Old Wounds

By J.M. Allen

Bannon was cold. Contrary to popular belief, just because sorcerer's didn't age as normal men, did not mean that they were also immune to the ravages of weather. As the winter winds had begun their yearly exodus down the steep slopes of the spine of the world the nights had become increasingly bitter. As Bannon gathered firewood for his evening meal he thought fondly of the mild autumn evenings he had so recently enjoyed. As unending and unstoppable as the cycle of life itself, the seasons wound their inexorable way around the wheel of time. "A time for everything and everything in it's time," mused Bannon as he neatly piled the wood in a stack and ignited it with a muttered incantation and a wave of his hand.

Settling down close to the fire, he spitted the rabbit he had snared earlier that day and positioned it over the flames. Old in the ways of magic, Bannon could have used his arts to negate the need for such mundane nourishment, but he enjoyed the rich flavors and textures of a good meal too much to deny himself the simple pleasures of eating. An acknowledged master of the arcane, he could name several of his peers who had probably not partaken of physical nourishment in several centuries, but he was not one such. He had decided long ago that to do so would remove him too far from the basic feelings and requirements of his fellow man. Unlike some of his counterparts, Bannon strove to maintain his basic human heritage.

After letting the fire siphon most of the cold from his bones, Bannon reached for his pack and untied his sleeping roll. Spreading it out before the fire, he sat down atop it and made himself more comfortable. He lay the rest of his pack upon his lap and slipped the catches. He carefully removed a scrying glass along with a small divining rod of his own creation. Setting the pack aside, he balanced the scrying glass between his knees and put aside the divining rod for later use.

Closing his eyes, Bannon let his arms fall to his sides and took a steadying breath. Listening intently to the wind blowing softly through the surrounding pines, he let his mind drift and felt the tensions of the day seep slowly from his limbs, easing knotted muscles. Slowly, he guided his mind towards that one inner place which housed the seat of his power. The place that separated sorcerers from all other living things. A basic connection to the multi-verse that he

and all others like him had been born with.

Tapping that wellspring of power and bringing it to the fore, Bannon opened his eyes and regarded the scrying glass. Bringing forth a tenuous link, he directed it towards the glass, joining it to the primal energies that connected and drove all things. Once the connection was made, he focused his will upon the glass, demanded that it show him once again the reason for his coming.

The scrying glass abruptly turned opaque, then showed a swirling mist that masked a deeper image. Bannon once again forced his will upon the reluctant instrument and this time was rewarded with a sharper image. An image which chilled him to the very marrow of his bones!

Within the glass was an image of a small town that Bannon knew well. In all the world it was the one place where he could go to set aside the heavy mantle of responsibility he had long ago placed upon his own shoulders. The town of Elkenpass, the place of his birth. Over the centuries Bannon had protected this place above all others, had watched his own parents grow old and die. He had watched his brothers and sisters raise families of their own and then die in their own turn. Though sorcerers could not produce offspring of their own, Bannon had taken on the responsibility of protecting the offspring of his family, keeping contact and good relations with nieces and nephews through generations. They all knew what he was, but loved and respected him just the same, as he loved and respected them. After such a vast stretch of time there were very few people in the town he could not claim a direct relation to and was known fondly by all as Uncle Banny. Now the glass told him that they were in dire peril and even his vast powers and store of knowledge might not be enough to save them!

The image he now viewed in the glass was horrifying beyond belief. Something had ravaged the town, turning its once tranquil streets into a carnal house of butchery and violence. Again and again he saw the faces of loved ones, their bodies brutally eviscerated, disemboweled, or decapitated. He thanked the gods that the images he viewed were not set in stone. The scrying glass showed only possible futures, not necessarily the future that would actually come to pass. Bannon knew, however, that the glass was right more often than not. If this future was to be avoided it was up to him to make it so, there was no one else interested enough in the little hamlet to take an active hand in the matter.

Sighing in resignation, Bannon set aside the glass and gingerly turned the spitted rabbit. Picking up the divining rod, which he had created and tuned to track the source of the upcoming trouble in Elkenpass, he used it to trace an intricate rune above the still active scrying glass, chanting a complicated cantrip of guttural consonants as he did so. Frowning in concentration, he repeated the pass and the cantrip several times before the divining rod responded in his hand. Emanating a faint bluish glow, the rod tugged firmly within his grasp. Bannon relaxed his grip and let his arm follow its motion, neither holding it back nor urging it forward. When the rod came to rest it was pointing steadfastly to the northwest, towards a point immediately north of Elkenpass. Directly at, in fact, a forbidding mountain of solid granite called The Anvil of the Gods.

The Anvil, as the locals called it, had received its name because the top third of the mountain had apparently been sheared off flat. Legend claimed this had been accomplished by the gods themselves during the forging of the world. That the All-Father himself had used the surface to hammer out the legendary sword, Godslayer, which he gave to his first born son, Thorn the Just, so that he might champion his father when the other gods came to challenge him. People often said that Thorn had been aptly named, because he was certainly a thorn in the side of any god who chose to disagree with his father.

Nodding to himself in satisfaction, Bannon returned both rod and glass to his back-pack. Retrieving the now slightly over-done rabbit from the fire, he settled back and began to eat. "Something is not right," he thought, "never have I had so much trouble with the scrying glass, and the divining rod had been downright difficult! Someone, or something, is trying to hinder me." Shaking off dark thoughts, Bannon finished his meal, throwing the bones into the fire. Wrapping his cloak more tightly about himself, he lay down on his bedroll and attempted to sleep.

****

The morning dawned cold and crisp, a bare whisper of breeze moving through the small clearing where Bannon had chosen to make camp. He had risen before the dawn, shaking the light dusting of snow that had fallen during the night from his cloak. He had not slept well, his dreams disturbed by images of Elkenpass laid waste, it's inhabitants horribly mutilated. By the time the first rays of the sun crested the peaks, he had broken camp and was ready to depart.

He considered going to Elkenpass first, but was hounded by feelings of urgency. Any delay now, and he may well be too late to avert the coming catastrophe. There was just no way he was going to let that happen, even if it meant that he would never again lay eyes on the faces of those he loved.

Bannon made his way noiselessly through the forest, hardly disturbing the many woodland creatures he passed along the way. He had traveled these woods as child, man and sorcerer for longer than he cared to remember, and there was not a living thing that knew them better. He sought out game trails that had never known the tread of another human footfall, made his way through thickets and dead falls that would have been considered impassable by any lesser being, all the while driven by a growing sense of urgency, an undefined feeling of dread. He picked up the pace once, and then again, never tiring, thinking only of those who, without him, would stand defenseless against an unspeakable horror that they as yet knew nothing about.

The day's end found Bannon at the Anvil's base making a cold camp. "No use announcing my presence," he thought grimly, as he ate the tasteless rations from his pack. The next day's dawn would be soon enough to face whatever awaited him in the mountain's depths. Better to start the confrontation with the sun's blessing, he decided. It could well be the last time he witnessed the rise of that fiery orb. Once again he spread his bedroll, this time without benefit of a fire's warmth, and settled in for an uneasy night's rest.

****

The next morning started much the same as the last, with Bannon already up and ready to face whatever the day may bring. Upon rising, several hours before the dawn, he had attempted once again to make use of the scrying glass and divining rod, this time to no effect. No matter how he bent his will to gain the cooperation of the unwilling instruments, it was to no avail. Something was blocking their use, and to accomplish such a feat at this distance required either great power, or great cunning. Bannon expected the latter, because if that much raw power were being used, he believed he would have no trouble detecting it. Something must be misdirecting the focus of his magic, and at the risk of sounding smug, to accomplish such a feat against a sorcerer of his magnitude would require great subtlety. Deflecting his magic from it's intended target could prove almost as difficult as overpowering it atit's source.

Bannon shrugged off the speculation as useless at this point and shouldered his pack. He knew well enough where he was headed, after all, there was only one entrance to the Anvil's massive cave system. Coran Tor, or King's Home, had gotten it's name, and it's evil reputation, from Velcor, the last dwarven king who had ruled there. Almost eighty years had passed since the disappearance of the hearty king and his entire clan, a mystery unsolved to this day.

Turning to leave the tiny clearing, Bannon was surprised to see a tall, slender figure standing at the edge of the woods. When he recognized who it was he realized why he had heard no sounds of approach. "Well met, Lyam Woodweaver, First Ranger of the Elves of Glenwood," said Bannon to his old friend, a smile warming his face at this unexpected pleasure. "How fares your mother?"

"Well met indeed, friend Bannon, Wizard of the Wood, son of Elkenpass," replied the elf, stepping into the clearing and clasping hands with Bannon. "My mother, the Lady Twyla, is doing well as always. It is she who sends me to this place. Her visions foretold that you might need help. Something evil stirs in the forest of late, and Lady Twyla fears that it originates within Velcor's halls. Possibly the same thing responsible for taking Velcor and his clan in the first place. My mother counted Velcor a friend, and it has not set well with her these many years that no vengeance was ever taken on his behalf."

Bannon nodded his agreement and gestured for Lyam to walk with him. "Velcor was a friend to me as well, Lyam, though stubborn as the rock he mined at times. But if this evil we seek is the same one responsible for the disappearance of an entire clan of dwarves, then it is a mighty foe indeed. Velcor and his kin were hard folk and mighty warriors. Whoever or whatever took them will be dangerous in the extreme!"

"Then I suppose," laughed Lyam, "it's a good thing two such dangerous opponents have come to face it."

"Well spoken, Lyam. I must admit that I'm glad you came. I did not relish the thought of entering Coran Tor alone. None who have gone in search of Velcor have ever returned.

Including a sorcerer I knew, Morvren of Toril. He was very powerful and confident of his abilities."

"Maybe it was that same confidence which caused his failure. We will try not to make the same mistake," interjected the elf seriously. So saying, Lyam took the lead and picked up the pace, eager to discover what awaited them in The Anvil's depths.

An hour's hard travel brought the pair to the intricately carved archway that was the entrance to Coran Tor. Flanked by massive pillars, the entrance towered fifty feet in height and was wide enough for a score of warriors to enter abreast, with plenty of elbow room between. The two friends stood for several minutes in awestruck silence, regarding the sight.

"I had nearly forgotten how overwhelming this place could be," remarked Lyam, after a long stretch of silence.

"As had I," Bannon agreed. "This place has lain unoccupied too long. I should long ago have sought out it's secrets. Let's hope my hesitation doesn't cost us too dearly."

Tossing Bannon an inquiring look, Lyam shrugged his shoulders and approached the massive doorway. Pausing briefly, Bannon hurried forward and flanked his friend so that they might enter together.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, Bannon felt the touch of some dark dweomer testing his defenses. The sudden catch in Lyam's step revealed that he had felt the intrusion as well. Exchanging cautious expressions, the pair resumed their course, eyeing every nook and shadow with suspicion.

Ahead loomed the main road of Coran Tor, a large, rough hewn tunnel dwindling into the darkness before them. The floor was paved with large polished stones so intricately worked and fitted that the seams were nearly invisible. Bannon paused long enough to summon a mage light, casting it to drift above and slightly behind them. The mage light cast a soft yellow glow down the tunnel, illuminating it far more effectively than would be expected from such a small source, revealing a number of side passages branching off in the distance.

"I suppose the throne room is as good a place to start as any," Bannon suggested, leading the way. "Keep a close eye on the side passages as we go. They mostly lead to soldiers' barracks and store rooms on this end, but you can never be too careful."

"I'm with you, O Fearless Feader," quipped Lyam, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere. "Lead on, that we may vanquish our enemies, free the oppressed, and enjoy the thankful embraces of young maidens grateful for our heroism in the face of over-whelming odds. Let the bards sing our praises, composing ballads to celebrate the glory of our..."

"Oh shut up, will you?" Bannon interjected, smiling in spite of himself. He knew from past experience that the elf was quite capable of rambling on without end if he weren't interrupted. "We have more important things to worry about than the embraces of grateful young maidens!"

"Speak for yourself," Lyam muttered, trying hard to look offended. He subsided, however, as they resumed their trek through the seemingly endless tunnel.

Several hours passed without incident, though the stress of keeping constantly on guard against a threat which never materialized was beginning to wear on the two companions. Suddenly Lyam reached out and touched Bannon's shoulder. "There it is," he breathed, pointing ahead into the distance.

Bannon focused his attention on the tunnel ahead of him, he could make out the entrance to a large cavern fifty or so yards away. "You're right," he whispered. "Let's keep on our toes."

Nodding his agreement, Lyam began to ease forward, Bannon close beside him. Several minutes later they halted, surprised, for they both heard an unmistakable tapping sound coming from the throne room. The noise would pause for a time, then resume for several minutes, then pause again. Lyam looked to Bannon, eyebrow raised, the question on his face obvious. What was this? Bannon's shrug was eloquent. How should I know?

Extinguishing the mage light, Bannon realized why it hadn't given him away. Whoever was in the throne room had a lantern lit. The mage light had also prevented them from seeing the lantern's light. Lyam slid slowly forward, keeping low to the ground. Taking a steadying breath he poked his head around the tunnel's edge and into the room. He was still for so long that Bannon began to worry, then Lyam withdrew and flashed him a relieved, if somewhat incredulous, grin.

"Well?" Bannon asked. "What is it?"

"I think it's a thief," replied Lyam with disbelief. "He is either very brave, or very stupid. What kind of an idiot would enter Coran Tor, knowing the fate of those who come here?"

"You're asking me that question?" teased Bannon, obviously referring to himself. "We are the last people on Tarsus who should question another's sanity on that score!"

"You have a point," smiled Lyam, "but what in the world is he doing here?"

"Only one way to find out, isn't there?" said Bannon, standing up and boldly moving for the entrance.

Startled, Lyam's hand shot out to restrain his friend. "What do you think you're doing?" hissed the elf, alarmed.

"Do you truly think this is the foe we seek?" asked Bannon, brushing away the restraining hold. "Besides, he could have information that would benefit our search."

Leveling a reassuring gaze at the ranger, Bannon resumed his entrance into the throne room, summoning his mage light as he went. The throne room had originally been a large natural cavern, but the dwarves, over a period of decades probably, had diligently worked the interior into a virtual masterpiece of architecture. Elaborate columns, carved intact from the living stone of the mountain, flanked both sides of the chamber. They provided not only beauty but strategically defensive positions for dwarven warriors as well. Among the column's heights also rested firing platforms for concealed bowmen, cunningly disguised as simple air vents for circulation throughout the chamber. If Bannon's prior knowledge had not told him of their purpose, he never would have guessed. Beautifully crafted tapestries adorned every wall, and the long stretch of carpet leading to the throne was lined on both sides with statues of incredibly detailed workmanship. These sculptures depicted dwarves in every aspect of daily life, from mining precious ore to weapons training in the barrack's sparring chambers, to boisterous tavern life, to a matronly wife preparing dinner for her family. As innocuous as these statues appeared, Bannon knew their true purpose. Any enemy caught between them when hostilities erupted would not long live to regret their mistake. Each of the statues were cleverly engineered to separate into three thick slabs, the front and back of each sliding in opposite directions and locking into place. In conjunction with the contraptions on either side, they createda solid wall of stone flanking the approach to the throne. Once all connections were made the walls would slam together with incredible force. The effect, needless to say, would be devastating. The dwarves were nothing if not thorough, and brutally so. Anyone entering these halls was viewed as a potential threat, and the construction of these halls mirrored that belief.

Taking a few tentative steps into the hall, Bannon made his way around the insidious statues, all the while concentrating on his approach to the stranger, trying not to draw attention. The unsuspecting interloper was intently tapping against the wall behind and to the left of the throne, so thoroughly engrossed in his work that he failed to notice Bannon. Curiosity getting the better of him Bannon stood for several minutes behind the crouched figure, concealing himself behind the throne so that the mage light would not betray him.

The stranger feverishly continued rapping on the wall in various locations, as if he were trying to locate something within. Abandoning his habitually serious demeanor, Bannon turned to Lyam, who was still planted firmly under the mage light, and smiled widely. Lyam responded with a grin of his own, surmising what the wily mage was about to do.

Bannon cleared the few remaining feet between them, stooping low to get down to the stranger's level, and addressed him in a firm tone of voice. "What a lack of manners you display, banging on other peoples' walls like that!"

The thief shot up and spun around, not unlike a goblin surprised by an army of dwarves. His eyes bulged, appearing to Bannon as two eggs threatening to spurt from the thief's eye sockets. "Emascus' knuckles man, don't scare me like that! Don't you know it's sheer madness to enter Coran Tor?"

Standing beside the astonished thief, Bannon crossed his arms and gave him an incredulous look. "Don't you know it's sheer madness as well?"

"Well everybody knows that, but things only get really nasty after sunset you know," the stranger replied vehemently, waving his little hammer about wildly.

Bannon arched an eyebrow in surprise before continuing the verbal repartee with the uncanny thief. "Enough of this strangeness. What are you doing here in the midst of such danger? What possesses you to sit around idly tapping on perfectly good walls in the middle of one of the most dangerous places on Tarsus?"

Eyeing the mage suspiciously, the little man leaned back slightly before replying. "I have a multitude of perfectly reasonable explanations for my presence here, but I prefer to tell people only one of them."

"And that would be...?"

"Greed," the thief stated plainly. Bannon screwed his face up into a confused scowl. The blunt response had caught him off guard. "It's the most easily justifiable explanation," the stranger reasoned, tapping his hammer against the wall for effect.

Bannon's face lost all expression. He appeared stunned by the thief's Machiavellian response. For the first time in many years, Lyam saw his friend at a loss for words. Reasoning that the short, anxious fellow was mostly harmless, Lyam decided to reveal his presence.

"Come now, do you truly think something as simple as greed could possibly justify such rashness, such total lack of self preservation? Surely you jest!" The ranger stepped into the hall in mid-sentence, approaching the two with short, measured strides.

"And what would an elf know about greed? Your kind has never been known for providing explanations for their own inexplicable actions. Worst of all, you guys don't even go bump in the night, and that really irks me!"

"That may all be true," Bannon interjected, "but you still haven't told me why you're here." Lyam and Bannon strengthened their gazes upon the stranger, who held steadfastly against their penetrating glares.

"I'm looking for the loot."

"You're doing what?" Lyam cried, looking down upon the diminutive human.

"I'm here for the goods," the thief continued. "You know, the booty, the treasure, the swag..."

"We are perfectly capable of comprehending what you are searching for, but the reason why you would look for it here, of all places, eludes us. Would you care to elaborate?" Bannon took a steadying breath, awaiting the thief's response.

"Sure, I could spend all day running around the big cities, looting rich merchants, but why bother with that tiring endeavor when I could just waltz in here and strike it rich? The loot is around here, and I'm going to find it!"

Lyam flashed Bannon an exasperated look before replying to the little man's statement. "Don't you know dwarves never stash their "swag" this close to the throne room? You're looking in the wrong place, fool!" The thief's eyes widened in unabashed interest.

The claim, of course, was totally untrue. If the little thief had begun his search on the opposite side of the throne, he quite probably would have discovered the treasury's hidden entrance by now. Lyam and Bannon, however, had no intention of letting that happen.

"What is your name, thief?" demanded Bannon, letting his irritation carry through in the tone of his voice.

"Justin, kind sir," replied the thief, regaining his composure and bowing low before the mage, sweeping the hat from his head with an exaggerated flourish. "And who might you be, if I may be so bold to ask?"

"Bannon of Elkenpass, Wizard of the Wood, and Lyam Woodweaver, First Ranger of the Elves of Glenwood," responded Bannon, giving the little thief a scathing look. "We are here on a vital mission and have little time, and less patience, to spend on the likes of you."

At the mention of two such renowned - and dangerous! - personalities, Justin's jaw came unhinged. For several brief moments the thief could only gape comically at these two unwanted arrivals. His chagrin, however, was short-lived. Recovering more quickly than most men twice his stature, the little man drew himself up proudly and defiantly faced his opponents.

"So?" spat the thief. "Do your grand titles give you more of a right to be here than I? This place," he emphasized with a wide armed swing of his hammer, "has been abandoned for well over half a century. If the former residents had any intention of returning to claim any part of it, they would long since have done so! Perhaps this mission you so vaguely refer to is the same as mine, and you hope to simply scare off the competition with big words and fancy titles, claiming a right to fortunes as yet undiscovered, in a place guarded by myths and unfounded rumor. Well it won't work with me!" stated Justin bluntly, crossing his arms and setting himself in a rebellious stance.

Bannon and Lyam exchanged startled glances at this unexpected outburst, then simultaneously burst into laughter. "Friend thief," consoled Bannon with stifled mirth, "You are more than welcome to accompany us in our quest, and if any 'undiscovered fortunes' turn up you are more than welcome to your share. But be warned," cautioned Bannon, turning serious once more. "We are headed into a danger that not even such as I can afford to take lightly. It is well within the realm of possibility that we will not survive the encounter that lies ahead."

"There you go again!" spouted Justin. "Trying to scare me off! Well let me tell you! Anywhere an overblown wizard and an upstart elf can go, Justin can surely follow!"

Grinning hugely at Bannon, Lyam held up his hands in a calming gesture. "Settle down Justin, no one is trying to scare you. We just want to make sure you know what you're getting into. If you have any doubts as to the dangers involved here, remember this. These caverns once housed over thirty-five thousand dwarves, twelve thousand of which were battle hardened warriors. If you have any experience with dwarves you also know that the average dwarven housewife, as well as any child much above the age of ten, could easily defeat most human veterans. Keeping these things in mind, consider the fact that something in these caves wiped them out down to the last man, woman and child. No trace of them has ever been found, not the slightest hint of a survivor who may have been witness to what occurred here. No one who has ever entered Coran Tor in search of answers has been seen again, including one overblown wizard and several upstart elves!"

"Enough!" cried Bannon. "Let us get on with the search. I'd much rather find what we're seeking before it finds us!"

"A little late for that friend Bannon," boomed a voice from the throne room's rear entrance. "I have been monitoring your approach for some time now."

Bannon and Lyam spun quickly about to face the source of this statement, Lyam drawing his bow as he turned. Justin dove behind the throne like a startled rabbit and peered cautiously from behind one elaborately carved armrest.

"So," whispered Bannon, the drawn expression on his face clearly showing his concern. "A mystery revealed. I now know who was responsible for misdirecting my magic. What I don't know is why."

"All will be made known in due course Bannon," replied the shadowed figure. "In the meantime why don't you introduce me to your friends? After all, even in the worst of times protocol should be observed and courtesies exchanged. It's what keeps us civilized."

Scowling deeply, Bannon gestured towards his companions. "Lyam Woodweaver, First Ranger of the Elves of Glenwood, and Justin, Thief. May I introduce to you Morvren of Toril, Master Wizard, once First Mage to the Council of Kings in Nestor. A Sorcerer whom until this very moment I had considered dead, slain by whatever evil haunts these halls."

"Well met Lyam Woodweaver and Justin Thief," bowed the thin, raven haired wizard, amusement clear in his voice. Turning once more to face Bannon, he actually chuckled out loud. "You have interesting taste in company, my friend. The elf I can understand, but why would you feel the need for a thief?"

<P> "You never know," muttered Bannon darkly, regarding his one time colleague with a keen intensity. "The Wheel of Life sometimes makes for strange bedfellows. And you Morvren? What sort of company have you been keeping?"

For a moment Morvren simply stared at Bannon, coolly calculating, then he issued a dry humorless laugh. "Astute as ever, eh Bannon? Well, seeing as how you've introduced me to your friends, I would be remiss in manners if I did not introduce one of mine."

Turning slightly away from the trio, Morvren barked a deep throated syllable into the darkness. A few seconds later they heard the tread of heavy footfalls coming their way. Bannon and Lyam exchanged worried looks as Justin cowered further behind the throne, whimpering slightly.

Suddenly there loomed a gigantic figure behind Morvren, easily seven feet tall and covered with corded muscle. From the immense neck to the trunk-like arms and legs, the creature struck an undeniably awesome figure, but other than size appeared close to human in shape. From the neck up, however, was a different story all together. It was a vision from some madman's insane nightmare! Huge grotesque ears, hung in seeming tatters, framed a face that could only be called a monstrosity. The eyes were huge and luminous, but Bannon could only compare them to the festering pustules he had seen on the bodies of plague victims. The nose was non-existent, merely two gaping wounds in the center of the face, above a lipless mouth which appeared to be fixed in a permanent grimace of agony. The skull was capped with a short, ropey mane which gleamed darkly in the dim light, as if coated with an oily slime, seeming almost to have a life of it's own. Bannon shuddered with horror. He knew this creature! He had read of them in ancient texts, and heard of them in long forgotten myth.

Turning a look of utter disbelief on Morvren, Bannon said hoarsely, "May the Gods preserve us! Morvren, you fool! You cannot mean to tell me you have allied yourself with the Azgaroth! They are servants of the Demon God, Ramodan. Their only wish is to devour our world, and make it a place of endless shadow and never-ending torment!"

"That is precisely what I have done," retorted Morvren acidly. "When I entered this place in search of it's secrets, imagine my amazement when I stumbled upon the Azgaroth! Unbelievably powerful, but also old and wise in the ways of magic. It took all of the power I could muster to contain them long enough for me to flee. Nearly drained of my power, and in great pain, I made ready to escape, when my friend here called out to me. He begged me to hear him out, and against my better judgement I did. A bargain was struck. He would help me achieve my goals, and in return I would help him achieve his."

"You see, friend Bannon, Gor here could sense my thoughts. He understood my deepest wishes and my darkest desires. Desires I believe you feel as well, if you will only permit yourself to admit them!"

"I have an inkling of what you speak Morvren, and I assure you I have no such desires," stated Bannon coldly. "I believe your contest with the Azgaroth has driven you mad to contemplate such a thing. You cannot deal with them, Morvren. When they are done you will be disposed of, in the most grisly fashion they can conceive. Mark my words Morvren, and if you are wise, heed them!"

"I heed not your words Bannon. It is you who are the fool! The Azgaroth and their kind are destined to one day hold sway in the world, the only questions are when and how. The Azgaroth cannot venture above ground without sorcerous aid. Elkenpass will be the first test of my ability to aid them. After they have satisfied their appetites on that unfortunate hamlet, they will become my army. None will stand against them. The known world will bow at my feet from fear of them. They will strike terror into the hearts of any who oppose me!" Laughing maniacally, Morvren turned adoring eyes upon his new found ally. "As I said Bannon, The Azgaroth are an ancient race, and wise in the ways of magic, but some magics are forbidden them. In exchange for my help they are willing to wait. After all, even I will not live forever, and they are patient. In the meantime, they will content themselves with slaughtering my enemies, and I assure you there will be plenty to go around."

"You are mad!" interjected Lyam furiously. "You would condemn the entire world to satiate your twisted greed. The Elves will stand against you, as will all good folk. Your battle will not be an easy one!"

"My good elf," smiled Morvren. "I wouldn't have it any other way. What I need from you Bannon, is an answer. Will you join me, and rule the world at my side? Or will you die here?"

"You may not find us so easy to kill," replied Bannon in icy tones. "But I'd rather die here than be any part of your evil schemes."

So saying, Bannon threw up his hands in a warding gesture. Needing no further prompting Lyam drew his bow and let fly a shaft directly into the face of the lumbering monstrosity at Morvren's back. Justin, forgotten in the turmoil, hastily threw himself behind a pillar which looked more solid and concealing than the throne.

****

Morvren's first magical blast shattered against Bannon's shields, but the backlash threw Lyam headlong into the wall. Through the ringing in his ears Lyam heard a loud earth shattering screech. Rolling quickly but somewhat unsteadily to his feet, he searched for the source of the ungodly noise. With grim satisfaction he saw that his first shot had flown true. The azgaroth had one hand to the fletched shaft protruding from his left eye, howling ferociously as a sickly green fluid pumped from the devastated orb. It flailed wildly about with the other arm, searching in vain for something to punish for this painful indignity.

Lyam looked quickly to Bannon but could only see a fantastic display of fireworks and deadly bolts flying from one combatant to the other. Having faith that Bannon could hold his own, he steered wide of the Azgaroth and attempted to put some distance between himself and the two warring mages. He had just found out the hard way how dangerous it could get being in close proximity to an angry wizard.

Returning his attention to the enraged Azgaroth, Lyam was pleased to note that it could at least be injured. In his experience if it could bleed, then it could die. Once again mating bow with arrow, he drew a bead on the beast and made ready to test his theory on the ungainly brute.

Suddenly, as if sensing it's peril, the creature stopped it's mad thrashing and turned toward Lyam. All the better, he thought, gives me a clear shot. Without warning the beast threw out an arm, as if to push Lyam back. From the palm of it's hand burst forth a brilliant blue-white bolt of energy. Taken completely by surprise, Lyam was hit dead center by the blast just as he released his arrow.

The bolt hit him with such force that Lyam was picked up and thrown bodily, over thirty feet, where he was slammed with bone shattering impact into the cavern wall. "What in Thorn's name was that!" he thought as his mind spiraled into oblivion.

****

Bannon was surprised by the strength and ferocity of Morvren's first attack, his hastily assembled shields barely deflected the blow. He absently noticed Lyam being tossed aside by the backlash but had no time to worry for his friend. He could only hope that he lived long enough to tend Lyam's injuries. If this first assault was any indication of his opponent's strength, it was going to be a hard battle. To make matters worse, his mage sense felt the approach of a great many more Azgaroth, drawn by the sounds of conflict.

Bolstering his shields, Bannon sent forth a blast of his own. A keen edged wedge of force designed to cleave through Morvren's defenses, followed by a solid hammer blow of elemental fire. The wedge did indeed seem to weaken Morvren's shields, for when the hammer hit, it rocked him back on his heels, scrambling to strengthen his wards.

While Bannon was readying his next assault, Morvren wasted no time in casting his second volley. A scathing wind attack to distract him while a violent earth bolt thrown at his feet, outside his shields, rocked the very ground beneath him. Barely recovering his balance in time to renew his shields, Bannon deflected another powerful firebolt. "Time to take some risks," he thought.

Jumping quickly toward his foe, Bannon violently expanded his shields, feeding them all the energy he could muster. Bannon got the satisfaction of seeing Morvren's eyes widen in alarm just before their shields met. Bannon could feel the impact clear through to his bones, but the effect was much worse for Morvren who had been concentrating the majority of his power into his next attack. The collision hit him with such force that his shields exploded in a shower of harmless mage light, throwing him to the ground. Centuries of mage craft paid off however, for even as the breath was knocked out of him, Morvren released the deadly firebolt he had been preparing.

Bannon, having just put much of his reserve into the last gambit, was ill prepared for the blast. His shields barely deflected the blow enough to spare his life. As it was, enough power got through to singe half the hair from his body and set his robes to smouldering. Hastily rebuilding his defenses Bannon returned his attention to Morvren, only to find him doing the same.

The two wizards stood for a moment regarding each other. Both had been badly shaken and were on the verge of exhaustion. This battle would soon be over, one way or the other. It was at this time that Lyam's body came flying by, striking the wall with a sickening crunch. Looking back to Morvren, Bannon saw him smile in satisfaction. He had a brief moment to experience hatred to a depth he had never thought possible, then the fight was renewed.

****

Justin was terrified! He had always considered himself a worldly man, but the sheer magnitude of the firefight he was witnessing scared him nearly witless. Though he heartily considered discretion to be the better part of valor, Justin was no stranger to violence. This battle, he concluded, was just a little too intense. Even though he presented, and sometimes thought of, himself in a somewhat heroic fashion, Justin knew well enough when it was time to swallow his pride and cower in the shadows.

Just before Lyam was hurled bodily across the chamber, he managed to loose his arrow. The blue-fletched sliver sliced gracefully through the air, leaving an indelible trail behind as Justin watched it streak past him. Before the Azgaroth could recover from the massive arm swing required to release the energy bolt, Lyam's arrow buried itself halfway up the shaft in the creature's neck. The azgaroth's one good eye widened in shock, and the beast gurgled horribly as it hit the ground, trying vainly to regain its feet as ichor spilled from the wound.

Lyam's body was virtually plastered to the far wall, Bannon could barely keep himself from going up in flames and the Azgaroth was downed but apparently not quite out. Justin quickly surmised that things weren't going too well for his companions, and if they fell he would surely follow.

Holding tightly to his little rock hammer, Justin steeled himself to take some sort of action of his own. Though still terrified, he began a stealthy approach toward the two wizards. As luck would have it Morvren had his back to him. Needless to say the mage was more than a little preoccupied at the moment. Saying a silent prayer to all the gods, Justin rose to his feet, took careful aim, and with all the strength in his small body threw the hammer at the back of Morvren's head.

To his complete surprise, the hammer was not deflected but flew straight and true to it's mark. With a dull thud, the hammer struck Morvren in the back of the head! To his horror, Justin suddenly found himself the focus of hate filled eyes as the offended wizard whirled to face this new threat. His horror was short lived however, as a loud crack resounded throughout the chamber. Morvren shuddered once, his eyes rolling back in his head, then fell to the floor like a sack of grain.

In muted wonder, Justin stared blankly at the smoking hole in the back of Morvren's head. "No larger than my pinky really," he thought, "bet that stung some." Raising his eyes from the now defunct sorcerer, Justin saw Bannon slumped against the wall in exhaustion.

Running over to the weary wizard, Justin frantically laid hold of his robe and began to shake. "Bannon please, you can't collapse just yet!" exclaimed the thief. "If you don't do something quickly, we will shortly be over run by more of those ghastly creatures."

Bannon shook his head as if to clear it then dazedly glanced toward the Azgaroth which was now in it's death throes, weakly clutching the shaft protruding from it's neck. "You're right, help me to my feet, quickly."

Justin put his shoulder beneath Bannon's arm and helped the wizard stand and quickly as they were able made their way to the throne room's rear entrance.

"Give me some room," said Bannnon tiredly as they got near enough to suit his purposes. Closing his eyes in concentration Bannon reached deep within himself and drew upon reserves he never knew he had. Raising his hands and whispering words too softly for Justin to hear, he released a tremendous bolt of energy, and promptly fell to the floor, out cold.

The explosion knocked Justin off his feet. When his head cleared and the dust settled he saw the tunnel was no more. A solid wall of rock now blocked the passage. Shaking his head at magic in general and wizards in particular, he turned to survey the damage.

Bannon was unconscious but appeared in stable condition. The Azgaroth was now dead, as was Morvren. The entire chamber was half demolished, and lying half forgotten against one wall was an alarmingly motionless Lyam. Justin approached the battered elf, worry clearly written on his face.

At first glance, the elf looked to be in terrible shape. Upon closer inspection it was even worse! Justin immediately noted a broken collar bone and several crushed ribs. Rolling the elf onto his back Justin was horrified to see a major compound fracture of the upper left arm. A two inch length of bone protruded from the skin and the flesh was starting to purple around the wound. At least he was breathing, if somewhat raggedly. Making Lyam as comfortable as possible,

Justin decided to try and rouse Bannon before attempting anything serious on the elf.

****

Some hours later, Justin sat speaking quietly with Bannon, the still unconscious Lyam lying not far away. Upon recovery, the wizard had made haste to attend to his badly injured friend. Ripping a wide length of cloth from the bottom of his robe, Bannon had tightly bound the battered ribs then quickly set the broken collar bone. The fractured arm was a much more difficult task and required both the wizard and the thief. Bannon winced as the raw ends of bone grated together upon setting, and thanked the gods for Lyam's continued comatose condition.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" inquired Justin, referring to the badly damaged elf.

Bannon regarded the elf critically, then smiled. "Elves have a hearty constitution. Give Lyam a week to rest and he'll be good as new, except for the arm of course. That will take a bit longer. He'll not be drawing that bow of his for some time. And you Justin? How did you fare in the fight?"

Mildly embarrassed, Justin shrugged. "Not a scratch. I suppose I should consider myself lucky the two of you showed up when you did, otherwise I doubt I would have fared as well. I didn't for one minute believe the story of some vital mission you were supposedly engaged in. I thought you were trying to scare me off so you could keep the dwarven treasure to yourselves. Boy was I mistaken!"

"Do not belittle yourself friend thief," replied Bannon good naturedly. "Lyam and I owe you much. If not for the timely intervention of you and your hammer, I fear we would both now be dead, and Morvren's Azgaroth on their way to Elkenpass."

"Don't forget, wizard, had you perished, I would have died with you. I am not a brave man. I acted solely from a desire of self preservation. What I can't understand," remarked the thief, looking at Bannon quizzically. "Is why my hammer reached him when all of your mighty bolts could not."

Laughing softly, Bannon grinned happily at Justin and responded with a slap to the back. "Well my little friend it's like this. Morvren did not consider you to be a threat, so he quickly forgot you were even there. When he saw Lyam slammed into the wall he rightly surmised that the elf was out for the count. He dropped his physical shields and concentrated on a solely magical defense, knowing I could afford no such luxury. I had no idea that the Azgaroth was also down. This allowed Morvren to concentrate more of his power on the attack, and I can honestly say he had me on the run! When your hammer struck, he was taken completely by surprise. He was so startled, in fact, that for a brief moment he let his shields slip. It was just the break I needed! The result was quite satisfying if I do say so myself."

Justin shook his head in renewed wonder at the mysteries of magic and those who used it. Bannon reached forth and grasped his arm tightly, giving it a friendly squeeze.

"We owe you a great debt my friend, as does the entire world, though they know it not," said Bannon seriously. "For the moment I can think of only one way to repay you."

"I deserve no payment for saving my own skin," replied the thief sheepishly.

"Nonsense!" retorted Bannon. "Don't be modest when a wizard offers you your heart's desire. He will seldom make the offer twice. Now, before I change my mind, go to the rear of the throne and take six paces to the right."

His eyes lighting in disbelief, Justin stood and hurriedly made his way to the indicated spot, turning to Bannon for further instruction.

Smothering the urge to laugh, Bannon said. "Better take two more steps, I hadn't taken into account the shortness of your stride."

Giving Bannon a sour look, Justin complied.

"Now look closely at that portion of the wall, you should notice one stone is ever so slightly discolored. Once you have found it count six stones down and four to the right." Bannon watched intently while his instructions were carried out. "Got it? Mark that stone well in your mind. Now return to the discolored stone and count four stones up and sixteen stones to the left, remember that stone as well."

Justin eyed the wizard suspiciously but did as he was told.

"Okay so far?" asked Bannon. Receiving a nod in return, he continued. "Now go sit on the throne, making sure your hands are in place on both armrests."

Justin immediately hopped onto the throne, then looked eagerly at Bannon, who was smiling in a most unusual manner.

"Remember what I told you about the stones?"

"Yes," replied Justin.

"You haven't forgotten have you?"

"N..no," Justin stammered, "not at all!"

"Good. Now firmly grasp both armrests and turn them in toward you. Get a good grip Justin, these armrests haven't been used for many years."

Doing so, a well concealed door popped slightly open behind the throne. Justin immediately leapt up from his seat and ran to the door, tossing it open without the slightest fear of traps.

Justin's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he got a good look at what was waiting for him in the treasure room. Dancing a quick jig, he stepped forward before drawing up abruptly. "What about those stones you had me memorize?"

"What about them?"

"What about them?" shouted Justin in exasperation. "There must have been some reason for putting me through all that trouble!"

"Indeed there was, friend thief," laughed the mage. "I couldn't make it too easy on you, now could I?"

Bestowing Bannon with a scorching look of disbelief, Justin opened his mouth to reply. Thinking better of himself, he shook his head and said only, "No, I guess you couldn't at that."

Without further ado, Justin dove headlong into the unimaginable wealth that lay before him. Bannon let the little thief enjoy himself for a short time before putting a damper on the man's enthusiasm. "Take only what you can carry Justin. That will suffice to make you one of the richest men on Tarsus. Lyam is in no shape to carry for you, and I will be no man's bag boy."

Sighing in resignation, Justin bowed to the inevitable and started loading up his pack, as well as his pockets. Feeling no particular need to rush at the moment, he showed real talent in his ability to choose only the most precious and valuable items to take with him, and surprised the wizard by not attempting to load more than he could safely carry out of Coran Tor alone. "He may be greedy," thought Bannon, "but he isn't stupid."

When Justin was finally satisfied with his selections and after one last mournful look at the treasure room, he turned to Bannon. With a shrug of his shoulders and a short nod he closed his pack. "Close it up and let's get out of here."

Lyam moaned and sat up tiredly, looking around in bewilderment. Blinking dully at Bannon and Justin he slowly grinned. "I feel like I've been put through the mill with this year's harvest, but I suppose I should be happy to be alive. So what happened? When I hit that wall I thought that was all she wrote. How did you pull our fat out of the fire this time wizard?"

"Do not thank me Lyam, the thanks goes to Justin here. Seems fate smiled on us when we ran into this little scoundrel," answered Bannon with a smile to take the sting out of his words. "But that is a story I'll relate on our journey to Elkenpass. Can you stand and walk?"

When Lyam struggled to stand Justin rushed to his aid, putting his shoulder beneath the elf's arm. "Thank you, Justin," responded the elf. "Yes Bannon, I think with a little help from my friends I can make fairly good progress. Fortunately, most of the damage seems to be from the waist up."

"Good, then let's be on our way. I've family I'd like to see and you are in sore need of recuperation. Once we reach the entrance, I'll seal this place forever. The last thing we need is for some fool to come in here treasure hunting and release the Azgaroth again!" This last remark was made with a pointed look at Justin.

"No need to worry about me, Bannon," placated the little thief, hefting his pack meaningfully. "I've got all I came for and more. By the way, does this Elkenpass need a decent inn? I've always wanted to run my own inn."

"I'm sure room can be made for an enterprising ex-thief," chuckled Bannon. "I'll make sure my friends and family welcome you with open arms."

Grinning hugely in satisfaction Justin nodded vigorously. "Good, then let's go home shall we?"

So saying, the trio turned to make their way out of Coran Tor, Lyam whistling merrily as they went.

© 2001 by J. M. Allen. I am an Applications Engineer by trade, living and working in

Thomasville, GA for the last five years. I have always been an avid reader of Science Fiction and Fantasy. Although this is my first completed manuscript I am also working on a Science Fiction novel as well as a sequel to this Fantasy novellette.