The Unending Saga Of Percival The Pig

The First Victory

As the rocket went up into the midnight sky, Percival and Jenna were locked into a tight embrace. Chaos reigned in the town, as people spilled out on to the street to see what was happening. They looked up at the sky wondering if this was some sort of omen for the future. A few felt a sense of calm,and the others felt a certain sense of dread. 

In Bessie's old home, Blance woke suddenly. Quickly changing into dark clothes, and arming herself well, she slid into the shadows of the room. Waiting a bit, she slowly slipped into the garden outside, and was soon summoning the guards for the counter attack. She was determined not to yield her new found power to the invaders, and even though she had been caught by surprise, she was ready for the fight.

The Warlocks had made their way through the town, and unmolested, they walked into the lane where Bessie had once lived. The magic that pervaded the road did not seem to have any effect on them at all. They walked in as if they were walking along a moonlit drive, and continued to swat away any challenges that came their way.

Soon enough, they entered Bessie's home expecting to find Blanche there, and were ready to kill her on the spot. The house was empty.

King War decided that they would stay in the home for a while, and they were sure that Blanche would soon return. It was a long wait indeed, and soon they noticed a queer smell coming from the corners of the rooms. A thin, yellow smoke had started to spread through the room, and as they sniffed, they soon realized that this smoke carried a potent power that they had not anticipated. As the smoke spread through the room, the Warlocks started to choke and fall, one by one. Their faces turned green, with a mottled hue. Their breath came in faint croaks, and it appeared as if they would all die there.

"Quick", gasped Queen Lock, "the windows. Let the smoke out.."

Staggering, King Lock opened the window closest to him, letting the smoke into the street below. Hiding in the hedges below, Blanche's face resembled a death mask, and teeth bared, she entered Bessie's home once again. Wielding a sword to great effect, she cut off the heads of the first Warlocks who came in her way. Her henchmen, waded in after her, creating destruction in the ranks of the Warlocks.

Elsewhere, Bardor and his group were engaged in a fierce battle in the centre of the town. The battle was evenly poised for a long while, and the streets were splattered with blood and the dead bodies of fighters on both sides. Chidhood friendship, blood relations mattered little, as they fought each other with a grim determination to win the battle. 

The fight was going on well into the night, and it seemed as if things would start to go badly for Percy's Bards, when suddenly the hidden supporters of the cause joined the fray and greatly strengthened the ranks of Percy's Bards. Bit by bit, they gained ground, fighting fiercely for the freedom of their land. 

At the harbour, BAsil and Trix made a clean sweep of all that there was in their path. Trix's hideous make up, and her jolly, yet evil laugh caused her opponents to stop in fear, and this is all that the pair needed. 

Mercy, they showed none, as they cut a bloody swathe in front of them. The harbour was soon taken, and Sally and Thyme stayed back to ensure that it would not be retaken. 

Walking up the street, Basil and Trix met up with Percival and Jenna. 

"To Bessie's home", said Percival with a fierceness that they had not seen before. 

"The Warlocks are powerful, yet Threye's magic persists there,and it will stay until we drive Blanche out, or kill her". 

With that, the four of them walked up along the street towards Bessie's home. As they approached, they saw the yellow smoke billowing out of one of the windows, and they knew that mischief was indeed afoot. 

"Quick", said Jenna. "We need to set off a barrage of rockets into the window.."

Planting the rockets into the ground, the two sisters breathed their hot breath onto the rockets, and sent them into the windows. 

The rockets scattered in the room, sending bright lights flashing through the room. After settling in the corners of the rooms they exploded in fierce gusts of wind that blew the yellow smoke out of the room, and up into the sky. Amazingly it seemed, Threye's smoke had temporarily been countered. 

"Run", screamed Trix, and the four of them went charging into the house. Catching Blanche's henchmen by surprise, they cut their way through the crowd, loping off heads and causing complete destruction in their path. The yellow smoke had, by this time, faded out of the room, and the Warlocks were beginning to stir.

"We are in your debt", said Queen Lock, coughing. "If you had not come, we would have surely been choked to death in this room. We have never experienced such suffocating smoke. Threye's magic is evil indeed."

"Yes indeed", said King War, "but now we must meditate a bit, such that we cure ourselves, and allow our bodies to build their defences against this smoke."

With that, the Warlocks fell to their knees, to meditate.

"We need to find Blanche", said Percival grimly. "Let's first see if she is in the room, dead somewhere."

"She escaped", said Trix. " I saw her jump out of the window, and snake her way through the shadows. No fear, she will escape from the island, and she will be back with reinforcements. Let's go and see what else in happening in the town."

Together, they marched towards the city square where the battle was still raging on. 

The two sisters looked at each other and smiled. They raised their hands and sent bolts of fire into the ranks of the enemies. Yowls of pain rent the air as the smell of burnt flesh was soon wafting its way towards them. Basil and Percival charged into the fray to jon the Bards, and suddenly, it was all over as quickly as it had begun. 

The early morning rays of the rising sun were beginning to make it's way above the houses, when Sally and Thyme were seen to come sauntering down the road, smiles on their faces. 

The surveyed the scene, and looked at the blood and dead bodies lying like so much carrion on the streets. 

Percival, Basil and Thyme looked at the dead bodies, tears streaming down their faces. Childhood friends, cousins lay dead amongst the rest, but they knew that this was for the best. 

There was much work to be done, to clean the town and to restore it to some sort of order, before they could leave again. Blanche had indeed escaped into the night. She would return. 

"But, we shall deal with her later",piped up Corky, sitting on the corner of a street. "Let's get the town back in shape, build reinforcements..." he said, " and yes, my Top Hat Shop as well..."

 

The First Battle Begins

Percival spent most of the day massaging his sore knees, but finally in the afternoon, he fell asleep in Jenna's arms.

When he awoke, he was ravenous. Miraculously, food appeared, and he fell to with great gusto. Finally, after what seemed to be an age, he lifted his head from the trough and surveyed his surroundings. He was at the edge of the forest, at a point where the forest gave way to the beach. The beach went around the island, and rose up along the eastern shores, until it became a steep cliff. It was towards this cliff that he found small fires burning.

"That", smiled Jenna, "Is where we shall have our retreat after the battle."

"Why there?", asked Percival.

"To prevent the enemy from attacking us easily",she retorted. 

"And, what if we are running from the enemy? Then, we shall find it a bit difficult to climb upourselves", argued Percival. 

"Oh, that will not be needed", said the Warlock King, coming up quietly.

"And, what is your name?" asked Percival.

"Oh, my real name will be revealed in due course", smiled the King. "For now, you can call me King War, and you may call my wife, Queen Lock. We shall be allowed to reveal our names after the Wizards accept our penance, and not before then. That is also the time when we shall have the leisure to share our story with you, and not before then."

"Now", said Queen Lock. "It is time".

The arrangements had been made while Percival had beeen busy tucking into his food, and the group was given their arms. They silently boarded their ships, and sailed out of the harbour. 

It was the night of the New Moon, and the sky was dark and overcast. Their ships made almost no sound, as they sailed towards the shores of Percival's Land. A thin mist rose from the sea, and covered the ships almost entirely. Nothing could be seen of the ships, except an eerie glow. It seemed as if ghost ships were sailing along those waters. Unknown to Percival, this was a little bit of the magic that the Warlocks were capable of. 

As they approached the shores, the drum beats started from the WarCry. Slow at first, then more loudly, the rhythms were startlingly insistent and menacing. The drum beats continued into the night. The drummers were quiet, yet the waves set off by the drummers were fierce, low and threatened every living creature that came into its path.

As they came closer the drum beats changed. Still low in tone, they acquired a more jagged edge. Slowly, the ships that were moored on the shore started to crack and fall apart. Basil and Trix were standing on the prow of The Raven as they watched the ships slowly sink below the waters. 

"All escape routes seem to be cut off", muttered Basil

"Yes", giggled Trix."The poor little dears will be all ours. We shall extract the sweetest possible revenge on them." Her silvery laugh trailed off into the night, as their ship bore down on to the shores. 

 

. Basil looked at her. She looked ghostly, with the war paint making her face look ghostly, and somewhat other worldly. She would have scared a hell cat in her sleep. Percival and Jenna soon came up to join them. Jenna's war paint was a bit more ghastly than that on the face of Trix. Her face grim, she had none of the bone chilling laugh that seemed to spill out from Trix, and she seemed intent on taking no prisoners. The Raven soon pulled up ashore, and they diembarked quietly. They waited for the Warlocks, and Percy's Bards to come on shore with them, before making their next move. As agreed, Percival and Jenna would go on ahead, to Percival's home, and switch on all the lights in his home. Then, they would let off a rocket in the garden, and this would be the sign for the Warlocks to make their move towards Bessie's home. Only the Warlocks had the magical power to withstand the magic that Erisa and Azazel had left hanging in the mists that surrounded Bessie's home. The Bards would then make their way into town, and would rouse those whom they knew to be secret enemies of Blanche's group. Basil and Trix, along with Sally and Thyme would make up the rear, and would slaughter the soldiers in the port and would then start to make their way to the Village Square. There was silence in the night, as Jenna and Percival left to walk towards Percival's home. Dressed in black, Percival, miraculously blended in with the shadows of the night. Jenna walked straight along the path, mysteriously invisible to anyone who would have been looking on. When they approached Percival's old home, they found it surrounded by a few folk guarding it, no doubt expecting Percival's home. Some of them were Percival's old friends from his childhood, and he hesitated as he saw them. As he stood there in the shadows, Jenna stepped up behind one of them, and clubbed him to the ground. As a second guard saw Jenna clubbing his friend, he snarled, and moved towards her. Jenna merely smiled, and as he approached, she jabbed her fingers into his face, and lowered him to the ground. At this point Percival knew that old friendship was at an end. Joining Jenna in the brief fight that followed, they soon left a small pile of bodies on the ground. They walked into his old home, and as they switched on all the lights, they hugged each other. Walking outside, they lit the rocket that went off high, with a bang, into the night. As they watched the fiery tail of the rocket disappear into the night, they kissed each other, with the passion of those who knew that the first battle was about to begin. They had taken the war to the Mrodics, and there was now no looking back..

The Journey Back

Percival and his friends spent much of the day relaxing. They were not disturbed by the Warlocks again for the rest of the day, and they were left to eat, drink, and be merry for the rest of the day. 

Percival and Basil gorged themselves on the food that, miraculously, seemed to replenish itself. Breakfast gave way to coffee and snacks, which gave way to lunch. Lunch gave way to high tea, and this finally yielded to dinner. 

Coffee and cognac followed, and then, Bless Ye God of the Heavens, there was supper! Percival and Basil were feeling quite happy with the day, and their appetitite seemed boundless. Their good humour increased with the passing of the day, and their hands slowly started to massage their stomachs, which were slowly beginning to resemble a smooth convex surface. If anyone were to peep below their shirts, they would see bellies that were soft and pink, glowing gently with a happiness that had not been felt in a long, long time.

Their wives picked at their food. While they did not starve themselves, they they did not gorge like their husbands. They seemed to have a much higher concern for the shape of their figures than their husbands had for theirs. They sat with each other, talking and laughing in low tones. They seemed to be in good humour indeed. Maybe, they had a sense of what would come to be.

Bardor and his friends ate and drank well, but they too generally kept to themselves, talking in low tones again. They looked thoughtful indeed. 

Sally and Thyme were, as usual, engrossed in each other. They day was a great one for them. They sat alone together in a corner, kissing, hugging and stroking each other. The day, for them, was intended to be filled in a romantic haze. 

Yet time marches on. Time for romance ends. Quiet conversations die out. Stomachs fill, and can be filled no more.

Percival and Basil let out a huge sigh of relief somewhere close to midnight. They could not remember a day in recent times when they had fed so much, with so much gay abandon, and with such luxury. 

Alas! This day was fated to end, and just before the stroke of midnight, the door opened again, and the Warlock King and Queen walked into the room.

They looked across at Jenna and Trix, and merely nodded. They looked at Bardor, and said, "It's time". 

Looking at Percival and Basil, they laughed and said, "The Army can march well now, we hope!"

"Where are we going?" asked Thyme, with interest.

"To your home land", answered Queen. "We shall leave now, and shall take shelter close by during the day tomorrow. Tomorrow night, we shall alight quietly, and shall make our attack."

"What shall we do with Blanche, if we find her?", asked Sally.

"We shall kill her", said King.

Percival moaned softly, when he heard this. He had never revealed this to Jenna, but in the days before Bessie, Blanche had been his girlfriend. He had abandoned her for Bessie, and while he retained a soft corner for her, she had never forgiven him for this.

"No time for sentimental daydreams", said Queen. "Blanche will kill you without mercy, especially considering your old history. There is no time for past reminiscences."

Percival stared at her with shock. This was his hidden and forgotten past. He did not know that anyone knew about this at all. Jenna started and glared at him. She looked at him with angry eyes, and Percival knew that he would need to make amends very quickly.

The group soon left, and walked out into a desolate landscape that was being whipped by a fierce, cold wind. Walking was difficult, as the wind was blowing against them, and every step was an effort.

Food was soon forgotten, but for a lingering sense of regret.

"At this rate, we will have soon digested everything that we ate", grumbled Basil, "and it will soon be time to eat again."

They struggled for more than an hour to reach the ship, during which time Percival kept trying to help Jenna along. This was his way of trying to make up with her, but she kept slapping his hand away. She was clearly angry at this discovery of his old love affair, and would take a whole night of Percival pleading on his knees before she would forgive him, and give him a kiss of love again. 

Trix kept poking Basil in his stomach and kept laughing at him, as they struggled along the path into the boat that was to take them on their journey.

When they reached the pier, they split into two groups. The original six boarded The Raven that had been moored there, and was waiting patiently for them. 

The rest boarded the ship that belonged to the Warlocks, and was called WarCry. 

Finally, they were on board. The night had turned cold, and an icy rain was starting to come down on them. By the time they boarded the ships, they were soaked to the skin, and were freezing. Yet, they had barely had the time to settle in, when the boats started to sail off into the choppy waters.

The fates did not seem to look upon their departure kindly, as they were tossed up and down on the heaving ocean waves. 

Percival was having a hard time staying on his knees. The tossing ship kept throwing him left, right and up. Finally, after one particularly strong lurch, Percival was tossed up into the air, and he landed on his rear end with a thump, Jenna finally relented.

Holding his hand, she helped him up. Giving him a tight hug, a passionate kiss, she said "I love you, my dear".

Basil, on the other hand, was rolling about and groaning, wishing he had never eaten so much. It did not help that Trix kept giggling at him and calling him a fat tub of lard.

Finally, the sea calmed down, and day broke. They found themselved moored at a small island, close to home...

A Conversation With The Warlocks

Percival and Basil gaped blankly as the Warlocks walked into the room. The man was tall, with black hair that flowed down to his shoulders. His partner, likewise, had long, black hair that flowed down to her shoulders. They had pale faces, and dark, piercing eyes. Their noses were prominent, and this only accentuated the mystical and cruel look in their eyes.

"Welcome Percival", said the man, looking down at him. "Yes, indeed. An army must not march on an empty stomach. However, neither should it let the love of food blind it from the necessarry tasks that must be completed. Discipline is key in all things, and hunger should not be allowed to distract you. Use the power of discomfort to propel you to greater feats.."

"But, but, but.... how?..." blabbered Basil... He was sitting there with his mouth hanging wide open, eyes wide with shock. The food seemed to have suddenly turned to some sort of nameless goo in his stomach, and he was starting to wonder if they had been too hasty in rushing in to eat the food.

The woman looked at him with an intense look in her eyes. Her eyes seemed to see deep into his soul, and he suddenly felt as if he was possessed by a strange power that he had no control over. His eyes seemed to go blank for a moment, and his mind felt strangely empty. Suddenly, she looked away, and he was yanked back into the present reality. He felt more out of control than he had ever felt in his life. 

There was silence in the room, and the man started to speak. All eyes were fixed on him, as his deep voice rolled across the room.

"Friends, you have been through many adventures we know. Last night, we had communion with your two ladies, Jenna and Trix and we know much of what has happened in the last months. The times that you have been through have been hard indeed, and you have all come out remarkably well."

"However, what you have been through is nothing compared to what you will have to undergo in the next few months. We have been tracking the unfolding of events, and we know that a chain of events has been set loose, that will change the fortunes of the world. All of you will have a vital role to play in this, and this is something that you must know."

"We can help, but there are things to be done", he concluded

"What needs to be done?", asked Percival. 

"First of all, you need to take back your country, Percival. You know that it has been taken over by Blanche, she who was once one of your dearest friends."

"Poor, pretty Blanche", said Percival. "She would not hurt a thing..."

"And now", said the woman, "the white skin on her face resembles a Death Mask, because she represents Death in all it's cruel manifestations. She has imprisoned Basil and Thyme's parents, and the poor, deluded, old folk think that they are a part of the ruling elite. Yet, the moment that their usefulness has been fully exploited, Blanche will kill them.She is now a disciple of Erisa, she who is married to Azazel. Erisa is a charming, beautiful lady, but she is dangerous, wily, powerful and does not have any soft feeling in her entire body. You shall meet her some day."

"I have met her already", said Bardor.

"Yes", said Noir. "She tried to trap me as well, but I would have none of it. We escaped early one morning, and came upon Percival and his friends in Lavonia."

"You are amongst the few that Erisa has not managed to trap", continued the woman. "She will not forget this."

"So, what happens now?", asked Percival.

"As I said", said the man. "We shall have to sail to your land, and take it back. If we can capture and kill Blanche, then that will be perfect. If she escapes, then we shall have to deal with her later. Her people will have to be put to death without mercy. They have been your old friends, I know, but if any of them are allowed to live, then there shall be reprisals, the strength of which, you shall be surprised to find"

"And then?", asked Thyme.

"And then, we shall split ourselves into three groups", said the woman. "Percy's Bards shall stay behind in Percival's Land. Bardor, you and Noir shall lead this group. There will be battles to be fought, but you shall discover these later. Sally and Thyme, you shall go to The Exotic Island, and shall have to destroy The Black Pub. It is the hub of much evil as you know, and must be destroyed completely. You shall then await the arrival of Regina, from The Valley of The Kings."

"Percival, Basil, Jenna, Trix, the four of you will then go with us in search of The Wizards. We shall need their help before The End. If they agree to help, then the End may very well be in our favour."

"But, why should we trust you?", asked Percival.

"Because you have no choice", said the man.

"The journey to the Land of The Wizards is hard indeed. Before they agree to help, we must do our penance. Else, they will probably kill us all."

The group fell silent. The room was warm enough, and looked comfortable indeed. They did not feel any threat from the Warlocks who had entered the room.

They all looked at each other for a long while.

"Lunch will soon be served", said the man. "I suggest that you rest today, eat well and feel at peace. We shall leave tonight. There is not a day to be lost.." 

The Morning After

Many things had been going on, and it may have appeared as if time was standing still in the island where Percival and his friends had landed. 

The wheels of the world had started to turn, and indeed things would never be the same. Azazel was in the process of being named as The Lord of Chaos; Dragor and Bessie were with the Trolls; Erisa was at the Valley of Kings, and Tori was at Sangrer. The Lexters were home, at The Land of Ice and Snow.

The first rays of the morning sun had started to peep over the horizon, the fires had gone down, and there was a cool morning breeze that was starting to blow. 

Percival suddenly shook himself awake with a snort, yawnes, stretched himself and suddenly sat up. Sleeping out on the hard land had made him stiff, and as he stretched and scratched himself, he said," I am starving. Do we have anything to eat?"

Bardor woke up with the sound of Percival's voice, and cocked an eye at Percival. Before he could answer, Trix had thrown a clump of grass at Percival's head, and asked, "Don't you think of anything but food?"

Glaring at her, Percival declared huffily, "An army does not march on an empty stomach. We need to look around, explore this place, find some food and shelter. Then, we can plan our next move."

"For once, my dear friend Percival has spoken words of wisdom", said Basil with a laugh. "We need to move, and find out what has to be done next."

"No", said Jenna suddenly. "No"

"What do you mean, 'no'?" asked Percival with surprise.

"I agree with Jenna", said Trix.

"What, what, what?", exclaimed Basil with surprise. By this time, he was starting to feel hungry as well, and it appeared as if there were little rats that were starting to gnaw inside his stomach. The rats were starting to run faster and faster, their little claws leaving scars of a raw hunger inside him. He clutched himself tight, and groaned..

"What do you mean 'no'?", he asked. "For once, I agree with Percival.. An army cannot march on an empty stomach, and mine has a big, gaping hole in it.."

"So that's settled then",said Trix tartly. "We wait here. Any way, you cannot march, as you said"

"We need to wait for them," said Jenna. 

Everyone looked at her, completely mystified. They were absolutely stunned by what she said. Questions were swirling in their heads.

Who would come for them?

Who are they?

What did they mean to do with them?

Has Jenna gone completely mad? Has the loss of her powers now completely deranged her? Would poor Percival be stuck with an insane woman? He was, all said and done, lucky to have been rid of that dangerous woman who was his first wife.

Yet, the look in her face made them stop. There was no look of derangement on her face, but as the wind blew the face around her face, she looked strangely mysterious and peaceful. After a while, Trix got up and sat next to her. The two sisters looked at the rest of the group with silent, impassive faces.

The sky soon darkened, as the clouds covered the sun. The air seemed to become dark, and the wind became stronger. The group huddled together, as the chill of the wind bit into them. 

The wind became stronger and stronger, and it seemed as if it would turn into a tornado. It soon started to whip and them even more strongly, and suddenly they were borne up into the sky. Desparately, they held hands, struggling to stay together. The peaceful look stayed on the faces of the two sisters, but the group was far too distracted to notice anything strange. 

All of a sudden, as quickly as the wind had started, it stopped. They were deposited on what appeared to be the yard of a farm. Barring the two sisters, the rest of them came tumbling down in ackward positions, and they all found themselved lying on the ground in an ungainly heap. 

Hunger still gnawed at the bellies of Percival and Basil, and to add to their existing woes, they found themselves at the bottom of a heap of tumbling bodies. They groaned, as if their life was about to come to an end. This was definitely not what they expected. 

They thought as one, and as the people on top slowly started to get off each other, and stand up, they cursed Bessie with some vim and vigour. It was she who had started it all. She was to blame, and Percival thought back on the morning at Corky's Top Hat Shop, and he groaned with misery. Where indeed, were those happy days? He had promised Bessie a life of adventure. Well, he was living the life of a most miserable adventure indeed, and he was not too happy with the dice that Fate had rolled for him. 

Ah, to be back home, sipping coffee in his patio.. That was the life. 

Finally, the weight was lifted off the two brothers in arms, and they were helped up. As they got shakily to their feet, they smelled food. The aroma wafted from a not too distant room, and the smell seemed to come from Heaven itself. Both, Basil and Percival walked as if in a trance, their footsteps guided by a Heavenly scent. 

They opened the door, eyes shut in anticipation, and entered the room. Slowly, they opened their eyes, and almost fainted with ecstasy at the sight of the food that was laid in front of them. 

Bread, eggs, chicken sausages, tea, coffee, muffins ... were piled high on plates, and soon the group  dug in with happiness. 

All things must end, however, even good things. They reached a point where they could eat no more. Percival, Basil, Thyme, Bardor and the other men found pipes, and they sat back an puffed with contentment. The adventure they were on did not seem so bad any more.

After a while, the door at the far end of the room creaked open. The Warlocks walked in and greeted the group...

 

The Lord Of Chaos

Azazel found himself in a sea of blood. This was blood that was dark and full of putrid smells. Azazel almost choked. The smell, and the red mist that rose from the blood made his head swim, and his senses go faint. He flailed wildly in the water, and soon found himself rapidly losing strength. 

What doubled his predicament, were the little creatures that were swimming around his ankles, slowly snipping at his feet, and drawing blood. They sensed imminent death, and started to bite into his ankles fiercely. Azazel was sinking. He was starting to lose consciousness because of the stench and the steady loss of blood. Somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, he sensed that his body would soon start to dissolve in the corrosive blood, and that he would become one with all the other souls that had sunk, and died there, and dissolved into the foul smelling liquid. 

As he willed himself to swim, he felt as if he was being pulled down, pulled deep into the depths of this red ocean. His mind was blank, and the first waves of panic started to rise in his mind. He tried to open his eyes, but the vision was blurred by the red mist, that had started to glue his eyes shut. 

He allowed himself to sink, and started to go down. If he had to die here, then he would do so with dignity, and would not allow himself to die with a silent scream. Inwardly, he smiled. He sank faster and faster, and suddenly found his feet touching bottom. 

Azazel fell slowly to his knees, and bent forward in a final salutation. He thought of Erisa, and started to say goodbye to her in his mind. However, as his hands touched the floor of the ocean, they fell upon a rod. His fingers grasped the handle, at first weakly, then more strongly. Without a conscious thought, he picked it up, and struggled to wave it in the thick liquid. As he waved it, he dimly realised that it was a net that he was holding, and as he slowly waved the net, it started to catch the little swimming creatures. One by one, they went into the net, with little squeaks, which he realized were their death throes. Soon enough, the snipping around his ankles stopped, and he realized that he was free of the creatures. He pushed upwards with all the remaining strength that was left in his legs, and soon floated back to the surface. 

With some difficulty, he raised his arm above the surface of the ocean, and managed to get the net to float on the surface. This was sufficent for him to be able to start to kick his legs feebly. He did not know how long he was kicking, but at long last, when he seemed to have lost his last strength, and was about to faint, his head hit a ledge. With a last desparate use of his strength, he pulled himself to the surface, and as he lay there panting, almost dead, a voice said, "One More, Lord Azazel..."

At once, the scene changed again, and he found himself in a forest. The foliage was thick, and the air was black. He knew he had to walk towards some sort of oasis, but did not know the direction. As he pushed through the foliage, the wind started to blow through the branches, and the trees, the undergrowth all started to hit him with an increasing fierceness. The wounds from the ocean creatures had not yet healed, and to this were being added wounds, and bruises from the trees. As the wind blew, the branches would crack, and the corrosive sap started to sting his cuts. The sap quickly dried on his wounds, and he was soon a mass of burns, cuts and bruises. 

After walking and stumbling about for a while, something like a snake coiled around his ankles, and sent him crashing into a pond. As he pulled his face out of the water, he pushed himself up, and looked at his reflection in the water. 

His face was bruised and bloody, and he looked like one of his many victims, from a life he barely remembered. Yet, there was life in his eyes, and as he looked at his reflection, the light in his eyes acquired a fire, a fire that was starting to burn bright. 

He jumped up, grasped the coiling twine that bound his ankles, and freed himself. Pulling himself up to his full height, he swung the coil in a cold rage. 

The anger, to his own surprise, was cold, and controlled. As he swung the coil, it acquired something of the life that was starting to course through his veins. The coil crackled with energy, and soon the wind was starting to obey the commands that seemed to come from the coil.

A path was cleared in front of him, and he walked straight to the oasis, and walked straight into the healing waters. He stood there completely immersed for a long while, his mind blank, as the cooling waters healed his mind, and his wounds. 

He would have stood there for a long while, but suddenly he was shot from the waters, almost like a fiery bolt.

He found himself standing in the Throne Room of Thron. Thron was smiling, and as Azazel stood there, he started to morph into something almost entirely hideous. It is difficult to describe how Thron looked at this point, but all the malice, the cruelty that were an inherent part of Thron's nature seemed to have become part of his external appearance. 

Azazel took a step backwards, and found himself standing there, with the coil in his hand. 

The Old One stood next to Azazel, and she was smiling at him. There was affection in her eyes, yet her eyes were cold and cruel. 

"Go forth, Lord Azazel", said Thron. "The Old One will be your companion in your battles. She will fight with you and Erisa."

He paused, then said. "The coil that is now in your hand, will unleash Chaos wherever you go. It will be with you, as long as you remain true to me. If you are unfaithful, it will coil itself around your neck, and choke your life from you. "

"Go forth, as my emissay. Go, Ye Lord of Chaos..."

Azazel Meets Thron

Azazel walked along the Throne Room towards Thron. His body was tingling with anticipation, as well as some degree of trepidation.

The walls, the tapestry was black, and there were huge flames that lit up the halls. The tapestries sung and glittered in shades of black, as he walked. The floor was white, a shimmering, shining white. It was a white that did not cheer, but caused fear in the heart of the person walking along it. All along the walls, were hung bodies of victims who had died in torture, their faces creased in pain and fear. In some cases, the bodies still had life in them, the bodies twitching with in their last struggles with life. They were indeed waiting for Death, a Death that yet eluded them. 

There were no ministers of Thron who lined the pathway, yet Azazel could feel their presence everywhere. The Halls smelled of malice and spite, and he could sense no mercy in the room. 

As he approached, he cast his eyes down, and went down on one knee. As he knelt and looked down, he wondered if he would ever pass out of these Halls alive. 

"I may be, at least, the first one who has reached this far alive", he thought with grim satisfaction.

"Indeed you are, Azazel", said a young voice. "Look up at me".

Azazel looked up and almost fell back in shock. The face and the creature that looked back at him could not have been more than five years old. This was not the only thing that shook him.

The face was that of Azazel, aged five. 

Azazel rubbed his eyes, and closed them in shock. He opened them again, wondering if indeed he had seen right. Could this indeed, be right.

The younger Azazel smiled down at him, and said, in a young child's voice, "Well met indeed Azazel. You are indeed the first that has come this far alive. But be aware, that the only reason that you have reached this far, is because I have allowed you to reach this far. I allowed The Old One to wave her wand at you. I allowed her to be defeated by you, and for you to claim her as your ally. Everything that happens in this Dungeon happens by my will alone, and by no one else's."

"But, but....." stammered Azazel, "How did those other creatures escape, and take Jenna and Trix with them? Did you allow that?"

"Oh no", answered Thron. "That was not my doing. That was the one time that I was away, travelling in my thoughts, and the Dungeon was temporarily controlled by my Second One. We shall call him The Second One only. He is now hanging over your head. Look up, and you will see what becomes of those who fail me."

Azazel looked up, and there was the body of the Second One, tied to a wheel. The wheel was rotating slowly, and small fires licked the body of The Small One. As the flesh burned away, small creatures would crawl over it and slowly eat the entrails. The body would then heal, and the cycle would start again. The cycle of punishment and torture would not stop for The Second One until Thron deemed fit. 

"Look into my eyes", said Thron.

Azazel looked deep into those young eyes, and was immediately absorbed into them. The eyes were old in malice and cruelty.  The eyes were frightening, seeing as they were seated in a face that contained so much smiling innocence. 

Azazel was sucked into the eyes, and found himself standing on a white plain, with a blue sky above his head. There was no sun, no clouds, yet it was bright. There did not seem to be any dimensions in this plain, yet everything was very fluid, and Azazel found it hard to keep his balance. Finally, he found that he was becoming dizzy, but he could not sit. The scenery started to shift and shake. Winds blew, the sun raced across the blue sky, water gushed from holes in the sky. 

Azazel looked around, and found The Old One standing besides him. 

"Kiss me", she said, "and everything will be fine."

Azazel leaned towards her, and kissed her. She bit his lip, and pushed her tongue into his mouth. Her tongue was every where in his body, twisting and shaking, like a snake. The tip of her tongue was burning, and it seemed as if his insides would explode and burn away. 

Try as he might, he could not get away. Her eyes bored deep into his own, and the green flames darted from her eyes and captured his eyes. Her arms were tight around his waist, and her green nails dug into his back. 

Together, they stood and swayed, as the shifting scenery kept them both off balance. 

The Old One's body clung close to his, and he could feel her hot breath going deep into his mouth. All at once, he knew not how, he felt her cackling laughter, and felt as if she was mocking him to die. 

A rage bubbled up inside him, a rage that was cold, cruel and controlled. He sucked his breath in, and suddenly bit down onto that tongue that was burrowing deep into his entrails. As the tongue flicked about wildly, burning him with a fierce fire, he controlled his mind, and bit harder. 

Suddenly, The Old One pulled away, and green blood oozed from her mouth. The tongue that was inside him, suddenly shriveled and fell out of his mouth. He caught it before it fell to the ground.

The Old One grabbed at it, but now it was she who was in Azazel's grip. He looked deep into her eyes, and said, "Old One, if you want your tongue back, you must swear fealty by me. Swear now, or you shall be condemned to being a voiceless little wretch. You will age, and die before my eyes."

She looked back into his eyes, and suddenly her body went limp. 

"I swear", she whispered.

The world suddenly turned red, and bloody. Azazel was drowning in a sea of blood. 

"You have passed one test", said a voice. "Now, for the next..."

Azazel Reaches The Throne Of Thron

The cackling laughter of The Old One grew wild with rage, as she realized that Azazel's mind was slowly starting to retreat into itself. The frustration grew in her, as her words, her presence seemed to find it more difficult to reach him.

Was there a chink in his rapidly growing mental armour? She thought wildly for a while, then smiled. She changed her shape, and her voice into that of the Trix of old. She smiled inwardly, and changed her form. She was now Trix at her most seductive best, Trix when she was young and first met Azazel. 

"Azazel, my love", she crooned. "It has been so long since I met you. Where have you been all this while?"

Azazel started, opened his eyes, and said "Trix? Is that really you?"

"Yes, it is indeed me..."

"But how?", asked Azazel. "Where is Jenna? Where are the rest? The last time I saw you, you were with that blasted pig. You betrayed me."

"I was with him, as prisoner", she replied winningly. "I had to be with him. I did not have a choice. I had to bide my time, until I could escape and come back to you. You are my one true love. There is no one else."

"You realize that I am now wedded to Erisa?", asked Azazel."My heart is with her now, as it always was, and there is no more room for you in my heart..."

He paused, and said, "Wait, there is place for you in my heart. I hate you, and I will kill you now.."

He lunged forward and charged towards Trix, or the mirage of Trix, rage bubbling up inside him. He charged, with his arms out, ready to catch and strangle her. Suddenly, she disappeared, and it seemed as if Trix was inside him, asking him in crooning tones why he had become so cruel. As he raged about, her crooning became more insistent, more shrill, and he flailed about wildly.

Suddenly another voice spoke inside him. "Azazel, be careful. Are you sure, this is not one of the tricks of The Old One? Be careful indeed"

He paused, panting, and suddenly sat down in a heap, the voice going round and round inside his head. He lay there for a while, the sweat pouring down his head. Wearily, he sat down, cross legged, and started to go deep into his mind again. As he meditated, and retreated into his mind, the voice receded. 

Suddenly, he found himself standing on a desert plain, with the wind blowing around fiercely. The Old One stood in front of him, her green eyes blazing at him, green hair whipped around her white face. They circled each other, the circles becoming closer and closer, until they were standing toe to toe, looking deeply into each others eyes. Azazel smiled, and looked deep into her eyes. 

"You cannot catch me, Old One", he sang. "Catch me if you can.." With that, he flew up into the air. She followed. He flew in the air, then into the sand, and back again. Their flight was like a tango, then, without warning, they were flying inside each other. Azazel was suddenly inside The Old One's head, whispering strange things into her brain. His words seemed like little ripples of a pond, then they seemed like little grains of sand that blew into her brain. The little grains blew around her brain faster and faster, and then she fell. 

As she fell faster and faster, it appeared as if she would fall and die. Azazel swooped down, and caught her in his arms, just before she came crashing to the ground.

Looking deep into her eyes, he bent his head down and kissed her lips. 

"I will have need of thee yet, Old One. I will have need of thee yet."

He was now back in the Dungeon. The surroundings seemto have changed. The scenery was now lush with foliage, and as Azazel started to walk, the trees seemed to part for him to walk through.

The dangers were not over, however. Azazel needed to wade through rivers, climb steep walls that seemed to cut his hands to the quick, and endure blasts of icy wind, strong streams, and avoid strange creatures that seemed to find his flesh tasty indeed. 

Finally, Azazel arrived at a cave in the forest. As he entered the cage, a blast threw him back. He struggled to his feet, blood pouring down his face.

"Drink your blood", a voice said. "When you have drunk all  the blood that has poured down your face, put your eyes into the gap that will emerge. When you look in, say what you see. You have one chance only. If you are wrong, you will die a painful death indeed."

As the blood poured down his face, Azazel licked and licked. "Remember, not one drop must fall to the ground, else you will be dissolved in a red mist of your own blood"

Azazel licked and licked, and looked around for anything that would serve as a cup to catch the falling blood. The licking and the blood collection seemed to go on for hours, and Azazel wondered how much blood he had. 

At that point, The Old One appeared again in front of him, and flashed a wand at him. The blood stopped pouring down his face, and he fell forward in a faint. After a long while, he slowly got to his feet, and crawled towards the cave entrance. A wall seemed to have grown up in front of the cave entrance, a green, mossy wall. As he wearily stood to his feet, a small hole appeared in the wall, and Azazel peered inside. 

There was a shape that was moving. It shimmered green, a silvery green. Gradually, it acquired a shape. It seemed like a woman, then he realized that it had horns. It had a beard, or so he thought. But no, this was not true. Yes, it had a beard. No, it did not. 

Yet, it seemed to play a flute. It had no beard, it had a smooth, androgynous face. It seemed to be a mix between male and female, and the legs were that of an animal. The head had horns.

"Kundli", he whispered. 

The gate opened, and Azazel found himself in a huge hall. At the end of the hall, there was a throne.

He was face to face with Thron

Entering The Dungeon

Erisa had left, and Azazel stood on the shores for a long time, watching her ship sail away into the distance. Soon, the sails faded away over the horizon, and Azazel then stood watching the sun disappear over the horizon. The cool wind blew gently against his face, and the expression in his eyes was hard indeed to fathom. He stepped into the waters, and the waves gently lapped around his ankles. He stood there for a long time, and then turned back to the township where the rest of the Mrodics lived.

He ignored the looks of the people watching him, and strode up to Threye's home. As he reached, Threye opened the door, as if he had been waiting for Azazel.

The two looked at each other silently. Finally, Azazel said, "It is time". Threye merely nodded at him.

As Azazel turned and walked, Threye looked at his receding back, with no expression in his eyes. Finally, a gate appeared before Azazel, a dark forbidding gate. As he approached, the gate opened, and Azazel entered The Dungeon of Thron a second time.

As he entered, there was a fierce wind that was blowing. The wind was cold, icy and it blew small, thin needles into his eyes. It was difficult for Threye to stand, and it was difficult for him to see where he was. The wind was dark, and it seemed to be infused with a malevolent spirit. As the wind picked him up, and sent him swirling into the air, he seemed to hear a cackling laugh, the laugh of an old crone. The Old Witch of his youth seemed to be laughing at him, mocking him as he flew up in the air. He was almost out of control, but in the end, managed to still his mind. He closed his eyes, to avoid having the needle pins poke his eyes out, and went into the deep recesses of his mind.

The laughter continued, and Azazel continued to swirl around in the air. Suddenly he was thrown down hard on the ground, and his eyes opened with shock. The Old Witch was standing in front of him. Her hair was long and green, and her skin was smooth as alabaster. Her looks belied her age, and anyone looking at her would not have believed her to be a day more than twenty or so. Her green eyes were old in cynicism and spite, and she looked at Azazel with a mocking smile on her face as he slowly got to his feet.

"So, Azazel", she said with a sweet smile on her face. "Where would you wish to go? To Thron himself? What price would ye pay me, to let you go on from here? Or, would you best me in a duel?"

"I would not pay you anything", hissed Azazel. "You are like me. You would take the money and kill me. We are one of a kind"

"Oh no", smiled The Old One. "I have magic, and you have none." 

"I have powers that you can scarcely imagine", snarled Azazel. He stood there, fire blazing in his eyes, and the fire blazed out. The Old One merely smiled, waved her arm, and the fire was suddenly raging around Azazel. The fire raged in concentric circles around Azazel, and the fiery circles grew smaller and smaller. The cackling laugh of The Old One rang out as the fire threatened to engulf Azazel. As the fire was about to touch his face,he blew, and the fire became a whorl that flew up into the sky. 

Azazel then smiled, and stepped through the fire towards The Old One. As he did so, she raised her wand, and twirled it towards him. A bolt hit his head, and he was flung backwards. As he struggled to get up, it seemed as if The Old One was in his head, and her cackling laughter was bouncing around inside his head. As the laugh became louder and louder, his head throbbed, and he felt as if he would go mad. He gripped his head, and screamed loudly. 

"Get out, get out you Old Witch", screamed Azazel.

"No, no, you are mine now", screeched the Witch, as her laughter and her voice seemed to travel round and round in his head. Her green eyes burned into his skull, and the fire was inside him. The green, hypnotic eyes seemed to possess his soul, and seemd to send a fire burning through every vein. His mind was no longer his, and his body started to twist and convulse with her every whispered word. 

Finally, when all seemed to be lost for Azazel, the voice whispered. "Now, Azazel, before I kill you, we shall play one last game..."

"Games", thought Azazel, "are what I can play...". There was one kernel in his brain that seemed to have been untouched by The Old One, one corner where, but she had not reached. 

Desparately, he spat out the words, "Yes, let's play hide and seek". He had no idea where those words came from, yet they caused a pause in the cackle and the voice.

"Hide and seek",she hissed. "Who will you hide from? I have you in my power. Your mind is mine now, a toy for me to play with. The final truth in magic, is the power to own and control the mind of the other. Your mind is now mine. You cannot hide from me."

She paused, then hissed, "Ever...." A hot burst of noxious breath seemed to pervade his every pore, and his body strained with pain. 

Desparately, he kept that corner of his mind free, and said, with a whisper, "no, you do not own me. My mind is mine for me to keep. Mine for me to treasure. Let the games begin. Find me if you can. Catch me if you can"

His earlier training seemed to come to the fore, and he started to retreat into the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind. The cackling laughter grew louder, and yet more muted, as a rage now seemed to fill the laughter....

At The North Point

The Lexters relaxed for a few days, and they all tried to put the thought of the journey away from their minds. The winter was cold enough, and the thought of travelling to the North Point was not something that any of them looked forward to with any great joy. 

The wind was cold enough, and they shivered in their homes as the winter wind howled with anger through the Black Forest, and through their little village. It seemed more severe than normal, a reminder of the journey that they had to embark on.

Four days after the announcement by Sindar The Elder, they gathered round at Brindar's home, eating and drinking slowly. The fire burned in the fireplace, and cast warm shadows around the room. The mood was sombre, though they tried to liven it up by singing a few of the old traditional songs, and by dancing a few jigs.

Finally, the fire started to go down, and the warm shadows were steadily being replaced by darker ones; dark shadows that seemed to reflect the dark mood that pervaded all of them.  

The door suddenly creaked open, and Sindar The Elder was standing outside. He was cloaked in thick furs, and his faced seemed impassive in the howling wind that raged outside.

"We need to leave", he announced abruptly. "We have the furs for all of you, but there is no time to lose. We will leave within the hour".

Brindar stumbled outside, and found Lextra, Sindar The Elder's wife standing outside. She was standing by a cart that was piled high with thick furs.

The time for the journey had come upon them, and they all set out within the hour, as had been commanded to them.

 It was the middle of the night, and they all set off, in the raging wind.  The night was dark, and they all found the going tough. The wind blew strongly against them. Every step was difficult, and there were times when thin pine needles were blown into their faces. Sindar The Elder did not pause, however, and they walked through the night.

Finally, day arrived, and they crawled into a cave to sleep. The cave was dark, and damp. Rats scurried around them and competed with them for the food that they were carrying. 

"Nasty, horrible things" , grumbled Sindar as a big, furry fellow threatened to take a big bite out of his finger. 

Finally, they slept. Sleep, however, was not peaceful. They were troubled by dreams, and by the rats crawling over their faces. 

They walked on through the night again, and the pattern was repeated for the next few days. On the fourth day, their food had run out, and they caught, bar-be-cued and ate the rats for food. 

Eventually, they arrived at the North Point. Here, it was dark and cold. The air itself seemed to be frozen, and the winds even more fierce and vengeful. The ground was icy, and the cold seeped through their boots. 

As they hugged their bodies to themselves, and huddled together, they suddely heard Sindat The Elder utter the dreaded words, "Now, we strip to the bone. We shall meditate upon The Four Winds, and we shall await their mercy".

They all groaned with the agony of the thought, but there was no other recourse, but to strip. Men and women alike were naked in their skins, and they sat close to each other on the icy ground. 

The ground, the iced over grass, seemed to stick to their skins. Sindar The Elder commanded them to sit cross legged on the ground, and to fold their hands to their chests. They closed their eyes.

Sindar The Elder, and Lextra chanted a mantra. Their tone was soft, soothing, as they slowly chanted and swayed. After a while, Lextra got up, and held out her hand to Uma, as pulled her gently towards her. 

Uma smiled, and chanted a song of the Moon. Lextra chanted a song of the SUn. Soon, chants of the Moon, the Sun intermingled with chants of the winds, and for four days and nights the three of them chanted. 

As they chanted, warmth seemed to flow through the bodies of the Lexters, and the rhythm flowed through their bodies. The men seemed to have more of the wind chants in them, and the women seemed to have more of the moon chants. The Sun chants pervaded all of them

Finally, and no one knew when, four men and two women stood before them. They looked on at the Lexters, then at Sindar The Elder, and at Lextra and Uma. 

"Speak", they commanded in unison. "What is it you want?"

The Lexters stood up, in wonder, and looked at the five. 

They were all tall.

One was white, with silvery hair, and an icy look in his eyes. He was The North Wind.

The other was more brown, with warmer eyes, eyes that could easily blow hot. He was the South Wind. 

The Third was fair, with yellow hair, and blue eyes. He blew the sea, and could create storms. Yet, he could blow a gentle breeze that sent a song through the grasses. He was the West Wind.

The Fourth was also brown and swarthy. He could conjure up dust storms in the desert, yet he could also send a calming breeze through the lands. He was the East Wind. 

The First Lady, was silvery and shimmering. She was the Moon, and she smiled at Uma. 

The Second Lady was golden in colour, and she was the Sun.

Sindar The Elder spoke. He spoke of the trials and tribulations of the Lexters, the machinations of Threye, and their fears of the impending changes in the world. 

The six listened impassively, and then said, "We are forces of Nature, and we do not interfere in the ways of those who live upon this earth. It is not our nature to take sides in any battle. We cannot help you at all."

The Lexters, inexplicably, seemed crushed by it all. 

Sindar The Elder looked on, and merely said. "We understand, My Ladies, and My Lords. We do not wish for you to take our side against any one. We merely ask you to protect the Natural Order of the World, when called upon to do so. I fear that the time will come when the Natural Order will be threatened. When this happens, it is possible that someone with extraordinary powers, or someone who has unleashed something terrible, will come forward. We know not who, we know not how, but we know this in our bones. It will happend, and when this happens, we will hope that you will come to the rescue of this land."

The North Wind looked at Sindar The Elder, and said. "Come, we shall talk."

Lextra and Uma accompanied the Four Winds, The Sun and The Moon into the dark night, and the Lexters were left to their own devices. 

The ground seemed to be even more icy, the winds even more vengeful. Icy winds, hot winds, dusty storms, and shards of ice seemed to flow around them in whorls, and they felt as if they were being torn to pieces. They screamed in agony, and they called out for mercy. They swore to be strong, they wanted to die. Yet, the desire to live was stronger than anything else, and they finally held on to the tenacity of hope.

Finally, the winds died down, the grass softened, and a gentle sun rose in the sky. Naked they were, yet they were thankful for their nakedness, as the warm sun, and the warm sun gave them comfort, a comfort that they had forgotten.

In the distance, they saw Sindar The Elder, Lextra and Uma approaching. They were smiling...