The Priest's Tale

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ather Ogam's penmanship was as exacting as the old man himself. There were no smudges or wasted ink on the page and every letter was inscribed perfectly. Discipline was Father Ogam's dictum and his diary was the only outlet he allowed himself for his emotions and doubts. It was here in this book that one could read that he was a troubled man.

There was a monster in the marsh today. We all heard its terrible call and Brother Rushcutter even saw it while he was about his duties.

I felt the Crown bearer die yester-eve ... I hoped I had imagined it but this monster and my missing priestess confirm that the time of change is upon us.

Why now? Why Me? I am too old and too tired to fight the Good fight again. The enemy is too strong and doubtless already have their plans for revenge and world domination whereas all I want to do is tend my roses and give the Holy day sermon.

I must pray for guidance.

The old man's journal lies open at his last entry. The old man himself you will find in the Chapel. He prayed until his strength failed him and now he lies asleep in front of the altar, his prayers unanswered.

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ather Ogam's journal has a new entry written neatly, but in a hurry, for the pen lies still upon the page instead of neatly put away. He has prayed and fasted for more than a day and even now he drives himself still; he prepares the Chapel for what is about to befall it. Let us leave him to his preparations and read from his journal what has transpired in his recent vigil.

At last my prayers have been answered though they did not bring the deliverance I requested. It appears we must prepare for the worst. Even now the most unholy of our enemies comes upon us and we must persevere against him.

The Good god has told me that the monster known as the Ghoul approaches us with malice in his heart determined to destroy this bastion of Goodness. The Prophetess has disappeared, and Brother Miyagi is still on his missionary journey, so the defence of the Chapel falls to me.

My poor old hand shakes as I hold this pen. I do not think it is fear because that would signify a lack of faith, and faith is the only thing I have in abundance. More likely it is a sign of my human frailty. I cannot remember the last time I ate. Perhaps I should visit the kitchens, but there is so much to do and so little time.

May Good look over us and protect us from Evil.

Outside one can hear the sounds of industry. Hammering and sawing as barricades are hastily erected and doors long left opened for all to enter freely are secured. The Chapel, a place of peace and goodness, is preparing for war.

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ather Ogam has sent the brothers, lay-brethren and other servants away for their own protection. The Chapel is deserted now save for the Priest himself who is praying at the altar. The light of the setting sun shines through a red portion of the stained glass window turning the altar the colour of blood; the Priest prays on unheeding. In the Priest's office, his diary — where he records his deepest thoughts — lies open at the last entry ...

It will happen tonight. There is an oppressive feeling in the air and dark clouds gather over the hills. I have sent the others away. It is me the Evil one wants. It is I who will prevail against him if anyone can — though I feel myself wanting.

Or is that unworthy?

I am at a loss why Good has not given me the power to smite down this horrible undead beast. Surely it cannot be part of the Good plan for one such as the Ghoul to desecrate this holy place.

Does the Evil one come to cut out the dead wood of Good's forest of believers. Have I failed in my duty? Am I to be a sacrifice for the greater Good?

I go now to prepare my soul against the beast. If this be my last entry in this journal then, so be it. I have led the Good life and am ready to accept my judgement.

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ather Ogan stood resolute in front of the altar, the long dead corpse of the undead Bear now unmoving at his feet. The Evil Ghoul stood not ten feet away from the Man of Good and snarled in hatred at his continued defiance, for he had negated its first attack with the miraculous healing power of Good.

"Time to pray," said Father Ogan resolutely.

The Ghoul shrank back, an uncertain look on its fanged visage.

"I call upon the blessing of the forces of Good ..."

Father Ogam began the general prayer of blessing hoping for some sign of support from the forces of Good. His greatest hope was that he would be gifted with the ability to vanquish the Evil creature in the same way he could exorcise Evil spirits. But any sign that they had not forgotten him would be welcome.

Fear came into the Ghoul's eyes as Father Ogam's whole body began to glow. The Evil creature could not stand that Good radiance and it retreated back outside snarling its defiance.

Father Ogam felt a feeling of wholesome Goodness come over him and in an ecstacy of deliverance felt his essence increased by the forces of Good. He had not been forgotten. Let the Evil one come at him again if it dared. He was so full of Life and Goodness he could not possibly fail now.

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he Evil one has been defeated and Father Ogam has slept the sleep of the Just. The brethren and the other people who call the Chapel home have all returned and the quietude of the grounds is disturbed while their sanctity is restored by the removal of the hastily erected barricades and barriers of yesterday. Father Ogam is in the Chapel itself praying for guidance but as is his way it is his journal that reveals his true thoughts.

The Beast is dead. Destroyed by his own vain glory and lack of respect for the forces of Good. Twice he tried to kill this poor servant, but twice he was unsuccessful and in the last he was no match for the blessing Good had given me.

To think that I doubted. To think that I thought the blessings of Good might be insufficient. I go now to pray for guidance for the future. Dire times are upon us and I must find out what Good's plans for me are.

Let us leave the Priest for a while and come back to his journal later that night when he is once more sleeping the sleep of the Good and Just.

Good has spoken. The forces of Evil are many and still abroad. I must now leave the sanctity of the Chapel and face the Evil Wizard to bring about his downfall. Good has given me a potent gift to use against my foe. Surely he will fall against me as did the Evil Ghoul.

I go now to sleep and prepare myself for the journey and the fight against Evil. I leave tomorrow. May Good guide my steps and help me fight the Good fight.

It would seem that even the most peaceful of pieces in the great game are but pawns to be roused at the whim of the greater forces. Who will win? Only time will tell.

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ather Ogham has walked throughout the day. He is unaccustomed to such exercise and it has taken a heavy toll on his elderly body. His camp for the night is under an overhang in the Hills with his very own Chapel in clear sight. His meal was brief. All he really wants to do is sleep, but first as always there is his journal.

I can not believe that the influence of Evil is so widespread. A foul magic covers the land sapping the vitality from one. Even I, who have been blessed by Good am weakened, so Good help the normal folk.

I can not write long tonight, my body cries out for sleep, but my mission has become clear. I must rid the realm of the source of this blight and prevent the forces of Evil from reaching the Throne of Power.

The sun sets on Father Ogham, already asleep. The days ahead will be hard he will need all the rest he can get.

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t was with great relief that Father Ogam discovered that the Hex that covered the Hills near his Chapel did not extend to the countryside around the Sentinel Bridge. That meant that Evil did not hold as powerful a grip over the land as he had feared. This relief was further increased when he met his old friend the Healer at a permanent camp at the Sentinel Bridge; relief for all was available at the hands of the Healer.

"Well met, Abraham," said the Priest as his old friend came to shake his hands.

"Hello yourself, Father," said the Healer. "Don't tell me your tipping your cap for the throne?"

"Good forbid," said the Priest shaking his head. "I would no sooner sit on the chair then the game would have to start again with my passing. It's a young man's game; not for like of me."

"Just so," agreed the middle-aged Healer. "And so what drags you from your pulpit? Are you giving your parishioners a holiday?"

"It's not a matter for joking, Abraham," said the Priest becoming sober. "My Prophetess has gone missing and a couple of days ago one of the Evil undead dared attack me on Holy Ground. I had to leave the sanctity of the Chapel to help bring balance to the fight. We can not stand aside if it means that they might win the Throne of Power."

"Aye, there are indeed active. 'Twas not long ago that one of their wizards did partake of my hospitality. As you know, I must give aid to all but he was not a very likeable fellow. Oh and the Elf Erenfor did spend yestereve with me and set off hot foot on the Wizard's trail. So you are not the only one who is challenging them."

"That's good news. Though I fear his motives might not be the same as mine. Who knows how an immortal might think? We are all just lucky that he and his kind favour Good in spirit, if not in the Word."

"Now, now, Ogam. No doctrine here, please," said the Healer. "Would you like something to eat. You look all done it."

"Yes please. My stomach is finding trail rations a bit hard to get used to." And with that admission the two men walked to the fire and spent a pleasant evening reminiscing on shared memories.

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aths through the Woods that lie next to the Graveyard are many and various but as far as the Priest is concerned they all lead in the same direction; to his confrontation with the dark Wizard in that most unholy of places. Father Ogham sat upon a moss-covered piece of rock and rested his aching bones while he contemplated what tomorrow would bring.

The Wizard would be in the Graveyard; it was his place of power. Father Ogham felt trepidation at the thought of confronting Evil in such a place but Good had spoken and he must obey. He would camp here tonight; rest up before tomorrow's ordeal. There was a little stream trickling through the gully not far away and the trees were sparser here than other places but provided protection from the weather. He would even have a fire because dead wood was plentiful.

A casual inspection of the area while collecting fallen branches revealed that the stone outcrop he had rested on was not natural. It appeared to be the ruins of a building long since covered by the undergrowth. The shape of what remained of the walls was reminiscent in size and shape of his very own Chapel — perhaps this was an old temple.

Sure enough he found the remains of what might have been an altar and beyond that the shattered remains of some sort of stone symbol. Enough remained that Father Ogham was convinced that he stood in the remains of what had once been a temple of Good. In honour of long-dead brethren in the holy fight against Evil he fell to his knees and prayed ... and completed the casting of a mighty spell that had remained incomplete for untold years.

It sprang into existence complete and undiminished from the passing of the years; an anti-magical vortex of magical creation that spun around him and stripped him of his Good-given miracles. It then swirled away at great speed, its purpose yet fulfilled, leaving him dazed and confused.

What had he done? What had he set loose on the realm?

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Tonight I will not sleep for I will pass the dark hours in that most Evil of places — the Graveyard.

I half expected to find some of the Evil ones here but I fear I have a ways to go before I catch up to them as they will have set off on their attempt to take over the realm well before I recieved my own calling. Still their Evil presence has warped this place from a place of memorium to one of horror. The Evil seeps into one's bones and I fear that even I will leave this place affected by it.

But leave it I shall for I will not shirk my duty even though the forces of Evil have stripped me of the miracle the powers of Good provided me with. And if they come for me here tonight, where their powers must be at the greatest, they will find me prepared to fight the Good fight even though it might mean my death.

Dear reader, If you find this journal where I have hidden it, it will mean that I did not survive this night. In the name of Good please return this book to my replacement at the Chapel near the Crags.

With thanks.

Father Ogham, Priest of Good.

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ather Ogham writhed in agony. His dark dreams, induced by the Evil place in which he had laid down to sleep, had been shattered by a piercing pain in his stomach. He woke instantly to find himself pinned to the ground. He screamed as he saw his life's blood begin to spurt up along the blade of a sword.

A darkness from within threatened to overwhelm him but he fought it off. He knew if he succumbed to that darkness he would never wake up again and he was not ready for that yet. The very thought scared him into action. Desperately he grabbed at the sword and tried to push the blade out of himself — he failed and the pain increased because of his efforts.

He could not gain purchase on the slick surface of the strangely coloured blade and could not reach the hilt. He slumped back and felt the iron burning his insides worse than it had before. Once more he lifted himself up and grabbed the sword so tightly that the blade cut into his fingers. He put his all into one single lift and with much effort and pain flung the blade from this body.

The blackness threatened to overwhelm him again and he screamed for Good to save him & mdash; all he achieved with his prayer was to stay conscious.

Ogham levered himself up and rolled onto his knees; the blood that had pooled on his clothes poured onto his journal that he had been writing in before he had dozed off after his long march through the Woods. He gritted his teeth against the pain and pressing one hand over his wound climbed to his feet and began to walk.

He would not die here. Not in this Evil place. Please Good at least give me the Strength to get out of this place.

* * * *

It was fully dark by the time the Priest reached the tree line. He felt cold, very cold, too cold. He reached out and touched the bark of the nearest tree for support; its bark was still warm from the setting sun. He lowered himself down and sat with his back against the tree's warmth.

He couldn't believe it. He had been surely done to death by the sword of an unknown foe. He had been so sure that Good had planned for him to be their instrument of vengeance against Evil. Now he was going to die out here all alone. At least he was away from the Evil Graveyard. At least here he could at least die in peace. His head dropped to his chest.

"What's all this then?" said an overloud voice. "Giving up when you should be trying to do something about your state of health. Shame on you."

Ogham raised his head and looked up in confusion and then recoiled in surprise. Even though it was dark the face that looked down at him was ugly enough to shock.

"Stupid man. You'll bleed to death. Here let me have a look at that."

The old woman knelt close and Ogham felt her lay hands on him. What indignity was going to be heaped on him now he wondered? He was too past caring to resist. He heard the sound of cloth tearing.

"So we're a Priest are we?" he heard her mutter as she prodded and probed at his wound un-gently. She then pushed him over so she could examine the exit wound on his back.

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth. Couldn't the damned woman be a little gentler.

"Well, don't start no praying. It'll spoilt magic."

"What do you mean?" asked Ogham confused.

"I ain't doin' this for you, you silly old coot. I just don't want ya dyin' on my patch. Don't want ya ghost hangin' round here forever, do I?"

There was a flash and a sharp pain which seem to pass right through his body from front to back. He cried out and then a smell like brimstone invaded his nostrils.

"What did you do?" he gasped.

"Sealed the wound," came the reply. "You've already lost a lot of blood and you've got a long way to walk tonight."

"What? Where are we going?"

"Not me — you. I want you out of here and its easier for you to walk than for me to carry you." She got to her feet and with surprising strength lifted him to his. He swayed unsteadily until she gave him a length of tree branch to act as a crutch. "There's one of your kind camped next to the Sentinel bridge. If you make it that far you should be right."

At a loss Ogham asked, "Who are you? Why are you doing this. Why aren't you giving me more help?"

"Too many questions. Let's just say I don't want to get involved. Oh, and sorry but I'm afraid I'm going to have to put a curse on you. Just for form's sake, y'know?" said the old woman.

"What?" A curse? Why?" said Ogham.

"May all your followers find you and your faith as obnoxious as I do, you senile old fool," said the Hag not unkindly. "Now go and don't tarry. The fellow who stuck you in the first place will be coming looking for you."

She pushed him in the direction of the middle of the Wood and her warning kept him going for several more steps before he realised how impossible the task she had set him was. How did she expect him to walk all the way to the Sentinel bridge? He turned back to try to talk to her but she was gone.

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he Sentinel stood at his end of the bridge and dreamt of days long past when people still tried their luck and skill against him. Those days were long gone. His reputation of being almost unbeatable meant that people looked for safer ways across the Storm River. He'd not had a challenger in years. Was this his real curse? Was he cursed to a life of endless waiting without even the occasional release of battle?

Suddenly the Sentinel stiffened; someone was coming. Perhaps today his life would have some interest. No. It is that Priest who passed by several days ago. It looks like he has been badly hurt. This is a job for the Healer. He sighed and resumed his post.

* * * *

Abraham the Healer was amazed that the Priest was still alive. His wound passed all the way through his body, piercing organs and intestines both. He had lost a lot of blood and the drastic magic that had been used to cauterise the wound and seal in the man's innards was now causing problems all of its own and would need to be undone so that healing could begin. It would be bloody work, long and difficult and this was not the best location for such surgery.

The man ... his friend ... would live. He would make sure of that, but he would be a long time in recuperating.

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he Healer worked all through that first day applying his many skills in the healing arts: anaesthesia, surgery, magic. All were used as the Priest's life balanced on a knife's edge. He had been badly injured and the effort he had expended in making his way to the Sentinel Bridge had drained all but the last of his life force. But the Healer had been successful. The Priest's body would survive. As to his mind and his spirit — only time would tell.

Ogham woke at midday on the second day and cried out in agony at the memory of what had happened. The Healer, and his own eyes, reassured him that the danger was over. That he was safe and amongst friends. The Healer even said he would pray to Good with him, but Ogham refused. He said that he had been forsaken by Good and that he wanted no more to do with it. With that he fell back into a restless sleep his energy spent.

The Healer stayed by his friend's side all during the rest of that day in case he was needed. And even though he was not a believer he grieved for his friend's lost beliefs.

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gham woke to find himself whole again, at least in body. The Healer had done his job and he felt grateful, but couldn't help wondering why he'd bothered. Ogham's life as a priest was over. He had obviously not been considered up to the task and the forces of Good had allowed the forces of Evil to punish him for his unworthiness. It would be better if he were dead.

"How are you feeling?" asked Abraham.

"Well enough, thanks to you," said Ogham, "though I don't think it was worth your effort. I have been forsaken by the powers of Good.

"Are you sure of that?" said Abraham. "Though I'm no mage I can detect that there is an Evil force acting upon you. I suspect you have been cursed."

Ogham remembered the woman in the Woods who had helped him and then cursed him as an after thought. "I'm not surprised," he said.

"You need a good mage," said Abraham. "Perhaps the Mystic in the Village of Talos can help you."

"Not a friend of the Church, I'm afraid. Still beggars can't be choosers."

* * * *

Ogham left the Healer and the gigantic Sentinel of the bridge and headed back into the Woods. As he walked he regretted that he had not been as thankful or enthusiastic as he should have been for the Healer. However, he no longer had much hope for his own life or the wellbeing of the realm. He was only heading off to the Village because the idea of a curse affecting the last of his days was something he couldn't bear the thought of.

The path through the Woods was dimly lit. It was not a place where one would want to meet anyone unexpected. So when Ogham heard the sudden cackle of a woman while walking that dark path he jumped in fright.

"Hello my dear. You looking quite perky for someone who had a sword stuck through them." The old Hag stepped from behind a tree smiling crookedly at Ogham.

Ogham put his hand to his chest and said, "You almost frightened me to death, my good woman. What were you doing hiding behind that tree?"

"Not me," said the woman.

"What? said Ogham.

"I'm not a good woman."

"Oh," said Ogham. "But you helped me, didn't you? I would have died if you hadn't used your magic on me."

"And I'm about to help you again," said the Hag putting out her hand from which something dangled — it was an Amulet on a leather thong.

"What is this?" said Ogham taking the proffered item.

"Oh, just a little trinket. I thought it something you might find useful."

Ogham looked at the Amulet. It seemed innocuous enough. He looked up to ask the woman about her curse, but she was gone, as mysteriously as she had come.

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gham paused at the edge of the Wood and looked out on the Graveyard. It looked deserted but he knew that looks could be deceiving here, the place had seemed empty the last time. Yet someone had driven a sword clear through him while he slept — he had only just barely survived the experience. And now, here he was again, and this time he did not have the strength of his faith to bolster his confidence.

Ogham had been deserted by his Good masters and so had rejected them in return. Technically he was still a Priest of the Good religion but in his heart he no longer believed that they acted for the Good of the realm. If they did then he would have not been stripped of the power he had granted just before he had been subjected to an unprovoked attack by Evil. It made no sense. They were playing games with him and he was too old for games.

He had been healed by his friend Abraham; a Healer who was good but did not follow the tenants of the Good church. Ogham had decided to follow in his example and give up the faith and work for the good of the Realm outside of the church. However before that he needed to do two things: the first was to retrieve his journal from where he had left it in the Graveyard and the second was to visit the Mystic in the Village of Talos to have the strange curse that had been placed on him removed.

* * * *

Today is the first day of the rest of my life. A life now dedicated to doing good rather than serving Good.

I rejoice that I have recovered my journal. It had been left where I dropped it; the villain who attacked me obviously thought it worthless. But to me it is priceless and I will use it to document my new life, sans the Church.

I must walk on today even though the sun is setting. I can't linger longer here, the memories are too close and the place too foul. I can feel the Evil creeping into my bones, draining me of life.

Hopefully the village of Talos will renew my spirits and the Mystic cure my ills.

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e was as sick as a dog. Had been since the middle of the night when he'd been woken by a blinding headache and the need to throw up his meagre dinner. Now all he could do was stagger along the road that lead from the Graveyard to the Village of Talos. Hopefully the Mystic would be able to get rid of this bad luck curse that had fallen upon him.

The way through the fields was in reality straight and level but to Ogham's fevered mind it swayed and shifted like the deck of a boat in a storm. Suddenly a huge wave pitched the landscape up on its side and Ogham fell, hitting the deck, hard.

Motes danced at the edge of his vision and he struggled to regain the breath that had been forced from his lungs. Vaguely he was aware of someone looking down upon him. A child? Or perhaps an Angel? Whichever it were they took his hand and bid him search them out to gain a further boon.

Ogham's vision cleared and he sat up feeling better. There was no one about so he thought the woman a product of his fevered imagination until he noticed the bright golden ring that now adorned his ring finger.

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gham reached out for the strange-looking knocker that glowered at him from where it sat on the door of the Mystic's cottage. Shaped like a lizard clinging to the door it had red eyes that were faceted stones with a faint gleam in their depths. Ogham knew that it was all for effect and that much of the Mystic's 'magic' was a sham, but if the man could remove the curse that had been laid on him, he didn't care how he went about it.

"Come in, seeker after the truth," said a deep voice from within.

Ogham sighed and pushed open the door. "Enough Mystic," he said dismissively, "I'm a failed Priest and know all about the effect a powerful voice can have on the desperate. I just hope you have some power to call you own for I am cursed with real magic."

The Mystic reached over and turned up the wick on his lantern to bring light to his darkened room. "How the mighty have fallen," he said snidely as Ogham stepped into the room. "You wouldn't have deigned enter my house when you were a Priest. But now? Now you want my help."

Ogham looked down at the seated Mystic. This hadn't started well. If he were to get any help here he would have to get down off his high horse — show a little humility. "My pardon," he said contritely. "I am indeed in dire need of your assistance. Will you help me?"

The Mystic looked up at him and then placed a hand on the crystal ball that rested on the table. "I have foreseen your coming and know what besets you. And yes, I can remove your curse, but there will be a price."

"A price?" queried Ogham.

"A price," confirmed the Mystic. "Evil has passed this way and the toll has been great. Frankly, you got off lightly. If I remove this curse. You must promise that you will chase down the perpetrators of these fell deeds and make them pay for their crimes."

Ogham swallowed. All he had wanted to do was go home to the Chapel and retire into his dotage. Let someone else have the responsibility of the Chapel Priest. "I cannot do this," he said. "I have been forsaken by Good. Another will have to be its champion."

"No," said the Mystic. "You have survived the worst that Evil could do and are now protected against their magic. And with what I have seen in here," he said tapping the crystal ball. "Good will arm you for the fight so that only you will be able to do what must be done."

Ogham wasn't sure he believed this. The man could be a charlatan. How would he know what plans Good had? He wasn't part of the Church. Ogham was about to tell him to go and jump in the River when he remembered his friend Abraham, the Healer. Abraham was a good man. He did good without kowtowing to the powers of Good. Perhaps this Mystic — despite his flummery — was also good in deed, if not in faith.

"Mystic," said Ogham resignedly. "If you can indeed remove this curse I will at least try to do what is in my power to do."

"That is all that any man can do," said the Mystic and got to his feet. "Now if you will just take off your boots and stand in this pan of water I'll see what I can do about this here curse ..."

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he was a little woman, the Village Healer. The Mystic called her in when he realised that some of the Priest's condition was due to illness and not a curse. The good woman took one look at Ogham's priestly vestments and charged him full whack for her services commenting that it would do him good to return some of the Temple's tithe to the community. He was hardly in a position to argue and so handed over the last of his money.

Sure enough the healing dose of horrible tasting elixir, the bowl of tasty chicken soup and the day's enforced bedrest in her back room helped Ogham immensely and he woke after a very long night sleep feeling much improved.

Tomorrow he would start out again on his mission, but for the moment it would be best to get some more rest before the deprivations of his coming journey.

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he ring of toadstools glowed faintly with a pale green light. Ogham had seen the faint glow emanating from the small dell and eventually had given into his curiosity and left his campfire to investigate. A Fairy Ring. He had heard of such things but never thought he would live to see one. Perhaps there are Fairies around, he thought and started searching the ground at his feet.

"Up here," came a tiny voice.

Ogham looked up to see a tiny glowing figure descending towards him from out of the sky. A small trail of sparkling motes followed it down winking for a small time and then disappearing.

Ogham felt no fear. In fact he was delighted. Fairies were Good creatures second only to Angels in the Good hierarchy. He felt himself priviledge to have seen one.

"Hello, Good person," said the Fairy from about a foot away. "I have been told that I am to do a Good deed for you. What would you like? I can give you health, wealth, Strength or wisdom and if magic is what you need I can teleport as well or even teach you a spell."

"Told? Who by?"

"Did I say that?" said the Fairy waving her wand at him. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Shouldn't have said what?" said Ogham confused.

"Nothing dearie. Now what do you want? A spell. Some gold. Increased Strength or perhaps Wisdom. How about some healing? You look like you could use some. Or perhaps you have somewhere you want to be in a hurry. I can do that too."

"Are you saying you're going to give me a wish?" said Ogham thinking that perhaps he had missed part of this conversation.

"Yes," said the Fairy. "Look I'm sorry. I'm new at this and I've got off to a bad start. Can we start again?"

The Fairy lifted her wand but Ogham suddenly spoke out, "No. Please don't. I know what I want," he said hurriedly.

Intrigued the Fairy lowered her wand and said, "Yes?"

"I want to be taken somewhere I can find a weapon I can use to fight Evil."

"Oh! What a clever human you are," said the Fairy waving her wand and suddenly stars transported Ogham away.

* * * *

The sight of a feminine hand holding a large lance free of the waters of a pond in the middle of a grassy plain is not something you see very often. Ogham the ex-Priest however, was not intrigued, instead he was elated for he knew that the Holy Lance was one of the greatest of Good's weapons. He fell to his knees and averted his eyes.

Suddenly the lance struck the earth just in front of him its head burying itself full length in the soft ground. He reached out a tentative hand and took hold of the still quivering shaft.

USE IT WELL, OGHAM.

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oday has been an interesting day so I thought I should record it in my journal. Which in itself is another step in my recovery. Every day I feel surer and more confident in my self. The self that religious recorded his thoughts between these pages ... and so I begin the practice again.

Today I used the Holy Lance to kill a wild Boar. A younger me would be wondering if this was sacrilege. The man I am now accepts that this is all part of Good's plan.

I stumbled upon the animal rooting through the carcass of some other beast — they will eat just about anything it seems. The huge beast took one look at me and charged and I am sure that if I had not had the Lance and been able to bring it to bear in time it would have knocked me down and even now be rooting through my own bones.

Instead it ran itself onto the Lance. In fact its momentum forced it halfway up along the needle-sharp shaft before the weapon was dragged from my hands. The beast died quickly and what was a threat has now become supper ... though I fear only a truly hungry man would want to eat this charred repast. I am not the best of cooks.

Tonight I take my rest amongst the Ruins of an ancient city. I have heard of this place but this is my first visit and what impresses me most is the sheer size of the site. Why would a city so large have fallen into such ruin? Where did all the people go? What made them leave? Were they taken by some natural disaster? The scholar in me has so many questions, yet I have not the energy to go exploring. It was all I could do to wipe the pig grease off my hands before opening this journal. Oh how quickly we revert to the basics of survival ...

It is later. This place is not as dead as it seems. I have just had to put down one of the restless dead. And who knows how many other spirits inhabit this forlorn place. I no longer think I will have a restful night here amongst these Ruins and look forward to hopefully meeting some living people tomorrow when I reach the Fields that I can see in the distance.

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he Maiden sat by the side of the road weeping. She was a sweet young thing, barely sixteen summers old, and it tore at Ogham's heart to see her in such distress. He approached her to see if there was anything he could do to help her.

"Miss? Are you all right?" he asked.

"No," she sobbed. "I'm lost."

"There is a settlement at a Tavern just a little further along this road. Is that where you come from?" said Ogham as he kneeled on the ground beside her.

"No. I come from the Temple. I think its over there," she said pointing away from the road.

"How did you get here?" he asked looking across the broad sweep of the River.

"I don't know," she said starting to sob again. "I fell asleep and when I woke up I was here."

"Well then," the Priest said and patted her on the shoulder. "Don't you worry, I'll get you home. Now what is your name?"

"Faith," said the little girl.

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gham was in his cups and knew it. However, it had been so long since he had partaken of the robust red wine from this part of the realm, that he was well past caring and was willing to let consequences take their toll in the morning. He raised his glass and saluted the troubadour who had been entertaining the crowd in the Tavern and then called for another refill.

"I hope 'nother Druid takes Crown of Command," came a deep voice clearly through the noise around him.

"You don't know what you're talking about, you fool," said Ogham carelessly to his empty tumbler. The sudden silence that occurred as he spoke meant that his comment was heard by one and all.

The 'one', who had originally spoken scraped back his chair and got to his feet. "Who called me a fool?" said the gigantic farmer and looked around the room.

"You're a fool if you think that Neutrality is the best option for the Realm," said Ogham. The sudden apprehension that had settled on the room hadn't registered on his wine-befuddled senses. "Evil of course would be the worst option, but Neutrality is almost as bad, it engenders inaction, which is a sin of omission."

Ogham slowly became aware of the silence in the room and then felt the overwhelming presence of the huge man who had stepped up to his table. He looked up at the swaying figure who stared down at him beligerently.

"What do you want, sir?" asked Ogham. Did this lout really think his size would impress me. I carry the Holy Lance. I am blessed of Good.

"Ye called me a fool," said the giant, "I want ya to apologise."

"I don't apologise to fools," said Ogham taking up his lance and getting to his feet. "Now go away before I decide to teach you a lesson."

The man didn't reply, he simply hauled off and hit Ogham as hard as he could with his fist. Ogham, who was not aware of the man's reputation for brawling, was taken unawares. He was lifted off his feet by the force of the blow and thrown up against the wall many paces behind him. He sank into oblivion as his body slid down the wall.

* * * *

Ogham awoke shortly thereafter to find the front of his robes covered with blood. His jaw throbbed and his nose was clogged and he was having a great deal of trouble drawing breath. A young lad, one of the Tavern's stablehands, was at his side helping him up to a sitting position.

"I think ya nose's broke," said the lad with glee. "Hanrahan really clocked you good, mister."

Ogham couldn't see anything to smile about.

"Ma told me to take ya into the back room. There's a physik coming to see to ya, but Ma told me to tell ya that it'll cost ya.

Ogham tried to tell the young lad that he surely didn't have enough gold to pay for a physik, but his jaw would not cooperate. Trying to ignore the looks and jibes from the Tavern patrons he let the lad help him across the floor of the taproom and into the back room.

As the lad helped him sit down on a barrel he suddenly realised through the veil of his drunkeness that he didn't need a physik. He could heal himself. He had a spell.

But the spell would not work. The magic would not come. The Amulet he wore prevented such stuff. He took off the item and placed it on a nearby box and cast his spell and in short order was right as rain, broken teeth, broken jaw and nose things of the past. Even the haze of the alcohol was lifted from him.

"Could you please go and get your mother and Farmer Hanrahan," Ogham said to the amazed boy. "I would like to apologise to them."

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he young boy returned shortly carrying Ogham's Lance and other belongings. The boy said that his mother would be along shortly and Ogham could tell from the sounds of belligerence coming from the tap room that Farmer Hanrahan was also on his way.

The young boy was in the middle of telling Ogham just how light he found the Holy Lance when Hanrahan burst through the door. The red-faced man was reeling drunk and Ogham was having second thoughts about apologising to him already. The man was obviously a menace and would have picked a fight with anyone, most like.

"So," said the Farmer staring bleary-eyed at Ogham. "Ye wanted ta talk to me. Ya wanted ta 'pologise, ya weak-kneed Good'un. Mos' likely, can't and won't stand up for ya principles." The man's face crinkled into a sneer.

"'Ere, mister," said the boy and thrust the Holy Lance into Ogham's hands with remarkable foresight but lethal consequence.

Ogham couldn't believe the man could be so ungratious and words failed him. Fortunately for him his reflexes didn't, as the Farmer swung at him again, unprovoked. He brought the Holy Lance up and deflected the man's clumsy swing so that it missed. He then brought the Lance's point down to point at the man. Maybe under its threat the man would see sense and let bygones be bygones.

To Ogham's horror the man pitched forward onto the Lance's point, impaling himself through the throat. Everyone stood stunned for a moment, especially the innkeeper's wife whose unfortunately-timed entry and accidental trip had made her fall against the swaying Farmer and push him onto the weapon.

The Farmer sank to his knees, his life blood spurting up along the Lance's shaft to add its own scarlet stain to that of Ogham's blood that had already besmirched his appearance.

"It was an accident," shrieked Ogham and the woman simultaneously.

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gham performed the rites of the dead over the body of Hanrahan the Farmer the following morning. He didn't want to; he felt himself responsible for the poor man's death. However, there had been no one else available and he could not bear the thought of the man going into the ground without him being shriven. Now he, the innkeeper and the innkeeper's wife sat in the taproom sharing their feelings of guilt and a bottle of brandy.

The wife, her eyes red from crying, put down her tumbler and said, "I keep seeing it, him pitching forward like that, blood everywhere."

"Now, now wife," said the husband. "It were an accident. Nobody blames you."

"You are not to blame ... I am," said Ogham. "You were but the impetus. It was my weapon that killed the poor man. My, supposedly, Holy Lance." He drained his tumbler and placed it in front of the innkeeper for refilling.

The man started to pour and then stopped. "What did you call my wife? An impishty?" he said with a scowl.

"Hush, husband," said the woman, placing a restraining hand on her mate's arm. "He meant no disrespect."

"Drink please," said Ogham, oblivious.

"Here, take the bottle," said the innkeeper getting to his feet. "Come wife. We have customers."

The innkeeper's wife also got to her feet. "Yes, husband," she said giving Ogham a pitying look.

The two of them left Ogham alone with the bottle of spirits. From experience they expected it to be empty when they returned.

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"um, the little girl is hungry."

The Tavern keeper's wife looked at the Maiden who stood behind her son looking very nervous. She gestured for the girl to come forward and then led her across to sit at the table next to her husband who was having a late supper.

"Did the man not feed her," said the Tavern keeper as his wife brought the girl some food. "The poor girl should have been fed and in her bed hours ago. And here he is sleeping off a skinful in our taproom. It's shameful I tell you."

After the girl had eaten and was nodding off at the table the Tavern keeper took his wife aside. "He has to go," said the man. "We cannot keep providing charity for him and his charge, no matter who he says he is. Let him take her across River back to her family. Let him drink their grog and eat their food without paying.

"But, father ..." began the woman.

"Ach, I know what you be going to say, mother, but no. She has her own family. It would not be right to keep her from them."

He turned to look at the Maiden and then with lowered voice said, "Tomorrow I will tell him that they have to move on."

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"lease Mister Ogham, where are we going?" said the little girl known as Faith.

"We're going to the Market," said Ogham looking over her head at the scowling face of the Tavernkeeper. "I'm hoping that there will be someone there who knows you. Someone from across the River. Hopefully, they will be able to take you home."

"Oh, yes please," she said, almost jumping up and down with excitement. "I would like to go home."

Ogham smiled at her even though his head was splitting and his mouth tasted like he had broken his fast on the ashes of the taproom fire. He then lead the little girl away from the Tavern towards the market.

* * * *

Hours later Ogham felt little better physically and his spirits were at their lowest ebb. The little girl was asleep, huddled up against his side, where he sat with his back against a tree. The Market had proved useless. No one had known the little girl or expressed any interest in taking over her care. And now they would have to spend the night outside on the fringes of the Market.

"Priest?" said a dark figure. Ogham jumped, causing the little girl to murmur before settling again.

"Who is there?" said Ogham, reaching down and taking hold of his Lance.

"A word of warning, Priest," said the voice in the darkness. "The dark Wizard, Alastor, already assails the Inner Realm. Good needs your assistance. Why do I find you here in the Outer Realm playing nurse maid?"

"Are you a servant of Good?" asked Ogham. "If so I could use some help."

"No, you fool, I am not a servant of Good." said the man. "I'm just someone who would rather have Good win than that bastard, Alastor. Now listen, for I will only say this once. Several days journey from here, towards the City, there is a Magical Portal. That is how the Wizard got to the Inner Realm. You could follow him there and save the day for Good."

"But, I have responsibilities," said Ogham gesturing towards the child at his side. But it was too late. Whomever it had been in the shadows was gone.

What was that all about, thought Ogham, scratching his head.

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torm clouds and then snow. The change in the weather had been so sudden that Ogham suspected that magic was involved. But magic on such a huge scale that it affected the Outer Realm? The shadowy figure at the Market must surely be right. Evil must be stopping at nothing to gain the ascendancy. He had to hurry. Maybe he could atone for his tardiness and lack of conviction if he hurried.

The snow drifts, his young travelling companion, and his old bones all conspired against him until he reached the Wood. Then travelling became easier because the foliage and the canopy overhead kept the ground clear of snow and the worst of the wind at bay. However, the cold was a killing cold, and he feared for the safety of the Maiden.

Close to dark they crossed the path of the Wild Boar. It took offence at their presence and attacked and Ogham had to profain the Holy Lance to prevent it goring the Maiden. Then he realised that the animal was in fact a gift from the forces of Good. Here was food. Good hearty food with lots of fat and protein to line their bellies and keep the cold at bay.

Then and there he set up camp and using the plentiful firewood provided by the Wood he prepared and cooked a whole leg of the pig that had crossed their path and he and the Maiden stuffed themselves full of the wholesome food and kept warm by the fire all night long.

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trengthened by their hearty meal of the previous night the Priest and the Maiden set off for the far side of the Wood. The forest was dark and eerie and the snow that had drifted down through the trees covered most features. Fortunately, it was not thick enough to impede their progress. This was not the case in the Plains that lay beyond the borders of the Wood. Here the snow lay in large drifts and was so thick that the Maiden was forced to sit atop the Ogham's shoulders for them to make any progress at all.

At the end of a weary day Ogham finally found the Magic Portal that the mysterious man in the Market had spoken of. Strange scenes of other places appeared and disappeared within the Portal. Most were places covered in snow but some appeared more hospitable than the treeless Plain on which they stood where there was no where to hide from the cold wind that drove even more snow into their faces.

Ogham decided that they would have to take their chances through the Portal. To stay on the Plains was to risk death from exposure and the cold. He took the Maiden's hand and together they said a little prayer to Good and then stepped through the magical gateway.

They appeared in a place where snow still fell upon them. To make matters worse there was no sign of civilisation or indeed that anything lived thing in their vicinity. Here the wind wailed round high Crags and darkness had already descended in the small valley they were in. The Maiden wrapped her arms around Ogham and asked him where they were.

He couldn't answer her question.

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t least it had stopped snowing. That was the only good thing Ogham could see in their current predicament. He and the Maiden were huddled together for warmth after having finished the last of the pork. That they were sheltering in a doorway was perhaps the most galling aspect of their predicament; Ogham had not been able to attract anyone's attention even with his loudest beating.

At least he now knew which way they should go. Just before dark they had come across a valley which showed some plains in the distance. The harsh wind that blew down the valley and the nearness of night had prevented them from assaying the journey immediately. They would do so tomorrow.

If they still lived.

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arly in the morning the Priest with the Maiden cradled in his arms came down out of the Crags. The child still lived, but her extremities were reddened with frostbite and he couldn't get her to wake up. Ogham was very worried about her. He had welcomed the light and scant heat of the morning sun, but more so because it meant the Blizzard, and perhaps the worst of their ordeal, was over.

Crossing the snow-covered Plains had been gruelling, but now he had reached the small, ice-bound stream that had been his destination and a thin spire of smoke rising from a chimney atop a nearby small hill told him that perhaps they would find succour here as well.

He picked up Faith and began walking doggedly towards the rising smoke. His mind was so weary that it took several minutes for him to realise that there was someone coming towards him through the snow. He hope they were friendly for he was just about all done in.

* * * *

Radinall the Sorcerer hurried towards the man carrying the child. The man was staggering. No, he had fallen; his Strength gone. Radinall needed to get them inside in front of the fire as quickly as possible.

* * * *

When Ogham awoke it was to heat and the cheery light of a fireplace. Very civilised, he thought dimly to himself before rolling over and pulling the thick blanket he was wrapped in closer.

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adinall the Sorcerer watched the two strangely-paired travellers until they disappeared from view. The elderly Priest and the young girl had survived their ordeal — being lost in the snows on the Crags — but only just. And it had taken some fancy magic on his part to repair the little girl's feet. Now they continued on their journey towards the City.

Radinall didn't like their chances. Despite the potent magical items the Priest bore the two of them seemed too frail for the privations of the trail. Still, not his concern. He re-entered his shop to begin his monthly stocktake. It would not take long. He didn't get much passing trade out here on the Plains, at least not much trade that could actually afford to buy anything.

* * * *

Ogham and the Maiden entered the Woods with some trepidation. Radinall, the kindly Sorcerer who had saved them and healed them after their walk down from the Crags in the snow storm, had warned them that Dragons and Trolls had been seen in this area. Ogham expected the worst. His luck had not been good recently so he would not have been surprised at all if a Dragon had suddenly reared up from behind a tree and tried to devour them both.

What is it all for? he asked himself, and the powers of Good, for the thousandth time. He'd thought he had been given a sign. The Magic Portal was suppose to take him to the Inner Realm so that he could fight the Good fight against the forces of Evil, but instead it had brought him here to this dreary and dangerous forest. "I don't understand," he said aloud to the trees.

"Father Ogham," said the Maiden called Faith. "Look what I've found."

Ogham turned toward the little girl who was the only bright thing in his life. From her hand dangled one of the most valuable pieces of jewellery in the Realm — a Talisman.

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"f you love life, turn back," said the farmer as Ogham and Faith met him on the road. He looked incredibly tired and was leading a wagon full to overflowing with his family and their belongings; the man's poor horse to whom this burden had fallen looked even more tired than its owner.

"What ails, thee?" said Ogham in the manner of the lower classes. "Is there plague in the City?"

"Aye. There be a plague, but not one you might think," said the farmer looking over his shoulder back the way they had come. "There be a plague of ghosties infesting the City and the farms thereabouts. Me and the missus are taking our brood away to the Plains to live. Somewhere where the dead don't fuss with the living."

"Ghosts?" said Ogham. "Are you sure?"

"Course I'm sure," replied the man and pointed back at the wagon. "My sister's husband got frighted to death by one. Now she's with us. If you don't believe me, ask her."

Ogham looked at the cart and could not bring himself to impose on the misery of woman who must be the farmer's sister. The farmer walked on with his horse and Ogham stood and watched the wagon as it passed.

"Come with us, please," pleaded the other woman, who must be the farmer's wife. "For the little girl's sake if not for your own; the City is haunted."

Faith clutched at his robe and said nothing. Ogham smiled at the farmer's wife and said, "We'll be all right. My faith will protect us."

The other woman burst into tears and the farmer's wife gave Ogham an angry glare before turning back to console her companion.

The wagon moved away and belatedly Ogham called out, "Faith in Good will protect you too."

* * * *

When it became too dark to travel any more Faith and Ogham stopped at one of the few farm houses that still showed lights. Ogham begged for a meal and a place to eat and, after some initial suspicion about night-time callers, the farmer and his daughter invited them in to spend the night. Ogham suspected that this hospitality was mainly due to Faith's innocent face peering out from behind his legs as he stood at the door. The girl immediately took Faith in charge leaving Ogham to talk with her father.

"A bad time to be travelling at night," said the man as he offered Ogham a mug of homemade brew. "Strange things been happening round here after dark. Tell the truth, I'm glad for company. Could use an extra pair of eyes so I can let mine have some sleep."

Ogham took a sip of his ale and said, "Glad to oblige. You're talking about ghosts, aren't you?"

"Could be," said the farmer, a nervous look in his eye. "Don't believe in 'em meself, but the neighbour lost a horse last night, a stallion. Magnificent beast. Hale and hearty at sunset, it was. Dead as a doorknob the next morning and not a mark on it. Don't know nothing that kills like that."

Ogham had his suspicions but said nothing.

* * * *

It was late in the night, when the farmer and the others were asleep, that Ogham heard the sound of a horse's hooves on the road. No late night traveller this, for the horse pranced back and forth outside the farmhouse, yet nobody haled the house. Ogham took his faith and his Lance in hand and went outside to investigate.

The Wraith, its red eyes aglow with its devilish purpose, rode upon a ghostly steed; a stallion of some quality. Ogham knew the sort, he had dealt with them before. It was hunting for the living so it could feast upon their essence. The farmhouse was its target and he, its only defence. The ghastly knight did challenge and charge him, but he stood his ground relying on his faith and experience to best the foul spirit.

Evil lost out this night. Ogham's faith in Good was stronger and his prayers were answered. The Wraith would ride no more and the farmer — who watched the whole thing through a gap in his shutters — had his faith renewed.

Ogham had done a Good thing.

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he next day the Priest and the Maiden Faith entered the City. Ogham remembered the last time he had been here. He'd thought it far too noisy, far too busy. Now, he would have preferred that to this, where even in the bright light of day everything seemed quiet and subdued as though the houses and the streets dreaded the coming of the night.

"Are you a Priest?" said a woman from the shadowed recess of a coach that had pulled up next to them as he stood wondering where they would spend the night.

"Yes," said Ogham, though he almost didn't.

"I thought so. I have need of your services. My house is being haunted by a Ghost."

Ogham looked at the woman. She appeared young and beautiful, but this was more perhaps due to her skill with makeup than her youth.

"I have need of lodgings for myself and my charge," said Ogham putting his hand on Faith's shoulder. "Would laying the Ghost get us that?"

"Yes, that and more," said the woman as she opened the door of the coach. "The creature has frightened one of my servants to death and I fear it will kill again."

* * * *

The woman lived in a grand house near the centre of town, one surely large enough to warrant servants. However, the woman had to see to their needs herself because her servants — apart from her coach man who lived in the loft over the stables — had all quit her employ being too scared to stay under her roof.

As dark descended on the City, Ogham and Faith came to understand why the servants had deserted their mistress for strange sounds began echoing through the house. Taking this as her cue the owner of the house took Faith and retreated to the coach man's lodgings; the coach man now slept below in the stables for the sake of propriety. Ogham was left inside to confront, and hopefully exorcise, the Ghost.

Faith did not sleep well that night. In the beginning, the sounds coming from the house were truly horrific, but when they stopped the suspense was even more disturbing. And to make things worse the woman would not let her go into the house until morning.

* * * *

They found Ogham in the morning, in the kitchen making tea, having slept the sleep of the just after the laying the Ghost.

The lady of the house, known to the locals as an Enchantress, explored the house from top to bottom as Ogham and Faith had their breakfasts and came back to the kitchen well satisfied.

"Well, Priest," she said as she handed Ogham a scroll. "It appears that you have indeed laid the Ghost to rest. I can no longer feel its presence."

"What is this?" said Ogham wiping marmalade from his hands.

"A magic scoll. One of my more valuable items of magic," came the reply. "I have a feeling you might have use of such a spell. And I cannot deny that you have earnt it."

Ogham looked at the scroll and gave a low whistle. He had been about to reject the gift as being too much for an act he would have done for free. Now he decided otherwise. Such magic was best kept in his safe hands to prevent it from being put to the wrong use.

"Thank you," said Ogham. "I will see that it gets put to Good use."

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ather Ogham was feeling much better in himself as he sat with the others outside the Cave in the hills that overlooked the City. He had just been given another reward for his endeavours of the last few days: two bags of gold, courtesy of the group of miners that he now shared camp with.

The miners had moved in to try their luck digging for gold in the Cave which was now safe after the recent demise of the Dragon that had lived there. They had had an instant windfall in the form of the Dragon's treasure. Ogham and Faith had turned up during a celebratory party and he had been paid very handsomely for performing a blessing on the mine and then been invited to share the miner's camp.

Ogham marvelled at recent events. He had thought Good had forsaken him for good when he had been teleported to the Crags by the Magic Portal, but now he saw that that had just been the means for him to be able to help the people of the City get rid of their plague of undead creatures. Good had amply rewarded him for his efforts with a magic scroll and gold, both of which would make it easier for him to get across River and find out how the fight for the Crown of Command was going.

Tomorrow they would continue their journey, but for the moment Ogham was simply happy to sit with Faith and watch the miners celebrate their good fortune.

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ather Ogham and Faith had only just left the miner's camp and entered the Hills when a young lad caught up with them. He was breathless, but grinning from ear to ear with excitement.

The young lad thrust a purse into Father Ogham's hand and said, "My da said to give you this."

Ogham took the bag of gold. "Why for?" said Ogham. "He has already paid me for my blessing."

"He found a huge nugget this morning. Said your blessing had brung us good luck and wanted to make sure you was paid proper like, so as to not change our luck."

The boy turned and started to jog back towards the Cave. "Thankee Father," he called out over his shoulder.

Ogham turned and looked at Faith. "It seems Good is smiling on everyone this morning."

Faith smiled and handed him a wild flower she had picked from the side of the road. Ogham tucked the bag of gold into his robe and accepted the flower. He sniffed its scent smiled back at her and then lead her on into the Hills towards the Magic Portal.

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ll the snow that they had laboured through for so long had disappeared from the Plains when Ogham lead young Faith down out of the Hills. It had been replaced by a verdant expanse of wild flowers brought forth by the water the snow had become.

The Magic Portal still stood where he'd last seen it and it was with a little trepidation he had approached it — where would Good send him this time?

* * * *

It was dark and Faith clung to him in quiet fear while their eyes adjusted to the sudden loss of light. The pervading smell of dust and old stone told Ogham that they were underground well before his eyes had adjusted enough to see that they were in a Cave.

Ogham turned towards the entrance and was about to lead Faith into the light when she stiffened. He turned to look where she pointed; a huge silhouette — the head and shoulders of a man wearing a pointed hat — completely dominated the opposite wall of the Cave. The two left the scene quickly, frightened away by the vision and the eerie quiet of the place.

* * * *

The whole of one horizon was dominated by Desert. Father Ogham wondered if this could be the same Desert that lay near the chief Temple of Good in the Middle Realm. He wondered if he was supposed to cross this Desert. He wondered if he could indeed do that. He knew that Faith would most likely not be able to do so.

A movement caught his eye and he was surprised to see a man relieving himself against the side of a boulder a little way down the slope. He waited until the man had finished his business and then lead Faith down towards him and the small campsite that he'd returned to. Ogham had no doubt that Good meant for him to meet this man.

TO BE CONTINUED ...

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ather Ogham took another sip from the cup he held. The water tasted sweet and cool and the last effects of the dry Desert and searing sun was wiped from him as the liquid flowed down his throat. Initially he'd thought that using the Holy Grail in such a manner would be sacriledge, but needs must, and the miraculous effect of the water from the Grail told him his thoughts had been wrong. The Grail was meant to be used. It was a demonstrable example of the power of Good.

He'd bought it off a man named Simmons. The man was obviously some sort of charlatan because he had waxed lyrical about the amazing properties of the cup he had while trying to drive the price higher. What the man hadn't realised was that Ogham had recognised the Holy Grail immediately and so would have paid much more for it then he'd asked. At first sight Ogham had realised that once more Good was guiding his steps and that the Holy Grail was the means that he and Faith were to use to cross the Desert. He'd bought the Holy Grail for the paltry sum of two bags of gold.

Ogham looked up at Faith where she sat upon the back of the Unicorn and offered her a sip from the Grail. And here was another example of Good's blessing on his endeavour. He had been concerned about Faith's ability to cross the Desert — he shouldn't have worried. As well as meeting the man Simmons he had also met a Dwarf — a race he thought extinct. Then the small man had disappear before his very eyes leaving behind his travelling companion, a Unicorn named Frella, who had quickly become the self-appointed protector and mount for Faith. Ogham, not wanting to look a gifted horse in the mouth, had immediately lead them into the Desert trusting that Good not only knew what it was doing but needed him to continue his mission as quickly as possible.

Ogham smiled at Faith while he offered the Unicorn a drink from the Grail. She smiled back at him with that mysterious smile of hers that hinted that she knew things more then her tender years allowed, she then pointed into the distance. Ogham turned and looked. On the horizon there was a dark smudge, an Oasis perhaps. He started walking again. This then would be their next destination. It would make a good campsite for the night.

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espite the Frella's protestations about the Oasis being cursed Ogham pushed on. He had to get across the Desert. He had to take the Holy Grail to the Temple. Faith spoke quiet words to the Unicorn and it stopped objecting and it was nightfall when the three of them reached the palm encircled pool. Alas, it appeared as though Frella had been correct. Ogham could feel the power of the spell that surrounded the place and knew that if they were to take one step closer harm would come to them and he did not know if Faith would be able to survive.

"Halloo," came a call out of the shadows of the trees. A man stepped into view, his robes covered in sparkling gems and a smile upon his face. "Welcome to the Oasis of the Pool of Life," he said.

"Life," called Ogham in reply. "There is a curse upon this place. I hesitate to bring the child closer for fear of its power."

"A Hex has been placed here by the Crown Bearer," said the man who Ogham thought familiar. "The new Crown Bearer is a man of decisive actions, he placed it here to scare off the unworthy. However, the Pool will replace what the spell takes away and I can tell by your companions that you must be a Good man. Please enter. I would give thee a gift, as well. I have been waiting for another such as yourself."

Ogham hesitated. It could be a trap designed to lure him into the power of the Hex, but the man's words were intriguing and he had to trust that Good would watch over him and provide for him in his quest.

"Please, father. I'm thirsty and want to sleep," said Faith behind him.

Ogham took a step towards the man and felt the power of the spell drain life from him. He staggered a little then turned and gestured for the Unicorn to follow.

"Come. Come quickly," said the man gesturing for them to follow. "You must drink from the Pool."

Ogham and his companions followed the man and drank deep from the life giving waters of the Pool of Life.

* * * *

It transpired that the man was a Goodly Mage; Ogham even remembered him from a trip to the City long ago. How he had come to be here in this Desert Oasis Ogham had no idea, but he did know that the man was someone he should listen to and that it was likely that it was part of Good's plan that Ogham was to meet up with this man. For he taught Ogham a great secret. A spell. A spell to counter magic. A spell strong enough to even counter the magic of the Crown of Command itself.

TO BE CONTINUED ...

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dedicate this new journal to the man who gave it to me , Adolphus Spriggs — The Magus of Gems.

Father Ogham, Priest of Good.

Day 1: (I have lost track of the days and so until I find out the date I will number these entries consecutively.)

Adolphus has been so kind to Faith and I that it will be a pity when we have to leave. But leave we must. For if we do not, his work and all my own endeavours, will have been in vain. I must push on to the Temple. There I will hopefully, and finally, deliver Faith into the hands of her family and pass the Holy Grail on to my superiors for proper protection in the Temple.

Then I will continue on with my mission to thwart Evil's attempts to gain the Crown of Command. And I feel confident now that this is my role in life. Adolphus is a servant of Good and he and this wondrous Oasis with its Pool of Life have prepared me for the task. I just know it. Never have I felt more confident or ready.

I just hope that it is not too late — that poor Dwarf — His disappearance was obviously the work of the Crown of Command. However, as the Crown Bearer has not called on me to submit as well, this must surely mean that the succession is not complete. Therefore, I must surely still have a chance to make sure that Good controls the Realm.

In honour of Adolphus Spriggs, I hereby dedicate my life to ensure that this is the case.

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nce again Ogham and his companions trod the sands of the Desert. This time, however, Ogham walked with an easy step. His sojourn at the Oasis had renewed him and his lessons in magic with the Magus of Gems had inspired him, but more so was the knowledge that shortly he would reach the central institution of his religion — the Temple.

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he dust of the Desert was still on his clothes when he fell upon his knees in front of the altar in the main Temple. He raised the Holy Grail above his head and the hubbub that his arrival had caused fell away to hushed silence as both he and the cup were bathed in a holy light. Much to Ogham's surprise his illumination was both visual and audible.

TAKE THE GRAIL TO THE PORTAL OF POWER

Dutifully, Ogham got to his feet and turned towards the door. The priests and worshippers moved aside in awe as he carried his burden out of the Temple to begin his journey anew.

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t was only when they were deep in the Woods that Ogham realised he'd forgotten completely about returning Faith to her family. In fact he had been so caught up with the revelation he had received in the Temple that he'd barely noticed the Girl and the Unicorn following him.

It was now too late in the day to return to the Temple as well; it would be dark soon. Already the little hut they had come across had smoke coming from its chimney and the smell of cooking food reminded his stomach that it hadn't had anything substantial for quite a while. Ogham hoped that he would be able to beg some of that food from the owners for Faith and himself.

Fortunately, the woman who answered the door invited them in without hesitation. Ogham suspected that she was a practitioner of magic, for she lived alone deep in the Woods and was not at all surprised by the sight of the Unicorn, though she would not let Frella into the house. Still she looked a nice enough person and her food turned out to be as tasty as it smelt.

Ogham's suspicions about the woman's profession turned out to be true. Late in the night after Faith had gone to sleep the two of them talked. It turned out that the woman could tell fortunes and this she did so, for Faith, who had stolen her heart with her innocent charms.

Much to both their surprise the reading of Faith's fortune — enabled by the simple transferance of a silver coin to the woman's purse — revealed that Faith, although a Maiden, was no human child. She was fey and of a breed the woman had never seen before.

Fanciful though this sounded, Ogham found himself agreeing with this assessment. Surely no human child would have been able to survive let alone thrive, as Faith had, through the trials that they had experienced. Ogham even thought he knew what type of creature Faith must be. She must be of angelkind; gifted to him by Good to help him in his quest. This would explain her hardiness and why the Unicorn, whose kind were attracted to purity, had immediately taken to her. It would also explain why Faith had not badgered him about finding her family, something a normal child would certainly have done; she had none to find. That story had all been part of the ruse she had used to get him to help her so that she could help him.

He looked down at the child with new found wisdom and wondered how this revelation would change the relationship they had. Then he smiled as he realised that he was probably experiencing something akin to what every loving parent went through with their children as they grew to adulthood.

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he next day Ogham and Faith continued on with their quest. They left the Witch's Wood and enter an area of rolling hills covered with the standing stones of an ancient people. This was a place that Ogham had heard about but had never seen and so he dawdled amongst the stones examining the Runes that were carved on them. It was Frella who first became aware of their danger.

"Run," shouted the Unicorn.

Ogham looked up just as the shadow of the Giant fell upon him. He moved at the last second and was just missed by the great club the monster aimed at him. He was now out of the Giant' sight behind one of the upright stones, which was just as well as his right ankle was on fire with pain; he'd done something to it when he'd dived for cover.

From the sounds he could hear it seemed that the Giant was trying to catch Faith and Frella. He grasped his Holy Lance and was about to step back into view to draw the creature's attention back to him when Faith ran into view.

"Frella says we're to run. She will draw the Giant away and then meet up with us later."

"Will she be all right?" said Ogham sneaking a peek out from behind the stone. The towering Giant was all he could see. He could not see Frella.

"Yes, yes," said Faith and pulled his arm around her so that she was supporting his weight.

Ogham let her help him but used the Holy Lance like a walking stick as well so that he took most of the weight. Together they hobbled from the field of stele and did not stop moving until they were well clear.

About an hour later Frella joined them, no worse for her sport with the Giant. She told them that she'd worn him out in the end and he'd decided to go looking for a slower meal. It sounded very much like she'd done similar things in the past and had even enjoyed herself.

Faith laughed and hugged the Unicorn's neck.

Ogham's ankle didn't appear to be as badly injured as he first thought either, so it looked like they had gotten out of the encounter lightly; he joined in with the laughter. They had been lucky.

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o soon did I fail in my resolve to keep this journal up to date. I shall now try to address that failure here.

We, that is Faith, the Unicorn Frella, and myself left the Oasis and with the aide of the Holy Grail, made our way across the Desert to the Temple. Much to my surprise when I reached the Temple I received a visitation telling me to take the Grail to the Portal of Power. Tomorrow we will achieve that goal having had both good and bad encounters along the way, including a Giant.

The meeting with the Giant was almost a disaster. I twisted an ankle, and if not for Frella leading the monster away from me, I would surely have become his dinner. I hope she is liking the extra oats that I have paid the innkeeper to give her in the stall. Being a wild creature, she didn't want to stay in the stables, but Faith had a quiet word with her and she seems to have quietened down. It is amazing the rapport the two of them have developed.

Tomorrow we reach the Portal of Power. I expect to get new orders from the powers of Good then. What they will be is anyone's guess. Still I expect I was given the Holy Lance for some war-like reason. I just hope I will be up to the task.

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arly the next day the Priest, the Maiden and the Unicorn left the Castle and made their way up to the ruins on the mountain side. Father Ogham had been this way before — the last time the great game had been played — and that time he'd been found wanting.

They came to the Portal of Power and once more Ogham fell to his knees and prayed. Then he lifted the Holy Grail high and said, "I have done as you have asked, Good. What would you have me do now?"

For a moment there was nothing and then there was a click and the Portal of Power swung open. Then, into the amazed silence a great voice spoke.

TAKE THE GRAIL TO THE THRONE OF POWER

The Priest, Maiden and Unicorn all abased themselves and then, when it became apparent that there would be no more message, they all got to their feet and stepped through onto the Plain of Peril. For it was something that none of them could deny: they were on a mission from Good.

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