that the shadow gnomes had sent an 
  assassin for him. He wondered whether to answer or not then 
  almost laughed at himself. He was more than capable of dealing 
  with any of their stubby assassins as they would soon discover.
       ‘Come in!’ He called.
       The door opened and his visitor casually sauntered into his 
  room. A wide smile spread across Djemmini's face. So they have 
  sent an assassin for me, he thought, except they don't want to 
  do it themselves.
       The visitor eyed him up and down through half-closed, 
  seductive eyes and smiled with just the left side of her mouth 
  curling upwards.
       ‘Hallo Priest! I presume you know why I'm here,’ Leileilii 
  said in a voice more like a purring cat than a human.
       ‘I imagine that only one of us is supposed to leave this 
  room,’ he replied.
       ‘Something like that,’ she said, shaking out her flame-red 
  hair and running a hand down the side of her gown onto a thigh 
  that was being increasingly revealed by the split in the red 
  silk. 
       Djemmini stared hard. She was a stunning creature but a 
  devil, not a human, and one highly capable of causing him harm, 
  possibly even ending his life for a while. 
  
   Spice Richard Kingston /431
       ‘Like what you see priest?’ she asked, leaning gently 
  forward to fill out better the top of her dress. He merely 
  smiled. 
       ‘Of course you do. All human males like what they see, but 
  you’re not like all human males are you? You are a powerful one; 
  I can feel it emanating from you. Your god loves you and what 
  you do.’
       Djemmini was slightly surprised to hear from another that 
  he was held in such high regard by his master.
       ‘You're right, of course, you're not going to leave this 
  room,’ she continued. ‘Mentza told me to take care of you. Do 
  you know, Priest, I quite like Mentza, he gives me the most 
  wonderful assignments.’
       ‘How kind of him. But I fear that you may not win this 
  battle,’ Djemmini replied.
       ‘Battle? Priest, you are powerful, but you need to examine 
  what is being said more closely, the subtlety in my words. Can't 
  you feel it between us? The attraction,’ she shuddered. ‘This is 
  more than just seduction, Priest. I can do that to any man. No, 
  there is a purpose behind this.’ 
       ‘A purpose Mentza has given you?’
       ‘I am under his control, for now. But it can be broken.’
       ‘It will be when you die at my hand when you attack,’ 
  
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  Djemmini responded coolly but intrigued.
       Leileilii smiled. ‘You're catching on Priest. You can open 
  gates, can't you?’ she asked the rhetorical question. ‘I know 
  you can. Open a gate for me then, so I can see my home.’
       ‘My Lord will not grant me that power now. It is a powerful 
  spell that requires preparation and a reason he approves of.’
       ‘Oh, you see I think he will.’
       Djemmini looked confused.
        ‘Pray for a gate Priest, to the nine hells, my home,’ 
  Leileilii purred.
       Still unsure and ready for the attack he believed imminent, 
  Djemmini started his spell and found, to his astonishment, the 
  power of his god flowing through him. There in the middle of the 
  room he produced a portal to the nine hells. He stared at it, 
  then at the beautiful succubus opposite him. ‘And?’
       ‘I can't step through of course. It would break my binding 
  to Mentza.’
       ‘But if you were to die here then that would break the bond 
  and you'd be banished for a hundred years.’
       ‘That's true, unless of course someone knows my name and 
  can summon me or if someone would care to visit me,’ she smiled 
  as she indicated the portal.
       ‘And the purpose of all this? I feel my master is involved 
  
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  so I am intrigued,’ Djemmini said, still unsure.
       ‘I have produced a son before but many centuries ago. I 
  believe I am ready for another and your master believes it would 
  be most useful to us all,’ she said, now running both hands 
  seductively down her front and resting them on her belly.
       ‘A cambion,’ Djemmini said.
       ‘A cambion,’ Leileilii repeated, ‘and it would be special 
  if he was yours. Your master knows that too.’
       Djemmini paused a moment and stared at the devil before 
  him. There were no guarantees that she would stay in this most 
  alluring form but the benefits! He would have a son, a half- 
  devil son to work with him. The possibilities assailed him. He 
  smiled at the succubus and produced a long, wicked-looking waved 
  dagger from his hip.
       ‘I suppose this is something of a ceremony,’ he said as he 
  approached her.
       She laughed and threw her head back exposing the exquisite 
  creamy skin of her neck. In one strong blow Djemmini slashed the 
  razor sharp dagger across her throat and then thrust it into her 
  midriff and up towards her heart. Blood, a dark black devil 
  blood, sprayed across the room and Leileilii gasped and roared 
  at the pain. She slumped to the floor as her life blood on this 
  plane ebbed away. She died smiling as her corporal body 
  
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  disappeared. Djemmini stared at the blood and the silk gown left 
  on the floor of the room. 
       ‘Interesting,’ he said. He walked the four feet over to the 
  gate to the nine hells and looked through it. He waited 
  patiently for several minutes before he was rewarded. Now in her 
  demon form she was no less beautiful, virtually the same in 
  fact, but with large feathered wings protruding from her back. 
  She smiled, a noticeably more fanged smile than before, and 
  beckoned him forth.
       Djemmini shrugged, said a quick prayer to his god asking 
  for protection, and stepped through. 
       The succubus launched herself forward as he stepped through 
  and held his head with both hands as they locked stares. She 
  leant forward and kissed him passionately, their lips locked for 
  what felt like an eternity of bliss to them both. She took 
  flight, still locked in an embrace with her Priest, heading for 
  her lair. They had a cambion to produce after all.
  
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  Ambush
   The Korash cavern was nearly a mile in diameter, one of the 
  largest in the under-dark that didn't form the home of some 
  tribe or other of under-dark denizens. It had once been the home 
  of a great and fearsome deep dragon, Korash, who had terrorised 
  the population below for many centuries. The cavern was perfect 
  for the dragon as three tunnels converged on it, one coming from 
  the surface, one to the deep gnome city of Imar and one further 
  in to the under-dark where, if you took the correct turns, it 
  could lead to the granite dwarf city of Kronkton. It had some 
  stalagmites still but virtually no stalactites as Korash had 
  removed them all to aid his flights around his territory. The 
  centre of the cavern was uneven and rocky; the path through to 
  any of the tunnels was some twenty feet wide around the edge of 
  the cavern. To the west, between the tunnels to the surface and 
  the under-dark, was the great depression where Korash had slept 
  and hoarded his treasure, a little of which still remained. His 
  demise had led to a power struggle between the gnomes and the 
  dwarves, each race fighting to make it a strategic outpost from 
  which to help keep the other at bay. Even a shadow dragon had 
  tried to claim the cavern as his own. The gnomes had put a 
  magical gate, number twenty-eight, on the eastern wall of the 
  
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  cavern. Using this they were able to travel to and from the 
  cavern far too easily for the granite dwarves to be able to take 
  the cavern. However, the dwarves had fought back by trapping the 
  gnomes’ gate at every opportunity during the last war, leading 
  to a huge loss of lives for the gnomes. In the end the cavern 
  remained unoccupied, too hard to hold for either gnomes, dwarves 
  or anyone else. 
        The gate put in place by the shadow gnomes was still there 
  and currently untrapped. Through it now came the great devil, 
  Cheragai, and a select group of ten assassins and three wizards 
  sent out by Clans Galavan and Puttnik to intercept and kill the 
  elves coming their way. They moved into the cavern, concealing 
  themselves behind the stalagmites and behind walls, with the 
  assassins hiding in the dark areas, the mages using spells of 
  concealment and beginning another fearsome spell between the 
  three of them. Cheragai merely leant against the wall on the 
  eastern path; he couldn't wait for a good battle. It had been 
  far too long and now that he was no longer constrained by his 
  human form he could use his full eight feet of height and his 
  beloved sword that Akkron had returned to him especially for 
  this ambush. 
        The Company of the Compass were slowly and cautiously 
  making their way down the tunnel that ran into the cavern. Orion 
  
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  led the way, never making a sound, occasionally stopping the 
  others and moving ahead before blinking back. He came to the 
  vast cavern first, wide paths leading left to the east and right 
  slightly west. He stopped the group again so they could discuss 
  their options.
       ‘This cavern is massive,’ Orion began. ‘Do you want to 
  check it for tracks, Quin?’
       ‘Sure, I'll go to the left, do you want to check right?’ 
  Quin replied.
       ‘OK. Anyone else?’ Orion asked.
       Apollo's sword pulsed. ‘My brother informs me we aren't 
  alone, be careful,’ he said gravely. ‘He can't read what it is, 
  but something powerful is lurking in here.’
       ‘Shouldn't I just clear the way? ‘Ethandril asked, trying 
  to suppress his excitement and whisper as best he could.
       ‘Not a good idea, Ethan,’ Cat said. ‘Stay with me till we 
  know what's out there, then we can act together.’
       ‘Like a team? We've never really done that before have we? 
  Are you starting to eschew your steel stick now then?’ Ethandril 
  replied, with a slightly mad smile of hope on his face.
       ‘Not yet, Ethan, it's just sensible for now.’
       The Red Baron hovered into the middle of the conversing 
  group, face covered by his right arm ‘I shall smite our enemies 
  
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  from wherever I consider it best. Have no fear for me, since I 
  fear no one!’
        ‘Let's go quietly then,’ Quin said as he moved off to the 
  left. Orion, as stealthy and silent as a wraith, moved off to 
  the right. 
        Giving them both a good lead to discover what they could, 
  the pair were each followed by one of their own, Elwood behind 
  Quin-Helwig, Apollo behind Orion.
        Examining the path for signs of tracks, Quin’s senses were 
  on full alert and it was he who first picked up on soft 
  chanting. Realising the seriousness of it as some sort of 
  summoning and with more than one voice involved, Quin took a 
  major decision and blew the silence completely.
       ‘Mages!!’ he yelled. ‘Sounds like they're opening a gate! 
  Slightly to my right.’
       Quin was right. The three shadow gnome wizards had just 
  finished their summoning when a large black portal opened to the 
  abyss. They called a name and waited for their demon to arrive.
       
        Elwood moved swiftly to within ten feet of Quin on the 
  eastern path, now his cover was blown, bow in hand. A figure, a 
  huge eight-foot figure, peeled itself away from the cavern wall 
  some thirty yards ahead, a huge sword in its right hand. Quin-
  
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  Helwig drew his long and short sword and prepared himself. 
  Elwood knelt and let off five arrows in quick succession. The 
  fiery magical bolts left tracers through the darkness and each 
  hit the devil full in the chest. The devil roared, but it was 
  one of pleasure, not pain.
       ‘Your puny mortal bolts cannot defeat me, elf! Nothing you 
  have can defeat me!’ Cheragai roared. 
       
        As Orion stalked along the other path he saw a quick 
  movement from his left and two shadow gnome darts hit the wall 
  next to him. He instantly blinked back ten feet and then dashed 
  forward to come at his hidden assailant from the other side. He 
  just made out the little gnome and threw his own dart. It struck 
  the creature in the leg and it cried out as the force of the 
  blow broke its femur. The gnome managed to use its innate shadow 
  jump power to move further back into the middle of the cavern 
  and away. Orion continued forward as stealthy as a leopard and 
  saw another gnome ahead. He blinked again right in behind the 
  unwitting creature. This time he had his dagger in hand and 
  plunged the brutal blade into the back left side of the gnome. 
  The position and force he used forced the blade straight into 
  the gnome’s heart killing it instantly. Orion smiled as he felt 
  a new power course through the blade in to him. Shadow jump was 
  
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  all he could hear.
       
        The mighty Cheragai stalked forward, still being assailed 
  by Elwood’s barrage of missiles. They stopped abruptly as 
  Elwood’s fiery shield flashed four times in quick succession. He 
  was under attack himself from shadow gnomes and turned to look 
  into the stalagmites more to the centre of the cavern.
        Quin readied himself for the devil, aware that he had been 
  struck several times by shadow gnome darts but they had not 
  penetrated his defence, the lion’s paw scabbard blocked all 
  missiles. The great devil advanced, swinging his huge six-foot 
  long blade from side to side, swapping hands every so often, a 
  leering smile on his bearded face.
       ‘You hope to do better than your little friend with those 
  two knives, elf. Pah! You'll soon get to know what a real sword 
  feels like!’ Cheragai bellowed. Quin smiled, more to himself 
  than at Cheragai; he had several hundred years of experience on 
  his side.
       
        Apollo began up the right path following an invisible 
  Orion. He saw two darts hit the wall and kept full alert, sword 
  drawn and pulsing. He heard Orion off to his left now in the 
  stalagmites and the death of a shadow gnome. ‘Brother, there are 
  
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  demons here, they have been summoned,’ the sword pulsed green.
       ‘Then let's send them back to the abyss shall we?’ Apollo 
  emparted back.
        Sure enough, the three shadow gnome wizards had been 
  successful in their summoning. The female face appeared first at 
  the gate, and then her torso and the accompanying six arms came 
  through too. She smiled at the gnomes and slithered the rest of 
  her snake body through. The marilith did so enjoy working for 
  these evil little critters, they always gave her such enjoyable 
  tasks. 
       
        The summoning complete, a wizard decided to open his own 
  personal hostilities and cast a common spell sending a pea-sized 
  ball of flame whizzing across the cavern. It exploded as a 
  fireball in a perfect globe just in the entrance of the cavern. 
  The Red Baron, Ethandril and Catarina were all standing right in 
  the middle of the blast. When the instant detonation had gone, 
  the three looked at each other, all completely unaffected.
       ‘Our turn,’ Ethandril said, ‘and I can do a whole lot 
  better than that!’
       The flame elf mage pulled a small ruby from one of his many 
  pockets. ‘Give me a minute or two please, Cat,’ he asked. ‘Send 
  them back a little something in the meantime.’
  
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       Catarina began her spell; an enlarged missile of magical 
  energy left the palm of her hand and whizzed back across the 
  cavern. The super missile blasted into one of the mages and 
  knocked him over. Although uninjured by the missile the force of 
  the blast had been enough to knock him down.
        Cheragai gave a long firm swing at Quin and the elven 
  ranger hopped back out of range. The serrated blade oozed venom 
  and acid, leaving small holes in the path as it dripped. Quin 
  dashed in behind Cheragai's next swing from his right to left. 
  He swung hard with his long sword and stabbed hard after with 
  the short. The long sword narrowly missed, but the shorter blade 
  struck and slid several inches into the devil.
       ‘Aaah! Yeess! More, little elf, really try and hurt me, it 
  feels sooo gooood!’ Cheragai roared.
       He swiped at Quin, left to right then back. Quin blocked 
  with his long sword the second stroke and was knocked back by 
  the devil’s strength. Cheragai followed in with a low sweep 
  which Quin jumped then quickly jabbed at Quin instead. The point 
  struck the ranger in the chest. The blow was hard enough to open 
  the flesh in spite of his scabbard. Quin gritted his teeth 
  against the pain as acid burnt him too. The wound started to 
  
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  heal immediately but Quin knew a full blow could be serious.
       
        Having been assaulted by several darts, Elwood turned to 
  the centre of the cavern and thought of his goddess Yllana. For 
  several seconds, while his barrier absorbed more, he prayed to 
  her. His spell came down with loud screams coming from the two 
  gnomes caught within the blade barrier. The sound of blade on 
  rock could be heard all around as well as the death cries of 
  those caught within.
       
        Ethandril finished his third spell and looked up. ‘Right,’ 
  he said and promptly hurled the gem in the direction of the 
  wizards. The gem seemed to fly of its own accord and flew on 
  till it was over the top of the three purple gnome wizards. It 
  hovered there for a split second before it unleashed the three 
  spells simultaneously. Three orange bolts of lightning, five 
  orange magic missiles and three strokes of magical flame all 
  shot forth from the gem as it struck the gnomes. The three 
  gnomes absorbed and deflected the incoming magic with varying 
  degrees of success, only one of whom was injured, the others 
  unaffected. 
       ‘Very impressive, elf, if it's worked at all,’ the Red 
  Baron said in Ethandril's ear, ‘but you may need something a 
  
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  little better than that for this bunch.’ And with that he 
  floated up high into the cavern on his board and disappeared. 
       Orion stalked on, blinking where he could see. Around him 
  some now nervous shadow gnomes were doing the same with their 
  shadow jumping ability. Orion stopped and decided to use more 
  traditional methods. He slipped between two stalagmites and 
  using sideways pressure quickly climbed up the twelve feet to 
  the top of them. He waited, hidden in shadow and silent, 
  watching the floor below. Sure enough a gnome appeared directly 
  below. It looked all around but saw no sign of its target. Orion 
  dropped like a silent bat onto the gnome, dagger in both hands. 
  He landed atop the gnome and drove the dagger through the 
  creature’s skull with his full body weight. Their bald pates 
  almost act like a target from above, he mused. Blood sprayed 
  high, wetting Orion as he fell to one side, still holding the 
  dagger. The movement caused the skull to split open with an 
  almighty crack and spill the creature’s brain. The dagger still 
  had time to impart something else, gnomish sight. Suddenly Orion 
  could see everything, no longer limited to his elven infravision 
  which only extended sixty feet or so. It was like being in 
  daylight and he could see all the hidey holes, all the other 
  
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  gnomes, everything. 
       
        The marilith slithered out onto the path and saw the 
  shining elf with the pulsing green blade walking calmly towards 
  her.
       ‘Here's your demon, brother,’ the sword imparted.
       Apollo stopped, took three deep breaths and listened for 
  the rhythm to begin, tick,tick,tick. Not too fast, two a second 
  would do for starters against a marilith. The marilith with her 
  six arms and blades moved forwards closing the gap, eager to 
  take on this foolhardy elf. She swung with her top right hand, 
  the elf parried and rotated clockwise back and slashed at her 
  from her right. She just got a blade up in time to deflect the 
  blow which only sent the elf spinning back the other way to 
  slash at her from her left. She reared back away from this 
  dangerous opponent and reassessed the situation. She said a 
  word, a name, one which Apollo didn't quite catch and smiled. 
  ‘Dangerous, elf. Maybe I need to show some of my sisters your 
  skills.’
       
       ‘To me Cat,’ said Ethandril. ‘Let's pop over there and take 
  a better look at these supposed wizards. I so hate random 
  hurling of spells. I like to be able to see the results.’
  
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       ‘OK. Let's go,’ she said, as she grabbed his arm just as 
  Ethandril finished his teleport spell. They arrived in the 
  middle of the cavern where they were now only fifty feet from 
  the gnome wizards. Ethandril smiled. ‘Give them something then, 
  little Cat!’ he urged her. Cat blew the strongest spell she 
  knew. A streak of lightning leapt forth and smashed into the 
  first gnome then carried on to the next and the next.
       ‘That's my girl!’ Ethandril yelled and pondered his own 
  spell. Just then a prismatic spray came right for them, Catarina 
  reacted quicker drawing her sword and holding it into the 
  rainbow of lights. The whole thing, all seven colours, was 
  absorbed by the sword. She turned to Ethandril. ‘It's not just a 
  stick,’ she smiled’
       ‘Indeed!’ he sneered and said a few short words; a thin 
  green beam shot forward at the gnomes. It just missed one and 
  blew a huge chunk out of the stalagmite he stood in front of. 
  ‘Pah, that’s always the problem with that spell. I must find a 
  way to make it wider or seek out the target,’ a frustrated 
  Ethandril muttered.
       
       Apollo stood five feet out of reach of the marilith, 
  holding his pulsing green blade lightly in his right hand. The 
  marilith was smiling at him as a black hole ripped the air apart 
  
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  several feet behind her and a female head poked through. 
  ‘Excellent, sister,’ it said and a second demon, another six- 
  armed marilith slithered through.
       ‘Oh brother!’ the sword imparted. The ticking in Apollo's 
  mind continued at the same rate; he didn't feel a need for an 
  increase just yet, after all he had clearly bested the first 
  marilith, which was why she had summoned help. The pair 
  slithered forward, rising to their full seven feet in height and 
  waving all six blade carrying arms at Apollo. A wry smile 
  crossed the ancient elf's lips; if only they knew, he thought.
       ‘Knew what, elf?’ the first marilith asked.
       ‘ESP brother, they're both using it.’
       ‘Yes we are, clever sword,’ the second marilith said. ‘I'll 
  look forward to using you in future.’ 
       ‘Unlikely, demon, I wouldn't work for you,’ came the 
  sword’s retort.
       The first marilith lunged in again, two right hands 
  swinging in from Apollo's left, one high one mid-waist. He met 
  the mid-height blade and spun clockwise to counter. The 
  marilith's lower right hand chopped in to catch him from behind 
  but the ancient elf moved his sword to his right just in time to 
  catch the blade and continue his spin. Once more clockwise he 
  was now past all the demon’s right hand blades and he slashed 
  
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  across with all his momentum into the scales of the demon.
       ‘Yyaaarrgghh!’ she screamed, as a huge wound opened in her 
  side, spraying demon blood out in a great fountain. The second 
  marilith slid in to aid her sister. She flanked Apollo to his 
  left leaving the wounded demon on his right. The pair both 
  turned to him smiling.
       ‘They're synchronising, brother’ the green blade pulsed.
       There was a brief pause, then they struck, blades rushing 
  in on all sides, some stabbing some slashing, all slightly after 
  each other as the demon pair acted as one. The ancient elf left 
  his sword out for the first blow and the ticking in his head 
  speeded up to four ticks a second. Each swipe of a blade each 
  stab of a venomous point connected with the elf’s shining blade. 
  Apollo barely stood allowing his weight to go with being flicked 
  around by the force of his assailants. To an outsider it would 
  have looked like he was being flipped around like a rag doll, 
  but the ancient warrior was never out of control. High parries 
  leading to back somersaults, clockwise spins, counter-spins, 
  front flips, every one being propelled by the demons’ fury and 
  weight of strike. Apollo took a chance, he jumped up to parry 
  and was flipped higher, he parried a second incoming to flip 
  higher still, and then he was above all the second marilith’s 
  arms. He slashed down hard slicing through the marilith's face, 
  
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  slicing her nose clean off and slashing further down into her 
  chest. She screamed loud and slithered back, her stunned sister 
  giving ground too to the golden solar elf, still standing, his 
  shining armour spattered with demon gore. He just smiled at 
  them, all the while the tick continuing at four per second. 
       
       Cheragai roared and rushed in again his great sword coming 
  in an overhead arc at the top of the broad island elf's head. 
  Quin-Helwig thrust both swords up to meet the blow and deflected 
  the giant venomous sword to his left. It smashed into the floor 
  creating a shower of sparks. Quin seized his chance and slashed 
  in with his long sword. It struck Cheragai on the thigh with an 
  almighty bang. The devil hadn't felt such pain in centuries, a 
  huge lump of flesh had just vanished, cauterized from his left 
  thigh. He cried out in pain and slashed his sword across, from 
  Quin’s left, at the elven ranger. Quin was too close in now to 
  the devil and moved even closer, he rolled around the wounded 
  left thigh, stepped back and slashed again at the leg. Another 
  almighty bang nearly burst his sensitive elven eardrums and a 
  huge lump of hamstring was removed. The left leg couldn't hold 
  the weight of the huge devil anymore and Cheragai toppled over 
  to his left, screaming as he did so. The devil landed on his 
  left side and flipped himself round over to his right side as 
  
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  hard as he could, still holding his evil blade. He whacked it 
  down onto Quin with all his might. The ranger just got his short 
  sword up in time to partially deflect the blow but it caught his 
  left shoulder hard. A chunk of his shoulder was sliced off and 
  his arm dropped to his side the short sword falling out of his 
  useless hand.
       ‘HaHa!’ bellowed Cheragai as Quin reeled away in pain. ‘I 
  can chop bits off too, elf,’ he cried, but his joy was short 
  lived. The shoulder was already healing fast, new flesh 
  regrowing where his shoulder had been. The elf stalked over to 
  the now prone devil who, unable to get up and his sword clenched 
  only in his left hand, lifted himself with both arms to face 
  Quin. The elven ranger calmly lifted his long sword and swung 
  for the back of Cheragai's neck. There was a third huge bang as 
  the neck vanished and Cheragai's bearded head dropped off his 
  body and rolled a little way down the path. Quin took several 
  deep breaths and picked up his short sword with his now 
  functioning left hand.  The devil’s body turned to smoke, as he 
  departed the material world for another hundred years, but not 
  before Quin had managed to remove the fierce blade from his hand.
       
       Standing only yards away from the ferocious battle between 
  Quin-Helwig and Cheragai, Elwood had continued to cast his god 
  
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  given spells and his bow now shone like a beacon in the cavern. 
  He knew more of the little shadow gnomes were around and he 
  waited; they would try to attack at any moment. He walked 
  further down the path, just as Quin finished Cheragai, and a 
  dart struck his holy body armour, although it fizzled to 
  nothing. He immediately fired in the rough direction it had came 
  from, drawing the bow back with three multi-coloured arrows on 
  it and released. The arrows shot off and veered in flight, 
  turning corners like a magic missile and striking their target 
  unerringly. The assassin who had been struck immediately shadow 
  jumped to the path behind Elwood in a last attempt to catch the 
  Priest by surprise. Elwood drew the bow again with another three 
  arrows and fired for good measure. The arrows shot forward a few 
  feet before arcing in the sky and coming back round over his 
  head and into the same unsuspecting gnome. The last thought that 
  went through Rondan Puttnik’s mind before he was blown away by 
  the fourth, fifth and sixth arrows was that he wished he had 
  access to such fantastic weaponry.
       
       ‘Well done, little Cat!’ Ethan encouraged, after she had 
  absorbed the prismatic spray, ‘but I grow tired of this.’ 
       Catarina knew what was coming but was powerless to resist, 
  and, in all honesty, should they risk dying at the hands of 
  
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  these gnomes or allowing them to summon through any more demons 
  or devils? Ethandril spoke the words of his favourite spell and 
  four meteor-like balls shot out of his hand, growing in size 
  and spreading out to form a square in the air, parallel to the 
  ground about six feet up.
       ‘Wait for it!’ he beamed.
       BOOM!!
       The four balls exploded with such force it knocked all 
  three shadow gnome mages to the floor, even though they had some 
  protection against the fire, the sheer force of the meteor swarm 
  had knocked the stuffing out of them. Ethandril’s own protection 
  flared as it shielded him and Cat from the blast. One gnome was 
  now dead as he had been directly under one of the balls. The 
  other two, having defended against the lightning before, were 
  wondering how much more they could take. Zarbal Puttnik thought 
  better of the situation, nodded to his colleague, called on his 
  innate ability to shadow walk and left the cavern ready to fight 
  another day. The last mage, Grinta Galavan, had other ideas and 
  returned fire with a spell to which there was little defence. He 
  made the hand gestures for his spell and, before they knew what 
  was happening, the ground under Catarina and Ethandril had 
  turned to quick sand and Cat had slipped under completely as 
  Ethandril floated just above.
  
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        Ethandril loosed another spell and a thin dark blue beam 
  shot forward at the gnome who was in the middle of casting the 
  reverse of his spell to seal Cat in forever. He hadn't a chance 
  to dodge before the freezing beam struck him. His hands stopped 
  moving, his spell was lost, and slowly his body began to freeze 
  outwards from the spot where he was struck, as though he was 
  turning to ice. From overhead Catarina’s salvation came in an 
  unexpected form; the Red Baron swooped down from the cavern roof 
  and plunged a staff into the quicksand. After several seconds he 
  felt a tug and slowly rose back into the air and brought 
  Catarina along with him and out of the suffocating sand. She 
  gasped desperately for breath, glad to be alive and coughed and 
  choked on all fours before she looked up into the red-irised 
  black eyeballs of the Red Baron, who simply said in his hoarse 
  whisper:
        ‘I believe you now owe me, little girl.’
       
       Orion was beginning to enjoy the hunt, and especially the 
  rewards. If he could continue to kill with the dagger who knew 
  what strengths and abilities would be bestowed upon him. But he 
  was not greedy, though it was tempting. The darts were always 
  his first line of attack and his strength, which a frost giant 
  had so graciously bestowed upon him, ensured that they now sank 
  
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  into their targets with far greater ease to deliver their lethal 
  poisons. He enjoyed the new powers but he also liked his own 
  skills honed over years of practice. So slowly he started to 
  move around the stalagmites like he always would have, leaping, 
  dashing, tumbling, with the grace of an acrobat, never in one 
  place for more than a few seconds, swinging up high, slithering 
  low. He saw another gnome appear from a shadow jump and it saw 
  him, both made swift flicking movements and a pair of poisoned 
  darts crossed in the air whizzing towards their targets. Orion 
  arched his back and the dart missed his slender neck by a hair’s 
  breadth. The shadow gnome was not so lucky. The weight of the 
  throw had pierced the enchanted armour it had paid an 
  extortionate amount of gold for, and the dart was now sticking 
  out of his belly pumping its poison into him. He screamed out in 
  frustration and anger, both at being hit and the failure of the 
  armour. The scream only attracted the attention of his stalker, 
  Orion, who, realising the gnome might be able to fight off the 
  poison, threw a second dart at the now sitting gnome. It hit him 
  in the temple and fairly exploded the creature’s skull. More 
  shadow gnome brain splattered across the cavern floor as the 
  headless body toppled over to its right.
       
       Apollo stood sword upraised and ready; he could sense 
  
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  something more was afoot.
       ‘They're talking to one another, brother’ the sword sent. 
  ‘Oh no, there's another one coming!’
       Sure enough another black hole appeared and a third female 
  head poked out. At her sisters’ bidding the third marilith, with 
  another six arms and six blades slithered into the Korash 
  cavern, a wicked smile on her face. The three stopped moving and 
  continued their telepathic conversation some feet out of reach 
  of the agile and dangerous solar elf. They slithered apart and 
  began to try and circle Apollo, the second one, with an ugly 
  facial wound, went to his left behind a stalagmite and past him 
  to come in from behind. The new arrival stayed to his front 
  gently weaving patterns in the air with her six blades, as his 
  first adversary moved to his right. Apollo remained unconcerned, 
  ice cool, all the while listening to the ticking rhythm in his 
  head. The three managed to surround Apollo far more easily then 
  they imagined they would and slowly their noose tightened. Three 
  against one, eighteen blades against one all working in unison. 
  The tall, almost regal solar elf took a deep breath and settled 
  himself. He momentarily closed his eyes and sank, for the first 
  time in several decades, deep, deep, deep into the rhythm. 
  Everything around him had slowed; the only thing he could hear 
  was the beat of the fighting style, the one at which he knew he 
  
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  would best these monsters and send them back to the abyss. Eight 
  beats per second, almost impossible to anyone, anyone except the 
  master of the art. The mariltihs’ ESP was picking up a faint 
  ticking but they all dismissed the noise. Then they struck.
        High chops to low flipped Apollo into forward somersaults, 
  left and right caused him to almost ricochet off the next 
  incoming blade, his reading of their attacks immaculate. They 
  worked together to try and create openings, but at any one time 
  he was only ever being directly assaulted by one blade. Slowly 
  but surely the three demons began to fall into the trap, the 
  greatest part of the fighting style. They were being drawn in to 
  Apollo’s rhythm, the noise of blade on blade as he deflected 
  every blow began to create an entrancing noise. On and on it 
  went, the tireless demons hacking and chopping and slashing with 
  all their might and fury, but the nimble elf leapt and 
  pirouetted, parried and blocked their every move. He knew he had 
  won, when for over five minutes they had been in the trance 
  zone. They hadn't even realised that working together it was 
  easier for the dance to hypnotize them all. He geared himself up 
  for the finale as a slash came in from his right. He blocked 
  gently and allowed the force to spin him anti-clockwise. He 
  ducked low, past the next blade which he could have parried, and 
  used the momentum to slash the demon in front of him. He carried 
  
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  on and held his blade high to catch an overhead chop that 
  propelled him into a forward roll and a quick in and out thrust 
  of his sword into the same marilith’s tail. He jumped the tail 
  and rolled in front of the first demon. Two blades came on from 
  his left, he jumped up high while holding the tip of his sword 
  down, it just caught the first lower blade and spun him side 
  over and over the second higher blade, his downward momentum 
  allowing him a hard slash at the creature’s lowest arm. It fell 
  clean off at the elbow still clutching tight the blade in its 
  hand. He turned and back slashed the stricken demon using his 
  own strength for the first time and the combination of injuries 
  was enough to finish her. A huge gaping line in her back caused 
  her to shriek again and she dissolved into smoke, sent back to 
  the abyss. The regal solar elf quick-stepped forward to the 
  facially injured demon; she obliged by slashing with her two 
  high hands together. Apollo caught the left hand slash with his 
  blade and shifted his weight forward so that the force of the 
  blow made his sword slash into the arm coming from the right. He 
  ducked as the blade continued on over his head, released from 
  the arm which was now spraying demon blood. Two more blows came 
  on from the left. The elf stepped back and took the blow, giving 
  him the momentum he needed. He spun away once and half way 
  through the second spin, to the utter surprise of the third 
  
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  demon, his blade came across low and slashed her scaled snake 
  belly for a third time. She hissed in agony at Apollo but was 
  powerless; she had been too badly wounded and turned to smoke 
  and so returned to the Abyss. Apollo turned to face his last 
  gravely wounded opponent and held his sword high.
       ‘You are formidable, little elf, but maybe if we met on my 
  terms you wouldn't be so,’ she hissed. ‘In the Abyss you'd find 
  it much harder..’ her words were cut off by a gurgling noise and 
  look of horror as she realised someone else had gotten to her. 
  Orion held on for all he was worth as his greedy dagger sucked 
  the life out of the demon; it remembered the taste of demon 
  blood all too well. It tried to convey power after power onto 
  the assassin, but Orion refused. It was a show of strength and 
  will. He didn't want a demon's power, who knew where that would 
  end. He jumped off the back of the now dissolving creature and 
  walked over to Apollo.
       ‘Very impressive for an old elf.’
       ‘Thank you ghost, you should try them from the front 
  sometime. I'd enjoy watching you try.’
       Suddenly from behind them they heard a cry, one that 
  sounded like the demise of yet another shadow gnome. Apollo and 
  Orion ran further up the path and were met by a small figure 
  hovering on a board at face height.
  
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       ‘As you can see, I took the liberty of clearing the path 
  ahead while you were enjoying yourselves with the snake girls. I 
  believe those two may have had a surprise in store for you had 
  your guard dropped. But as you can see, it was I who dropped 
  them,’ the Red Baron said in his whispering voice, indicating 
  the two slumped bodies further up the path.
        Ethandril and a very bedraggled looking Cat came walking 
  through from the stalagmites.
       ‘Got the wizards, I even managed a meteor swarm too and it 
  didn't take out any of us,’ Ethandril beamed.
       ‘What happened to you?’ Apollo sneered at Catarina.
       ‘I saved her from certain doom,’ the Red Baron butted in. 
  ‘She is now indebted to me.’
       ‘Oh really?’ Apollo said quizzically. ‘I think you'll find 
  that we work together, not alone; we all cover each other so 
  there is no indebtedness here.’ 
       ‘For you maybe, but not I. Remember, I am here to help you 
  and by my own volition. Little Cat there is now mine till I say 
  otherwise.’
       Apollo looked at Cat who shrugged and admitted, ‘I might 
  have suffocated, I certainly couldn't get out myself.’  
        ‘There you are. Always remember that it is I, the Red 
  Baron who holds the balance of power here!’
  
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       The four of them shook their heads in amusement at this 
  ridiculous but obviously powerful self-styled Baron. 
       ‘What have we missed?’ came the familiar voice of Quin-
  Helwig as he emerged from the stalagmite field, with Elwood just 
  behind him. ‘Can anyone beat a devil?’ he said proudly.
       ‘Just three mariliths,’ Apollo replied.
       
        
       
       
       
       
       
       
  
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  Preparing the 
   
   Battlefield
   
   
  The leaders and chief mages of Clans Puttnik and Galavan watched 
  the events unfolding in the Korash cavern through the crystal 
  ball with mild surprise. They had expected the elves to be tough 
  but they didn't think they would get past Cheragai and the 
  demons too. 
       ‘They are very powerful,’ Mentza observed. ‘The flame elf 
  knows spells of the highest power, though maybe no more than we 
  do. The solar elf is also extraordinary; he should be assaulted 
  magically not physically. The others have weaknesses we can 
  exploit.’
       ‘I agree. We must lure them here and use our magical powers 
  upon them,’ Akkron added. ‘I am displeased to have lost Cheragai 
  too; he was proving most useful to me.’
       ‘Very well, wizards,’ Kymru stated firmly. ‘Go to our side 
  cavern and prepare the battleground. I want gates in and out. I 
  want assassins ready to come through them to catch them unaware. 
  Prepare your best spells, as I shall mine, and make sure your 
  wands and staves are fully loaded if you intend to use them.’
       ‘I think we should send Darios and Vander out to shepherd 
  them this way,’ Braden Puttnik suggested. ‘They could strike 
  first and take any of the easy pickings like the girl and the 
  
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  island elf.’
       ‘Agreed, a good suggestion Braden. We shall stay here a 
  little longer and monitor their descent on our little map here,’ 
  Kymru said indicating the hologram of the tunnels. More green 
  dots had turned red up to the Korash cavern and they waited for 
  more to change on the tunnel down to Imar.‘
       
       A short while before the battle in the Korash cavern, 
  thirty-three dwarves had left the granite dwarf city of 
  Kronkton. They travelled in groups of three, some fifty feet 
  apart, communicating by occasional whistles, only too aware of 
  the shadow gnome wards that would detect groups of more than 
  that number. 
       ‘Why threes?’ Clement asked Barakello.
       ‘Their patrols travel in threes - assassin, priest and 
  wizard. Any group larger than that sets off an alarm to their 
  city and they investigate, so we travel in chains with three in 
  each link.’
       Clement and Alto nodded sagely at the wisdom of this as 
  they continued on, in the fifth group of the eleven travelling 
  to the outskirts of the shadow gnome city.  They were joined by 
  thirty able dwarves, mostly warriors but with several priests. 
  They all wanted to have what revenge they could against the 
  
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  shadow gnomes and each was ready to give up his life for that 
  cause if it came to it. Barakello was hoping it wouldn't come to 
  that. Granite dwarves were almost part of the rock below, expert 
  miners who had a way with stone unlike any other race. They knew 
  how to bring down a tunnel in the blink of an eye with a pick 
  strike here, a hammer blow there, all hitting the right places; 
  tunnels and rock could come tumbling down in an instant. They 
  cautiously wound their way along the tunnels never encroaching 
  upon the three ahead, never giving a chance to set off any 
  alarms, always getting nearer and nearer to Imar. 
        They pulled up in a small cavern and closed in together. 
  Novakello opened the map Barakello had borrowed from the library 
  in Kronkton and pointed.
       ‘We're here. There are six exits from this cavern and we're 
  going to drop these three,’ he pointed to the relevant ones. ‘We 
  will then circle around by using this tunnel here and drop here, 
  here and here,’ again pointing to the map. ‘We will have then 
  cut off these four gates that we know they use regularly as well 
  as meaning they have to detour to get out of Imar to the west. 
  If we are up for a battle we may be able to ambush them if any 
  come that way.’
       ‘What happens if they use the gates?’ Clement asked. 
  ‘They'll still work won't they?’
  
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       ‘Oh certainly, but without any magical means to get back 
  they'll be stuck in the tunnel. We've found more than a few 
  bodies in the past after doing this, don't you worry!’ Novakello 
  replied.
       The three adventurers nodded to each other and many of the 
  other granite dwarves gave a grim determined smile. The thirty 
  three then split into three groups of eleven and went to the 
  entrances of the three tunnels. With speed and precision the 
  groups worked to loosen stone and find cracks in the rock. They 
  all stopped when they were ready to drop their own tunnel. 
  Several priests stepped forward and cast the same spell, one of 
  silence on the area.
       ‘It just helps muffle the crash a wee bit,’ Barakello said, 
  turning to Clement and Alto.
       Novakello let out a high pitched whistle and one member of 
  each team struck hard at one peg. There was an almighty tumbling 
  of rocks and some noise could still be heard, even with the 
  silence in place, as all three tunnels dropped simultaneously 
  and tons of rock tumbled loose to seal off the tunnel and with 
  it the gate several hundred yards down it.
       ‘Now, back in to threes,’ came the order. ‘We move swiftly 
  to loop round these tunnels and cut them off from behind!’
       The dwarves began to march again, ready to cause more 
  
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  trouble for the hated shadow gnomes.
       
       Cheragai rematerialised on the seventh plane of hell, his 
  home, and was not pleased. While he had craved to escape the 
  will of Akkron Puttnik and his endless tasks, he had hoped to 
  destroy the filthy, evil little mauve gnome before he returned. 
  To add to that, he had been bested by an elf of all things and 
  had lost his favourite sword as well. He threw his head back and 
  let out a long, loud roar of anger and frustration. He was 
  unable to return to that prime for a hundred years and the 
  little gnome would have to wait. Still, he could at least plot 
  in that time, a hundred years wasn't so long for a devil. He 
  looked at his beloved tower of bloodstone and bone and smiled. 
  He would have his revenge on Akkron, and that elf if he could. 
  He would find a way, perhaps by getting them to pay him a visit; 
  now there was a thought. Cheragai entered his home, his mind 
  racing with plots and plans to lure his nemesis to his plane of 
  hell, and the torture he would inflict upon him once there. 
  Akkron certainly wasn't safe just yet.
       
       Darios Galavan and Vander Puttnik, the two leading 
  assassins of their Clans, met in the main tunnel leading to 
  Imar, about a mile away from the city. They nodded to each other 
  
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  in greeting, one of mutual respect, but not friendship.
        ‘We are to await this group of elves,’ Darios said first. 
  ‘Track them before we attack. They are a formidable group, as I 
  have witnessed firsthand. I am inclined to believe that our 
  darts will not have any effect, so we will have to use our 
  knives from close in, if you think you have the skill,’ he said, 
  challenging his counterpart. 
        ‘I'm sure I have the skill, Darios, just don't give me 
  away will you,’ he smiled after his retort. The pair slunk into 
  the shadows and moved swiftly further along the tunnel to two 
  side tunnels. There, cloaked in shadow, they awaited the Company 
  of the Compass.
       
       The Company left the Korash cavern but not before taking 
  their time to refresh themselves. Elwood looked over Quin-
  Helwig’s shoulder, which now seemed to be perfect once more, and 
  cast smaller healing spells on Catarina to aid her recovery from 
  the initial fireball, that had seeped a little through her 
  defences, and the inhalation of the sand. 
       ‘Anyone else?’ Elwood enquired.
       ‘I think we're all fine, good Priest,’ Ethandril said 
  jovially, always feeling better for loosing what he considered 
  proper spells. 
  
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       ‘Then let's take a minute and get any protections up now 
  that will help us. If we're caught like that again we may not 
  have time to react,’ Elwood continued.
       ‘Good idea,’ Cat replied. ‘I need to put a few things in 
  place now.’
       ‘Indeed you may well do,’ the Red Baron said in his harsh 
  whisper, as he flew down from the roof on his hover board. 
  ‘You'll be pleased to know the cavern is clear; we must leave by 
  an exit way over there,’ he said, indicating the far side of the 
  Korash cavern.
       ‘Thank you, Red Baron,’ Catarina replied, not entirely 
  comfortable with the title she had to use for her saviour.
       The Company spell users spent the next few minutes casting 
  an array of protective spells on themselves and their friends, 
  from god-given blessings and protections to more individual 
  shields and cloaks and travelling spheres against hostile magic. 
  There were numerous flashes of colour and shimmering of luminous 
  magical flame before it was all done. As they went about their 
  spells Apollo moved to Orion's side.
       ‘So what did the demon bestow, Orion?’ he enquired quietly.
       ‘I took nothing, though the dagger would dearly love me 
  too,’ Orion replied.
       ‘I'm sure it would,’ said Apollo. ‘Just be careful then, 
  
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  Orion. My brother has had a few conversations with your dagger, 
  none of them good.’
       ‘Thank you for your concern, Apollo. I believe I'll be OK 
  though.’
       ‘Don't believe Orion; know,’ Apollo replied in utmost 
  seriousness, ‘I'll keep an eye on you too, just in case.’
       The snow elf, all shaggy white hair and translucent skin, 
  smiled at the taller, regal solar elf, a smile of condescension 
  and perhaps a little fear.
       The Company left the Korash cavern with Quin-Helwig leading 
  and confirming the Red Baron’s directions by the tracks in the 
  floor, occasional chips of the rock where a steel wheel had made 
  a mark. They continued down the cavern, cloaked in invisibility 
  and non-detection spells, unseen by any who would try to see 
  them, well almost any.
       
       Kymru Galavan and Braden Puttnik stood in a private room of 
  the Clan Galavan house watching more little green dots on the 
  hologram map turn red. Not all, however, were on the same path 
  down to Imar from the Korash cavern. Several had been triggered 
  on the opposite side of the map. The Clan Leaders looked at each 
  other thoughtfully.
       ‘More than likely kobolds,‘ Kymru said first. ‘They have a 
  
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  habit of setting off the alarms. I can't imagine our elves have 
  split up; they don't seem to have that type of knowledge of the 
  under-dark. Pay it no mind for now, we can always send out 
  someone to deal with the humans at a later date, once we have 
  finished with the elves.’
       ‘If you are sure, Kymru,’ Braden replied. ‘We don't want to 
  take any chances.’
       ‘Look, it must only be a small cluster of critters. They 
  have missed one alarm and set off another; they must be joining 
  and separating in groups of three or more, it happens all the 
  time. We often go and capture a few to keep as slaves or for 
  experiments. Relax, Braden, stay focused here, we'll need all 
  our wits about us dealing with these meddlers. Let's continue to 
  watch for a while, then we'll check how are wizards have been 
  getting on in the side cavern,’ Kymru replied.
       
       The look of fury on Novakello's face was plain for all to 
  see in whatever spectrum of light you cared to use to look at it.
       ‘No more than three, anywhere, unless I say so,’ he said in 
  the most strained voice imaginable to a group of three granite 
  dwarves. ‘We've probably set off alarms now, so we'll have to 
  act quickly and go. Come on.’
       ‘What was that?’ Clement asked Barakello.
  
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       ‘A three linked up with another when they weren't supposed 
  to, so it may have triggered a shadow gnome alarm,’ he replied.
       ‘Oh. Where next then?’ Clement continued.
       ‘We'll drop these tunnels then head off. That'll seal off 
  these gates and annoy the gnomes.’
       With that the Priests cast more silence spells and the 
  roofs of three tunnels, the back ends of the ones already 
  dropped, came crashing down.
       The dwarves melted back into threes and stomped off to 
  continue their work as quickly as they could before anyone 
  caught wind of what they were up to.
       
       ‘We're still being followed brother,’ the shining green 
  sword told it's wielder.
       ‘I feel it too, but by what I don't know. What of the 
  Baron?’ Apollo responded.
       ‘Nothing. I can't get any reading from him other than 
  strong magic.’
       ‘Hmm. Anything from Orion, any changes? I can't tell if 
  he’s telling the truth over that demon he killed.’
       ‘He seems the same. He is well in control of the dagger for 
  now. I believe that as he becomes more powerful the more control 
  he has over it. It hasn't spoken to me in some time.’
  
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       ‘And Ethan?’
       ‘He has calmed. Much more like he used to be about, I don't 
  know, five or six hundred years ago.’
       ‘So, he’s mad, but now of his own volition as opposed to 
  totally unpredictable.’
       ‘Exactly!’
       ‘Good. And the other three?’
       ‘Elwood is in almost constant contact with Yllana, seeking 
  guidance wisdom for what we are doing. Catarina is still at war 
  over her abilities; she wants to impress both of you but is 
  finding it hard to drop into the zone and spell cast.’
       ‘Not surprising, we know how hard it is, brother. After 
  this she must come with us and let us help her on her journey. 
  And the dwelf?’
       ‘He's looking at Cat's backside! You don't want to know the 
  rest.’
       
       The descent to Imar continued uninterrupted till the 
  Company were about a mile out from the city when two shadows 
  silently picked up the trail after the Company passed them. It 
  had been hard to spot them as they passed, so well cloaked in 
  magic were the Company, but this was where the shadow gnomes 
  lived. They felt the disturbance in the air and the smell of the 
  
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  elves. Silently, Darios and Vander followed, blissfully unaware 
  that they too had picked up a tail. 
       
       
       
       
       
  
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  Showdown
  The two Clan Leaders arrived in the middle of the fifty-yard 
  wide side cavern as their mages were just finishing off their 
  gate spells. Four large black portals were now evident in the 
  cave; two escape routes created by Mentza to other areas around 
  the outskirts of the city and a gate each to the nine hells and 
  abyss created by Akkron, the master summoner. Mentza had always 
  been impressed by Akkron’s ability to summon denizens of the 
  lower planes; whatever it was he did, they seemed to simply pour 
  out of his gates. As long as Leileilii followed his 
  instructions, though, he didn't really care.
       ‘Mentza, what have you done to prepare for our imminent 
  arrivals?’ Kymru asked his high wizard.
       ‘The gates, as you see Clan Leader, as well as several 
  wards both against good beings and elves or those of their ilk. 
  I don't believe they will trouble us once they have been 
  assailed by these five spells,’ Mentza stated with a wicked grin.
       His mauve counterpart, Akkron, indicated to two spots on 
  the floor where he had placed wards. ‘Just a little something to 
  warm them up or cool them off,’ he explained to the Clan Leaders.
       ‘Excellent, wizards!’ Braden congratulated the pair. ‘Then 
  let us wait behind it all for the arrival of this intrepid group 
  
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  of elves. Perhaps they will really challenge us,’ he finished 
  with a smile.
       ‘And let's see what weapons you have brought to the party,’ 
  Kymru added, drawing forth a staff, with the small likeness of a 
  beholder atop it, and a wand that looked like a miniature flail.
       The other three produced an assortment of unique staves, 
  wands and rods as well as rings and amulets. Kymru recognised 
  several and raised an eyebrow. 
        ‘Glad to see we're not underestimating them then,’ he said 
  to the others, impressed by their collective arsenal. The group 
  of four just looked and smiled to each other, enjoying the 
  feeling of anticipation of a real battle to come. It had been a 
  long time since any of them had been truly stretched in battle 
  and all of them were keen to test themselves against these elves.
       
       With all the discipline associated with their race, the 
  granite dwarves continued their march towards Imar, intent on 
  reaching two more gates that would severely inhibit the gnomes 
  movement around the under-dark, according to their maps. 
  Novakello set a brisk pace in the lead with two trusted 
  lieutenants. They turned a sharp corner not far from one of the 
  gates when there was a ripping noise in the air and a black gate 
  opened only a couple of yards ahead of them. Novakello held up 
  
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  his hand to stop the following dwarves and waited for whatever 
  entity was about to step through. They waited, barely making a 
  sound for several minutes, but nothing came through.
       ‘New gate,’ he said turning to the dwarf to his left. 
  ‘Let's block it!’ he finished with glee.
       The three didn't waste any time examining the rock tunnel 
  and driving hard iron spikes into the cracks to widen and loosen 
  them. Novakello pushed his lieutenants back and smashed hard on 
  the last spike. He jumped back as nearly two tons of stone 
  dropped around the gate making it impossible to exit. A dust 
  covered Novakello walked back to the other two with a beaming 
  smile. ‘That should surprise someone,’ he said as jovially as a 
  dour granite dwarf could.
       
       The Company, led by Quin-Helwig reached the end of the 
  tunnel they were following as it opened out, overlooking a vast 
  cavern. Looking over Quin's shoulder, Orion could see the city 
  of Imar below only too clearly with his new, shadow gnome deep 
  vision.
       ‘It's an impressive place,’ he whispered into his ranger 
  friend’s ear.
       ‘I can't really make it all out,’ Quin replied.
       Ethandril stepped forward and gazed across the city, his 
  
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  true sight allowing him a similar view to Orion. ‘It'll be a 
  shame to reduce it all to rubble,’ he mused.
       ‘Don't be too confident of that, mage,’ the Red Baron said 
  as he floated down next to Ethandril. ‘The shadow gnomes are 
  remarkably powerful magicians; it is only their aversion to the 
  sun that stops them ruling this rock we call Estrella!’
       ‘Little halfling, may I remind you that I am the greatest 
  mage alive on this so-called rock and I shall demonstrate my 
  power and skill to you imminently!’
       ‘Don't be too hasty, Ethan,’ Elwood said as he approached. 
  ‘We want to find the mushroom fields and the source of the 
  Spice, not just blow the place apart.’
       ‘I'm sure it'll amount to much the same thing,’ Ethan 
  replied to the Priest.
       Catarina and Apollo, standing behind, just shook their 
  heads in resignation. 
       The tunnel formed a T-junction with paths going around the 
  edge and down the cavern to come out somewhere by the city 
  gates, from what Orion and Ethandril could see. 
       ‘Left or right?’ Quin asked.
       ‘Yllana suggests right,’ Elwood quickly spoke up before the 
  others could answer.
       ‘Not her again,’ Ethan whined.
  
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       ‘Come on furnace-face, stop your moaning and lead your 
  adventuring band to the right and on to greater glory!’ Apollo 
  said, goading Ethandril into action and filling him with pride.
       ‘Yes. Company, right it shall be!’ Ethan said quickly and 
  with that hurried off down the descending path to the right.
       Darios and Vander watched them go from some twenty yards 
  behind.
       ‘That will take them right to the side cavern,’ Darios 
  muttered to Vander.
       ‘If we let them get that far,’ Vander replied, his fingers 
  playing over the handle of his assassin’s knives.
       ‘We'll let them find the cavern and see the Leaders; 
  that'll draw all their attention. Then they'll be even easier 
  pickings.’ 
       ‘Agreed. Let's give them a little more lead though; I 
  wouldn't want them to notice us before.’
       Vander and Darios set off down the path following the 
  Company, still unaware of the presence following them, flying 
  slightly above the path and invisible to everyone.
       
       The dwarves had to back track somewhat after Novakello 
  dropped the tunnel. This time Alto, Clement and Barakello were 
  only one group of three away from the front. Just as they were 
  
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  heading down another tunnel to get to their target there was 
  another ripping of the air and a second black portal appeared. 
  The first group of granite dwarves now leading the way had gone 
  past it and stopped to look back at the three of them. All six 
  waited for the creature or creatures to step through, weapons 
  drawn, ready for anything.
       
       The Company quietly and stealthily descended on the winding 
  path around the edge of the cavern. They were almost at the 
  level of the cavern floor and the city of Imar when they noticed 
  a vague light coming from a cave entrance ahead. Quin held up 
  his hand to stop the others where they were. Orion tapped the 
  ranger on the shoulder and blinked forward. The most silent and 
  nimble of assassins reappeared only a minute later.
       ‘Four gnomes in the cavern,’ he said in a whisper. ‘Mages, 
  including the one with the black and gold sigiled cap, the one 
  who destroyed Eclaine’s mind.’
       ‘Any warriors?’ Quin asked.
       Orion shook his head and added ‘there are four gates, too, 
  and only one other way out. I suspect they're waiting for us.’
       ‘Well let's stop whispering then and go and say ‘hello’’ 
  Ethan declared impatiently. ‘I'll soon show them who's boss.’
       With that Ethandril Thililisfarne walked the thirty yards, 
  
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  bold as brass, to the entrance of the side cavern and walked 
  straight in. The rest of the Company hurried after him, with 
  Orion and Quin next, then Apollo and the siblings bringing up 
  the rear. The hasty movement caught their pursuers off guard and 
  they suddenly had to quicken their pace to get in position to 
  strike at the right moment, which would be any minute now. The 
  presence behind them also knew that the time was near but he 
  decided he would stay out of sight for a little while yet.
       
       The Clan Leaders turned to face their guests as a tall, 
  red-haired flame elf with a manic grin appeared at the cave 
  entrance. 
       ‘Greetings, shadow gnomes!’ he said. ‘I believe you are the 
  source of all our recent problems. Explain yourselves or face 
  the consequences!’ he boldly stated. 
       ‘Only Ethan could address a situation like that,’ Cat 
  whispered to Apollo as they followed in behind.
       ‘Greetings, elves! We've been expecting you,’ Kymru replied 
  to Ethandril's opening. ‘We have nothing to explain to you. In 
  fact, perhaps you would like to explain what brings you to our 
  city, and issuing threats too!’
       ‘Corruption of human cities on the surface world with a 
  powdered mushroom that you grow somewhere around here,’ Ethan 
  
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  rushed out, much to the surprise of his friends. ‘As peaceful 
  surface dwelling beings we cannot stand by and watch the cities, 
  even if they are human, being brought down in such a manner. We 
  have decided to take matters into our own hands and deal with 
  the problem, namely, you.’ As he finished he rattled off a 
  spell, his favourite, in double quick time and four dark grey 
  spheres shot forth from the end of the index finger of his right 
  hand. The meteor swarm went straight for Kymru's body but 
  stopped short as an invisible shield flared in to life and the 
  spell rebounded, whizzing straight back for Ethandril.
       ‘Ooh!’ he said.
       Fortunately the Company were prepared and Catarina lunged 
  forward thrusting her sword into the path of the incoming 
  meteors. All four spheres were sucked into the sword of 
  absorption, building up its power ready for Cat to unleash later.
       ‘A spell shield,’ Ethandril yelped excitedly. ‘I have just 
  the thing,’ and he began rummaging around in one of the numerous 
  pockets of his robe. The shadow gnomes smiled and one of them 
  issued a call.
       ‘Vander, Darios, now!’ Braden called.
       The master assassins heard the call some twenty yards away 
  from Elwood who was the last of the Company standing in the 
  entrance. They also both then heard the word 'hold' as they 
  
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  tried to move forward to strike. Neither could move a muscle, 
  even breathing had suddenly become very difficult. The presence 
  floated up behind them. Unable to move, the two assassins could 
  feel small hands deftly and delicately removing items of their 
  armour, their rings and amulets. Darios' baldricks holding his 
  darts were removed, his two knives lifted from his hips. His 
  magically protective leather unbuckled and lifted off him. 
  Vander knew something was happening to Darios but could not see. 
  He heard a heavy flop as Darios' armour fell to the floor. Then 
  the little hands began on him. Knives removed, rings and amulets 
  taken, armour unclipped. 
       ‘Vander! Darios!’ called Braden again but the assassins 
  could not answer the call. The company and the Red Baron looked 
  about but were unable to see anything. The shadow gnome leaders 
  looked briefly confused.
        After only a minute, the presence floated behind two naked 
  shadow gnomes, both the masters of their craft, both held 
  completely immobile by a powerful word. The presence drew a 
  short sword from a scabbard, a black blade, unnaturally hot, 
  forged from the molten rock native to the elemental plane of 
  fire. Vander was first to feel the heat coming from the black 
  blade, a bead of sweat appeared on his brow.
       ‘Goodbye,’ a whisper in his ear said. The black blade was 
  
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  pushed hard in to the spine of his neck and a pain, the like of 
  which Vander had never felt before, engulfed his whole body. A 
  searing hot pain consumed him as he breathed his final breath. 
  The blade moved unerringly behind Darios and slid into his 
  kidney. Elemental fire burned through his very soul; he tried to 
  yell, he tried to defy it, he tried to hold onto the mortal 
  realm but to no avail. He died in utter agony, a thought that 
  would have pleased countless of his victims.
        The presence re-sheathed the sword and slipped back into 
  the shadows taking care not to be seen by the Company. 
       
       While the corpses of the two most skilled assassins were 
  held in the tunnel just outside the cavern, their souls appeared 
  side by side before a huge creature made of fire, an elemental 
  Prince of Fire.
       ‘Excellent,’ he said in a language the pair did not know 
  before yet could now understand. ‘More slaves to serve me, for 
  all eternity, hahahaha!!’
       
        ‘It would appear that your back-up has deserted you,’ 
  Orion said as the Company moved further into the room. The 
  shadow gnomes simply shrugged at their adversaries.
       ‘It matters not,’ Kymru replied. ‘You won't last long 
  
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  against us, scrawny elves.’
       Just as he finished speaking one of Akkron’s wards was 
  triggered as Quin-Helwig stepped further into the room. Fire 
  engulfed the party as the ward exploded, hurling Quin against 
  the cavern wall. The fire rolled around the cavern but was 
  stopped by the shadow gnomes’ shields. It stopped as quickly as 
  it started and the two sides stared at each other. Catarina was 
  slightly scorched as was Quin, who managed to stand up even 
  after the force of the impact against the wall. Apollo and 
  Elwood's protections had held while Ethandril had barely noticed.
       ‘Ah ha!’ he yelled excitedly, as he held up a small pair of 
  silver scissors. ‘Now, I hope you're ready for this, it's one of 
  my own spells, Ethandril’s Barrier Slicer.’ He then began his 
  spell as everyone just watched, fascinated by the crazed elf. 
  Seconds later a large three foot long pair of magical scissors 
  appeared in the air in front of him, which Ethan guided forward 
  towards the gnomes. As they reached the first magical barrier 
  the scissors opened and began to cut the barrier like cutting 
  cloth. The gnomes suddenly realised the danger and all four 
  began casting their spells as full battle began!
        A bolt of blue white lightning shot forth from Kymru and 
  exploded into the Red Baron who was sent flying back into the 
  cavern wall. He fell down and slumped to the floor. Braden 
  
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  released a series of dark magical bolts, one each for the 
  remaining six. Cat sucked hers into her sword, magical shields 
  on Elwood and Ethandril flared. A bolt struck the gleaming 
  armour of Apollo and appeared to have little effect. Orion 
  blinked out of sight and Quin took one full in the chest, the 
  broad ranger roaring in pain as the evil necromantic bolt 
  assaulted him. He felt weaker but fought the sensation hard, 
  trying to rid himself of the lethargy that was beginning to 
  consume him. 
        Orion had blinked into the gnome area, much to their 
  surprise; protection from good did not appear to have worked 
  against the assassin. Orion flung four darts, one for each 
  target, all stopping well short thanks to stoneskin spells, but 
  he blinked away again before they could respond to him. 
        Elwood fired shot after shot from his bow, nearly ten in 
  all, but all were being deflected by barriers, though it did 
  look as though they were reducing in their effectiveness as the 
  arrows were getting nearer their intended targets.
        Ethan continued to cut away at the first line of defence 
  and smiled happily as he appeared to have cut a sizeable square 
  in the shield. Cat held her position while Ethandril cut away, 
  hoping to strike when she could have more effect.
        The lightning bolt jumped from the Red Baron to Elwood, 
  
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  knocking him into a sideways roll. He was unharmed by the 
  electricity but the force of the blow stopped his arrow barrage 
  temporarily.  Quin started forward eager to engage the gnomes 
  close up and really test their defences when he stepped on 
  Akkron's second ward; an icy blast of cold, sharp icicles 
  assailed the Company. Quin was knocked off his stride but was 
  nimble enough to stay on his feet. An already off-balance Elwood 
  was knocked flat again as his god-given protection flared once 
  more to protect him.  With several deft flicks of his sword 
  Apollo deflected the icicles coming for him, his armour 
  protecting him from the worst of the cold. Ethandril ignored the 
  blast and continued with his cutting, now working on a second 
  barrier. Cat's fire shields and stone skins stopped any serious 
  damage from the blast; she lifted her sword and let go the 
  prismatic spray stored within. The rainbow of colours whizzed 
  through the first defence and glittered brightly against the 
  next shield, but the magic held and the spell was gone.
        ‘Keep cutting Ethan,’ Cat yelled, ‘we need to be able to 
  get at them!’
       Apollo stalked forward but stopped at another invisible 
  barrier, the protection from good. ‘Interesting,’ he mused, ‘the 
  ghost wasn't affected, though. I wonder if Ethan will be?’
        Mentza spoke a word and suddenly Cat was knocked 
  
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  senseless. She slumped to the floor, unable to think or move, 
  her sword falling from her hand. As she hit the floor the chain 
  lightning jumped to her and battered her senseless body sending 
  it jigging and writhing around on the floor.
       ‘Cat!’ Elwood yelled as he tried to rush to her. He in turn 
  was hit by a bright red bolt, one he could have dodged had his 
  focus not been lost. The thin beam caused his shield to flare 
  and wink out leaving Elwood vulnerable for the first time. 
  Akkron smiled at his success and began another spell, one more 
  deadly than before. 
        Apollo turned to see the damage that had been caused and 
  wondered on the state of the Red Baron. The supposedly powerful 
  halfling had been blasted hard by both the lightning and the 
  cold and all Apollo could see was the red robes on the floor. 
        Elwood touched his sister’s neck to feel for a pulse, but 
  could feel none. In a rage he turned to the gnomes and invoking 
  Yllana’s name dropped his blade barrier upon them. The spell 
  appeared atop a barrier a few feet above the gnomes, but Elwood 
  kept up his concentration, he would not be denied. He continued 
  to control the barrier as it assailed the wall of force. Blade 
  after blade slashed at the magical barrier weakening and 
  thinning it. Then, he was through. The whole twenty-foot 
  diameter of whirling slashing slicing blades dropped onto the 
  
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  four gnomes. More protections flared but the blade barrier spell 
  winked out.
       ‘Nice try,’ Kymru called, waving his staff with the 
  beholder head, ‘but you are no match for us, elves!’ He held the 
  staff high and a green beam shot out straight for Elwood, who 
  dodged just in time. The beam continued on striking the back 
  wall and removing a sizeable chunk of rock. 
        Orion appeared behind Kymru and stabbed hard with his 
  black dagger, confident the blade would pierce the gnome 
  protections. He felt for a second that he had succeeded before 
  he realised something was wrong. Kymru turned quickly to regard 
  the elf, a huge smile on his face. ‘I'm going to enjoy this, 
  elf,’ he said.
        Orion's hand was held fast, he tried to pull free with his 
  enormous strength but couldn't. He tried to blink again but 
  couldn't, he was held in place by Kymru's evil stone skin. There 
  was a ripping sound and Orion yelled in pain as a red line 
  appeared around his wrist, his own blood starting to pour out. 
  The skin on his wrist then curled back, and then went right up 
  to his elbow. He was being flayed alive!
       ‘Company, help!’ he yelled.
       Ethandril wasn't used to helping, it wasn't something that 
  came very naturally to him, he was far too self-centred, but 
  
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  something in the voice of his friend Orion caused him to react. 
  He stared hard at the almost translucent snow elf and knew 
  something was deeply wrong. He finished cutting through his 
  second barrier and watched as the skin on Orion's right arm 
  rolled up to reveal the muscles beneath. There was another 
  ripping noise from the other wrist, and the same thing happened, 
  skin rolled back to the elbow. Although fascinated by this 
  extraordinary spell Ethan knew he had to act; he thought he knew 
  the best way. He glided the scissors over to his friend and in a 
  flash, cut through the spell holding Orion. Orion screamed as he 
  jerked free, both hands still stuck to the stoneskin trap, and 
  his handless arms pumping blood freely. He had enough presence, 
  in spite of his agony, to blink then and came back just behind 
  Ethan, blood spraying everywhere.
       ‘Oh, so nearly,’ Kymru said to Braden.
       Elwood rushed to Orion and sped through prayers to Yllana; 
  the blood stopped and the wounds healed. But there was no let up 
  from the gnomes. The lightning bolt jumped again, striking 
  Apollo. His armour absorbed most of the blow, and caused the 
  remaining strength of the bolt to dissipate. He sneered at the 
  gnomes and tried to advance again, but the protection held.
       ‘Ethan, get rid of that blasted protection, will you!’
       Another green ray came at them, this time for Ethandril. It 
  
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  hit him fair and square and rebounded straight back at Kymru. 
  This time he was the one who had to take evasive action.
       ‘So, you don't like disintegration then?’ Ethandril said, 
  more to himself than anyone else, and proceeded to cast the 
  spell himself. Another green beam went for Kymru but he avoided 
  it again. Elwood meanwhile prayed hard to Yllana to remove the 
  protection from good and was rewarded when the semicircle on the 
  floor flared and was gone.
       ‘Quin, Apollo, get in!’ he yelled.
       A huge fireball then rocked the room, knocking Elwood and 
  the badly injured handless Orion flat. Elwood screamed, his 
  usual protection having been removed. A searing pain from the 
  fire, the sort he hadn't felt in years, assailed him and he 
  writhed in agony and rolled back to the far side of the cavern, 
  next to the robes of the seemingly dead Red Baron. As he rolled 
  over he felt a squish under his hand. He removed the robe to 
  find the body of a frog, now quite dead, in amongst the robes. 
        Orion, too, staggered back, unsure how to contribute. He 
  felt a lot better after being healed by Elwood, but with no 
  hands couldn't help. 
        Quin-Helwig rushed the gnomes, Mentza first, and attacked 
  whole heartedly with both his long and short swords. Mentza was 
  well protected but hand to hand fighting wasn't his thing. He 
  
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  stepped back from the enraged elf and called for help.
       ‘Leileilii, come through this gate now, I need your 
  assistance with something,’ he called.
       
       The succubus and her lover, the priest of Nyrex Djemmini, 
  heard the call loud and clear come from Mentza. They lay beside 
  each other on her large bed in her home on the sixth plane of 
  the nine hells. Ordinarily she knew she would have to obey the 
  summons, the magic was just so strong. But she and her lover 
  were protected, Nyrex looked after his most valuable priest and 
  hence, his lover. They had a cambion to produce, and Nyrex 
  wasn't about to let a snivelling shadow gnome stop it from 
  happening. Mentza's voice faded and the lovers stared at each 
  other, smiled, and lustily continued with the business at hand.
       
       Apollo stalked forward, well aware of the dangers, his 
  gleaming green pulsing sword in hand. Braden fired a red beam at 
  him but with a sway of his body he avoided it. Kymru raised his 
  staff and a dark black beam shot forth. Apollo flicked the beam 
  off course with his sword, unaffected by the magic. 
       ‘Impressive, elf, perhaps you would like a fair fight,’ 
  Braden called. ‘Densta, come forth, we have someone for you!’ 
       The gate to the abyss swirled and an ugly dog-faced demon 
  
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  appeared. In moments he assessed the situation and positively 
  ran through. The seven-foot demon, trident in hand, faced the 
  ancient solar elf, smiling a great slobbering, drool-ridden 
  smile. He launched forward trying to impale the elf with one 
  mighty blow. Apollo jumped so he was sideways in the air, the 
  trident striking his sword and spinning the nimble elf so that 
  he almost rolled down the shaft of the trident, over one hundred 
  and eighty degrees. The shining blade came down with the full 
  force of the demon’s blow, slashing straight down the demon’s 
  head and into its chest. Densta didn't even have time to roar in 
  pain or triumph before his time on the world was over. Apollo 
  gained his feet and he too smiled at the gnomes. The smile was 
  short-lived due to his friend, Ethandril’s, intervention.
        Now he thought the shields were down, Ethandril 
  Thililisfarne thought he'd have another go at the meteor swarm, 
  just to see. He watched the shortest fight he had ever seen as 
  Apollo killed a demon in one blow just as he unleashed his 
  spell. This time eight small spheres shot forth from his open 
  palm and formed a box pattern over the gnomes. Apollo just 
  caught sight in time to drop to the floor. The explosion rocked 
  the whole cavern, blackening the rock and melting stone in 
  places. More magical defences flared on the gnomes but they were 
  clearly shaken and somewhat singed.
  
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       ‘Oh yes, get a load of that one, boys. Just wait for the 
  next one, then you'll be sorry you ever crossed Ethandril 
  Thililisfarne!’
        Elwood had just about managed to recover from the fireball 
  when the meteors went off, the blast sending him from the room. 
  He rolled down the corridor and crawled a little way away, 
  trying to bide a little time to compose himself and be ready to 
  aid those still in the cavern. He thought he felt something pass 
  him by, a presence of something. He began praying to Yllana for 
  guidance as he came across the immobile dead bodies of the 
  assassins, Vander and Darios. ‘What is going on?’ he wondered. 
  Just then Orion crawled out of the cavern badly hurt by the 
  blast. Elwood slowly moved to his friend and began a prayer of 
  healing.
       ‘Never mind the wounds, Elwood, my hands, can you bring 
  them back?’ he hissed.
       ‘It’ll need a powerful spell, Orion, but I can try,’ he 
  replied. Elwood fell deep into prayer to Yllana, asking for the 
  spell, pleading with her to reward her servant. He felt a surge 
  of power and he had his answer. ‘Come here, Orion, I can help.’ 
  Orion approached and Elwood chanted the spell. He held his 
  friends stumps as the power of their goddess poured through him 
  into Orion. Immediately bright white bone began to poke through 
  
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  Orion's wrist area, then some ligaments appeared and held more 
  bones that began to appear, then the fingers. It was happening 
  very quickly, more ligaments, then tendons and muscles and 
  veins. Within a few minutes, Orion was staring at his new bright 
  white hands, just like his old ones. He held them up to admire 
  them and inspect Elwood’s work.
       ‘Not bad friend, not bad at all,’ Orion said drily.
       ‘You owe her,’ Elwood replied.
       Orion nodded. ‘We'd better get back in there. What spells 
  do you have?’
       ‘I will try blessing my bow, it may well weaken their 
  defences enough.’
       ‘I'll blink in again. I may wait first, though, and use the 
  darts; I don't want to go through that again.’
       
       In the cavern everyone was still recovering from the blast 
  of the meteor swarm. Quin had been badly hurt and was trying to 
  get close enough to the mage he was facing to be able to hit him 
  before any more magical assault. The broad ranger rushed the 
  gnome wizard, who shadow jumped away to safety, leaving Quin 
  swiping at fresh air. The ranger was then blasted from behind by 
  Braden Puttnik who had jumped too just as the meteors exploded. 
  A stream of mauve fire shot forth from Braden’s finger tips and 
  
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  engulfed the ranger. Quin was powerless to resist this powerful 
  magical fire. Already hurt the ranger cried out as he fell to 
  his knees. He toppled forward to the ground, a huge smoking hole 
  in his back, a happy looking mauve gnome standing behind him.
       
       Elwood reappeared round the corner, bow in hand and began 
  firing arrows of power two at a time. The first barrage of ten 
  hit shields and defences, but the gnomes all sought to find 
  cover from the unnervingly accurate assault. Apollo tried to 
  track them in retreat, but the gnomes shadow jumped to different 
  parts of the cavern and away from him. Ethan, delighted by the 
  effect of his meteor swarm, struck again, this time letting off 
  his famous orange chain lightning. He released it just in front 
  of Braden Puttnik and it blasted the gnome Clan Leader off his 
  feet. It then jumped to Mentza, who merely smiled as a ring on 
  his finger absorbed the full power of the bolt. Mentza used the 
  power to release a stream of dark bolts all aiming at Ethan who 
  was in the middle of another spell. They blasted the mage in the 
  chest knocking him back. ‘Oh no!’ he said. The magical assault 
  was so severe it nearly killed Ethan, and at that point his 
  defensive contingencies reacted. He vanished from the room in an 
  orange puff of smoke.
        Elwood continued to try and shoot the gnomes but was now 
  
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  hitting fewer targets. Only Apollo was left alive in the room. 
  Suddenly a huge three-balled flail appeared in front of him and 
  swung all three balls at his head. He rolled away backwards, but 
  was clipped by one that exploded on impact. He yelled in pain 
  only to hear the chuckle of Kymru Galavan as he played with his 
  flail wand. He flicked the miniature flail this way and that and 
  the huge one in front of Elwood responded. Elwood avoided the 
  next sweep but now Akkron joined the game from the far side of 
  the room. Apollo looked on, desperate to get at the gnomes. He 
  spotted Kymru and rushed over to try and stop his evil game. 
       Akkron fired off more of the black missiles each one 
  striking Elwood. The blessed of Yllana fought off their 
  horrendous affects but was so busy trying that the flail swept 
  in from the side. With no defences left, all three balls 
  connected solidly with the sturdy copper elf priest. There were 
  three loud bangs as acid cold and fire were simultaneously 
  discharged into the priest. Elwood collapsed to the floor ready 
  to meet his mistress.
        Only Apollo was left. Three appeared to be dead, four 
  including the Red Baron. Orion had left yet again and Ethan was 
  gone, no doubt to some safe house. Whether he would return 
  Apollo doubted. The gnomes all jumped back together, some ten 
  yards from the solar elf warrior of extraordinary skill.
  
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       ‘You fight well, elf’ Kymru stated, ‘but you have 
  inconvenienced us enough. Akkron, Mentza, you may leave, Braden 
  and I can handle this one.’ 
       ‘Yes Clan Leader’, Mentza replied and, with a smile almost 
  of pity to Apollo, vanished from the cavern. 
       ‘If you're sure,’ Akkron answered. ‘I shall use the gate 
  and close it once I'm through.’  Akkron tried the first gate to 
  a tunnel but couldn't get through. Strange he thought, it 
  appears blocked, I'll try the other. Akkron stepped through the 
  other gate and disappeared from the cavern.
       The two Clan Leaders stared at Apollo. ‘So what were you 
  then?’ Kymru asked. ‘Some fabled adventuring group no doubt.’
       ‘The Company of the Compass and I'm not finished yet,’ 
  Apollo sneered his reply.
       The gnomes looked around at the three obvious bodies, ‘I'd 
  say you were,’ Kymru stated. ‘You weren't bad, though, I'll give 
  you that.’
       ‘Yes, you seem quite powerful but we must end this now. We 
  have work to do and more Spice to be sending to your beloved 
  surface world.’ The two mages began to cast spells and Apollo 
  tried to lunge forward to reach them.
       Kymru activated his beholder staff and lifted Apollo into 
  the air with the telekinesis, holding him immobile, three-feet 
  
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  up. Braden finished his long necromantic spell and waited while 
  a huge black hand appeared from the floor and rose up towards 
  Apollo. 
       ‘It was nice to meet you, elf, but I'm afraid it's now 
  over. They'll enjoy you where you’re going,’ Braden warned.
       ‘Goodbye, solar elf, it's over!’
       
       Before anything could happen, the very next moment Apollo 
  was standing on the floor again, with both his foes standing 
  before him completely naked, no clothes, no jewellery, nothing. 
  The hand had gone and hovering just over the pair of gnomes was 
  a small red-robed figure brandishing a dark black sword.
       ‘I think not, nasty shadow gnomes. I think this is very far 
  from over. You assaulted my people; now I will do the same to 
  you. It's going to be a very hot eternity for you pair,’ he 
  whispered into the ears of the held gnomes. The Red Baron 
  swiftly plunged his blade into Braden then Kymru, both feeling 
  pain like they had never felt before. Their insides immolated by 
  pure fire from the elemental plane. They died there and then as 
  their souls were sent to spend eternity at the beck and call of 
  the Prince of Elemental Fire.
       
       Apollo raised an eyebrow. He had lived over two thousand 
  
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  years and it now took an awful lot to impress him but this time 
  he really was.
       ‘Don't just stand there, Apollo elf! We still have work to 
  do. We must destroy the mushrooms and get your friends, what's 
  left of them, out of here,’ he ordered, with his right arm drawn 
  up across his face.
       The pair left the cavern as quickly as they could. They 
  followed the path they had been on for another hundred yards 
  till they reached the vast underground field where the mushroom 
  crop was being cultivated for only one purpose. ‘Those that may 
  die are already lost,’ the Red Baron said as released a huge 
  fireball right into the middle of the field. Again and again he 
  sent red balls of fire and they exploded with violence burning 
  away the mushroom field. He then summoned an elemental able to 
  feed on the flames and turned it loose with the instruction to 
  burn the whole place, any mushrooms he could see and any shadow 
  gnomes who tried to stop him. The elemental ran amok, burning 
  everything in its path.
       ‘Back to the cavern! Let’s get you friends and leave!’ the 
  Baron ordered.
       They dashed back to the cave. Apollo raced about dragging 
  the smoking bodies of Quin, Elwood and Catarina close to 
  himself. The halfling Baron on his magical hover-board cast his 
  
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  spell of teleportation and they all vanished in a twinkle of red 
  lights.
       
       Orion saw them leave from the cavern entrance. He looked 
  cautiously around the room scouring it for any sign of any other 
  gnomes. Certain there were none there, he blinked over to where 
  he had attacked Kymru and searched the ground. There it was, the 
  black-bladed dagger. It called to him. With a smile he picked it 
  up and sheathed it. He'd better leave and fast, that bonfire 
  would attract every gnome in the whole city.
       
       Akkron Puttnik had left the cavern with victory assured. He 
  stepped through the second gate into a tunnel on the outskirts 
  of the town, thinking only of returning to the Clan Puttnik main 
  house. The granite dwarves had been waiting patiently ever since 
  the gate had ripped open in front of them. As Akkron emerged he 
  was assailed by three magical picks from his left as three 
  dwarves assaulted him. They knocked off his stone skins with the 
  first four blows and seemed oblivious to any type of kickback 
  that his fire shield was meant to be delivering to them.  Alto 
  swung his axe and caught Akkron’s arm, removing a slice of his 
  forearm. Clement, highly charged after all his recent exertions, 
  touched Akkron with a small hand and delivered one of the most 
  
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  powerful shocks he had ever done.  Akkron jumped into the air 
  from the electrical attack; as he landed Alto swung low, 
  removing a foot with his axe. Akkron didn't even have time to 
  utter a spell in defence, such was the ferocity of the attack. 
  He fell to the floor under another hail of pick blows, now 
  bleeding profusely. He tried to reach up to turn his magic ring, 
  but another axe blow came down on his hand severing it and any 
  chance of escape he had. He died seconds later as a particularly 
  strong blow landed on his head, splitting his skull. He had been 
  foolish. In his arrogance he hadn't assembled any further 
  defences, believing that the portal would be enough to get him 
  out of trouble if it had come to that.
        The spirit of Akkron Puttnik began its journey to the 
  afterlife. He was sad to be leaving his world but confident of 
  joy in the afterlife with Shylar his god. He had served the lord 
  of the Shadow gnomes well for nearly a century he was sure he 
  would be well received. 
        A tickle ran down Cheragai's back. Something had happened; 
  the cursed gnome had been killed and was now on his final 
  journey to the afterlife. Cheragai had to seize his chance. He 
  cast a spell, a powerful one, and teleported through the planes 
  to the river, the one which everyone had to cross to die, never 
  mind what their race. He stood on the bank and waited as spirits 
  
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  passed him by, some sad, some happy, many not even looking 
  around. He was in time; he could see the gnome coming now. 
  Akkron was lost in his own little flights of fancy about what he 
  would be up to as a spirit. Would he be able to become a spectre 
  or worse, could he attack the dwarves that had killed him? He 
  was happily drifting along when he was abruptly stopped by a 
  large immovable object. He looked up at the sharp-toothed smile 
  of a bearded devil he knew all too well. If he had still had a 
  beating heart, it would have skipped a beat.
        ‘Hello Akkron, your coming with me,’ Cheragai boomed in a 
  voice so filled with joy and malice that Akkron began to sob. 
  The devil grabbed the shadow gnome and teleported away, back to 
  his castle on the seventh plane of hell. Eternity was going to 
  be a very long time for the spirit of Akkron Puttnik.
       
       Mentza arrived back in the main Galavan house and went up 
  to Kymru's private rooms. He cast a spell to activate the 
  crystal ball to watch the denouement of the battle. There in 
  front of him he could see Apollo held high with the black hand 
  underneath, ready to crush the life out of him. The next thing 
  the elf was on the floor, the gnome Clan Leaders were naked and 
  a small red-robed creature had stabbed them both, killing them 
  instantly. Mentza was about to rush back when, in a moment of 
  
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  clarity decided against it. What a moment of opportunity. He 
  continued to observe as the red-robed figure and the solar elf 
  left the room. Moments later he became aware of the commotion 
  coming from the mushroom fields. He didn't care; it hadn't been 
  his idea after all. He continued to watch the cavern, and sure 
  enough the red-robed floating halfling and the elf gathered up 
  their fallen friends and teleported away. He then watched as the 
  sneaky snow-elf came back and collected his dagger. 
  ‘Interesting,’ Mentza said to no one. So that elf has only 
  limited loyalty and he passed the protection from good wards. 
  Mentza absorbed and sorted in his mind all the information. He 
  kept watch for a while longer but no one else came through. The 
  crystal ball winked out and he sat quietly considering his next 
  move. He would distance himself from this failure and consider a 
  new way to strike at the surface. But it would take time, and he 
  would have to consider more closely those elves, what was left 
  of them, but at least he now knew his enemy a little better.
        Mentza Galavan, the new Clan Leader of Clan Galavan, sat 
  back in his chair, his hands linked together, index fingers 
  forming a steeple as they touched his chin. He sat for a long 
  while thinking as the mushroom fields burned. 
  
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  Epilogue
  Sir Theobold, Argyll and Loriana sat in Sir Theobold’s private 
  chambers as Apollo told them the story of the battle. Mikalis 
  the wanderer stood in the corner of the room, scribbling down 
  the information frantically, barely able to believe he was 
  getting such amazing information straight from the hero himself. 
        ‘So you don't know what happened to Orion, then?’ Sir 
  Theobold asked.
       ‘Ghost never likes to see out the whole battle and last I 
  saw he had lost both his hands, rather ironic really. I couldn't 
  find his body though so we came back without it.’ 
       Orion stepped from the shadows into the room, causing the 
  others to jump. ‘Such consideration, Apollo,’ he said 
  sarcastically,’ but I found my own way out when we were being 
  slaughtered.’ 
       ‘I see you have restored your hands,’ Apollo sneered.
       ‘Actually, Elwood managed it before he died. I never got to 
  thank him properly.’
       ‘Well you should be able to soon,’ Loriana butted in. ‘Your 
  friends are being seen to by Johna, they may be able to return, 
  we don't know yet.’
       Orion raised an eyebrow. Resurrection was not always warmly 
  
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  accepted by elves and he was unsure whether his three friends 
  would be coming back when offered a chance to play in the 
  Elysian fields. 
        There was a hard knock at the door just before it burst 
  open. Ethandril Thililisfarne rushed into the room dramatically 
  waving his arms.
       ‘Greetings all! Theo, Apollo, Orion, my darling daughter. 
  I'm afraid I was waylaid by my own contingencies. Those gnomes 
  caught me with a rather fine and, if I may say, painful spell. 
  Before I knew it I was back in my safe house on Wye, with 
  various potions being poured down my throat by unseen servants 
  with strict instructions. I will really have to reconsider using 
  it again or change the wording of the spell. So what happened? 
  Where are the others?’
       ‘Dead. Well it may only be temporary,’ Apollo said.
       ‘But how, we're invincible?’ Ethan squawked back.
       ‘The gnomes were very powerful and we were done for. I was 
  the last one left when the Red Baron saved me and all of us.’
       ‘But he was already dead; that lightning bolt blasted him 
  from the sky very quickly. I was a bit disappointed in him to be 
  honest,’ Ethan said
       ‘A simulacrum. He was following us from some way behind 
  having animated a simulacrum to travel with us and act like him. 
  
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  He is more power than any of us realised. I am afraid to admit 
  it but I was about to be engulfed by a huge crushing hand when 
  everything stopped. He used a time stop, then stripped the two 
  leaders of their clothing and weapons, before killing them and 
  sending their souls to the elemental plane of fire.’
       ‘He was never that powerful, surely?’ an open-mouthed 
  Ethandril asked.
       ‘It appears he is,’ Sir Theobold added. ‘And we are just 
  glad that he is our friend, for now.’
       ‘So what happens now?’ Orion asked.
       ‘The Red Baron also finished off their two top assassins 
  who were following us. Remember the shout at the start of the 
  fight? Well, he had already dealt with them, and both leaders 
  are also dead. We burnt the mushroom field so there will be a 
  lot less Spice for now,’ Apollo stated.
       ‘What of that nasty gnome with the black cap with gold 
  sigils?’ Ethan asked. ‘I really didn't like him at all.’
       ‘He left before the Baron struck so we had better assume he 
  is still at large and capable,’ Apollo answered. ‘My experience 
  tells me that we have decapitated them for now but there will be 
  more trouble to come. We must be wary of these gnomes and their 
  plotting as well as the priests of Nyrex with whom they worked.’
       There was a knock at the door and Johna walked in. ‘I have 
  
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  good news,’ he stated in a flat voice. ‘All your friends chose 
  to return, though they will need some time to recover. I believe 
  the pull of your friendship and unfinished business was enough 
  to bring them back.’
       ‘Excellent, excellent!’ Ethan squealed in delight. ‘When 
  can we see them, can we go now?’
       ‘Lava lips you're draining at the best of times. They may 
  wish they hadn't come back if you go rushing over there now. 
  Give them time and a bit of space,’ the ever wise solar elf said.
       ‘Apollo's right, Ethan,’ Orion said. ‘Give them time. We 
  need to work out our next move. What has happened to the other 
  towns and cities?’
       ‘Well,’ Sir Theobold began, ‘we have cleared the scourge 
  from our city and sent word to the towns of Abinger and Ingles 
  as well as an offer of help. I believe we may go in there any 
  day now and sweep those towns clean. It will of course help if 
  the supply dries up after your handiwork.’
       ‘And Salvington?’ Orion asked with concern.
       ‘I spoke with the Speaker and he believed the problem 
  wasn't so serious there but he would discuss it at their Council 
  and get back to me. He's a good man, so I suspect he knows what 
  he's doing. We'll send help if he says he needs it.’
       Apollo and Orion shared an anxious glance; they weren't so 
  
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  sure but left it at that. Perhaps they would pay a visit to 
  their young friend Garth and see what was really happening. At 
  least with the supply cut off any Spice problems would lessen.
        ‘Well done on the cleansing of your city, Theo,’ Ethandril 
  piped up. ‘I'm glad you enjoyed using my spell so much, I've 
  always found it to work brilliantly.’ 
       ‘Indeed, Ethan, it did work well and as a result we now 
  have a lot of spare luxury housing in the city. Perhaps you 
  would like one of the houses?’
       Loriana stared hard at Sir Theobold; the thought of her 
  father living in the city was almost too much to bear.
       ‘No, no. I'm looking forward to going home for a while. I 
  have a few things I need to work on and my son Thelandril has 
  recovered from his accident so his education must continue.’
       Loriana breathed such an audible sigh of relief it caused a 
  chuckle to escape from the usually serious mouth of Apollo 
  Shiningblade. 
       ‘When the others have recovered we should make our 
  decisions. This isn't over yet,’ he said.
       
       The granite dwarves filed back into Kronkton, pleased with 
  their work. They had killed a high ranking shadow gnome mage and 
  word was coming through of a major disturbance in the city of 
  
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  Imar. It was a job well done. The three companions, Alto, 
  Clement and Barakello, decided to say their farewells. They were 
  heading back to the surface to continue with their adventures, 
  and to check on the welfare of their human friend Garth.
       ‘Novakello, thank the elders from me, but I shall leave 
  again. I have unfinished business on the surface and perhaps 
  more of our fellow dwarves to meet,’ Barakello said as he 
  embraced his newest friend.
       ‘Go with our blessing, Barakello and your friends, as they 
  are now ours. Any time you have more friends that would benefit 
  from meeting with the Elders feel free to bring them to us. We 
  are not a closed community, you should know that, just a hard 
  one to find!’ Novakello replied as he began to laugh.
       Alto and Clement laughed too and waved their goodbyes as 
  the three left the main gate of Kronkton and headed back to the 
  surface.
       
       In a small cavern, almost impossible to find by any means 
  physical or magical, the fire halfling unloaded the latest 
  treasures he had procured. The Red Baron stared at the rods, 
  wands, rings and particularly the beholder stave he had removed 
  from the shadow gnomes.
       ‘These should do nicely,’ he said to himself. His hover 
  
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  board floated just in front of him as he began his spell, an 
  enchantment to make the board open and receptive to the new 
  magics. When he was done he picked up the pieces, one by one and 
  placed them on the board. A ring of regeneration, a ring of 
  shooting stars, a ring of protection, wands of fire and numerous 
  other trinkets he had pilfered from the gnomes. Then the staff 
  of the beholder. One by one they disappeared, consumed, absorbed 
  and assimilated into the hover board. The powers would all be 
  his now, ready for him any time he wanted them. He smiled at his 
  good fortune at meeting up with the Company. They had been 
  useful travelling companions and had helped him get into a place 
  he would never have dared to go on his own. Perhaps he would 
  meet with them again for another adventure, but of course, he 
  would always have to remind them who truly held the balance of 
  power!
       
  --The End-- 
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/Dungeons & Dragons [multi]/1st Edition (ODD, D&D Basic, AD&D)/1st Edition/3rd Party/Dragonsfoot/Articles/Spice.pdf