Chester Topping Rest In Peace

Before the gnome lost his temper completely everyone had a moment in which they all believed that the wish would end. Lester, in fact, was pulling for this to happen almost as much as he imagined the gnome was. Once the gnome was free then he could spend the rest of the afternoon trying to find his brother's grave.

The idea of being keen to find the grave of his beloved sibling was not sitting well in Lester's head. It was almost impossible to separate the notion of someone having a grave from the notion of someone being, well, dead. Whenever that particularly unpleasant idea came around on the carousel of Lester's thoughts he reminded himself of what a remarkable and tricksy individual Chester Topping was. Lester wouldn't show much surprise if this whole thing hadn't been cooked up by Chester and Loki working in tandem.

Still, a gravestone. Surely even having a gravestone was an ill-omen. It might not be alchemy but it was certainly witchcraft.

"Oh... bother it!" the gnome cried eventually. The little sprite ran up to the base of the skull rock and gave it a hearty kick. "Owww!" the gnome cried. "That hurt."

"Kicking a gigantic rock generally hurts," Eos said. "That's why it never took off as a pastime."

"I should be free!" the gnome shouted. "This is it, the loop is closed, the journey is ended, the adventure has concluded, so why can I still feel the wish? Why am I flopping around, bound to the people who freed me? Why am I not allowed to make my own way in the world?"

"It would seem," said Rebecca gently, "that we may have misread the small print, so to speak."

"No!" the gnome replied. "No! I reject that completely, utterly, the terms of the wish were quite plain. Rachel wanted to leave the Skull Garden so that they could go on an adventure and he could see all that the world could be. That's what she said. Now I am aware that the phrase 'see all that the world could be' does leave some room for interpretation but the powers of mischief are not usually that particular."

"Not usually," said Rebecca, "but sometimes, sometimes there is something that they are waiting for, something that will just cross the last 't' or dot the last 'i'."

"Maybe," Lester said, without really knowing which part of his mind was providing the words, "the term used is tied to something James should see. Maybe when James feels that he knows all that he needs to know then he will have seen all that the world can see."

Everyone was looking at Lester. The gnome scowled.

"That," he said, "sounds exactly like the kind of stunt the forces of mischief like to pull." The gnome swivelled his eyes to fix on James, quiet now, still not as steady on his feet as he should be. "So what is it that you feel you're missing out on?" it asked. "Come on now, out with it, let's show you what you need to see so I can clock off."

"I... I don't know," James said.

"You have to know!" the gnome wailed. "Folk. Honestly, I am going off the lot of you. Born as babies, dying arbitrarily, don't know what you want, or where you're going, or how you feel. Why is the world filled with folk?

"Sprites are nice and simple. Pop into existence, do what you do, go where you have to, and then just fade away once your time is done. Why can't folk be more like sprites."

The gnome tramped over to the foot of the Skull Rock and sat down, defeated.

"I'm sorry," James called after him. "I just don't know."

"It's okay," Rebecca said, putting her hand on her husband's shoulder. "You're still confused. Take a moment, take a breath, let the thing you want come to your mind naturally."

James closed his eyes and took a breath. Another few moments passed.

Maybe James wants to know what happened to my brother, Lester thought. He banished the thought immediately as being inherently selfish.

"Maybe," Rachel said. "Dad just wants to know what happened to Lester's brother. I know I do, and dad's been travelling with Lester since we first popped into the market."

Lester held his breath while the others weighed up this suggestion in their minds.

"It can't hurt to find out, can it?" Eos asked.

Lester felt a sudden flip in his guts, like his stomach was trying to pop out of his mouth and run away. They were going to search, it was finally time to search.

"There's only one problem with that plan," James said. "The area we refer to as the Skull Garden is all of the jungle as far as we can walk by day and still be back here by night. If you expand that line so it becomes the radius of a circle and then plot out the area of that circle... I mean, we could be months searching for this grave, if it's even here."

This pessimistic, but unfortunately rational, appraisal of the situation was interrupted by the flopping noise of a rope hitting the side of the Skull Rock.

"Hello!" cried a voice from above.

The unhappy party at the foot turned their gaze upwards to see who had hailed them.

"Frederick!" James called out. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh you know," Frederick replied. "The usual kind of thing, killing giant bats, rescuing princesses trapped inside a crystal along with an entire lost continent, taking in the afternoon air."

Following Frederick down the rope was Phoebe, and above her a young boy that Lester didn't recognise. Above the boy was another young woman that Lester thought he didn't recognise, then from other angles he thought he did.

The four adventurers reached the ground and a general round of greetings and introductions was carried out. Lester was introduced, firstly, to the small boy whose name was Wish Forbetter and then to the mysterious young woman.

"Hello Lester," the young woman said. "How are things?"

Not being the kind of opening one might expect from someone you had never met before Lester was rendered momentarily speechless.

"Found yourself lost in any sorcerer's dungeons recently?" the young woman asked. "James is looking well, distinctly less mousey than the last time we met."

She followed the comment up with a cheeky grin that Lester couldn't help but recognise. He went instantly from speechless to gaping. Eventually he found his tongue:

"Anabyl?" he asked.

"Took you long enough," she said. "Although I have to concede that some water has passed under the bridge since last time I saw you."

"But... you're here, in the Skull Garden and, I mean, what happened?" Lester asked.

"It's a long story, I travelled with Avan Weatherstrong, escaped the Vanishing, trained as a dragon warrior and helped protect the quintessence crystal from evil-doers who wanted to possess its power," Anabyl said. "It was an interesting time. What have you been up to?"

"Um, went to an evil masked ball, then I was chased down a mountain by a troll, got lost in the Undone, helped rescue a mermaid from a witch and now I'm looking for my twin's grave, here in the garden.... my twin's grave... is," Lester managed to recount his recent history, just about.

He couldn't help but note that the full catalogue of events sounded, maybe, more impressive than he'd imagined. This was a thing about adventure, at the time you were just scrambling desperately to survive, only afterwards did you realise that, having survived, your exploits had graduated from terrifying to exciting.

"Sounds like you've kept busy," Anabyl said. "How are you planning to find your brother's grave?"

"Well," Lester sighed. "That's kind of the thing. You see we have no idea where it is, and James was just pointing out how large the garden actually is. If we stay here too long then we will start to forget who we are, or why we came here in the first place. So we need to find the grave before that happens obviously. It could take a long while. Maybe we could think about shift work or something, but I bet the gnome won't be too happy about that."

"Why would the gnome care?" Anabyl asked.

"We think he might not be able to become a full gnome until James sees Chester's grave. It's a wish magic thing," Lester explained.

"Well," Anabyl said, "If I remember correctly you and Chester are twins, are you not?"

"Yes," Lester said. "We are."

"Well, then, maybe in the matter of choosing a grave-site you both think alike, it's worth a try," Anabyl said. "I've got lucky like that on more than one occasion."

This suggestion appeared to Lester to be far too sensible a one to actually work but, because it was so sensible, it was also mandatory to give it a go.

"Okay," Lester said. "Let's have a think. Well, first of all, if I were Chester the whole point of this grave is to hide it so that only I can find it."

That didn't immediately make Lester think of a location. After all, Lester had to admit, he wasn't the most imaginative of people. If he'd have come to this place alone, seeing the gigantic stone column with a skull on the top at the centre, he probably would have headed straight for that. Here they were, for other reasons, there was no grave.

Of course, the idea of putting the grave here did not exactly make it hidden. Unless, of course, the grave was unmarked. If that were the case then it would probably be somewhere here, under the column. In which case, there would probably be some sort of indicator that only Lester would understand, probably on the column, at the bottom.

Lester stalked around the base of the column, searching for something, anything. It didn't take him long to find it. There was an arrow carved into the stone, it pointed North, you could tell because it said 'N' at the top of it. Underneath was the number '58'.

"Here!" Lester said, excitedly.

The others came to join him.

"What does that mean?" the gnome asked.

"It's the orientation course," Rachel said. "I followed it a few times, started really early in the morning. I don't know how far I got. You walk in the direction of the line for that many paces and you reach another rock with another arrow and another number. I got about forty of them before I had to come back, because of the bat."

"But now the bat is dead," Frederick said. "So we can just follow the arrows to the end."

Everyone seemed very excited at this prospect and preparations immediately got underway to start the course. Lester was happy with the explanation but something still seemed off to him. After all, Chester could not know that the bat would be dead when Lester got there.

Chester had to have thought this through. Why would Chester send Lester off running around in the woods like that? For a start Chester and Lester both had one leg longer than the other. They couldn't easily walk in straight lines, they always veered off to the right. Something was wrong with this.

It was only as the party got ready to stamp off north for fifty-eight paces that Lester thought he understood what it was Chester had done.

"Stop!" he cried out before anyone had taken more than two paces north.

Everyone stopped. Lester's heart was beating in his throat at the idea that for once he had worked something out. He was the one with the answer, he was not just some oddball standing on the edges. For the first time since he had started his quest Lester felt like he might have the makings of a hero.

"We shouldn't go," he said. "It's a trap."

"What do you mean?" Rebecca asked. "What kind of a trap?"

"We lived in the garden for years and years," James said. "We never found a trap."

"No," Lester said. "But you did completely forget who you were, or why you were here."

"So?" Rachel asked.

"Think about it," Lester explained. "Someone evil comes here, they find the course, they kill the bat. The bat killing, in particular, is something I don't think I could do. But the evil person they have no problem with it. So they follow the path. Eventually the path is so long they have to rest. So they rest. Then they keep following the path.

"At first they accept the difficulty of the task, after all if Chester's grave was easy to find then it wouldn't be a challenge. Eventually they get annoyed, maybe they give up. If they don't, one day they wake up and, maybe, they can't remember exactly why, but they know they're following the arrows. So they go further.

"Now remembering things gets harder, they can't remember if they've seen arrows before. Eventually they either forget who they are give up and wander away or they keep mindlessly walking in circles lost in a labyrinth of arrows and pacing until they die.

"The whole task is a trap. Chester knew I would know that because the apparent simple task is one that both he and I would be singularly awful at if we were on our own."

"So, what does that mean?" James asked. "That we don't know where the grave is after all?"

"No," Lester said. "It means we know exactly where the grave is, because we're standing on it. The other thing Chester and I have in common is that we're very very lazy. The marker doesn't tell me to go tramping about in the forgetful forest. No, what it says to me is, Chester made a mark, so there must be something here worth marking."

Frederick ruffled in his pack and brought out a small collapsible spade.

"Only one way we're going to see if he's right," Frederick said. "I'll get digging."

Nobody said much as Frederick found a piece of earth that was soft enough and dug straight down. The hole went deeper than a regular grave but after about forty minutes he hit something solid.

"Oh, wow," Frederick said. "That's deep. We could be here until nightfall."

"Oh, no, Frederick," Phoebe said. "Come out of that hole. I think I can help."

"No offence," Lester said. "But I've seen how you help, I don't want to cremate my brother's remains in a massive plasma explosion, I just want to uncover the grave."

"I think I might be of assistance here," the gnome said, rather unexpectedly. He looked about at everyone regarding him, surprised expressions on their faces, and his brow knitted in annoyance. "I'm a gnome people, a gnome? Earth elemental? Really, and I thought you were an educated woman Miss September."

Phobe looked a bit awkward, she had spent many years in Faerie's premier magical academy.

"I just didn't really think about it," she said by way of explanation.

"Why didn't you mention this half an hour ago?" Frederick asked, still sweating from his own exertions.

"I didn't know whether you would find anything," the gnome grumbled. "Not going to put my back out blasting away a big hole in the earth for no reason, now, am I?"

The logic, irritating as it might have been, was irrefutable. The others all stood back and gave the gnome room to work. With very little effort the sprite shifted all of the earth from Chester's grave and even landscaped the surroundings into a sweeping natural curve.

The grave stone was about eight feet long and three feet wide. In the centre of the slab was carved an ornate embossed hourglass, the carving, elegantly swirled around this central motif outwards to a geometric frame about half an inch in around the edge of the stone.

"That doesn't look like it's going to be fun to move," Anabyl said.

"Ah," Lester said. "But you're failing to take into account that this place was designed to be uncovered by a single lazy man with a spade and a couple of days to spare. By the time I'd got down to this on my own I imagine I would be so tired I'd probably just take my spade and have a good old lean, like this."

Lester grabbed Frederick's spade, walked into the middle of the slab and placed it point down on the hour glass. He leaned on the handle and there was a deep and audible click as some hidden mechanism was pressed into service.

The two halves of the grave stone separated along invisible seams and lifted gently upwards to reveal the contents of Chester's tomb. But what was beneath the gravestone and how it brought our friend's adventures to a satisfactory, if not permanent, conclusion, is most definitely a story that I will tell you. Just, not right now is all.

In Which The Vanishing Has Swallowed The Terra Draconis

It is a morsel of common wisdom too kind to reflect reality that anything Avan Weatherstrong did not know about magic was probably not worth knowing. It is certainly true that the youngest son of the House of Weatherstrong was the most versatile practitioner of the magical arts to ever walk among the lands of Faerie.

For this reason the storm that consumed the dark side of the Okulas Moon did not impress Avan the way that it intimidated his young companion Saeed. All magic, fundamentally, was elemental. To make a rain cloud one could easily combine air and water manufactured from raw mischief. A gigantic black-hearted storm was air and water bound with raw white plasma and amplified using power and chaos. A gigantic storm was devastating, but it was a show piece for the easily cowed.

There was no subtlety to Okulas's working, it was achievable by any idiot with a rudimentary grasp on the basics and the coin to drop on the equipment to make it happen. It was hard to explain to an individual seeing the awesome power of the storm first hand. For this reason Avan didn't even try.

If Avan were to be honest about matters, and he tended to be, he would be forced to admit that the flying potions that enabled Saeed and himself to arc over the storm and settle upon the rim of the crater at the storm's eye was no more impressive to a master alchemist. The ingredients of the potion altered the gross weight of the flesh until it could slip through the air. There was a question of balance, a good flying potion was a hard thing to prepare, but once one had the technique the application was pretty tedious.

Again, it was hard to communicate to a non-magic user how unimpressive a thing a decent flight potion was except in the degree of its responsiveness. Avan's flight potions were something he was proud of but for technical reasons, not merely because the gifted the imbiber with the power to fly for one turn of the hourglass.

There were several flourishes that any alchemist would have been happy to tell you were very hard to pull off in Avan's potion. The potion allowed for mental control of the relative density of the flyer's flesh, the control was quite precise, different parts of the body responded the need to move in harmony with the flyer's wishes. Essentially, when you flew with Avan Weatherstrong's potion you found the business of flight surpassingly easy. The end phase was nicely feathered also, a soft landing at the end of your flight was almost always guaranteed.

This marked the difference between Avan and Okulas. The Count had money, which he had used to buy power to use as a bludgeon. Avan possessed diligence and wisdom, which he had used to craft elegant solutions that got the job done in the spirit of efficiency.

In a completely fair world it would be Avan and Saeed who easily triumphed over the rich bully with the expensive toys. Anyone who has ever encountered a rich bully with expensive toys will tell you that the world is hardly ever fair at all.

By the time Avan and Saeed landed Okulas's plan was already at an advanced stage. As Saeed crested the dark, swirling cloud bank that surrounded the crater a long silver thread became visible, emerging from a structure at the centre of the crater and curving around almost doubling over to cross the moon's horizon and disappear downwards towards the vague craggy outline of the lands of Faerie below. (For the scientific among you wondering how the sky could be filled with the distant image of the lands below, suffice to say that if geography in Faerie is eccentric, interplanetary spacial location is totally insane.)

"We need to aim for that building!" Avan shouted over the whirling, crackling mass of stormclouds.

Avan and Saeed swooped down, on a course to land outside the structure. They didn't make it halfway before an arrow zinged through the space between them. One arrow was quickly followed by more. Before long the air was filled with hurtling arrows, some of them on fire. Saeed and Avan dodged and weaved as much as they could but in the end they were forced back, eventually landing half a mile from their intended destination.

"I really hope that there aren't more glass monkeys," Saeed said.

As hopes went it was not a large one, if heavily armoured guards were an acceptable replacement for invisible simians then Saeed should have been well pleased. For a short while more arrows attempted to find them but Avan put up a glowing shield the arrows bounced off. Eventually a horde of cavalry soldiers reached the pair but, galloping past, they could not penetrate Avan's defenses.

"We must not be delayed," Avan said. "This shield cannot be moved but I can make us fast. Get ready!"

With that Avan threw a small clay pot onto the ground hard enough to shatter, a black-gold glowing powder bloomed outwards, engulfing the two men.

"Stay sharp," Avan instructed, once the dust had cleared. "I'm taking down the shield."

He did so and Saeed looked about to find himself in an even stranger world. Okulas's army was all around him, twisted faces snarling, strong arms bristling with weapons, all intent on cutting down the two men who would seek to interfere with the events unfolding in the nearby building. All of these soldiers were moving as if caughtin treacle, the air was filled with the slow throbbing growl of their cries, slowed down by Avan's magic.

"You still have to tread carefully," Avan said. "But this should last until we reach our destination."

And so they went, jumping over enemies, treading lightly upon the backs of trolls, lizard men and burly folk. Avan and Saeed raced across the army that was trying to kill them. As they reached the outer walls of Okulas's hide away the growl of the army had raised in pitch and tone, the motions of the soldiers a little faster.

"We haven't got long," Avan noted, "let's get up the wall."

Saeed and Avan scrambled up the outside of the building and ran across the roof dropping down into the courtyard just as the effect of Avan's speed bomb wore off. Saeed considered that it must have looked to the observers as if Avan and himself had skimmed over the roof like swooping birds landing precisely at a single spot each already focused on the scene before them. Saeed understood how intimidating such a display would be and understood a little more of what had made the name of Weatherstrong a central pillar of Faerie legend.

Okulas, a dark-haired, pale-skinned oily kind of individual who was, unsurprisingly, shorter than one might have expected, acted as if the arrival of the Prince and Saeed were expected and on schedule.

"Welcome, Prince Weatherstrong," Okulas said. "You will be disappointed to hear that your valiant efforts to preserve the Terra Draconis are all in vain. The skybow's arrow has tethered my moon to the continent and the apparatus I had built by a team of witches has distilled its energies into a single crystal, the crystal of quintessence. All that remains is for the quintessence crystal to be placed within the mounting on an amulet, linked to a ring of power and my claim to the title of Faerie's most powerful sorcerer will be passed into the pages of history."

Okulas was so intent on his gloating that he failed to notice Avan make a subtle hand gesture to Saeed that they had settled upon previously whilst quelling the riot in Dracopolis. They had only decided upon this signal less than three weeks ago but Saeed noticed it with some surprise.

The signal meant 'create a distraction'. Providing such a distraction as Saeed could was appropriate when you wanted to lead a group of trolls into a blind alley where they could be stunned and bound away from the main throroughfare. In this situation Saeed could not imagine a distraction such as he might take responsibility for that did not end with him being frazzled, throttled or otherwise demised by a powerful wicked sorcerer.

Saeed tried to put all of that into a double raised eyebrow aimed at Avan. Avan, lacking an organised response merely waved his thumb in a vaguely upwards direction.

"If I meet death today," Saeed muttered under his breath as Okulas finished explaining his plan. "I will not be impressed in the slightest."

"Even so he thumbed a little smoke bomb that Avan had made for him from the hidden pouch in his belt and smashed it on the ground. As Okulas's personal guard reacted by waving their pikes in his general direction Saeed took the opportunity provided by the confusion to punch a couple of them in places that Saeed knew would temporarily cripple them. Even so, these soldiers were the best that Okulas had under his command. Saeed could not hope to best them alone.

"Grab him!" Okulas shouted pointing in Saeed's direction. After that things went bad for him very quickly indeed.

The world became filled with flying crossbow bolts and swishing blades. Okulas's personal guard had clearly prepared well to take down individuals causing trouble in the vicinity of their employer. Saeed tried to see where Avan was, even as the noose of wood and steel attempted to close about him, but he could not see the prince anywhere.

Making a snap decision Saeed decided that he had to make a break for it. He couldn't hope to survive if the full focus of the guard remained on him. Saeed back flipped over a pair of surprised guards and ran away from the courtyard and into the building through a tall pair of double doors.

The only thing that saved Saeed's neck in that moment was that he had developed a sixth sense for the layout of unfamiliar archectural structures. He found a way down into the building's cellar and from there a trapdoor sealing an escape route into the caves below the moon. The guard, who knew the building far better, stayed in pursuit, but only because they had the home advantage.

Whatever the reason Saeed hoped that he had not made a fatal miscalculation. The narrow passages of the Okulas Moon's cave system were not an ideal place to escape from a horde of pursuing guards. Before long Saeed had exhausted all the obvious routes, perpetually finding looped passages, dead ends or sheer vertical shafts. Without any magic of his own it seemed that he had cornered himself.

In the end he found himself in a passage, hemmed in by guards on either side. Roughly half way down the passage was a shaft showing a way upwards but the rock was smooth and slippery. Saeed could not gain access to the upper shelf of rock and his small spider-silk grapple had nothing to hook onto. As the guards approached Saeed watched his options decreasing. He drew his sword but there was no real way he could defeat a small army all by himself.

As the guards drew together under the chimney, completely sealing Saeed's available escape routes Saeed focused on the fiercest looking guards and waved his sword about.

"I may be reintroduced to my mother this day," he shouted, "but I will be taking some of you with me, mark my words!"

The guards did not look impressed, Saeed swung his arm back preparing for a first blow. As his arm reached its ready position there was the sound of a crack and someone shouted: "Shiner!"

Saeed closed his eyes and blocked his ears as he always did when he heard the word shiner. The shiner was a small bomb developed by Avan that put out a loud noise and a bright white light that could stun anyone who did not protect their eyes and ears when it went off. The devices did not do much physical harm but were immensely useful in asserting a surprise tactic against a group of adversaries.

With the short warning the sound of the shiner was louder in Saeed's ears than he might have liked, but e managed to shield his eyes from the light. When he opened them again the guards were all clutching their heads and moaning. A sliver of white cord was hanging down to Saeed's side.

Saeed did not hesitate, he scaled the rope up the chimney and was greeted by Avan at the top.

"You cut that about as fine as I think you possibly could," Saeed said. "Thank you."

"Sorry," Avan said. "I had to lose pursuers of my own, then, I found these."

Avan held up a number of crystals, all of which looked like they could be the quintessence crystal.

"What is this? More magic?" Saeed asked.

"Raw mischief, trapped in dragon crystals as luminosity," Avan said. "Only one of the crystals is the one that contains the Terra Draconis, the others are decoys."

"So, the Terra Draconis is safe?" Saeed asked.

"Trapped in crystal," Avan nodded, "but out of Okulas's grasp. We need to make sure it stays safe, until the magic can be reversed safely."

"Can you do that?" Saeed asked.

"Not easily," Avan said. "I think the safest extraction method will prove to be alchemical but whoever does it will only get one chance. The responsibility for restoring this land is a grave one. I fear that, although I will be able to start upon a solution it won't be easy and I may not be the one to complete the work."

"So what do we do now?" Saeed asked.

A small light appeared in the passage behind Avan, it was about the size of a hornet, coloured a pale yellow.

"Hello, Starspark," Avan said, then to Saeed: "This is Starspark, I found her in one of Okulas's dragon crystals. She was an experiment in preserving mischief inside the lattice structure of the crystal. She was also my first experiment in extraction. Starspark, this is Saeed, an honest thief."

"Hello, Prince Weatherstrong," Starspark said. "Hello, Saeed."

"Starspark knows these caves, she can take us back through the roots of the tree to the light side of the moon and I can use magic to take us back to the haunted house in Faerie," Avan said. "After that you and I will hide the decoys, and, of course, the real crystal. Hopefully that will buy us some time to seek a remedy for this wicked act."


And this is exactly what they did, but as for the rest that will be told another day.

In Which There Is Trouble On The Okulas Moon

"I must confess," Saeed said, as the light of the rainbow bridge faded from view, "I never expected the moon to look like this."

They stood on a wide, featureless plain, covered with a sparse scrub in patches of hard, black soil. Although the stars could be seen, a bright canopy overhead that suggested night, there was plenty of ambient light surrounding Saeed and Avan.

"The moon wears many faces," Avan replied. "She is the mistress of illusion."

"'She'?" Saeed asked. "The moon is female?"

"That is the one thing all the faces have in common, yes," Avan said, then, pointing towards one horizon: "I think that is where we need to be headed."

In the direction that Avan had pointed Saeed could make out the twisted form of a gigantic tree, the only large form on the visible landscape of the Okulas Moon as far as the eye could see in any direction. Saeed and Avan began the long walk toward their destination.

As they drew closer Saeed began to realise that they were not headed towards a normal-sized tree that was a short distance away but, in fact, an enormous tree that was much further away than it first appeared. Even so, as they first crossed the part of the plain where some roots of the enormous tree were becoming visible Saeed could see birds swooping and wheeling around the branches far above his head.

One bird, not flying, was sat on a larger branch about sixty feet up. An impressive looking owl that, while not on the same exact scale as the tree, was large enough to look a little more comfortable with the enormity of its perch than it might have otherwise.

The size of the external roots grew larger and larger as Avan and Saeed drew closer to the bole of the tree. Before they reached a place where they could think of climbing the trunk a voice called out to them.

"Couldn't resist the challenge could you?"

Saeed and Avan turned to see Miranda Felix standing twenty feet up on the ridge of one of the roots.

"You want to give up," Avan said. "You'd be no match for me if I was alone. Let me assure you that your defeat will be swift and humiliating when you face both myself and Saeed."

"If I was alone," Miranda Felix replied. "I would not have called attention to myself. You know as well as anyone I like to pick my battles, my handsome prince."

Saeed surveyed the area around him. All he saw was the rough bark covering the tree roots, appearing grey in the strange blue of the ambient illumination, and the black and blue scrub of the earth.

"You have hidden lizard men, or trolls nearby?" Avan asked.

"I have glass monkeys," Felix replied. "Nearer than you think."

Saeed felt the brush of Avan's arm as he shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably.

"I must confess," he said. "I've never heard of a glass monkey."

"No, something new on the moon," Felix said. "Dreamed up by a darling little madame I have safe inside a mirror. Mischief sprites can have the cruellest imaginings if you just scare them a little."

"I've never heard of a glass monkey," Saeed muttered to Avan under his breath. "She could be bluffing."

Avan looked about, scanning the ground around them for some sign of Miranda's invisible henchmen.

"So we're supposed to just let you get away because of this assurance?" Avan asked.

"Oh, my sweet boy," Miranda said. "I know you too well to think that you'd take my word for anything." She drew in a breath and called out: "Attack!"

There was a shift in the air and a rhythmic pounding rumble like dozens of feet suddenly moving forward. Something screeched and Saeed felt himself struck in the face so hard it sent him tumbling backwards.

Thankfully Saeed had excellent reflexes. He turned the fall into a backwards hand spring, drawing his sword as he came back up. He swung his blade in an arc around him and drew out the sound of shrieking monkeys as they tried to avoid his random swipes.

"I am not going to be able to keep this up for long!" he shouted at Avan, who had somehow managed to cloak his entire body in fire in the few seconds since the monkeys had attacked.

"No, neither am I," Avan called back. "Besides, Felix is escaping while we're dealing with this nonsense."

"Nonsense, in my experience, tends to be less fatal than this," Saeed called back.

"This should help," Avan said pulling a gourd from one of the pouches on his belt. "Take a deep breath," he warned and threw the gourd into the air. Being a wise thief Saeed inhaled as large a lungful of air as he could in preparation for whatever was coming next.

There was an explosive popping noise and the gourd bloomed into a cloud of green smoke that settled down over them. The green smoke was made of a fine powder that settled on Avan, Saeed and also on the glass monkeys. Now Saeed could see the outline of the places where the powder fell. The monkeys did not like the powder and were scurrying away, trying not to get it on them.

Even as they did so, however, the monkeys began to swoon and fall, there were the sounds of monkey bodies hitting the floor as the green powder caused them to fall into slumber. There were more monkeys than could be caught within the radius of the gourd, of course. But clearing the space gave Avan and Saeed all the head start that they needed.

Swinging their blades ahead of them they charged towards the trunk of the tree and the remaining glass monkeys scampered out of their way, unsure what to do next. When they were outside of the reach of the cloud of green powder Saeed risked opening his mouth to speak.

"I don't think we're going to be able to climb this tree faster than monkeys, not even glass ones," he said.

"Don't you worry," Avan replied. "I don't think that we'll have to."

Avan dodged to the right into a shadowed crook between the out growth of two huge roots and disappeared. Hoping that this was not the result of some kind of sorcery Saeed followed. He was amazed to find that the shadow was far longer, and deeper than he might have imagined. Also, it felt as if he was running along in some sort of darkened interior.

"Hurry!" Avan said from up ahead. The sound of glass monkeys chattering and squealing was growing louder at Saeed's back.

Saeed felt a strong hand pull him forward so he stumbled and fell to the floor. There was the whistle of air sliced by a blade and then the rumble of unspooling rope and the rattle of metal through guide rails. Finally there was the crash of a heavy gate hitting the floor.

Avan muttered one of his minor magical incantations and a soft yellow glow permeated the space around them. Saeed was amazed to see that they were inside the tree, in a room carved into the root, a room with a heavy gate blocking a passage that lead outside.

"How did you know?" Saeed asked.

"Neither Felix not Okulas are lovers of slumming it," Avan said. "I didn't believe either of them would concede to living in the unfurnished branches of a tree, whatever it's size. Besides, I believed I could detect the suck of air entering the tunnel when we were outside."

"So... you could very easily have just run straight into a wall?" Saeed asked as the two of them started to make their way through the hallways and rooms carved into the roots of the tree.

Avan shrugged.

"What's life without a risk once in a while?" he asked.

The two adventurers made short work of finding the grand hall at the core of the tree structure. A vast cylindrical vault ran up the main trunk of the tree. Saeed guessed that it wasn't wide enough to have hollowed out the whole of the tree interior but it was still over one hundred feet in diameter, a series of circular galleries were connected with broad stair cases sweeping upwards in elegant arcs to the branches of the tree above.

"Looks like nobody's home," Saeed said after walking slightly behind Avan and nervously checking over his shoulder every five paces for about ten minutes.

"Worrying," Avan said. "If this place is empty then the forces Okulas had here must have gone somewhere else. The question is, where?"

"Let's hope the owl knows," Saeed said. "And that he's in a mood to share the knowledge."

When Avan and Saeed emerged onto the branch they found that a smooth path had been carved into the upper side of the surface leading out to the owl's perch. Now that they drew closer Saeed could see that the owl was roughly twenty feet tall, an imposing creature indeed, nestled in the branches of this mighty tree.

"You are one of the First?" Avan called to the owl as they drew close enough that it might hear them.

The owl rotated its enormous head. Huge golden discs, the owl's eyes, oriented to regard them.

"You are Prince Avan Weatherstrong, and you are Saeed ibn Abihi, the wanderer," the owl addressed them. "I have been waiting for you."

"What concern are we to one of the arbiters of fate?" Avan asked, his delivery was clear but Saeed had travelled with the Prince long enough that he could detect the quaver of concern in his companion's voice.

"Dark times are ahead, Prince Weatherstrong, only the deepest knowledge and the strongest soul can prevail," the owl said.

"If you tell us where we may find Okulas," Avan declared. "Then we will save the Terra Draconis."

"You will preserve it," the owl told them. Saeed had travelled too long not to note the ring in the owl's voice that told them this was a correction, not an echo. "This is the weft of the Weave. You will find your quarry in the eye of the storm that rages on the dark side of this moon. Nothing larger than a speck of dirt may penetrate the walls of the storm."

"Then that is how we must approach," Avan said. "Great thanks, wise one, we shall show that your trust in us was well placed."

"I do not trust," the owl replied. "I deliver the will of the weave. All things are as they must be."

With that the owl shifted its weight forward to drop off the perch, spreading its wings and swooping away from the tree on the Okulas Moon.

"I have to say that I did not find that conversation at all reassuring," Saeed said.

"Neither did I," Avan said. "But we have come too far to turn back now."

"I promised that I would undo the evil I was tricked into unleashing," Saeed replied. "So I am with you, however dark the road."

"Then you should brace yourself," Avan said. "Because I think we're about to experience a very bumpy ride."

And indeed they did, and in the eye of the storm raging over the dark side of the Okulas Moon Saeed and Avan confronted Count Okulas, but what happened when they did is a story for another time.

Avan Weatherstrong and the Riders in Little Hill

Before the time of the Vanishing, when all the dragons went away, there were a number of realms that were ruled by, or living in symbiosis with, the Draconic races. These realms were governed by a treaty between the dragons and the folk known as the Ninefold Covenant.

In that dim and distant past Faerie had a greater geography than it does today, with three vast continents separated by two enormous oceans. The continents of Araby and Axis were connected by a thin spit of land marking a dividing point between the Trader's Ocean and the dark waters of the Ocean Incognita. The last continent, Terra Draconis, lay at the far end of the Crystal Ocean, its vast trenches and extensive underwater kingdoms make up most of the sub-oceanic shadows, even today.

The riches to be found in the Terra Draconis were many, the routes to cross the oceans few and fraught with dangers. One of the most detailed accounts left across the former continent of Axis (now home to the Hundred Kingdoms and the Crossway Realms) is the account of the adventures of Prince Avan Weatherstrong set down in the tenth volume of his adventures.

If one were to look at a standard edition of 'The Tales of Avan Weatherstronge Vol. X' purchased, for example, from a stall at the Patchwork Market of Bridgetown one would probably find the following tale set down there. However, if one were to visit some of the deeper stacks of the Faerie Archive of Levercastle one may find the events transpired a little differently in the 'Fully Annotated' edition of the same volume written in a special expanding binding with intelligent ink. Such refinements are only to be located in Faerie's only real library, probably because of the testing effect they tend to have on the surrounding reality.

In this tale Avan Weatherstrong emerged from the sea road through the undersea kingdom of Redkale to cross the border into the coastal kingdom of Bromo. This would be his first days in the Terra Draconis and he was excited to see the last of the lands of Faerie first hand.

The first sign of trouble in Bromo came when he climbed up the stairs cut into the rock of the Bromo Cliffs to find that his entry onto land was barred by a tall gate, a tower to one side provided enough room to house a few guards. Avan knocked upon the door and saw a face appear at the top of the tower.

"Who goes there?" challenged the Broman guard from above.

"My name is Prince Avan Weatherstrong," Avan explained. "I bear a Seal of the Hundred Kingdoms, I seek no more than to travel through your lands upon my great journey among the lands of Faerie."

Avan held up the golden circle, the seal of the Hundred Kingdoms but from the top of the tower it must have looked like no more than a small golden saucer.

"Wait there," the guard told him, "I'm coming down."

There was the scuffle of a number of boots against stone and a small hatch opened in the gate.

"Hold up your seal," the guard demanded, Avan complied.

There was the sound of a number of bolts and latches being undone before the gate finally opened. Across the threshold of the kingdom of Bromo was a small stone room and two nervous looking guards holding spears, regarding Avan with suspicion.

"I take it you were expecting something more troublesome than a travelling prince?" Avan asked.

"Kalers," one of the guards mumbled in response.

"They don't usually come in the day time, they've not been coming at night so often. They're probably up to something," the other one said. He scanned the stairway behind Avan, as if expecting to find an attack force that he had not previously noted, skulking among the jagged walls of rock to either side.

"You are at war with your neighbours?" Avan asked. "That is a great shame. Men like you should be building a kingdom, not waiting in fear in a damp gatehouse."

"You'd best come through," one of the guards said. "Not safe to have the gate open for too long."

Avan entered the gatehouse and one of the guards closed and locked the door behind him. The chamber beyond the gate was small and bare, there was a set of steps off to Avan's left and a larger wooden double door about eight feet further on.

"I'm really just passing through," Avan said to the guards. "I have come to see the wonders of the Terra Draconis. Maybe, if I talk with your ruler, then I could offer some insight into whatever is troubling this realm."

"You'll have to take the Caer Road," the guard said. "You'd be better on a horse, not long now until sundown."

"What's the problem with sundown?" Avan asked. There were often, in his experience, problems with sundown, the question was more an assessment of what kind of problem this might be.

"The riders come out, usually after night fall, sometimes at dusk," the guard said. "Take the road to Little Hill, that's not so far away, you can stay at the Inn."

Avan was curious about what a rider might be but he could tell that the guards were keen to send him on his way during the last few hours of daylight so he held his tongue. One of the guards went up the stairs, back into the watch tower, the other lead Avan through the double doors at the opposite end of the antechamber and out onto a broad courtyard. A simple four stall stable was set up to one side of the courtyard, there were a few wooden stakes to the opposite side that were probably used for combat practice. At the far end of the courtyard was a high wall and, in the centre, two tall wooden gates topped with spikes.

Without talking, or even looking at Avan, the guard lead the prince to the gates. He opened a wicket in the gate on the right.

"Little Hill road goes that way," he said pointing to a cobbled road that split north from the junction just beyond the gates. Avan noticed that the guard was stood away from the open wicket, his nervousness had increased with the little door open. "Town's just over the hill in the valley beyond," the guard said. "Don't stop, get to the inn as quick as you can, when evening bell rings close the shutters on your room. They'll tell you what to do."

Avan's curiosity was now raging but he did not think that this guard would appreciate a barrage of questions. Avan would have to find someone more talkative in this town, Little Hill. He thanked the guard for the advice before setting foot on the Little Hill road.

The walk into the town did not take long, he reached the town limits while the sun still had quite a distance to sink upon its travels. Avan had travelled a long way on his journey and so he was neither surprised nor disappointed that his first experience of the Terra Draconis was indistinguishable, in many ways, from his experience of anywhere else he had been.

The air was a little chilly, the sky was a light grey, Avan imagined that some rain could not be too far away. The local vegetation in Bromo was verdant but not exotic, all in line with a temperate autumnal season. The only unusual thing about Bromo was how quiet the roads were and how scared the guards had been.

Little Hill was no more reassuring. People rushed back and forth with a sense of urgency, most ignored Avan, those that didn't regarded him wide-eyed, appearing to assess him as they would a stray dog that may turn out to be rabid. Avan heard many people make remarks about wanting to get things done before curfew.

In the early days of his adventures Avan's curiosity at this odd behaviour would surely have got the better of him. When he had begun his journey his patience had not been tempered by so many brushes with death. He was confident that he could get some information from someone at the Inn, these establishments were always the hub of all the most interesting information to be gleaned in a particular place at a particular time.

Little Hill Inn was adjacent to the town's market square. By the time Avan arrived the stalls had all been removed or locked up, even though the evening bell was still a little time away. As Avan approached the inn he observed townsfolk heading indoors with some haste. Many of the houses that surrounded the square were shut up tight, blank faced shutters hiding the interior from view. To one side of the square there were three houses that had been burned out, a sign advised passers by to stay away from the ruins.

Whatever Avan's expectations had been of the inn they did not include the desolate tavern area that he stepped into. There were no more than ten patrons in the whole place, a bored looking draco stood behind the bar occupying his time with a bar-room skittles set. The green skinned inn keeper was the first draco Avan had ever seen so he tried his hardest not to feel underwhelmed.

Avan had experienced some difficulty separating out the draco, a race of dragon-people who walked on two legs like the folk, from lizard men. Now that he could see one to compare he understood that you could not mistake one for another. Lizard men were related to goblins, as such they tended to be wiry of frame, their heads were far more lizard than folk, their skin was scaled, their eyes had yellow irises and black slitted pupils.

The draco were smoother skinned, if anything their complexion looked as if it were made of some kind of soft fabric, tinted not just green but rather in a wash of colours including yellow, blue, purple and green. Their eyes were an odd china blue at the edges with large dark pupils that sometimes shone as they caught the light. Instead of having a steady iris the pupil gave the appearance of being on fire.

The draco also carried a natural bulk, even this small bar man appeared stocky, robust with health. Black hair sprouted from his head in a stripe that gave his pointed ears plenty of breathing room either side. At the back the barman's hair was gathered into a clip.

Avan approached the draco who was intent on knocking down the four badly spaced pins still standing on the board. The bar man made Avan wait until the ball had swung through its arc, narrowly missing two of the pins, clipping one so that it fell and going nowhere near the fourth. The bar man tutted at his failure and readjusted his focus to point in Avan's direction.

"The guards at the cliff stair gatehouse told me that I should come here and book a room for the night," Avan said.

"They must have liked you," the bar man replied. "Room's four florins."

Avan put down a crown.

"People round here appear to be frightened," Avan said. "Maybe while you show me my room we could talk about that."

"Your money," the barman shrugged, pocketing the crown. "Follow me."

The bar man lead Avan out of the main tavern area up a set of steps that wound round up to a second floor. He showed Avan to a small, functional guest room. Avan noted, upon entering the room, that the shutters were already closed and locked.

"Don't open them," the bar man said, following the direction of Avan's gaze. "I don't want any trouble."

"What's so troubling?" Avan asked. "I think you'll find I've paid for an answer."

"Wolf riders," the bar man said. "Mercenaries hired by Redkale. They have beseiged the whole of Bromo,"

"Why?" Avan asked. "Such a campaign must be ruinous for both kingdoms. Only the mercenaries would make any profit."

"Redkale's daughter, Princess Auriga and Bromo's son, Prince Lachlan, they are married," the barman said. "Redkale has never supported the mingling of land dwellers and merfolk. He was less than understanding on the matter."

"It's unusual for a Lord to jeopardise his people supporting his child's love match," Avan said. It was a remark that Avan hoped the barman would recognise as a diplomatically phrased question.

"There's enchantment involved," the barman said. "That's all you need to know for now. That and, don't open the shutters, until you hear morning bell. We'll bring you your supper after evening bell, there isn't a night bell."

With that the bar man withdrew, leaving Avan to get as comfortable as he could in his cell-like room. He took his heeding stone from its pouch in a boot pocket and set it up on the small dresser. He took his binding scarf from around his neck and laid it over the surface of the small mirror attached to the dresser. Only then did he remove some of his armoured travelling clothes and stretch out the tiredness in his muscles.

After a short time Avan heard the muted sound of the evening bell through the shutters. A draco woman, possibly the inn keeper's wife or sister, brought Avan a bowl of hearty broth and some unusual dense bread. Avan ate slowly and then talked with his heeding stone for a little while before retiring into the bed in his room. The complete dark and silence felt like a cocoon so the prince fell swiftly to sleep.

Avan had been travelling for too long to be a deep sleeper, so when the scream made its way through the muffle of the stout wooden shutters it awoke him. There wasn't much else in the way of sound and the scream had already died by the time he was conscious, to the point where most people would have been uncertain whether or not they had dreamed the noise.

In his travels Avan had cause to deal with the forces of the dream world, he had cause to know better than most what was real and what was not. The scream had been muffled but already Avan had recalled it to mind, it had been female, probably young, so close to the bleat of an animal in distress but that was another distinction that Avan had learned to pick apart.

Still, he couldn't be certain but where there was doubt there was also possibility. He crept to the shutters, unlocked them and opened them just a crack to peer out into the dark night.

The streets of Little Hill by night were not well lit. There was evidence that there were some lights here and there, low down to street level, mostly the view out of the window was dark, then there was the rainbow corona. A column of whirling rainbow light picked out the tiles of rooftops in narrow streets, approaching the market square. Every so often the column would collapse and the view would darken, before, once more blooming upwards shooting towards the sky.

With the shutters open a crack Avan could detect the sounds of snarling and shouting, no doubt the noise of the riders stalking whatever it was that formed the centre of the corona. Avan had to act, someone could be in danger and he had no confidence that anyone from Little Hill would risk involvement.

He quickly pulled on his armoured clothes and picked up his short sword and channeling staff. He wanted to be stealthy but had no time for a serious enchantment, he spoke a darkening charm that merely dimmed his form, making it less distinct and muting the noises he made. Then he stole out of his room and down into the tavern.

The door to the inn was locked up tight with a mortice lock, Avan muttered the words of a minor thieves' cantrip and touched his channelling staff to the lock and it sprung open. He was careful to close the door again behind him, he didn't want to think of the riders finding a house that wasn't secured. Once the door was locked Avan ran into the dark streets trying to locate the rainbow corona once more.

It didn't take long to spot it, the column of light was still blooming upwards, fading and blooming again, clear against the night sky. Avan's eyes were becoming used to the darkness now and he picked his way quickly across the market square avoiding the locked up permanent stalls, water butts and other obstacles that could have slowed him down.

As he drew closer to the corona it became apparent that its source was mobile, it was moving toward the market square, only a few streets distant. As Avan reached the western edge of the square he heard a sound from his left. He turned his eyes to see a shadowy figure emerge from between two buildings about forty feet distant from his position.

The figure was a giant wolf, it looked to be a large cousin of the dire wolf found in Axis, mounted on its back was a soldier in armour, one of the riders. Behind it came two more. Avan darted forward to gain cover at the corner of the street he was headed toward. Once he was behind the wall he carefully surveyed the approaching riders from his cover, trying to assess whether they had targetted him specifically or just happened to be headed in his direction.

From a quick glance it did not appear that Avan had been spotted. It was likely they were moving around to hem in the source of the rainbow corona. That meant that he had to head in towards the source quickly, before it was too late.

The source was only one street over now, around a corner about sixty feet ahead. It appeared to be travelling in his direction. Avan picked up his heels and ran towards it, determined to beat the riders to the prize.

The source and the prince reached the junction at the same time. Avan found himself looking into the furious face of a little girl wearing an almost comical lemon-yellow party frock under which could be seen the ominous black leather of a pair of stout boots. The corona centred on her illuminating her form and providing a glowing spear of light that pierced the night sky, betraying her location.

For a moment Avan and the little girl just stared at one another, neither certain which would move first. The little girl broke the deadlock, darting forward and kicking Avan soundly in the right shin.

She was three feet away from him, dodging around to his right, before he had recovered from the unexpected pain enough to move after her. He didn't want to draw attention to himself by calling out. Avan started after her, back up the street he'd come down originally, but neither of them got very far before the riders came down ahead of them. The three wolves spread out across the road to cut off their retreat.

The little girl spun on her heel and dodged back round Avan without even acknowledging his presence to run west further along the street. Avan quickly checked the southern approach where the girl had emerged from, there were more riders coming up that way. It was almost certain that there would be a third band of riders up the other street. The rainbow corona was too easy to pinpoint.

There was no time for questions, and equally little for subtlety. Avan had problems with works of sorcery, particularly in circumstances such as this, but the price of a one-off effect would be minor. He held out his hand and recited the summoning charm for his familiar. The tiny figure of an imp appeared in the palm of his hand.

"Long time no see, Princey," the little man said. "You must be desperate."

"The power of flight, until sunrise, how much?" Avan asked. He could hear the heavy lope of the wolves coming closer.

"One hundred hairs from your head, they will never grow back," the imp said.

"One hundred?" Avan asked, he was in a poor position to bargain but one hundred hairs was the potential for one hundred curses to be worked attached to him, one hundred death kisses, one hundred doppelshades, one hundred custom built mirror prisons. "Twenty, maybe."

"I'll do seventy," the imp replied. "Doesn't look like we can haggle any further if you want to keep the head those hairs grow from."

"Done," Avan responded and felt a smattering of prickles on his scalp as the hairs were extracted.

"A pleasure doing business, princey, don't be a stranger," the imp said before exploding in a puff of acrid purple smoke.

"I hate sorcery," Avan muttered as his feet lifted from the ground. He swooped forward just as the axe wielded by one of the riders swung through the space he had occupied until the very moment before.

The flight wasn't smooth, the power had been given with too much inertia, Avan would have to be careful about stopping and turning. Right now he had to aim for the rainbow corona and get the little girl out of harm's way.

The corona was still obvious, it had slowed to a stop about twenty feet further on, no doubt the girl had seen the other riders and was now looking for some avenue of escape. There was no time for anything clever. Avan soared down the street, gripped the little girl round the waist, eliciting another huge scream that rattled his eardrums, before finally shooting up into the sky.

Once he was far enough over the roof tops he flew towards the coast, where he knew the courtyard outside the cliff gatehouse would be open to the sky and locked down tight.

"Get off me!" the little girl shouted, squirming to get out of Avan's grasp.

"Stop struggling," Avan said. "I don't want you to fall. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Good for you," the little girl said. "I'm most definitely going to hurt you, as soon as I get the chance."

Avan was so surprised by the comment he nearly fell out of the air.

"I just saved your life," Avan said.

"How do I know that?" the little girl asked. "You're flying, that means you're a sorcerer, and sorcerers are mean."

"I might be an alchemist," Avan responded.

"Alchemists can't make people fly," the girl scoffed. "They just make things smell, or explode, sometimes both."

"Alchemists can work any magic, if they're skilled enough. I could be a druid, they fly," Avan said.

"I don't know anything about druids, if you mean witches they need a broomstick, you've got no broomstick, you're definitely a sorcerer."

"Well, currently," Avan said. "I'm a sorcerer who rescued you from soldiers on wolf back," Avan said. "So I think I deserve the benefit of the doubt. You can hurt me later, if I try to hurt you, deal?"

"I suppose," the little girl said.

Avan couldn't help but notice that when she made her last remark the halo of rainbow light faded a little.

"Where are we going?" the little girl asked.

"Guard house, on the coast," Avan said. "We can get you inside until morning, then you might not stand out so much."

"Will there be guards?" the girl asked.

"There usually are in guardhouses," Avan answered. The light instantly blossomed brighter. "Why are you glowing?" Avan asked.

"It's a punishment," the girl said. "From my stupid personal tutor. He makes me glow whenever I'm thinking of mischief. I've been glowing for three weeks now, almost constantly. He said it was so he could find me easily when I was up to no good."

"I take it your personal tutor is a trickster, then?" Avan said. He had heard of such sprites, they were attached to people the powers that be had deemed to be in need of a drastic lesson.

"He's a stupid, that's all I know," the little girl said.

Avan saw the light of the gatehouse tower, he curved round to make a landing.

"So how did you end up in Little Hill, after dark, alone?" Avan asked.

"It's a 'field trip', whatever that means," the little girl replied. "I told him I would do anything to get rid of the light, he said 'really, anything?' and I said 'anything' and he said 'even go on a field trip?', and I told him that if it would help me get rid of the light I would do anything at all. So he tapped me on the head with his stick and then I was in that town.

"I wasn't glowing at first, I was too amazed. Then I saw the wolf people and I couldn't help but wonder if I could steal one of the wolves, I mean, they're amazing. Then they spotted me, they were angry, that's a usual sort of reaction in anyone who's met me before, I didn't think they had. Anyway I ran, they came after me and you took me away to here."

The little girl finished speaking just as Avan touched down in the courtyard. The two guards from the tower, who were a different pair from the ones who had lead Avan through earlier, came running out, waving their spears.

"Which," the little girl concluded. "Looks really dull, apart from the spears." She turned to address one of the guards. "Hey, mister, that's a really good spear, can I have a go?"

The rainbow corona was still shining brightly. Avan held up his seal of the Hundred Kingdoms.

"Gentlemen," he said. "I will explain, inside, I think we need to contain this little girl before her light brings the riders down on this place."

The guards were confused but they weren't idiots, they hurried Avan and the little girl into the guard tower where Avan explained the situation to them. The little girl turned out to be called Anabyl Spireshine (which seemed odd as Spireshine was one of the hundred kingdoms that neighboured Avan's own home of Weatherstrong) and she identified herself as a princess. She found it hard to believe that Avan was who he claimed to be because she said he was 'from a storybook'.

Avan found out a bit more about Anabyl and how she had come to the Terra Draconis, why she was there and how he could return her to her home. All of this is a story for another time.

Sir Cobb and the Cage Match

"I will never love again," Avan Weatherstrong said, tears stinging at his eyes.

"You are a ridiculous man," replied the phantom Kal'hath. "You knew when first we met that our time together would be this brief."

"Had I but perfected the potion we both sought," Avan said. "Then we could be together for all time."

"We will be," the phantom replied. "For now, the change of death has come upon me. I must go on my way. I shall never forget you my prince."

"Nor I you," Avan Weatherstrong replied. Now he was alone beneath the ragblossom tree in the Wylde Woods so his words were borne away upon the wind. He did not know if his first love heard them, but he chose to believe that she had.

Prince Weatherstrong performed many great deeds, and one day he met the woman who would be the love of his life. All of these adventures will be written of, but not at this time.

Well, I don't think anyone wanted it to end like that, Frederick mused, and I didn't even like her that much. He closed the bound copy of "The Tales of Avan Weatherstronge Volume VI" that he had picked up for a half crown in Bridgetown. He had bought the volume mostly to check up on what had happened after he left.

Frederick had noted that the entire volume V was peppered with references to Avan's plucky but hapless sidekick, Sir Cobbe. He had left wondering about whether these tales had existed before his diversion into the distant past for wiser heads; ones less likely to throb at the consideration of the topic.

Now that he had concluded the adventures of volume VI with the certain knowledge that Avan's love affair with the shapeshifter Kal'Hath had probably been a bad idea he wanted to see what happened in volume VII. He also wanted to reassure Avan that he had made it back to where he had started off without too much permanent damage.

The door of the inn room opened and Lester came in.

"Phoebe said if we're not all ready to go by morning bell that she would see to it we would be very very sorry," he said. "I, for one, am inclined to believe her."

"Sorry," Frederick said, slipping the book into his knapsack. As he did so he realised that, having finished it, the volume was now an encumbrance rather than a vital piece of research material. He decided that he would have to sell it at the market while they were searching for the little girl and the goblin trader this morning.

"No need to apologise to me," Lester said. "And I don't think it would do much good with Phoebe when she's in a temper. If there's one thing I've noticed it is that she is not fun to be around when she's angry."

A brief image of Phoebe's flashing eyes and plasma filled hands impressed itself on Frederick's mind.

"Oh, I don't know," he said with a little smirk.

"Yes, well," Lester appeared to find Frederick's response flustering. He crossed to the side of his bed and knocked gently on the lid of the small wooden box that the old goblin lady had sold them. "James, time to get up."

"I've been up for the past five minutes with all your banging around," came a muted tone of annoyance from within the box. "The lid's a little heavy. Either that or it's stuck."

"Oh, hang on," Lester said. He fiddled with the lid, after a small amount of exertion it popped open. "Oops," he said. "Yes, it is a little tight."

"Tonight I think I shall sleep with the lid open, if it's all the same to you," James said, sitting up inside the box. "That was far too much like waking up in a coffin."

"I shall not be pleased," an angry female voice came floating down the corridor from outside the room. "If I have to come in there. Come on, daylight's burning."

The two men did a quick circuit of the room to check that they had not forgotten anything, once they were satisfied James was allowed to climb up on to Lester's shoulder. Locking the inn room behind them they all went downstairs to meet Phoebe.

Phoebe had found them a less than hearty breakfast of fruit which they ate as they walked out of the inn and down to the market square at Steephill Fell.

Frederick concentrated very hard on his pear and even more on his apple. He had learned, in the last couple of days, to concentrate on a variety of objects and tasks that were not Phoebe. Only a few weeks ago he had been despairing at how pathetic Prince Avan Weatherstrong had seemed besotted with an exotic maiden in black pyjamas. Frederick was determined not to make the same mistake, not that Phoebe was wearing black pyjamas, and even if she were, Frederick would be too busy concetrating on things that weren't her to notice.

"Right, here's the plan for the day," Phoebe said, taking charge as always. Frederick did appreciate Phoebe's instinct to organise things but he assured himself this was just because it gave him a framework that, prior to his encounter with a certain prince of legend, he had been sorely lacking.

"We've got a couple of hours until the mid morning bell," Phoebe pressed on, "we are to spread out and search for the trader's wagon until then. At mid-morning, if we haven't found them I will go to the magic market where I will use the last of my money to buy a new blank spell book and some potions. Thereafter I can sell my services as a healer. Meanwhile Frederick will see if there's a fighting pit where he could earn us a few coins.

"Once either of us has made a Bronze Mark, or it gets to the mid afternoon bell we will come back to meet Lester under the market bell. After that we will continue to search and ask questions until evening bell. We will stay one more night in the Gryphon's Wing and then, in the morning, we must press on, unless we succeed in finding Rachel, in which case we shall come up with a new plan."

"Um, so, I just stay under the market bell?" Lester asked. He didn't sound happy with the arrangement.

"From midmorning until the both of us return, yes," Phoebe said.

"That doesn't seem like a very important job," Lester said.

"Neither selling healing services nor being beaten up for the entertainment of others are important Lester," Phoebe said. "But we all have to do what we can to keep ourselves fed on this journey. You will keep an eye on the market, you never know when we'll encounter someone who will have news of the trader's wagon."

"Just seems a bit tedious," Lester half-grumbled, half-muttered.

"You can have my book of stories to read, if you like," Frederick offered. He didn't expect Lester to greet this idea with enthusiasm. Frederick had found reading chore enough and he had been deeply invested in the contents.

"No," Lester said, "it's fine. I'll just sit quietly and wait for you to return."

"You could talk to me," James said from Lester's shoulder. "I could even read to you from the book. I like a good book."

Everyone took a moment to look at James as if he were crazy.

"What?" the mouse objected. "I find reading very relaxing."

"Look," Phoebe broke across the rapidly disintegrating conversational trajectory. "I don't really care what people do as long as they do it while sticking to the plan. We've only got two bells before mid-morning, let's see what we can find. Now."

Thus directed the party split up to cover the market at Steephill Fell and surrounding streets.

Frederick moved around the market, keeping his eyes open for signs of a goblin merchant accompanied by a young girl, or a young girl wandering alone, or a mermaid, or a mobile trader's wagon. He did have a brief conversation with a rainbow grease merchant, but the goblin's tins of product were imports from Trenchside.

He managed to get a conversation going with a general trader who bought the book from Frederick for the scandalous resale price of twenty shillings, the trader offered this as an improvement on his opening gambit of one hundred groats. Frederick was not particularly good at mental arithmetic but he believed the two figures may actually have amounted to exactly the same thing.

The point was not the poor price he attracted for the resale of the book. The point was rather that, whilst the trader was trying altogether far too hard to bamboozle Frederick, he let slip that there had been an upset in the fishmonger's alley near to the master's quarters the previous evening. As the deal was done the mid-morning bell tolled, indicating that it was time to report to the nearest fighting pit.

"I could have got you a better deal for that book," said a voice from Frederick's waist.

"Don't talk," Frederick said. "Remember Hamsamperburg."

"These are the Rolling Greens," the sword replied, "it's not some Midnight Forest backwater. Talking swords are probably commonplace in this area. Besides, I'm bored of sitting at your waist dumbly. I had myself transferred into this artifact in order to engage in social interaction."

"I thought you were transferred into the sword in order to travel and see the world," Frederick said.

"Both, I made the move for both reasons," the sword replied, its irritation showing. "Regardless, it's a good job I did, I'm clearly more worldly than you. Twenty shillings is a shocking price for a stout volume like the one you just sold."

"I needed to lighten the load, besides I obtained useful information from the deal." Frederick wasn't exactly certain why he felt he had to defend himself to a sword, he carried on nevertheless.

"You are not at all business minded, are you?" the sword asked.

"I'm a knight, I defend the helpless, I avenge wrong wherever I find it. I haven't got time for economics."

"So you're bringing a whole new level of inefficiency to your operation?" the sword countered. "Imagine the do-gooding that you could accomplish if you didn't have to spend up to a quarter of every day grubbing around for loose change."

"So what?" Frederick asked. "I should take a break and find a tutor in basic merchant craft?"

"That burly fellow, Sir Vaskorn, he's clearly had some lessons in efficient resource management," the sword said. "Look at him now."

"Oh, yes, because I really want to model myself after an enormous evil bully," Frederick said.

"Well, you won't ever beat someone like that whilst you're scrabbling on the floor after every meagre groat," the sword pointed out. "You said that you avenge wrong, difficult to do that properly when you have no liquid assets."

"So what do you suggest I do?" Frederick asked.

"Well, you're heading to the arena now," the sword said. "Why don't you simply let me do the talking?"

"If you say so," Frederick sighed, after all, what harm could it do?

Frederick asked about in the tavern and was directed down a small side street into a cellar bar where the local fighting ring was set up. The fight roster for any given pit was determined by which fighters happened to be in the room that day. There were always regular fighters of course, but then there were travelling brawlers, various monsters and, of course, wandering knights who all found occasions where they had to step into the ring of competition in order to earn a small purse.

Frederick presented himself to the bar owner and said that he would like to be added to the day's roster.

"Fights begin at noon bell," the owner said, he pulled a large, black ledger from under the bar and opened it to a fresh page. He took a pen and filled its nib from a pot of ink. "Fighting name?" the tavern keeper asked.

"Sir Cobb," Frederick said. "Champion of the Weak."

"Uh-huh," the tavern keeper said, he might have been less impressed by something he'd heard that day but, if this was the case, Frederick couldn't imagine a tone of voice any flatter or more hollow that he could have employed to indicate the fact. "Every fight earns a shilling for a win," the man said. "Amateur fights last until evening bell."

"I don't think you heard my client," piped up the sword from Frederick's side. "He said he was Sir Cobb, Champion of the Weak."

The tavern keeper looked Frederick in the eye.

"What's that?" he said, tone still flat.

"That, my good man," said the sword, "is Sir Cobb's agent. Sir Cobb is a fighter of rare character and distinction. He does not dirty his knuckles on a shilling fighter. Sir Cobb is a professional man-at-arms. You will not find a coistrel of greater skill between Bridgetown and the Shimmering Shore. I am sure you have a professional purse that would be more suited to my client's skills."

"Professional bouts begin in the evening, you need a Fighter's Guild mark to take part," the tavern keeper said, his facial arrangement moving only enough to allow his mouth to form the words.

"Are you telling me that your business would not benefit from a one-off special event, this very afternoon, against any fighter on the pit roster?" the sword asked, not in the least bit put off by the tavern keeper's manner.

"You'll fight anyone?" the tavern keeper asked Frederick, refusing to address a foot and a half of forged metal strapped to a man's waist.

"He'll beat anyone!" the sword announced proudly.

"There's been a fella here, paid for lodgings, don't like him, smells, is rude," the tavern keeper said. "He won't leave because he can't be beat. You beat him you can name your price."

"A silver crown" the sword cut in before Frederick could ask for a bronze mark.

"A sovereign," the tavern keeper shot back.

"Done," the sword said.

A slow smile spread across the tavern keeper's face. Frederick believed that he much preferred the previous stony neutrality.

"If I were you, friend," the tavern keeper said to Frederick. "I'd keep that sword from issuing edicts your backside might find it hard to enforce."

Frederick wasn't arrogant enough not to get a sinking feeling in his stomach at the tavern keeper's morbid glee. The tavern keeper's gaze slid sideways, away from Frederick, to settle on a small boy sat a table in the corner.

"Jinks!" he called out. "Go tell the crier that we got a fighter for the troll at noon. There's a bowl of Martha's gruel in it for you."

The lad slipped off his chair and ran off to market.

"Every fighter gets a free drink," the tavern keeper said, turning back to Frederick. "What can I get you?"

The news that he was to fight a troll was a matter of some concern to Frederick. Almost the first lesson he'd ever learned was 'if at all possible avoid any confrontation with a troll' and this fighting fixture necessarily ran counter to that general guideline. Still, there was a sovereign on the line. If Frederick could pull this off it would give the party a little financial security for the next few days.

Noon rolled by faster than Frederick might have liked. He was apprehensive at the sight of all the people who had turned out to watch him battle the troll. It appeared that the citizens of Steephill Fell were keen to see this monster get its comeuppance, or to see Frederick beaten to within an inch of his life. Perhaps they were not altogether that concerned which, as long as it was either.

At the noon bell Frederick took a step up into the caged pit area and stood under the harsh overhead dwarf crystal lamps waiting for his opponent to join him. There was a murmur from the crowd as a shadow fell across the entrance to the bar. A heavy tread crossed the distance to the cage and a familiar bulbous-nosed, bearded, warty head came into view in the light of the pit lamps.

"Well, well, well, Frederick Cobb," said Yelloweye Blackfang, grinning unpleasantly. "What a nice surprise waiting for me this afternoon, to be sure."

"You know this gentleman?" asked the sword which, within the cage fighting rules, had been strapped to the bars of the cage on the outside where Frederick could not reach it.

"We... have met on a couple of previous occasions," Frederick said. "I rescued a moon maiden from him, then, when next we crossed paths, I trapped him inside a mirror prison."

"You should have told me," the sword said. "I could have got more money for a grudge match."

"I didn't know!" Frederick complained.

"Oh, well," the sword said. "Nothing to be done about it now."

With that the cage door was closed and locked, the tavern keeper rang the pit bell and Yelloweye Blackfang hollered with wicked delight as he charged forward, intending to barge Frederick to the ground.

The one thing Frederick had going for him at this point was that, since his last encounter with the troll, he had spent three months in hero boot camp and a further month and a half in one of the strangest places that exists anywhere in the weave or beyond. He had learned plenty of good hero-ing tricks and had his capacity for being particularly freaked out by anything tested to its absolute limit.

Not feeling any more panicked than the original 'butterflies in tummy' he'd had now for over an hour he rolled his shoulder and hit the floor. Frederick tumbled to one side of the monster as it barreled past the point where Frederick had been a second previously.

The troll let out a cry of surprise as it ran straight into the stout metal bars at the edge of the cage. The troll bounced off the bars and almost fell backwards into the centre of the ring.

Excellent first move, Frederick thought as he spun to face his monstrous adversary, now, how to finish this off without dying, and without any kind of weapon?

There was really only one tactic that could end this in relative peace without anyone getting too badly hurt, Frederick hated it but the strategy was the only way to go. It didn't help that he had never actually tried to complete the move, although he had seen Avan execute it, once on an eight foot tall lizard man.

If Frederick's mentor could take down an annoyed giant gecko armed only with a length of chain Frederick could certainly apply the same technique to a troll. If he failed he probably deserved the beating.

Frederick ran towards Yelloweye Blackfang and, at the last moment before rebounding of the troll's solid torso he leaped up into the air, extending his leg to push off against the monster's right thigh. Getting a good, solid footing he pushed himself over the troll's right shoulder and, as he flew round, he reached his arms out to encircle its neck. He clamped down hard and began to squeeze, attempting to choke the creature into unconsciousness.

Frederick had been so intent on getting into position without screwing up too badly he hadn't had time to take in reactions from either his opponent or the gathered crowd. Prioritising the two Frederick noticed that Yelloweye Blackfang hadn't moved to throw Frederick off just yet. The troll must be surprised at Frederick's newfound capability but surprise wore off, Frederick did his best to tighten his hold.

Broadening his perspective Frederick realised that the cellar bar had fallen silent. His perception of time probably wasn't exactly normal at the moment. He had probably only taken maybe ten seconds to roll up to a standing position, decide on a strategy, enact it and end up here but in Frederick's mind the fight had already been going on for hours.

"He's choking the troll!" came a cry from the crowd.

"Go on! Give 'im what for!" a second voice piped up.

Suddenly the cage was awash with a lusty roar of excited fight spectators. Frederick didn't have any time to enjoy his sudden popularity as the sound of the crowd broke Yelloweye Blackfang's trance of shock.

"Get off me!" gargled the troll reaching up to grab at Frederick's arm. The advantage of the back position was that it made it an awkward job for the chokee to get a good grip on the choker.

Even as the troll grappled ineffectively with Frederick's arm it also staggered backwards, stumble-stepped but remaining upright. It hit the edge of the cage backwards at some momentum, Frederick had one of many opportunities that had come his way recently to have the wind knocked out of him.

As little flashing spots danced in front of his eyes Frederick marvelled to think that, as recently as ten weeks ago, he might have let go after being winded like that. Now he clung on for grim life and hoped that the troll was finding things a lot more unpleasant where he was standing.

Thankfully Yelloweye Blackfang appeared to be finding it harder to think, which, to be fair, probably wasn't the easiest activity for a troll to engage in even in optimum conditions. The troll staggered and stepped in lazy, broken circles, the grip on Frederick's arm was loosening. The troll dropped to one knee and then, in a desperation move, threw itself backwards onto the floor.

This time 'winding' wasn't the term for what Frederick experienced, this was far more like 'crushing'. Yelloweye Blackfang rolled away as Frederick let go of its neck but the damage was mostly done. Frederick's chest felt as if it had been on the wrong end of a dozen mallet blows, he was struggling for breath, his limbs lay in a sprawl not responding to his commands to get him to his feet.

He saw Yelloweye Blackfang stood, gulping down great lungfuls of oxygen, bent double, its hands on its knees. Frederick knew he did not have it in him to repeat the chokehold position. Now he was in serious trouble.

His body began to respond to his urgent commands to move. The first couple of serious fights Frederick had been involved in he had allowed the pain to keep him down. Very quickly the fledgling knight learned that it often wasn't the one who put people down you had to beware of it was the one who kept getting back up. Since then Frederick had always committed himself to a serious effort to get back up from anything that he possibly could.

He found himself on his feet with unexpected speed, the sound of his heart hammered in his chest, which, incidentally, felt like someone had filled it with broken glass and sand. He had, at most, a second to decide how to attack next, if he slowed for a second the troll would beat him bloody.

He didn't even really know what he was doing, his legs appeared to run towards the bars at the edge of the cage all by themselves. He jumped into the air, gripped the bars further up and hauled his body into the air.

Pushing off from the bars Frederick aimed his entire body towards Yelloweye Blackfang's head and attempted to ram both of his elbows into the top of the troll's skull. The blow made devastating contact sending spikes of agony up and down Frederick's arms.

The pain must have been mutual, Yelloweye Blackfang slumped forward, Frederick flopped down on top of the troll. For a few seconds there was nothing in the whole world except for the blessed relief of being laid out flat and not moving.

Then Frederick heard the cheering.

A couple of pairs of hands urged him upright again and held his aching, wobbly arms aloft in victory.

"The new ring champion!" announced the tavernkeeper, "Sir Cobb! Champion of the Weak!" He sounded a lot more enthusastic about the appellation post-victory.

After that incidents proceeded in a bit of a whirl. Frederick received his sovereign along with many cheers and admiring comments from the fight fans. Before long Frederick was walking slowly back towards the market bell to meet with the others.

He had to tread carefully because his head was still spinning a bit from the fight but as he reached the edge of the market square he was urged on to action. Something exploded on the side of the square near to the market bell and Frederick found himself jogging to return to the place where he expected to find Lester and James.

What had exploded and the things that happened when he got there are both things that I will tell you at another time.

Avan Weatherstrong In The Land Of Frogfellow

...a cone of orange light issued from the gem. This must be the dragon magic
Frederick had warned him about.

The land of Frogfellow used to lie in one of the outlying regions of the shadow realms. As we all know these places are rich in magic and, for this reason, they have a short life expectancy as kingdoms go.

Frogfellow was a classic example of a far shadow kingdom. It sprung up almost overnight, as if it had simply been dreamed into existence. This is, in all probability, too close to the truth of the matter to be quite comfortable for most of us. The kind and wise Lord Frogfellow ruled over his land. He was a man so generous and good-hearted that no one ever mentioned how closely he resembled the amphibian for which he was named.

A wide mouth, flat nose, big eyes and green pigmentation afflicted all the older Frogfellows. It stopped short of being too great of a burden upon his children. In fact the two princes and the three princesses that Lord Frogfellow called his children were bonnie and blithe. So much so that a churlish commentator may have called into question their parentage.

The thing about dreams, and the far shadows is that they are quite closely associated. The far shadows, the fringes of the weave, are reality's sketchpad. A kingdom of frog-people was the least of the wonders that could be observed there.

The delightful shadow kingdoms present attractive targets for conquest. Usually they catch the eye of some mean-spirited warlord or unpleasant sorcerer. This is because they esxist along seams of pure magical energy. They shape the mischief, solidifying it.

The more and more unstable reality becomes, the purer and more powerful the magic available to be harnessed. The down side of this is that in these places it is possible to have an unfortunate and fatal accident. At the edges the unwary are consumed by the crucible of all creation with worrying ease.

Most practitioners of magic like to settle in the middle shadows where magic is so controllable as to be almost boring. The edge places are for the wild, the dangerous, the insane and the foolhardy. Such an individual was Seditas Wolfjaw.

One could add to Wolfjaw's list of undesirable personal qualities selfishness, gluttony and sloth. A sorcerer of no little notoriety Wolfjaw was on a perpetual quest for the next big score. Like many sorcerers he had turned his eye to the Far Shadows. He sought out a relative island of peace in the chaos and his eye settled on Frogfellow. Filled with dire confidence he rolled in on the attack.

If truth be told Frogfellow did not put up much of a fight. It was a small kingdom. As such it had concentrated on mercantile prosperity as its priority. It was a leader in the manufacture of waterproof textiles and vegetarian foodstuffs. The palace had staff, including a guard, but no real army. A single wicked sorcerer with enough power to do real damage could stride in to little opposition. It was a minor working to turn the entire royal family into proper frogs.

Seditas Wolfjaw took control of Frogfellow. Its happy citizens were quickly chained up and put to work as slaves. The major industry of Frogfellow became the production of high price magical ingredients. The type used in powerful dark magic potions, tinctures and philtres. To this day genuine Frogfellow  pickled amphibian eyes attract prices of 10,000 gold pieces a jar. This is nothing to be proud of but can still give a goblin merchant the vapours.

However, no amount of gold could justify the suffering of an entire kingdom. It was only a matter of time before the weave delivered a hero to liberate the good people of Frogfellow from the evil oppressor.

Such a hero came in the shape of Avan Weatherstrong. It is not clear whether he was travelling outward toward the edges or inward away from them. Whichever way he was going the brave and wise prince had travelled far and wide since leaving his family home. He had already dealt with a good deal of darkness along the way.

Hearing stories of Frogfellow's unfortunate fate Avan Weatherstrong determined to help if he could. He arrived in Frogfellow early one morning. The prince rode his horse through the empty streets of the capital city towards the royal palace.

He was disturbed to find that, although there were many frogs hopping about in the palace, there was no sign of Seditas Wolfjaw. Avan Weatherstrong had assumed the evil sorcerer would live in the royal chambers after his victory. Instead the palace was full of pond life but there was no sign of wicked magical practitioners.

Avan knew that if he did not locate Seditas Wolfjaw in daylight he would have to leave disappointed. At night an evil sorcerer's power grew to its zenith. Daylight weakens dark magic considerably.

The prince searched the palace for any sign or clue indicating where he could find Wolfjaw but none was in evidence. As the day grew towards noon Avan sat upon the edge of the fountain that formed the palace garden's centrepiece and sighed.

"I don't know Marvel," he said to his horse. "I thought that finding Seditas Wolfjaw would be the least difficult part of this quest. This is turning out to be trickier than I thought."

If Marvel had any thoughts on the matter then we shall never know them. As Avan Weatherstrong finished speaking, a young man and a gnome fell into the fountain behind him with a mighty splash. The pair were locked in hand to hand combat as they hit the surface of the pond.

The impact, wave of water and frenetic energy of the fighters was enough to cause Avan to leap up in surprise. A tide of startled frogs exited the fountain and hopped off in every direction.

The soaking brought the fight to a stop before Avan had to wade in and pull the pair apart. The young man and the gnome sat breathless, water dripping from their noses and looked about them in amazement.

"Where are we?" the young man asked.

"I told you not to tweak my nose!" the gnome complained. "I'm not aligned yet, serious chaos magic. Mischief, I tell you, mischief."

"If you didn't want your nose tweaked," the young man complained, "then why did you sign up for cage fighting?"

"Are you saying that I can't partake in whatever activity I would choose to because of my inherited traits?" the gnome asked. "Because I think you'll find that's discrimination."

Avan Weatherstrong felt that the argument had the potential to continue indefinitely if he didn't weigh in. He cleared his throat. The boy and the gnome looked up at him, surprised expressions on their faces, as if they had not noticed the prince before.

"Oh," the young man said. "Hello."

"Yes," the gnome said. "Greetings. Apologies for the rude maner of our entrance but _somebody_ finds it hard to follow simple instructions." The gnome glared in the young man's direction.

"How was I supposed to know?" the young man complained. "If you had said something like: 'Please don't tweak my nose. It could result in sudden, inconvenient teleportation'. I might have listened more closely."

"_I_ didn't know what would happen, that's what chaos magic means," the gnome responded grumpily. "You are a very stupid boy."

"Knight!" the young man cried. "I am a knight. I have the scars to prove it."

"Would either of you like a hand out of the fountain?" Avan asked, loud and firm enough to cut through the disagreeable atmosphere a second time.

The young man gratefully accepted a hand up. The gnome showed a stubborn independence, wriggling his way out of the fountain by himself. Once the two of them were back on dry land they sat in the noon sun and tried to dry off.

"So, if you don't mind me asking," the young man said to Avan. "Where are we? And what's with all the frogs?"

"This is the kingdom of Frogfellow," Avan explained. "Unfortunately it is in the grip of a wicked sorcerer who has turned the royal family into frogs."

The young man knitted his brows, as if puzzled by something. He looked on the point of making a statement and then shook his head, changing his mind.

"Oh, okay," he said. "Something familiar about that but I can't quite remember it. I'm Frederick, uh, Sir Cobb, this here is, um, a gnome."

"Yes," the gnome said. "A gnome. I'm quite a new gnome, that's why I don't have a name yet."

"I am Avan" Avan said. "Pleased to meet you Sir Cobb and gnome. Could I ask how you ended up in the Frogfellow's fountain?"

"Well," the gnome said. "As I explained, I am quite a new gnome, not even three days old. As such I am quite brimful of chaos magic. My creator still hasn't reached the end of her wish, because she was fool enough to wish for 'an adventure'. If she'd wished for, I don't know, a palace full of frogs, for instance, we'd be done by now. I could have resolved myself into an elemental or something. As it is I have to remain dangerous and unstable until the wish has run its course."

"So you transported Sir Cobb and yourself here?" Avan asked.

"Not deliberately!" the gnome objected. "This idiot tweaked my nose, it's quite sensitive, my nose. I could tell that something would happen if he tweaked it. I told him not to."

"We were fighting in a cage match!" Sir Cobb objected. "Didn't you see the sign? 'No Holds Barred' that's not 'No Holds Barred Except For Nose Tweaking'."

"You were cage fighting?" Avan said hauling the conversation back on topic. "That, excuse me for saying, doesn't sound very knightly."

"Well, it's the world we live in," Sir Cobb shrugged. "I've rescued three maidens, killed a vampire and taken on a couple of lizard men. I also retrieved property from a bandit king but none of these jobs pay terrifically well. Being a knight these days isn't what you'd call a secure living. I have to supplement my income somehow, most major towns and cities have a cage arena. It's not my choice of activity but I won't be much use to anyone if I starve to death, will I?"

"I suppose not," Avan said. "I'm sorry to hear that you're having such a tough time of things, noble knight. I'm afraid that you may have found yourself in a little trouble. This kingdom is in thrall to an evil sorcerer. I had come here to face the villain but he is in hiding until nightfall. Unless I can find him I will have to retreat. You don't want to still be here after the sun goes down if I cannot defeat him."

For the second time Sir Cobb looked puzzled at Avan's words. He scratched his head, stood up and had a good look around.

"There's just something so... so... familiar about this," he said. "It's beginning to annoy me now."

"I'm afraid I cannot help you with that," Avan replied. "As I said, it would probably be best for you if you were just to leave. I must hunt for the sorcerer a little longer but I will have to abandon the search myself if I cannot find him."

"Well, I could help, it's kind of my sworn duty," Sir Cobb said. "Besides, I have nothing better to do for the time being. Perhaps, if we rescue this royal family they will hire me as a guard for my faithful service. That would certainly help with my reputation."

"It's your choice, good knight," Avan said. "But I will not lie to you this is a far shadow kingdom and magic here is powerful. I only consider myself worthy of the task laid before me because I know a little of the mystical path myself. You will have to follow my lead if you choose to stay."

Sir Cobb nodded.

"I understand," he said. "Then I shall do as you require, Sir Avan, and I will be pleased to fight at your side."

"Oh, terrific," the gnome said. "And what am I supposed to do? I have absolutely no desire to face off against an evil sorcerer. Between adventurous young ladies and nose-tweaking idiots, I almost wish chaos had never spit me out."

The gnome was so outraged he disappeared in a puff of light blue smoke. The vapour filled the air with the scent of cinammon.

"I didn't mean to tweak his nose," Sir Cobb said to Avan.

Avan just nodded.

"Come on then, Sir Cobb," the prince said, not wanting to risk those choppy conversational waters. "Let us be about our business."

"Oh, yes, of course," Sir Cobb agreed. "Where should we start? In the palace?"

"I have already searched the palace," said Avan, "there is no sign of the sorcerer in there."

"Oh, that's curious, isn't it?" Sir Cobb said. "You'd think he'd have got straight into the master bedroom with his feet up after he'd done his wicked work, wouldn't you?"

"Indeed I did," he replied. "Now I do not know where to go. The capital city here in Frogfellow is large, the alleys are numerous and narrow. Even with an extra pair of hands I cannot hope to cover the whole city in time."

"It is a pickle," Sir Cobb said. "What's the name of this fellow we're after anyway?"

"Seditas Wolfjaw," Avan told the young man.

Sir Cobb's mouth dropped open. He stared at Avan.

"Are you making some kind of a joke?" he asked.

"Why would I joke?"Avan asked, a little irritation slipping through in his tone.

"Because... well... " the young knight appeared to be lost for words. "What did you say your name was again?" he asked eventually.

"Avan," Avan replied. "Avan Weatherstrong." He paused, sighed and then said. "Prince Avan Weatherstrong, youngest son of the sixth Lord Weatherstrong."

Sir Cobb's eyes were like saucers, his jaw was slack. The news had been too much for the young man. He slumped, sitting on the edge of the fountain, looking at the floor.

"Tell me you're joking," he said eventually, not looking up from the floor. "Please tell me you are trying to make a fool of me."

"Why," Avan asked, running short of patience, "would I want to make a fool of you? I am Prince Avan Weatherstrong. What has that to do with you and whether or not you are a fool?"

"Because Avan Weatherstrong is in the old stories," Sir Cobb said hopelessly. "You're a legend. You're the main reason I ever wanted to become a knight in the first place."

Avan felt his own brow knitting. Thankfully, for both himself and Frederick, Prince Weatherstrong knew much of the world's strangeness. He knew of chaos magic, and gnomes. He was also wiser than to question the strangest stitches of the great weave, so he took this news in his stride.

"I am afraid that things are what they are, Sir Cobb," he said gently. "Sometimes the great weave winds threads into strange patterns."

"But... but..." Sir Cobb said, Avan could now see, with the lad close to tears, that Frederick was really little more than a boy. "I've not just travelled to a far away kingdom." The boy's voice was filled with despair. "I've fallen into the past. I've fallen into a story!"

"So it would appear," Avan said. "We had best make sure that the story has a happy ending."

"Oh," Frederick said, for a moment too surprised to be unhappy. "But it does! Well it did! I mean... I've ruined the story. I'm not in it, I mean, I wasn't in it. Although I am now."

"Tell me what happened," Avan said calmly. "In the story you heard."

"Well, it turns out that near to the capital city is a cave, an old dragon's lair, by a twisted tree. You find Seditas Wolfjaw has set up home there. He has trapped the dragon's soul within a jewel and a mighty battle ensues. You both unleash sorcerous power at one another in a mighty wizard's battle. You transform each other from form to form until you manage to transform Wolfjaw into a snake. You see, he has turned you into a mongoose, you snap his neck... At least, that's what the story said."

Avan smiled and sat down for a moment beside Frederick.

"I don't think that is what will happen today," Avan said. "I do not have the sorcery of transformation."

"Oh, sorry," Frederick said. "Have I messed everything up?"

"I did not have that power when I came here," Avan said. "I guess that by your time some... embellishments may have crept into the story. I do remember seeing a twisted tree as I approached the city, I guess that will help us find the sorcerer. If he has transformation sorcery then we shall have to be very careful in our approach."

And careful they were. With Frederick's help the two of them found the old dragon's lair and crept inside. The enormous cave system was dark and cold, not at all a welcoming home. Avan Weatherstong could sense the powerful magic that had infused the rock. He knew that Wolfjaw had made this his home for reasons other than comfort.

Deep within the twisted tunnels there was evidence of the sorcerer's presence. They found a smaller chamber that contained chairs and a table, along with other oddments. The bric-a-brac attempted to turn the damp cave into some sort of a home.

The cave was silent, there was no visible sign of the sorcerer. Avan could feel the presence of dark magic near at hand.

"It doesn't look like anyone's home," Sir Cobb said.

"Don't be so certain," Avan replied. "I can feel him, nearby, maybe even watching. Seditas Wolfjaw," Avan called out, "show yourself!"

"Two foolish knights," came the haughty tones of the sorcerer's voice. "I am honoured indeed to have such esteemed company in my humble abode on this day."

"He's wearing a cloak of invisibility," Avan told Frederick. "Pay close attention to anything. You can't see someone in one of those things but they still have an effect on the things around them."

"Usually true," Seditas Wolfjaw replied. His voice echoed around the cavern, appearing to surround them. "Except when the wearer can also fly!"

There was a swishing noise and something hard struck Avan in the chest. The force picked him off the floor and carried him backwards into a wall. He struck the wall hard and felt the wind leave his chest. He fell dazed to the floor wreathed in the sound of Seditas Wolfjaw's wicked laughter.

"Ah, knights, a diversion for a sorcerer such as I," Wolfjaw crowed. "You shall die today, but it is no shame to fall before one as mighty as Seditas Wolfjaw."

"Frederick!" Avan called out pulling a small glass ball from his pack. "Breath in deep and hold it, until you can see me again."

He threw the ball at the floor and it shattered, filling the room with a thick white smoke. Avan took his own advice inhaling before the ball landed. He hoped that Frederick was good at following orders. He thought it was only the sorcerer he could hear hacking and coughing his way through the billowing clouds.

As visibility was restored there were three figures revealed, all covered in a thin coating of white dust. Avan's smoke bomb had the side effect of covering things this way when deployed in close quarters. Avan drew his sword and ran at Seditas Wolfjaw.

"Do not presume!" Wolfjaw shouted. The sorcerer lifted his arm. Clutched in his right hand was an enormous cut gem. He pointed the gem in Avan's direction. A cone of orange light burst forth, forcing Avan to dodge at the last moment. This must be the dragon magic Frederick had warned him about.

The battle was still one-sided. Even though Wolfjaw was now visible the gem's transformation magic beam appeared to have no limit to its power. Wolfjaw just fired repeatedly not allowing Avan to find his feet. Eventually Avan realised he would tire, and then he would fall to the sorcerer's magic.

As he dodged and rolled, trying to prevent himself from ending up as a mouse or a housefly Avan saw Frederick. The boy snuck up behind the sorcerer clutching something in his hands. Wolfjaw appeared to have forgotten him.

Avan wanted to warn the young man back but that would be too dangerous. He just had to trust that the boy knew what he was doing. Maybe he could try to give him a hand.

"You will not defeat me, Seditas Wolfjaw!" Avan called. "It is only a matter of time before your fate is sealed."

The sorcerer appeared to be the type of egotistical buffoon who would have to respond to such taunts. Never was this more true than when he appeared to have total victory within his grasp.

"Bold words, coming from a man so close to exhaustion," the sorcerer said. "Let's see how bold your words come out when I have turned you into a lap cat!"

No one got to find out what kind of lap cat Avan Weatherstrong would have made. At that moment Frederick flipped the object in his hands over Seditas Wolfjaw's head. It was a flat gold disc, a frame around some sort of picture or...

Seditas Wolfjaw sensed movement above his head, he looked up and gasped in horror.

"My mirror!" he screamed out, it was the last thing he screamed before his body was consumed within the frame of a holding mirror. It landed, face down, on the floor of the cave, Seditas Wolfjaw trapped inside.

"I, uh, have seen that kind of mirror before," Sir Cobb said. "I thought it might help out."

Avan Weatherstrong, out of breath from jumping and rolling, gave Sir Cobb a sweaty grin.

"You, sir knight," he said to the young boy, "are far more than you appear to be. Come on Sir Frederick Cobb. You are adrift from your own days, you have saved my life and I should see you safely home."

And that Avan Weatherstrong did, after a few more adventures but these are stories for another day.