The Nemesis, The Wizard and The Waterfall. Book One.

Elijah awoke upon the straw bed of Worlyn’s, Muppy fast asleep next to him, and looked around, there was Twinkle looking down at him, breathing miniscule puffs of smoke, the fire burning brightly in the massive hearth, the furniture the same as it was when he left, the rough hewn walls. Yes, the hallucination had ended, and what a dream it was, so fantastic: him, in the Great Hall of the Gods, shouting at the Gods, criticising the Gods, challenging the Gods. He chuckled, fancy him challenging the Gods, fancy him challenging Bagarnack. Bagarnack, who could turn him into a cinder with the blink of his eye. And he’d mocked Bagarnack, challenged Bagarnack. He was grateful it was an hallucination, grateful that Worlyn had slipped him gollyean, because it made him feel good, actually, it made him feel great, confident and powerful. But it was the vision of Esme that lingered in his mind, her magical eyes that glimmered with the light of a billion nightime stars, her hair that shimmered both red and golden like a smooth cascading waterfall, her skin that was so clear, so, perfectly unblemished, that appeared to radiate like highly polished boak. Her impossibly white perfect teeth, and beautifully formed rosy lips. If this was love, then he loved Esme.

  Ha, he laughed at himself, oh yes, and the fantastically beautiful goddess Esme would love a nineteen-year-old hunchback with a withered arm and a lopsided face in return. Idiot.

  He decided to find Worlyn and hoped he had another drink of herbs prepared because he was starving. He stood and was pleased he felt no pain; the previous herb drinks were working wonders. He’d have to go and bathe in the waterfall soon; that always made him feel marvellous. The waters must contain magical properties. He heard voices from behind the bookcases, crept to, and cautiously peered around and saw Bearbert, in his true form, tall, with his bright red hair and beard, wearing black leather under bright shinning armour, and Esme, looking as beautiful as ever. He stepped out and Bearbert and Esme looked up at him, but it wasn’t the welcome look he’d expected, but one of anger and reproachfulness. Then they both vanished, and Worlyn turned to him.

  ‘What - have - you - done?’ he asked in a quivering voice.

  ‘Done, I haven’t done anything.’

  Worlyn was practically shaking, his hands held out before him. ‘How, how did you find your way into the Great Hall of the Gods?’

  ‘I went along the corridor you told me to go. But that’s ridiculous, it was a dream, an hallucination brought on by gollyean.’

  Worlyn was breathing deeply, as though trying to control his emotions, ‘You insulted all the gods.’

  ‘No, no, no, no,’ Elijah was fearful, ‘it was a dream.’

  Worlyn took a great gasp of air and pointed his finger, ‘You challenged Bagarnack.’

  Elijah shook his head, something was very wrong, panic was surfacing in his chest, ‘Only in my dream. How do you know, it was my dream?’

  ‘It was real. He’s accepted your challenge.’

  Elijah was stunned, totally confused. ‘It was a dream, an hallucination, somehow I drank gollyean, it made me hallucinate, I thought I was in the Great Hall, but I couldn’t have been, how could I survive?’

  ‘No one knows, not even the gods know.’

  ‘But, it was a dream.’

  ‘It wasn’t a dream, Bearbert and Esme have just told me.’

  ‘You saw them? You saw their true forms.’

  ‘Of course not, Bearbert was his usual bat, and Esme her eunicon.’

  ‘I saw them, their true forms, I saw them talking to you. Worlyn, tell me, tell me what’s going on? Why’s all this happening?’

  ‘Impossible. Elijah, I don’t know. At first Esme and Bearbert wanted me to teach you magic to challenge Zanatos, but you couldn’t do magic, I told them you didn’t even have a magic fingernail. Then it was the waterfall, then the herb drink, and now all hell’s broke loose, the Gods are arguing, the three continents are in uproar, the Gods are taking their frustrations out on their subjects. Esme, Bearbert and Bagarnack are going to become human, reinstate, and enter the Centuria. Do you know what this means?’

  Elijah was shocked at one, he’d really entered the Great Hall of the Gods, two, he’d insulted the Gods, three, he’d challenged Bagarnack, and four, he’d survived. He could say nothing but shake his head.

  ‘I’ll tell you what it means,’ Worlyn snarled, his face suddenly looking angry, his lips contorted, spittle running down his chin into his white wispy beard. He no longer looked the befuddled, kindly old man, but a smaller version of an enraged rotrobber. Elijah stepped back, suddenly frightened. ‘It means even the greatest wizard has no hope of winning against a God, it means the three continents will be without a ruling wizard, and that means anarchy, because whichever god wins will not be interested in the daily running of the three continents. It means that you, and many other great wizards and ordinaries will surely die, and finally, it means that you have set the gods against one another, and if the gods fight, millions die. That’s what you’ve done.’ Worlyn stopped and breathed deeply, still staring at Elijah with something bordering on hatred, then threw his arms into the air and shouted, ‘Get out of my sight.’ Worlyn turned and stormed off down between the massive, never-ending bookcases.

  Elijah was stunned, paralysed with disbelief at what he’d done. But how could this have happened? How could he, a deformed hunchback, set the gods against one another? Gollyean, yes, that was it, gollyean. But, deep inside himself he knew it wasn’t, this was real, so sickeningly real, and he wanted out, out of this hellhole, he wanted things to be as they were, he didn’t care about the beatings, he could tolerate them, he just wanted to be Snorker again, the simple finder of rare herbs and plants. He realised he was happiest when people left him alone, when the Principle-Slave gave him the list and left him to his own devices, and he could take his time, explore the beauty of the countryside, watch and talk to the wild animals. Of course they never spoke to him, but they listened, and he was sure they understood what he was saying. But that had all changed, now he was just a plaything of the gods; a plaything that had gone wrong, and the gods were blaming him, Worlyn was blaming him. Why? What had he done to deserve such anger and derision? Did he request the help of the gods? No. The gods had chosen him, why? Only the gods knew.

  ‘Hello.’

  Elijah spun around and was faced by an abnormally tall aged woman, he stepped back as he looked up into her kindly face. She was wearing long robes of flowing lilac silk, her hair was chrome grey and tied back in a bun, her skin was milky white, and she stood with great composure, her hands clasped as if in prayer, smiling down at him.

  ‘You are Elijah?’

  Elijah could only nod, he instantly knew she was a goddess because her eyes contained the universe; stars and galaxies staring back at him.

  ‘I am Isis.’

  He couldn’t move; he was petrified to the spot, this was no gollyean hallucination.

  She smiled reassuringly, ‘Shall we sit, we need to talk.’ She sat upon the bed and motioned Elijah next to her, which he did, unable to take his eyes from her face, even sitting she was taller than him standing.

  She smiled and Elijah drew strength from that. ‘I sense your confusion Elijah, and I’m here to help,’ she reached over and gently stroked his chin, her touch made the hairs on his neck become erect. ‘I know you’re troubled, I know you’ve seen things mortals shouldn’t. I’m here to answer your questions, but, I’ll not be able to answer all of them, because I don’t know.’ Again she smiled, and it reassured Elijah.

  ‘Why’s this happening to me?’

  She gave a quiet chuckle, ‘I knew you’d ask me a question I couldn’t answer. I don’t know, none of the gods know.’

  Elijah could only look at her, then he plucked up courage and asked, ‘Are you known by another name, I’ve never heard mention of a goddess Isis?’

  She smiled affectionately, ‘You wouldn’t have heard of me.’

  Elijah stared into her beautiful complexion, ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘The universe is so vast Elijah. The god
s travel by magic, we imagine where our destination is, then will it to happen, if I imagined the end of the universe and willed it to happen I would be travelling for billions and billions of years, and never reach the end, because there’s no end, and this is in every direction. And in our universe, I say this because there’re others that we don’t have access to, are billions upon billions of different life forms. In many galaxies the gods rule, however, in some there is no magic whatsoever, and if the gods visit them they lose their powers and are condemned to live as humans. In others science rules, and in others machines, or part machines, part humans. But, in all these galaxies, the Order remains.’

  ‘I’ve heard that before, the Order.’

  ‘Yes Elijah: the Order. No one knows exactly what the Order is, no one knows exactly how the Order is policed, yet, we know something, or should I say we have guessed about the Order.’

  ‘What do you know?’ Elijah asked hesitantly.

  ‘We know, or should I say, we believe, that there is The One, the supreme god, but no god has ever seen, felt or met the One. We believe The One has the philosophy that all intelligent creatures should be helped by education and encouragement. However, there is some opposition to this, the question is, if The One is so benevolent why are there wars, why conflict, why pit one human, one god, one race against the other?’

  ‘I don’t know, but how can you believe there’s The One Supreme God, if you’ve never seen it?’

  ‘Because we gods can create life, create different species, but many times over the eons we’ve tried to create different life forms and have been unsuccessful, because we believe they’ve not fitted in with the Order, because The One, who we believe, works in harmony with nature, will not allow anything to upset or change the Order. However, Bagarnack is trying to change the order, and he’s gone some way towards doing it.’

  ‘Worlyn told me about the Order.’

  ‘Worlyn?’

  ‘A wizard.’

  ‘A human?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And what did Worlyn say about the Order?’

  ‘That it’s like a pyramid.’

  ‘Ah yes, that’s one theory, and a very good one. The pyramid can stand changes, even if some of the levels are removed or altered, the pyramid will remain intact, but if too many levels are altered or removed the pyramid is in danger of collapse.’

  ‘And if the pyramid collapses?’

  ‘So does the universe.’

  ‘I don’t understand, what’s my part in this?’

  Isis looked down and examined her perfect hands, her perfect nails, then looked back into Elijah’s eyes, ‘I don’t know, none of the gods know, what I do know is eventually you must face Bagarnack in the Centuria Tournament.’

  ‘I must face a god?’

  ‘Yes, not only face him, but defeat him.’

  Elijah was speechless, defeat a god, defeat the greatest of the gods, Bagarnack. ‘That’s impossible, you’re asking the impossible, how can I, how can a mere mortal defeat the most powerful god?’

  ‘We don’t know, but, and I’m sorry to tell you this, you’ll be on your own, none of the gods will be able to assist you in any way, we cannot jeopardise the Order.’

  ‘I can’t even do magic.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Worlyn tried to teach me, he tried all kinds of magical stuff, wands, staffs, even bones, but nothing worked, he said I didn’t have an ounce of magic in me.’

  ‘Worlyn is a human, and as such, cannot see what the gods can.’

  ‘You mean, I can do magic?’

  ‘You should be able to when the time comes.’

  ‘At the Centuria Tournament?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘You mean I won’t be able to do anything until I come face to face with Bagarnack?’

  Isis nodded.

  ‘That’s, that is, ridiculous. I’ve to face one of the most powerful gods in existence not even knowing if I can do magic, not knowing what spells to use, not even knowing any spells. Bagarnack will blast me to ashes.’

  ‘That is a possibility. However, there’re other possibilities, you may be able to blast him, or Bagarnack’s powers will be useless against you. Or when Bagarnack becomes human he will lose his godly powers’

  ‘Will they?’

  ‘I’m not saying they will be, I’m offering you possibilities.’

  ‘And what will happen if Bagarnack defeats me in the blink of an eye?’

  ‘Then Bagarnack will go on and succeed in changing the Order, and either the universe will collapse, or he’ll be able to challenge The One, or, surprisingly, nothing will happen. We don’t know which.’

  ‘I don’t understand, why me? I’m a slave, nothing, nobody, a crippled hunchback.’

  She reached over and touched his shoulder. ‘You’re not a nobody, every human is a somebody. But to be honest, we don’t know. There has been much speculation amongst all the gods.’

  ‘What speculation?’

  She smiled at Elijah, and he could see the stars, galaxies and nebulae glinting in her eyes. ‘I’m not sure if I should tell you.’

  ‘Please,’ he pleaded, holding his hands together as if in prayer.

  ‘Many gods have voiced the opinion you may be Dionysus reincarnated into human form because you were able to lift his shield. But, that is impossible because we believe Dionysus and Zeus were banished into the void by Bagarnack. No god has ever seen them since.’

  ‘So, I am not Dionysus reincarnated?’

  ‘Ah Elijah, I, and some of the cleverer gods, have learnt there is no such a thing as absolutes. You could be Dionysus, or you could be something else.’

  ‘Something else?’

  ‘Yes, there’s more speculation you could be a demi-god, one of Dionysus’ offspring, when he mated with a human. But that wouldn’t make you powerful enough to defeat Bagarnack. The final speculation is that you’ve been sent by The One.’

  Elijah was astounded. ‘The One? But surely I’d know.’

  ‘No, The One moves in mysterious ways, its wonders to perform. The One doesn’t show itself, no one knows, not even the gods, what it looks like, what it can do, how it polices the Order. But we know it exists, and we know you must face Bagarnack.’

  Elijah looked both shocked and frightened, ‘What if I don’t want to face Bagarnack, nor enter the Centuria Tournament.’

  Isis gave a resigned smile. ‘Then Bagarnack will win and change the Order.’

  ‘But isn’t there anyone else, another god?’

  ‘No,’ Isis sighed, ‘even in our galaxy no one is powerful enough to challenge Bagarnack. There were two, a long time ago, Zeus and Dionysus, they were more powerful than Bagarnack, who never dared to challenge them.’

  Suddenly Elijah became angry, he didn’t know why, didn’t know why he began shouting at a god. ‘This is rubbish, I’ll not be a plaything of the gods, I’m nothing special, and I will not be used by the gods. Do whatever you will, I don’t care, you’re the gods, you sort out your own mess, you sort out Bagarnack, why should I care, why should I worry, I’m going to die anyway? Bagarnack cursed me for years, kept me in a dungeon with no light, no food, and no contact for three years. Where were the gods then? No where, absolutely no where.’

  ‘The gods don’t need food or water, but humans do, how did you survive for three years without food or water?’

  ‘Bagarnack must have put a spell on me.’

  ‘That’s a possibility, but I don’t think he did, he’d have probably wanted you to die through lack of water. It must have come a something as a shock for him to find you were still alive after three years.’

  ‘It came as more of a shock to me.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine it did. There’re rules throughout the universe that we know nothing of, and if we try to change certain things we cannot. Then there’re rumours, even amongst the gods, of the rule of humans.’

  ‘I’ve heard that before, in the Great Hall of the Gods, Hermes said it wa
s rubbish.’

  ‘Yes, but why has such a weak race of creatures, with no apparent powers, with little or no magical ability, with no great intellect, been able to thrive and prosper in such a harsh universe? Why do many of the gods secretly fear humans, openly seek to subjugate them, surreptitiously create creatures that prey upon them?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Neither do the gods, but the feeling’s there, and the gods are worried. That’s one reason why Bagarnack wants to change the order. Of course, he’s other reasons, he wants ultimate power, ultimate control, and he’s many gods on his side, even in my galaxy, and others across the universe. They see Bagarnack as restoring the gods to their true position of power in the universe, and obliterating the rule of the humans in the process.’

  Elijah looked desperately around, as if hoping Esme or Bearbert would appear and save him, stop him from asking the question he already knew the answer to. ‘And I’m supposed to be the one to stop this?’

  ‘Yes Elijah,’ she answered kindly, her face showing concern.

  Elijah looked at her kindly countenance for a long while, then turned away as he thought he was being rude for staring, especially at a god. ‘What exactly is the rule of the humans?’ he asked.

  Isis gave a resigned sigh, ‘Again, we don’t know, we have ideas.’

  ‘Wha - what ideas?’

  ‘We believe the gods need humans more than humans need the gods.’

  ‘How can that be, you’re the gods, you can do anything?’

  ‘Not quite, however, many gods have mysteriously disappeared, the weaker gods, the ones who didn’t have much of a following, nor many temples in their honour, were the first to go, and as some gods became more powerful, attracting more followers, so others became weaker, until they were gone. And none of the gods know where. Some say the void, some say destroyed by other gods, other powerful races, some say they are wandering the universe. But what none of the gods will tell you Elijah is what you really are.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘For millions of years all the gods have been chased from planets they ruled by a being called the Nem...’

  She suddenly looked up at the ceiling, her face showing apprehension. ‘I must go, but remember this; Bagarnack will be using a spear and shield in the Centuria. Watch his spear, it’s not what it seems. Farewell.’

  And she suddenly vanished.

  Worlyn entered, stopped and sniffed the air, looked around, looked at Elijah, and again around, looking at everything with interest. Then stopped and looked once again at Elijah. ‘Who’s been here?’

  Elijah was thinking, wondering what the Nem was, was he supposed to be the Nem? What was the Nem?

  ‘Elijah, I’m talking to you, who’s been here?’

  Elijah felt uncomfortable, should he tell the truth or lie. ‘No one.’

  ‘A god’s been here.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Gods always leave magical traces, each god leaves something different, Esme for example leaves a magical scent of honeysuckle, Bearbert of his magical pipe, but this I don’t recognise, it’s like the talcum powder my mother used to use. Was it a goddess?’

  ‘No one’s been here.’

  ‘I know Elijah, so it’s pointless lying.’

  Elijah could feel Worlyn’s eyes boring into his, much as a python would hypnotise a rabbit before devouring it. He turned away.

  ‘It was none of our gods,’ Worlyn said, ‘tell me Elijah, it could be some trap of Bagarnack’s.’

  Elijah clenched his lips together, it couldn’t have been a trap, she was so genuine, like the mother he never knew but always imagined her to be like. No, she wasn’t false. ‘If there was a goddess here she didn’t make herself known to me.’

  ‘So, it was a goddess,’ Worlyn said triumphantly.

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘I know Elijah; I can see it in your eyes. Which one was it?’

  Elijah breathed in deeply, he knew it was pointless; Worlyn would keep nagging until he wheedled the information out of him. ‘She called herself Isis.’

  ‘Isis? Never heard of a goddess called Isis.’

  ‘She said she was from another galaxy.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Worlyn looked surprised, ‘what did she want?’

  ‘She didn’t want anything, she wanted to help me.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I’m not sure I should tell you; she gave me the impression the information was for me alone. Worlyn, what’s the Nem?’

  Worlyn eyed him beadily, sniffing hard until his tattooed face looked like it had been left in front of a fire for too long and had melted. ‘Nem? Never heard of a Nem. Are you going to tell me what this god wanted?’

  Elijah shook his head.

  ‘Right, I wonder what Esme and Bearbert will make of this?’ He stood looking at Elijah, waiting for an answer.

  Elijah tried a bluff and smiled but knew his smile was more of a nervous twitch than anything.

  Worlyn turned on his heels and left. Elijah began to worry; Esme and Bearbert would soon have the information out of him. No sooner had Worlyn left than Esme entered followed by Bearbert and behind him a subdued Worlyn, walking with his head bowed.

  ‘Elijah,’ Esme spoke, floating in the air and looking at him kindly, ‘What did Isis say to you?’

  For a fraction of a second Elijah felt a rebelliousness arise in his chest, but it soon disappeared as he looked into Esme’s beautiful face. He took a deep breath, ‘She talked about the universe, where she was from, Bagarnack and the, the Order. Oh, and the rule of humans.’ He saw Worlyn lean into view behind Bearbert and shake his head and hands vigorously.

  Esme turned to Bearbert, ‘Do you know of this Isis?’

  Bearbert nodded, ‘She’s a goddess two galaxies from the right; she’s the goddess of beauty, gives human women beauty tips. She’s very popular and has a huge following of loyal worshippers.’

  ‘Would she be in league with Bagarnack?’ Esme asked him.

  ‘I doubt it, she cares about humans.’

  Esme turned back to Elijah. ‘Did she say anything else?’

  It was a moment before Elijah answered, ‘She told me Bagarnack would use a spear and shield at the Centuria.’

  Once again Esme turned to Bearbert, ‘How would she know that?’

  Bearbert shook his head.

  ‘Unless,’ continued Esme, ‘Bagarnack told her, and why would he do that? Bagarnack usually uses his axe with a shield.’ She turned back to face Elijah, ‘Did she say anything else?’

  ‘She said the gods have been chased from the planets they ruled by the Nem. What’s the Nem?’

  Esme and Bearbert looked at one another, and Elijah thought they looked worried.

  Esme spoke, ignoring his question, ‘Tomorrow you will begin practising with the shield of Dionysus, Bearbert and I will visit regularly to see your progress.’

  Elijah noticed her head appeared to have swelled like a balloon, and the pitch of her voice rose really high halfway through her sentence, then a bright blue swirling mass of stars enveloped her and Bearbert and they vanished. He stared at the spot, then Worlyn spoke, making him jump. ‘It’s late, get to bed, we start early in the morning.’

  Worlyn left, without so much as a goodnight. Why were they all so angry with him? He didn’t ask Isis to come to him, he didn’t ask to be locked up in a dark dank dungeon for three years, and he didn’t ask to be allowed into the Great Hall of the Gods.

  But you did challenge Bagarnack, said a small voice at the back of his mind. Yes, and what made him do that? Something so massively stupid he could hardly believe it himself. Suddenly he was overcome with a tiredness so complete he thought he would collapse where he stood. He flung himself on the bed and sleep instantly claimed him. It was not a peaceful, untroubled sleep, but one populated with horrors; of gods that wanted to strangle the life out of him; of spiders that wanted to inject their venom into his neck, paralyse and eat him alive; o
f Kentauri that wanted to crush his head with their hooves; of Bagarnack laughing and mocking at his feebleness, his weakness, his mortality. Pointing his finger and making him dance like a demented maniac.

  ‘Elijah, Elijah, wake up,’ Worlyn shouted, roughly shaking Elijah’s shoulder. ‘Get up, we’ve work to do.’

  Elijah opened his eyes and saw Worlyn’s tattooed face bending over him, miniature red roses intertwined with his long white beard nearly touching his nose. He thought Worlyn was smiling, then realised it wasn’t a smile, more of a grimace, as if Worlyn had trapped wind, his bleached false teeth seemed to be struggling, as if trying to escape.

  Elijah sat up, his dream fresh and real, and he dismissed it, logging it to the back of his mind. Stupid dream.

  ‘Get up, we’ve work to do, the gods have decreed it.’

  ‘I need a drink.’

  ‘A drink, a drink?’ Worlyn raised his hands in the air in exasperation. ‘The gods have given us orders.’ Worlyn twirled around in a flash and blaze of long robes, ending up on the other side of the room. ‘Thirst is unimportant; an order from the gods must be obeyed. Come, we go to the White Shield of the Realm, and then to practice.’

  He sleepily followed Worlyn, picking up an old goblet of water on the way and took a quick gulp, out of the door and along the dark gloomy corridor, lit by the seemingly everlasting torches. His tongue still felt like sandpaper, as if rubbing it on the inside of his cheeks would scrape them away. He badly needed another long drink. His tongue seemed to be growing, seemingly to big for his mouth. It was so dry.

  Worlyn stopped by an iron-studded door. ‘Now is this the one?’

  Elijah knew it wasn’t.

  Worlyn opened the door and an icy blast blew their hair and clothes back. ‘Nope, not that one.’ He forced the door shut and continued.

  ‘Why do the rooms keep changing?’ Elijah asked, following.

  ‘This castle and these caverns have been here for hundreds of thousands of years, perhaps millions, gods, and countless wizards and witches, have each added their own little bit of magic, adding a room here, a gateway there, a door to one of the other three continents, all sorts of things.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why? Why?’ Worlyn was short-tempered, ‘What a stupid question.’ Then he took a deep breath and relaxed somewhat. ‘All kinds of reasons, the gods were doing things they didn’t want the other gods to know about, wizards and witches were doing things they didn’t want other wizards and witches, or gods, to know about. Or they were doing a bit of magic because they could, or they saw great bits of magic and wanted to add their little bit for posterity, or they wanted a secret passageway to some ladies’, or mans’, boudoir. Or they wanted some wizard or witch to get lost and die a horrible death, dissolved inside a flesh eating plant, or wander around the inescapable maze until they died of starvation.’

  ‘That’s the door,’ Elijah said pointing his grubby finger at a massive elaborate bronze door, elegantly carved with many ancient and fabulous symbols.

  Worlyn laughed, a laugh full of derision and ridicule. ‘A word of warning if you open that door, don’t, and I repeat don’t go in.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why? Why? Because that door doesn’t lead to Dionysus’ shield. But how should I know?’ His voice was tinged with sarcasm. ‘I’ve only been prowling these corridors for a century. I’ve seen practically every manifestation of the doors, and that door leads to the three sisters, and we certainly don’t want to go there.’

  ‘Why? Who’re the three sisters?’

  ‘The three continents have a history beyond imagination, even the gods have forgotten half of what’s happened, but the three sisters makes even the most powerful witch or wizard shudder, even the gods are weary of them. It’s best not to talk about the three sisters.’

  ‘Tell me why?’ Elijah asked in a commanding tone.

  ‘Right, okay, right. Many millennia ago, so the story goes, and this is only rumour, Bagarnack was sitting in his favourite glade, pondering on the mysteries of the universe, probably wondering how he could rule it, when a beautiful human female happened across his path. How she came to be in the realm of Bagarnack’s private garden no one knows, but he was so struck by her beauty that he instantly fell in love with her. He pursued her, he wooed her, he sent her fantastic gifts, he bullied other gods to do his bidding, to frighten her, to submit to him. Anyway, she succumbed to his advances, and let him have his way. But a god’s love can last for a million years, and to him, or her, it can be but the blink of an eyelid, but no human can, our lives are but the passing of a heartbeat to the gods. So Bagarnack granted her immortality, gave her the gift of everlasting life. Although, many would call it a curse. She’d remain the youthful beauty he’d first met. However, the next time he visited her she’d aged, and he thought some other god had been surreptitiously working against him. So, once again he granted her immortality, had his way, then went to discover who the culprit was. When he came back, to his shock and horror, he found once again his beloved had aged. And again, he granted her immortality, and again had his way, then went to create havoc amongst the gods. Little did he realise he was being duped.’ Worlyn looked around and lowered his voice. ‘The gods, for all their magical powers, can be pretty stupid at times, it’s because they’re invincible, they have a tendency to ignore the obvious, they don’t see dangers humans see as course.’ Worlyn smiled and suddenly his false teeth jumped out and began speed chattering across the floor. But not fast enough to escape Elijah, who reached down and quickly grabbed them, and shoved them back into Worlyn’s open mouth, then wiped his hand upon his trousers, regretting even picking up the wet sticky teeth.

  ‘Thanks, must remember not to smile so much.’ Worlyn reached into the back of his mouth and pulled out a small pebble. ‘That’s always happening, I could build a nice four bedroomed detached house and stables with the amount of stones I’ve taken out of my mouth. Anyway, Bagarnack, being the type of god he is, ruffled a few godly feathers, because he thought two of the gods were working against him, and he thought they were Zeus and Dionysus. He came back to his beloved, and she complained, and cajoled, and wrapped Bagarnack around her little finger. She said she was being attacked, she said she was being stalked; she said a number of gods wanted her burned in hell. And Bagarnack gave her godly powers to defend herself. But when Bagarnack visited her again her found her unable to move, petrified, he removed the curse and, I think, sorry that he did, because she harangued him for hours and hours about her powers being insufficient to stop gods from petrifying her. He demanded to know which gods, and she said Zeus and Dionysus. Of course it wasn’t, it was a ruse, it was one of her sisters, but she knew Bagarnack hated Zeus and Dionysus, and saw this as a means to ingratiate herself, and so fed him a lie. But she didn’t expect Bagarnack to do what he did next.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘He took back all his godly powers, leaving her, and her sisters, human again. Obviously, because he needed them all himself for his forthcoming battle with Zeus and Dionysus. He went back to his cronies and hatched a plan to defeat Zeus and Dionysus. Now Zeus and Dionysus knew nothing of this, although they and Bagarnack had always been rivals, they still respected one another. Bagarnack and six other gods, without a word of explanation, ambushed and attacked Zeus and Dionysus.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘This is all myth and rumour, I don’t know if it’s true or not, could be a load of pigmoor wash for all I know. Anyway, you must remember when gods fight it’s not in a boxing ring in an arena, it’s across planets, solar systems, galaxies, maybe the whole universe, I don’t know. Zeus and Dionysus sent six gods into the void, because the gods cannot be killed. But they were greatly weakened by the battle, that’s when Bagarnack attacked and sent them into the void, then he went back to his lover and restored her godly powers, and obviously had his way, and being happy, and satisfied, and cross-eyed, and feeling generous, gave her, perhaps, more than he should’ve.
This is what I pieced together from snippets I’ve heard. A lot of it’s supposition on my part.’

  ‘But they came back from the void.’

  ‘So the story goes, and no one knows, not even the gods know, how they did it. Somehow they found out about the three sisters and imprisoned them in the Unnel Mountains, in the Land of Fire and Ice, they’re a couple of thousand kilosteps to the north,’ he gave a shudder. ‘Terrible place, three mountains surrounded by sulphur spewing volcanoes, all kinds of weird things there. Obviously, when Bagarnack found this he wasn’t happy. Well, to be honest, he took his anger at being duped out on Zeus and Dionysus, whom had been greatly weakened by their exile into the void. Bagarnack defeated them easily and sent them back into the void. But Bagarnack couldn’t touch the three sisters, the triplets, they were imprisoned in the mountains, held there by the magic of Zeus and Dionysus, so he couldn’t have his revenge upon them for fooling him, and worse of all, they still had his gift of powers, albeit confined to the mountains. Bagarnack’s rage was awesome, but still, he couldn’t touch the triplets. And that’s all I’ve been able to find out.’

  ‘But it’s still the door that leads to the White Shield.’

  ‘You’re dreaming.’

  ‘I’m not, that’s the door.’

  Worlyn inhaled and breathed a deep sigh, but keeping his lips so tight that he made a noise like a quick breeze blowing through an outdoor toilet, then gave Elijah an uncompromising stare that would freeze the bones of an ordinary mortal. ‘Well, obviously, I know nothing, obviously, you know more than me, a thousand year old wizard, a ruler of the three continents, been honoured by every university in existence, asked to open hospitals, civic building, concerts, games, bladder matches, sports. I’d my own following, a fan club, thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions, followed me wherever I went, just to get a glimpse of me. They fought to even touch my robe. Even the gods asked my advice. Well, some of the gods. Well, one god. Well, she wasn’t a god, really a demi-god, and she asked me how her headdress looked because she was about to seduce a human, and she didn’t have much experience of humans. What could I say? Obviously I said she looked beautiful, I said the human would be overawed, would be bowled over. I couldn’t tell her she looked like an ostrich with a rhinoceros horn, it would’ve devastated her. Besides the fear she’d blast me into infinity kept my mouth shut.

  ‘The gods are awfully funny, not funny ha, ha, not funny that they’ll stand up and tell lots of jokes, or pull a rabbit out of a hat. But funny that they’ll have vultures picking your eyeballs out day after day for all eternity, or have you rolling an enormous rock up a hill, and the next day finding it at the bottom and having to start all over again. Or turning you into a dung-beetle, or even worse a Mayfly in a swamp.’ Worlyn seemed to twitch involuntarily then gained control over himself and smiled his false teeth smile, but quickly scowled before his teeth made an escape bid. ‘Yes, my autograph, my signature, would you believe, was fetching a king’s ransom in the markets. Everything to do with me became collectable, my hair, my fingernail clippings, my fungal infected toenails, my smegma. How they got that I’d love to know, because I certainly don’t remember. And you’re telling me that door leads to the White Shield. I say it leads to the three sisters. Well, be my guest, open the door and quickly go through, and...’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘And, as quickly close it behind you. Go on.’

  Elijah hesitated, what if Worlyn was right, and he was wrong? What if it led into some terrible peril?

  ‘What’re you fannying about for? You know it’s the right door. Go on.’ Worlyn gave Elijah a little push of encouragement.

  Elijah steeled himself, took a deep breath, grasped the handle, pushed down, opened the door, quickly entered, shut the door, but couldn’t let go of the handle. He stood, frozen with fear and anticipation that something was ready to come out of the darkness, ferociously rip the top of his head off and suck his brains out.

  Nothing happened, it was silent; torches were burning along the walls, casting eerie flickering shadows upon the rough-hewn walls. He was right; this was the cavernous room where the White Shield was, except it’s not here. But something was wrong, this room was enormous, at least a hundred times larger than he remembered. It was no longer just a spacious room, but so long and high that he couldn’t see the end or the ceiling. The walls were lined with shelves stacked with all kinds of weird objects, cabinets overflowing with ugly busts, stuffed gigantic insects, multicoloured apothecary bottles, shrunken ugly heads pickled in large jars, daggers, spears, manacles, disintegrating books, a stuffed dog with two heads, old wooden, steel and brass trunks.

  Elijah looked around in wonder; there must be millions of magical objects in here, but no sign of the shield. It should be leaning up against the wall, where he picked it up and was shouted at by Worlyn, then put it back. It should be there. What had happened? According to Worlyn no one could pick it up, it was the property of Dionysus, a god, it was magic.

  THEN HOW DID YOU PICK IT UP IDIOT?

  Elijah collapsed into the wall at the resounding voice that echoed into his mind. It seemed to come from everywhere, as if he was in a bell tower and the voice the resounding ringing of the bells. He steadied himself and went to the door, opened it and stepped out, to be greeted by Worlyn’s superior smirk.

  ‘Told you. Didn’t I? Didn’t I say it wasn’t the room? Didn’t I? Didn’t I?’ His lips were contorting as if fighting with his false teeth, which were dramatically trying to escape from his mouth.

  Elijah grabbed Worlyn’s sleeve and dragged him protesting, spluttering and spitting back into the room. ‘This is the room,’ he shouted.

  Worlyn looked around, yes it was, it was the room, Elijah was right, but what’d happened to it, it had grown? Rooms had grown before he knew, but never to this size. And where was the shield? And why were his teeth putting up such an enormous fight, it was usually only near food when they kicked off. Worlyn looked about, and why had this room changed, why was it larger?

  ‘It’s not here.’

  ‘Have you moved it?’ Worlyn asked, somewhat bewildered, putting his hand to his mouth and capturing his teeth and shoving them back in again. ‘Have you took it to another room?’

  ‘No, I haven’t touched it,’ Elijah answered, walking further into the cavernous room, looking about him at the strange, wondrous and bizarre things he hadn’t noticed before.

  Worlyn tried to do three things at once, speak, keep his teeth from escaping, and look as nonchalantly as possible as a human skeleton with horns had wrapped its bony fingers around his throat and was trying to throttle the life out of him. He grabbed the skeletal fingers and broke them off, throwing and scattering them on the floor. ‘Then where is it?’ he shouted angrily.

  ‘I don’t know, I was hoping you’d know.’

  ‘Wait, wait, I have to think.’ Worlyn began pacing up and down, shaking his hands up and down, twiddling his fingers, then his fingers touching his lips, his forefinger touching his nose, all five fingers touching his bald tattooed head. ‘Calm, calm, relax, settle down.’

  ‘I am calm.’

  ‘I’m not talking to you. Let’s examine the facts, this is the room, and it pains me to say this, you were right.’ He stepped forward, his hands in the air, as if he was walking in the dark, feeling his way forward, stopping and sniffing the air, his fingers moving as if feeling something that Elijah couldn’t see. He stopped and seemed frozen for a good five minutes.

  ‘Worlyn, Worlyn,’ Elijah said fearfully, beginning to feel really worried.

  ‘Shush, Elijah, I need help.’ He began making complicated movements with his hands, waving them slowly around, his fingers doing impossible movements, bending back on themselves, his eyes glassy and unfocussed.

  ‘Bearbert, Bearbert, I need your help.’

  Elijah braced himself, ready for Bearbert in his unusual big red lipped patterned pyjamas to suddenly appear, but nothing happened.

  ?
??Bearbert, Bearbert, please, I need your help.’

  Still nothing happened, and Worlyn began to flap, running around the room waving his elbows up and down like a young awkward gosling trying to take off. ‘Okay, okay, don’t panic, no need to panic, everything’s alright,’ he shouted as if trying to calm frayed nerves, and continued running around the enormous room, clearly panicking, knocking over a suit of ancient inscribed armour that screamed and yelped as if hurt. Then ran into an antediluvian set of moth eaten red velvet curtains that growled, enclosed and tried to asphyxiate the life out of him, until Elijah dragged them off, fought with them, wrestled them to the ground, wrapped them into a ball and threw them to one side, giving them a forceful kick as they tried to harass Worlyn again.

  ‘Thank you,’ gasped Worlyn, rubbing his neck and breathing deeply, ‘I’d forgot about those red curtains. Bloofy gods, thinking they can leave anything here they like.’

  Suddenly Worlyn went into another panic, running about the room, waving his arms in the air, and then putting his hands together as if in prayer and falling to his knees. ‘I didn’t say that, it was Elijah,’ he pointed, his face and lips contorting, trying to keep his rebellious teeth in place, ‘he said bloofy gods, not me, he threw his voice into my oral cavity by magic.’

  Elijah stood looking at Worlyn, disappointed. ‘You’ve just lied.’

  Worlyn, like an old arthritic man climbed to his feet and gave Elijah a withering look. ‘Oh really, you wouldn’t be so critical if you’ve had a thousand years of experience with the gods, if you’d seen a hundredth of what I’ve seen the gods do to humans who have criticised them. Oh yes,’ he said wagging his finger that suddenly elongated and prodded Elijah in his chest, then retracted back to normal, ‘turned into a mayfly in a swamp, spiders, lizards, dung beetles in the desert.’ Worlyn’s head nodded up and down as if he was a puppet and his puppeteer had a case of the shakes. ‘No dung, there’s no dung in the desert, well, very little, and you’ve got to search for dung, because that’s what you are. And after years of searching you finally find some kramel dung. And what happens? You touch it and it turns to dust.’

  ‘Is that what happened to you, was you turned into a dung beetle?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it. Suffice to say Bearbert rescued me. Great god Bearbert, must remember to offer a sacrifice at one of his temples. Now, were where we?’

  ‘Trying to find the White Shield, you called Bearbert, but he didn’t come.’

  ‘No,’ Worlyn breathed out, his cheeks puffing, ‘I’ve probably called for him a million times over my thousand years, and he’s turned up, what twice. Turned up thousands of times when I haven’t called him. But, you know, gods are gods, come day go day.’

  ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘Well, all’s not lost. Look around for a silver acorn, quite small, about as big as my thumbnail, although how we’ll ever find it amongst all this junk?’

  ‘It’s up there on that third shelf,’ Elijah said pointing, ‘beneath those swords.’ But as he looked they seemed to change, bright blue lights, like stars in the sky, twinkling and flashing along the immaculate silver blades, rainbow coloured swirls of smoke, coalescing and turning in on themselves, constantly churning and spiralling, hypnotising him.

  ‘Oh, you’re so ignorant, there’re not swords, there’re scimitars, and…’ He stopped, and stepped back, putting him dangerously close to a stuffed wild pigmoor, that quivered, a look of shock and horror upon his face. ‘Oh no, they’re the Scimitars of Dioscuri.’

  ‘Can you see that?’

  ‘See what?’

  ‘The lights on the blades.’

  ‘What lights?’

  Elijah realised only he could see them. ‘Who is Dioscuri?’

  Worlyn breathed deeply, sucking in through tightly clenched lips, not giving his teeth a chance to escape, also not taking his eyes from the scimitars. ‘Who are the Dioscuri?’ he corrected. ‘Twin goddesses, very powerful, names of Charissa and Clarissa, confusing I know. Sometimes they were with the Titans, sometimes with the Olympians, very independent. Bit before my time, well, a lot before my time. Bearbert said they went off exploring the twelfth dimension, whatever that is, a couple of million years ago. Now, the problem is, and I remember this because Bearbert told me, anything that is placed beneath the scimitars of Dioscuri is protected. That’s it; if we try to get the acorn the scimitars will chop us to pieces. But how did the acorn get there? I never put it there, not that I can remember anyway, but I’m sure I would’ve remembered, it’s not something you’d forget is it?’

  The scimitars called to Elijah, their words enticing, alluring, making him step forward with such authority that Worlyn was surprised and astounded, ‘Not necessary,’ and with such speed that was unwatchable, reached beneath the scimitars and plucked the silver acorn out.

  Worlyn was astounded, ‘How the blinkinheck did you do that,’ he said as he tentatively put his hand beneath the scimitars, and as quickly withdrew them, as they came crashing down, just missing severing his wrists, but trimming off his overgrown and fungal infected fingernails in a perfect straight line. Then Elijah noticed the lights in the scimitars stopped, and both rose in the air and pointed at Worlyn, as if an invisible warrior was holding them.

  Worlyn and Elijah backed away, holding one another’s hands tightly and looking in shock as the silver, ultra sharp blades hovered, and followed them, slashing, making loud whooshing sounds as they cleaved the air.

  Elijah suddenly tripped over his own feet, falling onto his backside, releasing both Worlyn’s hand and the silver acorn.

  Worlyn continued creeping backward, watching the moving blades, and not giving a fig about Elijah.

  But the blades passed over Elijah, ignoring him, continuing to follow Worlyn, continuing to slash the air, the blades humming and booming as their speed increased, as if determined to chop him into thousands of pieces.

  Worlyn began running backwards, bouncing off an ancient wooden chest, that growled, cursed and swore at him, then falling to the floor, quite fortuitously, because the scimitars swung and missed his head by a hairsbreadth. He opened his mouth to shout out a yell and his teeth flew out and were sliced into eight by the scimitars. Then he was on his back, looking up, and one of the scimitars was poised to chop his head off, the other dangling dangerously inbetween his legs.

  A movement.

  Elijah had grabbed the handles, and the scimitars were trying to buck him off.

  Worlyn scrambled backward until the back of his head thumped against the heavy wooden door. He stared in wonder and amazement as Elijah was trying to bring the flashing, menacing, blades under control. He looked like he was fighting an invisible swordsman. Then Worlyn, as Elijah had said, saw the lights dancing on the blades.

  Then, it stopped, Elijah was standing still, holding the scimitars in both hands, admiring them, adoring them, almost worshipping them, looking like he was ready for a fight, and he was smiling, by the gods, he was smiling.

  Elijah had never felt so exhilarated; he could feel the power of the blades surging through his hands, up his arms and into his body. He moved them slowly downward, then stopped, were they humming to him? Two female voices, two beautiful voices, singing to him.

  ‘Oh Elijah you’ve saved us from imprisonment

  Where we thought eternity must be spent

  And with this gift you have us entrust

  We will serve until your foes are dust.

  We are scimitars of glorious renown

  Our prowess known from town to town

  Dioscuri, our maker, did order with magic

  The next owner’s life would not be tragic

  Their spirit made us undefeatable

  Their illustrious deeds made into fable

  Of this we are justly proud

  And will sing their praises out aloud

  So Elijah, worry your head not

  Because Dioscuri has not forgot

  The promise made to The One
br />   To serve until you are gone.’

  ‘Did you hear that?’ Elijah shouted.

  ‘Hear, hear what?’ Worlyn shouted back, his face contorting with indignation. ‘Two cursed scimitars were trying to chop my head off.’

  Elijah was speechless; the scimitars were whispering to him, their voices entrancing and seductive, powerful and alluring, and then, by the gods, he was standing on top of a mountain. A blizzard was swirling around him, snowflakes as large as his hands were whirling past, the fierce wind was whipping great snow flurries off the tops of the surrounding mountains, and yet, he stood there.

  Impervious to the wind, the snow or the cold. He felt warm. Which was impossible, and yet he felt warm, unaffected by his surroundings.

  He felt a presence and turned, before him stood two goddesses, he knew it straight away, their bearing, their clothing, their magnificent beauty, their perfect skin, their eyes that reflected the universe. How could they be anything but goddesses? Then he heard their voices, not in his mind but in his heart.

  ‘Look into my heart, and what do you see?

  Loyalty that my master gave to me

  Power beyond the dreams of men

  Power which none can ken

  You have been selected for a task so great

  An unwanted and terrible fate

  For this mission you cannot decline

  And for your past life you will pine

  The gods themselves will become your foes

  And will heap upon you many woes

  But first recapture the White Shield

  And with us three your foes will yield.

  For salvation you must go to the west

  For it is there you will begin your quest

  Sisters three you must overwhelm

  To save the White Shield of the Realm

  Worlyn watched Elijah standing stock still, gazing up into the heavens, his eyes glazed, his face a religious rapture, his fists around the scimitars, held at an aggressive angle, ready to fight. The rainbow lights danced and jigged along the blades, travelling up Elijah’s arms and Worlyn knew he was conversing with a god, and the god was telling him things, and he shivered because something inside him told him the gods were at war. And if the gods were at war men, women and children would be the only sufferers, because the gods couldn’t be harmed, the gods were invincible, and the only option open to him was to run, out of the door as fast as his feet could carry him.

  ‘We must find the White Shield of the Realm.’

  Worlyn was frozen, like a runner about to start a race, his fists clenched, his right forward and his left back, his legs ready to propel him forward.

  ‘What’re you doing? Was you going to leave me?’

  Worlyn stood straight, ‘Ah,’ rubbing his hands together, ‘Ohh, er,’ shaking his head, ‘No, certainly not, no, no, no.’

  ‘You liar, you were ready to run,’ Elijah accused him as he lowered the scimitars, which seemed to both give a long sigh.

  ‘Well excuse me, but two magical scimitars were trying to chop my head off, what would you’ve done in my position?’

  ‘Nevermind, the Three Sisters have the White Shield, we must go to the Unnel Mountains and recapture it.’

  ‘The Three Sisters, the Unnel Mountains? Are you mad? It’s the worse place on the three continents. Even the gods don’t go there.’

  Elijah stood and faced Worlyn, his back appeared straighter, his withered arm no longer useless, both legs straight and muscled, and much older than his nineteen years. ‘That’s where I’ve been told to go, you can come with me or not, it’s up to you.’

  Worlyn put both hands to his mouth and his eyes went wide with fear, shock had seemed to invade every part of his body.

  Elijah looked up to the third shelf and saw a thick brown belt with two curved scabbards attached. He placed the scimitars on the first shelf, reached up, pulled it down and fastened it around his waist. Took the scimitars and slid first the left scimitar into the scabbard, then the right. ‘What’s the problem?’

  Worlyn, eyes still wide, slid his hands from his mouth, ‘What’s the problem, what’s the problem? Have you had a brain bypass, haven’t you been listening? No one goes to the Unnel Mountains, the three sisters have been imprisoned there, even the gods avoid it, it’s a dumping ground for all kinds of weird creatures. Watch my lips, listen to my words, digest what I’m saying, it’s the most dangerous place on the three continents, we go there and we’ll die.’

  ‘Fine, stay here,’ Elijah’s words were both angry and dismissive, ‘hide away in the gods’ rubbish dump, gorge yourself on decades old dragon’s liver, pretend to be a favourite of the gods, when in reality the gods don’t give a pigmoor trotter if you live or die. Go and ask Bearbert to make you another set of false teeth so you can chomp your way through another sack of floomore beans. Keep to your sad lonely rooms where you’re nothing but a prisoner, deluding yourself that you were cheated out of the Centuria Tournament, when in reality Zanatos was a better wizard than you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘And stop hiding behind the muddlement curse. I know, the gods restored you; they gave you everything back except your false teeth. Stop hiding behind a sham, you’re playacting because you cannot accept the truth.’

  Worlyn’s mouth contorted, his nostrils flared and his eyes glared, ‘Don’t you dare speak to me like that, you, you, you whippersnapper, you, you teenager. I know magic you could only dream of. I was doing the gods’ bidding before even your great great grandparents were born. I was fighting evil, righting wrongs, there was no slavery when I was the ruling wizard, the three continents enjoyed unrivalled prosperity.’ Worlyn took a deep breath and turned away, but just as quickly turned back. ‘But some gods found that boring, they wanted entertainment, conflict, death. Bagarnack turned me into a dung beetle for decades until Bearbert rescued me, then Bagarnack turned me into a mayfly, and Bearbert rescued me again. That’s how I got all these tattoos; Bearbert did them so Bagarnack wouldn’t turn me into some insignificant insect again. So don’t you accuse me of being a coward, because I’m not.’ Worlyn took another deep breath and turned towards the door.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Elijah whispered, ‘I know what a great wizard you are, the gods have told me, that’s why I need you, I cannot do it on my own.’

  Worlyn stopped, turned and looked at Elijah, ‘Thank you for saying that,’ he bowed his head. ‘Of course, you’re right, I’ve been hiding behind the muddlement curse, the gods did restore me, but not everything, there’re still large gaps of nothingness. Perhaps my experiences have made me more fearful, maybe a bit timid, maybe my knowledge, of what I’ve seen, of what I’ve done, of what’s been done to me, have shaken my confidence. But I promise you this, I swear I’ll be beside you no matter what dangers we face, we’ll face them together.’

  Elijah smiled, and for only the third time in his life he wanted to hug someone. Quickly, he stepped toward Worlyn and held his arms out.

  Worlyn looked confused.

  Elijah shook his hands, gesturing he wanted a hug.

  Worlyn was even more confused, but a memory, no lots of memories, came flooding back to him, of people that had loved him, of loved ones, of people he’d loved, of how he’d wanted to show his love by hugging them, by holding them, by telling them.

  Suddenly, Elijah embraced Worlyn, holding him tight, burying his head into Worlyn’s shoulder. And Worlyn responded, holding Elijah tight, feeling for the first time in a hundred years that someone liked him.

  Elijah kissed Worlyn on the cheek and stepped back.

  Worlyn was suddenly embarrassed, ‘Yes, well,’ he cleared his throat and made a sound like harrumph.

  And both of them stepped back, hiding the tears that had come unexpectedly, like a sudden cold wind that made their eyes water. And they both felt something sharp clawing at their thighs and looked down to see Muppy wanting attention, wanting to be part of their adventure, wanting also to be hugged and loved. Elijah stooped and p
icked her up, holding her close to his chest. Immediately she went into a frenzy of licking, his chin, his cheeks, all of his face, even, her long tongue going up his nose. ‘How did you get in here?’ he asked Muppy, looking towards the door and noting that it was open.

  Then Twinkle landed on Worlyn’s shoulder. Worlyn was surprised, but stroked her chest. ‘Something funny going on here.’

  ‘What? asked Elijah.

  ‘How did these two find us?’

  Elijah laughed, ‘Probably followed us. Does it matter?’ He gave Muppy a reassuring stroke and placed her back down on the floor, but she stayed by his legs.

  But Worlyn was unconvinced. ‘Right Elijah,’ he said, rubbing his tongue across his gums, ‘wish I had my teeth, feel undressed without my teeth, even though they hated me.’

  Elijah gave him a quizzical look. ‘Your teeth didn’t hate you, surely?’

  ‘Yes they did, Zanatos cursed them, that’s why they were always trying to escape.’

  ‘Can’t you mend them by magic?’

  ‘No, not after they’ve been chopped up by the Scimitars of Dioscuri. Nevermind, we have to find the little silver acorn, we’re going to need some help.’

  They began looking around, avoiding the magical things that wanted to grab, strangle or envelop them. The red velvet curtains sprang at Muppy and wrapped themselves around her middle and neck. She began fighting them, tearing at the material with her teeth, but the curtains only wrapped themselves tighter about her body until she was yelping.

  Elijah drew the melodious scimitars and with such speed and sweeping movements that they were only arcs of silver light he chopped the red curtains into hundreds of pieces, not once touching a hair upon Muppy who continued tearing at them with her ferocious little teeth.

  Worlyn gave a deep sigh, ‘Impressive, very impressive. I don’t know which god those curtains belonged to, but I don’t think they’ll be very happy when they come back and find them in pieces.’

  ‘I’m beginning to dislike the gods.’

  ‘Shush, don’t say such things.’

  ‘Why not?’ Elijah was angry, he looked down at Muppy, who was trembling and whining, and that made him even angrier. ‘The gods don’t care what happens to us. Look around, everything in this strange room would harm us, suits of armour that’d kill you, skeletons that’d strangle you, an abomination of half dog half fish that’d like to eat you, curtains that’d squeeze the life out of you. The floor’s thick with the ashes of humans. Everything in this room is evil.’

  Muppy moved to the back of Worlyn’s legs, hiding and quivering, knowing something was wrong.

  ‘Elijah.’

  But he ignored Worlyn, ‘Everything should be destroyed.’

  ‘No, no, no Elijah.’

  Elijah, holding the scimitars high, strode to the skeleton, which let out a deep growl, and with a two handed slash sliced the bones into pieces. The resulting scream made Worlyn cover his ears.

  ‘Elijah, Elijah, please no.’

  Muppy jumped high into Worlyn’s arms, and Twinkle crawled down the back of his robe.

  Elijah moved onto an ornate chest that seemed to back into the wall, as if realising its end was near, and in less than a heartbeat hacked it into pieces, the chunks of wood falling to the ash laden floor with dull clunks.

  Worlyn backed into the thick wooden door, horror struck, holding Muppy tight, fearful for their lives, knowing the gods would have their vengeance.

  Elijah continued to hew his way through the piles of magical junk in the massive room, ornate chairs were reduced to splinters, wooden chests chopped into unrecognisable slivers of wood, marble statues shattered into small glistening chips. His anger was terrible, the noise unbearable, the dust like a tangible entity trying to attack him.

  Worlyn sank to the floor, holding Muppy to his face, hiding his eyes, putting his hands over his ears, but the thumps vibrated through the floor making him look over Muppy’s trembling body at the rampaging Elijah.

  Elijah was tireless, nothing was being spared from his wrath; sacred books reduced to fluttering pieces of paper, elaborately embroided cushions converted to strips of slashed cloth. All the time the scimitars sang, the blades circles of silver destruction.

  Black rune candles, rolls of yellowing parchment, golden effigies, fantastically woven rugs, paintings, he was chopping every screaming, shouting, swearing thing to useless debris.

  He stopped, and the bits of dust and flotsam floated around him like a mini typhoon.

  Worlyn couldn’t move, he’d never been so terrified in his life, he thought if he did Elijah would chop him into pieces, and then they had to face the wrath of the gods, many of their sacred possession were nothing but bits and dust. But they were gods; they would be able to restore them, wouldn’t they? Or would they?

  Among the many things Elijah hadn’t destroyed was the fish tank containing the half-dog, half-fish.

  Elijah turned to Worlyn, ‘We should take this to the lake and set it free, it’s not its fault, it didn’t ask to be made that way.’

  Worlyn stood, still holding the quivering Muppy, and spoke in a trembling whisper, ‘What’ve you done Elijah? You’ve destroyed the gods possessions, you’ve destroyed priceless artefacts, the gods’ll not let this be unavenged.’

  ‘The gods, the gods, the gods, that’s all you ever prattle on about,’ Elijah spat the words out. ‘What’s the purpose of the gods? I’ll tell you, to make people’s existence, their life, as unpleasant as possible, to pit one race against another, one species against another, to force us into slavery, to do their perverted bidding, for their own amusement. The gods are stupid, like children with too much power. You spoke of ants once, how children can be like gods, holding the power of life and death over the ants, but there must be some control, someone in authority to say stop, that’s cruel. But the gods don’t seem to have that, they are unrestrained children with unrestrained power.’

  Suddenly a bright red light hovered in the centre of the cavernous room, and began growing in intensity until it shone into the darkest corners.

  Worlyn knew what it was, one of the gods, come to reap their vengeance, come to make the rest of eternity unbearable for him and Elijah, they were going to suffer unspeakable agonies over and over again for thousands of years. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, the words echoed in his mind but no sound came forth.

  ‘What have you done Snorker?’ the powerful voice echoed around the massive room.

  Worlyn seemed to become smaller. Bagarnack. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

  ‘I’m not Snorker, I am Elijah.’

  ‘You’ve destroyed that which the gods created.’

  ‘Why do the gods create such abominations?’

  ‘It’s not for you to question the gods Snorker, it’s your duty to worship us.’

  ‘No, never,’ Elijah shouted.

  ‘Then you must die.’

  The bright red light moved to the side, close to the wall, and all became silent. The dust settled, the bits and pieces were still; the silence was oppressive, almost tangible, so that Elijah felt he could reach out and grab hold of it. The scimitars were also silent, no longer singing to him. He moved them slowly in a downward arc and they gently sighed, as if realising what was about to happen was inevitable.

  If Worlyn had conscious control over his breathing he would have collapsed unconscious, but his motor control took over and made him breathe, made him suck in the air because he’d been frozen with fear. However, something happened that made Worlyn stop breathing again, more lights began appearing, bright yellow, brilliant blue, radiant green, vivid orange, luminous indigo and sparkling violet, all the colours of the rainbow, but much brighter than any rainbow Worlyn had ever seen.

  Elijah could only stare as the dazzling lights coalesced into figures, the red became an enormous man wearing darkly decorated leather armour, leaning on a two headed executioner’s axe, his face showed unrestrained anger, his eyes were red, and in them swirled the univ
erse. He instantly knew this was Bagarnack.

  The yellow changed into the strikingly beautiful Esme, she was dressed in a long flowing yellow toga, her sunset blonde hair tied up but with wavy wisps gently falling onto her wonderfully smooth shoulders. Her eyes were a lustrous yellow, and in them swirled the universe, she smiled at Elijah.

  The green became another female god, as beautiful as Esme but not as kindly looking. She was dressed in a green tunic, tied with a black leather girdle, which stopped at her bare knees, she also wore fantastically decorated dark green sandals. Elijah looked into her eyes, and in them swirled the universe

  The brilliant blue light expanded and became a god that seemed to be shimmering, not solid, then Elijah realised this god was appearing in a human form, but made out of light blue water swirling and splashing inside the human frame. This god was unclothed, but in his eyes swirled the universe. He knew this god to be Poseidon, the god of the sea.

  Next was the vivid orange that coalesced into the slightly comical figure of Bearbert wearing his white pyjamas with the big red lips, still smoking his pipe. He gave Elijah a pronounced wink with an eye that swirled with the universe.

  The luminous indigo became a woman who was clothed from head to foot in the deepest darkest blue that was almost purple. No part of her skin could be seen except her heavily painted eyes and they gave nothing away, except they swirled with the universe.

  Lastly was the sparkling violet, twirling like a mini tornado as the figure of an impossibly handsome youth appeared. The youth was tall, his skin bronzed, his blonde hair long and luscious, he wore only a short tunic of an impossibly gold material that shimmered. In his eyes the universe swirled.

  Elijah looked at them.

  ‘He can see us.’

  ‘He can hear us.’

  ‘How’s that possible?’

  ‘He has the Scimitars of Dioscuri.’

  ‘He has destroyed my books.’

  ‘He must be punished.’

  Elijah heard them speak, but did not see their lips move, the scimitars were tingling in his hands.

  Worlyn could see only the different coloured lights, so bright they were almost blinding him. He knew there was no escape.

  Hermes stepped forward, ‘As leader of the council of the gods it’s my duty to punish you. I sentence you to deat...’

  ‘Wait,’ Esme stepped forward, ‘we know Elijah’s the only one able to pick up the White Shield of the Realm, and now the Scimitars of Dioscuri, if you kill him, we’ll never find the answer to this mystery.’

  ‘The boy doesn’t know the answer, he’s destroyed our possessions, he must be punished,’ said the handsome youth.

  ‘But how Hermes,’ answered Esme, ‘how did he destroy our possessions?’

  Bearbert took one step forward, ‘We should test him, learn more about him, find out why he’s no magic, and yet can hold the White Shield and wield the Scimitars of Dioscuri.’

  ‘No,’ Hermes spoke, ‘he should die.’

  The goddess in green spoke, ‘Bearbert is right, the boy should be tested.’

  ‘He still must be punished,’ Hermes reiterated. ‘He must be made to realise he cannot defy the gods.’

  ‘His dog will be sacrificed,’ said Bagarnack.

  ‘NO,’ screamed Elijah, ‘No, you leave Muppy alone.’

  Worlyn heard Elijah and realised the gods wanted to kill Muppy. Well, that’s not too bad, he thought, better the dog than us, he could always get Elijah another puppy later. He pushed Muppy from him and she slunk to shiver behind Elijah’s legs.

  Esme spoke, ‘It’s the decision of the gods Elijah.’

  ‘No,’ Elijah shook his head fiercely, ‘you’ll not take her.’ He crossed the scimitars in front of him and they sang.

  ‘He thinks to fight us,’ said Poseidon.

  ‘Very brave,’ said Bearbert.

  ‘Very stupid,’ answered the darkest blue covered goddess.

  ‘I tire of this,’ Bagarnack said, ‘I have summoned the Twanguine.’

  ‘Bagarnack, we’ve not agreed,’ Esme said angrily, ‘the Twanguine will kill them.’

  ‘It’s done.’

  All the gods began shimmering and vanished. The massive wrecked room was unnaturally quiet, even the dust had settled.

  ‘Elijah,’ Worlyn whispered, ‘Elijah, what’s happening?’

  ‘Bagarnack has summoned the Twanguine.’

  ‘Ohhh, no, no, no.’ Worlyn began crying, ‘We’re doomed, doomed I say, doomed.’

  ‘What’s a Twanguine?’

  Worlyn was on his feet and at the door. ‘A giant two headed snake.’ He was pulling with all his strength on the door handle. ‘Poisonous fangs as long as your arm.’ The door wouldn’t budge. ‘I hate snakes.’ He crashed his shoulder against the heavy door and cried out in pain. ‘Use the scimitars, smash the door down.’

  ‘No, we must face this Twanguine.’

  Worlyn was jumping up and down, his face contorted, his hands and fingers contorting into impossible positions. ‘Face it, face it, are you insane?’

  ‘We’ve got to show the gods.’

  ‘Show them, show them, show them what?’ Worlyn shouted, bunching his fingers into fists and pressing them against his cheeks. ‘How loudly we can scream as the Twanguine bites our extremities off?’

  Then they heard it, faintly, a hissing, coming from the darkened end of the vast room. They both looked but could see nothing. The hissing was becoming louder, until its horrible sounds were echoing off the sandstone walls.

  Muppy trembled uncontrollably and gave a high-pitched whine.

  ‘Shush dog,’ Worlyn whispered fiercely, ‘you’ll only attract it. Twinkle, where’s Twinkle? Twinkle, Twinkle.’

  Out of the darkness it came, two gigantic snake heads hissing alternately, its heads aggressively moving forward like boxer’s fists seeking its foe. A sickly yellow forked tongue slithered out of each head and quivered as if tasting the air. The two heads were joined to long necks going into the one monstrous snake body, as thick as an ancient boak, which was undulating over the debris, further crushing the bits of rubbish. It was covered in large green scales, as large as shields, and as each head hissed in turn the hairs on the back of Elijah’s neck sprung up, making him shiver.

  ‘Now’s your chance to prove what a great wizard you are.’

  ‘What? D’yer think my magic would work against that behemoth, a creation of the gods? We may as well throw floomore beans at it. Which reminds me, the gods didn’t even let us have a last meal. Typical gods, just because they don’t eat, no consideration. Right, I’ve got a plan.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Send the dog first, it may satisfy its appetite while you chop the door down, then we leg it.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Okay, okay, second plan, chop my head off.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘My head,’ his voice was so high it sounded like a fork being scraped across a china plate, ‘chop it off, better a quick death than slowly being eaten.’

  ‘No.’

  Worlyn ran his shaking finger across his neck, ‘Just here, not any higher or lower, and put some power into it, make it a clean cut, right through, I don’t want to be walking around with my head dangling on a piece of skin.’

  ‘You’re babbling.’

  ‘Oh I’m sorry, so sorry, I’ll just go over there and lean against the wall and clean my fingernails shall I whilst the hundred steps long, two headed snake, with poisonous fangs as long as my arm, decides which two of us to eat first? Twinkle, Twinkle, where are you Twinkle?’

  The Twanguine was slithering towards them, its hissing louder, its fangs extended with pearly drops of poison dripping from them.

  ‘I’m going to kill it.’

  ‘Best of luck, hadn’t you best go and meet it, in the middle, just over there, because if you kill it, it could thrash around and squash all three of us. Twinkle, Twinkle. Yeah, that’s good, go on then, I’ll try and open this door.’

>   ‘You’re babbling again.’

  Elijah started forward, slowly swinging the scimitars in opposite arcs. They were singing to him, and their sweet voices gave him an inner strength and filled his heart with hope.

  The Twanguine continued slithering forward, it’s hissing becoming louder, its yellow eyes now distinguishable, glaring at them, slithering towards them.

  Worlyn was trying everything he could think of with the door, his magic had failed, his knuckles were scraped where he’d punched it, his head had a great big scarlet bruise where he’d head butted it, both shoulders felt as though he’d dislocated them. If he’d his teeth he would have tried to chew the door, if he thought it’d work he’d suck it. Stupid idiot, you can’t suck a four fingers thick wooden door enchanted by the gods. He turned, ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, where are you Twinkle?’

  Elijah and the Twanguine were about fifty steps apart, slowly, but inexorably progressing toward one another.

  Panicking Worlyn began looking around, surely, there was something here he could use as a weapon. But everything was almost dust, except for the suit of armour, Elijah had missed that. He could use that, he could put them on, at least the Twanguine would have a job swallowing him with all that on, might even spit him out.

  He looked towards Elijah and the Twanguine, they were about twenty steps apart, slowly walking and slithering towards one another. Muppy had slunk into a corner, where she lay quivering with fear.

  Quickly Worlyn twiddled his fingers and tried to use magic to levitate the armour to him. Nothing happened. He wished he’d brought the magic staff; that was always good with metal. He realised it was made by one of the gods so no human magic would have been able to conjure it. Bending, he picked up the helmet, it was unbelievably heavy, and heard it groan, perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all, and dropped, where it gave a resounding clang. He looked over at Elijah and the Twanguine, both had stopped, staring at one another, and oblivious to him. Elijah was still swinging both the scimitars, the Twanguine was hissing, both heads showing their two steps long fangs. Worlyn noticed a pearly white liquid form from one of the fangs and drop onto the floor where it sizzled and sent up a small cloud of yellowish-green smoke.

  Great, thought Worlyn, poisonous acid venom. The gods love their monsters, wonder which one created this? Probably Bagarnack. Twinkle, Twinkle, oh where’re you Twinkle? He looked at the helmet and quickly hoisted it up to his chest. It seemed heavier than before, and placed it on his head. Nothing happened, except the moaning was louder. Stupid, he realised he should have put the leg and thigh plates on first, the two body parts on second, then the helmet and the gloves on last. He took off the helmet, placed it on the floor, and quickly began putting on the leg and thigh plates.

  Elijah and the Twanguine were still staring at one another, he could feel its eyes boring into his, and he knew it was trying to hypnotise him, to make him lower the scimitars, it feared the scimitars. He crossed the scimitars in front of his face and both heads of the Twanguine spat venom at him. He pivoted and the venom missed, splattering on the spot where he’d been standing, sending up acrid smelling clouds of yellowish smoke.

  Worlyn had both leg and thigh plates on and was struggling with the body plates, the back plate wouldn’t fit properly, there was something sticking in his back. Twinkle crawled onto his shoulder. ‘Twinkle, twinkle, thank the gods, fly up there, into the rafters, go on.’

  Twinkle flapped her wings, slapping Worlyn in the face, ‘Ouch,’ and flew up to the rafters

  Worlyn continued putting on the armour, but it was so heavy he could hardly stand. He saw the Twanguine’s two heads eject a stream of poisonous venom at Elijah, who only just dodged out of the way. With much effort he fastened the body plates and grunted with exertion as he lifted up the helmet and placed it on. The groaning became louder, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. He could see out of the eye slits, Elijah was dodging the acid spray of the Twanguine’s heads, brandishing the scimitars, using them to shield himself. He picked up the metal gloves and slid the right on first, then the left. The armour suddenly felt lighter. Then he began walking towards Elijah and the Twanguine.

  ‘What? What?’

  Worlyn had no control; the suit of armour was making him walk.

  ‘Stop. Stop.’

  He saw Elijah run in close and chop one of the Twanguine’s heads off in one fluid motion.

  ‘Brilliant, well done Elijah. STOP, STOP.’

  The massive head fell to the floor with a dull thump and immediately exploded into dust.

  ‘STOP, STOP, blinkin’ armour, STOP.’

  Elijah ran to one side to avoid the other head biting into his body and stopped in amazement as two more heads replaced the one he’d chopped off.

  ‘Stop. Three heads, it’s got three heads now. Stop, stupid armour, stop.’

  Elijah again dodged a head and was inbetween two heads, he swung the scimitars outward and chopped off two more heads. They fell to the floor and exploded into dust, but four more spitting, hissing heads grew out of the two severed necks. A spray of the acid venom hit him in his chest and face, it burned deep, and Elijah screamed, trying to wipe the venom away with the back of his hand.

  ‘Stop, stop, bloofy armour. Oh no, five heads, five heads.’ Worlyn shouted, as he was uncontrollably doing a funeral march towards Elijah and the five-headed Twanguine.

  Elijah began slowly stepping back, waving the scimitars in front of him, his face contorted with agonising pain, the venom burning into his flesh. The five-headed Twanguine advanced on him, and then it attacked, three heads, like lightning, flashed at him. He swung the scimitars and the three heads were severed from the neck and fell to the floor, only to disintegrate into dust. But six more heads grew from the necks, now there were eight hissing, spitting heads. He was confused; as he chopped off the heads, more would appear.

  ‘Elijah, Elijah, don’t, stupid armour, stop, stop.’

  How was he to kill such a beast?

  The scimitars began singing to him, their voices filling his heart with joy and lessening the pain of the venom.

  Elijah, Elijah do not despair

  We know it is almost too much to bear

  For the savage beast to destroy

  You must employ a cunning decoy

  Worlyn you must send into the fight

  To create the brightest light

  Only then you can smite your foe

  Into its heart we must go

  The Twanguine attacked again and Elijah had to hack off two more heads before their massive fangs bit into him. As they disintegrated on the floor four more grew from the severed stumps. Now there were ten hissing, spitting Twanguine heads, albeit smaller than the original two, each one wanting to attack and bite into him. It came forward, seemingly unable to feel pain, if he chopped one off another two grew in its place. How could he direct Worlyn to go and create a blinding light, when it was taking all his energies and attention just to keep the many heads of the Twanguine from killing him?

  ‘Stop, halt, desist, stupid armour, you’re heading towards the Twanguine. Stop, stop, stop.’

  The Twanguine was unrelenting, its heads attacking Elijah, he had no choice but to hack off the heads, otherwise they would have sunk their fangs into him. He had no idea how many head there were now, they just kept attacking, and the scimitars were guiding his arms, hacking off the heads, blocking the poisonous venom.

  ‘Whichever god created this suit of armour is blinkin’ stupid. Stop.’ Bearbert, please help us. ‘Please.’

  Yeah that’s good, be polite.

  ‘Please armour, nice armour, lovely armour, please stop, you’re heading towards the Twanguine, nice armour, I’d be ever so grateful if you’d stop and turn around. Turn around, you stupid pile of junk, turn around.’ He was within twenty steps of Elijah and the Twanguine, and suddenly he felt a pride in Elijah so fierce it brought tears to his eyes. The little hunchback teenager was actually fighting a creature
of the gods, and doing okay, no, more than okay, he was doing brilliantly. Then he was forced to bend and his hand reached out and picked up a broadsword. Where the hell did that come from? His other hand grasped the thick hilt, his two hands were holding the broadsword. But he knew this was wrong, it was the armour, not him that was wielding the broadsword. He was heading for Elijah, he knew it, the armour was controlled by a god, the armour wanted to kill Elijah.

  ‘ELIJAH, ELIJAH, I CAN’T CONTROL IT.’

  He saw Elijah was shouting at him, gesticulating, shouting again, ‘What?’

  ‘LIGHT, CREATE A MAGICAL LIGHT.’

  ‘Light, what light?

  ‘Magic light,’ Elijah shouted as he hacked off another four heads.

  ‘What magic light, where?’

  The heads fell and disintegrated into dust only to be replaced by another eight ferocious heads.

  ‘Create a magic light, as bright as you can.’

  ‘Magic light, yes, course, what’s the spell now? Brilliantinia? No. Coruscatia? No. Incandescentia?’

  Instantly, a brilliant white light formed above Worlyn’s head, sending blinding rays into every corner of the enormous room. The Twanguine reared up and jerked its heads back. Elijah sprinted in, knowing exactly where to go; the scimitars leading him, and thrust both scimitars into the centre of the gigantic Twanguine’s body.

  Both scimitars went in right up to their scrolled hilts.

  The fifty heads of the Twanguine screamed, the unnatural sounds painful beyond belief. The heads were writhing in their death throws, some attacking the heads next to them, biting into neighbouring necks.

  Worlyn watched horrified, but unable to stop the armour’s slow forward march.

  Elijah pulled out the scimitars and an enormous flow of deep red blood splattered him, sending him backward, making him stumble and fall over.

  The Twanguine was in its death throws, its tail lashing against the walls, sending bits of sandstone flying in all directions.

  Elijah instinctively began scrambling back, then he was on his feet, running backward.

  The Twanguine, in a last desperate effort to kill Elijah, launched all its fifty heads at him.

  He swung the scimitars, like arcs of white lightning; heads were flying everywhere and disintegrating as they hit the floor. Then it collapsed, flopped down, unmoving, still, dead, pools of blood leaking where Elijah had pierced it with the scimitars.

  The bright light began fading, like a firework that had used up all its powder.

  Elijah was breathing so heavily he thought he’d never get his breath back; his heart was hammering against his rib cage, as though trying to escape. He could only stare at the enormous green-scaled beast, its twenty severed necks, its ferocious heads, its eyes that were now clouded and devoid of life.

  Worlyn slowly marched towards him, the armour raising the large broadsword above his head, continuing towards Elijah. ‘Elijah, Elijah, help me, get me out of the blinkin’ armour, it’s got a life of its own. I can’t stop.’

  Elijah watched as Worlyn came towards him, the broadsword raised high above Worlyn’s head, ready to cleave Elijah’s head in two. He waited until Worlyn was in striking distance then darted forward, as the broadsword came down Elijah’s scimitars flashed up and sliced the sword into three, the hilt spinning out of Worlyn’s hands and across the room.

  But Worlyn carried on, his steel gloved hands reaching for Elijah’s throat. ‘Elijah, I can’t stop it.’

  Elijah stepped back, but still Worlyn’s outstretched hands reached for him. Elijah turned and walked away, stepping over the many necks. He watched as Worlyn reached the dead Twanguine, tripped over one of the necks, stumbled over another, fell, rolled over a couple of times and ended up on his back, with his arms and legs still trying to march, he looked like an enormous beetle stuck on its back.

  ‘Elijah, Elijah, help me.’

  Exhaustion and searing pain stole over Elijah’s body, his limbs felt like lead weights, everything was going fuzzy, darkness, he couldn’t hold the scimitars and they dropped to the side of his legs, no longer humming, suddenly he collapsed unconscious.