Chaos Storm

By C.M. Gray

The crystal skulls have been united in Sterling Temple to complete the great spell.

The flow of the seasons has returned, bringing back a life of peace and plenty. This doesn't sit well with Matheus Hawk, who is busy plotting the Realm's destruction, fanning the burning coals of his hatred for the crew of The Griffin.

An approaching storm threatens the Realm. In the north, the warrior Queen Morgasta prepares her barbarians for invasion, and across The Great Expanse marches an even greater threat: the Soul Eaters.

And with them, the Chaos Storm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Next Chapter
• Release date: Dec 9, 2021
• ISBN: 4867511072

C.M. Gray

Carmen Gray graduated from Edith Cowan University (WAAPA) in 1996 and has worked in the design and visual art industry ever since. For the last ten years, she has been teaching art at CQ TAFE & CQ University. She is the author of the Zombiefied! series.

Book preview

Prologue

For more than one year, the faithful had been making the pilgrimage to the coastal city of Sterling Port. Leaving their homes and villages as the incredible stories reached them; they walked for days or often weeks, traveling from the furthest corners of the Realm. Flocking in their thousands, they filled the Inns and taverns to bursting and helped to line the pockets of every merchant in the city. They had travelled far and endured hardship just so that they could pay homage and see the truth of the miracle that had taken place in the Source Temple on the hill that overlooked the city of Sterling Port.

When at last they reached the end of their journey, climbed the hill and entered the temple's cool environs, these pilgrims stood and stared in awe at the three glowing skulls that one year ago had quite miraculously appeared upon the altar.

'Brought as a gift from the Source itself,' or so the priest assured the listening crowds. 'Delivered by a group of warrior angels who had fought with the demon lord of Chaos himself as the skulls had been set in place' - the priest, delighted at the temple's growing prominence, claimed to have witnessed the whole thing.

The warm summer months passed, followed by the most glorious of autumns and an abundant harvest for all regions of the Realm. Now, however, the weather was changing once again. The steady lines of patiently waiting pilgrims dwindled daily as the cold of winter placed its first frosty grip on the Kingdom for many years. At least, reasoned the priest, some degree of normality was able to return to the temple and services could be held without the constant interruption from bands of faithful travellers arriving, each one eager for a glimpse of the miracle.

Those pilgrims that did still make it to the altar in Sterling Temple prayed to the Source for their friends and families as all had done before, but now they could also be heard praying for their Kingdom as it once again made ready for war.

Far to the North, the Realm's traditional enemy were massing once again; the Barbarian hordes led by the Warrior Queen, Morgasta. And if the Barbarians were not enough, the winter winds were bringing rumours of a new enemy threatening the Realm from across 'The Great Expanse,' the sea of sand to the West of the Kingdom. The future was an uncertain one and pilgrims would often remark that only time and true faith would tell. However, it was a time and faith that would be tested far sooner than most were want to believe, for when the first act of that testing did arrive, it came late on the eve of the winter solstice, on a particularly unwelcoming night.

The priest was tired after another busy day of serving the Source, and as he left that evening, turning the key in the temple door, his hands were stiff and numb from the cold. Replacing the key in his robes, he shuffled out, his mind already on other much warmer distractions. After a quick blessing to the two guards stationed outside the main door, he pulled his cloak about him and hurried off into the rainy night to find his fire, a late supper, and possibly a glass or two of warm spiced wine.

The guards stamped their feet and watched the skinny cleric leave. It was too cold and wet to stand outside, so with a quick glance around to check if they were being observed they headed into the small wooden guardroom in order to play a game of old jack bones and drink something warming around their own small fire.

Unbeknownst to the careless guards or tired priest, it just so happened that on this particular inhospitable night, two thieves were approaching the temple, heads bowed and backs hunched against the wind and rain. They held little fear for the guards, in fact, the taller of the two appeared somewhat disappointed to find the doorway abandoned. He cast a craving look towards the guardroom, and then at his companion, who simply shook his head.

'Just open the door and let's get this done,' grumbled the shorter figure. 'I'm freezing me damn bits off standing out here while yeh look fer trouble.' He pushed his companion towards the door but then hastily held his hands up in apology as the taller man swung violently towards him. 'Please… let's just get this done. Then you can play with them… after. Me word on it… all right?'

The tall man regarded him, the red glow from his eyes casting their own dim light within the hood of his cloak. 'Just be careful I don't start playing with you… or freezing your bits off will sound like a gift from the Source itself.' The small black demon perching upon his shoulder bared its teeth and hissed its own warning. Turning back to the door, the tall thief held a claw-like hand over the lock mechanism and it glowed blood red before the bolt slid back with a loud clunk that echoed back throughout the temple. Hinges creaking, the door swung open releasing a waft of incense and devotion out into the cold, wet night.

Watching his stout accomplice waddle past, his heavy footfalls echoing in the darkness, he vowed for the umpteenth time that he would kill him soon and go on with their plans alone. He stepped forward, heedless of the temple carvings and pious majesty that was normally the first thing to capture the attention of the devout, and felt his irritation melt away as his gaze was drawn towards the far end of the temple and the three miraculous skulls with their soft blue glow bathing the altar.

The sound of lumbering footfalls stopped and the tall thief watched as, without any thought to the consequences, the pudgy hands of Bartholomew Bask reached up onto the altar and lifted the closest of the skulls from its place, pulling it closely to his chest. The skull briefly illuminated the merchant's grinning face before its blue light slowly ebbed, the magic broken as it became separated from its fellows. Quickly placing two of the skulls in a sack, Bartholomew held out the third towards Matheus Hawk, his smile of triumph slowly fading.

The hunter, feeling strangely cautious, took it tentatively. It felt cold and foreign, and he fought the urge to turn away and vomit. He quickly passed the skull back.

'Hey! What do you think you're doing there? Hold still…' the guards, finally deciding to look out of their cosy guardroom had found the temple doors open. Hastily buckled armour clashed and banged as they loped down the aisle, clumsily drawing their swords as they came. The tall hunter slowly turned towards them, an awful grin on his face as he raised his arms to either side, palms up and fingers curling. Red lightning crackled from his fingertips as his hands turned towards the guards and then struck out to hit each in mid stride with a sickly punch that knocked them from their feet and drove the air from their bodies. Yet they did not fall to the floor. Backs arching, they writhed in agony and rose into the air, screaming out in pain as their swords fell to the tiles with a clatter, the crackling energy lifting them up towards the painted ceiling high above.

By the time they reached the apex of their journey, they were dead, their spirits already departed as their lifeless bodies were finally released, falling with two dull thuds to the stone flagging of the temple floor.

A colossal clap of thunder broke the deathly silence that followed. It was accompanied by a brilliant flash of flickering lightning that revealed the broken bodies of the guards, their sightless eyes staring in accusation towards the two thieves.

Bartholomew hugged the skulls to him and looked aghast at the Hawk. 'Do you still have the dreams?' His voice was little more than a hushed whisper as the tall hunter held out his hands to reclaim the third skull.

'The dreams? Yes, I still have the dreams… they never leave me, they are my constant companions… along with Nhasic here.' He reached up and pulled spitefully on the little demon's ear making it hiss. 'The Griffin and its young crew will suffer Mr. Bask. I care little for their… talents. I have studied much and learnt well these past months. I am now truly Matheus Hawk, The Hunter. My powers have gone far beyond anything I had ever thought to be possible. Yes, I still have my nightmares Mr. Bask, but I also have my dreams, dreams of revenge, revenge and a chance to bring a little closer a time of suffering for the crew of The Griffin.'

The two thieves made their way out of the temple and down through the city towards the ship anchored in the harbour. The tall thief marched ahead as his shorter round companion tried to keep up, hampered by the large sack that swung from side to side over his somewhat ample shoulders. Behind them, the temple stood cold and alone - rain blew in through its open doors, while the interior, empty and bereft of its spirit once more, started to get even colder.

The door was left banging on its hinges as the storm intensified, becoming far worse than anything predicted by the locals in Sterling Port's many taverns. For now was the start of a new storm, a chaos storm.

* * *

Chapter 1 

A Rose of Gold

'That… has to be one of the nastiest things I've ever seen. Why do they leave them hanging up there?' Pardigan swatted one of the many fat flies away that were buzzing around the three slowly swinging corpses, hanging by their necks outside the city gates. The three were in an advanced state of decay with tongues distended and their flesh already starting to break apart - the air was ripe with their stench.

'Well the signs around their necks say they were thieves, Pardigan, so you'd better take note, it's what most people would call a warning. You'd best keep your hands in your pockets while we're here if that's at all possible.' Covering his nose and mouth with the edge of his cloak, Quint looked at Pardigan and sighed, hoping it wasn't a mistake coming to the Royal city. If there was trouble going on here, then Pardigan was bound to find it.

'Bit tough, hanging someone just for being a thief, isn't it?' Pardigan continued, somewhat appalled.

'Maybe,' Quint replied with a smile, 'but then, it does make a pretty good warning, eh?' They moved on past the hideously grinning figures as the large crowd that was attempting to enter the city shuffled slowly across the drawbridge and through the gates into the ancient city of Deniah.

There was no particular reason to be here, no special reason to be anywhere really. They had done all the fishing they could handle for a while, spent time back at the moorings, and then more time cleaning and provisioning The Griffin. They still had a good portion of the coin that Pardigan had stolen from Merchant Bask in Freya, and were planning to make a trading voyage out to Minster at some point soon, but it wasn't really the time. Mahra had gone visiting friends in the south, and when the others were discussing what to do, they'd discovered that none of them had ever been to Deniah before, the capital city of the Realm, so a visit had seemed like a good idea.

Royal Deniah, to give it its full title, was a huge and ancient city. The oldest part was crowded within massive protective walls complete with battlements and tall towers that loomed above everything. The first sight to draw a traveller's eye, cresting the surrounding hills were the massive city defences and the many coloured pennants flying proudly from its towers, it was a famous sight and one that all traveller's eagerly anticipated.

There were actually two cities of Deniah. Within the walls was the 'old' city, with the Royal palace taking up nearly a quarter of the total area while the remainder was given over to a maze of winding streets and neighbourhoods where the so-called 'better citizens' lived and conducted their business, and then outside the walls was the new city, which had built up over the last few hundred years as the population expanded, and now housed almost twice as many people as lived within the walls. Dividing the two parts of the city was an ancient, foul smelling moat with four drawbridges where guards monitored who was entering and leaving.

The sight of the thieves hanging by the gate had only slightly dampened the crew's excitement as they crossed the gloomy moat. When they entered the old city, it was with a sense of excitement and anticipation as the general hustle and bustle and dark narrow streets drew them in and swallowed them up.

'It stinks,' moaned Pardigan clamping his hand over his nose.

'You'll get used to it luv,' said an old lady suppressing a toothless cackle. She was sitting on the ground just inside the city gate selling small bunches of flowers. She was peering up at Pardigan, hopefully. 'Like to buy some posies to hold under yer nose dear? It'll take the nasty smell away. Would yeh dear… would yeh?' She held out a small bunch of tired looking yellow flowers and continued to offer Pardigan a toothless, but hopeful smile.

'Eermm… no thank you,' said Pardigan trying to move on, but to his frustration, the crowd had come to a momentary halt.

'Yes, that's what they're all saying today, but you go on dear, don't you mind me. Just you leave old Norah to die here without a copper to her name… might have to start eating the flowers soon,' she muttered gloomily.

With a sigh of exasperation, Pardigan dropped a copper penny into her lap and snatched up the flowers.

'The Source bless you young man,' she cried, cackling dryly as she examined the coin. 'May your visit to our Royal Deniah bring you luck and love.'

'Well that's a good start, Pardigan,' said Loras with a grin. 'You always need all the luck you can get. Nice flowers, by the way, are you going to put them in a vase until you find your love?' Pardigan threw them at his laughing friend and they missed, hitting a large, well-dressed lady in the face. She squealed in shock, and the four boys pushed past through the crowd and ran laughing into the city.

On hearing of their planned trip, Mahra had told them about an Inn she knew called The Owl, close to the Lion's gate, the gate through which they had just entered the city. She had explained that an old friend of hers named Parish ran the Inn and promised that he would treat them honestly and may be of help if they encountered any problems. The Owl wasn't the biggest, and probably wasn't the best Inn in Deniah, but Mahra had assured them that the city's best pies were made in their kitchen, and it was actually named The Owl after her. When they'd questioned her on this, she'd blushed and said it was a story that would have to wait for another time.

The Owl was easy to find, and Parish, when they made their introductions, did indeed prove to be welcoming. He was obviously disappointed that Mahra wasn't with them, but was happy to offer them a large room on the top floor overlooking the teeming street below. It was quite basic, with four beds, a table and just two chairs, but it was clean and Parish assured them that the lock on the door was good and solid. Loras would be placing a guard spell on their valuables, so the lock didn't actually worry them, but it was good to know that Parish was concerned about his guests' security.

Once settled, they decided to split up with Loras and Tarent opting to visit the clerics' quarter with its famous bookshops and museums while Pardigan and Quint opted to explore and just see where their feet took them.

'Pardigan, be guided by the Source,' advised Tarent, 'and don't go buying any books. The last book you got hold of meant we had to become angels of the Source!' Pardigan responded by hooting and flapping his arms while running round the room pretending to be an angel, much to Loras's delight.

It was with a mixture of pride and disbelief that the crew had listened to stories and rumours of how the skulls had arrived and become a legend in such a short space of time. They'd eventually returned to the temple and listened, giggling at the back of a crowd while the priest told how he'd witnessed a band of warrior angels, fighting the Lord of Chaos and his army as the angels had placed the skulls, a gift to the people, upon the altar.

Loras had conjured a golden misty halo over the priest's head, which he'd then dropped with a plop as the crowd had all gasped. Tarent had given Loras a lecture about respecting his talents, but Pardigan had heartily approved.

'You should have turned it into a halo of horse shit and dropped that on his head,' he'd crowed while Tarent had despaired at the irreverence of his two friends.

Royal Deniah was a marvellous place despite the recent spate of rainy weather, and Quint and Pardigan were soon lost in its dark, twisting streets and tiny damp squares as they tried to make some sense of the place. They knew there were four gates into the walled city leading into different districts. The Lion's gate where they'd first entered, then Dragon's gate, King's gate and finally The Gate of Sorrows, which was by the infirmary in the poor quarter. The Royal palace was accessible from outside the city by the Kings gate, or by two entrances within the city. After meandering for some time, Pardigan and Quint joined a crowd clustered by one of the city entrances to the palace. The crowd was held back behind a rope, with everyone trying to peer past the guards and sneak a look inside.

'This is boring,' said Pardigan as he glimpsed red carpet through the doorway that a uniformed servant had just pushed open. 'I can't see anything!'

'So what did you expect? To see the King popping his head around the door and waving at you,' said Quint, laughing.

There was a lot of activity around the gate with people coming and going all the time, the guards at the door carefully checking the credentials of anyone attempting to gain admittance. Appointments were confirmed in a large register while anyone unexpected was forced to wait as a runner was sent inside to obtain the necessary permission.

'Come on,' muttered Quint, 'you're right this is boring. We're not going to see much, not with all this talk of war around here. Parish told me that this time last year, there were tours to look around parts of the palace, but they've stopped now. They think just about anyone could be a spy or even Queen Morgasta herself dressed up in disguise, hardly anyone's getting in.'

'Bet I could get in,' murmured Pardigan. Thunder rumbled, and the first drops of rain started to break up the crowd.

'Don't you even think about it, Pardigan,' said Quint, angrily pulling on Pardigan's sleeve. 'Come on, let's find something to eat, I'm famished.'

They set off down one of the busier streets making sure to keep to the side to stay as dry as possible. It wasn't long before they found a brew shop and were sitting inside drinking from steaming mugs and sharing a plate of sweet cakes. Staring out of the window, they watched the world and his wife traipse by in the thin drizzle, heads bowed, impatient to be on their way. It was cosy in the brew shop, it smelt of brew and bread and pastries. The muted sounds of conversation from other customers drifting around them, they were in no hurry to move on.

'That's the second time someone's mentioned the guild of thieves and something called the golden rose,' said Quint. 'It's hard to believe there are any thieves left when they hang them up by the gates like those we saw on the way in.'

'Thieves take some scaring,' said Pardigan as he scanned the tables around them. 'The hangings would just make them more cautious. I wonder what it's really all about.' He turned to the man at the next table who moments before had been talking about the golden rose to his companion, an older woman hugging a tattered shawl about her thin shoulders.

'Excuse me… I'm sorry to bother you, but could you tell us what's with all the talk about a golden rose? We've been hearing it everywhere since we first got here.' The man swung towards him, a sour expression on his face. He said nothing, then picked up his cup of brew and drank the last down. Standing up, he glared down at Pardigan, weighing him carefully.

'Well firstly, youngster, dint your mummy ever tell yer it's not nice ter be listening to folks having a private conversation? But… there…' he leaned over, pulled a parchment from the wall, and dropped it on the table in front of Pardigan. 'You'll find these all over the city.' With a nod to the old woman, he strode out, slamming the door behind him. The woman sighed and leaned across, putting a bony hand on Quint's sleeve.

'Fraid Jeb's a bit low. That's his brother swinging out by Lion's gate, and all because of that Source cursed rose.' She hawked and spat noisily on the floor, ignoring the exclamations of disgust from a couple at the next table. 'King's way of cleaning the city of thieves is all it is, and they're all so stupid, or so proud that they fall for it. The guild, Source rot em, is even offering its own reward.'

Pardigan turned the parchment around so he could read it. A black, penned picture of a rose was at the top and below that was a flowing script in low speak -

To the thieves and guild of our Royal Deniah.

I, your King, hereby set you a challenge.

I have placed a rose of the purest gold,

-valued at more than 100 sovereigns in weight alone-

Somewhere in clear sight, in the western tower of the palace.

Should any of you successfully remove the rose from the palace,

not only will you keep it, but I shall allow 10 of my guests -

currently residing in the dungeons - to go free.

However, be aware:

Any who are caught shall be hung by the neck in sight of one of the four gates of our fair city.

King Hugo Payne

'That's madness,' said Quint, reading over Pardigan's shoulder. 'Why would anyone try and break into the palace? It's such an obvious set up!' He looked at Pardigan then the old woman, who shrugged.

'For the first few weeks that those parchments were being placed over the city, that was what everyone was saying. Who would be stupid enough or desperate enough to break into the palace?' The old woman scratched her head noisily. 'But then the hangings started. Thieves were trying to get the rose, either because they had friends or family in the King's dungeon that they wanted to get free, or out of some wish to prove their ability as thieves.'

'I still can't believe the thieves chance it, or that the guild lets them,' said Quint frowning.

'The guild! Why the guild has only been fanning the flames by offering an additional reward on top of the King's offer, in exchange for them being able to name five of the people to be freed of course. They caught Jeb's brother a few weeks ago. Apparently, he'd got as far as seeing the rose, least that's what he shouted before he was hung. He tried to tell more, but they didn't let him, strung him up real quick they did.'

'They must be used to getting in the palace,' mused Pardigan. 'Otherwise none would try it.'

'Oh yes dear, the thieves made a good living until recently, both in the merchants' houses and in parts of the palace, as well. Probably what peeved King Hugo. With most of his troops moved up to the war fronts, there's not so many guards see, the thieves have been all over it for weeks.'

'And now?' asked Pardigan.

'Thing is, no one really knows. Those that do are hung.' She got up shaking her head. 'Look, you boys don't need worry about that old rose, just enjoy our lovely Deniah.' She shuffled out into the rain, hugging her thin shawl tightly about her.

'No we won't worry about that rose at all, will we, Pardigan… Pardigan?'

'What? No… don't worry I'm not going to get myself hung, Quint. I'm brave, but not stupid.' He grinned at his friend and they stood and made their way out into the street.

'Course none of the other thieves can place-shift or go invisible can they,' mumbled Pardigan thoughtfully as he pulled his cape around him.

When they all met up back at The Owl that evening, there was a lot to talk about. Sitting around a large table in the busy drinking room, close to the crackling fire, they drank warm apple juice and munched on hot pies. When Tarent heard about the golden rose and read the parchment, he sighed. Putting down his glass, he looked at Pardigan, screwed the King's proclamation into a ball, and threw it into the fire.

'Pardigan… don't do it.'

'Do what?' asked Pardigan offering Tarent a look of innocent bewilderment. 'Do you really think I'm daft enough to risk my neck trying to get that dumb rose?'

'Yes, Pardigan, unfortunately I do,' said Tarent. 'And if you do try, you'll get caught, and we aren't going to be able to help you, not here, not in the palace, so just don't do it, all right.'

Quint placed a hand on Tarent's shoulder. 'He's not going to, don't worry.'

Tarent shook his head. 'Of course he will. Think who we're talking about.' He locked eyes with Pardigan. 'Just don't… prove me wrong, if you can.' Pardigan glared back without answering.

'Well, we had a great afternoon,' smiled Loras breaking the tension. 'We found some wonderful bookshops. I got An Examination of Magics and, An Encyclopaedia of Transfiguration.' The one on transfiguration is something I've wanted to look into for ages.

'Trans-finger what?' asked Pardigan with a frown.

'Transfiguration, it's the magic of changing shape… like Mahra. I'm hoping that one day I'll be able to change into a panther or something! Can you imagine?' He grinned around happily at his friends.

Pardigan shook his head. 'I think we need to talk to Parish, Loras is going to need his own room, or he's going to end up transfingerizing one of us into a worm or something!'

Quint smiled and turned to Tarent. 'And you?' What did you find?' Tarent leaned under the table and brought up a huge book wrapped in sacking and thumped it onto the table.

'Oh, I found two things. I found this book, Prayers and rituals to the Source, which I'm hoping will explain more of what I'm meant to be doing as a warrior priest. And I also found something else today. He leaned forward, careful to keep his voice low, 'I also found out that the skulls have been stolen from Sterling Temple.'

* * *

Chapter 2 

Patterns in the Rain

'For the love of the Source man, will yeh keep still. I've enough trouble on me plate dealing with this damnable ship without watching you pacing up and down, glaring at everyone and everything all the time.' Bartholomew scuttled back as the Hawk spun around and scowled at him.

'Hush yeh prattle, Mr. Bask, just you concentrate on taking us north. I'm as eager as you to finish our negotiations and move on. Thankfully, our partnership will soon end, so if you wish to stay alive until that end, just you deal with your boat and leave me to my thoughts and my pacing.' He spun on his heels, black cloak billowing and strode to the side of the ship where he stood staring out through sheeting rain at the turbulent horizon. The little black demon scuttled from his shoulder and up into the rigging, careful not to stray too far from the hunter. The Hawk frowned at it.

'Don't wander off, Nhasic, you know what will happen if you do.' The demon moved down a little closer to the Hawk, and then with obvious reluctance leapt back onto his shoulder, hissing and chattering its teeth. 'I know you hate me Nhasic, but I really don't care.' He reached up and patted the little demon on the head, then flicked its ear with his finger making a leathery thwack. The demon hissed angrily shaking its head, which only served to bring a rare smile to the hunter's face. 'Life's tough in the realm of man isn't it, my little friend eh?'

The Esmerelda sailed on, passing the great northern mountains of the Massif range and the treacherous reefs that guarded them, and on towards the land of the Warrior Queen, Morgasta.

The weather this far north, was foul at any time of year but now, as winter closed in, the seas were colossal, driven by hurricane force winds that battered the great ship incessantly, straining both boat and crew to their limits. As the ship rose to breach each great wave, those on deck were exposed to the constant misery of wind-driven, icy rain and sleet that numbed any skin left bare and made rags of coats and clothing. Once the ship had broken through the top of each colossal wave, it would abruptly drop away sending the ship surging down into the depths in an explosion of spray that washed across the decks seeking to claim anything and anyone for the sirens of the deep.

Bartholomew Bask, now reluctantly captaining his own vessel after the previous holder of the position had deserted was making up for his lack of nautical knowledge by being as hard as the weather. The merchant was exhibiting qualities of stamina and command previously undiscovered, pushing his crew on into the very teeth of each new storm.

The skulls had cost him plenty, but now they would make him rich for they were the key to the Kingdom and the Barbarian Queen's agents had promised she would pay handsomely for their safe delivery. Bartholomew held no allegiance to King Hugo Payne and the Kingdom; his only allegiance was to himself and to a profit, a profit that so far he considered long overdue on these skulls. He stared at the Hawk who was standing oblivious to the elements, the little black demon holding onto his shoulder trying to stay balanced as the ship and the weather sought to claim it.

Soon we shall part, Mr. 'awk, and good riddance it shall be, thought Bartholomew. I don't like a man so cold that money cannot warm his heart. He was well aware that the Hawk wasn't doing this out of any thought of riches; power and revenge were all that drove that evil soul. Since he'd returned from his journey across the Great Expanse, the man was changed, changed into something altogether more evil and powerful, and Bartholomew was eager to see the last of him. He shivered, and it wasn't just from the cold.

'Soon be rid of him and his nasty demon, then I can get back to me own life instead of sailing to his beck and call' he muttered, the wind stealing the words from his mouth. He spat downwind then glanced up at the sheets of straining canvas driving the ship on.

'Sail… Sail ahead, sail ahead!' the cry came down from the crows-nest, and Bartholomew scrambled to find his telescope.

Staggering over to the side of the rolling ship, he joined the Hawk who was already scanning the waves with his own telescope, searching for sign of the sail on the horizon.

It wasn't easy to keep focused as The Esmerelda rose and fell, salty spray soon clouded the lens, but Bartholomew could just make out the sail in the distance as they rose to the peak of each new wave.

'It's a ship of the Queen,' rasped the Hawk still peering through his telescope. 'Let's hope they received your message, Mr. Bask, or we may have to defend ourselves.' He smiled down at Bartholomew. 'We may have to send the Queen's ship to a watery grave. Now that wouldn't do much for our cause, would it?' Bartholomew closed his telescope with a snap and glared at the Hawk saying nothing. It would be just like this fool to sink the Queen's ship and ruin any chance of a profit. He would just see it as some kind of fine entertainment to send it to the bottom of the sea with its crew still aboard and little chance of finding favour with the Queen. Bartholomew turned and shouted at the helmsman who was fighting to keep the wheel from spinning out of control.

'Bring us two points into the wind and keep her steady… run up our colours so she can identify us.' The sailor responded with a nod and The Esmerelda slowly turned to meet the Barbarian Queen's ship.

* * *

Pardigan, for his part, felt both Quint and Tarent were overly concerned about the golden rose and the effect the challenge might be having on him. He was almost sure he had allayed their suspicions concerning his interest, and after a few days they'd at least stopped talking about leaving Deniah.

'What possible reason could I have for trying to take the rose? I don't know anyone in the dungeons, and we don't need the reward the guild is posting,' he'd argued. 'I would also like to point out that I'm very attached to my neck and don't really like the idea of having it stretched, so stop treating me as if I'm stupid.' Even so, Quint or Tarent had always found some reason to be with him whenever he'd attempted to go out alone.

It was, therefore, late one night when the opportunity finally presented itself. He had been lying awake for ages listening to the sound of the rain drumming on the window and splashing down on the street outside. The snores and snuffles of his friends finally convinced him that they were all asleep, and he decided it was time to make his move, just to take a look. He smiled at the thought of all the gossip it would cause to take the rose, and the questioning looks he would get from the others.

I'll just smile and say nothing and let them decide if it really was me. There isn't any need to steal the rose, I'll just move it; put it on the King's pillow or something. That'll show them the King of thieves is about, but nobody will know who it is… except me. He grinned as he crept out of the room, made his way carefully down the creaking stairs and, leaving the Inn, set off into the rain.

Parish, the landlord at The Owl, had been a whole mine of information, about both the palace and the challenge of the golden rose.

'Word is that it's displayed in the library. That's about half way up the western tower. How any fool thief could think to get up there without being seen is beyond me, but try they do and get caught and hung they do as well, a nasty business it all is and that's a fact.'

On various walks past the palace, Pardigan had already worked out which was the west tower, and been listening eagerly whenever anyone had talked about the rose or the palace. Others in The Owl's drinking room had spoken of the problems the King was having with the war, how it was both a drain on the Royal treasury and the household guards. What nobody could tell Pardigan was what, or who was guarding the rose and making it so difficult to steal.

Having learned all he could about the palace from the drinkers at The Owl, Pardigan had decided a nocturnal investigation of the palace's defences was called for. He had convinced himself that tonight was just a scouting mission, if he then decided to go after the rose, then he would leave that for another night, tonight he merely needed information.

The stories he'd heard told that several other thieves had tried posing as deliverymen, or had feigned an appointment with an official in order to get past the guards on the gate. Others had climbed the wall at a point that they'd thought was unobserved, but all had been caught and hung.

Skirting the puddles and keeping to the shadows, he moved cautiously towards the palace, thanking the Source that, at this late hour, the streets were mostly empty. Whenever the sound of voices or footsteps did sound from ahead, he simply muttered 'Hide,' and became invisible.

The invisibility spell was becoming much easier to hold. Even when walking he could hold it for about thirty beats of the heart. If he was standing still, then he could almost hold it for as long as he wanted.

Blinking back to visibility, he shivered and waited while three members of the city watch disappeared around a corner, the heavy, echoing footfalls of their boots splashing in puddles fading into the night. Pardigan smiled, they hadn't a clue that they'd passed so close to him. He looked up through the rain at the palace and walked around