Tales From The Kingdom Of Prevjeld

"The Battle Between Light and Darkness"

he trumpets were sounded and the gongs crashed. The ground shook to the steps of the marching feet. Then the opposing armies hove into sight on opposite sides of the Valley of Despair. A fitting sight for a battle. Ghoul attended graves littered the slopes. The starving trees fell into the eager marsh. Carrion birds flew overhead, ever hungry.

Prince Herbert raised his battle standard high above his forces of good. The Suns light burning off their brightly burnished armour and weapons. Whilst on the other side Darkness, coiling around his feet, stood the Arch Mage Givanski. The Darkness of his armour seemed to devour all light coming to it.

Then as one, the two armies surged forward, down the hills. Cavalry and chariots racing forward, eager to gain glory for their lord.

They crashed into each other. Horses reared, blood gushed, some sank screaming into the hungry marsh depths. Then the infantry met, slowly rolling into each other, mowing each other down. High above the carrion birds cawed in glee.

Then the Sun was behind and enormous cloud and the very earth started to shake in regular quakes. Men and horses fell to the floor, unable to stay on their feet.

Then - SQUISH !!

"I hate Brownies!" said The King, wiping his iron clad boot on a casually fallen branch.

The birds loved the Brownies. Tales From The Kingdom Of Prevjeld

The Deposed King

Chapter 1 : Defeat

The sound of battle reverberated throughout the castle. Every dark, dusty corner heard the scream of dying men. The prisoners heard it in their dank cells and felt the faint glimmer of hope. The maids heard it and huddled in the back larders fearing the results of an enemy victory. The King, in the Throne room heard it and felt upset.

The dull thud of a catapult echoed through the Throne room, shaking dust from the battle pennants, school trophies and skeletons adorning the hall. "Sire, the enemy are through the bailey. They blasted a hole in the wall with the weapon!" said the cowering guardsman at the foot of the great dais. "Bastards! Commit the Praetorian Guard, they'll sort 'em out." "Err..we did commit the guard sire, half an hour ago actually, wiped out to the last man." stammered the sweating guardsman. "Damn you! I hate bad news." "gurkk.." glugged the guardsman. "Guards come and clean this mess up." roared the king. Five guards scurried in and started to drag the dead guardsman away, leaving a crimson trail across the flag stones. "Sire your sabre, I've cleaned it for you." said the sergeant. "Good, good. Fetch me the Captain of the Guards, Laurkros, Zelaz and Prince Berat. Have a squad of guards stationed in the wine cellar." "In the wine cellar sire?" "Immediately sergeant, or do you want to meet Laurkros in the Entertainment Room?" boomed the king. "No sire, I'll do it immediately, yes sire, right away sire." The sergeant slunk out of the hall, bowing and scraping as he left, a picture of abject terror. "Good."

The king moved over to the windows, tugging his long moustache with a taloned hand and stared down into the courtyard. A scene of utter chaos. The black clad troops falling back to the keep, or being cut down by Prince Valiant in his silver armour, wielding the sword. The Sword of Ssej. The source of all his misfortune. Nothing could withstand its power, not even his own potent magicks.

"Father, you sent for us." a strong voice, tinged with a subtle hint of impatience cried from the doorway. The king turned and glared at his son, encrusted with blood and gore.

"Eager to get back to the slaughter?" hissed the king, his slanted eyes disappearing beneath the black eyebrows, leaving a void into which anybody would fall. "No father." the cowering youngster eventually managed to stammer. "Come, we are going, to the wine cellar, we must hurry, the enemy are almost into the keep." said the king.

The Prince, Zelaz the court wizard, Captain Trajhofen, the black clad elf, Laurkros and the towering figure of Quod the kings bodyguard followed the king as he swept from the hall.

Down the spiralling stairs. Boom, boom, the battering rams at the castle gates. Through the kitchen. The cries of dying soldiers as the enemy found the murder holes. Down the slimy ladders into the dungeon.

"Find the king and string him up!" the hunting cry of vengeful soldiers echoing through the dungeon. "Jailer, kill the prisoners, we don't want Them to gain too much, do we!" said the king. "Yess sire." hissed the disfigured creature who cared for the prisoners. Although cared is not the word some might use. "Itt wiilll bee donee." The jailer opened a cell door and started hacking at the prostrate prisoner weighed down with chains and whip marks.

The king and his party swept away. The jailer stopped beating the prisoner, threw the keys at him and hurried away to a bolt hole he knew. No king could protect him from the elves if he killed the captives. The elves knew some nasty stuff.

Into the cellar. Hysterically screaming, the maids had been found. "Quick open that barrel!" roared the king. The hidden door squeaked open and a long dark passageway confronted the fugitives. The kings party rushed through the door. The door closed behind them. The soldiers of the victorious army stormed into the cellar just a moment too late. "Ah lads, we've found 'is booze, its gonna be a real hum dinga tonite!" a sergeant cried as he seized a mug and poured himself a beer. "Boy that's good beer," he said after deeply quaffing, "bit of an aftertaste though." A few minutes later the sergeant rubbed the pain in his stomach and then fell to the dirty floor foaming at the mouth. Not one soldier in that unit lived to walk back up the spiralling stairs. A captain eventually came to investigate.

The king led the way through the maze of tunnels, holding a lantern aloft and using his sabre to brush the cobwebs away. Quod stood close behind, hefting an immense axe. It was best to be careful. One of the troopers had been dragged away by a huge spider before anybody could react. Not that they wanted to anyway. Prince Berat grumbled as he stumbled over a pile of rat shit. "My best armour as well. It'll never be the same again. You can never get elf blood off gold." "Quiet boy !" hissed the king, "You never know what's listening down here." the contempt evident in his voice. At the next junction the king rubbed his calloused hand over his bald pate and finally chose the left hand passage. The one which was even more slimy and dank. Stale air drifted up, bringing with it thoughts of a creatures lair.

Zelaz cursed as he stumbled over something in the gunge coating the floor. He stooped to pick it up. He hastily dropped it when the glow he conjured showed it to be a skull, one which had been chewed.

More bones started to appear, all crushed, chewed and with the marrow sucked out. "Sire I think we've come the wrong way." Zelaz pointed out. "You think I don't know where I'm going Zelaz?" "Of course not sire, but..." "But nothing, if you're not with me Quod will escort you back to Prince Valiant! Is that what you want?" that black void of the eyebrows was turned on Zelaz. "No sire." he croaked weakly, his mouth suddenly dry. "Then onwards and no whining."

They disappeared into the blackness. A faint chittering could be heard, from which direction nobody could tell. It seemed to come from the very rocks themselves. Globules of slimy mucus started to fall from the ceiling, splattering the party and making faint hissing sounds as they touched metal. The amount of bones got larger, most of them human.

The guards started to mutter. Everybody had wondered where traitors and prisoners without use ended up. The question was answered now and everybody wished it hadn't been. The tunnel opened up into a circular chamber. Clearly the lair of the beast. Piles of bones littered the room, picked clean, gleaming white in the lanterns light. The king started across the chamber to the exit on the opposite side. And then he stopped in his tracks.

A dark shape was emerging from the tunnel. Black, blacker than hell, slimy tentacles groping towards the party. The blind eyes turned towards them and it smiled revealing rows of sharp canines.

The soldiers backed away from the thing which had once been human and was still recognisable as the old king, the good king, the king everybody had liked. The king laughed and strode across the room stirring up the piles of bones and then reached out and patted the thing on its black scales. "Meet King Nosnor." he laughed and passed on down the tunnel. The others shuffled past it and virtually ran down the tunnel after the king. Nobody turned when the last soldier started to scream, nobody wanted to find out, nobody cared. As they burst through the concealing bushes into the wan moonlight a cry of sadness and anguish followed them through into the night air.

Chapter 2 : Machinations

The king and his retinue rested on the gorse covered hill by the blasted oak, as a couple of troopers went down to get the hidden horses. The king had always taken precautions, such as these, he had gained plenty of experience. "Thank you sire for getting us out of the grips of Prince Valiant, I'm eternally grateful." "Don't make promises you can't keep Zelaz. Eternity is a long time." growled the king.

The others sat around a small fire chatting, except Laurkros, who sat on his own staring into the distance. A placid look on his peaceful face. Zelaz glanced at him. Who would think, that after the king, Laurkros was the most feared person in the kingdom. Even thinking of it sent shivers down his spine.

His thoughts were distracted by the returning troopers with nine horses. How had the king known he would need only nine horses?

The king mounted his pitch black steed and said "This is where we part company. Berat you head North with two of the guards, to the Frosty Hills and raise a new army among the hill folk, the trolls and the goblins. Have it ready in a months time. On the next full moon meet me at the Hill of Asketist by the standing stone, where we will plan the utter destruction of Prince Valiant and his whole army!" "Where will you go father?" asked the curious youngster. "To find a weapon of incredible power, more powerful than Valiant's sword and with it I'll carve out the world wide empire I've always dreamed of." replied the king, "To find the Spear of Orpanhammer, the Sees'seesvingt" "But that's been hidden for thousands of years" exclaimed the startled Prince. "Not so" scoffed the king " Zelaz, tell him." "After extensive research I have discovered that the Spear was hidden by a coven of witches in the area of Creagir. So all we have to do is go and find the witches and ask them where the Spear is." lectured the wizard. "But will they know" butting in quickly the Prince said "where it is?" "Of course, anybody should know that witches have a collective memory. So if a coven wants something remembered its passed on to each new witch at each ceremony." said Zelaz looking down his long nose at Berat. "Enough of this, go and raise that army Berat and don't fail me" hissed the king. The Prince and his two soldiers galloped down the hill into the cover of the dark trees. The remaining six horses watched them go, then turned and trotted down the hill, Southwards.

The journey South to Craegir was through enemy territory. However, Valiant had mustered all the troops he could spare for the assault on the king. So it was relatively easy for the king and his followers to slip through the wartorn river lands.

Burnt strands of trees provided cover during daylight, as they travelled at night. Past sentries with slit throats, through sleeping camps of soldiers, Laurkros would soon rejoin the party. Smiling an enigmatic smile and wiping his knife clean on a rag. The only trouble came from the bands of outlaws and scavenging orcs, but these soon scuttled away, terrified when they set eyes upon those they tried to rob. They would flee back to the shelter of the trees, contemptuous laughter nagging at their heels.

The only outlaws who were fool enough not to recognise the king became prime crow food and the chief was taken away by Laurkros. The screams echoed around the valley walls all day. The party was never bothered again.

After a week of travel through this land they reached the devastated province of Craegir.

"Alright Zelaz, where do we find the witches then?" "Err..I'm afraid sire I was unable to ascertain that fact from my studies. We were interrupted" gasped Zelaz as the king's gauntlet clamped itself to Zelaz's scrawny throat and started to squeeze. "Sire, we can ask at the village." pointed out a brave soldier.

Chapter 3 : The Village of the Little People

Three horsemen on jet black horses thundered down the slope from the woods, sabres glittering evilly in the morning sunlight. The Little People in the fields ran shrieking through the streets. Raising the alarm. Within seconds the whole village was racing out of the village in the opposite direction to the oncoming horsemen, only to be met by another three horsemen bearing down on them. "Ha, ha, ha" boomed the king, "just like hunting rats. Captain Trajhofen string a few of them up to stop that damn wailing. Laurkros take one of the elders into that hall and ask it a few questions. Zelaz, you go and help him. "

After the screaming elder had been dragged away the Little People huddled in their circle quietly wailing staring, with fearful eyes at the jerking figures behind the king, so much like the puppets at last weeks fair.

Inside the dark, smoky hut Laurkros tied the elder to a chair and unpacked his tools. Thumbscrews, pincers, gouges and a fork. "Oh no not the fork Laurkros." gasped Zelaz, going pale and clutching his mouth. Laurkros just smiled at the wizards retreating back.

The sound of retching came to the elder just as he fell into a faint. The faint did not help the elder. The whole village quaked as his blood curdling screams echoed through their heads. On and on it went, until a last agonised yell.

Laurkros came out of the hut as steadily and mysteriously as he had entered. He went to the king and whispered something in his ear. The king grinned and said "You had better just verify the fact. Trajhofen get a few more of those elders out and put them in the hut." These ones did not even struggle, so terrified were they. "Zelaz, go and saddle the horses. Quod go and kill those rats who have just run away. Trajhofen, prepare a big bonfire.

That night the six horsemen prepared to leave the burnt out village. The skulls jangled at Quods' belt as he climbed aboard his shire horse. The king smiled and applied a burning torch to the bonfire his men had built in the village square. A wailing and crying could faintly be heard through the crackling of the fire. The first agonised screams reached the king as he mounted his jet black horse, and then the faint words of someone in pain, trying to pass judgement before they perished "You king, you will die in torment, Prince Valiant will be our revenge, Prince Valiant will destroy you."

The king just laughed and rode away into the darkness, through the black forest towards the ruins of Craegir city where the elders had directed the party. Through the night the horses raced, passing terrified people hiding in their cottages and frightened animals in their nests. The forest eventually thinned out into gently rolling moors and fields below. The king stopped here at dawn and surveyed the distant city. "We'll get there by nightfall," he growled, "Come on." With that he charged down the hill.

Nothing stirred that day, until they got to the outskirts of the city and dark shapes started flitting through the gathering gloom. "Familiars" snorted Zelaz in contempt. Craegir was a haunted city, destroyed hundreds of years ago in the wars. Grim castle walls no longer had guards marching across them. The cobbled streets no longer had children running through them, but the king looked neither left nor right, but straight at the hill silhouetted against the dying Sun - the Hill of the Witches.

Chapter 4 The Witches

A crescent moon rose up above the fire on the hill. By the time the king got to its base the moon looked like a half consumed cheese the rats had left in the larder. "The witches are up there my lord, I saw one silhouetted against the fire." growled Quod. "Hmmpf..that means nothing to creatures of the night. You soldier, make yourself useful and go up the hill and tell the witches that the king is here to see them." ordered the king. "Yes sire." said the soldier, obviously nervous. He crept off up the hill, darting from shadow to shadow.

They did not have to wait long for the answer of the witches. The king glanced down and said "You fool, it was witches you were dealing with, not defenceless peasants. Come on up the hill." Five horses climbed steadily up the hill toward the witches. By the sixth horse a toad croaked miserably.

The witches were waiting for them in a circle around the fire. "Welcome king," they cawed "it is a long time since we were honoured by the presence of one such as yourself. What can our humble selves do for you?"

Addressing himself to the witch who appeared to be the leader of the coven, the ugliest and oldest crone of them all. "I seek the Spear of Orpanhammer, so I can smite Prince Valiant down and regain my kingdom. I hear that you know where it is hidden, so I ask you its whereabouts." "Indeed we do know of the hidden place of that which you seek. For it was us who hid it after the Thousand Year War, after King Hugh swept all before him and unified the world. A long, long time ago, but we remember." they croaked in unison. "Where is it then" the king eagerly said "I must have it." "The location is hidden in our collective memories, we must dance to bring it to the fore. Before we begin there is a price." The unified voices began to grate on the kings nerves. "Yes, yes, I agree to the price, whatever it is."

The crones laughed at this and said "Draw back then, we must have room to dance!" As the party drew back the crones linked hands and began to move round the fire in a continuous circle, slowly at first, but then faster, till they were whirling around faster than the eye could perceive. On and on the witches danced and then they started a dirge, rising and falling in a crescendo, like the wind in the gabbles.

On and on the dance went. The king went back down the hill and camped its foot for the remainder of the night. At first light a crone approached the kings fire. She was the most beautiful woman the king had ever seen, everybody's heads turned at the sound of her voice, except Laurkros'. "We have the answer.." she chimed. "Yes, what is it?" said the king. "..but first the price!" "Okay, what is it, gold, jewels, slaves? You can have anything." claimed the king. "The soul of your son, Prince Berat." All heads turned to the king, a toad blinked at him from beneath a rock, the horses stopped eating and stared. "The soul of my son! Is that all? okay it's a deal." Everybody was surprised at this, even the young witch. "Err..okay, that which you seek is to the East through the Wastelands and the Forest of Meaux. Find the Pit of Priorlli, the spear is down there, guarded by ferocious beasts." with that she pulled her cloak about her and was gone.

A thousand miles away, Prince Berat fell down in his tent in agony. When he got up a blank stare adorned his face.

Chapter 5 : The Wastelands

The hills rose up above them, tall and gaunt. Thirsty hills, not a scrap of vegetation grew on the slopes, a heat haze rising into the air, obscuring the view. The king and his party, on sweating horses, passed through a parched mud village, scattering its few meagre inhabitants. They stopped at the deep well, an oasis of life in the heat. "Trajhofen, go and get a peasant to fetch us some water." commanded the king. "Bloody hell, it's hot!" gasped Zelaz "Why do we always have to wear black, it's totally impractical for this sort of work." "It's traditional," smiled the king "and the peasants expect it and we don't want to disappoint them do we." "No sire, I'll put up with it then." "Good, now which way do we go now?" questioned the king. "I shall ascertain that sire, with a spell." Zelaz waved his arms in the air and a globe of mist condensed out of the heat. A small demon could be seen at its heart. Its bat like wings folded behind, its malicious eyes focused on Zelaz. "Tell us the best route to the Forest of Meaux and the Pit of Priorlli" ordered Zelaz. "WHY SHOULD I?" said the demon, without moving its lips. "Because I command it" retorted Zelaz. "SOD OFF. I'M GOING BACK TO THE SHOW YOU DRAGGED ME SO RUDELY FROM. BYE" said the demon telepathically. "Tell him imp!" hissed the impatient king. "Why don't you.." said the demon turning to the king "go straight ahead, through the Trees of Despair and follow the Voncol River and that'll lead you right to the pit. Can I go now please?" "Be gone foul sprite and next time we meet I will not be so considerate!" hissed the king "Trajhofen get that peasant working on the double."

The imp evaporated in a cloud of super steam, yellow naturally, and was gone. Soon the sweating peasant had watered the horses and filled the water bottles. The party prepared to follow the imps instructions. "Are you thirsty peasant?" asked a concerned king. "Yes my lord, very thirsty." whimpered the peasant. "Very well, Trajhofen, see that he gets plenty of water." The splash echoed up the well as the horsemen rode away.

Into the Pass of Despair, the heat was rising from the very rocks. Shale slipped down the steep, rocky sides as the sound from the horses hooves dislodged it.

Further into the pass, winding through the hills they suddenly came across a bloody big dragon. "Greetings mortals, you may not pass." it said simply. "Surely dragon there must be some way we could pass?" said the king slyly. "Well apart from dying and passing me as shades, the only way to pass is by offering one of your party to me voluntarily and nobody's done that for years." "Trajhofen, go offer yourself to that dragon yonder." said the king. "Err..sire, I've always obeyed you but this time.." said Trajhofen as Quod helped him towards his fate. The hungry snap of the dragons jaws brought an avalanche of shale down from the hill sides.

"Oh yes, are you interested in a small demon as a bonus" said the king conversationally. "I'm always willing to deal with such considerate mortals as you. You've no idea what it's like having to kill all you people, it's so boring." smiled the dragon, although dragons smile all the time. Just like cats. Perhaps they know something we don't. "Zelaz, summon that demon again" ordered the king. "Yes sire." the same hand movements followed and a ball of mist formed in the air.

"WHAT! oh it's you again..." SNAP!! "See you around dragon" called the king. "Come again. Its been nice doing business with you. Have a nice day." said the dragon courteously.

Chapter 6 : The Forest of Meaux

The trail from the dragon wound deeper into the hills. The dragons left overs could be seen easily, littering the dust. Bleached bones sticking up from the sand, picked clean of the last strip of flesh. However, even these remainders were soon forgotten under a tangle of dusty green plants which tore at the horses flanks and the legs of the riders.

The thorny plants gradually merged into larger and larger bushes and eventually trees poked their noble trunks through the mad house at their feet. It was cool in the forest, cool and peaceful. But not for long as six horses and four riders noisily passed from placid glade to placid glade, disturbing the dancing butterflies and sleeping deer. "It's over that way, I can hear running water" grunted Quod.

The horses passed through a tangle of roses and came to a delightful little spring. "Shall we camp here tonight my lord?" asked Quod. "Yes, I'm dying for a leak" replied the king dismounting and heading toward the spring. "Ah, that's better." He turned round, stopped dead in his tracks, his hand going to his sword hilt. "Touch it and you're a dead man" chimed the elf, the elf with a long-bow pointed directly at him. "You're wondering how we managed to capture you and your friends?" he said indicating the bound and gagged wizard and dark elf.The king grinned and said "Yes, I was rather curious about that, I thought we had covered our tracks from the castle after the battle." "Huh, yours was the easiest trail I've ever followed. You leave it littered with dead and dying bodies and whole villages which have retreated into a state of shock. Like I said, easy to follow." said the elf with a contemptuous smirk on his face.

He gestured to his right and left and ten more elves emerged. A couple seized the king and proceeded to disarm him. Then after a thorough search of his person he was bound. "You have six horses! What happened to the other three?" asked the elf captain. "Well the Witches of Craegir got one and the dragon in yonder pass got the other two." said the king "I was most upset!" "Ah, I see, my commiseration's. Get them on the horses and lets move out. I want to be at the bridge by nightfall." ordered the captain.

The journey was not uncomfortable for the captives as elves treat captives a lot better than the king does. They traversed the woods quickly and just as the daylight came to an end the party came to the edge of a huge chasm. At the bottom the River Voncol raged and flowed. Over this chasm spanned a narrow rope bridge, wide enough for one horse at a time.

"Prepare to camp." commanded the captain. It was then that Quod struck. A large double bladed axe in the hands of an expert does a lot of damage. Especially when the expert is as strong as Quod. The elves were torn apart and the majority routed away from this death dealing apparition. In the lull the king and his followers were able to gallop over the bridge, and Laurkros, who had already freed himself, had managed to liberate their weapons.

The elves meanwhile had regrouped and were massing to storm the bridge. Quod stood at the other end, his axe dripping elven blood. But the elven captain was brave and with his men at his back, proceeded to march onto the bridge. His sword glinting in the dying rays of the Sun. "When they're half way across cut the ropes Quod." said the king contemptuously. "Yes sire" droned Quod whilst swatting away the annoying little arrows, he raised his axe and severed a supporting rope with one mighty blow. The elves realised what was happening and started to run back to the other side. Most didn't make it, they simply plummeted down into the raging torrent far below, screaming their last. "I wonder if elves can swim." sniffed Quod.

Chapter 7 : The Pit of Priorlli

The horses made no sound as they plodded down the slope on the leaf mould as they followed the dark, overhung path. There should have been moonlight, as the moon was in a week of fullness but the tangled branches above cut it off.

The path followed the chasm closely as it got shallower and shallower. The kings restlessness increased proportionately with the narrowing distance between himself and the raging river below. Every step taking him closer to his goal.

In the distance a tremendous roar could be heard. Louder as they drew nearer, until when they crested a hunch backed ridge they

could see the river disappearing into a immense hole in the ground, spray rising hundreds of metres into the air. "How are we going to get down there sire?" asked Quod. "There's a flight of steps on the opposite side, built when it was used as a fortress, long since abandoned though." quoted Zelaz from memory. The stairs were slippery and encrusted with mould and slime, but it was the only way down, so lighting a glittering torch Quod led the way.

Down hundreds, nay thousands of steps. Round and round, down and down. Getting deeper, darker and wetter all the time. Water dripping uncomfortably from their clothing. Until eventually they reached the bottom, so suddenly did it come that Quod stumbled and missed the boulder thrown at him from the darkness of the cave mouth.

No further attack came as the weary travellers crouched on the stairs, blades glistening with water. "Come on, we can't wait here for ever," said the king "I thought you said it had been abandoned!" They cautiously approached the opening, weapons at the ready. "Zelaz, fireball it, give the buggers a surprise." The globe of burning nothingness sizzled its way into the darkness and the screams and sounds of running feet emanating from the cave proved its success. "Come on, lets get 'em" cried the king, charging wildly after the glowing ball of destruction.

There was nobody left, apart from a damp pile of ash. "Gone, cowards, gone, can't even stand up to four men" growled Quod. They went on, down the dark, narrow tunnels, stumbling over rock falls in the pale light. The passageway opened up into a large cavern. Stalactites and stalagmites adorned the ceiling and floor, when out from behind a hail of spears and arrows came charging a large amount of arfs. Those strange creatures living on nothing but meat, arf the size of dwarves, living their entire lives underground. Ferocious hunters and great warriors they might be underground, against wild animals and undisciplined troops, they were nothing against the four stout warriors standing back to back, defying them in their own land.

The tide of small bodies flung themselves against the four but broke against it, leaving tangled bodies, twitching and moaning. Again and again they attacked, until the king struck down the chief and the shaman was fired by a personalised lightning bolt from Zelaz.

Wading through the bodies, Quod in the fore rubbing the pouring wound in his shoulder they made their way toward the final cave and the Spear. In a small cavern, clearly man-made, it rested on a bed of decayed velvet cushions upon a stone plinth. It was long, with three flights at the end and tapered to a razor sharp nose. Strange runes decorated the sides. The king eagerly stepped forward but was stopped by a frightened cry from Zelaz, who had just read the runes. Before he could speak a large ball of mist condensed in the air above the spear.

"WE MEET AGAIN. DEMONS ARE HARD TO DESTROY. IT TAKES MORE THAN A MERE DRAGON TO DO THAT, NOW I'LL HAVE MY REVENGE. MEET BIG BROTHER" hissed the demon cheerfully. An enormous cloud of mist appeared and out of it, towering over the party was an enormous demon. "'ELLO I'M 'ERE TO KILL YOU SO PREPARE TO DIE" it sniffed. "Quick sire, out of here, I'll deal with it" claimed Zelaz. The king, Laurkros and Quod quickly exited the chamber, followed by the imps mocking laughter. "Okay Zelaz, see ya."

Out of the chamber came fire, smoke, ice, loud explosions, roars of pain, screams of agony. Blood ran everywhere. Then there was a last mind shattering yell, and the impish laughter stopped. Cautiously the king entered the chamber, stepping over the pools of molten rock, he glanced around the room. The whole room was either half melted or frozen. Sometimes both.

Zelaz lay on the ground beneath the still intact plinth. The imp sat upon the spear looking rather shocked and mumbling something to itself. "Laurkros, kill me that imp." ordered the king. He bent down to Zelaz. "Well done Zelaz, you will be rewarded for this." said the king. Zelaz turned his sightless eyes to the king "Thank you sire, beware the Spear it erkk..." His head fell off, severed so neatly, no one, not even Zelaz had noticed. The king glanced up at the high pitched squeak as Laurkros skewered the imp. "Err...hello" it squirmed. "The dragon might not be able to kill you but I can do something worse than death." said the king, who reached out his hand and surrounded the imp. Then he closed his hand and squeezed and squeezed. Agonising yells erupted from the fist. When the king opened his fist, on the palm of his hand was a small blue glowing gem. The glowing blue gem whimpered softly as it was thrown into a corner.

Then seizing the Spear. "Come on we have work to do." said the king. Back through the dead arfs, back through the dark tunnels, back up the steps. "Ah king we meet again," said the elven captain in his rusty armour and holding a still bright sword. "First I will kill your bodyguard, then I will kill you and your evil forever." With this he swung up his sword and charged the little group. Quods' axe rose up to meet the descending sword, meeting in a shower of sparks.

Counter attack foiled, Quod began to hammer blows onto the elf but the elf was nimble enough to avoid them. Two equally balanced warriors, blood flowing freely from both combatants. A stalemate, until Laurkros drove his sword up through the elves' backplate and on into his heart. "That certainly got to the heart of the matter!" exclaimed Laurkros. But the elf carried on and pulled himself off the blade, dripping blood he staggered towards Quod. He flung himself upon Quod and both slowly toppled over and fell headlong into the Pit and were swallowed up by the darkness within. "Well we're well rid of him," mused the king "he was becoming a bore."

Chapter 8 : The Last Battle

Seizing their horses and the others as remounts, the king and Laurkros swept through the night towards their homelands. Not long now till the full moon.

Faster they sped, like clouds in the wind. Not stopping to eat, just black shadows in the night.

They reigned in their lathering horses on the crest of the hill and both slowly collapsed beneath them. They had done their job though. The king and Laurkros were at the Hill of Asketist by the standing stone, just as the full moon rose for the first time. "Father you made it." Berat said mechanically. "Of course I did boy, what did you expect? Now with the army and the Spear we'll whip Valiant and his curs back to their kennels. Pleased to see me?" "Yes father" like an automaton. "What's wrong with you my boy, are you ill?" asked the king, a little concerned. Laurkros bent and whispered in his ear. "Oh yes, I'd forgotten. Well never mind Berat I'll get you another one to play with."

The king surveyed the army beneath him. A bit smaller than he would have liked but that was only to be expected considering Berats state. Well, with the Spear it wouldn't matter.

The massed ranks started to bang their sword butts and spears on their shields and shouting their battle cries they marched to the East. Toward the castle, toward the last battle. The king wiped the tears from his eyes as he looked at the proud men, vicious orcs, blood thirsty trolls and other weird varieties of creatures which made up his army. "Doesn't it make you proud Berat, all these soldiers under my control, all pledging allegiance to me. Oh, if only your mother could see this, she'd be really proud of you Berat. Just as I am. Don't worry about your soul. I'll get you one, just as good as new." enthused the king. "Yes father." said Berat. "Or if you don't like that I'll string up those witches until they give it up." "Yes father." said Berat. "Ah sod yer then, you ungrateful brat," growled the king "after all I've done for you all you can say is 'yes father'," said the king riding away, "by the time I was your age I was sticking a sword in my fathers guts and all you can do is whine." "Yes father." said Berat to his retreating back.

"His army is a lot bigger than I expected, still never mind." said the king overlooking the closing armies. Soon the armies met and blood flows. Battalions ebbed and flowed across the broken ground and broken men. But it became apparent that the kings troops were slowly pushing the enemy back across the plain, slaughtering the ranks of their enemy. But as if he had heard, Prince Valiant in shiny armour and bright sword galloped across the plain to join the fray. The power of the Sword could be seen flickering around the battlefield.

Where is rested nothing but a burnt patch of gorse remained. Soon the kings army was back where it had started and it had started to rout. Running frantically to get out of the Swords reach. "Oh well" sighed the king, casually flinging the Spear straight at Valiant. Straight and true it flew, smoke leaving a trail from the flames leaping from the Spear. Straight at Valiant.

Valiant disappeared along with his entire army in a blinding expanding ripple of light. The heat brushed past the king and his army, singeing the hairs from his moustache and burning his skin.

When the light cleared from his eyes the king looked down upon his enemy and saw nothing but a rapidly expanding mushroom cloud of dust. No enemy remained, just dust and memories. Not much of his own army remained but they had done their job. "Victory!!" victory was his.

Epilogue

A brilliant homecoming. Back in his old castle. It was soon made homely again, ripping out the new tapestries and showing the maids what they had been missing in his absence. A few peasants and the old jailer stuck on spikes around the walls to make it cheerful. "Boy it's good to be back Laurkros." said the king walking round the repaired walls. "Pity about the plants, still a bit of famine will do them good. This damn dust gets everywhere."

"Send the quack up to me tomorrow, I want him to look at this grey skin of mine in seems to be falling off. I notice you're looking a bit pale as well!" commented the king. "Still it makes my visage more terrifying." the king said as he walked up the main stairs to the throne room. "It's good to be back!"