The Thief's Tale

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immons knocked on the door to his boss's office. There was no answer and he was not surprised. Whenever his boss said he was not to be disturbed while he was in his office it was because he probably wasn't going to be in his office. Simmons knew of the secret entrance to the 'thieve's run' — the complex of tunnels that lay under the City's streets — hidden under his boss's desk; what he didn't know was where his boss might have gone.

Holding a legitimitising piece of parchment in his hand Simmons eased open the door and looked in. The place had been cleaned. There was no incriminating evidence left in the office at all. It looked like his boss had scarpered. This was confirmed by the note affixed to the wall with the boss's official dagger. "I quit," was all it said — but under the guild's constitution that was enough.

The message he had delivered from his aunt this morning had really spooked Harkold. What information could it possibly have contained that would scare the Chief Assassin into doing a runner? Simmons kicked himself mentally for not sneeking a peek when he had had the opportunity.

Simmons closed the door and thought about his future. As the former boss's secretary he would probably lose his cushy job and find himself back in the general rank and file of the guild. The vacuum left by the boss's departure would be filled quickly by one of the guild's other assassins and they would want their own trusted man as their lieutenant.

He was about to lose what little power he had in the guild. That damned Harkold had left him in the lurch without any compensation for the years of service Simmons had given him. It was a good thing he had been skimming a little out of the till for all these years.

He still had some time though, the boss's departure wouldn't be noticed for a while. He picked up the petty cash tin and deposited the contents into his purse. Severance pay, he thought to himself. But there had to be something better he could retrieve from this situation. Perhaps he should try to find out why Harkold had done a bunk. Knowledge is power after all and he of all people was best placed to find out what had made Harkold bolt.

"Time to visit aunty again," said Simmons and headed for the door.

* * * *

Simmons' Aunty Morgana, better known to the inhabitants of the City as, The Enchantress, lived in one of its more respectable parts. The city council members were pleased that a sorceress of such reknown had taken up residence in their city — it was even worth the occasional Toad transformation. However, Simmons always entered his aunt's residence by the servant's quarters; she was onto such a good thing he didn't want to spoil it for her. It was also good policy not to blatantly point out that the Enchantress had some connection to the guild of Thieves and Assassins, and vice-a-versa.

As his aunt was not busy Simmons was shown directly into her audience chamber. The gloomy interior with its softly glowing arcane symbols on the walls looked very impressive, but not half as impressive as his aunt. Her high-caste features and compelling eyes were some of her strongest selling points to Simmons' way of thinking.

"Hello Simmy," said his aunt with that familiarity that always grated, "I am not surprised to see you back so soon. Has Harkold fled?"

"Yeah," he replied. "And thanks to that I'm about to lose me job. Can you please tell me what was in that message you asked me to deliver this morning?"

"The consequences of a job coming back to haunt him," she said cryptically. "Did you know the Crown bearer died yesterday?"

"What!" said Simmons aghast at the news and what it implied. "He didn't. He couldn't — Harkold? surely not?"

"Not directly, but he was instrumental in the death. I think he is just taking precautions against any possible retribution."

"Wow," said Simmons and collapsed into a seat. "I'm impressed. I thought the old bugger was past it."

"Now about your problem," said Simmons' aunt. "I think perhaps it would be best if you also took up another line of endeavour."

"Sorry?" said Simmons his self-interest bringing him out of his reverie.

"I know your father wanted you to follow in his footsteps and go into his family's business.

Simmons carefully nodded uncertain as to where the conversation was going. He had always taken it as a given that he would be a thief as his father and his grandfather had been.

"But, now that your father has passed on, and considering the circumstances, perhaps you might like to think about joining the family business of the other side of the family."

"Sorry, I don't understand," said Simmons wondering if he had actually understood correctly.

"I am in need of an apprentice," said the Enchantress with a smile and eyes that glowed faintly with magical power.

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unty Morgana had taught Simmons lots of things in the last day or so. Things about magic, the world, and in particular his part in it, that he hadn't even realised he didn't know. How to prepare the mind, how to invoke the spirits, how to cast spells. What she hadn't taught him was what to do if he made a mistake.

He didn't know what the white wispy thing that enveloped him was but he did know he didn't like how it felt. Cold and numbing to his skin he had the distinct impression that it was alive and that it was doing something to him. He screamed and tried to escape its tenuous clutches with arms that suddenly felt like lead weights. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the concerned look on his Aunt's face and the wand in her hand.

* * *

Sometime later Simmons woke to find himself tucked up safely in the silk-sheeted, double bed his aunt had wanted him to use while he was staying with her. He felt warm and cosy and had to resist strongly the urge to fall back to sleep.

Something felt wrong and after he thought about it for a long while he realised that there were three things that disturbed him: first, the room was full of the rich, spicy, stupefying smell of Hashish — a drug he had an aversion to because of its addictive nature; second, he still felt as weak as a kitten and so could do nothing about the smoke; and lastly, the discovery that someone, presumably his aunt, had undressed him completely.

He wasn't sure what disturbed him the most.

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istening at keyholes is a skill all young thieves learn early on in their careers. It is an essential part of the development of one's breaking and entering skills and general good practice for those who make their living by knowing things they probably shouldn't. It was a skill that Simmons was very glad he had acquired and kept practiced at.

"But, he's your son," said his Aunty Morgana. Seeing his mother after so long had not been a joyful experience for Simmons — there was no love lost between them.

"Yes, and he might finally be of use to me," said the Sorceress. "You know I never wanted the brat in the first place, his father was welcome to him."

"But this is a deadly game you're playing, he could get killed."

She can hardly talk, Simmons thought. He had been attacked by a magical creature this morning and he still felt as weak as a child. And what was all this about him being patiented and possibly pawed in a bed suitable for a whorehouse. Perhaps his aunt, the Enchantress, was grooming him for her own purposes.

"That is the chance he will have to take if he wants to become the scion of the ruler of all Talis."

Scion, smion, thought Simmons and slipped away. He had heard enough. The struggle for the Throne of Power was way above his ambitions in life and he no longer had any faith in any of the distaff members of his family. Better he sought his fortunes elsewhere until after the new ruler of Talis was safely sat upon the Throne of Power — they were still arguing about what they would do with him as he left the building.

* * *

Simmons had left the house of his aunt with the vague idea of leaving the City so that his mother wouldn't find him. His only idea in that regard was to head to the Good Chapel where he hoped she would not dare to go, but now that he was in the Fields outside the City that sounded a daunting prospect. There were miles of wilderness between the City and the Chapel: Woods, Crags and who knows what denizens of the wild and he was a City boy with little idea about the dangers he might face. If he were going to make this journey he would have to find some more experienced travellers to go with. He lingered by the wayside waiting for a party of travellers heading in the right direction with whom he might travel.

It was while waiting that he saw one of the strangest group of travellers approaching the City that he had ever seen. Despite the lack of a keyhole he had hidden himself, the better to hear what it was they were talking about.

"You won't be liking it in the City, ye know," said the axe-carrying man who was so short and thickset that he had to be one of the rarely-seen Dwarves that Simmons had heard about.

"Yes, I know," said the animal, which, with its ability to speak, equine-looks and horn, could only be one of the fabled Unicorns that he had read about in one of his aunt's books. "Still, where you go, I go, until you bed one of your own kind."

"I keep telling ye," said the Dwarf in flustered tones, "I am no virgin."

The Unicorn snickered but said nothing.

The Dwarf stopped, looked at the City walls and then turned on the Unicorn with his axe raised.

"Look here beastie! You are a magnificent animal and I would not be a harming of ye, but I will not be spoiling my chances of finding gold within yonder walls by entering the City with ye in tow — so begone, before I set upon you with me Boyo."

The Thief could hardly believe what he was hearing. There had to be some way he could take advantage of this situation.

"Ahem, perhaps I can be of assistance," said Simmons stepping into sight before the Unicorn could reply. Both of them turned to look at him unkindly and he realised that he would have to talk very carefully or be in all sorts of trouble.

"I could not help but overhear your conversation and if what I understand is correct, perhaps I can be of assistance." He hurried on before they could interrupt.

"You, a female Unicorn, because of certain physiological peculiarities of his, find yourself gaeased to follow and protect this person," he said pointing at the Dwarf.

The Unicorn did not gainsay him but the Dwarf interjected with, "I ain't peculiar."

The Thief held up a hand for silence and much to his own surprise was allowed to continue.

"And you, Sir Dwarf, are looking for Gold — am I right?"

"Aye," said the Dwarf, suddenly interested in the way the conversation had turned. The Unicorn sniffed the air in the Thief's direction and pawed the ground nervously.

"Well," said the Thief smiling broadly. "You don't have to go to the City to earn gold. I am willing to pay you handsomely to take me to the Chapel and," he looked at the Unicorn, "if we have a pack animal, the trip can only be easier.

"Pack animal!" snorted the Unicorn completely destroying her poor attempt to appear as a dumb animal. "You'll be putting no packs on me — nor riding me for that matter."

"Well then! What are you useful for?" asked the Thief quickly.

"I am to protect the person and ... virtue ... of my charge," said the Unicorn with a pained look at the Dwarf.

"So, a magical beast to protect you, while you protect me — money for jam if you ask me," said the Thief to the Dwarf while he got out and jingled his bag of gold.

"And," he added, tapping the side of his nose, "no one need know the real situation but you, me and the Unicorn."

Silence reigned for all of ten seconds, then the Dwarf smiled.

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immons suddenly found the fact that he was speaking with a one-horned, talking horse slightly embarrassing. He turned away and became busy trying to light the fire. He wasn't upset when he heard the animal move away. Things had recently started to get very strange in his life and he wasn't sure that this was a good thing.

Several minutes later the fire remained unlit and Simmons' had struck his fingers against the flint starter the Dwarf had given him several times. He threw down the offending stone and stuck his fingers in his mouth. Where's the damn Dwarf when you need him? he thought to himself. He was a City boy not a woodland adventurer. What did he know about lighting a fire?

In fact, where were they? Surely it doesn't take this long to collect firewood. Simmons got to his feet and started walking in the direction he believed the Unicorn had gone. He would have been a little frightened about being left out here in the wilderness alone accept for the fact he was actually adjacent to a cornfield and could see the taller buildings of his beloved City in the distance. Surely nothing nasty could happen here.

He wandered down towards the River occasionally making out the odd cloven hoofprint, which he hoped meant he was at least going in the right direction. Sure enough he shortly saw the Dwarf and the Unicorn. They were standing next to a piece of rock that jutted from the ground and was pouring out water. Water that sparkled clear and pure even though it was in the shade. More magic, he thought to himself.

"Hello there," he called as he walked towards them.

"Ho there, laddy," replied the Dwarf turning and beckoning for him to come closer. "Your luck is with you today. Quick drink some of this, there is no telling when it might stop.

"What is it?" said Simmons dubiously. He rarely drank water for pleasure preferring something with a little more kick.

"Are ye Humans stupid as well as blind to the magic about ye? Tis a Magic Stream. Water come straight from the deep depths of the realm and full of a wondrous magic. Drink some. It will do ye a power of good."

The Unicorn proceeded to thrust its mouth into the stream flowing from the rock and lapped water with its tongue. The sparkling flow coated its muzzle with stars briefly before disappearing. The Unicorn shivered all over with apparent delight.

Not one to miss out on a good drink Simmons moved closer and put his cupped hands under the flow. The water was cold to touch and tickled his palms. He looked questioningly at the Dwarf who nodded encouragingly.

"Down the hatch," said Simmons and drank the mouthful.

There was no taste to the water but as soon as it reached his gullet it felt like he had swallowed liquid fire. There was no pain, just a tremendous feeling of heat spreading throughout his body. As the warmth reached his limbs they began to shake uncontrollably, the tremors flowing down to end at his fingers and toes. The feeling was not unpleasant and it left him feeling rejuvenated.

"Wow! Bottle that stuff and you would make a mint in the City," he said more in wonder than in speculation.

The Unicorn looked at him askance and muttered, "Typical."

"Laddy," said the Dwarf tentatively. "Do ye mind if we travel with another? There be this old Human who needs to get across the River. It would mean losing a bit of time while I made a Raft in the Woods but I told them you would not mind?"

What's in it for me was the Thief's first thought, but what he said was, "Sure. I actually might be postponing my trip. I've suddenly thought of something I forgot to do in the City."

There had to be someway he could make some money out of this stream.

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aving his mother suddenly appear before him like that was like revisiting one of his worst childhood memories. Simmons had been brought up by his father's sister, Aunty Nell, underfoot in a drinking house and had been scared off to sleep regularly with the threat of Aunt Nell sending for his real mother. And it was no idle threat because his mother did appear every now and then; to check up on him. Where she went between times he was never told but her reputation for Evil, as embellished by the tales told in the drinking house, was enough to make her visits fearful events.

Simmons watched as his disguised mother, the Dwarf and the Unicorn headed off in the direction of the Woods. They were going to cross the River on a Raft for some reason known only to his mother. Well good riddance to bad rubbish, he thought to himself and started to roll up his sleeping blanket.

Simmons had been rudely awakened, far too early in the morning for his liking, when the others had quit camp. But he was awake now so there was nothing for it but to get on with the day. Breakfast was a heel of bread and an apple from his own supplies washed down with some of the water he had taken from the Magic Stream they had found yesterday. Today the water tasted somewhat lacklustre, which was a bit worrying. How could he make money selling it in the City if its enervating quality didn't last? Concerned about a potential weakness in his get rich scheme he packed up his goods and headed off towards the stream.

The sparkling water still flowed from the rock, though perhaps the flow might not have been as strong as he remembered it. Fortunately it tasted just as he remembered it with the initial kick of a strong clean spirit followed by an afterglow that spread throughout his body and even to the tips of his fingers. Perhaps he could turn this site into a spa for the rich. Get them to come to the Stream to drink its waters straight from the source.

Yes, that was the way to play this scheme, play up the exclusivity of the water. Make it something the rich would be wanting to pay a premium for so that they could get access to it ahead of their rivals.

Simmons turned away and looked at the surroundings from the point of view of setting up accomodations and briefly wondered if there was anyone who could actually lay claim to the land. That, of course, would not be a problem. He had enough contacts in the criminal underworld of the City that he was sure he would be able to find some likely lads who would be able to put the frighteners on anyone who objected to him buying the land.

He did not notice that the volume of the Magic Stream issuing from the rock face was now less.

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immons beat at the still damp rock face with his bare hands breaking off large flakes of stones with the strength of his blows. The damned thing had stopped. Why? He had come for one last drink before heading back into the city and immediately after he had slaked his thirst the flow had reduced to a trickle and then stopped, completely and with it his chance of making a fortune.

He sank to his knees cradling his painful hands while he slowly came to his senses and began to realise that despite his brief flash of anger at the loss of the Magic Stream, he should not have been able to do what he had just done. He just wasn't strong enough to break off piece of raw stone. Or was he?

He got to his feet and picked up the largest of the pieces of stone. It should have weighed several pounds but he hefted it with ease. He turned and threw it as hard as he could out over the river. It flew about a fifty feet before it ploughed into the water, its force still not spent. The next one he threw higher and it made it at least a hundred yards.

He laughed. Simmons the Thief was now Simmons the strongman courtesy of the Magic Stream. No, Simmons the Enforcer; he liked the sound of that.

But how long would the effect last? Tomorrow he would go back to the City and asked his Aunt Morgana. She would know and if she gave him any trouble, well then he might just have to rough her up a little.

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he back gate to his aunt's house flew open and banged loudly against the tall fence. It had always stuck a little and he had forgotten his greater strength when he had pushed against it. A broad smile appeared on Simmons' face. He wasn't little Simmy any more. Now he would get some respect, or else.

He strode across the backyard and entered the house. Aunt Morgana's reputation meant she never bothered with the security precautions of normal people. He didn't even see any of her servants until he reached the foyer near the front entrance where he surprised the butler who was just showing in someone who looked like one of his aunt's clients.

"Young Master Simmons," blustered the elderly servant. "We weren't expecting you back, Sir."

"Well you were wrong," said Simmons brusquely, not wanting to waste time. "Show this rube out. I want to talk to Morgana — its family business."

"Who is this ruffian and what did he call me?" said the elderly woman, who Simmons recognised as one of the doyens of the City.

"Nothing, your ladyship," said the butler soothingly, "but perhaps if you would like to come back another day —"

The woman's answer went unheard as the Enchantress's voice cut across the conversation amplified by her magic. "Simmons! How dare you come back here and start insulting my clients."

Simmons knew this was but a parlour trick and was not impressed but when his aunt appeared in the doorway of her consultation room carrying her infamous, wart-encrusted staff he suddenly felt things getting out of his control.

"Ungrateful brute," stormed his aunt, looking very much like his mother in her anger. "Running away from me like that. Why I ought to ..."

Simmons realised that he had to do something and do it quickly before she could carry out the implied threat. So he rushed her, planning to tear the staff from her hands with his superior strength. However, no sooner did he lay hands on the staff than there was a sudden pop and a puff of green smoke filled the corridor.

The air cleared and the Enchantress turned to her client who was standing slack-jawed in the entranceway. "My apologies, your ladyship, but I won't be able to consult today. I have family business to attend to. Please make arrangements with my man for a free consultation at another time."

So saying she bent down and carefully picked up the pile of clothes and belongings on the floor and carried them into her consultation room. A faint croaking could be heard coming from her arms.

"Never mind," said the old woman at the door and she turned and left picking her skirts up to run as fast as her spindly old legs could carry her.

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unt Morgana had a 'special' place for her 'special' guests, but Simmons had never dreamt that he would see the inside of it. Tough loose-weave material prevented the occupants, and the flies which were their food, from escaping and there was a nice basin full of cool water to wet the skin when it became too dry.

Luckily for Simmons he was the room's only occupant. The thought of having to share his situation with anyone else was inconsciable. Having to share the room with dozens of flies was bad enough and the thought of perhaps having to eat one was disgusting.

A large shape moved behind the netting and his Aunt Morgana was suddenly there looking through a parting in the material.

"Good morning, Simmy," she said in a far too happy tone of voice. "How are we this morning?"

Simmons glared at her and did not bother to reply.

His aunt sighed and said with a certain amount of exasperation, "Look, I've already told you, there's nothing I can do. The curse will wear off in a couple of days and you'll be right as rain. Maybe even a bit wiser ... though, that's up to you."

Simmons stared at her and spoke his anger to her face, "Croak," he said and then turned and hopped away to one of the darker areas of the enclosure.

* * * *

It was some time after dark that Simmons was woken by the excitement that ran through the Enchantress's mansion. Lights were lit and he heard loud voices but no one came to ease his curiosity about what was going on. Eventually the last of the lights were extinguished leaving him no wiser.

"Ribit," he said to himself.

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is Aunt Morgana kept coming in to look at him in his strange little cage and he was becoming heartily sick of it. And worse, she had removed all the little hidey-holes he had been using so that she could 'talk' to him. Simmons was very concerned about his Aunt's strange talks and her 'affections' towards him and had heard and seen things in the last day or so that he would just as soon forget.

He had been stupid confronting her here in her own home where she had all her magic. But he had learnt his lesson and as soon as he was human again he was going to disappear just like his old boss Harkold. Find some new place where an enterprising young thief could earn some ill-gotten riches.

Oh no! Here she comes again. He hoped she wouldn't threaten to kiss him again; to see if he would turn into a Prince. As far as Simmons was concerned she could just ...

"Croak."

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lies actually weren't half bad Simmons decided after he had gulped down the first couple and his pangs of hunger had been somewhat abated. His human sensibilities had repelled him from the Toad food that had been put into his cage but after the second day he could no longer resist. In fact it might have been nicer if they flies hadn't been pre-killed, there was no challenge to eating as it was.

Simmons knew that the effect of his aunt's wand was not permanent. However, he did not know how long the effect lasted. This was his third day and he was starting to get bored. He'd already worked out a means of escaping his cage and it was only the expectation of turning human again that kept him here. That and the uncertainty of his being able to survive outside his cage as a Toad. But if his aunt kept bothering him he might just have to take that chance. He had had it up to here with her innuendoes.

Simmons eased himself into the water contained in the inlaid basin of the cage. For the moment he would enjoy the peace, the quiet and the coolness of the water.

"Ribbit."

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rap thought Simmons when he suddenly found himself human again. He was still crouched in a very Toad-like position but this was because he was confined within the glass cage that had been his home for the last three days. He was also buck-naked and very cold. He had vaguely thought that at least his aunt would have been around to welcome him back to manhood. Even if it were for her own questionable reasons.

Still, now that he could think about it properly, it was probably best that he was on his own. For he'd had enough with his family and didn't care if he never saw any of them again, ever.

He turned on his back and after bracing himself against the corners of the glass tank he kicked out at the single wooden end. The wooden section splintered at the edges and was forced off the end by the power of his kick. He smiled. He still had the Strength the Magical Stream had given him.

He slipped out onto the cold stone floor. He was wet and filthy and so he padded across to the nearest window and used the curtains to wipe himself dry while he looked around the room. This was the first good view of it he'd had. Toad's have great hunting vision — especially for small, fast moving objects — but everything beyond about a foot from the glass had been a blur.

The magical paraphenalia around the walls and the big circles and candlestick holder's laid out precisely on the floor told Simmons that this must be his aunt's conjuring room — a place he would rather not be if he had his way. Fortunately his clothes, equipment and even his purse was on a nearby side table and in short order he was dressed and ready to leave.

It appeared that, for no doubt practical reasons, the room was sound proof. He'd expected to be discovered shortly after breaking out but the it appeared the house's occupants were still asleep. This was good. That meant that he would have a head start ... and if he made it to the Thieve's Run ... they would never catch him.

* * * *

Hours later Simmons had reached one of the larger caverns in the cave system the Thieve's Run gave access to when it passed beyond the City walls. He was now fully equipped for a long journey overland having recovered his emergency escape kit from its hiding place in the basement of his digs.

Simmons stopped and quietly closed the cover of his lantern and sat in the ensuing blackness, listening. He'd heard a noise. He'd pushed himself hard in the last couple of hours and with his heightened Strength he thought it unlikely that someone had been able to follow him over the arduous course he had travelled. Besides it seemed that the sound came from in front of him.

The sound was like the regular sighing of a wind through the branches of a tree. Too regular, it occurred to Simmons, and in that case it sounded more like the sound of deep breathing. The breathing of a giant, or something worse. He opened his lantern a crack and moved forward quietly forward until he realised that the rocky ridge in front of him was covered in scales. His gaze went from left to right and then he realised that barring his way was a Dragon — a big Dragon. Fortunately it was also a Dragon that appeared to be asleep.

Beyond the Dragon lay the Cave entrance where the red light of dawn was beginning to show through. Simmons extinguished his lantern and put it down. If he were going to creep past this monster today it would have to be now for surely it was going to wake soon.

He crept towards the head of the beast where there was a small gap between creature and wall. If he could sneak through there he could be away well before it stirred. He drew his dagger more for his own feeling of security than any thought of actually trying to do any harm.

Quiet ... step ... test the wind ... step. Suddenly one the the plate-sized eyes flicked open and Simmons screamed.

More by reaction than rational thought Simmons plunged his dagger into the eye as hard as he could. Ichor splashed over his forearm as his dagger point found and plunged through the hole in the Dragon's skull where optic nerve lead to the brain. The Dragon lifted its head to try to escape the pain in its eye and in desperation Simmons managed to twist the blade savagely once before he was thrown clear leaving his blade wedge securely in the delicate tissue.

The Dragon roared loudly and flame billowed out of its mouth flaring over the already blackened roof of the Cave. Simmons, using all his magically-derived strength turned back the way he had come and dove to the floor behind a boulder to avoid the backwash of the flame and the tail of the mighty beast as it began to thrash about on the floor.

With his hands over his head Simmons waited for the retribution of the beast. The beast's ichor smelt foul but he consoled himself that at least it would have a permanent scar to remind itself of this feast.

The noise the beast was making died down and still Simmons still lived. He toyed with the idea of trying to sneak away but almost immediately abandoned the idea as his movement might draw attention to his hiding place. It was only when the noise stopped completely that he entertained the idea that he might even survive this ordeal.

He risked a peek. There lay the Dragon, unmoving. Dead by the look of it. Simmons got to his feet and moved closer. A low sooty flame trickled from the beast's mouth undisturbed by any breath. He had killed it. Simmons stood and stared in disbelief but jumped when the creature's chest heaved reflexively and a gout of burning fluid spilled from between its jaws onto the floor. Smoke billowed up and a strong smell of burning flesh and brimstone began to fill the Cave.

Any idea of taking a trophy was forgotten when Simmons realised the beast was on fire. So with fire literally lapping about his heels he hot-footed it out of the Cave into the morning light. A muffled wump behind him told him his instincts had been correct.

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immons sat resting on the top of a hill. In the distance he could see his beloved City, but despite the fact that he was once more out in the wilderness, he was feeling pretty chipper. Not only had he escaped his aunt the Enchantress but he now had the distinction of being the only Thief in the Guild to have ever killed a Dragon. Pity he wasn't going to be able to brag about it to his fellow thieves, but for the moment the City was the last place he wanted to be.

"Hoy! Mister. Wait up."

The voice came from back down the path he had used to climb the hill. Simmons looked to see who it was who was calling him but couldn't see anyone.

"Wait up," came the voice again.

As Simmons watched a figure came into view and waved tentatively. It then put its hands on its knees and stood breathing hard obviously exhausted.

At first Simmons thought the person was much further down the hill then he realised that the person was much smaller than he was expecting.

"Oh no. Not another Dwarf," he muttered. Still Daffyd hadn't done him any wrong and it might be better to have a travelling companion travelling through the wilderness. He sat and waited while the little man recovered his breath and made his way up to the crest of the hill.

"Good morning, good sir," said the newcomer after he had recovered this breath. "I just wanted to thank you for the good deed you did me back in that Cave. That Dragon had me boxed in completely and would have surely had me for breakfast if he hadn't despatched him."

Simmons shrugged. "It was either him or me," he said flicking a piece of non-existant lint off his shirt sleeve. "Glad I could be of assistance."

"Such generosity. I am humbled to be in your presence," said the Gnome bowing deeply.

Simmons looked at the Gnome shrewdly. "Are you on the take?" he asked making the Guild hand sign.

The Gnome grinned and gave the counter-sign. "Its Simmons, isn't it?"

Simmons was shocked. He had no idea the Guild had non-humans in it. He had certainly not met any while he was Harkold's secretary.

"Yes, but ... How? How do you know me?"

"Saw you once at a Guild gathering and I never forget a face," said the Gnome.

"Well I'll be. I didn't know we had any Dwarves in the Guild," said Simmons.

The Gnome grimaced and said, "I'm not a Dwarf, idiot. I'm a Gnome. We're smarter than Dwarves. And just who do you think made and maintains the Thieves Run?"

"Gnome, Dwarf, it doesn't matter. You ain't human. How come I've never seen you before. I was secretary to the Guild master, for crying out loud."

The Gnome shrugged. "Well there aren't too many of us and Harkold had us keep a low profile. When we weren't working on the Run we did a lot of spying for him and the Assassins. Maybe you weren't supposed to know."

"The crafty old bugger," said Simmons with a whistle. His respect for his old boss going up another notch. "So what do I call you?"

"Basilly's my name and I was wondering if you minded if I tagged along with you for a while?

Simmons shrugged and asked, "Why?"

"I'd always had a hankering to see what else was on offer outside the City but the first thing I meet is a Dragon who wants me for dinner. I need a strong friend to protect me. Hopefully that's you."

"What's in it for me?" asked Simmons.

"Another set of eyes. Another knife. Comradeship." The Gnome opened his hands in a what you see is what you get gesture.

Simmons said nothing for a while to make it look like he was weighing up the benefits, but he had already made up his mind.

"Okay. You're on. Don't suppose you've got any food on you? I had to leave town at short notice."

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asilly and Simmons walked across the plains chatting quietly about their past lives. Simmons was fascinated to find out about the part the Gnomes took in the work of the Assassins and to a lesser extent the maintenance of the Thieve's Run. But his interest was nothing compared to Basilly's amazement at Simmons' story about life as a Toad.

Suddenly a bolt of lightning struck immediately in front of them from out of a clear blue sky. When their eyes had recovered from the flash they were amazed to see a doorway had appeared in front of them. Through the doorway was a shifting kaleidoscope of scenes and shifting colours.

Basilly approached the strange Portal and inspected the runes on the frame carefully. "Do you know what this thing is?" he called.

"Yes," said Simmons who had stayed right where he was. "Dangerous."

"Its a Teleportal," said Basilly looking through the doorway at the many different destinations that each appeared momentarily just a step away.

"Leave it alone, Basilly," said Simmons concerned at the unhealthy interest the Gnome was showing in device. "There's no profit in it. Look I know where there's this nice little Tavern full of rubes and country bumpkins who are so easy to take we'll be rich as Kings in no time."

Basilly shook his head and said, "Yeah, your right. Sorry. We Gnomes just love magic — we're like moths to a flame." He walked back to Simmons but he kept looking over his shoulder at the strange scenes that could be seen through the Portal.

"Now your showing sense," said Simmons. "Easy marks are the way to go, I tell you. Stick with me son and we'll soon have enough money to retire in style."

The pair continued on their way Simmons keeping the conversation going to try to stop Basilly looking back.

"By the way, just how old are you, Basilly?"

"I just celebrated my ninety seventh —"

"What! No kidding? You don't look a day over sixty."

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he Thief and the Gnome entered the Woods late in the morning hoping to make it to the other side before nightfall, but it was hard going. The undergrowth was particularly thick and quite often had overgrown the path they had chosen forcing them to backtrack to find another, better path. This seemed to take it out of the Thief and he called an early stop for the day complaining of a headache and sore muscles.

They had a bad night under the trees. The Thief tossed and turned keeping the Gnome, who was already nervous about the Woods, awake with his restlessness. In the morning the Gnome awoke from far too little sleep to find the Thief burning up with a fever, his skin clammy and the whites of his eyes a yellowy colour.

"I feel ill," said Simmons rejecting the hot drink the Gnome offered him. "I'm gonna throw up." and so saying he did — noisily.

"I thought so," said Basilly shaking his head and taking a sip of the cup himself. "You've got the dreaded lurgy, my boy."

Simmons turned to look at him, his eyes widening with fear. "Am I going to die?" he asked.

"Don't rightly know," said Basilly. "I had it when I was a young whippersnapper. Laid me out for a week, it did. I was told later that some folks died of it."

"Is there a cure?" croaked the Thief who had become even paler with this news.

"Don't know," said the Gnome. "But one way or another the worst of it will be over by tomorrow. Though, it will take you a while to recover completely from it. One good thing. its like chicken pox. Chances are you'll never catch it again.

The Thief groaned, turned away and wretched again. It was going to be a miserable day.

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immons couldn't believe his luck. The stall had been full of bric-a-brac, obviously possessions of a long lost loved one that would hopefully help a new generation keep bread on their table. The handle of the sword had been peeping out from beneath the cloth that had been spread over the table where the items of lesser worth — but more social acceptance for a country fair — had been spread. It had been the work of seconds to remove it while the stall holder had been haggling with a farmer's wife over the price of some balls of spun wool.

A country fair, full of country bumpkins, Simmons truly couldn't believe his luck. As far as he could tell he and Basilly were the only thieves about and the market stall owners were obviously not expecting any one to try to steal their goods. They were going to have a field day. Such a windfall made him forget entirely about the discomfit of yesterday.

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immons woke up when the Mule brushed up against the side of the tent and put its hoof on this foot. He let out a yell and pushed aside the flap of the abandoned tent they'd found and looked out. Basilly the Gnome was outside trying to control the brutish animal but losing out because of the large disparity in their sizes. Simmons crawled out and gingerly got to his feet. His injured foot hurt, but it didn't seem like anything was broken.

"What in all the realm are you doing with that thing?" he said, confused and more than a little upset at having his sleep interrupted in such a painful manner.

"Tis for carrying our booty," said Basilly as he was lifted bodily off the ground by the Mule. He hung there for a moment before he decided that letting go was probably the sensible thing to do. As soon as his feet hit the ground he dodge away and just in time as the Mule turned its back on the Gnome and kicked out with its back legs.

Simmons moved forward and grabbed the animal's reins before it realised it was free and with main Strength dragged it heel's dragging over to a nearby sapling. He then flicked the reins around the tree and deftly knotted them.

"I didn't realise you were that strong," said Basilly, obviously impressed. "Now lad, you are going to have to tell me just how you did that."

Simmons shrugged and with a sly smile said, "I ate my vegetables just like my mum said." He then ducked back inside the tent to tender to his sore foot leaving Basilly looking incredulously between the stunned and now docile Mule and the tent.

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orking together Simmons and Basilly were making a good living off the Market. They did not need to buy either food or drink. Their shelter had been provided free of charge — it being an abandoned tent on the edge of the Market grounds. And slowly they were collecting together a lot of goods that they would be able to sell once they reached somewhere that they could safely fence their ill-gotten booty.

Simmons was a bit concerned that the stuff they were stealing was not the usual types of things thieves in the city went for. There was no valuable jewellery or small household goods made of precious metals. The stuff that was worth stealing was all useful in one way or another. Take their latest acquisition — a Shield. True it was quite ornate in its own way — better than the common shields that were on most stalls — but it was still a piece of warrior's equipment. Everything out here on the frontier was utilitarian.

Still beggars can't be chooser thought Simmons as he wrapped the Shield in a purloined sheet and stashed it away with their other booty. Everything was ready to go at a moment's notice. This run of good luck couldn't continue forever.

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"ow much is that Helmet up there?" asked Simmons. The eyes of the stall owner and his newly hired protector both followed his finger up to the ornate bascinet with the attached chainmail camail. The Helmet's silver chasing and polished steel easily made it one of the more valuable items on display.

The stall owner's eyes gleamed and the hired man's eyes came back to appraise the likelihood of Simmons being a fighting man. Neither of them noticed the small figure of Basilly reach up and remove an equally ornate Shield from the back of the stall. The Gnome gave Simmons the thumbs up and quietly snuck away with their prize. Now it was up to Simmons to make his own getaway.

"Two bags of gold," said the merchant.

"An eminently reasonable price for such a work of art I'm sure," said Simmons hoping his expression matched his words. "Would it be possible to have it painted black?"

"Black?" said the Helmet's owner. "Why would you want to paint it black? Polished metal like that says so much more about its owner's wealth and position."

"Yes of course, but you see my master, the Black Knight — and I trust you will keep that in strict confidence — has a certain reputation to live up to." That certainly brought the hired help's attention back to me, thought Simmons to himself as he continued. "And I don't think, 'The Black Knight with the shiny Helmet', has the same awe inspiring quality, do you?"

"No, no, totally understandable and painting it black would of course be at no extra charge," said the merchant reaching up to get the Helmet down.

"Wait," said Simmons reaching out to stop the man. "I don't have the funds with me today. I am just getting prices. Could I get you to put it aside for me and I will pick it up and pay for it in a couple of days when I am ready to make all my purchases."

The merchant's enthusiasm for the sale dropped noticeably but as they say the customer is always right. "The Black Knight, you say? For him I will set the Helmet aside."

"Thank you," said Simmons looking around the rest of the seller's ware. "He appreciates good service, you know. Now, could you perhaps recommend a good provider of tournament tents?"

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t had all started when Basilly had taken the second shield from the armourer's stall. When the stall owner had noticed it missing he had decided that he would up tent and leave the Market before he lost all his profits through theft and had sent his hired man after Simmons to tell him that unless he could pay immediately the deal for the Black Knight's Helmet was off.

As luck would have it the man had found their campsite just as Basilly was adding the missing Shield to their hidden cache of booty and accept for the intervention of Simmons — who took the man from behind with his cosh — Basilly would have been captured as the Market place thief.

Suddenly the Market was too hot for them. They had had a good run but now was the time to cut and run. They decided to implement getaway plan Aqua.

While Simmons gathered up their goods both legal and otherwise, Basilly went down to the River's edge to where a maker of Rafts plied his trade and the waters of the River, ferrying people from the Temple across the River to the Markets and back.

As it was after sunset by this time the man — who Basilly had already identified as being a drunkard — was already well and truly in his cups. So it was easy to cut the ties on the most downriver of the Rafts tied up along the bank and drift with it downstream to where Simmons waited with their gear and their Mule.

Now came the tricky bit. The Mule would have nothing to do with the Raft or the River and their entire plan looked about to be spoiled as the animal began braying noisily. Simmons, who barely knew one end of a Mule from the other, realised that something had to be done quickly and so thought with his fists.

The Mule was heavy but the same Strength that had allowed him to render it unconscious allowed him to pick it up and carry it onboard the Raft. Then Simmons once again used his supernatural Strength to push them out into the River with the barge pole that the Raft came equipped with. Despite Simmons' complete lack of experience with watercraft of any type it looked like they were going to make their passage across River without a hitch until the Mule woke up and then things started going drastically wrong.

The animal, finding itself a drift on the waters, panicked and started lashing out with its powerful hind legs while simultaneously trying to get to its feet. This upset the Raft and the animal and Simmons both found themselves in the dark water. Basilly, now alone on a Raft that was far too big for him to handle, began to drift away with the current.

Simmons, who could not swim, was not going to let some stupid Mule get away with bringing about his death by drowning. He grabbed the beast to give it an almighty thumping and then realised that it could swim and was heading for the closest shore. He hung on to the animal's tail and let it haul him through the water until his feet hit bottom. Then feeling very wet and sorry for himself he staggered up the bank on the Temple side of the River.

Basilly's rescue was far easier than Simmons'. The bank of the River under the Temple walls is a semi-permanent home to many of the faithful and many of those are equally at home on the River as they are on their prayer mats. All it took was the promise that the Raft they recovered would be theirs as long as they rescued its crew and cargo and Basilly was shortly ashore without even getting seriously wet in the process.

Then without a backward glance at the Raft the two thieves dragged their Mule, on which they had piled all their booty, up the bank to somewhere they could try to get some sleep and Simmons could try to dry his clothes.

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he little hut in the Woods with its smoking chimney and light-limned windows and doors looked cosy and warm and dry. The day, after starting nicely enough, had turned nasty and cold and wet. Simmons and Basilly looked at each other and with unspoken agreement turned towards the hut. Just somewhere warm and dry to sleep was all the really wanted — they should have known better.

Simmons handed the lead of the Mule to Basilly and walked towards the door. He was about to knock when it was opened by an old woman. She did not seem pleased to see him.

"Wadda ya want, Thief?" she asked and a cold thrill ran the length of Simmons' spine and it wasn't rain trickling down the back of his clothes. How does she know I am a Thief?

"Just somewhere dry to sleep, old mother," he said. "But I can see your busy, so we'll go on about our business. Sorry to bother you."

"Casing the joint, eh?" said the old crone. "Well, I know your type. Think'n you can steal from an old woman just cause she can't defend herself."

"Madam, I thought nothing of the sort," said Simmons backing away from the door while at the same time giving Basilly the cant signal for 'run away'. Simmons was not normally frightened of old women, but this one had an uncanny resemblance to his mother and that was real worry.

"I'll learn yee to respect yeer elders," said the old Witch and brought up something that looked suspiciously like a wand.

"Run for it," Simmons cried as he turned and bolted for the nearest tree.

He didn't get three steps before he tripped over his own trouser cuffs. They and all the rest of his clothes had suddenly gotten too big for him. No, he realised with a sudden familiarity, I'm shrinking.

"Oh, Ribbit."

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asilly the Gnome had headed for the treeline at the first sight of magic and so hadn't seen what happened to his companion. Now, he crept about gathering up all their belongings — the Witch hadn't thought any of their booty worth taking for herself — and he also wondered what had become of Simmons the Thief. She had disappeared him, completely, but had left his clothes. Basilly scratched his head and collected those as well. Something fishy was going on here.

* * * *

Driven by the fear he had felt before the change had taken effect Simmons the Toad made his way through the gnarled roots and leaf litter of the forest heading back the way he had come.

He had to get away. He had to get away.

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ather Ignatius sat at twilight by a pool of quiet water and contemplated recent events in the Temple. The discovery of a cabal of priests who worshipped Evil in their midst had been very disturbing to Ignatius. Hopefully now the Evil had all been rooted out and the Temple could go back to being a place of peace and tranquility. That such a malignancy had existed here for so long without him knowing it sent a shudder through him. People whom he had considered colleagues. Well he had learnt one lesson anyway, and that was that you couldn't judge a thing's true nature from its outward appearance.

From the middle of the pond came a single croak as if in echo to his thoughts. Father Ignatius peered into the darkness and beheld perhaps the largest Toad he had ever seen. What a horrible beast, he thought to himself, Can't have that sort of thing here — its obscene. Must have the gardener do something about it.

The bell for prayers rang so Ignatius stood up and with one last look of disgust at the Toad in the pond he hurried away to pray for peace, understanding and acceptance in the realm.

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he Toad was a big brute, and fast. Jon, who had been tasked with getting rid of the thing, had gone from trying to catch it in a bag to vainly attempting to hit with a shovel. And still the thing eluded him with a cunning that was almost human. Now it was hiding somewhere in the shadows under his most valued plants.

What was that? Was that a croak? Sounded more like a groan. Jon turned and moved as quietly as he could in the direction that he had heard the sound. As he moved, he lifted the shovel ready to bring it down on the beast.

Suddenly, a naked man stood up amongst the greenery.

Taken by surprise Jon allowed the shovel to be taken from him. "I don't think so," said the man and broke the shovel over his knee.

For Jon, the surprise was too much and his life too quiet, and so he fainted.

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earing the robes of the gardener who had fainted at his nakedness and brandishing the business end of a broken shovel, Simmons stalked from the Temple. Fortunately for the inhabitants of the Temple and their guards, none of them tried to stop him, for he was in an exceedingly bad mood and someone with the Strength of a Troll is not someone you want to get on the wrong side of — unless you're a witch.

As far as the Thief was concerned, at least one Witch had gone too far, and he planned to wrap the business end of his shovel over her head. That, and get his belongings back. Then, and only then, he might feel recovered enough, human enough, to think about future plans.

Simmons stalked into the Woods following his previous path and hardly noticed the journey; so intent was he on his revenge. He did not even stop when he saw the lights of the Witch's cabin. Instead, throwing all caution to the wind, he marched right up to the door, kicked it open and stormed in, his impromptu weapon raised high.

Unfortunately for Simmons the Witch, whose home he had just invaded, had been outside in the privy. And as he stormed through the cabin wreaking havoc with his half shovel she peeked in at the door and took his measure.

The unfortunate Thief did not even see his enemy this time until after he was once more a Toad, and then he had to use all his toad-like speed and agility to avoid being squashed by his own half shovel.

Fortunately for him he did escape. However, he was once more a small amphibian, all alone in the Woods, and covered in warts. Life sucks if your the Thief.

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he Toad made his way slowly back through the Wood toward the Temple. He could not stay in the vicinity of the Witch for it was clear that she had it in for him. And he doubted that the gardener in the Temple grounds would be pleased to see him either. No. There was only one other place he could go to wait out his curse this time — the River.

Down on the River's edge the Toad, who had been a Thief, looked out over the wide expanse of water. He shuddered as he thought of what might be lurking in all that water. He was also mindful of the dangers that awaited him on land. Very well. He would stay at the edge of the two. That way he could hop into the River if he was threatened from the land or retreat onto the bank if threatened from the water.

He croaked his frustration into the night and was immediately answered by many similar voices; some quite close. That silenced him. He had not considered what he might do against another Toad.

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immons the Toad had sought out a hidey-hole as defence against the unknown terrors of the River bank at night. Nestled in the tight confines of the rock wall that bordered the River below the Temple, he had at last felt some security and had started to relax. However, being a cold-blooded animal he fell asleep as the temperature of the air plummeted, and he was blissfully unaware of the coming of the Blizzard and the thick layer of snow that built up over the top of his sleeping place as the snow storm raged.

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hick snow covered the ground in and around the Temple and down on the River bank ice had formed on the rocks around the water's edge. All amphibious life forms, including our hero of the moment — the Thief — were hidden away in the nooks and crannies of the rocks sleeping away the unnatural winter that had come upon them so unexpectedly.

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t was dawn. The supernatural Blizzard had run its course and now the sun was starting to melt the snow that lay thick upon the ground on the banks of the River below the walls of the Temple. Small children, most belonging to the pilgrims camped on the water's edge, braved the cold to play. Ironically, they made snowmen in homage to an idolatrous practice much older than organised religion.

Suddenly, part of the rocky bank collapsed revealing a naked man steaming with the heat of released magic. The children ran away in fear. Simmons the Thief sprawled out into the sun and desperately tried to rub some heat back into his cold limbs. He had survived the Witch's curse, yet again. Better still he was taken in hand by some charitable people — followers of Good — who fed him hot food and clothed him in humble homespun clothes.

He was grateful to his rescuers, so much so, that when he stole from their tent late that night it was only the clothes on his back that he took with him.

* * * *

Although there was still snow on the ground the air temperature had increased to something close to what it should be for this time of the year; it was quite pleasant as Simmons made his way into the Woods. He had vague plans to find Basilly and get his equipment back, but the idea of facing the Witch again was daunting. What was it with him and Witches? His mother, his aunt and this Witch — someone who didn't even know him — all had it out for him. Were they in cahoots? Unlikely. However the thought did give Simmons an idea.

* * * *

Simmons marched up to the door of the Witch's cabin. It was late, but even so, he was surprised he had gotten so close without being challenged. He knocked on the door and waited.

As soon as he heard noises from within he called out, "Don't curse me, again, please. I just want to thank you."

The door was thrown open and the Witch, hideous at the best of times, stood there looking even more frightening in her nightie and bed hair.

"Whadda ya mean?" she said and pointed her wand at him.

Simmons gulped and went into his spiel. "Good evening, madam," he said and bowed. "My name is Simmons and I am the son of the Sorceress known as Sybil. Perhaps you know her."

"Aye," replied the Witch with a sneer, the sight of which gave Simmons hope.

"My mother and I have not been on very good terms of late and things have gotten so bad between us that she even cursed me the last time we met. It was a horrible thing that made me break out in warts all over my face whenever I tried to speak to a woman."

Simmons stopped and waited.

"Taint happening now. Is it?" said the Witch both suspicious and curious.

"Exactly," said Simmons. "And that is why I wish to thank you. Your Toad curses have undone hers. Now, I'm no sorcerer, but I suspect it has something to do with the similarity of the two conditions, you know ... the warts."

The Witch looked to be on uncertain ground here. "Could be, I s'pose."

Before the woman could get round to turning the conversation to her own benefit Simmons spoke again, "I was planning on getting my own back on my mother; she's trying for the Crown of Command, you know?"

"No," said Witch starting to look worried. "She and me aint on the best of terms."

"Ah. Then you should help me," said Simmons going for broke. "If you could give me back my follower and my gear. I will do my utmost to see that she doesn't make it to the Throne of Power."

* * * *

Several hours later, just as the sun was starting to lighten the eastern horizon, Simmons and Basilly set off on the trail to the Castle and Portal of Power. Simmons turned and waved to the Witch. Basilly looked resolutely ahead and Simmons saw him shudder.

"Its over now, Basilly. Was it bad?"

"She treated me like a dog," growled the Gnome. "Kept threatening to turn me into one, to."

"Being a Toad wasn't much fun, either," said Simmons. "Look. I'm sorry it took me so long to work out how to play her."

Basilly grunted and then asked. "What was that she did to you before we left?"

Simmons smiled and said, "She made me stronger. Thought it might be helpful in getting back at my Ma."

Basilly gave a low whistle. "So, she really bought that malarky about you being the infamous Sorceress's son?"

Simmons just smiled and walked on dragging their Mule behind him.

"What? You're kidding me, right?" said Basilly hurrying after.

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orning found them in some barren hills. Strange upright stones with worrisome shapes carved into them dotted the landscape. Simmons had picked up enough lore from his aunt for the place to give him the willys. Basilly on the other hand seemed strangely attracted to the place. He kept sniffing the air.

"Are you all right?," asked Simmons when he could take it no more.

"Fine. It's just that I can smell magic. Strong magic. Good magic. Hold up," said the Gnome. "Take a rest while I see if I can find it. Maybe it'll be something useful that we can hock at the Castle." Basilly scooted off among the stones.

Simmons stopped and tried to distract himself from the creepiness of his surroundings by picking burrs off the skin of the Mule. The poor beast had not been cared for while it had been in the Witch's care. "Some people shouldn't be allowed to own things," he muttered to himself.

Fortunately for Simmons' willys, Basilly returned shortly bearing a bulky object wrapped in a delapidated cloth.

"So what did you find?"

"Just this cup," said Basilly unwrapping his find. "It's made of gold. We should get a nice return on it, don't you think?"

Simmons looked at the Gnome's find; a nice piece indeed. "You know, Basilly," he said, the germ of an idea coming to him. "This would make a good prop for a con. We could palm this off on some unsuspecting rube as the Holy Grail. Wadda ya think?"

Basilly smiled greedily.

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hey decided that Simmons needed to go to the Castle Doctor for a checkup before trying to sell the magic cup they'd found. He'd never truly recovered from the strange illness he'd had a little while after meeting up with Basilly. And if they were going to try to con people into thinking that they actually had found the Holy Grail, he needed to look as though he'd made use of it himself.

Unfortunately, the Castle Doctor was new, much to Simmons' annoyance. He'd discovered — by secretly reading guild documents Harkold had kept hidden in his special lock box — that the previous Doctor had been a sleeper agent for the assassins. Simmons had hoped that he would be able to wrangle free treatment from the man. However, it seemed that that Doctor had recently been dismissed. Some curious circumstances that involved the Princess, apparently. Simmons assumed that the man's bedside manner had been inappropriate for a young woman of tender years.

Damn the man. Because of his licentiousness Simmons had had to pay full whack to the new Doctor for his bottle of tonic. Still at least it had worked. He hadn't felt this good for ages.

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hen Simmons found out that they needed a licence to sell their wares in the Castle environs he was annoyed, but when the same guards tried to run Basilly and himself in for trying to sell their magical cup as the Holy Grail to an unsuspecting priest he got scared. Once was a coincidence. Twice, meant someone was out to get him. They decided to spend the night away from the Castle to try to shake off the guards and their bad luck.

Simmons decided that they would go back to the hills with the standing stones. This would hopefully give the guards in the Castle a chance to forget about them. He also hoped that Basilly might be able to find some more magical artifacts that they could sell.

They went their separate ways while searching the area; Simmons was too large to get down into some of the holes Basilly wanted to explore. Instead he went round lifting rocks with his superhuman Strength and looking underneath hoping to find hidden caches full of treasure.

And, damn him if he didn't, damn him that he did.

After lifting one especially heavy rock he was suddenly aware that he was no longer alone. He dropped the rock onto the ground and turned to look at the fancily dressed man who now stood next to him.

"Where did you come from?" he asked. He was not particularly worried by the man who was unarmed and looked a bit on the scrawny side.

"You don't want to know."

Simmons fell to his knees with the power of the malevolence in that voice.

"Don't hurt me," cried Simmons. "I'm too young to die."

"I wouldn't dream of it," said the demon an Evil smile on his face. "In fact I am pleased with you. You have found something I have been searching for for aeons."

Simmons looked into the pit he had unearthed. Something moved there — something foul. The being that looked like a man bent down and drew the thing up. Tentacles and eyes and other things that shouldn't exist on something that was obviously alive faded mercifully from Simmons' view leaving the demon's hands empty and another smile on his saturnine face.

"Now. You can throw that foul cup you found in there," said the demon. "Some things are better left buried."

Simmons could not resist the Evil power of the command as he dug the magical cup out of his pack and dropped it into the hole in which the horrible thing had been entombed.

Mephitopheles himself put the rock back on top, then he turned to Simmons and said, "You have done me a service. For that I will make you immortal. You said you did not want to die, didn't you?"

Simmons quailed as the demon reached out a hand towards him, but there was no pain, just a strange feeling that turned to excitement.

"And now I give you a quest," said the demon. "You are to wrest the Crown of Command from the unworthy wretch who now holds it. You are then to rule this Realm in my name."

Simmons gasped.

Mephistopheles smiled down at him. "Do not fail me ... for your own good." A look of distaste briefly crossed the demon's face. "You may now be immortal, but your damnation is eternal as well. I suggest you spend as much time as possible upon the Throne of Talis, for when you are eventually toppled, your eternal torment begins. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, master," said Simmons both aghast at this turn of events and excited by the thought of having complete control of the Realm. "I will rule in your name, forever," said Simmons the Thief.

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cross the room the Dwarf sat idly eating his breakfast. Simmons was on lookout, Basilly was on the job, and even now should be in the Dwarf's room rifling through his possessions. Chances were their victim would have both Talismans on him, which would mean Simmons would have to use strong arm tactics to get them, but thieving was too much a part of Simmons' previous way of life for him to give up automatically.

The Dwarf looked like a competent fighter and Simmons knew that he had also drunk from the Magic Stream and so would be stronger than he looked. Still, Simmons thought it likely that he could take the Dwarf, especially with surprise on his side, but why take the risk.

He turned and pretended to dig something out of his pack as the Dwarf casually looked in his direction. The Dwarf suspected nothing and a little while later — after Basilly had momentarily appeared at the door to the upstairs rooms and given him the cant signal for success — Simmons casually stepped out of the inn while the Dwarf was paying for his meal.

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immons had been right; the Dwarf was stronger than he looked. Still his weight hadn't changed and a quick shove with his free hand sent his enemy staggering back across the room; the fool hadn't been expecting Simmons' own Strength to be so great.

Instead of carrying the attack to his enemy Simmons picked up one of the Shields that was lying with the rest of his gear next to his seat. He was still fairly sure that he could take the little man, but there was little profit in taking risks.

Suddenly, the tavern door flew open. Simmons turned to take a quick look. The Dwarf's Unicorn was framed in the door and was staring at him evilly. He turned back to his enemy just in time to bring up his Shield against the mighty blow that was being aimed at him. The Strength of that blow was such that the Axe bit through the rising rim of the Shield and into his shoulder bringing instant numbness to his arm. Simmons staggered to one side, now very much aware he was in a real fight — if not for his Shield he would now be minus an arm.

TO BE CONTINUED ...

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he Dwarf's offer was almost too good to be true. Simmons mind searched for the trap, but it seemed like the Dwarf really was trying to play fair by him. So, why have two enemies when he could pay one off with a Shield he wouldn't be using.

"Done," said Simmons. The Dwarf lowered his Axe and strode over to where the second Shield lay with his belongings.

Simmons looked round the room taking in the situation. Basilly was cowering under a table — the Gnome wasn't much of a fighter or a hero — bit of a waste of space really. The Dwarf's Unicorn was glaring at him from the doorway. The innkeeper and the other patrons were crowded into the corners of the room. And the Crown Bearer — who knows — at least he'd given up screaming in his mind calling on him to submit.

He got to his feet. The pain in his chest was starting to recede, but he still felt very weak. It was definitely time he was somewhere else. He was too much the centre of attention here. He caught Basilly's eye and signed that they were leaving.

"Well, Dwarf. I can't say its been fun, but it has been educational. I'll think twice before stealing from your kind in the future."

The Dwarf looked at him and said, "I wish you luck, laddie. Looks like you'll be needing it with the Crown Bearer against yee."

* * * *

The two thieves left the Castle and headed up the side of the mountain; their destination the ruins in which lay the Portal of Power.

"You sure about this, boss?" asked Basilly as they entered the ruins. "Where's the profit?"

Simmons glared at the Gnome, but remembering that he needed him for one last thing, smiled and said, "Trust me Basilly. If we can get into the Inner Realm we'll have more treasure than you can dream of."

"Shh. There someone here," said the Gnome with a finger to his lips.

He listened and could just make out the sound of praying coming from somewhere up ahead. His blood ran cold. It was a prayer to Good, his enemy, now that he was Evil. He motioned for Basilly to stay where he was and stalked further into the ruins.

In the deepest room he found them. An elderly Priest who knelt at prayer, and a young girl all dressed in white — two perfect victims if ever he'd seen them. A smile crossed his lips as he drew his Sword and he felt a thrill of anticipation at the coming carnage. Though perhaps in the case of the child he might dally a while before the kill. As if she'd heard his thoughts the girl looked his way and he shrank back out of sight. He didn't think she'd seen him. She walked over and whispered something to the old man.

Simmons looked behind him to make sure that there would be no witnesses and when he looked back ... they were gone.

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hard shove against the sagging wall with his enhanced Strength sent it crashing to the ground; the old man had found his last resting place. Bad luck for him if he was expecting anything more than a pile of rubble to mark his grave. Simmons was just happy that the body was hidden.

The Priest had obviously not been a fighting man. Yes, his pig sticker had left a large hole in Simmons' Shield and almost in Simmons himself, but it looked like he hadn't even thought about the chance of his weapon being fouled. Simmons wasn't a fighting man either, really, but being a Thief he always expected the unexpected.

"Boss? You there?" came Basilly's voice from the distance.

The Thief dusted off his hands and headed back to the Portal chamber where he found Basilly struggling with the young Maiden — the girl was bigger than the Gnome.

"Hey, boss. Look what I found" said the Gnome.

"A hostage," said Simmons and clapped his hands in mock appreciation. "Well done, Basilly. I always wanted to have my own hostage."

The Gnome frowned. "What are we going to do with her, boss?"

Simmons walked over and took the girl by the arm. "Go get the Mule and the rest of our stuff," he sai. "We're going through the Portal. I'll look after this one."

The Gnome looked at Simmons and said. "You're not going to do anything ... nasty, are you boss?"

"Wouldn't dream of it. She's too important," said the Thief and then nodded in the direction of the exit.

The Gnome scurried off.

Once Basilly was out of earshot Simmons addressed the room in general. "Crown Bearer?"

There was no answer.

"You're Good, supposedly ... Far too Good to let anything happen to this poor child ... Well, I'll do you a deal. You don't hurt me and I won't hurt her."

Simmons waited.

Do you understand?" he said more forcefully.

There was still no reply.

Simmons chuckled briefly then turned to the child and said, "You know, I think I might be losing it. But just in case that did mean something to someone you're coming with us ... won't that be fun."

The Maiden just stared at him with eyes that were more knowing than those of a child.

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he Thief awoke from him faint the next morning. His head felt as though it was full of cob webs and his chest ached as though he'd been kicked by their Mule, but there was no compassion for his condition from Basilly the Gnome who started in on him almost as soon as his eyes opened.

"We've got to go back, boss. We're way out of our league here."

Simmons looked around following Basilly's nervous glances. They were still on the Plain of Peril and he noticed that they were not alone. He could make out another campfire some distance away where a horse stood cropping the sparse grass. The Portal of Power was close. Perhaps Basilly was right. More than anything else he needed to stay alive because he'd been promised eternal damnation for him after death.

"Who's that?" he said looking in the direction of the other camp.

"That's that Dwarf who took a piece out of you back at the Castle," said the Gnome. "He's going to try for the Crown, I think."

"Good," said Simmons and then thought to himself, "hopefully that will mean the Crown Bearer will concentrate on somebody else.

"I vote that we head back to civilisation and try to get some sort of ransom for her." Basilly turned to the Maiden who lay by their campfire somehow still asleep despite the ropes that bound her. "You said she was a hostage, so someone must think she's valuable. Please, boss, this place is far too dangerous."

"Okay Basilly. You win. We'll head back to the Castle for some doctoring," said Simmons easing himself up into a sitting position. "But before that I will need to gain some Strength. A brew and some breakfast ... please. I need to do some thinking."

* * * *

A couple of hours later they passed back through the Portal of Power back into the ruins. Waiting for them was a most magical sight; an open book wreathed in magical flames that illuminated its pages, but did not burn the paper.

READ THE DAMN BOOK AND GROW WISE

Simmons turned and looked at Basilly who swallowed and shrugged. Simmons stepped up to the book. Strange figures writhed on the page and then changed into characters he knew. Simmons sighed and began to read.

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immons had accepted the Dwarf's gold and said he would go to the Doctor, but it had been too late in the day to head off immediately, so he'd told the irritating little man that he'd go in the morning, when he felt more able. The Dwarf had accepted his — no doubt expecting to be able to get his gold back if the Crown Bearer killed Simmons during the night.

What Simmons really wanted to do was experiment with the magic the Book of Spells has given him; his mind seemed full, almost to bursting, with arcane knowledge. Late in the night, while he and Basilly were supposed to be on watch, Simmons left the camp in the Portal room under the pretense of going to the toilet. The first thing he did was hide the Amulet; the Book of Spells had specifically mentioned it, saying that although useful the artifact interfered with the casting of spells. The phrase in the book was so specific Simmons had this creepy feeling that it had been written with him in mind. Thoughts of Mephistopheles and free will disturbed him momentarily, but he thrust them aside. He was committed to his path now, there could be no looking back.

The Divination spell that he cast once he was on his own and rid of the Amulet showed him wealth in his immediate future and danger and the vague image of what looked like a Crown. Simmons returned to the camp feeling relieved in more ways than one. He left the Amulet hidden; for the moment it was more of a hindrance than a benefit.

The next morning he and Basilly headed back to the Castle. Outwardly, Simmons expressed gratitude to the Dwarf for his largesse. However, inwardly he seethed, for it was clear from the Dwarf's manner that he thought he was Simmons' better. As they travelled down the mountain side away from the Portal of Power Simmons' smile had became real for he'd decided on whom he was going to try out another of his spells.

Later that day Simmons cast the spell in the privacy of the room he'd paid for with the last of the Dwarf's money. He'd visited the Royal Doctor and had been given a tonic and told to rest for the day. Basilly wasn't with him. He was camping rough somewhere outside the walls keeping an eye on their hostage, the Maiden.

The spell Simmons cast was the Random curse, his target, the Dwarf. This would be payback for the humiliation Simmons felt. He so desperately wanted to turn the Dwarf into a Toad; to be able to have him literally underfoot, when they next met. However, he would just have to wait until tomorrow to find out the result of his casting.

TO BE CONTINUED ...

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he Dwarf was frozen in his tracks — held rigidly in place by the spell Simmons had cast — and the look of growing fear in his eyes made the use of Simmons' last spell worth it.

"Now, Dwarf," said Simmons with a sneer as he drew his Sword. "I think its time I showed you just why Humans are the superior race."

There was a loud whinny from outside and a bang. Simmons glared at the Dwarf and then went over to the window and eased open the shutters; it was too dark outside to see anything.

"Guards! Guards! Murder!" came a distant feminine voice.

Simmons scowled. He was known by the local guards and wanted no trouble with them. "I think your friend has just saved your life," he said sheathing his weapon. "We'll have to finish this little conversation another time and another place."

Simmons hurriedly gathered together his gear. His last words before slipping out the door, "Thanks for the money, Dwarf. I'll consider it down payment on your life."

* * * *

Simmons snuck out of the Castle and after collecting Basilly and their hostage headed out into the wilderness in the direction of the Runes. His thought was that no one in their right mind would follow him to this Good-forsaken place and that it would be the perfect spot him to lay low and and work out what to do next. It was a good plan and apart from one pesky Goblin, which was easily despatched, the place was theirs, alone.

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he Dwarf's Axe had sheared through his Shield and hit the shoulder underneath. The pain was enormous, but Simmons' fear of eternal damnation was greater — somehow he managed to stay on his feet.

The Dwarf had backed away and was wiping his arm across his face. This was Simmons' only chance. He lunged forward putting all his Strength behind the point of his Sword. The Dwarf saw his danger and brought up his defence, but Simmons' Sword went through the Shield like a knife through butter and the blade struck home.

Even in the darkness Simmons saw the expression of surprise on his enemy's face as he staggered backwards off the Sword and sat down on the grass. Simmons, his injured arm hanging limply at his side, used his foot to kick the entangled Shield free of his weapon. But the fight was over; without saying a word the Dwarf toppled over sideways and died.

"Yes," said Simmons and shook his Sword at the sky in triumphant.

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