Wolfgang Diehr



THE CONTINUING ADVENTURES OF DETHSTROEK & PEHNN


Prologue

  "Reinforce the binding spell!" cried the first mage, "He needs must stay within the mystic circle!"
  On the floor was a wide double circle with a number of designs drawn in chalky powder.  At four corners were small cauldrons of burning incense.  In the middle of the circle writhed and screamed a large, ugly man, sweating blood."
  "I call upon the Sorcerous Scarlet Strands of O'ha'ra to restrain thee, demon!" roared a second mage. "The power of O'ha'ra restrains thee!"
  Within the circle the writhing man became stiff, as though suddenly bound from head to foot, though there was no visible evidence of any form of rope or chain on the man.  Outside of the circle were four elderly men making gestures and speaking in various tongues.
  Keeping well back was a large crowd of beings encompassing many races and species.  Among them was a young human, not yet out of his teens, wearing the garb of a warrior.  The young warrior was clearly agitated, opening and closing his fists, occasionally grasping his sword, then releasing it.  Though fair of feature, close scrutiny would reveal kinship to the man in the mystical circle.
  "The binding spell is holding, but we needs must hurry!" warned the second mage. "Phait, begin the enchantment of blessing!"
  The first mage nodded and began chanting in a strange tongue.  A blue glowing orb appeared between his out-stretched hands.
  "Mon'darc, the spell of resurrection!" called the second mage.
  "Aye, T'oth," agreed the third mage. Mon'darc sprinkled multi-hued powders into the air and chanted.  The powders drifted over to the man in the circle and settled over him, covering his entire body.  "You may release the spell of binding, T'oth.  While the Dust of D'orlok does its work our patient will be immobile."
  "Good," T'oth nodded as he relaxed his spell and produced a vial of some liquid. "Now I can begin the healing spell." After he sprinkled some of the liquid into the circle, T'oth turned his attention to the fourth mage. "Be ready, Da'raiin'jed!"
  Da'raiin'jed nodded as he molded some clay into the shape of two men.  When the clay shapes were completed, Da'raiin'jed raised them high into the air and waited.  After a few moments, each of the other mages nodded.  Da'raiin'jed threw the clay figures into the circle then began chanting in a low voice.  The chants of the other mages seemed to merge with Da'raiin'jed's, creating an eerie drone that permeated every corner of the room.  Slowly, they began to dance around the circle.
  The onlookers were deathly silent as they stood witness to the powers that played out before them.  Fear, concern and hope raced across the face of the young human warrior.  His hands continued to clench and unclench.
  Suddenly, the four mages stopped their dancing and chanting and took a step forward into the circle.  Within the circle, where there had been one man, there now were two...or rather, a man and a demon!  T'oth and Da'raiin'jed seized the demon while Phait and Mon'darc gently gathered up the man.  The man's face lost much of the unpleasantness that had previously marked it.
  Phait and Mon'darc gently placed the man onto the floor at the far end of the circle, and then returned to their fellows, still restraining the demon.
  "So," declared Mon'darc, "This is what the true essence of a vampyre looks like, when separated from his host body."
  The demon vaguely resembled the man it was separated from in much the same way a broken-down mangy donkey would resemble a prize stallion.  It hissed and bared its fangs, but clearly lacked the strength to make good on the threat.
  "Maybe we should keep him for study?" said Da'raiin'jed. "I have a spirit jar that would hold him," there was a strange light in the mage's eyes as he spoke.
  "Too dangerous," protested T'oth.  "Should he escape, he might re-infect his host, or even one of us," T'oth was sweating heavily and his breathing was labored.
  "Better safe than sucking blood, I say," added Phait. "Are we all agreed?" All nodded their assent. "Mon'darc, if you would do the honors?"
  Mon'darc produced a silver-edged short sword from beneath his robes.  "Step back, my friends.  The circle will still keep him in, but we have never destroyed the naked essence of a vampyre before.  The results could be catastrophic!"
  The three mages stepped back until they had left the circle.  Without support, the demon fell to its knees, lacking even the strength to raise its arms in its defense.  Mon'darc stepped forward and raised his sword.  "Back to nether-realms for thee, monster!" said the mage as he brought the sword down.  The blade cleanly sliced through the demon's neck, separating the head from the shoulders.  The head fell to the floor and instantly burst into flames, as did the body it fell from.  Smoke filled the room, and a strange energy rippled throughout.  In seconds, nothing was left of the demon save for the dust on the floor.
  When the smoke had cleared, Mon'darc was sitting on the floor staring off into space, bleeding as though cut a thousand times by the claws of a cat.  Da'raiin'jed was huddled into a corner muttering softly to himself.  T'oth was lying dead on the floor.  Phait supported himself on the edge of a table.  The mage was weak, but alive.
  The young warrior raced to the man who still lay at the edge of the circle.  "Don't touch him!" warned Phait.  "He must not be moved until sunrise."
  "What happened to them?" asked the young warrior, indicating the other three mages.
  "Powerful forces were brought to bare here, tonight," answered Phait. "The combining of such powerful magics take a terrible toll on those that wield them."
  "Know that my uncle and I are most grateful, Dok'tarr Phait," said the young warrior. "I pray their sacrifice was not in vain."
  "Oh, worry not for my colleagues," assured the mage. "There is a temple nearby that will heal them up well enough...for the right price, of course."
  "Your own rates seem less unreasonable in light of what you have suffered through," admitted the youth.
  "Help me place my associates on this table, if you would," requested the mage.
  "I will manage," replied the youth, "You are sorely weakened.  I possess the needed strength to manage this task."  True to his word, the warrior scooped up the dead and injured mages and laid them on the table.
  "Ah, the strength and energy of youth," sighed Phait as he made a gesture over the table.  The table shuddered then started 'walking' to the door. "Oh, I neglected to catch your name, before..."
  "Well, my true name is secret..."
  "Ah, so none can hex you," smiled Phait. "Very wise."
  "Thank you," said the youth.
  "So, what is your nom de guerre?  Something designed to intimidate, no doubt."
  "Dethstroek.  Dethstroek Homingraev," answered the youth.


V'ROGG

  "Two years ye been gone!" screeched the woman. "TWO YEARS!"
  "Well, yes," the warrior tried to say, but the small woman before him continued to rant over his protestations.
  "No word, no coin!" continued the woman. "Poor Murchadh is naught but skin and bones for lack of good meat!"
  The woman stabbed a finger in the direction of a boy who was no more than nine winters old.  The boy showed no signs of privation, however.  In fact, he was surprisingly robust for so young a child.
  "Now I know for a fact that Grimmoer has been looking after the both of you..." protested the warrior.  In fact, Dethstroek had recently given the count a sizable bag of gold, gems and other precious metals and jewelry he had recovered from a cave reputed to have been home to a golden dragon.  Grimmoer promised to deliver the bag to Dearbhforgail and Murchadh.
  "'Twas not his business ta be doin' yuir work fer ye!" screamed the woman. "Yuir uncle has better things ta concern 'im than mindin' yuir affairs!"
  Keeping a safe distance from the domestic disturbance was a gnome who fidgeted and tried to stay unobtrusive.  At one point, his skin seemed to change color and blend with the wall behind him, though no one noticed.
  "Uncle Grimmoer has been teaching me how to be a blacksmith, Da!" interrupted the boy. "He says I swing a hammer as good as you did at my age!"
  The warrior held a hand up in front of the irate woman and signaled her to be quiet as he turned his attention to the boy.  Surprisingly, the woman did, indeed, become silent, though her face showed she was far from finished.
  "Has he, now?," asked the warrior. "And what else has uncle Grimmoer been teaching you?"
  "Well, he has been teaching me how to walk on ropes, and how to open locks if the key is lost, and some magic tricks," the boy proudly proclaimed.
  "What kind of 'magic tricks'?" inquired the warrior.  As far as Dethstroek knew, Grimmoer possessed no magical powers beyond what resided in his various talismans.
  "Like this!" Murchadh ran up and gave the warrior a great hug then stepped back.  "I think you lost something, Da!"
  Dethstroek had a very bad feeling as he quickly checked his belt.  Sure enough, his coin-purse, dagger and small utility bag were gone.  Murchadh smiled broadly and withdrew the missing items from beneath his tunic.
  Now I'm in for it, thought the warrior.  Sure enough, the woman's face was livid with rage.
  "Magic, he calls it!" she yelled.  "Now yuir uncle, a count of V'rogg, teaches me wee bairn ta be a common thief!"
  "Now, Dearbhforgail," started the warrior.
  "Don't ye go and 'Now, Dearbhforgail' me, Faynnus Homingraev!" yelled Dearbhforgail at what must have been the very top of her voice.  The gnome fell to his knees covering his ears with his hands in obvious pain. "'Tis yuir family's doin'..."
  "Stop!" screamed the gnome in agony. "Either stop, or kill me quickly, I beg of you!"
  "Pehnn?" Dethstroek looked over at his friend and saw his discomfort. "Are you injured?"
  "I fear my brain is leaking out through my ears!" sobbed the gnome. "I beg of you and your woman to please stop before my head explodes!"
  Dethstroek and Dearbhforgail looked at the poor gnome and forgot about their argument.  Dearbhforgail walked over to Pehnn and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
  "I knew not that the ears of a gnome were so sensitive!" Dearbhforgail said softly.
  "Most gnomes are not so sensitive," explained Pehnn, still covering his ears. "I am...unusual, as gnomes go."
  There is an understatement, thought Dethstroek. "Pehnn is a bit over-tired, Dearbhforgail," he said. "It was a long fl-, um, journey from Cughmaiin."
  "Well, he should be allowed to rest, and have a good meal in 'im as well." With surprising ease, the woman scooped up the shaken gnome and carried him over to a couch
  "Lugh only knows what ye suffered through with this great oaf." Dearbhforgail indicated Dethstroek as she laid the gnome down on a fur-covered couch.
  "Pehnn is very resourceful, Dearbhforgail," countered the warrior. "He saved my life at least twice...maybe three times with his excellent advice on dragon-slaying..."
  "DRAGAN-SLAYING!"
  With that exclamation, Pehnn's eyes rolled up into his head and the gnome mercifully passed out.
  "What business do ye have bein' out slaying dragans, I'd like ta know!" demanded Dearbhforgail.
  Now I'm really in for it, thought Dethstroek. "I was trying to get my exile lifted, my love," explained the warrior as he backed away from the small, furious woman. "I would do battle with a hundred, nay, a thousand Wyrms to be at your side!"
  "What good is havin' yuir exile lifted if ye be wyrm food, ye oaf!" protested Dearbhforgail.  To add force to her retort, she rapped the warrior's chest with the back of her hand, forgetting that Dethstroek was wearing banded armor.
  Dethstroek, accompanied by Pehnn, had returned to V'rogg directly from Cughmaiin.  The pair had succeeded in destroying Gol'for and his cronies as well as Gh'ahtorr and his gang, and had sent word via Dream-spell to Grimmoer, courtesy of Mon'darc the Mage.  A messenger was dispatched from V'rogg to inform Dethstroek that he was summoned to appear before the royal court.  In the interest of saving time, the duo left their horses behind in favor of faster transportation, bringing with them a bag full of gold and other items.  The bag was of magical construction that was many times larger on the inside than on the outside, also courtesy of Mon'darc.
  The pair arrived at the city-gates just before sunrise very much by design.  Dethstroek didn't want Pehnn to be seen flying up to the city in his natural form.  Most people would not know the difference between a dragon and a drogan, nor would they likely care as they either attacked or ran away.
  At the city gates Dethstroek surrendered his summons to the guards, and was immediately escorted to the duke's castle, along with Pehnn.  Before the pair could be brought before the duke, it was customary to remove all weapons save those used in ceremonial rituals, and those being made a gift to the duke.  Pehnn, as yet, had no weapons of his own.  Dethstroek freely surrendered his dagger, darts, sling, three throwing knives, bow and quiver of arrows and his whip, but was unable to turn over his sword, Madbulaiin.  No matter how hard the guards tried, they could not pry the sword away from the warrior.
  "My sword has been enchanted to never leave my side," explained Dethstroek. "I have tried many ways to set it down, but it resists all my efforts."
  "I have witnessed Dethstroek's efforts and support his claim," offered Pehnn.
  Finally, one guard went in to see the duke to explain the dilemma while the other guard watched over Dethstroek and Pehnn.  While they waited, Pehnn engaged Dethstroek in conversation.
  "Why didn't you just command Madbulaiin to assume the form of a ring, Deth?" asked the gnome in a low voice.
  "I can't break protocol, Pehnn," answered the warrior. "Madbulaiin is a weapon, regardless of what shape she assumes.  Honor demands I declare she is on my person."
  "Has anybody ever mentioned that you possess an over developed sense of honor?" asked Pehnn.
  "I have been told that on occasion," admitted Dethstroek with a smile. "Grimmoer called it his greatest failing in my instruction."
 "It can be quite exhausting at times, you should know," returned the drogan with a smile of his own.
  "Perhaps," said the warrior, "but my word is trusted without question in most instances, so it balances out, I think."
  "Well, let us hope the duke has an equally understanding nature."
  The guard returned and ordered the warrior and the gnome to enter.  The duo entered the Council Room and found that it was full of V'rogg's noble class, all sitting on the far side of a long table.  Dethstroek became conscious of his attire, which was worn and dusty.  Among the audience were Grimmoer, a count of V'rogg, and his uncle.  Lounging across the count's shoulders was an arm-length winged reptile that looked very much like a tiny dragon.  The duke was sitting in the middle of the long table with Grimmoer at his left and his advisor, Count Conner, on his right.
  "Welcome, Dethstroek Homingraev," declared the duke. "I bid welcome to your companion as well." The warrior and gnome both gave a brief bow. "I commend your rapid compliance with my summons."  Dethstroek merely nodded.  One does not speak unbidden in the presence of high nobility.  The duke continued, "Count Grimmoer has explained to me that you were recently in Cughmaiin.  Is this true?"
  "It is, Milord," replied the warrior.  In fact, it had been the duke who had sent him to Cughmaiin, but it was a secret mission that none could be allowed to learn of.
  "Would you be so kind as to indulge my curiosity and tell me of your visit there?" asked the duke.  Of course, it was not a request, but a command.
  "With pleasure, your Lordship.  During my wanderings I was made aware of a black dragon one day's travel north of Cughmaiin." Dethstroek tactfully omitted the fact that it was the duke himself that made the warrior aware of the dragon. "It also came to my attention that this dragon had taken a hostage in the form of the Lady Colleanna Dougal, daughter of Baron Mak Dougal of Cughmaiin.  For reasons of my own, I elected to rescue the maiden by slaying the dragon."
  "Dragon slaying is a very dangerous vocation, Dethstroek," interrupted the duke.
  "Indeed, milord," agreed the warrior. "But at times a necessary one.  I could not leave a Lady at the monster's mercy, so I engaged the services of an expert on dragon lore.  My companion, Pehnn the gnome, is most knowledgeable on the subject of wyrms." Pehnn bowed low, "With his aid, I succeeded in slaying the dragon Tin'dar, though I near died in the attempt.  Pehnn brought me to a mage that healed my wounds, thus saving my life."  The warrior also omitted the fact that Pehnn accomplished this feat by transforming into a drogan and flying the battered warrior to the mage.  "While recovering from my injuries in Cughmaiin, I learned of rival criminal factions that sought to seize control of that village.  When I recovered, with Pehnn's able assistance, we removed the bandits through force and subterfuge." 
  "Very succinct, Dethstroek," said the duke. "I received a report from Cughmaiin that claims one of the faction's leaders, a brideck called Gh'ahtorr, surrendered to Baron Mak Dougal.  Your doing?"
  "My companion deserves more than equal credit, milord," replied the warrior. "Pehnn can be most persuasive when he chooses." Especially in his true form, added the warrior silently.
  "Indeed?" the duke turned to his advisor and whispered something, then listened to his advisor's reply.  Dethstroek could not hear what was being said, though Pehnn seemed to follow every word.
  "Dethstroek," said the duke, "we must discuss your report, and your position.  I hereby suspend your exile for the night.  You will be free to stay in your family's home, but must return here at midday after noon meal."  Dethstroek placed his right fist over his heart and gave a short bow, then turned to follow the guard out of the chamber.  Pehnn, lacking training in court protocol, hesitated, then followed Dethstroek's example.
  "Pehnn, relax," suggested the warrior as they were escorted out of the castle.
  "Hard to do when the duke may be signing your death-warrant back there," retorted the gnome.
  "Oh, I very much doubt that, Pehnn.  We are here at his summons, so I did not actually violate my exile."
  "Then why did he kick us out?"
  "Protocol, Pehnn.  Important affairs are not discussed in the presence of commoners."
  "Bah!  There is nothing common about us," pointed out the gnome.
  With that, Dethstroek had to agree.  He was a warrior with a magic sword that would not leave his presence, and Pehnn was a drogan, a distant relative to dragons, disguised as a gnome, making them each far from ordinary. "Nonetheless, here we are."
  "Do you think your exile will be lifted?" asked Pehnn.  The ersatz gnome was unsure if he wanted Dethstroek's exile ended or not.  He wanted the warrior to be happy, but was uncertain of how it would affect his own future.
  As a matter of form, two guards escorted the warrior and gnome to Dethstroek's home.  There, a woman and a boy, who politely invited the pair in, leaving the guards to take up positions outside by the doors, met them.  Pehnn knew that Dethstroek had a wife and son, but his lack of experience in the midst of human civilization ill prepared him for what to expect.  The boy was excited to see his father, as could be expected, but the lady of the house was a different story.

  When Pehnn regained consciousness, he was relieved to see that the lady of the house had calmed down.  Drogans, like dragons, possess very keen hearing, and the woman's screams in such an enclosed space were more than sensitive his ears could withstand.
  "Pehnn!" exclaimed Dethstroek from across the room, "you are back among the living!"
  "I was dead?" Pehnn leaped to his feet and felt his chest in two places.
  "It is just an expression, Pehnn," said Dearbhforgail. "It means that ye are awake."
  "Your race has an unhealthy preoccupation with death, I think," grumbled the relieved gnome.
  "Are you hungry, Pehnn?" asked Dethstroek. "We have some bread and cheese, here, and we could bring in some vegetables from the garden." The warrior turned to Dearbhforgail and added, "Perhaps a platter for our guards outside as well, Gail?"
  "What is 'cheese'?" asked Pehnn suspiciously.
  "Milk made solid, simply put," explained the warrior. "It is a long complicated process, but no animals died to make it.  You have seen me eat it many times in our travels."
  "That yellowish stuff you cut wedges out of?" inquired the gnome.  Dethstroek nodded. "I guess it would not hurt to try it.  I learned I like bread.  This 'cheese' sounds intriguing."
  "Do not gnomes have bread and cheese?" asked Dearbhforgail in surprise.
  "Pehnn was raised away from gnomic civilization, Gail," explained Dethstroek quickly.
  "In many ways," added Pehnn, "I know less of gnomic culture than many humans."
  "Oh, ye poor mon!"
  "Not at all!" countered Pehnn, "I have enjoyed my life, and few of my kind can honestly claim they assisted in the destruction of a dragon!"
  Oh no! Thought the warrior, fearing Dearbhforgail would again take up her tirade.  Fortunately, Murchadh began yelling, "I want to hear the story!  How did you kill the dragon?"
  Saved by the boy, thought Dethstroek.  The warrior and Pehnn began to tell a slightly edited version of the battle with the dragon Tin'dar the Black that lasted well into the evening.

  "Master, the knight has returned, and he is accompanied by a gnome."
  "This I already know, Ker'lee," answered a heavily sweating human wearing the garb of a mage.  He was tall, extremely pale and lean.  On his face were a number of lesions and violet blotches marring what would have been otherwise darkly handsome features.
 Ker'lee, a member of the race called 'beggan', was short and thin, as was the norm for his race, but he also sported a nasty scar that covered a large section of his forehead along the hairline. "I have seen his return in my Mists of Now.  However, there is something odd about the gnome."
  On four of the six windowless walls were numerous shelves, filled with all manner of indefinable objects, as well as hundreds, if not thousands of books.  Though neatly arranged, the shelves still appeared to be cluttered.  In the middle of the room was a round table, covered with open books and objects of arcane bent.  Above the table floated an oval mirror.
  "What, Master?" Ker'lee leaped up onto a chair so as to be at eye level with the mage.
  "His aura is not right," explained the mage in a tremulous voice.  Absently, the mage picked up a pewter goblet and took a sip of a thick red liquid. "It possesses an odd reptilian aspect."
  "Disguise!" Ker'lee shouted and hopped about the table. "Maybe he be a dragon or sauron in disguise!"
  "No, not sauron or dragon, but something very similar," smiled the mage.  Ker'lee was rarely so astute since his 'accident'. "I sense he, or it, possesses a talisman that allows him to appear as a gnome to the naked eye, but the aura does not lie."
  "Oh-rah, Master?"
  "Do not trouble yourself, Ker'lee," cautioned the mage. "It is a thing very few people can understand.  I will attempt to scry the talisman, and the creature's true nature.  It could be useful in my efforts to destroy the warrior and his kinsman."
  Ker'lee jumped down from the table and danced about the floor, while his master worked at his spells.  "It will be a bad night for the good knight," sang the beggan as he danced.

THE DECISION

  The next morning was filled with domestic chores that Dethstroek had not done since his exile.  Murchadh was pleased to work side-by side with his father feeding the few livestock permitted within the city limits.  Waste management and space made it necessary to keep animals other than horses, dogs and cats at a minimum.
  Pehnn assisted Dearbhforgail in tending the garden and cleaning house, despite Dearbhforgail's protestations that the gnome was a guest, not to be expected to work.
  "I am pleased to see that you are in good health this morning," said the gnome to the warrior when they stopped work to have breakfast.
  "Why is that?" Dethstroek asked.
  "It sounded like you and your mate were killing each other last night," replied Pehnn with a smile. "I am pleased to see that Dearbhforgail did not damage you overmuch."
  "What?" After a few moments the warrior realized what the gnome was talking about. "Ah, well, it has been two years since Gail and I were able to...um...that is to say..."
  "Please, don't apologize, and especially do not explain!" laughed Pehnn. "My kind can be quite...noisy...during mating season, as well."
  Dethstroek's face took on a bright scarlet hue.  "Perhaps we should find you another room so as not to disturb you.  Something well away from mine and Gail's room?"
  "Perhaps that would be wise," agreed the gnome. "I suspect my unintentional eaves-dropping would upset your mate."
  Not just her, thought the warrior.
  The work came to a halt when the guards outside the house reminded Dethstroek and Pehnn of their appointment in court.  Dethstroek quickly washed and donned clean clothes better suited to appearing before nobility.  Pehnn simply used his ring to alter his appearance so as to be better attired.
  "Pehnn!" exclaimed the warrior. "Your clothing is very similar to my own."
  "I don't know what is considered appropriate apparel among your people in these instances," replied the ersatz gnome. "Until I met you, I had never worn any kind of clothing beyond my own scales."
  "Well, we will need to make a few adjustments," observed the warrior. "First, black and red is reserved for warriors.  Gray would better suit you.  Replace the girdle with a blue sash, I think.  Never wear purple!  The nobility has exclusive claim to that color."
  "But I have seen many people wear black and red, as well as all manner of attire on the streets of Cughmaiin and V'rogg."
  "Street clothes and formal attire are altogether different," explained the warrior. "When appearing before nobility, one wears the colors of his caste or guild."
  "I have no caste or guild," pointed out the gnome.
  "True, so you must wear neutral clothing."
  "Very well, I bow to your superior knowledge," surrendered Pehnn. "What else must I change?"

  "Ker'lee!"
  "Yes, Master?" asked the beggan as he bounded to the mage's side.
  "This so-called gnome is using a Ring of Shape Change!" announced the mage triumphantly. "He is using it now, though I know not why."
  "Is this good, Master?"
  "Indeed!" said the mage in low tones. "It is within my power, albeit barely, to change the nature of the ring ever-so-slightly."
  "How, Master?"
  "I can alter the magic of the ring so that the next form he assumes that is not his true self will become the only artificial form it ever assumes again!"
  "Is that good?"
  "Indeed!" said the mage as his eyes lit up. "An enemy that can assume any form at all is very dangerous.  I am going to limit this enemy to two forms only...his true shape, whatever it is, and one of his own choosing...complete with all the weaknesses of that form!"
  "I do not understand, Master," Ker'lee slumped into a chair. "Is he not weak as a gnome right now?"
  "Nay, Ker'lee.  His aura betrays his true power," explained the mage. "A Ring of Shape Change only alters his appearance, not his natural abilities.  I will burden this creature with the abilities and strengths, as well as the weaknesses, of a true gnome when he assumes that form.  Would that I could trap him thus permanently, but my magics are greatly depleted since The Summoning."
  At the mention of The Summoning, Ker'lee leaped from his chair and dove under a table.  There, the beggan trembled in terror.
  "It will not hurt you, Ker'lee, so long as The Summoned is in my thrall," assured the mage.
  Despite his master's assurances, Ker'lee continued to shake in fear for a long time afterward.

  "We have discussed your report," said the duke. "We require some proof of this black dragon's demise.
  Dethstroek had expected this and came prepared.  He gestured to Pehnn, who produced a large bag from his backpack.  This was the magical bag of incredible capacity given to them by Mon'darc the Mage.  Pehnn reached into the bag and withdrew a figurine in the shape of a dragon's head.
  "Milord, this is the head of the dragon Tin'dar, made very tiny by the magic of Mon'darc the Mage," explained the gnome.
  "I can remove the magic, but the head will become quite large, milord," added the warrior. "I would recommend you select a final resting place for it first."
  "On your honor, this is the dragon Tin'dar's head?" challenged the duke's advisor.
  "'Pon my honor, and my life," returned Dethstroek.
  "I accept your word, warrior," said the duke without hesitation.  He was silent a moment, then addressed the rest of the gathered nobility, "Gentleman, I suggest we make this an informal affair, if we are to finish our business with this man before evening meal."
  "Aye," agreed first Grimmoer, then the rest of the assembled barons, counts and lords.  The tiny dragon-like creature on his shoulders appeared to be asleep.
  "Very good," nodded the duke then he addressed the warrior and gnome.  "Dethstroek, you have placed me in a somewhat awkward position."
  "Milord?"  Dethstroek could not fathom what the duke meant.  His secret mission would remain a secret, as the duke well knew, and the warrior had no intention of using his current celebrity as a dragon-slayer to force the counsel to lift his exile.
  "There was a law established some thirteen hundred years ago that requires the crown to award a barony to any man, noble or commoner, citizen or outlander, who slays a dragon within the realm of the crown," explained the duke. "Were you aware of this?"
  "I was not, milord," admitted the warrior.
  "I am not surprised," said the duke. "Only three such baronies have been awarded thusly in all that time."
  "Surely many dragons have been slain by stout men of Orkney," exclaimed the warrior, and then he remembered his place. "I beg thy pardon, milord."
  "Speak freely, Dethstroek," replied the duke. "In truth, few have survived long enough to claim their reward.  Often, the dragon wins.  As such most wyrms are killed by military action."
  "Did your friend take a hand in the actual battle?" inquired the adviser.
  "My role was advisory...um...your grace?" Pehnn answered.  His unfamiliarity with human decorum was making the gnome nervous.
  "Lordship," whispered Dethstroek to his companion.
  "Lady Colleanna's deposition supports Pehnn's claim, Conner," said the duke quietly. "She also states that Pehnn risked his life by placing himself between herself and Tin'dar's flaming attack."
  "I fail to see the problem, your lordship," said Grimmoer.  The sudden outburst caused the reptile on his shoulders to stir and look about before settling back down. "A dragon is dead, Dethstroek killed it, and the law requires consideration."
  "Ah, but Dethstroek was exiled," reminded Count Conner, the duke's advisor. "This makes him neither citizen nor outlander."
  "None-the-less," countered Grimmoer, "Dethstroek has done Cughmaiin, as well as V'rogg, a great service.  We must be careful of the precedent we set here, this day."
  "If I may, your lordship?" interjected a short wizened noble.  His attire marked him as a baron.
  "By all means, Kan'dar," replied the duke.
  "I believe I have a solution to our quandary," began Baron Kan'dar. "There is a law that allows the duke to levee a fine in place of exile or execution for the wounding of a noble.  It is clearly stated in the Weregild Tables..."
"Weregild has not been invoked in centuries," interrupted Count Conner.
  "Nor has a barony been awarded for dragon-slaying for even longer," countered Baron Kan'dar.
  "What does the Weregild Table state as an appropriate fine, Kan'dar?" inquired the duke.  The baron produced a large book and quickly rifled through the pages.  Pehnn, with his keen vision, noticed that there were a number of small bookmarks embedded in the pages.
  "Let's see...rank of the offended noble...removal of appendages...cost of reattachment and/or re-growth...twenty-five percent mark-up for administrative costs..." Kan'dar did some rapid calculations before raising his eyes to the duke. "Fifteen-stone weight of gold or it's equivalent would do it, I should think, your lordship."
  "That is a rather sizable sum," considered the duke.
  "I would be willing to cover the fine, milord," said Grimmoer.
  "That is not necessary, unc-...Count Grimmoer," said Dethstroek.  Normally, it would not be proper to address a count with familiarity, even when related by blood, but the duke had suspended formalities, after all.  The warrior turned to his companion. "Pehnn, if I may?" he said pointing to the gnome's magic bag.  Pehnn nodded and Dethstroek reached into the bag and withdrew a medium sized chest.  Breathing hard with the exertion, the warrior placed the chest on the table before him and threw back the lid.  "Here is a twenty-stone weight of gold and gems, milord.  At your convenience, the royal treasurer may appraise and extract the appropriate fees, if you are amenable."
  There was a stunned silence for a moment as the assembled nobility gazed at the amassed wealth so casually placed before them, save for Duke Bran and Count Grimmoer who smiled openly.
  "From whence did you acquire this bounty?" demanded Count Conner.
  "Dragon slaying, while deadly perilous, does have its rewards," replied Dethstroek.
  "The dragon's hoard!" exclaimed one baron.
  "Is there not a tax to be paid for this?" inquired another.
  "Nay," interjected Baron Kan'dar. "Dethstroek was under exile...still is, technically ...when he did slay the dragon.  Exiles are not subject to tax, as they would be executed for violating their exile should they return to V'rogg to pay them," Kan'dar rifled through more pages in another book. "Additionally, when...um...should exile be lifted, only the gains made afterward are subject to taxation."
  Grimmoer and Duke Bran Mak Dullaiin could barely contain their laughter.  Dethstroek had just proven himself far wealthier than any two nobles combined, save for themselves.  Among the lesser nobility, wealth meant status, and now a common warrior could well enter their ranks and outshine them all.
  "I believe Dethstroek has met all obligations, and is entitled to return to his place in V'rogg society, milord," said Grimmoer.  The tiny dragon seemed to nod in concurrence with the count's assessment.
  "I am inclined to agree," nodded Duke Bran Mak Dullaiin. "Do any have a supportable objection to denying Sir Dethstroek Homingraev?"
  It was not lost on the gathered nobility that the duke wanted to end the warrior's exile, and demanding a 'supportable' objection made it clear that no frivolous argument would be tolerated.  In fact, the duke was already referring to the warrior as 'Sir Dethstroek'.
   When no one spoke, Duke Bran Mak Dullaiin made his proclamation.
 "It is the ruling of this council that the exile imposed upon the knight Dethstroek Homingraev be lifted.  Additionally, in accordance with ancient law, I award the title of baron, with all the privileges and duties inherent to the rank."
  "Hear, hear!" said Grimmoer loudly.  All the assembled nobles gave polite applause, some even shaking the new baron's hand.  After a few minutes, the duke raised a hand, signaling he had more to say.
  "Guldor Pehnn," started the duke, using the gnomic title of respect reserved for other gnomes, "Dethstroek has stated that you were also instrumental in destroying the dragon and restoring order to Cughmaiin." Pehnn simply gave a short bow. "To you I grant the title of baronet, accorded all the privileges and courtesies of a baron, without the administrative head-aches," Bran Mak Dullaiin smiled as he finished. "Guard, retrieve Baron Homingraev's shield from my chambers."
  "You kept my shield in your quarters?"
  "I expected to return it," smiled Duke Bran Mak Dullaiin, "Sooner, rather than later."
  Pehnn was stunned, as well as confused, as he had no idea what a baron was, let alone a baronet, but Dethstroek smiled and shook his hand, so the gnome elected to smile and nod graciously at the assemblage.
  When things settled down, the council was adjourned.  As the assembled nobility took their leave, Duke Bran Mak Dullaiin requested that Dethstroek, Pehnn and Grimmoer remain behind.  With only the four of them remaining, the atmosphere became far more relaxed.
  "You never do anything half way," said the duke to Dethstroek. "I ask for information and you give me a dead dragon and a cleaned out village."
  "My apologies, milord, if I overstepped my bounds," replied the new baron.
  "Don't be absurd, Deth," waved the duke dismissively. "If Grimmoer had not offered to pay the Weregild I would have.  As an added bonus, I won't have to listen to any more of Grimmoer's petitions to revoke your exile.  By the by, that dragon meat and that fine sword you had sent are very much appreciated."
  "I, too, enjoyed the dragon steaks you sent," said Grimmoer, "As did Feer'Veg, here." The mini-drag started to make a purring sound as Grimmoer stroked the tiny reptile under its jaw with a finger.
  "It was my pleasure, milord.  I hope your cousin is not too put out by my reinstatement, as well as advancement," added the warrior.
  "I can say I am not too happy about it," came a voice from the doorway.  There stood Thane Chulmoraiin Mak Dullaiin, cousin to the duke, fourth in line for the crown.
  This time Dethstroek had no difficulty in refraining from drawing his sword.  When last Chulmoraiin attacked him, it was the duke's cousin who got the worst of it.  Pehnn, however, was far less restrained.  Scarcely had the young nobleman taken a step forward before he found a very angry gnome blocking his path.
  "Pehnn!" called Dethstroek. "Chulmoraiin has every right to visit his kin!  Please, step aside."
  Reluctantly, Pehnn stepped back and plopped down into a chair.  Chulmoraiin boldly stepped up to Dethstroek and sneered at him.  Duke Bran Mak Dullaiin stepped forward and placed a restraining hand on his cousin's chest.
  "Have a care, cousin," warned the duke. "Dethstroek is now a full baron well within his rights to defend himself, and I daresay he will not repeat his prior error in dealing with you, should you provoke him."
  "You take his side?" yelled Chulmoraiin, "Over your own kin!"
  "I say again, have a care, Chulmoraiin!" repeated the duke in low tones.  Chulmoraiin recognized the implied threat and stepped back.  Grimmoer had remained calm throughout the drama, as did Feer'Veg.  He well knew his nephew was in no danger from the young hothead.
  "Why have you recalled me from Rennibister, cousin?" demanded Chulmoraiin.
  "I have been speaking to your instructors," said the duke. "Your swordsmanship has improved considerably, but you are still lacking in grace and sportsmanship."
  Pehnn, though new to human society, had a dark premonition of what was to occur next.
  "It is therefore my decision that you be apprenticed to Baron Homingraev for a time."
  Pehnn and Chulmoraiin had the same initial reaction, in that they both screamed, "WHAT?"
  Dethstroek had refrained from commenting, as did Grimmoer, and kept his face neutral.
  "You would apprentice me to this common..."
  "Baron," interrupted Bran Mak Dullaiin. "With a rank he earned, not one merely acquired by birth."
  "Deth," asked Pehnn, "can he do this?"
  "Indeed, Pehnn," replied the warrior. "Duke Bran Mak Dullaiin is the supreme power in V'rogg.  His every whim is law."
  "Fortunately," added Grimmoer, "he does not use his power capriciously."
  "And my present whim is that Thane Chulmoraiin Mak Dullaiin be trained and educated by a man I know to be honorable and just," declared the duke. "Until Baron Homingraev declares you fit, you will be his apprentice."
  "I am honored, milord," said Dethstroek with a slight bow.
  "I'll not suffer such an indignity!" screamed Chulmoraiin.
  "Then I will strip you of all rank and privileges, cousin," said the duke. "I have spoken with his majesty on the matter, and he is in agreement."
  "But...I...he..." Chulmoraiin sputtered.
  "If Baron Homingraev tells you to shovel out the stables with a spoon, you will do so!" declared the duke. "You have been an embarrassment to the crown for too long.  Dethstroek accepted an unfair punishment because of you, and he took it like a man.  It is time for you to receive your just desserts.  Let us see if you do half as well as he."

APPRENTICE

  "Laird Chulmoraiin Mak Dullaiin in MY HOUSE!" screamed Dearbhforgail.  Pehnn, anticipating this very reaction, wisely escaped to the garden, out of range of the earsplitting screech of Dethstroek's outraged mate.
  The walk back from Bran's castle had not been an easy one for either Dethstroek or his new apprentice.  Pehnn, of course, was nettled at the idea of having the thane forced upon his friend.  As the trio proceeded home, Chulmoraiin was recognized by a passerby and yelled out, "Look!  It is Chulmoraiin of the Sinister Hand!"  This invited comments from others on the street, one of whom also recognized Dethstroek and yelled, "Be wary, knight!  He might have another knife!"
  With each catcall, the thane's head lowered further down between his hunched shoulders.  Dethstroek seeing the thane's reaction stopped and called out, "You will cease this disrespect!  The next man to insult this man will face my wrath."
  The catcalls ended abruptly and the passersby continued on down the street.  Chulmoraiin looked up at Dethstroek with a mix of surprise and annoyance on his face.
  "Why did you do that?" asked the thane. "To embarrass me further?"
  "Nay, Chulmoraiin," returned the warrior, "You are my apprentice, now.  Insults directed at you are the same as insults directed at me."
  The trio continued their journey to the Homingraev home where Dethstroek found himself facing a far more serious situation than that of the street.
  "Now, Dearbhforgail," said Dethstroek as he made placating gestures, "it is not met for a Baroness to carry on thusly.  And he prefers to be addressed as 'Thane'."
  "Thegn is it!  I'll give ye what is 'met' ye great oaf of a..." Dearbhforgail stopped in mid-rant as her mate's words sunk in. "Baroness?"
  "Aye, milady," bowed the warrior with a flourish.
  "Yuir exile be lifted?" she said in almost a whisper. "An' ye be made a baron ta boot?"
  "Aye, by ancient law, and with the duke's blessings."
  "Ye gods!" yelled the small woman. "We needs must purchase a new home, fit for a noble family!  I'll need new clothes!  And ye!  Can we afford it?"
  "Indeed we can, and more," nodded the warrior. "Would you like to take care of the lands purchasing?  We do need to have property to support the title, as well as a home with a proper staff."
  "I'll take care o' all that!" squealed the new baroness.
  "Chulmoraiin might be of some assistance in this regard," added Dethstroek cautiously. "He has received a great deal of training in the proper administration of lands and assets."
  Chulmoraiin, unhappy as he was, took notice of his new master's mention of him.  He had expected to be treated as an ignorant serf, but here was the baron suggesting he could perform in a capacity better suited to one born of nobility.
  "Aye, he might at that," said Dearbhforgail guardedly. "But he will earn his keep here."
  "He is my apprentice, Dearbhforgail," said Dethstroek. "He will carry his weight, and more, but we will treat him fairly."

  "Curse me for a thrice damned fool!" roared the mage. "I completely overlooked that magic sword!"
  Ker'lee, frightened by his master's tone, scrambled up the rough brick wall and leaped into the tower's rafters.  The mage, seeing his lackey's discomfort quickly brought himself under control.
  "No, Ker'lee, I am not angry with you, only myself," said the mage.  Returning to his scrying mirror, he studied the image of an ornate sword. "I have never before sensed such power in a talisman, yet I had completely overlooked it yesterday.  There are at least a dozen enchantments upon that weapon!"
  Ker'lee, sensing his master's ire had greatly lessened, climbed down from his perch.  He shuffled up to his master's side, where the mage absently stroked the beggan's baldpate.
  "I think I can identify some of the magics that reside in the sword," muttered the mage. "Let's see...Invisibility...Sole Possession...Searing Light of Truth...Liquid Excess?  How is that possible?"
  Ker'lee tried to make sense of the swirling lights in the mirror, but all he could see was that they were 'pretty'.
  "There also seems to be a corrupted form of polymorph and spell storing, but they are intertwined in such a way that their function is no longer discernable," said the mage absently. "The blade is clearly that of a Sword of Flame Mastery, but the hilt defies me.  I only sense that it came from a dragon."
  "The warrior killed a dragon, master," offered Ker'lee.
  "Yes, Ker'lee.  I know." As the mage spoke, he grasped his stomach and bent slightly over the table, as though in pain.
  "Maybe the dragon changed the sword?"
  The mage was silent for several heartbeats as he regained his composure. "Indeed, Ker'lee.  I think you may be right," he rasped in agreement.

  "You're doin' it wrong."
  "Go away, brat!" exclaimed Chulmoraiin.  His first morning as an apprentice included various forms of manual labor: watering and feeding the livestock, mending fences and cleaning out the stables.  All whilst under young Murchadh's watchful, and curious eye.  At least Dethstroek didn't take Bran's suggestion that I shovel out the stables with a spoon seriously, thought the thane, at least not yet.
  "But you're doin' it wrong!" repeated Murchadh. "Look, if you hold the shovel this way, it won't feel as heavy.  An' you have the wheelbarrow too far from where you're workin'.  Put it here and it will take less time to fill it up."
  Chulmoraiin was about to yell at the boy, again, but Murchadh had picked up another shovel and started filling up the wheelbarrow with impressive speed.
  "See?" said the boy.
  "You do this often, boy?"
  "Every day," replied Murchadh. "The horses will get sick if their stalls stay messy."
  "Yes, I imagine they would," said Chulmoraiin. "What else do you do?"
  "Well, everything that you been doin' today," supplied the boy. "But I do it faster an' better."
  "Hmph!  I would say you have had far more practice at it," grumbled Chulmoraiin.
  "I could teach you, if you want," offered Murchadh.
  "I do not plan on making a career of this kind of work, boy," snarled the nobleman.
  "What is a career?"
  "Work that you do to support yourself," grumbled the thane.  Gesturing at the contents of the wheelbarrow, Chulmoraiin asked, "What do we do with the... with all this?"
  "Take it to the garden and see if ma wants it for growin' stuff."

THE TRANSFORMATION

  Inside the house, the baroness, Lady Homingraev, was in conference with the baron,
  "Do ye think Murchadh will be safe with that Chulmoraiin out there?"
  "I daresay he won't abuse our son...not more than once, to be sure," answered Dethstroek. "He well knows his limits, here."
  "Well, I don't like it," countered Dearbhforgail. "Fine thing for the duke ta stick us with his problem.  We'll wake up murdered, you'll see!"
  "How goes the search for a new home?" asked the warrior in an obvious attempt to change the subject.
  "I can get the land, ta be sure, but we may have ta build the house.  There is naught suitable for persons of our new station."
  "We can well afford a fair-sized castle, provided we have land enough to put it on..."
  "Dethstroek!" came Pehnn's voice from the kitchen. "Come quickly!"
  The warrior leaped from his couch and dashed into the kitchen.  There, he found a very distraught Pehnn.
  "What is wrong, Pehnn?"
  "The ring has stopped working!" exclaimed the gnome in an urgent whisper.
  "Is that all?" Dethstroek relaxed. "It must have run out of energy.  Mon'darc said it needed to charge in bright sunlight..."
  "It has been some days since the sun pierced the clouds," pointed out the gnome. "Look, I am reverting to my true form!" Indeed, the gnome was taller and broader than he had been.
  "Hmmm...I see your point.  Chulmoraiin can't be allowed to see you like this.  Gail might get upset as well, though Murchadh will likely enjoy seeing your true form."
  "What are we going to do?" wailed the gnome.
  "I imagine we could have a mage recharge it," said Dethstroek. "I'll take the ring and see if I can't find somebody to restore its power."
  Pehnn surrendered the ring. "I will hide in an empty stall in the stable until you get back.  Provided your apprentice is done cleaning it out.  I dare not revert to my true form inside your house."
  "Fear not, Pehnn," assured the warrior. "I'll be back soon."

  Dethstroek, despite his assurances, didn't have a single idea how to locate a mage.  He had been away from V'rogg for a couple years, and even then, he had never sought out a mage before he was exiled from the city.  For lack of a better choice, he decided to go to the Grand Platz.  Almost anything could be found there.
  Dethstroek started down the street when something collided into him from behind.  He nearly lost his balance but managed to keep on his feet.  Turning around, he found a small humanoid, covered in thick robes, lying dazed on the street.
  "Let me help you up," offered the warrior.  The dazed humanoid was hoisted to his feet with ease. "Are you injured?"
  "Oh, please, milord!" The small being noticed the fine apparel worn by the warrior and reached the obvious conclusion: he had bowled into a nobleman. "Please don't have me arrested!"
  "Arrested?  It was an accident," countered Dethstroek.
  "Not arrested?" asked the small being. "Oh, thank-you, sire!  Thank-you!"
  "You are most welcome.  Now I must be going." Dethstroek turned and started to leave when the small humanoid ran up to his side.
  "You look for something?" assumed the little creature. "Maybe I help you?"
  Dethstroek was about to say no and walk away then realized the little being might know the city better than he did.  "I am looking for a mage.  Can you find one?"
  "Oh, yes!" exclaimed the creature. "Best one in all of V'rogg!  Follow me!  Follow me!"
  Dethstroek followed the little being at a brisk pace.  Despite its size, the creature was surpassingly quick on its feet.  Dethstroek was near winded before the little humanoid stopped before a large, oak door.
  "Here!" burbled the creature. "Best mage in all of V'rogg!"
  Above the door was a shingle proclaiming the shop to be Amtoth's Arcana, curses, spells and antidotes.  Dethstroek smiled at the memory that not so long ago he would not have been able to read the shingle.  I am again in your debt, Geordus, thought the warrior as he entered the shop.
  Dethstroek did not know what to expect, but was disappointed at what he saw.  Instead of all manner of arcane bric-a-brac, there were only bare walls, a table and two chairs.  In one of the chairs was a robed man, or so the warrior assumed, as the hood and thick wool obscured the persons face and gender.  Mon'darc's abode was more impressive by far, thought the warrior recalling his visit to Cughmaiin's resident mage.
  "You are Amtoth the Mage?"
  The hooded head nodded once.
  "Can you recharge magical talismans?"
  Another nod.
  "Can you recharge this ring?"
  Nod.
  Dethstroek was getting annoyed at the silent treatment he was receiving, but he wanted the ring recharged for Pehnn.  He held out the ring and a gloved hand reached out of the robes and snatched it up.  Silently, the robed mage stood up and walked out of the room through a door that Dethstroek had failed to notice before.  After a few minutes the warrior was about to go through the door himself when the robed mage returned.  Amtoth held out the ring and Dethstroek collected it.
  "How much do I owe you?"
  The mage drew a number in the air with a glowing finger: Thirty Midans.  Dethstroek paid the mage and departed.  Had he possessed Pehnn's inhumanly keen ears he might have heard the sounds of laughter behind him as he walked down the street.

  "Here you are, Pehnn.  Fresh from the wizard."
  Pehnn reached out a hand that sported amazingly long fingernails, as well as a number of scales.  The ersatz gnome was fully a head taller since Dethstroek saw him last.  Fortunately Pehnn, true to his word, had hid himself in an empty stall in the stable, where Chulmoraiin and Dearbhforgail did not see his slow transformation.
  Pehnn placed his ring back on his finger and willed himself back into his natural form.
  "Aaaaah!" breathed the drogan. "It is soooo nice to be able to stretch out in my normal body again!  I haven't been myself since we flew in from Cughmaiin.  Literally."
  "Wow!"
  Drogan and warrior both turned their heads in the direction of the new voice.  It was Murchadh, eyes wide and mouth agape.  He ran over to the drogan and ran a hand across the chest, feeling the cool scales.
  "Are you a dragon?" asked the boy in wonderment.
  "Drogan," replied Dethstroek and Pehnn together.  Murchadh stepped back and appraised the drogan anew.
  "You have Pehnn's voice!" accused the boy. "You're Pehnn!"
  "At your service," said Pehnn as he lowered his head in a long, serpentine bow.
  "Pehnn is very friendly, Murchadh," added Dethstroek.
  "Oh, I know that, father!" retorted the boy. "He has been very helpful here and mother likes him and you said he helped you slay a real dragon and the duke made him a baronet and..."
  "Yes," interrupted the warrior, "we know how friendly and helpful Pehnn is, Murchadh."
  "Did you use magic to change into a gnome?  Or are you a gnome that changes into a dra-, um, drogan?"
  "I am a real live drogan," nodded Pehnn.
  "Can you change into anything else?"
  "Well, I was a dwarf, a human, an ork-kin, and even a bird," related Pehnn.
  "Can you breathe fire?" Murchadh was jumping up and down at the idea of the drogan spitting flame.
  "He can, but I would rather he did not do so in the stable," said Dethstroek firmly.
  "Well, if you can become anything you want, why do you become such a small person?" asked the boy. "Why not be a real big strong human, or a dwarf?"
  "Well, I am used to being a gnome, and many people know me as such, now," replied Pehnn.
  "Then, why not be the biggest, strongest, bestest gnome you can be?" countered Murchadh. "Like my da is the biggest strongest man in all of V'rogg!"  Dethstroek blushed slightly at the boys comment.
  "I am still the same person, no matter my appearance," replied the drogan.
  "Could you show me?" asked the boy. "Become a real big strong gnome!"
  Pehnn and Dethstroek glanced at each other then shrugged.  What harm would it do to indulge the boy?  Pehnn closed his eyes and envisioned himself becoming a gnomic hero, broad of shoulder and thickly muscled, the height of gnomic physical perfection.
  Murchadh's eyes became even wider than before as the massive drogan shrank down from three times the length and breadth of a large horse to the size of a gnome, albeit a larger than average specimen of that race.
  "Pehnn!" laughed the warrior. "You forgot thine apparel!"
  Indeed, the gnome was now bereft of any covering.  "Oh!  I'll fix that." Pehnn again closed his eyes and willed the ring to provide him with clothing.
  Nothing happened.
  "It didn't work, Pehnn!" exclaimed Dethstroek. "Try to revert to your natural state."
  Pehnn did so and instantly returned to his reptilian form.
  "Go back to the form I first met you as," suggested the warrior.  Pehnn willed the ring to do as the warrior asked, but instead took on the shape of the impressive gnomic form, again bereft of attire.
  "The ring seems unable to restore my old appearance," grumbled Pehnn.
  "Can you achieve any other shape?" asked Dethstroek.
  Pehnn willed the ring to transform him into the dwarf-shape he used in Cughmaiin, but to no avail. "I can't become Kwihll, either!"
  "So you can only take on this new gnomic shape, and your natural form?  I suspect your ring has been tampered with, Pehnn."
  Pehnn resumed his new gnomic form.
  "So he has to stay like this, or as a drogan?" asked Murchadh.  "Is that bad?"
  "Yes, Murchadh, it is," said the warrior. "Pehnn is known for how he looked before.  This transformation could raise questions in the royal court."
    
  Chulmoraiin was undecided if he should be angry, annoyed, or excited.  He was unaccustomed to being treated as though he were a mere commoner, having been raised with privilege and power.  Now he was being ordered about like a serf.  Moreover, he was apprenticed to the man that had cut off his good right hand!  Granted, Chulmoraiin did challenge Dethstroek to a duel, but the warrior had embarrassed him by punching him in the nose.  Dethstroek didn't even bother to draw a weapon!
  "That will be three Banes."
  Startled from his reverie, Chulmoraiin fumbled out the three silver coins and paid the shopkeeper.  Yet another indignity was that he was sent to buy bread and cheese at the market.  In his entire life he never had to purchase food for himself, let alone for others.  He was not even using his own money, as the duke had stripped him of his funds.  No, that woman of Dethstroek's gave him a small purse of coins and told him what to get.
  It was insulting!  Degrading! Humiliating!
  Yet, he had to admit that he was treated with a degree of respect.  Dethstroek was within his rights to order Chulmoraiin to do the most demeaning of menial tasks, yet he was only instructed to perform those tasks needed in any common household.  The warrior's own son performed all the same duties, save going to market, that the young thane was being instructed to do.
  Chulmoraiin recalled his attempt to stab the warrior in the back when he regained his senses.  Dethstroek could have killed him and maybe even escaped punishment, yet he had only cut off his right hand.
  It was infuriating!
  Chulmoraiin fumed and mentally ranted all the way back to Dethstroek's abode.  For no special reason he elected to enter through the back door, what he thought of as the servant's entrance.  This required him to walk through a gate to the courtyard behind the house past the stables.  As he made his way past the stables he heard some excited talking.  Slowing down to look through the doors, he thought he saw a flash of gold, but it vanished before he could be sure.  He could hear Dethstroek, Pehnn and Murchadh speaking, but not well enough to understand what they were saying.  Slowly, he moved to a position that allowed him to hear better.
  "Do I look so much different?" came the gnome's voice.
  "In face, not so much," came Dethstroek's voice. "But you stand more than a hand-span taller than before, and possess the build of a warrior, whereas before you looked much like a scribe."
  "What can we do?" asked the nervous gnome.
  Dethstroek turned to his son. "Murchadh, give Pehnn your tunic. Pehnn, we will have to tell Dearbhforgail and Grimmoer our secret.  Where is Chulmoraiin?"
  "Ma sent him to market," said Murchadh. "He should be back soon."
  "Excellent!  Now, go into the house, quickly, both of you.  There is much to do."
  Chulmoraiin quickly moved backwards, closer to the gate.  When the trio exited the stable, he moved forward and announced himself.  "I have returned from the market, Master."  Chulmoraiin was so flustered he forgot to use a disdainful tone.
  "Very good, Chulmoraiin," replied Dethstroek. "If Dearbhforgail has no further need of assistance, you may take the balance of the day for yourself."
  "Thank-you, Master," Chulmoraiin replied.  He followed the trio into the house and set his bundles down on a table.  Absently, he put the items on the shelves Dearbhforgail had shown him the day before.
  The gnome was somehow different, thought the duke's cousin.  He somehow seemed to be taller, to be certain, but in other ways as well.  Chulmoraiin had not given the gnome much attention since his arrival in the Homingraev home, but he was certain the gnome was somehow changed beyond his added height.  Then there was the matter of the gnome's attire.  What had happened to his clothes?  Dearbhforgail's sudden entrance disrupted the apprentice's thoughts.
  "Ye put the groceries away already, have ye?" noticed the Lady.  "Well, if that oaf of a husband of mine has no need fer ye, ye are free for the rest of the day.  Be off with ye, but stay out o' trouble, laddie."
  It was like Dethstroek and Dearbhforgail shared the same thoughts!  Chulmoraiin was still curious about the gnome and what Dethstroek's 'secret' was, and intended to spy on the little family, but the lot of them were at the far end of the living room speaking too low too be heard.  After a few moments, Dethstroek tuned, saw Chulmoraiin, and said: "We will be visiting Count Homingraev.  Do not expect us back for supper, and get plenty of sleep as tomorrow will be a busy day." The warrior fumbled out a few gold coins. "Get something to eat in the city, and tip the tavern maid well."
  Chulmoraiin nodded and watched as the baron, lady, baronet and boy quickly exited.  As much as Chulmoraiin wanted to follow and spy on them, he knew better than to attempt a stealthy entrance to Count Grimmoer Homingraev's abode.  Even the Thieves Guild gave that place a wide birth.  It was said that the Count was once a warrior-rogue, and knew well how to guard his home.  No matter.  Chulmoraiin was likely going to be in Dethstroek's home for a good long while, giving him a great deal of time to ferret out any secrets therein.

COUNT GRIMMOER

  "Then you are not a true gnome at all?"  Grimmoer had sat through all the long explanation of Pehnn's true nature and how he met Dethstroek.  As always, the mini-drag was perched upon the count's broad shoulders.  Dearbhforgail was equally shocked; as this was the first time she had heard the tale as well.  In fact, she was stunned silent, a rare thing indeed!
  "Nay, your Countness," confirmed Pehnn.
  "May I see you in you natural form?" inquired Grimmoer. "If it will not be inconvenient."
  "Well, the room is large enough," observed Pehnn, "Though I won't be able to open my wings."
  "Wait!" called Murchadh. "My tunic will be ruined!"
  Pehnn removed the tunic and returned it to the boy, then willed his ring to slowly return him to his true shape.  Once again the hair and small beard faded away, then his body increased in length and girth.  His face expanded and grew a long serpentine muzzle that sprouted long, sharp teeth.  The short, stubby fingers grew to long sharp talons.  The back sprouted leathery wings, then a long whip-like tail.  Golden hued scales grew out of bare flesh.  When the transformation was complete, Pehnn was again revealed as his true self, a Pyrite Drogan.
  Dearbhforgail fainted.
  Murchadh cheered.
  Grimmoer stared.
  Dethstroek smiled.
  Feer'Veg flapped his wings in agitation.
  Pehnn bowed low and allowed a tiny flicker of flame to escape his muzzle.
  Finally, Grimmoer spoke. "You almost look like a true dragon, Pehnn."
  "Almost?" said Dearbhforgail as she regained consciousness. "He bloody well looks like a dragon ta me!"
  "The eyes are wrong," countered the count. "If you look at Feer'Veg, my toy pygmy dragon, you can see his eyes are set forward in his head, like most predatory creatures.  And Pehnn is much smaller than most dragons I have seen."
  "Yours is a very discriminating eye, your count-ship," said the drogan.
  "Uncle," cut in the warrior, "the problem is that his ring no longer functions as it should."
  "How do you mean, Faynnus?" asked the count, using Dethstroek's true name.
  "You saw his original gnomic shape.  Now he is limited to this new form, and his natural shape."
  "Ah," agreed Grimmoer. "It will raise questions to be seen now."
  "Is there any mage in your employ who can repair the enchantment on the ring?" asked the warrior.
  "Not at this time.  My current wizard only does minor to medium enchantments on talismans." Grimmoer thought for a moment, then said, "What of this Amtoth that recharged the ring?"
  "We went by his shop on the way here," replied the warrior, "The building was abandoned."
  "It would seem you have a secret enemy, Faynnus," observed the count, "either you or Pehnn."
  "Aye, though I know not who or why," grimaced the warrior.
  "It may be the same person that warned Tin'dar, Gh'ahtorr and Gol'for of your arrival in Cughmaiin," suggested the gnome.
  "Gol'for?" said Grimmoer, his head jerking in Pehnn's direction.
  "Aye, uncle." Dethstroek told the count of Gol'for's resurrection as a sort of flesh golem and his second death at the warrior's hands.
  "My apologies, Grimmoer," said the gnome, "I had forgotten your history with the ork chieftain."
  "It is no longer important, Pehnn," replied the count with a dismissive gesture. "What matters now is finding out who this hidden foe could be."
  "We need some way to explain Pehnn's transformation while I try to find out," said Dethstroek.
  "Why?" asked Dearbhforgail, "Can he not just return ta his own kind?"
  "I could," cut in the drogan, "but it was my wish to study mankind and his culture."
  "I can get a talisman that will allow Pehnn to conjure up clothing when he transforms," offered the count. "It will save him the cost of constant replacement."
  "But how do we explain his height and build?" Dethstroek began to pace back and forth. "While he has no onus to remain, it would seem odd if one gnome left and another took his place."
  "Why?" asked Pehnn.
  "Because gnomes are rare in these parts," supplied Grimmoer.
  "Why explain it at all?" inquired Dearbhforgail. "Few have seen him, an' most of those that have tend ta look down on everybody." Meaning the assembled nobility of V'rogg. "Make him an apprentice, like Chulmoraiin.  A few weeks o' yuir training would explain his physical development.  As fer his height, just say his posture has improved."
  Drogan, count and baron looked at each other, then at Dearbhforgail.
  "Don't be lookin' at me like that," she said. "Ye men always make things more difficult than need be.  'Tis we women-folk that have ta straighten ye out!  Now get that clothing talisman fer Pehnn so he can get back ta a size better suited for the room."
  Grimmoer smiled and bowed low to the Lady. "As you wish, oh wise woman." To Dethstroek he said with a wink, "I see why you married her."

  "Ker'lee!"
  "Yes, master?" The beggan quickly scampered over to the mage.
  "My magics tell me that there is a bag of great volume, or the like, in the home of Dethstroek's family," said the mage. "I would like for you to get this bag and bring it to me."
  "Won't the knight catch me?" asked Ker'lee.  Dethstroek and his strange companion frightened the beggan.
  "I have learned that they have left the house," answered the mage, " taking even the boy with them.  You should be safe enough, if you are quick."
  "Bag not hurt Ker'lee?"
  "No, there are no traps or wards on the house or bag that I can find.  It should be safe enough."
  "Why do you want the bag, master?"
  "Such bags are often used to transport great wealth," said the mage. "I could make good use of any treasure we might find within."
  Ker'lee, briefly distracted by a roach scrambling across the floor simply nodded.
  "It is almost dark," observed the mage. "This is the best time for you to get started on your way.  If you wait too long, the Homingraev's might return and discover you."
  "Yes, master."  The beggan scrambled across the floor, snatched up the roach and popped it into his mouth.  Crunching contentedly on his morsel, Ker'lee walked out the door.

THIEF

  Chulmoraiin was quick to take advantage of the Homingraev family's departure.  The door barely had time to close before the young man raced down the hall to Pehnn's room.  Chulmoraiin slipped into the medium-sized room, small compared to what he was used to, and carefully looked about.  The chest was completely empty of clothing or personal items.  In the wardrobe was only a large bag.
  Chulmoraiin was aware of many types of traps, magical and mundane, that could be on such a bag.  He had watched Dethstroek pull a heavy chest full of gold out of the bag at his cousin's castle, and suspected some form of protective spell would be placed on it.  Chulmoraiin recalled that Dethstroek requested the gnome's permission before reaching into the bag.  Was that courtesy, or caution?
  Rather than reach into the bag, Chulmoraiin closed the wardrobe door and backed away.  He had little experience with magic and was justifiably fearful of it.  Granted, he owed the restoration of his right hand to sorcery, but that only served to reinforce his respect for the arcane arts.  Besides, down deep Chulmoraiin was loath to act like a common thief.  Dethstroek's reaction if he were caught was also no small consideration.  Some nobles cut off the hands of serfs that stole from them.  Chulmoraiin, better than anybody, well knew that Dethstroek was far from reluctant to remove an appendage or two if he were sufficiently provoked.
  Chulmoraiin stepped out of the room and closed the door behind.  As he started to walk down the hall, he heard a noise come from Pehnn's room.  Terror gripped the young man's heart as nightmarish images filled his mind.  Had he caused something to happen by disturbing the gnome's room?  Forcing down his fear, Chulmoraiin listened at the door.  There was the faint sound of something being dragged across the floor.  Screwing up his courage, the young apprentice opened the door and rushed into the room.
  Across the room was a beggan with a large scar on his forehead straining to drag the bag from the closet.  Chulmoraiin barely had time to feel relieved at the discovery when the beggan spotted him and redoubled his efforts to drag the large bag toward the window.
  "Thief!" yelled the young noble. "Thief!"
  The beggan, completely unnerved by the thane's shouts, released his hold on the bag and made for the window.  Chulmoraiin leaped forward, but the large bed was between himself and the intruder, causing him to trip and fall forward upon the goose-feather mattress.  Before he could clamber over the bed, the beggan jumped out the window and made good his escape.  By the time Chulmoraiin reached the window, the beggan was gone.
  "Badb take that beggan," cursed Chulmoraiin, "I'll likely be blamed for this!"

  It was late in the evening before the Homingraevs and Pehnn returned from Grimmoer's townhouse.  The count had presented Pehnn with an amulet that would create any form of clothing, save for armor, with a mere thought.  Pehnn was delighted and grateful.
  "This amulet will only provide a change of attire three times a day, so use it sparingly," cautioned the count.  Grimmoer also provided a carriage to take the group home.  Before the foursome could leave, the count pulled Dethstroek off to the side.
  "Faynnus, do you fully trust this creature?" inquired the count using Dethstroek's true name.
  "With my life, uncle," replied the warrior. "Pehnn has had many opportunities to slay me and did not.  Indeed, I am alive now only through his intervention."
  "Then I am satisfied," nodded Grimmoer. "One other thing, a goat herder came by some weeks ago and left a small purse of gold.  He said it was for your goats?"
  "I had forgotten all about Molkin and his son," exclaimed Dethstroek. "I had not truly expected him to make good on his debt."
  "Well, here it is and his address, should you have further business with him." Grimmoer handed over a small purse and a piece of paper. "Dearbhforgail should have no trouble reading this to you."
  "She need not trouble herself," smiled Dethstroek. "Geordus Wordweavor and Pehnn have taught me letters and numbers."
  "Excellent!  Your grandmother will be pleased.  Now off you go.  And watch your back!"
  Dethstroek started to go when he said, "I told you, I have nothing to fear from Pehnn."
  "I don't refer to Pehnn, this time, Faynnus."
  Dethstroek considered Grimmoer's warning all the way home.  Of course, the count had referred to Chulmoraiin.  Dethstroek well knew that the young noble hated him, and certainly resented being apprenticed to him, but he could not fathom the young man defying his cousin, the duke.  Open acts of defiance were punishable with death, and if pushed too hard, Duke Bran Mak Dullaiin would be forced to do something severe and unpleasant to the young thane.  By the time the carriage arrived at Dethstroek's home, he had decided to have a long talk with Chulmoraiin in the hopes of avoiding trouble later on.
  The house was dark as no candles had been lit and no fire started in the fireplace.  Perhaps Chulmoraiin had turned in early for the night, considered Dethstroek, small wonder with the chores he has been doing.  Dearbhforgail started about the room lighting candles and oil lamps when Dethstroek and Pehnn heard a sound coming from the ersatz gnome's room.  Together, the pair moved down the hall.  Dethstroek willed his ring to become Madbulaiin; his enchanted sword, then the pair entered the room.
  In the dim light produced by Madbulaiin's glowing blade, the warrior and faux gnome could see Chulmoraiin sitting on Pehnn's bed facing the now closed window.
  "If I may be so bold as to inquire, sirrah," asked Pehnn, "What are you doing in my room?"
  Without turning, Chulmoraiin answered, "I heard a noise and rushed to this room where I discovered a thief trying to steal your bag."
  "What was the noise we just heard?" demanded the warrior.
  "I was sitting here with the practice sword you issued me in case the thief returned," Chulmoraiin answered. "I must have dozed and dropped the sword."  Sure enough the sword was on the floor at Chulmoraiin's feet.
  "Did you look in the bag?" asked Pehnn.
  "Nay," answered the apprentice. "I feared a magical defense and left it where it lay."
  "Smart lad," said Dethstroek. "Can you describe the intruder?"
  "He was a beggan..."
  "A beggan?" interrupted the warrior.
  "Yes, milord, a beggan, with a large scar on his forehead," finished Chulmoraiin. "I understand if you do not believe my account of..."
  "Nay, Chulmoraiin," interjected Dethstroek. "I believe you and I thank you for your fast action." Chulmoraiin inclined his head. "Tomorrow your training will begin in earnest.  I ask that you not feel as though you are being punished by it.  On the contrary, I feel it will be to your benefit."
  "And I will be training at your side," added Pehnn.
  "As you wish, milord," replied Chulmoraiin.  The thane stood up and started for the door when a low growl issued forth from his mid-section.
  "Have you eaten?" asked Pehnn realizing the source, and cause of the noise emanating from the young noble.
  "Nay, milord," replied the thane. "The thief arrived too soon after your departure."
  "Dearbhforgail," called Dethstroek. "Make a platter for our guest, if you please."
  The baroness most certainly did not please, but set about preparing a light meal of bread, cheese and some garden vegetables for the noble.
  "Now off you go," ordered the warrior. "You will need to be well rested for tomorrow's tasks."  Chulmoraiin nodded and went to the kitchen where Dearbhforgail waited.  Dethstroek then turned his attention to Pehnn. "You are taking training?"
  "Dearbhforgail did suggest that it would explain my new appearance," reminded the ersatz gnome. "And I would like to see how well I will fare."
  "As you wish," agreed the warrior. "I think I know of the beggan that attempted to steal away your bag."
  "You do?"
  "Aye.  It might be the same creature that escorted me to Amtoth's to recharge your ring," supplied Dethstroek. "We have a hidden enemy, Pehnn, and he is getting bolder."

  "I am sorry, master.  I did not know there was another person in the house."
  The mage stood over the miserable beggan as Ker'lee reported his failure to acquire Pehnn's magic bag.  "The fault was mine, Ker'lee," sighed the mage. "I was able to scry that Dethstroek's family and his guest 'gnome' would be out of the house, but I neglected to learn if others might still be in the home.  They must have hired a servant or guard or something."
  Ker'lee brightened up at his master's words.  The mage never struck Ker'lee, or abused the beggan with magic, and only rarely raised his voice at the simple creature, but Ker'lee was always afraid of being punished regardless.
  "Ker'lee go back?  Try again?" asked the beggan brightly.
  "Nay," said the mage in soft tones. "They will be on guard, now, and I am not yet strong enough for a direct approach."  As if to give lie to his own words, the mage gestured and an apple floated across the room from its place on a shelf into Ker'lee's surprised hands.  To the beggans keen eye, the mage's fingers trembled ever so slightly.
  "What then, master?" asked the beggan between mouthfuls.
  "I don't know, Ker'lee.  Not yet, anyway."

TRAINING

  "A warrior must be brave, skillful, fast and strong," said Dethstroek loudly to his students.  In attendance were Pehnn, Chulmoraiin and Murchadh.  The boy insisted he be allowed to join the training, and Dethstroek relented. "I cannot teach you to be brave, as that must come from within yourselves.  I can teach you skill if you work hard enough to learn it.  You must teach yourselves to be fast and strong through exercise and practice."
  Chulmoraiin was up at the first cock's crow.  He actually seemed to be looking forward to the training that Dethstroek promised.  Pehnn was only slightly slower to rise than Chulmoraiin, and Murchadh joined shortly afterwards.  Dethstroek, apparently up long before any of his charges, had set up his courtyard as a training ground.
  "First, we will work a bit on your strength," continued the warrior. "You will notice I have set up a large pile of bricks at one end of the courtyard." Dethstroek indicated the pile with his right hand. "It will be your task to move the bricks, one by one, to the opposite side of the courtyard."
  The trio looked at the pile of bricks with various results.  Pehnn was amused, Chulmoraiin was irritated and Murchadh was excited.  Dethstroek marched over to the pile and selected a fairly large brick in two hands and turned to face the trio.
  "Pick up one brick, then run over to here," as he spoke the warrior turned and jogged over to the opposite end of the courtyard, "and set it down here."  Pehnn, Chulmoraiin and Murchadh each took up positions near the pile.  "Prepare yourselves."
  "How long before we stop?" asked Chulmoraiin.
  "When the pile is moved in its entirety," replied the warrior. "You will begin...now!"
  As commanded, each of the trio quickly grabbed a brick and ran to the other side of the courtyard.  Pehnn selected the largest brick he could reach, while Chulmoraiin took the first brick his hand landed on.  Murchadh selected a large brick, then was forced to take a smaller, lighter brick that he was able to lift and carry.
  As the group made its way back and forth, Pehnn took the lead, as Dethstroek expected, with Chulmoraiin and Murchadh struggling to keep up.  Chulmoraiin was unaccustomed to performing such menial labor, while Murchadh was still too young for such a task.  By the time the pile was completely moved, even Pehnn was barely trotting from end to end.  Chulmoraiin had gamely continued to plod on while Murchadh had long since stopped to rest and fell asleep.
  "Very good," said Dethstroek in a lower voice, so as not to wake Murchadh. "You performed better than I had hoped, Chulmoraiin.  Pehnn, I was surprised to see you slow down so quickly."
  "As was I, Deth," breathed the gnome. "Small wonder you survived against Tin'dar if this was the kind of training you did."
  "Wait until I have you do some of the other exercises Grimmoer put me through," countered the warrior. "He neglected to consider that his own strength far exceeded human norms at the time."
  "Count Grimmoer possessed inhuman strength?" asked Chulmoraiin between gasps for breath.  Few outside of the Homingraev family knew of Grimmoer's time as a vampyre and his subsequent resurrection.
  "I recall you mentioning he possesses a Belt of Strength, Deth," covered the quick thinking Pehnn.
  "Indeed he does, though he rarely wears it these days," nodded Dethstroek.  Pointing at a stack of logs with a pair of axes next to it, the warrior asked rhetorically, "Ready for the next task, gentlemen?"
  The duo's answering groans were both long and heartfelt.  Murchadh chose this moment to start snoring.

  Feeding the thing that his master had summoned was, by far, the worst of all of Ker'lee's chores, as far as the little beggan was concerned.  The master assured him that the 'Thing' in the dungeon was still very weak, and it would be days, if not weeks, before it could be dangerous, but such assurances did little to calm the beggan.
  Part of the problem was that the thing could never be seen in the dark shadows of its cell.  Ker'lee always feared that it could leap out of the darkness and eat him up.  Then there was the matter of its diet.  Bad enough that the contents of the tray consisted of items most butchers throw away, but it had to sit for weeks at a time before the 'Thing' would touch it.  When the creature was first summoned, Ker'lee was forced to dig through piles of tripe and scraps behind many butcher shops, not to mention digging up a number of graves, seeking sufficiently ripened fare for the Thing's consumption.
  Ker'lee knew the monster would not eat him alive.  Nay, it would slay him and let his corpse molder for a few weeks before gnawing on his bones.  This was far from a comforting thought for the beggan to dwell on.
  "Here is your dinner," Ker'lee croaked as he slid the loaded tray under the cell door.  This was the worst part...expecting hands, or claws, or tentacles or whatever to reach up under the door and grab him.  Instead, as usual, the tray vanished under the door, followed by the ghastly sounds of the creature's feast.  The beggan didn't wait around for the tray to be returned.
  With a speed born of terror, Ker'lee raced out of the dungeon up the stairs and back to the laboratory.  As expected his master was toiling over some arcane scroll and making notes on a piece of parchment.  After scribbling a few more times, the mage leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.
  "Ah, Ker'lee," said the mage, "You fed it?" The beggan nodded. "Good.  Would you like to go out and run a few errands for me?"
  "Oh, yes, master!" Ker'lee nodded furiously.  Any excuse to put more distance between him and the thing in the dungeon was most welcome.
  "Here is a list of things I need, and thirty Midans," said the mage as he handed a small purse to the beggan. "Get yourself a new set of clothing, too.  I fear you may be recognized in those robes after meeting Dethstroek and his houseguest.  A leather skullcap would make a dashing fashion statement, I should think."
  Ker'lee giggled as he always did when the mage said something he did not fully understand.  But he understood new clothes.  The beggan was almost childlike in his love of buying new things.  He hoped the list was not too complicated.  While the beggan was able to read, his ability was mostly limited to short words since his accident.  He looked over the parchment when the mage gave it to him and was satisfied he could read it well enough to ask for the correct items.  This did not mean he understood what he was getting, but he could sound out the words and that was all that mattered.
  "Buy the clothes first, Ker'lee, but spend no more than ten Midans when you do," said the mage. "Don't forget the skullcap."
  "Yes, master," laughed the beggan as he danced out of the room.
  The mage shook his head sadly as Ker'lee left.

  Evening meal found Chulmoraiin utterly and completely exhausted.  Despite his fatigue, Dethstroek had insisted the young noble still do his regular chores.  Pehnn and Murchadh decided to assist, thus speeding the completion of the tasks.  Dethstroek claimed that the relatively minor efforts of the chores would allow the muscles to relax and cause less discomfort.  Chulmoraiin had to admit that he was not as sore as he was after the exercises.
  The first night Chulmoraiin had stayed in Dethstroek's home, he had been too angry to eat so had stayed in his new room during evening meal, and the second night everybody but he had gone to Count Grimmoer's townhouse.  So when the baron instructed the young noble to sit at the table next to Murchadh, Chulmoraiin was taken by surprise.  He had expected to eat in his chamber, or at least in some other room the way servants took their meals in noble houses.
  Dethstroek sat at the head of the table, as was expected, with Dearbhforgail at the opposite end.  Pehnn sat at the warrior's left, and Murchadh at his right, placing Chulmoraiin at Dearbhforgail's left.  In effect, Chulmoraiin was seated with family, while Pehnn took the position of the honored guest.  Dearbhforgail insisted on setting the table and serving the dinner.
  "You be the Lady of the house," protested Chulmoraiin. "You should have a household staff for such things."
  "Oh, I been doin' the serving an' cleaning in this house fer a long time, laddie," countered the baroness. "Ye all been well and truly done in by this sadistic oaf," indicating Dethstroek, "an ye can use a good meal an' a little rest ta recover."
  "Sometime next week, when things are better organized," said Dethstroek, "I would like you to assist Lady Dearbhforgail in selecting and hiring a small staff, Chulmoraiin.  I should think you know something about this sort of thing, and will prevent Gail from getting cheated."
  Stunned at Dethstroek's faith in his ability, Chulmoraiin could only nod.  The warrior was becoming increasingly difficult to hate for the young noble.  While being required to perform tasks far beneath his station, Chulmoraiin had to admit that Dethstroek was not abusing his power over him.  On the contrary, he was being treated with more respect than an apprentice could normally hope for.  The young noble found himself wondering how he would act if their positions were reversed, and feared the answer.
  "It would be my pleasure to so assist the Lady of the house, milord," replied the thane.
  After supper, Dethstroek invited Chulmoraiin and Pehnn too join him at a local tavern called the 'Sacred Hound' for a few ales.  Pehnn happily agreed while Chulmoraiin simply assumed he had no choice in the matter.
  At the 'Sacred Hound' the knight ordered a round and took in his surroundings.  The crowd consisted mostly of common laborers, a few farmers, a couple off-duty soldiers and a well-known local bard who sat at the next table.  Perfect, thought Dethstroek.
  Speaking loud to be heard over the bards singing, the warrior turned to the thane and said, "Chulmoraiin, did Pehnn mention that he and I own a tavern much like this one down in Cughmaiin?"
  "He did not, Lord Baron," replied the noble.
  "We call it 'The Black Dragon", in honor of Tin'dar the Black."
  Unnoticed by Chulmoraiin and Pehnn, the bard at the next table turned to inspect the trio.  Dethstroek saw recognition on the bard's face as the lyricist looked at Chulmoraiin.
  "Is that not the dragon you slew there?" inquired the thane.
  "It is, indeed."
  "I should like to slay a dragon, someday," mused the young noble.
  "All young men hope to do something like that," said Dethstroek.
  "Seems like a good way to never become old men," added the gnome.
  "There is something to that, Pehnn," nodded the warrior. "Gentlemen, I need to visit the privy.  I shall be but a moment."
  Dethstroek looked at Pehnn and motioned with his eyes.  Taking the hint, the gnome said, "Would you be so kind as to show me where the privy is?  I suspect I shall require such information ere the night is over."
  "Certainly, Pehnn.  Chulmoraiin, please guard our seats and order another round."
  "Yes, milord," nodded the thane.
  The warrior and gnome weaved their way through the crowded room and disappeared in the sea of bodies.  Sitting alone, Chulmoraiin looked about and took in his surroundings.  To his eye, he was amidst a mass of dirty, sweaty commoners, unfit for polite society.  They were loud and coarse and lacking in proper breeding.  Yet, without their kind the kingdom of Orkney would fall to ruin.  Somebody had to work the land, shape metal, carve stone and defend the borders.
  Bran once told Chulmoraiin that the noble class needed the common people far more than the common people needed the noble class.  At the time the young thane thought such words were treasonous, but after a few days of cleaning Dethstroek's stables and mending the fences and performing all manner of menial work, Chulmoraiin had to grudgingly admit that his cousin had a good point.
  The thane signaled for the tavern maid with three fingers, then returned to his ruminations.  Dethstroek was treating him better than he might have expected.  True, the young noble was ordered to perform the most menial tasks, but Chulmoraiin had seen other apprentices treated far worse.  As yet, the warrior had not laid an unkind hand upon him.  Chulmoraiin very much doubted that Dethstroek would suffer reprisals from Bran if he did strike him.  The warrior also ordered the taunts on the street to stop.  Commoners were rarely so bold as to speak with such disrespect to one of the noble class.
  "You're him, are you not?"
  A voice intruded on the thane's thoughts.  Looking about for the source of the interruption, Chulmoraiin spotted the bard at the next table looking at him.
  "What was that?" inquired the thane.
  "I asked if you are Laird Chulmoraiin Mak Dullaiin," repeated the lyricist. "It was you that challenged the knight Dethstroek to a duel and lost your hand, was it not?"
  Grimacing at the memory of that inauspicious day, the thane considered denying his identity, but pride in his heritage came to the fore. "Aye, that I am."
  "Hey!" came another voice, "Look, everybody.  Its Chulmoraiin of the Sinister Hand!"
  With all the sudden attention focused on the thane, the noble started to regret his admission.  Looking about for Dethstroek or Pehnn, Chulmoraiin noticed every eye in the tavern was fixed on him.  One husky specimen, a farmer judging by his attire, moved toward the thane.
  "I heerd ye tried ta stob the mon in the bock," rumbled the farmer. "How good are ye when ye face a mon wot's lookin' atcha?"
  "I don't want any trouble..."
  "Lessee how ye do in a fair fight, laddie," challenged the farmer.  Without warning, the man threw a solid punch that connected with the thane's jaw and sent him sprawling backwards.
  Chulmoraiin could not believe what was happening.  A commoner could be hanged for striking a nobleman thusly.  A quick glance in the direction of the two soldiers revealed that they were not about to rescue the thane.  Bran must have issued orders not to interfere in any trouble I might get into, thought Chulmoraiin wryly.  With the soldiers staying put and Dethstroek out of sight, the thane would have to rely on his own resources.
  Regaining his feet, Chulmoraiin assumed a defensive stance like his instructors had taught him.  Two years ago, after his infamous unpleasantness with Dethstroek, his cousin, Duke Bran Mak Dullaiin, had sent the thane to Rennibister.  While there, a cadre of teachers gave the young noble additional instruction in swordplay, as well as how to use the staff, dagger, mace and lance.  One man was even commissioned to educate Chulmoraiin in bare-knuckle boxing and wrestling.
  Drawing on his teachings, Chulmoraiin took up a stance that allowed him to evenly distribute his weight on the balls of his feet and held up two fists, the left extended partway out while the right was held close to his down-turned head.  The farmer out-weighed the thane by a good three stones, but his stance and bearing suggested he never had any proper instruction in fisticuffs.
  The crowd laughed aloud at the thane, as he seemed to dance about.  The farmer, smiling malevolently, took another swing at the noble, only to have his attack blocked by Chulmoraiin's left arm.  With practiced ease, Chulmoraiin launched two jabs into the man's face, connecting solidly.  The farmer staggered back a bit, but rallied and came forward swinging his right fist with all his might.  The thane easily ducked under the attack then came up with a right uppercut that rocked the farmer's head backwards.  Seizing the advantage, Chulmoraiin rained blow after blow on his opponent, keeping the man from recovering his wits long enough to launch another punch.
  The entire tavern became dead silent when the farmer crashed to the floor, unconscious.  Breathing heavily, Chulmoraiin stood over his fallen opponent and looked about at the crowd.  What he saw was far from reassuring.  Almost as a single entity, the entire patronage of the 'Sacred Hound' swept forward.
  By the Morrigan, thought Chulmoraiin, I am going to die!
  The mob was almost upon him when Dethstroek and Pehnn seemed to magically appear at his sides.
  "I can't leave you alone for a second, it would seem," said the warrior with a wide smile as he sent a man flying backward with a solid blow to his jaw.  A fist connected with the warrior's jaw, forcing him back a step before he could retaliate and return the blow.
  "You should be thanking him, Deth," said Pehnn.  The gnome launched a vicious punch into a particularly massive abdomen, folding its owner in two. "It has been at least a week since your last senseless brawl.  I should think you were long over-due."
  "Are we talking or fighting?" grunted Chulmoraiin as he blocked a punch and returned it with interest.
  "Can we not do both?" laughed the warrior.  His laughter was cut short when a chair found its way into Dethstroek's back, resulting in the destruction of that unfortunate piece of furniture and earning its wielder what would later become a black eye.
  The brawl was as short-lived as it was lively.  When it was over, Dethstroek, Pehnn and Chulmoraiin were the only ones standing amid a sea of insensate bodies.  A number of chairs and tables were smashed to kindling during the fray, some due to their unfortunate collision against Dethstroek's hard muscled body.
  "Might I conclude that we are the victors?" said Pehnn between gasps for breath.
  "Lugh, I hope so!" breathed Chulmoraiin.
  "I need another ale," rasped Dethstroek, "and I hate to drink alone."
  "I fear we are reduced to serving ourselves," said Pehnn as he pointed at the unconscious barkeep. "The serving maids ran out just as things were getting, ah, interesting."
  "I'll get it," volunteered the thane.  Chulmoraiin carefully stepped over the unconscious bodies to get to the bar, where he filled three full tankards and returned to the warrior and gnome.
  "Good lad," said Dethstroek. "Cheers!"
  The trio downed their brews, though Chulmoraiin would not remember doing so the next day.  Just as the thane finished the last swallow of ale, he fell backward to land unceremoniously atop a mound of unconscious bodies.
  "Hmmmm...the lad needs to learn how to hold his ale," observed Dethstroek. "Ah, a teacher's work is never done."
  "Care to explain?" said Pehnn. "I can't believe this was just a simple training exercise for our unconscious charge, here."
  "Explain what?" returned Dethstroek with feigned innocence.  Pehnn crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at the warrior. "Well, since you asked, I was hoping to see how well Chulmoraiin could handle himself in a fair fight without a weapon."
  "You could have done that yourself without destroying a tavern in the process."
  "True," admitted the warrior, "but I was also hoping to bolster Chulmoraiin's self esteem.  He did quite well against that farmer, wouldn't you say?"
  "And?" prodded the gnome.
  "You know me too well, Pehnn.  I knew with his past training he could likely handle any single foe in this room, as long as he kept his head.  What will happen next is what is important."
  "What do you mean?"
  "The story will soon get out how Chulmoraiin beat a man in a fair fight, and even defeated an entire tavern full of men at our side.  As the story is retold, the details will likely get garbled a bit.  It would not surprise me if the story ends up with Chulmoraiin fighting the entire tavern single-handed."
  "I still don't understand what the point of all this was."
  "Well, eventually, the story of this fight will supplant the tale of our first meeting.  Instead of spreading the account of his embarrassing defeat at my hands, people will talk about his glorious victory over this lot." Dethstroek waved an arm to indicate the insensate bodies strewn about the floor.
  "And this will help make him look less foolish and more heroic to the people?"  Pehnn surveyed the damage all about him. "Humans are just plain crazy."

  Ker'lee had been sound asleep when a strange noise intruded upon his slumber.  Getting out of his cot, the beggan stealthily crept down the stairs to the entrance level of the tower.  There, he saw his master toiling over many small crystals.  The mage would drop several of the small crystals into a bowl, add a sprinkle of green powder, then gesture and chant over the contents.  There was a small noise, like shards of ice being crushed together then the mage would extract a single large crystal from the bowl.
  The new crystal was long, about half the length of a man's forearm, and rounded at the ends.  There was a very slight greenish tinge to the otherwise clear material.  The mage set the newly formed crystal down and repeated the process over and over until he had constructed twelve such crystals
  Scratching his head, the beggan turned around and went back to his cot.  His master often performed strange rituals at night that Ker'lee could not understand.  The mage was sensitive to sunlight, unable to walk outside in the light of day without getting badly burned very quickly.
  No doubt the crystals were for some sorcerous purpose that the beggan would be unable to comprehend, as were most of his master's works.

REALIZATION

  "You were very convincing, today, Pehnn,"
  "Convincing at what?" asked the gnome.
  After returning from the tavern the pair had deposited the slumbering thane in his bed then retired to the study for quiet conversation.  There were, as yet, few books in the study, as books were extremely expensive and Dethstroek had only recently mastered reading.
  "You looked like you were having difficulty with some of the exercises," explained Dethstroek. "Halfway through you were even breathing hard.  Chulmoraiin would have been demoralized had you made it look too easy for you.  I am glad you were able to put on such a good performance.  I noticed you even held back during the brawl at the 'Sacred Hound'."
  "Actually, I wasn't faking it or holding back," replied the gnome. "I think I have severely underestimated the strength and energy of your species."
  "Surely you jest!" Dethstroek said. "I have seen you lift tremendous weights and effortlessly break through solid brick walls!  My little training regimen should be as nothing for you."
  "Well, I have a lot of sore muscles just now," grunted Pehnn. "And there was this strange wetness that soaked my clothing while I was working, today, and again during the fight at the tavern."
  "Wetness?"
  "Yes.  It first started here and here," Pehnn indicated his armpits, "then spread out and collected on my chest, back and forehead."
  "You were sweating!" laughed the warrior.
  "Really?  I had never done that before," said the gnome. "It was a strange sensation."
  Dethstroek stopped laughing and looked squarely at the gnome.  "Never?" Pehnn shook his head in the negative. "Even when you were disguised as Kwihll?"
  "Of course not," said Pehnn. "Drogans are cold-blooded, just like dragons.  We don't build up surplus heat from simple exertion the way mammals do, nor do we have the same cooling mechanisms."
  "Pehnn, would you come outside with me?" asked the warrior.  The pair walked briskly out of the house to the courtyard.  There, in the bright moonlight, Dethstroek pointed to a large boulder sitting next to a brick wall. "I was going to have you and Chulmoraiin roll this boulder back and forth across the courtyard tomorrow, but for the moment another task comes to mind."
  "Grimmoer must have been a harsh taskmaster for you to take such vengeance on us poor apprentices," smiled the gnome.
  "You have no idea!" agreed Dethstroek emphatically. "However, this isn't about that.  I have seen you carry tremendous weights with ease.  Do you think you can lift that boulder?"
  Pehnn examined the boulder dispassionately.  It was easily as high as a fair sized dwarf.  It would be extremely difficult for two men to roll, let alone lift. "No problem," said Pehnn.  "I have lifted wagonloads of gold that would easily be two or three times as heavy as this."
  "Then if you don't mind..." prodded the warrior.
  Pehnn addressed the boulder, placed his arms around it as far as they could reach, and then tried to lift the great rock.
  Nothing happened.
  "I guess it is heavier than I thought," grumbled Pehnn as he took a firmer grip.  This time he strained to lift the boulder until his face was red and wet with sweat.  But no matter how hard he tried; the great rock remained rooted to the ground.
  "Stop, Pehnn!" called Dethstroek.  "You might do yourself a damage straining like that!"  Pehnn ceased his efforts and stepped back breathing hard. "Try lifting the boulder in your natural form," suggested the warrior.
  Pehnn nodded and willed himself to assume his true form.  His clothing, a product of the magic amulet given to him by Grimmoer the night before, seemed to melt away as his body expanded in length and girth.  His face expanded and grew a long serpentine muzzle that sprouted long, sharp teeth.  Short, stubby fingers grew to long sharp talons.  His back sprouted wings, then a long whip-like tail.  Golden hued scales grew out of soft flesh.  When the transformation was complete, Pehnn was again revealed as his true self...a pyrite drogan.
  Once again, Pehnn addressed the boulder and put his talons on opposite sides of the gnome-high stone.  Carefully at first, the drogan brought his strength to bear.  This time the boulder came away from the ground as if it were merely a bag of goose down.  Pehnn tossed the great rock into the air over and over as if he were a child playing with an inflated bladder.
  "Enjoying yourself?" asked the warrior with a raised eyebrow.  Sheepishly, Pehnn put the boulder back on the ground, then resumed his gnomic form. "I think your ring has been altered more than we originally thought."
  "When I assume the shape of a gnome, I become a true gnome, complete with all the weaknesses."  Pehnn had arrived at the same conclusion Dethstroek did.
  "Indeed," agreed the warrior. "Though as gnomes go, you are a particularly impressive representative of that race."
  "Thanks to Murchadh," nodded Pehnn. "It is strange to think that this body, one I suspect any true gnome would be overjoyed to possess, marks a drastic reduction in my own power."
  "You are under no onus to remain in that form, Pehnn," pointed out the warrior. "You could stay a drogan, though that would force you to return to your own kind.  Or, we might be able to find a new ring that would function like this one used to."
  "Hmmm...we might even get the enchantment on this one repaired," added Pehnn.  After a moment, Pehnn said," You know, Deth, I don't think this is really a disadvantage."
  "No?"
  "I wanted too study your race, if you recall," Dethstroek nodded in concurrence, "Well, I will get a much better understanding if I am saddled with your weaknesses."
  "There are a number of differences between humans and gnomes," Dethstroek pointed out.
  "No doubt, but fewer differences than humans and drogans," countered the drogan.
  "Does nothing faze you, Pehnn?" exclaimed the warrior. "I would be shocked at the thought of losing most of my strength and abilities."
  "Oh, they are not lost," countered the gnome, "just held in reserve.  I can return to my true shape any time I choose, so I don't really feel any loss."
  "Hmmm.  Just so, as long as you guard that ring well," retorted Dethstroek. "Come. Tomorrow will be a busy day and we will need our rest."

  As promised, the next day was an active one.  Despite his numerous aches and bruises from the previous night's revelries, Dethstroek was an early riser, and insisted his apprentices share that trait.  Dearbhforgail prepared a large breakfast insisting they would need it to keep up their strength.  This was to prove all too true, as Dethstroek ran Pehnn and Chulmoraiin through their paces.
  Chulmoraiin was sore from head to toe from the previous days exertions, as well as bruised and swollen in locations to numerous to count in addition to a pounding headache and a queasy stomach, and struggled to keep up with Pehnn.  Pehnn was also sore and bruised, but the body he now wore was the height of gnomic perfection and recovered faster.  Working together, the duo struggled with the large boulder as they pushed it from one end of the courtyard to the other.  Murchadh had wanted to join in as he had the day before, but Dearbhforgail insisted he do the chores instead.
  "Those two will be in no fit condition ta so much as lift a shovel by the time that oaf of a father of yours is done with them," she said.
  When Dethstroek declared the boulder exercise was over, he produced a pair of wooden swords.  He gave one to Pehnn and the other to Chulmoraiin.
  "Both of you have had some instruction in swordplay," said the warrior. "Pehnn, by me, Chulmoraiin by a cadre of instructors.  Now we will see how each of you fares against the other.  Take positions facing each other and assume attack posture with your wasters."
  "With our what?" asked Pehnn.
  "Wasters," supplied Chulmoraiin, "That is what these wooden practice swords are called."
  "Why not just call them wooden swords?" inquired the gnome.
  "Um..." replied Chulmoraiin brightly.
  "Pehnn?" interrupted Dethstroek, "If we could continue?"
  Pehnn and Chulmoraiin did as instructed.  Dethstroek noticed that Chulmoraiin's legs were too far apart and his waster was positioned too high, while Pehnn assumed a perfect stance with his waster properly positioned.
  "Chulmoraiin, place this foot here, and lower your sword to here."
  "But this is the position my last instructor taught me," complained the noble.
  "Who was your last instructor?" Dethstroek asked.
  "Brion Mak Tavvisch," Chulmoraiin answered with pride.
  "Ah, that explains it.  Brion is a very competent swordsman, but he never was able to keep his balance well.  He taught himself to widen his stance to better keep his feet.  He is also fairly tall, so you would need to keep your sword raised a bit to meet his attacks.  Pehnn is shorter by a good five hand-spans.  You must raise and lower your blade, as the size of your opponent will dictate.  Attack Pehnn with your current stance."
  The thane did as instructed, only to find that Pehnn easily slipped under his guard and scored a touch on his chest.  Chulmoraiin was forced to step back to avoid a second lunge.  This resulted in the noble's loss of balance sending him sprawling backwards.
  "Hold!" Dethstroek walked over and picked Chulmoraiin up and set him back on his feet.  The expression on the noble's face told of anger and embarrassment.  Dethstroek glanced at Pehnn, then whispered something in Chulmoraiin's ear before stepping back.
  The pair again faced each other, though Chulmoraiin corrected his stance and sword position.  This time, when Dethstroek ordered them to attack, Chulmoraiin made as if to strike Pehnn in the face then brought his sword down hard at the base of the gnome's blade.  To Pehnn's surprise, his sword was effortlessly knocked out of his hand, leaving the gnome defenseless.  Rather than pursue his advantage, the young thane stepped back.
  "Chulmoraiin, why did you break off your attack?" inquired the warrior.
  "He was defenseless, Lord Baron," said Chulmoraiin, a hint of shock in his voice. "I thought you would find it dishonorable to attack an unarmed man."
  Dethstroek sighed before answering. "In spirit, you are correct.  But in a true battle, it is not always wise to leave a foe standing," explained the warrior. "A foe who is determined to kill you will see your act of honor as a weakness.  The second your back is turned, you could find a knife sticking out of..."
  Dethstroek cut short his comment.  He had almost forgotten that Chulmoraiin had once tried to stab him in the back, but Chulmoraiin clearly had not.  Tears began to fill the young thane's eyes as that ignoble moment was relived in his mind.  Chulmoraiin threw down his waster and turned to run, but Dethstroek caught him by an arm and held him in place.
  "Stop, Chulmoraiin," the warrior ordered the noble in a soft voice.  He then said over his shoulder, "Pehnn, a moment, please?"  Pehnn nodded, collected his practice sword, and walked into the house.  Dethstroek pointed to a bench near a wall, indicating that Chulmoraiin was to take a seat.  The young man did so and Dethstroek took a moment to collect his thoughts.
  "Chulmoraiin, it was not my intention to embarrass or upset you just now," began the warrior. "I am only trying to give you the benefit of my experience."
  "Why?" sobbed Chulmoraiin.
  "You mean besides the duke's orders?" asked Dethstroek.
  "He only wants to humiliate me," sniffed the young noble.
  "If that were his intent, I am sure he would have found another way," countered the warrior. "He asked me to take you on as an apprentice.  Well, no apprentice of mine will embarrass me by getting himself killed through poor training."  Dethstroek bent down to Chulmoraiin's face. "Look, you were only fifteen when we had that...unpleasantness... between us.  I no longer care about what happened back then, and I hope someday you will get past my cutting off your hand.  I don't have a hole in my back, and your hand was restored, so as the dwarves would say, I have no axe to grind with you.  I'll not apologize for what I did, though."
  "Are you not trying to put me in my place?"
  "Well, yes, in a sense I suppose that I am," admitted Dethstroek, "but I suspect it is not in the place you may think.  You may one day be king of the land, and as such, I hope that you will rule wisely and fairly.  A king can pretty much do whatever he likes, with only the royal council of nobles to challenge his edicts, which they rarely do.  As such, it is important that he rules himself as well, if not better, than he rules his people.  It is my hope, and your cousin's, I think, that my training and guidance will help to make you the kind of ruler the people will willingly follow.  I realize being reduced to a squire of sorts seems like an insult compared to your true station as a thane, but I am confident it is a temporary situation."
  "So you think training me as a warrior will make me a good king?"
  "Not at all, Chulmoraiin," replied the warrior. "Warrior kings are best for countries whose borders are threatened.  That is not the case, here."
  "Then what am I doing here?" inquired the thane.
  "My guess is discipline," answered Dethstroek. "Discipline is a way of life for a warrior, and I daresay a ruler could benefit from that kind of training.  Ruling a country is far more than barking orders at people you think are inferior."
  "You think highly of yourself, don't you," muttered Chulmoraiin, then he hung his head and said, "Apologies, milord!  I misspoke."
  "Not at all, Chulmoraiin," countered the warrior with a dismissive wave, then smiled and said, "I suspect Dearbhforgail would agree with your assessment.  In any case I will train you and teach you as best I can.  Now, let us make a pact," Chulmoraiin looked up at the warrior, "We start fresh, as if we had never before met.  I will train you, you will try to learn, and nothing else matters, agreed?"
  Chulmoraiin thought for a moment, then nodded. "Agreed, milord."
  "My hand on it." Dethstroek extended his hand and Chulmoraiin took it in a firm grasp. "Oh, one more thing.  Call me Dethstroek.  I am not yet comfortable with all this 'milord' business."
  "Yes, milo-...um...Dethstroek," replied Chulmoraiin. "That isn't your true name, is it?"
  Dethstroek gave a hearty laugh at the thane's question.
  "That's the way," smiled the warrior as he gave Chulmoraiin a friendly slap on the back. He then called to the house, "Pehnn!  Come join us, if you please!" Pehnn immediately emerged from the house.  Chulmoraiin and Pehnn again faced each other. "Now, where was I?  Oh, yes!  Chulmoraiin easily disarmed you, Pehnn.  Do you know why?"
  "My grip was not firm enough on my sword, er, waster," answered the gnome.
  "Correct!" said the warrior. "You were overconfident and it cost you.  Now, let's do this again, only this time we do it right..."
  Had not the warrior been so intent on his students, he might have noticed a furtive pair of eyes observing him from beyond the courtyard.

  "Never mind the formal report.  Just give me the particulars."
  "As you wish, milord," said the soldier. "It is my estimation that Baron Homingraev is taking a sincere effort to train Thane Dullaiin.  He is not being overly hard on Lord Chulmoraiin, nor is he going overly easy on him.  My own apprenticeship was very similar to what his lordship is currently suffering through."
  "Suffering through?" Duke Mak Dullaiin asked.
  "A warrior dare not be too easy on his apprentices, milord," said the soldier. "If he was, he would do his charge a great disservice."
  "Yes, I can imagine that would be the case," said the duke absently. "I, myself, was never apprenticed."  Bran walked over to a window and looked out into his vast courtyard.  "Tell me, Patrik, what is your opinion of my cousin."
  "Milord?" Patrik was clearly uncomfortable with the question.
  "Please speak freely," said the duke, "I value honesty just now, not tact."
  "Lord Chulmoraiin lacks self restraint and often exhibits poor judgment," said the soldier, "and the only reason he is still alive is that he was born of noble blood, so most fear to give him the sound thrashing he so richly deserves." Patrik emphasized the word 'most', no doubt thinking of Dethstroek's own dealings with the young thane.  "However, in fairness, I must say that he did not instigate the brawl at the 'Sacred Hound' last night.  I was there when that farmer threw the first punch."
  "You did nothing to aid my cousin?"
  "My understanding of your orders was that no one interfere with Dethstroek's training of Chulmoraiin in any way," explained the soldier. "It is my belief that Dethstroek may have orchestrated events to progress in the manner that they did.  I should also point out that Thane Chulmoraiin gave a good account of himself, overall."
  Bran grew a tight smile on his lips as he turned to face the window. "And what is your opinion of Baron Dethstroek?"
  "The baron is as honorable and trustworthy as any man I have ever seen, milord," replied Patrik. "That he didn't kill your cousin when he had the chance, indeed, two chances, may well be the only mark against him."
  Bran quickly stifled an urge to laugh.  Patrik was one of the few men in his employ that could be counted on not to hold back if given the freedom to speak his mind.
  "One last question, Patrik, then you may go," said Bran. "Do you think Dethstroek will be able to straighten out Chulmoraiin?  Without killing him in the process, that is."
  "I fear he may be the only man who can, milord," replied the soldier. "Their special history might make it more difficult for the baron as Lord Chulmoraiin no doubt resents his current situation, as well as his new master, or it may increase Baron Dethstroek's control through fear of repercussion should his lordship get too cheeky a third time."
  "I would have to agree with your assessment, but since this conversation never took place, there is nothing to agree to," said the duke. "Thank you for your candor, Patrik."
  "Understood, milord." Patrik saluted and left.
  "Ah, Dethstroek, I hope you can forgive me," said the duke to himself. "I honestly think you would rather fight another dragon than train my idiot cousin."

  "I have a plan!"
  Ker'lee came running at the sound of his master's outburst.  As usual, the mage was standing before his scrying mirror.  In it was the image of a flying reddish dragon.
  "Thanks to you, my powers are slowly returning, allowing me to cast more powerful spells," said the Mage.
  "Me?" asked the beggan. "What did I do?"
  "Remember those items I had you buy?  Well, with them I was able to create special crystals that separate the rays of the sun."  The mage pointed at a series of crystals that now adorned the walls above the shelves. "Those crystals extend to the outside, where they collect the sun's rays and separate them, redirecting the red and violet rays, which I have learned are harmful to me, from the other rays.  After so many years, I can again recharge my depleted energy stores without going to that over-priced thief, Elium!"
  Indeed, the beggan could see every color of light save red and violet reflected on every illuminated surface.  The effect was beautiful to see, yet set an eerie tone.  For some reason, it made the beggan feel like dancing.
  "Why did you not make the crystals long ago, master?" asked the beggan, tapping a foot on the floor.
  "I only recently learned that the sun possessed so many different colors of light, or that it was only certain hues that did me harm," explained the mage. "An old friend of mine sent me a message via my mirror telling me of a discovery he made using smaller crystals."
  "Why does the sun have so many different colors of light?" Ker'lee was intrigued that a crystal could separate light into many colors when the naked eye saw only white.  The tapping of his foot increased in speed.
  "Perhaps it is an extension of the bright god Lugh," mused the mage. "Lugh possesses many talents and skills.  Perhaps each color of light represents a skill that Lugh has mastered."
  "What about the dragon, master?" asked Ker'lee as he pointed to the mirror.  Now both feet were tapping the floor.
  "Oh!  Right!  I am summoning a mature, but not old, dragon to distract Dethstroek with," said the mage as he rubbed his neck, arms and chest. "I might even get lucky and the wyrm could end up killing the warrior for me!"
  "Why not place a geis on somebody like before?" asked Ker'lee.  Now his hips started to move back and forth.
  "Because it didn't work last time," snarled the mage.  When he saw the look on Ker'lee's face, he calmed down.  Some days were worse than others and the various pains in his body would make him short tempered. "Such spells are unreliable.  When I placed one on that boy, what was his name...?"
  "Chulmoraiin?" supplied the beggan.  Ker'lee fought to keep from moving about the floor.
  "Right!  It seemed like a good idea at the time, but this Chulmoraiin didn't react correctly to my spell.  He should have simply attacked Dethstroek without warning.  Instead, he challenged the knight to a duel, and was knocked senseless.  I reinforced the spell, taking advantage of the boy's confusion and anger, but even then, the spell wasn't quite strong enough.  The boy tried to stab Dethstroek in the back, all right, but his heart still wasn't in it.  Dethstroek easily thwarted the attack and cut off the boy's hand, preventing him from trying again.  That would have been fine, had the knight been executed for it, but no!  He was exiled instead!  Now his exile is lifted and he is a baron and a hero!  BAH!"
  "Can you still control him?" asked Ker'lee.  Both of the beggans arms were moving rhythmically about.
  "Chulmoraiin?  Yes, but to what end?" growled the mage. "Even if he got close enough to do something, Dethstroek will be all too wary to be taken unsurprised.  In a fair fight, I doubt there are ten men in all of V'rogg that could best him.  Less, most likely, and Chulmoraiin is most assuredly not one of them."
  "Maybe the dragon will win?"
  "It would be nice," sighed the mage, "But Dethstroek has defeated two or three wyrms already, and his sword has become immensely powerful," another sigh, "No, I very much doubt it.  While powerful and vicious, Copper Drakes are also quite stupid."
  Ker'lee laughed and started to dance about chanting, "Dragons is so stupid, dragons is so stupid..."

COPPER DRAGON

  For the entire week, Dethstroek drilled his students relentlessly, ordering them to perform rigorous exercises and execute various motions with their wasters.  Chulmoraiin performed better than the warrior had expected, no doubt due to the training he received from his various instructors prior to his current apprenticeship.  Pehnn was doing well, but his own prior training under Dethstroek easily explained that.
  "Deth!" Dearbhforgail called from the house. "There is a mon here ta see ye."
  "Right, Gail." Dethstroek turned to his students. "Take a break and drink some water.  Especially you, Pehnn.  Not too much though."
  The warrior went into the house and into the living room.  There, a small, bald, wizened figure dressed in woolen robes awaited him.
  "Master Tanner!" called the warrior. "You came!  Gail, this is Master Tanner, a monk and one of my former instructors when I was apprenticed to Grimmoer."
  "I be pleased to make yuir acquaintance, Master Tanner," said Dearbhforgail with a curtsey.
  "Please, call me Tan," insisted the monk.  Turning back to Dethstroek, he asked, "How is your uncle Grimmoer these days?" inquired the monk.
  "Cured," replied the warrior. "He is a count, now, here in V'rogg.  We must get together with him while you are here."
  "Indeed, Dethstroek," agreed the small man. "It is gratifying to see that you are still alive, my former student."
  "Your teachings may have had something to do with that, master," smiled Dethstroek.
  "May I be so bold as to ask why you have called for me?" asked Master Tanner. "I was in meditation at the guild in Rennibister when I received your message."
  "Thank-you for coming so quickly, master.  The reason I sent for you is that I have a new set of students who would very much benefit from your teachings."
  "I expected as much," said Tanner. "I am getting a bit old for this, you know.  My bones creak and my vision dims."
  "Oh, I expect you will outlive Murchadh, you old faker!" laughed Dethstroek. "I am prepared to make a sizable donation to your order."
  "Not all that glistens is golden," said Tanner. "But I will at least meet your students."
  "Excellent!" Dethstroek escorted the small man through the house out to the courtyard where Pehnn and Chulmoraiin were sitting on a bench sipping water.
  "Pehnn, Chulmoraiin, this is Master Tanner, a monk of the Tao Singh Order, here all the way from Rennibister."
  "I am honored to meet you both," said Tanner as he bowed low.  Pehnn returned the bow, while Chulmoraiin merely nodded his head. "Young Dethstroek feels I have some small knowledge to impart to each of you."
  "That I do," agreed the warrior.
  "This is a monk," observed the thane, "not a warrior.  What can he teach us?"
  "What, indeed?" said the monk. "I see you are practicing with your toy sword." Tanner indicated the waster. "Would you be so kind as to attack me with it?"
  "I...um...it would not be honorable to attack an unarmed man, Master Tanner," stalled the thane.
  "In this case, you may make an exception," urged the monk.
  Chulmoraiin threw a glance at Dethstroek, who only nodded.  With a shrug, Chulmoraiin took a half-hearted swing at the monk, missing completely.
  "If this is the quality of training you have imparted to this youth, you have called me none to soon," said Tanner to Dethstroek.
  "Chulmoraiin," said the warrior, "Do not embarrass me before Master Tanner.  Attack him as you would an ork."
  "Yes, Dethstroek," said the thane as he launched a series of vicious attacks at the monk.  Try as he might, though, the young noble failed to strike the monk.  It was as if the monk were a wraith, for he seemed to stand perfectly still.
  After a number of attacks, the monk sent the palm of his hand into Chulmoraiin's chest.  Before the young thane knew what was happening, he was on the ground fighting for breath.
  "He is slow to obey," observed the monk.  "However, I sense he has some faint potential.  I am surprised you took so clumsy an apprentice."
  "Times are hard, Master Tanner," jested the warrior.
  "What of this gnome?" Tanner turned his attention to Pehnn. "He seems...wrong, somehow."
  "I do?" said Pehnn with trepidation. "How?"
  "Attack me," Tanner simply said.  Pehnn did so, almost striking the aged monk, but Tanner slapped the waster away before he was hit. "You are not what you appear to be, gnome.  Your movements are like that of the dragon...swift, strong, yet there is a softness about you."
  "I, ah, studied dragons for many years, Master Tanner," said the quick thinking gnome.
  "Perhaps that is it," said the monk doubtfully then turned back to Dethstroek. "You have slain a dragon?"
  "Yes," said the warrior with a raised eyebrow, "how did you know?"
  "You have eaten a great deal of dragon meat.  The scent of dragon fairly oozes from your pores."
  "I noticed that, but was too polite to say anything about it," said Pehnn.
  "Indeed?" Tanner again eyed the gnome with suspicion. "I will help you train these two unworthy louts," he said to Dethstroek.
  "Thank-you, Master Tanner."
  "Tan will do, Dethstroek.  Just call me Tan."

  Jiarg'skian was flying back to his cave when he again felt the compulsion to turn west.  These urges had been coming and going for over a week.  It did not occur to him how odd it was for him to get the urge to change course for no apparent reason.  In fact, few things ever occurred to the great scarlet dragon beyond finding food and a dry place to sleep.  Jiarg'skian was young for his kind, a mere eight hundred years old.
  Copper, or red dragons are, perhaps, the least intelligent of all dragon-kind, and Jiarg'skian was considered to be the intellectual dwarf (not to be confused with actual dwarves, who are really quite intelligent) of his brood.  However, what copper dragons lack in mental acuity is more than compensated for by the fact that they possess an inordinate amount of firepower, exceeding that of even black dragons.
  Fortunately for Jiarg'skian, there was reason to believe that the greater the stupidity of a dragon, the greater the power of his flame.  And even the most generous estimation of Jiarg'skian's intelligence would result in the conclusion that he was very, very stupid, indeed.
    Jiarg'skian was mildly surprised to find he was headed for a large city.  It was a human city judging by the smell of it.  He couldn't recall planning a raid, today, but he often forgot things.
  Oh, well, Jiarg'skian thought, as long as I am in the neighborhood...

  Molkin Greenleaf was well and truly exhausted.  He and Tolkin were run ragged trying to round up all the goats, then the sheep were spooked by a stray dog and broke out of their pen, forcing the father and son team to race out across the pasture to recollect them, as well.
  Recently, Molkin and Tolkin had taken a herd of goats to the market in Etrice.  While traveling, Molkin had run afoul a group of human farmers that resented elf-kin using the public lands to feed their livestock.  In short order, Molkin found himself on the business end of a noose.  Only the chance intervention of a human warrior accompanied by a gnome prevented the elf-kin from dancing on air that day.
  The warrior, Dethstroek by name, purchased Molkin's goats then bullied the farmers into releasing the elf-kin, and even giving him a farm horse for his trouble.  Molkin completed his journey to Etrice, sold the goats for Dethstroek, then returned to V'rogg to give Dethstroek's share of the sale to his uncle, Count Grimmoer.  Some days later, all the money was returned to him, save for two Banes a head, the price the warrior originally paid Molkin for the goats.  Surprised and pleased, Molkin purchased some sheep, hoping to expand his resources and improve his lot in life.
  At last the sheep were back in their pen, the goats were settled and Molkin was ready to go back into the house and have a long overdue supper.
  "Da!" called Tolkin excitedly. "Look!"
  Molkin followed the boy's pointing finger up into the evening sky.  At first he thought it was a large bird, but quickly realized the color and shape were all wrong.  Not to mention the size of it as it drew nearer.  Molkin's blood began to run cold.
  It was a dragon.
  A copper dragon.
  "I should have let the sheep run," he said to himself.

  "I think that is enough for the day."
  "Thank...Lugh!" said Chulmoraiin between breaths.  His arms felt heavy from swinging his waster.  Thanks to Master Tanner's amazing salves, most of his bruises were rapidly fading.  The young noble was also grateful that Dearbhforgail ordered Murchadh to do the chores, again.  It was doubtful Chulmoraiin would have the strength to do more than fall into bed at this point.  Between Dethstroek and Master Tan, he was being put through paces he never thought possible.
  "I was just getting good at this," grinned Pehnn as he whirled and slashed at imaginary foes with dazzling speed.
  "Stop showing off and put that away, Pehnn," laughed Dethstroek. "Chulmoraiin will get a complex if you keep that up."
  "Actually, I would like to practice a bit on that quintain," said the gnome.  His first attempt to use the counter reactive dummy resulted in an ignoble landing on his posterior.  Dethstroek had neglected to mention that the device would spin about when struck, so when Pehnn struck a powerful blow on one wooden appendage, the device spun about and tripped the gnome with a lower protuberance, much to the gnome's embarrassment and Chulmoraiin's amusement.
  "One is wise to conserve strength when the opportunity presents itself," said Tan.
  "Dethstroek!" came Dearbhforgail's voice from the house. "We have company!"
  "Coming, Gail," called the warrior.  He bowed to Tan then collected the wasters from his students and walked into the house, followed by Pehnn, Chulmoraiin and Tan.  There he found two soldiers standing by the front door. "Gentlemen," said the warrior, "How may I be of assistance?"
  "His Lordship, the Duke of V'rogg, seeks the aid of an experienced dragon-slayer," said the soldier on the right.
  "There is a red dragon attacking the farmlands outside of the city walls," said the second soldier.
  "We have lost one platoon already trying to drive him away," added the first soldier.
  "I see," said Dethstroek. "I will be ready shortly.  I must change into my armor."
  "Oh, no yuir not!" shouted Dearbhforgail. "Ye only just returned after two years!  I'll no have ye running out ta get yuirself killed fighting a dragan!"
  "Gail, many men have already died," retorted the warrior. "No doubt many more will die if I do nothing.  I have to go."
  "Then take yuir apprentices with ye!" demanded the baroness. "Pehnn is able to take care of himself, I'll warrant, and Thegn Chulmoraiin might prove helpful.  Tanner should go as well."
  "I regret these aged bones can do little against a dragon, Lady Gail," countered the monk.
  "Chulmoraiin will keep a healthy distance away from any danger, though Pehnn will be most welcome should he choose to join the fray," Dethstroek stated with finality.  "Master Tanner should wait here.  He is a teacher, not a warrior."  He then turned and marched to his chambers to get his equipment.
  Pehnn caught most of the discussion and went to Dearbhforgail's side.  "Do not worry, Dearbhforgail," assured the gnome. "I know something of dragons.  Dethstroek will be fine."

  "You are going to get yourself killed!"
  Dethstroek had quickly changed into his dragon scale armor, collected his shield and vest, and rushed to go with the two soldiers.  Pehnn and Chulmoraiin raced to join the warrior, and the lot of them jumped into the open wagon the soldiers had brought with them.
  "Pehnn, I am amazed you have so much confidence in me," taunted the warrior. "Please, Pehnn, tell me what you can about this red dragon."
  "Copper dragon," corrected Pehnn. "He is a first order fire breather, more powerful than even Tin'dar.  He must be young, as older dragons know better than to attack a whole city."
  "Will he be honorable or ceremonial the way Tin'dar was?"
  "Far from it," snorted Pehnn.  "Coppers lack the brain power to even grasp the concept of honor.  Frankly, they barely qualify as sentient."
  "No rules of engagement, no captured maiden?" asked the warrior.
  "Ha!  Very few Copper Drakes live long enough to get suicidal," replied the gnome. "Their stupidity tends to thin the herd, a bit.  In fact, only their incredible firepower keeps the race alive at all."
  "Any exploitable weaknesses?"
  "Well, again, their stupidity.  Otherwise, they are much like black dragons.  And this one may not have a wound like Tin'dar's that you can take advantage of.  Again, it would help if I knew his name, since I might recognize him by reputation."
  "Well, I'll ask him if I get the chance," said Dethstroek grimly.
  "You are really going to face a red dragon?" asked Chulmoraiin.
  "Copper," corrected Pehnn.
  "That is the idea, Chulmoraiin," replied Dethstroek. "Pehnn, what is a r-, Copper's favorite attack strategy?"
  "Well, unlike other fire breathers, Copper Drakes have enough firepower to blast away from the air without quickly losing their buoyancy."
  "What about up close?"
  "Not as strong as a black dragon, though just as fast," supplied Pehnn.
  "Will this armor you made from Tin'dar's scales hold up against his flaming breath?"
  "Barely, if at all," frowned the gnome. "As last time, Madbulaiin is your best bet."
  "What shall I do?" inquired Chulmoraiin.
  "Stay well back and let me handle things," ordered the warrior. "You are too inexperienced for this sort of thing.  If I wanted you dead, I would tell Dearbhforgail you hated her cooking.  Now put this on." Dethstroek handed over the dragon scale vest he once wore in Cughmaiin while disguised as an ork-kin.
  "As long as I am here, I should be doing something!" insisted the apprentice as he put on the vest.  It was too large by more than half.
  Dethstroek looked about and saw a bow and quiver of arrows between the two soldiers. "How good is your archery?"
  "I hit the bull's eye nine times out of ten," declared Chulmoraiin. "Though, I confess, my arms were not so tired on those occasions."
  "Moving targets?" inquired the warrior.  Maybe I should have asked Tan to come after all, thought Dethstroek, he is the greatest archer I have ever seen.
  "I often brought down a duck or goose for supper back in Rennibister."
  "Very well," said Dethstroek. "I want you to take up a hidden position and take careful aim at the wyrm's eyes.  Those arrows won't pierce the dragon's scales, but Pehnn once told me that the eyes, nostrils and palate are far more vulnerable."
  "Quite right," agreed the gnome. "The eyes would be the best choice, as it would blind him and force him to land should he attempt to take flight."
  "What will you do, Pehnn?" asked Chulmoraiin.
  Pehnn had to consider his answer, then said, "I have a ring that allows me to transform myself into a small golden dragon," said the gnome. "It won't make me anywhere near as powerful as a real dragon, but it might confuse the beast if things start to go badly for us."
  Dethstroek raised an eyebrow at his companion and Pehnn shrugged. "We may need to use my ring, and I would hate for Chulmoraiin to waste good arrows on me."  Dethstroek was forced to agree with the gnome's logic.
  "We are here," said one soldier.  In fact, his statement was unnecessary, as the smoke in the air and the visible flames on the ground fairly screamed 'Here There Be Dragons'.
  Dethstroek jumped out of the wagon and put on his helm. "Sergeant," he said to the first soldier, "Clear all of your men from the area and have them take up positions on the city walls.  If we fail here, the dragon may decide to take vengeance on all of V'rogg."  He pointed to the bow and quiver. "I will need those for my apprentice."
  "By your command, Lord Baron," replied the sergeant as he handed over the bow and quiver.
  Dethstroek handed the items to Chulmoraiin. "If any of your men have any armor that will fit my companions, I would be grateful for the loan.  One last thing," he added. "My friend the gnome knows some magic.  So if you see something odd, like, say, another dragon, it may be my companion's doing, and you need not be concerned.  It is just an illusion to trick the real dragon."
  "Very good, Lord Baron," replied the sergeant as he eyed the gnome.  Gnomes were rare in V'rogg, and regarded as magical beings.  If Dethstroek had said that Pehnn could make the sun sing and the moon dance, the soldier would have believed it without giving it a second thought.
  While the sergeant rushed to follow the baron's orders, Dethstroek looked out at the field where the dragon was nibbling on a goat. "Time to go to work," he said.

  "Master!  Master!" Ker'lee yelled as he jumped up and down. "That's him!  There!"
  "What, Ker'lee?"
  The beggan and the mage were watching the scrying mirror.  In the mirror were the Copper Dragon, Dethstroek, Pehnn and Chulmoraiin.
  "That man there!" Ker'lee pointed to Chulmoraiin. "That is the man that almost caught me!"
  "When you went to Dethstroek's home for the bag?" asked the mage.  Ker'lee nodded his head vigorously. "What is Chulmoraiin doing in Dethstroek's home?  And what is he doing at Dethstroek's side facing my dragon?"
  "He has a bow!" pointed out the beggan. "You can make him shoot Dethstroek in the back!"
  "Pointless," countered the mage. "That is black dragon scale armor, the warrior is wearing.  A flaming crossbow bolt couldn't penetrate those scales."
  "Why don't you take control of Dethstroek's mind?" asked Ker'lee.
  "I don't know his true name," grumbled the mage. "Without it, I can't take control of him or place any effective curses on him.
  "Once I considered taking control of Count Grimmoer, as his name is known to me, but ever since he was cured of vampyrism, he has been proof against many spells.  I think that damned morph spell combined with the blessing spell insulates him against most magic.  Normally such spells are temporary, but they were combined with the resurrection and healing spells used to cure him, and as such are now permanent in nature."
  The mage paced in his laboratory a few times, then he stopped and faced the mirror.
  "I guess if the dragon fails I could send Chulmoraiin in to kill Dethstroek in his sleep."
  "Master, why do you hate the warrior so much?" asked the beggan.
  "I have explained this many times, Ker'lee, but you always forget," replied the mage. "But I will tell you again, later.  First I want to watch Dethstroek battle the dragon."

  Jiarg'skian was resting on the charred ground nibbling on a goat carcass.  He was completely oblivious to the approach of a human and a gnome until they came close enough to smell.  Something in their scent made him sit up and take notice as they drew near.  It was old dragon scent, faint but definitely dragon.
  Jiarg'skian looked the pair over until his gaze settled on the human.  He was dressed up in black dragon scales.  Was this a costume of some sort?  Maybe the human was pretending to be a dragon?  If so, that big sword really spoiled the effect.  Maybe the gnome was a present.  Jiarg'skian never ate a gnome before.  He had eaten humans, beggans, senrats and even a sauron, once, but no dwarf-kin.
  "Ho, dragon!" called the human dressed like a dragon. "I hight Baron Dethstroek Homingraev of V'rogg.  And you are...?"
  "Jiarg'skian," answered the dragon.
  Dethstroek glanced at Pehnn.  The gnome shrugged and shook his head in negation.
  "And this is my companion, the Baronet Pehnn Dro...Baronet Pehnn," continued Dethstroek.
  "Pleased to meet you Baron Dethstroek Homingraev and Baronet Pehnn Dro Baronet Pehnn," nodded Jiarg'skian. "Interesting name, gnome, but a bit redundant, I think."
  "Ah, just call me Pehnn," said the gnome.  Pehnn quickly looked over the dragon.  Jiarg'skian was a bit largish for his kind, about forty human paces long from snout to tail, and a good twenty foot-lengths high at the shoulder.  Try as he might, the gnome could not find any significant wounds or scars that would give Dethstroek an advantage.
  "How may I be of assistance?" asked Jiarg'skian politely. "I would offer you some goat, but I am afraid I have already eaten all that I caught."
  "Those goats were not yours to take," countered Dethstroek. "I offer you a choice, Jiarg'skian; leave now, never to return, or face us in battle."
  "Well, that seems, I don't know, a bit rude," replied the dragon. "Here I was just flying along when something seemed to call me here.  Well, here I am surrounded by lots of food, so I set down for a bit of a barbeque.  Next thing I know, a bunch of humans in crunchy shells come out and attack me with swords and arrows.  Now they are gone and you are here in that ridiculous dragon suit.  I mean really!  Where is the tail?"
  Dethstroek was starting to get the impression that this dragon was even less intelligent than Pehnn had said was likely.  "Will you depart quietly?"
  "It is strange," replied the dragon. "I would like to, but something is telling me to attack you."  The dragon shook his head violently for a moment then stopped and looked at Dethstroek and Pehnn. "I am really very sorry, but I think I will have to eat you, now."
  The warrior and gnome had no chance to dodge the searing blast of flame that suddenly erupted from the dragon's maw.

  The dragon nearly got away.  Only quick action to reinforce his spell prevented the wyrm from taking flight.  Amazingly, the dragon was so simple-minded, even suggestion spells failed to take root and hold his attention.  It took a week just to draw this wyrm to V'rogg.
  Breathing heavily, the mage returned his gaze to the mirror.  There he saw the image of the dragon breathing fire at the warrior and his companion.
  Well, now, thought the mage, this is more like it.

  "He's WHAT?"
  "He is assisting Baron Dethstroek in doing battle with the dragon, milord," replied the nervous soldier. "I should point out that the baron has ordered Thane Chulmoraiin to stay out of sight and to use a bow."
  "Has he now?" said the duke rhetorically, then he sighed and added, "No doubt Dethstroek is taking every precaution to protect my idiot cousin."
  "That was my impression, your Lordship," replied the soldier. "The baron and his friend are very much in the forefront of the battle, according to the semaphore signals."
  "I should not be surprised," said the duke. "Apprentices always observe their masters in battle, or whatever it is they are being trained for, even if it places them at risk.  It is part of how they learn."
  "I am certain the baron will take every caution to insure Thane Chulmoraiin's safe..."
  "I know, captain.  I know," the duke said, cutting the soldier off.  "If any harm befalls my cousin, it will be on my head, not his."

DRAGON SLAYER

  Chulmoraiin was terrified beyond his wildest imaginings.  That was a dragon...a real live red dragon!  Fiery breath and all.  He fought with himself to keep his arms steady as he took aim with his bow.  He was positioned at the extreme limit of the bow's range, so his aim had to be perfect if he was to be at all effective.
  Dethstroek and Pehnn were standing in front of the dragon, talking to it as far as the young thane could see.  At this range, it would be dangerous to fire an arrow, as it might fall short and strike the baron or baronet.
  Chulmoraiin suddenly realized it was important to him that Dethstroek survive.  A year ago he would have invited the dragon to supper and served Dethstroek up as the main dish.  Now he was nervously taking aim on the dragon in the hopes that he could aid the warrior.  The thane was uncertain where the turning point was in his attitude towards the knight.  Seated at the table with family had made an impression on the thane, to be certain, as did their little talk in the courtyard during his training session with Pehnn.  Dethstroek was at Chulmoraiin's side when the brawl broke out at the tavern, and the warrior readily accepted the thane's word about the beggan in Pehnn's room.  All in all, he was treated fairly and well.
  Chulmoraiin glanced at his right hand, recalling the long painful process of growing it back through magical means.  Dethstroek had cut it off after thwarting the thane's clumsy assassination attempt.  Chulmoraiin still could not understand what had came over him that he should even consider such a thing.
  Enough of that, thought the young noble, I have a task to perform.  Returning his attention to the scene playing out before him, Chulmoraiin saw Dethstroek trying to reason with the dragon.  To all appearances, the dragon was actually entertaining the idea of flying away, looking up at the sky the way it was.
  Suddenly the dragon's head whipped back and forth, then faced Dethstroek and Pehnn and unleashed a powerful blast of flame.
  "NO!" screamed the thane as he leaped up and started running towards the dragon.

  Madbulaiin glowed brightly as she drank in most of the hellish fury directed at Dethstroek and Pehnn.  Sparks and small streams of flame escaped the sword and danced across the warrior's armor.  Dethstroek had not tested Madbulaiin's ability to absorb fire since he wielded her against Tin'dar the Black.  This was an unforgivable oversight, one he would never have tolerated from an apprentice.  Now, he and Pehnn could well pay the price for his neglect with their lives.
  Jiarg'skian's flaming attack was easily twice as powerful as Tin'dar's had been, and even the dragon scale armor was becoming unbearably hot.  Pehnn had wisely leapt behind Dethstroek and was shielded from the worst of the blast, even as Madbulaiin shielded Dethstroek.
  After a long moment, the flaming attack ceased and Jiarg'skian looked over his targets.  The dragon was amazed to see that the human and gnome were still very much alive, if a bit crispy around the edges.  Even more amazing was that the human was advancing, instead of fleeing like any sensible being would.
  "You have shown me your power, Jiarg'skian," shouted the human. "Now I shall show you mine!"
  Dethstroek aimed Madbulaiin at the dragon and willed it to action.  There was a brief moment when Dethstroek thought nothing would happen, but Madbulaiin did not let the warrior down.  A searing blast of light soared from the blade to strike the dragon in the chest.  Scales, originally coppery in hue, were charred to a dark brown, but the bolt of energy failed to penetrate the monster's thick hide.  On a previous occasion, such a blast destroyed nearly two-dozen orks.  That Jiarg'skian was only slightly injured was a clear indication of the wyrm's strength.
  Jiarg'skian roared in pain and surprise, then spread his wings and took flight.  No sooner had he gained the air than an arrow struck him in the center of his injured chest.  Though the arrow failed to penetrate the thick scales, the simple fact of the impact added to the dragon's discomfort.  Looking down, Jiarg'skian saw a young human with a bow.
  Pehnn looked up and saw that the dragon was preparing to launch another discharge of flame.  "Dethstroek!" he yelled, "he is readying another blast!"
  Dethstroek tried to will another searing beam, but Madbulaiin failed to provide one.  This had happened once before when he was doing battle against Gol'for in Cughmaiin.  Madbulaiin had incinerated the mob of orks in a single blinding blast then failed to summon forth another discharge when the warrior needed it.  Apparently, it took time to build up the needed energy between blasts.
  Thinking quickly, Dethstroek willed his sword to assume the shape of a hammer.  While in Cughmaiin, after slaying Tin'dar the black, Dethstroek learned that Madbulaiin's enchantments had been altered.  One such alteration was that Madbulaiin could now absorb any enchanted weapon or item, at least one of each kind, then transform itself into that item whenever it's wielder commanded.  One such absorbed item was a Hammer of Lightning, a weapon of tremendous power.
  Dethstroek had little experience with this particular weapon's magic, but well knew how to employ a hammer.  In this form, the warrior could actually throw the weapon, briefly over-riding Madbulaiin's Sole Possession spell that otherwise would not allow Dethstroek to release the weapon.
  Drawing his arm back, the warrior let fly with the hammer directly at the dragon above him.  Normally, the wielder of a Hammer of Lightning would need a belt of strength in order to lift the extremely heavy weapon, let alone throw it, but again, the unique enchantments of Madbulaiin allowed Dethstroek to utilize the hammer as if he possessed such a belt.  The hammer flew upward in a lazy arc, striking the Copper Dragon solidly in the shoulder.
  On impact, the powerful hammer unleashed a potent explosion that could be felt all the way back to the ground.  Dethstroek was forced to one knee, while Pehnn and Chulmoraiin were bowled over completely.  As for Jiarg'skian, his wing was severely damaged, forcing him to land clumsily.
  As Pehnn recovered, he noticed Chulmoraiin was also getting back on his feet.  What is that idiot doing here? thought the gnome, Dethstroek ordered him to stay back.  Reclaiming his feet, Pehnn ran to the young thane.
  "Get back before you get killed!" Pehnn ordered Chulmoraiin.
  "Not until the baron is safe," retorted the thane. "If the dragon kills Baron Dethstroek, all of V'rogg may well be destroyed."
  "By my mother's shining teeth, you humans are a strange lot!" growled the gnome. "If you intend to get yourself killed, so be it.  But let's be useful in the meantime!"  The gnome cast about looking for something.  He spotted a burning bush and dragged Chulmoraiin to it.
  "Find something to wrap around your arrowheads that will burn," ordered the gnome. 
  While Pehnn was engaged with Chulmoraiin, Dethstroek seized his advantage and charged the fallen wyrm.  The hammer had returned to the warrior's waiting hand, as its enchantment required it to do.  When Dethstroek was close enough, he leaped high into the air in an attempt to brain the dragon before it could recover his wits.
  Unfortunately for the warrior, Jiarg'skian had precious few wits to spare, and as a consequence, was able to gather them up very quickly.  Before Dethstroek could land a blow on the wyrm's skull, he was batted away by a huge coppery talon.  The blow sent the warrior flying thirty feet before he crashed to the ground, rendered senseless from the double impact.
  Pehnn seeing Dethstroek's peril turned to Chulmoraiin.  The young noble had torn some material from his fine silk tunic and wrapped it about an arrowhead.
  "Chulmoraiin, light the arrow and be prepared to fire!" ordered the gnome as he watched the dragon.  Pehnn, an expert on dragon lore, knew a great deal about how dragons fight and react, and this dragon was thus far running true to form.
  Having been seriously injured, and now unable to fly away with his injured wing, Jiarg'skian was building up to his most powerful attack.  Deep in the wyrm's chest, in his third and forth lungs, the dragon was building up his special gasses to maximum capacity.  This was part of an all or nothing ploy often used by Copper Drake's as a last ditch effort against a powerful foe.  The fact that Dethstroek had been rendered insensate was completely lost on the wyrm.  
  Other, wiser dragons would have kept something in reserve.  Not Coppers.  This would be a blast of flame backed by all the power that Jiarg'skian could muster.  Dethstroek could never survive such an attack, even with Madbulaiin.
   "In a second, that dragon is going to straighten out his body and launch a burst of flame that could well destroy everything between here and the walls of V'rogg," explained the gnome quickly. "If we hope to survive this, you have one shot at stopping it."
  "Me?" said the stunned thane. "How?"
  "As soon as Jiarg'skian opens his maw, you have to send a flaming bolt right down his throat!" said the gnome.
  The flame on the arrowhead made it hard to see his target.  He was also burning is fingers where his left hand was holding the bow taut and forming blisters across the knuckles from the heat of the flaming arrowhead.  The oversized dragon scale vest Dethstroek told him to wear was also getting in his way. "What?  That dragon breathes fire!  How can more fire hurt him?" said Chulmoraiin as he took careful aim.  
  Instead of an explanation, Pehnn yelled, "Shoot!"
  Chulmoraiin let fly the flaming missile and, without thinking, reached for another arrow.  The projectile flew true, entering the great open maw and flying straight down the dragon's throat.
  "Take cover!" yelled Pehnn as he threw himself down on the soft grass.
  Chulmoraiin dove for the ground as a great explosion of flame erupted from the Copper Dragon's muzzle, ears, nostrils and nether regions.
  Well, now, thought Pehnn as he remembered Tin'dar's death throes, this is rather familiar.

  The image in the mirror suddenly erupted into a violent splash of color and light, then faded to black.  Mage and beggan both sat silently looking at the dark mirror for several heartbeats before the beggan spoke.
  "What happened, Master?"
  "The dragon must be dead, Ker'lee," answered the mage. "Such creatures possess repositories of magic in their bodies.  When this one exploded, some of his magical energy was released into the air creating a disturbance in the ether.  Until those energies dissipate, I will not be able to espy what occurs in that area."
  "Too bad," said Ker'lee, "you can't seize all that energy for yourself."
  The mage looked at Ker'lee with wide eyes.  Again the beggan had stumbled onto a brilliant idea.
  "Actually, Ker'lee," said the mage, "with your help, I can!"

  Chulmoraiin was a little unsteady as he regained his feet.  To Pehnn's surprise, the young thane completely ignored the now dead dragon and made tracks to the fallen Dethstroek.  The gnome was quick to follow and arrived at the warrior's side mere heartbeats after the young noble.  The last time Dethstroek was struck in such a manner by a dragon, his body had been broken and bloodied by the force of the blow, not to mention the hard landing upon the rocky earth.  Pehnn feared the worst.
  "Dethstroek!" cried Chulmoraiin as he pried the warrior's helm off. "Speak to us!  Please!"
  Slowly, the warrior opened his eyes and looked about.  His eyes finally settled first on Chulmoraiin, then on Pehnn.
  "I must be alive...I hurt too much to be dead," rasped the warrior.
  "Is anything broken, milord?" asked Chulmoraiin.  It was impossible to discern any injuries through the warrior's heavy armor.
  "I don't think so, though I have aches enough to make up for it." Dethstroek tried to sit up, but was too weak to do so while still in his armor. "I'll need a hand, men."
  When the baron was at last restored to his feet, he took silent inventory of his injuries.  They were surprisingly few, perhaps proving that dragon scale armor was truly the best. "What did I miss?"
  "Chulmoraiin slew Jiarg'skian," said Pehnn proudly.
  "Indeed?" Dethstroek turned his gaze to the young thane. "Well done, man!  How did you do it?"
  "But, I don't understand how I did it, master!" said Chulmoraiin. "It was only one flaming arrow!"
  "Let me tell you a few things about dragons and their anatomy, my friend," explained Pehnn. "First, they have deplorable eating habits.  Chomp, chomp, and belch.  Second, dragons have four lungs...two for breathing, two for building up flammable gasses..."

  Molkin Greenleaf sat in his doorstep with an unhappy expression on his face.  He barely noticed the trio approaching him until they were quite close."
  "...that is how I knew the arrow would work," the gnome was saying. "Tin'dar was pre-cooked in almost exactly the same way."
  "Ho, there," said Dethstroek to the dejected elf-kin. "Fayne Molkin, we meet again."
  "Aye, Fayne Dethstroek," said Molkin, using the elfin title of respect as he stood up. "In similar circumstances, it would seem."
  "Twas your goats eaten by the wyrm?" asked the warrior.
  "They were, milord."
  "Then it is only fair you receive a fair portion of the dragon meat," said Dethstroek. "If Chulmoraiin has no objections.  As slayer, he has first rights."
  "I am only too happy to share in the dragon's bounty, master," said the young thane with a smile. "I must lay claim to most of the scales, teeth and claws, though."
  "Why is that?" asked Pehnn.
  "Trophies," said Dethstroek and Chulmoraiin together.
  Pehnn shuddered inwardly over the thought of the grisly practice of keeping parts of dead animals as keepsakes.
  Dethstroek and Molkin began to work out the details of piecing out the dragon while Chulmoraiin took an interest in Molkin's dwelling.  This was no mere daub and wattle shack such as many commoners lived in.  This was a solid wood and stone construction, adorned with finely carved molding and frames.
  "Pray tell, good shepherd, did you build this house?" interrupted the thane.
  "Aye, milord, I designed it myself." replied Molkin, "and built it with the aid of some dwarves I know."
  "Baron Dethstroek, I think you have found the man you want to build your new keep for you," said Chulmoraiin. "Even Bran's castle would profit from this man's work."
  Dethstroek looked over the solid construction and fine decorations of the house and found he had to agree.  "Fayne Molkin, if you are willing, I would like to retain your services as an architect and carpenter."
  Molkin was only too willing to accept.  With his livestock gone, he could scarcely turn down such an offer.
  "Excellent!  Chulmoraiin, I would like you and Molkin to work with Dearbhforgail in designing the new house..."

  "Your lordship!" 
  Duke Bran Mak Dullaiin turned about in his study in time to see the captain of the guard race in.  The man was flushed and excited, barely able to restrain himself.
  "Yes, captain?"
  "The dragon is dead, sire!" explained the soldier.
  Welcome news, thought Bran. "What of my cousin, and Baron Homingraev?"
  "Alive and well, your lordship," said the captain. "The gnome as well."
  "Excellent!" said the duke after a long sigh of relief. "Have them brought to my reception hall immediately," he ordered, then added, "If they are not in need of medical assistance first."
  "Aye, milord," replied the soldier before saluting and quickly marched out.  Once out of the study, the soldier's footstep quickened to a run..
  "You did it again, Dethstroek," said the duke to himself with a smile.
  

WISH

  Dethstroek walked stiffly as he entered the reception hall.  Naturally, he willed Madbulaiin to assume the form of a ring before being escorted into the duke's presence.  Chulmoraiin appeared to be in excellent condition, while Dethstroek and Pehnn seemed a bit charred at the edges.  On closer inspection, Pehnn seemed somehow different...taller, huskier.  Well, slaying a dragon would make anybody walk a little taller, thought Bran.
  Pehnn and Chulmoraiin had followed the warrior in and took positions at his right and left, then as one, the trio gave a snappy salute with a short bow.  They must have practiced that on the way here, thought the duke.
  Unlike Dethstroek's last visit, the hall was empty of the local noble class save for the duke himself.  Bran anticipated the warrior's reaction to this change of protocol.
  "I wanted to speak with you all before we have the formal recognition of your accomplishment," Bran explained. "I assume you had good reason for exposing my cousin to such danger."
  "Nay, milord," replied the warrior. "I had instructed Chulmoraiin to keep well back from the action.  However, he found reason to disobey, for which I am in his debt."
  "Oh?" Bran looked squarely at the trio, then his gaze settled on Pehnn. "Baronet Pehnn, would you supply me with an unbiased explanation?"
  Pehnn gave a brief, concise report of the battle between Dethstroek and Jiarg'skian, giving special emphasis on Chulmoraiin's courageous actions.  When he finished, the duke asked them to take seats about the council table.
  "Well, I can't grant you a new rank, Dethstroek," jested the duke. "Nor you Chulmoraiin, as it would be a demotion of sorts.  Therefore I will grant each of you any wish it is in my power to grant.  Pehnn, if you like, I can make you a full baron, complete with a tract of land north of the city."
  The trio were silent a moment as they each considered their options.  Then Dethstroek spoke up.
  "Your lordship," said the warrior, "I ask that you rescind your order that Chulmoraiin be forced to be my apprentice."
  Chulmoraiin looked at Dethstroek as though he had been slapped in the face.  Was the warrior displeased with him for interfering in the battle with the dragon? Wondered the young thane.
  "Is my cousin proving unfit?" asked Bran, half expecting the warrior to say that he was.
  "On the contrary, milord, I am most pleased with his performance," countered the baron. "He shows great promise, as well as great courage."
  Both Bran and Chulmoraiin took on expressions of surprise.  Pehnn wore a knowing grin.
  "Then why discharge him?" asked the duke.
  "I would much prefer a willing trainee, milord," answered Dethstroek. "An eager and enthusiastic apprentice makes the best student."
  "Done," proclaimed the duke. "Chulmoraiin, what would you desire?"
  "I wish to continue on as Baron Dethstroek's apprentice," said the thane.
  "Baron Dethstroek, will you accept Thane Chulmoraiin as your apprentice, freely and of you own will?"
  "Gladly, milord," smiled the baron.  To think, a couple weeks ago, I would have preferred to battle another dragon than take Chulmoraiin as an apprentice, thought the warrior to himself, now I gladly welcome him into my home.
  "Welcome to your worst nightmare, Chulmoraiin!" laughed Baron Pehnn.  "I suspect dragon slaying will be easy compared to this sadist's training program!"
  "However," interjected Bran, "That does not qualify as a wish, since it was for Dethstroek to grant.  What would you have of me?"
  Chulmoraiin considered his options for a few moments.  In truth, there was little the duke could grant him that he could not do for himself.  Then a knowing grin spread across his features.
  "Well, cousin," said the thane, "there are two things I would wish for, if I may be so presumptuous.  First, we could use some help with the dragon's remains..."

  Ker'lee had to be very careful.  Already, the master butcher, with the aid of twenty soldiers, was flaying the scales and collecting the meat from the dragon under the watchful eye of Molkin the Shepherd and his son, Tolkin.  Minor mages were casting spells intended to make the scales, teeth and claws of the dragon easier to remove.
  The beggan was instructed to place a small gem his master had given him on the monsters forehead, the nexus of a dragon's magical energy.  This had to be done quickly, or all the magic would drift away.
  There was a large crowd of people keeping a respectable distance watching the progress of the butcher.  No guards were needed to keep them back as none wanted to risk the dragon suddenly waking up.  It was rare, but it happened on occasion.  Ker'lee stepped in and out of the crowd, waiting for an opportunity to approach the wyrm unseen.
  The beggan's chance came when the trio of mages finished their spell casting and stepped away from the dragon's head to attend to its talons.  Trying to be inconspicuous, Ker'lee put his hands behind his back, pointed his nose in the air, and whistled an off-key tune as he slowly approached the gigantic corpse.  If anybody noticed the beggan, they ignored him as Ker'lee made his way to the monster's head.
  The smell of cooked dragon meat was still very strong in the air.  Ker'lee, like most of his kind, did not eat the meat of animals, save for the odd insect or spider.  Holding his nose with one hand, the beggan scaled the dragon's scales (in a manner of speaking) until he reached the top of the cranium.  Once there, Ker'lee placed the gem in the middle of the wyrm's brow ridge.  That part of the mission accomplished, the beggan struggled to recall the magic words needed to activate the gem.
  Abracadabra?  No, that wasn't it.  Shazam? Not enough words.  Kltpzyxm?  That wasn't right.  Klaatu Barrada Nikto?  YES!
  "Klaatu Barrada Nikto," said the beggan quietly.  The gem started to glow a dull red.
  "Hey there!" came a voice from below. "You can't be up there!"
    Ker'lee was so startled he nearly fell off the massive cranium.  Recovering quickly, the beggan looked down to see a soldier returning his gaze.
  "What are you doing up there?" demanded the soldier.
  "I'm, um, looking for something," lied the beggan.
  "Looking for what?"
  "Um, my marbles!" Ker'lee said, improvising.
  "You lost your marbles?" asked the soldier. "When?"
  "I don't remember," Ker'lee kept glancing at the gem.  Its glow was getting brighter.
  "I very much doubt you will find them up there," retorted the soldier.
  "But I have looked everywhere else!" wailed the beggan, stalling for time.
  Another soldier joined the first. "Wot's the problem 'ere, mate?" he asked the first soldier.
  "Beggan up there claims he lost his marbles," explained the first soldier.
  "Well, 'e bloody well couldn't 'ave lost 'em hup there!" the second soldier turned his attention to Ker'lee, "See 'ere, now.  You can't be prancin' about hup there!  Get down 'ere right now!"
  Ker'lee looked at the gem.  It was now a yellowish color.  It would take a few more minutes.
  "But I need my marbles!" wailed the beggan.
  "Bloody 'ell," snarled the second soldier. "We'll 'ave ta climb hup an' get 'im."
  "How?" inquired the first guard.
  "'Ow did 'e get hup there?"
  "He's a beggan, that's how," said the first soldier. "His kind all but walks up walls like a spider."
  "Well, then," countered the second, "We'll 'ave ta trick the little bugger down."
  "How?"
  "Tell 'im we found 'is bloody marbles!"
  "We didn't find any marbles that I know about."
  "'At's why it's a trick, you pratt!"
  "Who are you calling a pratt, you wally?"
  "I'm callin' you a pratt, you pratt!"
  While the two guards were engaged with their 'discussion', Ker'lee collected the gem, now glowing white, slid down the other side of the dragon's head, and casually sauntered off.  When he reached the safety of the crowd of gawkers he glanced back at the two soldiers.  The soldiers 'discussion' had elevated itself into a serious debate that drew the attention of the other soldiers.  Before Ker'lee slipped away he noticed the first two soldiers were now rolling on the ground, each trying to get a good punch in.
  Humans, thought the beggan, can be so very strange.

  "Enjoy, with the compliments of Thane Chulmoraiin Mak Dullaiin and Baron Dethstroek Homingraev."
  Molkin Greenleaf, having little to occupy his time since the loss of his livestock, had volunteered to distribute the usable meat from the slain red dragon.  Chulmoraiin, possibly acting on a suggestion from Dethstroek, recommended that a sizable portion of the meat be distributed to the families of the slain and injured soldiers that did battle with the wyrm.  Afterwards, a portion was to be given to the beggars at the Grand Platz.
  Thus, the elf-kin hitched up his horse to a wagon, loaded it up with the assistance of several butchers and soldiers, and proceeded into the city to parcel out the bounty.  A large soldier with a frighteningly stern face was ordered to accompany the shepherd in making his rounds, partly to provide the addresses of the dead soldier's families, and partly to provide protection for the elf-kin.  To each family, Molkin provided them with three stone weight worth of dragon flesh.
  "That was the last family," said the surly soldier as he checked his list.
  Molkin got the impression that his guardian was not fond of non-humans.  This was far from an uncommon attitude.  A few short weeks ago, Molkin found himself at the end of his rope...literally!  A mob of farmers was prepared to lynch the elf-kin for trespassing on public lands.  Had it not been for the timely arrival of Dethstroek and Pehnn, there would have been one less shepherd in V'rogg.  The knight freed the shepherd, bought his herd of goats, arranged for his safe passage, and even acquired the horse that currently pulled the wagon for him.
  "I daresay the destitute denizens of the Grand Platz will cheerfully relieve us of the balance remaining in the wagon," opined the elf-kin.
  "The what?" solicited the soldier.
  "The beggars will take what's left," simplified Molkin.
  "Well, why din'cha just say so?" grumbled the guard. "There's at least three more wagonloads of drag meat to get rid of.  Whatcha gonna do with it?"
  "Well, one load will go to Duke Bran Mak Dullaiin, of course," explained the elf-kin. "Another will be divided up among those of us involved in the disposition...um...all of us that cut up the dragon."
  The guard was clearly surprised that common soldiers would be allowed to take a portion of the kill.  It would make a nice departure from the simple fare normally placed before them.
  "Whatta 'bout the rest?" wondered the watchman.
  "Why, that will go to Baron Homingraev and Thane Mak Dullaiin, of course."
 
  "Ker'lee!  Where did you get that?"
  The beggan had just entered the tower bearing a large, heavy package that smelled of cooked meat.  Ker'lee struggled to lift his burden up onto the table before turning to face the mage.
  "An elf-kin and a soldier were giving it away to the beggars at the Grand Platz," explained the beggan. "I do not eat meat, but I thought you would like some."
  "That was very thoughtful of you, Ker'lee.  What kind of meat is it?"
  "Red dragon steaks, I think."
  Of course, thought the mage, this is from the Copper Drake I summoned to slay Dethstroek.
  "Dragon has excellent curative properties, Ker'lee.  Too bad there was no blood left, but after the dragon was cooked from within, naught remained that was usable.  Amazing things can be done with dragon's blood, you know."
  In fact, the beggan did not know, but was happy to accept the mage's word on it.

DRAGON, DRAGON, DRAGON

 "Ye gods, woman!  Have mercy on me."
  "Now ye know good an' well this is good fer ye!" argued Dearbhforgail. "If ye didn't want ta eat it, ye shouldn't have killed it."
  "Chulmoraiin killed it," countered the warrior. "Make him eat it."
  "I will gladly do so, Master Dethstroek, but honor demands that you take a fair portion of the spoils," Chulmoraiin said with a grin. "Besides, dragon steak is a rare treat."
  "Not for me it isn't!" roared the baron. "After I killed Tin'dar, I was fed dragon morning, noon and night for a week.  Dragon steak, dragon heart, dragon liver...dragon, dragon, DRAGON!  If I have to eat one more mouthful, I will go out into the wilderness, find another dragon, insult his mother and patiently wait for him to devour me."
  "Some dragon's eat their mothers," said Pehnn. "The eight legged pygmy spider-drag comes to mind..."
  "Dethstroek," said Tan, "I am shocked at this reaction.  Dragon is one of the few types of meat that my order approves of.  Indeed, it has been proven to improve health and promote healing, as well as increase muscle mass..."
  "I say thee nay!" shouted Dethstroek. "Chulmoraiin, I beg thee.  Slay me ere Gail returns with my plate."
  "And face her by myself?" said the young thane with a shocked expression. "My training has not yet progressed that far."
  "No amount of training would see you ready for that encounter," laughed Dethstroek.  Unfortunately for the warrior, Dearbhforgail chose that moment to return with his plate.
  WHACK!  A heavy wooden ladle was broken over the warrior's head.  Pehnn, Chulmoraiin and Murchadh almost fell out of their chairs as they all broke out in laughter.  Tan merely smiled and winked at the baroness.  Dethstroek rubbed his head where a bump began to grow.
  "None of that, now," warned the baroness as she set a loaded plate down in front of the warrior.
  As the head of the house, it was up to Dethstroek to take the first mouthful before anybody else could eat. "This is Tin'dar's revenge," he muttered.  Slowly, dreading to eat the dragon flesh, the warrior sliced a small piece of the steak and took a bite.  After a few tentative moments, he started to chew.  As he worked the meat in his mouth, the warrior's expression changed from trepidation to enjoyment.
  "Gail, this is wonderful!" declared Dethstroek. "It has a much different flavor than the black dragon.  And it is somewhat spicier.  Pehnn, why didn't you tell me that each dragon tasted different?"
  "Because I have never tasted any dragons," replied the gnome. "I don't eat meat, remember?"
  "Ah, you are a wise gnome, Pehnn," nodded Tan. "Too much meat is bad for the heart."
  "True," nodded the gnome. "I had an uncle he was a meat eater that died of a hearts, um, heart attack."
  Chulmoraiin also took a mouthful then said, "Milady, this is wonderful.  The duke himself has never eaten so fine a fare."
  "Oh, ye flatter me," blushed Dearbhforgail. "Now all of ye eat up.  We have dragan meat near overloading the larder, an' we will be eatin' it fer some days ahead."
  Dethstroek groaned at the thought of eating dragon, any kind of dragon, over and over again.  Maybe he could still talk Chulmoraiin into doing him in if he upped the training schedule.
  "Master, might I have leave to take Baron Pehnn into the city tomorrow?" asked Chulmoraiin.  "I wish to visit the Temple of the Redeemer.  I understand he has never been there, before."
  Dethstroek considered his aches and bruises from the encounter with Jiarg'skian, and decided training could wait a day or two. "Granted," he said.
  "Thank you, master," smiled the thane.
  Dethstroek noticed that Chulmoraiin was using 'master' a lot when addressing him, and not in a sarcastic way as one might have expected.  The warrior gave the thane permission to address him by his nom de guerre, but he seemed to prefer not to.  Dethstroek made a mental note to pursue the matter with the young noble in private at a later time.

  After everyone had gone to bed, Pehnn quietly slipped out of the house into the courtyard.  After he assured himself that there was nobody to see him, he willed his ring to restore his true form.
  The gnome's clothing melted away as his body expanded in length and girth.  Pehnn's face expanded and grew a long serpentine muzzle that sprouted long, sharp teeth.  Short, stubby fingers grew to long sharp talons.  His back sprouted wings, then a long whip-like tail.  Golden hued scales grew out of soft flesh.  Finally, the drogan stretched to his full length, enjoying the freedom of his true self.
  Pehnn enjoyed passing himself off as a gnome for the most part, but sometimes the small body felt confining.  There was also the earth-bound aspect of his disguise.  Drogans are creatures of the sky, and needed to soar among the clouds from time to time.
  Before taking flight, Pehnn darkened his scales so he would be less noticeable.  Few people knew the difference between a dragon and a drogan, and in a city recently terrorized by a real live wyrm, it was best not to fan the flames of fear by being seen as he flew about.
  Taking flight, Pehnn spread his wings wide to catch the air.  It had been some time since he was able to fly about in this manner.  Lacking any specific plan, Pehnn decided to visit the site of the Copper Drake's demise.
  Even in the dim light of the quarter moon the dragon's remains were readily visible from the air.  Apparently, humans and elf-kin were very efficient at stripping the great carcass.  Gone were the top scales, teeth, claws and most of the meat.  None of which were important to the drogan.  However, there was one little thing he could do that could prove helpful.
  Alighting next to the dragon, Pehnn inspected the remains and saw that the thicker tendons and sinews were still holding the great skeleton together.  The underbelly was still mostly intact as well.
  You poor dumb lizard, thought Pehnn, well, maybe I can help the locals out a bit.
  Drogans suffer in comparison to dragons in terms of size, strength and firepower.  Nonetheless, a drogan is tremendously strong when compared to humans, dwarves and even saurons.  Planting his hind-claws firmly into the ground, Pehnn grasped the great carcass and forced it onto its side.
  This will cause a bit of a stir in the morning, thought Pehnn, but the humans will have an easier time completing their grisly work.  The drogan was about to return to the air when he noticed something embedded in the dragon's under-scales gleaming in the dim moonlight.  Closer inspection revealed a gold coin, what the humans called a Midan, trapped in the dead dragon's underbelly.
  Jiarg'skian must have a hoard, somewhere, thought the drogan.  Unlike dragons, drogans have little interest in acquiring gold and gems.  Humanoids, however, prized such things highly, for some reason.  After a moment of contemplation, Pehnn decided that Dethstroek and Chulmoraiin were entitled to whatever wealth the dragon had by right of victory.  Besides, if the drogan intended to live among the humans, he would no doubt need some gold himself.  He had no idea how long his share of Tin'dar's hoard would last.
  I'll have to backtrack Jiarg'skian's trail, Pehnn thought.  Tracking a dragon on the ground was the very definition of simplicity.  Dragons were not known for their subtlety and discretion.  They were well known for burning down the countryside, knocking over trees and generally making a nuisance of themselves.
  Tracking a dragon through the air was altogether a wyrm of a different color.  On a windy day it was flat out impossible, but on a still night a drogan had a chance.  Drogans, with their keen senses, could generally track a dragon's movements, though said skill was generally employed as a means of going in the opposite direction.
  Taking to the air, Pehnn sniffed about, seeking the dragon's scent.  On the ground it was no longer possible, as the scents of humans, elf-kin, and, surprisingly, a beggan, obscured much of the dragon's smell.  After a few circles, Pehnn caught a scent.  It was faint, but detectable.  Keeping his speed down so as not to lose the trail, Pehnn winged his way to the south.
  It's going to be a long night, thought the drogan.

TEMPLE OF THE REDEEMER

  The next day was a busy one for the Homingraev household.  Molkin arrived shortly after breakfast to work on the plans for the baron's new home with Dearbhforgail and Chulmoraiin.  The elf-kin also delivered the dragon's heart, as it was tradition that the slayer of the dragon was expected to eat it.  Chulmoraiin went a little green about the gills when he learned he was expected to consume the sizable organ completely.
  "It is a great honor to consume the heart of a wyrm," said Tan.
  "We were fortunate to be able to get at it so soon," said the elf-kin. "Something forced the dragon's body onto its side, allowing us a more direct route to the heart."
  "Tis fortunate that wyrm flesh doesn't spoil like other meats," observed Dearbhforgail. "Now, what about my new home?"
  Dethstroek, while an intelligent man and a great warrior, freely admitted he knew nothing of architecture beyond fixing a leaky roof, and left all decisions to his wife, with Chulmoraiin's able assistance.  The baron did have to involve himself in all financial matters, such as the hiring of a dwarvin labor force, which Chulmoraiin and Molkin both claimed were the best builders.
  "It will be a fine home for a noble family," said Molkin.
  "Indeed," agreed Chulmoraiin. "We must be certain to plan a good celebration when the construction is complete.  That means we will need a fair sized reception hall."
  "Tis much larger than I had thought it would be," said Dearbhforgail as she looked over the rough plans. "An' this business of water flowing inside of the house is strange ta me."
  "Dwarves are ingenious with such things," explained Chulmoraiin. "This will eliminate the need for an outhouse, Milady."
  "Oh, 'tis not proper ta speak of such things," blushed the Lady. "An' do we need so many rooms?"
  "Well, there are the personal rooms for the family, the reception hall, kitchen, study, library, armory, vault, servant's quarters..."
  "I had not imagined," admitted the baroness. "How will I ever manage so large a home...?"
  "Then let us speak of the household staff," suggested the thane. "At the minimum, you will need an upstairs and downstairs maid, a stable hand, a man at arms, a tutor for Murchadh..."
  "So many people?"
  "Appearances are very important, Lady Dearbhforgail," insisted Chulmoraiin. "Oh, and a house craftsman to keep things in good repair.  I think Molkin would be an excellent choice for that."
  "Me?" said the surprised elf-kin.
  "Absolutely," insisted the thane.  "The work you did on your own home is remarkable."
  Pehnn entered the room and cleared his throat, a trick he learned from Dearbhforgail, to get Chulmoraiin's notice.  The thane saw the gnome and recalled his offer to escort him around the city.
  "Be one more minute, if you please, Baron Pehnn," said the thane. "We should consider designing your home as well."
  "I will be happy with whatever works for Dethstroek, if it is not gauche to copy his design," yawned the gnome.  Pehnn looked as though he had not slept well the night before.
  "Not at all," agreed Chulmoraiin. "Many noble homes are built on the same design."
  "Excellent," said the gnome with a wink.
  Chulmoraiin stood up and grabbed his cap, "Milady, with your permission?"
  "Ah, be off with ye," said Dearbhforgail. "Be home in time fer dinner.  I'll be makin' dragon stew.  Oh!  Here is a list of spices I'll be needin'."
  Chulmoraiin accepted the list with a bow. "If milady approves, I will also post a hiring notice at the Grand Platz."
  "Aye!  Now off with ye," insisted the baroness, " before that oaf of a husband of mine finds somethin' fer ye ta be doin'!"
  With another smile and a bow, the human and gnome made their escape out the door and down the street.  Chulmoraiin, familiar with the layout of V'rogg's streets since he was a child, guided the gnome quickly to the Grand Platz.  There, the thane posted two parchments to a community board.
  The first said: Wanted.  House staff.  Apply at 359 Lugh Lane.
  The second sheet was covered with rough drawings of people doing domestic chores.
  "What is this one for?" Pehnn asked, indicating the second parchment.
  "That is so people who can't read know that a job is available," explained the noble. "Many humans, especially among the lower classes, are unable to read."
  "That is terrible!" said the gnome.
  Chulmoraiin shrugged. "Most people are too busy trying to survive to concern themselves with non-essentials," he said. "Besides, teachers are rare in these parts.."
  Pehnn could scarcely believe his ears, then remembered that Dethstroek himself was ignorant of reading and writing until he met Geordus Wordweavor the gnome.  "We'll have to do something about that," Pehnn muttered.
  "Come on, Baron Pehnn," urged the thane. "We need to go to the temple before the sun gets much higher."
  "Why is that?"
  "Three times a day an acolyte will give an oratory on how the Order of the Redeemer came to be," explained Chulmoraiin. "This is it."
  The pair arrived at a sizable temple on the north end of the Grand Platz.  Pehnn examined the structure and had to admit he wasn't impressed.  The gnome had seen other temples in Rennibister, though admittedly at night when he visited that city, and in Cughmaiin.  Where those other temples were adorned with depictions of various gods or demons, this one was completely bereft of artistry.  Chulmoraiin entered and Pehnn followed.
  The inside was a shocking contrast to the outside.  Murals covered every wall, and even the ceiling.  One mural depicted two humanoids in black robes that disguised their race raising a legion of undead.  The next mural showed the dark robed humanoids wearing golden crowns while surrounded by all manner of undead creatures.  The next depiction portrayed the pair facing in opposite directions, one still wearing the black robes, while the other was now dressed in gray.
  The fourth mural depicted the robed humanoids facing each other at opposite ends of a battlefield, one dressed in black, the other now dressed in white.  Between them was a vast army of undead engaging an equally vast army of living warriors, also dressed in white.
  On the ceiling there was no sign of the black robed humanoid, but the army of the living was clearly cheering the white robed one.  Pehnn was about to inquire as to the meaning of the artwork, when the thane indicated that silence was called for.
  Quietly, the duo took a seat on a bench in the back of what appeared to be a small amphitheatre.  After a brief wait, a white robed human stepped up to the podium.
  "I bid you all welcome," said the robed man. "If everyone will take a seat, I will tell you all the story of the Redeemer."  People quickly, and quietly, took their seats.  Once the assemblage was settled, the robed acolyte began.
  "Decades ago there were two brothers.  Their names were Juhs'tihn and Ja'sohn.  It is no longer known if they were human or elf or dwarf, but it is known that they studied the dark magics of necromancy.  They searched through many an arcane tome in their search for knowledge and became well versed in the art of animating the dead to serve them.  Over time they built a vast army of zombies, skeletons, ghouls and wights, with which they conquered the known world.
  "Thirty years did the brothers rule with tyranny and injustice, until Juhs'tihn, for reasons as yet unknown, underwent a change of heart.  Leaving his brother, Ja'sohn, to rule alone, Juhs'tihn went into self imposed exile to explore his newfound outlook on the world.
  "Ja'sohn, without his brother's cunning and power, became a harsh, cruel despot that brought down terror and destruction upon all the conquered peoples.  All manner of vile and unspeakable atrocities were committed in the name of the necromancer king.
  "A score of years more did darkness reign, until a mysterious order arose based on new teachings.  This new faction developed magics and skills that allowed its members to gain control over the undead, the ability to harm them, or even banish them back to the nether-realms.  With these tools and abilities, this new faction was able to successfully oppose, and eventually deposed and put paid to the evil Ja'sohn.  However, the necromancer was not to be undone lightly, and in his final moments, he cast a mighty spell, causing a major earthquake to sunder many of the cities, bringing death and destruction on an immense scale.  But the necromancer was vanquished, and the last of his dark armies were wiped out by the order of warriors who were trained in the ways of healing and of combat against the un-living.
  "After what came to be known as 'The Fall' of the necromancer Ja'sohn, the original founder of The Order came forward, and lo, it was the brother who had left, who had spent twenty years searching for the powers necessary to undo the evil he had helped create, and therefore redeem himself, Juhs'tihn the Redeemed. 
  "With the downfall of Ja'sohn and the redemption of Juhs'tihn, the dark age they had together created, and separately destroyed, was over. It was then that Juhs'tihn left the known lands, never again to be seen.  The Order renamed itself the 'Order of the Redeemer', in his memory, and in honor of the inspiration and the mystical forces that allowed the redemption of an evil soul by the performance of good deeds.
  "Now, the Temple of the Redeemer is a place of meditation, training, study, and reverence devoted to those teachings of healing and mastery of the undead that the ancient one originally taught, so that no such power could ever again claim the realms.  Unlike most temples, The Temple of the Redeemer makes no claim to a patron deity, choosing instead to elevate the spirit of mortal beings.  All races and all classes are welcome within these walls.  To this day Temples to the Redeemer can be found in the cities of elf kind, human kind and dwarf kind.
  "Those interested in joining The Order can apply to Brother Michael at his desk in the back of the amphitheatre.  Thank you, and good journey."
  When the robed human finished speaking, he turned and left the podium.  Chulmoraiin indicated to Pehnn it was time to depart.  On the way out, Chulmoraiin dropped a Midan into a bowl by the exit.  The coin rolled about in the bowl for a moment, then vanished down a hole in the bottom.  Pehnn tossed in another Midan, watched it disappear, and then followed Chulmoraiin out.
  "What did you think?" asked Chulmoraiin.
  "It was surprisingly brief," replied Pehnn. "Are you thinking of joining some day?"
  "No," sighed the young thane. "My family would never permit it.  I am fourth in line for the crown, so I am too valuable to be wasted like that, in their opinion."
  "Fourth in line seems like a pretty far stretch," observed the gnome. "What are the odds you would ever ascend the throne?"
  "That is not easy to answer," replied the thane. "The king is very old and infirm, so he could go at any time.  First in line after him is my uncle, Prince P'rahtt.  But he is such am imbecile he could end up assassinated within a week of gaining the crown.
  "Next would be my cousin, Thane Wha'lhee, P'rahtt's son.  He is bright enough, but sickly.  He has a condition that prevents him from healing right.  If he gets even a tiny scratch, he will bleed for hours and hours.  The royal mage is constantly called upon to heal even the smallest injury.
  "Third in line is my cousin Bran, the Duke of V'rogg.  He would make a good king.  However, he likes his position here in V'rogg and has little interest in acquiring more power.  I suspect that is what makes him such a good ruler.
  "Then there is me, a thane that has embarrassed the crown by trying to stab a good knight in the back," Chulmoraiin lowered his head and watched the ground as he walked. "They had to exile Dethstroek in order to save face."
  "Well, Dethstroek is back, and better off than he was before," said Pehnn. "He bears no grudge to you or the duke."
  "I know," sighed the thane. "In a way, I wish he had killed me when he had the chance.
 I am afraid I would make a poor king."
  "Nonsense," countered the gnome. "You have courage and wit, as well as a willingness to make good.  I think you may make a great king, one day.  With the duke and Dethstroek's guidance, I am sure of it!"
  "I wish I was as confident as you, Pehnn," said Chulmoraiin.
  "You will be," said Pehnn with confidence. "Dethstroek will see to it, even if it kills him.  Now, lets go get that list filled for Dearbhforgail, or we may both get crowned!" Pehnn made as if to strike Chulmoraiin on the top of his head and laughed.  After a moment, Thane Chulmoraiin, fourth in line for the crown, joined the gnome in his mirth.

  Dearbhforgail was studying the plans for the new keep when somebody knocked on the door.  Leaving Molkin, she answered the door to find two dwarves.
  "Can I help ye?" inquired the Lady.
  "I am Lah'ree," explained the first dwarf with a short bow, "and this is my associate Ahl." Ahl also gave a short bow. "We are here to do the annex construction."
  "Annex construction?"
  "Yes," replied Lah'ree. "The connection from your house to the neighboring house."
  "What?  I have yet to purchase that property."
  "Got the work order right here," countered the dwarf, "signed by a Bran Mak Dullaiin."
  "What?"
  "I said it is signed by..."
  "I heard ye, mon!  I just dinna understand." Dearbhforgail turned and called into the house, "Dethstroek!  Come here, ye oaf!"
  The warrior promptly answered his mate's summons and appeared at the door.  "Yes, Gail?"
  "These gentlemen are here ta be adding on the 'annex'?"
  "What annex?"
  "We have the order pre-paid by one Bran Mak Dullaiin..." repeated Lah'ree.
  "The duke?" said Dethstroek brightly.  After a moment, the warrior made a mental connection. "Chulmoraiin!"
  "What about him?" said Dearbhforgail as she eyed the dwarves.
  "The duke granted Chulmoraiin, Pehnn and myself any one thing we desired.  Chulmoraiin asked to speak with Bran after requesting aid in disposing of the dragon's remains.  This must be his doing."
  "We really must get started, ma'am," insisted Lah'ree. "Now, if you have any preference how you would like the houses joined..."
  "I have no idea!" said the baroness.
  "Might I suggest you consult with Molkin?" recommended the baron.

  "You have done well, Ker'lee."
  The beggan smiled at the praise.  The mage was examining the brightly glowing gem Ker'lee had given him the night before.
  "There is enough power gathered in this gem to restore me to full power thrice over," explained the mage. "I will need this power when I put my plan into action.  Just to be on the safe side, I'll have that thief Elium take me up to full power first.  This will give me power to spare and, if all goes well, a means to acquire even more power.  I may even possess the needed energy to heal myself."
  Ker'lee had difficulty following all that his master was telling him, but he could see that the mage was happy, and that was all the beggan needed to know.  He started to do a little dance.  He was just getting up to speed when the mage grabbed his chest and let slip a small scream.
  "Ker'lee, my bottle!"
  The beggan raced across the room and leaped up to a shelf where he snatched up a bottle, then dropped to the floor and ran back to the mage.  The ailing mage snatched the bottle, removed its cork and took a long pull from it.
  "Gods save me, there is nothing left of it!"  In a fit of anger the mage hurled the bottle across the room where it shattered against the wall.  Thick amber liquid dripped down from the point of impact.
  "Ker'lee, you must go and get more!" pleaded the mage. "Quickly, while the butcher-shoppe is still open!"
  The beggan fairly flew out the door in his haste to do his master's bidding.  It would not be safe to approach his master again until he returned with full bottles of fresh...Ker'lee could not even bring himself to think it.

CHANCE ENCOUNTER

  Chulmoraiin and Pehnn were returning from their shopping expedition, loaded with a number of packages and whatnot.
  "It just occurred to me," said Pehnn, "that you spent a lot of money today."
  "Well, that would be all a matter of perspective, I think," countered the smiling thane.
  "I thought the duke cut you off when he made you Dethstroek's apprentice."
  "That he did," agreed Chulmoraiin. "He restored my assets when Dethstroek requested I not be forced into apprenticeship.  Or more accurately, when I requested to be re-apprenticed.  Bran was so pleased he couldn't wait to restore my privileges.  Good thing, too.  My tunics are getting a bit tight across the chest and in the shoulders."
  "Well, he has every reason to be proud of you, Chulmoraiin," returned the gnome. "Apprenticed less that a month, and you have a dragon to your credit," said Pehnn. "Deth is in his thirties, and only slew his first wyrm this year."
  "It was a team effort, Pehnn," countered the thane. "If I forget that, I'll need the largest helm in all of V'rogg."
  "Well said, Chul," agreed the gnome.  Pehnn had to admit that Chulmoraiin was growing on him.  The young thane's reputation had preceded him, and the gnome was prepared to hate him on site, but Chulmoraiin was actually a rather personable young man.  It was hard to believe he tried to kill Dethstroek two years before.
  "All will be destroyed!" came a loud voice just up ahead. "I have foreseen it all!"
  The young thane and the new baron approached the source of the yelling to discover a man dressed in tattered brown robes with a small golden hourglass hanging from a chain about his neck.  Noticing he had drawn a small audience, the man renewed his shouting.
  "Atlantis will sink beneath the waves, causing flooding and earthquakes!" continued the man. "Orkney will become a scattered collection of islands, far from the mainland!  V'rogg and Etrice will be plunged beneath the seas!  Skara Brae will become a coastal village!  All that man and elf and dwarf has wrought will be laid to waste!"
  "He does go on a bit," commented Pehnn.
  "He wears the robes and talisman of a Chronomancer, Baron Pehnn," said Chulmoraiin. "His is the power to move things forward and backward in time, and see all things that occur, be it in the past, present or future."
  "Then we should take this lunatic seriously?" asked Pehnn dubiously.
  "Well, maybe," said the thane. "Many Chronomancers are driven insane by their own powers.  It is said they must see something in the past or future that their minds cannot cope with."
  "Take heed, and be warned!" screamed the man. "It comes!  It comes!"
  "When does it come?" Pehnn asked the deranged Chronomancer.
  "I cannot be certain," said the time mage in a sudden whisper. "It could be as soon as three millennia, or as late at eight thousand years!"
  "Good!" said Pehnn. "So I have ample time to prepare!  Thank you, good sir!"  The gnome pressed a Bane into the madman's hand and turned to leave.
  "At last!" exclaimed the Chronomancer, "Somebody listened!"
  Before either Chulmoraiin or Pehnn could react, the man in the tattered robes vanished in a puff of multicolored smoke.  The gnome started to say something else when he was suddenly bowled over.  Parcels flying in every direction accompanied Pehnn's landing onto the street.
  "I sorry," said the small creature that had collided with the gnome. "I must hurry!  Sorry!"  The creature quickly regained his footing and raced off, still apologizing as he departed.
  Chulmoraiin watched the small being's retreating form as he assisted Pehnn. "I have seen that person before," he said.  With Pehnn back on his feet, the pair collected up the strewn packages.
  "The thief!" shouted the young thane. "His skullcap hides the scar, but that was the beggan that tried to steal your bag!"
  Pehnn looked in the direction the beggan had run, then shook his head. "Well, he's gone, now, but I got a fair look at him.  We'll tell Deth about it when we get back."

TAO SINGH

  "Now, tell me of any unarmed combat training you have received."
  Chulmoraiin and Pehnn had returned from shopping early enough for Dearbhforgail to make good use of the spices they brought.  Molkin had already left claiming he needed to recruit the dwarvin workforce needed for the construction of the new castle.  Tan decided to better know his students before the supper hour.
  "Well, I learned some wrestling from Captain Hogan in Rennibister, and boxing from Sergeant D'emsey..." started Chulmoraiin.
  "Bah!  What of you, Pehnn?"
  "In truth, I have never learned any of these disciplines," admitted the gnome. "Thus far it has not been important."
  "Not important?" Tan was incredulous. "Knowing HOW to defend yourselves will often mean you will not HAVE to!"  Tan looked at Chulmoraiin.  "Attack me boy!" he ordered.
  Chulmoraiin, remembering the speed and ease the old man demonstrated before was reluctant to obey.  "Must I, Master Tan?"
  "Why do you hesitate?" asked the monk. "I am old and frail, surely no match for a strapping young man such as yourself."
  "I have seen the speed with which you move, Master Tan," explained the youth. "Dethstroek has also mentioned your ability."
  "So, you prefer not to fight a foe you know is superior?"
  "Well, not if I can avoid it, I guess," admitted Chulmoraiin.
  "Was not the dragon a far more dangerous foe than myself?"
  "Well, that was different," argued the thane. "Lives were in danger.  Dethstroek would have been killed..."
  "Quite right, Chulmoraiin," interrupted Tan. "You have made two points for me: first, a foe is less inclined to attack one who is skillful and confident, such as I.  Second, a true warrior will still attack a superior foe if the cause is just."
  "I find this to be a bit confusing," said Pehnn. "Are you pleased Chulmoraiin prefers not to attack you, or annoyed that he won't?"
  "Neither.  Chulmoraiin, attack me," ordered the monk.  "Now."
  Cautiously, the thane obeyed.  Chulmoraiin was easily two stone-weight heavier, as well as three hand-spans taller than the monk, but after seeing the speed with which the monk could move on their first meeting, he was justifiably wary of the old man.  The thane wanted to hold back, but suspected Tan would be angry if he did.
  Extending his left arm half way, while keeping his right arm close to his lowered head, Chulmoraiin carefully moved forward.  He launched a couple jabs, as his former instructor had taught him.  Tan made no move to block the punches, yet was not struck by the flying fists.  When Chulmoraiin threw a hard right, Tan caught the arm, twisted his body, and sent Chulmoraiin flying through the air to land in a heap.
  "You did not fall correctly.  Try again," ordered the monk.
  "Must I?"
  "Why do you hesitate?"
  "Because I can't win," admitted the thane.
  "You are not here to win.  You are here to learn," Tan turned to Pehnn. "What have you learned?"
  "Um, people are hesitant to attack a competent fighter, that one must know how to fall correctly, and old monks have a serious mean streak," replied the gnome.
  "Yes, yes, and absolutely," smiled the monk.  "Come, Chulmoraiin.  First you will learn how to fall, then how to attack.  Then you and Pehnn will spar for awhile."
  "Master Tan," said Chulmoraiin, "may I ask how you learned to fight like this?  I thought monks spent all their time in prayer or meditation or something."
  "Ah, you seek knowledge," said Tan. "This is good.  Sit, both of you.  Few outside of my Order know what I now tell you.  Such information is not forbidden, but few think to inquire.
  "Many, many years ago the monks of my order were no different from any other order here in the land of Orkney.  We led simple lives of prayer, meditation, and service to the gods.  To support ourselves, we farmed and fished and brewed ale to sell.  We knew nothing of the martial disciplines, and were often victimized by raiders and bandits.  We had few weapons to defend ourselves with, and even less training in their use.
  "One day, a terrible storm ravaged our shores.  For three days and three nights the wind and rain wreaked havoc all across the land.  Many thought it to be the end of the world, so great was the power of the storm.  But it was not the end of the world.  Instead it was to be a new beginning for the Order.
  "After the sky cleared and the sun came forth, one of the Order, Brother D'annahor, went out to the beach to see what was left of the fishing boats and nets.  He was most distressed by what he found there.  The boats were smashed against the shore, and the nets were rent asunder.  There was also a man's body on the beach.
  "D'annahor went to the body expecting it to be a lifeless corpse, but no!  It was alive, though barely.  Carefully, D'annahor picked the man up and carried him back to the monastery.  When first D'annahor brought the near dead man to the other monks, many were afraid, for the man looked most odd to them.
  "The stranger had dark, slanted eyes and golden skin.  His head was shaved completely, though stubble was beginning to grow.  He was also very small, about the height of a gnome, and very thin.  Some wanted to take him back to the beach in the hopes that the sea would take him.  Brother D'annahor would not allow this.  'This is a man, and he needs our aid.  We will care for him, and bring him back to health if we can,' he said.
  "So, the stranger was placed in a cell and carefully back nursed to health.  The brothers fed him broth and fresh water, and later, as the stranger grew stronger, fish and boiled vegetables.  The stranger recovered quickly, and was soon walking about under his own power. 
  "Unfortunately, the stranger did not speak any language that the brothers could understand.  It took many weeks before the man could speak the common tongue of the land.  Finally, he was able to tell of his journey from a land far to the east and south.
  "His name was Tao Singh, and he, too, was a monk.  In the land of Tao's birth, monks were trained from a very young age many disciplines of armed and unarmed combat, as well as healing arts, philosophy, strange sciences, and how to control their minds and bodies.
  "Tao was one of nine monks who had decided to journey to distant lands to learn what they could learn, and teach what they could teach.  Tao Singh had decided to walk northwest.  After many years, and much travail, he came to the great seas of the north.  There, he fashioned a boat and set out on the open water, only to be swept up in the mighty storm and deposited upon the Orkney shore.
  "When Tao Singh was fully recovered, he demonstrated many of his skills to the brothers, and offered to teach them what he knew.  It took many years, but the Order became proficient in the martial arts, as well as many other disciplines.
  "When Tao Singh had taught us all that he knew, he made his farewells and returned to his own land.  In honor of his memory, we renamed our order in his name.  That is why we are known as the Order of Tao Singh."
  "Will you teach us all you know?" asked Chulmoraiin.
  "I cannot," replied the monk. "It would take many years to teach you all that I know.  And it is now forbidden to do so.  I may only teach you basic unarmed combat, some healing arts, and a little philosophy."
  "Why so little?"
  "In the past, we shared our knowledge, and saw it abused," said Tan. "Now we share very little, and charge tremendous sums for it."

  "I think that will about do it, milady."
  "Tis a lot o' rooms fer so small a family, even with the servants an' staff," observed Dearbhforgail. "It never occurred ta me that we'd need a compliment o' guards."
  "Well, it is common knowledge that dragons have hoards of gold and other riches," said Molkin. "Eventually, some rogue will think it's worth risking the wrath of an experienced dragon-slayer to help himself to it."
  "You sound less a farmer than a soldier, Molkin," observed the baroness.
  "In my youth I was something of a rogue myself, though I never finished my apprenticeship," admitted the elf-kin. "I just didn't have the heart for it."
  "Well, ye make a fine architect, I must say," said Dearbhforgail. "Where did ye learn the craft?"
  "My father," replied Molkin. "We spent hours upon hours going over such plans.  He designed many homes in Rennibister and Etrice.  I often worked on the construction with the dwarvin workers."
  "Well, with such fine skills, how did ye end up a rogue?"
  "Father was killed during an ork raid," said the elf-kin. "Back during all that trouble in Rennibister."
  "Ah, I know what ye mean," said Dearbhforgail. "Dethstroek lost his grandfather in those raids.  What made ye become a shepherd?"
  "I married an elf-kin maid with a sizable dowry in goats and chickens," explained Molkin. "Her father was impressed with me, though I know not why."
  "Were he elf or man?"
  "Elf," replied the Elf-kin. "His wife was human, I understand.  She died in childbirth."
  "An' how is yuir missus?"
  "She is well, thank you," smiled Molkin. "She makes fine garments and sells them at the Grand Platz.  There is magic in her fingers when she wields a needle."
  "Oh, I should like to see some of her work!"
  "I am wearing it, though my clothes are intended to be durable, not fashionable."
  Dearbhforgail glanced at Molkin's woolen tunic. "Tis fine work," she said with sincerity. "Could ye bring her along when next you visit?"
  "Certainly, if having Tolkin along will not be a problem," agreed the shepherd.
  "Oh, I am sure he and Murchadh will get along wonderfully!"
  "Hello, the house," came Chulmoraiin's voice as he and Pehnn entered. "Molkin, good to see you again."
  "Thane Mak Dullaiin," said Molkin as he bowed. "Baron Pehnn."
  "None of that, now," said Chulmoraiin. "We are among friends.  Save the pomp for the public."
  Dethstroek is rubbing off on the boy, thought Pehnn. "Where is the master of the house?" he asked. "The lesser master, that is," he added for Dearbhforgail's benefit.
  "Out back with Master Tanner," answered the baroness.

  "Here it is, master!  The butcher claims it is very fresh."
  Ker'lee set three bottles down on the table then stepped back.  It was not safe to get too close to his master just yet.  The mage came out of the shadows where the crystal lights failed to penetrate and carefully picked up the first bottle.  After he drained the contents, he placed the bottle carefully back on the table and took a seat.
  "The worse thing, I think," rasped the mage, "is that I am developing a taste for the stuff."
  That simple admission made the beggan's blood run cold.  If only there were some way to stock up on the bottles without the contents spoiling.
  "I am running out of time, Ker'lee," said the mage to the beggan. "Soon, I will lose myself to this...this...infection!"  The mage stood up and walked across the room and selected a book. "I will have to settle for a less...dramatic revenge.  Chulmoraiin should be easy enough to control if I do a Dream Walk spell on him."
  "Is there no cure, Master?" asked the beggan.
  "Hmph!  It was in curing a more complete manifestation of my condition that I became this way," snarled the mage.  Ker'lee took a step back, fearing his master would become violent. "Be calm, Ker'lee.  I'll not harm you."
  Ker'lee stepped forward, again. "Master?  You said you would tell me how it happened."
  "I did, didn't I?" said the mage. "Very well, Ker'lee.  Sit down and I will tell, again, how I came to my current plight.
  "It was, oh, fifteen years ago, Ker'lee.  Mon'darc, Dok'tor Phait, Da'raiin'jed and myself were having a bit of party in a tavern in Etrice.  I can tell you we had run up a hefty bar tab in the process!  Well, it was getting late and we realized that we didn't have enough silver to cover our tab.  We were trying to think of a way to get out of the bar in one piece when in comes a young warrior accompanied by an ork-kin vampyre!
  "Dok'tor Phait was prepared to destroy the foul thing on the spot with a Lugh's Light spell, but the young warrior placed his body between the vampyre and Phait, rendering the spell ineffectual.
  "The boy, Dethstroek, pleaded for us to cure the vampyre, who was Grimmoer, now a count here in V'rogg."
  "So you cured the vampyre?" asked Ker'lee.
  "Well, between needing the money and being intrigued by the possibilities, we agreed to attempt to try.  It took us three days to prepare, and we needed it to perform the ceremony on the night of a full moon.  
  "Well, the night of the full moon came and Grimmoer was told to lie down in the middle of this design that we drew on the floor with some mystic powder.  We decided to perform the ritual in the middle of the tavern.  According to Mon'darc it was a nexus of vast power.  Well, we started whispering and chanting and muttering and throwing powder in the air, most of which was unnecessary, but we wanted to put on a good show.
"We poured liquids and powders on Grimmoer, made gestures over him, burned smelly incense around him and stuck long needles in him, some of which was just for show.
  "Grimmoer, lying in the floor, began writhing and snarling like a wounded beast.  Finally, we separated Grimmoer from the vampyric essence.  Da'raiin'jed considered keeping the essence for study, but I protested, saying it would be far too dangerous.  So, we cut the demon's head off and it burst into flame.
  "When the flames died down, the demon was gone, and Grimmoer was changed.  He was more human in aspect.  Da'raiin'jed was in charge of the polymorph spell, and he must have decided making Grimmoer more human would confuse the vampyric essence should it return."
  Ker'lee looked confuse and the mage simplified his explanation.
  "That means the demon would be unable to find its former host if it returned," said the mage, then he continued. "Well, what happened after that I cannot say for certain, as I was dead by that time."
  Ker'lee took a second to process that last statement.  "Dead?"
  "Yes, Ker'lee. Dead," explained the mage. "Dok'tor Phait hauled us all over to a temple to get us fixed up.  We were in sorry shape, indeed!"
  Dead was sorry enough, thought the beggan.  Ker'lee did not want to imagine what could be worse than being dead.
  "After that, we all went our separate ways, though we did keep touch through mystic talismans and spells.
  "After a few months, I started to notice a change about myself.  Sunlight, which I need to recharge my energies, became painful for me.  Over time, the rays of the sun began to burn my flesh.  I found myself avoiding daylight, making me dependant on Elium's Energy Emporium to keep my powers up to snuff.
  "Then came the terrible thirst.  No matter how much water I drank, I was still consumed with that terrible thirst.  Eventually, I learned what I was thirsting for.  That was when I realized what was happening to me."
  The mage stood and walked over to the hovering mirror.  For once the mirror was quiescent, reflecting the interior of the room, instead of events occurring elsewhere.  Though he stood directly in front of the mirror, the mage's image failed to appear in the reflection.
  "I had become infected!" screamed the mage.  When he noticed Ker'lee's agitation, he forced his voice back down to calmer levels. "Somehow, I was infected with vampyrism, but it was not happening quickly.  Slowly, over the last fifteen years, the vileness has been creeping in my veins.  I have used spells, charms, even holy relics to fight off the evil that is slowly taking me over."
  "Master, is it not Grimmoer you should be angry at?" interrupted Ker'lee.
  The mage turned to face the beggan. "Yes.  It should.  But I can't do anything about Grimmoer.  His altered nature prevents my spells from affecting him.  Anyway, it was Dethstroek that brought him to us.  Dethstroek that taunted us!"
  The mage found he was beginning to rant, and again forced himself to be calm. "You know, Ker'lee, I sought aid from many mages of many disciplines.  Some helped me to slow down the spread of this infection, though not for long.
  "I even tried to get the aid of a Chronomancer.  I wanted him to turn back the clock, make me as I was before I ever met the Homingraevs.  This was beyond his ability, but he looked into the future, to see what was going to happen to me.  He said, 'In seeking vengeance on thy foe, to the city of V'rogg you must go, in facing his might thou might know, the end of thy curse in a blinding glow.
  "In cryptic doggerel may lay my salvation, Ker'lee.  But it must happen soon!  I feel the cold talons of the blood-drinker clawing at my soul!  It is corrupting me, making me lose my humanity.  That business with the Copper Dragon?  I would never have even considered such an act before I was infected.
  "I was a good man once, Ker'lee.  Now, in hopes of becoming one again, I find myself doing horrible, terrible things." The mage walked back over to the mirror. "Hopefully, tonight will be the last time."

MON'DARC

  "Pathetic, Dethstroek.  Simply pathetic."
  Dethstroek, in an attempt to work out the kinks in his muscles, took Tan up on his offer to exercise with him.  Now, however, the warrior found he had serious misgivings over his decision.
  "You have not been practicing," accused the monk. "You are getting lazy."
  "But I have been practicing," protested the warrior. At that moment, Pehnn and Chulmoraiin entered the courtyard. "Pehnn!  Please tell Master Tan I have been practicing."
  "Practicing what?" asked the gnome innocently. "You mean fighting?  I have seen Dethstroek clean out many taverns in brawls during our travels."
  "You waste my teachings on drunken brawls!" roared the monk.  Dethstroek actually winced and hung his head. "Is this what you will teach these men?" Tan indicated the gnome and the thane. "You should be ashamed of yourself."
  "Apologies, Master Tanner," said Dethstroek in a subdued voice. "I will try to do better."
  The limited appeal Pehnn found in seeing the large warrior put in his place by the small monk quickly evaporated. "If I may interrupt this little drama, I have important news.  We ran into a certain beggan on the way back from the market.  Or, more accurately, he ran into us."
  "It was the one I almost caught in Pehnn's room," added Chulmoraiin. "He got away before we realized who it was."
  "It seemed he was in a bit of a hurry," contributed Pehnn.
  "I have had enough of this secret enemy that plagues us," growled Dethstroek. "I think it is time we brought in an ally.  Pehnn, I will need your help."

  "I don't know, Pehnn.  I have a business to run, here."
  Pehnn had to wait until nightfall before leaving the city.  This was the only way to depart from V'rogg without being seen in his natural form.  Once again, he made the journey to Cughmaiin where he hoped he would find an ally.
  "Dethstroek is prepared to generously compensate you for your time."
  "What exactly does he expect me to do?"
  "Well, in truth, I am unsure," admitted the drogan. "But he was most insistent that you come immediately."
  Mon'darc the Mage drew a long breath and released it. "You want me to fly back, don't you?"
  "Well, I would do the flying, but yes, Dethstroek has come to feel that time is of the essence," said Pehnn. 
  "For what I'm going to charge for this, it better be!" grumbled the Mage. "I knew I should have learned that teleportation spell.  Well, since you are here, you can take all this back with you as well."
  Mon'darc went to a door and threw it open.  Through the doorway Pehnn could see several sizable bundles and a very large cauldron.
  "This was left over from that blue dragon Dethstroek killed after all that business with Gh'ahtorr and For'log," explained the mage. "Two hundred and fifty-stone weight of meat and a cauldron full of dragon blood."
  Pehnn had no trouble remembering the venerable blue dragon that came knocking on the door of 'The Black Dragon Tavern'.  Dethstroek had had no difficulty slaying that one at all.  The warrior had asked Mon'darc to see to the wyrm's disposition before leaving for V'rogg.
  "I sold off and even gave away as much as I could," explained Mon'darc, "and I have eaten all I will stand for."
  Dethstroek will be very irritated if he has to eat all this himself, thought Pehnn.

BETRAYAL

  "I have a mission for you."
  Chulmoraiin was with Dethstroek and Pehnn as they followed the beggan.
  They had chased the beggan through the empty fog-laden streets of late evening V'rogg for what seemed like forever.  Beggans were well known for their speed and agility, and this one was particularly quick.  The thane could not understand how Dethstroek and Pehnn, each burdened with heavy dragon scale armor, could possibly keep up such a pace.
  Why were the streets empty? wondered Chulmoraiin.
  The trio turned a corner in time to see the beggan enter a mysterious tower on the edge of the city.  The tower had no windows, though there were a number of large crystals embedded in the brickwork circling the edifice.
  "I have never seen such a tower before, Master," said Chulmoraiin to the warrior.
  "Such crystals are often employed by mages in their craft, boy," replied Dethstroek. "Stay alert, our quarry is near."
  Chulmoraiin was slightly put off at being called 'boy'.  Dethstroek must be a bit on edge, he thought, He never called me boy before.  Dethstroek took the lead and approached the tower while Pehnn and Chulmoraiin followed close behind.  At the door, Dethstroek called Chulmoraiin and Pehnn together.
  "I am going to kick in this door, then we all run in together," said the warrior, indicating the thick wood door.
  Chulmoraiin knew something about woods, and he could see that this door was made of oak.  It would take a battering ram to break down that door, he thought.
  Dethstroek planted himself firmly before the door then launched a kick with his right foot into the obstacle.  To Chulmoraiin's amazement, the door shattered as if it were made of thin ice.
  Quickly, the trio ran into the tower.  The interior was dark, as might be expected.  Pehnn pulled a flaming torch out of his backpack to light the way and the group proceeded.
  Flaming torch?
  In the steady light of the torch the trio could see three large bookcases filled to overflowing with books and arcane bric-a-brac, another door, a table with a mirror hovering over it, a staircase and a broken bottle.
  Chulmoraiin inspected the binders on the book in an attempt to discern their contents, but the lettering appeared to be jumbled, making them illegible.  Looking about, he found an hourglass with flowing sand.  It took a moment, but after watching the motion of the sand, Chulmoraiin realized the sand was flowing upward.
  The thane turned to tell Dethstroek of his discovery, only to see the warrior was on the floor face down.  Chulmoraiin approached his mentor only to discover a long bladed knife was sticking out of the warrior's dragon scale covered back.  A sound drew the thane's attention to another part of the room where he discovered Pehnn leaning against the wall with both of his hands cut off.
  "Pehnn!" exclaimed Chulmoraiin as he ran to the gnome's aid. "What happened?"
  "Something attacked us, but we could not see what it was," gasped the gnome. "It went back up the stairs when you turned around."
  "I'll see this demon sent back to hell!" vowed the thane.
  "Take this," said Pehnn, nodding at the waster laying next to him.
  "A waster is a poor weapon in a true battle," countered Chulmoraiin.
  "Unless you do battle with a vampyre," said Pehnn.
  "Vampyre!" exclaimed the thane.  Snatching up the waster, Chulmoraiin raced up the stairs.  There, in the gloom of candlelight, could be seen a coffin with an open lid.  Inside the coffin reposed a man dressed in the robes of a mage.  The room was too poorly illuminated to make out the face.  Chulmoraiin warily approached the coffin with his waster held high.  Standing over the quiescent body, Chulmoraiin looked again at the creature's face.  It was not clear, though he was close enough.  The features seemed to flow about, taking different shapes.  The face of Pehnn, the beggan, Duke Bran, Master Tan, each appearing and disappearing one after the other.
  Chulmoraiin could hear the voices of Dethstroek and Pehnn telling him to end the monster's life, to thrust down the waster deep into the creature's black heart.
  Dethstroek's voice?
  Chulmoraiin recalled that the warrior was wearing armor.  Perhaps the blade failed to penetrate the dragon scale.  But, then, why was he laying face down on the floor?  Chulmoraiin started to bring the waster down, intending to plunge it into the vampyre's chest.  Halfway down, the wooden blade stopped.  Try as he might, the thane could not bring the waster down any further.
  Suddenly, the creature spoke.
  "Chulmoraiin," the voice said.
  The monster's features became that of Dethstroek.
  "Chulmoraiin," said the creature with Dethstroek's voice.
  Chulmoraiin threw all of his strength into forcing down the wooden blade, but to no avail.
  "Chulmoraiin!  What are you doing?" demanded Dethstroek.
  The thane blinked in surprise.  He was standing in Baron Dethstroek's bedroom holding a dagger over his bare chest.  The warrior was holding the thane's wrist in a painful grasp, preventing him from plunging the dagger down.  Dearbhforgail was sitting up, drawing her blankets up to her neck.
  "Master!  I do not understand.  We were in a tower..." Chulmoraiin relaxed his grip and Dethstroek gently disarmed him. "We chased the beggan to a tower.  You and Pehnn were injured..."
  "Be calm, Chulmoraiin," said Dethstroek.
  "Be calm, ye say!" yelled Dearbhforgail. "He almost murdered us in our bed.  Be calm ye say!"
  "Chulmoraiin, I know not why you tried to do this," said the warrior. "I find it hard to believe you would seek my death on your own.  Not now."
  "Master, I must have been sleepwalking," said Chulmoraiin nervously.
  "Chulmoraiin, Pehnn is bringing in a friend of mine," said Dethstroek. "He is a powerful mage.  We will get to the bottom of this when he gets here.  For the rest of the night, however, I will have to lock you in your room.  I hope you understand why this is necessary, man."
  Chulmoraiin straightened his posture and replied, "Yes, Master.  I think that would be wise."
  "Ye bloody well better believe it!" snarled the Lady Dearbhforgail.

  "I can't believe he tried to kill you."
  The flight from Cughmaiin took longer than Pehnn had expected.  Mon'darc was not the best passenger, and Pehnn had to make frequent stops to keep the mage from becoming violently ill.  Apparently, Mon'darc's healing skills did not include curing airsickness.
  When the drogan and mage arrived at the Homingraev residence they discovered Chulmoraiin was locked in his room, Dearbhforgail screaming bloody murder, and Dethstroek trying to calm her down.  After some time and effort, things calmed down enough for Pehnn and Mon'darc to get the whole story.
  "You were making such wonderful progress with him."
  "I am no less surprised than you, Pehnn," admitted the warrior. "Chulmoraiin was coming along so well, I can't believe it was an act."
  "What do we tell the duke?" asked the gnome.
  "Nothing, until we get to the bottom of this," replied Dethstroek.
  "If I may?" interrupted Mon'darc. "I would like to see this Chulmoraiin."
  "Certainly, Mon'darc," agreed the warrior. "But have a care, he can be dangerous."
  "More so if ye be asleep!" added Dearbhforgail.
  Ignoring his wife's outburst, Dethstroek escorted Mon'darc to the thane's quarters.  Once there, the mage insisted he see Chulmoraiin by himself.
  "He has been a good student, Mon'darc. He could do you a damage should he become violent," warned the warrior.
  "I will be careful," smiled the mage. "I am not without resources of my own."
  As Mon'darc moved down the hallway, Pehnn walked over to Dethstroek and whispered something in his ear.
  The mage gestured at the door and it came open long enough for him to enter Chulmoraiin's chambers and then the door automatically closed behind him.  Chulmoraiin, lying on his cot, sat up and looked at the mage.  Through the closed door the pair could hear Dethstroek yelling something about 'more damned dragon meat'.
  "Who are you?" asked the thane, rising from his bed.
  "I am Mon'darc, mage of Cughmaiin," bowed the mage. "With your permission, I would like to examine you."
  "To what end?" whispered Chulmoraiin. "I was caught trying to kill Baron Homingraev in his own bedroom."
  "You tried to kill him before, did you not?"
  "Yes," admitted the thane. "Two years ago."
  "Why?"
  "I don't know!" yelled Chulmoraiin. "I thought it was because he embarrassed me in front of a lady, at the time.  Now, I am no longer sure."
  "Why did you try this time?"
  "I don't know that, either.  I was dreaming that Dethstroek, Pehnn and I were chasing a beggan through the streets of V'rogg.  We entered this tower..."
  "A moment, Chulmoraiin," said Mon'darc. "You were dreaming?"
  "Yes."
  "Is Chulmoraiin your true name?"
  "It is."
  Mon'darc approached the young thane. "With your permission, I would like to do a Spell of Discovery.  It might help us learn the cause behind your...antisocial...behavior.
  "Anything, mage," sighed Chulmoraiin.
  Mon'darc smiled and produced a blue crystal seemingly from the air.  "I want you to relax and look at this crystal.  See how the candlelight becomes many different colors?  Is it not interesting?  Look closer as the lights play about within...that's right...you may feel a bit drowsy...that is good...just let yourself drift off..."

  "They have been in there for an hour."
  "I am sure all is well, Deth," said the gnome in comforting tones. "You have taken a liking to the boy, haven't you?"
  "He is a man, not a boy, Pehnn," countered the warrior. "Yes, I guess I have.  He has shown tremendous courage and has been an excellent student, better by far than I had expected.  I doubt I would have faced a dragon the way he did at that age."
  "Hmmm...he saved your life," recalled Pehnn.  "Strange that he should seek to take it, now."
  Dethstroek's head shot up to face the gnome.  "Indeed.  If he had wanted me dead, the dragon would have done the job well enough, had he not interfered."  The warrior started to walk down to Chulmoraiin's room, but Pehnn stopped him.
  "Do you think it is a good idea to interrupt Mon'darc while he is in there?" asked the gnome. "Disturbing a mage in the middle of an enchantment might have unpleasant repercussions."
  Dethstroek hesitated.  Pehnn was right, of course.  Mon'darc, Chulmoraiin or even both of them could be killed or worse should a delicate enchantment be disturbed in the offing.  Slowly, he sat down on the fur-covered couch, only to leap back to his feet when he heard the sound of a door opening down the hall.
  Mon'darc came down the hallway and took a seat in a chair.  "The boy is innocent," he said. "He was under an enchantment.  I cannot scrye the mage that enchanted Lord Chulmoraiin, but I did get a sense of familiarity."
  Dethstroek breathed a long sigh of relief.  "Thank Lugh!"
  "You may be interested to know that this is not the first time Chulmoraiin was thus ensorcelled," continued the mage. "There is evidence he was similarly controlled about two years ago."
  "TWO YEARS AGO?" Dethstroek and Pehnn yelled simultaneously.
  "Is this significant?" asked the mage.
  "Two years ago Chulmoraiin challenged me to a duel on a most flimsy pretext," explained Dethstroek. "I rendered him insensate with a punch to his nose.  Later that same night, he sought me out and tried to knife me from behind."
  "Then he was not at fault for those acts?" observed Pehnn. "We will have to inform the duke straight away."
  "Aye!" agreed the warrior. "And Chulmoraiin as well."
  "As a precaution, I took the liberty of placing a spell on him that will protect him from any further attempts at mind control," said the mage. "Any spell caster below my ranking will find it impossible to enchant the boy for several months."
  "And a more powerful mage?" asked Pehnn
  "That, of course, depends on the power level of the mage, but even Dor'lok the Impressive would take at least three days to shatter my spell and re-ensorcel Chulmoraiin," said the mage.  To Dethstroek he added, "Not easy to cast such powerful protection spells with all the yelling you were doing."                                               
  "My apologies, Mon'darc, and my thanks," said the warrior. "I must go and speak with him."
  "Just so you know, I have also placed a ward about this house to prevent any scrying devices from spying on you."
  "What is all this noise?" came Master Tan's voice. "I am an old man and I need my rest."
  "Apologies, Master Tanner," said Dethstroek as the monk entered the room. "I will explain momentarily.  Again you have my thanks, Mon'darc.  Now, I must go to Chulmoraiin." Dethstroek turned on his heel and stalked down the hall to Chulmoraiin's quarters.  Dethstroek opened the door without knocking and walked in.  Chulmoraiin immediately jumped to his feet.
  "Master," said the thane with a nod.
  "Did Mon'darc explain everything to you?" asked the warrior. "About last night, and about two years ago?"
  "He did," said Chulmoraiin.  The thane started to fidget nervously.
  "Are you not pleased?" Dethstroek approached the thane. "You didn't do any of the things we thought you did.  Not of your own volition, anyway."
  "I understand, master," replied Chulmoraiin simply.
  "Then, what is wrong?" inquired the warrior. "I should think you would be overjoyed at this news."
  "I am not happy to find that I was so easily manipulated," said the thane. "I might as well have marionette strings holding me aloft."
  "Well, we will just have to get you a nom de guerre for use in the future," said the warrior. "Too late for V'rogg, but in other places it will be useful."
  "Am I going to need it?" asked Chulmoraiin.  There was an odd expression on his face.
  "Well, I imagine so," replied Dethstroek. "I imagine we will be called on to travel at some point, for such is the life of a warrior..."
  "Are you not going to tell cousin Bran that I need not be trained now that we know I wasn't responsible for my actions?"
  "I fail to see any reason for that," countered the warrior. "You still need training and discipline, regardless.  I'll not have it said that Dethstroek Homingraev only trains his apprentices halfway.  I train warriors!"
  Chulmoraiin's face broke out in a smile. "Yes, master!"
  "Another thing," continued Dethstroek, "Why do you keep calling me 'master'?  I told you to call me 'Dethstroek'."
  "One day Murchadh will be an apprentice, yes?" asked the thane.
  "I expect he will.  What of it?"
  "He will learn how an apprentice should behave by observing you and those you teach, will he not?" asked Chulmoraiin.  Before Dethstroek could answer, the thane continued, "It falls to me to set the proper example for him."
  Dethstroek was surprised that Chulmoraiin was so forward thinking on another's behalf. "Chulmoraiin, you will one day make a good teacher.  However, it is my opinion that none who have slain a dragon should acknowledge any man his master.  In public address me as you will, but in my home, please, call me by name."
  "As you wish, Dethstroek," said the thane with a smile and a bow.
  "Come, now.  We have much to discuss with the others."

  "It didn't work."
  The mage stood up from his chair and began pacing back and forth.  To Ker'lee, this was a clear indication that his master was nervous.
  "Chulmoraiin actually started to resist the Dream Spell," rasped the mage. "He noticed inaccuracies in the dream environment and started to question it.  I was only able to keep him under my sway by distracting him with the illusion of injury to his friends."  The mage turned to Ker'lee. "His mind has become stronger than I realized.  It will take too much energy to try again, assuming Dethstroek hasn't killed him outright."
  "You do not know what occurs there, now, master?"
  "I do not know," replied the mage. "It took me a while to recover after the Dream Spell was broken.  Now I find there is some form of interference blocking my attempts to spy on that household."
  "What now, master?" asked the beggan.
  "I will have to find a way to lure the warrior to a place of my choosing," said the mage. "There I will arrange a meeting between him and The Summoned.  I had hoped it would not come to this.  First, I will need the right bait..."

KIDNAPPED

  "That will be three Banes, Baroness."
  Dearbhforgail was too upset by far to go back to sleep after all the excitement over the night.  When morning came she welcomed an excuse to go out and do some shopping.  The house was full of guests, and the larder was getting low, except for dragon meat, so Dearbhforgail took Murchadh and headed to the Grand Platz for more supplies.
  For the baroness, shopping was a comfortably mundane activity.  Since Dethstroek's return, life was a bit of a whirlwind of activity.  The house was full of Dethstroek's friends and allies.  And what a group it was!  There was Pehnn, a dragan...correction ...drogan with a magic ring, Chulmoraiin, a former enemy, the monk, Master Tanner and Mon'darc the Mage, not to mention Molkin and all the dwarves working on the annex connection.  The lot of them were nice enough, even Pehnn, who could give a body a serious fright in his natural form.
  "Look, Ma!" Murchadh pointed to a street vendor on the edge of the Platz. "Could we buy a sweet?"
  "Oh, I suppose so," said Dearbhforgail, "if they are not too dear."
  The mother and son walked over to the street vendor to look over his wares.  The vendor was a tiny man dressed in heavy robes.
  "Try my sweets?" said the tiny man. "Free sample!  Free sample!"  The little man held out a small platter with a number of candies on it. "You try?"
  Many vendors offered free samples of their wares to draw in potential customers.  Women with children were often the prime targets for sweet sellers.  Murchadh looked over the platter, then looked up at his mother.
  "Can we, Ma?" asked the boy hopefully.
  "I imagine it would be alright," said Dearbhforgail as she reached for a sample.
  When both had tried the confection, Dearbhforgail looked over the various bins considering what to buy.  The samples were quite good, melting on the tongue as they did.  They seemed almost magical.
  "How much for a bag of these?" she asked pointing at the bin full of the same sweet she had just tried.
  "Three Tears a bag," answered the vendor.
  Dearbhforgail counted out twelve copper coins from her purse and placed them on the vendor's table.  As she was about to collect the four bags, she began to feel light headed.  Glancing down at Murchadh, Dearbhforgail could see that he was unconscious, leaning against the vendor's cart.  She looked back up at the tiny man as her vision began to darken.
  The smiling face of the vendor was the last thing she saw before all went dark.

  "When you strike a foe bare-handed, an open palm can deliver as much damage as a closed fist, but with less injury to your hand."
  Master Tanner had been busy training Pehnn and Chulmoraiin all morning.  Chulmoraiin was taking instruction surprisingly well.  He was putting on a lot of muscle, thanks to Dethstroek's exercises and Dearbhforgail's cooking.
  Pehnn was already in amazing physical condition, especially for a gnome.  The transformed drogan was easily as strong as any dwarf the monk had ever seen, but he was somehow lacking in endurance.  There was also the strangeness of his body language.  Pehnn moved in a manner more consistent with a much larger, stronger creature.  Even the gnome's balance was a little off, as if he needed a tail to keep him on even keel.
  "Observe as I strike this board," continued the monk.  He addressed a wooden plank that was stretched between two wooden stumps.  With a fluid motion, Tan brought an arm up; bent at the elbow with his palm aimed downward then brought the palm down with lightning speed.  The board broke in half and fell to the ground.
  "That was wonderful, Master Tan!" said Chulmoraiin. "Will I be able to do that, soon?"
  "Certainly," said the monk with a nod.
  "How often will we be attacked with wooden boards, master?" said Pehnn seriously.  The disguised drogan still had some difficulty with human culture.
  "Very amusing, Pehnn," said the monk. "Breaking boards test your speed and power, as well as your precision."
  "Apologies, Tan," replied Pehnn. "I did not understand."
  "I was wondering about that myself," admitted Chulmoraiin.
  "No apologies necessary," stated the monk. "I forget that these training techniques are new to you.  I believe a day will come when everybody knows something of this practice."
  "Did Dethstroek ever have to break boards?" inquired the thane.
  "Indeed," smiled Tan. "By the time I was done with him, he could break three such boards at once.  With his head."

  At that moment, Dethstroek felt very much indeed like breaking something.  Boards would have been good though heads would have been much better.
  "Nothing?" asked the warrior for the umpteenth time.
  "I am afraid not, Dethstroek," answered the mage. "Your foe is well versed in his craft to prevent me from locating him with my magic.  If I knew his name, I would have a better chance at succeeding."
  Dethstroek released a long sigh. "This villain vexes me sorely, Mon'darc.  Because of him, I have been two years away from my family, Pehnn has had his ring tampered with, and Chulmoraiin has been embarrassed before the royal court.  This has to stop!"
  "I will do what I can," said the arcanist. "I may be able to do something about Pehnn's ring, but it will take a few days of preparation at least."
  "I don't suppose it is possible to just find another ring, is it?"
  "Magic rings do not fall from trees," said Mon'darc. "Well, not usually.  I could create such a ring, but it would be costly in the extreme, and take several days, if not weeks, to complete the enchantment.  It may be easier to repair his current talisman."
  Dethstroek began to pace about the room.  Warriors tended to be men of action, and as such, were readily annoyed by things they could not face head on.  It didn't help that he was starting to get a little hungry, as well.  Dearbhforgail should be back from shopping by now, thought the warrior.
  "Dethstroek," said Mon'darc, interrupting the warrior's thoughts. "We should also discuss the disposition of the cauldron."
  "Cauldron?" Dethstroek took a moment to remember the huge pot that Pehnn brought back with Mon'darc, in addition to more dragon meat. "Oh, yes.  What of it?"
  "It is filled with dragon's blood," stated the arcanist.
  "Lugh spare me!" muttered the warrior. "Mon'darc, I am sorely tested by all things dragon, just now."
  "Know you not the value of that cauldron?" asked Mon'darc.
  "I am sure it would bring a good price at market," grunted Dethstroek.
  "There is special magic in dragon's blood," retorted the arcanist. "Many are the potions and salves that can be made from the wyrm's fluids."
  "I suppose that would be useful to some," said the warrior.
  "The blood, like the meat, will not spoil," added Mon'darc. "It will remain useful for a very long time."
  Dethstroek stopped pacing and faced the arcanist. "I am sure I will eventually make good use of it."
  "Take care not to waste it," explained Mon'darc. "There is enough in that cauldron to submerge a fair-sized dwarf."
  "Why did you not tell me of this when I killed Tin'dar?"
  "Tin'dar was flash fried by Madbulaiin, cooking him inside out, as was that Copper Drake young Chulmoraiin slew," said the arcanist. "Cooked from the inside out as they were, there was no usable blood to be retrieved.  Only that blue dragon you slew before you left Cughmaiin had any vital fluids."
  "That blue dragon was so old his scales were falling off," said Dethstroek. "He was so slow I was easily able to find a vulnerable spot for Madbulaiin to pierce."
  "Why didn't you use that blinding light that kills on the wyrm?"
  "Pehnn once told me that dragons have pride," explained the warrior. "Even if they dearly wish to die, they have to make a fight of it.  I gave the dragon the battle he needed to rest in peace."
  "Were you not taking a great risk?"
  "If I was too sorely tested, I still had my sword's power to fall back on," shrugged Dethstroek.
  "You were generous to donate the lion's share of meat to the town," said the arcanist.
  "Generous my foot!" growled the warrior. "I was ready to provoke Chulmoraiin into killing me just so I would not have to eat another bite of dragon!"
  Mon'darc smiled as he remembered ministering to the warrior as he recovered from his injuries.  The mage had fed the injured Dethstroek dragon meat morning, noon and night for a week to aid in his recuperation.  Changing the subject, he said, "I may have an idea.  I can do nothing to locate your enemy, but maybe I can do something about his henchman."

  "Well done, Ker'lee!"
  It took some time to push the heavy vending cart from the Grand Platz to the tower.  Dearbhforgail and Murchadh added to the considerable weight of the cart, and the beggan had to push it under his own power, as he had no horse to pull it.  He also had to stop many times to sell the sweets.  It never occurred to the beggan to remove the shingle from the side of the cart.
  "Dethstroek will come into my trap without hesitation with these two as my hostages," said the mage.  With a gesture, Dearbhforgail and Murchadh were levitated out of the cart and sent floating down into the dungeon. "Follow them down and put them in chains.  Mind that they are out of The Summoned's reach.  It would not do to lose them before they have served their purpose."
  "Yes, master," said Ker'lee as he followed the levitating Lady and her soaring son.  Down the spiral steps into the dimly lit dungeon, Ker'lee trotted to keep up with his charges.  Fortunately, they alit right were they could be chained without being moved further.  Rather than manacle the mother and son by their wrists, Ker'lee simply chained their right ankles.  This would be more comfortable, he thought.  The beggan also ran back upstairs and returned with food and water and placed the fare in easy reach of the pair.  He even set up a few oil lamps and lit them to dispel the darkness.
  Satisfied that the prisoners were settled and provided for, Ker'lee went back up the stairwell.  Halfway up the steps, the beggan was struck by an urge to go outside.  At the top of the stairs, Ker'lee could see that the mage was busy with some arcane activity.  It was never wise to interrupt the master when he was so occupied, so the beggan simply strolled out the door into the street.
  Outside, Ker'lee started walking without any destination in mind.  For reasons unknown to him, he was compelled to walk toward the center of town.  Since the weather was so nice, the beggan decided not to fight the urge to keep walking for a time.

  Mon'darc rarely used the Spell of Summoning in his practice.  Back in Cughmaiin there was little need for such an enchantment.  Cughmaiin was a small village where people rarely became lost or misplaced.  The majority of his work involved healing the sick and injured, weather forecasting, talisman identification and sending the occasional Dream-spell for the local baron, or even selling the odd custom made dream.  Dreams of flying or sexual gratification were among the most popular, though heroic fantasies were on the rise.
  Summoning Spells came in many varieties.  There was the Spell of Greater Demonic Summoning, which would summon a vile monster from the depths.  Then there were the simpler animal summoning spells that could urge livestock to return to their owners, or even induce a predator, such as a wolf or bear, to walk blindly into a trap.  Sometimes a pestilence could be summoned to harass a foe.
  Mon'darc was casting a spell of select group summoning.  Normally, lacking the name of a targeted individual would make such a spell unusable.  But the target was a beggan in a city of humans.  Since it was unlikely there were more than a dozen or so beggans in all of V'rogg, the arcanist was able to simply call for every beggan in the city.  This would allow Dethstroek to pick out the specific halfling and, hopefully, capture him.
  Dethstroek had summoned Master Tanner, Pehnn and Chulmoraiin to assist him in spotting the diminutive antagonist.  While Mon'darc weaved his enchantments, the foursome took up positions outside where they would be unobtrusive.
  In short order, a small gathering of beggans began to form in the street in front of the warrior's house.  One was clearly a warrior, dressed in light armor armed with a short sword.  Next came a pair of acrobats, dressed in colorful garb common among such performers.  Soon a rogue, a bard and a baker joined the growing group.  Finally, a familiar form forged its way up the street.
  From his position across the street, Dethstroek could see the beggan as he approached.  Remembering the speed the little being demonstrated on their first meeting, the warrior feared to approach the halfling directly.  Instead he signaled to Tan, whom the beggan never met, and to Mon'darc to cancel his spell.
  With the enchantment gone, the bevy of beggans began to stroll away, some scratching their heads in confusion.  

  Ker'lee was confused.  This was hardly a novel state for the beggan, but this time it was especially disconcerting for him.  Ker'lee was accustomed to forgetting things and mixing up details, but he never went for a walk without some idea why he was doing so or, at the very least, where he was going.
  Master will be angry with Ker'lee if he needed me when I was not there, thought the halfling.  With that thought, Ker'lee picked up his pace.  After a few moments, the beggan leaped up, grasped a hanging shingle outside of a small shop and launched himself into the air and onto the shop's roof.  From there, Ker'lee leaped and ran from rooftop to rooftop, unaware that a stealthy figure was matching his every move..

  "Ker'lee?"
  The mage had expected the beggan to return to his side after the prisoners had been dealt with, but Ker'lee was nowhere to be found.  The mage's 'condition' left him both restless and weary, and often sore in his neck, chest and limbs.  Ker'lee usually performed the physical duties, sparing the mage from exhausting himself on mundane matters.  The beggan was the only creature in all of V'rogg that the mage trusted.  Some days it seemed like everybody was against him, plotting against him.  Of course, that was to be expected when one was slowly transforming into a vampyre.
  A sudden attack of abdominal pain bent the mage over.  His arms and legs felt week, barely able to support his weight as he leaned on a table.  Too weak to even cast a spell, the mage slumped to the floor.  As suddenly as it came, the pains evaporated.
  "My time draws near," said the mage to himself. "I must prepare for my final gambit against the knight."

  After a long circuitous route, Ker'lee at last stood before the door to his master's tower.  The indirect path used by the beggan was due to his natural inclination to wander about, not any desire to shake a follower.  A couple times, Ker'lee thought he spied somebody leaping about the rooftops after him, but he failed to catch a good look at whomever, or whatever it was. 
  The beggan was about to enter the tower when he felt something tapping him on the shoulder.  Turning slowly, Ker'lee saw a tall, by beggan standards, thin, bald man.
  "Excuse me," said the man. "Could I gain your assistance for a moment?"
  "Um..." replied the beggan brightly.
  "Is this your place of residence?"
  "My what?"
  "Where you live," clarified the man.
  "I live here."
  "Excellent," replied the man as he laid a friendly hand on Ker'lee's shoulder.
  The beggan tried to turn and leave, only to find that the man held him in a vise-like grip.  The last thing Ker'lee saw before everything went dark was the strange man's broad smile.
   

THE ENEMY REVEALED

  "No hurt!  No hurt!  Please!"
  Ker'lee recovered consciousness just in time to see Dethstroek reach forward and grab him by the tunic then raise the frightened beggan into the air.
  Holding the halfling aloft with one arm, the warrior reached up and removed the beggan's headgear.  The skullcap gone, Ker'lee's scar was visible to all.
  "I know you, beggan," roared Dethstroek. "You guided me to Amtoth the Arcanist's shoppe."
  "He also tried to steal Pehnn's bag," stated Chulmoraiin as he drew a particularly nasty looking dagger.  The blade was wrought from a dragon's fang.  A Copper Drake's, to be precise.
  "You do seem to get around quite a bit, beggan," accused Pehnn as he recalled their collision in the street. "You would do well to cooperate with us."
  "I know a few methods of persuasion," offered Tan as he wiggled the fingers of one hand in the air.
  "There are spells that can quickly loosen one's tongue," added Mon'darc
  "Let me go!" yelled the frightened Ker'lee.
  "Who do you serve, thief?" demanded Dethstroek.
  "I'll no betray master!" screamed the beggan.
  "Never is a long time, little beggan," warned the monk. "Made all the longer when I am dealing with obstinate villains."
  "If you don't tell us who you serve, we will feed you to our pet dragon," threatened the gnome.
  Tan opened his mouth, then closed it, then said, "You have a dragon?"
  Mon'darc said nothing, but smiled knowingly.
  Pehnn winked at the monk and said, "In a manner of speaking."
  "Never!" railed Ker'lee.  Though simple of mind, the beggan very much doubted the gnome could make good on this particular threat.
  "Very, well."  Pehnn turned to Chulmoraiin, "I'll need your help bringing in the dragon."
  Dethstroek had a good idea what Pehnn had in mind, and suspected it would prove both amusing and effective.  Tan was left speechless.
  Outside, Pehnn led the thane into the horse stables.  After a quick inspection to insure nobody was around to observe him, Pehnn addressed the young thane.
  "I am going to show you something that will be a little surprising," Pehnn cautioned the young noble. "Remember I said I had a ring that allowed me to assume the form of a small golden dragon?" Chulmoraiin nodded. "Well, in truth I am a drogan, and the ring allows me to become a gnome.  Now, I am going to resume my true shape.  Please don't be alarmed."
  Pehnn willed himself to assume his true form as Chulmoraiin stared dumbly.  The gnome's clothing, a product of the magic amulet given to him by Count Grimmoer, seemed to melt away as his body expanded in length and girth.  Pehnn's face expanded and grew a long serpentine muzzle that sprouted long, sharp teeth.  Short, stubby fingers grew into long sharp talons.  His back sprouted wings, then a long whip-like tail.  Golden hued scales grew out of soft flesh.
  Chulmoraiin fainted.
  "We do not have time for this," growled the drogan as he picked up the thane and shook him gently.  Chulmoraiin recovered and Pehnn set him back on his feet. "Now, here is what I want you to do..."
  Dethstroek was only slightly surprised to see the pyrite drogan being dragged partly into the room on a long rope.  Even the wide double doors failed to provide sufficient clearance for the drogan's entire body to enter the house.  Tan gaped in amazement.  The drogan looked very annoyed with curls of smoke escaping his nostrils.  Chulmoraiin seemed to be having a very difficult time controlling his charge.
  "I am sorry, Lord Baron," said the thane, "but I was unable to prevent it."
  "Prevent what?"
  "The monster ate Baron Pehnn!" choked out the young noble.
  What? Thought Dethstroek, then he caught on.
  "Poor Pehnn," said the warrior dramatically. "He always knew he would end up inside this beast's scales."  While still holding the halfling high in the air, Dethstroek turned his head as if in mourning for the loss of his friend.  In truth, he was trying to keep the beggan from seeing his wide smile as he winked at the monk and mage.  After he got himself under control, he turned his head back to face the frightened halfling. "Speak, or you're dro-, that is dragon kibble!"
  To emphasize the beggan's danger, Dethstroek brought Ker'lee close to the drogan's snout.  Pehnn growled a bit, and the beggan almost fainted, but Dethstroek shook him roughly, bringing him back to his senses.
  "No!" screamed Ker'lee, "Never!  Master has your woman!  If you hurt Ker'lee, then master will hurt your woman!"
  "Dearbhforgail!" exclaimed the baron. "Tell me where she is or I will personally cut you into tiny pieces and feed you to this monster.  Tell me your master's name!"
  As the beggan flailed about in the warrior's grip, one arm suddenly became immobilized.  Though panicked, Ker'lee had sufficient presence of mind to wonder what had happened to his arm.  Looking over at the appendage in question, the halfling found himself eye to muzzle with the drogan.  Ker'lee's arm, all the way up to the shoulder, was trapped inside the monster's jaws.
  "T'oth Amnot," screamed the panicked beggan.
  "I know that name," said Dethstroek darkly. "He was one of the four mages that cured Grimmoer."
  "As was I," said Mon'darc. "T'oth vanished shortly after that frightful night."
  Dethstroek returned his attention to the halfling. "Where will I find T'oth Amnot and my wife and son, beggan?  Quickly!  The dragon is hungry."
  "The tower at the end of Chuchulaiin Lane!" screamed the terrified Ker'lee.
  "Yup, that's T'oth, alright," observed Mon'darc. "He never could resist a good cliché."
  "That is where I found this beggan," added Master Tan.
  "We will have to make haste," said the warrior. "Dearbhforgail and Murchadh are in grave danger."
  "Have a care, Dethstroek," warned Mon'darc. "T'oth was a first rate magic user when he dropped out of sight.  There is no reason to assume his powers have waned since then.  I will go with you..."
  "Nay, Mon'darc," countered the baron. "This is a family matter.  You and Tan should stay here." 
  "What do we do with this one?" Chulmoraiin jerked his head at Ker'lee.
  "I suppose we could feed him to the dragon," said Dethstroek with a straight face.
  Ker'lee went pale and looked back at the drogan; only to see its brow ridges (drogans, like dragons, lack eyebrows) move up and down in a suggestive manner.  That was it for the beggan.  With a whimper, Ker'lee passed out.
  "That was brilliant, Pehnn," said Chulmoraiin with a wide smile.
  "I always wanted to try that," said Pehnn after he spit the beggan's arm out, still attached to the beggan.  The drogan slowly returned to his gnome form and added, "I read in a book where an infant dragon did something like that.  I thought it was hilarious.  I think the author's name was, um, Motrin?  No, that's not right.  Oh!  It was Aspr-..."
  "Let's critique fine literature later," interrupted Dethstroek grimly. "We have to rescue Dearbhforgail and Murchadh from T'oth Amnot."
  "So," said Tan to Pehnn. "That is why your body language was all wrong."
  "Master Tanner, Mon'darc, can you take charge of this beggan until we return?"
  "Certainly," nodded the monk.
  "Have fun storming the tower," added the mage.

  "Why do you keep doing that?"
  Despite the pain and weakness in his arms and legs, T'oth Amnot made the journey down into his small dungeon to inspect his hostages.  Halfway down the steps the Arcanist was forced to use his magic to bolster his flagging strength.  
  Once in the dungeon proper, T'oth noticed it was fairly well lit.  Oil lamps were placed well beyond the reach of his chained hostages.  Leave it to Ker'lee to provide every comfort, thought the mage.
  "Doing what, boy?" asked T'oth Amnot..
  "That thing with your hands," said Murchadh.
  T'oth looked down and saw that he was wringing his hands.  He forced himself to stop.  What next, thought the mage, maniacal laughter?
  "Never mind that," ordered the mage. "You have more important matters to contemplate."
  "Why are we here?" demanded Dearbhforgail. "We have done ye no harm!"
  "Not yet," replied T'oth, "and I do not intend to give you the opportunity."
  He's mad, thought the baroness as she looked on T'oth's feverish face. "What do ye plan on doin' with us?"
  "Frankly, I had not thought that far ahead," admitted the mage. "For now, you are simply bait."
  "Bait?"
  "Yes.  I expect your husband will come smashing down my door to rescue you, once I supply him with a few cryptic clues to lead him here." As he spoke, T'oth trembled a bit, then fought for control of his own body. "I have to destroy him, you see."
  "In Lugh's name, why?" Dearbhforgail demanded.
   "Because he will kill me if I don't!" snarled the mage. "It is his fault that I am sick.  All his fault!  He did this to me, he and that uncle of his.  They did it on purpose!"
  Mother and son watched T'oth as he ranted.  Dearbhforgail began to fear that the mage would slay them before Dethstroek could come to their aid.
  "If he comes not, I will simply feed you to the Beast That Cannot Be Named." T'oth pointed to a cell in the opposite end of the dungeon.  It was too dark to make out what the creature was.  "It will be his life, or yours, woman.  Maybe both."
  T'oth turned to leave, then turned back and gestured at the prisoners. "Gorlock's Gag will keep you two quiet while I prepare for the knight."
  With the completion of the spell, the mad mage struggled back up the stone steps.

THE TOWER

 "Pehnn, you and Chulmoraiin take the stairs down, I'll take the stairs up."
  The trio arrived at the tower as the sun was setting.  The long shadows and dark façade added to the sense of grim foreboding shared by the warrior, noble and gnome.  Chulmoraiin was particularly unnerved by the similarities the tower had with the one in his dream.  Even the door was made of the same thick oak.
  I wish we brought Mon'darc, thought the thane.
  Unlike Chulmoraiin's dream, Dethstroek used Madbulaiin instead of his foot.  With a single strike, the heavy wood was cleaved in two, including a heavy cross bolt on the other side.  Inside was the same layout and decorations, even the floating mirror, but with one important difference; T'oth Amnot was standing in front of the mirror.
  There was no reflection in the mirror.
  "You!" screamed T'oth in an accusatory tone. "I am not yet prepared!"
  The mage gestured and a cloud of smoke took his place.
  "He has transported himself!" said the warrior loudly. "We will have to search the tower!"
  Dethstroek ordered Pehnn and Chulmoraiin to take the stairs leading to the dungeon, while the warrior took the stairs leading upward.  The second story appeared to be a living quarters of some sort.  There was a cot, a wardrobe and chest, as well as a small table with two chairs.  The ceiling was decorated with swings and metal bars such as acrobats often use.
  The beggan's quarters, thought the warrior.  A quick inspection revealed that it was empty, so Dethstroek continued up the stairs to the next level.  The next level was dark, save for Madbulaiin's glow.  This level seemed to be used for storage of some sort.  There were boxes stacked everywhere.
  Dethstroek angrily kicked over a box and watched its contents spill out.  Crystals, gems, animal skulls and various other types of arcane bric-a-brac poured out of the container.  Thinking that his wife and son could be in one of the boxes, the warrior smashed open every last one.  Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, neither Dearbhforgail nor Murchadh were to be found in any of the wooden cases.  Dethstroek kicked a few of the items about then returned to the stairs.
  That bastard is here somewhere, thought the warrior, and he is going to return my family.

  Chulmoraiin, armed with his dragon tooth sword and knife, nervously took the lead.  Pehnn, carrying similar weapons, was cautiously watching the young thane's back.  Pehnn had intended to take the lead, but Chulmoraiin insisted that this was what he was being trained to do.
  The stairs went down in a spiral for thirty-three steps and ended at a thick oak door.  Chulmoraiin pushed and pulled, but the door was locked.  Looking about for keys proved fruitless.  In frustration, the thane started kicking and throwing his body against the heavy door, also without effect.
  "It will take a long time to hack through this door with our swords," observed Chulmoraiin. "Any ideas?"
  "This stairwell is too narrow for me to revert to my natural form," said Pehnn.
  "Maybe you could change halfway?" suggested the thane. "Or, it may not even be necessary." Chulmoraiin moved his face close to the barred portal in the door and yelled, "Hallo!  Dearbhforgail!  Murchadh!  Are you in here?"
  After a few more such yells, Pehnn's sensitive ears detected muffled sounds.  He could not be certain, but it sounded like Dearbhforgail.
  "I just know this is going to hurt," muttered the gnome. "Chulmoraiin, it might be wise for you to go up the stairs a ways.  I am going to try your suggestion, but even if it works, I will be far too large for this space, and you would be in danger of being crushed against the wall."
  As instructed, Chulmoraiin retreated several steps up the spiral stairs to a position where he could look down around the bend and watch.  Pehnn inspected the walls, the door and the stone steps.  Satisfied, he placed his back against the door then leaned forward to brace his hands on the steps.  Taking a quick look around to be certain of his position, Pehnn willed his ring to restore his true form, but only halfway.
  As before, the gnome's clothing seemed to melt away as his body expanded in length and girth, becoming dragon-like in appearance.  Braced as he was against the stairs, his body was forced to expand backwards, forcing the door to bend outward, then crack and shatter as the bulk of the drogan's body pushed its way through.
  From his vantage point on the stairs, Chulmoraiin could see that Pehnn was pinned on both sides by the walls of the stairwell.  Coming down the steps as far as he could, he inspected the drogan's body and face.  The thane had little experience in deciphering reptilian facial expressions, but Chulmoraiin had the clear impression that Pehnn was in pain.  The drogan's breathing even sounded labored.
  "Pehnn?" said the thane softly, "are you unwell?"
  "Unwell?" gasped the drogan. "I think I broke a couple ribs, so I guess 'unwell' would be an apt, if somewhat understated, description."
  "The ring transformed you fully," observed Chulmoraiin. "All or nothing?"
  "So it would appear," rasped Pehnn as he slowly returned to his gnomic shape.  When the transformation was complete, the gnome sat on a step and held his sides. "I don't think I broke them, but they may be cracked.  Drogans, unlike dragons, have a pretty versatile skeleton, but the ribs trapped by the doorway were squeezed pretty bad."
  "Stay here and recover," suggested the thane. "I will see what this dungeon holds within."  Without waiting for an answer, Chulmoraiin turned and trotted through the doorway.

  The fourth level was providing as little satisfaction to Dethstroek as the previous one did.  Unlike the disorganized collection of boxes on the lower floor, this level was filled with tall, neatly aligned bookcases, each filled to overflowing with books.  Dethstroek could read the binders of some, as they were written in the common tongue.  Dethstroek had seen enough gnomic script to recognize it, if not actually read it.  The warrior's association with the gnome Geordus Wordweavor had again proven beneficial.  He also recognized elfin script of other books, thanks to his elfin grandmother's attempts to educate him as a youth.  The rest of the texts defied the warrior's attempts to identify.
  No doubt there are books in all the civilized tongues, as well as tomes of arcane knowledge, thought Dethstroek.
  "Do you like my library, Knight?" came a voice from everywhere, and nowhere at once.
  "Well stocked, mage," replied Dethstroek, hoping to keep the mage talking. "Books in common, gnomic, elfish, dwarfish and even beggan." Dethstroek took a chance naming the languages of some of the texts he could not identify. "No doubt there are tomes on magic as well."
  "You have learned to read since we last met," taunted the voice. "So nice to see you improving yourself, knight."
  "T'oth, why are you doing this?" yelled the warrior. "You were one of the four that cured Grimmoer.  We are indebted to you.  We can help you, if you let us."
  "You can help me by dying, knight!" screamed the voice.
  I am not that indebted, thought Dethstroek.
  "Wherever did your friends go, knight?" T'oth taunted. "Did they desert you?  No, of course not.  Not your steadfast comrades.  They must have gone down into my dungeon while you took the stairs up."
  A cold feeling shot down the warrior's spine as T'oth spoke.
  "I had arranged a little surprise for you, knight," came the mage's voice. "But it looks like your friends will have to contend with it instead.  I will have to deal with you myself."
  For a moment, Dethstroek was indecisive; should he continue up to face T'oth Amnot, or run down to warn Chulmoraiin and Pehnn.  No, thought the warrior, better to end this now.  Besides, Pehnn was far more than a simple gnome.  He could take care of himself and Chulmoraiin well enough.  He had to.
  Turning back toward the stairs, the warrior gave a healthy shove to the bookcase nearest him.  The case went over, smashing into another case, which in turn smashed into another and another until the entire row crashed to the floor.  Books and scrolls littered the floor in every direction.  Dethstroek continued on to the stairs as though unaware of the damage he had just wrought.

  The dim light of the oil lamps did little to dispel the gloom in the dungeon.  Chulmoraiin moved slowly, casting about in every direction lest he be taken unawares by henchmen or some strange creature.  Mostly, he feared the possibility of some strange creature.  Something really big with lots and lots of long, sharp teeth.
  Chulmoraiin shook his head.  Dethstroek once told the thane that, "it was a waste of energy to fear the foe he had not yet met".  The thane wasn't completely certain what the warrior meant, but suspected it applied to this situation.  Pehnn had also told him something. "There is nothing to fear until there is something to fear."  The gnome, correction, drogan had a way of seeing the simplest way to explain things.
  A muffled sound caught the thane's attention.  Turning his eyes to the direction he believed the sound to have originated, Chulmoraiin detected a slight movement in a dark corner.  Cautiously, with his sword at the ready, the thane moved toward the dark corner.  His boot disturbed something and he stopped, heart beating rapidly.  Glancing down quickly, Chulmoraiin could see it was an unlit oil-lamp.
  Why was an oil-lamp sitting on the floor? Thought the thane.  Stepping forward, Chulmoraiin was able to make out the forms of a woman and boy.
  "Dearbhforgail!  Murchadh!" Chulmoraiin rushed forward.  He could see that they were alive and helped them to their feet.  A clinking noise on the floor drew the thane's attention to the chains tethering their left legs to the wall. "Time to test the quality of my new sword."
  Rather than risk injury to the prisoners, Chulmoraiin brought down his blade on the chains, well away from the vulnerable ankles.  The links were easily severed, releasing mother and child.  Chulmoraiin looked over the mother and son quickly, inspecting them for signs of injury.
  "Pehnn, I have them!" the thane called out. "They look to be alright."  Chulmoraiin turned back to Dearbhforgail. "Milady?"
  Dearbhforgail looked at the thane, but said nothing.  Murchadh was also staring silently.
  "Has the wizard done something to you?" asked Chulmoraiin. "Can you not speak?"
  By way of an answer, Dearbhforgail reached forward with one arm, placed a hand behind the thane's neck and started pulling his face towards her own.  Surprised to say the least, Chulmoraiin tried to resist the action by pulling away, but the strength of the woman's arm was astonishing.  Dearbhforgail raised another arm and grabbed the thane's shoulder, pulling the thane inexorably towards the woman.
  Chulmoraiin put his left hand on the woman's chest and tried to push her away.  Slowly, as he was being drawn closer, the thane noticed something odd; Dearbhforgail's chest did not feel right.  His hand was above the breasts (the thane would not dream of touching the wife of Baron Dethstroek inappropriately) on the bare skin of her chest, but instead of smooth skin, he felt hair.
  A lot of hair.
  Bending his head forward and twisting his body to the right, Chulmoraiin freed himself and jumped back.  Breathing silent thanks for Master Tanner's lessons, the thane raised his sword and drew his dagger.
  "Pehnn!" yelled Chulmoraiin. "It's a trick!  This is not Dearbhforgail and Murchadh!  'Tis some manner of magical beast!"
  While Chulmoraiin called to Pehnn, the creature's disguise melted away and it started forward.  The thane could see the creature surprisingly well, despite the gloom.  It seemed to radiate a mild glow from numerous eyes, illuminating the monstrous form.
  To Chulmoraiin's eye, the thing consisted of a gnome-high mass of teeth, hair, eyeballs and tentacles.  It was the thane's worst nightmare, come to life.  Every nerve in Chulmoraiin's body screamed to run away, to escape the beast that slowly moved forward toward him.  Chulmoraiin might well have turned to flee, but he remembered Dearbhforgail and Murchadh might still be in the dungeon, somewhere, and the thane refused to abandon them.
  Loath to step forward lest the thing again capture him, Chulmoraiin reversed his dagger and threw it at the creature.  By chance, the blade sunk into one of the strange, glowing eyes.  Dozens of teeth filled mouths opened and screamed in outrage.
  "So," yelled the thane, "you are vulnerable to a good blade.  Then let me give you more, monster!"
  Chulmoraiin carefully stepped forward, swinging his dragon fang sword.  One tentacle, then two fell squirming on the floor as the thane slashed his way forward.  So furiously did Chulmoraiin hack and stab at the monster's body and limbs that he forgot his fear of the beast.  Stab. Slash. Hack.  The thane worked his blade on the monster as he danced in and out of the thing's reach.
  Stepping back to observe his handy work, Chulmoraiin saw something that made his blood run cold.  The tentacles and body parts that had been hacked away from the creature slowly slithered back to the main mass of the body to reconnect and heal.  Even the dagger had fallen out of the one eye and healed over.
  I, thought Chulmoraiin, am in very big trouble.
.
  Ker'lee was deeply frightened.  The strange mage had drawn a circle on the floor around the beggan and told him that if he tried to step over it, he would instantly burst into flames and die.  Ker'lee's long association with T'oth Amnot taught him to believe such things without hesitation.
  Then there was that monk, Master Tanner, who watched the beggan closely.  In many ways the beggan feared the monk more than the mage.  It was said that monks could run on the water, snatch arrows out of the air, and scale sheer walls like a spider.  They were also reputed to know how to manipulate their own bodies, allowing themselves to heal quickly or even feign death.  Despite the monk's advanced years, he was able to follow the beggan across town over rooftops, then catch up with Ker'lee and render him unconscious with a mere touch.  Oh, yes, the beggan was very afraid of the monk.
  Then there was the warrior and his pet dragon.  If T'oth Amnot failed to destroy the knight, what would happen to poor Ker'lee?  The beggan could not shake the image of the dragon's muzzle trapping his arm all the way up to the shoulder.  That dragon was hungry, Ker'lee was sure of it.
  Then there was the matter of his master, T'oth Amnot.  Would he be able to rescue Ker'lee after he took his vengeance on the knight?  Would he even survive the encounter?  The hapless beggan held his head in his hands and tried not to think what would happen to him whatever the night may bring the warrior and his master.

  Dethstroek cautiously approached the door at the top of the stairs.  This was the fifth floor.  Few buildings in V'rogg stood higher than four floors, the duke's castle being one of them, so this had to be the uppermost level of the tower.  T'oth Amnot had to be on this floor, thought the warrior.  Of course, the mage might transport himself away, as he did on the ground floor, but Dethstroek would wager such magics demanded much of their wielder, perforce draining away energies that could be used offensively.  
  Upon reaching the door, the warrior debated the virtues of kicking it in versus using Madbulaiin's power.  The potential thickness of the wood decided the issue.  Bringing his sword to bear, Dethstroek brought the blade down in a solid stroke that cleaved the oaken barrier in two.
  Looking through the doorway proved useless as the room beyond was pitch black, seemingly absorbing the limited torchlight in the stairwell, as well as Madbulaiin's faint blue glow.  Stepping into the room Dethstroek was completely enveloped in ebon darkness.  The torch lit doorway was swallowed up in inky shadow, impossible to locate even scant hand-spans away.  Even Madbulaiin's mystic light was lost in the stygian gloom.
  Swinging about blindly with his sword, Dethstroek called out, "Where are you, T'oth?  Will you hide from me like a craven?  Or face me like a man?"
  "Face to face confrontation is your forté, knight, not mine," came T'oth's taunting voice, seemingly from every direction. "I will settle for your demise by any means and honor be damned!"
  Dethstroek felt his anger and frustration rising as he swung his sword about the all-consuming darkness.  The warrior considered unleashing Madbulaiin's power, but dismissed the idea.  Without knowing where Dearbhforgail and Murchadh were, it would be far too dangerous to blindly release his sword's destructive power.  Realizing he could accidentally strike his family, Dethstroek stopped swinging his sword and held it at the ready.
  "Are you growing tired, oh mighty warrior?" taunted T'oth. "Perhaps you would like to rest a moment?"
  "I am fresh enough for you, villain!" growled the warrior.
  "No doubt," retorted the wizard dryly. "But I much prefer to introduce you to my avatar."
  From all about the room the darkness receded to the center of the chamber.  Like a living thing, the ebon shadow writhed and twisted as it coalesced into a solid shape.  Huge black wings grew out of the dark mass followed by two clawed feet and a monstrous fanged head.  Dethstroek looked on with growing horror as the construct took shape.
  It was a bat.  A giant bat.

  Chulmoraiin was rapidly loosing strength.  No sooner would he hack away a tentacle than it would slither back and reattach itself to the creature.  There was also a strange odor, like a strong perfume, emanating from the vile monstrosity.  Soon the thane would become too weak to defend himself and the monster would have him.  Were it not for the snail-like pace at which the monster moved, Chulmoraiin would have already been captured.  The thane knew he could out-walk the beast and make his escape, but Dearbhforgail and Murchadh might be in danger should he do so.
  "All right, monster," snarled the thane between gasps. "Let us see if you heal as well on the inside as you do on the outside!"
  Hacking away at the writhing tentacles to clear himself a path, Chulmoraiin closed in on the creature.  Raising his sword high up to maximize his thrust, the thane brought down his blade through one of the beast's eyes, burying the blade all the way up to the hilt.
  The beast screamed in outrage from numerous maws, each with a different voice, and gesticulated violently.  One tentacle caught Chulmoraiin solidly against the side of his head, sending the thane sprawling onto the hard stone floor.  The resultant impact stunned the young noble, rendering him incapable of meaningful action for several minutes, minutes that the wounded monster would be able to take advantage of.
  Unable to flee, the now weaponless Chulmoraiin was forced to watch with growing horror as the creature slowly approached.

  "I wanted to pit you against The Summoned down in my dungeon, but it was not yet up to full strength," said T'oth conversationally.
  With the darkness forced into a single mass, Dethstroek was able to see his foe, as well as his immediate surroundings, though this was small comfort in light of what he was about to face.  The warrior suffered from a deep-seated fear of bats since he was six winters old.  He could no longer recall the event that had traumatized his younger self, only that bats, all bats, terrified him beyond all reason.  Even the three years he spent at the side of Grimmoer, then a vampyre, failed to erase the sense of horror and loathing the mere thought of a bat summoned up within him.
  Without thinking, Dethstroek pointed Madbulaiin at the giant shadowy construct and willed it to action.  A searing bolt of blinding energy spewed forth from the blade striking the giant bat dead center.  The warrior noted with satisfaction that a suitably large hole was punched through the beast, but that satisfaction was to be short lived.  In mere heartbeats, the hole closed in on itself and vanished, leaving the gargantuan bat whole and ready to do battle.
  T'oth laughed maniacally as he read the fear on Dethstroek's face.  The mad mage could feel that victory was finally within his grasp.

  The hideous beast was completely regenerated and slowly moving toward Chulmoraiin.  Try as he might, the thane was unable to gather up his strength to evade the creature.  Chulmoraiin tried repeatedly to crawl away, but his strength was gone.  The flowery scent of the monster was almost overpowering as the beast came closer.
  The scent!
  Chulmoraiin suddenly realized it was the creature's odor that was sapping his strength.  No doubt without the narcotic effects of the creature's scent it would quickly starve, as it was much too slow to chase down prey.
  A tentacle lashed out and seized the thane's ankle, pulling him across the stone floor.  This is it, thought Chulmoraiin, and I have no strength to swing my blade.  As the noble was pulled closer to the numerous maws filled with sharp, jagged teeth, he wondered if Dethstroek would forgive him his failure to rescue the Lady Dearbhforgail and his son, Murchadh.
  So involved with his own thoughts was the thane that he almost failed to notice the stream of flame that shot over him, striking the creature.  The perfume-like scent of the beast was replaced with the aroma of cooking flesh.
  "Chulmoraiin!" came Pehnn's voice. "Chulmoraiin, can you move?"
  Experimentally, the thane raised first his right arm, then his left.  Whatever quality in the creature's scent that was keeping the thane from action had vanished.  Taking up his sword, Chulmoraiin quickly scrambled to his feet and prepared to renew his assault on the monster.
  "Chulmoraiin, I can't keep the fire going," called out the drogan.  Pehnn had returned to his natural form in order to aid the young noble. "This creature will not stay aflame unless we find something to feed the fire."
  Already the fire Pehnn had set on the monster was dying out.  The thane cast about the dark dungeon until his eyes fell upon an oil lamp.  "Pehnn, can you summon another blast of fire?"
  "A short one," wheezed the drogan.
  Pehnn's injuries may be worse than he let on, thought the young noble.  Snatching up the oil lamp, Chulmoraiin twisted and threw it at the creature with all his might.  As he had hoped, the lamp shattered against the beast's hide and drenched it with the oil.
  "Now!" called out the thane.
  Pehnn took his cue and released a short burst of flame at the monster, igniting the oil, and consequently, the creature.  Fearing that the oil would not be enough, Chulmoraiin again cast about him and found two more oil lamps.  These he seized and launched at the beast thus adding to the conflagration.
  "Let's see if this thing can heal now!" roared the thane as he rushed forward and hacked away at the burning mass.  Unlike his previous attempts, the hewn segments smoldered in place, failing to return to the primary mass of the writhing creature.  The screams that issued forth from the multiple mouths were strangely musical, belying the beast's pain as its flesh became shriveled and blackened.
  "It is working, Pehnn!" cried out the noble. "It can't regenerate the burned limbs."
  "I see Dearbhforgail and Murchadh," called back the drogan.  In the light of the flaming beast, the woman and child were clearly visible to the sharp-eyed Pehnn.  The mother and son were huddled against the stonewall as far from the flaming monster as their chains would permit.
  Chulmoraiin quickly walked over to the chained pair and attacked their restraints with his sword, freeing them with two strokes of his blade.  Dearbhforgail wasted no time hustling Murchadh to the stairs while Chulmoraiin returned his attention to Pehnn and the smoldering creature.
  Pehnn, back in gnome form, had his arms wrapped about his chest where his ribs had been injured.  The beast continued to writhe impotently, though it's screaming had ceased.
  "Dare we leave it like this?" asked Chulmoraiin as he jerked his chin toward the creature.
  Pehnn looked at the blackened mass and observed its steadily weakening movements.  "We know nothing of this creature's full power," said the gnome. "It might recover and threaten others."
  "Agreed.  Better to finish it for sure, now," supposed the thane.  "I will attend to it if you will escort the Lady and her son out of this vile place."
  "Will you be alright?" asked Pehnn.
  "Better than this pit-spawn," growled the noble as he moved toward the beast. "There are a few more oil lamps.  I'll carve this thing up into little pieces, then set the remains on fire before I come up to join you."
  "Don't be too long," suggested the gnome. "We still have the wizard to contend with, if Dethstroek has not finished him by now."

  "You are finished, Dethstroek!" cackled T'oth Amnot as he wrung his hands in glee. "Strangely enough, it was you that supplied me with the means to destroy you, knight."
  Dethstroek, near petrified by the sight of his greatest phobia, only gave half an ear to the mage's taunts.  Every time he would beat down his fear long enough to swing Madbulaiin at the monstrous shadow-bat, the ebon fiend would deftly dodge the blade and swipe at him with a fang or a claw.
  "When you killed that dragon I had summoned, I was able to harvest most of the wyrm's magical energies and store them in this gem," continued the mad mage as he produced a brightly glowing jewel, seemingly from the air. "I was also able to acquire some dragon steaks.  The blood would have been better, but your apprentice's flaming arrow made that impossible."
  Fighting down his panic, Dethstroek willed Madbulaiin to assume the form of the Hammer of Lighting.  It would be foolish to hurl the hammer in such close quarters, but the hammer's magic also allowed its wielder to summon up and unleash a bolt of lightning on command.
  Willing his weapon to action, the hammer spewed forth bolt after bolt of electrical energy at the dark-winged demon, but to no avail.  The lightning was simply absorbed by the creature's inky form.  One bolt had shot toward T'oth Amnot, only to rebound harmlessly off some form of magical shield.
  In desperation, Dethstroek willed the weapon to assume the shape of a ring.  Shortly after the destruction of the wyrm Tin'dar the Black, Mon'darc the Mage was trying to determine the altered properties of Madbulaiin.  During the testing of the sword, the mage had ordered the warrior to strike a ring with the blade.  Dethstroek did as Mon'darc had bid him, and discovered that the sword would absorb any magical item and take on its shape and powers when willed to do so by the sword's true owner.  The ring in question was a simple Ring of Invisibility, though Dethstroek had never before felt the need to invoke the power of the talisman.
  Until now.
  Willing the ring to action, the warrior vanished from sight.  To Dethstroek's eyes the room lost all color, becoming a world of black, gray and white.  T'oth Amnot cast about trying to see where the warrior had gone.  The monstrous bat, however, continued to fix its ebon gaze upon Dethstroek wherever he went.  Without his sword the warrior was unable to prevent a huge shadowy wing from sending him into a stonewall.
  T'oth saw the bat's movement and heard the crash of a body against the wall and realized what had occurred.  "A Ring of Invisibility, knight?" said the mad mage. "I should think that would violate your overdeveloped sense of honor.  Not that it matters.  Bats make little use of their eyes, electing to use their hearing to degrees we can't even imagine."
  Great, thought the warrior as he fought to control his panic, I can't run and I can't hide.  Willing the ring to again become the sword, Dethstroek reappeared against the wall facing his shadowy opponent.  Telling himself that the ebon construct was not a true bat, the warrior launched himself forward and thrust his blade toward the center of the midnight-hued creature.
  Dethstroek could scarcely believe what next occurred.  Madbulaiin sunk deep into the ebon flesh and became stuck, as the bat itself began to shrink!  Inky streaks flowed across the blade, as the sword seemed to absorb the magical beast.  Within heartbeats, there was no sign of the giant bat.  Madbulaiin's blade, however, had become stygian black instead of its normal silvery blue.
  "That is impossible!" screamed T'oth Amnot. "Only a sword of Light and Darkness could do such a thing!"  The mage began to foam a bit at the mouth as he began to rage. "That is a sword of Flame Mastery!  My magics determined that when first you returned to V'rogg, though I could see it had been altered in some fashion."
  The ebony blade slowly reverted to its original hue as Dethstroek approached his nemesis.  So involved was T'oth in his rant that he almost failed to notice the warrior as he closed the gap between them.
  The mage gestured and an invisible barrier halted Dethstroek's progress.  Angrily, the warrior swung his blade and the unseen wall vanished, allowing the knight to continue forward.  T'oth repeated the gesture and another barrier came up, only to be destroyed by Madbulaiin a second time.  With Dethstroek in striking range, the mage became wild in his movements, throwing up a third barrier.  Dethstroek swung his blade a third time, again destroying the invisible wall.  The blade continued forward until it struck the gem in T'oth's left hand.
  A searing white light filled the room, momentarily blinding both warrior and mage alike.  When Dethstroek's vision cleared, he saw that the gem was gone and T'oth was rubbing his eyes furiously.
  "It is over, T'oth," said the warrior. "Your avatar is gone and your magical gem destroyed.  Yield and return my wife and son and I shall spare your life."
  "Never!" screamed the mage.  With a lightning fast motion, T'oth gestured at the knight and a powerful bolt of energy sent the warrior flying across the room.  "I planned for this possibility, knight.  I have been drawing on the energy stored in the gem to battle you, true, but my own reserves are at their height.  Elium charges a hefty fee for his services, but this time it was worth it.  I yet have power enow to send your soul raw and bleeding across the nine hells!"
  As the mage raised his hands to conjure forth his next attack, Dethstroek raised Madbulaiin and summoned up the Searing Light of Truth.  As the powerful force spewed forth from the warrior's blade, so too, did a bolt of arcane energy erupt from T'oth's splayed hands.  The two mystic rays collided in the center of the room with explosive results.

PSEUDO-VAMPYRE

  Pehnn could hear the sounds of battle coming from above as he rushed Dearbhforgail and Murchadh out the door to the outside of the tower.  Sounds like Dethstroek found T'oth Amnot, thought the gnome.  Despite his injuries and the shortness of breath they caused, Pehnn rushed back into the tower and up the stairs with all the speed his short legs could muster.  Sparing barely a glance at the intervening levels to be certain the warrior was not on any of them, Pehnn raced up to the top of the tower.
  At the apex of the stairwell, the wheezing Pehnn came to a doorway with the bisected remains of an oaken door laying on the floor.  Yup, thought the gnome, Dethstroek has definitely been this way.
  Moving cautiously through the doorway, Pehnn quickly took in the scene in the room.  T'oth lay on the floor against one wall while Dethstroek lay against the opposite wall.  Both appeared to be unconscious.  Pehnn debated whether he should check on the warrior or the mage first.  T'oth could be feigning unconsciousness while Dethstroek could be mortally wounded.  Concern for his friend won out over caution of the enemy.
  "Deth?"  Pehnn gently tapped the warrior on a shoulder.  He could see that his friend was breathing well enough, and there was no indication of physical injury, but sorcerers could slay a man, or worse, without leaving a mark on him.  Pehnn tapped the warrior again with slightly more force and was rewarded with Dethstroek's eyes fluttering open.
  "Pehnn?" said the warrior weakly. "Dearbhforgail and Murchadh?"
  "Safe, thanks be in no small part to the efforts of young Chulmoraiin," smiled the gnome.
  "Thank Lugh," breathed Dethstroek. "And T'oth?"
  Pehnn started a bit at the reminder that T'oth was close at hand.  Looking back over his shoulder, the gnome confirmed that the mage was still lying unconscious against the far wall.
  "Napping," replied the gnome. "What do we do with him?"
  Dethstroek struggled to his feet and looked about. "I am loath to kill a man in cold blood," said the warrior, "We will have to bind his arms and hands as well as blindfold and gag him, for now.  I have my old armor at home we can stuff him into, later."
  "I understand binding him up, but why the armor?"
  "A mage needs to be free of all hindrance when he casts his spells," Dethstroek explained. "Heavy armor interferes with the delicate gestures they must make when performing their craft."
  "I see," nodded Pehnn. "Well, I'll get him tied up, but you will have to carry him.  My ribs are in need of binding, just now..."
  "I'll not suffer myself to be bound," came a voice from the opposite side of the room.  T'oth had regained his senses while the warrior and gnome had been talking.
  Dethstroek raised his sword and stood ready while Pehnn fingered his ring.
  "I feel most strange," said the mage.  T'oth rubbed his chest, arms and neck, then exclaimed, "By the gods, I am cured!  Just as the Chronomancer prophesied."
  "Cured?"  Dethstroek stayed at the ready in case this was a trick.
  "Ever since I aided in the restoration of your uncle, I have been slowly becoming a vampyre myself," explained the mage. "My body has been wracked with pains and my skin blistered at the touch of sunlight.  The chronomancer prophesied that only by seeking your destruction would I be cured, and so it has come to pass."
  "You have much to answer for, mage," accused the warrior.
  "And so I shall, knight." T'oth bowed to the pair. "I surrender myself to you, and I give you my word of honor that I shall give you no further trouble."
  "Do we trust him?" asked Pehnn.
  "Only with both eyes open," replied Dethstroek. "We shall collect Chulmoraiin then take T'oth to Mon'darc."
  "Mon'darc is in V'rogg?" asked the mage. "I haven't seen him since that night at MakMorn's.  'Twil be good to see him, again."
  Warrior and gnome exchanged a meaningful look between them.  T'oth Amnot would have to be watched very closely, indeed.

  Dethstroek, Pehnn and T'oth emerged from the stairwell to find the blood-spattered Chulmoraiin leaning against a cell door near a smoldering pile of flesh and bone.  The thane smiled weakly as he pointed his sword at the grisly remains and said, "I, Thane Chulmoraiin Mak Dullaiin, fourth in line for the crown of Orkney, slayer of the dragon Jiarg'skian and apprentice to Baron Dethstroek Homingraev do declare with finality that I am not, under any circumstances, going to eat that no matter how good a cook the Lady Dearbhforgail is!"

  "So, is he truly cured?"
  Dethstroek, Pehnn and Chulmoraiin with T'oth in tow quickly caught up to Dearbhforgail and Murchadh on the way home.  It was a bit of a trial keeping Dearbhforgail from attacking the mage.  The baroness had little tolerance for being chained up and gagged by cheeky wizards.  Chulmoraiin was similarly put out after having been used as a puppet by the Arcanist, but held his temper in check.
  Upon returning home, the group found Mon'darc and Tan still guarding the morose beggan within a circle drawn on the floor.  Ker'lee seeing his master alive and well, leapt forward, forgetting Mon'darc's caution that he would burst into flame if he left the circle, and wrapped his short arms around T'oth's legs, almost knocking the mage off his feet.
  Dethstroek asked Mon'darc to examine T'oth and report his findings.  The two mages retired to Chulmoraiin's chamber in order to work uninterrupted.  While they waited Tan administered a salve to Pehnn's injuries then Dearbhforgail wrapped bandages around his abdomen.  When Mon'darc returned, alone, all were hanging on his every word.
  "Well, yes and no," replied the mage. "As it happens, T'oth was not turning into a vampyre at all,"
  "WHAT!" Dethstroek, Pehnn and Chulmoraiin yelled in surprise.  Chulmoraiin added, "There was no reflection in that floating mirror."
  "That was a scrying mirror," explained the mage, "It only reflects events that occur elsewhere.
  "T'oth was suffering from a condition we call pseudo-vampyrism, or the Purple Disease," Mon'darc continued. "The symptoms often fool the victim into thinking they are becoming vampyres.  Did you notice the receded gums and lesions on his face?  Well, the receded gums make the teeth appear more pronounced, and the lesions are caused by exposure to sunlight.  Other symptoms include acute pain in the neck, chest, arms and legs, nausea, purple splotches of the skin, loss of appetite, anemia, insomnia, restlessness and vertigo."
  "Och, the poor mon," murmured Dearbhforgail.  The baroness quickly forgot her anger over having been abducted and began to feel pity for the mage.
  "It gets worse," said Mon'darc. "It also causes paranoia and dementia."
  "That must be why he blamed me for his condition," said Dethstroek. "He was no longer thinking rationally."
  "Most likely," agreed Mon'darc. "A Chronomancer of his acquaintance claimed that by trying to slay you he would be cured.  Chronomancer's are notoriously unstable personalities."
  "The question," said Pehnn, "is now that we have him, what do we do with him?"
  "He must answer for his crimes," said Dethstroek. "He manipulated Chulmoraiin, summoned a dragon that killed near a score of men, kidnapped Gail and Murchadh, tampered with Pehnn's ring..."
  "We can't let it be known that I was controlled by T'oth," cut in the thane. "A ruler must be more than human in the eyes of the people.  None would accept a king who had been in the thrall of a wizard."
  "Chulmoraiin speaks true," agreed the warrior.
  "We also can't tell anybody about my ring," added Pehnn.
  "Nor can we prove he summoned the dragon," sighed Dethstroek.
  "That just leaves the kidnapping of a noble," said Chulmoraiin. "As the offended baron, the mage's fate is in your hands.  The usual punishment for so grave an offence is beheading."
  "I am loath to order a man slain in cold blood," said the baron.
  "As am I," added Dearbhforgail. "I did not fancy being taken against my will and chained up in that dank dungeon, but he was not in his right mind.  I could see that he was sick even while he was ranting over me in his tower."
  "You won't have to execute him," said Mon'darc. "T'oth has only months to live, more likely weeks."
  "What?  I thought he was cured?" exclaimed Pehnn.
  "He is, of the disease," continued the mage. "Whatever magics were unleashed in your battle with him cleansed his body of the sickness, but he has been ill for a very long time.  This illness puts a mighty strain on the body, and as a result his heart won't last much longer.  Only his magics have kept him alive even this long.  There is nothing he, nor I, can do."
  "He knows this?"  Mon'darc nodded in the affirmative.  Dethstroek sat down and considered his options.  After considerable thought, the baron asked that T'oth be brought forth.  Chulmoraiin escorted the mage back into the room, then stood off to the side with his hand on his sword.
  "T'oth, you have done much evil these last two years and it is my command that you will atone for your actions," began the warrior. "I realize your illness affected your judgment, but I cannot allow you to go unpunished for your acts."
  "I accept responsibility for my actions, kni-, ah, Baron Homingraev," said T'oth.  Dearbhforgail had to admit that the man now standing in her home was very different from the mad mage that ranted before her in the dungeon.
  "From this day forward, you will remain in my home, be it as prisoner or guest, the choice is yours," said Dethstroek. "In the remaining days left to you, you will use your magics in aid of those who normally could not afford such services.  You will assist in the construction of my new keep, you will help strengthen Chulmoraiin's resistance to outside influences and you will aid the families of the soldiers injured or slain by your dragon.  I have chosen to be lenient because you were not in your right mind, and because of you past service to my uncle, Count Grimmoer.  Is this understood?"
  "It is, Lord Baron, and my thanks."
  "That's it?" exclaimed Pehnn. "He lives with you and is still allowed to do his magic?"
  "As long as he behaves himself," replied the warrior darkly.  T'oth well understood Dethstroek's meaning.
  "I am curious," said Tan as he turned to Mon'darc, "why your mystic circle did not cause this beggan to burst into flame when he ran out."
  "Oh, that." Mon'darc smiled sheepishly. "I was bluffing.  There was no magic in the circle, just ash from the fireplace."

  The next three months were busy ones for the Homingraev household.  The dwarves had completed their work on the annex connection and began work on the new keep outside of the city.  Mon'darc and T'oth worked together to repair the magic on Pehnn's ring, though with uncertain results.  Mon'darc returned to Cughmaiin and his practice there, though he visited often with the aid of a teleportation spell T'oth taught him.  
  Dearbhforgail and Chulmoraiin worked closely together hiring the appropriate staffs necessary for running both residences as well as purchased clothing and furniture suitable for persons of noble rank.  The thane continued his training along with Pehnn, and was well on his way to becoming proficient with all manner of weaponry as well as in hand-to-hand fighting under the tutelage of Master Tanner.
  Murchadh took an interest in learning magic and T'oth took the boy under his wing to teach him all he could in the limited time left to him.  T'oth became as a close uncle to the boy.
  Ker'lee, also welcomed into the Homingraev home, became a useful and contributing member as a page, errand runner, and all around assistant.  Though simple of mind, the beggan could follow orders to the letter.
  Dethstroek became more active in politics, much to the annoyance of Count Conner, advisor to Duke Bran Mak Dullaiin.  Through the new baron's participation, the military was being better trained and equipped as well as better fed and housed.
  T'oth more than lived up to the conditions of his parole as he used his powers to cure injuries for those that could not afford to go to the temples, find lost children and livestock, aid in the construction of Dethstroek's castle, and even entertain the children with a spectacular display of pyrotechnics every six-night.  As agreed, he also worked to bestow upon Chulmoraiin a degree of immunity to mind control lest the thane be compromised in the future.
  On the ninety-third day after T'oth had faced Dethstroek in his tower, the mage could feel the cold grip of death tugging at his chest.  As a last courtesy, he asked Ker'lee to inform the warrior and his family of his approaching departure from the mortal realm.
  All of the Homingraev family and friends gathered about the mage's deathbed to ease his passing to the next world.  Dethstroek, Dearbhforgail, Pehnn, Chulmoraiin, Mon'darc, Tanner and even Grimmoer took their places about the dying mage.  Ker'lee and Murchadh held a hand each in hopes of giving T'oth a degree of comfort.
  "I wish all here to be aware of how much I appreciate your coming here on this, my last day," began the mage. "As is customary, I wish to confess my wrongs and seek forgiveness ere I depart this plane."
  "There is no need, T'oth," said Dethstroek. "I think I can speak for all..."
  "Please, milord," interrupted the mage, "indulge me in this." Dethstroek nodded silently and T'oth continued, "Baron Dethstroek, I had sought your end by magical means while in the grip of my dementia.  I believe myself to have been a good man before I became ill, and make no excuse for my behavior afterwards.  Please accept my apologies for my acts against thee."  The warrior nodded acceptance and T'oth turned to Chulmoraiin.
  "Thane Chulmoraiin, I ill used thee in my vendetta against your master and caused you harm in body and reputation.  In addition to my apology I have taken steps to make up for my acts in a manner that will present itself at some point in the future.  I regret I will not be there to see it." Chulmoraiin started to protest the need, but T'oth waved dismissively. "What has been done cannot be undone.
  "Dearbhforgail, my hospitality was sadly lacking when I did have you in my home.  Please know that I deeply regret my actions there." Dearbhforgail simply nodded.
  "Murchadh, you were equally ill treated in my home.  In addition to my apology, I name you my successor.  Mon'darc, will you do the honors?" Mon'darc nodded solemnly.
  "Pehnn, I tainted the magics of your ring, and have not been able to completely undo the damage.  I hope you will be able to acquire a new ring and be free of my evil work."
  "I have found I gained more than I lost from you efforts," said the gnome. "There is naught to forgive."
  "Master Tanner.  Mon'darc.  While I did not directly do you harm, I brought harm to your mutual friends, and ask your forgiveness as well."
  "You shall have it," smiled Tan.  Mon'darc nodded his agreement with the monk.
  "Ker'lee, you have been my faithful companion.  I commanded you to do evil things on my behalf.  Forgive me, my old friend."
  "Master, please do not leave Ker'lee!" begged the beggan.
  "I wish I could stay, but that is beyond my power, now," said the mage.  Ker'lee began to quietly weep.
  "Finally, Grimmoer..." started T'oth.
  "I have naught to forgive by my estimation," interrupted the count. "I walk in the sunlight only through your aid."
  "Ah, but I have played a small joke on you, milord." The mage smiled weakly. "Mon'darc will explain later, if it pleases you."  Grimmoer nodded and T'oth turned to his fellow mage. "Mon'darc.  It is time."
  Mon'darc produced a large ruby and placed it on T'oth Amnot's brow.  The ruby took on a crimson glow that slowly grew brighter as the mage's breathing slowed.  By the time T'oth drew his last breath, the glow of the gem was almost blinding in its brilliance.  Mon'darc gently lifted the jewel from T'oth's brow and placed it into a silver setting on an ornate amulet.
  "Murchadh, you have been named as the successor to T'oth Amnot," said the mage. "Do you accept his legacy?"
  "Aye," said Murchadh nervously.  Dearbhforgail started to object, but Dethstroek gestured for silence.
  "Then you must take this amulet and place it about your neck." The boy reached out his hand, but Mon'darc drew the talisman away. "Nay, boy.  You must seize this prize with the powers of your mind.  Use what T'oth has taught you."
  Murchadh looked at first confused, but then a light came to his eyes and he carefully gestured at the amulet.  The talisman floated out of Mon'darc's hand and settled upon the boy's neck.
  "Well done, Murchadh," came a voice from out of thin air.  It was T'oth's voice.

  "Explain this to me again, Deth," begged Pehnn. "We are celebrating T'oth Amnot's death?"
  "Not exactly celebrating, Pehnn," said the exasperated warrior.
  "You have poor T'oth laid out in an oak box..."
  Poor T'oth indeed, thought the warrior, it was not so long ago he tried to kill us all, and now we will miss him sorely.  "It is called a coffin."
  "...on top of which you have placed all manner of ales, wines, beer and liquors.  Then every time somebody pours himself or herself a drink, they say something about the mage, be it solemn remembrance or a bawdy joke.  It seems disrespectful to me."
  "This is a wake, Pehnn," explained Dethstroek. "We are commemorating his life, not his passing."
  "Why?  Is his spirit watching us and taking solace in our commemoration?"
  "Mayhap.  But a wake is more for the living, to help us remember the good things about him as well as the bad."
  "It just seems odd to me," insisted the gnome.
  "What do drogans do with their dead?"
  "We eat them, of course," said Pehnn with a deadpan expression.  When Dethstroek's face registered his shock, the ersatz gnome broke out in thunderous laughter. "It was a jest, Deth.  In truth, we gather together and focus out mightiest flames upon the corpse and cremate it.  This is to insure predators and vermin are not attracted to our territories."
  "You had me going there, Pehnn," smiled the warrior. "Look, Grimmoer has cornered Mon'darc.  Let's go see what they are up to."
  The duo strolled over to the count and mage.  Grimmoer, spotting the warrior and gnome invited them to join them.
  "Mon'darc was just about to tell me what T'oth's jest upon me was," explained the count, the added with a hint of threat, "Right, mage?"
  "Oh, yes, indeed," Mon'darc said quickly. "You remember we needed to wait until the full moon before we could attempt the cure?" Grimmoer and Dethstroek both nodded. "Well, the night before we all got together, Dok'tarr Phait, Da'raiin'jed, T'oth Amnot and myself, to have a couple stiff drinks to prepare ourselves.  Well a couple drinks became a few, then became several.  By closing time we were all drunk as lords.  That was when T'oth made a little suggestion.  He said 'since we have to use the polymorph spell on the vamp anyway, let's improve his looks a bit.  I can't even imagine a mother loving that face!'  Well, we all agreed, then T'oth made another suggestion. 'Let's turn him into a human while we are at it, but leave a few of his elfin and orkish features intact!  I especially like that scar over his eye.'  Well, that was it.  T'oth was in charge of the morph spell and could pretty much do as he liked."
  There was a tense moment as Grimmoer digested this piece of information, then he roared in laughter and said, "A fine jest indeed!  He was right, you know," he said to Pehnn. "I was so ugly my face would curdle ale before I could drink it.  I do much better with the wenches, now, so let us go and drink another flagon in memory of a fine jester."
  Dethstroek and Chulmoraiin joined Grimmoer as he proceeded to the coffin/bar while Pehnn and Mon'darc held back.
  "Pehnn," said Mon'darc, "what are your plans for the future?  Here you are, a drogan in a gnome's body, living among humans.  Will you return to your own kind and tell them of what you have learned?"
  "Perhaps, someday," replied the gnome. "I feel there is much more to learn.  I am a baron and something of a celebrity, here.  I find I like this life."
  "Then what do you plan to do with yourself?"
  "Well, first I will build my castle, then I will open a school."
  "A school?"
  "Chulmoraiin explained to me how most of the underclass fail to receive a proper education," Pehnn explained. "I intend to do something about that."
  "That could be expensive," pointed out the mage.	
  "Oh, I have gold enough, thanks to Tin'dar and..." The gnome broke off his statement and slapped his forehead. "I had forgotten!  Excuse me, Mon'darc."  Pehnn raced across the room where he collected first Chulmoraiin, then Dethstroek.  He quickly herded the pair out of the room before explaining his actions.
  "I have important news," began the gnome.
  "What is it, Pehnn?" asked the warrior.
  "I found Jiarg'skian's hoard!" whispered the gnome excitedly. "After Chulmoraiin slew the Copper Drake, I went out that night and traced his scent back to his cave.  The wyrm had a hoard nearly as large as Tin'dar's."
  "That was months ago, Pehnn," said Dethstroek. "Why did you not mention this sooner?"
  "I wanted to get you two alone, but things got a bit hectic around here and it slipped my mind."
  "Slipped your mind?" exclaimed the thane. "How does a dragon's hoard of gold slip one's mind?"
  "Drogan's have no use for gold or gems, Chulmoraiin," said Pehnn. "A dry place to sleep, a green tree to eat, and a pleasant female are far more important to my kind.  Besides, we are all quite wealthy, if I understand your monetary system correctly.  None of us really needs the gold."
  "True," agreed Dethstroek. "Still, best we see to its proper disposition.  A portion will have to be paid to Bran for taxes."
  "That would lower taxes for the commoners, I should think," added Chulmoraiin.
  "Could we not give some to the people?" suggested the gnome.
  "You have to be careful about that, Pehnn," said Dethstroek. "Make the people wealthy, and there will be none to perform the labors that keep the city going."
  "Let me explain economics to you, Pehnn," volunteered the thane. "First of all, too much gold in a city makes the gold less valuable..."
  "We will pick this up later," interrupted Dethstroek. "As the hosts, we should get back to the wake."

  A short distance away, two shadowy figures discussed events of dark importance.
  "T'oth Amnot has passed from this realm, milord," said the first figure.
  "He failed, then?"
  "Apparently.  With his sickness cured and the dementia abated it was no longer possible to manipulate him.."
  "And the thane?"
  "Even if it were in my power to seize control of his mind, T'oth and Mon'darc have used their magics to render him almost completely immune to such influences."
  The second figure was silent a moment before speaking again. "We shall have to alter the plan, then."
  "That could be dangerous.  As you know, my ability to foresee the future is hampered when I take an active part in shaping it."
  "We will just have to manage, somehow.  One way or another, I will become the King of Orkney."


Epilogue
  "Promise me ye won't go lookin' fer any trouble fer a while."
  "Done, Gail," promised the warrior. "Any wyrm that  wants to do battle with me will have to come and find me for himself."
  "And evil arcanists?" prodded Dearbhforgail.
  "I dare say that won't be a problem for some time," agreed Dethstroek. "Mon'darc has agreed to pop in from time to time to tutor Murchadh in magic and strengthen the wards he set about the house."
  Pehnn was helping Chulmoraiin with his new red dragon scale armor when there came a gentle knocking at the door.  Since Dethstroek was otherwise engaged, and Chulmoraiin was still struggling into his armor, and the household staff had been given the evening off, Pehnn decided to answer the door himself.
  Pehnn's mind briefly wandered back to the "Black Dragon Tavern" in the town of Cughmaiin when he had answered the door to find a great blue dragon standing outside.  Pehnn felt a slight trepidation at the thought of opening the door and finding another dragon outside, but quickly shrugged it off.  Another dragon?  Preposterous!
  The gnome pulled open the door and felt a wave of relief when he saw who was there.  Standing out on the doorstep was a gnome and an elf-kin maiden.
  "George!" shouted Pehnn. "What a nice surprise."
  "Pehnn?  You have changed since last we met," said Geordus Wordweavor of the gnomic city Gudron'ac-tol as he quickly looked Pehnn over from head to foot.
  "That is a bit of a long story," smiled the faux gnome. "And who is this lovely young lady?"
  "Pehnn, this is the maiden Faynia," replied the true gnome. "Faynia, this is Pehnn Drogan, a friend of mine."
  "Pleased ta meetcha, Pehnn," said the maiden. 
  "Well come inside, please," said Pehnn, remembering his manners. "What brings you two to V'rogg?"
  "We believe that Faynia may be the daughter of Dethstroek."
  Pehnn looked back into the house at the Lady Dearbhforgail and remembered her reaction when Dethstroek told her that Chulmoraiin would be living with them, then back at Faynia.  Just the memory of her earsplitting scream made his head start to hurt.
  "That's it," muttered the ersatz gnome as he absently placed his hands over his ears, "I am never, ever answering a door again."
