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.

* * * *

Later that night, Simmons peered through the undergrowth at the Witch's hut. It had been about an hour since he had last heard any activity from within; he hoped she asleep at last. Simmons had gone back to basics. He was a Thief after all, dammit. Last time he was here he'd gone in like some warrior jock and had been punished for his stupidity. This time he would not make the same mistake. And it was all mostly done. He'd discovered the Mule and all their gear in a small lean-to a little distance away. Obviously the old hag didn't appreciate the true value of the things they had stolen. Now the fully packed Mule was waiting just a little way down the track ready for a quick getaway.

All he had to do was rescue Basilly. The poor Gnome was chained up in a little box just outside the door of the hut; he was being treated like a dog. Guild protocol be blowed. Friendship insisted that he had to rescue the little Thief.

Satisfied that the coast was now clear Simmons crept forward to the hut and both woke and kept Basilly quiet with a hand over the Gnome's mouth. In the dim light Simmons signed out what was going to happen in the Guild's hand cant. He was trusting that the Gnome's superior vision allowed him to see what was being said to him by Simmon's quickly moving fingers.

Releasing Basilly was easy. The links of the chain weren't welded and his magically-enhanced fingers were strong enough to open one of the links allowing Simmons to separate the Gnome's collar from the chain. Basilly stole off into the night in the direction of the waiting Mule; removing the collar itself would have to wait for a better time.

Now came revenge. Simmons knew he should forget about it, but he couldn't. Being turned into a Toad twice by the old biddy demanded some sort of retribution. He was going to burn her alive.

There had been some parafin in the stable. He doused the side of the hut with the flammable liquid and then as quietly as he could attempted to strike a spark with his flint and steel. A snapping twig warned him and he ducked just in time as a jet of flame flared over his head.

Whump!

The parafin went up with a huge explosion sending Simmons rolling away with the force of the blast. Simmons, alight and covered in burning parafin, continued his rolling until the flames were all extinguished. The Witch shrieked and ran for her water bucket and her broom. She didn't notice the Thief get up and stagger away; her hut was on fire and the flames were spreading quickly.

Simmons made it to the meeting point. His clothes were blackened and he had lost most of his hair. Worst was the way his lungs hurt whenever he tried to draw breath. He let Basilly help him onto the Mule's back and then he leaned against the animal's neck drawing slow painful breaths in between coughing fits as the Gnome lead the animal away from the Witch's hut through the dark Wood.

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asilly was worried; Simmons just kept coughing and coughing. He was worried because his boss had breathed in some of the flames of the fire during their escape from the Witch's cabin. His lungs had probably been seared by the heat. Infection could set in and that would not be a good thing out here in the wilderness.

Morning found them in some barren hills. Strange upright stones dotted the landscape and Basilly became even more worried when he saw the markings that had been carved into the stone. However, he could not go on. Simmons kept slipping off the Mule and Basilly was not large enough or strong enough to stop it from happening. He made a rough camp for the day at the base of one of the hills hoping that some proper rest would turn Simmons around. Simmons didn't object. In fact, Basilly didn't think he knew where, or who, he was anymore; he kept croaking.

* * * *

Simmons woke as the deliciously cold water ran down his sore, dry throat. This water, unlike previous draughts, left pain-free peace in its path and moreso, he suddenly felt more alert than he had for hours.

He grabbed the vessel and downed the rest of its contents.

"Looks like that's done the trick," Basilly said. "Thought it might. A little magic can work miracles at times."

"Magic?" asked Simmons as he wiped his mouth dry from the spillage.

He then saw what it was he held in his hand. The golden vessel could surely only be ... the Holy Grail.

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he Castle Doctor examined Simmons thoroughly then prescribed a draught from the apothecary. For that he charged a bag of gold which was all Simmons had in ready coin and even that was the emergency money which he had hidden inside the Mule's saddlebags.

The apothecary dutifully made up the elixir and waited for the customer who had ordered it to come and pay for the preparation. The customer did not return, but that night the apothecary was broken into. Fortunately for the apothecary he was not in the practice of leaving money in the store, so the only things that were stolen were some already prepared mixtures that could be easily reproduced.

* * * *

"You aren't going to sell it here," said Basilly. "The Temple is the place. They'll pay a fortune for it."

"I'm not going anywhere near that damned Witch again. And that's final!" said Simmons punctuating his point by bringing his fist down on the tavern table and making all the tankards and platters on it leap and shiver. He glared back at the looks he got from those who shared the long table with him and the Gnome.

They were talking about the Holy Grail. Basilly had found it in the area called the Runes; desolate hills covered with standing stones from a bygone era. It was the Grail that had probably saved Simmons' life after he had been burnt escaping from the Witch. But now it was just one more thing they couldn't sell.

The recent death of the Prince had put the Castle guard on alert. They were looking for assassins, but as a result, all the fences in town were not taking on any new suppliers. And to make their situation even worse they couldn't even sell their goods legitimately. That required a licence. A licence which cost money they now didn't have thanks to Simmons paying the Doctor's bill.

Simmons drained the last of his drink and regretted that he had nothing more in his purse. Looks like they would have to do some more work.

"Do you remember that clothing merchant next to the apothecary?" he mused.

"Yes?" said Basilly recognising the look in his partner's eye.

"I thought their security was a bit lacking, didn't you?" said Simmons taking a casual look round to see who might be listening.

Basilly smiled greedily.

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he break-in at the Merchant's had been a bust. Not only had they not found anything worth stealing but they were now hiding out in the only still standing building in the ruins that overlooked the Castle. Apparently Basilly had been seen by a guard and as he was the only Gnome around he had automatically came under suspicion. He and Simmons had only just left their boarding house before the guards had come looking for him.

And now they were camping rough, again. Simmons sighed and tried to coax the fire he had spent the last several minutes getting lit to greater efforts. The light was fading fast and it was his task to cook their dinner.

"Oy, Simmons! Come and have a look at this."

Basilly was not normally one to make a fuss, so Simmons got up and strolled over toward the Gnome. Basilly urged him on and disappeared down a corridor that lead further into the ruined building.

"What have you found, Basilly?" Simmons called out, not really wanting to follow. It was getting dark in here and he couldn't see as well as his Gnomish friend.

Suddenly, a light appeared down the darkened corridor. But it was not the light of a torch, it was a white light, a magic light. Simmons drew his Sword and proceeded quietly and cautiously.

He found Basilly in a room that was magically lit by sconces on the walls. The rest of the room appeared unremarkable apart from a large ornate door that was set in the wall opposite Simmons. It was this door that had Basilly so excited.

"It's a door, Basilly," said Simmons slowly returning his Sword to its sheathe now that it appeared there was no immediate danger.

Basilly looked at him as though he were daft. "Oh, that's right you can't smell it. This is a magical door, Dwarvish craftmanship by the looks. Its locked, but I bet its protecting something pretty damn valuable.

Simmons groaned inwardly. "And you really believe we're not the first to find it? C'mon let's go and have some food. I'm hungry.

"But you don't understand," said Basilly. "We Gnomes are cousins to Dwarves and I know some of their secrets. I think if I were just to move this piece of ornamentation ... thus."

An audible click reached Simmons from across the room causing him to start.

"I wish you wouldn't——"

Suddenly, the door was pulled open from the other side. Basilly flattened himself against the wall and Simmons drew his Sword from its sheathe again.

"Hello? Who is there?" said the Dwarf.

"Oh, good grief," said Simmons with a groan and then in hope asked. "Please tell me my mother is not still with you?"

The Dwarf and the Unicorn looked at each other and then all three of the other people present said, "What?"

TO BE CONTINUED ...

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immons was delighted that he'd finally gotten some gold for his thieving efforts. The Dwarf had bought one of the Shields he'd stolen from the market. True, he'd been bargained down to only a single bag of gold, but it was still a good return for something that had cost him nothing in the first place.

And now the Dwarf had asked him to accompany him on the his quest for the Throne of all Talis. Simmons had said 'yes' immediately, because he'd realised that there was likely to be profit to be had in the endeavour somewhere along the line for a likely lad like himself. And if the Dwarf thought he was a loyal companion, then why should he be disillusioned of that fact until it became absolutely necessary.

* * * *

"Whadda you mean, there's been a rock fall?" said Simmons to the Dwarf holding his pitifully small candle out to see.

Basilly piped up and said, "This rock on the floor. See how the faces are all fresh and clean. That means it hasn't been lying there long."

Simmons, who was not at all interested in the details, and very aware that he only had one other candle, said, "I don't care about that. Just get us out of here. Preferably to the other side, but at the moment I don't really care."

The Dwarf turned and studied him hard. Simmons didn't care. "C'mon," he said gesturing with this candle. "I've only got one of these left."

"Yes, please," said the Unicorn that could talk. "I would also like to get out as soon as possible. This is not a place I'm meant to be."

The Dwarf went over to the animal and Simmons heard him comforting the her briefly before he lead them at a brisk pace up another tunnel.

* * * *

Eventually, with only an inch of Simmons' last candle remaining, they reached what looked like a door. The Dwarf didn't look very happy.

"Are we gonna open the door or what?" said Simmons throwing down the reins of his Mule in frustration.

"We've come the wrong way," said the Dwarf.

"I don't care," said Simmons and walked up to the door. "Just let me out." The door mechanism looked overly complicated but it was obvious how it opened. He pulled on the lever and pushed with all his might.

The door swung open on well maintained hinges and crashed into a wall. Simmons didn't care for in the distance he could see daylight. He turned back to the rest of the group, but before he could say anything a booming voice filled the cavern.

"If you come seeking a Talisman, are you prepared to pay the price? If not then begone."

Simmons did not wait around to find out who it was that was speaking. Instead he bewent out the Cave's entrance as quickly as he could.

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" 'is a wondrous cup you have there, Simmons," said Daffyd the Dwarf after taking a swallow of water from the Holy Grail. "We dipped it but once in the River and have all drunk from it many times, yet it still has water in it. A bloody miracle."

Simmons nodded and took the Grail back from the Dwarf. He took a drink of his own then surveyed the land around them. Sand stretched as far as the eye could see in all directions bar one where palm trees were silhouetted against the dazzling blue of the sky.

"Do you think we'll make it by sun down?" he asked as he passed the Grail to Basilly the Gnome.

"I hope so," said Frella. "It gets real cold out here on the sands. We should walk on."

Simmons offered the Grail to the Unicorn but she shook her head. He then set out again in the direction of the Oasis walking carefully with the Grail held vertical; it would never run out of water as long as it was not allowed to spill.

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he Dwarf's collapse onto the sand had taken Simmons by surprise. The little man had sworn and looked extremely pale — just like Ed the barman did when he had one of this turns — then toppled over unconscious. Simmons had not been able to revive him so he had picked him up and placed him across the back of the Unicorn and they had raced on towards the Oasis. That was until the Unicorn had baulked.

She had said that the place was cursed; that death waited for them under the inviting boughs of the palm trees. She had refused to go any further and instead had turned around and headed back the way they had come.

Simmons had been torn. Almost he had gone on, having decided that the Dwarf was not his problem, but then Basilly had started complaining about the Oasis as well. The Gnome had told him that there was the smell of bad magic coming from the place. So in the end he had also turned around and headed back towards the hills and the Warlock's Cave.

This was fortunate for the Unicorn and the Dwarf. He and Basilly had caught up with them late in the afternoon looking very dry indeed. Fortunately a drink from the Holy Grail cured those ills almost immediately and the rejoined party had continued on, though the Dwarf still hugged the Unicorn's neck.

And now they sheltered from the night's cold wind in a small defile near the edge of the desert. He couldn't sleep. The Dwarf had gone to his bed early and was now keeping all the wild animals in the area away with the volume of his snoring. Simmons sat on watch and looked at the stars and thought about his options.

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he arrival of a Priest of Good had been an amazing piece of good luck for Simmons, especially when he discovered that the Priest had a lot of money. If he had been less scrupulous he could have made more out of the situation, but there was too many witnesses, and he'd already suffered too many times at the hands of people who dealt with things magical and miraculous. So instead he tried commerce.

Simmons was happy that he had, for the dealing had gone well. He'd thought he would have to cross the Desert to get rid of the Holy Grail for a decent profit. Instead he'd traded with the Priest and tripled his gold and replaced the Grail with another magical item that would have appeal to a greater number of people.

He turned to look at where the Priest was talking with the Dwarf. Beside the old man the young girl he was travelling with played, drawing pictures in the dirt with a stick, her once pretty dress dirty and torn. Simmons had discovered that the girl was no relation of the Priest. He found that vaguely distasteful. Where were the girls parents for Good sake?

His gaze then turned to the Dwarf, Daffyd. The small man was trying hard to put on a brave face in front of the new comers, but Simmons knew that the Dwarf had been set back by the Crown Bearer's attack. How do you fight someone who can hurt you from miles away? Simmons hoped he never had to find out.

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asilly and Simmons were ecstatic. That eccentric old Priest had not only bought the Holy Grail from them but had not wanted any of the Dwarf's gear when he'd mysteriously disappeared. Instead the old coot and the Dwarf's Unicorn had headed off into the Desert — more fool them. Now it was definitely time for them to go back to the City. With all their gold and loot they would be able to clear things with the guild and set themselves up very nicely, thank you.

So instead of following the same path as the Priest they headed away from the Warlock's Cave towards the region were the strange rune-covered stones littered the landscape. Simmons thought getting across the River wouldn't be too difficult. If they couldn't steal a boat from some poor rube they could chop down a tree with the Dwarf's Axe and make a Raft.

Unfortunately, both boats and trees were hard to find so they were forced to spend the night amongst the standing stones and it fell to Simmons to go and collect some fire wood. It was while he was so occupied that he was surprised to discover that he was not alone.

"Where did you come from, bub?" he asked the fancily dressed man. The newcomer appeared unarmed and looked a bit on the scrawny side so Simmons played the hard guy routine hoping he could get some advantage out of the chance encounter.

"You don't want to know."

Simmons fell to his knees at the power and 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. "Not while you can be of use to me at least ... By the way your mother says to say hello. She put in a bad word for you. Told me I should give you a chance to show your true colours."

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. "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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" need you to get me to the Portal of Power as quickly as possible," said Simmons to Basilly the Gnome. The Thief strode back and forth across the grass next to their campfire in a state of high agitation. "And we can't go across the Desert. Without the Grail we'd just leave our bones to dry on the sands. Is there another way?"

Basilly looked up at his boss. A change had come over the man. There was a hardness to his eyes he hadn't seen before. "What's happened, boss?" asked the Gnome.

"What?" said the Thief looking sharply at his companion. "Nothing ... I've just thought of a new scheme ... but we have to strike quickly or it will all fall in a heap. Now answer the question. Is there another way to the Portal of Power?"

"What's the scheme boss?"

"Can't tell you yet," said the Thief. "I haven't worked out the details. Now is it possible to go that way?" Simmons pointed in the direction of the nearby mountains.

"Yes," said the Gnome slowly. "Its dangerous, but doable, I suppose."

"Good. First light tomorrow we're off then. Now give me some food, I'm starving."

* * * *

Simmons looked down into the abyss. Fortunately it was behind them now. Basilly had been right. It had been hard, but doable. He didn't think he's have been able to make it cross the mountains let alone this huge Chasm without the Gnome's assistance. The small thief had known ways and means to reduce the dangers to a minimum. The climbing had been a challenge but it was over now. They were safe.

The Gnome had been a valuable asset. One Simmons had almost lost due to his numerous temper tantrums over the last day. He would need to learn to curb his temper, at least for the meanwhile. Basilly was his guide through this wilderness and without him Simmons would just wander in circles.

He turned to the Gnome who was making a brew. "Basilly," he said hiding his true feelings. "I would like to apologise for my bad mouthing of you. I was scared, that was some pretty hard climbing."

Basilly's frown collapsed into a smile. "That's okay boss. It did get a bit hairy there, didn't it? Here have a cuppa."

Simmons accepted his mug and sat down next to the fire. The fool had been so easy to manipulate. A simple apology and the Gnome was all happy again. Simmons smiled to himself and took a sip of his drink. If only he knew.

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nce again upright stones dotted the landscape, their strange rune-covered surfaces lending an eerie feel to the place. A more learned man would have wondered about their purpose and who had set them into place. Simmons just wondered if they hid any treasure.

The voice of his master came to Simmons just after he'd finished relieving himself against one of the upright stones. Profaning a sacred place — well done Simmons — that's the sort of thing I like to see in my followers ... And for that I will give you a gift. The fallen stone in front of you hides the burial chamber of a mage. In it you will find something to broaden your mind — a book — you will read it if you know what's good for you.

Simmons got to his feet from where he'd fallen. The voice in his head had been unexpected and he'd lost his balance. A book? What good would a book be? Still he wasn't stupid. It would probably be worse for him if he defied his master in this.

The stone was heavy, even for his enhanced Strength, but with Basilly providing Gnomish nowse about levers and chocks and the like they were able to move the stone and unearth the grave.

Amongst the bones and usual grave goods was a lead box which was easily opened, its soft metal tearing easily under Simmons' strong fingers. And within the box wrapped in many layers of mouldering cloth was a book. Basilly was annoyed; he'd expected treasure. Simmons told him to shut up and set up camp for the night.

Meanwhile, mindful of his master's words, Simmons took a candle and opened the book. The strange symbols on the pages swam before his eyes more so than usual and then he began to make sense of them. This was a Book of Spells, the life's work of a long dead mage and much to Simmons' amazement the words made a strange sort of sense to him. He read on.

* * * *

Morning came and with it the last page. And much to his own amazement Simmons was the wiser for his efforts. He looked at the fire he'd kept feeding so as to have light by which to read and then it dawned on him what the time was — he'd stayed awake the entire night.

"Good book, eh?" said the Gnome from his bed roll. "Maybe I should read it."

Simmons yawned and said, "Make me a brew, Basilly. And no you can't read this book ... because, because ... because it's gone."

Simmons searched the ground around him desperately with his fingers, his eyes already telling him that the mysterious Book of Spells had vanished.

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ne of the spell Simmons had learnt from the magical book he'd found was a spell of Divination. The thought of knowing what the future had in store for him was far too tempting so instead of setting out immediately Simmons — under the curious and slightly disapproving eye of Basilly — tried to cast the spell.

Nothing happened.

He was sure he had the spell right but he couldn't check it because the book had disappeared. He tried again.

Nothing happened.

Cast the accursed Amulet aside, dolt!

The thought was so strong that it made him fall to the ground. He pulled the Amulet from under his tunic and flung it away from him and then tried to cast the Divination spell again.

Gold and more gold filled his vision which sparked his greed for treasure. Then enemies appeared, both great and small, and these filled him with dread. But then came the vision of a magnificent Crown. Surely this must be the Crown of Talis and surely it was in his future that he would wear this Crown. Grinning from ear to ear Simmons came out of his Divination trance.

"Basilly. Pack our things," he said to the Gnome who was bursting with curiosity. "Fame and fortune await us. We must be off." He then waved a cautionary finger at the Gnome. "oh, and don't even think of sneaking off to pick up that Amulet. It is cursed. Trust me. We are far better off without it."

* * * *

Simmons vision of the future was at least partially verified later that day when he was able to lead them directly to a Glade in the hills and a Bag of Gold that was lying in exactly the location he'd seen in his trance.

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ivination: the seeing of the future is a wondrous thing. Simmons and Basilly had spent the last evening in the forest Glade where Simmons had found the first of the treasures revealed by the spell he'd cast. The place had had an eerie feel to it and they hadn't slept well, but as his vision had foretold, neither were they molested by the denizens of that strange forest.

That was worth a few goosebumps as far as Simmons was concerned. Mephistopheles may have told him to quest for the Throne, but putting himself needlessly into danger was just plain stupid.

Now he and Basilly had entered some Hills following the rest of his vision. The Hills contained potential danger — a Hidden Valley in which a Giant roamed — but if they were careful they could avoid meeting that monster in favour of a lesser one. And they had to continue on. He dared not get his master angry at him; that way lead to eternal damnation.

By mid-afternoon they reached their goal. The old miner's hut was long since deserted and showed signs of having been looted before, but Simmons knew the secret of where the long dead miners had stashed their hard won gold. It was the work of minutes to unearth the precious ore again from the hidden cache under the cooking pit.

To celebrate, Basilly made a brew in the remains of the fire pit and Simmons listened quietly to the Gnome prattle on about what he'd do with his share of their loot when they finally made it back to the City. The Gnome still hadn't worked out that this was a one way journey for them.

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he bright morning sun made Simmons' view of the way ahead far too bright to see the individual folds in the land. There were ridges and Hidden Valleys there which they would pass through today if things went as planned. And danger. He'd seen danger in his Divination. He hoped he was up to the test.

Suddenly, he heard Basilly yelling for help. He turned to see the Gnome running up from the stream where he'd gone to get water. Hot on his heels was a Sword-wielding Goblin. Then Basilly went down. He'd tripped over something and before he could regain his feet the Goblin was upon him.

Simmons reacted instinctively. He found a fist-sized stone lying on the ground and sent it flying at the Goblin. Years of cobblestone hurling in the youth gangs of the City stood him in excellent stead at this point. His rock found the Goblin's temple and the supernatural Strength of his arm sent the creature flying backwards and down the hill.

He gathered up Sword and Shield and went to investigate. The Goblin was dead. Fortunately, it appeared the creature had been on its own. Simmons approached Basilly to see how he was.

"Thanks boss. I thought I was a gonner," said the Gnome who was rubbing and ankle and looking somewhat sheepish.

"All part of the deal, Basilly. Now go and get the water while I check to see if there's anything worthwhile on the body."

"Sorry boss. Feels like I've twisted me ankle. I don't think I'll be walking on it for the moment."

Simmons glared at the Gnome then shrugged and started on his way down to the stream himself. Looks like they wouldn't be travelling very far today at all.

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he Valley was Hidden amongst the hills. It was lush, green and thankfully devoid of Giants. Simmons let his eyes wander again across the glorious vista. There was something about that hillside ... shapes that weren't natural.

"Basilly, can you see anything odd about that hillside opposite?"

"You mean those pillars and the door ... No. Can't see it," said Basilly. "Now boss what do you—

"What do you mean, doorway?"

"Plain as the nose on your face, to me. You Humans aren't half blind when it comes to stonework, are you.

"Come on," said Simmons. "I've got a feeling."

* * * *

Simmons had seen a magnificent Crown when he'd cast the Divination spell. He'd already realised that it wasn't that of the Realm, but that didn't mean that it wasn't of value. And now here was the proof.

Basilly and he had made their way into the old tomb. There had been a few basic traps the likes of which the two thieves had no difficulty bypassing and now here was the pay off — the sarcophagus.

Simmons reached forward and grasped the stone lid and wrenched it off. It crashed to the ground but Simmons didn't notice. Within the ornate coffin was a mummified corpse. It was dressed in finery which was mostly ornate armour, but wrapped round its middle was an obviously magical Belt and upon its withered brow was a magical Crown, a Crown worthy of a king.

"Watch out Simmons," warned Basilly. "It going to come to life, I bet."

Simmons punched the corpse in the head. It exploded into bone fragments and dust and he had to move fast to stop the Crown falling on the floor.

"No. I don't think so," said the Thief.

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he fact that the Armour and the Crown fitted him like gloves was proof positive, as far as Simmons was concerned, that he was destined for great things. And the belt, even at its tightest, was too large for Basilly's Gnomish waist, so Simmons scored that as well.

Basilly scowled and said nothing, but Simmons noticed his folower's discontent and so to ameliorate the Gnome's feelings passed over some of their gold into his keeping. He didn't tell the Gnome that the chances were that he'd never get the chance to spend any of it. The next day they came upon the ebony-hued pavillion of the Black Knight.

"Hold varlet," said the Knight holding up a hand to block Simmons' path. "Though you wear the trappings of a monarch, you are no King. I claim my toll as is the right given me by the true King."

Simmons contemplated trying to force passage, for despite the Knight' impressive appearance, he felt confident that he could take him; the Strength of a Giant will do that for a man. However, the wisdom of that long-dead king whose Crown he wore told him that any unnecessary fight could bring about consequences far greater than the cost of one piddling bag of gold.

Simmons turned to his follower and said, "Pay the man, Basilly. We have far more important matters to attend to than highway robbery." He then strode passed the Knight leaving his hapless henchman to, begrudgingly, pay the Knight his toll.

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he Thief watched as the Priest, the Girl and the Unicorn walked through the Portal of Peril. He'd seen the Priest pray and had heard the divine answer, but that booming voice was not the only other-worldly voice speaking this day.

Quick. You must strike now while the Portal is open and they are still unawares. The Evil voice whispered in his ear as he and Basilly watched the proceeding from their hidden vantage point just outside the Portal room.

Simmons swallowed a lump of fear. Still, what the voice was saying made sense. Why put himself in unnecessary danger when the enemy had their guard down.

"Basilly," he whispered. "Go and get the Mule. I'll try to hold the door open. Now. Quick."

He pushed the Gnome away and rushed toward the slowly closing door. The superior Strength of his Shield arm allowed him to stop the door closing as he quietly picked up a large stone from the floor and wedged into the gap. Then he slipped himself through the gap onto the Plain of Peril.

He took no notice of the surroundings for in front of him, all with their backs to him were the Priest, the Unicorn and the young girl. He knew he needed to deal with them first before he could do any sightseeing.

It was the Unicorn he was most scared of, but he knew the Priest was the key figure and the one he must strike at. Then if he were quick enough he could use the girl as a hostage against the attack of the animal.

Strike. Now.

His Sword whispered from its sheathe and he leapt forward. The Priest was dead before any of his party realised they were under attack and by then he already had his dripping blade at the throat of the girl.

"Look at me funny and the girl dies," Simmons snarled at the Unicorn in what he hoped was a threatening voice.

TO BE CONTINUED ...

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"ome on, Basilly," muttered Simmons. "Where are you?" The Unicorn was staring at him and the Maiden in his grip was quiet, but he needed help. He ached all over from the effect of the Command spell the Crown Bearer had cast on him and he'd literally had to stagger over to the door post which now supported his weight.

For the moment the Crown Bearer was silent. The girl in his grip was his ace card at the moment. Good was always a sucker for morale dilemmas. He'd known that all his life as a Thief.

"Basilly," he called through the Portal that was being held open by his Shield. There was a strange smell, like the air that presages a Storm, on the breeze that was coming through the doorway.

Basilly didn't answer. Instead the sound of thunder echoed out through the doorway. Simmons had to make a choice, and quickly before the situation here deteriorated. He had two enemies: the Crown Bearer on the Throne of Power and the Unicorn, several hundreds of pounds of dangerous animal, standing right here in front of him. It wasn't really a choice at all. He slipped through the opened Portal back to the ruins on the mountain side.

Stragne, it was raining in the Portal room, but Simmons could not take his eyes off the open doorway where the Unicorn, with lowered head and horn at the ready was looking at him balefully.

"She has to come too, mister," said the little girl. "She gaeased to stay near me and protect me. She'll die if you leave her there."

Simmons could barely hear her over what sounded like a furious storm going on outside, but what he heard sounded good. "Sounds okay to me," he said and prepared to kick the Shield that kept the door open, away.

"No! Please don't," said the girl her voice breaking with anguish. "She can be useful to you. She'll do anything I ask her to do."

Unicorns were magical creatures. The animal might be of use. He still had reservation, but he backed away and let the animal shoulder its way through the door.

"Basilly," he cried. "Where in Evil's name are you?"

His voice was lost in the tumult of the Storm.

TO BE CONTINUED ...

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ven in the Portal room deep within the ruins the fury of the Storm could be felt. Water flooded in through the holes and cracks in the walls and ceiling. Wind howled like a banshee through what remained of the rooms and passageways. And the temperature had suddenly dropped to just above freezing.

Earlier, Simmons had felt the Crown Bearer enter his mind and begin to call upon him to submit. Desperation had driven Simmons to use the last of his magic against him. At the time he had no idea if the spell would work or not, but the casting must have been successful, for the Crown Bearer had gone suddenly quiet leaving Simmons to endure the Storm as best he could.

Now, he was huddled in a corner of the Portal room with the Maiden hugged to his chest for warmth. They were both soaked to the bone and blue with the cold. The Unicorn stood over them both, shivering in the cold wind, providing what little protection she could for the girl. He had no idea where Basilly and his Mule were, but in weather like this it was every Thief for himself.

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immons woke with a jolt from a dream of flame and pain. He looked round desperately verifying that he was indeed still in the Portal room and then breathed a sigh of relief. He was cold and wet and ached all over but at least he was still alive.

The Unicorn and the Maiden were still in the room. The Unicorn was lying on its side — it really didn't look well — but he didn't care. He was more concerned about his own skin. The attacks from the Crown Bearer had become more severe. He doubted he could survive another one.

"You okay, boss?"

Basilly looked as though he'd just got out of a bed — a garden bed — he was filthy. Simmons didn't care.

"I've got to get to the Doctor down at the Castle." He jerked his head at the Maiden and the Unicorn. "Get these down the mountainside and back in hiding."

"What? How?" said Basilly.

"You work it out," snapped Simmons and staggered from the room.

The walk down the mountain side was agony. It felt like all the muscles in his body had been recently cramped — he only just reached the Doctor.

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ack to the Doctor went Simmons. The Crown Bearer's last attack had not been very powerful, but if he were going to attempt the Throne of Power he wanted to be in the best of health. There would be no Royal Doctors along the way. For one brief moment Simmons toyed with the idea of kidnapping the man and taking him with him on the journey, but he decided against the idea, he already had enough hostages as it was.

As the Doctor plied his trade Simmons thought upon what the Crown Bearer had said in his mind during the last attack. He couldn't remember the exact words, but the implication was that the Crown Bearer had known the king whose Crown he'd looted from the tomb in the Hidden Valley. This worried Simmons; who in all the Realm was wearing the Crown of Command?

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asilly, the Unicorn and the Maiden were all very much the worse for wear. They had been camping rough outside the walls of the Castle and had still not recovered from the effects of the Storm. It was easy for Simmons to cajole them back to the Portal room; all the fight seemed to have gone from them. Which was fine with him for he only really needed them as warm bodies.

Basilly, he would be sorry to lose; he was useful. Between Simmons's Thief skills and the Gnome's lore, they had managed to get through the Portal of Power without any difficulties and now they were once more on the Plain of Peril. Simmons was on watch and he looked down at the Gnome who lay asleep where he had collapsed exhausted next to their fire. Then and there Simmons decided that, if at all possible, the Gnome would be the last of his group that he would sacrifice.

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he climb up the top of the ridge had been hard and the rest of his party were just about done in. Simmons had even found himself having to lend the Unicorn a hand to make the climb. This was not much of an imposition and having the Unicorn feel his enhanced Strength would keep her cowed.

Now they were on top of the ridge. His last visit to the Mines had convinced him that trying to go through the Mines was shear folly. The last thing he wanted at the moment was to end up back in that strange cave near the Desert again.

Before him stretched a wide valley and in the distance he could see the flames of the fabled Valley of Fire. Closer, but still imposing in its own way, was a Tower standing alone on the opposite slope. Someone lived in this desolate landscape and it didn't take the wisdom of Solomon to work out how they survived.

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urned out Simmons had been wrong about the Tower. He'd assumed that whoever must live in this desolate place would have to prey upon travellers for their livelihood. He'd been expecting a force of men to sally forth from the Tower all day to demand a toll and had been planning to try to trade water with them as well. That hadn't happened. Almost, he'd lead the group up to the place to camp the night, but the need for water had been more urgent than the need for shelter.

Simmons now sat with his back to the bank of the small arroyo where they had camped. Basilly had sniffed out some water in a small soak in the deepest part of the ancient water channel. It had been enough to keep them alive but Simmons was still thirsty and worried. What little water they had left would not be enough for the four of them and so he'd decided to do something about it. He and the Unicorn were on watch while the others slept. The others ate and drank little, but the Unicorn consumed more water than the rest of them combined, so it obviously had to go.

He waited until the Unicorn once more wandered down towards the soak — the seepage rate was slow — then he got up and followed quietly afterwards. The Unicorn was oblivious to his presence, its mind dulled by fatigue and thirst. He drew his Sword quietly. His hope was for one lethal thrust directly into the heart of the creature — despite his Strength the Unicorn was big enough to give him pause in attacking it openly.

He never got the chance, for a piercing cry made them both wheel round and look back toward the camp. The sight that met Simmons eyes was an unbelievable one. There stood the Maiden holding the struggling Basilly aloft as though he were weightless and all he could do was watch helplessly as the child dashed the head of the Gnome to a pulp against a boulder.

Simmons started to shout out his shock and rage but then stopped dumbfounded as the girl in the white dress, whom he'd thought was the Maiden, turned and snarled at them baring fangs. The creature then reached down and picked up the real child. Not even the Unicorn was able to react in time as the small figure leapt to the top of the steep-sided gully and disappeared into the darkness.

The Thief and the Unicorn looked at each other in disbelief before reacting. The Unicorn galloped away down the arroyo looking for a slope easy enough for it to climb in a vain attempt to rescue the Maiden. Meanwhile Simmons rushed over to the body of Basilly.

It was no use. The Gnome's life had been snuffed out like a candle. Brains, bone and gore bespattered the tiny corpse and small finger-sized bruises stood out on the Gnome's bare arms attesting to the Strength of the creature that had killed him.

Simmons turned to one side and threw up the small amount of dinner he'd had. Despite his devil-given Evilness, the sight of someone he'd associated with for so long being despatched so casually both revolted and scared him. He wiped his mouth and looked about, his knuckles white where they gripped his Sword.

Whatever the creature was, it was still out there.

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he voice of the Crown Bearer in his mind made Simmons jump.

"Get lost, bastard. I've got real problems to deal with," he said into the night as he scanned the high walls of the arroyo for small children with big fangs and who wore party dresses.

Simmons wasn't surprised when there was no retaliation. He'd been coming to the realisation that the Crown Bearer was having problems of his own. Of greater worry was the Vampire so he moved over to the fire and reached down to take a burning brand for further protection.

And suddenly he couldn't move and the voice of the Crown Bearer once more came to him, Now, I'll let you call me a bastard. I'll be back to see how you have fared in the morning. I'm going to have a little nap now.

Try as he might Simmons could do nothing think evil thoughts at the Crown Bearer and sweat into the fire. And sweat he did, from both the heat and the recognition that he would be helpless if the monster came back. The distant sound of a whinny cut short did not lessen his fear.

* * * *

Morning came and still Simmons stood but, it was only the Crown Bearer's magic that kept him on his feet; without it he would have collapsed. His night had been horrible and he considered himself lucky that he still lived.

At first he had roasted from his close exposure to the fire but he'd have readily suffered the heat all night to stave off the darkness that crept in upon him as the fire died.

It had come for him in the darkness. His only warning had been a glimpse of a pale dress and the sound of its whispered promises of forbidden kisses. He hadn't even been able to turn his head away as it had cleared his collar from his neck and put its foul lips to his throat.

His survival had been pure circumstance. The creature had indeed apologised to him, explaining that it had already fed well during the night. Before the Vampire left it had even promised him sincerely in its childish lisp that it would visit him again the following night and perhaps, if he was lucky, take him with her to her Tower. Apparently it was unusual for her to find someone with his Strength.

The rising sun did nothing to relieve Simmons spirits or remove the cold that had descended on him as the creature had fed. The only thing he could hope for now was the Crown Bearer's spell to wear off.

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negative grunt escaped Simmons' lips as the effects of the Immobility spell were blasted away by the punitive power of the Crown of Command. He fell to the ground twitching and spasming in the ashes of the fire, his body racked with excruiating pain. Eventually he stopped moving and to exhausted to do anything else drifted off to sleep.

He was awakened at midday by the heat of the sun and the drone of the flies buzzing around the gory remains of Basilly. He turned away and retched but was too dry to bring anything up. Strength, mostly magically derived, got him to his feet and he staggered over to the waterskin. He'd drained half of it before he remembered that water was in short supply.

Basilly's battered body and the thought of she who had done the damage was more than he could take; he had to get away from this horrible place where death wore a party dress and killed people out of hand. As quickly as he could he gathered together his gear and the Mule — who strangely enough seemed unaffected by recent events — and set out in the direction of the now visible flames of the Valley of Fire. He wanted to be as far from the Vampire's Tower as he possibly could before night fell.

* * * *

The strong smell of sulphur put the Mule on edge and Simmons on his guard so he wasn't surprised when the Pit Fiends rose from out of their pits. The Mule was not so complacent and he only just managed to rescue the Axe and his Shield off its back before it trotted off braying at the top of its lungs.

There were three of them — big and green-scaled with armour and wicked-looking Swords — and Simmons didn't need to ask what was their intent. Which was good because he was sick and tired of feeling helpless.

He sent the Axe whirring head over haft at the first one that charged. Clearly they hadn't expected him to be able to do that as the others hesitated when his target went down with the Axe head buried in its chest despite its protective armour.

He drew his Sword and gestured menacingly for the others to run away. They were a beligerent breed however and came on. The first was clumsy in its attack so he sidestepped fast and took its head off with his Sword. The second one hacked at him thinking it had an opening. He deflected the blow and once more proved that his steel and Strength were better than their armour by running it through the middle. The Fiend fell to its knees and died without a sound.

The Thief stepped back and shook ichor from his blade. "You'll have to do better than that sorry lot, Crown Bearer," he said looking around for other dangers.

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he ground dropped away and disappeared beneath the fire several paces ahead of him. Simmons swallowed. He'd reached the Valley of Fire — something he'd half thought he'd never do — and now came the test of courage. A Talisman was supposed to protect you from the flames. He had two of those, but in the back of his mind were those niggling little fears: what if they failed or didn't work properly, or waht if the Crown Bearer magicked them away?

Simmons swallowed again and led his blindfolded Mule up next to the flames. It had taken a long time to catch the stupid beast and he'd almost not bothered until he realised that he'd left his Potion of Strength on the animal. He'd also realised that he couldn't carry all his possessions and have his arms free to fight in the Valley if he were attacked. Fortunately, it seemed that a blindfold removed all the Mule's fear, which meant that it was either very trusting or very stupid — he suspected the latter.

Now all he had to do was lead the way. He looked out over the flames. Briefly they parted to show him the Pinnacle of rock in their centre. The small dark figure there was his enemy. An enemy that had been suspiciously quiet since Simmons had laughed at him in a moment of bravado after beating the Pit Fiends. That worried Simmons. However, there was nothing for it. He was damned to eternal torment if he failed so he had no choice. He closed his eyes, held his breath and took a step forward.

Nothing happened.

He felt slightly warmer with his foot in the fire but he certainly wasn't burning. He opened his eyes took another step and watched as the Mule entered the flames as well; it also took no harm. Simmons exhaled and breathed in air that should have been searing agony to his lungs and felt ... nothing. His clothes that should have been alight were unsinged. He even felt a trickle of nervous sweat run its way down his back.

"Come on, you mangey animal," he said. "Let's get this over with."

Simmons moved forward and let the flames close over his head.

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eading the Mule down into the Valley had been easy. Gravity had lent a hand and he'd had to spend most of his time slowing their descent. He'd also had no real difficulty leading the animal across the bleak landscape at the bottom of the Valley; there was a distinct path that avoided all the fumaroles. However as soon as the path started to go uphill the Mule decided that this was a thing to be feared and had started acting up.

Simmons fumed. No amount of coercing could get the Mule to walk up. In frustration he drew his Sword and rapt the animal smartly between the eyes with the pommel rendering it unconscious. He then picked up the animal and began carrying it up the slope.

Do you submit? said the Crown Bearer in his head.

"You've got to be kidding," declared Simmons and then spasmed as the power of the Crown of Command went through him. Unbalanced by the weight of the Mule he fell backwards and the animal came down on top of him forcing the breath from his body. Together they rolled down the hill.

For a moment there was no movement at the bottom of the slope save for the kicking of Simmons' feet as tremors rocked his body. Then the still unconscious Mule was thrown aside and the Valley echoed to the sound of, "Bastard!"

Simmons got to his feet snarling in anger. He tore open the front of his tunic, pulled out his Potion of Strength and wrenched off the cap. He downed the potion in one gulp and then started gagging at the taste. But the draft stayed down and when the effect started taking hold Simmons began to yell incoherently.

"Yaaaaah!" he shouted as he hefted the Mule off the ground with both hands and threw it up the slope. He then drew his Sword and charged after it.

He emerged from the flames to find two Mules, one on the ground and one braying and kicking in panic at the sight of him. He killed the foreign Mule, taking off its head with one chop of this blade. Blood sprayed everywhere but Simmons didn't care.

"Crown Bearer?" he yelled.

"Aye?" came the soft spoken but resolute reply.

He looked up at the Throne. Instead of some Wizard, as he'd been half expecting, he saw a fighting man wielding two Swords. For a moment he thought the man a guard, but the dull gray circlet on the man's head was unmistakeable.

The man was obviously a seasoned fighter. He had the higher ground and looked like he knew how to use it. Simmons knew enough about fighting to realise he was at a disadvantage, but his dander was up.

On impulse he transferred his Sword to his other hand reached down and picked up the decapitated head of the Mule by one ear. Then with all this Strength he sent the thing whirling at his enemy's head.

He was lucky. The Warrior had not expected such an attack or its speed and the gory missile struck him full on the Helmet. Blood spattered onto the man's face and into his eyes.

Simmons took full advantage of the element of surprise he had gained and charged. The Warrior, encumbered with two Swords, both equally useless at wiping blood from his eyes, had no chance. Simmons' Sword took him in the stomach with enough momentum to both pass all the way through him as well as drive him off his feet. The Crown of Command separated from the man's head and fell with a clatter onto the seat of the Throne.

His anger extinguished with the life of the man he had killed Simmons looked at the Crown and with grim humour said simply, "Next."

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