\documentstyle[12pt]{book}

\begin{document}

\begin{center}
{\Large Chapter One}
\end{center}

[T]

The door to the Inn opened, and the patrons turned to see who
had returned to them.  

However, it was not a regular customer.

The night outside was dark and stormy, and to the patrons it
appeared that a bit of the night had materialised at their door.  The
darkness stepped forward to reveal a figure in a voluminous black cloak,
the hood pulled far over the face to conceal the features within.  The
figure, standing at about six foot, appeared ominous, and several of the
warriors inside loosened their swords in their sheaths in case of trouble.

As if anticipating their intentions, the stranger held up his
hand.

``Peace,'' he said in a calm voice, ``peace to this Inn and it's peoples.\@''

He moved over to the bar, his strides long and assured. Littlefair moved
over to him.

``New here I see,'' he said.  The stranger nodded.

``Well, then, what will be your pleasure?\@'' Littlefair asked.

``Ale, thank you,'' replied the stranger.  He took his tankard and
moved to an empty table, seating himself comfortably.

As he sat, he cast his eyes around the Inn, noting the unusual number
of corners, as well as the number of patrons.  Littlefair moved over to him.

``Wet night,'' he said as he seated himself opposite the stranger.  
``There's a place near the fire if you want to hang up your cloak.\@''

The stranger looked at him for a moment, then stood up and cast back
his hood.

His features were strong, with brown eyes that spoke of much
experience.  His curly brown hair was cut short at the front and sides, but 
the back was long and braided.

As he removed the cloak, he revealed an ornate katana and wakizashi
sheathed at his back.  He wore black leather armour, that jingled slightly,
giving the impression that mail was hidden underneath.  His breeches and 
boots were also black, but with fine silver tracings down the side.  The
overall impression was of a man of action and grace.

``My name is Timelord,'' he said, handing his cloak to Littlefair,
``Do you have a rope I could borrow?\@''

Littlefair, somewhat confused, went to the bar and got a coil of
rope.  He returned to the table.

``Thank you,'' said Timelord, laying some coins on the table.  ``I hope
that covers any, er, damages,'' he said with a smile.

``Damages?\@'' asked Littlefair confusedly, but Timelord was already
heading out the door.

For a few minutes nothing happened.  Then there was a clink, and a
scraping noise, as if someone had thrown a grappling hook on the roof of the 
Inn.  It appeared to be right over the door.

Suddenly, from outside the door came the sound of running feet.  Then
came a cry:


``Waaaaaaahoooooyyyyyyyyyyy!!\@''

In through the door came a new figure.  Well, the figure SWUNG in,
rope in one hand and glittering rapier in the other.  He released the rope,
flew gracefully through the air, turned a full somersault, and landed 
with a flourish on the top of a table in the middle of the Inn, which then
proceeded to collapse under his weight.

Timelord re-entered the Inn.

``I must apologise for my friend Rollik,'' he said, as he coiled the
rope, ``he does insist on these dramatic entrances.\@''

A stunned silence was the only reply.

[R]

Rollik sprang to his feet, stepped over a splintered chunk of table,
and swaggered toward the bar with a casual air. Quick fingers
slipped into a pocket, emerging with some coins that jingled in
front of Littlefair.

``My humblest apologies, sir! This should more than cover the damages
 and the cost of some of your renowned ale.\@''

Littlefair, smoothly covering the fact that he had just been paid for
the table twice, gave him a mug of ale and a dirty look.

``Hope yer not planning on doin' that too often,'' he said with great
subtlety.

``No need, no need, my good man,'' said the Swashbuckler. ``Once is
all it takes to show these people what kind of adventurer I be.\@''

Several people muttered things under their breath. Clearly this man
did not understand the concept of embarrassment.

``Don't worry,'' said Timelord in a low tone. ``He did it rather regularly
 back home until someone slammed the door in mid-swing.\@'' The warrior
 passed back the borrowed rope.

The two took a table and drank deep.


[T]

Timelord and Rollik sat at the table, reminiscing and drinking ale
as the rain pounded outside.  When the rain finally stopped, around an
hour later, they rose, placed a few coins on the table, and moved towards
the door.

``Farethewell, my friends!\@'' called out Rollik as they left.  ``We
go in search of adventure and fine maidens!\@''

The two stepped out into the night.  It was cool, but not 
uncomfortably so.  They walked for a while, down side streets and alleys,
finally arriving at a small square to the north of the inn.  It was lit
sporadically, leaving ample shadows for concealment.

``This be the sort of place that miscreants would dwell,'' said
Rollik, casting an appraising eye over the square.

Timelord nodded.  

``Most definitely,'' he agreed, and pointing to the other side of
the square added, ``and there's a prime example.\@''

As they watched, a well-dressed nobleman walking along the
street was suddenly jumped by a gnome-like figure.  Quickly the gnome
rapped the nobleman across the head, grabbed his purse, and darted down
a nearby alley.

``Son of a mangey dog!\@'' cried Rollik, brandishing his rapier. ``After
him!\@''

And with that, he dashed off down after the fleeing gnome.

``Wait!\@'' cried Timelord, but seeing that his words had no effect,
followed.

The chase lasted for some time, as the fleet-footed gnome 
darted down alleys and streets unfamiliar to the pursuing pair.  Finally,
though, he made a wrong turn, and was cornered in a dead end alley.

``We have you now,'' said Timelord, panting.

``Do not be so sure,'' said a voice behind them.

Turning, Rollik and Timelord saw behind them a tall human, an
ogre, and several smaller humans.  The tall human spoke.

``Since you two have followed G'ndor to this hideaway of ours,'' he
said in a raspy voice, ``you have a choice - death, or death.\@''  He smiled
hideously.




[R]

``My name is not G'ndor,'' said Rollik haughtily, ``and let's not be THAT
harsh on the poor chap. He's just a common thief.\@''


There was a confused silence. G'ndor skittered around the pair to his
master. The tall human, obviously the leader, reasoned he had better
do something to re-assert his authority, so he pointed a threatening
finger at the swashbuckler and was about to say something when
Rollik stepped up and shook the hand warmly.

``Well well, armed men on the streets of Generica at this hour! you
 fair gentlemen can only be officers of the city watch,'' Rollik
 bowed low with a cultured flourish, and his hat flopped over his
 eyes. ``\,'Tis a pleasure to meet this fine city's unsung champions
 of law enforcement!\@''

An amused sneer oozed over the massive ogre's face as the bandit
party broke into chuckles. The ogre spoke in a deep, rumbling
speech impediment. 

``Dis one's funny, boss. I say we snuff 'im quick instead.\@''

Rollik looked insulted.

``Why, I wouldn't even think of taking some of it from such a
kind fellow as yourself, especially when I have some of my own
right here.\@'' He quickly whipped out a small silver box from
a pocket.

Some of the more intelligent thugs understood him. All of them
watched as he opened the box, took a pinch of fine powder between
his thumb and forefinger, and raised it to his nose. Two short
breaths followed, then the swashbuckler blasted a gentlemanly
spray of nasal mucus over the gnome, who grated his teeth at
his comrades' howls of laughter.

A small tingle of a thought formed in the leader's brain. It 
slowly grew, gaining in size and attention, flourishing and
developing until it finally spilled over into his conscious
mind.

He had not seen the other warrior for several seconds.

He was just making the connection between this and Rollik's
foolish behavior when one of the bandits behind him collapsed
in a gurgle. Rollik's hand was already at his rapier's hilt.

``Have at thee, foul brigands!\@''

With a hiss of steel, the battle was joined.


[T]

As Rollik was bantering with the bandit leader, Timelord
was creeping along the ground near the alley wall.  Taking advantage
of the confusion created by Rollik, he had dropped to the ground and
using his skills at silent movement, crept around the back of the group
of thugs.

Rising silently to his feet, in one movement he cast off his
cloak, drew his katana with his gloved right hand, and swung a blow at
the nearest human.

The razor sharp blade made no sound as it flashed through the
air, cleanly severing his head.  Before the head hit the ground, Timelord
gripped the sword in both hands and drove the point into the back of a 
second human.  The point emerged dripping from his chest, then twisted and
disappeared as Timelord pulled the katana out of his body.  With a groan
the human slumped to the ground.

The final human and the ogre spun around at the sound, and the leader,
his eyes widening in realisation, went for his sword.

``Have at thee, foul brigands!\@'' cried Rollik, drawing his rapier.

Dropping into an alert crouch, Timelord prepared to take on his
adversaries.  The human drew a broadsword, the ogre a heavy spiked club.
Timelord waited for the right moment to strike.


[R]

The leader squared off at Rollik as the ogre and other remaining
human went for Timelord. With a frightened squeak the gnome suddenly
darted through a small door in the side of the alley. Rollik and
the leader were left to duel alone.

In a swift movement the leader flung back his cloak and drew his
sword, a long sabre with a black hilt. Rollik waited fairly until
his enemy was ready.

``I must caution you, sir, that I am a swordsman par excellence,
and my comrade-in-arms and I see it our duty to bring you to
justice. What say you to that?\@'' 

``Aklub al rakfatt,'' said the bandit leader.

``Pardon?\@'' blurted Rollik.

Magical energy arced from the leader's body to the sabre, forming
deep red flames that licked evilly along the blade.

``Oh,'' said Rollik.

They fought.

The leader of the bandits was a very proficient swordsman, and helped
by his magic he was a formidable adversary. Nevertheless, Rollik
was soon proven to be a man of his word as he found form and began
to press his attack, fighting with one hand behind his back and
producing meaningful dialogue.

[ting] Ha!

[ting] Ho!

[ting] [ting] Hai!

[ting] Hut!

[thwip] Ouch!


Rollik frowned at receiving a small cut on the back of his left hand.
This vagabond was rather good.

[ting] Hut!

[ting] [ting] Hyah!


[ting] Mmph!

[tthk] HaHa!!

The leader winced at a slash along his upper arm.

[ting]

[ting] ush!

[tssk] Ugh!


Rollik's shirt was ripped where the sabre had gashed his side.

Right.

[tingtingthhk.tingshhp.tingtingtingthwap.tingthwip]

The leader gasped in shock and pain, then fled through the door
with Rollik at his heels.


[T]

The human and ogre advanced on Timelord, the human slightly ahead.
Timelord stood ready, waiting to see what their first attack would be.

With a cry, the human swung his broadsword at Timelord, who easily
ducked under the blow, then sprang backwards as the ogre tried to brain
him with his club. 

Again the human attacked.  This time Timelord parried the blow,
and swung at his head.   The human thrust his left arm up, deflecting
the katana with a steel arm brace.  Once more the ogre swung his club; this
time Timelord easily avoided the blow.

``Twicky,'' grumbled the ogre.

``Hmph,'' muttered the human.  ``He's mine anytime I want him.\@''

``Try me,'' replied Timelord coldly.

The human replied by unleashing a flurry of blows, and the two
battled back and forth.  Out of the corner of his eye, Timelord saw Rollick
dash off into a doorway in pursuit of the leader.

The human lunged again, but this time Timelord stepped inside the
blow and smashed him in the face with the hilt of his katana, causing him to
stagger backwards.  With a leap Timelord kicked him full in the chest, knocking
him flat on his back.

However, when Timelord landed, his foot slipped in some rubbish on
the ground, causing him to stumble to his knees.  With a roar of triumph,
the ogre stepped up and swung at his head.

Timelord raised his katana to ward off the blow, but the club smashed into
his gauntletted hand, knocking the katana flying.

Again the ogre swung.  Using the only opening available to him, Timelord
rolled forward from his position, then dove past the groaning human he had
kicked until he reached the end of the alley.  He then rose and quickly looked
at his right hand.

``Hmmm,'' thought Timelord to himself, ``sometimes a curse can become a
blessing,'' as he flexed his slightly sprained wrist.

Seeing that they had disarmed him, the ogre and human closed on him,
that latter grimacing in pain and breathing heavily.

``I'll cut you in two for that,'' he growled.  He then drew back his
sword in preparation for a blow aimed to slice Timelord through the waist.

Timelord stood with his hands at his side, apparently ready to 
receive the death stroke.  But as the human began his stroke he leapt forward
inside the blow and grabbed the human's wrists.  Surprised by the move, the
human could only continue the stroke, and using the momentum of the swing,
brought the sword around in an arc and plunged the tip into the stomach of
the ogre.  The sword buried itself to half it's length and stuck.  

As the ogre looked stupidly at the sword sticking out of his gut,
Timelord smashed the human in the face with his elbow, then stepped around
him, wrapped his arms around his neck, and broke it with one powerful jerk.

Timelord released him, and he slumped to the ground.  There was a 
heavy thud behind him, and Timelord spun quickly towards the sound, but
it was just the ogre finally falling dead, the sword still embedded in his
stomach.

Massaging his wrist, Timelord retrieved his katana, then went\linebreak 
through the door that he had seen Rollik and the bandit leader disappear
through earlier.


[R]

As Rollik ran through the small alley side door, he immediately took in
the contents of the room beyond. Lavish furnishings betrayed this as
the Bandits' hideout, as the surrounding blocks were somewhat of a slum.
Elegant Tapestries hung from the wall, a table and chairs were off to 
his left, and on the far side of the room a stairway curved up to the
right and met a balcony. The bandit leader was heading for these at
a shambling run.

Perfect.

Rollik gave a sudden burst of speed and, rather than tackle his
quarry from behind, actually ran past him and sprang onto the middle
of the staircase by vaulting the banister. With Timelord out in
the alley finishing off the last of the bandits, the leader had 
nowhere to go but through Rollik. He snarled and lifted his sabre anew.

There a few things a Swashbuckler loves more than a good, stereotypical
staircase fight, and Rollik was no exception to the rule. He fought
with a thrill in his heart, pretending to be driven back up the stairs,
then driving the leader back down and wishing desperately that the
room had a chandelier. Out of a sense of obligation, he left a gap
in his defenses open so that the leader slashed at his feet and he
could jump the whistling blade.

This act of toying with the villain, however, had Rollik so occupied
that he almost failed to notice a crucial detail. During a fierce 
exchange the leader looked not at Rollik, but somewhere else. Rollik
puzzled over it. Was he looking at my shoulder?

Behind me.

With reflexive speed, Rollik twisted to one side and drew his parrying
dagger, bringing it into play barely in time to catch an ugly 
serrated dagger thrust by G'ndor, forgotten in the heat of battle.
Knowing he would not last long against an opponent on either side,
Rollik jumped up the stairway into G'ndor's swing, locking the
dagger between two prongs of his parrying dagger and disarming
the Gnome with a sudden twist. He threw the parrying dagger at
the leader for a sudden distraction, then picked up the little Gnome,
placed him on the banister, and flung him down it at the leader.
This was not as perfect a move as Rollik would have liked, as rather
than sliding smoothly into the leader, the squealing Gnome picked up
a number of large splinters, missed his nimble master, and was 
rendered unconscious by the pole at the end with a sickening crunch.

Rollik was momentarily distracted by this startling event, and the
bandit leader, acting with a fury born from desperation, kicked the
swashbuckler's legs out from under him, knocking him onto the stairs.
A follow-up strike with the enchanted sabre, and Rollik's rapier was
sent spinning out of his hand and over the banister, clattering noisily
to the floor below. As the bandit leader raised the sabre for the
killing blow, he saw Rollik raise his arm towards him. One last 
pathetic gesture of defiance, he sneered.

With a vivid blue flash, the rapier was back in Rollik's hand
and through the leader's heart. The villain gave a puzzled look, then
toppled over backwards down the stairs with the slim sword still 
impaling him, the magical light dying on his falling sabre even as it
died in his eyes. As Rollik clambered to his feet the rapier flashed to
his hand once more, cleaned of blood. He sheathed it smoothly.

As Timelord stepped in the door, wringing his hand, the Gnome began
to stir.



[T]

Timelord entered cautiously, but one glance told him that the fight
was over.  The leader of the bandits lay at the foot of the stairs, his
shirt front soaked in blood, and the gnome was moaning slightly on the floor.

He also noticed the opulence that surrounded him; expensive looking
tapestries, polished tables and chairs, and chests standing in the corners 
and against the walls, most likely filled with ill-gotten gains.  It was enough
to make a man wealthy, very wealthy indeed.

His master would have sneered at it.

Timelord had not thought of his late teacher for some time, but even
now it was painful to recall those final days.  Perhaps some day he would
tell Rollik all the truth about what had happened during his exile, the time
when he realised he had betrayed his true master.
Perhaps then he would reveal the truth about himself, about the guilt he carried
in his heart and soul.

Soon, he promised himself, but not yet.  Some things still had to remain
secret.

He looked up the stairs at his grinning friend.  Yes, he said to 
himself, soon.

``Nice job,'' Timelord said in a dry voice.  He then turned and grabbed
the semi-conscious Gnome, pinning his arms in a powerful grip.

``I think that some questioning may be in order.\@''



[R]

While Timelord guarded the Gnome, Rollik retrieved his parrying
dagger and climbed the stairs to the balcony. A glass paneled
door led to the well furnished quarters of the late leader,
featuring a beautiful four-poster bed and a heavy oak desk on
which a griffin-quill pen sagged out of a stained inkpot. Something
else on the desk caught his eye, and he reached for it...

``Timelord! your attention, if you please!\@''

The muscular martial artist was there in seconds, the submissive
G'ndor under an arm. Rollik held a piece of parchment, on which
was a letter to the leader:

\begin{quote}
Human-

Your motley band is showing promise and has come to
my attention. We may be able to come to an agreement which
will be of financial benefit to me and of health benefit
to you. If you wish to join my minions, my messenger will
return again four days from now, at the same time.   

Remember, If you serve me faithfully the rewards
are great. If you fail me, however, you shall see how a
true artist causes pain and suffering. I await your
answer.


                                     Ak'lssh.

\end{quote}
``There's a half written reply here,'' informed Rollik. ``An acceptance.\@''

Timelord sat G'ndor on the desk with a thump that made the wily
Gnome wince as he was reminded of his splinters.

``Alright, little friend,'' said Rollik. ``Talk. Who is this Ak'lssh?\@''

``I- I don't know,'' G'ndor stammered with imagination.

``What say you to a game of dice?\@'' said Timelord.

``You think to scare me with childish games?\@'' spat G'ndor.

``He refers,'' said Rollik ``to a game he plays with uncooperative
small creatures, such as the dark halflings of his homeland.
One tosses them into the air and sees how many pieces he can
dice them into before they hit the ground.\@''

G'ndor swallowed.

``If he found out, he'd kill me,'' he blubbered.

Timelord drew his katana and extended the point toward the door. It
cut the glass with a dry scratching sound.

Rollik picked up the Gnome.

``He'sanevilcrimelordwholivesintheEastandhismessangerwillbecom-\newline inghere
tomorrownightatdarkandthatsallIknowIswearandpleasedon't-\newline
killmbllrlbllb''


``All in the one breath,'' marvelled Rollik.

``Time to turn him over the watch, I think,'' said Timelord.

``Indeed, my friend,'' agreed Rollik, ``the real one.\@''

Timelord sheathed his weapon and they started down the stairs.
``I'll have to actually try that game one day,'' said Timelord.

They both broke into laughter.

\newpage

\begin{center}
{\Large Chapter Two}
\end{center}

[T]

The night was clear, affording good views, a fact that Timelord
was grateful for as he crept along the rooftops of the buildings near the
alley where they had battled just the day before.  This was the night that
the messenger from Ak'lssh, the unknown crime lord, was due to arrive, and
it was Timelord's task to spy him out.

It was just about midnight when a cloaked figure appeared at the
entrance to the alley.  Timelord, his body pressed against the roof of
a house opposite, could not see what manner or creature it was, but an
undeniable reek of decay emanated from the figure.  The sight gave him
cold shivers, as if somehow he could feel the evil of the creature.

The cloaked figure entered the door to the hideout, and Timelord
dropped quietly to the alley floor a few seconds later and followed,
closing the door behind him.

The figure had stopped in the center of the room, facing Rollik
who had been waiting inside in case there had been a secret entrance they
had missed.  The smell of rotting flesh was much stronger.

``Who are you?\@'' said the figure in a voice that sounded like death
itself.

``We,'' said Rollik in a grand voice, ``are those who brought the
brigands that infested this place low, and shall do likewise to yourself
and this brigand Ak'lssh.  What do you say to that?\@'' he asked with a 
flourish of the embroidered handkerchief he had been holding to his nose.

The figure was silent for some time, as if in thought.  Suddenly
the cloak fell to the ground, and both Timelord and Rollik gasped in fear.

It was obvious that the person in front of them was not alive.
He, for it was just identifiable as male, was clothed in rotting rags,
and all the exposed skin was rotting and gangrenous.  The room was filled
with a charnel house smell that nearly sent them both gagging.  The eyes
of the creature, however, glowed yellow with some hideous inner power.

``My master finds your words amusing,'' the zombie croaked, ``and
thinks that you may be able to provide him with some\ldots entertainment.\@''

Timelord reached over his shoulder for his katana, but as his hand
touched the hilt, the room suddenly came alive with eerie lights, and a
strange, almost living wind.  Both he and Rollik found themselves unable
to move, barely able to think, as the winds howled louder and louder, and
the lights danced faster and faster around their motionless bodies.

Then, the lights suddenly descended upon the two, and their minds
shrieked in agony and fear as they felt themselves torn apart by the insane
winds and fiery lights.  

So screaming, their minds went dark.

As if from returning from the depths of some unimaginably deep
pool, their consciousness slowly returned, although they could not see, hear
or feel anything.  Only their minds were awake, and the deprivation of
the senses was nearly enough to drive them mad.

A voice suddenly spoke directly into their minds.

``So, humans,'' it said, in a voice that seemed neither male or
female, human or inhuman, but a strange mix of them all, ``you survived
your trip to my domain.  Quite an achievement.

You think you can kill me, do you?\@'' Contempt filled their minds.
``Hah!  So many have tried over the years, and none has ever come close.
Bring me to justice?  I am my own justice, I do as I please.  You are
nothing but ants to me.

``However, you do amuse me, ants.  Yes, amuse me, and so you will
live for a bit longer.  In fact, you can even try to kill me, if you like.

If you can find me\ldots\@''

The voice in their minds faded off, and as it went, their other
senses slowly returned.

Timelord sat up, immediately noticing three things.  Firstly, his
weapons were gone.  Secondly, he was in a small, windowless chamber, that
had apparently no exits.

Thirdly, he was alone.


[R]

As Rollik oozed back into consciousness he staggered to his feet, his
right hand groping at the air where his rapier had been. Next, to his
parrying dagger. Gone too. Well, at least he still had his...

No dagger in his boot, either.

He took stock. He was in a small, windowless chamber, lit by a
light that seemed to emanate from somewhere within the walls itself.
There was apparently no way out, and no sign of Timelord. He shook
his head to clear it.

Apart from the ghostly light, the walls appeared to be made
of normal stone. Rollik touched the stone with a cautious finger,
then when nothing happened, he began to systematically search for
hairline cracks, secret switches, movable stones.

Time passed slowly through questing fingers. After - who
knows how long? - Rollik found a small section of stone that sent
a small vibration up his arm. He squinted and followed an almost
invisible crack around the vibration.

It was a perfect circle.

With a grunt of triumph, Rollik pushed the button. There was a soft
click and a creak, as if aged, patient mechanisms had finally fulfilled
their purpose. Stone grated on stone.

The walls began closing in.

Rollik thumbed the button again. Nothing happened. A rapid scan of the
surrounding wall proved fruitless.

The walls continued their slow, deliberate advance.

He tried the opposite wall. Nothing.

The small room was rapidly becoming a tiny room, seeming to elongate
as the two walls crawled to each others embrace. Rollik pushed uselessly
against a slab, then looked to each wall, the roof, the floor. A trapped
rat.

Time was running out. He could easily touch both walls now. There
had to be a way, something he hadn't thought of. Think, dammit, think!  There
MUST be a way!

But there wasn't.

The relentless walls were touching him now, cold and merciless, still 
glowing with light. He could no longer turn around.

Suddenly there was a shimmering as something else appeared in
the death trap. Help? no, it was an eye the size of a head, hovering
with cold observance.

Ak'lssh was watching him.

Rollik struck out at the eye as the walls touched his chest. His hand
passed through the thing. He took a last breath as the wall pressed on
his chest and spat at it, then only the pressure filled his mind. He
clenched his teeth with something more than determination. The swine
would not hear him scream.

The walls stopped.

Rollik gasped in a great lungful of air as they swung away. Much faster
now, they passed their original position and kept grating backward,
exposing a passageway.

 An icy laugh rang through the chamber as the eye-thing
 disappeared, the sound rebounding and echoing on the amusing puppet that
lay on the floor, gasping.


When his breathing, adrenaline and rage eased to normal, Rollik
eased himself upright. Ak'lssh was obviously toying with him,
showing how easily his death could come at any moment to
heighten his fear. That, at least, he could stop. The 
swashbuckler did a few quick exercises to restore his fighting
trim, then laughed away the last traces of his fear and stepped
into the exposed passageway.

It was a long corridor that turned sharply to the right
about sixty feet along, lit with the same inner light as the rooms
walls had been. Rollik strode purposefully down it, cautiously
remaining alert for any trouble.

After a few more turns his caution paid off. An almost 
invisible plate on the floor caught his eye, and careful 
inspection connected it to a small charred hole on the wall
at chest height. Rollik daintily hopped over it and continued
on.

The passageway soon opened into a large room thirty
feet square, seemingly empty, with another exit opposite. Rollik
raised a trimmed eyebrow; it had to be another trap. Despite a
thorough search, however, he found nothing. He shrugged, and 
stepped toward the other doorway.

With a barely audible hiss another of the remote seeing
eyes shimmered into existence. A bright flash from the center of
the room revealed a blue ellipse hovering in the air, energy
crackling around its edge. From out of the portal leapt a black
figure that rolled expertly along the ground, springing to a 
standing position and freezing into motionless rigidity.

A ninja.

It seemed to be waiting confidently for Rollik to make the
first move.

Rollik obliged.

``So, it is to be a duel, vile servant of Ak'lssh. Very well, but
know you that I am well versed in the finer arts of fisticuffs.\@''
The swashbuckler raised his clenched fists.

With an effortless move and swish of steel, the Ninja reached
behind him and drew a straight-edged sword, a ninja-to.

Rollik's hands dropped to his sides.

``On what terms do you accept surrender?\@'' he said, walking toward
the assassin with his empty hands held open submissively.  ``After all,
a professional killer such as yourself has strength, skill and
a bloody sharp sword, whereas all a cultured gentleman such as
myself has is some manual dexterity, wits---''
Rollik's fist shot out without warning.

[CRACK!]

the Ninja's head snapped back with the force of the blow, followed
by his body, and thumped to the floor.

``and a straight right with the kick of a horse,'' Rollik finished. 

The Ninja was good. A punch that should have laid him out with
little shurikens twirling around his head only stunned him for
less than a second. He flipped to his feet and slashed the ninja-to
in a lightning arc at Rollik.

Where Rollik had been. The swashbuckler was not quick to
underestimate an opponent. The Ninja was quick to follow up, 
changing the trajectory of his weapon in an instant. Rollik's
nimble sidestepping saved his limbs again, but he knew he could not
keep this up for ever.

The Ninja chose his attacks carefully, trying to steer Rollik
into a corner where there was nowhere to go. Rollik saw this, and
escaped the trap with a feint and a roll, his mind racing. He needed
an opening, a distraction. His mind turned over as they continued the
duel.

The assassin was not having as easy a time of it as he had
expected. Though this overdressed fool was no martial artist, he
seemed to know what was coming before it came, and knew how to avoid
many techniques with ease.

He must have trained with a martial artist, the Ninja realised.
A lot. He rubbed his aching jaw, put his earlier self-confidence behind
him, looked with fear at the eye, and did what he did best.

This time he was just too fast. Rollik caught a slash along
his upper arm as he twisted to the left of the attack. The swashbuckler
grasped the wound quickly and thought hard. He had seen where the Ninja
had been looking. He dropped to a crouch, keeping his center of gravity
low, and waited for the next attack. It came quickly, a blindingly
fast thrust aimed at his chest. Rollik sprang in a precalculated
move, the ninja-to slicing the air after him. The Ninja spun and
followed, sword raised for a vicious strike.

He froze. The seeing eye was directly in front of his sword stroke.

His fear at offending his master clouded the fact that
the remote eye was intangible for a full second, by which time Rollik's
boot was already deep in the assassin's stomach. Air blasted from his
lungs as he doubled over into the path of a solid uppercut that lifted
him from the floor. Despite the pain, the Ninja used this momentum to
backflip into a fighting stance, wheezing and shaken. Rollik tried to
press his advantage while his adversary was still groggy, but only
received a small cut to the shoulder for his efforts. The brief
advantage was lost.

The two circled warily. Rollik was tiring now, and the strain
of the unevenly matched fight was starting to show. He had given a
good account of himself, but was bleeding from arm and shoulder,
and the wound in his side, courtesy of the bandit leader, had reopened
again. He had to end this duel, and quickly.

With unexpected speed Rollik darted in, ducked the swinging
blade, and tried for a jab to the midriff. His fist met the Ninja's
other hand in an open-handed block, which twisted Rollik's arm as
he was hit in the face with the hilt of the ninja-to. The swashbuckler
broke his enemy's grip and jumped backward, out of range of the 
backswing. A mounting fear inside him started his tactical mind
working with renewed effort. This was it.

Quick as a striking snake, Rollik gave a shout and feinted
for a footsweep, then leaped inside the assassin's guard. His hand
locked on th Ninja's weapon hand, and he twisted it into a disarm
technique. The Ninja, however, was faster. He pushed a rigid
finger into a pressure point inside Rollik's collarbone, and
pain lanced across the swashbuckler's chest, making him release
his grip. A kick to Rollik's knee connected with a crack, and a
final swing with the sword caught him a glancing blow on the side
of the head. Rollik stumbled backward, then turned and fled out
of the room the way he came in, with the Ninja in pursuit.

He did not have to hurry. Rollik went a short way, then
collapsed onto the corridor's glowing floor. As he clambered
wearily to his feet, bleeding from his many wounds, the assassin
raised the ninja-to over his head for a beheading stroke.

Something under his foot clicked.

With a muffled bang a bolt of solid fire blasted over
the Ninja's chest and both arms, causing him to scream in agony
and drop his untouched weapon into Rollik's waiting hand. The
swashbuckler seemed unconcerned by his wounds now.

It was all an act, the assassin thought.

Rollik smiled grimly. His hunch had been correct.
``You're just the hired help,'' he stated ``You don't know this place any
better than I do.\@'' He twirled the ninja-to experimentally. It was
heavier and differently balanced than his rapier, but he and Timelord
had sparred with katanas a few times, and this was quite similar.
 
The assassin looked at his charred wounds helplessly, then at Rollik
readying the ninja-to, then behind him. Ak'lssh's seeing eye had
followed them up the corridor. Without hesitation, the Ninja 
whipped out a black dagger and plunged it into his own gut, just
above the appendix. He drew it sharply to the middle, upward
to his chest, and snapped the hilt off. Rollik watched in horror
as he collapsed backward onto the floor.

The voice of Ak'lssh spoke from the eye. 

``Your mind is as sharp as your companion's,'' he said in an amused
voice. ``This will be more fun than I thought. Still, in the
shape you're in you won't be much of a challenge to some of
my pets.\@'' 

Rollik's wounds closed as the eye vanished.

``give the mouse some cheese,'' he muttered to the empty air.



[T]

Timelord searched the small room, searching for some method for
escaping his prison.  He searched with eyes and hands, first the walls,
and when that proved fruitless, the floor and ceiling which he could just
reach.

Nothing.

Try as he might, there was no way out that Timelord could find.  As
far as he could see, he was trapped in the small room forever.

Suddenly he frowned, and quickly scanned the room again.  The room
was lit by a glow that seemed to emanate from the walls, ceiling and floor
at the same time, and as he cast his eyes around again, Timelord noticed that
the room was a perfect cube.  Taking a closer look at the features of the 
walls, he also realised that they were absolutely identical.

A quick inspection of the ceiling and floor revealed that they too
were identical to the walls.

Timelord considered the incongruity of the situation.  Then, with
a slight hiss, the room began to fill from the floor upwards with a pungent
yellow gas.

Knowing that to search again for secret levers would not only be
futile but would also stir the deadly gas, Timelord stood in the center of
the room, trying to fight of panic as the gas slowly rose around him.  He
closed his eyes, focusing all his mental power on the problem, as the gas
rose past his knees.

As the gas rose to his chest, and Timelord began to experience
difficulty in breathing, he answer to the problem sprang to his mind.  He
opened his eyes.

``This is nothing but an illusion,'' he said loudly, not to anything in the
room, but to somewhere beyond it.

The room and the deadly gas disappeared, and Timelord found himself
in a long corridor that stretched out to either side of him.  A large eye
was right in front of his face.

``Not bad,'' came a voice from the eye, ``your mind is not so puny
after all.  Now let's see how weak your body is!\@''

The eye disappeared, and from either end of the corridor came a
sound of metal shod feet.  Looking quickly around him,  Timelord saw
that two steel-encased figures were approaching him, one from either side.

Simultaneously they raised their visors, revealing emptiness behind.
The figure to his right was wielding a massive battle axe; the one to the
left a six-foot two-handed sword.  Steadily they approached, and Timelord had
nowhere to go.


The two living suits of armour were no more than 40 feet away
from Timelord.  The corridor was around 15 foot wide and 10 foot high, but
the sheer size of the approaching metal figures made escape around them
impossible.

Timelord searched desperately for a weapon of some kind, but there
was nothing available.  Both his katana and wakizashi were gone, though
he was still wearing his gauntlet.  Even Ak'lssh couldn't take it off,
Timelord thought bitterly.

20 feet.  On either side of the corridor a few feet ahead of him
were a pair of burning torches.  Timelord pulled one out of its bracket
and hurled it at the axe wielding figure.  It bounced of its chest and fell
to the floor.  

The figure didn't even flinch.

``So much for that idea,'' muttered Timelord to himself.

15 feet.  In desperation he launched a flying side kick at the
sword-wielding figure, hitting it full in the chest plate with all the
force he could muster.

The figure rocked slightly, then continued his advance.

10 feet.  As the mindless figures approached, and knowing he had
no other option, Timelord reached for the second torch, knowing it would
be futile to fight the pair with such an ineffectual weapon.

His hand closed around the torch; then as he pulled it from its
bracket, there was a slight click, and the floor opened up under him,
sending Timelord rushing down an almost vertical chute.

Realising that anything could be at the bottom of the passage,
Timelord dropped the torch, and grabbing a corner of his cloak in his
left hand, thrust it and his gloved right hand against the fast rushing
walls, pushing with all his strength to slow his rapid descent.

He gritted his teeth as he strained against the smooth walls,
and his rapid descent began to slow.

Below him, he saw a faint glimmer of light that grew steadily
brighter - the bottom of the fall.

Using all his strength, bracing himself with his feet as well,
Timelord forced his tired muscles to strain even harder.  Sweat poured
down his face, stinging his eyes and making it difficult to see.

Finally, when he thought all was lost, his feet met a rough
section of the passage, and he came to a juddering halt.  Shaking his
head to clear his eyes of sweat, Timelord looked down.

There, barely two feet below him, the tunnel ended in a
rough opening that dropped around 20 feet into a lake of uneasy red
liquid, which bubbled and moved as if of its own accord.

``That was too close,'' muttered Timelord.

Suddenly, far above him, there was a strange double thud,
followed by a sliding sound that rapidly grew louder.

``Oh, no,'' said Timelord, when he realised what it was.  The two
armoured killers, in mindless pursuit, had fallen down the same trap
he had located, and were now hurtling towards him at a deadly pace.

Fear gripped him as he faced certain death.  Desperately he
looked for some way out, but believing he was doomed.

Then he saw it.  Barely visible below him was an iron rail, pitted
and rusted, that appeared to be attached to the roof of the chamber below,
just beyond the mouth of the chute.

Timelord knew that it could break away at the slightest touch; but
staying put was out of the question.  Without hesitation he released his 
grip on the walls and plunged towards the pit.

As he past the opening his arms shot out, and his hands folded
around the rail in a death-like grip.  A few flecks of rust were dislodged
by his maneuver, but otherwise the rail was stable as Timelord gently swung
back and forth.

And none too soon.  Barely a second later the first of the armoured
figures shot past and plunged into the liquid below, disappearing with a
savage hiss as the metal was instantaneously eaten away.

The second figure followed, but this time it reached out with its
gauntlet towards the helpless Timelord.  Seeing this he tried to twist out
of the way.

Not quite quick enough.  Although he didn't get a hold of him,
the fingers of the gauntlet raked down Timelord's right calf, tearing
through cloth and flesh.

Timelord screamed in agony as the acid consumed the second armoured
figure.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Timelord looked above him.
A series of rails stretched from where he was to the other side of the
chamber, where they terminated above a short balcony.

``Convenient,'' thought Timelord, ``perhaps too convenient.\@''

Carefully he began to make his way towards safety.  His suspicions
were confirmed about half-way across when a seeming stable bar suddenly
came away from the roof as he was reaching for the next rail.  Only his
lightning reflexes saved him, but it was a near thing as he hung by
three fingers and watched the bar disappear below.

He could feel the blood oozing from his wounded leg.  That was a
good sign; he would start to really worry if the pain suddenly disappeared.

Finally he made it to the balcony.  He dropped to the ground, wincing
as the impact sent fresh jolts of pain up his leg.  Quickly, he tore a large
section off his breeches and tied it around his calf to staunch the bleeding.
Then, feeling faint, he looked for a way out.

There was only one door; he tried it, and it opened easily.  He
staggered in, feeling worse by the second, and shut the door behind him.

His breathing was very loud in his ears.  ``Blood loss,'' he murmured
to himself, ``need to rest, need to\ldots\@''

He slowly slumped to the floor.  One last thought went through his
mind before he lost consciousness.

``Poison\ldots\@''


[R]

With almost no sound, Rollik moved down the passageway in his 
smooth, casual swagger. Armed and healed (albeit by the enemy that 
was trying to kill him), he was more self-assured, and his seldom
low spirits were higher than usual. Ak'lssh had mentioned something
about him being at least as clever as Timelord, which meant that
his friend had escaped at least one trap. He wondered how his
comrade was faring, and whispered a heartfelt prayer. Somewhere
in this endless maze his brother-in-arms (probably unarmed) was
fighting for his life, and he was powerless to prevent it. At
least he now had a blade with which to protect himself, the
unfamiliar weight across his back reminded him. For the umpteenth
time that hour he tried to will his magically returning rapier
to his hand. Nothing. Either the blade was out of range of the
enchantment, or (more likely) the magic was being blocked.

Reality once again gained Rollik's attention by 
a soft shuffle up the corridor. The swashbuckler was already
against a wall with the ninja-to in his hand by the time he
realised that it was too small to be a humanoid creature. 
Unbidden, a thought sprang into his mind ``In the shape you're in,
you won't be much of a challenge to some of my pets.\@'' Adrenaline
rushed as his body prepared for battle with beast. Ahead the
corridor swung to the left, and around it something was moving.
Rollik readied his sword.

With an anticlimatic patter, a three inch lizard slowly
made its way into view. It fixed its bulbous eyes on an 
uninteresting section of wall and tried to outstare it.

Rollik, unsure of whether to be relieved or embarrassed,
settled for moving up to check if something else was around the
corner. With a sudden FOOM!\@ a column of fire spurted from the
lizards mouth forty feet up the passage. Rollik's reflexes put
him on the floor in time to only get his eyebrows singed, then
he was back the way he had come and around the corner.

``Good Gracious!\@'' he gasped in the most rude way possible.
 
The lizard was lethal but stupid. It ambled after Rollik
and around the corner, and by the time it realised that Rollik
was, in fact, around the corner all it could see was the sole of
a gigantic boot. Rollik squashed it underfoot, looked at the
glistening stone of the partially melted walls, and moved on.

Soon the passageway started to tilt downward, forming 
a gentle slope that wound its way down into dim light. it was
this fact that first alerted Rollik to the fact that the light
inside the walls was getting weaker the further he moved on.
There was no option, though, but to continue. The corridor
(if it could be called that now, for it was getting more 
rough hewn) seemed to be slowly spiraling, gently turning
down to.. what? Rollik wondered. He could hardly see now, and
if his eyes were not better than average he wagered that he
wouldn't be able to see at all. 

The darkness of unlit tunnels is so absolutely
lacking in light that Rollik's eyes were hurt when he groped his
way around a bend and was confronted by the light. For an
irrational instant the swashbuckler thought he had come across
a rectangle made of pure light, and then his conscious mind
told him to stop being so stupid and investigate the door.


Even though the light seeping through the cracks around the
door did nothing to illuminate his side, it was apparent that the
door was very old even before Rollik's fingers touched the rotting
wood. The decay did little to diminish the sturdiness of the door,
however, which indicated its apparent thickness. After a careful 
examination for hidden needle traps, deadfalls, and the like, Rollik
placed his ear gently to the barrier and listened.

The muffled sounds of combat that emanated from the door were
so vivid now that the noble warrior wondered why he had not noticed
them before. His lifelong passion for helping those in need flared
inside him, and with a steady hand he eased open the door.

As thick, ancient doors go, this one was a rebel. Instead of
piercing the air with an ominous creaking the door simply slid open
with barely a whisper, and even though Rollik was expecting the 
light its intensity still caught him off guard, blasting through the
meager defense of his squinting eyelids and threatening to burn his
eyeballs out of his skull. Then his eyes adjusted, and in an instant
he took in the scene before him.

The room had once been well furnished, but those days were
long gone. A beautiful tapestry on the right wall featured a hideous
Dragon engaged in mortal combat with a large patch of mould. A lounge
that had lost its beauty over the decades was overturned in a corner,
and a raised dais in the center of the room supported a beautiful
statue of half a leg. Yes, the room had seen better days before its
present owners had scuttled in.

There were thirteen of them, if Rollik had taken the time to
count. The race was uncertain, but it would have to be something in 
the Goblin genus. Three foot bodies supported thin arms ending in four
sharp clawlike fingers, with corresponding toes on the wiry legs. Short
tufts of greenish yellow hair sprouted from an elliptical head that
competed with two fat ears for size. Facial features were not visible
from Rollik's vantage point, as the goblinoids were facing away from
him, toward their victim.

The man must have been of noble origin, as the bloody robes
that covered his banded mail were once fine, even ceremonial. In
his right hand he kept his attackers at bay with the shattered
blade of a broadsword, extending his swings to cover his left side as 
that arm was apparently useless, hanging limp and defeated beside him.
The man was facing Rollik but hadn't noticed him yet. Another mouse 
like me, Rollik pondered, or a cat in disguise?
 
I have to take that chance, he concluded. I can't watch this man
die.

``Come, underlings of the foul one. Come, and taste my blade,''
Rollik's deep voice boomed. By the time the things had registered
Rollik's presence he was upon them. His fighting style normally
dripped with finesse (indeed, finesse was his very life), but
finesse was not called for here. The goblinoids parted before great
two-handed sweeps of the ninja-to.

To Rollik's surprise, as soon as the man saw him he said
no word of greeting, thanks, or encouragement, but simply pointed
and gasped desperately ``The ring! get the ring!\@'' It was only then
that the swashbuckler noticed one of the creatures gibbering as it
held something aloft in a bony claw: a small, grey circle of metal.
Wordlessly, he made for it.

The creatures were small, fast, and abundant. Before three 
fell to his blade they had surrounded him and two had leaped onto
his back, grasping hold with their razorlike appendages. Rollik
spun violently in an attempt to shake the things off, and with a 
ripping of cloth the goblinoids fell free, taking his shirt with
them.  He attacked in a raging frenzy now, lopping off the head
of one too slow to escape. A few quick cuts and he had reached
the one with the ring. With one hand busy the creature was easy
prey, and the swashbuckler ran him through with cold fury. The ring
was slippery with the man's blood, and rather than make the same
mistake as the late goblinoid Rollik shoved it on his finger as he
started back. The things were more hesitant now, and with several
calculated attacks and a dextrous flip Rollik was at the man's side,
holding one of the more easily defensible corners. 

Rollik glanced at the ring. It was of plain steel, but held
a large ruby that glinted its beauty at his appraising eye, like
a miniature rose. At his thought, the stone suddenly swelled into
a Rose, opening its petals to the somewhat less than appreciative
goblinoids.

``Bribarbik!\@'' said the man dramatically.

``Bribarbik?\@'' echoed Rollik. what sort of a name was that?

Suddenly there was an ear-splitting crack, and the air in front
of the two men was filled with a raging holocaust of rose thorns.
Gibbering squeals were drowned by the blast as all eight remaining
creatures were lacerated by the thorn storm and thrown lifeless to
the floor. The thorns settled, then winked out of existence as a
silence settled in the room.

Rollik collected himself. Ponder this later, this man needs
help. For the first time he could see the man in detail, and what
he saw shocked him.

His left hand clutched a great gash in his side. On closer
inspection it could be seen that the hand had only the thumb, with
four bleeding stumps where the fingers had been. Minor cuts from the
claws corresponded to every slight gap that had been in the suit
of banded mail, and a deep wound to the head completed the ghastly
picture. Rollik eased the man to the ground.

``Three uses. Once each per day,'' the man forced out with
pain. ``You fight well. I used to be like that, once\ldots\@''

``Rest easy, sir. I'll\ldots\@'' Rollik paused. He could do nothing.

The man smiled weakly. ``My race is finished. I know where I go, and
I do not fear it. Take my gift, and wield well against Ak'lssh's
minions, and him too, if you get that far. The words for use c\ldots''
he suddenly expired with a sigh.

Rollik thought vaguely that it wasn't supposed to happen this way.

``Upon my word,sir,'' he said, ``for you, Ak'lssh will die.\@''


Rollik laid the man's body out as reverently as he could, then pondered
his present situation. Although the passages had twisted in many places,
there had been no branches. Since there were no exits from this room 
except the one he came in, there must be a secret exit somewhere, and
the goblinoids and the man indicated it must be close. His objective set,
Rollik started to search the room.

He found something within a minute. Behind the tapestry was
a tall elliptical mirror set into the wall. A two-way mirror? Ak'lssh
would hardly bother with one when a seeing eye could be used. He touched
it idly with the hilt of the ninja-to and the surface rippled with the
contact, as if it were a vertical pool of water. After completing his
search of the room and finding nothing else, Rollik shrugged his bare,
scratched shoulders, held his breath, and jumped into it.

                          **********

Inshii's heart was consumed with hate. For almost a year she
had been imprisoned with her fellow unfortunates in the harem of
Ak'lssh, worthless flesh for his higher servants and evil guests. Not
for Ak'lssh himself, of course. He was never seen by the harem girls,
seemingly above such weak, fleshly desires. His seeing eyes had appeared
sometimes, though, to slaughter one of the girls when they had refused
his guests, or simply if he felt like it. The guests were either fat,
hideous, or both, and always cruel. She had almost forgotten what real
men were like, back in her free days when she had lived, laughed and
loved. Her inner shame at being used burned within her, unresting,
unforgiving, and she vowed she would die rather than be subjected to
such humiliation again.

The guests of the harem came to them in many ways. Some by
the door. Some out of a crackling portal accompanied by a seeing eye.
None, until now, appeared in mid air and plummeted onto the marble floor
twelve feet below. 

Rollik saw stars. His body had taken extreme punishment recently
and was in no mood for more of it now. Still, in an unknown place he 
would continue to lie on the floor only at the risk of his life. He 
wobbled up to a loose combat stance, drew his sword, and waited for
his kaleidoscopic eyes to send sluggish signals to his brain and tell
him where he was.

What he eventually saw was a group of women, dressed rather
informally and cowering in fear. Rollik felt foolish.

``Forgive me, ladies. I mean you no harm. I am Rollik, champion of the
just and enemy of evil.\@''

The nearest girl opened her mouth in horror. ``NO!!\@'' she screamed.

At first Rollik thought his skull was shattering, but it was only the
vase. He finally gave in to his protesting body and let himself be
carried into the blackness.
 
                
[T]

He felt as though he was drowning from within, his mind sinking
deeper and deeper into the mire that was his memories.  Strange images
flashed across his tortured brain as his body reacted violently to the 
poison in his system.

At first they made no sense at all; just surges of colour with
no true, recognisable form.  Strange cries seemed to be involved as well;
sometimes shrieks, at other times sighing, at still others sounds that
came from unearthly creatures.

Then he suddenly slipped deeper into his own consciousness, and
his breathing, although he was unaware of it, dropped to only a few breaths
every minute.  The images, so unclear previously, resolved into clear
pictures, though they came in no obvious order.

He saw two children playing, tossing a ball as they ran across
a green field, laughing.  The image faded, to be replaced by a sword flashing
before his eyes, and another reaching out, meeting it in a shower of sparks.

He watched the sparks fall, only they were now lilly petals, falling
softly onto the hair of an almond-eyed beauty, who suddenly changed into 
a charging warrior, screaming war cries in some strange language.

Then this, too faded, leaving a darkness, a sense of isolation, and
the sound of water dripping.  The dripping increased in speed, until it
became a steady stream of perfumed water running down his back, as he bathed
with concubines and the man he once called lord and master.

He tried to pull himself out of the morass he called his mind; but
struggling only pulled him deeper.

He could smell smoke, and all around was a tumult of running men,
crying women, and the shrill whinny of horses.  He turned around and round,
but couldn't find his parents.  Where were they?  Why didn't they come and
get him?  

The small boy sat down and cried, even as the sounds of panic and
war grew closer.

Still he sat, but this time his eyes were dry, and things were
very different.  He was on a smooth floor, not sitting but kneeling, a
bare katana across the backs of his hands.  He had finally been accepted,
proven worthy by combat, and was ready to join the ranks of the elite.

Then he was running, hand pressed to his side, with fear in his heart.
The forest floor was cool; he did not remember falling.

Then hands were on him, not intent of death but healing.

(His breathing was down to one breath every two minutes; but the 
memories drew him on.)

A new training, a new master; a new revelation of guilt so painful
his mind shied away from it.

Journeying.  A traveling from land to land, never being whole,
always searching but never finding.

Arrival.  Suspicion. (The images were coming faster and faster now).
A final acceptance.  Friends gone, young turned to old, his childhood
playmate now a nobleman, a dashing figure.

Nothing left, but to leave.  No, he is recognised by the nobleman;
friendships renewed.  A pledge is made; the adventuring begins.

Pain arched though his body as he lay on the floor just outside the
acid pit chamber.  His breathing, which had nearly ceased, suddenly picked
up with a gasping breath.  He lay there for a while, not really knowing 
what had happened.  There was pain in his leg, and his head ached fiercely.

He sat up slowly, and opened his eyes.  The world seemed distorted,
as if the walls had suddenly become fluid.

Staggering to his feet and leaning heavily on the wall, Timelord 
slowly made his way down the corridor, unaware of time, unaware of almost
everything except the need to leave that place where so many buried memories
had been painfully resurrected.


[R]

Light.

Sounds. Excited chattering, giggling.

Pain. Wounds on body, back of head.

Rollik opened his mouth to moan and it filled with a soothing liquid
that burned his throat when he swallowed. He gasped and spluttered
unceremoniously. His eyes fluttered open and he sat up on the lounge.
Lounge?  Yes, an old, elegant one that seductively invited his pounding
head back into its soft embrace. He looked around the room.

Two carved pillars flanked the center of the room, standing tall
and proud. Curtains of silk seemed to be everywhere, partitioning the
far half of the harem into various sections. An exquisite fountain
bubbled gently to itself in a corner, and disembodied music wafted
over from somewhere behind the screens. About twenty beautiful
women surrounded the lounge, gazing at him intently and whispering
to each other.

Rollik was suddenly very conscious of the fact he had lost
his shirt.

``Forgive us for Inshii, noble warrior. She doesn't speak your
language,'' one girl said apologetically.
  
``We're so sorry,'' another breathed into his ear.

One wanted to treat his wounds.

One wanted to feed him some grapes that lay in a large bowl beside the
lounge.

One said something in another language and was hushed up by embarrassed
shushes. Rollik didn't want to know what it was.

``Um, er.. no, I'd ..aahh.. better be.. going, to find my friend,
 and all that.\@'' He composed himself. ``However, once we have disposed
of the vile Ak'lssh we will be back for you, fair ladies. Fear not!\@''
He rubbed the back of his head. He needed to rescue THEM? He gave
a gentle kiss to Inshii's hand, which showed his forgiveness in any
language, then gave a courteous, flourishing bow and disappeared
out the large double doors exiting the room. He heard sighs from
behind him, and hoped his burning face was no longer visible.

He had not gone more than ten steps when he heard a very
familiar voice from around the corner. ``We were both teleported
here,'' Timelord's muffled voice said to someone.

Rollik suppressed his joy at the news that his friend was alive.
He grinned impishly, then turned back the way he had come. Bursting
through the door, his bright blue eyes flashed.

``Ladies,'' he said charmingly ``I have reconsidered your offer.\@''



[T]

Hyala paced the floor of the cell, nervously chewing on a fingernail.
She had been there for two days now, and was expecting a summons from Ak'lssh
or his generals any time.  Although with her looks, a 'summons' could really
only mean one thing, cleric or no cleric.

Forcing herself to stay calm, she sat down on the edge of the small
cot that took up one third of the cell.  ``I knew I should have been a thief,''
she thought to herself, ``I could be out of here in an instant.\@''

As if to try to make her wish come true, she got up and went over to
the cell door.  In vain she shook it, the only result being a loud rattling
sound.

``Oi!\@'' came a muffled voice from outside the door.  ``Keep it down,
will yer, I'm trying to eat me tea.\@''

The body belonging to the voice hove into view.  He was obviously
enough a guard; his mail shirt and the bunch of keys hanging off his belt
gave testimony to that fact.  Other than that, he was a disgusting sight.
Obviously overweight, his breeches and cloak were stained with gravy and
other spilled food, and he gave the impression (or more aptly odour) of 
one who doesn't bathe frequently.

The very sight of him made Hyala shudder.

A partly eaten chicken leg in hand, he came over to the cell door.

``You jus' sit yoself down, girly,'' he leered, causing Hyala to
step back hurriedly, ``and wait fer yer summons.  Unless o'course you'd
like a roll or two with me!\@'' He laughed, spraying bits of food everywhere.

``Oh, heaven,'' prayed Hyala silently, ``if only Hayley were here.\@''


				**********

Timelord staggered on until he ran into the rock face of a wall.
He leant against it for a time, sweat pouring down his face, and the
world looped and spun around him.

``Hallucinating,'' he mumbled to himself, his mouth dusty.  ``Got to\ldots\@''

Suddenly, he heard vague sounds off to his right, that appeared
to be human voices.

``Rollik?\@'' he said, slurring the words.  ``Rollik?\@''

He staggered off towards them.

				**********

Hyala retreated to the back of the cell, as much as to escape
the smell of her guard as the sight of him.  Fortunately, after his gross
insinuations, he had gone back to his meal.

Then she heard what appeared to be the voice of someone far gone
in drink say ``Rollik\ldots Rollik?''  from somewhere back down the corridor.
She went back to the cell door, this time peering out through the bars to 
try to catch a glimpse of who it was.  

She just managed to catch sight of a man, his breeches tattered and
bloodstained, staggering up the corridor towards her cell, when her view was
suddenly blocked by the re-appearance of the guard, this time wielding a
heavy mace.

``Oi you!\@'' he shouted at the approaching figure, ``Identify yoself!\@''

There was no answer.

``Right,'' said the guard menacingly, ``I'll deal wif you,'' and strode
off towards him.

``Is this the answer to my prayers?\@'' Hyala asked herself, ``am I 
finally to be freed from this prison?\@''  Then she remembered how much the
stranger was staggering.

``Maybe not,'' she sighed.

				*********

Timelord could see a figure up ahead.  It was hard to focus; things
kept on shifting all the time.  

No, he finally realised, not Rollik.  Too big, too fat.

Then he saw the mace the person was wielding, strangely in focus,
unlike everything else.  A very heavy looking mace.

His instincts, borne out of ceaseless practice, took over.  Although
his mind could barely concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other,
his subconscious registered the presence of the mace and took immediate
action.

				**********

Hyala continued to watch, even though she was sure that the outcome
would result in the death of the stranger.  All my healing powers, she thought
sadly, and their no use at all with me locked away here.

Suddenly the mace the guard had been wielding shot out of his hand
and crashed into the wall opposite.  Before she had time to gasp in 
astonishment, the guard's head snapped back once, twice, three times in quick
succession, then his whole body flew backwards, landing in a sprawling heap
in front of her cell door.

Her eyes wide in astonishment, Hyala turned to look at her rescuer.

A pair of fevered eyes stared back at her, out of a face that was
white and sweaty.  The eyes then glazed over, and he collapsed on top of 
the guard he had so recently defeated.

				***********

Timelord moaned as he slowly regained consciousness.  Opening his
eyes he found himself on top of an overweight figure, and had no idea who
it was or how he had knocked him out.

A noise above him made him turn his head sharply, almost blacking
him out again as his vision slowly adjusted.  Gradually he managed to focus
on what was in front of him.

It was a girl's face, looking at him with fear and worry mingled
in one expression.  He also saw that she was behind some sort of barred door,
and wondered why.

He looked down again at the unconscious figure.  Seeing a bunch of 
keys on his belt, he finally realised that he must have been the girl's guard.
Hands shaking badly, he took the keys, and slowly levered himself up the door
until his hands were around the bars of the small viewing port in the cell.

He tried to let go of the keys, but his hands would not obey him.  He
could feel his heart faltering, failing, and thought, ``Is this the end?  Do
I die now, with so much I have left undone?\@''

Warm flesh enclosed his clammy fingers.  He could vaguely 
hear the girl muttering something in a language somehow soothing.

Timelord stiffened as strange energy coursed throughout his body,
entering every fiber of his being.  He felt as though every part of him
was being charged with some phenomenal power, and that the slightest touch
would cause him to detonate into nothingness.

Then it was over.  Timelord went limp with relief, and it took him
a moment or two to register something different.  He looked at himself,
his eyes widening in amazement.

His right calf, which had been torn and infected, was perfectly
healed.  His mind, previously so clouded with fever and delirium, was clear
and functional.  He felt whole again.

Looking back at the girl, he saw her smiling at him.

``It was the least I could do,'' she said.  ``I am sworn to heal, and
since you are my only hope of getting out of here, I felt doubly obliged.
I am Hyala, a cleric of Healing.\@''

Timelord bowed from the waist.

``I am Timelord,'' he said, and hefted the bunch of keys.  ``I think
you've been in there long enough.\@''  He too smiled.

A short time later they were heading off down the passageway, and
Hyala was telling Timelord of how she came to be in Ak'lssh's labyrinth.

``I'm not really sure how I got here,'' she said as they walked.  ``I
had just finished praying to my Goddess in her temple.  Then, when I went
outside, this strange wind swirled around me, then I suddenly found myself
in this large, empty chamber.\@''

Timelord nodded, noting the similarities to his own entrance.  He 
looked down at the weapon he had found in the guard's quarters.  Nothing
like his katana, the sabre appeared to be somewhat ornamental, being inlaid
with a few semi precious stones.  Still, it did have a good edge, and was 
much better than that clumsy mace.

``Anyway,'' continued Hyala, ``I was pretty scared.  What happened next,
though, was worse.  This eye suddenly appeared in the room, an eye that was
about the size of a man's head.  Then a voice said to me, 'Welcome, oh chosen
one, to the harem of Ak'lssh, for you have found favour in my eyes.  Prepare
for your...introduction.'\,''

She shuddered.  

``It gives me the creeps just to think about it.  So the next thing
I knew some guards came along, threw me in that cell, and there I stayed
until you came along.  Saved from a fate worse than death, you might say.\@''

``So there is a harem down here?\@''  Timelord sounded a little 
surprised, ``all I've come across so far are things that try to kill me.\@''

``Oh, yes,'' replied Hyala, ``I've heard that guard you knocked out
talk about it.  It's just around the corner.\@''  She pointed up ahead, where
the passageway branched off to the right.

``Who's Rollik?\@'' Hyala asked suddenly.

``A good friend of mine,'' replied Timelord.  ``Where did you hear that
name?\@''

``You were muttering it when you were delirious,'' she replied.  ``Are
you looking for him?\@''

``Indeed,'' he said, with a worried look on his face.  ``We were both
teleported here, but separately, and without any weapons.  He's good in
unarmed combat,'' he continued, as they rounded the corner, ``but he hasn't
had the training I have.  Anything could have happened to him; fallen into 
a spiked pit, or he may be bleeding to death somewhere where I can't get to
him in time.\@''

Hyala pointed out a set of ornate double doors.  Timelord nodded and
placed his hand on the doorknob.

``He may even have been captured by one of Ak'lssh's vile servants,
tortured, or maimed\ldots\@''

Timelord opened the door cautiously, and peered in.  He stopped in
amazement.

``\ldots or he may be lounging back, being fed grapes by a group of
gorgeous women.\@''

``Ah, Timelord,'' said Rollik with a broad grin on his face, ``so good
of you to drop in.  Tell me, would you care for something to eat?\@''

\newpage

\begin{center}
{\Large Chapter Three}
\end{center}

[T]

Alvyt strode along the corridor, his boots making a rhythmic
tapping along the stone floor.  As he passed the various servants who
were going about their business, each of them bowed low to the ground,
some trembling in fear.  Alvyt smiled.  He loved the feeling of power 
the groveling of others gave him, knowing that should he wish he
could have anything he liked done to them.

This was no aimless wandering, but rather a response to a summons
he had received a short time ago.  Thus as he approached the meeting place,
Alvyt straightened his clothing, making sure nothing was out of place.

The doors he came to were well over twice the height of a man,
and were ornately carved from to bottom, the designs depicting a
tremendous battle between living and undead.  In the center of the 
double doors, split by the crack that signified the place where the two
came together, was a single figure, its back to the viewer, with arms 
raised to the sky in exultation at the battle before it.

In front of the doors stood two guards, their breastplates burnished
and inlaid with gold.  Both were armed with broadsword and axe, and they
stood there, arms folded, barring the way.

As Alvyt approached, he drew from beneath his tunic an amulet on
a golden chain.  Seeing this, the guards turned and opened the doors
inwards, and he passed them without comment.

Inside was a small room, the walls draped with expensive 
tapestries.  At the far end sat a throne, with a black velvet cloth
draped over the back.

Once through the doors, Alvyt knelt before the throne, head bowed,
and the doors closed behind him.

There was silence for a time.  Then the air in the room swirled,
and a glowing figure appeared on the throne, whose form seemed to shift
and change in the drafts of the room.

``Master,'' said Alvyt, his voice full of reverence.

The form on the throne spoke, its voice echoing through the room.

``They have escaped the entertainment zone,'' it said.

Alvyt looked up, surprise mirrored in his features.

``Escaped, Lord?'' he repeated, ``but I thought that\ldots''

``Never mind what you thought,'' cut in the figure, ``it has been
done.  I want them, Alvyt, I want them now.  They have done too well
against those cretins, and now they must die.  Find them, Alvyt,'' commanded
the figure in a voice that brooked no dissent, ``and bring them to me.
Ak'lssh demands it!''

With that the figure dissolved into the air and disappeared.

Alvyt knelt there for a moment, his mind troubled.  He then rose,
bowed to the now empty throne, and left the room.

As he strode along the corridor towards his quarters, he pondered
deeply the situation as had been outlined to him.  Somehow, the pair
who had been giving them such entertainment had escaped their traps, and
were now somewhere else in the complex.  

``But that's impossible!\@'' Alvyt thought to himself.  ``Ak'lssh
said the entertainment zone was inescapable\ldots''

He quickly terminated that line of thought, for even considering
that Ak'lssh could be wrong could lead to serious trouble.

Instead, he turned his mind to more immediate matters, such as
how to capture the roving pair.  They were obviously good, he mused, so
it would take a bit more than just a few soldiers to subdue them. 
He would need something special, maybe even a few of the elite troops
under his command.  Perhaps he should command the party himself.

He smiled at that thought.  

``Yes,'' he murmured, ``that is a good idea.  When I do capture them,
I can take them personally to Ak'lssh.  That will please him greatly,
maybe enough to promote me to the Senior Council.  Then I will show all
those others what real power is!\@''

So smiling, he entered his quarters to make the necessary
arrangements.

                               *****

A few hours later Alvyt was again summoned to the audience room.
He entered, knelt, then after a few moments the glowing nimbus filled
the throne.

``Master,'' said Alvyt, ``I have brought together a selection of
the elite guard under my command to bring Rollik and Timelord to you.\@''

There was silence for a moment, then the voice of Ak'lssh rang
out.

``I see them.  Good.  You will bring them to me alive, so I may
dispose of them as I see fit.  If you succeed, a chair on the Council is
yours.  If you fail, then you know the penalty.\@''  There was undisguised
menace in the last statement.

``I will not fail, my Lord,'' Alvyt replied with confidence.

``See that you don't,'' was the chilling response.  After a pause,
Ak'lssh continued.

``It would appear that they are somewhere in the eastern sector, 
level twenty.  The guard on Hyala's cell has not reported as required. 
Seek them there.\@''

``As you command,'' said Alvyt, bowing his head.

                               *****

Alvyt stepped out of the room, and looked once more over his 
squad.  They had been hand picked by him, an elite force of brutal power.

Halkathe, the Wemic, stood with his tail swishing in impatience,
his hands gripping a rune-carved spear.  The leonine equivalent of a
centaur, he had proven many times to be a ruthless killer, often chasing
down his quarry and tearing them apart with his claws after pinning them
to the ground with his spear.

The Drow mage Mouzdin-Zor was motionless, but his eyes took in 
everything.  Habitually silent, he spoke only to cast his spells or curse
his enemies.  His cloak was embroidered with symbols of mystic intent.

The Shadow Drake hovered above the group, barely visible in the 
shadows.  Shaped like a miniature dragon, its heart was nonetheless as
evil as its larger counterparts.

The final member of the group was un-named, but needed none.
The Umber Hulk was far and away the largest and most fierce-looking of
the group, with its huge mandibles and glowing eyes, and had always been
Alvyt's favourite.

Alvyt spoke.	

``We go in search of the two escapees,'' he said. ``They are somewhere
near the harem.  Remember your orders; they are to be taken alive. However,''
he added with a wicked grin, ``that does not mean that they necessarily
need to be in one piece.\@''

The group chuckled evilly.

Alvyt, armed with longsword and dark shield, gave one final order.

``Move out!\@''


[R]

Excellent, Rollik thought with satisfaction. Not perfect, but excellent.
The shirt he wore was from a small collection of clothes left behind or
simply discarded by the harem's previous visitors. Deep black silk
contrasted sharply with the white ruffles on cuffs and collar, giving
the effect (rather truthfully) of poise and elegance with a more deadly
side to his character hidden somewhere within, to be called upon as need
and justice dictated. Evil the previous owner may have been, the dashing
warrior mused, but he had good dress sense. He idly fingered the hilt
of his newly acquired sabre, and stepped out from behind the curtain.

Many eyes looked him over as their accompanying mouths smiled
their approval. Rollik, many years a noble figure, was used to being
in the limelight, but something in his character was repulsed at the
notion of basking in it. He quickly averted his gaze to Timelord,
practicing with the ninja-to in the background. They had swapped weapons
soon after their joyous reunion, and had sparred a few times with them
since, but while Rollik felt comfortable with his excellent swordsmanship
and felt compelled to give in to the ladies' requests for tales of their
adventures, Timelord practiced ceaselessly, driven by an inner force that
would not let him rest. It was if he had failed himself in the past, and
that failure was so great that he punished himself unendingly in training.
Rollik shrugged. If it was guilt, and Timelord wanted to tell him, he would.
He changed his attention suddenly to the cleric, talking in soft tones to
Inshii. Hyala was one of the most selfless people he had ever met. Since she
had arrived with Timelord she had given something of herself to everybody
without resting, healing the invisible wounds of the harem girls through care
and understanding. She suddenly looked up and met his gaze, smiled warmly,
beckoned him over. What a wonderful woman, Rollik observed simply. So much
like..No, he mustn't think about her now. Let the past go. He dismissed 
painful thoughts and went to her.

``We must go,'' she said soberly. ``Every minute we remain here endangers
these girls more. To stay is to risk their lives.\@''

``Agreed. Timelord?\@'' Rollik said, raising his voice with the summons. The
warrior stopped the butterfly pattern he had been flashing with the blade
and came over, sweaty and breathing hard. Rollik explained the situation
and Timelord nodded, splashing his face in the fountain and drying it with
his cloak.

``Ladies,'' Rollik said, getting instant attention. ``The time has come for
us to leave you in search of your vile master. When we return, it will
be to lead you out of here to freedom and the restoration of the lives
you once knew. Have no fear, we mean to avenge the injustice caused to
you and all who have fallen victim to Ak'lssh, the cruel one. Ladies,
we bid you good day.\@''

With that, the three waved (and Rollik bowed again), and disappeared out
the door.


A dry, musty smell assailed the nostrils of the three as they moved slowly
through the complex. The passageways had become more dusty and unkempt, and
more recently had spiraled up to another level that was in no better state
of cleanliness. Timelord led the way, his dark eyes systematically sweeping
the way ahead for possible threats. Hyala next, mace over shoulder, glancing
nervously at anything that seemed out of the ordinary (which, in this place,
was nearly everything), and Rollik glided along behind, training his senses
behind them in case of..something.

Confident of their immediate safety, the swashbuckler slid the
rose ring off his finger to study it more carefully. The outer surface
of the small metal band was (apart from the ruby) quite plain. On the inside,
however, were three words; ``petaklud'', ``odacham'' and the somewhat familiar
``bribarbik''.  Three uses, the old man had said. Once per day. Rollik had no
intention of testing them before they were needed. He replaced the ring on
his finger and resumed his mobile vigil.

Timelord spotted the two holes in the wall well before they reached
them, but on close inspection they appeared harmless. A slight draft came from 
one hole and was directed at the other one opposite. An air vent? in any
case, the draft was too strong for anything to be in the hole. Timelord
knelt down and squinted inside, keeping his head a respectful distance.

The microsecond the passage of air was blocked, a slight puff
was heard further ahead as something came streaking toward them down the
corridor. Timelord's head snapped toward the sound, senses tracking the
missile as his reflexes surged to their maximum in the presence of danger.

He had achieved this feat only twice before, but had practiced the
technique many times. Using the hand furthest away from the missile, reach
to where it will pass, slightly forward than instinct dictates. Close grip
hard, and as fast as possible. The missile, a crossbow bolt, was about to
fly over the crouching warrior's head and hit Hyala. Timelord dismissed
worry, dismissed tension, dismissed thought. His hand snapped upward.

From Hyala's point of view, a crossbow bolt suddenly appeared in Timelord's
outstretched hand as she registered the puff of sound. She gasped.

He just held it by the tail fletching.

``Very impressive,'' Rollik said dryly. ``You could have got the other one.\@''

All eyes were suddenly drawn to the shaft protruding from the swashbuckler's
leg.



[T]

Dropping the bolt, Timelord hurried over to Rollik who was leaning
against the wall in evident pain.  He bent to examine the wound, but Hyala
pulled him away.

``No you don't,'' she said firmly, ``this is my territory!\@''

She bent down, and carefully took hold of the end of the bolt
protruding from Rollik's leg.  She then began murmuring softly, her other
hand waiving intricate designs in the air near the wound.

Rollik could feel the waves of pain receding as Hyala continued
the incantation, and was infinitely grateful, as the thought of the bolt
being pulled from his leg without the cleric's ministrations was enough
to bring tears even to his eyes!

After a minute or so, Hyala tightened her grip on the bolt, then
proceeded to slowly draw it from Rollik's leg, murmuring all the while.
With a soft slithering sound it was out, and Hyala dropped it to the ground.
She then placed her hand over the wound, and began a different prayer.  When
she was finished, the wound had completely healed over.

``There,'' she said with a smile. ``It will still be a bit stiff for
a few hours, but there won't be any infections.  I made sure of that.\@''

``My lady,'' Rollik said with a courtly bow, ``I am in your debt.  Had
it not been for you, my friend over there would have had to perform 
undoubtably painful ministrations upon my person,  whereas your gentle hand
has left me with not a jot of pain.  I thank thee from the bottom of my 
heart.\@''

``You always did know how to charm the ladies,'' said Timelord dryly.

They walked for a few more hours, down tunnels that grew more and
more rough and apparently disused.  There were only a few doorways on either
side, but they all lead either to small, empty rooms, or into corridors
that were caved in after a few meters.  The whole impression was of an area
that had been abandoned for some time.

The corridor finally ended at a set of double irons doors, their 
surface pitted and rusted.  Seeing no other option, Rollik and Timelord
pushed on one of the doors, and slowly it opened with a protesting squeal
of rusted hinges.  Once opened far enough to allow them entry, they stepped
through.

The cavern they entered was large, and had once housed a profusion
of exotic, rare, and colourful plants.  But no more.  It had obviously
long been abandoned, and the ravages of time had reduced the beauty of the
place to a profusion and dead plants, brown flowers, and an interlacing
of weeds, grass and wild vines.  A faint breeze stirred the air, its origin
unknown, and the dead leaves and branches rustled faintly, a background
noise that seemed to accentuate the deadness of the place.

Timelord, Rollik and Hyala moved quietly into the cavern, each lost
in thought as they looked around.  

``A sad place,'' said Hyala softly, ``all that beauty left to wither
and die.\@''

She stopped by a small plant that had a single faded and dried
flower on one of the branches.  Tenderly she reached out to it, but as she
brushed the petals with her fingertips, it crumbled into dust.  She sighed,
and rose to her feet.

``Shall we keep going?\@'' she asked Timelord and Rollik, who had moved
further into the chamber.

``I think we should camp here for a while,'' replied Timelord.  ``There
are plenty of places where we can conceal ourselves and catch a few hours
sleep.  We may need it later.\@''

They cleared a small space in a clump of large bushes, and made
a meal of some grapes they had taken from the harem.  They sat in
silence for a time, thinking of what was ahead of them.

``Timelord,'' said Hyala suddenly, ``why do you and Rollik wear a
single glove?  I mean,'' she said with a smile, ``did you lose one or
something?\@''

``Nay, lady,'' said Rollik with a laugh, ``he found one!\@''

``Very funny,'' said Timelord with a wry grin.  ``Actually, for
Rollik here, it's something of a fashion statement.  For me,'' and the
smile left his face, ``it's something else.\@''

``That reminds me,'' said Rollik, leaning forwards, ``how did
you manage to find your gauntlet?  All my weapons were gone, and by the
looks of it, yours too.''

``It never left me,'' he replied, staring down at his gauntletted
right hand.  ``It never will leave me, not until I have paid the price
for my failure.

``Enough of this talk,'' he said before the others could question
him further.  ``If we go on like this we'll end up falling on our swords
out of depression.  Rollik, why don't you tell us that tale of how you
managed to save that princess from those pirates and then single-handedly
sailed the ship clear across the endless sea?''

The next hour or so was filled with Rollik's somewhat exaggerated
(and possibly more than a bit fabricated) tale of his adventure on the 
high seas.  Always ready to recount numerous such tales, he soon warmed to
the subject, holding Hyala raptured by the story.  Timelord, who had heard
it numerous times before, and never the same twice, still chuckled to
himself as Rollik recounted how he got out of one impossible situation after
another.

The tale finally at an end, and everyone in much better spirits,
they settled down to catch a few hours sleep.  Timelord offered to take
first watch, and settled down a few yards away from the others, sword in
hand.

It was good, he thought, as his eyes scanned the surrounding
foliage, to have Rollik along to lighten the mood when needed.  Not that
he wasn't a good fighter; he was one of the best Timelord had seen from
this land.  No, it was his carefree, happy-go-lucky attitude to life that
provided the perfect counter to Timelord's often bleak outlook and
relentless drive.

Timelord recognised that in himself, and knew well where it had
come from.  Thinking of it, he looked down at the gauntlet, and he could
feel the weight of it upon his soul.  He clenched his fist as he thought
of his dead master, and the day he discovered how he had unwittingly
betrayed the man who had been like a father to him, if only for a short
time.

``The penance must be paid,'' he murmured to himself, remembering
the oath he had taken in his shame and sorrow.  ``But master,'' he said,
``how much more will it take?  How much longer must I endure?''

With a conscious effort he unclenched his fist and wrapped his hand
about the hilt of his sword.  One day it would be paid; one day he would be
free of the sorrow and guilt that was so much a part of his life.


[R]

Alvyt surveyed the trussed form before him with open disgust.

``I, high commander of the forces of Ak'lssh, fear for my life if I so
much as say a wrong word, and yet you, a lowly servant, make such a
major failure of duty as this and you are still alive?  Why?\@'' he directed
the question to nobody in particular.

``Mmph.\@'' said the guard with emotion, through his gag.

``Because I was waiting for you,'' said the seeing eye behind the group
(when had it appeared?). ``I do like to show my servants the price of
failure, it\ldots motivates them, encourages them not to fail me, fail
Ak'lssh! please observe\ldots''

The guard's eyes widened, as the insinuation of his forthcoming death
penetrated his sluggish mind. He squirmed within his bonds, trying
vainly to get up, to run, to flee. The squrming became a shuddering,
then a wild thrashing, and the group knew that no longer were the
movements the guard's own. A scream strained at the gag, muffled,
futile.

The guard imploded.

The violent execution had a mixed effect on the group. Halkathe the
Wemic pawed the floor, nostrils flaring as he smelled spilled blood.
Mouzdin-Zor the mage glared at the display of power with envious lust.
The Shadow Drake, perched on the mage's shoulder, was used to such events.
The point was lost on the massive Umber Hulk.

``I have lost track of their movements,'' stated Ak'lssh simply. ``They must
have wandered into the older complexes. You have your task. You know
the price of failure.''

Alvyt would have sneered if he had dared. His master was not all-powerful.
And once HE had the power behind him...

``It will be done, master,'' he said.

The eye gave no reply, but dissolved with the familiar crackling hiss.

``Let's go. Drake, you're the scout. Drow, keep empathic contact with
him. Halkathe\ldots''

There was a crackling hiss behind him.

``Oh, and obliterate the harem,'' said Ak'lssh.


The harem girls stood in a group, paraded before Alvyt like
fruit in a market stall. Such was customary when visitors entered the
harem, so the guest could choose their ``companion'' (the girls knew that
``victim'' was more apt). However, as the last two visits had been, this 
one was far from regular. 

``You all seem to have displeased the master in some way,'' Alvyt said
emotionlessly.

The women were not fools. They knew what was coming, but as the panic
spread over the group and several thought to run (where to?) Mouzdin-
Zor's hands were already tracing mystic patterns in the air, a faint
yellow glow spreading over his fingers as he spoke crisp words of magic.
Because the girls had taken a few steps by the time the casting was completed,
three escaped the blast of the fireball only to be chased down and savagely
killed by Halkathe the Wemic. Alvyt nodded with satisfaction, then turned
to leave, until hailed from above by the Shadow Drake.

``Somebody lives in the southwest corner,'' The small wyrm said in its gravelly
voice, his eyes narrowed to slits.

They found Inshii behind the changing screen, wielding a hand mirror that
was swiftly snatched from her hands by the darting Shadow Drake. Alvyt
stepped up and revealed something of his character in his roaming eyes.

``Perhaps I have time for some entertainment before we leave,'' he mused.

In combat, Alvyt used his shield well to block and parry. This was because
his beautiful armour was mainly ceremonial, and lacked such practical
additions as a groin guard. He hit the floor as if dropped from five stories,
wheezing and grasping his damaged pride. Inshii fled for her life, only to
be cornered by the pouncing Wemic. As she backed up against the wall Halkathe
hefted his bloodied spear, but the Drow mage stayed him with a gesture,
placed a finger to his temple, and issued an empathic direction.

The Umber Hulk broke through the solid rock behind her effortlessly,
as was the nature of his kind. Powerful claws that were not slowed down by
granite met no resistance from frail human flesh.

The hunters departed from the room, their appetite whetted. 


[T]

There was no dawn in the cavern, for the sun never reached this
part of the complex.  It was Rollik who shook the others awake when it was
time to move on, and as a group the moved through the dead foliage in search
of an exit.

It did not take long to find one; in fact there were several other
doorways leading from the chamber, and the group were at a loss as to know
which one to take.

``I guess,'' said Hyala finally, ``that one is as good as the next.  I
mean, they all have to lead somewhere.\@''  She sighed.  ``I wish Hayley was
here,'' she said sadly.

``Hayley?\@'' said Timelord questioningly.

``My sister,'' replied Hyala, as the three headed up the first of the
corridors leading from the chamber.  ``My younger sister.  Although she's 
only seventeen, she has a very strong mind, and could have given us a better
idea of which path to take.  But I haven't seen her for so long.''

``Was it marriage that separated you?\@'' asked Rollik.

``No,'' replied Hyala, her voice soft and sad, ``I left to join the
priesthood so I could better serve her as guide, but not long ago I received
word that my entire village had been...had been pillaged and burnt to the
ground, and\ldots''

Her voice trailed off as tears came to her eyes.  Compulsively, Rollik
placed his arm around her shoulders.

``I'm sorry,'' he said gently, ``I didn't mean to open old wounds.  You
must have loved her very much.\@''  The words seemed so inadequate.

``Oh, she isn't dead,'' said Hyala.  She paused and looked at the two.

``I know I can trust you with this,'' she said.  She took a deep 
breath and began.

``There is a very old prophesy concerning our family.  It says that
one day there shall be born two daughters, ten years apart to the very 
minute, that shall grow in strength of mind and purpose.  The precise nature
of their task is known only to their mother, and she shall only know its
full extent at the first time of trial.

``They shall be two, yet one in mind.  And when the time of trial
comes, then shall two become one, and revelation shall begin.''

``That's pretty obscure,'' commented Timelord.  Hyala nodded.

``I guess so, but that's all my mother would tell either of us.  She
even made us memorise it, though the reason why escapes me.''

The walked on for a while, but as they rounded a corner, came up
against a wall of stone.

``Great,'' said Timelord.  He stepped up closer to the cave-in and
examined it.

``There's no way we're getting through here,'' he said, pushing
innefectually at the rocks.  ``Looks like we go back.''

As they trudged back the way they had come, Rollik mulled the 
prophesy over in his mind.

``You said that 'they shall be two, yet one in mind','' he said to
Hyala.  ``Does that mean that you can communicate to her?''

She smiled. 

``It's not that easy,'' she replied.  ``I know she is still alive,
but apart from that, I can sense nothing else about her.  It could be
the magic in this place, or she is shielding herself from something;
either way, I just know she's alive.''

``What about that 'two becoming one' bit?\@'' he continued.

``It means that at sometime I'll meet her again,'' Hyala replied
with a smile.  ```Two become one', see?''

They re-entered the cavern, and headed for the next door.

``Oh, well,'' said Timelord, ``time to try again.''

			       *********

Halkathe led the party of assassins down the corridor from the
room that had once housed the harem, his eyes scanning the corridor with
eyes and smell for any traces of their quarry.  The shadow drake flew
ahead, almost invisible near the roof of the tunnel.  The search went on
for some time, up to the next level, but seemingly their quarry had
disappeared.

Halkathe stopped suddenly, his nose coming alight at the scent
of blood.  Moving carefully, he continued down the corridor.

Spying the bloodied crossbow bolt on the floor, he picked it up
and sniffed it carefully.


[R]

They had tried all but one of the passages, and they seemed to go nowhere,
interlocking with each other to form a mesh of corridors, and so it was with
a sense of frustration that the three once again entered the abandoned garden.

``Looking on the bright side,'' said Hyala, ``we know this area really well!''

``Yes,'' agreed Timelord. ``I feel I know this part like the back of my hand.''

``If you mean your right one,'' Rollik indicated the cursed gauntlet ``I should
point out that you haven't seen the back of your hand in some time.'' He
bent down to study one of the few remaining live plants in the room. Above
them a slight crack in the ceiling allowed a solitary drip of subterranean
water to seep through, patiently collect itself, then fall to the thirsty
plant below. Mother nature was crying at the wilting beauty she beheld.

``One passageway left,'' sighed Hyala ``and at this rate, I don't like our
chances. Maybe past that rockfall is the only way out. I don't know what
we'll do if---''

``Hold it,'' Timelord said, glancing at the door they had first come in
almost a day ago. ``I heard something.''

[Beyond the door, the Shadow Drake darted into a dark corner and folded
 about himself the leathery wings whose noise had betrayed him. Eyes
 closed, he empathically reported to the Drow mage that he had found
 their quarry, and would assess their strength when it was safe to 
 continue. He grinned from the darkness, and waited.]

``I must have been mistaken,'' said Timelord in his worst lying voice,
pointing to the door and indicating wings with his hands. His companions
nodded.

Rollik fiddled with his moustache and thought hard as Hyala whispered to
him. ``It can't be a bat, this area is too dusty. Maybe it's something from
Ak'lssh!  We haven't seen any creatures around here before.''

The swashbuckler said nothing for a moment, then reached down and with
infinite gentleness plucked an emerald leaf from the valiantly struggling
plant.

``Cast away your fear, milady,'' he encouraged. ``Whatever it may be, we will
defeat it. And we will do it---'' he held up the leaf ``with this.'' 
 
                         ******************

The Shadow Drake strained its scaled ears for sounds emanating from the
room, but there were none. Several minutes had past, and either the three
had moved on or settled down again. He flickered his forked tongue over his
needlelike teeth. They probably thought he was a mere bat, as several had
done in the past, to their demise. He dropped from the roof and, keeping
to the shadows, entered the garden.

The silent, empty feel of decay in the room was made complete by
the fact that the adventurers were not there. The faerie wyrm noted the
many passageways leading from the garden with calculating observance, and
was considering courses of action when the decision was made by the soft
shuffle of a booted foot down one corridor. Instantly the Shadow Drake
pursued, melting into the shadows that aptly gave it its name.

The corridor soon met up with many others, and in the faint light
became a confusing pattern in which only creatures that were born to such
environments were truly at home. The Shadow Drake was one such being, his
eyes taking in details that even an elf would not see. The area was not
familiar to him, though, and so it was with a degree of caution that he
drifted around a corner and saw the swashbuckler.

He was facing away from the Drake, adopting a grand pose that 
merged into a smooth step as he stepped around the bend and out of sight.
The faerie wyrm followed at a careful distance, regretting that his objective
was to assess the strength of his group's prey before the main attack. Now
that he saw first hand one that they were to kill his ingrained evil swelled
within him, and and he wanted to feel bones crack between his powerful claws,
and the blast of his flaming breath as it reduced those of good to ash. Still,
he would contain himself. For the moment.

When the next corridor was empty, the Shadow Drake was taken aback
only for a moment. Then his piercing eyes caught a flicker of cloak, and he
was after it in an instant, turning over the possibilities in his mind. He
might overhear something important, and the master would reward him well.
Perhaps he should kill them and then make up a reason to the others. One
possibility that did not enter his mind, however, was that his presence
was known, at least it didn't occur to him until he rounded the next corner.

This corridor was also empty.

He had been discovered! no, not that. He prided himself greatly on his 
reconnoiting skills. It couldn't be that. After all, the corridors were all
confusingly interconnected and..yes, there was that shuffling foot sound
again, from just around the corner. Keep to the shadows..

When the next corner also revealed no sign of his quarry, frustration
began to set in in until he saw the heel of a boot vanishing around the next
bend. When the next bend contained much the same thing, then the next,
frustration gave way to anger. Dare these human slime mock him, a wyrm?
To the depthshade with Alvyt!  These lowbeings would die.

Then there he was again, at the far end of a passage, facing away
as before, tending the ruffles on his collar. As the Shadow Drake watched,
he drew an embroidered kerchief from his pocket and noisily blew his nose
with an insolent, taunting schnonk. Anger screamed in labor and gave birth
to rage as the Shadow Drake charged, claws extended, a black arrow aimed
at the swashbuckler. Before the wyrm had covered two-thirds of the distance,
His target had once again stepped out of sight accompanied by his infuriating
air of nonchalance. The Drake sped toward the corner in pursuit, mouth open
as a hiss of intaken air became a searing well of flame in his throat. Yet
his combat experience reigned his instinctive charge as it suspected a
surprise attack, and the blast of fire that was to be saved for his target
alone instead preceded him around the corner to where any ambush would be
waiting.

The intense fiery cone instead scorched through empty air, past
numerous passageways leading off the one he had just turned into. His
heightened frustration at finding yet another empty corridor was just
reaching its mental maturity when it happened.

[FFFFWWWWWWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEPPPP!!!!!!!!!!]

Whatever the Shadow Drake may have been expecting, it was not the shrill,
high-pitched blast of an improvised leaf-whistle from close behind him,
and as the startled Shadow Drake whirled to face the sound, ears ringing,
he had no chance of noticing Timelord stepping from the passage he had been
facing. As the evil slitted eyes of the wyrm beheld Rollik's impishly grinning
face, Timelord's focused internal energy was released with a shout as the
ninja-to clove unhindered through scale and dragon flesh. The leathery wings
fluttered to the ground separately.

``Used to make them when I was a lad,'' Rollik said, holding the leaf
reverently.

``Curses!\@'' said Timelord, eyeing the two halves of the Drake.
``A little bit off center.''

                     ************************

Mouzdin-Zor's head snapped back suddenly, his hand holding his temple as
he gave a wincing groan.

``The Drake is dead,'' he said simply.

A mirthless grin spread across Alvyt's face.

``Then he has assessed their strength. Come, we attack.''


[T]

Timelord looked down at the remains of the Shadow Drake, which
had been so neatly cleaved in two.  Well, not as neatly as he would have
liked, but then again he didn't have his katana with him.

``A very nice piece of work,'' said Rollik, as he moved towards his
friend.

``Thanks,'' Timelord responded, ``but it was those moves of yours
that gave me the chance.''

He cleaned the blade on one wing of the creature and stood up.

``I think that we'd better get back to that last tunnel pretty
quickly,'' he said, looking at Rollik and Hyala.  ``The Drake couldn't
have been alone, and the others can't be that far behind.''

So saying, he led them back through the twisting tunnels at a
fast jog, his sword and senses ready to do combat at any instant.

They burst back into the cavern, to find that it was empty.  Puzzled,
Timelord motioned the others to silence, and stood for a while, listening
intently.

Nothing.

Hoping that they had out sped their enemy, but still wary, they
spread out slightly, Hyala between the two fighters, and began to make their
way across the cavern to the final exit.

They were half-way across when a shout from their right made them
spin in that direction.

From the tunnel that lead to the harem came a human fighter, longsword
and shield at the ready.  Behind him came a wemic carrying a spear encrusted
with dried blood.  Finally a massive Umber Hulk shambled into the room.

``You cannot escape,'' shouted Alvyt.  ``Here your miserable lives
are at an end!''

``Only if thou canst run fast!'' shouted Rollik in defiance, and
the three broke into a dead run for the safety of the tunnel ahead.

They were twenty yards from the mouth of the tunnel when suddenly
the drow mage stepped out of it into the cavern, his hands weaving
designs in the air.

``Down!'' shouted Timelord, and the three threw themselves onto the
floor as Mouzdin-Zor released the spell.

Vicious bolts of lightning arced over their heads, barely missing 
their backs, cutting a swathe through the dead plants and setting some of
them on fire.  Their exit blocked, the three got to their feet and darted
back into the center of the cavern.

Rollik and Hyala found themselves side by side as they ran through
the cavern.  Hyala was white with fear, but her grip on the mace was rock
solid.  Rollik was grateful that she knew how to defend herself at least.

They could hear Alvyt shouting commands to the others.  Rollik
made a snap decision.

``We must take out their leader!'' he panted to Hyala.  ``Maybe then
we can escape!''

Hyala nodded, and the two of them separated, both finding alternate
paths towards Alvyt.

As Timelord ran, he saw the wemic moving towards the place where
Rollik and Hyala were partially concealed in the foliage.  Knowing they
would have little chance against the wemic and the others, he snatched
up a fist sized rock and hurled it at the creature.

His aim true, it struck the wemic high on the right shoulder,
tearing the skin slightly.  Snarling in fury, Halkathe spun to face in the
direction the rock came from, and saw Timelord standing with his sword in
hand.

Gripping his spear, Halkathe charged.

Timelord stood motionless as Halkathe bore down on him, then at
the last possible moment dove to one side, rolled, and slashed out
with the ninja-to.

The moved was timed to perfection, but the great speed and agility
of the wemic saved it from serious injury.  Instead of opening up a 
gaping would in the creature's side, the blade lightly sliced the hind leg
of the wemic, a wound that bled only slowly.

Halkathe skidded to halt and cast a quick glance at the injury.
Seeing it was minor, he turned back to Timelord, his eyes glowing with
hate.  He approached slowly, the spear twirling in his hands, vowing to
make the insolent human's last moments as painful as possible.

As Rollik moved towards Alvyt, he immediately saw a flaw in his
plan.  Standing next to him was the huge form of the Umber Hulk, and
Rollik balked at the idea of taking that creature on alone!

Suddenly Hyala leapt out of hiding, her body covered with a strange
glowing nimbus, and ran straight at the Umber Hulk.  Before Rollik could
cry out in shock she swung a huge blow with her mace, striking the creature
in the side.

Bellowing in pain, the Umber Hulk lashed out with on arm, but Hyala
ducked under it and swung again, striking in the same spot.  This time she
opened up a small wound in the creature, and dark blood slowly welled up
out of it.

Rollik leapt out of concealment, straight at Alvyt before he 
could turn to attack Hyala.  His sword flashed through the air, but Alvyt
was a seasoned fighter, and he brought his shield down to deflect the
stroke, swinging his sword around at the same time.  Rollik managed to 
avoid the blow, but was forced to take several steps backwards, away from
Hyala, in order regain his balance.

He cast a quick glance over at Hyala, only to see the Umber Hulk
land a savage blow to her shoulder that knocked her flying into the wall.

Gasping in dismay he tried to reach her, but was blocked off by
Alvyt.  His eyes narrowing in little-felt hate, Rollik prepared to fight
to the death.

Timelord and the wemic circled each other slowly, probing with 
their eyes for weaknesses.  Halkathe suddenly leapt at Timelord, but he 
spun out of the way and swung at Halkathe's head, only to be blocked by
the rune-carved spear.

They began to trade blows, each trying to find a gap in each
other's defense.  Halkathe's speed was offset by Timelord's finely honed
skills, and the two circled continuously, sparks flying as their weapons
clashed.

Halkathe suddenly broke off the fight and stepped backwards.\linebreak 
Timelord began to step forward to press the attack when excruciating pain
lashed across his back, and he was thrown sideways to the ground as the
barrage of magic missiles pummelled into him.

He had forgotten about Mouzdin-Zor, and the mage was showing him
the folly of that lapse.

Staying calm despite the pain, Timelord rolled sideways to avoid
the mage's wrath, then sprang to his feet and ran towards a stand of large
bushes.

Alvyt smiled coldly when he saw the anger in Rollik's eyes.

``So your precious woman dies,'' he purred.  ``Good.  Although Ak'lssh
wanted you  alive, it is much more fitting that you die here and now, in
this place of death!''

With that he attacked, using his sword and shield to maximum 
advantage over the solitary weapon of Rollik.  Rollik was forced to  
retreat step by step, valiantly protecting himself and trying to land a blow
whenever possible.

Alvyt grew more and more confident as the moments passed, seeing
Rollik giving ground before him.  He could feel the fear beginning to 
emanate from him, and almost laughed aloud at his own mastery.

Then Rollik seemed to stumble, and Alvyt saw his chance.  He swung
his shield at Rollik, intent on knocking him senseless so he could be
finished off at his leisure.

But as he swung, Rollik miraculously regained his balance (if indeed
he ever lost it at all), ducked under the blow, and slashed upwards with  the
sabre.

The shield flew through the air, landing some distance away, its
straps severed and bloodied.

In amazement Alvyt stared at the inside of his left forearm.  A
gash from elbow to wrist spoke of the seemingly impossible move Rollik
had just performed.  He looked up to see the swashbuckler smiling casually.

``My dear fellow,'' informed Rollik, ``do you really know so little
about one-on-one combat?  I'm sure you'll agree that this makes the contest
much fairer.''  

The fight continued anew.  Now it was Alvyt who was forced to give
ground, his left arm afire with pain, his right beginning to tire as he 
wielded the longsword.  Rollik pressed the attack, his sabre biting into
Alvyt's shoulders and torso almost at will.  Then, with a beautifully
executed feint and thrust, he ran Alvyt through.

Alvyt gasped in disbelief, the sword dropping from his suddenly
nerveless hands.  He coughed, and a stream of blood flowed from his mouth.
Rollik pulled the sabre from Alvyt's body, and he slumped to the ground.

Without pausing, Rollik turned to where Hyala had been fighting 
the Umber Hulk, fearful of what he would see.  To his amazement Hyala was
on her feet, but was obviously heavily dazed, and the Umber Hulk was closing
on her.

Without regard for his own life, Rollik charged at the massive
creature, shouting,

``Away from her, you lumbering lummox!  Away, I say!''

The Umber Hulk turned its head towards the sound, Hyala momentarily
forgotten.  Its maw agape, it turned to face this new threat.

Its large eyes began to glow with a hypnotic emerald light, and
Rollik felt an almost overpowering urge to gaze into those luminescent
spheres.  He slowed as he concentrated on blocking out that potentially
fatal compulsion.

To no avail.  As he stared into its eyes, Rollik felt as though
the entire cavern had begun to tilt widely, and he staggered to a halt as
the Umber Hulk bore down on him, eyes ablaze.

Rollik knew the gaze was causing his confusion, but was powerless
to do anything about it.  He tried to raise his sabre, but it seemed to
be suddenly made of rubber and ice, wobbling in his grip then slipping out
of his hand.


Mouzdin-Zor stood unsmiling as he watched the battle.  ``Enough of
this guard duty,'' he thought to himself.  ``Alvyt thought he could handle
these pitiful humans, and all he managed to do was get himself killed.
Well, now it's my turn to kill!''

So saying he strode towards the center of the cavern, looking for
targets, mentally browsing the spells he had at his disposal.

From the marginal safety of the bushes, Timelord glanced around
to see how the battle was faring.

He saw at once that they were in serious trouble.  Hyala was on her
feet, but staggering badly; Rollik appeared overpowered by the gaze of the
Umber Hulk as it shambled closer; and the mage had left the tunnel entrance
and was heading towards Timelord's position.  Smoke had begun to fill the 
cavern from the plants lit by the mage's lightning bolt, and he knew that
unless they finished the fight quickly, they would all soon be dead.

Mentally berating himself for leading the others into such an
obvious trap, Timelord looked around again, searching for the wemic.

Too late he detected Halkathe's presence behind him; before he
could react the wemic brought the spear horizontally over Timelord's head,
then it was savagely brought into his neck, choking him.  His sword clattered
to the ground.

``Now you die slowly,'' hissed Halkathe as he strained to crush
out Timelord's life.

Timelord struggled to force the spear away, gurgling as he tried
to breathe, but the wemic was too strong.  He had to do something fast,
while he still had strength left.

Drawing on his hidden, inner strength, Timelord brought his arm up,
then plunged his elbow into Halkathe's stomach.  The wemic grunted in pain,
and the pressure on Timelord's throat lessened slightly.

Taking advantage of this, Timelord thrust his head backwards, crashing
into Halkathe's chin, stunning him slightly.  Then in a desperate move, he
used the spear as a pivot point and swung over the wemic's head, onto his
back.

Halkathe went mad as he felt for the first time the weight of a 
rider on his back.  Timelord held on, his hands still clenched around 
the spear.  Halkathe tried to throw him off, bucking and plunging wildly,
but Timelord was not to be dislodged.  Jerking his arms backwards, he 
crashed the spear into the wemic's neck, choking him in the same way that
he had been choking Timelord.  Then, with a savage upwards twisting motion,
Timelord snapped the spear up and around.  With a hideous crunch, the wemic's
neck broke.

Timelord jumped off the back of the wemic before it collapsed, and,
breathing hard with the spear still in his hands, he looked around for
the mage.

A blast of magic missiles striking his right side told him where
Mouzdin-Zor was.  

The Umber Hulk was only a few feet from Rollik, who was desperately
trying to get his limbs to obey him.  He staggered a few feet backwards,
then tripped over his own feet, landing with a thump on his back.

It was only a few feet from the helpless swashbuckler when with a
whistling sound Hyala's mace struck the beast in the back of the head.  With
a roar it turned to see where its attacker was, and as soon as it had turned
its head, Rollik's mind became clear again.  He quickly rolled to the right
under a stand of hedge brush, so when the Umber Hulk turned back to his intended
prey, he was nowhere in sight.

With his mind now clear Rollik remembered the ring he wore on his right
hand.  

``Of course!'' he whispered to himself, ``how could I have forgotten it?''

Then a scream made his blood run cold.

Darting to his feet he turned to where the scream had come from, and
the blood drained from his face in horror at the sight.  Deprived of its
previous victim, the Umber Hulk had turned on Hyala, who was now defenseless.
Before Rollik could move to help, it had reached her, and as Rollik watched,
thrust one of its massive claws through her chest.

Rollik was frozen to the spot as he saw her life cruelly ripped from
her body.

Timelord heard the scream, and snapped his head around, just in time
to witness Hyala's death.  He cringed and looked away, and saw Halkathe's 
spear in his hands.  Without hesitation he got to his feet, took aim and
threw, all one motion.

The spear arched through the air and buried itself through the Umber
Hulk's left shoulder.

Looking back to where the mage was, Timelord saw him beginning an
invocation as he faced Rollik's undefended back.  Seeing only one option,
Timelord raced towards his friend, hoping that he could reach him before
the mage released the spell.

The sudden cry of pain from the Umber Hulk when the spear hit brought
Rollik back to his senses.  There would be time to grieve later.  Now was the
time for action and vengeance.

``Very well, spawn of hell,'' growled Rollik, ``now feel the power of
my anger!''

He raised his right hand towards the creature, the ruby becoming a
rose as he began the first word of power.

``Bribar\ldots''

He got no further, for at that moment Timelord crashed into him,
throwing him to the ground.

``\ldots ik!'' completed Rollik, and the thorn shower pummelled harmlessly
into the ceiling.

``What, pray tell me, did you do that for?'' asked Rollik as he and 
Timelord lay on the floor.

``The mage...casting a spell,'' panted Timelord.  ``Had to save you\ldots''

``But failed miserably!'' cried Mouzdin-Zor triumphantly.

Timelord looked over his shoulder, only to see arcing bolts of
lightning snake towards them.  Desperately Timelord covered Rollik with his
body, raising his hands as if to ward off the approaching doom.

The bolts crashed into Timelord's hands and arms, covering his body
in a crackling aura.  He lashed about as the power surged through him.

``Master!!''  he screamed, but not to the mage, ``is it enough?!  
Master!!!''

With a final scream of intolerable agony Timelord was wrenched aside.
The lightning faded suddenly, leaving his body smoking and still.

Rollik looked with shock at the body of his friend.  Only a few
minutes ago they had been three; now there remained only him.  Distractedly
he noticed that the glove that had encased his hand was now no more than
ash that lay around his outstretched limb.

An evil chuckle brought his head up to view the mage.  Mouzdin-Zor
was rubbing his hands together in glee at the sight of such pain and death.

Rollik, left with no other choices, again raised his ring-adorned
hand, this time towards the mage.

``Petaclud!'' he cried, rising to his feet.

With a solid WUMPH! the air was suddenly filled with whirling rose
petals.

``So much for that power,'' muttered Rollik as the mage, with a slightly
bemused expression on his face, walked unharmed through the petals.

``Here goes nothing,'' said Rollik.  ``Odacham!''

For an instant nothing happened.  Then Rollik's senses were awash with
the overpowering smell of rose blooms.  His head swam briefly, then cleared.

The mage had stopped his advance, obviously taking in the odour, but
nothing else seemed to have happened.

``Great,'' thought Rollik, ``umpteen magic rings in this world, and I
get one that's an air freshener!''

He looked at the mage, who was still smiling.  

``This is it,'' thought Rollik.

``Master,'' said the mage suddenly, bowing to Rollik, ``how may I serve
thee?''

Momentarily taken aback, for the first time in his life Rollik didn't
know what to say.  Then seeing the Umber Hulk approach, he turned to the mage.

``Be a good chap, will you, and get rid of that bloated buffoon,''
Rollik said with an extravagant gesture towards the Umber Hulk.

``As you command,'' responded Mouzdin-Zor.  He turned to the Umber Hulk
and spoke a brief incantation.

With a puff of green smoke, the Umber Hulk disappeared.  Mouzdin-Zor
turned back to Rollik.

``As you commanded,'' he said with a bow.  ``I took the liberty of
teleporting the creature above an acid pit we have.  He will bother us no
more.  Will there be anything else?'' he inquired.

Rollik thought for a moment before replying.

``Go,'' he commanded.  ``Tell Ak'lssh what transpired here, and give him
this message.  Tell him that Hyala and Timelord will be avenged, and that I,
Rollik, shall prove his villainy on his very flesh, taking full retribution
for the blood of my companions.  Now go!''

``Very well,'' replied Mouzdin-Zor, and left the cavern for the tunnel
leading back to the harem.

Now Rollik could mourn.  He moved slowly over to Timelord's body, the
tears streaming down his cheeks.  So many adventures they had been on, so many
perilous situations, only to have it all end in a smoking cavern in an unknown
part of this land.  He knelt down beside him, resting a hand on his chest,
thinking back over all the times they had spent together.

A black and ash-covered hand suddenly gripped him by the shoulder.

Gasping in amazement, Rollik looked into Timelord's face.  A pair
of clear brown eyes stared back at him, clear of the hidden pain that had
been there for so long that Rollik had forgotten what it was like to see them
so clear.

``How\ldots I mean, why aren't\ldots'' Rollik whispered brokenly.

``This was my catharsis, my healing,'' replied Timelord softly.  He looked
at his now free right hand.  ``I have paid for the wrong I did.  After all these
years, it is finally over.''

``Aye,'' said Rollik hoarsely.  There was nothing else to say.

After a few minutes, Timelord rose painfully to his feet.  Then the
two crossed to where Hyala's body lay in a pool of her own blood.

Tenderly, Rollik bent over and closed her eyes.

``Two shall become one,'' he whispered.

\newpage

\begin{center}
{\Large Chapter Four}
\end{center}

[R]

``Timelord?''

.

.

.

``Timelord!''

He snapped back to reality, realising he had been staring at the wall for
some time, absently rubbing his clean, smooth, bare right hand as he reflected
on the significance of losing the curse of his gauntlet and, more importantly,
the guilt that fused it to his hand in the first place. He now focused on
Rollik bending over him. The swashbuckler was wise enough not to question his
brooding, realising the value of Timelord personally dealing with his memories.

``I did what I could. There isn't anything we can build a pyre from.''

The warrior rose and followed Rollik back to the scene of the battle. The smoke
had cleared with the dying of the fire, and now a serene stillness had settled
in the room, providing an almost reverent atmosphere over the body of Hyala,
lying on the floor in the center. Rollik had cleaned her of blood, and she
lay on a bed of rose petals summoned by the ring, that had obviously not ceased
to exist as did the thorns from the thorn shower. Her cloak now covered all of
her but her face, which showed a peaceful expression that belied her horrible
death. The rest of the room had been tidied, and the bodies of Alvyt and
Halkathe had been dragged down one of the dead end corridors. 

``It's nice, Rollik,'' Timelord said quietly. They stared in silence at their
fallen friend, who seemed almost aglow with innocence and beauty. No, it WAS
a glow, she was glowing slightly. The glow intensified to light up the room,
and then manifested itself in a brilliant misty form that wavered in the
center of the room. Hyala's spirit?, the two asked themselves, then the wave
of awe struck them and they dropped to one knee in the presence of Hyala's
deity of healing.

``My child is now with me,'' said the voice like a strain of music. ``Now that
this minor part of the prophecy has come to pass. She has protected her sister
through childhood, and now the responsibility passes to you. You must, in time,
find the others destined to go with you to fulfill the prophecy.''  

``Er\ldots'' said Rollik, who didn't talk to deities much. ``How do we find them?''

``One shall seek you by your family,'' replied the voice ``He will lead you both
to the girl, and the rest of the prophecy. But all that is in time, you must
first try to escape this place. I can aid you only in two ways. Firstly some
advice: seek the red door. Fare well, warriors\ldots'' the light faded with the
voice, and Hyala's body, leaving the room empty.

``And the second\ldots?'' Rollik wondered aloud.

``That was the deity of healing,'' Timelord stated, indicating their newly 
closed wounds. 
 
                           ***************

The one corridor they hadn't tried turned out to be a long, winding passage
that continued for over an hour's walk unbroken by rooms or antechambers.
When it finally opened up it was into a massive cavern that had been formed by
the slow eroding action of the underground river that now blasted out of a
massive hole in the rock below them to the right and thundered to the left
into the unknown darkness.

``How will we get across?'' said Rollik uncertainly, his voice lost
under the pounding of great volumes of water.

``WHAT??'' yelled Timelord hoarsely.

Rollik motioned them both back up the corridor, and they discussed plans.
They eventually decided to try the promising handholds the cavern wall offered,
and to reach the other side. It was too dark to see the other side, but there
was nowhere else to go.

While Rollik secured the peace strings on the sabre's scabbard,
Timelord found a secure handhold and eased himself out of the opening.
The rock was smooth and hard to grip due to the nature of its formation,
but the old course of the water had gouged large grooves in the rock that
lent themselves well to techniques such as laybacking. Rollik soon followed.

They made slow, strenuous progress, clinging tenuously to the wall
of the cavern as the torrent flashed by ten feet beneath them. Every so often
spray was thrown up with a whoosh, coming close to their feet and making the
climb even more perilous. Timelord paused briefly and squinted into the
darkness at their destination, the other side. He thought he could make out
a corridor continuing on, but it was higher than the side they had left. He
had to get higher. He reached for another handhold.

It broke off under his weight. Timelord lunged as he fell, trying to
grasp his old foothold with his hand, but the moist rock was unforgiving,
merely grazing his knuckles as he vanished into the white water.

``TIMELORD!!'' Rollik cried, but his friend was lost from view. The swashbuckler
searched frantically for him even though logic told him he was far downstream
by now, lost down the tunnel of rock that probably contained no air pockets.
they didn't have a rope, what could he do?

``Curses,'' he said, and leapt into the raging torrent. 
 

[T]

The savage torrent of water forced Timelord under, tumbling him
over and over until he lost all sense of direction.  The only thing he
could focus on was trying to stay calm, conserve air, and try to get to
the surface to breathe.

An underwater rock drive most of the air out of his lungs when
he crashed into it, and he began to feel faint from the lack of oxygen.
Taking a guess at which way was to the surface, he swam, not fighting
the current, but letting it carry him along.

He broached the surface, and managed to grab a quick breath before
he was forced under again.  The battle to stay alive was on again, but
this time it was not a human opponent and steel, but the elemental water,
a thing no man could truly defend himself from.

The tunnel through which the underground river flowed curved in many
places, and often Timelord was smashed against the walls, the precious
air in his lungs often being knocked out of him at each collision.  The sound
of the rushing water was loud in his ears, and his nose and mouth were full
of water.

Suddenly he was flung out of the tunnel as it ended in a ten foot
waterfall.  He was pummelled by the turbulence, forced under by the weight
of the water as it poured out of the tunnel.

Timelord finally made his way to the surface, gasping and choking.
The current was still strong, but at least now he could breathe and look
around.

He saw that he had been washed into a cavern, one side of which was
a sheer rock wall, the other a gravelled beach on which a series of water-
drawing machines could be seen.  A series of channels led from the machines,
obviously designed to take the water to various parts of Ak'lssh's fortress.
As he was swept by, Timelord could see two closed doors leading from the 
chamber.

Gradually he became aware of a roaring sound coming from the direction
the current was taking him, growing louder every second.  Turning in that
direction, Timelord could see the edge of another waterfall, but by the
sound of it, this one was at least a hundred foot drop.  The lip of the
fall was barely forty feet away, and approaching quickly as the current swept
him on.

Forcing his tired arms into action, Timelord began to swim against the
current, towards the shore.  It was hard work, but slowly he began to make
headway against the flow.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a dark shape flung out of the 
tunnel and into the river.  It looked human-shaped.

With a shock of realisation he realised it was Rollik, and he was
not moving, just drifting towards the waterfall.

Heedless of his own safely, Timelord forced his way over to Rollik's
inert form, just grabbing him as he went past.  Grasping him around the
chest, he again made his way towards the shore.

It was an almost impossible battle, but Timelord refused to give up.
His arms were soon burning with the strain, and he was close