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                      Dedication

        To my wife, Donna, and Billy and Danny
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Novel © 1995 by Jim Reagan. Portions © by Sir-Tech  Software,
Inc. All rights reserved. Original characters, scenes, and descrip-
tions are copyrighted by Sir-Tech Software, Inc.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in
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system without written permission from Prima Publishing, except
for the inclusion of quotations in a review. All products and
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tive companies.

ISBN: 1-55958-671-0
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 94-80091
Printed in the United States of America
95 96 97 98 EE 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2



                 Chapter  One

Cold. His head hurt. He lifted his hand and realized he was
buck naked. He sat up with a start, grabbing his head-which
threatened to whirl off into space-with both his hands. He'd
never felt so peculiar in his life. Or so totally, entirely naked.
   He chanced letting go of his head with one hand long
enough to blindly feel around the floor of the cave around
him. Nothing. No jeans, no sport shirt, no jacket. No boots,
socks, or underwear. Every stitch gone. Even the cave lan-
tern he'd bought this morning.
   He wasn't even in the same part of the caverns as when
he'd run  into that stray stalactite-or whatever it was that
had hit him. There wasn't much light here, and no guide, no
fellow spelunkers. Some light seeped around the boulder he
huddled behind, but that was all.
   What had happened? He'd been bringing up the rear of
a simple twelve-person private tour of a fairly extensive group
of caverns in the Adirondak mountains when suddenly
he...what? Bumped his  head on a stalactite or something?
All he remembered was a plunge into a sudden darkness with-
out limit.
   Could he have been waylaid by someone and dragged
back here to be robbed and stripped in privacy? Wonderful.
Even the state parks weren't off-limits for thugs these days.
   He heaved a sigh. Despite being completely in the buff,
he had to try to attract somebody's attention. "Hey! Any-
body out there?"
   His voice echoed back to him. The tour had gone on.
Marvelous. He'd have to catch up with it, naked and bare-
foot. Oh boy, was somebody going to pay for this.
   As he lurched to his feet, his head swam, then steadied.
The stone floor of the cave wasn't meant for walking bare-
foot. Wouldn't his grandmother have a fit if she heard about
this. She worried  if he got wet in the rain, if he missed a
meal.
   Bill picked his way gingerly around the boulder. His
grandparents worried about him way too much. They got
worked up if he even took a date to dinner, though he was
certainly old enough to already have a wife and family. He
worked in New York City, rode in on the train with his grand-
father every morning, suited up and equipped with leather
briefcase, to take his place behind his desk at the family ac-
counting firm. Every evening he rode back to the suburbs,
ate dinner with Grandmother Evans, and spent a few hours
with a book or the TV, turning in early enough to repeat the
same routine the next day.
   If only his parents had lived... things might have been dif-
ferent. He might have been different. But every time he tried
to do something risky, his grandparents made him swear he
wouldn't.
   "We lost your parents," Grandmother Evans would say
tearfully. "We couldn't bear to lose you, too."
   "How about fencing, Billy?" Grandfather Evans had sug-
gested. "Now, that's a good, safe sport. Active enough to
keep a young man in shape."
   So Bill took up fencing, a sissy occupation for someone
his size. It was one of his few extracurricular activities. In
time, he began to worry that, under his grandparents' con-
stant devotion, he would become an old bachelor.
   He loved his grandparents, he truly did. But he needed
some space. This little spelunking jaunt in the Adirondacks
had been like a baby's first step toward independence. He'd
decided to make small changes, first doing something over
which his grandmother would merely tut-tut like a tour of
some perfectly safe caverns.
   At least, they were supposed to be safe. The brochures
hadn't said anything about being knocked out, and waking
up naked and bewildered.
   Beyond the boulder, he paused to get his bearings. He'd
been lying in a side chamber. Here, the main tunnel disap-
peared to his right into absolute darkness. To his left, it gave
a hint of daylight. He turned left.
   He saw something next to the wall as he picked his way
along. Bending, he took a closer look. Bones. Not little bones,
either, but the remains of something as large as Bill. They
looked fresh, too. He couldn't bring himself to touch them,
but he felt pretty sure there were bits of flesh still attached.
   He felt his way forward again with sensitive feet, forget-
ting now to worry about the fact that other sensitive parts of
his anatomy were too exposed for comfort. Did grizzly bears
live in these mountains? What else would drag something
man-size into a cave and eat it raw?
   When he stepped into the sunlight, he'd never felt so re-
lieved. Safe! he thought.
   That's when the creature jumped him. He got a quick
impression of something out of a Japanese monster movie.
It moved in an upright stride, and sported a head, two legs,
two arms, fingered hands, a misshapen face covered with
what looked like open sores, and bloodshot eyes. Part of
Bill's mind shouted, Animal! The other part came to an
abrupt stop as he realized the creature wore clothes-crudely
fashioned leather garments beneath a voluminous cloak.
   The creature tightened an iron-like grip around his throat.
Bill saw its mouth move and heard a vile, cooing voice growl,
"A tasty morsel here."
   The man-creature forced him to the ground, only then
releasing one hand from his throat to fumble for a weapon
beneath its cloak. Bill tore at the hand still around his throat.
He grasped a small finger and snapped it back, breaking it,
while the creature slashed his side with some kind of blade.
Bill's flailing hands found a sizable rock. Strengthened by
fear, he smashed it into the creature's nose.
   The thing howled and rolled away, clutching its face. Bill
scrambled to his knees and brought the rock down again,
this time bashing its skull. It went slack.
   Breathing hard, Bill stumbled away from the thing, not
daring to take his eyes off it, not daring to believe he'd actu-
ally killed it.
   He blinked hard. Was he dreaming? Was he really lying
in his bed back in New York thrashing in his sleep, having
just fought and killed his own pillow? If so, he wanted to
wake up now.
   He looked around-experiencing something truly awful
in that moment. To his surprised horror, he realized he wasn't
in New York at all anymore. The terrain before him held
nothing in common with the Adirondak mountains.
   The knife slash in his side gave him something on which
to focus. Though the wound was only skin-deep, he felt
himself begin to shiver with shock. He felt nauseous. What
was going on? Movie monsters that killed and ate men raw?
Strange landscapes? And him naked as a newborn baby?
   He again approached the creature-cautiously. He picked
up the things knife and poked it at the body. Convinced it
wouldn't suddenly spring back to life, he searched it, look-
ing for some clue to this bizarre string of events. Under the
creature's cloak he found a small leather bag of gold coins.
Real gold, such as hadn't been in circulation since way be-
fore his time.
   The coins weren't American, at any rate. They were
stamped with a crowned image. Nonetheless, gold is gold,
wherever it's from, wherever you are. You didn't need to be
an accountant to know that.
   If his confidence didn't exactly rally, at least his practical-
ity did. He stripped the creature, cutting off a good-sized
strip of the cloak to wrap around his middle as a bandage.
Then, he donned the rest of the leather garments.
   "I'm ready for Halloween," he muttered, though nothing
about this situation struck him as humorous. His mind raced,
trying to figure it out. Maybe he'd just been in the wrong
place at the wrong time and was singled out for some weird
secret government test: How far can we push a man before
his mind bends? How far until it shuts down altogether?
   He looked back at the cave. What would happen if he
went back in? Would he pass out again and wake up in the
Adirondacks? As he stood there, he saw a soft glow that hadn't
been there before. He stepped in and shouted, "Hey! Any-
body there?"
   No answer, but the glow seemed brighter. Warily, he
moved deeper into the cavern.
   Around the boulder where he'd wakened, he found the
chamber now lit with strange radiance. And he saw some-
thing he hadn't seen before: an intricately carved stone altar.
Atop it, like something out of a medieval fairy tale, lay an
ornate sword. The unearthly light emanated from this mag-
nificent weapon. Bill edged toward it, drawn by some desire
he couldn't name. His hand reached for the sword's hilt.
   He couldn't explain even to himself how picking up that
sword felt right. The hilt fit his hand precisely. By its own
glow, he studied the engravings on both the blackened hilt
and the tempered blade-fine, spidery writing in some out-
landish language. He stretched it out, feeling its weight and
balance. In his old fencing days, he'd mostly used foils, but
his instructor owned two beautiful antique swords he let his
better students try on rare occasions.
   He made a sweeping arc, and the movement seemed to
bring the sword to life. Bill felt a pulse, a tremble move up
into his arm. It seemed to course right through his body, as
if it contained some pent up force eager to fuse with him.
The sensation felt like solace, like his grandmother's arms
after a childhood grief, like words of praise from his grand-
father, like what he imagined he'd feel when he finally found
his life's mate. Comfort. With a little edge of bliss.
   A sheath for the sword lay on the altar. He fastened it to
the rough belt he'd taken from the creature but used the
blade to light his way back to the cave's entrance. As he
stepped into the daylight again, the weapon lost its glow. He
sheathed it.
   Magic time was over. The creature still lay dead. The not-
New-York landscape surrounded him. "I'm at a party and
someone's slipped me a hallucinogen," he said softly, though
by now he'd stopped hoping he was either hallucinating or
dreaming. He was here. Wherever here was and however
he'd arrived.
   A faint path wound away from the cave's mouth across a
stretch of open land. Following it into some woods, he con-
tinued for maybe half an hour before coming to a meadow.
He heard voices and ducked behind a tree. What now? Some-
how, he didn't think he could count on the voices being
those of State Forest employees. In fact, he almost hoped it
wouldn't be, because he could see the headlines now, "Bill
Evans Found in Woods Toting Sword and Knife, Dressed
Like a Barbarian." That wouldn't make Grandmother happy,
nor would it fit the image of the solid citizen accountant
who never missed a day of work, never came in so much as
fifteen minutes late. Yet...his hand strayed to his knife all
the same.
   Five upright, human-shaped figures stood in the meadow,
about a hundred feet from him. Something about them
struck him as different. For one thing, they wore unusual
clothing, all bright yellows and reds. They seemed to be pack-
ing up after a lunch break. Hikers? He opened his mouth to
call to them but heard a limb snap to his left. He again spun
for cover. Eyes sharp, he detected skulking movements within
the trees. A yellow fang glinted, and yes, he glimpsed an
unquestionably misshapen face. More creatures like the one
Bill had killed back at the cave were edging in on the group
in the meadow.
   The travelers in the meadow didn't notice. To his shame,
Bill considered just keeping quiet, just staying safe, under
cover. After all, it was none of his business. He didn't even
know where he was, and he certainly didn't need to get
involved in more trouble.
   The image of those bones in the cave surfaced in his mind,
along with those cooing words, A tasty morsel here.
   He stepped from behind the tree. "Watch out! In the
woods. They're after you!" He began to trot toward the five.
   One of the travelers pulled a sword. Another whipped
out a bow and notched an arrow. "Drop your weapon,
stranger, or I'll put a bolt through your throat," shouted the
female archer.
   Bill stopped short, realizing he had his knife in his hand,
raised as if to strike. Though he didn't drop the blade, he
lowered it. He pointed to the woods. "I'm not the one you
have to worry about. There...see those things in the trees?"
   An arrow whizzed by his ear, and he dove for the earth.
As another arrow buried itself not eight inches from his shoul-
der, he realized the creatures-not the female traveler-were
shooting at him.
   He rolled onto his back and saw one of the beasts moving
toward him like a blur. He vaulted to his feet, knife in hand,
and lifted it just in time to greet his assailant.
   The animal-like shriek shocked him as much as the im-
pact of puncturing the creature that slammed up his arm.
Bill yanked up hard with his knife. Another scream said he'd
reacted correctly. He pulled the knife out and plunged it in
again. As the thing fell to the ground, he kicked it for good
measure. Then bent and slashed its throat to make sure it
didn't attack him or anyone else again.
   He'd never killed a thing in his life before today, and now
he butchered without a second thought. What the hell was
going on? Where was he? What was he becoming?
   He scanned the meadow, saw that the group was under
attack, and again considered the safety of the trees but only
briefly. For whatever good it might do, he headed toward
the main brawl.
   The five had put their backs together in a circle. The
archer, unable to get off her arrows at such close quarters,
swung her big bow like a club. The others wielded heavy
swords. One, battling two creatures at once, went to his knees
and would soon be done for. Bill ran to help him. He drove
his knife into the back of an attacker's neck, shoving hard to
sever the spinal cord. As the creature fell limp, he tried to
stab the second one's neck, but he missed, and the knife slid
into the thing's shoulder. It grunted in surprise, twisting on
its legs. Its height-and its looks-surprised Bill. It seemed to
be some unholy half-breed, part beast, part human. Its man-
like eyes glinted cruelly, marking more cunning intelligence
than its companions. Regardless, Bill thrust his knife at its
belly.
   With a simple sweep of its sword, the creature easily
knocked Bill's blade aside. He stepped back, frightened by
the ease with which the half-breed defended itself.
   "A human," it snarled. "There aren't many of your kind
left." It stepped toward him, its sword tracing a figure eight
in the air. "You like to play with steel, do you? Perhaps you'll
lose your taste for it when you feel it snake through your
entrails."
   Belatedly, Bill remembered his own sword and reached
for it at his belt. The half-breed's weapon knocked his hand
aside with a blow that left his wrist numb. The creature's
blade drove forward, but Bill dove aside. He fully expected
to feel the slash of steel, but inexplicably the creature stag-
gered and fell.
   A red garbed figure stood where before the thing had loomed.
   "You saved my life. All our lives."
   Bill stared at the figure. What was it? Not a human
being. He took in the other four who were now gathering,
having bested their foes. He scarcely noticed the seven crea-
tures lying dead.
   "We were stupid to idle in the open," the figure in red
went on. "If not for your warning, these orcs might have
made their lunch of us."
   "You're a cat," Bill said dully. He closed his eyes. When
he opened them, the cat still stood there, upright and with
all the mannerisms of a man, but with a fine gray fur cover-
ing the unclothed parts of its body. And with a face that was
distinctly feline,
   It responded stiffly, "We are felpurs, not cats. We may
owe you our lives, but rudeness does not go unpunished in
these parts." The felpur looked at Bill more closely. "From
your clothing, however, it would appear that a savage like
yourself can hardly be expected to have manners."
   "Look, I'm sorry if I offended you. But, well, I'm not
having a very good day. My name is Bill Evans, and I started
a guided caving tour into the Adirondacks, and well, I'm
not sure what happened. Something or somebody knocked
me out, I think, and I woke up in a cave not far from here. I
was stark naked, and one of those things would have
made me a between-meal snack if I hadn't bashed its head
with a rock."
   He stopped, realizing how crazy he sounded. He wiped
his forehead with his wrist. "Okay...let's just say I'm lost.
And startled. I've never met a felpur before."
   The cat, or felpur, looked disbelieving. The female stepped
forward. "He saved our lives, remember Zorth?"
   "Quite right." The felpur gravely bowed his head at Bill.
Straightening, he said, "I am Zorth Taba-Bethan, and these
are my escorts-and my litter sister Quatar." They bowed to
Bill. When they straightened, Zorth gestured to the dead
creatures and ordered, "Search them."
   Bill tried to stay focused. Cats. He wasn't dreaming, wasn't
hallucinating. This was real. Whether he understood it or
not, it was real.
   Zorth was watching him, so he cleared his throat. "You
call them orcs?"
   "All but that one." He gestured to the half-breed that
had nearly impaled Bill on its sword. "That's some kind of
abomination, neither orc nor human. It appears to have been
the leader of this little band."
   "It seemed surprised to see me, said there weren't many
of my kind left."
   "There aren't many humans left, at least not around here.
Few of your species roam free anymore, though the felpur
never subscribed to the views of those who would cage all
that remain."
   "How nice." Bill's sarcasm was lost on the felpur. "And
just where is here?"
   Disbelief again crossed Zorth's feline face. "You really are
lost? Well, considering that we owe you our lives, would you
like to travel with us? These woods are dangerous."
   Bill agreed. What option did he have?
   The female archer, Quatar, brought him two handfuls of
gold, silver, and copper coins. "Evidently this bunch has plun-
dered often and well. Here is your share."
   Bill stared at the coins. When he didn't take them, she
spoke with the exaggerated patience of a kindergarten teacher.
"These orcs plunder many unwary travelers. This is what we
found on them. You earned a share. They have no need for
it, since they're..."
   "Dead. Yes, I understand. I'm lost, not stupid." He took
the coins.
   She stepped back, ruffled. "If you're coming with us, you
might wish to exchange clothes with that one." She pointed
to the half-breed's body, dressed in bright clothes similar to
that of the felpurs. "Wearing those skins, someone might
mistake you for one of those..." Though she didn't finish the
thought, her nose wrinkled with aversion.
   Bill nodded and turned to the task of undressing another
dead creature.
   When he came out of the woods dressed like his new
allies, Zorth said, "We must  move on. If we tarry, more
trouble may come looking for us."
   Bill asked, "Where are we going?"
   "Trillius. Surely even you have heard of Trillius?"
   Bill barely shook his head. The less he said the less crazy
he would seem.
   "It was once a great city," Zorth said sadly. "Since the
coming of the current evil times, however, it serves mostly
as a distraction, offering gaming halls, sporting events, and
pleasure houses of all kinds."
   "We're going there to search for our litter brother, Portnal,"
Quatar said. "He went there two moons ago and hasn't been
heard from since."
   "Maybe he never made it." Bill motioned to the orcs.
   Zorth shook his head. "We heard from one of his party.
Portnal and his companions made it to Trillius. But increas-
ingly, people go to Trillius and never again come home.
Portnal went to Trillius to solve this mystery, and now he,
too, has been swallowed up by the city."
   They traveled for several hours, Bill all the while trying
to make sense of this insanity. Finally, the company pitched
camp for the night. Sitting around a fire, the felpurs shared
their provisions with him. He took a first skeptical taste but
found the food palatable.
   Zorth brought up the subject foremost in his mind. "So
you woke up in a cave, you say?"
   Bill nodded. "I was exploring some caverns, like I said,
and the next thing I knew I was stark naked in the dark,
alone, and not anywhere near..." Should he say "home?"
Home wasn't just New York. It was America. Earth. Was he
even on his own planet?
   Zorth eyed him and at length said, "In Trillius, you will
find wise ones far more learned than I. They might help
you. After we arrive, I will make inquiries."
   Bill felt a little hope resurface.
   Zorth said, musedly, "It must be strange, this land where
you have no orcs."
   "We have men who act like orcs, however, and deserve
no better."
   Zorth nodded, apparently reassured that no place was
perfect.
   Lying wrapped in his cloak that night, Bill felt close to
tears. In the cool whisper of the wind, he heard the aching
truth: He might never again see his beloved grandparents or
his familiar world. In novels, sometimes the hero acciden-
tally steps through some hole in the wall of what people
think of as reality. If that could really happen, then he could
very well be stuck here for the rest of his life.
   The next morning, the strange band passed into Trillius,
a great walled city that gave every appearance of a festival in
progress. Musicians wandered the streets in bright costumes.
Jugglers entertained, tossing flaming balls high in weird
patterns with mesmerizing speed. Crowds gathered around
magicians and soothsayers who offered wondrous secrets and
boasted of mysterious herbs to cure myriad conditions.
   Zorth said, "Every day is a carnival here."
   Bill stared at the entertainment-and the populace-like a
country yokel. Finding himself in the company of cat people
had been a shock, but now he saw dog people, as well.
"Rawulfs," Zorth dismissed them, "Indolent, obnoxious, and
ugly."
   They weren't ugly to Bill. In fact, he suppressed an im-
pulse to pet one youngster playfully running alongside him.
The felpurs hissed at the young rawulf, however, sending it
scurrying off to its elders.
   An eerie, furry beast, something resembling a tabloid
photo of the abominable snowman, passed by. "A mook,"
Zorth said. A dracon accompanied the beast, chatting gaily.
The dracon was a strange, horned, and dragon-like being,
able to walk and talk like a human. Zorth warned, "It can
breathe acid when angered." He hinted that the mook pos-
sessed even more fearsome abilities.
   The menagerie included other creatures more human-
like in appearance, but everything Bill saw only compounded
his realization that he was far, far from home.
   Zorth kept testing Bill's story of waking in a completely
strange world. "You've never seen elves before? What kind
of world has no dwarfs, hobbits, or even gnomes? Next you'll
be telling us you've never seen a faerie." At Bill's expression,
he shook his head. "You're better than the street entertain-
ers. Stay close. I wouldn't want you to get into trouble."
   Bill agreed, but turned as a crowd roared across the street.
"Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!" Zorth and his band had
stopped in front of an inn called the Prancing Robe. They
showed no interest in the chanting crowd. Zorth said, "We're
going to get something to eat and drink." Bill couldn't
ignore the crowd across the street, however.
   "Go ahead," Zorth said. "But don't wander far."
   "You're starting to sound like his mother," Quatar said.
   Bill crossed to the crowd, jammed together and shouting
in unison. Over the head of a group of bearded, cackling
gnomes, he saw the spectacle that riveted everyone's atten-
tion. Two reptilian creatures were locked in a deadly duel on
a makeshift stage, their scaly, sweaty bodies grappling for a
single wicked looking sword.
   "Cobran is just playing with this one," a dwarf sniffed.
"I've seen him slash a throat before the opening bell stops
echoing."
   "You know how lizardmen are," the dwarf's companion
responded. "Sometimes they like to play with their victim
before they kill it."
   Bill sensed a shift in the fight. Suddenly, one combatant
snapped the neck of the other, wrested the blade away, and
beheaded its opponent with a fluid killing stroke. The lizard
was headless in the blink of an eye.
   "Cobran! Cobran! Cobran!" the crowd shouted for atten-
tion. "Tomorrow night!" he bellowed. "Cobran battles his
latest challenger for Trillius' greatest honor-the championship!
For only two silver pieces, you can watch him defend his
title. Only one combatant will emerge alive from the ring."
   Astonished, Bill turned for the Prancing Robe. Killing
for sport! And what he'd just seen was only an outdoor exhi-
bition to drum up business for a bigger fight tomorrow. This
Trillius was quite a place. He gripped the hilt of his sword,
hoping for a little of that consolation he'd felt yesterday.
   The Prancing Robe was a large, three—story building of
stone and wood. It reminded Bill of the many Adirondack
inns he'd visited with his grandparents over the years. Its
rustic charm comforted him in this strange, alien city. In-
side he found Zorth and the others sitting around an oak
table, pouring ale into large mugs. A gentle fire flickered in
a large open hearth in the center of the room. A pot of stew
simmered, giving off a mouth-watering aroma. The felpur
  waiters hustled about serving the mostly felpur customers,
although Bill saw a few elves and Dwarfs sprinkled among
the tables.
   Zorth and his companions had been joined by others,
and as Bill pulled out a seat to join them, one of these strang-
ers bounded to his feet.
   "What are you doing?" the felpur snapped. "I know they
let just about anyone in this place, but a human? Unchained?
Where's your master?" With feline speed, he advanced.
"Think you'll sit with us? Scum like you shouldn't be al-
lowed in here. On my estate, a few lashes tend to give your
kind the proper attitude, but since I haven't got my whip..."
he drew his blade, "I'll have to make do."
   Bill automatically drew his own sword. The blade pulsed
in his hand as if with a life of its own. It flicked forward,
batting the felpur's blade aside. Steel rang as his old fencing
moves came back to him. His sword clanged with the felpur's
again, and with a twisting move he wrenched the cat's blade
right out of his hand. His sword tip danced lightly at the
felpur's throat.
   "Stop, Bill!" Zorth's voice.
   Bill snapped, "I thought rudeness didn't go unpunished
hereabouts." Eyes on the now cringing felpur, he added, "Or
does that only apply to your kind?" He suddenly lowered
his weapon and turned to the five felpurs he'd saved just
yesterday. "I see I'm an embarrassment to you here," he said
bitterly and turned for the tavern door.
   His only thought was to lose himself in the reveling crowd.
He heard Zorth shouting his name, but he didn't turn. He
resented that the felpurs he'd helped yesterday hadn't lifted a
hand to defend him today. He'd been stunned-and yes,
frightened-when the felpur whipped out his blade with such
practiced speed.
   The hilt of his sword in his hand still pulsed. What kind
of weapon was it? He'd been as surprised as anyone when
he'd disarmed the cat so effortlessly. Had it been his old skills
or this strange sword? He recalled that moment when the
tip of the blade paused menacingly at the felpur's throat.
Just a tiny lunge on Bill's part, and the cat would be dead.
   The fight crowd poured into the cavernous doors of an
establishment called the Twisted Tail, a building that dwarfed
the Prancing Robe. It occupied more than a New York City
block. Preoccupied, Bill followed the others inside.
   He discovered a dimly lit amphitheater with seating for
thousands, all facing a central arena. A painting of Cobran
the lizardman hung beside booths where bookies were tak-
ing bets at fifty—to-one odds.
   Bill by now understood that free-roaming humans were
unwelcome in Trillius. Accordingly, he found a table in a
darkened corner. A Gnome waiter brought him a tankard of
ale. He tossed a few copper, silver, and gold coins onto the
table. The Gnome scooped up a copper and left. Bill grinned
as he lifted his drink. Evidently, they hadn't heard about
inflation here.
   He brooded. Did the confrontation at the Prancing Robe
mean the loss of his only friends in this place? He regretted
his high-and-mighty refusal to respond to Zorth outside
the tavern. Blowing the frothy head of his ale aside, he took
a deep swallow. He couldn't afford to be proud. So what if
the felpurs hadn't leapt to his defense? He was lost in a land
peopled by walking, talking dragons, lizards, cats, and
dogs, a land where gnomes, hobbits, dwarfs, and elves were
unremarkable-but an unchained human brought stares-he
couldn't be too choosy about the few friends he had.
   Sitting alone in the semi-dark, he admitted that his
deep-down fear, as much as the felpur's insults, had goaded
him to the brink of killing again. Discovering that his sword
would do just about anything he wanted hadn't helped,
either. He'd only been in this world about twenty-four hours,
and already he was a stranger to himself.
   He felt tired. His mind strained and strained to make
sense of his predicament. Part of him still insisted this was
all just a dream, an illusion. He'd wake any time now...and
what? Find himself strapped in a strait jacket, lying in a
padded cell?
   That was what one part of his mind both hoped for and
feared. The other part feared something much worse: that
he'd never waken and would come to realize he was really
here to stay.
   He ought to go find Zorth and apologize. He ought to be
looking for a way to get home. He ought to be doing many
things besides sitting here, drinking alone in a strange place
among decidedly strange creatures. Instead of rising, he
motioned to the Gnome to refill his tankard.
   For the moment, he could think no more. He couldn't
even make himself move. He just wanted to sit in this dark
corner and drink himself silly.



                Chapter Two

Out on the street, Zorth fluently cursed Bill. "Temperamen-
tal, furless, bone-headed human! Where could he have gone?"
   "It's a big town," Quatar replied.
   "He questioned my honor! My manners! It wasn't my fault
Hovra behaved like a boorish fool." A powerful emotion,
one he didn't care to examine too closely, filled Zorth. "Tem-
peramental, furless, bone-headed human! Where could he
have gone?"
   "Bill is a stranger to our ways," Quatar said, unperturbed
by her brother's anger. "He just may have assumed, since he
helped save our lives at great risk to his own, that we would
do more than just stand by while he was subjected to insults
and threats. But as you said, he's a barbarian." She shrugged,
adding sarcastically, "He should have known better."
   "Are you trying to make me feel worse?"
   "We must remember that he's not from our land. Did
you see the way he looked around as we passed through the
city? I bet he's never visited any place this large or grand.
From whatever village he hails, they must never see any out-
siders-no elves, or dracons, or even a mook. He can't know
how he's expected to react when someone like Hovra chal-
lenges him. He's probably just not used to his friends letting
their friends draw steel on him."
   Zorth sighed at his sisters admonitions. "I should have
stopped Hovra."
   "Yes-for Hovra's sake. Did you notice how Bill's sword
seemed a part of him? Hovra's fortunate to be alive." She
smiled. "He was trembling by the time Bill finished with
him. I've watched Hovra fight before. He's quick and as
deadly as he is ill-tempered, but Bill easily disarmed him."
   "I suppose I'll have to apologize," Zorth said. "To a
human. Me, a member of the Seven Families, a Priest of
Yalor, humbling himself before a hairless monkey whose
clothes smell like..."
   "Like the abomination leading that pack of orcs who
would have killed us if not for Bill. He may be a barbarian,
but we are not. We're supposed to behave better." Looking
into Zorth's eyes, she asked, "If you had been alone in the
woods, lost, and saw a raiding party of orcs about to jump a
group of humans, would you have warned them?"
   Zorth's eyes shifted away from his sister's steady gaze.
   "Until a few days ago, either of us would have gone our
merry way. We would have seen little difference between an
orc and an human. We might even have found it amusing to
watch them kill each other. Certainly, we would never have
risked our own lives to save Bill, had the tables been turned.
You know it, and so do I."
   She put a hand on Zorth's shoulder. "I'm just as guilty as
you are. I've never liked humans. We've been taught not to
believe those who claim they're lower forms of life -and in-
tellectually, I accept that. But in my liver? No. When I first
saw Bill in the meadow, I came close to dropping him with
an arrow. I thought he was trying to trick us. When the orcs
attacked, I figured he was with them, part of their trap. If I
hadn't been jumped by an orc, my next arrow would have
pierced Bill Evans' heart."
   Zorth put his hand over hers, smoothing her fur. "Your
wisdom, like your arrows, is unerringly on target," Zorth
said.
   "I'm just saying that he may be human, but he's a re-
markable human, and we've treated him horribly. We never
even thanked him properly, because we let our prejudice get
in our way. I feel guilty, and I don't like it, so I'm taking it
out on you."
   "You're doing a fine job, too. So, where do we find this
remarkable human?"
   "We'll have to check the taverns."
   "Do you have any idea how many taverns there are in
Trillius?
   "I think we're about to find out. While we're searching
for Bill, we can also ask about our litter brother."
   "That's true." Zorth grinned. "We'll probably find Portnal
sitting in some tavern soaked in beer. He's probably explored
every house of pleasure in the city."
   "I wish I could really believe that."
   Zorth's grin failed. "I do, too. But I can't shake this feel-
ing that he's here, somewhere, and that he needs us."
   "I just hope he's alive," Quatar said. "The elders were not
too clear about the dangers we'd find in Trillius."
   "They probably didn't know. We just have to be very care-
ful. Something evil lurks in this city."
"You're certain we can't just convince Cobran to throw the
fight?"
   Bill couldn't remember how many tankards he'd drank.
He didn't know how long he'd been asleep, either. He'd rested
his head on his arm and slipped off. Waking now, he over-
heard two strangers in a nearby booth, talking in low voices.
He didn't bother to lift his head from his arm. He was too
comfortable. Besides, the conversation interested him.
   "Someone once suggested that he throw a fight," one
speaker said. "The crazy reptile killed him." He snapped his
fingers. "Just like that! Broke his neck."
   "Doesn't he understand the crowds don't come to watch
him anymore? The gate receipts are way down. The bookies
tell me no one will bet against him. If he'd throw this fight,
we'd be richer than the Regent. A few well-placed bets. Won't
he listen to reason?"
   "Listen to yourself, Klorgo. He's a lizardman. Killing is
all he understands. His pitiful excuse for a brain makes it
impossible for us to reason with him. He doesn't care how
many people show up. He's not interested in the money. He
likes being the champion, likes the way the crowd shouts his
name, likes the way they part when he walks into a room.
The only way he'll give that up is if he's killed in the ring
himself."
   "That could be arranged."
   "What are you talking about?"
   "Its simple," the one called Klorgo said. "We bet every-
thing we have against him. Everything. Then we poison him.
He dies, and we're rich."
   "You're crazy. They'd know."
   "Not if we use a poison that doesn't kill him right off."
Klorgo added, "I know of something that would just disori-
ent and slowly drain him."
   "What if he beats the challenger before it takes effect? It's
too risky. With our luck, he'd die after he won the match."
   "There's a way to fix that problem," Klorgo insisted. "We
doctor his weapons to make sure they break. Then, he can't
kill the challenger. It would explain why he lost, too. A freak
accident. Meanwhile, we're rich, and no one's the wiser."
   Bill, his head still on his arm, could almost hear Klorgo's
skeptical friend thinking.
   At last, Klorgo's cohort responded, "It could work."  He
laughed cautiously. "It could make us very wealthy."
   Bill recalled the exhibition match in which he'd watched
Cobran behead his opponent. Though he had no desire to
spend time with the likes of this lizardman, Bill felt touchy
right now on the subjects of justice and fairness, right versus
wrong. Yes, he'd had quite a bit to drink, but this Cobran
didn't deserve to be poisoned. He deserved better than to
have a fight rigged against him.
   Bill opened his eyes enough to see the speakers, two
dracons, leave their booth. They noticed Bill, and Klorgo
seemed startled. He glared at Bill with the look a dog gives
just before it bites. Bill tensed.
   "Just a drunk," the other said. "He didn't hear us."
   "Maybe we should kill him to be sure?" Klorgo was al-
ready reaching for his dagger.
   His companion grabbed his arm as the waiter returned.
"Don't be a fool," he hissed. "We don't need to draw any
attention to ourselves today. He's just a human. He wouldn't
understand what we were talking about even if he was awake
and sober. Who would listen to him, anyway?"
   As they walked away, Bill whispered to himself, "I think
we'll be seeing each other again." He stood, a bit unsteadily.
"That's powerful ale," he muttered.
   He waited to make sure he didn't run into the dracons
again as he left the inn. Standing in the street, he looked up
and down its length. "So where to?" He didn't know where
he was, didn't know how to get home. He didn't even know
where "home" was  anymore. The only friends he had were
cats with bad manners.
   He shook his head. Upset as he was with the felpurs, they
were his only friends now. He was walking along a narrow
way amid unknown dangers and had to use whatever step-
ping stones he could find. He headed toward the Prancing
Robe.
Zorth and Quatar sat alone at a table. They rose when Bill
entered. "Thank the Gods," Zorth said, pulling out a seat.
   "We thought you'd never return," Quatar said.
   "We wouldn't blame you." Zorth, still standing, looked
both relieved and uncomfortable to see Bill. "I must apolo-
gize, Bill, for acting so badly. I forgot the debt we owe you-
as well as my manners."
   "Let's forget it," Bill said.
   Quatar leaned forward across the table. "You saved our
lives, and we repaid you by standing idle while Hovra in-
sulted you."
   "We've never known a human before, and, well, we were
ashamed to admit in front of our friends that we knew you.
We have dishonored ourselves, our litter, and our clan by
our actions."
   Bill hadn't expected anything like this. Obviously, Zorth
wasn't the type to apologize easily. "Look, you're the only
friends I have in this world. Where I come from, we have a
custom of drinking together to show there are no hard feel-
ings. Sit down, and we'll have a toast."
   Zorth sat stiffly, motioning a waiter to bring a tankard
for Bill. "I'm again in your debt. If someone acted toward
me the way I have toward you, I would have challenged him
to a duel."
   "You forget," Bill said, "I'm only a human, a barbarian
with no sense of manners." He laughed. "I don't like to fight
with my friends. I don't like this talk about how you owe
me, either. It makes me think you would have nothing to do
with me otherwise. In my culture, you do what you can to
help your friends, simply because they're friends."
   Quatar rose and lifted her tankard. "Here's to our friend-
ship!"
   "To friendship." Zorth joined her.
   The three drank deeply.
   Seated again, Zorth wiped his mouth and smiled self-
consciously. "Your customs seem strange but pleasing."
   Bill grinned. "Now, let's forget what happened earlier. I
want to talk about this championship fight tomorrow. The
one with Cobran."
   "What possible interest could you have in that?" Quatar
asked.
   "From what I know, it's simply lizardmen tearing one
another apart," Zorth said. "Such amusements divert the
people here. They like blood and gore."
   Bill told them about the conversation he'd overheard.
   "What does that have to do with us?" Zorth asked. "So
someone is rigging a fight? These things no doubt happen
wherever large sums of money can be made by the lazy and
the wicked."
   "I don't think it's right," Bill said, surprised by his heat.
"I'm tired of standing by and letting others get hurt. How
do I contact the authorities about this?"
   "If you're asking who is in charge of the fight, I suspect
it's the very people you overheard," Quatar said.
   "Well, then, who is in charge of the city?"
   The two felpurs looked blankly at him.
   "This place must have a city hall, a government, some-
one who enforces the law."
   "Laws do exist," Quatar said slowly, "but..."
   "Who is the leader?"
   "Of the kingdom?"
   "The kingdom? Then, there's a king?"
   The two felpurs' ears flattened against their skulls. "Have
you lost your mind?" Zorth hissed, while Quatar's eyes darted
around the room to see who might be listening.
   Relaxing, she said, "You must not speak of Him, must
not ask about Him. No one does."
   "I can't believe you would be such a fool," Zorth mut-
tered.
   "Easy, Zorth. Remember, this world is new to him. He
doesn't know the danger in what he said. It's all right. No
one heard."
   Zorth let out a sigh, visibly relaxing. "I apologize again,
Bill, for speaking too quickly."
   Bill said, "You act as if I'd asked about the devil himself."
   Again Zorth looked around the room. "Keep your voice
down. You're speaking of things you know nothing about. A
living devil, one that walks among us and feeds upon us."
   "Shhh," Quatar placed her hand on her brother's wrist.
"If someone hears you..."
   "I don't understand," Bill said. He was surprised at their
obvious fear, which was even greater than when they were
attacked by the orcs.
   Zorth looked him steadily in the eye. "My friend, we are
ruled by the Unnamed One, a demon-spawn possessing
powers beyond our ken. To even speak of Him can draw His
attention, some say. As a Priest of Yalor, I know that's not
true. I studied enough of the mysteries to know the Un-
named One cannot actually hear us, but I know enough of
the world to realize His spies skulk everywhere. They might
hear, or someone in this tavern might tell His minions, just
for the gold that crosses the palm of those who would turn
us in."
   "You're a priest?" Bill asked.
   "I have studied the healing spells of Yalor as closely as the
mace and the flail. I have much more to learn, but I've gained
the wisdom to know that powers exist that even Yalor would
be hard-pressed to stand before."
   "This Unnamed One is that powerful?"
   "You have no grasp," Quatar said. "Though He pays little
attention to these lands. He rules from the Forbidden City
to the north. We pay our tribute to His minions. Most of
the time He ignores us. He appointed an Arch Regent to
live in the castle at the heart of Trillius. She looks after the
city for Him. She's as black-hearted and nearly as powerful
as He.
   "But as you've seen, the lands surrounding the city grow
wilder. His orcs and other creatures walk freely, attacking
unwary travelers. They come here to spend their booty. It's
said the dead walk the darker streets at night. As a Monk,
I've traveled far, studying the mysteries of Thea, unlocking
the secrets of the mind; but the minds of those who do His
bidding are beyond my ken."
   "If He pays so little attention," asked Bill, "what stops
people from eradicating these orc things? Challenge His rule,
get a new monarch-if He's as evil as you say."
   Zorth glanced around nervously. "Keep your voice down.
If someone hears you, we'll be on the gallows-or worse-by
dawn."
   "If you knew more, you wouldn't ask such questions,"
Quatar hissed. "He pays less attention, because He's already
crushed those who once stood against Him. He constantly
extends His rule."
   "Say no more," Zorth said abruptly, eyeing a gnome in a
corner, staring back with rapt attention. "I don't think he
heard us, but better to discuss such matters when fewer ears
are nearby."
   "Okay," Bill said, "but to whom do I turn to put a stop to
this fight. There must be someone I can warn about what
they plan to do to Cobran."
   Quatar said, "The Guildlords run Trillius"  civic affairs:
the Gambling Hall Guildlords, the Tavern Guildlords, the
Joy Guildlords-they run the houses of pleasure and so forth.
If a problem arises, they resolve it in the Guild Council.
When they need to quietly deal with a source of irritation,
they turn to the Assassins' Guild. They all pay their tithes to
the Arch Regent, who manages the royal affairs. If She shares
in the profits of this scheme you've described, She'll be con-
tent."
   "So there's no Office of Consumer Affairs, no bunco
squad?" Bill's question drew only puzzled looks from his
companions. "Who maintains order in the streets?"
   "Each guild employs guards from the Warriors'  Guild.
The Arch Regent has her Royal Guard-who are as likely to
arrest you as to look at you."
   "I'm on my own then."
   Quatar said, "It's none of your concern and none of ours.
Trillius can be an enjoyable place." Her shiver contradicted
her words. "It offers delights for every sense. Stay out of its
affairs, though, or you'll find it dangerous beyond compre-
hension. Do not intrude in the business of the Guildlords.
They are ruthless."
   Bill said nothing.
   "You're not listening, are you?" Zorth said. "You hear our
words, but they have no meaning.
   "If the Guildlords even suspect you of interfering with
them, they won't send their warriors after you. They'll send
a Ninja trained to kill with a single blow. The assassins dress
in black. They are masters of stealth and cunning. From
childhood, they are taught only one thing: to kill, quickly
and without detection. They never give up, once they ac-
cept a contract. If one fails, another takes up the challenge.
No one has ever escaped them, at least no one brave enough
to stay around and boast of it."



               Chapter Three

The three friends took rooms for the night. Zorth and
Quatar's felpur escorts had already left to return to their
village. Bill offered to help search for the felpurs' brother,
but the two needed to visit places frequented by their own
kind. Bill napped while Zorth and Quatar resumed their
search for Portnal. They agreed to meet for a late dinner.
   Refreshed after sleeping off the effects of the ale he'd
drunk, Bill decided to explore Trillius on his own. A few
blocks down a side street, he came upon a disturbing sight:
a caged human. He remembered the felpurs saying they
hadn't seen many humans roaming free. Also, they had said
they didn't share the views of those who believed all humans
should be caged. At the time, the comments slid by him, as
did Hovra's slurring demand to know where Bill's chain and
master were. Now, everything became clear, including why
Zorth and Quatar had been reluctant to admit their con-
nection with Bill to their city friends.
   The caged beings now before him explained it all, and
the bland expressions of the bystanders indicated this was
not an unusual sight.
   A dozen chained and desolate-looking humans sat inside
one cage, several men and one woman. Another man stood
on an auction block, head bowed, shoulders slumped. Yet
another crouched in a set of medieval-looking stocks, while
a dracon enthusiastically whipped him. A crowd counted
the strokes aloud in unison, apparently delighted by the man's
cries of agony. Children, mainly little dracons and lizardmen,
along with a few felpurs and dwarfs, taunted the caged
human with sticks.
   The adults eyed the man on the block with practiced ex-
pressions. One dracon stepped up to open the man's mouth
to examine his teeth, then felt his biceps and thighs.
   "He'd make a good worker in the mines," the auctioneer
shouted. "Let's get the bidding going. Who'll start at a silver
piece? These gentle creatures-they're not all like that one in
the stocks-have been well broken. They're used to hard work.
They were born for it. They just need a firm hand and proper
direction."
   A red-cloaked dracon leaving the auction muttered, "Who
would want one? Disgusting, vile, sweaty creatures. They
should all be exterminated." Bumping into Bill, the horned,
scaly beast looked startled. "What in the name of the Gods
is this?" he howled, stepping back and brushing himself off
furiously, as if he'd touched something unclean. "How dare
you touch me, you foul, pest-ridden piece of offal? Where's
your master? How dare he let you walk around this way?
What's that?" he shrieked, growing more hysterical as he
pointed to the sword Bill fingered. "Who has allowed a hu-
man to be armed as if he was a citizen?"
   "I don't want any trouble," Bill said. "Why don't you just
go about your business?" The sight of his own kind being
subjected to such humiliation and pain affected him deeply.
He was already edgy and didn't know what he might do if
this dracon didn't lay off him.
   The dracon, however, had no intention of withdrawing.
"Insolent orc-spawn! You maul me, then you insult me..."
At a loss for words repellent enough to express his disgust,
the dracon resorted to a shove. "I'll have you whipped. I'll
have your master whipped for releasing you from your cage.
Imagine a creature such as yourself, prowling the streets,
attacking decent citizens like a skulking jackal."
   Bill recovered from the shove but a dark, unreasoning
rage filled him. His hand clenched the hilt of his sword. He
felt the weapon pulse to life. "I've heard enough nonsense,"
he growled in a low voice.
   "How dare you speak to me that way." The dracon threw
back his red cloak to draw a gleaming scimitar from his belt.
"Prostrate yourself before me, or I'll cut out your entrails
and strangle you with them!"
   Bill drew his own sword. He smiled at the dracon as he
felt the now familiar pulse electrify his hand and arm. "You
talk too much, you scaly maggot. If you say one more word,
I'll split those horns and use them to pluck your eyes out of
your snout."
   In the back of his mind, he wondered what he was doing,
where all this anger came from. He couldn't pause to analyze
his  behavior now, though, not when the crowd's attention
had shifted from the auction block to the confrontation in
their midst. He heard gasps of surprise as the onlookers real-
ized that at least one human hadn't been properly "broken"
yet.
  Even the humans stared in amazement. The one in the
stocks craned his head, his bloody welts momentarily
forgotten. The dracon with the whip stopped, too. The
children pulled their sticks out of the cages to gape at Bill
with wary shock.
  Bill gave the dracon before him a look of contempt. The
creature stepped back, surprised that the sight of his
scimitar alone hadn't cowed the "piece of offal" into submis-
sion. He drew courage from the expectant eyes of the crowd,
however, and quickly regained his belligerence.
   The thoughts seeping in the back of Bill's mind pushed
forward: I don't really want to fight anybody; I'm not the kind
of person who wages battle with others. But looking at the
slaves around him, he knew he could never face himself again
if he didn't wipe the smirks off the mouths of these onlook-
ers. He'd start with this swaggering cock-of-the-walk in front
of him.
   "I'll give you one last chance," the dracon said, raising his
voice for the benefit of his audience. "I don't want to kill
anyone's property. Prostrate yourself, and I'll be satisfied with
a simple whipping."
   Bill sneered, "Is that blade merely for show?"
   The dracon swung his sword in a fluid movement that
would have severed Bill's head if his own blade hadn't caught
it in mid-arc. He grunted as the collision of steel rang. The
beast was strong, but Bill's hand and arm pulsed as his blade
came alive. He again flicked the scimitar aside, and deftly
snicked off the dracon's left horn. The creature squealed as
blood spurted, pouring down into one eye. Bill felt squea-
mish at the sight. Had he done that? Really?
   Seeing the deadly scimitar again coming toward him, he
quickly recovered. He doubted that the dracon would feel
any misgivings about letting his blood.
   "I'll pluck your eyes out with that horn," he said,
dodging a blow and responding with a slash to the dracon's
knee. The creature's leg buckled. "Prostrate yourself before
me, and I'll settle for a good whipping!"
   The dracon shrieked in anger and tried to drive toward
him with a stabbing motion. Bill stepped aside and watched
his sword dip as if with a will of its own, lopping off the
creature's head with a single stroke.
   He feared he might throw up as he saw the dracon's head
fall and roll in the dirt. At the same instant, a whip cracked
across his back. As he arched in pain, he heard a voice shout,
"Kneel or die, you insolent scum!"
   Staggered by the unexpected blow, he heard a second crack
of the whip. This was no time for second thoughts about
defending himself. As he turned to face his new attacker, his
blade shot out faster than his own eye or mind could follow,
or that his past training could account for. The next thing
he saw, the whip's leather tail lay on the ground. The dracon
holding its handle stared in wonder. Bill's sword, on its own
volition-he could honestly say he did not initiate the ac-
tion-again leapt forward and stabbed the dracon in the chest.
   Four others pulled their swords and came at him from
different directions. He stepped toward the one to his right,
spun, and with his sword, neatly spitted the dracon behind
him. He pulled his blade free just in time to parry a thrust.
Everything happened so fast, so intuitively, that he lost
track. His blade moved everywhere at once, dancing with a
life of its own, thrusting, parrying, slicing through the air,
carving through leathery skin. He poked one beast in the
eye, penetrating its brain. He lopped off an arm that got too
close, cracked open a skull, slashed a throat.
   Stepping back from the slaughter, he became frightened
by what the sword in his hand had achieved. He felt the
pulsing of the sword, as if it had a heart that beat, lungs that
breathed. He turned, expecting a new assailant, but noticed
that the crowd had drawn far back. Wary and frightened
eyes studied him.
   The changed expressions on the faces of the onlookers
gave him a renewed sense of confidence strengthened by the
reassurance the sword gave him. Bill walked straight into
the crowd, which parted to make way for him as he advanced
to the auction block.
   "I bid one copper," he announced. "Who dares to bid
against me?" He held his gory blade aloft for emphasis.
"Come, come my good auctioneer. I bid one copper."
   "For that man on the auction block?" the startled dracon
asked.
   "For the entire lot."
   "This is entirely irregular," the auctioneer said. "I don't
sell humans to humans."
   "You don't?" Bill asked in what he hoped was his most
menacing voice. "Then, maybe it's time you start. My money
is just as good as anyone's." He looked at the crowd. "Does
anyone care to question that?" he asked. "Does anyone ques-
tion my right to bid?"
   Though most of them would have liked to challenge his
right, their eyes couldn't help but drift to the six dead dracons
only a few yards from them.
   "I can't sell this entire lot for one copper. Don't be ridicu-
lous," the auctioneer said.
   "You can't?" Bill asked. "You think you can get more from
someone else? Do you really think that anyone else wants to
buy these humans after my demonstrating how easy it is for
us lowly humans to kill dracons? Do you really think any of
them will ever again prostrate themselves at your feet? If
they do, you'd better watch your feet, or you'll lose them.
Whoever told you that you can break humans forgot to
mention how easy it is to un-break them. Just look at them
if you don't believe me."
   The sharp collective intake of breath suggested that his
words were not lost on the audience. Anyone could see the
change the humans had undergone. They were obviously
awakened. They stood straight, unbowed.
   Bill suspected the humans had listened just as closely and
had taken their cue from his speech and actions. Although
they didn't exactly look ferocious to him, they did seem less
compliant and broken. A few shouted curses at the crowd.
"Unchain me," the man in the stocks shouted. "I'll rip your
throat out."
   Bill smiled. "I'm doing you a favor," he said to the auc-
tioneer, trying to sound reasonable. "I'll take them off your
hands. You know you can never use these humans as slaves
again, that you cannot allow them to mix with your other
slaves. Word will spread, how easy it is to kill a master. The
price for your slaves will drop.
   "I'll give you two silvers for the lot." He eyed his sword,
still dripping with blood. "You don't want to insult me, do
you?" he asked, looking more intensely at the auctioneer.
   "Take them and go far away," the auctioneer said. "I don't
want them around here. I don't want you around here."
   Bill removed two silvers from his purse and tossed them
at the auctioneer. "I like doing business with a reasonable
man. Perhaps I'll attend your next auction."
   The auctioneer clearly wanted to say something in
response. He almost choked on the words he held back. In-
stead, he unlocked the cage and set free the man in the stocks.
   Bill motioned to the bodies on the ground. "Strip them,"
he said to the humans as they came out of the cage. "Bring
me any money you find, collect the weapons, and see if any
of their clothing is still of any use."
  A few in the crowd leaned forward and murmured as if to
protest, but remained still-their eyes riveted to his sword.
   "Hurry up," Bill cried. "Pick a weapon, if you can find
one. Put on those clothes. We don't want to stay here any
longer than necessary."
  He knew these folks were none too happy with the idea
of armed humans. The freed humans had to act quickly be-
fore the crowd decided to squelch the arm-toting humans
before it became a trend.
  The humans seemed to understand the need for urgency.
Within minutes, Bill held several bags of coins in his hands,
and fourteen humans stood in the ill-fitting dracon clothes.
"Let's get moving," he ordered.
  As they left the stunned crowd of slave owners, the
human who had been on the auction block ran up alongside
Bill. "Master, forgive me, but I must speak to you," he said
as Bill broke into a jog.
   "Don't call me master," Bill snapped, his head craning
behind him for any signs of pursuit.
   In barely the time it took to look back, the slave had fallen
prostrate before him, lying on the ground, his face in
the dirt. "Forgive me, I do not know how you wish to be
addressed."
   "Get up! We don't have time for this foolishness. My name
is Bill, just Bill. Now, let's go."
   "Just Bill," the man said. "Your parents named you well
Bill the Just One. I am Pasham."
   Bill shook his head in frustration. "Don't ever get on the
ground in front of me again. You're a man. Where I come
from a man would die before he'd crawl before someone
else. Unless you people want to be slaves for the rest of your
lives, you'd better show some pride. If you act like slaves,
you'll be treated like slaves forever."
   "Forgive me, but I humbly suggest we get off this main
street and head toward a part of the city where humans won't
stir as much notice," Pasham said. "The Slave Guild will
send the Warriors Guild after us as soon as they finish
beating the auctioneer."
   Bill hesitated, recalling the warning his felpur friends
had given him about interfering with the Guildlords. He
suspected that killing customers and freeing slaves might be
considered an intrusion. "Lead the way, Pasham."
   As good as his word, the ex-slave led them into a side
alley. Even here, the large group of humans drew attention.
But as they passed deeper into a seedier section of the city,
fewer took notice of them.
   Squat, ugly tenements loomed up several blocks into the
city, but Pasham led them deeper. Bill's concern that they
would be pursued began to diminish. No one could stand
the sickening, overpowering smells.
   The narrow, cluttered streets wound deeper into the city,
like a dank maze. Sunlight seldom fell into what passed for
thoroughfares. The buildings appeared pregnant. Additions
jutted overhead, seemingly added on by builders who cared
less about aesthetics than the need to jam as much into as
little space as possible.
   "Where are we?" Bill asked.
   "It's known as Darktown," Pasham said. "Most of Trillius
ignores this place, but it houses delights that are unavailable
elsewhere."
   "It doesn't seem delightful," Bill muttered.
   "Appearances can be deceiving in Darktown. If one knows
where to go, one can find certain pleasures found nowhere
else. And the key that unlocks these treasures is gold."
   "Behind these doors reside people who can provide you
with substances that can transport you to places in your
mind you've never before explored. Oh, in Uptown you may
find houses of pleasure where women of any race do your
bidding. But here in Darktown, the houses cater to even
more exotic tastes. Magicians can sell you magical items to
enchant the woman of your dreams or to punish your
enemies. Alchemists can provide you with poisons. Witches
can offer you talismans that bring you luck or destruction
upon your enemies. In Darktown, you are limited by the size
of your purse and the boundaries of your own imagination."
   In this section of the city, few citizens looked directly at
Bill and his companions. The unofficial motto seemed to be
Mind Your Own Business. Free-roaming humans appeared
everywhere here-poorly dressed, some obviously underfed,
but nonetheless, human.
   Bill's hand went to his sword. "Orcs," he said, involun-
tarily tensing as he noticed a group swagger by.
   Pasham placed a nervous hand on Bill's. "Many of them
frequent Darktown," Pasham whispered. "They won't bother
us if we don't bother them. Let them be, lest we draw the
attention of their masters."
   A battered sign marked a tavern called the Royal Falcon.
Pasham led them inside its dimly lit, smoky interior.
   The Falcon apparently had seen better days, and today
was not one of them. The place was empty, and Bill would
have thought it closed had he not noticed a fire in the hearth
and the ever present pot bubbling above it. The group took
a large table that, apparently, had barely survived innumer-
able bar fights. It tipped unsteadily when he leaned against
it, the surface scarred and battered by more than tankards of
ale.
   A portly man greeted them at their table. "I don't want
you here if you don't have any money," he announced.
"Either drink or get out. I'm not operating a social club for
misfits."
   Bill was surprised and pleased to see a human working at
the tavern, but the man's rude greeting grated on him.
"Give us a round of drinks and watch your mouth," he said
evenly.
   The tavernkeeper seemed ready with a retort until he
noticed Bill's hand straying to his sword. He brought them
ale.
   Bill poured out the contents of the purses taken from the
dracons and divided it into fourteen equal piles, one for each
freed slave. It came to three gold pieces, two silvers, and
three coppers for each. "It's not much, but it should help."
   "You joke, master," Pasham said. "This is more money
than I've ever held in my hand in my life. You rescued us,
fought for us, and now you shower us with riches. Surely
you must have a great task for us."
   "No," Bill said, "unless you can shed some light on a few
things for me, like why humans are slaves around here."
   The group exchanged surprised glances, caught off guard
by the question. "Surely, you know," said the man who had
been imprisoned in the stocks. "He has ordained it."
   "Whom?" Bill asked.
   "He whom we must not name. I am Yorth, Just Bill. Since
my father's day, He has ordained that humans be set apart as
slaves. He says we have no souls, that we are spawned by
darkness, that we are unfit to walk in the light."
   "It's said that He hunts us for sport," said Pasham. "He
mates humans with orcs and even worse things. Most of us
not killed outright, end up in the mines or enslaved."
   "I don't understand," Bill said. "I saw humans on the street
here. A man runs this place. Why does He leave them alone?"
   "The people of Trillius don't want to live here in
Darktown. It's too close to the castle," Yorth said. "The castle
is inhabited by creatures that make them uneasy."
   "They blame humans for the evil that has befallen this
land," said Pasham. "When they punish and mistreat us,
they feel it atones for the Collapse. They blame us for the
Unnamed One defeating the forces of the Realm and con-
quering this land."
   "That doesn't make any sense," Bill said. "Why blame
humans for the ills of this land? Everything I've heard seems
to suggest that the real problem is this King."
   "Quiet, blasphemer!" shouted the innkeeper, who had
returned to fill their tankards. "I won't have that kind of talk
in my establishment and find myself hung or sent to the
mines. I won't have it. You have gold, I see that, but gold
won't buy my life if His agents come for me. I spoke harshly
to you when you entered, and for that I apologize. Most
humans who come here have nothing to pay for what they
order. But drink in peace and leave me in peace. Cease this
talk that will cause only misfortune."
   Yorth brandished his sword before Bill could react. "Have
a care, innkeeper. An hour ago I was a prisoner in the slave
market." He pulled down his shirt for emphasis. "See the
welts left by the dracons? They are still fresh with blood. My
blood! They tortured me to teach me manners, because I
did not lower my eyes fast enough to suit the auctioneer.
For that offense, I was put in the stocks and whipped to
remind me of my place in this world.
   "This stranger," Yorth pointed to Bill, "freed me from
the stocks and killed the dracon who whipped me. He liber-
ated all you see here, and brought us to safety-even shared
his gold with us. Bill the Just can say what he chooses, when
he chooses, and where he chooses. I don't know how long
the slavers will let this insult remain unavenged, but I refuse
to spend what little time I have left cowering."
   The innkeeper's eyes widened as he listened to Yorth's
account. "You killed a slaver and freed these humans from
the slave pens?"
   "He killed six of them," Pasham said. "Fought four at
once and slew them all just as casually as you swat a fly."
   The idea seemed too much for the innkeeper. He pulled
out a chair, sat down, and poured himself a drink. "I'll buy
this round." He passed the pitcher around the table.
"Freeing humans from the slave pens? That's never before
happened in Trillius. The whole city will be in an uproar.
The Guild Council will be called into session. Every slaver
in the city will demand your blood. They'll send the Warrior's
Guild after you. And here you are in my establishment!
They'll talk about this for years to come."
   "Do you want us to leave?" Bill asked. "We have no right
to place you in danger. If they will send this Warrior Guild
after me, I should be on my way."
   "I again apologize for my outbursts," the innkeeper said.
"My name is Orwynn. I'm just a frightened, ill-tempered
old man. I was once a successful innkeeper. Before the
Unnamed One came to our land, good King Liam himself
sometimes sneaked out of the castle to enjoy a drink by my
fire. Ah, there was no better man than Liam."
   "It is death to speak of Liam," whispered Pasham.
   The remark brought howls of laughter from the innkeeper.
"For everything you've done and said today, the punishment
is death," Orwynn said, trying to stifle his laughter. "Only
moments ago, I feared that someone might hear your
dangerous talk-and now you warn me. It's been a long time
since I had reason to be proud of my kinsmen. Today, I
celebrate a great deed performed by a man. Let us not worry
about the spies, the Guilds, or the punishments they dream
up for humans, even as we speak. Your actions have reminded
me of happier days when a great man, Good King Liam,
ruled this land and all creatures respected men."
   "The king was a man?" Bill asked.
   "That's the true pity of today," the innkeeper said. "It's
death to speak of Liam. It's death to speak of the time before
the Unnamed One killed him and began to rule our land.
It's death to recall that only thirty years ago, men ruled this
land, justly and wisely. He doesn't want people to remember
those days, so He kills anyone who dares to mention it."
   "How can the people go along with this?" Bill asked. "I've
seen the way they act and talk. They really believe men are
inferior and deserve to be slaves."
   "It's a long tale," Orwynn said. "After His forces con-
quered the land, they claimed that King Liam had sold them
out, that he and the humans had secretly worked to enslave
all the other creatures. The Unnamed One claimed He
invaded the kingdom to rescue it from the evil conspiracies
of humankind. At first, no one believed it, then they began
to ask why our forces had fallen before His army so quickly.
Though many knew it was because He had corrupted the
captains, rumors spread that men had lusted for the proper-
ties of the other creatures.
  "The Unnamed One announced evidence of new
conspiracies to enslave the creatures of the kingdom. As He
gave the estates owned by humans to the other races, He
decreed it only right to then enslave them, to ensure they
never again threatened the peace of the kingdom.
  "Every time He issued an unpopular edict, He blamed
humans for it. His secret police, He claimed, was established
to protect the other races from the humans. He corrupted
the people by giving them the belongings of the humans
and setting up a scapegoat to blame for all their troubles.
The enslaved humans give the people something to mistreat
when they're really angry with Him."
  "You say the people accept this? They believe this non-
sense?" Bill asked. "I find it hard to believe that everyone
has been fooled."
  "No one wants to admit they have no rights to the
humans' property, so they convince themselves that humans
are inferior. The failure of King Liam to protect them
conveniently proves that he and other humans are guilty of
all the crimes for which they are blamed."
  Bill said, "Surely there must be those who dispute all this
absurdity."
  "Yes, there have been those who felt it was wrong and
tried to enlighten others. They were branded as traitors and
ruthlessly killed. Their lands and titles were confiscated and
distributed to those who parroted the lies of the new rulers."
   Orwynn paused to drink from his tankard before con-
tinuing. "When the Arch Regent was installed in Trillius,
she turned it into a pleasure city to divert the populace. She
encouraged the formation of the Guilds, giving power to
the landless and the corrupt, and winning allies to Her cause
by offering an easy path to riches. The honest merchants
who opposed her lost their businesses to those who were
willing to cater to the lusts and cravings of the people."
   "Yet, you still have your inn," Bill said.
   "I could see which way the winds were blowing," the inn-
keeper said "I gave it to a trusted gnome who had worked
for me. He has never believed the lies spread by those
who have gotten rich from the new regime. As far as the
authorities are concerned, I'm a slave operating this inn for
my master."
   "Aren't you in danger by having me here?" Bill asked.
   Orwynn seemed unconcerned. "When the Warrior Guild
comes into this section of the city, I know long before they
arrive. The Guilds leave us who live in Darktown alone for
the most part," the innkeeper said. "They seldom venture
into this part of the city, coming in force when they come at
all. Orcs and other creatures from the castle walk in our
midst. Some of us have banded together to protect our lives
and our properties. I will be told if they come here."
   "By whom?"
   "Bill, I admire what you've done today. I can choose
to put my own  neck at risk by speaking of things that are
considered treason, but until I know you and your compan-
ions better, I cannot speak too much of others."



                Chapter  Four

The door to the inn burst open. "Orwynn! The Warriors'
Guild has entered Darktown!" a young gnome shouted
excitedly. "A hundred of them, dressed in full battle gear.
They're looking for a band of renegade humans who went
on a murder spree in the slave market and have started a
revolt all over the city."
  Orwynn looked from the gnome to Bill. "Your fame
grows."
  Yorth drew his sword to salute Bill. "If I must die today,
I'll die as a free man, standing by your side."
  The others scrambled to their feet, raising tankards and
blades to Bill, repeating Yorth's oath.
  Seeing this display, the young gnome's eyes widened.
"These are the renegades?"
  "Peace, Morko." Orwynn chuckled. "These friends haven't
murdered anyone, nor organized a revolt. The Slavers' Guild
is just trying to scare Trilliuns into helping them recover
some missing property. Now tell me, what are the warriors
doing and how long before they arrive here?"
  "They haven't come to our street yet, but they're asking
everyone about a free band of humans, and someone is bound
to tell them you have them here, Orwynn. Make them leave.
They have no right to endanger us."
  "Hush, lad," Orwynn said. "What would your grandfa-
ther say if he heard you? You know better than that. We
cannot just abandon them. Now settle down and think as
your grandfather would."
   Morko didn't seem too pleased, but at the mention of his
grandfather he paused for a moment. "We have to split them
up. They're looking for a group of fifteen. Anyone who noted
them coming into Darktown at all probably didn't look too
closely at their faces. And the Warriors wouldn't recognize
them, even if they saw them. If we can separate them and
hide them in different places around town, after a few days
the Warriors will conclude they've fled the city."
   "Ah, that's my lad," Orwynn said, clapping his hands.
"You make me proud. Now, will you take three of them to
your grandfather's home?"
   "Me?"
   "Of course. You've developed a brilliant plan. Your grand-
father will be proud of you for personally rescuing these
humans right out from under the nose of the Warriors'
Guild."
   "Yes, I guess he would be pleased," Morko answered
uncertainly.
   "You know he and your father want you to carry on their
work. Our work." Orwynn turned to the freed slaves. "Three
of you shall go now to Morko's father. He'll know what to
do. After you've gone, I'll send another three to Morko's
house."
   Morko said, "I could be killed if they're found there."
   Orwynn looked at him, as if surprised at the remark.
   Morko looked from the humans back to Orwynn, then
to the door, as if listening for the tramp of boots. "I guess I
can do no less than my father or grandfather." He sighed.
"But what of the rest?"
   "I'll find a place to hide them," Orwynn said. "You don't
have to worry." He pointed at three of the humans. "Go
with Morko, and do what he says."
   They looked to Bill, who told them, "Do as Orwynn says."
   Reluctantly, they followed Morko out a back door.
Orwynn gave directions to a second and third group on how
to find Morko's and his father's houses. He wrote a note for
them to give to Morko's father. "In a few days, someone will
take you to a safer place. They'll say I sent them, so you'll
know they can be trusted. Now quickly, go."
   Yorth and Pasham remained seated. "We will stay here
with Bill," Pasham said, in a tone that brooked no argu-
ment.
   "Oh, all right," the innkeeper said impatiently. He pointed
at the others. "But you-the rest of you must go."
   Bill nodded his head toward the remaining group. They
departed, leaving only Bill, Yorth, Pasham, and three other
slaves. The innkeeper motioned. "Come with me."
   "I appreciate all you have done for us," Bill said, "but
every one would be safer if I left."
   Pasham and Yorth protested. "We go with you, Just Bill,"
Yorth said. "We can protect you."
   "I don't think so," Bill said. "They're looking for a group
of humans, not one man. They won't look for me in the
center of the city with my friends. Orwynn, I entrust these
people to your hands," he said and reached into his tunic for
a purse taken from the dracons.
   "Don't insult me," the innkeeper said.
   "This is to help you with whatever expenses come up. I'll
be back in a few days. We can talk more then." Bill rose and
walked toward the back door.
   "Don't leave that way," Orwynn said. "Come with me. I
want to show you something important." He led Bill alone
to a back room and down a set of stairs to a wine cellar.
When he pressed a hidden button, a passageway opened.
"Take this torch." He handed Bill the torch and pulled a
map from underneath a wine cask. "This passageway leads
to the labyrinths under the city. Dangers lurk down there,
so keep your sword ready. I think they'll be watching
Darktown tonight, but you can get back into the main part
of the city through here without being detected. Now tell
me where it is you intend to go and where I can find you if
I need to locate you?"
   Bill said, "My friends are at the Prancing Robe. I don't
know very much about your city, but if you need to find
me, I suspect I'll be there or at the Twisted Tale."
   "I know both places," Orwynn said. "I like the Robe. I
sneeze a lot when I'm there, but they have fine ale. I have
nothing against felpurs, but they make me sneeze."
   He marked the map. "This path takes you close to the
Robe. If possible, return in two days. You can come back the
same way."
   "These tunnels go under the city?"
   "Yes. Few know of them, and they are rarely used,
because of the things that prowl the darkness there. It's bad
enough here in Darktown. Under the city, things are far
worse. Most entrances are blocked, but if you find a cres-
cent moon near a doorway, you can open some of them with
this." He handed Bill an object shaped like a crescent with a
handle. "Now go-carefully. I must hide your friends before
the Guild arrives."
   After Orwynn closed the passageway, Bill found himself
in a dark stone-lined tunnel, with only the flickering and
sputtering of the torch to guide him. He drew his sword,
comforted by its pulsing power. Checking the map, he set
out for the Prancing Robe.
   The thick cobwebs proved how few people used the un-
derground passageways. The stone walls were slimy. Small
creatures scurried away from the light of his torch. "Rats. I
can see this isn't a major tourist attraction."
Orwynn closed the door to the secret passage behind Bill,
checking that no one saw what lay behind it. He walked
back upstairs into the tavern where Pasham and Yorth waited
impatiently. The other three slaves seemed nervous.
   "The Warriors' Guild will arrive soon. I want you to go
with a friend of mine out of the city."
   "What about Bill?" Pasham asked. "Will he go, too?"
   "I can't answer that."
   "Then I will remain in the city until he returns," Yorth
said. "I do not leave until he leaves."
   "I must stay, too," Pasham said.
   "I admire your courage if not your good sense," Orwynn
responded amiably. "I'm afraid that you other three must
go, though. It's going to be dangerous for humans here." He
scrawled a note on one side of a sheet of paper, and hastily
drew a map on the other side.
   "Take this two blocks down the street," he said, pointing
to the map. "When you see Anorexa's House of Joy, stop
and ask for the lady of the house. Give her this message, and
she'll help you leave the city. And-this is terribly impor-
tant—tell her to send Zynaryxx to me. I must see him."
   "Who is Zynaryxx?" Pasham asked.
   "Forget you heard that name," Orwynn said. "If any of
you are caught, you must promise me that you will not say
that name. Tell them anything else you must, but pledge on
your lives and your newfound freedom that you will not
reveal that name." Orwynn looked at all of them. "Promise
me," he repeated.
   They promised.
   When the slaves left, Orwynn directed Pasham and Yorth
to go upstairs to scrub the floors. "The Warriors' Guild could
arrive at any moment. If they discover you, they might be-
lieve you're just household slaves."
Yorth and Pasham were diligently scrubbing the floors to
the inn's rooms when they heard Orwynn moving about
downstairs. "Is it the warriors?" Pasham whispered.
   "Shhh," Yorth hissed.
   "I wish Bill was here," Pasham said.
   "Get hold of yourself," Yorth said, fingering his blade.
"And be quiet before you give us away. I want to hear what
they're saying down there."
   Straining, the two freed slaves could hear the sound of
two voices below them.
   "Orwynn, I hope you had a good reason for dragging me
out of Anorexa's," a strange voice said. "The good woman
brought in some new pixies just for me. The frightened sprites
were pleased to have me welcome them to the city."
   "Still, you rushed over the minute I sent for you."
   "I did rush," the voice answered. "Is it my fault that at
my age some things take longer than they did in my youth?"
   Orwynn chuckled. "Zynaryxx, you're an old goat.
We must talk of something more important than pixies. A
human came in today who might be of interest to the League.
His name is Bill Evans, a stranger to our city and our land."
   "The kingdom is filled with strangers these days. What's
another more or less?"
   "This one is quite different," Orwynn said. "He killed six
dracons in the slave market today and freed fourteen slaves."
   "Here in Trillius!"
   "I thought that might pique your interest. I don't know
where he's from, but certainly nowhere near. He knew noth-
ing of the king, the Arch Regent, or the Guilds, and seemed
quite disturbed that humans were slaves. The Guild Coun-
cil claims he's started some kind of revolt. I spoke to the
slaves he freed, though, and they'd never seen him before
today. It seems that he acted on his own on the spur of the
moment. The Warriors' Guild is searching Darktown even
now, looking for him."
   "You're not thinking he might be the one?"
   Orwynn sighed. "I'm an old man. I've waited a long time,
Zynaryxx. I've been a member of the League too long to let
my hopes cloud my judgment. I don't yet know enough to
answer your question, but he bears watching. I also think
the League could use someone like him, regardless of whether
he truly is the one."
   "Why, Orwynn, I haven't seen you this excited about
someone in years!"
   "We need a man of action. The League has grown too
complacent. Our enemies hardly even think of us, much
less fear us. The country has begun to think of the League of
the Crimson Crescent as some myth, romantic in its own
way but lacking in substance. The Arch Regent believes She's
secure. Her minions roam the streets of Darktown too freely.
I suggest we start a rumor that the League had a hand in
freeing the slaves today."
   "It would be easy enough," Zynaryxx said. "I have to
wonder, though, whether we want to draw so much atten-
tion to ourselves and our activities."
   "Our activities?" Orwynn  spat. "What have we done
lately? What cause for hope have we given our friends? What
fear have we struck in the hearts of our enemies? This League
has become nothing more than a glorified debating society
dominated by frightened fools and nervous nabobs."
   "Our members have much to lose if we act too rashly,"
Zynaryxx defended.
   "Lose? The only thing we stand to lose is our lives. They've
taken everything else. And what of the lives they've left us-
nothing but shadows. We fear to walk our streets. We fear to
roam the city lest we end in the slave pens. We fear to speak
our minds lest His spies hear us. I think we have far too little
to lose."
   "Orwynn, what makes you so excited?"
   "I don't know. I had fifteen men in here today, quite un-
like the men I see every day. Hope shone on their faces.
They spoke freely. They were willing to die for the right to
speak their minds. A few hours before, they'd been slaves.
They tasted freedom, and it made them hunger for more.
They swore they would never again bow before their
oppressors. I'd forgotten how that felt. This city is a tinder-
box. If we can strike but one spark—"
   "We shall burn ourselves," Zynaryxx interrupted.
   "Perhaps. Perhaps. I prefer to think we could light a torch
from which men could take hope."
   "It's a noble thought, my friend. Keep in mind, however,
that most torches only draw moths so mesmerized by the
flame, it consumes them," Zynaryxx said.
   "If you are too frightened, then I will act without you,"
Orwynn snapped.
   A long pause hung in the air.
   Upstairs, Yorth and Pasham strained to hear. The pure,
precious freedom Yorth felt sharpened to the point of pain.
He would never be a slave again, thanks to Just Bill.
   "I do believe you would, old friend," Zynaryxx said, ami-
ably. "I think I must meet this Bill Evans who had such an
effect on you."
   "I'm sorry I accused you of being frightened," Orwynn
said. "I know better than that. But it's time to act."
   Zynaryxx said. "I agree that the League has been too quiet
for too long. We've allowed caution to become a habit. It's
all this soft living and visits to houses of joy, I suspect. But
you've piqued my interest. Bring this Bill Evans out."
   "He's not here," Orwynn said. "He had to rejoin his
friends at the Prancing Robe. He said we could find him
there or at the Twisted Tale."
   "Ah, the Robe," Zynaryxx said. "He has a fine taste in ale,
I see. I like him already. If the Warriors' Guild is searching
for him as intently as you suggest, though, didn't he take
quite a chance in walking there?"
   "I gave him a map and a key to the caverns," Orwynn
said. "I asked him to return here in two days."
   "You gave him a map to the caverns? You gave him a
Crescent key? Did you give him a roster to the League's
membership while you were at it? I really must meet this
man who inspires such trust so quickly."
   "I'm sorry if you don't approve," Orwynn said stiffly. "As
you said yourself, it seemed too great a risk to send him
through the streets."
   Zynaryxx laughed. "You must stop taking me so seriously.
I'm just not used to seeing you so decisive. You're beginning
to make me feel like I'm one of those nervous nabobs you
spoke of. But how much did you tell him about the League?"
   "Nothing," Orwynn said. "He just considers me a kindly
tavernmaster. I wanted to talk to you before I confided in
him. That's why I'd like to have you check him out yourself
before we bring him into the League."
   "Very well," Zynaryxx said. "But for now, I must be on
my way. The streets are deserted enough that our friends
from the castle should soon take their leave. A cool ale at the
Robe would do wonders for me."
   Pasham and Yorth hurried into the tavern's main room
just as Orwynn closed the door. "What is it, my friends?" he
asked, jovially. "Have you cleaned the rooms upstairs so
quickly?"
   "Who was that?" Yorth demanded. "What are you get-
ting Just Bill into?"
   Orwynn's jovial expression faded, as if the sun were shut
off by a cloud. He met the freed slaves' accusing stares with
a level gaze, ignoring the way Yorth's fingers strayed to his
sword handle. "Your loyalty speaks well for you, my friends.
I've wondered if slaves could shake loose from the mental
bonds ensnaring them after their physical restraints were
gone. I won't reproach you for listening in on what I thought
was my private conversation. If I were in your shoes, I'm
sure I'd do the same."
   "You haven't answered our question," Yorth said.
   "No, I haven't," Orwynn said. "Nor will I. Suffice to know
that my friend will see to it that Bill is safe. Believe me, he is
far more capable than either you or I to ensure Bill's safety."
   "What is this League you talked about?" Pasham asked.
"It sounds dangerous."
   "Dangerous?" Orwynn asked more to himself than to the
two men before him. "Yes, it's dangerous, though life would
be far more dangerous for Bill without the League's assis-
tance. For now, though, I suggest that the two of you forget
what you've heard tonight. Put aside your suspicions. The
sun has set in Darktown. The streets pose enough dangers
to keep us busy. Meanwhile, we can expect a visit soon
enough from the Warriors' Guild. They will have heard that
a group of humans came in here this afternoon. There are
too many eyes and too many open palms to let that slip by
unmentioned."



                 Chapter  Five

Bill made his way cautiously through the labyrinth. Using
his torch, he examined the map and finally found the door-
way closest to the Prancing Robe. "Let's hope this gadget
works," he muttered as he wedged the crescent key into a
quarter moon-shaped indentation he found in what he
hoped was a door. Tugging with all his strength, he felt it
give. With a final pull, it opened, and a blast of fresh air
rewarded his effort.
   He stepped out into a darkened alley. He hid in the shad-
ows as he listened to a column of marching feet nearby. "Have
you seen any humans?" a gruff voice demanded. "A group of
them staged a revolt in the slave market today. They're armed
and dangerous. Murdered everyone they found, hacked up
babies and children, sparing no one."
   "Human?" a voice familiar to Bill answered. "What do
you take me for? I don't allow the nasty creatures near me."
   "Well, keep your eyes open. One's been seen in the neigh-
borhood. We think it's the same one that has been staying in
a room at the Prancing Robe. It was gone by the time we got
there, and if it returns, we'll know soon enough. The Coun-
cil is rounding up any we find loose. Too many free-run-
ning ones have started to give the slaves ideas. A taste of the
lash is what they need, if you ask me. Let's go, boys."
   After the soldiers stomped off, Bill poked out his head.
"Quatar," he whispered, "is that you?"
   "Bill! We've been looking for you for hours. Stay right
where you are until I find Zorth. It's not safe for anyone to
see you. Stay put until we figure out what to do."
   She dashed back toward the inn, returning minutes later
with a bundle and Zorth beside her. "Put this on," she said,
tossing Bill a hooded cloak.
   "If no one looks too closely, we can get you into my room,"
Zorth said. "The Warriors questioned me about you. I told
them we met you on the road and that you'd taken a room
with us, but otherwise I didn't know much about you. I told
them you had left us today to wander the city. They're watch-
ing the Inn in case you return. The whole city is looking for
humans. If someone sees you, they might think you're the
renegade that started all this commotion."
   "I'm afraid I am." Bill threw the cloak around him.
   "What?" Zorth demanded. "How could you lead a slave
rebellion?"
   "It wasn't a rebellion. I went for a walk and found myself
in this slave market. I bumped into a dracon who thought
he could run me through for sport. When I defended my-
self, I found another five of them trying to skewer me. I
figured that since I was already in trouble, freeing those poor
caged people couldn't make matters worse."
   "Of course not," said Zorth heavily. "How could it?"
   Quatar shook her head. "The whole city is searching for
him, armed troops on the alert, and I'm standing in an alley
helping to disguise him, nodding my head as if it's all so
reasonable. I, too, must be going mad."
   "You don't have to put yourselves in danger," Bill said. "I
appreciate the loan of this cloak, but I don't think it's safe
for you to take me back to the inn."
   "Nonsense," Zorth said. "We haven't searched for you
for hours to allow you to go off and get captured. You're
returning with us to the inn and you're going to eat a hot
meal. I shudder to think what mischief you'll get into if we
leave you on your own again."
   "What if someone recognizes me? The inn is being
watched. You don't need any more trouble."
   "We'll decide how much trouble we need," Zorth snapped.
"You just do what you're told for once. We can take care of
ourselves-and you. Our three litter brothers have left. We'll
take their rooms."
   "I'll come," Bill said, "but keep your swords handy."
   Inside the inn, the trio stayed close together as they moved
through the crowded dining room. Evening traffic at the
Robe had drawn more than just felpurs. Creatures held forth
in animated conversations, the chief topic being the slave
revolt, of course.
   "I tell you, the humans have been planning this for
months," a fat elf told a dracon. "The massacre in the slave
market is but the first step. One of these nights, our house
servants will slit our throats. Mark me. There's rebellion in
the air."
   "I hear it's the work of the League," said a gnome. "The
League of the Crimson Crescent is behind all of this. They
say that the League's membership has grown."
   "The League is just a bedtime story," the chubby elf
retorted. "I can't believe any organized resistance to the crown
even exists. It's just the humans spinning tales to frighten
us."
   "I say we exterminate them all," the dracon retorted. "I've
never trusted them. I've seen the way they whisper to one
another when they think no one's listening. It was a mistake
to ever let them into homes. I hear the council's going to
ban them from the city."
   "You're all being ridiculous," a tiny creature sitting on
the tavern's bar scoffed.
   Bill couldn't take his eyes off the tiny, well-dressed fig-
ure. A cloak thrown over its shoulders, the creature leaned
over a small mug, dipping a ladle into the ale. Although his
features were delicate, he didn't sip delicately. He guzzled
with gusto.
   "If you ask me, some folks are deliberately blowing this
all out of proportion," the creature said, directing his com-
ments to the dracon. "They're trying to frighten everyone so
they'll have an excuse to crack down on us even more. We'll
have the Warriors' Guild searching our homes, all in the
name of snuffing out this so-called rebellion. Citizens who
never even speak to humans, but who have made the wrong
people angry, will end up in the castle dungeon on some
trumped up charge or another. The numbers of people
dragged off to the dungeons continues to increase, and this
kind of hysteria makes it all the easier for them to haul away
yet more citizens."
   "No one asked you." The dracon spun on its heel to face
the little man. Stooping, the dracon grabbed him by his tiny
collar, hoisting him in the air. "I've never liked faeries much,
either. You give me the creeps the way you sneak around.
You're too much like humans, always poking your noses in
others' affairs."
   Without first stopping to think, Bill stepped forward. "Put
him down before I peel your scales," he said in a low voice
to the dracon.
   The dracon dropped the faerie, startled by the interrup-
tion, but found itself unable to turn to face Bill as Zorth
and Quatar pressed in from either side.
   "Felpurs!" the dracon snarled. "I'll teach you to butt in."
   "We haven't time to teach you anything," Zorth said. "I
would advise you, however, to sharpen your sword before
you say anything more."
   Zorth and Quatar's grim expressions gave the dracon
pause. "I was just trying to enjoy an ale when everybody
started bothering me," he said defensively.
   Nearby, the fat elf said nervously, "Well, it's time I hauled
my belly upstairs to bed. Uh, good night, all." He slipped
away softly.
   Zorth, still staring down the dracon, stepped back. "Very
well, then. As long as you keep your hands to yourself."
Without another word, he and Quatar turned their backs
and hustled out of the dining area toward their lodgings.
   "Why didn't you pull off your cloak while you were at
it?" Zorth whispered through clenched teeth. "Why not
announce that you started the slave rebellion?"
   "I couldn't let that oversized iguana grab that little guy,"
Bill answered. "I guess it wasn't too smart. I appreciate the
two of you helping me out."
   Inside their room, he asked the felpurs about faeries.
   "I mentioned them when we came to town," Zorth said.
He was visibly trying to put the confrontation downstairs
behind him, but his smile was the kind put on bravely de-
spite dire pain.
   Quatar chuckled more naturally. "And he gave you the
same blank look he wears now."
   "What are they?"
   "They're an ancient race," Zorth said. "Some call them
sprites. Some call them pixies. They can be quite elusive when
they want to be. They usually keep to themselves. Most don't
have much contact with the other races, especially in cities.
Only a few rub shoulders with the rest of us."
   "I'm surprised the dracon managed to grab that one,"
Quatar said. "They're usually too fast and agile for that. The
old-timer must have been quite drunk. That dracon is lucky
we stepped in when we did. Most faeries spend most of their
lives studying magic. Some of them are quite adept at the
mysteries."
   "What do you mean, magic? Would the faerie have turned
him into a toad or something?"
   Zorth looked perplexed. "Faeries have a long-standing,
intimate relationship with nature that gives them a deep
understanding of fire, water, air, and earth. Many of them
devote their entire lives to the study of thaumaturgy."
   "Thaumaturgy?"
   "The study of harnessing the elements," Zorth said. "I've
studied some of the art but not in the same field."
   "I don't follow you," Bill said. "Does it really work?"
   "Sometime, you must tell me where you come from,"
Zorth said. "Of course, magic works! Your sword works,
doesn't it? A skilled mage with the proper training and expe-
rience can harness powers you can't imagine."
   "Okay, I'll accept that for now," Bill said. "What did you
think of the faerie's assessment of what's occurring in the
city?"
   "Of course, he's right," Zorth said. "The Arch Regent
will love this slave revolt. They'll round up all of their en-
emies under the pretext that they were involved in some
fabricated conspiracy."
   "Your friend the faerie will probably be at the top of the
list," Quatar said. "If the Regent's spies hear him, it won't be
long before he'll be hauled away. With our luck, we'll be in
danger, too, for defending him."
   "We can worry about that tomorrow," Zorth said. "For
now, I'm going to get us something to eat, then I want to
hear how you got into this mess."
   Over hot bowls of stew, Bill recounted freeing the slaves,
hiding in Darktown, and meeting Orwynn.
   "So, you've been to Darktown," Zorth said. "That's good.
I'm going there in the next few days. I haven't found anyone
who knows much about my litter brother, though someone
recalled that he was with some people from Darktown. I'm
going to talk to someone who may know their names. Per-
haps this Orwynn can help me."
   "I'm sure Orwynn will," Bill said. After a moment,
he added, "Something puzzles me. In the tavern, I heard some-
one speak of the League of the Crimson Crescent. What is it?"
   "Don't put much stock in tavern talk," Quatar said.
"People always conjure up conspiracies."
   "They said it was some kind of resistance movement to
the crown," Bill said.
   "That's what they claim," Zorth said. "Apparently, when
the Arch Regent took over Trillius, a group proclaiming to
be a fellowship of all the creatures formed a league of some
sort. They oppose slavery and advocate the rule of law that
existed under the old monarchy. Supposedly, they have sworn
to overthrow the Regent. Tales describe some very daring
exploits by these rascals who supposedly can magically
appear anywhere in the city. If you believe what you hear,
they pop right out of the ground. Most people don't put
much stock in it. They've been quiet for years. Whatever
members they may have had must now be rotting in the
dungeons."
   "They appear anywhere in the city, as if by magic?"
   "Yes," Quatar said. "No one ever knows where they come
from or how they make their escapes."
   Bill showed them the crescent key he had tucked in his
vest. He unfolded the map of the underground network
beneath the city.
   "Where did you get these?" Zorth whispered.
   Briefly, Bill recounted his journey underground and how
the key opened an entrance way to the alley off the Prancing
Robe.
   "By the Gods." Quatar examined the map wide-eyed.
"Look at this network of tunnels! No wonder they say the
League's members appear as if by magic. Do you have any
idea what the Regent would do to you if you were caught
with these?"
   "Probably the same thing She'd do if She knew I caused
the slave revolt. If I've become Public Enemy Number One,
I don't suppose it can hurt to be friends with all the other
Public Enemies."
   "That map could be useful," Zorth said. "Guard it closely."
   "If Orwynn is a member of this League, I wonder why he
took the risk of giving me these? He didn't seem like a mem-
ber of a clandestine resistance organization."
   "Do you imagine they all walk around in long dark cloaks,
furtively dashing from shadow to shadow?" Zorth asked.
"They need people with wide-ranging sources of informa-
tion. Who better than a tavernkeeper? Members could drop
in for an ale without arousing any interest. Taverns are ex-
cellent listening posts for learning someone's political lean-
ings. After a few ales, a person speaks freely about anything."
   "He never said a word about the League to me. He just
told me to come back to see him day after tomorrow."
   "The League couldn't have survived this many years if
they told everyone they met that they were sworn to over-
throw the crown," Zorth said. "I suspect they are checking
you out through their own means. When you go back, they'll
probably offer you membership."
   "What if I refuse?" Bill asked.
   "Then they'll have to decide whether they want someone
who is aware of their secrets walking loose," Quatar said.
   "That's a cheery thought," Bill said. "Let's not worry about
the League, though. Tell me what you've discovered about
your missing brother."
   "There isn't much to tell," Zorth said. "He arrived in the
city, and for some reason, he met with some people from
Darktown. Tomorrow we'll see if we can find out more. You
must promise to stay here until we return. The streets are
too dangerous for you. I know you don't like being kept
inside, but keep in mind that if you're arrested, they'll link
us to you. Then they'll want us, too."
   "That isn't fair," Bill said. But the next morning, when
the felpurs left in search of news of their missing brother, he
remained behind. He spent the day resting and studying the
map Orwynn had given him. It showed a twisting, turning
underground labyrinth that could pose serious difficulties
for the uninformed. Even with the map, Bill suspected he
might get lost if he strayed from the outlined paths.
   The sound of footsteps outside his room interrupted his
solitude. "He's in there," avoice muttered. "Zorth and Quatar
are keeping him inside their room."
   "Is this wise, Hovra?" a second voice asked.
   "It's our duty, Petra. The filthy creature attacked me. For
no reason at all, it pulled a sword on me and nearly killed
me. Luckily, the creature was so frightened when I called its
bluff that it ran away."
   "That's not the way I recall it," Petra said.
   "Are you questioning me?"
   "I'm just wondering if it's wise for us to break into Zorth's
room."
   "I'm telling you we have to do it for Zorth's own sake.
You saw the way Quatar and Zorth behaved after I chased it
out of the tavern yesterday, as if I'd done something wrong!
They're obviously under the filthy creature's control in some
strange fashion. It's dangerous. I think it may even have had
something to do with that slave revolt. If it can enchant
Zorth, then it's capable of anything."
   "Shouldn't we notify the Warriors' Guild?" Petra whis-
pered. "They're looking for these humans. We ought to let
them handle it."
   "I did," Hovra snapped. "They're waiting for my signal."
   "Why don't we let them take him?"
   "You sound frightened," Hovra said, pulling a key from
his belt as he began fiddling with the door's lock. Bill watched
the door's handle turn. Without hesitating, he pulled open a
window and jumped outside, rolling as he hit the ground.
   "It's getting away," Hovra shouted behind him.
   Pulling the hood close around his face, Bill ran into the
street, ducking into the crowd as a troop of warriors charged
out, responding to Hovra's shouts of alarm. Bill dodged
among the street revelers, trying to put distance between
himself and the Warrior troop. As he ran, he heard shouts of
fear and confusion. A horn sounded. All around him, people
began to run.
   The shouts turned to screams. An arrow skittered along-
side him. A dracon fell before him, another arrow pierced
its side. A rawulf, not far ahead, stumbled as a feathered
shaft penetrated the back of its head.
   "The Warriors are firing into the crowd," a hobbit cried
as it stumbled, a missile puncturing its throat.
   Bill saw a line of riders armed with lances charging around
a corner into the running crowd.
   "They're going to kill everyone on this street just to get
me," he said aloud, as he drew his sword. Next to him, an
arrow punctured a gnome's skull.
   In front of him, the crowd turned before the onslaught of
riders. Confusion reigned as people attempted to flee. The
riders systematically impaled runners with their lances or
simply rode them down, crushing them under their horses'
hooves. Others slashed them with swords or bashed them
with heavy war axes.
  As a rider bore down on Bill, he held his ground. His
sword swung up, fending off the rider's weapon, blocking
the swing. He thrust up into the rider's stomach, spitting
him neatly.
   Bill grasped the saddle and jumped onto the horse's back
He pushed the dying rider off, and with a yank on the reins,
turned the horse and rode away from the slaughter, through
the line of startled riders.
  As he turned a corner into an alley, he heard a shout and
the sound of pounding hooves. He'd been spotted.
   Where the alley emerged into a side street, he leaped off
the horse, turning it loose. He ran into another alley as the
sound of riders approached. He sprinted the alley's length,
hoping the riders would search the street for him.
   Meanwhile, he traced his movements in his mind and
decided he was only a few blocks from the Twisted Tail. He
sheathed his sword and pulled the hood closer around his
face. If he could put a few blocks between himself and the
riders, he might elude them before they blocked off the street
and mounted a house-to-house search.
   Briefly, he considered searching for an entrance to the
labyrinth It might be safer in the caverns beneath the city,
but he was too curious to see how the city could justify the
unprovoked slaughter of its citizens.
A short time later, the Twisted Tail's shadowy interior suited
his need to maintain his anonymity. At a small table in a
darkened corner, he ordered a pitcher of ale, keeping his
face averted from the hobbit that waited on him.
   Nearby, news of the massacre had already become the hot
topic of conversation. A rawulf told a group sitting at a table,
"I was standing at the door when a Warrior told old Ironsides
that the humans had staged an uprising on the street. They
started killing anyone they saw. It was a bloodbath-just
terrible-women, children. Those escaped slaves from the slave
market did it. They murdered the Warriors sent after them
yesterday, stealing their clothes and armor, then launched
their attack in broad daylight just a few blocks from here.
Some people mistook them for Warriors, if you can imag-
ine. They just began killing everyone in the street. Luckily,
a mounted column was nearby and managed to get most
of them."
  An elf said, "I saw it, and I saw Warriors on horseback. I
was walking down the street when a crowd came running
this way. Warriors were chasing the people...and they were
not humans or escaped slaves. The troops shot arrows into
the crowd, and those on horseback lined up and charged at
full gallop with their lances down. They slaughtered every-
one, without any warning. I hightailed it here as quick as I
could, to get off the street. It didn't seem too healthy to stand
around. I doubt they want witnesses."
  "That's ridiculous," interrupted a dwarf. "The Guild
Council may be high-handed, but they'd never sanction that.
There's no profit in it. They need tourists. You can't let armed
troops run amok, slaughtering your customers in broad day-
light. It's bad for business."
  "Those weren't Guild troops," the elf retorted. "They wore
the Arch Regent's colors. I doubt whether She cares what
the Council thinks."
  "You're saying She ordered it?" the rawulf asked.
  "Who else would dare? The city's been in an uproar since
that killing in the slave market. Everyone is searching for
this League of the Crimson Crescent. I suspect what hap-
pened had to do with that."
  "If it was the Regent, it may not be wise to question the
official version," the rawulf said. "You never know who might
be listening. She has ears everywhere."
  "I don't care," the elf said stubbornly. "I'm tired of won-
dering every time I open my mouth whether I'm going to
feel a tap on my shoulder. It's getting ridiculous."
  "You can say what you want," the rawulf said, rising
from the table, "but I'd prefer you didn't say it around me. I've
never seen the castle dungeons, and I have no desire to do so."
   "It's people like you that make it possible for this to
happen," the elf said hotly. "You're so afraid that someone
might realize you have a thought that you just close your
eyes to everything. You parrot the official line. And if any-
one opens your eyes to the truth, even for just a moment,
you run away from it."
   "Say what you like," the rawulf answered. "I have a wife
and children to think about."
   "What kind of life is in store for them?" the elf demanded.
"What will they think when they grow up and realize that
their father was too afraid to do what was right?"
   "What's right? All you're doing is shooting your fool mouth
off, coming very close to treason. I came here to watch
Cobran kill this challenger tonight. I don't want to talk about
politics. We don't know what happened today. I don't
care what you think you saw. I say, let the Guild Council
handle it."
   When the elf started to respond, the dwarf shoved him
off the bench. "No more nonsense. I want something to eat,
then I want a good seat for the fight. I have money riding on
Cobran."
   The elf picked himself off the floor and stalked away in
silence.
   "Stupid fool. He's got more mouth than sense."
   "What if he's right, though?" a hobbit who had remained
quiet at the table asked. "What if the Arch Regent did order
troops to slaughter people in the streets?"
   "What if She did? Will it make you feel any better know-
ing that as you rot inside Her dungeon? It makes no sense to
meddle in these affairs. Worse things have happened and
will happen again. The only thing you can do is make sure
they don't happen to you. That's what that elf needs to real-
ize. You can't make a difference. No one can. That's why I'm
not going to worry about it. I'm going to enjoy the fight
tonight."
   Bill considered the dwarfs words as he sat nursing his
ale. Could one person make a difference? He'd freed four-
teen slaves yesterday. He'd made a difference in their lives-
and indirectly, he'd cost lives today. He'd set off a massive
massacre, causing anguish and agony for untold numbers of
people. He suspected that even more would die as the Em-
pire relentlessly searched for him.
   Did everyone who had ever defied a totalitarian regime
suffer these same misgivings? Did he have the right to jeop-
ardize others? Those who suffered probably didn't think so.
Those who had been murdered wouldn't think so. The great
majority probably preferred being left alone to enjoy Trillius'
illicit delights.
   Yet today's outrages had upset the pleasant facade that
made it so easy to ignore the more brutal aspects of this
society. Despite whether he had the right to upset that false
tranquillity, Bill knew he had no choice. He had no way to
change what had happened. They would continue search-
ing for him, and they'd kill him if they caught him.
   The conversations he'd overheard here and at the Pranc-
ing Robe showed that many citizens knew they were lulling
themselves with a false sense of safety. If the powers
that controlled the city were willing to massacre their own
citizens in broad daylight just to get one man, was anyone
in Trillius really safe?



                 Chapter Six

Bill decided the apathetic citizens of Trillius needed another
shock. When the waiter came back, he ordered a large din-
ner and a candle. Keeping his face to the dark corner, he
studied the tunnel map as he ate. This just might work, he
thought to himself.
   Rising from the table, he pulled his cloak and hood tight
around him. There was no reason to let anyone know that
Public Enemy Number One was on the prowl. As he left the
inn, his eyes darted along the street. No one paid any atten-
tion to him. Checking his map, he confirmed the nearest
entrance to the caverns.
   He walked to a nearby alley. This should be the place.
Despite a meticulous search, however, he found nothing that
looked right, no outline of a door, no crack in the wall. He
touched the bricks, examining them one by one.
   As he was about to give up, his fingers slipped into a groove
in the brick. He looked it over carefully, but saw only paral-
lel lines. His fingers, however, felt something different than
his eyes saw. They traced the familiar quarter moon shape.
It must be disguised with some sort of optical illusion, he
reasoned.
   He glanced up and down the alley, double-checking to
ensure he was still alone. Reassured, he inserted the crescent
key and pulled, but the ancient lock resisted. He tugged
harder as he jimmied the key, until, slowly it gave way, and a
door opened before him.
   Drawing his sword, he slipped into the cool darkness,
pulling the door closed behind him. With no torch, he had
to trust the drawing he'd memorized during his dinner. He
stepped carefully, feeling for any loose stones or holes in the
floor. He felt along the wall for the next crescent indenta-
tion. "It's got to be here," he muttered.
   "What does?" a voice in the darkness asked.
   "Who's that?"
   "A friend," the voice answered. "You did me a service,
and I've been watching you. You nearly lost me when you
got on that horse. However, I'd heard that you frequent the
Twisted Tail, and sure enough, you went there after losing
those Warriors."
   "You've been following me?"
   "Don't make it sound so sinister," the voice responded. "I
was impressed that you discovered how the key works. Most
people depend too heavily on their sight. They are unwill-
ing to trust their other senses."
   "Who are you?" Bill demanded.
   "In good time, my good man. I only now chose to an-
nounce myself when it became clear that, at the rate you're
going, you'd never find the key hole you seek. You miscounted
your steps."
   "How do you know what I'm looking for?"
   "How else could I have followed you in here?" replied the
voice from the shadows. "Take ten steps to your left."
   "Why should I trust you?"
   "Why should you not? If I were your enemy, I could have
turned you in any time today. If I wanted to harm you, what
better opportunity would I have than a few moments ago
when you were completely unaware of my presence."
   Bill considered this, then began edging to the left, count-
ing ten steps, using his sword for a staff to test the floor for
hazards.
   "Why don't you just tell me who you are?" he said.
   "In good time," the voice said. "For now, content your-
self to know someone is looking out for you. Move your
right hand slightly to the left."
   Bill's fingers felt the familiar crescent indentation.
   "When you need me most, I'll be there," the voice said.
   Bill fumbled with the key and jerked open the entrance.
As torchlight entered the passageway, he sensed that he was
again alone.
   As he stepped through the doorway into a darkened room,
he heard the clink of ale glasses overhead and smiled. He
was in the basement of the Twisted Tail.
   After closing the passage door, he felt for the crescent
indentation and marked the spot in his mind. He might be
in a hurry when he returned.
   As he walked through the darkened hallway, he could see
the ring where the evening's fight would take place. His steps
quickened as he approached the arena. Only a few people
had taken seats in the front row. An empty seat awaited him
next to a pillar.
   All around, the crowd's excitement mounted. A steady
stream of people took their seats. "I've bet a lot on Cobran
tonight," said a dracon next to Bill. "I'm counting on him
to finish off Yobo in the first round."
   By the time a stout dwarf sauntered into the ring, the
amphitheater's seats were filled.
   "I hope old Ironsides doesn't waste time talking tonight,"
the dracon muttered. "The slug always takes his time up
there, hoping that if he talks long enough, everybody will
get thirsty and hungry and buy more of his slop."
   The evening began with what Ironsides called "the pre-
liminaries."
   A young dracon battled a scarred rawulf who had seen
better days. The dracon made short work of him, drawing
hisses from the disappointed crowd.
   "They always do this," the dracon announced at Bill's
elbow. "They give these young bucks easy marks to build up
their records. The bettors just look at their win-loss records.
They don't bother to check out what kind of hacks they
butchered. Then, they're surprised when their challenger with
the so-called thirty-to-one record gets cut down the minute
he steps into a ring with a real fighter."
   The second bout of the evening featured a young
lizardman against a faerie.
   "I like these novelty fights," the dracon said, prodding
the silent Bill. "You'd think a lizardman could crush one of
those little winged buggers. But you can't crush what you
can't grab, and those little faeries are fast."
   The lizardman carried a sword. He paced the ring, pad-
ding back and forth, trying to back the faerie into a corner.
The faerie was armed with a wand.
   "Those wands don't look like much, but they can whack
you quick and hard," the dracon observed.
   The lizardman dashed in for a quick thrust, hoping to
end the fight quickly. Like lightning, the faerie dodged the
blow, parried, and slashed across the lizardman's eyes. Tem-
porarily blinded, the lizardman backtracked hurriedly, rip-
ping the air with his sword to keep the faerie at a distance.
   The tiny sprite pursued, diving low to deliver a nasty crack
on the lizardman's knee. The injured lizardman hobbled,
balancing on one leg, as he futilely ripped the air with his
blade.
   The crowd applauded, hooting with enjoyment as the
faerie darted in close to slash his face, once, twice, three times.
   The dracon beside Bill let loose a huge barnyard laugh.
"Faeries don't hit all that hard, but those wands deliver their
own smack. People think faeries are soft and cuddly, but
they can be cruel when they've got you down."
   As if for emphasis, the faerie cracked the lizardman on
his remaining good knee. He collapsed but rolled to his feet
again in a fluid movement, catching the faerie off guard.
When the lizard suddenly came in for a killing stroke, the
sprite found it had stepped too close. The lizardman man-
aged to smack it with the side of his sword, sending it sailing
across the ring.
   "That could be all she wrote," the dracon said.
   The creature's wings slumped, their edges crumpled. It
rose to its feet with difficulty. The lizardman limped toward
it, favoring one leg. When within a few feet, he again swat-
ted the faerie with the side of his sword, knocking it end—
over-end across the mat.
   The faerie slid into a corner, still desperately hanging onto
its wand.
   Applause exploded from the crowd, which approved of
the victor's decision to play with his opponent now that the
end had come. As he stooped to pick it up, however, the
faerie jabbed its wand into its attacker's eye, then bashed the
lizardman's skull several times for emphasis. The lizardman
shrieked in pain, stumbling backward, senseless from the
blows. The faerie followed, relentlessly cracking the
lizardman's bad leg as he tried to back away.
   "It can't fly," the dracon said. "It figures it'll bring the big
guy down to his level so he can finish him off."
   The crowd, on its feet, applauded wildly, caught up in
the bloodlust as the lizardman delivered a punishing kick to
the faerie, sending it sailing across the mat. With a blood-
thirsty roar of anger, he took two steps and dove after the
faerie, landing squarely on it.
   Rolling off, he chopped twice with his sword, severing its
crushed wings. The faerie screamed a sharp keening cry. The
lizardman pounded its head with his clenched fist, silencing
it. Without hesitation, the lizardman chopped again with
his sword.
   In expectant silence, the crowd watched as he slashed again
and again, cutting the once delicate creature to pieces. A few
members of the crowd began clapping in unison with the
swings of the lizardman's blade, and soon the entire crowd
clapped along with the rhythmic thrusts.
   The lizardman grabbed the faerie by its torso, lifted it to
its mouth, and bit off its head. The crowd cheered. Bill felt
nauseous.
   "That young fellow has a future," the dracon said. "He
knows how to entertain a crowd. They'll be talking about
this one all week. I bet everybody here was rooting for the
little guy, but the lizardman really charmed them.
   "Most of these youngsters just hack and slash," the dracon
went on. "They don't take any chances. They protect them-
selves, waiting for the other guy to make a mistake. They
don't show any spirit. This fellow gets mad, he gets even. He'll
be a big draw if he's half as good with someone his own size.
   "You sure are quiet." The dracon nudged Bill. "I hope
I'm not bothering you." He nudged again. "Well, am I both-
ering you? I just thought I'd advise you on the finer points."
   Bill was saved from responding by Ironsides' reappear-
ance on stage. "I know what you've been waiting to see
tonight," the dwarf shouted. "Are you ready?"
   "Bring on Cobran," an elf shouted.
   "Who?" Ironsides teased.
   "Cobran!" several people yelled.
   "Are you talking about the Empire's Champion?"
   "Cobran!"
   "You mean the undefeated winner of 257 matches?"
   "Cobran! Cobran!" the crowd shrieked.
   "Do you mean the most dangerous and powerful crea-
ture alive today?"
   "Cobran! Cobran! Cobran!" the crowd chanted in a frenzy.
   "Bring him up here," Ironsides said.
   The crowd went wild, shouting Cobran's name in unison
as the powerfully built lizardman Bill had seen before climbed
onto the stage. Cobran deliberately ignored the crowd,
though the amphitheater rang with his name. As the chant
grew in intensity, his arms-along with his scimitar-rose to
acknowledge the homage. He repeatedly thrust the blade
into the air, delighting the audience as he parried and feinted
with an imaginary foe, dodging faster and faster to the
rhythm of the crowd's chant.
   Stopping abruptly, the lizardman raised his blade over
his head with both hands as the crowd's shouting reached a
crescendo.
   Now, Yobo entered the ring. His snakelike mouth opened,
and his tongue darted out as if to taste Cobran's presence.
In the back of the arena, a few voices shouted his name.
Cobran glared in their direction, tensing, as if he might spring
into the audience to silence them.
   "He's a mean customer," the dracon whispered to Bill. "I
once saw him go into the crowd after someone who ticked
him off. Made short work of him, too."
   With a bellow from both corners, the two reptiles squared
off. Yobo moved quickly, swinging a sword in one hand and
an ax in the other. Cobran's two-handed blade crashed down
on him. Yobo parried with the ax and tried to jab with his
free blade. Cobran anticipated the maneuver. Swinging his
sword free from the ax, he blocked the thrust. Yobo swung
his ax, but Cobran blocked it with his sword.
   As the two weapons crashed in mid-air, Cobran's blade
cracked and fell from his sword's handle. The champion
stared in surprise. Yobo bellowed in triumph, shaking his
two weapons. He moved in quickly, swinging his ax and
jabbing with his sword, throwing the champion on the
defensive.
   Cobran backpedaled, trying to keep his distance from the
sword Yobo used to herd him into the corner. The challenger's
plan was obvious. He'd use the greater reach afforded by his
blade to keep his competitor off-balance. When he found
an opening, he'd use his ax to fell Cobran like a log.
   The two circled the ring, looking for an opening until
Yobo grew tired of the cat-and-mouse game. Flourishing
his sword above his head, he swung down on Cobran. The
champion stepped into the swing, using his sword handle to
block the blow. His other muscled arm darted out, grabbing
Yobo's ax arm.
   The two wrestled until Cobran faltered. Yobo kneed him
in the stomach, sending him staggering back. Following
quickly, Yobo swung his ax. Still stunned from the last blow,
Cobran stepped under the swing. Nonetheless, Yobo man-
aged to rap his skull with the hilt of his weapon. Cobran
staggered, shook his head, lurched unsteadily.
   Yobo thrust his sword. Cobran intercepted with his sword
handle. But Yobo struck a glancing blow to his opponent's
forehead, sending the champion tottering backwards.
   Cobran hesitated in the corner, his head swaying as Yobo
played to the crowd while he readied himself to advance for
the kill.
   "It's show time," Bill said to the dracon as he jumped to
his feet. He vaulted into the ring. Yobo spotted him as he
leaped the ropes. The crowd did, too. Bill heard starded gasps
as he faced the surprised challenger.
   With a cry of rage, Yobo bore down on him. Bill drew his
own sword. "Don't fail me now." Meanwhile, his heartbeat
took off.
   His blade met Yobo's with, a clang. He stepped aside as
Yobo swung his ax at him. He nearly dodged the weapon,
positioning himself between the reeling Cobran and the
enraged Yobo.
   "Cobran!" he shouted to the confused creature against
the ring's railings. "Try not to move too much! They've poi-
soned you."
   Bewildered, Cobran tried to focus his eyes on his rescuer.
"Who poison Cobran?"
   Yobo's blade darted dangerously close to Bill's midsec-
tion, interrupting the conversation as Bill deflected it with
his sword. He spun, flicking his weapon near the lizardman's
eyes to keep him at a distance.
   Cobran seemed on the verge of collapse. Bill knew that if
he didn't act quickly his efforts would be in vain.
   Bill lunged at Yobo, who circled to the side in order to
get closer to Cobran. "Cobran's mine," he hissed, his tongue
darting out. "I taste a human. After I chop you down like a
weed, I'll cut out your heart. I'll peel your skin and make a
cap with it."
   Bill dodged a swipe from Yobo's ax and advanced toward
his opponent, stabbing at his throat. Yobo brought his ax
down in a jarring blow, but Bill parried it. The force of the
swipe partially numbed his arm, however. He jabbed his
sword into the lizardman's forearm, cutting a deep gash in
the leathery skin.
   Yobo screamed as his ax fell from his hand. Recovering
with a shriek of rage, he swung his sword in a wide arc that
Bill neatly blocked. Bill darted forward, using the opening
Yobo had left. He thrust, surprising Yobo as his blade slipped
past the lizardman's defense and pierced his armor, impaling
his midsection.
   Stepping back from his shocked antagonist, Bill plunged
his blade a second time into the lizardman's chest.
   Yobo stood motionless, gasping both with pain and sur-
prise. Tottering toward Bill, he stepped too close and quickly
found Bill's blade slashing across his throat.
   The crowd continually jeered Bill-until he chopped Yobo's
arm. They were surprised and chagrined that an unknown
could even draw blood against a fighter of Yobo's prowess.
When Bill actually stabbed the challenger, some cheered. As
they watched Yobo stagger back, blood pouring from Bill's
final thrust, they began applauding wildly.
   Bill seized the moment to pull his hood back and reveal
his face.
   "He's a human! A human is the new champion!"
   Yobo collapsed, blood gurgling from his mouth. With-
out waiting for the crowd's next reaction, Bill ran to Cobran.
He grabbed the confused champion by the arm. "If you want
to live, come with me."
   "You champion?"
   "We've got to get out of here," Bill said. He yanked the
champions arm, but found it was like yanking a wall. He
yanked again. Dazed, Cobran came with him, stumbling to
the ropes lining the ring. "We've got to jump it," Bill shouted.
   Bill vaulted the ropes, with Cobran closely following him
into the dimly lit hallway.
   Behind them, the crowd rose to its feet, some cheering
him. Others simply stared, their mouths agape in bewilder-
ment. Some, enraged, shouted that the match had been
rigged.
   Bill grinned. "I wonder how the gamblers will pay off
after a match like this one?" he muttered. Cobran seemed
too bewildered to understand.
   The grin quickly left Bill's face at the sight of several dozen
heavily armed warriors, weapons drawn, advancing toward
them. They were close enough to cut him off before he could
reach the passageway.
   "I don't think they're coming to crown me," he said.
   A blinding light exploded in the faces of the warriors,
dazzling them and leaving them sightless. Bill blinked, and
his own vision returned instantly, though the soldiers and
the crowd seemed to remain dazed.
   "Maybe we can make it." He pulled Cobran along with
him.
   "Why you save Cobran?" the lizardman asked.
   "We don't have time to talk right now." Bill urged him
down the corridor.
   "Where do you think you're going?" a vaguely familiar
voice shouted. Bill spun and recognized one of the two
dracons who had plotted to poison Cobran.
   "You've ruined me," the dracon snarled. "I've lost every-
thing." He seemed to recognize Bill. "You were in here yes-
terday. You weren't passed out, you were listening to us. I
should have killed you when I had the chance. I'll correct
that mistake now." He unsheathed his sword.
   "Cobran, this is the guy who poisoned you and rigged
your sword so it would fall apart," Bill said.
   "Me kill." With a spurt of energy, Cobran darted from
Bill's grasp. Lurching toward the dracon, he grabbed the
surprised creature's throat. Bill heard the dracons neck snap.
   Bill fitted the crescent key into the indentation and
yanked, opening the door. "Let's go, Cobran," he said as he
stepped into the secret passage.
   "Cobran got him." He staggered after Bill into the hole
in the wall. As the sound of running feet neared them, Bill
found the keyhole and disappeared into the labyrinth.



               Chapter Seven

"They'll have fun figuring out how we escaped," Bill said.
"Come on, we've got to find you some help, Cobran."
   "Cobran feel funny." The lizardman lurched down the
dark passage. His arms flailed as he lost his balance.
   Bill paused to steady him. "Lean on me."
   "Why we run away?" Cobran halted suddenly. "Cobran
never runs. Cobran's enemies run, not Cobran."
   "I'm sure that's usually true," Bill said, "but you're not
feeling well right now."
   "Yes," he agreed, putting more of his weight on Bill for
emphasis. "No understand. No like."
   "It's the poison. That's why you couldn't fight Yobo. They
rigged your sword to snap and slipped you a poison so you
couldn't defend yourself. If we don't find some kind of anti-
dote, it'll kill you."
   "Cowards kill with poison. Cobran find them, smash
them, pound them, tear arms off!"
   "I believe you will," Bill said, helping the husky lizardman
down the passage. The lizardman grew heavier with each
step.
   Bill concentrated, trying to recall the map. His plan had
worked perfectly. He'd given the people a shock from which
they would not soon recover. They'd have a tough time rec-
onciling their attitude toward humans with what they'd seen
tonight. Every time they looked at one of their human slaves
cowering before their whips, they'd think about what they'd
seen tonight and wonder. He smiled. Only one question re-
mained: What was he supposed to do now? It was clear
Cobran had taken a lethal dose of something.
   Bill considered his options. The Prancing Robe was out.
Zorth could help, but the inn would be under surveillance.
Orwynn seemed his only hope-if Cobran could walk
that far.
   "Why you help Cobran? No one help Cobran. You kill
Yobo, but you can't be champion if you not kill Cobran."
   "I don't want to be champion. At the Twisted Tail
yesterday, I heard a plot to kill you. They wanted you to
throw the fight, but you wouldn't, so they rigged your sword
and poisoned you. I decided to try to help. Simple as that."
   "No one ever help Cobran before." The lizardman clum-
sily patted Bill on the arm. Then his foot slipped, and he
fell, taking Bill with him.
   Bill tried to help him up, but Cobran couldn't rise.
"Cobran tired."
   "He'll die if he goes to sleep," a familiar voice spoke in
the darkness. "That would be a pity. You took such a chance
getting into that ring. Cobran himself would have killed you
if he could have."
   "You again!"  Bill shouted. It was the voice of whoever
had helped him find the Twisted Tail.
   "Did you notice that little burst of light that halted those
warriors? I gave you one of the great exits of all time. They'll
be talking about it for years. I told you I'd be there when
you needed me. They're still searching that corridor, talking
about how a human vanished into thin air. They think you're
some kind of magician who walks through walls."
   "If I was a magician," Bill said, "I'd know how to cure
Cobran. He's dying."
   "I can cure him," the voice said. "Pour this down his throat."
   Something hit Bill in the chest and fell clanging to the
floor. Bill fumbled for it.
   "Perhaps a little light might help," the voice said.
   A soft glow appeared a few feet from Bill. It emanated
from a thin wand held by a tiny bearded man, wearing a
cape.
   "You're the faerie from the Prancing Robe. The one the
dracon grabbed."
   "And you and your friends helped me out. I was testing
you. He couldn't have grabbed me if I hadn't allowed it. It's
a good thing you and your felpur friends convinced him to
let me go. I was tempted to incinerate the imbecile, though
I've found that advertising my abilities can be extremely
unhealthy. Now hurry and pour that vial down Cobran's
throat."
   The tiny cylinder was easy to find in the wand's glow. Bill
uncorked it and poured it between Cobran's lips, even though
the white color around the lizardman's mouth, like the
underbelly of a fish, repulsed him.
   "Who are you?" Bill asked the stranger.
   "They call me Zynaryxx," the faerie said. "Orwynn sent
me to look after you. He's quite taken with you. He told me
to size you up for myself. I must say, he's right. I've never
seen anyone upset this town so terribly and in only a few
days. Quite remarkable."
   "If Orwynn sent you, you must be part of this League of
the Crimson Crescent."
   "Bright too! Orwynn assured me he said nothing about
the League to you, but he underestimated you. Yes, I must
agree with him, the League needs you."
   "I'm not sure whether I'm interested in joining," Bill said.
   "We don't force anyone to join us. I assume that you'll
keep our little secret."
   "I will," Bill said. "But I'm surprised you're so willing to
trust me. You don't even know me."
   "I know enough," the faerie said. "I've watched you closely.
Besides, I think you'll join the League. After all, you agree
with our aims. And whether you like it or not, everyone in
Trillius already believes you're part of it. With the whole city
searching for you, the League is the only organization that can
help you. And you'll need us to rescue your felpur friends."
   "What's happened to them?"
   Zynaryxx shook his head. "You were in their room when
the warriors were sent in after you. When they didn't catch
you, they kept the room under tight watch, hoping you'd
return. You didn't come back, but your friends did. I suspect
they're being questioned about you right now."
   "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Bill demanded, jump-
ing to his feet.
   "It happened shortly before Cobran's fight. I had some-
one watching the inn with instructions to intercept Zorth
and Quatar. Unfortunately, he missed them. By the time he
got to the Twisted Tail to tell me, they'd been taken in, and
you were in the ring. I caught up with you as soon as the
passage was unoccupied for a moment."
   Cobran stirred. He seemed to be regaining his color.
   "Our lizard friend is coming around," the faerie said. "He'll
need this potion to help him recover his strength. And I suspect
we'll need his help to free your friends. It's a restorative.
He suffered quite a bit of damage from that poison."
   "Are you some kind of magician?"
   "You mean these healing potions? I just buy them from
priests I know. Usually, I don't go in much for healing. My
studies took me in an entirely different direction. I guess
you could call me a magician, although we prefer the term
mage. I've spent most of my life studying the intricacies of
thaumaturgy. It occasionally comes in handy in the pursuit
of my other studies."
   "Which are?"
   "I've been studying the Empire. That's one of the reasons
I'm interested in you. I suspect that the Empire is growing
quite curious about you."
   "Me?"
   "Don't play dumb with me. You've set off a slave revolt,
escaped the Warriors' Guild on three separate occasions, been
proclaimed the greatest warrior in the Kingdom, and rein-
vigorated the only existing conspiracy against the Empire.
That's not bad for a few days in town. But the Arch Regent
becomes quite concerned when Her control is threatened.
So we must move quickly."
   Bill said, "Granted, I've experienced an interesting few
days here, but I can't imagine how anyone could consider
me a threat to this Empire. I've seen the kind of control they
exercise. I don't care about politics; I don't really care about
Trillius. I've just seen people in trouble and did what I could
to help them."  He realized that he felt a  bit ashamed
saying this, for there had been a time when he ignored
people in trouble.
   "That's the point," the faerie said. "The Empire's entire
strategy for maintaining control has been based on convinc-
ing its citizens not to get involved. They keep their noses
out of what you call politics. Avert their eyes, glad it's not
them being hauled away. Trillius is a city of a thousand en-
tertainments, designed specifically to keep the populace di-
verted from what's occurring right under their noses.
   "But you've rubbed it in their faces," Zynaryxx went on.
"To make matters worse, the authorities can't catch you. You
have no idea how much that must grate on the Arch Regent.
She's unaccustomed to not getting Her way. The people of
this city believe that anyone who challenges Her gets crushed
immediately, without pity. When they see you undermining
Her authority—a human, supposedly the lowest of the low-
they wonder if they might reach out and help someone they
care about.
   "Believe me, She's thinking quite a bit about you. She
can't afford to have you helping people. It could start a trend.
   "Meanwhile, your friends are being held by the Warriors'
Guild. Once She learns they're connected to you, She'll or-
der the council to turn them over to Her. That's why we
have to move," the faerie said, leading the way down the
corridor.
   Bill roused Cobran and helped him to his feet. "This isn't
the way to Darktown," he said to the mage.
   "We've got to get to your friends."
   "What are we going to do? Walk in and say, 'Release my
friends?'"
   "This, the man who leaps into the ring of a champion-
ship fight to save someone he's never even met, someone as
likely to kill him as to look at him, criticizing my plan be-
fore he even hears it."
   "What's your plan?"
   "All in good time, my friend."
   Cobran had recovered his strength. He seemed groggy,
but his step was sure as they made their way through the
labyrinth. The faerie led them on a twisting path, up and
down passageways, through doors Bill didn't realize were
doors until Zynaryxx opened them.
   "Are you sure you know where you're going? I've got my
map if you want to check."
   The faerie paused briefly. "Who do you think drew that
map?"
   Bill considered the time it must have taken to gain such
knowledge of Trillius' underground. "You said I'd need to
join your League if I wanted its help to free my friends,"
he said.
   "We don't have time to bring in more of the League right
now. Too many of the members would waste the entire night
debating the issue. By the time they had decided, your friends
would be in the hands of the Arch Regent. Then, we'd have
a debate about whether to risk Her anger."
   "Why are you helping me? It can't be healthy for you to
challenge this Council."
   "But it'll be fun," Zynaryxx said. "Orwynn got me to
thinking that the League really has grown too cautious. We
sit back talking, talking, endlessly debating about the right
time to act, while conditions worsen, our enemies grow more
powerful, and the people become more listless. Organiza-
tions rot when they only talk about their noble principles.
The League needs to act if it's to give Trillius any real hope.
If we show you can strike with impunity, the citizens will
rally. We'll gain recruits and strike fear in the hearts of the
Arch Regent's minions. The real power of any despot is the
power to convince the people that they have no hope."
   "But why help my friends and me?" Bill persisted.
   "It's precisely your friends we must help," Zynaryxx said.
"For years now, the people have heard that humans are the
lowest of all creatures, little better than orcs, betrayers of the
people, the foulest scum ever created, deserving of enslave-
ment. Imagine the stir when the whole city talks about how
a human saved a lizardman and won the championship.
Think what they'll say when they hear that this same hu-
man, along with a lizardman and a faerie, risked their lives
to rescue two felpurs. The very idea! I couldn't dream up a
better piece of propaganda to demonstrate the fellowship of
all creatures."
   Bill looked at Cobran, who hadn't spoken for some time.
"Cobran, we will soon face some difficult fighting. Do you
want to be involved? We could take you up to the street."
   "Cobran great fighter." His eyes sparkled at the idea.
"Cobran go with Bill."
   "If you do, you'll be in trouble. They'll hunt you. You
won't be able to go back in the ring again. The city will be
angry that you helped me. They won't let you be champion
again."
   The lizardman impatiently shook his head. "Cobran
champion. Always champion. No one tell Cobran what to
do.
   "Hunt Cobran!" he snorted. "Cobran hunt hunters.
Cobran kill hunters."
   "I don't think you understand," Bill said. "The whole city
is after me. If you stay with us, they'll be after you, too.
Everywhere you go, they'll be after you."
   Cobran looked at Bill impassively, his reptilian eyes un-
blinking. "Cobran was dying. Cobran have no friends. People
hurt Cobran. Try to kill Cobran. Bill help Cobran. Save
Cobran. Cobran help friend Bill. People try to hurt Bill must
kill Cobran first. Cobran not easy to kill."
   As if tired from such a long speech, the lizardman be-
came silent, satisfied that he'd settled the issue.
   "Remarkable," the faerie said. "Quite remarkable indeed."
   A half hour later, he halted, motioning for silence.
"Through here," he said in a low whisper. "The anteroom
off the Council's private dungeon. The guards hang out here
while the inquisitors perform their work."
   "The inquisitors?"
   "At times, the Council demands answers, and people de-
cline to cooperate. The inquisitors have ways that help loosen
tongues, although they tend to loosen other joints and ma-
jor organs, as well. When we go through, we'll need to move
quickly. The element of surprise will be our major weapon.
Don't hesitate. Just go directly into the passageway."
   Zynaryxx pulled out his own crescent device and inserted
it into a featureless wall. He tugged twice, but nothing hap-
pened. Bill grabbed it and tugged, but found no response
despite his own exertions.
   "Cobran help." Grasping the device, the lizardman pulled,
straining motionless against the rock. With a snap, a door-
way opened into darkness.
   The trio stepped quietly into the corridor as Zynaryxx
extinguished his wand. "I don't want to let them know we're
coming," he whispered.
   They followed the dark passageway, the stillness inter-
rupted only by their breathing and padded footsteps. After
several steps, Bill felt the faerie pause in front of him. "Get
ready," Zynaryxx said. "Keep your eyes closed when we first
enter. When I say go, count to three before you open your
eyes."
   "Let's go," he whispered.
   Even with his eyes tightly closed, Bill felt the brightness
exploding in the chamber they entered. He drew his sword
as he opened his eyes. The room was better suited to ban-
quets than to a lounge for heavily armed men. Tattered tap-
estries hung on the ancient granite. Sputtering torches stood
in holders attached to the walls, though the warriors didn't
need the torches. They had obviously been blinded by the
faerie mage's fireworks.
   Bill dashed through the chamber, ignoring the stunned
warriors groping blindly for their weapons, shouting for as-
sistance. Cobran paused, hauled one guard from his seat with
one muscled arm, while yanking the guard's sword from his
sheath. The lizardman smiled as he examined the blade he
had taken, dropping the guard back into his seat before ca-
sually backhanding him with the sword. The guard slumped
from the blow, his head lolled back in an unnatural way.
   At the end of the chamber, a closed door barred the way.
Bill pushed and pulled at its handle, until Cobran shoved
him aside.
   Putting his shoulder to it, the lizardman thrust himself
against it, ramming it the way a linebacker crashes into a
tackling dummy. Hinges snapped as it collapsed into the
inner room.
   The warriors' cries had evidently alerted those inside. As
Bill followed Cobran, he could see Zorth and Quatar
strapped to tables with wheels that were apparently used to
stretch apart the tables. Five black-masked inquisitors pulled
wicked-looking sabers out as Bill and Cobran stormed into
the room.
   Cobran smiled, his tongue snaking out as if to taste their
presence. "Cobran tastes fear," he said, eyeing them.
   Pointing his sword at his adversaries, the lizardman ad-
vanced on them, studying them warily as he positioned him-
self in front of the captives.
   Bill ran to Quatar, slashing the leather thongs binding
her wrists to the rack.
   "You tamper with prisoners of the Crown," an inquisitor
said. "We have received orders that they are to be transferred
to the Arch Regent. You interrupt us at your peril."
   "Fool," snapped another inquisitor. "This is the human
we're looking for!"
   The inquisitor stepped toward Cobran. "You have no rea-
son to consort with a human," he said. "Put your weapon
down as we subdue him, and we will remember your loyalty."
   Snorting derisively, Cobran darted forward, plunging his
sword into the inquisitor's chest. "Good blade. Cobran like,"
the lizardman said as he pulled the bloody weapon from the
masked man's chest.
   With a startled yelp, the remaining four inquisitors at-
tacked Cobran, wildly swinging their sabers. While Bill
slashed the thongs tying Quatar's legs, Cobran deftly repelled
the attackers, slashing, thrusting, parrying with the ease of a
gladiator.
   The inquisitors, who were used to their adversaries lying
helpless while they practiced their evil craft, clumsily swung
at Cobran. With snakelike grace, the lizardman strode into
their midst. His blade flashed in the torchlight as it pierced
the mask of one inquisitor, puncturing his eye.
   As the creature screamed in pain, cutting its hands as it
clawed at the blade that had pierced its eye, Cobran seemed
to smile. The lizardman drove it deeper into the socket as
the inquisitor collapsed.
   Whipping the blade out of his victim and to the side,
Cobran slashed at an advancing inquisitor. "Black masks hurt
Bill's friends. Not fight fair. Tie up friends." Cobran shifted
as he darted in toward the inquisitor, his sword slashing high,
forcing the masked man back against the wall.
   Another inquisitor tried to rescue his colleague, leaping
at Cobran from behind. The gladiator spun, his sword flash-
ing with deadly accuracy, splitting his assailant's skull, cleav-
ing it to the neck.
   Turning back to his prey still frozen against the wall
Cobran feinted, advancing with deadly intent. The inquisi-
tor looked like some rodent paralyzed in fright, its eyes fas-
tened on the lizardman's unblinking snakelike eyes. Cobran's
tongue slithered out.
   As Bill freed Zorth from his bonds, Cobran's sword hacked
off the arm of his victim. His sword again shot out, carving
off the other arm. The lizardman smiled as he spitted the
inquisitor's abdomen and watched it collapse on the floor,
writhing in agony.
   A fifth and final remaining inquisitor shrieked in sheer
terror as Cobran turned to face it. He shouted. "She will
find you. She will punish you. You will experience agonies
beyond your imagination when She is done with you."
   Cobran's sword danced out, knocking the inquisitor's
blade from its hand.
   "You will pay dearly," it shouted.
   Cobran dropped his sword. The inquisitor paused,
stunned. The gladiator stepped closer to the masked man,
his muscled arm reaching out to yank his adversary off his
feet. Effortlessly, he picked him up with both hands raised
him over his head, knelt with fluid grace, and dropped the
inquisitor. Bill could hear the inquisitor's back snap as it
smashed against the lizardman's knee.
   "How did you find us?" Zorth asked, attempting to rise
from the table, his fearful eyes fixed on Cobran. Tenderly
rubbing their wrists and ankles, the two felpurs stood up
from the torture devices.
   "Again, we owe you our lives," Quatar said. Her nostrils
quivered and her jaws bunched, as if she were trying not to
wretch.
   "We don't have time to talk right now," Bill said. "Can
you walk?"
   The two felpurs nodded, gingerly taking a few steps be-
fore collapsing on the floor.
   "Great," Bill said.
   "Cobran help Bill's friends." The lizardman scooped one
up in each arm and flung them roughly over his broad shoul-
ders. "We go now. Find little man."
   Neither Zorth nor Quatar looked very comfortable hang-
ing like feed bags over Cobran's shoulders, but Bill knew
they didn't have time to worry about it.
   They ran out of the torture chamber back into the guard-
room only to see Zynaryxx throw a fireball into the midst of
the warriors, some of whom had recovered from their tem-
porary blindness. The faerie created a wall of fire between
the guards and their escape route.
   "Hurry," he shouted, heaving another fireball into the
guards' midst.
   Frightened by the flames, some warriors ran away, shout-
ing. Others, who had not yet recovered their sight, shrieked
in terror. Several went up in flames, their shrill screams of
agony adding to the confusion of the growing inferno. A
guard armed with a bow fired an arrow at Cobran. The ar-
row pierced his side, and Cobran staggered but kept his arms
around the felpurs.
   The mage threw a third fireball at the bowman, who ex-
ploded into a ball of flames. Landing amid the confused
guards, the fireball ignited the tapestries, rapidly spreading
around the room. The mage collapsed, exhausted.
   Bill grabbed him, picked him up, and ran into the corri-
dor they had used to enter the room. Cobran limped behind
him. Bill hurried through the dark corridor with the mage
in his arms.
   The faerie opened its eyes. "Close the door. I didn't want
to create a fire storm, but I couldn't take a chance. There
were too many for you. By tomorrow She'll know I was
there."
   "How will She know?" Bill groped for the door to the
passageway.
   "We go back a long way, She and I. She thought I was
dead. By tomorrow, however, She'll have no doubt that the
League of the Crimson Crescent has returned. She'll even
know we used the labyrinth. Then, it will become very dan-
gerous down here."
   Handing his wand to Bill, he whispered, "Use this to guide
us back to Orwynn's  tavern. It will fade whenever you take a
wrong turn. It'll brighten every time you take the correct
path." Zynaryxx' eyes closed with exhaustion.



                Chapter  Eight

"Can you make it, Cobran?" Bill asked.
   "Cobran go with Bill."
   The wand guided them through the passageways. The
lizardman staggered behind Bill and Zynaryxx, his jaw
clenched, his breathing labored.
   "Bill, we really need to stop," Zorth said. "I'm not certain
which torture is worse, the rack or being lugged around by
your friend. I can help, if we stop for a moment."
   "I don't like the idea of resting here," Zynaryxx sighed.
"Creatures we don't want to meet may be already stirring in
these passageways."
   "Please," Quatar said.
   "Very well, if Zorth thinks he can help, we'll give it a try."
   "Put them down, Cobran." Bill ordered, taking a seat on
the passage's floor next to Zynaryxx. He hadn't realized how
tired he was until he let himself rest.
   Zorth and Quatar leaned against the stone walls, looking
uncertainly from Bill, to the drowsing faerie, to the
lizardman. "This is Cobran, the fighter?" Zorth asked.
   Bill said, "I told you he was in trouble. I couldn't leave
him to the mercies of those gamblers. It's a good thing I
didn't, too. You saw the way he handled those inquisitors.
We'd still be in there if he hadn't been there to carry you
out."
   Quatar moved unsteadily to bow to the lizardman. "We
are in your debt. Our litter stands ready if you ever need our
assistance."
   Zorth attempted to do the same, but failed. "I must beg
your forgiveness, Cobran," he said weakly. "When Bill told
us he planned to help you, I tried to convince him to not
attempt it. Once again, I have been proven too hasty in my
judgments. I can only hope that you will accept our friend-
ship and excuse our error."
   Cobran gazed steadily at the two felpurs. "No one ask
Cobran to forgive before. Cobran like new friends. Furry.
Cobran glad could save furry friends from bad masks. Not
have friends before met Bill."
   "I think we can help you, Cobran," Zorth said. "But first,
we'll have to pull that arrow out of your side."
   "Cobran pull arrow out."
   Grasping the wooden shaft in one hand, he yanked it out
of his side, gasping as the barbed point pulled loose.
   Zorth raised his hands, murmuring words Bill didn't un-
derstand. They sounded soothing. Cobran's gaping wound
closed, and the bleeding stopped.
   "What did you do?" Bill asked.
   "It's a healing spell," Zorth said. "One of the simpler spells
of the priests of Yalor, although it takes quite a bit from
me."
   Zorth again muttered an incantation, over himself,
Quatar, and Zynaryxx. The faerie stirred and opened his eyes.
   Both felpurs seemed more relaxed, though Zorth seemed
wearied from his effort. "Since we must be on our way, I can
give Cobran, Quatar, and myself the additional stamina we
need to complete the journey, although I warn you the ef-
fort will later drain me."
   "None of this would have been necessary if it hadn't been
for me," Bill said. "They wanted me. Hovra told them I was
in the Prancing Robe."
   "Hovra!" Zorth said. "I knew I should have killed him.
He will pay for that. I can assure you that his own clan will
turn him over to me when they learn of his treachery."
   "I barely managed to escape," Bill continued. "They
waited outside the Tavern. They sent Hovra in after me, but
I escaped through a window and slipped past them. They
butchered everyone on the street in an effort to get me."
   "We heard about it," Zorth said. "Only we heard a slightly
different version. In that story, the humans attempted to
revolt and slaughtered everyone on the street until the War-
riors arrived. The humans supposedly were dressed like War-
riors in the Arch Regents colors, part of some elaborate ruse
to make the people of Trillius think that the Crown could
not be trusted."
   "Many people on that street saw for themselves that there
were no humans dressed up as warriors," Bill said. "They
know the truth. I can't believe no one challenges the official
line. Can an entire city be so frightened that they lie to them-
selves while their own government slaughters its citizens?"
   "Don't be so quick to judge them," Zorth said. "You have
no idea of the horrors they have seen. You are an outsider.
While my clan lives far from Trillius, we have experienced
the fear that the Unnamed One visits on our kingdom's
people. Even questioning the Crown can cost one his life or
even worse.
   "If you had a wife, children, loved ones whose lives would
be forfeited, you'd think twice before challenging the au-
thorities," Zorth said. "You're only risking yourself."
   "I see your point," Bill said. "You wouldn't have been
taken prisoner if not for me."
   "We accepted that risk," Zorth said. "We knew the pos-
sible consequences when we brought you into the Robe. But
you shouldn't blame yourself for our capture. Hovra will pay
dearly for it. When he betrayed you, he knew that we'd be
taken in as well."
   "Exactly what happened to you?" Bill asked.
   "We spent the day searching for our litter brother," Quatar
said. "We knew he'd been seen in Darktown. We traced him
to The Mercenaries Martyr, a tavern close to the castle where
hired thugs congregate. Some of them work for the War-
riors' Guild, some for the Arch Regents forces, some as pri-
vate troops for the various Guildlords. Still others hire out
as freebooters. They're a rough crowd. We don't know what
our brother may have been doing there, but Aleka will know."
   "Who is Aleka?"
   "We don't know that yet," Quatar said. "We were hoping
that your friends in Darktown might be able to help."
   "I've heard the name before," the faerie said. "I'm certain
Orwynn will know more if we can just get to his tavern
before the Arch Regent's troops start to search the labyrinth
for us. If you feel well enough, I think we should move on."
   "Why are you so convinced She'll know you were in-
volved?" Bill asked. "You act as if you're old friends."
   The faerie paused, giving Bill a somewhat bemused look.
"We are," the faerie said. "Not in the usual way, but a long,
long time ago, I knew her very well. But no longer. Today, if
She could find me, She would kill me. However, I shall say
no more while we're in this dark place. The shadows are Her
friends now. I will tell the tale some time when we are in the
light."
   Turning to Zorth, the faerie bowed. "I salute you priest
of Yalor," Zynaryxx said. "You have studied the healing mys-
teries well. I feel quite refreshed, thanks to your work."
   Zorth's head bobbed. "Thank you, but after watching you
bring a fire storm on our enemies I can only say that my
sister and I still owe you a great debt," the felpur responded.
"I have met few mages as adept at harnessing the forces as
yourself. I suspect that when we first met at the Prancing
Robe, you were only toying with that brutish dracon."
   "That may be, but you had no way of knowing that when
you offered to draw steel in my defense."
   "I see that my friend Bill has once again chosen wisely in
his friends," Zorth laughed. "Who would have imagined that
I would owe my life to a man, a lizardman warrior, and a
faerie mage in so short a time? A few days ago, I was a Noble
of the Seven Tribes. Today, I'm hunted by the Crown and
allied with the League of the Crimson Crescent."
   "It may be time for the hunted to hunt those who sought
to prey upon them," Zynaryxx said.
   "Cobran like to hunt," the lizardman interrupted, evi-
dently bored by the conversation.
   Smiling, Zynaryxx led the group on its journey through
the underground.
When they arrived at Orwynn's establishment, the faerie went
in first, to make certain they'd be safe. He discovered the
worried innkeeper anxiously awaiting them.
   "It's about time you got here," the innkeeper said as
Zynaryxx entered alone. "By the Gods, the city is in an up-
roar! The Warriors came this morning demanding to know
about the humans who had been seen here yesterday. I told
them they paid for their drinks, then I made them leave,
because humans are bad for business.
   "The tavern was full tonight. First, everyone talked about
how the escaped slaves launched an attack in the middle of
the city. Then, a dracon claimed he saw a rogue human break
into the middle of the championship fight and spirit off
Cobran himself. Later, we heard a rumor that the League
had broken into the Guild Council's chambers, set them on
fire, and escaped with some especially prized captives in-
volved in this conspiracy against the Crown. Then, the War-
riors came again and closed us down. They've imposed mar-
tial law, declared a curfew, and I'm told the Arch Regent has
warned the Council that if they don't bring those respon-
sible for this chaos to Her, she'll take control of the city
herself."
   The faerie grinned at the news. "She must be in a rare
mood indeed," he said. "I don't think I could have planned
this better myself."
   "But don't you understand?" Orwynn said excitedly. "It's
happening. The city's rising up. We're not alone. Others have
begun to fight the Crown. I can feel rebellion in the air."
   "I wouldn't get too excited too quickly," the faerie cau-
tioned as he walked back to the passage and signaled to the
others to come in. "I don't think it's fair to say the whole city
is in rebellion."
   "But don't you see it's not only us any longer?" Orwynn
said. "Humans battling troops in the streets, an attack on
the Council's very chambers to free captives! The rebellion
has begun. The people of the city are rising to our side."
   "That's quite true," Zynaryxx conceded. "But before you
say anything else, you'd better meet the rebellion."
   Orwynn seemed near tears when the faerie explained that
the battle in the streets had just been Bill trying to escape
from the Warrior troops. He seemed impressed to meet
Cobran in person but was dumbstruck to discover that the
attack on the Council chambers had been no more than the
faerie, Bill, and Cobran.
   "You mean to tell me that the five of you caused all this?"
he demanded. "I thought we had discovered others who
shared our common fight."
   "Orwynn," the faerie said. "You're missing the point. If
five of us have caused this much turmoil by accident, just
think of what we can do on purpose. As I recall, just a day
ago you told me that the League had degenerated into a
debating society."
   Orwynn remained crestfallen. "I guess I got carried away
with my hopes," the tavernkeeper said.
   "Orwynn, don't carry on so," Zynaryxx said. "A week ago,
you were a tired, angry, cynical retired revolutionary fright-
ened of his own shadow. Yesterday, you were a firebrand,
plotting to bring the Crown down in flames, even if you
had to do it yourself. Today, now that the first steps actually
have been taken and the city is in an uproar, you're depressed,
because the revolution may take longer than a day. Come
now, pour us some ale. New friends have joined us. We must
make plans."
   Orwynn grinned at Zynaryxx's good-natured jibes. "It's
true what you say," he said. "Just yesterday I was trying to
shame you into action."
   "And I acted," the faerie said. "And we have new recruits
to show for it."
Bill hadn't noticed the chill of the stone tunnels until he
entered the basement of the tavern. The heat enveloped him
like one of his grandmother's thick down quilts.
   "The mightiest fighter in the kingdom," Orwynn said,
looking at Cobran.
   Cobran took his cue. "Cobran like ale," he said.
   Orwynn laughed. "And ale you shall have." He strode to
a keg to fill a pitcher.
   After a drinking fest that lasted into the evening, the tav-
ern keeper showed them to upstairs rooms. "We don't get
too many overnight guests here, anymore," he said. "But I
think you'll find the beds satisfactory. Here in Darktown,
we keep the lanterns lit at night, even in our rooms, as a
precaution. The night brings too many unwanted visitors to
this part of the city. Darkness serves only as an invitation to
them. Tomorrow is soon enough to make plans."
   As he showed Zorth into his room, the felpur turned to
the innkeeper. "My sister and I would ask a favor if we may.
We're seeking our litter brother who has been missing for
some time. We heard that a person known as Aleka might
know his whereabouts and that we might find her here in
Darktown, at the Mercenaries Martyr."
   "You'll find her there, all right," Orwynn said. "She owns
it. But be careful. The Martyr is a dangerous place frequented
by rogues and cutthroats-and Aleka is just as dangerous as
any of her customers."
   "We have no choice," Zorth said. "Our clan has sent us
to find him. Wherever the trail leads, we must go."
   "I'm not sure you understand how dangerous it is,"
Orwynn said. "It's only a block from the castle. The castle's
staff gathers there to amuse themselves, and what they con-
sider amusing isn't something you want to be mixed up in."
   "I am a priest of Yalor, chosen by the Seven Tribes to
bring back my brother," Zorth said stiffly. "I am not con-
cerned with risks. My brother would do no less for me. To-
morrow, if you can provide me with the directions to this
place, I will see this Aleka."
   "I didn't mean to suggest that you might be frightened
off. I'm simply urging you to exercise caution. In the morn-
ing, I'll give you whatever assistance I can."
   Bidding him a good rest, Orwynn went downstairs and
barred the front door with an oaken beam. He locked the
windows with double guards that even Cobran would have
difficulty unlatching. He didn't turn out the lights, though.
In Darktown, no one invited darkness into their quarters
after midnight.
   Bill woke up abruptly at the touch of a hand slipping
across his face. With a start, he tried to jump up, only to
find himself slammed back into the bed.
   "Quiet," a voice commanded in the darkness.
   Bill had left on the light as Orwynn had insisted when he
went to bed. But the intruder had apparently put it out. He
squinted in the darkness, trying to size up his attacker. With
no lamps or moonlight from a window to silhouette his ad-
versary, Bill found himself unable to discern what (if any)
dangers stood before him.
   He was sure the Inquisition had somehow found him.
He shoved, trying to push himself up, only to find himself
forced back on the bed.
   "I said, be quiet!" the voice ordered again, the hand across
his face stifling. "We need to talk."
   Bill drove a fist into the intruder's face, loosening the grip
long enough to roll out of bed. He jumped to his feet, just
in time to be knocked across the floor as his attacker slammed
into him. Bill butted his forehead into his opponent's head,
breaking himself free from his grip.
   "What's happening?" Bill heard Cobran shout as the
lizardman stormed into the room.
   Though Cobran's speech, lacking as it was in grace and
style, implied the lizardman was intellectually slow, the gladi-
ator took no time to size up the situation unfolding in the
room. With a roar that startled Bill, Cobran launched him-
self at Bill's opponent, knocking him off Bill and across the
room.
   From the light of the hallway, Bill could see that his ad-
versary was dressed completely in black from head to toe. A
tight-fitting black mask covered his face, except for his eyes.
Bill recognized the outfit. A ninja had slipped into his room.
   Cobran lunged toward his foe only to find the ninja had
dodged out of reach. The lizardman spun, his foot snapping
out at his enemy's side. The ninja took the kick and man-
aged to grab it in midair, twisting Cobran's leg enough to
topple the champion to the floor.
   As Cobran attempted to rise, the ninja's leg flashed out,
knocking him back to the floor.
   Bill lunged at the ninja, hoping to distract him long
enough to give Cobran time to get back on his feet. But he
found himself diving past where the ninja had been.
   With no sign of exertion, the ninja's foot stabbed out at
Cobran again as the lizardman attempted to stand, again
knocking him to the floor.
   Zorth and Quatar burst into the room. "What's going...?"
Before Zorth could finish, the ninja launched himself at the
two felpurs, slamming them against the wall.
   Bill and Cobran dove at the ninja from behind. Spinning
on his toes in a pirouette, the ninja thrust both hands out,
jabbing both Bill and Cobran in the stomach. His hands
flew up, striking both under their chins.
   Bill reeled from the blows, crashing onto the floor. Cobran
grunted but stood his ground, his own powerful fist chop-
ping out into the ninja's face. Their antagonist back-flipped
across the room, putting distance between himself and Bill's
companions.
   He saw, out the corner of his eye, that Zynaryxx had en-
tered the room. The faerie muttered an unintelligible chant,
his hands passing in the direction of the ninja.
   The ninja collapsed in a heap on the floor.
   "What did you do to him?" Bill asked as Cobran helped
him to his feet.
   "I put him to sleep," the mage said. "When I saw how
successfully the four of you were handling him, I thought
I'd better act quickly before he killed you all."
   Cobran approached the still figure and drew his sword.
   "What are you doing?" the faerie asked.
   "Cobran kill ninja," the lizardman said matter-of-factly.
"Cobran kill now, before ninja wakes and attacks Bill again."
   Kneeling down next to the black figure, Cobran pulled
its hood off, revealing long blonde tresses. The lizardman
seemed puzzled. With a yank, he pulled the mask off to re-
veal an elfin woman's face.
   "Pretty elf," Cobran said, prepared to slit her throat.
   "Don't be ridiculous," the mage snapped. "Put that sword
down before I put you to sleep, too."
   "I don't think that's wise," Zorth said. "I, too, see no honor
in slitting the throat of a downed and defenseless enemy,
friend Zynaryxx, but we have little other choice. She knows
where we are. We can hardly let her go and expect her to
keep our secret. If we allow her to escape, she'll only come
back with more of her friends. The Arch Regent would pay
dearly for the information she carries. As much as the idea
of killing a sleeping enemy, much less a beautiful woman,
turns my stomach, I suggest we let Cobran go ahead with
his work."
   "My friends, I must say that all of you disappoint me."
The faerie gave them the sort of solemn look you give some-
one in an hour of bereavement. "I really expected more of
you. Slitting the throat of a sleeping enemy-I've done it
myself on more occasions than I care to count. But I really
must insist that you leave the ninja alone."
   "I take it you want to first question the ninja," Quatar
said. "Makes sense to me. For all we know, she may have
friends awaiting her return."
   "Quatar, I surely expected more from you. A fine group
of revolutionaries we have here," the faerie said, sadly shak-
ing his head. "First, you need to learn what really happened
here before anyone begins to talk about slitting someone's
throat.
   The faerie asked Bill, "What exactly happened?"
   Bill told how he had been awakened and had immedi-
ately assumed that the Inquisition had found him. Then, he
had struck the ninja, causing the commotion that brought
Cobran to the room to investigate the noise.
   "Did she say anything to you?" the faerie asked.
   "She said we had to talk," Bill said. "She told me to be
quiet. But I must say, she can disguise her voice. She sounded
like a man."
   "Doesn't it strike you as peculiar that she only wanted to
talk to Bill?" Zynaryxx looked at the companions.
   "I just assumed that she wanted to question me," Bill
said. "I'd seen the Inquisition's methods of questioning ear-
lier tonight. Zorth and Quatar still ache from their little
question-and-answer session."
   The faerie shook his head. "Look at her," he demanded.
"She's a ninja. She's not an Inquisitor. She's a member of the
Assassins' Guild. Doesn't that tell any of you anything?"
   "Forgive me, my good mage, but I'm afraid it tells me
that we ought to heed Cobran's suggestion," Zorth said.
"From everything I've heard, the members of the Assassins'
Guild are the most cold-hearted killers in Trillius. They strike
without warning, dispatching their victims with a knife,
poison, ax, sword, or their bare hands. If even half the sto-
ries are true, they are the most feared killers in the kingdom.
They spirit away, slipping into the shadows before their deeds
are even suspected. I've heard they can kill with a single blow
of their bare hands."
   "It's quite true," the faerie said, approvingly. "Now what
does that suggest?"
   "Cobran kill!"
   "No!" the faerie said, stepping between the lizardman and
the ninja. "My friends, you aren't paying  attention. You aren't
even listening to yourselves. The Assassins' Guild has not
built up its well-earned and much-feared reputation by hav-
ing its members waken their victims for little chats before
assassinating them. They kill quickly, silently, then slip back
into the night. If this ninja had wanted to kill Bill, he'd be
long dead. If her aim was to kill, some of you would be dead
right now.
   "This particular ninja showed remarkable restraint. Out-
numbered by foes that would have killed her without a sec-
ond thought, fighting one of the greatest gladiators the king-
dom has ever produced, she still fought only to protect her-
self."
   "If she was only trying to protect herself, I'd hate to see
her try to kill someone!" Zorth said.
   "Put her on the bed," the faerie directed.
   "Don't bother," the ninja interrupted. "I'm quite com-
fortable here on the floor."
   "You're awake?" Zorth said.
   "You'd be surprised at how quickly talk of slitting your
throat rouses you from even the deepest slumber," the ninja
said, still motionless on the floor. "I was contemplating how
many of you I could take with me if you didn't listen to the
faerie."
   "I must apologize for them," Zynaryxx said, turning to
face the black figure. "We're a bit jumpy today. Everywhere
we've gone for the past few days, strangers have tried to kill
my friends, especially Bill. Powerful people would give quite
a bit to know he'd met with an unfortunate accident. As his
friends, we are a bit hesitant to welcome intruders who break
into our rooms in the middle of the night for little chats."
   "I see now that I should have tried a different approach,"
the ninja said. "I apologize. I had hoped to explain my in-
tentions to Bill before I met all of you. You see, I'd like to
offer my services to you."
   "Do you have a name?" Zynaryxx asked.
   "My mother named me Nagano," she said.
   Zorth snorted. "You have a strange way of offering your
services, my black-suited friend. Why are we supposed to
believe you?"
   "If I had wanted to kill Bill he'd be dead by now and I'd
be long gone," the ninja said. "He's alive. And if I'd truly
meant any harm to the rest of you, some of you would be
lying beside me right now. You're not. I think that alone says
more than any words I can say."
   "Then tell us, assassin, why do you wish to join us?" Zorth
asked. "You don't appear stupid. You must know that the
Arch Regent's forces search for us even as we speak. Why
would someone want to join a group all the kingdom's swords
have been drawn against?"
   "True, the odds are not favorable," the ninja said. "But I
have no other choice. This afternoon, the Arch Regent killed
my mother. Still, the Regent and those who serve Her be-
lieve that I am searching for you. She expects me to perform
my usual service. I probably would had the Regent's forces
not killed my mother. For that, the Regent Herself must
pay. To kill Her, I'll need help-your help."
   Quatar sighed in exasperation. "That's why you're here?
You want us to help you kill the Arch Regent? Maybe you
want us to storm the castle itself?"
   "I don't think a frontal assault would be advisable," the
ninja said.
   "Not advisable! A madwoman! She sits there as if she hasn't
a care in the world, suggesting we plot to kill the Arch Re-
gent."
   "And just what position do you think you're already in?"
the ninja snapped. "They freed you, Her prisoners, right
from under Her nose. You free a group of slaves and chal-
lenge the royal edict that enslaves humans. Do you people
not consider that a plot against the Arch Regent? You think
this League of the Crimson Crescent aims any lower than to
kill the Regent? Just how do you intend to free this city? By
asking Her nicely, please?"
   The ninja glared at the five companions.
   Zynaryxx seemed unperturbed by the outburst. "She's
really quite right. We can play revolutionaries all we want,
but only for so long. Sooner or later, all of you will realize
that killing the Arch Regent has to be our major goal."
   Zorth's laugh broke the tension gripping the room. "You
can't honestly be serious," he said. "Our only real option is
to get out of this city as soon as I've located my litter brother.
If most of you were wise, you'd leave even sooner. I can't
believe any of you would pay attention to such nonsense."
   "I understand your fear," the ninja said, ignoring the flash
of rage that crossed Zorth's eyes at the accusation. "Earlier
today, I, too, would have considered it madness. My Guild
sent me to the Prancing Robe when we learned Bill was hid-
ing there. Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on how
you look at it, the Warriors' Guild arrived ahead of me. I
watched from the shadows when Bill made his escape.
   "I was close to earning my fee when the Warriors' Guild
began their massacre. My mother was on that street. I saw
her struck down by an arrow, her body trampled by the
Regents troops. For that, the Regent will pay in blood.
   "I trailed Bill all day, but I lost him when he went into
that tunnel beneath the city. When I heard they'd captured
his friends, I waited at the Guild Hall, because I knew he'd
return for them. I needed someone willing to take that kind
of risk. I nearly lost you again when you went in the tunnel,
but I managed to pick that rather clever lock, and I followed
you here."
   "So just like that, you decided to join us?" Zorth said.
"You betray your Guild. You forsake your oaths. You decide
to become a revolutionary. It all sounds quite simple."
  The ninja effortlessly bounded to her feet. "There is noth-
ing simple about it," she snapped. "Her thugs killed my
mother. I care nothing for you or your revolution. But kill-
ing is something I know a great deal about, as you may find
out if you continue with your snide insults."
   Bill stepped in between Zorth and the ninja, his hand on
his sword. "I apologize for the rudeness of my friends," he
said. "But the strain we've been under makes us forget our
manners. I am sorry for your loss."
   "I didn't come here for your sympathy," the ninja said,
defiantly. "I came here, because I believe that my talents
might be of service to you. And I believe that your skills
might help me achieve my own goals. I'm not here to ask for
your friendship. I don't need it. I only need your talents and
your courage."
  "Of course she needs us," Zorth spat. "She probably wants
us to serve as a diversion while she gets herself killed. We
have nothing more than her claim that they killed her mother.
But even if it's true, so what? Going into the castle would be
madness. It's the worst kind of folly."
  "I can't argue with you," Zynaryxx said. "I didn't say I
considered it risk free. I only say it's necessary."
  "I'll have no part of it," the felpur said. "We need to leave
this city as soon as possible. We need to do the sensible thing
for a change."
   "The sensible thing," the ninja said, her voice dripping
with disdain. "Be glad your friends didn't consider the sen-
sible thing when the two of you were being questioned by
the Inquisitors. When they broke in the chamber and fought
to save your lives, were the two of you shouting, "Do the
sensible thing?"
   Zorth ignored the insult, although it was evident that the
effort dearly cost him. Turning to Bill, the felpur's voice
sounded almost pleading.
   "It's not your fight, Bill. It's not our fight. We can't free
the entire kingdom. Tomorrow, my sister and I hope to find
our litter brother. After that, I hope you'll leave with us."
   "I can't, Zorth." Bill shook his head. "I understand your
feelings, and I appreciate all you've done for me, but I have
to see this through. If I leave with you, what have I gained?
Wherever I go in this kingdom, I'll be a marked man. If
they can't find me in the city, they'll remember I was last
seen with you, and they'll come looking. I can't put your
family and your clan in that kind of danger. And I don't
know how to get back to my own home, so my only chance
to ensure my own safety is to follow Zynaryxx's advice. I
have to make this city safe for humans."
   "You can't be serious!" Zorth exploded. "You don't owe
these people anything. This so-called League is powerless to
help. They have great dreams, certainly. But for thirty years
they've remained impotent against the dark forces. My clan
can protect you."
   "Will they?" Bill asked, his eyes level with Zorth's. "You
and Quatar would stand beside me against them. But you
know your people better than I do. How many Hovras would
risk their children and families for a human?"
   "You question my word? My honor?" Zorth's eyes flashed.
   "No. You know I don't," Bill answered. "I have no doubt
that the two of you would argue my case in the councils of
your people. But think back to the way the two of you
thought a week ago before you met me. You yourself told
me that you were ashamed to admit to the felpurs at the
Robe that you knew me. Can you really imagine that your
friends would stand against the Arch Regents troops to shield
me?"
   Zorth's gaze wavered.
   "The felpur have been told for thirty years that humans
are the lowest creatures alive. They may not feel that all hu-
mans should be caged. But I doubt that they'd consider me
worth their own families' lives."
   Zorth and Quatar looked each of their companions in
the eye, then, without a word, they turned and left.



                Chapter Nine

The ninja started to say something, but a look from Zynaryxx
silenced her. "I suggest we, too, get some rest. We'll be busy
tomorrow." He directed the ninja to a room where she could
spend the night. "I suggest you refrain from any late-night
chats. My friends still feel a tad nervous about you."
   She nodded in agreement.
   Zynaryxx returned to Bill. "I'm glad you decided that our
fight is your fight. I wouldn't blame you if you thought it
too dangerous."
   "I really have little choice."
   "We always have choices. They are seldom the choices we
want, but they exist."
   "Where could I go?" Bill said. "Nowhere in the kingdom
is safe for a human. I can't hide anywhere. And I can't go
home-I don't know how to get there."
   "Since I first heard about you, I have wondered just where
it is you come from. I know it's not anywhere near here, but
how is it you don't know your way back to your own home?"
   The mage listened intently as Bill told his story, ques-
tioning him in detail about his life before he'd slept in the
cave.
   "I've spent my life traveling and studying the greater
mysteries," the mage said. "But I confess, I've never heard of
a place such as you describe, much less within three or four
days of travel."
   Seeing the look of disappointment on the man's face, the
faerie's voice softened. "Don't despair. From all indications,
your journey has been for a reason. I believe you've been
called here. You apparently entered a cave that serves as a
portal, a kind of gate into this world. I know something of
astral gates. Demons use them to cross the temporal planes
from the darker regions into this world of substance. I have,
on a few occasions, created gates to send them back, although
I've failed more times than I've succeeded."
   "Could you create a gate and send me back?"
   The mage shook his head. "It's not the same kind of gate,"
he said. "The astral gates I've dealt with don't send creatures
to a place anything like what you described. They lead to
the fiery pits of the dead and the damned. You don't ever
want to go there. But I do know such gates exist. You and I
will just have to find someone with more knowledge on the
subject."
   Bill perked up at the thought. "I was starting to think I
was doomed to remain here forever," he said.
   "I can't promise you results. All I can promise is that
when we've finished our mission, I'll devote my time to
helping you."
   "What do you mean when you say I was called here?"
   "We think you are the One," Zynaryxx said. "Some know
the legend in this land of the Unnamed One, though it is
death to repeat it. However, one more crime can't worsen
matters for me. So, I will tell you.
   "It is said that a strange man shall come out of the moun-
tains with a sword of ice and fire. This man will befriend the
races of the kingdom. He'll unite them against the Evil One,
and the cleansing fire of his blade will send Him to the pit
to join the forces with which he has aligned himself."
  "You've got to be kidding."
  "Do I look like I'm joking?" the mage asked. "You said
you came here from the mountains. You are a stranger. Your
companions are a faerie, a lizardman, two felpurs, and now
an elf. You are a man."
  "What about that sword of fire?"
  "Tell me about your sword," the mage said.
  "Well..." Bill drew the sword from its sheath. "Strange
lettering has been etched upon it," Bill said, telling him of
how he found it in the cave. "When I draw it, I feel it puls-
ing with a strength that I know I alone do not possess. It
practically fights my battles for me. Sometimes, it glows with
a kind of blue fire."
  "Fire and ice," the  mage said. He took the sword, in-
tently examining the lettering. His hand passed over it a few
times, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the weapon and
mumbled strange words.
  The blade began to glow, the lettering brightened. The
mage continued to speak in a strange tongue. Then, he looked
up. "We've waited many years for your coming. It's the
Demon's Bane," Zynaryxx said. "The final proof. You are
the One foretold by legend."
  "That's ridiculous," Bill said. "I'm not a legend. I'm just a
guy who got lost."
  "You don't understand. Have you not wondered why the
King hates humans? Haven't you asked yourself why He's
gone to so much trouble to raise every creature's hand against
them, to enslave them? Men frighten Him. He knows the
legend I've told you about. He knows that a man will come
some day to destroy Him. That's why He took the humans'
property from them as soon as He took control of the king-
dom. He knows that even He and His agents can't be every-
where at once. So, He keeps them in servitude, and He had
devoted Himself to cultivating the hatred against humans
that you've experienced. He's waited years for your coming,
and He's spent that time preparing."
   "I'd say He's done a good job."
   "Hardly," Zynaryxx said. "Look at your companions. The
legend doesn't say how many of each of the races you'll unite.
It doesn't say how many it will take to destroy Him. For
thirty years, the league and I have waited for the moment to
strike. You may think it's hopeless, but you also know you
have few other options. I have no desire to throw my life
away. I wouldn't be willing to try this if it was just some
fool's errand. When the Regent realizes She is facing the One,
She'll be beside Herself with fear."
   "How will She know?"
   "You don't know Her," Zynaryxx said. "I do. Her agents
have already told Her how a man braved the gladiators' ring
to rescue a lizardman. By now, they've told Her that same
man even dared to break into the Guild Council's Cham-
bers to rescue two felpurs. She's heard that he was accompa-
nied by the lizardman he saved, as well as a faerie. Never
underestimate Her intelligence or Her cunning. When She
discovers an elf ninja has joined us, She'll see the pattern—as
will the people of the city. Combined with the League's ef-
forts to remind everyone of the Legend, this pattern will
convince people that the races are uniting against the re-
gime."
   "You're forgetting the felpur are leaving us."
   "I'm not," the mage said, as he turned and went to bed.
   Once again, Bill did not soon fall asleep. The dark
behind his eyelids was alive with fear and hope.
The next morning, Zorth and Quatar got directions to the
Mercenary from Orwynn. They left without a word to their
companions. The street was unnaturally quiet after the pre-
vious day's events. The city blazed with sunlight and throbbed
with stillness. "I don't feel good about leaving them," Quatar
said after they'd left the tavern.
   "Then go back to say your good-byes," Zorth snapped.
   "I don't mean this morning," Quatar responded. "You
know exactly what I'm talking about. I don't like the idea of
leaving them to walk into danger."
   "And you think I like it?" Zorth asked. "A week ago, I
didn't even like humans. Today, I feel the same way about
Bill as I do about any of my litter. But the path he's taking is
nothing more than idealistic madness. That mage will lead
him to disaster. That ninja will cut any of their throats if she
thinks it will help get what she wants. And Cobran, for all
his courage, hasn't the brains to know when he's facing im-
possible odds. I don't like leaving Bill with them any more
than you do."
   "Do you think they can free the kingdom?"
   "She'll kill them the moment they set foot in the castle.
They have no idea what they face."
   "But, for the sake of argument, what if they did kill Her?"
Quatar asked.
   "It's stupid to even discuss what can't happen," Zorth said.
"But say they did. You've spent time in Trillius. You've talked
to people. Do they really seem like they want a revolution?
How many have you met who would give their lives...let me
rephrase that; how many would even cross the street to help
a human?"
   Quatar offered no response.
   Zorth forged on. "They don't like the Arch Regent, but
most of them feel She poses no real threat to them. As long
as She leaves them alone, they're content to just sit back and
complain."
   "But what if they did kill her?" Quatar persisted. "What
would happen?"
   "Nothing," Zorth said. "That's my whole point. You can't
free a kingdom that doesn't want to be freed. If the whole
city rose up against Her forces, you might have a chance.
   "But the populace is content with its diversions; that's
why Trillius exists. It distracts them from their problems,
offers them a place where they can run away from whatever
bothers them. People busy gambling, sampling houses of
pleasure, and enjoying other delights don't care who runs
the city. If they're poor, they think that with just one lucky
bet, they can make enough to be happy for the rest of their
lives. If they're unlucky at love, they see the pleasure houses
as a place where they can buy what they can't get otherwise.
And if all else fails, they can find happiness in a needle or a
pipe.
   "Even if Bill and his friends do manage to kill Her, the
Arch Regent's forces would still be in control. The King
would replace Her. The only difference would be that the
Unnamed One would concentrate his attentions on crush-
ing whoever disturbed Trillius."
   Quatar shook her head sadly. "I still don't like it," she
said. "I feel like we're running away."
   "I feel that way, too, but we don't have time to worry
about it. We're here." The felpur stood in front of a tavern
with two swords crossed over a shield. The Mercenary Mar-
tyr was venerable even among the old buildings of Darktown.
   Inside, its clientele appeared to have little concern for the
time of day. Despite the early hour, the tables were filled
with surly looking drinkers. Many of them paused in their
conversations to eye the intruders.
   "I don't think we're going to win any popularity contests
here," Quatar whispered to Zorth.
   Pushing his way to the tavern's bar, Zorth signaled for
two tankards of ale. "We're looking for Aleka," he said to
the creature pouring the drinks.
   The creature looked more like an orc than anything else,
but it was evident that it also had dracon in its bloodline. Its
lips curled as it looked over the two felpurs. "What makes
ya' think Aleka would conduct business with the likes of
you?" it asked in a voice that went straight through Zorth's
bones.
   "What makes you think that she wants you standing be-
tween her and a chance to make money?" Quatar asked
mildly. "I don't think she'd appreciate it very much if she
found out your ill manners had cost her a chance for gold."
   "Gold?" The word seemed to brighten its spirits.
   "What's in it for me?" it asked. As Zorth reached for his
purse, Quatar caught her brother's arm.
   "After you take us to Aleka," Quatar said.
   The creature snarled but jerked its head to a door in the
corner of the tavern. "Come on with me. But you'd better
be telling the truth about the gold, or I'll slit your throats."
   When they got to the door, the creature motioned them
to go first. Zorth stepped through, only to find himself in a
shadowy dead-end alley. Quatar staggered behind him, pro-
pelled by the creature's hard shove.
  The tavernkeeper joined them in the alley, followed by
three other orcs who blocked the door and the way to the
open street several hundred yards away. Zorth didn't even
have time to yearn for the clear sunny morning, the bright
edged openness that lay beyond his reach.
  "They've got gold and smart mouths," the tavernkeeper
growled to his cronies. "They say they want Aleka, but she
don't have no business with them."
  The orcs drew their weapons and began advancing on
the felpurs. "Give us the gold, kitties," one smirked. "Give
us the gold, and maybe we won't skin you and use your hides
for my new coat."
  Zorth and Quatar drew their own swords, warily watch-
ing the orcs. "Your mistress will not be happy when she dis-
covers you tried to cheat her," Zorth said. "She's not going
to like this at all."
  "I'll take care of Aleka," the leader flashed an evil grin,
flecks of drool dripping from his yellowed fangs. "She don't
like being disturbed this early in the day. She don't like sun-
shine. And she don't like dandies."
  "Does she like you?" Quatar asked, reaching out as her
blade traced figure-eights in front of the advancing orcs.
  With a snarl, one of the orcs pulled a nasty looking ax
from beneath its cloak. The curved blade told the felpurs
that this ax had not been forged to fell trees. Shrieking, the
creature swung it at Zorth, who barely managed to block it
with his sword. Zorth's feet slipped from beneath him, but
kicking the orc in the chest, he regained his balance in time
to ward off a blow from another club-wielding orc.
  The tavernkeeper swung a heavy steel mace that clanged
as it fell upon Quatar's blade. The smaller felpur found her-
self stepping back as the orc rained blows down on him. The
fourth orc was notching an arrow in its bow when the door
smashed open and two figures crashed out.
  Zorth looked at the doorway, hoping for rescue, but the
steel-eyed dwarf woman clad in armor and the ebony clad
rawulf warrior hadn't come to help the two felpurs.
  Nonetheless, the four attackers froze uncertainly at their
entrance.
  "What's this all about?" the woman said.
  "They wanted us to wake you," the tavernkeeper said.
"We brought them out here to beat some manners into
them."
  "They wanted to steal your gold," Zorth said, interrupt-
ing the orc, trying to catch his breath. "We told them we
had business with you, but when we told them we had gold
with which to pay you, they tricked us into coming out here
so they could steal your gold."
  "He lies," the tavernkeeper snapped. "I'll cut out his ly-
ing tongue. These filthy cats will say anything. You can never
believe a thing they say."
  The dwarf woman gazed into the orc's eyes until he looked
away. "We were standing at the door," she said. "I heard
everything. You told them you'd take care of me. What did
you mean by that?"
  The tavernkeeper's eyes wavered. "I meant that I'd make
sure you got your share," he stammered.
  "My share?" she said. "Your saying my share suggests that
you and your little friends also deserve a share of my gold.
What makes you think I intend to share with you? You and
these thugs were going to keep some of my gold for your-
selves, is that what you're saying?"
   "Aleka, we was just having fun with these dandies. It don't
seem right that you should get worked up over them. We
didn't mean nothing by it."
   "Since when did I give you permission to use my name?"
she asked softly. "First, you decide that you and your boys
are going to steal my gold. Then, you become impertinent."
   The tavernkeeper's eyes narrowed. "Don't be taking on
so. I'm just as important as anyone else. Me and the boys
don't appreciate the way you carry on sometimes. We don't
like the way you've been taking on airs, making us feel like
we're not good enough," he said.
   "So, I'm carrying on, taking on airs, and you disapprove."
Her eyes flashed. "I suppose you'd like me to apologize
to you. Perhaps I should get on my knees and beg your
forgiveness."
   "You don't have to beg. Me and the boys are just glad
you're coming to your senses."
   "That's quite good of you," she said. "I've never liked
getting on my knees. But I rather enjoy seeing others
prostrating themselves in front of me. Perhaps you'd care to
humor me."
   The orc appeared puzzled. "I'm not quite sure I follow
you," he said.
   "I'm not asking you to follow me," she snapped. "The
thought of you behind me sends shudders of disgust through
me. I'm suggesting that you might want to kneel down
before me and beg my forgiveness for your offensive behav-
ior, your unjustifiable rudeness, your attempt to steal my
gold, and your disgusting and unforgivable ignorance about
your station in life."
   "Aleka, there's no call for that kind of talk. I've put up
with a lot from you. Probably more than I should have. I
can see that it's given you a lot of fool ideas, but you're get-
ting a tad too high and mighty."
   "I told you to kneel," she said quietly.
   "And I told you there's no need for you carry on like this,"
the orc said. "You act like some kind of royalty. You run a
tavern in the worst part of town for the worst kind of people.
You're not no fancy lady, and all your fancy talk won't make
it so."
   "I believe you and the boys need someone to remind you
how to behave."
   The ebony-clad warrior stepped forward, drawing his
sword. "May I have the honor, my lady," he said, advancing
on the tavernkeeper.
   The orc raised his mace, backing away from the advanc-
ing knight. "This ain't none of your business, Blackie. You
stay out of it."
   Without a word, the knight swung his sword in a tight
arc, crashing against the mace. The tavernkeeper's steel
weapon cracked and shattered under the impact. The orc's
skull did the same.
   "Do any others need lessons in manners, my lady?"
   "I'm not sure, my lord," she said, eyeing the three orcs,
who had dropped to one knee. "I believe they may have seen
the error of their ways."
   "Bow your heads," she said to them.
   They complied. She nodded to the knight.
   Without hesitation, his sword swept in a wide arc, lop-
ping off all three orcs' heads.
   Zorth felt the release from danger as abruptly as the re-
laxing of a fist.
   "I believe they've learned a lesson they'll have trouble for-
getting." The knight looked at the felpur. "Always remove
your hat in the presence of a lady."
   Zorth pulled off his hat, and Quatar followed suit. "Our
apologies, my lady," he said, bowing deeply. "My sister and
I have traveled in barbarous company of late. We beg your
forgiveness. It's seldom we find gentlefolk in our travels."
   "I accept your apology. It's rare that we have the pleasure
of meeting someone not raised in a barnyard. But, we haven't
been introduced."
   "My lady," Quatar curtsied. "I am Quatar, a humble
monk. My companion is my litter brother, Zorth, a priest of
Yalor who has been sent by the Seven Families and our clan
lords in search of our missing litter brother."
   "You spoke of gold, as I recall," Aleka said.
   "We hoped that you might assist us in our search," Zorth
said. "We've been told that our litter brother came to your
establishment at one time. We thought that you might be
able to help us find out where he might be. We are, of course,
quite prepared to pay you for your trouble."
   "A felpur," she said, turning to the knight. "I don't recall
him. My lord, do you remember a felpur?"
   "I do, my lady," the rawulf said. "I never miss them.
They're ugly little creatures, no offense to the present com-
pany, you understand. I know they can't help the way they
look."
   "Of course," Zorth said, tightly clenching his teeth. "We
felpurs and rawulfs have always felt that way about each other.
It's nothing personal. I certainly understand,"
   "That's good," the rawulf said, fingering his blade. "I knew
you'd understand just how offensive I find your kind. I be-
lieve it's the smell. As soon as you walk into the room, the
odor fairly chokes me. I've always wondered how a felpur
can stand being so close to himself."
   Quatar must have sensed the effort Zorth expended to
control himself. She asked, "Since you obviously remember
him so well, perhaps you can tell us where our litter brother
might be, my lord?"
   "I didn't speak to him," the knight said. "I wouldn't speak
to you if my lady hadn't asked me. I only smelled him when
he came in. The stench nearly overpowered me."
   Quatar said quickly, "But perhaps you recall those to
whom he did speak, who might know his whereabouts."
   "The tavernkeeper spoke to him, but I doubt he'll be tell-
ing you much," the knight said, motioning toward the fallen
orc.
   "Is there someone else?" Quatar asked.
   "Old Olaf," the knight said. "He talks to the most dis-
gusting creatures: anyone who'll buy him a brew. All that
beer's probably killed his sense of smell."
   "Is this old Olaf around now?" Quatar asked.
   "Its too early for him," the knight said. "He'll be along
later, mooching for beer."
   "How will we recognize him?" Quatar asked.
   "He's a mook. A psionic by trade, actually; quite bright.
However, he tends to take up with characters that, if it were
up to me, I wouldn't even allow in here."
   "My lady," Zorth said. "We are grateful for the help of
you and your friend. If we may, we will enjoy the hospitality
of your establishment until this Olaf arrives. We will, of
course, compensate you for your assistance before we are on
our way."
   "Of course," Aleka said.



                 Chapter Ten

As Zorth and Quatar walked back into the tavern, the dwarf
woman saw the frown creasing the rawulf's face.
   "You don't seem to approve, my lord?"
   "I don't understand why we have to wait until they've
talked to Olaf to get the gold. You should let me kill them
now."
   "Your impatience ill suits you, my lord," Aleka said. "I
was afraid your insults would anger them into doing some-
thing rash."
   "They're too cowardly," the rawulf spat. "If anyone spoke
to me the way I did to them, his blood would cover this
alley. But you saw them. They just stood there asking about
their brother, overlooking every insult I hurled at them."
His eyes narrowed as he looked at the dwarf woman. "Why
won't you let me kill them?"
   "Don't you recall those warriors who stopped by last night
on their way to the castle?"
   "The troops looking for the rogue human?"
   She nodded. "They said the human, a faerie, and a
lizardman broke into the Guildlords' hall to rescue two
felpurs. I want you to go to the castle and speak to the
Regent's people. Find out what they know about the felpurs
that escaped. The Arch Regent is furious. She's threatening
to take control of the city if the prisoners aren't returned to
Her. I'm curious to see whether there's a connection with
our two friends here."
   "They'll track down every felpur in the city," the rawulf
said. "That's what we did when I worked for them. Round
them all up first and sort them out later."
   "Precisely," she said. "That's why I want to offer my assis-
tance. With the city in such an uproar, I want the Regent's
people to remember that my presence here at the Martyr is
in their best interests. Even if those two are not the ones
they seek, the Regent will remember that I have remained
vigilant for anyone who may possibly be one of their en-
emies. If they choose to fulfill Her threat and take control of
the city, I want those people at the castle to know whose side
I'm on."
   "How could they doubt you, my lady? Half their troops
spend most of their free time here," the knight said.
   "I want it to remain that way," she said. "They know
you. They respect you. They'll listen to you."
   "I'll go to the guard post," the rawulf said. "I prefer to
stay outside the castle. The place gives me the creeps."
   "Are you frightened, my lord?"
   The rawulfs nostrils flared as he fingered his sword. "Show
consideration, my lady. I didn't serve in the Regent's forces
for ten years to have anyone question my courage. I've sim-
ply developed a healthy desire to avoid the more recent in-
habitants of that castle. I don't share the Regent's taste in
friends."
   "That's why it's important that you go. The Regent's troops
know you, they'll talk to you. If my suspicions are correct,
we'll get the felpurs' gold and some of the Regent's, too. She
will be grateful if we can help Her."

Inside the tavern, Quatar firmly held Zorth's wrist. "You can't
go back out there," she whispered. "We have to wait for this
Olaf."
   "You heard what that mongrel said to us," Zorth hissed.
"He dared us to draw steel on him, the insolent fool, swag-
gering and fingering his blade. I won't return home until
I've personally strangled him with his entrails. I'll cut out
his heart and feed him slices of it! By Yalor's sacred flame, I'll
avenge my clan's honor on that black cur. Talk about stench,
will he?"
   "Get a grip on yourself, Zorth," Quatar snapped. "We
have a more important task than teaching manners to an
animal. We can deal with him after we've found our litter
brother. Keep your wits about you. I don't trust these people,
and I don't like them."
   "I agree with you there," Zorth said. "She had that black
scoundrel lop off the heads of those ruffians as casually as
you would kill an insect. And she stood there while he in-
sulted us. She was amused by it."
   "She's helping us," Quatar said. "We're missing some piece
in this puzzle. She saw nothing wrong with the idea of rob-
bing us of all our gold. What she objected to was the idea
that she might have to share it."
   "After we find this Olaf, I'll feel no remorse in leaving
this city..." Zorth said. "After I've split that creature's skull."
   The door to the alley opened, revealing Aleka and her
rawulf knight. He stared at the two felpurs in obvious dis-
gust, his nostrils twitching.
   "See his nose wiggling?" Zorth whispered. "I'll have his
head if he makes another insulting remark."
   "You'll do nothing of the kind," Quatar said. "You'll nod
pleasantly and wish him well until we've finished what we've
sworn to do." Quatar smiled at the two as they entered the
tavern.
   The rawulf snorted in disgust as he hurried out the front
door.
   "It's well for him that he left," Zorth whispered. "I couldn't
control myself much longer."
   "Watch your tongue. Aleka's coming our way."
   Both Zorth and Quatar rose when the dwarf woman ar-
rived at their table. "My lady," Quatar said. "Will you join
us for a moment. We will buy you a drink."
   "You are far too kind," she said, taking a seat with them.
"I came over to personally apologize to you for the rudeness
of my servant. I'm sure you understand how embarrassed I
am at his behavior before guests."
   "My lady, there is no need for you to even think about
such unpleasantness," Quatar said.
   "What must you think of me?" she asked. "I should have
silenced the fool. His insolence so surprised me that words
simply failed me. That two gentlefolk should be treated so
under my roof is intolerable."
   "Let's not concern ourselves with the bad manners of
someone whose lack of breeding is far too self evident," Zorth
said. "You are quite blameless in the matter. We won't have
you bothering yourself over the likes of him."
   Quatar said, "We're in your debt for making him answer
our questions. Without your intercession, he would never
have told us what we need to know."
   "It's just that we so seldom see anyone with any upbring-
ing here," she said. "Mostly it's soldiers for hire, brigands
and thugs, even highwaymen, all looking for jobs at the castle.
They don't even know enough to stand when a lady ap-
proaches. That's why I find I'm forced to employ that sort.
As you can imagine, at times I need ruffians to handle the
ruffians who come here."
   "It must be difficult for someone of your background to
consort with them," Quatar said. "What a terrible strain!"
   "My lady, it is a testament to your indomitable character
that you manage to carve out an oasis of civility in this rough—
hewn environment," Zorth said.
   "You flatter me," Aleka said.
   Zorth raised his glass. "As you flatter us by your company
and the hospitality of your establishment. I drink to you
and your continued success."
   After the proprietor took her leave, Quatar eyed her
brother. "An oasis of civility? Indomitable character?"
   "She loved it," Zorth said. "The old battle ax was eating
out of our hands. I dare say she would still cut our hearts
out without a second thought, but she does like pretty words.
Let's hope we can continue to amuse her long enough to
find out what we need to know."
   "When do you think this mook will get here?" Quatar
asked. "It's not often you see one, much less a psionic."
   "From the way our black friend talked, it sounded as if
this Olaf is a regular here. Apparently, he enjoys a drink."
   "He must enjoy them quite a lot to frequent a place like
this," Quatar said. "Its hard to believe someone with the
training it takes to become a psionic could lower himself to
patronize such a place. They train their minds so intensely
that one mental blast can drive a person, sometimes an en-
tire group, insane. Victims have even been known to turn
on their own companions. Psionics can read minds; they
even have healing abilities."
   "Quite useful in a place like this," Zorth observed. "One
needs some ability to keep from being preyed upon by the
cutthroats."
   The Mercenary Martyr was little more than just a tavern.
Unlike the Prancing Robe, its hearth boasted no bubbling
stew and inviting odors, instead, greeting visitors with the
smell of stale beer. The stairs at the back obviously led to
rooms for rent upstairs, but Quatar doubted they were the
sort weary travelers daydreamed about. The patrons evidently
used them for quick liaisons with the female patrons of the
pub. She suspected that even the Martyr's customers would
require many brews before they could find the prospect very
enticing.
   Aleka surveyed her realm from a raised platform in the
rear that afforded her a view of the entire tavern. Zorth sus-
pected that such a strategic vantage point was necessary to
keep order. Four dracons served the proprietess. A tavern
that catered to warriors and roustabouts would require a siz-
able force. The cost of maintaining her personal warriors
probably didn't strain her financially, since most of them
would spend their wages here, drinking, eating, and whoring.
With so many out-of-work ruffians frequenting the estab-
lishment, she wouldn't have much trouble recruiting staff to
rough up the other customers. It explained why she could
afford to so casually execute any who displeased her.
   A hooded figure stumbled in the door. "It's a mook,"
Quatar said. "Let's hope it's this Olaf we've been waiting to
speak with."
   Zorth approached the creature at the bar, where it stood
looking around uncertainly.
   "You'd better have gold, Olaf," the new tavernmaster
snarled. "Your credit's run out. We can't have you bothering
the paying customers. Either show me the color of your coin
to pay what you owe or head for the door, if you can still
remember where it is."
   Zorth eyed the old one-eyed dwarf who had replaced the
orc. "My friend will have whatever he desires."
   "You're in luck, Olaf," the dwarf said. "You've found a
live one."
   The mook stood unsteadily, his hand resting on the bar
to brace himself as he stared intently at the felpur as the
bartender poured a pitcher of ale. "Have we met, sir?"
   "No," Zorth said. "I've been told, however, that you met
my litter brother, who was here last month. His name was
Portnal. Do you recall him?"
   "Ahh, yes, the felpur," Olaf said, grinning. "I enjoyed
Portnal's company. He was quite generous. He and I whiled
away many hours over many pitchers."
   "My brother and I have been searching the entire city for
him," Zorth said. "If you would join us at our table, we
would like to speak with you."
   Picking up the pitcher and a tankard, Zorth headed to
the table. Olaf followed close behind. At the table, Olaf be-
gan drinking as if he'd recently returned from a long desert
march. "Your brother was a refreshing change from the usual
customers I meet in this den of iniquity," the mook said
between gulps. "He's a true gentleman, not like the Martyr's
regular scum. How is he?"
   "We were hoping that you might answer that question
for us," Quatar said. "We have been sent by our clan to find
him. Aleka's rawulf friend said that you'd talked to him."
   "Are you a friend of the lady's?" Olaf asked, peering over
his tankard at the two felpurs.
   "We told her we'd give her gold if she'd help us," Quatar
said.
   The mook seemed to relax at the news. "She'd sell a man
back his own blood after she'd drained him of it if she could
find a way," Olaf said. "Her black friend isn't any better."
   "Isn't it dangerous telling virtual strangers something like
that outright?" Quatar said. "What if she heard you?"
   "What if she did?" the mook said, refilling his tankard. "I
may be an old drunk, and they may make fun of me to my
face in here, but they seldom raise a hand to me. Even when
my head is at its fuzziest, Thea never fails me. Enough of
them have found that out the hard way, so they just content
themselves with insulting me."
   Quatar bowed her head when she heard Thea's name.
   "You revere Thea?" the mook asked.
   "I am but a simple monk who is not blessed with your
talents," Quatar said, "Though I've been privileged to learn
some of Thea's teachings in my travels."
   "You honor me," the mook said, draining his tankard. "I
seldom meet students of the Art in Darktown. In fact, I sel-
dom meet anyone worth knowing. Your brother was differ-
ent. He showed me respect and many kindness'. I fear that I
may have repaid him poorly by providing him with the as-
sistance he sought."
   Zorth's ears pricked in anticipation.
   "He was quite impetuous. Stubborn. The sort who never
lets reality stand between him and whatever he wants to do,"
the mook said.
   "I'm not understanding you, Olaf. What was Portnal set-
ting out to do? How did you help him?" Zorth asked.
   "I advised him against it," the mook said, refilling his
tankard. "We argued quite a bit."
   "What did you argue about?"
   "I told him it was crazy. I made it clear to him that I
wouldn't be responsible for what might happen to him if he
went through with it." The mook drained his tankard again.
   As he reached for the pitcher, Zorth grabbed his wrist.
"What are you talking about? Where did my brother go?"
   Olaf wouldn't meet the felpur's eyes. "To the castle," the
mook said. "I helped him go inside."
   "The Regents castle!" Zorth exploded. "You sent my
brother in there!"
   "I didn't send him," the mook said defensively. "I tried to
argue him out of the idea. He demanded that I help him.
He was bound to go, said that if I wouldn't help him he'd
knock out the guards and go through the gate. That would
be suicide. I couldn't sit back and let him do that. When I
saw that he was seriously considering going ahead with his
plan, I realized I didn't have any choice."
   Quatar said, "We appreciate that you were just trying to
help. Portnal is stubborn. If you hadn't helped him, he would
have stormed the gate alone."
   Olaf poured himself another drink.
   "Why did he go there? Portnal was always proud and will-
ful, but never stupid. He must have told you why he felt he
had to go in there."
   "He said something terribly wrong was going on in the
city. He felt that in the castle, he could find out whether his
suspicions were correct," Olaf said. "I told him that a city as
evil as this one was not worth his life. I urged him to return
to his own home and people, but he wouldn't listen. He said
that if someone didn't stop the spread of evil in the castle,
his own clans would soon face the same peril. But when it
grew powerful enough to threaten them, it would be too
late."
  "What was this evil?" Zorth asked. "He must have said."
  "That he wouldn't tell," the mook said. "He said that I
talk too much when I've had too much to drink. I was quite
offended at that baseless insult. I told him that I had learned
how to drink long before he began lapping milk from his
mother's breast. I couldn't persuade him to confide in me.
He kept saying it would put me in too much danger if I let
anything slip. If I hadn't liked him so much, I would have
taught him a few lessons."
  "Why didn't you just read his mind?" Quatar asked.
"You're a psionic."
  "I never thought of it," Olaf said. "There are times when
I can't remember everything I've said the night before, and if
I did know what he was up to and let it slip, I might put him
in even more danger."
  "So how did you help him enter the castle?" Quatar asked.
"We're going to have to go in after him."
  Olaf's face shut, like a door slamming. "You're as crazy as
he is. I can't take responsibility for sending two more to their
deaths. I should never have helped your brother, let alone
help you share whatever fate befell him."
  "Don't be ridiculous," Quatar said. "We're not going to
spend any more time inside the castle than it takes to find
Portnal, free him, and get out. Besides, I think we know
where we can get help."
  Zorth looked up sharply at his sister. There was a new
fire shimmering in her eyes.
   "We don't really have much choice," she said. "It'll mean
going back to them and asking for their help. You know
they'll go with us."
   "You can't be serious," Zorth said. "Go back and ask them
to go inside a castle we swore not to enter? It's really too
much to ask me to do. That ninja will laugh at us. I can see
her sneering. She'll have a field day. I can already hear her.
She'll tell them that when they needed our help, we turned
our backs on them. Now that we need their help, we're will-
ing to go. I'd rather go in by ourselves than face that."
   "Don't be ridiculous," Quatar said. "Together we have a
much better chance of freeing our brother. If we go by our-
selves, we'll probably end up trapped with him. Together we
have a chance of getting him out."
   "But that ninja! She'll say-"
   "I'm not interested in what anyone says! I'm interested in
getting Portnal out of there. That's the only thing that mat-
ters. Not your pride. Not her sneers. Besides, you're forget-
ting something important."
   "What's that?"
   "When we go back, we'll know a way to enter the castle,"
Quatar said, "Because Olaf is going to tell us." She turned
to the mook as he reached for the nearly empty ale pitcher.
   His hand paused. "You are quite, quite lost to sanity. I
can't imagine who would be willing to go into that castle,
but I won't be part of it. If the Regents forces capture you
inside, they'll know that someone is telling their secrets. I've
been lucky they haven't gotten it out of your brother. It would
be stupid to take an even greater chance."
   "I thought he was your friend," Quatar said. "You're say-
ing you're content to leave him as their prisoner with no
hope of rescue. Thea would be quite proud of her servant."
   The mook sputtered. "That's not fair. I didn't ask him to
go there. Thea embodies wisdom; I just want to have a few
ales. It's wisest to steer clear of the Regent's castle and any-
one who wants to challenge her domain."
   "I think you mistake wisdom for cowardice," Quatar said
evenly. "Anyone willing to turn his back on his friends shames
Thea."
   "You should talk," the mook said. "It sounds as if the two
of you have little to speak of when it comes to abandoning
friends in danger."
   Not in the least quelled, Quatar gave him a stern glare.
"At least we don't make a habit of it."
   The mook eyed the two felpurs, torn by indecision.



               Chapter Eleven

Just as Olaf was about to speak, the front door swung open,
revealing Aleka's ebony clad rawulf knight. "I'm so glad you
two waited for me," he sneered at Zorth and Quatar as he
entered. "I was worried I might miss the chance to intro-
duce you to some of my friends."
   Eight warriors wearing the Regent's colors trooped in
behind him. Their leader, a swarthy elf, swaggered to the
felpur's table. "They might be the ones the Regent is search-
ing for, all right. If so, She'll reward you well, Blackie."
   The rawulf said, "Before you go with these gentlemen,
you'll give me that gold you promised." Laughing, he put
his hand out.
   "Cur," Zorth snarled. "I'll pay you, but not in any coin
you can spend. By Yalor s flame, you'll take it with you to
the nether regions!"
   At a nod from the elf, the warriors surrounded the table,
pinning the felpur's arms to their sides and disarming them.
Zorth and Quatar struggled, but they were held fast as the
rawulf relieved them of their purses.
   "Take the mook, too," the elf said, gesturing to Olaf.
"We'll find out from him what they're doing here."
   The mook's eyes darted wildly. "I've done nothing. I was
simply enjoying an ale with these two travelers. I know noth-
ing that would be of interest to the Regent."
   The elf said, "I'll leave that to the Regent's Inquisitors to
decide. You may not even know whether what you know is
important. Sometimes, even a chance remark can unravel
quite a bit.
   "Take him," the elf said, turning his back.
   Roughly, the warriors hauled Olaf and the felpurs out
the door.
   The bright morning had become an ashen afternoon. The
rawulf, accompanying the troops into the street, said, "When
you're done with them, let me know. I've always fancied
having a felpur coat." He gave Quatar a look. "Especially
one as tan as toffee. I couldn't wear it, of course. The smell
would be too much."
   "I'll not listen to any more of your insolence!" Zorth
exploded. He sprung free of two of the Warriors' grasp, pull-
ing one of their swords from its sheath. With a howl of rage,
he swung at the warriors holding Quatar, severing the neck
of one of them.
   Zorth pulled it free before the warriors could react, ad-
vancing on the rawulf, who stood frozen, shocked by the
felpurs outburst. Zorth swung the blade at the rawulf's un-
covered face. As it bit deep into his gaping mouth, Quatar
kicked the knee of the other warrior guarding him. As the
warrior crumpled, the felpur grabbed its sword from its
sheath.
   "Take them!" The elf drew his own blade.
   Olaf, his arms pinned by the two warriors on either side
of him, stood motionless, his face contorted by his fearsome
concentration.
   Quatar thought she could almost see the wave of psionic
energy that swept across the warriors emanating from the
mook. It hit them with an almost physical force, knocking
the leader and four others to the ground.
   The remaining warriors stood stunned to see their leader
and their companions fall. Quatar stabbed one in the stom-
ach. Zorth hacked the other lone warrior still standing.
   As suddenly as it started, the battle ended. The mook's
shoulders slumped in exhaustion at the mental effort.
   Quatar stooped to take back his and Zorth's purses and
weapons from the fallen rawulf. Zorth busied himself by
relieving the elf leader and the warriors of theirs.
   They looked up in surprise as the front door to the tavern
burst open. Aleka and her personal guard gaped at the scene
that greeted them. "You've killed my lord," she screamed.
"You'll die for this!"
   The five fallen warriors felled by the mook's mental blast
rose unsteadily to their feet. Zorth looked around, counting
ten facing them.
   "I'm afraid I may have acted a bit hastily," he said to
Quatar. "I don't rightly know what came over me, except
that I couldn't stand another insult from that mongrel cur."
   "Better to die here with steel in our hands than in the
embrace of the Inquisitors," Quatar said. Before the two
felpurs had a chance to defend themselves, however, the elf
warrior and his fighters raised their weapons unsteadily and
staggered toward Aleka and her personal guard. Unnatural
grins were pasted on the faces of the Regents troops as they
attacked the tavern owner's warriors.
   Grabbing the mook by an arm, Quatar pulled him up
the street. "Your mind flay spell drove them mad. They're
attacking Aleka's troops. This should give us the time we
need to get out of here," he said to Olaf as the trio began
running. "Let's just hope they don't come to their senses
until we've slipped away."
   Several blocks away, the trio slowed to a walk inside an
alley. "I apologize, Olaf," Quatar said. "If you hadn't acted
when you did, we'd be imprisoned by the Regent by now or
impaled on the swords of those thugs. I misjudged you. Thea
must be proud of the courage and the skill you showed to-
day. I hope you can forgive the disrespect we showed you
earlier. We had no right to make you feel responsible for
what happened to our brother."
   "In all my life, I've never seen the like," Zorth said. "Friend
Olaf, I thought that we had breathed our last when Aleka's
band came out and those five stood up. I doubted that any
power on earth could save us. When things looked their
worst, those zombies rescued us."
   The mook stood sheepishly, nodding. "I didn't have much
choice," Olaf said. "I have no desire to try out the delights
reserved for prisoners of the Inquisitors. They wouldn't think
too highly of me if they learned I knew a secret way into
their castle."
   "I'm sorry that we have gotten you into the middle of our
troubles," Zorth said. "I'm afraid that you can't return to the
Martyr. The Regent's and Aleka's forces will both be scour-
ing the city for us."
   "I'm afraid that's quite true," Olaf said. "Maybe those
friends you were talking about would be willing to let a bro-
ken down old mook join their suicidal quest into the Dark
Lady's lair."
   "You want to go with us into the castle?" Zorth asked.
"Before, you wouldn't even tell us how to get inside. Now
you want to go in there yourself?"
   "What else can I do?" Olaf said. "I can't hide in this city
forever. I've been hiding in a bottle for years, trying to hide
from myself. Today, I thought I was going to die-and I ac-
cepted the idea. If I'd let them take me like a coward, I'd be
killed for sure. It's better to die in a fight, using skills and
talents I've spent a lifetime acquiring, battling the forces I'm
sworn to stand against."
   "We've already apologized for calling you a coward," Zorth
said. "It was a mean-spirited tiling to say. We only said it
because we were desperate to convince you to help us help
our brother."
   "It was simply the truth," the mook said. "I am a coward
and an oath-breaker. I swore before Thea that I'd use the
powers she's given me in her service, ridding this land of
oppression. Instead of fulfilling that oath, I fled to the bottle,
becoming a drunken fool."
   "You're no fool," Zorth said.
   "I was," the mook said sadly. "I fear what waits inside
that castle. Yet, I've spent years lurking around its
entranceway, drinking at the tavern that many of its guards-
men frequent. Do you have any idea why?"
   The felpurs stayed silent.
   "I doubted that Thea could stand against the powers of
darkness inside those walls," the mook said softly. "Now I
realize my doubts were misplaced. It's not Thea, but me. I
doubted my own abilities, yet placed the blame on Her. I
turned to the bottle for solace, hiding inside it from my own
responsibilities."
   "We are always our own worst accusers," Quatar said,
placing a comforting hand on the mook's shoulder. "No one
is more quick to hold us accountable for our failings, real
and imagined, than ourselves."
   "You don't have to go with us," Zorth said.
   "I need to," the mook said. "Even if I perish inside its
walls, I will at least spend my remaining hours in Thea's
service." The trio hurried down the alleyway, dodging the
troops that had begun patrolling the street.

Captain Grizzle stood on the street outside the Mercenary
Martyr, watching his men tie Aleka's hands behind her back.
   His eyes surveyed the fallen bodies of his warriors whose
bodies had been hacked apart by the tavern owner's per-
sonal guard.
   "They're getting away," Aleka snapped. "You fool, I'm
not your enemy. I helped your men catch them."
   "Of course," the Captain said. "That's why you and your
men killed my people."
   "I killed them, because a psionic drove them insane and
ordered them to attack us. Why would I send Blackie to
bring them here if I hadn't been trying to help you catch the
felpurs?"
   "Because you believed you could get away with this little
game you're playing. You knew we'd learn that the felpurs
we've been seeking were at your tavern. You killed my spy
with three of his friends today, because they discovered you
were in league with these rebels," the Captain said. "You
needed to find a way to protect yourself while still helping
your little friends escape the Regent's net. You lure my men
here. You make a display of helping them catch these felpurs
in your tavern, then ruthlessly murder them outside. You
thought we'd believe your fantastic tale that a drunken mook
drove them insane so that he and the felpurs could escape."
   "It's true, you fool. Why would I betray the Crown?
Why would I have anything to do with killing Blackie?"
   "I think he was on to you," the Captain said. "You
panicked, and this was the best story you could come up
with. I don't know why you would join this rebellion. I don't
need to know why, and I really don't care. My orders are to
round up those involved and stamp it out. The Inquisitors
will help you remember the names and locations of your
co-conspirators."
   With a wave of dismissal, the Captain turned his back as
a platoon of warriors dragged Aleka to the castle. He'd sent
patrols through the streets of Darktown searching for the
felpurs. If experience was any guide, he doubted his troops
would find them after so long a head start. Grizzle cursed
himself for failing to send enough soldiers to take the pris-
oners in the first place. He should have anticipated trouble.
He should have led them himself.
   The past few years in the city had dulled his edge. Out
on the empire's frontiers, he'd learned better. Out in the prov-
inces, he would almost never have made these kinds of mis-
takes. Commanders who failed to anticipate trouble never
lived long. They learned to crush rebellions quickly. Blanket
the area with informants. Use gold, land, and privilege to
buy a network of spies, then use them to unearth the rebels.
Keep the population terrified with enough mass executions
to deter the rabble from joining the insurrection, and even-
tually you reduce their recruits. It had worked for thirty years.
But here in the city, the troops were soft, the commanders
sloppy. The regime's opponents sensed the weakness and were
capitalizing on it.
   To make matters worse, the Regent's growing anxiety was
affecting the troops. A cavalry commander had been executed
for failing to capture a human yesterday. The massacre of
everyone on the street had angered the Guilds.
   The Regent laughed at the Guild emissaries who had pro-
tested the killings on the street. They'd complained that such
slaughter was bad for business, that it would cut into Her
own profits if it continued. When She'd suggested that any
reduction in earnings would mean a replacement of the Guild
members with more loyal employees, the representatives had
left, their aplomb shattered.
   The Arch Regent hadn't minded the bloodbath, though
when none of the dead turned out to be the human respon-
sible for the growing chaos in her city, She'd been enraged.
She'd been upset when She first learned that the human had
freed a group of slaves, but She'd been confident Her troops
would catch him. When She learned he had saved Cobran
and escaped from the ring, She lashed out at the commander
who had failed to catch him in the street. When She discov-
ered that the human, and a lizardman, and a mage had freed
two felpurs from the Guild Hall, yet another commander
learned what befell those who failed Her.
   Grizzle shook his head. He didn't care about his colleagues,
but Her reaction to the news that a faerie mage had roasted
the troops guarding the prisoners did disturb him. She'd
flown into a rage beyond even Grizzle's expectations. She
ranted about the mage, shouting, "I knew he'd come back-
but he'll rue the day he challenged Me!" Clearly, She knew
much more about this mage than She let on to Her officers.
Unfortunately, no one dared to question Her. She demanded
that the failed commander tell Her more about him. He
couldn't. Grizzle suspected his colleague wished he had seen
the mage. In any event, he would have plenty of time to
contemplate his failures in the abyss She had conjured up to
swallow him.
   Grizzle might have been next if he'd told Her ahead of
time that he'd sent men to pick up the felpur for question-
ing. He'd learned in his career never to raise his superiors'
hopes too early. Now, although his men had been ambushed,
he could report he'd captured a rebel killer. She might be
pleased to know that, but Grizzle didn't plan to tell Her until
he had time to analyze whatever Aleka told the Inquisitors.
   He needed some information about the rebellion. Grizzle
didn't like the growing frequency of the resistance's attacks.
He could be facing an organized insurrection instead of a
few hotheaded malcontents. The rumors that the League of
the Crimson Crescent was behind these terrorist actions
added to the tension in the castle. For years, his troops had
laughed at the idea that such a League really existed.
   It was harder to laugh at the reality of ambushes, escapes,
and uprisings. The idea that they might be facing an orga-
nized adversary hurt morale. Too many armies consisted of
thugs used to pushing around cowed and helpless towns-
people, not battle-toughened troops. These city soldiers
weren't used to hardship. After today's ambush, they'd be
even more nervous, especially when word spread about the
Arch Regent's anxiety.
   But the League's open contempt for the Crown's forces
posed a more dangerous threat than its actual activities. The
citizens of Trillius were probably beginning to pay attention
to the talk of the League. In the taverns, customers were
probably laughing at his troops' failure to catch these elusive
traitors.
   Residents of the city wouldn't fear anyone whose mis-
takes made them objects of ridicule. The dangers to the re-
gime were growing.
   Grizzle knew that the Regent's forces needed to act quickly
to contain the contagion before it became a city-wide plague
of mutiny. He needed hard information about his opponents'
activities, interests, and whereabouts. He knew of only one
place where he might unearth some clues.
   Spinning on his heel for the castle, he decided he'd per-
sonally supervise Aleka's questioning. She would tell him
everything she knew.

A few hours after the felpur left Orwynn's establishment,
the ninja sought out Bill, finding him in the empty tavern's
main room.
   "You didn't want them to leave, did you?" she asked.
"You're worried about them."
   "I guess I am," Bill said
   "They're not worth it," she said. "They know you need
them, still they abandoned you."
   "I don't expect you to understand," Bill said. "They're
my friends. They were the first friends I made here. I'm go-
ing to miss them."
   "That's quaint," she said.
   Bill said nothing, taking a seat at an empty table.
   "In the Assassins' Guild, friendships are not encouraged,"
the ninja said. "We work alone. The less anyone knows about
your habits, your interests, your pastimes, the longer you're
likely to live. You make many enemies in my business. I
learned a long time ago, it doesn't pay to grow too attached
to anyone. They're never there when you need them."
   "That's a nice philosophy," Bill said. "You must find it
quite comforting."
   The ninja ignored his sarcasm.
   "So why join us?" Bill asked. "How do you know we'll be
there when you need us?"
   "I don't," she said. "I don't expect you'll be there when
the crunch comes. I'm planning for that, but if you are, I
just hope none of you get in my way. I can handle this quite
well on my own."
   "I must be missing something," Bill said. "Why go with
us at all?"
   "I've already told you, I need your help," the ninja said
defensively. "I'll need your help to get to Her. But killing
Her, that's my specialty."
   "I'm glad we have some reason for going with you," Bill
said.
   The ninja stared at Bill crossly. "I know why I'm going,"
she said. "I can't quite figure out what's in it for you, though.
Those humans that Orwynn has stashed upstairs said you
freed them from the auction block. You saved Cobran from
that rigged fight. And I saw you risk your necks for those
ungrateful felpurs who cut and ran on you. Why?"
   "If you don't know, I can't explain it."
   "I don't need to understand to get your help," she said.
"The Arch Regents no dummy. She'll be well protected. If
you get me close enough to Her, though, I'll handle it from
there."
   "You have a high opinion of yourself," a voice from the side
of the table interrupted. Zynaryxx rose onto the table without
effort. "I don't like eavesdropping, but I couldn't help it."
   "I knew you were there," the ninja said. "I wouldn't have
lived this long if I couldn't hear even tiny feet."
   "Of course," the mage said. "I was wondering how you
were planning to get inside the castle?"
   "Unless some other suggestions come along," the ninja
said, "I thought I would scale the wall and drop a line down
to help the rest of you up."
   "It's an idea," the mage said. "It might be too risky with
so many of us, though. If any of us was spotted up on those
ramparts, we'd make easy targets. All they'd need is a few
archers. My way is probably just as dangerous, but they
wouldn't be able to alert the entire watch guard when we're
spotted-as we will be. With luck, we'll dispatch anyone who
discovers us before they can alert the main guard."
   "How do you propose to get inside?" the ninja asked.
   "Through the tunnels under the city," the mage said.
"Once closer to the castle, we'll run into some of the castle's
inhabitants, possibly quite a few, but they won't be expect-
ing anyone so foolish as to fight their way through there. If
we can survive what we'll face in there, we'll get close to the
Regent before She's aware we're coming."
   "It sounds dangerous," Bill said. "I don't want you to think
of me as timid, but I don't relish the idea of taking on the
Regent's entire forces inside Her fortress."
   "They won't all be there," the mage said. "I'm arranging
that."
   "How?" the ninja asked.
   "By now Bill probably thinks of the League of the Crim-
son Crescent as an old man's debating society. We've often
thought of it that way ourselves. But we've prepared for the
time when we might actually succeed. Now with the One
on our side, it's time to act."
   "How?" the ninja insisted.
   "You've seen what's been happening in the city for the
past few days. That's with just a few of us," the mage said. "I
intend to have the League begin striking at the Regent's forces
throughout the city. She's not used to resistance. Her troops
are already jittery enough. She only knows one tactic-swift
and massive retaliation. That's exactly what we'll need to
draw Her troops out of the castle. The more times and places
we hit them, the more She'll send out death and destruc-
tion."
   "Judging by what I saw on the street yesterday, a lot of
innocent people will get killed," Bill predicted.
   "You're quite right," the mage said. "That's what we'll
need to succeed. The people fear Her, but they put up with
Her, hoping She'll only strike at others, not themselves. They
sit back watching others dragged from their beds at night,
hoping that if they keep quiet and keep to themselves, they'll
be spared. If enough of them see the brutality affecting them
and their families, they'll strike back, especially if the League
shows it can be done."
   "Zynaryxx, I don't understand how you can so easily sen-
tence so many innocent people to death," Bill said.
   "I?" the mage chuckled. "You watched hundreds of people
massacred on the streets of this city yesterday. Did I give
that order? Are you responsible for those deaths? Ask the
humans who wear chains and go to early graves for the amuse-
ment of their owners whether they deserve what happens to
them? The past prisoners who have died in the dungeons of
the castle in unspeakable torment, weren't they innocents?
Every day in this city, the blood of innocents is spilled to
feed the hunger of those in the castle. That hunger is grow-
ing. That hunger has been gnawing at this city for years,
spreading through the surrounding towns, eating away at
provinces and kingdoms.
   "Some will die in the next several days. In my own way, I
will cry for them. If we succeed, however, we can tear out
this cancer infecting our world."
   Bill considered the mage's words. He studied the faerie's
face. "Will it work?"
   "It has to," Zynaryxx said. "If we are to succeed, the people
of this city must shake off thirty years of fear and cowardice.
You can't really free them simply by slaying a tyrant, for an-
other despot can always take its place. The people have to
join us, they have to rise if we're to hold this city after we
destroy the Regent."
   "What if they don't?" the ninja asked. "I've spent my en-
tire life in this city. I've never noticed many of its citizens
willing to risk their lives for anything other than a few gold
pieces."
   "If they don't, they deserve what happens to them," the
mage said. "Our responsibility is to give them a chance to
earn their freedom. You can take off someone's chains, but
the absence of chains isn't freedom. You don't appreciate what
you have till you put it at risk. That's the best any rebellion
can do-give people the opportunity to take their freedom
back from those who have stolen it. If they choose not to,
we'll have done our best."
   "I can't say that your words cheer me up a great deal,"
Bill said. "I always assumed that all you had to do was slay
the evil ruler, and everyone would live happily ever after."
   "Few things are that simple."
   In the following silence, the three companions heard a
persistent tapping on the front door. "Orwynn!" Zynaryxx
yelled. "The door."
   The innkeeper came out of the kitchen looking worried.
"I doubt it's an enemy. They don't tap," the mage said.
   When the innkeeper opened the door, the young gnome
Morko hurried in, casting anxious glances over his shoulder.
"They're coming," he said, breathing heavily. "My grandfa-
ther sent me. Troops are on the street, conducting door—to-
door searches of Darktown. You need to get everybody out
of here before they get here."
   "That's no trouble," the mage said. "I know where we
can go."
   "You can't come home with me," Morko said hastily, "Or
to my father's or grandfather's. We got those humans out of
the city, but I was nearly caught by a patrol."
   "Don't worry so," Zynaryxx laughed. "We know the risks
you took. Your grandfather is still talking about the bravery
of his grandson. I have another place in mind. Besides, I
suspect they'll be searching your home, too."
   "Where will you go?" the gnome asked.
   "The fewer who know, the fewer will be in danger," the
faerie said. "That's the first rule of any conspiracy. What I
do need to know now is, what has prompted this new search
of the city."
   "They're looking for two felpurs and a mook," Morko
said. "The Regent's troops have apparently taken Aleka pris-
oner for killing some of their troopers. They claim she helped
the felpurs and their friend escape."
   "Aleka?" Zynaryxx said.
   "Zorth and Quatar went to see her this morning,"
Orwynn said. "They thought they could find out where their
brother was by talking to her at the Mercenary Martyr. I
can't imagine her helping them escape from the Crown. It's
not like her at all."
   "She'd be more likely to help the Crown catch them,"
Zynaryxx said. "She's always been willing to turn people in
to the Regent's forces if it would help her curry favor. But
kill troopers, risk her own arrest? It doesn't make sense."
   "It may not," Morko said, "But it has the Castle's troops
in an uproar. It's been a long time since any of them have
been killed on the streets of Darktown. I've never seen them
so edgy. You don't want to be here when they arrive."
   "You're quite right, Morko," Zynaryxx said. "Bill, round
up everyone and take them to that place I showed you. Wait
for me there. Morko, you and I need to go for a walk."
   "Where?" the gnome asked suspiciously.
   "Toward the Martyr to find those felpurs. Unless I miss
my guess, they're heading here. You don't want them here
with Orwynn when the troops arrive."
   "You want me to help you find them?" the gnome asked.
   "You can't expect Orwynn to go out on the streets to-
day," the mage said. "They're probably rounding up any loose
humans they find. We obviously can't take Bill. They're prob-
ably looking for Cobran. Who else can I take?"
   "Me?" the gnome asked.
   "I think I should go," Nagano said. "I don't want to sound
rude, but if there's trouble on the streets, I'd be better
equipped to handle it."
   The mage eyed the ninja closely.
   "I didn't think you cared for the felpurs," Bill said.
   "I don't, and I don't care whether we find them or not. I
do care what happens to Zynaryxx. I need him. And I'm
better able to ensure he returns to us than anyone else."
   "Very well," the mage said. "I'll go along with your sug-
gestion. Morko, go to your father and ask him to help hold
down the inn with Orwynn. I don't want him here alone
when the warriors come."
   The young gnome hurriedly left, clearly relieved that he
wouldn't have to escort Zynaryxx.
   "Is it wise to wear your mask?" the mage asked Nagano.
   "How often have you seen anyone, even armed troops,
provoke a member of the Assassin's Guild?" she replied.
   "I won't argue that one," the mage said. Together, they
went out into Darktown.



               Chapter  Twelve

"I'm glad you offered to come," Zynaryxx said. "I wouldn't
want to try to keep that young gnome's courage up. He'd
faint at the first sight of soldiers."
   "If I were the suspicious sort, I'd say you knew I'd come
along in his place," Nagano said.
   "Me? You think I could manipulate someone as astute as
you?"
   The ninja grinned, then sobered again. "Enough of that.
Right now, we need to concentrate our attention on finding
those felpurs. To trap a quarry, you have to think like it would.
Now, if we were trying to evade the troops, we'd get off this
street."
   From the east, the ramparts of night toppled over the
city. Ducking into an alley, the two carefully examined the
shadows.
   "I don't think they'd go into anyone's house or into any
of these buildings," Zynaryxx said.  "The residents of
Darktown may have no love of the castle or its troops, but
they're just as wary of strangers."
   "That means the felpur must be hiding in one of these
alleys," Nagano said. "If they have any sense, they're waiting
for full dark to fall."
   The two prowled through the passage between the build-
ings until a shout froze them in their tracks.
   "What have we here?" An orc stepped from the shadows.
He reached into his pocket, then blew a whistle. A dozen
troops sealed off each end of the alleyway.
   "I hope I'm not disturbing you," the orc said. "The two
of you seem so intent. Perhaps my troops and I can help you
find who you seek."
   "I suspect we're both searching for two traitorous felpurs
and a mook," Nagano said. "If you fools could find them,
my Guildmaster wouldn't have sent me to do the job."
   The orc stepped back at the ninja's tone. "We're instructed
to bring them back alive."
   "You can take it up with the Arch Regent if you have any
intention of interfering with me."
   "I have no instructions about the Assassins' Guild," the
orc said.
   "I didn't know that the Regent checked with your Guild
before issuing Her orders to mine. These felpur escaped from
members of your warriors once before. Now this makes twice.
It's not my job to know Her thoughts, but I wouldn't be
surprised if She decided to let professionals handle this."
   "Those weren't Castle troops the first time."
   "They were over—armored bully boys," Nagano re-
sponded. "Take away the steel they hide behind and what
do you have?"
   The ore's eyes flashed, but he kept his distance from the
ninja.
   "Wait here until I receive instructions from my captain,"
the orc said. "He will have my head if they are not brought
in alive for questioning."
   "I suspect She'll be quite interested to learn who is really
in charge of the city," the ninja said.
   As the orc turned in anger, he kicked at a tarp rolled up
along the alley. The unmistakable sound of a painful grunt
came from beneath the tarp. Drawing his blade, the orc poked
the large bundle.
   "Come out, or I'll run you through!" he said.
   From beneath the canvas scrambled the two felpurs, fol-
lowed by the mook, who held his side tenderly.
   "Take them," the orc said to his men.
   The ninja leaped at the orc, kicking his blade from his
hand, swinging around in a circle and smashing her fist into
his throat. As the orc fell to his knees, it made a low gurgling
sound, then collapsed.
   The warriors drew their swords and charged at the five
from the two ends of the alley. Zynaryxx passed a hand be-
fore twelve of them charging toward him, and a ball of fire
fell into their midst. Seven of them burst into fiery blazes.
   Nagano ran toward the five remaining troops, throwing a
small pellet in front of them. As it exploded, the soldiers
stepped back, temporarily blinded. The ninja fell in among
their midst. Leaping into the air, she delivered simultaneous
kicks to the groins of two soldiers. When they fell to the
ground, Nagano snapped their necks between her ankles.
Three remaining soldiers blindly waved their swords, trying
to follow the ninja's movements from the noises their com-
panions made. Grabbing a fallen soldier's sword, the elf
slashed the blind men's throats.
   Both Zorth and Quatar held their blades ready as they
advanced on the charging soldiers at the other end of the
alley. The mook bowed his head in concentration as a psionic
burst reverberated through the passage. Five soldiers stag-
gered, but none fell.
   Quatar kicked one who had escaped Olaf's mental blast.
As the soldier staggered, she stabbed him, pulling the blade
free in time to parry a blow from another warrior. Zorth
smashed a second with his mace. The soldier raised his shield,
warding off Zorth's blow, while he drove his sword at the
priest's midsection. Zorth dodged the blade and managed
to grab the soldier's wrist. He twisted hard, rapping the
soldiers arm with his mace. When he heard a bone snap and
the warrior's shriek, he let go. A third soldier took advantage
of Zorth's focused attention to bludgeon the felpur across
the back of his head with his club. Zorth stumbled and fell
to his knees. He ducked a sword thrust from a fourth war-
rior.
   Quatar stepped between him and the soldiers. She moved
inside a sword thrust, parried it, and darted her own blade
into the chest of an adversary.
   The felpurs' luck was running out. Zorth slumped on his
knees, dazed from the head blow. Quatar faced four war-
riors, one edging to the side, waiting for his companions to
distract her long enough for him to finish off Zorth. Mean-
while, the five warriors stunned by Olaf regained their foot-
ing and advanced toward the mook.
   Zynaryxx waved his staff at the four facing Quatar. They
staggered backward as if an invisible fist had struck them.
Three fell to the ground. The fourth, who had been edging
toward Zorth, stood dazed, his sword tip dragging the
ground. Quatar impaled him.
   Olaf stared at the approaching soldiers, his brow furrowed
in concentration. A second psionic wave buffeted them like
a gale force wind. They swayed, stumbled, and tripped over
their feet, tottering like drunks. Olaf walked into their midst,
rapping two on the side of the head as if he were testing
their reactions. When they fell at his feet, he nodded and
walked back to the felpurs.
   "They should have gone down the first time," Olaf said.
"I don't understand it at all. More of them should have
dropped, and now I have a terrible headache. I keep hearing
this ringing in my head."
   "I think we need a rest," Quatar said, helping Zorth to
his feet. "Let's just be glad that Zynaryxx and Nagano were
here to help. Olaf, there were too many of them for just the
three of us."
   The ninja elf and Zynaryxx joined the two felpurs and
the mook. "My good Olaf, I'm sure we can analyze what
happened after we've left this alley," the mage said. "If we
remain here much longer, you may suffer something far worse
than a headache."
   "That's fine to say, but where do you propose we go?" the
mook said. "If we leave the alley, we have to go back out on
the street where soldiers are looking for us."
   Pulling out his crescent key, the faerie walked to corner
of a building in the alley, fumbling until they heard a click.
"I believe we can discuss this at greater length in here," he
said.
   With the ninja's assistance, Quatar helped her brother
into the passageway.
   "We can't go far with Zorth suffering a concussion,"
Quatar said. "We'll have to rest here a while."
   "I don't believe we have that luxury," the mage said. "They
won't be looking for us in here. But the Regent's creatures
roam these passageways. We'll just have to tend to Zorth as
best we can until we can get back to the Royal Falcon. I'll
feel a lot safer with Bill and Cobran guarding our backs."
   Olaf said, "I can help Zorth. I'm not as skilled as he is in
these matters, but I can help him enough so that he won't be
a burden."
   Bowing his head, the mook spoke Thea's name as he
pressed his hand to the felpur's head.
   Zorth's eyes fluttered before focusing. "I feel like some-
one tore off the back of my head," the priest said. "What
happened?"
   "We owe our lives to Zynaryxx, Nagano, and Olaf,"
Quatar said. "If they had not been there, those warriors would
have done far worse than merely tearing off the back of your
head."
   Rising stiffly, Zorth bowed. "Again, I'm in your debt. I
intend to make payment in full. My sister and I wish to
accompany you on your journey to face the Arch Regent if
you will forgive my hasty remarks of yesterday."
   "You know quite well that we need you," Zynaryxx said.
"There is no need for you to embarrass yourself. What you
said yesterday only showed that you had good sense."
   "You're too easy on him," Nagano said. "If I know this
priest, there's something in it for him. That's the only reason
he'd change his mind."
   "Peace," Zynaryxx said. "Our journey is dangerous enough
without questioning the motives of a friend. If Zorth and
Quatar choose to help us, I need no more."
   "It may be enough for you," the ninja snapped. "I see no
reason, however, to travel into danger with comrades who
have been faithless. I want to know why they've changed
their minds."
   "I would be angry with Nagano, but some of her words
are true," Zorth said. "Our brother is being held in the
Regent's dungeons. Olaf has told us that Portnal broke in
on some mysterious errand of his own. We hope to free him,
if you will take us with you."
   "Then you will desert us again," the ninja said. "Your
offer of help was no noble gesture of gratitude. You'll use us
until you get what you want, then leave us to face the perils
of the castle as best we can."
   "What do you know of noble gestures?" Zorth said hody.
   "Nothing," the ninja said. "I don't pretend to. I don't use
empty words. I let my actions speak for me, as I did just a
few minutes ago when I saved your lives. Your gratitude, as
always, overwhelms me."
   "I'll forget this conversation for now, assassin, for I owe
you my life." Zorth said. "When the debt is paid, however, I
may remind you of your harsh words."
   "You'll forgive me if I choose not to worry too much,"
the ninja said. "My hair will have long turned gray before
you do any more than flap your tongue with idle threats.
From what I've heard, you and your sister have been rescued
repeatedly, yet your ingratitude only grows. You call me as-
sassin as if it were an insult, but among my profession, the
word of Nagano has served as an inviolate bond. Never have
I been known to walk away without fulfilling a contract or
paying my debts in full. That is more than you can say."
   "Is it now?" Zorth said. "What of your contract to find
and kill Bill? Haven't you broken your word? Are you per-
haps planning to fulfill it once he has helped you even your
blood score with the Regent?"
  The ninja angrily started for Zorth. Quatar stepped be-
tween them. "We owe you our lives, so we will endure your
insults, but have a care."
   "Be quiet all of you, or I will silence your tongues my-
self!" Zynaryxx said. "You forget who the enemy is. Save
your anger for Her and the Dark Lord. If She were here, She
would be delighted to see this kind of camaraderie among
Her enemies. We need to rejoin Bill and Cobran at the Fal-
con and get some rest before we assault the nether regions of
the Castle. So put aside your petty quarrels and your doubts
about each other's integrity and intentions. We have no time
for such foolishness."
   The mage spun on his heels and strode into the darkness,
using his staff to light the way. The passageway in which the
group rested was left in darkness.
   Olaf said, "The faerie's words make sense to me. Earlier
today, you helped me face myself and my fears. I know noth-
ing about whatever feud exists between yourselves and this
ninja, but I know this: We will need to put aside our pride
and cooperate, or we will fail." Turning, he left the two felpurs
and the ninja in the darkness.
   "The mook and the mage speak the truth," the elf maid
said. "I don't apologize, but perhaps I should put off hasty
judgments until I see whether you prove me wrong."
   The two felpurs said nothing, rising to join the rest of
their companions.
   A short time later, they found Bill and Cobran waiting
warily in a cavern passageway, their swords drawn.
   "You found them!" Bill shouted.
   Zynaryxx said, "Just in time. We barely managed to get
to them before the Warriors found them."
   Once Zorth recounted their experiences at the Martyr
and their escape from Aleka, Bill said. "Well, she has re-
ceived a just reward for betraying you. The Warriors have
arrested her and taken her to their dungeons. They believe
she aided your escape by slaying their soldiers. I suspect that
her punishment will more than fit her crime."
   "We needn't concern ourselves with Aleka," Zynaryxx said.
"I'm more interested in this entrance into the castle. Olaf,
how do we find it and where will it take us."
   Olaf described a passageway near the Martyr leading into
the very caverns the companions now occupied. Zynaryxx
pulled out his map of the labyrinth, tracing out Olaf's route.
   "It takes us too close to the main barracks of the war-
riors," the mage said. "It leads to a corridor between the
dungeons and the upstairs barracks,"
   Zorth and the mook seemed crestfallen at the dismissal
of their secret passageway.
   "If we free your brother, we can use it for his escape,"
Zynaryxx said. "I fear, though, that it won't aid us in con-
fronting the Lady. She lies beyond the barracks, and it is
foolhardy to venture through them. I'm afraid my own plan
offers our best hope to surprise Her. Let us rest and refresh
ourselves before we begin."

Inside the castle's dungeons, Captain Grizzle stood impas-
sively as two Inquisitors pressed a flaming brand against the
bottom of Aleka's feet. She screamed, rattling the chains that
suspended her from the dungeon's ceiling. She'd stopped
cursing her tormentors hours ago, exhausted by the relent-
less agony inflicted upon her.
   The Inquisitor passed a hand across her scorched foot,
soothing the pain, healing the burning sores. "Aleka, you do
not need to endure this misery," the Inquisitor said gently.
"Help us to help you. Renounce your treason. Tell us where
your fellow conspirators have fled."
   "I'm no traitor," Aleka said. "They murdered Blackie. If I
knew where they were, I'd kill them myself."
   The Inquisitors shrugged as they looked at the Captain.
"We think she's telling the truth," the Inquisitor said. "You
have the wrong person here."
   "What do you mean, the wrong person?" Grizzle snapped.
   "She's not part of the resistance," the mook said. "Her
story never deviates. All she knows is the names of the felpurs,
Zorth and Quatar. She says she was trying to capture the
rebels, not aid them, but a psionic drove them insane and
made your men attack her."
   "That's ridiculous," Grizzle snapped. "She's beguiled you."
   The mook said stiffly, "We know our job. Our methods
do not fail. We heal the nerve endings we have injured to
ensure that each time we cause pain, the subject feels it as
intensely as the first time. We've tried to trip her up-but
you don't have a rebel here."
   The Captain paced around the interrogation chamber.
He drove his fist into the helpless woman's stomach. "So
you want me to believe that you are loyal," he sneered.
   Aleka whimpered, gasping for breath from the blow.
   "Why then did the felpur come to you?" he asked. "Why
would they seek the aid of someone so loyal to the Crown?"
   "They sought their brother," she said brokenly. "They
thought we might know his whereabouts, because...he'd vis-
ited the Martyr."
   "He had?" the Captain asked.
   "Blackie said he had. Said he'd talked to Olaf. So...they
spoke to Olaf."
   "What did he tell them?"
   "I don't know," she said. "Blackie came with your men
and took them all away. I didn't have time to find out. It
didn't seem important. I thought it was more important to
find out if they were the ones the Crown sought."
   Grizzle looked closely into the woman's frightened eyes.
He slapped her, shouting, "Did they talk long?"
   The sudden blow startled Aleka. Her brow furrowed as if
her life depended on her answer, which it did.
   "They wanted the information. They offered us gold. They
talked a long time with the mook. I couldn't hear them, but
the mook must have known something about their brother."
   "A third felpur," the Captain said, lost in thought. "Where
could this other felpur be that they would come so close to
the castle, searching for him?"
   "Captain," the Inquisitor said. "A felpur was captured
inside the castle a while ago."
   Grizzle's interest lit with this news. "Does he live?"
   "I don't know," the Inquisitor said. "I'll find who con-
ducted the interrogation and get the report of his confes-
sion. You might speak to the jailers, to see if he's still alive."
   Grizzle left the torture chamber glad that he hadn't told
the Regent he'd captured one of the rebels who had am-
bushed his troops. He might be hanging in Aleka's place if
the Regent had discovered his mistake. He could still avoid
punishment for his failure if this felpur prisoner could shed
any light on the other two felpur.
   He sent for the head jailer.



             Chapter Thirteen

A ghoul wrapped in a decaying black shroud greeted
Captain Grizzle. As the specter floated before him, Grizzle
shuddered.
   "You disturb our feasting?" the ghoul asked in a menac-
ing tone. Its voice seemed to come from afar.
   "Beware, phantasm," the captain snarled. "I'm on the
Regents business. You'll help me with what I need or answer
to Her for your insolence." He looked closely into the shadow
cast by the shroud but couldn't detect any features.
   The shade shrank back at the warning. Captain Grizzle
shuddered again as he considered the power that frightened
even this ghoul of darkness.
   "I meant nothing," it said. "How may I help the Regent,
my Captain?"
   "A felpur was given into your keeping sometime ago by
the Inquisitors. I must question him immediately," the
captain said. "Bring him to the interrogation chambers."
   The shade hung suspended, unmoving. "Do it now,
shade," Captain Grizzle ordered.
   "You don't often go into our dungeons, do you?" the spec-
ter asked.
   "I don't see what that has to do with my errand or your
instructions. Bring me the prisoner, or must I advise the
Regent that you've allowed him to escape?"
   "Escape?" the ghoul uttered a weird chortling sound,
much like a chuckle but devoid of any joy. "No, my captain,
those entrusted to us do not escape. Far from it. A number
of soldiers in the Regent's service, many of them like me,
require...how shall I say this?...a different sustenance than a
barracks kitchen provides."
   "I'm not here to discuss your rations or dietary require-
ments," Grizzle said. "Send for my prisoner."
   "Ah, Captain, that is my point," the ghoul said. "What
you call prisoners, we consider our supplies, if you will, a
source of, uh, nourishment."
   The ghoul waited for Grizzle to "digest" this morsel of
information before continuing. "I can't be certain whether
this prisoner you wish is still in our care or whether he's
already served another, uh, higher purpose."
   "You mean you may have eaten him?" Grizzle stammered.
   "Not me," the ghoul said. "I dine on-"
   "Don't tell me," Grizzle said hastily. "I don't care to know.
But your fellows in the dungeon...eat prisoners?"
   The creature stood motionless, its shoulders slouched in
despair.
   "I must report this immediately," Grizzle said, tempo-
rarily disoriented. "She'll want a detailed report. You'd bet-
ter come along to explain." He recovered himself. "No, wait.
I need the prisoner, this felpur-now!"
   "How am I to know?" the shade stammered. "They're
supposed to tell us when they have further need of them.
Then, we keep those separate."
   "You have to do better than that," Grizzle said. "Are you
quite sure that you've...eaten this felpur?"
   "I'm not sure whether he's been served or not."
   "Then, why are you wasting my time?" Grizzle bellowed.
"Go down and find out. Move, shade! Or be prepared to
report to Her!"
  Without a word, the specter faded.
  Captain Grizzle couldn't restrain the shudder that crossed
his spine. He had suspected that something was happening
to the prisoners his soldiers abandoned to the care of the
dungeon masters. He knew the kind of creatures She'd
enlisted, but the thought of using prisoners as kitchen ra-
tions repulsed him. Envisioning the dungeon's endless row
of cells as some strange pantry filled him with a sense of fear
and loathing. He pushed the vision from his mind.
  A soldier approached. "My captain," the warrior said,
"Our efforts to find the rebels have failed. About twenty-
five troopers searching the streets as you ordered were at-
tacked by superior forces and slaughtered."
  Grizzle's eyes narrowed. "How many rebels were there?"
  "We don't know," the soldier said. "No one survived the
attack. The rebels have a powerful mage among them. He
incinerated several men with fireballs. We suspect Olaf, the
psionic, was with them, as well, because some of the troop-
ers' minds were shattered. We have no defense against such
attacks. The soldiers pulled out of Darktown to protect the
castle."
  "You mean you've hidden in the castle," Captain Grizzle
snarled. "Filthy cowards! A ragtag band of rebels bloody
your noses, and you run frightened like rats into the nearest
crevice. The Arch Regent's army! You make me want to
puke."
  "We didn't know what else to do," said the warrior, step-
ping back from Grizzle's fury. "It was the second major
attack in one day. We've already lost close to forty soldiers.
No one has ever attacked our troops before."
   "You didn't know what else to do?" the captain mimicked
the soldier. "You've lost forty comrades. I'll tell you what
you do-what you've been trained to do! Fight! Crush this
rebellion! You find these killers, and you destroy them. You
don't run away the first time someone raises their hand against
you."
   "It's the work of this League of the Crimson Crescent,"
the soldier said. "They say the League has troops of its own
waiting throughout the city, ready to pounce on us."
   "The League. You speak as if it were some mystical force.
Have you no wits? Do you not recognize the power you serve?
You talk of a tiny faerie even you could crush in your bare
hand. And a drunken psionic! As if their paltry powers could
stand for a moment against the Regent's. Behind the walls
of this castle dwell creatures whose powers come from the
very force of the darkness that so frightens you."
   "We felt we should protect the Arch Regent."
   "You mean hide behind her skirts! You disgust me. You
belong to an army. Armies go to war. They fight battles.
They die. That's your job, to go out and take those streets
back or die in the attempt. Now go. I want five hundred
soldiers on the streets within the hour, or I'll personally run
you through with my sword."
   Grizzle watched the soldier scurry toward the barracks.
"I'm trying to hold this city with cowardly bully boys that
run away at the first sign of real trouble," he said to himself.
He knew that the Arch Regents anger would have no bounds
if She discovered his troops had run and hidden. She would
be enraged when She learned that another platoon had been
killed by the rebels.
   He pondered his choices. He didn't savor the idea of wind-
ing up a special course in the jailer's dungeon. Perhaps the
jailer's incompetence could save him. Considering the
Regent's mood, if he presented this correctly to Her, She
would be so angry with the jailer that She might not even
notice his errors. She might content herself with punishing
the shade.
   As he turned to tell the Regent that a prisoner with vital
information had been eaten by Her servants, the shade re-
appeared. "He's here! He was being saved for a very special
feast."
   "Enough!" Grizzle said. "I'll await him in the interroga-
tion room. Have him brought to me there."
   The captain left hurriedly. When he entered the room,
he instructed the Inquisitors to remove Aleka from her chains.
Shortly, three goblins brought in a felpur. The three looked
unhappy at leaving him chained him to the ceiling. One
cackled, "Don't spoil the meat!" as they left.
   Grizzle shook his head. "Do you have a name, felpur?"
Grizzle asked.
   "Portnal," the felpur said. "Among the Seven tribes, I am
known as Portnal. I am a ranger."
   The Inquisitor handed Grizzle a paper. "This is from his
interrogation," he said.
   "So you broke into the castle," the captain said. "That's quite
unusual even for a felpur. Would you care to tell me why?"
   "I hoped to learn the secret of this city."
   "The secret?" the captain asked, amusement in his voice.
"What secret is so vital that you would break into a castle
that most creatures avoid like the plague? What secret lured
you here?"
   "The secret of Trillius," the felpur said. "A twisted mys-
tery hides behind this city. People come here from across the
known world. They come for the entertainments, the gam-
bling, the vices, the exotic lures that serve as bait for the
bored, the rich, and the foolish. Every day, travelers journey
from near and far to sample its delights. Thousands of name-
less, faceless people of all known races make the pilgrimage
to this place. I have always wondered why the Regent allows
Trillius to exist. It seems to contradict a tyrant's need to con-
trol the populace."
   "She simply provides the people with a place to amuse
themselves," the captain said. "It lessens their worries,
provides them with distractions. You make it sound like
something far more sinister."
   "More sinister?" the felpur laughed. "Much like the gos-
samer threads of the spider that reflect the light to attract
the fly, the beauty of Trillius disguises the ugly brooding
secret within. Even you must wonder what happens to these
visitors. Thousands arrive each day, many of whom never
return to their homelands. They spend their money, sample
the delights, and then disappear. Surely you've noticed."
   "My responsibility is to keep order," the captain said. "We
are not nursemaids to lost citizens."
   "People disappear from the streets. Travelers visit
Darktown and never return. That's why the people bar their
doors at night. Something deadly stalks their streets. I wanted
to find out where the missing end up. I felt the answer to
that mystery was within this castle. Now that I've found the
answer, I realize how foolish I've been."
   "Enlighten me: What is the answer to this riddle?" the
Captain said, bored by the line of questioning.
   "The people of the city are being taken into the lower
levels of the castle," the felpur said. "In these dungeons, they
become the food source for the creatures the Regent brings
into this world from the Nether regions. Demon spawn dine
on living creatures. Wraiths, ghouls, monsters, trolls, gob-
lins, werebeasts, gorgons, zombies, gargoyles-these undead
are being assembled in legions below us. Not all of them eat
flesh. Some suck the life force from their victims, dining on
the spirit of those they kill. Now, I'm destined to become a
meal for these morbid creatures."
   "I'm not interested in your opinions of the Regent's re-
cruits," Grizzle said. "The people of Trillius and the sur-
rounding kingdoms are Her subjects. She can do with them
as She chooses. It's not my place to judge Her. I'm a soldier.
She identifies Her enemies, and I destroy them. You can
help me in that respect."
   "You don't care?" Portnal asked. "It doesn't matter to you?
Don't you realize that She's assembling an army of hellspawn,
and it's only a matter of time before they need more than
just the travelers who come to Trillius to feed upon. They'll
need the city's inhabitants. Then, they'll need the surround-
ing country folk to quell their ravenous hunger."
   "My troops and I are at the Regent's command-whatever
She commands," the captain said. "We have conquered the
territories for Her, and we have held them for Her."
   "Your troops?" the felpur laughed. "Do you think She'll
need you when She commands an army of undead? You and
your warriors will follow me into the stewpots. A time will
come when you will remember my words, and you will wish
you had heeded them."
   The captain suppressed another shudder, recalling the
specter. "I've heard enough of your nightmares. Tell me of
Zorth and Quatar."
   "My brother and sister?" Portnal said.
   "Of course," the captain said.
   "What about them?" Portnal asked. "Don't tell me they have
come to Trillius! The fools! They must have come to find me."
   "Apparently, they have run into your friend Olaf," Grizzle
said.
   "By the clans, that drunken fool? He could..." The words
died on his lips.
   "What?" Grizzle said.
   "I don't know," the felpur said. "I haven't seen them in a
month."
   The captain's eyes glittered in thought. "You think they'll
come here looking for you," he said. "That's what you fear. I
see it in your eyes. Here I am sending men chasing through-
out the streets of the city searching for them, when eventu-
ally they'll come to me."
   Portnal wildly looked around the room. "Why are you
searching for them?" the felpur asked. "What do two felpurs
from the country mean to you?"
   "Much and nothing," the captain said. "They've been a
nuisance to the Crown, they've murdered my troops, they've
meddled in affairs beyond their ken. They have friends with
whom my liege wishes to meet. You will help me catch them.
You will draw them to me so that I and my troops can close
on them like steel jaws."
   Captain Grizzle signaled for the shade. "I return him to
your personal supervision," the captain said. "Find a place
where he can be kept, where you can mount a large guard
nearby. His friends will come for him soon. They must not
be taken lightly. They have killed large numbers of trained
troops. A murderous mage and a deadly psionic are among
them. Tell your friends below that it's time they earned their
meals around here. They won't be dining on helpless prison-
ers, but heartier meat that can bite back. Prepare a reception
they can't survive. I'll return to review your plans."
   Without waiting for an acknowledgment, Captain Grizzle
headed for the barracks. He now knew what to do. He was
at war, facing an enemy force of unknown size.
   Grizzle already felt more comfortable. He was no secret
police chief who sent spies skulking into the shadows, no
administrator maintaining order on the streets. He was a
warrior, a commander. He would give this city a taste of
what it was like to displease the crown. They would feel the
same lash he'd used so well in the provinces. This League of
the Crimson Crescent, like a celibacy cult, was doomed.
   He smiled as he headed toward the heart of the castle to
report to the Regent. Her anger over the deaths of the sol-
diers would dissipate when She learned Her enemies were
about to walk into a trap. He would ask Her advice on how
best to crush them once they had taken the bait. She would
enjoy that, especially when She learned the faerie mage over
which She had been so incensed might well be among them.
   Meanwhile, he would tell Her they needed to begin re-
prisals against the populace to quell the revolt and to ensure
no one harbored the rebels. The city needed to be reminded
of the Crown's power and savage fury. That would drive any
thoughts of this League of the Crimson Crescent from their
minds. They needed to see the sword unsheathed, so they
could see the reflection of Her power glinting from its bloody
edge.

After the companions had rested, Zynaryxx directed Nagano
to go inside the Falcon and ask Orwynn for food. The
tavernkeeper seemed excited as he carried out refreshments.
   "Soldiers visited us earlier," he said. "While they ques-
tioned us, a warrior came and told them that a troop of
twenty—five had been found murdered. He claimed the
League of the Crimson Crescent had hundreds of armed
troops prowling the streets, attacking unwary Crown war-
riors. He summoned them back to the Castle to prepare
against a major attack. You should have seen them scurry
out of here, jumping at every shadow."
   "We killed a few troopers," Zynaryxx said. "If only we
did have an army to challenge them on the streets. However,
their own fears may serve us as a shadow army just as well."
   "The Regent's army seems to be suffering from a morale
problem," Bill observed. "They don't stand up too well when
someone strikes back. Zynaryxx, it's time for this League of
the Crimson Crescent to strike."
   "How?" the tavernkeeper asked.
   "You must call a meeting of these conspirators of yours,"
Bill said. "The streets are clear. The Regent's troops have
gone back to the castle."
   "They won't like it," Orwynn predicted.
   "Too bad for them," Zynaryxx said. "So many of them
have become nothing more than armchair revolutionists.
They've forgotten how to fight. We must set a fire under
them." He paced back and forth, lost in thought. "How many
do you think we can get to a meeting within the next two
hours?" he asked Orwynn.
   "Two hours?"
   "How many can we reach?"
   "They won't come," Orwynn worried. "Many of them
have businesses to run, jobs. You can't expect them to just
drop everything, because you've called a meeting."
   "Don't be ridiculous," the mage said. "Have you been
out on the street today? It's empty. The stores are empty,
too. The city is hiding indoors, because the people know it's
only a matter of time before the Crown grabs anyone found
on the streets. No one wants to be out. I can't think of a
better time to find most of our members home or at work.
They'll be nervous and looking for any information about
the commotion. They'll come, Orwynn, don't you worry
about that."
   The innkeeper sighed, unconvinced.
   "Tell them we'll meet in the usual place, the old temple,"
the mage said, "In two hours."
   "We won't reach them in time," Orwynn said dourly.
"We'll never get to them all. Of those we do reach, many
will be too scared to come."
   Zynaryxx grinned. "Frankly, I hope you're right," the mage
said. "I really don't want to listen to the frightened ones.
Those who stay hidden won't be missed. The members of
the League who do show up will be the ones willing to take
a risk and strike a blow against the Crown. That's what we
need to make this plan work. Now, round up your messen-
gers, then meet us there. Take Yorth and Pasham. They de-
serve a chance to be part of this."
   Orwynn hurried out to find runners to send messages to
the League's membership.
   "Is this wise?" Olaf asked after the tavernkeeper and the
two humans had left. "What if someone catches one of your
messengers?"
   "Relax," the mage said. "The messengers will know noth-
ing about the message they carry. When the league mem-
bers receive it, they'll know we're meeting at the temple.
They'll deduce the time of the meeting by the token's shape.
Anyone else who sees it will simply assume it's a gambling
marker."
   An hour later, Zynaryxx gathered the companions. "My
friends, you say you want to accompany Bill and me into
the castle. We intend to leave immediately after a meeting
of the League. Going into the castle is dangerous, far more
dangerous than you can imagine. If any of you have changed
your minds, tell me now."
   Zorth broke the silence. "I can only speak for myself and
my sister. If you'll have us, we'll join you."
   The mage nodded. "Nagano?" Zynaryxx asked, looking
at the ninja. "Are you still certain?"
   "You need me," she said. "Especially if they're coming."
She glared at the felpurs.
   "Cobran go with friends," the lizardman interrupted.
"Friends need Cobran in dark places."
   "I'm coming, too," Olaf said.
   The mage stared into each of their faces. "Very well." He
led the way into the underground tunnels. "When we meet
with the League, let me do the talking."
   A short time later, they arrived at an intersection in the
caverns where Zynaryxx used his crescent key in the wall. A
passageway opened, leading them along a twisting hallway
that emptied into a large meeting room, lit by smoking
torches.
At the temple's entrance, Morko greeted them, flanked by
two gnomes whom Bill assumed were his father and his
grandfather. "You shouldn't have called a meeting," Morko
said nervously. "It's too dangerous right now. If the Regent's
troops come out of the castle, we'll be trapped here. We
should wait until these troubles pass."
   "These troubles will never pass," Morko's frail, elderly
grandfather snapped. "The reason we have these troubles is
because too many people have waited too long."
   "Well said, old friend. That's what this meeting is all
about," Zynaryxx said. "It's time the League took action."
He strode by Morko and to a stone altar on a dais, motion-
ing Bill and the other companions to follow.
   As they climbed the steps to the stage, Bill saw Pasham
and Yorth beside Orwynn. He nodded to them. They seemed
nervous in the crowd.
   A restless quiet settled on the audience as the faerie took
the stage. The crowd filled less than half the room; they
numbered under two-hundred. Zynaryxx measured them
as if reading their thoughts.
   "My friends," his voice carried easily. "Thank you for leav-
ing your homes today. I know you've exposed yourselves and
your families to great danger by coming here. Our enemies
are massed inside the castle, gathering to strike out against
our city. Each moment the threat grows. Our adversary is
angry. She's looked over Her ramparts and seen that the city
that once feared Her has risen against Her."
   "You all know what's occurred this past week," Zynaryxx
said. "The rebellion has begun. The people of the city have
started to rise from their years of fear and hesitation. They
have struck against Her troops, cutting them down in the
streets like grain mowed down by the farmer's scythe. The
people of the city have shattered the myth of Her invincibil-
ity, fighting their way into the Guildlords' chambers to free
Her prisoners right from underneath Her nose. They have
destroyed Her soldiers, launched daring raids beneath the
very walls of Her fortress. Before this rebellion, Her war-
riors have proven themselves to be nothing more than fright-
ened thugs who hide themselves behind Her walls."
   He looked at the uplifted faces of the League's member-
ship. "You all know that what I say is true," the mage said.
"You have seen the arrogance leave the faces of our oppres-
sors. You have seen their backs as they've retreated into their
castle. As they ran away, you saw the look of fear on their
features every time they passed a dark alley.
   "You know another truth. It has not been the League that
has struck against our enemies. Look around you. The League
of the Crimson Crescent has not fought a single fight in the
streets of our city to help us win back our freedom. The
League remained idle, cringing while others fought the battle
we swore to wage. I have called you, our comrades, together
today, because I believe it is time we gave our support to
those who at this very moment risk their lives in our cause.
   "Look around you," the mage said, his voice lowering.
"Have any among you struck a blow for our freedom? No.
Our League has remained in hiding, cowering in the shad-
ows while others have acted. There are those who are con-
tent with that, who argue that we should shrink from this
conflict, let others risk themselves in our behalf. I know the
members of this League. I know each has sworn a blood
oath to rid this land of the shadow covering it. Most of us
have waited a long time for this moment. We have plotted
and planned. We have waited for a day to dawn when this
city of ours would join us.
   "That day has come, but it's found us still hiding in the
shadows. I say, the time for hiding has past. It is now time to
redeem our oaths and stand up before those who have op-
pressed us. The time has come for us to look into our hearts.
It is time for this League to strike."
   An uneasy silence hung in the air. Zynaryxx's gaze re-
mained calm and steady as he prepared to answer the doubt-
ers, to respond to the skeptics, and to ease the frightened.
   An old dwarf rose uncertainly. "Is it wise to show our-
selves? Look around this room, Zynaryxx. Two-hundred can't
overthrow an army."
   "Maldon, I do not expect the League to get together and
march down the street to the castle's gate," the mage replied.
"I suggest we strike at the Regent's forces each time they
come outside. An arrow from the darkness into a roving
patrol will heighten the fear that already tears apart Her
troops. Small raids by small groups will unnerve them. Oth-
ers have done it and succeeded. Can we do less?"
   "Who are these others?" an elf asked from the back. "Ev-
eryone believes it's the League. We know it's not. They are
everywhere, killing troops, rescuing prisoners—they've got the
whole city talking."
   "I don't know who they are," the mage lied, "But look
what they've managed to do without any help from us. If we
join them, imagine the fear of the troops when they discover
they are safe nowhere in this city any longer."
   "It doesn't seem prudent" a dracon said. "You know how
the Regent is, Zynaryxx. She ordered a massacre on the streets
just the other day. There will be reprisals if we act. Many
good people will die."
   "There will be reprisals even if we sit back," the mage
answered. "Her troops have been slaughtered, Her author-
ity challenged. She will not brook that kind of interference.
Soon, Her troops will emerge from the castle looking for
revenge. The slaughter will anger the people.
   "The spark of rebellion has already been lit. We are the
wind that can fan the flame into a cleansing fire to burn
away the evil that has covered this city. If the people see us
striking out, they will join us. Do not doubt that. They have
already seen it can be done. We do not yet have enough
force to assail Her gate, but we can make Her minions fear
to walk among us."
   "I think Zynaryxx makes sense," a hobbit said. "We've all
known him a long time. He's always counseled caution when
hotheads urged action. He always said it made no sense to
foolishly throw away our lives in vain. If he's changed his
mind, he's got good reason. Every time a soldier sticks his
head down our streets, we ought to make him wonder
whether he'll still have it when he pulls back."
     "We know the city better than these hired ruffians!" a
rawulf shouted. "We can blend into the shadows or slip into
the tunnels. I'm tired of doing nothing while they strut
around. We meet now and then and talk about revolution,
but we never do anything. They took my oldest boy last year
and none of you did anything, just told me our time would
come. Well, the time has come, and some of you still hope
it'll just pass us by."
   "He's right," a felpur said. "All of us have seen friends and
family hauled off to the Regent's dungeons. Never have we
so much as raised a hand against it. Shall we turn our backs
again until they come to get us?"
   "Come they shall," shouted the hobbit. "This time, how-
ever, they'll learn fear."
   "What of you, Zynaryxx?" the dracon asked. "What hope
do you offer if we agree to this."
   "My friends, as much as I trust you, no one can keep our
secrets hidden from the Inquisition for long. That's why I
won't ask any of you to outline your plans. Choose your
companions and strike where and how you think is best.
Reach beyond our own membership and recruit others you
trust. Harry our enemies. If only half of us strike blows, it
will seem as if the entire city is alive with rebels."
   "What will you do while we risk our lives?" the dracon
pressed.
   "My friends and I are going into the castle to confront
the Arch Regent," the mage said.



             Chapter Fourteen

"Are you mad?" the dracon asked Zynaryxx.
   Bill felt the aftershock of the mage's announcement like a
ripple in his blood.
   "The streets are clear of troops," Zynaryxx answered the
dracon. "They're hiding inside the castle, but they'll soon
emerge, in force. If you use these few hours to prepare, each
in your own way, then when Her troops come, you can strike.
Hit them from the shadows, not in military confrontations
but individually, attacking a few troops at a time. As you
divert them, my companions and I will enter the castle. The
more troops you can lure out to quash your attacks, the fewer
we'll have to face inside.
   "Send the word out to those who aren't here but share
our dream. Tell them to strike whenever and wherever they
can, at any agents of the Crown."
   "You really intend to face Her?" the dracon asked.
   "There is no alternative. To reach Her, though, we're
counting on you to empty the castle of as many of her ser-
vants as possible. Make it seem you're everywhere. She won't
suffer such insolence."
   "Her troops are too afraid to leave the castle."
   "Only for the moment," the mage insisted. "Any time
now, the forces lurking inside those walls will strike far more
terror in Her soldiers than whatever threat posed on the
streets.
   "Friends, use this short respite to tell the city the time is
now. Remind those absentee members who have not yet
joined us of their oaths. Tell them the One is among us,
poised to vanquish She who we've sworn to overthrow. The
day foretold has dawned. If we hope to see the light of a new
day breaking through this long night of darkness, we must
strike with all the power we command."
   "The One is among us?" the dracon asked.
   "I will not speak further of him, because the risk of de-
tection or betrayal is too great," the mage said. "Let this
suffice: We of the League of the Crimson Crescent no longer
battle alone to overthrow the evil that besets us. Attacks by
the One have already shaken the city. Even now he walks
among us. I and my companions go to join him on this
journey that was long ago foreordained. The League must
now play the role prophesied for it. You must distract Her
attention from us. You must force Her to empty Her castle.
You must give us the chance to slip past Her defenses."
   Rising, the mage raised his staff. Its tip exploded in an
eerie light. "We go to our destiny!" the mage shouted. "You
must buy us the time we need, even if it costs you your
lives."
   Without looking back, he and Bill, followed by their com-
panions, strode from the stage into the tunnels.
Yorth and Pasham jumped to their feet to follow, but Orwynn
blocked their path. "We must follow Bill," Yorth said. "He
walks into danger. He'll need us."
   "We are at a crossroads where all paths lead to danger,"
the tavernkeeper said. "Bill needs you to fight the Regent's
troops outside the castle, so that fewer will be inside waiting
for him."
   Orwynn walked to the altar, taking the mage's place. The
crowd stirred uneasily. "You've heard Zynaryxx," the
tavernkeeper said. "Unless I hear objections, I call this meet-
ing to a close."
   "What are we supposed to do?" Maldon the dwarf, asked.
"Do you expect us to attack the Regent's troops?"
   "Have you heard nothing?" Yorth interrupted. "That's
what the mage just finished telling you."
   The dwarf stared at the freed slave in surprise. "I don't
think I like his tone," Maldon said. "I've never missed a
meeting of the League, and I don't recall this man being
inducted, nor do I appreciate his tone to a senior member. I
believe all races are brothers, and that men deserve the same
respect extended to anyone else, but face it, men don't own
property. They have very little to lose."
   "Little to lose?" Yorth shouted. "What do you know of
losing?" He peeled his shirt off, showing the whip marks on
his back. "I've lost blood, both my parents; my sisters were
taken when they were still children. You speak of property—
I speak of lives!
   "You think that if you hide, the Regent's troops will spare
you. You're a fool. When the soldiers come out of the castle,
they won't come looking for those who killed their friends.
They'll aim at those who can't strike back. Hide, and you
can be that much certain to feel their vengeance."
   "He's right, Maldon," Orwynn said. "Whether anyone
here likes it or not, wants it or not, the time for hiding is over.
The Regent's troops will seek vengeance on the entire city."
   "So, you want us to throw away everything we have
worked for. You want us to risk the lives of our children and
loved ones. Is this what you ask?" the dwarf said.
   "I ask nothing," Orwynn said. "Your children's lives are
already at risk. Look around this hall. You have people here
who have joined us, because one day the Regent's troops
knocked at their doors and hauled away their loved ones-
for nothing. Everyone in this room knows it could happen
to any of us, any time. That's why most of us are here. What
comfort will our property or our businesses provide if those
we love are gone?"
   Maldon sank back into his seat, contemplating the
tavernkeeper's words.
   "I don't see any further reason to continue this meeting,"
Orwynn said. "Some of you will refuse to fight no matter
what anyone says or does. We've held meetings for years,
talking bravely about revolution, swearing oaths, and skulk-
ing in the shadows. The time for words has passed. The time
for action has come. Those of you who already know what
you intend to do should leave. Those of you who are look-
ing for others to join you on raids should meet near the
altar. I would caution you to keep your specific plans to
yourselves. The fewer who know, the fewer can betray you."
   As the meeting broke up, Orwynn could see the mem-
bership breaking into excited groups who met briefly before
rushing from the room. Others stood alone, frowning, wor-
ried. They looked around, not meeting anyone's eyes before
leaving. Some shook their heads, Maldon the dwarf among
them.
   Orwynn shrugged. Zynaryxx had predicted that some
would find they preferred shadowy meetings to deeds. The
tavernkeeper suspected, however, that before the next week
ended, even those who now intended to sit out the revolu-
tion would find themselves dragged into it, anyway.
   Near the altar, Yorth and Pasham vigorously recruited
groups. "We need to hit the slave pens off the market square,"
Yorth said. "We only had two-hundred here tonight. That's
not a revolution. We need recruits, and there's no better place
to get them than among those who've felt the lash. If we give
the slaves some hope, we can rally thousands to our cause."
   "I don't know if it's wise," a dracon interrupted. "A lot of
people own slaves. We'll need their support at some point.
We don't want to drive them to the other side."
   "If they own slaves, they've already chosen their side,"
Yorth responded hotly.
   "I can understand your feelings," the dracon said. "I'm
simply being realistic. Revolutions need popular support if
they are to endure."
   "From the way you talk, we may need to follow this revo-
lution with another one to achieve our aims," Orwynn in-
terrupted. Ignoring the dracon's glare, the tavernkeeper raised
his voice to ensure that everyone heard him. "I think Yorth
is right," he said. "Right now, our goal should be to dra-
matically increase our numbers as quickly as possible while
sowing as much confusion as possible. An attack on the slave
quarters will achieve this. Those of you who want to accom-
pany Yorth and me, come along. Those of you with your
own plans can remain behind."
   Orwynn turned his back on the dracon and headed for
the door, not looking back to see how many followed. The
tavernkeeper had decided that those who wanted to spend
more time debating would debate any plans offered. He
wanted League members who sought action. He stopped
abruptly when Morko, Morko's grandfather, and father
blocked his way.
   "We would like to join you," the elderly gnome said. "We
would like to show you our appreciation for all you have
done for us over the years."
   "It is you who have helped me," Orwynn said. "Your of-
fer touches my heart, but I don't like the idea of leading you
into danger."
   "Orwynn is right, Grandfather," Morko said. "You've
taken enough risks for the League and for others over the
years. It's time for others to do their part. Come with us,
and we will take you home where you'll be safe."
   "Safe!" the gnome spat, tottering on unsteady feet. "Don't
speak to me of safe. I'm old, but I can still wield a blade.
How many of my friends have died at the hands of the
Regent's troops? I can't recall all the insults we've endured. I
won't have it said that my family went unavenged, or that
we hid while others risked everything."
   Orwynn glanced behind him. Eight others had joined
Yorth and Pasham. "There's no time to argue this," Orwynn
said gently. "When I return, I will find a way to ensure that
such a noble spirit as your own has an opportunity to help
us in our cause."
   As Orwynn turned to go, the elderly gnome grabbed his
arm. "If you will not allow me to accompany you, then take
Morko, my grandson. He will exact my revenge for me in
my family's name," the gnome said.
   "Me, grandfather?" the younger gnome asked in surprise.
   "Of course," his grandfather said. "You are young and
strong. Your arm can strike for mine."
   "Who then will protect you, grandfather?" Morko said
nervously. "The streets may already be filled with the Regent's
troops." Sweat formed on the young gnome's brow.
   "He's quite right," the tavernkeeper said. "I wouldn't hear
of leaving you alone."
   "My son can take me home," the elderly gnome said. "My
grandson will accompany you." The gnome's grip tightened
as he pulled Orwynn closer to him. "When you faced the
prospect of losing your tavern, I helped you, my friend. I've
never asked for anything in return. I ask this now."
   Releasing his grip, he and his son turned away, leaving
Morko aghast. "Come along then, Morko," Orwynn said,
hurrying out of the room.
   Knowing his grandfather and father watched him, Morko
straightened his shoulders and hurried to catch up to
Orwynn's group in the maze of tunnels.
   Outside the warm buttery light of the torch-lit hall, Yorth
asked the tavernkeeper in a whisper, "Is it wise to bring
Morko?"
   "Probably not. If we're lucky, he'll sneak off before we get
there. I couldn't refuse his grandfather, though."
   "I don't like it," Yorth said, fingering his blade. "The
gnome smells of fear. His heart isn't with us."
   "Leave him to me, Yorth," Pasham interrupted. "I'll be
responsible for him."
   After a lengthy walk through the maze, Orwynn halted
the dozen members of the group. "Do you have a plan,
Yorth?"
   "Since Bill freed us, Pasham and I realized that freeing
the slaves in the pens would not be very difficult or even all
that dangerous," Yorth said. "They really don't guard the
slaves. Most of the slaves are too frightened and broken to
even think of trying to escape. If we're lucky, we shouldn't
meet with much resistance." Quickly, he outlined his plan.
   When they neared the slave market, Pasham led Morko
and four others, while Yorth and the rest went in a different
direction.
   Pasham pressed his hand against the young gnome's shoul-
der and whispered as he took him aside. "If you don't want
to do this, you can go. No one will say anything to your
grandfather," he said.
   "I can't run away," the gnome said. "I could never look at
my father and grandfather again."
   Pasham nodded. "If you decide to come with us, under-
stand that there will be no place to turn back once we start,"
the former slave said. "If you change your mind at the last
moment and do anything to endanger us, I will have to cut
your throat."
   The young gnome looked up at the quiet human in sur-
prise. "What are you saying, Pasham?"
   "I want us to understand each other. I have friends inside
these pens. I'm scared too, possibly more than you. But Just
Bill depends on me, as does Yorth, and those in the pens
have no other hope if I fail," Pasham said.
   "You would kill me?"
   "I am not a warrior, Morko. I grew up as a domestic ser-
vant, waiting on others, obeying their whims. Today, I can
help others the way Bill helped me. I can give others the
freedom that I enjoy. I can give them hope, a chance for a
better life. Morko, I like you, but I can't let you jeopardize
this."
   The young gnome breathed deeply. "I get so frightened."
   The former slave nodded. "I understand fear, Morko.
Before Just Bill freed me, it was my constant companion.
My masters would slap me, kick me, and sometimes beat
me for the pleasure of it. I lived with fear."
   "So, why are you doing this?" the gnome asked. "You're
free now. You could leave the city, and they would never
find you. Why take these chances?"
   "Because I plan to stay free," Pasham said. "Because I
don't ever want to live in fear again. I don't ever want to
worry that someone will call me slave again. I can stand to
be afraid a little longer, because I know that what I'm doing
today will help ensure that I will never have to be afraid
again."
   The young gnome nodded his head in understanding.
"Just tell me what I have to do."
   Motioning to the others, Pasham gathered his band and
pointed to the rough wooden palisades surrounding the slave
quarters.
   "We must pry open the back gate to the slave pens. It is
locked, but I don't believe it's locked too securely or guarded,"
he said. "Beyond it, we will find a hallway lined by doors.
The slaves are behind those doors. Our job is to free the
slaves. Yorth and his men will start a diversion at the front
gate that should keep the guards busy. If we find any guards,
we must kill them quietly. I will go to the armory to see if I
can get weapons for the slaves we free."
   Silently, they scurried across the courtyard to the back
gate. Near the front entrance, Yorth crawled through the
dust, carefully watching the one guard lolling next to the
gate. Despite all the hysteria about slave rebellions, Yorth
suspected that those entrusted with guarding the slaves would
not change their methods. They, more than anyone else, knew
the general docility of the slave population. Far from the
rebellious troublemakers feared by the population of Trillius,
most slaves were too frightened to disobey, much less rebel.
Those who displayed any trace of defiance were quickly taken
for instruction and readjustment at the end of a lash. Those
who still resisted tended to disappear late at night.
   Yorth shuddered, recalling the number of times he had
seen friends dragged off to the castle. He'd been freed before
his masters could send him to join them.
   Remembering Bill's dangerous mission into that same
castle, Yorth quieted his nerves as he inched within a few
feet of the daydreaming guard.
   Bill's decision to leave him behind had hurt. Leading this
mission would demonstrate his ability.
   Just talk of a slave rebellion had left Trillius' citizens badly
frightened. Yorth wanted to see what an actual slave rebel-
lion would cause.
   He carefully watched the guard in front of him, timing
the regularity of his breathing. At just the right moment,
Yorth silently launched himself at the guard. His knife cut
off the startled scream that might have alerted the others.
   He paused to listen for sounds from behind the gate. He
signaled Orwynn as he pushed it open. Behind him, Orwynn
and the others raced toward the gate to join him.
   At the other end of the slave pens, Pasham's team had
moved quickly, prying open the unguarded gate and quickly
breaking open the doors to individual pens. Each room con-
tained about ten slaves who eyed their liberators with suspi-
cion and fear. Uncertain what to make of the grim freedom
fighters, they obeyed them, puzzled to see a human in com-
mand.
   "They don't seem very happy to be freed," Morko whis-
pered to Pasham.
   "They don't know what the word means yet," the former
slave said. "If we left them alone, most would go back into
their cages. Bill taught me that you can't give a man free-
dom; he has to earn it to know its value."
   Turning away from the gnome, Pasham crept along the
hallway. He moved quickly, wary of discovery. He turned a
corner and drew back, realizing that one lone guard blocked
his path to the armory.
   Pasham struggled to control his breathing, which in the
silent corridor sounded loud to his own ears. Behind him,
his team systematically emptied the cells and herded the
occupants to the back gate. If his team took them outside, it
would be only a matter of minutes before they were discov-
ered, and without weapons, the escaped slaves wouldn't last
long.
   As Pasham prepared to rush the guard, he felt a presence
behind him. He spun, his knife darting out, when he real-
ized it was only Morko.
   Pasham saw the fear in the gnome's eyes. He motioned
for silence, pantomiming that a guard waited just beyond
the corner. He pulled Morko closer to whisper, "When I go
after the guard, wait a few seconds, then come after me."
   Pasham took a deep breath, forcing his hand to stop trem-
bling. Without looking back at the gnome, he turned the
corner and walked quietly toward the guard.
   In the flickering torch light of the hallway, the guard ap-
peared not to notice him as he advanced toward the armory,
though he was awake, obviously alerted by the sounds of
cell doors opening and the rustle of feet.
   Nervously, the guard turned to see Pasham advancing.
"What are you doing out of your cell?"
   "Master! Master!" Pasham said breathlessly. "You must
come with me."
   "What is it?" the guard said.
   "A master is hurt. He went into a cellblock after a slave
woman he fancied, and she hurt him."
   The guard relaxed. "So, that's what all the noise is about.
A little fun in the cellblocks. Well, I hope he's been hurt
badly, because the Guildlords don't like that."
   The guard left his post and had begun walking alongside
Pasham when Morko burst around the corner. "What's this?"
the guard shouted.
   Morko stopped, startled at the guard's voice. His eyes grew
large and he turned, running away.
   "Come back here, gnome," the guard ordered, just as
Pasham drove his knife into the guard's throat. Yanking the
knife, Pasham's blade carved a wide swath through the guard's
neck.
   The guard collapsed, dying. "Good work, Morko,"
Pasham said.
   Glancing past the corner, Pasham saw that Morko was
still running down the corridor, unheeding in his fear.
   Pasham ran after him briefly, but met a group of slaves.
He shrugged. He would catch up to the gnome later and tell
him he had nothing to be ashamed of. Morko had distracted
the guard. It had worked out. "Come with me," he said,
leading them back to the armory.
   Once they had broken into the armory, Pasham began
arming the slaves. There were not enough weapons for all of
them, but soon he had two-hundred slaves carrying swords,
maces, knives, and clubs. A few who claimed to know about
archery were given bows and arrows.
   "That gnome ran out the back," a slave told Pasham.
   The former slave sighed. "He doesn't even know his grand-
father would be proud of him."
   Pasham told the unarmed slaves to continue opening the
cell doors and to bring the newly freed slaves with them.
   As they neared the front gate, Pasham could hear the
sound of clashing weapons. Apparently, Yorth's team had
run into severe resistance once they'd captured the front gate.
   Yorth, Orwynn, and one other League member held the
gate against about a dozen guards. With a roar, Pasham and
his army of freed slaves attacked.

Heading toward the castle in the underground labyrinth,
Bill noticed that the cavern passageways led them down-
ward on a steep slope. Foul odors assailed their nostrils. The
walls glowed a contaminated green, as if infested with an
unclean disease.
   "Where is this place?" Bill asked.
   "We've moved off the main corridors," the mage said.
"We don't need to set off any more alarms than necessary."
   Zorth said, "These fetid odors emanate from the direc-
tion we're heading." As they turned a corner, they ran into
a wall. "Did you make a wrong turn? I'll gladly leave this
tunnel."
   Zynaryxx stood unmoving as he studied the wall.
   "Ah, of course, your key," the felpur said.
   The mage shrugged. "The Crescent key will not work
here." Zynaryxx said. "I believe this wall is a more recent
addition to these subterranean passages."
   "What lies beyond it?" Quatar asked.
   "Better to figure out how this wall was placed in our path,
and by whom," the mage said. "The substance used to build
it is unlike any of the other walls." He tapped it with his
staff, chanting words in unintelligible tongues. When noth-
ing happened, he stepped back, stymied.
   The ninja moved to his side, examining the wall closely.
"I don't see any indentations or crevices."
   "No door?" Cobran asked impatiendy. "Cobran make
door." With a shout, he lunged at the wall, attacking the
surface with his ax, carving chunks from it. As the others
watched, his strokes drove deeper and deeper into the bar-
rier, slashing slabs from the obstacle.
   "My good Cobran, you can't tunnel through it," the mage
said. "We don't have enough the time."
   The lizardman ignored the mage's words and continued
chopping into the slab. He grunted in surprise as his ax broke
through, revealing a moist gooey surface on the other side of
the wall.
   With unflagging energy, the lizardman quickly cut out a
hole large enough for the companions to wriggle through.
He dove through first, somersaulting to his feet, his ax and
sword raised and ready.
   "Cobran no like this place," he said from the other side.
"Floor slimy."
   Seeing no reaction from the mage, Bill shrugged his shoul-
ders and climbed through the hole. When he clambered out
to join Cobran, he found himself drawing his sword.
   "I can't see anything in here, Zynaryxx. Hurry with that
light of yours!"
   In the light from the mage's staff, Bill saw a grayish muck
oozing from the walls. "Are you sure this is the right way?"
   "Yes," the faerie said, "though I haven't been this way in
many years, and I remember it as being much larger. This
once served as a vast underground storehouse for the castle,
where the king kept provisions enough to feed the populace
in time of need. It seems much smaller now. This slime seems
to come from the very walls."
   Within minutes, the rest of the travelers had made their
way through. Uncertainly, they followed behind the mage.
Bill and Cobran took up positions on either side of Zynaryxx,
their weapons unsheathed.
   "I don't like this place," Bill said. "See the walls. They're
beginning to move." In the glare of the staff's light, they
could see a pulsing movement in the walls, small undula-
tions that grew in intensity.
   The goo seemed to tremble, quivering as vibrations built
in the chamber. In the distance, a faint steady beating began
in a steady rhythm.
   "The ooze is rising," Zorth said nervously.
   Looking at his feet, Bill saw it was inching higher, and
thickening, making each footstep a chore. It seemed to throb,
too, in a tempo that built around them.
   "You have defiled me!" a voice thundered.
   Bill looked wildly around him, but he could not place
the source of the sound.
   "Trespassers! Have you no idea what you have done?" the
voice demanded.
   "Show yourself," Nagano shouted. "Do you fear us?"
   A bass chuckle echoed through the chamber. The floor
and walls reverberated with its sound.
   "Do I fear you?" Its laugh deepened. "You dishonor me
as no one has ever before done. You sully me, leaving your
insect-like tread to stain and taint me. You ask me to show
myself, yet I surround you. I do believe you know not what
you have done." A higher pitched cackle of glee replaced the
deeper chuckle.
   "What does he mean?" Quatar asked.
   Cobran plucked up the faerie and handed him to Zorth.
"Carry little friend."
   "You do not know, do you?" the voice shouted. The ooze
had risen to a foot deep, slowing them. It pulsed until small
waves formed and lapped at their calves, while the laughter
echoed on.
   "You make this so easy for me," the voice said. "I would
have preferred to tear you limb from limb, to taste the flesh
of your broken bodies."
   "Brave words for someone afraid to even show himself,"
Nagano shouted. "Come out, and I will show you what bro-
ken bodies really mean."
   "Ah, yes, I'm sure you would try, my morsels," the voice
said. "Facing you would amuse me, but through your own
actions you've made that impossible. Now I must content
myself with simply digesting you."
   Slowly the horror of their situation registered. "This ooze
is beginning to burn my legs," Bill whispered.
   "By Yalor's flame, we're inside the belly of some giant
beast!" Zorth said.
   "It's trying to digest us," Olaf said.
   Waves of slime poured faster into the chamber as the walls
fluttered. A rumbling sound came from all around them. "It's
the strangest feeling," the voice said. "I feel as if I have feasted."
   "I knew this chamber was much bigger," Zynaryxx said.
   "A lot of good that does us," Zorth shouted. "I'm so happy
you feel vindicated. Meanwhile, my legs are on fire from
this creature's gastric juices!"
   "Perhaps that's what this creature needs," the mage said,
amiably. Concentrating, he passed his hands through the
air. Balls of fire burst in flames against the chamber's walls.
Again. And again. The inferno set the ooze afire. Smoke bil-
lowed, choking the companions with acrid fumes.
   "Oh, good, instead of being digested, we'll choke to
death," Zorth said.
   "Quiet fool," Zynaryxx commanded. "Watch the walls."
The sides of the chamber heaved. In the distance, the thun-
derous sound of coughing erupted. "I think his meal may
not have agreed with him," the mage said.
   The chamber pitched, knocking them off their feet as the
ooze flowed toward the sound, tumbling them in a wave of
engulfing slime. The wave broke, and they poured out amid
a waterfall of putrid sludge onto a stone floor.
   Gasping for air, Bill wiped the muck from his face and
mouth. His companions were strewn across the floor. Be-
hind him, a monstrous mouth gaped open, choking in its
own viscous fluid.
   Bill pulled his friends to their feet, picking up the faerie,
who seemed nearly drowned in the deep ooze covering part
of the floor.
   Zynaryxx's eyes fluttered open, his fingers clawed away
the liquid. Spitting it out, the mage looked back, watching
the smoke pouring from the creature's mouth.
   "He can't extinguish those flames," the faerie said. "I fear
his appetite may never recover." As if nothing had happened,
the mage motioned at Bill to retrieve his staff.
   Bill pulled it from the ooze and handed it to Zynaryxx,
who walked unconcerned through the chamber. The com-
panions stood unsteadily, staggered forward. "What if it
comes after us?" Bill asked.
   "I don't believe there's much chance of that happening,"
he responded. "I fear his appetite has quite consumed him."
   Looking back, Bill saw the flames had broken to the sur-
face of the writhing creature. Fiery coughing wracked the
vast bulk of the burning carcass. "What was it?" Bill asked.
   "Some sort of subterranean leviathan. I've never seen one
so large before or with any degree of intelligence. Usually
their appetite is insatiable. The Regent must have placed it
here to guard this entranceway. Its hunger would make it
the perfect sentry. But now, we have the advantage of sur-
prise over whatever waits beyond this chamber."
   "What if...?" Bill began.
   "We can talk after we've rinsed off this burning slime,"
Zynaryxx said. "See that waterfall at the end of the chasm?
I don't know about you, but I'll welcome a shower."
   "What is this?" Zorth asked as he dove into the pool be-
neath the falls.
   "The former king tapped an underground river," Zynaryxx
explained. "This storage area served as a way to protect the
populace in case of catastrophe. It'll serve us now. We can
wash off this burning slime." The companions ran to it, some
stumbling toward it.
   "Aren't you afraid we'll be discovered?" Bill asked.
   "No," the mage said. "A creature like the one behind us
distinguishes neither friend nor foe. Anything that dares to
enter is simply a meal to feed its unquenchable hunger. No
servants of the Regent come here except those condemned."
   "We have been lucky in our first encounter with the
Regent's minions," the mage said as they gathered them-
selves. "Know that our next ordeal may pose far more dan-
gerous hazards. We must be certain that any creatures we
discover do not have the opportunity to alert others, or our
journey will have been for naught." They followed as he led
them to an area where the cavern narrowed.
   "I do not know what perils lie beyond, but this way once
served as a special passageway to King Liam's study. He would
go there to meditate when his mind was troubled," the mage
said. "It contains a secret staircase that provided a private
way to his chambers."
   "How will this lead us to my brother?" Zorth asked.
   "It offers a way to the dungeon that allows us to avoid the
upstairs barracks," the mage said. "The king's ancestors de-
signed it so they could pass through most of the structure
unnoticed. It comes out close to this storage area for conve-
nient access to the tunnels."
   "It didn't save King Liam," Bill observed.
   "He wasn't the kind of man to flee when his people were
in danger," Zynaryxx said, signaling for quiet. The band
headed down the passageway. Cobran and Bill, their weap-
ons drawn, led the way, with Nagano walking alongside them.
Zynaryxx, Olaf, Quatar and Zorth followed close behind,
warily watching the shadows cast by the mage's staff.



               Chapter  Fifteen

A signal from Zynaryxx stopped the companions near an
indentation in the passageway along which they crept. The
mage studied the wall before pulling out his key to open a
doorway Bill knew he couldn't have found.
   Fur-covered bodies leapt out at them so suddenly they
knocked Bill to the ground before he realized they were un-
der attack. A hissing and flash of teeth at his throat shocked
him into resistance. His sword flashed, impaling a giant rat
creature. Cobran, too, stood his ground, his sword and ax
flailing at the dog-sized rats. At Nagano's feet one lay with
its neck broken by the ninja's knee. A blow from her fist
felled another.
  The distraction served its purpose. A blast of power from
the room slammed the group, crashing all but Bill into the
wall behind. Zynaryxx, Quatar, and Zorth lay stunned.
  A wizened old gnome stood framed in the doorway, his
hands fingering a beaded chain as he muttered incantations.
From behind him advanced four armored knights, swords
drawn.
  "Crush the invaders," the gnome intoned, his fingers pass-
ing rhythmically over the sparkling string of jewels. "Shackle
them, tie them."
  Bill had raised his sword the instant he'd felt the force
slam him. While Cobran and Nagano were knocked back-
wards, their weapons jarred from their hands and their arms
apparently bound to their sides by invisible manacles, Bill
managed to keep his sword in hand. A spark crackled off its
blade as it fended off the spell. Bill stared as its blue glow
shone like a beacon in the darkened room. It must have the
ability to ward off magical attacks.
   Olaf's arms hugged his sides as if tied in place. He strained
against the invisible bonds. His jaw clenched in concentra-
tion. A gust of mental energy darted toward the gnome wiz-
ard, jolting the beads from his hands. The sorcerer looked
up in surprise at the mook. The gnome's mouth opened as if
to say something, then closed again.
   When the beads hit the ground, both Cobran and Nagano
could move again. While Bill charged the knights crowding
toward the doorway, Cobran scooped his ax from the floor
and hurtled it over Bill's shoulder into the leading knight's
head. The warrior's helmet cracked, revealing a skull. The
armored skeleton staggered, giving Bill an opening to hack
the skull from the body.
   Nagano leapt past Bill, slamming her body into a second
knight, who lost its footing and fell clattering to the floor. A
dagger materialized from the ninja's sleeve. She drove it
through the mask with enough force to crack the bone be-
neath.
   Cobran brushed past Bill, wielding his sword like the
sweeping blades of a windmill. Effortlessly, the gladiator
parried a thrust from an undead warrior, forcing the thing
back. Bill plunged his blade into the creature, his glowing
steel piercing the armor.
   The fourth knight took advantage of the confusion to
charge past them through the doorway toward their stricken
companions. Bill could see Zorth had begun to waken as
the skeleton knight raised its sword.
   The felpur priest's eyes widened as his gaze fixed on the
undead warrior.
   "By Yalor's flame, return to the paths of the dead that
spawned you," Zorth shouted. "I, his servant, command it!"
   Before Cobran or Bill could stop the knight, it exploded,
bone fragments ripping through the metal. A pile of dust
served as the only mark of its place.
   "What did you do?" Bill asked, amazed by the sight.
   Zorth struggled to his feet, shaking his head. "I am a priest
of Yalor," the felpur said. "I have been taught incantations
to destroy creatures of the darkness. I must admit that never
before today have I ever had occasion to see if they worked."
   The companions helped Quatar and Zynaryxx to their
feet. They seemed dazed from the sorcerous attack but
quickly recovered from its effects.
   "That was far too close for my taste," the ninja said. "Twice
now we've met the enemy, and twice we've slipped death's
embrace by only the narrowest margin. Deeper into the castle,
the Arch Regent's protectors become even more powerful
than those lying at our feet. My instincts led me correctly
when I joined forces with you, yet even this powerful mage
was knocked unconscious by this last attack. The outcome
could have been fateful for us if not for a few lucky chances."
   "You think it was luck?" Zynaryxx asked, his voice mild.
"You point out that I was disabled as if that is some amazing
feat. Did you think you could just stride through the castle,
while I cleared the way with magic bolts jumping from my
fingertips?
   "My friends, you've done well," the mage said as they
entered the chamber and closed the door to the passage. "Bill's
sword apparently affords him some protection from occult
assaults. Zorth's priestly gifts provide us with a weapon
against the undead. Olaf can disable and slay other of our
adversaries. Weapons in the hands of skilled fighters can slay
still others. But none of us alone can defeat all of them. If
we hope to win the day, we must combine our skills against
this lair of wickedness."
  At the back of the room, the mage examined the wall
panels, looking for some unseen latch to open the doorway
to the stairwell.
  The ninja joined him, her fingers tracing the decorative
carvings. "I think it's here. In my line of work, we specialize
in methods of entering and leaving places without being
noticed. This is superb craftsmanship." Her fingers probed
a button embedded in the woodcarvings, and an unseen door
popped open, revealing a staircase. "There's very little dust
on these steps," she observed. "They see much use.
We should take extra caution."
  "How do you propose we get to my brother?" Zorth asked.
  "Right now, we are on the same level as the dungeon
prison, which is on the opposite side of the castle," Zynaryxx
said. "We must go up above it, near the main castle cham-
ber, on a path that avoids the barracks. There is a passage-
way there that should allow us to enter the dungeon with-
out being detected."
  "As undetected as we have been so far?" Zorth asked. "If
this is what it's like to be undetected, I shudder to think
about being discovered."
  "You would do more than shudder," Zynaryxx snapped.
"If the Arch Regent discovers us and marshals Her forces
against us, I doubt even our combined abilities can with-
stand the onslaught. Stealth, secrecy, and surprise remain
our most effective weapons."
   At the first stairway landing, the mage stopped and pressed
close to a doorway. "Quiet," he commanded. "If we hold
any chance of rescuing your brother, we need to make it
through here. This door leads to a passageway that will take
us to the king's audience chamber. We can access a channel
from there that leads into the dungeons and allows us to
stay clear of the barracks and the main entrance into the jail.
Both will be heavily guarded. We must remain absolutely
quiet and draw no attention to ourselves."
   "Better if I go ahead," Nagano said to the mage. "Mean-
ing no disrespect, I possess the greatest skill in evading de-
tection. Let me scout the way in case any sentinels have been
posted." The elf slipped silently out the door, her black ninja
garb blending into the darkness, her footsteps silent on the
paving stones.
   The companions waited silently as the seconds crawled
into minutes. Down the hallway, beyond their sight, they
heard a sharp intake of breath, suddenly cut off. Not long
afterwards, Nagano returned, wiping blood from her dag-
ger.
   She signaled them to follow her. At the first corner, they
saw a body stretched across the ground, its head dangling.
The ninja motioned to Cobran to pick it up. Nearby, a
second sentry lay crumpled, its neck slit from ear to ear, like
a second mouth. Cobran effortlessly lifted it over his shoul-
der, as well, as they followed the ninja down the corridor.
   When they neared the entrance, they heard sounds of
heavy boots marching in cadence beyond. The mage quickly
motioned them into a small alcove. By the time the troops
turned the corner, the companions had escaped from sight.
   The mage motioned Cobran to leave the bodies in the
alcove. Zynaryxx opened the door to the dungeon's stair-
well. "This was used for prisoners found guilty in the king's
court," Zynaryxx said. "I didn't think it would be guarded,
because they would never expect anyone could gain entrance
to it without being discovered.
   "When we go below, we risk detection," Zynaryxx said.
"Even worse, we have no way of knowing where they are
holding Portnal, if he still lives. You recall the size of the
storeroom where the leviathan dwelled? The dungeon is
much, much larger and is honeycombed with cells. The Arch
Regent enlarged it shortly after She took up residence in the
castle. Over the years, Her minions have continued delving
deeper."
   "He could be anywhere in there," Nagano said.
   "I'm afraid so."
   "And we face a good chance of being seen."
   "I'm afraid it's true."
   "So, why are we going? The Arch Regent is our target."
   "Because he's my brother!" Zorth hissed.
   "Even I can understand that you'd want to rescue some-
one you loved from the torments of such a place. If it were
my mother, I would feel the same way. But we may not find
him down there; he may already be dead. We could sacrifice
everything for nothing."
   "There is a way," Olaf interrupted, "for us to find out if
he's alive and where he is."
   "How?" Nagano asked.
   "If we can capture a jailer, I can mind-probe him to find
out. I helped get Portnal into this mess. I came here to help
destroy the Arch Regent, but I also came here to help Portnal
escape. If there's any chance he's alive, I must try to help
him, even if I have only the two felpurs to go with me."
   "We go together," Bill said. "We'll capture a jailer, find
out if he's alive and where he is. Portnal must have come
here for a reason, one so important that he risked his life by
entering this place. Finding him may help us more than we
may know."
   The ninja shook her head, unhappy but resigned. "Then
I'll go first again. That gives us our best chance of finding a
captive without being discovered."
   Silently, they followed the ninja down the steep spiral
staircase. At the bottom, they found a heavy iron door block-
ing their way. Nagano quickly picked the lock and slowly
opened it. She knelt on one knee and peered around the
door's edge as an orc kicked it open, sword drawn.
   "Who are you, skulking in the dark?" it asked.
   Cobran's fist crashed into the orc's jaw, silencing it. Bill
caught it as it fell. "We have a jailer. Does he need to be
conscious for this mind-probe to work?"
   "No." Olaf bent over the helpless orc. He placed his hand
over the creature's forehead, gripping tightly as he concen-
trated on the still form. He remained  motionless for min-
utes before he rose.
   "Portnal lives," he said. "At least I think so. This creature
pays no attention to names. He's aware of a felpur, though.
Apparently he's seen him recently, for some reason. He's on
this level. The orc saw him being dragged to a cell under
heavy guard only hours ago. It must have been an especially
heavy guard, because the orc seemed quite frightened by it."
   "Do you know how to get there?" Bill asked.
   "I think I can find my way," Olaf said. "For some reason,
not many guards are on this level. I pushed the creature very
hard for the locations of any sentry points, but there aren't
any."
   "I doubt they expect anyone could get here," Zynaryxx
said. "As paranoid as they are in this castle, they would never
think that anyone could come this way. They must have most
of their guards posted at the main entrance into the dun-
geon."
   "It seems too easy," Nagano said.
   "A moment ago, it was too dangerous," Zorth said. "For
once the stars have smiled upon our journey. Let us be glad
of that."
   Cautiously, they began to follow the mook down the cor-
ridor, past rows of cells, each of which contained prisoners.
"Open them," Bill said to Nagano.
   "You must be kidding," the ninja said. "We'll have the
entire castle on us."
   "We can't leave them here," Bill said.
   "Don't be a sentimental fool," the ninja said. "If we waste
time freeing these people and the guards discover us or them,
the whole of the castle's forces will descend upon us."
   "Open the locks," Bill repeated.
   "We have a mission," the ninja said stubbornly. "We've
come to get the Arch Regent. I was against coming down
here in the first place. You can't seriously want to risk the
entire kingdom's fate just to satisfy an emotional whim."
   "Call it what you want," Bill said evenly. "If we free these
unfortunates and give them a chance, however small, to es-
cape, at least we know we've accomplished something."
   The ninja folded her arms across her chest, shaking her
head. "I won't do it," she said. "I won't ruin the one chance
we have on some dramatic charitable gesture."
   "Don't be ridiculous!" Zynaryxx snapped. Bill started to
argue, but the mage cut him off.
   "Nagano, you're the one who is being ridiculous," the
faerie said. "If we are to have any chance at all, we need to
distract the Regent's forces away from us and in as many
other directions as we can. Freeing the prisoners can create
countless diversions for us. The more troops chasing after
them leaves fewer for us to face when we confront Her. So
open those cages but make sure those poor wretches stay
quiet and stay put until we're ready."
   The elf started freeing the prisoners from their cells, show-
ing them how to pick the locks to free the others, signaling
all to remain quiet. Soon, close to one-hundred prisoners
jammed the corridor, whispering in hushed tones.
   "I'd given up hope," a wizened dwarf told Bill. "I owe
you my life."
   "Then keep quiet," Zynaryxx ordered. "That's all we ask.
If you want to see your homes or loved ones again, hold
your tongues until we decide how to get out of here."
   "I believe Portnal's down that corridor," Olaf said. "I saw
in that orc's mind that he's in a large chamber at the end of
that corridor."
   Zynaryxx ordered the prisoners to wait for them.
   "The guards may discover us," the dwarf whispered. "We
can't wait here. You have no idea what we've been through
and what we've seen. We must escape while we have the
chance."
   Nagano snorted in disgust. "I told you we should have
left them in their cages," she said. "Look at them. We risk
our lives to rescue them, and no sooner do we get them out
than they decide to betray us."
   "They won't betray anyone," Bill said quietly. "They'll
wait here for our return. There are over one-hundred of
them. If a guard or even several discovers them, they'll know
what to do.
   "We'll be back for you after we've found the prisoner we
came to free," Bill said, turning his back on the dwarf and
the prisoners, motioning his companions to follow.
   The companions followed Bill down the corridor. The
prisoners followed them with their eyes, but stayed where
they were. A few stationed themselves near entrances and
intersections in the corridor, but they made no effort to flee.
At the end of the hall, the companions found a large cham-
ber filled with new cells. Zorth and Quatar darted ahead,
dashing down the hallway, searching the cells for their
brother.
   The cells contained a variety of fell creatures, their red,
undead eyes flashing with bitterness and hatred as Bill and
his friends searched for Portnal.
   "You want me to free them, too?" Nagano said.
   "I wouldn't," Bill said. "Their malice would goad them
to attack even someone who tried to help them."
   "I find it baffling that these simple cages can contain
them," Zynaryxx said.
   Hearing a startled shout from Zorth, they hurried after
the felpur, finding them in a separate corridor at the end of
the chamber. They had discovered Portnal in a lone cell.
   "Tell your friends they must flee," Portnal said.
   "After we get you out of here," Zorth said, motioning
Nagano toward the locked gate.
   "Get out of here," Portnal pleaded while the ninja snapped
open the door. "The captain knows you're coming. This is a
trap."
   Behind them, they heard the sound of cell doors creaking
open, all along the passageway. A metal grate from above
opened, revealing a dracon warrior officer whose bellow of
laughter echoed through the chamber.
   "Welcome, welcome," Captain Grizzle laughed. "So, I
finally meet the League of the Crimson Crescent. Forgive
my laughter, but I really expected something more Impres-
sive than a rag-tag band like yourselves.
   "For days, you've had the kingdom in an uproar with talk
of revolution. You're like a disease, spreading contagion wher-
ever you go. Some of our city's fairest citizens have risen in
revolt, following your example."
   The captain looked them over again, shaking his head in
disbelief. "Your example has ignited a very unwise subver-
sion," the Captain said. "Luckily, it is still in its initial stages,
small pockets of mutiny burning intensely but confined to
marginal areas. My troops can still extinguish this blaze,
though some citizens have been emboldened to attack my
warriors. A few of my troops are actually frightened to go
out on the streets, if you can imagine. If you only knew how
many I've sent out to search for you.
   "And you come to me. Just as I knew you would. You slip
by all of the castle's guards, work your way through our elabo-
rate defenses, and blindly stumble into my little trap. Once
your followers learn that I have crushed you, they'll lose heart
and this uprising will fail. You've saved me a great deal of
work.
   "How ever can I thank you?" the Captain asked.
   "You can die quietly," Zynaryxx said. "That would more
than suffice."
   "Ah, yes, the mystery mage with whom the Arch Regent
is so upset and obsessed," Captain Grizzle said. "You have
no idea how much consternation you have caused everyone
in the castle. Where is he? She keeps asking. Find him! How-
ever, She won't tell us why you haunt Her so intensely. What
is this strange bond between the two of you?"
   "Come down here, and I'll whisper it in your ear,"
Zynaryxx said.
   "Oh no! I might get more than a few words," the captain
laughed. "Though you can't blame me for being interested.
If I didn't know better, I'd say She's acting like a smitten
school girl."
   "I'm sure your mistress would be interested to learn that
the Arch Regent has become the subject of idle gossip by
servants," Zynaryxx said.
   "Perhaps She would," the captain said. "You do have the
opportunity to tell Her yourself. She left me instructions to
spare you if you leave this riffraff."
   The companions watched the mage intently.
   "Come now," the captain said. "You have no time for
dramatics, false pride, and foolish loyalty. Your friends are
dead. Oh, they may still breathe at this moment, but soon
those creatures you passed down the hall will feast on their
bodies-even on their souls. You saw them. You might even
have recognized some of them."
   "I can see She has told you very little about me," Zynaryxx
said. "For I know those creatures and their powers. I know
them as well as She, much to my shame."
   "They are Her personal guard," the Captain said. "More
await below."
   "He's telling the truth," Portnal said breathlessly. "The
Arch Regent has been recruiting them, bringing them from
other dimensions, promising them the flesh and blood and
spirits of the living races. That's why She has kept Trillius all
these years. It serves as a vast trap, drawing all the intelligent
races to its delights and vices. When travelers disappear, no
one notices. She started with humans. Then, She began us-
ing Trillius as Her web, spinning traps that brought thou-
sands of victims to Her. They come to the city, lured by Her
siren song of wealth, flesh, drugs, alcohol, and more sinister
delights. After the Guilds have fleeced them, She takes Her
tribute in gold and flesh to feed the abominations in the
lower depths of this castle. Her efforts to bring in ever more
of these undead have made it impossible to satisfy their ap-
petites. They will soon go forth into the city to take what
they must to survive. After they've sated themselves on
Trillius, they'll cover the kingdom and surrounding lands
like a great darkness."
   "Your knowledge will die with you," the captain said. "I
have spent my life in battle, yet I, too, fear these creatures.
Look now and see your doom."
   From around the corner, the fell creatures advanced-
twenty fell warriors, their swords as black as pitch. Four rock
golems stood among them, advancing with stone sledges,
their strange, lifeless eyes the color and luster of fine, old
polished pewter. Four netherscourges closely followed, scimi-
tars raised. Two wraithkings floated above, escorted by six
undead nightguards. At the rear, four abyss dwellers skulked
in the shadows, avoiding the light.
   Bill couldn't have named the creatures advancing on them,
but the shadowed faces and grinning skulls offered no hope.
   "I have no more time to waste, mage," the captain said.
"Decide. My mistress offers you life. If you refuse and have
not the wit to save it, these creatures will take it for them-
selves. I care not how you choose."
   As Zynaryxx was about to answer, the ninja interrupted.
"Faithless old fool," Nagano said bitterly. "You lead us to
our deaths and abandon us."
   The mage ignored her, pushing aside his companions as
he walked forward. The advancing creatures parted to make
a path for him. "I have lived long enough to know when I
am outmatched," he said, his head bowed. "We have
gambled, and now I must play the roll of the dice that fate
has ordained."



              Chapter Sixteen

"Hear my answer, Lady of Darkness!" Zynaryxx raised his
head, his voice booming through the chamber. Stretching
out his staff, he bellowed in an ancient tongue that shook
the stone ceiling. He raised an open palm and slapped the
air, sending a lightning flash at the undead host. The bolt
struck two netherscourges, and their shrouds burst into
flames. As they writhed, slabs of rock fell from the ceiling,
crushing three abyss dwellers.
   "So be it!" Captain Grizzle slammed the panel shut.
   The wraithkings signaled, sending their legion against the
companions like a wave. As the fell warriors advanced, Bill
observed Olaf focusing his mind. His psyche punched out
like a solid force, knocking twelve of the undercreatures to
the floor.
   As the stricken warriors climbed unsteadily to their feet,
it seemed to Bill that the irises of their eyes spun like wheels.
Though their weapons trembled in unsure hands, they turned
on their companions with howls of manic fury.
   Zorth shouted Yalor's name and chanted an incantation.
The six undead night guards pulsated. A flash of blinding
white light enveloped them.
   When Bill's sight returned, the creatures were gone.
Cobran, followed by Bill, Quatar, and Portnal, charged the
rock golems, dodging through the fell warriors locked in
combat with their own fellows.
   The wraithkings raised their hands and worked their
mouths in silent supplication to the dark gods. A wall of
force smashed through the companions, knocking them to
the floor, strewing them alongside fell warriors and golems.
An abyss dweller leaped on Cobran, while the netherscourges
advanced toward Olaf and Zorth.
   The abyss dweller resembled a land crawling octopus. It
wrapped its tentacles around the lizardman, squeezing as its
suckers ripped Cobran's scaly flesh. A mammoth beak at its
center plunged into his shoulder, ripping through the flesh,
sucking his blood.
   Cobran flexed his back and arm muscles, trying to free
himself, but the grip around him only tightened in response.
With superhuman strength, he pulled his knees underneath
him and rose to his feet, swaying dizzily as the creature's
viselike grip squeezed the air from his lungs.
   The abyss dweller's beak moved to Cobran's chest, over
his heart, and prepared to burrow between the lizardman's
ribs. Cobran flung himself to the stone floor, trying to crush
the creature. It bashed against the paving stone unfazed,
clamping its tentacles more solidly around Cobran, squeez-
ing the air from his lungs. Cobran's mouth opened, but he
could draw no breath. He watched helplessly as the obscen-
ity drove its sharpened beak toward his heart.
   Bill's blade flashed, severing first the beak, then the
creature's body from the tentacles. The tentacles slowly shriv-
eled, releasing their grasp as shuddering gasps wracked
Cobran's body.
   While checking to see if the lizardman would survive,
Bill didn't see the golem's rock sledge swinging toward his
head. Nonetheless, His sword darted into its path, splinter-
ing the stone as it drove into the golem's chest. A heavy shard
of the broken stone struck Bill a glancing blow. He fell un-
conscious.
  Zorth watched the netherscourge advance toward him.
As he called Yalor's name, the shade grinned maliciously,
whispering a silent curse. The incantation struck the felpur
in the throat, silencing him as the ghoul advanced with an
obsidian dagger it pulled from under its shroud. Zorth
stepped back, his mouth moving soundlessly. The
netherscourge swung his knife. The felpur drew his sword
barely in time to block it.
  Separated from the rest, Olaf battled the other creature
who drove him back against the wall. Olaf's forehead
wrinkled in furious concentration. Zorth could see the air
between the mook and the creature disturbed by the force
of his psychic blasts. The scourge only grinned. Casually, it
drove a fist into Olaf's stomach, knocking the wind out of
him. With its other hand, it grabbed the fur on the mook's
head, grasping it tightly as it slapped him back and forth.
  Stepping behind the dazed mook, the scourge pulled
Olaf's head back, exposing the psionic's throat and sinking
its teeth into the old mook's neck.
  Zorth's own adversary advanced toward him, flashing its
obsidian blade. He lifted his own sword over his head and
threw it with all his strength, praying as he watched it spin
end-over-end until it pierced the scourge about to open
Olaf's throat and drink his blood.
  Weaponless, Zorth dodged the knife stroke, while Olaf's
adversary crumpled to the floor. Zorth switched his atten-
tion to his own scourge, reaching to block the blade with his
arm. He felt the stone-cutting edge bite into his wrist. It felt
like fire. His arm fell to his side, limp.
   The scourge stepped back, its teeth dripping blood in a
satanic grin as it watched the look of horror crossing Zorth's
face. "Yes," hissed the creature. "You feel my bite. My blood
now flows through your veins."
   The fire raced up past Zorth's elbow, heading higher up
his arm as his heart pumped it inexorably through his body.
   "Relax, priest," the creature said. "Soon you will be mine.
You will have no strength to resist me. I will feed upon your
blood, and devour your very soul."
   Zorth felt his knees buckle as he fell kneeling to the floor.
   The netherscourge said, "In another place and time, I
would be amused to have you serve me in the eternal dark-
ness, but today I am hungry. Your selfless decision to save
your friend tells me your soul will make a meal such as none
I have enjoyed before."
   The fire raging in Zorth's veins reached his shoulder. Zorth
placed his other hand there and mouthed a silent prayer.
   "You pray to Yalor," the scourge gloated. "Perhaps you
call on Yalor's healing powers to cure you of the deadly venom
now coursing through your bloodstream. Yalor cannot hear
you, though, can he? Your healing powers have failed. You
can only submit to me!"
   The scourge moved closer, opening its mouth as it bent
over the felpur's neck. It jerked his head up and screamed
just as Nagano's dagger pierced its eye.
   It struggled to its feet as the ninja leapt, slamming its
head back with a swift kick. She ripped the shroud from the
beast and drove her fist through its rib cage. When her hand
pulled back, it held a beating heart. Crumpling to the floor,
the nightscourge shrieked once and died.
   The obsidian knife lay next to Zorth. Nagano watched
him try to speak. "Drink this," she said, pulling a flask from
her belt. "You've been poisoned."
   Zorth felt the flask against his lips. Hot liquid slid down
his throat. It burned.
   "I don't know if it's in time," the ninja said. "You saved
the mook, leaving your own life in danger. I've said many a
harsh word to you. I misjudged you." She turned away.
   The warriors driven insane by Olaf's mental blast attacked
their remaining comrades. Four still stood, locked in com-
bat with three rock golems. Quatar and Portnal fought with
them, slashing the troll-like creatures and dodging their
sledges, standing between them and their fallen compan-
ions. Cobran and Bill lay only a few feet away from the
Golem's advance. Nagano ran to join them, frightened by a
far grimmer tableau at the other side of the chamber.
   Zynaryxx stood alone before the two wraithkings. An aura
surrounded each of them, deflecting bolts of energy that
flashed back and forth between them.
   The mage was tiny compared to his adversaries. His staff,
outstretched in his hand, glowed with a bright white light.
The radiance surrounding him looked like a painting of some
elder king battling nether gods.
   The wraithkings rained bolts of fire, lightning, and ice
on the faerie. Most never penetrated Zynaryxx's magical
shield. Those that did crash through the barrier shredded it
and knocked the faerie to the ground. Battering aside the
remains of his protective screen, the wraithkings advanced
on him, baring their teeth in hideous smiles.
   As he lay on his back watching the wraithkings advance,
the mage saw his own death mirrored in the reflection of
their undead eyes. The creatures leered as they approached,
drawing dark weapons.
   "We will feast on you, faerie mage," one gloated.
   The mage shouted an incantation that echoed through
the chamber. The room rumbled as the words of power reso-
nated from the walls. Above the tiny figure, the very air
seemed to open, revealing a passage to a different plane. In
the dimness, flames and darkness battled over an unearthly
landscape. From across the room, Bill glimpsed the path to
hell, littered with broken creatures, peopled by satanic fig-
ures. A creature clothed in flame howled as it tore through
the ephemeral gate, blazing as the air exploded around it.
Even Zynaryxx shielded his eyes.
   With an unearthly shriek of hunger, fear, and hate, it
glared at the mage, its malevolence at bay but barely so. The
faerie shouted a hoarse word that cowed the creature, forc-
ing it to face the wraithkings, stunned like all the others by
the spectacle summoned to their midst. Roaring, the flame
creature leapt at the wraithkings, its fiery claws ripping
through their protective auras.
   Zynaryxx shouted again, dropping his staff and leaping
to his feet. From the tips of his fingers flashes of energy cut
through the air, smashing into the wraithkings. The fiery
creature pounced on them, consuming them in an inferno
of fire.
   When the wraithkings fell, the rock golems shrieked and
turned to escape. Portnal, Quatar, and Nagano cut them down.
   The felpur and the ninja went to Bill, helping him rise.
Blood ran down his face from the shard of rock that had
gashed his forehead. He staggered unsteadily, his eyes finally
focusing.
   He helped Cobran rise. The lizardman gingerly touched
his ribs, his shoulder still bleeding heavily.
   Olaf stumbled toward them. "I tried my best," the mook
said, "but I was helpless before that ghoul. I struck him with
all the power my mind could command, and he only grinned.
Thank Thea that Zorth acted when he did."
   Zynaryxx looked shaken by his ordeal. "I was outmatched.
I once vowed I would never again open a doorway to sum-
mon a dark lordling to this plane. Like a coward, when I saw
death approaching me, his hands outstretched, I broke my
oath."
   "There is no shame in victory," Nagano said. "You saved
your friends from death and won us another chance. Put-
ting evil to good use is not wrong."
   They gathered around Zorth, who remained sprawled
across the floor. Nagano seemed to read his feline face like a
page of a book, deliberately, line by line. "He threw his sword
at a netherscourge that was about to kill Olaf. He saved the
mook, but suffered a poisonous stroke from the creature. I
gave him an antidote, but I don't know if it was in time."
   Quatar bent over her brother, feeling his forehead and
pressing her ear against his chest. "It appears that you did,"
the monk said. "I am not as skilled in these matters as my
brother, but I perceive that the dark poison has robbed him
of much of his strength and will."
   Quatar rubbed her brother's arm, whispering words of
healing. Zorth's eyes fluttered as she called him back. He
tried to speak, but failed.
   "The scourges silenced him," Zynaryxx said. "No won-
der he fell to them. His spells died in his throat." The mage
handed Quatar a small vial.
   "Give him this," the mage said. "It should help him re-
gain his voice. If we are lucky, he may help the other wounded
and himself."
   Zorth reacted quickly to the potion. He muttered hoarse
spells that soon helped Cobran and Bill's wounds.
   "The Regent's troops will soon appear to gloat over our
deaths," Zynaryxx said. "We must move quickly if we are to
escape them and find the Regent."
   "Quatar, take Portnal and go back the way we came," the
mage said. "You must get word to Orwynn and the rest of
the League about the Regent's evil conspiracy. If the people
of the city discover this secret, they will join the League in
rising against Her."
   "I can't leave you," Quatar said.
   "We don't have time to argue," Zynaryxx said. "Portnal
can't go alone. He doesn't know the way. The prisoners are
waiting outside to storm the dungeon's gates. That should
empty the barracks and create enough diversion for us to
find the Regent."
   "It's not fair," the monk said.
   "Don't be ridiculous," Zynaryxx said. "You saw how close
we were to defeat just moments ago. We need to rouse the
people enough to convince them to storm the castle. The
Regent knows we're here. If we don't get word to Orwynn to
send us reinforcements, She'll devote Her entire force to us.
We cannot survive that kind of devastating attack. You and
your brother are our only hope.
   "If you stay, we all die," the mage said. "If you go, you
might bring enough help so we can survive."
   The felpur's shoulders slumped.
   "Olaf, you and Zorth need to realize that your powers do
not work against every creature we'll face in this castle,"
Zynaryxx said. "We were nearly killed in that encounter,
because we allowed ourselves to be split up, fighting sepa-
rately, instead of together. We must fight as a team if we are
to have any chance for victory."
  They left the chamber and soon found themselves amid
the liberated prisoners. "We heard a battle," the dwarf said.
"We considered going to you."
  "Then decided to remain here where it was safe," Nagano
said. "Your gratitude never ceases to amaze me."
  The dwarf pulled a sword from under his cloak. "We had
orders to remain here in case any of you escaped our trap."
  The companions saw that each prisoner had pulled a
weapon from underneath their clothes.
  "Our captain ordered us to wait here in these cells for
you," the dwarf said. "He didn't think you'd open them. It
was all we could do to keep from laughing when you did.
Frankly, none of us expected to see any of you come out
alive from the trap he had set. But the captain always pre-
pares for any possibility."
  "Does he now?" Zynaryxx said. "Did he prepare for this?"
With a wave of his hand, fireballs rained down the middle
of the prisoners blocking the hallway. Most dove to the side
to escape the flames.
  "Follow me," the mage shouted, dashing past them. Draw-
ing his sword, Cobran slashed his way through the startled
crowd, flanked by Bill, the two of them widening a passage
through the wall of flesh. The flames and the flash of steel
cut through them easily. Many ducked back into the cells to
avoid the assault.
  The mage pointed down the corridor. "Quatar, Portnal,
you know what you must do," the mage ordered. "Go, while
we buy some time."
   "I shall stay," Portnal said.
   "You'll do as you're told." Quatar grabbed his wrist and
jerked him down the hallway. "Zynaryxx risked his life to
save you. If now he says he needs us to go for help, we'll go
for help—or I'll crack your stubborn skull."
   Portnal stared at his sister in surprise, earning himself
another yank. Shrugging his shoulders in resignation, he
followed his litter sister to the spiral staircase the compan-
ions had used to enter the dungeon. Behind them, they heard
the clash of steel on steel.
   "This way," Quatar commanded, leading Portnal up the
stairs. "Don't make a sound," she said, gasping for breath
when they reached the top. "There's an alcove just outside
here. We must take great care when we enter the corridor,
because guards may be nearby."
   As they entered the alcove, the ranger stooped to exam-
ine the two as yet undiscovered bodies Cobran had dumped
there after Nagano killed them.
   "What are you doing?" the monk hissed.
   "I need a sword," the ranger said. "It's bad enough being
dragged around this castle. I've had enough of this place. I
won't go any farther unarmed, though. I won't let them take
me again."
   Drawing a sword from a fallen guard, he examined the
blade. "It'll have to do for now," he said. He leaned down
again and pulled a short knife from the guard's belt.
   "We're not going to be able to fight our way out of here,"
the monk whispered. "If we're discovered and they sound
the alarm, we're doomed."
   "I know that," Portnal said.
   Together, they crept from the alcove into the corridor,
staying close to the wall.
   "Herzo!" a voice shouted from behind them. "If you're
asleep again, they'll have your hide."
   The two felpurs pressed closer to the wall, their fingers
tightening around the hilts of their blades as the voice neared.

Bill, Cobran, and Nagano faced the warriors who had been
posing as prisoners, while the two felpurs ran for the exit.
The Captain's guard seemed uncertain. They evidently had
not expected anyone to escape the trap. They had seen the
creatures assigned the task of killing Zynaryxx and his friends.
Fear caused them to hesitate, anxious about what the com-
panions might do to them.
   The dwarf and eight warriors pushed their way to the
front to confront them. "Don't just stand here gaping! You
know your orders. Kill them. If we allow them to escape, the
captain will feed us to Her monsters."
   As the dwarf stepped forward, Zynaryxx signaled Olaf,
who struck the dwarf and his advancing force with a mental
blast. They stumbled, their steps faltering as the psionic's
wave assaulted them. Howling with insane fury, they turned
and leaped on their own men, pushing them back.
   "Follow me," Zynaryxx ordered. "Once they subdue their
fellows, they'll be after us. We must lead them away from
Quatar and Portnal's trail." The mage ran past the doorway
the two felpurs had used, making sure that the warriors could
see them taking a different corridor. "This will take us up
into the castle's main audience chamber," he said.
   Behind them Bill heard the sound of clanging steel, punc-
tuated by demented laughter. "That treacherous dwarf has
earned us a head start," Zynaryxx said.
   At the top of the stairs, they ran headlong through the
hallway and into the audience room. "There's a trap door in
the floor," he said, startled by the sight that greeted him.
   The room looked more like a vast underground cavern
than a royal audience room. The ceiling was covered with
stalactites reaching toward the floor. Sharp stalagmites stuck
up from the floor like a forest of spears.
   "What evil bewitchment is this?" Zorth asked.
   "It matters not," the mage said. "The Regent must have
been experimenting. One of her enchantments has melted
the stone ceiling and created this. Inspect the floor. We must
find a way out of here."
   The companions spread out, searching. "We'll never find
it," Zorth said. "They'll be on us at any moment."
   "Perhaps," Zynaryxx said. Turning to the lizardman, he
pointed to the center of the room. "Look there."
   Cobran walked gingerly through the field of stone knives
rising from the floor.
   He tripped, cut his hand on one, and angrily smashed it
with the shaft of his  sword. It broke loose from the floor.
   "Of course," Zynaryxx said. "When the molten stone fell
from the ceiling, it did not fuse with the cold floor. We can
find the hatchway. Just knock the stalagmites aside. If the
door isn't underneath, put them back up so the guards won't
trace our path."
   Cobran fell to with a will, using his ax to topple stalag-
mites like wheat before a newly sharpened scythe. The
others joined him, tipping them over with abandon but
carefully putting them back in place.
   Nagano spied an outline on the floor. "I found it."
   "None too soon," the mage said. "I hear them coming."
   After Nagano cleared the way, Cobran pulled the heavy
stone slab free, while the rest made sure the stalagmites looked
undisturbed.
   "Quickly, everyone inside," the mage said.
   They clamored into a musty passage that led to a room
thick with dust.
   "Maybe they've forgotten about this room," Zynaryxx
said. "It served me well many years ago. The true king and I
would sometimes enjoy a leisurely repast here when we sought
to escape the tiresome routines of court life. I suggest we
rest here until the pursuit dies off. They'll have alerted the
entire castle by now. If we blunder forth haphazardly, we'll
just walk into one of their patrols. With any luck, they'll
think we've taken our imprisoned comrade and fled the
castle."
   "What of Quatar and Portnal?" Zorth asked. "What
chance do they have?"
   "It depends," the mage said, stifling a yawn. "Their
chances are excellent if no one has discovered the bodies we
left behind. If someone finds the guards we killed, then our
friends could be captured. However, even if they discover
the bodies, I doubt they'll look in the storehouse for fear of
the leviathan. If they can reach that room, they'll be safe."
   "What if they've been captured?"
   "Then, we'll have to rescue them again," Nagano said.
   The companions stretched out to rest in the crowded
chamber, keeping their weapons close-except for the ninja,
who couldn't seem to relax and kept looking at the mage.
   "Well, do you have something to say or do you intend to
keep the rest of us from sleeping with all that squirming?"
the faerie said irritably. "For someone with all that training
in silence and stealth you keep telling us about, you seem to
have great difficulty keeping still."
   "I can't sleep," she said. "In all my life, I seldom have had
to apologize. Today, I apologized to Zorth for my insults.
When I saw him throw away his weapon to save Olaf, leav-
ing him with nothing with which to protect himself, I real-
ized that I had misjudged him."
   "And now you can't sleep, because making an apology
upsets your entire life plan, which is based on distrust."
   "No," the ninja said. "I can't sleep, because I find that I
owe you an apology, as well. I called you an old fool and
accused you of betraying us when I thought you intended to
go to the Regent. As I looked across that chamber, I saw
death approaching. I knew then that if they offered me a
way to live, even if it meant betraying you, I would take it. I
am ashamed. In the face of death, I found I was a coward.
And so I lashed out at you."
   "You are no coward," the mage said gruffly. "You fought
against heavy odds. We all did. If we can put our differences
aside and fight together, trusting in each other, we may have
a surprise for Her."
   "Now go to sleep." The mage pulled his cloak more tightly
around himself.
   Nagano gazed at him, unwavering.
   Zynaryxx sat up again. "What is it?" the faerie demanded.
"I have forgiven you your rash remarks. Now let us sleep."
   The ninja looked uncomfortable. "I hoped you might
tell us why the Regent offered to save you."
   "You don't trust me?" the faerie said. "I must explain
myself to you?"
   "When I laid on the floor of Orwynn's tavern with a knife
at my throat, you kept them from slaying me. I have always
trusted you. I just hoped that you trusted us enough to tell
us this strange tale of why the Arch Regent puts such value
on your life. Why would She offer you, Her sworn enemy,
his life? How does She know you? Why do you mean so
much to Her? Why were you so upset when you summoned
that dark creature to battle those wraithkings? What is this
oath you swore never to command the Nether creatures?"
   "You don't want to know much, do you?" the mage said
sourly. "And the rest of you are just as bad, pretending to
sleep while you eavesdrop."
   "Peace," Bill said, breaking the silence. "I do believe that
the powerful Zynaryxx, leader of a feared underground ca-
bal, destroyer of armies of the undead, is embarrassed."
   "Pah," the mage spat. "I just don't like snoops prying into
matters that have no bearing on our present mission. What
you ask about lies buried in the past."



             Chapter Seventeen

"You don't trust us, do you?" Nagano said.
   The question hung in the air. The mage looked around
the room, annoyed. "You're being ridiculous, all of you," he
said. "A pox on you, then. If you must know, the Regent
and I were once engaged to be married."
   He looked defiant, almost daring them to say something.
"I now suppose you want to know even more," he said sourly.
"I thought I had recruited a stout band of fearless warriors
and what do I find-busybodies and gossips. Well, if you
must know, then I'll tell you a story of a young fool who fell
in love.
   "We were ambitious, our dreams knew no bounds. We
studied the ancient secrets and found both ourselves adept
at learning the mysteries of earth, wind, air, and fire. Our
teachers marveled at our skills. That wasn't enough. We were
vain, we wished to know more. My own taste for knowledge
couldn't be sated.
   "We were entranced with the idea of bringing creatures
from the dark plains to perform our bidding. Our teachers
refused to teach us this lore, warning us that it was forbid-
den. We laughed at them, calling them fools. We boasted
that, while taming the dark creatures might be too much for
them, it was certainly not beyond our skills. My love and I
traveled the world, searching, gathering lore long buried.
We learned that creatures called onto this plane were unable
to attack those who enlisted them in their service. We felt
safe in our daring. The more skillful we grew, the more we
wished to know. At least, I wished to know more.
   "She liked having the dark creatures at Her command.
Simply knowing held no interest for Her. To Her, the knowl-
edge meant only more power. As we grew more adept, She
grew less and less willing to send Her servants back to the
pits that had spawned them. She would keep them on this
plane, questioning them about the darker powers they served.
She constantly asked how we could use our skills to sum-
mon their lords to this plane to serve us.
   "I paid no heed to such ideas. I couldn't bring myself to
believe that someone I loved could seriously be interested in
such dark fantasies. The hellspawn played on Her desire,
describing the powers they could bestow upon Her if She
summoned their lords to Her service. All She needed was to
feed their hunger for blood and souls, and the world would
be Her dominion.
   "She used my desire and my youthful arrogance to con-
vince me to help Her summon their prince to this plane.
When I'd learned all I wanted from him and was ready to
send him back, She refused. I discovered that without Her
help, I could not command him. Enraged, I tried to slay
him, but I could not match his strength. She ordered him to
spare my life. She tried to lure me with promises that we
would rule the world together. I refused. I told Her that
these creatures of treachery and darkness would betray Her
once they had ensnared Her. She laughed. The monster told
Her that She did not need me if She could summon his
master, a creature even more powerful than he.
   "He told her of the innocents She would need to slaugh-
ter to bring him forth. I sickened when I realized She in-
tended to go forward with such a mad enterprise. Finally, I
saw Her for what She really was. I left Her and went into the
world alone.
  "She continued Her studies and eventually succeeded in
summoning the creature's master. We call it the king, the
Unnamed One. As I predicted, he betrayed Her. But he can-
not kill Her. He rules the kingdom but allows Her this city
as Her own domain.
  "I did not know Her plan until today when we spoke to
Portnal, although I should have guessed it. She has spent
Her time building an army of dark creatures that She can
command to slay the dark king and his minions. Then, She
will rule, even if all the living must be sacrificed to feed their
dark hunger.
  "The blood of all those slain in Her name stains my hands.
I've devoted my life to learning how I can undo the damage
I've done. I've traveled the world seeking knowledge to find
out how to slay the dark king. That is how I learned of the
One.
  "I recruited the League of the Crimson Crescent. I spent
years searching for the One. I've devoted my life to expunge
the harm of foolishness my vanity has caused. I probably
should have told all of you before, but I was ashamed. Who
would admit that his former fiance'e coerced with the dark
lord, intent on mounting the throne of hell. Who would
choose to admit that they lost the woman they loved to such
creatures or that they have sworn a vow to destroy Her?"
  Zynaryxx bowed his head, his eyes lowered, his shoulders
slumped, exhausted from the telling.
  "You can't blame yourself," Bill said softly.
   "Did you not listen?" the mage said. "I brought these
creatures here. If not for the part I played, death would not
be walking the kingdom. It was my foolishness. My folly. I
am to blame. She was the loveliest woman of my race. I
wanted to give Her the world. Little did I know the manner
in which She would choose to take it."
   "I think I hear hurt pride and vanity talking just as loudly
as remorse," Bill said, ignoring the anger that flashed in the
mage's eyes.
   Bill continued, "Evil would enter this world without your
aid. We're lucky it happened the way it did. Otherwise, we
wouldn't have you on our side to send it back."
   Zynaryxx looked at Bill, shaking his head in amusement.
"You speak kindly to lighten the heart of an old fool,"  he
said. "Thank you. Vanity prevented me from telling you
what you had the right to know, since you have accompa-
nied me on this quest that is rightfully mine alone. I've car-
ried this secret for a long time."
   "It is often said that the weight of a secret shared is halved,"
said Zorth. "I'll rest easier now that the riddle has been an-
swered."
  The mage asked, "Are there any other secrets in my life
you care to pry from me?"
   "No," Bill said laughing. "You can't blame us for asking
about your love life. You never cease to amaze me."
  The companions slept soundly until morning when the
trap door above them ripped open with a fiery explosion.
Shards of rock showered them.
   From above, they heard a light, cheerful, feminine voice.
"Zynaryxx, Zynaryxx," the voice chided. "Why do you hide
in this dreary hole when you know that I have summoned
you? My servants were ordered to bring you to me yesterday,
but they told me some foolish tale that you would rather die
than rejoin your beloved. When I sent them to drag you to
me by your beard, they told me that you had escaped and
fled the castle. Can you imagine that?
   "I knew that you could never leave here without seeing
me one last time, but I also remembered how fond you are
of your little surprises. I knew you were here somewhere,
waiting to see me at a time of your own choosing. I just
couldn't wait. You know how impatient I get."
   "I'm honored that you should go to all this trouble," the
mage replied. "After all the time we've spent apart, there re-
ally was no need to rush."
   "I should be annoyed with you for making me stay up all
night searching for you." Bill found her voice unexpectedly
melodic. "My servants didn't look here, in this forgotten little
room. When I started thinking about you, I remembered
how you came here when you wanted to slip away from the
fuss of the court. You have no idea how much trouble it was
to clear this room of rock so we could unearth your little
hiding place."
   "I am flattered that you can still remember those days,"
the mage said. "For someone who has so many more impor-
tant matters pressing on your mind, I'm surprised that you
have time to even think of that distant past."
   "Ah, Zynaryxx," the Regent cooed. "If truth be known, I
often muse about those old days, especially as I grow so close
to achieving all we dreamt of when we were young."
   "We, my lady?" the mage said. "Your memory tricks you
if you think I ever yearned to destroy the innocent and
trample the free. I never wanted to rule, in light or darkness.
Your dreams are waking nightmares visited upon the land I
love. As you say, I intended to see you before I left this place
not to talk of days gone by or to watch you gloat over the
lives you've ruined, but to offer you a final chance to atone
for the evil you've done."
   "Evil?" the Regent repeated. "You speak to me of evil as if
you had the right to judge my works. You presume much.
Yet, I shall not allow your insolence and bad manners to
ruin our reunion. For you have brought me the gift I crave,
the present I have long sought. It is a gift beyond reckoning,
and one I greatly desire. I can't stay angry with someone
who made it possible for me to achieve the dreams you dare
to call nightmares."
   "A gift, my lady?" the mage asked, puzzled. "What gift
have I brought you, other than the opportunity to renounce
your evil?"
   "You don't know, do you?" she said. "Why, you've labored
in my service, planning, plotting, seeking out for me just
the tools I need to achieve my fondest desires. Just as when
we were young you helped me gain the knowledge to rule,
you have served me ever since, good Zynaryxx."
   "I?" the mage sputtered. "How have I served you?"
   The Arch Regent laughed, a clear sparkling girlish giggle.
"Oh, my beloved, I am saddened to think that your once
great mind has deteriorated over the years," she said. "If only
I could keep you, perhaps as a jester to amuse me when
affairs of state grow too tiresome. All this time, you've igno-
rantly sought in my behalf, fought to unearth for me that
which I couldn't find myself. Now, when you should receive
your reward, I can only destroy you. The same qualities that
made you so valuable pose dangers to me if I let you live.
   "You speak in riddles," Zynaryxx said testily. "I'm tired of
these word games. My friends and I labor to rid the world of
your works, not to be mocked."
   "Oh, Zynaryxx, I fear I have wounded your pride," she
said in her melodic voice. "I see that you have not lost any of
your vanity. Can't you see the humor in knowing that all
these years you've devoted to destroying were nothing more
than a way of serving me? It must be a great blow to be
revealed as a pawn, a puppet whose strings have been in my
keeping. Come out from this hidey hole and face me if you
want to learn how you've done nothing more than pay the
penance I assigned for your betrayal."
   "Come out!" she said, her voice rising in tones of com-
mand. "I don't care to see you dragged from there. Maintain
what little pride you still hold and face me freely. I would
like to see the expression on your face when you present me
the precious gift I sent you out into the world to find for
me."
   "We're not going out there?" Zorth asked. "You don't se-
riously plan to walk into the arms of the enemy?"
   "I see few other choices," Zynaryxx said. "We have no
means of escape. If we refuse, She can destroy us while we
hide in here, or She can entomb us. We'd better confront
Her. On open ground, we may have a chance. Besides, Her
overconfidence may be misplaced. We have shown that we
are not so powerless as She seems to think."
   "I vote with Zynaryxx," Bill said. "Being buried alive in
this pit doesn't appeal to me. If we've learned nothing else,
we've at least learned that when all seems blackest, we should
trust each other."
   They nodded.
   "I'll go first," Nagano said. "I've traveled far to see the
face of the one I've come to kill." The ninja moved swiftly to
the entrance way, climbing out into the vast audience cham-
ber. Cobran followed closely behind, his ax and sword ready.
   As the companions climbed out, a vast black creature
confronted them, its piercing red eyes glowing in hatred.
On its shoulder, a dainty faerie robed in gold and tiny flaw-
less jewels sat watching them in amusement.
   Beside her stood Captain Grizzle, backed by fifty soldiers.
Nearby stood two demon lords, resplendent in ebony ar-
mor, their swords bathed in fire. They held the leashes of
four hellhounds. Four rockdwarfs stood on the fringes with
a half dozen greater scourges, two phantom princes, and the
walking skeletal remains of eight warriors.
   The Arch Regent laughed at the look of fear that crossed
the ninja's face. "So, you thought that you could slay me?"
The Regent's melodious voice held a bright sting of mock-
ery. "See now the host that guards me and know the bitter
meaning of black despair. I should reward you for guarding
this gift the mage has brought me, but knowing that I'll
soon rule all the people in this world and others will have to
suffice."
   Cobran stared at the Regent's guards, a snarl curling his
lizardlike features.
   "I see the gladiator is too stupid to even realize that his
crude strength and skills will avail him naught against my
protectors," the Regent said. "If I hadn't grown so impa-
tient, it might amuse me to let him test his prowess. Time
grows short, however. Bring the human to me, Zynaryxx. I
wish to see him."
   Bill, followed by Zorth and Olaf, came out of the cham-
ber. Zynaryxx brought up the rear. Bill felt as if they'd stepped
into the funnel of a tornado.
   "Yes, you have finally come to me as I knew you would,"
the Regent gloated. "You are a fitting present indeed. Know
this, Zynaryxx, if it eases your heart, I will always be grateful
to you for spending your life making my dreams of domina-
tion possible."
   "What are you prattling about?" the mage snapped. "Have
you spent so much time with ghouls and demons that you've
forgotten how to address the living? We haven't fought our
way to this place to amuse you. Your years of isolation have
addled your mind. As your plans shatter, your mind turns
on itself, preventing you from seeing that your ambitions
are checked and your days numbered."
   The Regent tinkled with laughter. "You amuse me so."
She stifled her mirth. "I'm disappointed, though, that the
once keen mind of Zynaryxx can't recognize when he's been
outfoxed. Does your pride still prevent you from realizing
that this human you have brought to me is the present I
have sought?"
   "Twice now you have spoken of me as if I were merely
one of your servants," Bill said angrily. "I have come to de-
stroy you, then your master."
   "Of course you have," the Regent said in Her most pa-
tronizing tone. "Well said. Now, keep quiet so we can see if
your teacher's wits have returned enough for him to guess
the answer to the riddle that has so upset him.
   "Have you not guessed, Zynaryxx?"
   She shook Her head. "Let me help you, so that before
you die you can comprehend how your life has been de-
voted to helping me achieve the very goals you once mocked."
   Seeing no response from the mage, She smiled. "Have
you never asked yourself how this human came here?" She
asked. "Do you still honestly believe that he came here as an
answer to your prayers?"
   "We found him in the mountains," Zorth said. "He comes
from some strange place far away. He came to the city hop-
ing to find someone who could help him return to his home."
   "He has found that someone. You know, mage, you didn't
summon him to this plane. You have neither the skill nor
the knowledge. No, but you should have guessed that this
human was part of a far higher and greater design than any
that you could comprehend. He has been summoned by me
to this place to guarantee me the realization of my lifetime
dream."
   "The One?" Zynaryxx angrily shouted. "Don't banter with
me, queen of foulness. I've watched him. He'll die before he
serves you. If you hope to divide us by planting suspicions
of our loyalties to one another, you waste our time."
   "I waste your time? What do you know of time? I've trav-
eled across eternity searching for this man. The Unnamed
One can be slain only by a man wielding the sword this one
holds. It was I who found that sword. It was I who placed it
in that cave. I who summoned this man into our world.
And I will rule when he vanquishes my betrayer.
   "Did you think I would be content to rule this city when
kingdoms await? That I could abide that creature set up as
king when it was I who brought him here? You still can't
grasp the enormity of your own foolishness, can you, mage?
Did you believe I wasn't aware of your efforts? I knew you
could never rest, knowing He ruled these lands. I knew you
would find the secret to sending Him back. That's why I
allowed you to serve me. He watches me too closely for me
to have taken those risks.
   "After I learned of your discovery about the One, I started
searching for this human. I brought him to that cave and
left him to his own devices as a test. I told my servants noth-
ing, ordering them only to find and destroy him, because I
knew that if he couldn't survive them, I'd be a fool to em-
ploy him on my mission. When I learned that you, my be-
loved, had joined him, I was overjoyed. Under your tute-
lage, he would learn everything he needed to vanquish my
foe. Your success in reaching me shows that he really is the
tool I need to achieve my dreams."
   "I've come here to kill you," Bill said evenly. "If your slaves
kill me, then your dreams of power die with me."
   "Such bravery. I chose well. Your courage cheers my heart,
man. Before you act rashly, however, consider a moment
your own desires. If you slay me, do you not slay the only
hope you have to return to your own world? Ask your friend
if you have any hope other than me? Look at his face. It is
written there. If you don't serve me, you're destined to wan-
der this unfriendly world."
   "I could slay you before I slay this dark king."
   "You don't listen, do you?" she said. "I summoned you
here to this world to serve me. You may not kill me. It is
forbidden. You may hate me with all your heart, but if I
were to lay down before you helpless, your hand couldn't
strike. Hasn't the mage explained that those who summon
creatures across the planes are protected from them? Ask him.
Zynaryxx does many things, but he doesn't lie."
   Bill looked at the faerie beside him and saw the truth of
the Regents words written across his face. Bill's shoulders
slumped as the consequences of the Regent's words hit him
with their full impact. "So, I'm simply another creature sum-
moned to serve you?" he said.
   "You talk as if it were something sad," the Regent laughed
gaily. "You should be celebrating to learn that you were called
to serve me. If I die, you'll never return to your home. Only
I possess the power to transport you between the realms. If
you refuse me, my servants will slay you.
   "I don't know what your tutor thought when he brought
you on this fool's errand, but now he's recognized the crea-
ture I ride. It is the same one whose powers vanquished him
once before, long ago. I saved Zynaryxx from his wrath then,
but I will not act so kindly if you refuse to serve me now.
This creature serves me, not the dark lord, and its powers
have grown over the years, as have mine.
   "The sword you wield is mighty enough to protect you
from the dark king, but it can't save you from the powers
I've assembled. I have a simple offer for you. March with the
host I have gathered here and in my dungeons below to chal-
lenge the might of the king. Slay him, and I'll spare your
comrades and return you to your home. Defy me and die."
   Seeing the indecision in Bill's face, the Regent pressed
her advantage. "Zynaryxx is helpless. He's but a mere chess
piece in the contest between the two ruling powers of this
world. If you wish to save the fool and these creatures you
call your friends, you must choose now, for I grow weary."
   Bill saw the mage watching him closely. "Bill, through-
out our adventures you've always kept faith with me. If She
has the power to return you to your home, I wont mislead
you by claiming I can match the offer. Nor can I say how, if
we survive, I'll seek that knowledge with you.
   "You must now make this choice for yourself. Don't let
Her offers about us beguile you into thinking She'll spare us
once She achieves Her desires, however. Treachery has al-
ways been Her one enduring trait. As for this fell creature
on whose shoulder She rides, I expect it's grown in power.
Gladly would I test myself against Her hordes before I would
do Her bidding."
   An ogre had entered the audience chamber while Zynaryxx
was speaking. It signaled Captain Grizzle. As the two huddled
in conference, the captain cast fearful glances toward the
Regent. Hesitantly, he began to follow the ogre to the door.
   Bill stared closely into the eyes of the Regent, who was
distracted by the ogre's consultation with Her captain. "I
will not serve you, Regent," Bill said. "I haven't come this
far to let the tyrannies I've seen go unavenged. If I must die,
I at least will die as a man, trying to rid this world of you
and your works."
   The Regent ignored him. "Have you been dismissed from
my presence?" She said to Grizzle.
   "My lady, I did not wish to disturb you," the captain stam-
mered. "I could see that you were busy and had no time for
petty matters beneath your concern. I thought to handle
them myself while you devote yourself to affairs of state."
   "Didn't you hear my life threatened, Captain?" the re-
gent said softly. "Let me help you toward the light of re-
membrance: You and your troops exist to guard me. After
hearing this man repeatedly threaten me, however, you try
to scurry from the room."
   "Never, my lady," the captain said. "Gladly would I give
my life for you. I thought only to handle a matter of some
urgency, to ensure that you were not disturbed."
   "What is this matter so beneath my concern, yet so im-
portant that it calls away the captain of my guard? Know
you not that I have been quite aware of your failures of late?
Tell me of this latest failure that you wish to hide from me."
   "Perhaps, my lady, we could speak privately," the captain
said uncomfortably. "I do not believe you would have such
as these listening to our discussions."
   The Regent dismissed the comrades with an imperious
wave of her tiny hand. "It matters not what they hear. Their
choices are clear, whether they like them or not. Give me
your report. My patience runs out."
   "I really think you would prefer to hear it without them,"
Grizzle said. "It would be better to discuss this matter upon
my return."
   "So, now you choose when I should hear the reports I
request? Be warned, captain, for someone whose record is as
stained as yours, this is not the time to try my patience."
   "I'll only be gone a moment," he said.
   "You will not be gone at all." She nodded to the eight
skeletal remains. "Slay him."
   Revulsion for her malice burst through Bill like pus from
some secret internal abscess.
   "My lady!" Captain Grizzle shouted as the undead war-
riors advanced toward him, their swords gleaming. "The
castle gate has been stormed by the people. I sought only to
go to its defense. My soldier tells me that it will soon fall
unless aid reaches it in time."
   "The city rebels?" the Regent asked, stunned by the rev-
elation. She motioned to the skeletons to halt. "They dare
to challenge my wrath? They dare to enter my very home?
You assured me that you had broken the spirit of this insur-
rection. Now, I find it threatens me personally. You described
this as a petty matter."
   The Captain stepped back, drawing his sword before the
undead warriors. "I didn't want them to know. Your war-
riors have been frightened by these rumors of this League of
the Crimson Crescent. For the past few days they have been
subjected to increasing attacks wherever they have gone in
the city. The increasing ferocity and frequency of these at-
tacks have quite unnerved them.
   "This morning we received word that the Guild Lords
have joined the rebels. The community apparently learned
that you intend to feed them to your pets beneath the castle.
I had hoped to speak to you of this, but you commanded
me to be silent and to help unearth these rebels." He pointed
at the companions. "I feared that if they heard this, it might
give them hope. They might refuse your alliance if they knew
the city had risen in revolt."
   "Fool! It's your own hysteria that's infected them. The
dark legion I've assembled will overrun this rag-tag band
easily. Kill him," she repeated to the skeletal warriors.
   "My lady, what of the reinforcements needed at the gate?"
Grizzle asked as he backed away from the killers advancing
on him. "Have you not listened to what I've said? Who will
see to the castle's defense if I am killed?"
   "I will. I see my mistake in trusting your incompetence.
This guard will scatter the rebels."
   "I'm afraid we can't permit that," Zynaryxx said.
   "You!" the Regent sputtered. "You dare to speak in such
an insolent manner to me?"
   "Ah, yes, my lady, I dare. All those years when you claim
I was serving your ends, I was also plotting your destruc-
tion. The League of the Crimson Crescent has been called
forth. It has raised the city, broken the curtain of fear, and
given the people hope that they can destroy the shackles
that have bound them. The felpurs we freed from your dun-
geon have told the people the fate in store for them if you
succeed. The frightened citizens of Trillius have finally de-
cided they'd rather die fighting for their freedom than wait
in fear to be served as delicacies to your dark minions. I
must insist that you and your personal guard remain here."
   "You must insist? You think your League can stand be-
fore my army of undead? Old fool, even the creatures you
see here are far beyond your powers. You must realize they
can sweep you and your friends aside like dried leaves before
the wind. The creatures I've gathered below howl for the
blood of these traitors who dare threaten my fortress. The
citizens of Trillius shall rue the day they chose to join with
your League of the Crimson Crescent. This day will be
marked in their blood in the calendars of the world."
   The Regent drew herself up, cupping her fingers to her
lips. A sound exploded from her throat, thundered through
the chambers of the fortress, and echoed in the dark dun-
geons below.
   "Arise, my slaves," she thundered, the sound of Her voice
reverberating through the hallways of the castle. "Your day
has dawned, creatures of darkness. Come forth! Vanquish
those who would oppose you. Eat their flesh and drink their
blood. Consume their spirits. Mastery of this world awaits
you. Come forth from the bowels of this, my home. Slay
those who would oppose me. Feed your ravenous hungers.
Seek and destroy the living. I, your rightful queen, com-
mand you and summon you. Go forth. The days of feasting
have begun."
   From below, as the sound of her deadly words ceased echo-
ing through the layers of stone of the citadel, the compan-
ions could hear the fearsome shrieks of ghoulish celebra-
tion. A deep drumming began, and ghostly horns trumpeted
the assembling host.
   "You hear them?" the Regent laughed. "They rise. Long
have I struggled to keep them below, forcing them to subsist
on the limited rations I could provide them from those I
took from the city. Always, they cried for more, their dark
hungers unsated by the frugal nourishment my servants
brought them. Today, I unleash them. Think of that,
Zynaryxx! Think hard on the horrors you have brought upon
the city today. As they feed on your insurrectionists, think
on the folly of your actions. For you have hastened the day.
You have robbed the people of what little time they might
have had left. You have provoked me and visited my wrath
upon them. Think upon it and despair, for your vanity and
foolishness has served only to rob the people of this city of
their lives."
   The rumblings from below emphasized her words. Bill
visualized the creatures assembling to march to the castles
defense. He shuddered as the eerie drum rolls and trumpet
calls quickened as the dark host prepared to sally forth against
the rebels at the castle's gates.
   He'd seen the powers of the Regent's undead servants. He
knew the host below, once unleashed, would easily overrun
the forces attacking the castle. Once the dark creatures oc-
cupied the streets, no force in the world could stand before
their hunger.
   The Regent's eyes fastened on Zynaryxx who stood un-
bowed. His eyes showed no fear or doubt
   "Don't you grasp what you've unleashed?" She said, "Do
you still believe that you have the strength or the power to
stand before my dread host? The city is doomed. Its people
will not live beyond the sunset. After my forces have van-
quished my enemies, they will feast in a banquet that you in
your darkest nightmare could not conceive. Kneel before
me, mage. If you and your friends wish to be spared, if only
for a while, swear your allegiance now. Swear now upon
whatever you value, or I will take your lives!"
   The Regent looked closely at the mage, who only smiled.
   "Have you lost your mind?" she screamed. "All that you
treasure shall die this day. Your hopes are nothing but fanta-
sies. This man, who you hoped would slay me, is nothing
more than my servant, summoned to slay my enemy. Your
vaunted rebellion is but a diversion that I crush without the
slightest exertion. Yet still you defy me? Still you stand there
smirking like some school child withholding a secret from
its master? Do you not realize that you and your friends
have lost?"
   Zynaryxx said, "I smile, because I anticipated you reac-
tion. My dear, you have always been as predictable as you
were beautiful, striking out in anger whenever anyone dares
to oppose your will. Do you believe we came here to chal-
lenge you alone? I will confess we have gambled our lives,
but did you truly believe I would come here without some
hope?"
   "You have put your hope in a revolution doomed to fail-
ure," the Regent said. "My army will soon fall upon your
feeble rebellion, rending the very flesh from their bones. They
will scatter them. You have not the power nor the strength
to destroy me."
   "You are quite correct," the mage said. "I don't. I never
did. I knew when I decided to face you inside your own
stronghold that we alone do not hold the power to destroy
you."
   These words fell on Bill like fists, like iron sledgehammers.
   "You admit you are doomed?" the regent cackled. "Perhaps
you have come to your senses."
   "I do not speak of my doom, my lady," the mage said. "It
is you who will fall this day. For I did not come here to die
or to serve you. Nor did I come here to watch you gloat over
the destroyed remains of this city like some foul carrion beast.
When I came here, I gambled on more than myself or my
friends. I bet on more than this rebellion I plotted. I wa-
gered on your one trait that I knew had endured through
the long years of our separation. You yourself would give me
the one ally I needed to destroy you."
   "I grow tired of your nonsense," the Regent said, signal-
ing her guard. "Destroy the old fool."
   The mage leaped aside as a bolt of fire streamed from the
creature on which the Regent rode. A golden aura surrounded
the faerie as his hands swept through the air. It encircled Bill
and his companions with a magical shield.
   A silver aura enveloped the Regent and Her dread beast.
She howled in laughter. "Do you truly believe that you can
pierce our shield? Do you not know that no protection can
long withstand our fury?" the Regent asked. "Alone, either
one of us could destroy you. Together, no one on this world
can stand before us."
   "No one?" Zynaryxx asked, his eyes sparkling. "There was
a time when that was true. You forget, however, that there is
one power on this plane that even you fear. You know it
better than anyone. You brought it here, and you betrayed
it-as you betrayed our rightful king, our people, and our
love. Now, know its wrath!"



             Chapter Eighteen

The Regent registered surprise as Zynaryxx intoned a dark
chant in a hoarse and guttural language that caused Her ser-
vants to cringe. "I name The Unnamed One; I summon He
that you hath betrayed, He that you would supplant, He
that you would destroy."
   The Regent wailed fearfully, "You don't have the power
to summon Him."
   "Not across the planes of existence. But you've already
done that for me. You brought Him to this plane. I'm only
summoning Him to this room where He can see His betrayer."
   A dark cloud appeared, flickering, growing in brooding
intensity. A sullen voice thundered through the chamber as
a shape took form within the blackened sphere.
   "Who dares to call me forth?" it bellowed. "Who dares to
disturb me?"
   "I call you," the mage shouted. "I have summoned you
here. I have dared."
   "Then dare to die!" the black force said.
   "Is that a fitting reward for one who seeks to reveal the
treachery of a servant?" the mage shouted into the whirling
black vortex that had appeared in the sphere. "Look you upon
your Regent. Look into the black heart of this creature. She
rides astride that which would aid Her in taking your life.
Look upon them and see the treachery, see the legion of
hellspawn they have brought forth to challenge your rule!"
   As the vortex turned to the Regent and Her creature, the
fell beast shook her from its great shoulder, knocking her to
the floor. The creature fell to its knees, babbling in a loath-
some tongue.
   The Regent picked Herself up and tried to recover Her
composure as Her servant confessed Her treason before the
dark lord.
   "It is as you say, little one," the vortex intoned.
   A blast of black fire spewed from the vortex, consuming
the creature, which writhed in its flames. Standing, the crea-
ture staggered as the black inferno devoured it.
   Turning, the vortex faced the Regent. "What have you to
say, traitor?" the dark lord thundered.
   "I brought you to this plane," the Regent shouted defi-
antly. "Without me, you could never have crossed into this
world. You cannot destroy me. It is forbidden."
   "She speaks the truth," the vortex said. "My hand is stayed
against this creature."
   "I knew that when I summoned you," Zynaryxx said. "She
is protected from your wrath. But shatter the shield that
surrounds Her, and I will punish Her treachery in your stead.
I'll perform this one service for you if you will command the
dark host She has conjured onto this plane in Her service.
Send the black army She's gathered back into the darkness
that spawned it, for they have given oaths to Her to help
slay you. Punish the traitors at your leisure, so that all may
know the fate awaiting those who would challenge your rule.
This one service we can do for each other, then the truce
between us will end."
   "You dare?" the Regent said to Zynaryxx.
   "Much will I dare!" the vortex roared as a dark bolt
slammed into the Regent's silver shield. A thunder clap shat-
tered the air as the room rumbled from the assault, the walls
quaking in its aftermath. The shield split like a glass bubble
bursting, fragments showering the room. The blow propelled
the Regent through the air and into the wall.
   "Kill them!" She wailed as She fell in a heap to the floor.
"Destroy them."
   "You threaten me?" the vortex asked. "You would com-
mand these lesser creatures to attack their lord and master? I
knew your vanity was vast. I saw that when I first discovered
you bringing my servants to this plane. I enticed you, through
them, to bring me here. In your girlish vanity you thought
to command me, a power beyond your reckoning. Now you
think to send them against their own true master?"
   Black beams burst from the darkened sphere, smashing
into the Regent's servants, knocking them aside like ants
smitten by a fist. "I knew of your treacherous thoughts," the
vortex said. "But your cunning has grown through the years.
Somehow, you have hidden from me the undead legion you
have assembled below. I now see my mistake. I shall send
them to my dominion to serve me, their rightful master."
   A blast of power exploded from the vortex, reverberating
through the hallways. Shrieks of fear echoed from below as
the drumming ceased and the trumpets stilled.
   "It is done, tiny mage," the vortex said. "I have fulfilled
my end of the bargain. Her host is gone. They have left this
plane forever. I shall torment them at my leisure. They shall
serve as an eternal reminder of the fate awaiting all who would
dare to oppose my will. That fate awaits you, unless you
fulfill your promise to me."
   The mage nodded toward Bill, motioning at the dark lord,
as his hands passed through the air. A lightning bolt leaped
at the Regent, knocking her back against the wall, leaving
her dazed and confused.
  Her servants appeared bewildered and weakened from
the dark lords assault. The bolt that smashed the Regent
stunned them by revealing Her weakness. Their master had
been easily buffeted by blows from someone She had long
derided and mocked.
  Zynaryxx used the respite to strike again and again, rain-
ing bolts of energy upon the regent and the two demon lords
who sought to protect Her. The Regent's screams of agony
tore through the chamber. The demon lords quailed before
the onslaught, raising their hands uselessly to ward off the
mage's magical fury.
  The phantom princes watched in wonder and anguish as
their dark queens torment mounted. Regaining themselves
they shrieked as one and descended on the companions.
  Captain Grizzle, fencing with the undead skeletons,
stabbed one as it turned to watch its mistress' torment.
  The two demon lords, seeing their Regent's plight, un-
leashed the four hellhounds on the companions, while they
themselves cast spells at the mage. Zynaryxx's shield with-
stood the magical assault.
  The dark lord's laugh sounded from inside the vortex.
"You amuse me, mage. Her shrieks are like music, her mis-
ery cheers me. I would punish her just so if it were but mine
to mete out."
  Distracted by the woes of the Regent, the figure inside
the dark vortex did not notice Bill creeping toward Him.
Raising his sword, Bill struck the dark sphere, cutting a gash
large enough to allow him to dive through. Leaping into the
darkness, he was lost from view.
   Zynaryxx shouted to his companions in the confusion.
"Stand together," he pleaded. "Our strength is in our unity.
We have confused and divided our enemies. Bill faces the
dark lord alone, as his destiny demands. We must protect
one another if we are to emerge alive."
   Heeding the words, Cobran raised his ax and sword to
repel the hellhounds leaping toward them. Nagano, who had
been looking across the room at the Regent, shrugged her
shoulders and braced herself beside the lizardman. Zorth
and Olaf stood on either side of the mage, warily watching
as their adversaries advanced toward them.
   The phantom princes intoned a dark chant, sending waves
of fire cascading against the golden shield the mage had cre-
ated. Like waves against a stone wall, the flames lapped
against it and harmlessly rolled away.
   Zynaryxx briefly closed his eyes, then opened them, fix-
ing his gaze upon the Regent and Her demon guard. Bolts
of lightning flashed across the room, their roar thundering
through the chamber, crackling as they fell upon his former
lover. With Her magical shield broken, still dazed from the
dark lord's assault and Zynaryxx's repeated attacks, She was
defenseless from the blast.
   She shrieked in pain, Her shimmering finery igniting into
flames that covered Her and the demons.
   Zorth chanted a curse at the greater scourges following
closely behind the rockdwarfs and hellhounds racing toward
the companions
   A blast of white fire engulfed the scourges, leaving only
two still standing. Olaf closed his eyes, placed his fingers to
his brow, and muttered a silent prayer to Thea that sent a
wave of psionic force striking into the rockdwarfs. It crashed
into them with silent power, but they ignored it, marching
toward the companions with a cold fury.
   Zorth struck out at the rockdwarfs, bathing them in the
white fire of his incantation. They stepped through it,
unsinged and unharmed.
   "They have no minds or souls," the mage said. "Magic
cannot slay them."
   The two remaining greater scourges, screaming in fury,
charged alongside the rockdwarfs as the hellhounds leaped
at the party.
   Cobran's sword flashed out at the charging hellhounds,
spearing one of them in the throat. A second creature locked
its massive teeth around the lizardman's leg, bowling him
over. He willed himself to ignore the pain, while he drove
his ax into a third creature's skull.
   Nagano drove her fist into the eyebrow ridges of the fourth
canine, kicking it in the throat three times before it stag-
gered, its neck broken.
   Olaf struck at the phantom princes, concentrating with
intensity as his mind focused the psychic attack. His adver-
saries winced from the impact, hurt but unbowed. Speaking
in guttural sounds, they struck back, their magical blows
cracking the mage's shield.
   Zynaryxx ignored the assault, striking again at the Re-
gent and Her consorts, but the demon lords had recovered
enough to raise a barrier of their own. Though the mage's
magical blast pierced it, its force had been cut in half.
   At that moment, the door to the chamber crashed open as
Portnal and Quatar emerged, leading Morko, Pasham, Yorda,
and Orwynn, followed by a host of heavily armed city dwellers.
   The warriors following behind the scourges turned to face
them, racing toward this new threat.
   Captain Grizzle, who had slain three of the skeletal war-
riors during the confusion, found himself standing between
Portnal and Quatar's force and the soldiers he had once com-
manded. "Join me, my troops, or we shall be but a snack for
the Regent's monsters."
   The warriors ignored him, charging past him toward the
city dwellers.
   The two sides clashed in a frenzied melee.
   Zorth, seeing that their protective shield was waning,
struck at the phantom princes with an enchantment. It
slammed into them, stunning them, but failed to dissipate
them.
   As Nagano leapt at the hellhound that had overpowered
Cobran, the two greater scourges brushed past and pounced
on Olaf and Zorth. Behind them came the rock dwarfs.
   Nagano repeatedly struck at the hellhound, while Cobran
struck it with both his ax and his sword. Slowly, the great
creature's jaw relaxed in death, releasing the lizardman's
bloodied leg.
   Cobran struggled onto his one good leg just as the rock
dwarfs charged. His sword crashed into one, chipping frag-
ments from its head. Nagano punched another, cracking its
torso.
   Zynaryxx could see that Olaf and Zorth were outmatched
by their adversaries. Ignoring the phantom princes and the
demon lords, he struck at the scourges, frying them in one
fiery burst.
   That break in his concentration was enough to allow the
demon lords and phantom princes to strike back, hurling
bolts through the weakness in his golden barrier.
  The companions reeled from the assault
  The Regent staggered to her feet and struck, cracking the
shield and sending the companions to the ground.

  Forgotten in the frenzy of the battle, Bill found himself
alone, facing the dark lord. The chamber he had entered
contained no light, except for the soft glow emanating from
his sword.
  "What have we here? Who is this that sneaks into my
presence?" the dark lord chuckled. "Has the mage offered
me a snack to sate my hunger, sealing our pact in blood?"
  "I have a snack for you, hellspawn," Bill said into the
gloom. "But this meal won't enter your stomach through
your mouth. I will cut through your entrails to save you the
trouble of chewing."
  In the darkness, he could hear it sniggering. "You joke,
fool," the voice said. "For I have no mouth. I have no form,
no body, no entrails to slice. Whoever sent you on this fool's
errand told you little of what you face. I am Lord. I am the
power and the force. No creature born of this world can
harm me."
  "But I'm no creature of this world," laughed Bill as he
drove his sword into the shifting blackness.
  "Don't be a fool," the voice said. "How came you to this
place?"
  "I was summoned from my world, brought here through
the dimensions," Bill said. "I am a man, summoned here
from another plane to send you back into the nothingness
that bred you."
  "A man?" the vortex choked.
  "Some call me the One." Bill sighed with his sword.
  A bolt of deeper blackness erupted out of the darkness,
hurtling toward Bill. His sword flashed out, striking it, de-
flecting it, and send it back into the shadowy gloom.
  "See my sword?" Bill asked. "Can you not see your death
reflected in its steel? You know the prophecy. For thirty years
you have attempted to enslave all men to prevent its fulfill-
ment. How many lives have you ruined? How many have
died? But you have failed. I have come here to punish you. I
have come to help you reap the grim harvest of your treach-
ery and deceit."
  Around him, Bill could see the chamber shifting as the
blackness swirled, creating dim shapes in the darkness. The
twilight outlined figures that writhed at the sound of the
vortex's words.
  "Fool! You dare to threaten me?" the dark lord thundered.
"You talk to me of punishment and revenge? You face me
here in my own nest, because you know no better. Look
around you and see the darkness, my darkness. I feed on it.
Do you not see these dark shapes that cower at the sound of
my voice? These are enemies that, like you, dared to stand
against me. This is all that remains of their foolishness. I
keep parts of their souls here to nourish me when my hun-
ger grows. Some are half eaten. I keep them as reminders of
those who once defied me. They quail at the sound of my
voice, each of them holding onto this twilight life I allow
them to maintain for my own amusement. When I tire of
them, I sup on them, sucking the remaining life-force from
them like the marrow of a bone."
  Bill looked more closely into the dark shroud of the room.
In the dimness, he could make out frightened faces in the
dark shape, each of whose features were frozen in grimaces
of stark terror.
   "They too defied me," the dark lord said. "Like you, they
mistook their vanity and conceit for power. Now, they writhe
in eternal torment. Do you wish to join them?"
   "Join them?" Bill asked. "No, I've come to free them and
this world of your vile presence. I've come to send you back
into the darkness that is your true home."
   "So, you've come to slay me?" the voice echoed in the
room. "Do you truly believe these myths you've been told,
that your bright shiny sword can kill someone who has mas-
tered both time and space? Do you really think that some-
one as powerful as I can be slain by something as pitiful and
powerless as you?"
   Bill heard a dry chuckle. "I admire your courage," the
voice said. "It's seldom that I see it. Leave this room now,
and I will spare you."
   "You will spare me?" Bill shouted into the twilight. "You
admire courage? I have seen how you treat those who show
courage. I have seen it at your slave blocks. I've seen how
you have divided the free peoples with your lies and threats.
I know the fate that awaits this world if your wickedness
goes unchecked. You offer to spare me? Tell me, king of black-
ness, king of treachery, do you think I would believe you
would allow me to live because you admire me? I think you
fear this sword I carry. And in your hope that I might leave,
you offer me my life."
   Bill's weapon exploded in light as the twilight constricted
around him. As the illumination grew in intensity, driving
the pitch black from him, Bill could see the dingy shadows
congealing in a corner, cowering from the glare reflected from
his sword.
   Bill felt, rather than saw, beams of blackness exploding at
him, but his sword slashed through the air, cleaving them
apart. As if it had gained a will of its own, the shining blade
hacked through the darkness, chopping it into pieces that
fell to the floor in black chunks. The air around him crack-
led with a dark charge as his blade tore through the gloom
that seemed on the edge of congealing into a mass.
   "Do you tremble, dark lord?" Bill demanded as he ap-
proached through the ebony cloud. "Do you begin to feel
the fear that you have inflicted?"
   "Why do you come here, man of another plane?" the voice
cried. "What is this place to you? What business do you
have disturbing the natural order of things?"
   "You call this the natural order?" Bill asked, advancing
on the dark shape, prodding it with his steel point. "You
who have no form nor substance. You, who wish to rule.
You speak to me of my business when your very existence
calls out for all living things to join together to extinguish
your vileness from sight. I have seen the misery you have
created. I have witnessed the suffering you have inflicted.
Feel it yourself as you return to the darkness that begat you."
   When Bill stabbed, the darkness imploded. The sphere
spilled in on itself, converging into a ball before it exploded
into a thousand fragments.
   All that remained was Bill, standing in a corner of the
audience chamber.
   Seeing his companions beset, he charged the Regent and
her demons, distracting them from their attack.
   Hearing her shrieks of fear, the rock dwarfs turned and ran
to aid Her. In the confusion, Zynaryxx, Zorth, and Olaf struck
at the phantom princes. Howling, they collapsed and died.
   Seeing Bill charge the Regent, Nagano sprinted after him,
passing the rock dwarfs as she dashed toward her mother's killer.
The demon lords struck at Bill, hurling sorcerous blasts at him.
   His sword deflected them. Blocking his way, they drew
their own weapons, stabbing at him to fend him off.
   Bills sword crashed against one of the demon lords weap-
ons, splintering it. Ducking a thrust, Bill parried another
and plunged his weapon into its midsection. Light exploded
inside the beast as the sword pierced him. Pulling it out, Bill
blocked a blow. He spun from the creature and raised his
sword against the Regent.
   As he strove to slash Her, She laughed.
   "You did not listen to me, man," the Regent said. "It is as
I said. I am your master. I summoned you here, and you
can't harm me."
   "But I can, witch queen," Nagano shouted as she ran past
Bill, vaulting over the fallen creature.
   Zynaryxx, joined by Olaf and Zorth, struck at the Re-
gent with their spells, dazing Her from their combined blows.
As Bill turned to duel with the demon lord, the ninja pounced
on the tiny faerie, stabbing the Arch Regent with her blade.
   Stunned by the attack on the Regent, the demon lord
faltered, allowing Bill to pierce its chest with his sword. Bill
turned to face the rock dwarfs lumbering toward him.
   Nagano rose as she watched the Regent writhe in tor-
ment from the mortal wound.
   "Beloved?" the Regent called out to Zynaryxx. "Will you
not come to me now?"
   "Your true beloved, the dark lord, already awaits you, my
love," Zynaryxx said. "After all your labors, I would not now
come between you."
   She sighed. "If I must go to him, then you shall join me-
for eternity," she snarled, raising her hands to cast a deadly
enchantment, Her bewitchment dying with Her.
   Bill spun, slashing Her head from Her shoulders.
   The rock dwarfs staggered, then froze. With Her death,
the last skeleton warrior crumpled before Captain Grizzle,
who breathed a sigh of relief as Portnal stepped in front of
his former tormentor and stabbed him. The rest of the castle
warriors threw down their arms in defeat.
   Bill looked around the room as the sound of steel clash-
ing on steel ceased. "Is it over?" he asked the mage. "Have
we won?"
   Zynaryxx walked over to stand beside the fallen figure of
the only woman he had ever loved. Reaching for Her tiny
hand, he held it gently, feeling its stillness as he studied Her
features.
   "I'm afraid it is," he said, kissing Her cool fingers.
   The companions gathered around the mage, staring at
Bill. "You struck Her," Nagano said. "How could you kill
Her if you were summoned by Her as she claimed?"
   "I don't know," Bill said.
   "It's clear enough to me," Zynaryxx said. "She lied. If
She had truly summoned you, when She died, you would
have disappeared along with Her other creatures. She said it
to convince you to fight alongside Her host. Always, She
was a treacherous wench. She would have used you to van-
quish Her foe, but when you claimed your reward, She would
have only laughed and killed you."
   "Then how did I get here?" Bill asked.
   "I promised you that we would discover that," the mage
said. "First, we have a kingdom to free."



             Chapter Nineteen

"Now what do I do?" Bill asked as he reached for a tankard
of ale. "I still have no way to go home."
  "You are home," Zynaryxx replied, leaning over to scoop
more from his own tankard. "You have a place with us. You
are among friends. You're a hero to the people you've freed.
Here, you have a place of honor."
  Bill looked around the Falcon. It didn't seem as though
four weeks had passed since the victory in Regent's castle.
Humans sat wherever they wished, sprinkled among the
tables of rawulfs, hobbits, dwarfs, dracons, and others.
  At a nearby table, a man recounted his role in what had
become known as the Great Revolution. "When I led my
friends out of the slave pens, all I had was the sword I'd
taken from the jailer I strangled." He took a deep swig from
his tankard for emphasis.
  "I thought it was a knife," a dracon table interrupted.
  "It was a sword," he insisted. "I used my bare hands on
the jailer."
  "I thought the League set the slaves free at the market?" a
hobbit said.
  "They played a role, certainly," the man said. "But if that
jailer had given a warning, the entire raid might have failed.
And if I hadn't made it possible for the slaves to escape, well,
I don't even want to think what might have happened to the
entire revolution,
   "Think about it. When all those slaves got loose, it put
the whole city in an uproar. The guards streamed out of the
castle to hunt us down. But they found a nasty surprise wait-
ing when they came out of that fortress.
   "We knew what fate awaited any of us who might have
been recaptured. Once we got out, we had no choice. Every
warrior had received orders to kill us on sight.
   "Let me tell you, once I discovered how easy that jailer
died, I realized I'd spent years cowering for nothing. I took a
few of the lads and went prowling. Others followed our ex-
ample, too. The warriors soon discovered it was none too
healthy for them to snoop in the shadows and alleys."
   "I'll grant you, the humans played a part," the dracon
responded. "But you had nothing to lose but your lives. Those
who carried the crimson crescent put their homes and liveli-
hoods on the line, along with their lives."
   "Were you a member of the League?" the human asked.
   "It's not something one talks about," the dracon said,
reaching for his tankard. "Let's just say the revolution didn't
just happen. It took years of planning."
   "I never saw you at a meeting of the League," the hobbit
said.
   The dracon paused in mid-sip, eyeing the hobbit.
   "That shouldn't be too surprising," the dracon responded.
"The League had many members whose responsibilities pre-
vented them from attending meetings. It was important to
keep the identities of some members secret even from others
in the League."
   "We had to be careful about traitors," the dracon said,
his voice dropping for emphasis. "Even today, I'm not at
liberty to talk about what those responsibilities entailed.
   "I could be like certain others," he said, glancing in the
hobbit's direction, "Who boast about their membership, but
I feel it's more important that those who made the Revolu-
tion happen know my own small role in bringing freedom
to humans like yourself."
   The human nodded, raising his glass to the dracon.
   "Bring my friend here a drink," he said to the waiter.
   "It never ceases to amaze me," Zynaryxx whispered to
Bill, "how many League members we must have had and
just didn't know it. It seems I can't go anywhere without
finding members."
   "And isn't it surprising," Bill added, "how many mem-
bers you had who never attended a meeting. But they all
assure me that, when the word went out, they were in the
forefront of those striking a blow for freedom."
   "I think it's revolting," Zorth said. "Everybody in this city
claims they were a member of the League in one capacity of
another. You ought to publish a list. Then there'd be some red
faces and a lot of explaining to be done by some people."
   He looked over at the dracon for emphasis.
   Zynaryxx chuckled.
   "Oh, Zorth," the mage laughed. "You take all this far too
seriously. I prefer that everyone think that everyone was a
member of the League."
   "I don't understand that at all," Nagano said. "I agree
with Zorth. These impostors and pretenders cheapen the
League and the achievements of the real members who fought
for their lives and ours, so we could make it through the
castle. It makes me sick to listen to all these liars who hid
under their beds, while a few others made our efforts
possible."
   "You miss the point," the mage said. "The more people
we have claiming to be members of the League, the more we
have who publicly subscribe to the principles on which the
League is founded. I hope everyone in Trillius gets a free
drink from someone for their imagined exploits. The more
people we have bragging about how they personally freed
the humans, the more we have condemning the old regime."
   "The ones who worry me," Zynaryxx said, lowering his
voice. "Are the quieter ones, the ones who talk as if the old
regime had the right idea but only made a few errors in
judgment. They condemn the excesses, but praise the sta-
bility and the order that the Arch Regent represented."
   "Some stability," Olaf sniffed. "If the Regent's host had
poured out of the castle, thirsting for their blood and hun-
gering for their very souls for nourishment, they'd have an
entirely different viewpoint."
   "They dismiss that as a lie spread by the League to justify
the revolution," the faerie said. "That's why the League does
nothing to discourage anyone who claims a role in the Revo-
lution. I'll take any converts I can get, no matter how late
they may be in coming."
   "You talk as if the Revolution was only hanging on by a
thread," Zorth said. "Go anywhere you want in the city, the
people are still celebrating the victory."
   "That's quite true," the mage said. "Right now, we enjoy
widespread support from the populace. The good people of
this city see it as their revolution, which is something I do
all within my power to encourage. The more people we have
taking credit for the revolution, the more committed sup-
porters we have."
   Orwynn brought another tray of tankards of ale to the
table. The tavernkeeper smiled as he pulled up a seat. "I
never thought I'd see the day when I could sit with my cus-
tomers without fear of someone informing the authorities
that a human was consorting with his betters."
   "You are one of the authorities now," Bill laughed.
   "Ridiculous," Orwynn snorted. "This nonsense about me
serving on the new council-what are they thinking? A month
ago the Guildlords  pretended they'd never even heard of
Darktown. Now they're falling all over one another trying
to find someone to represent this part of the city."
   "It makes perfect sense," Zynaryxx replied. "The people
of Trillius are none too happy with the Guildlords right
now. They can't forget that the Guildlords served as the Arch
Regent's handmaidens. The Guildlords need someone like
you, a genuine hero of the revolution, a real leader of the
League of the Crimson Crescent to lend them the legiti-
macy they need to retain some of their power."
   "Hero! Leader!" Orwynn snapped. "Foolishness! That's
what I say. Bill should have accepted the crown when they
offered it to him. I understand them selecting you, Zynaryxx,
as their advisor, but what do I know of affairs of state?"
   "You're the one who rallied the people to attack the castle,"
the faerie responded. "Just in the nick of time, I might add.
You're the one who led the League into action. You really are
a hero to the people of this city."
   "It should have been Bill," Orwynn grumbled. "I have a
tavern to run."
   "Don't be silly," Bill said. "I don't know anything about
this city. They made the right choices. Besides, with the
reforms you two have proposed, the Guildlords must be
wondering why they ever asked you to join them."
   "I consider the referendums quite mild," Zynaryxx said.
   "I would have liked to have seen their faces when you
proposed banning some of their more lucrative businesses,"
Bill grinned.
   "Just the more deadly ones," the mage replied. "The
Guildlords told us they wanted the city to prosper as a place
for visitors to come, relax, and spend their money. I just
reminded them that it's not good business when visitors dis-
appear."
   "Especially when you threatened to inform the city that
some of them had secretly turned visitors over to the Arch
Regent to feed her troops," Orwynn said. "If you had re-
vealed that bit of news, it would have launched another revo-
lution-against the Guildlords."
   "A little blackmail?" Nagano asked.
   "Such an indelicate term," Zynaryxx smiled. "I prefer to
call it enlightened negotiation. They want to stay in busi-
ness, I need some stability in Trillius while we figure out
what to do next. They lost their slave business-they've lost
quite a few of their businesses. But the ones who stayed have
found it's in their own best interests to go along with us in
exchange for our silence on a few matters of their past indis-
cretions."
   "Indiscretions!" Zorth snapped. "My litter brother nearly
lost his life to those living nightmares they were feeding.
The honorable solution would have been to execute the lot
of them."
   "In a perfect world, we might have considered it," the
mage sighed. "But instituting a reign of terror right after a
revolution would serve no one's interests. We could put the
slaveholders on trial, but with so many people involved with
the old regime in one way or the other, we would find our-
selves badly outnumbered. This way isn't quite as righteous
or as tidy, but it's practical."
   "Practical! Hah!" Zorth sniffed. "It is dishonorable to
consort with these black-hearted rogues, much less to allow
them to keep their ill-gotten booty."
   "My good Zorth," Zynaryxx responded amiably. "I don't
disagree with anything you say, but you miss the point. It
wasn't just a handful of people who acquired ill-gotten booty.
Thirty years of it corrupted far more people than you can
even imagine. It's easy for us to sit in judgment today. We
can look at what they did and judge it to be cowardly. But
you must remember that many of these people were not so
much evil themselves as they were struggling to cope with
the evil that dominated their lives. It corrupted everyone
and everything it touched. It crushed any who attempted to
stand up to it. People made accommodations with the Re-
gent and the black lord She served simply to survive."
   "Better to die than to serve such evil," Zorth said.
   "Yes, you're right," Zynaryxx said. "Those of us who felt
that way can take comfort in knowing that we removed a
cancer from our midst. But, our goal now must be to create
the conditions for a just society, even if we must endure some
injustice to make that possible."
   "I don't know how you can accept that idea," Zorth said.
"I don't understand politics. How can you make those kinds
of compromises?"
   "If we start prosecuting everyone who compromised or
made an accommodation during that period, we'd be forced
to put three-quarters of the city's population on trial. It's
just not practical, let alone possible. When an entire society
has been corrupted, you must examine why. They had no
hope. The regime succeeded in stamping out any belief they
may have had of ever being rescued. In their despair, they
compromised to survive. Today, many of them know what
they did was wrong, but they rationalize it. Everybody did
it, they say. They had families to think about. They would
have been killed if they had objected. There are thousands
of reasons."
   "And you accept all of this?" Zorth asked.
   "I don't accept any of it," the mage said. "Neither do they.
Deep down, they see through their own veil of justification.
They are far more harsh in their judgments of themselves
than we could ever be. Their friends and neighbors know
their part in it. And they all have to live with what they did
and didn't do. For that reason-this collective sense of guilt-
this revolution will work. No one is as righteous as the re-
formed sinner.
   "That's why I like seeing so many of them claiming to
have played such pivotal roles in the League and in the Revo-
lution," he said. "We will receive no support stronger than
from those who feel they have to prove their allegiance to
our cause."
   "I think you're all just trying to change the subject," Bill
said.
   "You aren't still talking about leaving us?" Orwynn asked.
"Zynaryxx, can't you talk any sense into him. We need him
here."
   "I've told him that. I've told him that his place is here
with us now. But I gave him my word that once we had
freed this city, I would do all I could to help him return to
his home. I don't intend to go back on my word to someone
to whom we all owe so much.
   "I just haven't figured out how to keep my vow," the mage
said. "I don't know how to send him. What's worse, I don't
know where to send him. This place he describes is unlike
any place I've ever heard of."
   "Friend Bill," Zorth said. "Among the elders of my people
are some who might have knowledge that could help you.
My clan stands ready to repay our debt to you. The Seven
Tribes will help with your search."
   "Why do you wish to return there?" Nagano asked. "I
can't go back to my home. Zynaryxx convinced the Assas-
sins' Guild to lift the bounty they had placed on my head
for not fulfilling the terms of the contract the Regent had
placed on you. But in exchange for my life, I've been ban-
ished from the Guild."
   "They didn't have much choice," Orwynn laughed. "They
realized that if the people discovered they had been trying
to kill the One, the man who had freed them from the
dark lord, the entire city would put a contract out on the
Assassins' Guild. Besides, you wouldn't want to go back to
your old line of work."
   "It was an honorable calling," the ninja said stiffly.
   "No doubt, I'm sure," Orwynn replied hastily. "I meant
no offense."
   "Orwynn just meant that an assassin leads a lonely life,"
Bill said. "You once told me yourself that before you joined
us, you had no close friends. You said that in the Guild you
were expected to keep to yourself. After all we've been through
together, I can't see you going back to that kind of solitary
life."
   "Why not?" the ninja snapped. "You seem to be in an
awfully big hurry to leave us."
   "I'm not in a hurry," he said.
   "Well, what do you call it? You talk about all we've been
through together in the same breath as you talk about going
back to this nightmarish place you describe. What do you
have waiting for you there that's so much more important to
you than the friends you've made here?"
   "You've helped to build a new world here," Zynaryxx said.
"Look around this room. You've made this possible. We
haven't swept away all the prejudices and intolerance that
built up over 30 years, but we've made a bold start. We haven't
yet freed the entire kingdom, but we've set a revolution in
motion. We've lit the spark and fanned the flame of liberty.
Certainly, that's just as noble as anything you could accom-
plish in your homeland."
   "It's more than I could ever accomplish there," Bill said.
"At home, I never accomplished much of anything."
   "I doubt that, friend Bill," Zorth said. "As long as I've
known you, you have always been modest to a fault. In this
land of yours, I have no doubt we would hear of your hero-
ics."
   "Hardly," he said. "Back home, I doubt anyone has even
noticed I've been gone."
   "Then why not stay here?" "Orwynn asked. "Here, you
are needed. Here, you can help to ensure that all of your
work has not been in vain."
   "I hadn't really thought of it that way," Bill said thought-
fully. "I just always thought that going back was something
I was supposed to do."
   "Do they have need of your sword?" Zorth asked.
   Bill laughed, imagining the reaction he'd provoke carry-
ing his sword down a busy street. "At home, I wouldn't be
allowed to carry my sword. I guess I'd just have to hang it
over my fireplace."
   "Forgive me," the mook said. "It sounds like a barbarous
place, unfit for a hero."
   Bill's hand strayed to the hilt of his sword. As his fingers
curled around it, he felt that sensation coursing up his arm,
a feeling of rightness as he clenched it.
   Could he hang what had become a trusted friend above a
mantle? Could he resume his life, pick up where he'd left
off, cook TV dinners in a bachelor pad, watch television on
weekday nights?
   "If you found a way to send me home, I'd probably spend
the rest of my life searching for that cave," Bill said as much
to himself as to the circle of friends around him.
   He looked at the faces of his friends and at the friendly
faces seated at other tables across the tavern. He felt more at
home already.