The Riddle of Malcilis (a prologue to The Prince in Adventure aka Fantasy of the Wizards)

Fantasy story with Jeweled Dragons, Serpent WIzards, Humans, Ogres, Stump Dwellers , Bugle Owls, Gliding Manes, Horrorstones and an assortment of characters, both Good and Evil.

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(NOTE:  This story was written to be a prologue to a 3 part book called The Fantasy of the Wizards. The parts were meant to be Prologue: The Riddle of Malcilis, Kingdom's Fall, The Miasmic Quest or Book of Quagmist and  Tales End or the Great Gaunt.  Only the prologue was written and completed by the passed author). 

THE PRINCE IN ADVENTURE

(aka Fantasy of the Wizards)

PROLOGUE

THE RIDDLE OF MALCILIS

PART I The Slain Dragon

PART II Golden Horrorstones

PART III Damians Wand

PART IV Gliding Manes

PART V The Riddle Known

END OF PROLOGUE

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NOTE: General Outline of Intended book not written following prologue

SECTION 1 The Book of Malcilis

SECTION II Kingdom's Fall, Miasmic Quest or the Book of Quagmist

SECTION III Tales End or The Great Gaunt

CHARACTERS

Malcilis, a Jewel Dragon

Prince Damian

Pyhrr

Caveheart, an Ogre

Kunk, a Stumpdweller

Umber, a Shrive

Leaf, a Woodlian

Sidian, a Fair Racer and Soldier

Roke, Swamp People

Vel, Swan Guide

Hooded King

Orme

Serpent Wizards

Jewel Dragons:

Zyx

Garish

Zirthras

Joor

Quagmist

Night

Great Gaunt

Yellowtooth

I THE SLAIN DRAGON

It was the end of their quest. They had pursued Old Malcilis with as bent a vengeance and as determined a fury equal to the vicious yellow dragon's himself. They had arrived at Unnamed Mountain with
losses, sorrow, and worse, severe doubt, but had nonetheless plunged without hesitation into the ravager's very lair. Damian had wielded the sinister black dagger that gave him his surname of Blade, while Pyhrr himself had wielded the sword, Cyull, presented him by Damian at the Quest's ensuit, The others of the party that had not fallen enroute had employed boulder and flame, dart and sword to at last
destroy the curse that had been a growing and growing threat these
last plot-thickened months,

Malcilis was dying now. Pyhrr found himself enwrapped in the
cavernous scene, feeling as if he were one of the dancing shadows on
the walls--the last of the fabulous jewel dragons was Malcilis, his
lustrous yellow scales, once glaring old from the poison that the
dragon had subsisted upon, were now gleaming, were now fading, now
throwing a lurid yellow gleam over all within the cavern's chamber,
now fading back as the dragon's breaths shuddered with the throes of
Death, leaving only the flickering torch-flames for illumination.

They were all of them motionless, with yellowish cast faces,
their struggle exhausted, emotionally drained. There was himself, Pyhrr,
the only one standing, there was Damian, there was Caveheart. There
was Kunk, there was Umber, there was Leaf, and last there was Sidian,
whose lone, mustached face maintained more of the lit poisoned yellow,
it seemed, than any of the others.


Damian, looking white and strained and even more silent than
normal, was kneeling at Caveheart's side, re-examining the wound the
silent, heavy-jawed and ugly ogre had received from the landslide
which had killed Roke of the Swamp People. Kunk as fierce, squat

and crusty-tempered as a Stump Dweller as Pyhrr had ever encountered
was out of character sprawling face downward on the chamber's dust.
The slim,  large-eared Leaf--Pyhrr still didn't remember to call the
Woodlian his correct name of Leaf Alorn, the Woodlians had so many of
their race named Leaf, was sitting with crossed knees and arms by
Damian, apparently ready to interject an offer of superior Woodlian
advice of learned medical lore, should Damian, human knowledgeless,
make error in his practice. Sidian, the only other member of the
Fair or Man races besides Pyhrr himself and Damian, was sitting on

a boulder, his dark eyes turned towards the great well, the incredible,
deep, rounded chasm that Malcilis lay close to the edge of. Umber too,
a member of the long-armed, claw-handed, thin-stretched body race known
as Shrives, was looking to the well.  Sidian and Umber both had slight
smiles and frozen eyes on their faces...Pyhrr to himself that it was
the battle they smiled of, not of the three others who had disappeared
between here and Turret. One of those who had died had been Vel the
Swan Guide.

Pyhrr now traveled his gaze over the source of the twitching
yellow light, his eyes surveying the massive length of whiskered jaws,
fanged mouth, and quivering wings.   Malcilis may have cost him his
kingdom, he told himself--it had been a desperate, gambled decision he

had made to come to these wild borderlands of the Realms, temporarily

deserting his pressed throne and Pyhrr had been remembering their entire

route the solemn faces of the Turretians when he had set out that morning
from his capital so long ago. His people, he had guessed, he had felt

from their faces, had thought him a fool to go dragon chasing with the Serpent Kingdom veritably hissing at the Snow Kingdom's borders. But,he had come here, Pyhrr shook his head, to be politic. The crazed

Malcilis had been coming from out of sky and cloud again and again
these last terrible months, his attacks among the ever increasing
threat of imminent conflict with a rising, writhing Serpent Kingdom,
with reports of the Hooded King himself with his Octopythians on patrolling missions at the evil kingdom's borders. Hold, forest, races, even the two castles Ushal and Abcii, had fallen before Malcilis gone
mad. The dragon had seemed to have grown berserk, slaying and slaying
yet again, so much so, that Pyhrr, still not crowned king but a prince
under his traditional three years test, had decided upon the lesser
evil -of leaving the throne in the hands of the plotting, ambitious
Orme, and gain the advantage of destroying the dragon that was forcing
the kingdom into a divided defense, On a more personal note, Pyhrr
had also come to gain a built credit at his court, and in choosing
his party to be made up of different well known names representative
of the races within the Realms, to push for the solidity in the Western
Realms, he wished to meet the advancing Serpent Kingdom with.

Yet, even more than these reasons, the Snow Prince acknowledged
silently, looking to the chasm where Sidian looked, he had come for
the reason that had brought them all, even Damian.---

The jewel dragons had been bourne three centuries before,

erupting it was said, out of Gaping Mountain in the Hissing Lands,

created by the omni-powerful, still-living Serpent Wizards, the twin overlords of the Hooded King, and most powerful rulers yet of the Serpent Kingdom. The dragons, it had become clear, had been created
by those wondrous, identical evils to destroy the more ancient race of
black dragons that even the grasping Serpent Wizards dared not raise
their staffs towards. But it had also unfolded that the jewel dragons had not only been created for the sole purpose of destroying the lobo blacks, but had also been designed for destruction of the Snow
Kingdom and her neighbors, all of the dragons subsisting on some type
of fare which the dragons could look to the Snow Kingdom for satiating
their hunger--Malcilis, yellow, dived out of the skies to slay and seek the poisons of the land that was all too commonly used, red Garish had thrived on blood, blue Zyx on steeds, while the purple Zirthras
had but to breathe, amazingly, on the presence of death, to flourish in
his overwhelming power. The flame-colored Joor had nourished on fire,
while enigmatic and mysterious, the ambrosia and the especial lip food
of the last of the six dragons was not known. For the deep green Quagmist, even more enigmatic and mysterious and therefore most frightening, had not resided in a mountain cave as his cousin dragons, but rather, lived in the most avoided geographical area of the Realms--the Miasmic Marshes. A place primeval, a place covered with a thick, yellow green gas, and so superstitiously avoided, the Miasmas were tale-woven so much, evening feasts were known to have become week long ghost story banquets once some Woodlian mentioned the fearsome place, and all the storytellers present had their tales to weave. The Serpent Wizards had done a master stroke there, in creating a creature to rule the Marshes, for it was not known by any what resided and lurked in those northern terrors.

But the Serpent Wizards had had an even stronger master stroke behind their design. It had been something like the passage of ten
years now, when Pyhrr and Damian had been boys, that one of the last
dragon battles began to reveal one of the secrets of the Jewel Dragons, and a clue to the ultimate design of the Serpent Wizards. All but a few of the black dragons had been slain--old and blindingly solitary in their ways, the black ferocities had been unable to survive in being ambushed or attacked by a grouping of three or four of the
jewel dragons or by that quiet menace, gaseous, mist-breathing Quaqmist.
Night had been one of the larger blacks, and like all his race, had had what was called an oddity--an oddity being an undragonlike quality--in Night's case, a partiality towards steeds, and always lairing near
any of the wild herds, to prevent their harm or capture.

So it was that it had all began, these last mad ten years, with the death of Zyx the steed devourer, and hated much by any who had swung his legs over those gallant hearted animals. Zyx  with conniving Malcilis, with Joor and Garish, had attacked one of the White Maned Herds, and in an instant, Night, all a black fury that had made rumbles and cracks the Realms around, struck with such a rapidity of furor,that Zyx in the battle which had spread fire in the sky and rained blood on the ground had plunged through the sky a blue-scaled corpse. Malcilis had fled with a wound, Joor had been pinned by Night on a Mountaintop when Garish had found his deathhold's grip in Night's skull.

But then, then wondrous at Maiden Mountain, where Zyx had made his retirement in Maiden's Well, an explosion at the peak had been followed by the rise of an ever rising, spiraling blue column of smoke that Pyhrr himself could remember watching from the walls of Turrets.  A group of Stumpdwellers seeing the phenomenon, and absolute non intelligences about geography, and not knowing the mountain that fumed as Zyx's lair, had gone to the mountain, entered the cavern, and penetrating far, had found a deep vertical shaft within the well, where the column seemed to be as endlessly going down within the well, as it went up
into the sky. Even Woodlians would probably have halted there, certainly any of the cautious Fair Racers, and no Swamp Person would probably have entered the cave itself. But no, the stump dwellers were a people who didn't hear of such a thing as a reverse direction. Down the dwellers
had gone, part of their party, it was told, falling down into the fountain of smoke, before bottom was reached. But once there, once after hours of waiting as the smoke, or the funeral fount as it came
to be called, subsided, what should the stump dwellers find as the
fount's source but a pair of the largest starstones yet to be found--
rare blue jewels treasured and horded by possessors not only for their
glowing sparkle and beauty, but also because starstones, as all other jewels in the Realms, housed one of the magics prevalent in the Realms--in the starstones' case, the blue gems were reputed to hold a water magic.

The starstones had been taken and secreted in some hideaway among the stumpdwellers, they were still there for all that any knew, the
stumpdwellers boasting of coming benefit and promotion of their race's
greatness. Their vanity had been but short however, for as the dragon wars continued, increased at a furious rate, it was only shortly after Night's decease, that an orange funeral fount had come a spuming death signal from Fire King the volcano. Some Woodlians on the river, it was learned later, had spotted the orange dragon Joor with a great black-colored throat wound lying close to the base of Fire King. Taletellers had stopped their quill scribing there, and had whispered among themselves when the detail of this death wound was known, and they did not at first ask about the orange smoked column as they with other
listeners, looked expressively towards the north. For it was in the north where Great Gaunt incredibly sized and legended, laired, that terrible black dragon's only oddity seeming to be that he liked to stay solitary and retired in smoldering, brooding dark and black dragon passion. The passion, it looked had erupted. When the question had turned from Great Gaunt to the orange funeral fount, the tale bearers
that had raced towards Fire King at the first rise of the smoke had said that when they had asked those same sailing Woodlians about the orange oracles that were sure to have been at the funeral founts base, the Woodlians had only smiled and sailed their direction on the river. 

Now eager eyes, unconsciously grasping hands, turned towards the Miasmic Marshes, expecting that Quagmist the Terror Fetcher, might be seen rising to meet Great Gaunt.

But instead, and a thousand tales must have been woven, Pyhrr continued his retrospect, not a green dragon was seen rising, but instead a green funeral fount had appeared, a greater column of green gas than the gases of the mist the fount had spiraled and furled from. The gas in the swamp had seemed darker than usual, the hisses and gasps louder to bordering peoples, and then some of the more foolish dreamers, and yes, even parties sent forth by the Serpent Kingdom, had ventured towards the Miasmas--for there was no green jewel known of in the Realms--the
magic it must possess was as much as a mystery as Quagmist, the Miasmas, and the stones. But those seekers of power and of mystery had disappeared for good, had never returned, and probably had ventured uselessly, for the stones were likely sunk somewhere in a still, deadly pool.

The dragon wars had continued, again and again, Zirthras and Garish had raided the Stumpdwellers, the Ogres, the Snow Kingdom, the one dragon taking blood, the other gorging upon the smell of death,then the pair were off again, always increasing in size, to engage the black dragons.  Malcilis, it seemed, took on the solitary habits of the black dragons. He swooped upon the Hissing Lands, fought Garish, ravaged and ravaged the Snow Kingdom. Except for Great Gaunt, who it began to appear had had some secret oddity that had demanded Joor's death and only a brief appearance, no known black dragon was known left, three of the black dragons having been seen to fly into the Miasmas before Quagmist’s decease, and never returned. Garish and Zirthras thrived, grew immense, the combined ferocity of the first with the death thirst of the other had now all but finished the black dragons, and tale tellers forgot their tales as new thoughts came to them, as they all looked towards the Hissing Lands, when now, but five passages since, the final dragon battle had come, furnishing the tale tellers once more with story material.

Great Gaunt was called Nightdrake by the Stumpdwellers, Great Draco by the Woodlians. The stumpdwellers said Nightdrake was Death itself, while the Woodlians had insisted that Great Draco was immortal, no known being more ancient than that retired horror. There had been silly, snappish quarrels between the two races about the matter and the name but battle and war were averted when there occurred close to the north of the Snow Kingdom the final rise of Great Gaunt, and the conciliation of the two races in their eulogies.

Queen's Hold, the South Fortress, the stronghold where the Snow Kingdom bordered the Remote Mountains, had been descended upon by Zirthras and Garish with blood streaming down his fangs. The two dragons were rising up from their first destructive descent, two of the tallest towers swirling in flame, the gateway smashed, the holders gathering in useless clusters of upraised spears, lances, and bows, when coming up the span of two mountains height, the rise of finality itself, came Great Gaunt.

The dragon had given his gaseous, harsh roar--he had jerked himself
up another mountain's length, and with another roar, spout forth black smoke through and throughout the sky. Woodlians far away in their westland thought an Elemental War of the Sky was beginning. The Gaping mountain creatures had returned their own anticipating roars of enjoining fury, the red and purple smokes twirling in with the black. Flames came then, and the frightened holders had scattered from Queen's Hold,abandoning the fortress--Great Gaunt, seen as rarely as Quagmist, had been of such shining black, voluminous size, the fair racers were sure it was Doom come at last. Thus, there had been no witnesses to the combat, but from the evidence of the aftermath, from the sounds heard, the Woodlians had been in parallel truth right in guessing that the most clashing of elemental wars had been taking place. Forests were found scorched by the cautious few who had advanced in the smoky arena to discover the battle's results, after a three day wonder of dark-colored smokes, spouting flames, rasped roars, and flapping dragon wings seen at times above the smoke. Avalanches of large-sized boulders too were everywhere from where the three foes had clawed at each other terrestrially. Death and Blood, it seemed, had battled Antediluvian, Chaos Incarnate, and as the search party went further among the charred
trees, the drifting smoke, and the gashed mountain slopes, they found spreading red, purple, and black stains upon the ground. The killed trees had become limbless, twisted columns had become dwindled stumps, the rocks and boulders were strewn and upthrust as if a cataclysm
had occurred at the mountaintops. The stains had become more spreading, one of the party had whispered that the smoked landscape they walked must be what the Miasmas were like. The crease of the ridge was reached, below them the mountain receded downward to form a hollow with sister rises. The party’s eyes began to travel descending, hoping not to see
any gleaming dragon eyes directed at them,

There were none though. A hundred yards away however an even duller red in the ground-lying smoke, Garish lay sprawling out across the mountainside with a great wound across the throat. Further, in the recess where mountain met mountain was Zirthas lying in the largest of the black stains yet seen, stiffened, eyes closed, there was a great slash across the back and at the back of the head, there was a gapping cleavage that must have been the slaying blow.

There had almost been cheers among the searchers--Malcilis, with all his
mad cowardice, was no match for Gaunt, and if the Serpent Wizards
were to try for greater domains, Gaunt would frazzle them with his eyes. Yet the black stains had been great and many more than those of Garish and Zirthras, and Gaunt had not been seen winging in the sky.
The searchers stayed with the traces of dragon blood that now were only Great Gaunt's. The stains, always getting larger, and at last becoming a path, came to Lake Gold, and with fear and despair, the
party saw that the lake's former honey color had become entirely black,
and that Gaunt had made that deep his place of death. After, and later,
a daring expedition of Swan Guides had passed near the isolated cave
that all had previously circumvented. Empty, the extinction of the
older race of dragons was confirmed.

But before that finality, even before the reflection and the reaction to the enormity of the shock, even before considering the
threat that was sure to come from the Hissing Lands, thoughts of violet
and crimson funeral founts erupted, for with Zirthras the Suffocate
and Garish the Ferocious slain, massive blood rubies and phantom
gems were sure to be obtained, by the first to get to the mountain caves.

It was at this point that a further design of the Serpent Wizards began to take on a dim outline. There had been killing among the
fair racers enroute the caves, but like the expedition to the Miasmas,
the violent racked effort had turned out to be  pointless, for those who had been earliest to arrive at the towering founts had not survived. Second comers behind them had come up out of the trees on to the slopes,
and there had found their competitors slain, swollen with poison.

And shading their eyes from the glare of the sinking Sunstar, they had seen far away the slinking reptilian forms, and suddenly knew well that the finders of the starstones and orange oracles had been incredibly
fortunate, that the omniscient Serpent Wizards had even designed the
jewel dragons with their deaths in mind too, and had been cheated of a greater magic by a quirk of fate regarding the oracles and starstones.

It was this revelation of the Serpent Wizard's designs that had troubled Pyhrr most this route, though he had not spoken of it to
any but Damian. Pyhrr's wide lips came closer and more tight together,
he tossed his narrow, firm-chinned head slightly, his waves of brown hair rippling, and he turned his weighing brown eyes towards Damian again. It was Malcilis's death their quest had been aimed at, but by slaying Malcilis, the design of the jewel dragons' purpose for the Serpent Wizards would be complete--and it was for this why Pyhrr had
balked for so long at Malcilis's death. For,as Pyhrr had reasoned, and had told Damian in a firecamp walk, the wizards must have surely had a powerful motive even more than an increase in their magic, in the surprise legacies of the jewel dragons--for to have waited the three centuries the jewel dragons had lived to gain the jewels, surely
there was some larger purpose?

Pyhrr shook his doubts off--he had not maneuvered the company
through the Stone People and he had not slain the traitorous, spying
Yellowtooth on the route himself to feel remorse for Malcilis. Moreover,
war was coming--there was no question--with the Stumpdwellers's star-
stones and the Woodlians' oracles balanced against the Serpent Kingdom's rubies and phantoms, there was a need to outweigh the magic of the Wizards, and the only way, the concrete fact had been, was to slay Malcilis, and take the danger of finishing the next step in the Serpent Wizards unfolded plan, to gain the sunpearls, and to overmatch
the conflicting water and visionary magics versus the fire and mind controlling magics with the magic of light.

Yet, Pyhrr still could not shake a persisting feeling that he felt as if he were walking upon an unstable, dangling rope bridge
rather than a road to secure the Snow Kingdom's intactness. Turret
was restless, Orme was a vain, designing, dangerous man, the pressure
and unrest throughout the Realms had been increasing at a frantic rate
these last several passages of months with Woodlians, Stumpdwellers,
and Solitaries like Caveheart appearing then quickly leaving at Turret, as the whispers and fears became more and more numerous. The skies were emptying fast of dragons but for Malcilis gone mad, there was an incredible eyeless serpent of three tree lengths at the Hissing Lands borders, the Prince Inherent was young and not full prince yet, he had a year yet to show by his rule he was worthy to succeed his
predeceased uncle to become Prince Pyhrr the First. The Serpent Wizards were more immortal than Great Gaunt, whose presence the twins had at last rid themselves. The Prince Damian, the Prince Inherent's
constant companion, was a  beautiful young man of slight small build, but who knew where Damian with his bright blonde hair and his richly deep lavender colored eyes came from anyway, and Damian's quiet bearing and wandering ways were like to make the Prince Inherent irresponsible.
It was all this unrest, Pyhrr believed, that had finalized his determination to come to UnNamed Mountain, it seemed the skirmishes that he had led against the reptilians and their kindred, the councils of
unity he had held with all of the races this side of the Serpent Kingdom, had not been enough for Orme or for the wild fear rampant
in the Turretians--it seemed the rumbling needed a crack of lightning to silence the sounds, and he hoped the news of the death of the vengeful Malcilis with the capture of the Sunpearls for Turret would bolster his people's faltering bravery.

The torches were twisting about, flickering, Pyhrr felt a breeze along his cheeks, and with the breeze, some faint, dim echo of a sound. Then he realized that the breeze had a faint tinge of heat in it, a faint reminder of the battle atmosphere with Malcilis, and hearing scuffles, Pyhrr realized all his companions but Damian and Caveheart
had gotten to their feet and were standing with legs spread and hands
open at the pit where a faint, yellow glow was beginning to whisper
itself into curls. Malcilis, he realized had finally ebbed away, for the scales of the dragon were no longer any more lingering in their former luster.

"Pyhrr, help me. " Damian's low tones came, as Damian took Caveheart at one of the immense knees, and putting his shoulder into the joint, helped the monster to rise. Pyhrr went to his companion's assistance and as Caveheart was once more on his feet, Pyhrr hefted with difficulty the red stone studded axe, Crimsoncleft, to the ogre.
Caveheart stood well over eleven feet tall, wore roughly fashioned, nondescript tunic and leggings characteristic of his race, and had a carven face pronounced most in the jutting brow bones over the deeply set sea gray eyes. Caveheart was actually only of average height among his race, but his stockiness did not border into corpulence as among  others of his kind. Further, it was told that among ogres, a grim solitarily-inclined race anyway, that Caveheart was one of the grimmest and moodiest, thus commanding a grudging respect from the other gores.
Caveheart's friendship with Damian, and none knew where it had begun, was the only friendship that Pyhrr knew of pre-dating his own with Damian.

The yellow glow was fusing itself together, was becoming vapor,was becoming thick smoke, and as the three companions moved to join the others of the company, the vapor thickened, and began gushing out of the vertical shaft, beginning to clog the chamber, re-creating the yellow atmosphere that Malcilis in his flame, smoke, and scales had--Damian's blonde hair, an unusual color occurrence among the fair racers and more common among the Swan Guides, was becoming yellower than the gold sunstar of the sky, and all of them were having their skins drenched with yellow overtones. Another, louder distinct sound
was coming, it was the rumbling coming from the mysterious released energy far below, and then Kunk was calling out for all to stand back as there came more rumbling from the chamber roof overhead--mountain magic was at work, Pyhrr saw, as he glanced up, and saw the rock falling down in small chunks to form a wider hollow and chimney for the funeral fount to erupt.

Pyhrr suddenly thought of the dragon and thinking of Malcilis, felt a feeling of ice at his shoulders, as if the dragon's eyes had
opened, and were looking with vengeance, dire vengeance, dragon vengeance,
at his slayers. Pyhrr felt so strongly affected, he whipped around, but the dragon was now almost faded into the dead yellow of fallow
weed, and the eyes were closed. Again, Pyhrr wondered what the Serpent
Wizards had designed with the death of the final jewel dragon, and Pyhrr looked further about the cavern, his sense of disturbance even stronger than his desire to get to the sunpearls. He found himself
stopping at an arched and black-filled tunnel entrance exiting from the chamber they stood in. Pyhrr did not see any mad ogre there, he did not see any dragon, he even remembered mentally shrugging the passage as being another of Malcilis's exits when they had first entered the cave. But now Pyhrr found himself sensing that the tunnel must go downward, and that whatever seemed to be breathing a silent breath that crept along his neck,lurked there, though it was not a descending landslide, nor the gasping, sliding sound of a stalking
Serpent Creature against the wall.

Pyhrr turned back, hunching his shoulders beneath his brown cloak,  telling himself caverns could often play a trick on the mind.
All was yellow, he saw. He glanced down at his bared arm and saw it was suffused with the hue. It was then that he realized that the rumbling was increasing and that the rumbling he felt was in the tremor of the entire cave chamber and could even be felt in his feet. He realized it did not come from the swelling source of the jewels either, but from elsewhere, from one of the solid walls. Pyhrr looked up to Damian and saw Damian was already looking at him. Pyhrr put his hands to his side, and drew out his blade. Caveheart hefted Crimsoncleft, and Damian was putting his hand to his dagger's scabbard that hung around his neck.

A burst, a crack of shattered rock came, it was at the wall that had rumbled, and smashed rock, crumbling into dust that looked like yellow sand in the yellow smoke atmosphere, poured into the
cavern. There was a huge figure outlined in the opening, the one Pyhrr had not located at the other natural tunnel. But, unlike the
cloaked figure that Pyhrr had imagined, this huge, hulking creature, eight armed, fang jawed, scarlet draped, silver helmeted, leathery of face, and with the dread serpent that was a snake sprouting from the
shoulder, this figure was easily recognizable--an Octopythian, a
fierce type of the Serpent Kingdom, larger and heavier than Caveheart. There would be seven other Octopythians, and Pyhrr unconsciously sensed the others of the company were all gathering with him--the
Serpents that they had known must come had arrived.

But more rumbling was coming, the earth becoming unsteady, as the Octopythian lurched, and the three other discernible yellow shadows that had gathered behind the still unadvancing Octopythian. UnNamed Mountain was reputed to have one of the richer ores of mountain magic, and the mountain seemed to have awakened as a crack at the lip of the abyss and a section of rock lifted a raised trapdoor, revealing a downward recession of a now opened and revealed secret tunnel, curving with strong, yellow smoke spilling out of it, curving downward with the circle of the vertical pit.

"Kunk," Pyhrr didn't shout, but spoke measuringly with his eyes kept on the Pythians. "I want you to get to the sunpearls.
Take Umber and Leaf down the spiral to get to the pearls--we will try to join you at the Aerie Needle--otherwise, get to Turret." Then, in a lower voice, he said to the slight and grey robed figure at his side, "Damian, will you not go with ‘them?--I trust you as no other."

"I think you need me," was Damian' s only reply, and the next second, when Damian's dagger Perilous began to give its weird, odd
humming sound, Pyhrr knew Damian had removed the weapon and that
Damian couldn't leave now, because the weapon was cursed and could
not be sheathed until death came.

The smoke was still swirling about in the room but it was translucent. The Pythians were beginning to move about, they were parting--Pyhrr saw a taller, more upright figure with long boots and middle length
cloak beginning to advance among the dread creatures.

"Go, Kunk." Pyhrr found himself almost yelling in anger in order to cover the frantic feeling he found himself having at this strange menace. "Remember, the Aerie Needle." Pyhrr felt a strong look come at him
from the Stumper, who silently pushing at Leaf, withdrew into the spiral, Umber following. It seemed to Pyhrr he could feel an increased cold in the chamber with the subtraction of their company, and he even
felt more chilled as the feeling of dead dragon eyes boring into his back renewed itself.

The new and totally unfamiliar being to Pyhrr was at the forefront now--his sword was a strange weapon with a grooved, cylindrically
shaped blade and a small handguard, The figure was overwhelmingly tall, and making him even taller, was the high cowl towering over his head. There was a darkness about the cowl, but Pyhrr got the impression of
a high, narrow, and oval face that was grayish with fair race features
and deep recessed eyes, all over a neck that was of the same horrible red leathery texture as the Pythians. A brilliant, dark and purple
stone was glowering at the throat of the cloak and a smaller tint of purple was at one of the hands.,--And Pyhrr knew it was the Hooded King himself come for the sunpearls,

Four of the Octopythians were making a sudden rush forward. Pyhrr leaped forward without hesitating and he knew Damian was at his side, as the first of the Pythians came at them. The creature's eight arms were waving swords, axes, torches, the weaving shoulder-serpent was dancing about in the air--the sweeps of the creature's arms made  both Damian and Pyhrr retreat back to the side, and suddenly the other four of the Pythians were rushing past the first Octo and were descending into the tunnel. Pyhrr felt his hopes of securing the jewels totter, and leaping forward, swept his blade at the dangerous shoulder-serpent, sweeping a slash in the head--the alive appurtenance
fell limp as Pyhrr just as quickly jumped back from the swirl of weaponry, and ducked to his knees as one of the axes was thrown at
him, and then Damian was rolling on the ground at the Pythian's legs--Damian came to a stop, stretched his arm, and sank Perilous into the creature. A steaming came from the creature's side, the arms began
to flail, and Damian now was grasping Perilous with both hands as its high pitched humming increased louder and louder as the immensely strong Pythian began to falter from the death magic the dagger housed.
Pyhrr turned to Sidian and to Caveheart, Sidian was on top of a rock, dodging from the sweeping arms of one of the Pythians, while the other two Octopythians with the Hooded King were trying to get within the
sweep of Crimsoncleft. They were gradually forcing Caveheart back to the edge of the still gushing funeral fount, and Pyhrr glanced
back quickly to see Damian pulling Perilous from the prostrate Pythian and sheathing the dagger.

"Caveheart, jump, jump!" Pyhrr shouted at the ogre, running to slash at the calf of one of the pressing Pythians. The creature
swung about to come at Pyhrr with all its weaponry, but its sudden furious onrush came abruptly to an end as a rock coming from the still collapsing chimney crashed into its head. Caveheart, in the meantime,
had flounced with his powerful muscles to broad leap the cavern well.

Pyhrr had halted a second to see if his giant friend would reach the other rim.  Caveheart had, but now was giving Pyhrr a strange,
and unfamiliar piercing look. Pyhrr read a question in Caveheart's face, and realizing what the ogre was about, nodded his head. Caveheart jumped again, heading and vanishing into the smoke of the downward
spiral tunnel in pursuit of the Pythians that chased Kunk.

Damian was rushing at the Pythian still trying to reach at Sidian--Damian grabbed up a spear that had glanced off Malcilis hours back and stabbed at the Pythian's back--the creature whirled and loomed over Damian, as Sidian, instead of  stabbing at the creature’s head from the back, was jumping from the rock, and his eyes seeming to glint
as the gold of the sunpearls, was rushing into the tunnel too. Damian,ducking from one of the spiked clubs in the Pythian's hand felt a wild jerk in his chest, as he thought that perhaps Caveheart desired the sunpearls too. Damian spun, he found himself pressed into a corner of rock and cavern wall, and found himself needing to keep dodging from the flailing arms. He threw himself to the ground again,thrusting his spear upwards, giving the Octopythian a deep throat wound,
causing it to stagger back, then collapse partially on the floor of the cave.

Damian turned to see the Hooded King looming over and threatening Pyhrr-- but now there was a sudden call echoing in the cave, and Damian involuntarily grabbed at his ears at the brittle, hissed sound--
and with the sound there was a sudden light--coming into the cave from the wall that the Hooded King had come through--a purple ring of light was the phenomena, a thin purple circle, winking out, then blinking back again into a brief, vast large purple ring ten feet in diameter. The Hooded King's raised sword hesitated, Pyhrr was grasping at his ears too, and the purple stones on the Hooded King flashed momentarily. The sword dropped. The arms of the Hooded
King went to the archservant's sides, and suddenly lifting himself up into the air with a swish of his cloak, transformed himself into a large and winged lizard with a streaming red plume coming from the head. The creature rose higher, then wheeling, was shooting down into the fount. Damian ran to the edge of the fount for the last Pythian had in the meanwhile departed from the cave through the entrance he had come. Pyhrr, gasping with effort, tried to push a boulder to
the edge of the fount, to hurl it after the lizard.

"Nay, Pyhrr."” The voice was low, sure, keen. A light hand was touching at Pyhrr's shoulder and Pyhrr, looking up, saw a weighing gaze in Damian's face that he knew none
but he had seen. All of Pyhrr's emotions of fear, anger, worry over the sunpearls and Turret, came to a sudden still, as if a cooling
rain had fallen. Pyhrr forgot that he had come here originally to slay Malcilis, that he needed to get back to Turret to continue his
leadership. --He knew that Damian, mysterious even to himself, Pyhrr,
found as a starved waif while Pyhrr had yet himself been a boy too, was about to show himself,

Damian was going to grab up a fallen torch, the flame the color of Damian's hair. Damian's robes went into ripples, his hair tousled as he began to spin himself, the flame began to describe a circle, when halting short, Damian was coming to an abrupt stop, and jerking the torch at the chimney, Pyhrr was surprised to see a bolt of flame released, shooting into the fount. A great, wrenching, shearing sound was coming, Damian was by Pyhrr, dragging the prince back as a huge, fired boulder, almost the diameter of the fount source, came
swooshing from the ceiling, plunging into the abyss. At that very same moment before Pyhrr or Damian could say anything, another of the screeching sounds came, and another of the large rings of purple was
coming into the cave, only this one was a filled circle of the dark purple, was mainstaying itself, was coming at them, but Damian just as quickly held up his palm, and Pyhrr saw an equal ring of pale blue
almost seem to leap out gathering in size from Damian's hand, meeting
the other ring--there was a bright, glittering white as the two rings met trying to encompass each other, then with a harsh crackle, they disappeared in cancellation,

"We must get away." Damian was grabbing at Pyhrr's sleeve, to hurry them towards the spiraling descent.

"Wait," Pyhrr resisted his companion's jerking movement. He stood to stare at Damian, the knowledge of what he had just witnessed filling him as the recognition began to dawn on him,

The two friends saw each others thoughts and stared at each other wordlessly. "A wizard--you're a wizard." Pyhrr could only
point out his surprise and bewilderment. Then, with greater conviction, he pointed out his greater surprise,but one of which he had no doubt of the truth whatsoever. "You're a snow wizard."

Damian only continued to fix his gaze at Pyhrr. Pyhrr found himself moving his mind quickly. His mind leaped to old Turret history, to legends grown old into tales. He seized Damian at the shoulders, in anticipation of his hope. "The snow wizards." Pyhrr was enthused, disregarding Malcilis, the sunpearls, the duel with the Hooded King
and his cohorts, as it suddenly seemed manifest to him that the disappeared magicians' kingdom was still somewhere remote in the Realms. "The Snow Wizards,  do they still maintain a kingdom's castle
then? Just think--"

“Pyhrr." Damian had kept glancing out to the shattered rock where the rings had appeared.  Now he seemed to force a calm on himself, as he clasped his taller companion at the forearms and said,
"Yes, yes I am a wizard--but an unknowing one, Pyhrr, who is still trying to develop his  arts. Caveheart tells me he believes that I
may be one of the snow wizards, but though Caveheart and I have searched long and wide, we have never found them in our wanderings.

I was raised, Pyhrr, by the Swan Guides until I decided to accompany Caveheart--but now Pyhrr, we do not have the time for other talk the rings of purple come from the Serpent Wizards, and I cannot continue the battle. We must get to the Sunpearls to help Kunk and Leaf against the Pythians,"

Pyhrr, still somewhat awed at the possibilities and thoughts that this new development presented to him, nodded his head. He had just turned with Damian to descend the cavern, when a falling, total
clasp of ice and terror and dragon eyes came about his shoulders, despite the yellow heat emitting from the fount., Pyhrr felt the cold gnawing into his vitals and he felt a strong, chilling wind come gushing from somewhere within the cavern, and gushing even more into his vitals, Pyhrr, almost cramped, whipped about to look at the
pallid remainder of Malcilis.

The dragon was still laying dead. But suddenly, Pyhrr had in his mind the times that he had seen Malcilis flying down from the sky, a yellow, large horror. The fanning wings would rise a wind whirling in all directions, the great shadow that the dragon's wings had created
had been the first thing that had filled Pyhrr with terror. Malcilis, too, had had a narrower head than the other jewel dragons, and his eyes had been larger, more prominent, more bulging and upward curving. Those angled slits had made many say in their Gaping Mountain tales that the Serpent Wizards had made an imperfect magic, that Malcilis actually was possessed by madness, so berserked his attacks seemed after all.
Malcilis's eyes had had an unceasing glitter to them too, rather than the gleam of thinking rapacity , as there had shown in the other dragons. But yet, yet, Pyhrr could remember, and a great unease along with an
intenser chill and cold filled his mind as he identified the cold wind coming from the tunnel that he had studied, he had seen those narrow titled slits of Malcilis narrow to thin, vertical lines.

"Damian," Pyhrr halted again, this time it was he who jerked his companion, "What of the rock you brought down? What of the Hooded
King, and of the sunpearls?"

Damian saw Pyhrr's rigid posture, the flickering wonder in the
brown eyes, Frowning in puzzlement, he said, "The King must land on
the spiral path, if he doesn't end up consummated in flame--I pray his
wings will not have taken him below Kunk and Leaf, because they must
get to the sunpearls first. The rock should burn itself out in smoke three fourths down the well--the King cannot have flown that fast, and the pearls will not be endangered from the fire.--But what is it, Pyhrr--what is it?"

Pyhrr looked to the spiral, then to the tunnel. "We must let them go on their own. I said the Aerie Needle--I hope that this urgency I know shall not detain us long from the meeting place,” Pyhrr said more to himself than to Damian, reasoning. "We should
be descending to their help, but we must trust to Caveheart and to the dubious Sidian to surprise the Pythians."

"Pyhrr?(Damian asked.

"Malcilis," said the Prince of the Snow Kingdom, and he turned Damian towards the source of the wildly cold wind. "Malcilis."

II GOLDEN HORRORSTONES

Down and down, Kunk, Leaf,and the Shrive ran. Kunk found himself breathing heavily,  from having to run with his shorter legs,
but the stumpdweller believed his height helped him to descend the steep slope more easily, and though it seemed to Kunk they had already made several loops of the trail, the descent was still shearing under
their feet, and the bright yellow gas sti11 shot up from a bottomless funnel. Kunk hoped that Leaf knew where the Aerie Needle was, couldn't Pyhrr ever remember that maps just didn't make sense to Stumpdwellers unless they were marked with visual landmarks?

 

That had been a fight with Malcilis. That horrible yellow dragon wouldn't be descending on any more of the stump villages now, and Kunk only hoped Pyhrr, whom he genuinely liked, could escape from those
Octopythians. Damian now he night be able to do something-~that dagger of his was absolutely frightening with its death singing, and Kunk didn't care what Leaf argued, somebody owning such a deadly, cursed weapon surely had some kind of hidden powers somewhere.

Kunk found himself grabbing at his ax as he was suddenly tackled to the ground. But just as quickly he realized it was Leaf who had
stumbled into him. They started swearing at each other, who would have ever thought a spritely Woodlian could have sworn such vindictive oaths?

Then Leaf was grabbing at Kunk.  The Shrive continues!" The Woodlian pointed his finger at the tunnel and Kunk saw the loping, stretched body descending down another wind. But at that moment, as the two started rising, a bright, flashing, blinding glare came, and with it,there was a whoosh of flame whisking out at them, as some type of fireball hurtled past them into the abyss. Above them, though they didn't know
it, a scorched lizard creature was starting to transform into a cloaked
figure lying high on the trail, the purple stones at the hand and the throat winking weakly.

"We must hurry." Kunk told Leaf, grabbing  the Woodlian at the elbow and plunging forward. "The mountain is trying to destroy the sunpearls with its fireballs, and we must save those pearls for Pyhrr."

They started forward, but another whoosh, a weapon whoosh, made them fall to the ground again, as a large ax flew over their heads,
more blade than handle. The two companions looked up to see four pounding Pythians all waving arms and weapons rushing down upon them, and Kunk whipped his ax into a quick arc. He saw it hit an Octopythian
in the ankle, tumble him into the abyss. Leaf and he didn't stay to fight, but ran on. At the next curve they stopped a moment to see the Pythians still coming, and Leaf shot an arrow this time, as there came another battery of weapons hurling at them. Fortunately,the curve of the tunnel and the slant of the tunnel's roof made it
difficult to aim. Leaf shot a second arrow at the running leader again, striking him in the side, and the creature stumbled. There was a yell from the pile of tangled arms as the other Pythians stumbled over their leader, and a claw holding an ax in straightening itself out put the ax into another throat. Umber was nowhere in front of them, as Kunk and Leaf continued, panting, the yellow cast becoming
more yellow now as round and round they looped, pausing to aim at their pursuants, then to run again, wondering how they would have time to scoop up the magic stones, or catch up with Umber who would be sure
to claim the stones for the Shrives.

"Oof." Kunk tripped over a stone, and now he and Leaf were tumbling. There was a sharper tilt in the slope now, and they began
rolling, stabbing their hands on rocks, as they tried to stop their impetus. They crashed into a wall at last where it curved, and Kunk,squat, grabbed at Leaf's foot, as Leaf started rolling for the edge. Their weapons were clattering on ahead of them, and there was still a great pounding coming down the tunnel. Kunk pulled out a small
blade, and was ready to throw it when he saw it was Caveheart who came alone. Crimsoncleft was fully looking its name.

The ogre was bracing himself for balance with a huge arm against the ceiling. He was reaching an arm down to pull his companions
up to stand spraddle legged, and handing Kunk his ax. Sidian at the same moment came running down the tunnel too to join them.

Kunk didn't like it that Sidian had come alone. "Where is Pyhrr?" Kunk's hand gripped again on his dagger.

"Damian and he were still pressing with the Hooded King and his kind. I was about to be slain by the King--I had to run." Sidian
said hurriedly, but still Kunk thought the eyes looked studied, and not
frightened.

Caveheart was more spontaneous than the Stumpdweller. With a dark, formidable scowl, making him look even more ultimately grim,
the ogre turned to go back up the tunnel. Kunk twitched at the giant's calf strap.

"Wait, Caveheart, think." Kunk urged, though he himself didn't know what to think and how to act.

"Kunk is right." Leaf was looking at the spilling smoke, and picking up Kunk's thought. "We've got to trust to Damian and Pyhrr to rescue themselves.--That dratted Umber! He is running down towards
the stones! We must get on to get the stones for Pyhrr, otherwise I'd say to go back."

"Damian and Pyhrr are resourceful," Kunk pleaded. Pyhrr got us here, Caveheart. Your wounded and--" Kunk''s heart moved into his throat as he hesitantly voiced aloud his
suspicions of the giant's past with Damian, "And I bet you know more about Damian than we do."

Crimsoncleft didn't raise though. The dark grey eyes darkened in ogre thought, and then glared briefly at Sidian. The ogre waved
them on.

The run proved to be short. It was level suddenly, there was no longer a sense of a low ceiling over their heads but it was
difficult to see because they were now in a room of yellow smoke. The four of them attached to each other's wrists, and Leaf called several times for Umber.

They groped in the yellow, gaseous smoke, which at last was beginning to grow faint. The ogre took a short, stout stick from
his belt, lit the flame head, and the four stared out over the chamber.

Then the shrieking began, screams fully of pain, agony, horror,crying and crying again. Kunk pulled away from the others, and began
to stagger, clutching his ears against the screams that kept coming. Vaguely, he was aware that he stumbled against a staggering Leaf at one point, a slumped Sidian at another.

"Caveheart." Kunk tried to call above the screaming through the yellow gas, "Caveheart, the screaming, what can it be?"

But with Kunk's call, the heavy funereal pall began to clear,and Kunk saw for himself that at the center of the revealed chamber
that it was the Shrive who was dancing and twitching in contortions of
a berserk pain. A brilliant glistening, and yellow object was in Umber's unsightly arms, that the Shrive couldn't seem to release.
Near him, where his feet kept dancing, an identical, yellow jewel glowered, the size of Caveheart's fist.

"The sunpearls!"” Kunk exclaimed, his excitement at the magical jewels over riding for a moment the surprise development with Umber.  Kunk began to run for the other jewel, but suddenly Leaf was there, dragging him back. 

"Let me go, you fool Woodlian!" glowered Kunk, struggling.  "Pyhrr said for us to get the sunpearls."

"Pearls! Pearls!" Leaf was repeating insistently at the Stumpdweller, shaking Kunk. "Pearls, Kunk."

Kunk stopped his wrestling, then stared at the Woodlian in registered recognition, as he realized then that no sunpearl would
be the glowering gold these jewels were, that the sunpearls would be globes, not faceted ovals of crystal. "But what are they? Why does Umber act so?"

A final, pierced shriek came from the Shrive, who collapsing, was all too still, releasing the jewel from his arms. Caveheart, who had been silently regarding the tortured Shrive, strode over to Kunk and
Leaf. The giant looked upward into the high, reaching funnel above above,
looking high, a frown menacing his face’s crag. The giant shook his head several times slowly, and Leaf saw the ogre’s hand tighten on Crimsoncleft. It was giant talk again, ogres scarcely spoke but expressed themselves in gesture, and Leaf guessed that it was Malcilis that Caveheart pondered. The ogre was looking keenly now at Kunk and
Leaf, and they watched him in waiting surprise. Caveheart all this
journey had rarely spoken. Now he was forcing himself to talk in the
chopped, forced, halting, harsh voice of ogres. »Gilden hirsten.”

"What?" Leaf turned to look at Kunk, both of them were unaccustomed
to ogre speech, Caveheart repeated himself, but still seeing the blanks
in their faces, suddenly threw his arms over his face, cowering back before some nameless form in front of him.

"Horror!" Leaf exclaimed.

"Horror--horrorstone--golden horrorstones!" Kunk followed Leaf,his voice on the final pronouncement was almost as hollow as Caveheart's voice was guttural. "How fearful this is for Pyhrr!"

"Malcilis's jewels as golden horrorstones--no wonder his nature."Leaf, said softly, gazing at the glistening jewels, at the twisted,contorted figure of the Shrive that Sidian prodded. "I wonder if the
jewels were his madness?"

"But they are only made of mad magic!" Kunk exclaimed, but still wondering now what to do, for of all the jewels so sought in the Realms,the golden horrorstones were the only ones not sought, for to touch a
stone meant a descent into nightmare visions of horror, and to possess one, if by some chance you got a man by magic to sacrifice his mind to carry the stone for your jewel craving, meant an atmosphere of
jealousy and fierce maliciousness created in your dwelling. One of the things that made the dread Serpent Wizards so ghoulish was that each wore necklaces with Golden Horrorstones without suffering the circumstances,their powerful mind magic, housed in the phantom gems the wizards allowed them a mastery of the horrorstones to use in some obscure, diabolical way. The horrorstones were rare, deadly, feared.

"One thing is clear--no, two." Leaf was speaking aloud and startled Kunk out of his reflection. "We've got to get out of here, Pyhrr and Damian haven't come yet, and the Hooded King and the other Pythians
could still be coming. The four of us," Leaf glanced at Sidian for a moment's hesitation, "Cannot handle the Hooded King alone--the second thing is that we have to do something with the horrorstones--if the Serpent Wizards had these stones in mind when they created the jewel dragons, think of the mounting power they must be aiming at."

"But we can't touch them." Kunk threw his hands up, and began walking aimlessly. We don't dare bury them either." :

"Caveheart!" Sidian was speaking sharply to the ogre, who was approaching a stone, and starting to crouch over it.

Leaf and Kunk started forward to try to draw the ogre back for they realized what the giant was about, but before they could reach
his arms, the great hands had swooped down to scoop up one of the jewels--they saw the ogre falter, stagger, but pulling a sack from his pack, was depositing the stone. He laboriously stumbled over to the other stone, he placed that in the sack too, and then the sack was on Caveheart's back. The ogre was before them, his face gritted
into a mask of rack and pain, but motioning them with his head.

There was no changing an ogre's mind--it was incredible to Kunk that Caveheart could stand there, laboring but still able to move.

He hoped the Aerie Needle was not far away.

The two companions had been stumbling for direction in turning,twisting, forking passages, all of a high ceiling and wide breadth for the last hour. They had been walking silently and quietly, Pyhrr thinking back to the magic he had seen in flashes, but haunted so about finding the source of his alarmed mistrust that he knew he and Damian were in agreement in finding a better leisure time to talk about the snow wizards,

Perhaps even Damian would have something to say of the legended Firebeard, the great wizard who had destroyed a whole enemy host and himself in a terrible snow blizzard created by a blow of his staff.

Their entry into the riddle passages of UnNamed Mountain had not been an immediate one,for Pyhrr in his hesitation had found himself reluctant to: leave the place the dead dragon lay. Pyhrr had looked hard
at Malcilis, with the sense of an uplifted, raised sword above his neck, forcing the image of the dead dragon into his mind, to keep it there to tell himself that the dragon Malcilis was gone now.  The chill
had increased at his shoulders in looking at the dragon though, and a grip came at his heart, not a tight grip, but a clammy, slippery grip, Damian's hand had drifted involuntarily to rest on the handle of Perilous also. The both of them would have preferred almost to See that still
dragon twitch an eyelid, and know that they had an alive horror rather
than a dead, chilling mystery to deal with, for mystery there was, with no doubt for  either Damian or Pyhrr. It was perhaps some final link to the magic of the Serpent Wizards that the two companions sensed and
were disturbed with, it was perhaps the magic of UnNamed Mountain at work
that had looked for Malcilis's death, that was creeping into their hands
and their chills. Whatever, Pyhrr could sense an impending unrest within
the mountain chamber, as sure as he knew that the restlessness in Turret had meant an impending invasion from the Serpent Kingdom.

Pyhrr was reflecting on Damian now as they moved in a hush of awakened suspense through the high chambers and riddled passages of

UnNamed Mountain.

Damian, he thought, would begin now to be called Damian Wand again--for even if he, Pyhrr, weren't to tell the tale of what he had Seen,the Serpent Wizards with their message circle would know that something
or someone had baffled them with potent magic,and would spread the word that it looked as if a snow wizard had returned.

Pyhrr was still in a mild daze about the surprise. Damian had come among the Turretians ten years ago, brought in an unconscious,starved,ragged state by an out patrol--Pyhrr had been a boy of ten
then and had been fascinated by the smaller, delicate featured face. He remembered he had presented his childish arguments that he wished to claim Damian for a brother, that they looked to be of an identical age, that
Damian looked like he was a prince from somewhere, and he was sure that Damian had a great many adventures to tell himself, Pyhrr,of. Perilous had been hung loosely about Damian's neck even then---the soldiers who had brought Damian in had called the boy Perilous because of the dagger necklace pendant--for the dagger, evidently magical
could not be withdrawn, nor its thong cut or lifted. But when the herb healers of Turret had seen Damian, and had seen the bright
yellow hair, the deep, lavender irises, and the delicate, small face,
they had dubbed Damian Glimmering Wand, for the rare mountain flower, whose fused yellow petals had slight slits in them to reveal an inner smaller purple corolla.  When Damian had finally recovered consciousness and had informed Pyhrr who perched on the bed he was
called Damian and that he had always been a wanderer, the soldiers name
went to the mysterious dagger that Damian always had with him, and the
healers' name had been forgotten. It had at first stayed briefly,
for Damian had seemed to like to roam a great deal, and there was no
more known wandering creatures than wizards, even Swan Guides, but Damian did not seem to be a true wizard child--not casting commands
at trees or doing feats of ire, but rather, companioning in boys' escapades with the Prince.

Memories flitted with Pyhrr as he pondered over Damian even
further. Damian had surprisingly been able to give the Turretians a
bulk of information about border peoples, and had been able to supply
details on black spaced maps--asked of his origins, the boy would turn
sharply away, grasping the dagger that none at that time but Pyhrr
knew housed a magic demanding death on its withdrawal, saying he did
not know. There had been another time, when they were fourteen,
on a visit to the Swan Guides, that Pyhrr had been immediately struck
with the idea that here was a people who were yellow-haired as Damian--
and with the same graceful frames too. The swan guides, however, were
tall, rather than diminutive, and their eyes were a sky blue instead
of the unusual wizard lavender of Damian's irises. Damian had kindled
to the guides, and it was only but a year ago that Pyhrr, two days on
the throne after his father's burial, had noted a sudden silence -
and startled awe among the throne's attendants. Looking up, he had

seen the craggy, menacing Caveheart--Pyhrr's surprise had even been
greater, when Damian, leaping up, had attempted an impossible hug of the enormous  ogre. Damian had introduced Caveheart, telling Pyhrr that the ogre had been his companion and earliest guardian in his
memory before his arrival at Turret, that Caveheart he thought had been dead in a dreadful fight with the Stone People, in which Damian had been wounded. No one had considered asking the ogre about his
past with Damian. Few had ever met him at the court, but Caveheart was so well rumored, he had been immediately recognized.

But now there was no question. Damian, somehow, somewhere was of the snow wizards--the lavender eyes ought to have been a dead
giveaway to that, but the wizards desertion of the Realm had been
that long past, that few living creatures could speak of remembering a true wizard, much less knowing the race's traits. Residents of the Realms, born tale tellers and tale listeners,had been more interested in the tales of the mystery of the wizards' disappearance than in what
the wizards had looked like. One popular version of the disappearance
was that the Jewel Dragons had made them flee, another that Great Gaunt
in a terrible battle of black, chaotic fury and wizard white savagery,
had destroyed the fabled wizard castle, Snowdrop. A third tale told
that a mountain, dripping with venomous magic, had poisoned the wizard population, always small, into extinction.

"Another turn." Damian's quiet voice penetrated into Pyhrr's
thoughts. Damian paused, then added, "Which way?"

Pyhrr, as he had done previously, halted to look at the two passages, and the cavern walls that, like the wind fanning their cheeks and hands, seemed full of Malcilis's personality. There were clawed
rocks, raked walls and ceilings from flashing wings, foul smelling
rock sploshed with !Malcilis's poisoned flame, and though these were
evidences, Pyhrr let more his sense of the dragon as he had first seen
the creature dictate his direction's choice--there had been an impression
of craft, of visciousness, of a malignance that never fully revealed
itself and depended on itself alone--Pyhrr's troubled self at Malcilis
had perhaps been the actual base for his decision to the risk in coming
to slay the dragon, for despite the overwhelming kingdom power of the
dragon's creators, the dragon Malcilis seemed far more unpredictable.

Pyhrr was about to choose the passage to the left, and they were about to enter it, when from it, there came with the wind the
sound of a long, drawn out hiss. The hiss fluttered in the sound
of the wind, and as the hiss died, it renewed itself to flutter.

The chill sharpened at Pyhrr. Almost he thought, he had in his grasp what he feared. He lifted his spear up, facing the tunnel. He didn't even look at Damian, whose hand had stolen to Perilous's handle.

Pyhrr whispered. "Could it be Ogolian's presence that has made us feel uneasy in this mountain?--No other cavern creature has that fluttered hiss." Pyhrr was ready to propose the other route and
perhaps even a rapid exit from the mountain--for in the darkness of the caves, there was no more deadly a creature as Ogolian--an immense tunnel maw--a long, multiple-fanged, slithering creature of a, dark black brown and a large,single orb, not so large or fierce as a dragon,
but deadly nonetheless for any man. Ogolian, too, was one of the unsureties of the Realms--serpentine, it seemed Ogolian would: have an affinity with the Serpent Kingdom, but the creature was reported
to be ruthless alike with any creature it came across while crawling
mountain passageways and the riddle of caves it was the reported master wanderer and ruler of, very rarely coming out of its deep
cavern depths to higher cave portions.

"There aren't any more black dragons." Damian shook his head,
reminding Pyhrr that it was common belief that it was the dragons
that had kept Ogolian in his lower tunnels. "Ogolian now no longer is a prince, but a king of the caves. It could very well be
his malignance that we have detected-we had perhaps better not risk this tunnel.

Pyhrr was about to agree--the hissing was not loud but faint,and Ogolian could not yet have sensed them, if it was indeed the tunnel maw. But then, and Pyhrr found himself surprised, he saw there was
ever so slight a tinge of yellow in the rock of the right passage. Immediately, his chill sharpened again and he knew it was the right
passage that they wanted, and that it was Malcilis he was indeed uneasy
about.

"Damian--the rocks! We aren't near the funeral fount, are we?"

Damian frowned. "We have done so many passages--I feel we must
be to the southwest of UnNamed Mountain--the fount source was to the
southeast base. That yellow rock--"

Damian halted, for the rise of yellow in the rocks was now a streak, and the glow was brightening where the tunnel receded. An
ominous rumble sounded somewhere ahead in the tunnel and once more
they heard the distant, fluttering hiss to their left. "Ogolian,"
Damian cautioned, looking to the direction they had come with a question
in his face.

This tunnel--we must," Pyhrr stared hard into the yellowed tunnel as if an answer might come laughing back. "We must--I am thinking of dead Malcilis again--we fought, with the dragon for our very lives,
but if you could but remember that gleam, and that glow of yellow in
Malcilis's eyes before we attacked him, and when he saw us. I would--" Pyhrr hesitated at saying his words, they were so preposterous and inexplicable.

“I would almost say Malcilis had anticipated his death."

"Yet why?" And Damian had been so startled by Pyhrr's new thought that he had addressed the question looking full with surprised
eyes at the prince.

Pyhrr for his answer went father into the

tunnel. Damian followed.

Part D

"I was never so glad to get out of a mountain in my life!
UnNamed Mountain is downright malignant!” Kunk glanced at the rising,
narrowed peak over his shoulder. "Malcilis while he was living
certainly chose home well! Dead end passages, rock slides almost
killing us, and all that after running down that mad spiral tunnel,as if the fierce old mountain is a cousin to Fire King, or something!"

"Hush!" Leaf snapped at the stumpdweller. If UnNamed Mountain is malignant it is close to us, and if its magic is indeed awry, it
might yet landslide on its exterior. Perhaps it will even throw
fireballs at us."

Kunk glared at the Woodlian. Not at all regarding his fellow traveler's admonition, he was about to growl for directions for the Aerie Needle, when glancing ahead he saw Caveheart, bowed, trudging in the general direction that Leaf had announced they would take. Kunk wondered what madness possessed him and Leaf to stay with Caveheart and the ogre's dread burden--then glancing even further ahead of Caveheart, and seeing Sidian, Kunk knew his answer. Leaf might be
an impossible Woodlian, but at least was trustworthy. Orme, after all, had asked Pyhrr to take Sidian, and even querulous Leaf had refused to wager with Kunk that the old throneguard would be throwing a feast the day after the prince's departure. There was no warm agreement between the prince and the throneguard on any matter but
Turret. Orme was a heavy traditionalist, easily suspicious, and an altogether almost ogre like man with the savagery but not the quiet intelligence of an ogre. The throneguard had been vociferously and
loudly against the expedition aimed at Malcilis from the very first,how could one jewel dragon, and particularly cowardly Malcilis, trouble the Snow Kingdom--hadn't the Realms for centuries been plagued with
dragons--most of them were gone now, and Malcilis was a pest to be disposed of later.

Orme's protests, of course, had been designed with the hope of
discrediting Pyhrr's bid to the throne of the Snow Kingdom and Turret,
for Pyhrr's decision, though risky, was no doubt a good one. It had however, Kunk thought, been the inclusion of the Prince Damian among the company that had gained Orme's grudging but still necessary
agreement for the quest. Kunk was no expert at games of state, but
it was easy to see that Damian was highly regarded as an unknown quantity in Turret. Damian's clear loyalty to Pyhrr made him an adherent of the prince's party that the throneguard didn't like to see increase, and just how powerful an ally Damian might be was a very unsure thing. But with both Pyhrr and Damian not in Turret,Orme could keep, and perhaps strengthen, the strong position he had had these two years. Kunk was not sure Orme was becoming fond of his responsibilities.

There had been some difficulty before getting started on the route to the Aerie needle.  When, after at last finding a welcome fissure in the mountain's base there had been some hope that in scouting the surroundings they would see the long yellow hair of Damian or the tossing brown locks of Pyhrr. Neither prince nor prince’s friend
has been seen.  A penetrating silence had come, the silence of worry,of anxiety, of
squinting eyes trying to make out forms at a long reach of distance and of dry lips that kept pressing into each other,
as the oddly varied quartet of questors awaited anew, as they had already twice waited, while making the descent through UnNamed Mountain after finding the golden horrorstones.

Yet Pyhrr not Damian had shown. A discussion had ensued, built mostly of uncertainties and unsureties. Pyhrr and Damian had been left
dueling with the Hooded King. But there had also been that strange crosscurrent of ideas at conflict riding in Pyhrr's face and voice when he had asked Kunk to get to the dragon jewels and plan on meeting at the Aerie Needle. There was the matter of the horrorstones, which Pyhrr didn't know of, and there was the possibility that there might yet be creeping Serpent Kind among the folds of UnNamed Mountain.

There was much worry and speculation about what was keeping Pyhrr and
Damian in the mountain so long, Sidian not making the discussion any
easier,as he had basked and smirked in a mirthful, satirical silence,knowing Kunk was helpless and guessing that Pyhrr could be too.

At last Leaf had volunteered to go back into the mountain to at least go as far back as the original cache area of the horrorstones
and leave a message f6r Pyhrr and Damian about the nature of the jewels. He could look for the two missing princes on his way, Leaf said, and since he was the smallest of the company,he could be careful on his way, and hide from any possibly approaching serpents. Kunk had given a reluctant consent, and Caveheart a slight nod of approval, hurting in his tortured visions. They all saw Leaf, grasping his bow and darts,merge into the cavern fissure again, but then it had been all too soon
that Leaf had returned. There had been a collapse in the caverns, Leaf
had reported, to get to the caverns again, would mean circling about UnNamed Mountains dangerous base and climbing the face of the
mountain -where they had ascended before. There would be much danger from the possible presence of other Octopythian patrols, and it would be disastrous to lose the horrorstones to the Serpent Wizards.

Caveheart at last had fumbled for the hollowed dragons fang that was a rune-decorated horn hanging from his shoulder. The jutting bones of the ogre's face turned white with the ogre's effort of concentrating on a single thought among the midst of the horrorstone visions.  Caveheart at last blew three notes, echoes of the calls mocking them everywhere from mountain valleys. Caveheart had in the meanwhile reversed the fanghorn listening to the larger end. He was then mumbling to Leaf that he had heard the dimmest echo of Perilous the dagger with the enlarged hearing of the horn, and that meant Damian
was alive, for it thus that Caveheart had first found Damian. On a hunt, Caveheart had blown his horn, and hearing a shrilled echo, had tracked the sound to its source, finding Damian as an unconscious
youngling among a camp of massacred Swan Guides, the strange blade on
Damian's neck.

This had decided them to be enroute to the Aerie Needle. If Damian were alive, then so must Pyhrr be. Caveheart had muttered
some dark ogreish words about Malcilis and that had been deemed sufficient answer as to why Pyhrr and Damian were being delayed.
That dragon, though cowardly, had been more devious than the blinds and twists in his own tunnel caves.

Kunk almost bumped into Caveheart. The ogre had stopped, Sidian had stopped some distance ahead, while Leaf was tentatively suggesting to Caveheart that perhaps the horrorstones should be hidden somewhere
along this rugged borderland wilderness--there were no serpent forms known to be coming, the party could retreat once they found Pyhrr and Damian, and he, Leaf, wasn't so sure of Caveheart's strength. No one
else of them could have brought the horrorstones this far, and if
Pyhrr or Damian had guessed at the nature of the dragon jewels, perhaps
they might have well decided on some way to destroy the gems.

Kunk glanced up at Sidian and saw the fair racer flinch at Leaf's last suggestion. So, Kunk thought. You are interested, I
hope you try something, the stumpdweller fulminated silently.

The ogre had taken no notice of Sidian, and his reply was a very simple one to Leaf. The powerful head shook once, and even in
his guttered utterance of one word in ogreish, Kunk and Leaf understood
the ogre to say Pyhrr's name. 

That, of course, was another reason why he, Kunk, and Leaf were with the ogre. It was surprising how much the prince was genuinely liked among the Realmists, and how readily he had handled the leadership of this quest for being so youthful. An exterior
impression of Pyhrr would sometimes give strangers the impression of a young man who had not yet defined himself, and with not enough strength of character to bring about his recognitions. Kunk, however had
been enlightened about Pyhrr's personality however, some four years ago having been  sent from his stump village to the Laced Wood with several other tale gatherers to bear there the tale books from
the ruins of a village that Malcilis had risen from.

Camping, stumpdwellers had heard the hooves of a steed galloping.
Stopping in their supper, they had seen a young man of sixteen galloping on a gray steed into the road aside from the clearing where they camped. The steed had stopped, and the young man was simply but well dressed in garb of dark forest browns and greens. The brooch at the cloak, the gleam of a jewel at the finger, the glint of silver in a necklace had told Kunk he was looking upon one of the Turretian princes,
perhaps even the Prince Inherent himself. Taking a closer look, he had seen that the prince was tall and slim, with a high, narrow feature face. The prince, not tall, but neither short, was still in the
slimness of youth. The prince's hair was thick and bushy, tossing
in the wind, and his eyes were arched with thick eyebrows. The brown hair was a shade paler than the common dark brown of fair racers, and the characteristic mild, wandering look that so often made others
mistake Pyhrr had been on he prince's face then.

The prince had not noticed the dwellers. Kunk had been about to speak when a smaller pony steed had galloped up, and with the
sound of the hooves the prince Pyhrr had shifted in his seat to give a greeting. Immediately then Kunk had seen a quick and bright flash or range in the eye. The orange had only been momentary, and he knew
then this was Pyhrr, and knew it even more when & bright yellow haired
lad had came up with the prince, that Kunk could instinctively guess as the well rumored and tale-inspiring Damian.

It was the orange flash of the eye that had intrigued the dweller. It revealed that there was a flame of character within the prince when he was stirred, and Kunk found himself watching for that flash often
when hailing the two boys and finding out that they were on a forbidden
lark, had invited them to the campfire. Lively tales had been exchanged during the evening, and Kunk had discovered that away from the throne room and Turret, a more relaxed Pyhrr could discard the somberness
that anyone would develop living in that court intrigue mad palace and the orange fire would flash often. The Prince Pyhrr had emerged from a youth into a man at the thresh hold of his reign and had pleased Kunk mightily when that stumpdweller arrived at Turret on embassy from Kneehump, Lord of Stumpdwellers, by a recognition and
memory of that campfire and the afterward visit to the beautiful Laced Wood. It had naturally developed that he had invited
Kunk on this quest...

Kunk came back to the present as a rumbling started coming in the ground.  Kunk began to say something about what a lot of nasty, restless mountains these North Peak were,
when Leaf's exclamation and Sidian's startled look of surprise made Kunk turn to see UnNamed Mountain actually rising and seeming to take on the ghastly yellow
hue of the funeral fount that was now absent.

"It is a volcano!" Kunk began to exclaim with bulging eyes.

 

"No," Leaf contradicted. "Perhaps because it is getting so close to the sunstar's sinking, the mountain seems yellow--see, its
neighbors have coloration too." Leaf's voice was calm, because the rumbles of fire had almost immediately stopped. Yet to their eyes,it appeared UnNamed Mountain was still shuddering and twisting, and
certainly now, the narrow, jagged peak had surpassed its neighbors in height. From their distance, they could see torn trees and landslides spilling from shattered ridges. The yellow glower was remaining however and as the mountain stopped in its movements, Kunk was saying in jerking words--"I never thought--I hope that Damian and Pyhrr are not still in that mountain."

"Perhaps the mountain acts in a requiem for Malcilis." Sidian suggested, sneering, as always, at any question or thought of the
dweller or the woodlian.

"No." Leaf interrupted. "There are many tales among the Woodlians about UnNamed Mountain, and I am supposing the fair racers have their tales too, It is an evil mountain if mountains can be evil. There
have been foul deeds done there, and we ought have guessed at the
outset what kind of dragon Malcilis would show himself to be, when
the dragon chose UnNamed Mountain as his dwelling."

"UnNamed Mountain." Kunk repeated the name, as the four still gazed at the phenomenon, wondering if the mountain were going to burst its cap to emit a fire. "There are stumpdweller tale scholars who say that many of the tales about such mythical mountains of the Realms as Mad Mountain, Churning Mountain,and Dying Mountain are actually all about UnNamed Mountain. The story is that there are so many venomous names the mountain can be named and described with, no one name has stayed." 

"A sober tale among Woodlians is that the mountain finds ways to kill those who are so bold as to name the mountain," Leaf reflected.."what do the fair racers,say, Sidian?"

Sidian looked at Leaf with a characteristic smirk. "That woodlians and stumpdwellers named the mountains and forgot to name UnNamed Mountain. "

A shadow passed over Sidian. The next moment there was pain in his shoulder as a heavy fist seized him. He started, and saw the
fierce glare mixed with the omnipresent pain on Caveheart's face.  He had forgotten that it had been Pyhrr and Damian who had restrained Caveheart before. Sidian jerked from the heavy hand. “That is one of the lesser tales." He apologized gruffly, not adding any more.

Kunk was about to ask the ogre what the ogre's version of the name was . He decided that it was better not to and on this note of the tales of UnNamed Mountain, the party continued their route.

PART E

Damian and Pyhrr were stock still. The cavern vaulted high over their heads and the entrance they had used was minuscule
compared to the arching black hole across from them. This room of the caverns that the yellow glowing rockway had brought them to
was clearly the largest of the cavern chambers they had either of them seen in UnNamed Mountain--the two companions knew they were deep, low in the depths of UnNamed Mountain and wondered if this vault, undoubtedly Malcilis’s lair, was also the heart of UnNamed Mountain’s magic. Dome-shaped, the room could have swallowed a
small castle--there were piles of rock in various locations, all evidently piled with proportion in mind. Pools of water were at
the base of each rockpile but were yellow and foul from Malcilis's use. But what Damian and Pyhrr were keeping their torches lifted towards, their very breaths almost stifled, was the high smooth slab of rock across the vault some four hundred feet distant. This slab, like a vertical altar, rose three fourths the distance of the
ceiling--it was of a pale white color, roughly triangular in shape,and easily more huge than a castle gate. But it was not the hulking shape of the rock, or the glimmer of the white of the rock against the shadow of the cavern that were keeping the breaths of the Snow Prince and his companion tightened, but rather, it was the polished yellow incisions, the patterns of large-sized inscriptions,the cuts of yellow dragon flame covering the entire slab of stone.

Pyhrr, wondering at the rock, afraid to speak his guesses,saw a dragon image repeated often in the figures, and to a lesser repetition, he could also identify a dagger appearing in the upper
section of the tablet, while in the lower portion, he was alarmed to see the silhouette of UnNamed Mountain appearing. Malcilis had undoubtedly been the designer of this incantation for the figures
were the deeply cut, smooth grooves of flame, burnished in the glittered yellow that allowed them to see the large figures from such a distance. The mystery about Malcilis, Pyhrr almost foundered
inside himself, was more haunting and disturbing than ever.

It was Damian, speaking in a low, carefully considering voice, who gave voice to their common, overweighing thought. "Dragon runes." The blonde wizardling whispered. "There are so few tales about them."

"Such tales are few because tales of runes were whispered only among dragons,” Pyhrr continued Damian's observation, both of

them still staring at the luminous rock.

"Thrace of the Black Dragons was the only recent dragon known to have practiced the dragon rune. Before him, three centuries back it was Noira." Damian paused, then continuing their speculation, said
"The oldest tale of the Realms deals with dragon runes."

"The story of the silver cave with the runes that was the home of the great white ice dragon, Great Diamond," Pyhrr identified the
tale. "Great Diamond was the sacred dragon of the Snow Wizards, was he not?"

"Yes, When Diamond died in the seastorm he flew to battle, his death brought the decline of the wizards and the advent of the Serpent Kingdom."

The two reflected on the dragon of the centuries-old tale and the tales spinning out of Diamond’s death ‘that had shaped so much the history of the Snow Kingdom. Before, centuries and centuries
back, the Snow Kingdom had been of much greater realm, while the
Serpent Kingdom had been but a small, forested haunt on a mountain
in a harsh wilderness known as the Whitened Serpent’s Lair. The Whitened Serpent, so far as any knew, was but the name of a huge serpent skeleton rumored to have been found there. Yet, back during Diamond's
time, there had been one Vollice, an enchanter, a man escaped to the Whitened Serpent's Lair from the murder no less of a Snow Wizard, bearing the ice-frosted dagger beneath his cloak that had slain the too trusting and too kind wizard Cunliffe. 

Diamond, whose oddity had been a protection of the Snow Wizards, had in great slashes
of white flame,flew to seek the fled enchanter with a sure and knowing
dragon eye on the Whitened Serpent's Ruins, when that glassy green sea tempest had risen up on the north shore of the known but little seen sea that bordered the High Mountains where Snow Drop nestled on the
edge of Winterscliff. The threat of the extinction of all the Snow
Wizard population imminent, Diamond had turned from his prey to try to
do the impossible. Diamond had succumbed, perished in the seastorm that had at the last moment swept back to sea. Whether or not it was Vollice who had summoned the great ocean fury, it was not known,
but it was pointed out Vollice's escape from Snow Drop had been done
in a black, swirling tempest, and that that had indicated a very rare mastery over the elementals of the Realms.

So it was, that the Serpent Kingdom came to be. It was shortly after Diamond's death, that a band of snow wizards, all glittering
blue eyes and riding snow white steeds, had arrived at the Whitened Serpent's Lair,

unleashing all the white fury at their command at the foul demon Vollice. The wizards had retired to Snow Drop avenged
leaving a black-faced Vollice dead with a great icicle spear riven into his chest, and
the Whitened Serpent wilderness a hoary, snow-blasted ruin. Yet the wizards had missed a misshapen serpent-featured man, fleeing the lair with their arrival and bearing with him a sack of books. 

The creature had been Junjo, borne it was said, of a hideous serpent mate either Vollice had used his arts upon, or that the
wizard-slayer had agreed to pay the price of a conjugal act with, to have a sanctuary among the Serpent tribe of the Lair. It was that self same Junjo who had kept hidden, founding first the Clan of the Hiding Serpents, breeding all manners of Serpent creatures, from Octopythians to Stalkslinkers, sending them on raids of death and poison.  It was also that self same Junjo, grown old, but grown too in his
powers of enchantment taken from Vollice's writings that had brought his kind back to the ruin of his sire's death. The
terrible, hideous band had continued to thrive for when the Snow Kingdom rulers, about to embark on an expedition to exterminate the marauders, would mount their armies, it would only be to find that
a neighbor kingdom was forcing itself at another of the borders, or
that a rebellious noble were loose. Or, if an ambitious nobleman were yet just forming his plot, and the borders quiet, then there would come one of the unpredictable snowstorms that would assail the kingdom
to the point of no travel. Before long, it was not attack but defense that the Snow Kingdom princes found themselves coping with, for Junjo now seemed bent on making all the Realms serpent ground. When news had
come of the death of a very advanced and aged Junjo, the Snow Kingdom,
having already lost several border properties, had hoped that his heir might be less militaristic. But this fortune had not favored the Snow Kingdom--instead of peace, it appeared as if that hideous act of
union of Vollice and his serpent mate had created a virulence and potency of magic increasing with each new ruler on the Python Throne, coming to a new high zenith with the twin sons of Lurkthroat. Now the Snow Kingdom was at a third of its former size, and Turret, once the fair flower at a central location, was now the easternmost outpost of the Snow Kingdom, located as it was on a great, almost isolated
peninsular plateau high on scarcely scalable cliffs, rising above a forested swamp full of serpents, and linked only to the Snow Kingdom by the narrow neck of land at the west known as Pallio's Walk. 

But for all the loss of territory, the decline of the Snow Kingdom's populace before the invasions and the battles, and the evident spread of the Serpent Kingdom, the princelings of Turret and the Snow Kingdom still persisted in passing on to each other a tale that it was not sheer militarism that motivated those seated
on the Python Throne towards the spread of their kingdom. It was not hate alone either, a father would explain to his sons and daughters,nor anything as practical as overpopulation or specie survival, rather
the motives of the Serpent Rulers were as mystical as their powers and the source of their hold over golden horrorstones. Three Snow Wizards had bent themselves, it was known, to discover the passion that kept the Serpent Kingdom thrusting itself forward but all three wizards had been slain, poisoned. It had been suggested that perhaps it all led back to magic, and that perhaps it was either a spread of land or a certain kind of mineral to be mined that the
Serpent Kingdom spread itself for, to be able to grasp magic and the
power of magic. But no, it was insisted, just as a sliding sound along a stone wall in a cave meant a serpent racer was getting ready to use its fangs, and just as poison permeated the body of serpent
kind, so was the motive towards kingdom spread of the Python Throne just as poisoned and full of hint.

Pyhrr forced himself to return to the present and he knew in
looking at the mysterious runes, that his feeling of ultimate dread
and lurking surprise was seeing itself carried to the full. "Yet--
Malcilis--Damian. Think what it must mean--that Malcilis was a
practitioner of the art. It means, it can only mean, that Malcilis
was not at all mad, and remember too, only the most noted and powerful
names in dragon history have known to be rune masters. Malcilis,
we can't deny it in the face of this evidence, was a master dragon.
Now more than ever--" Pyhrr paused with his thought. "Now more than ever do I feel uneasy about Malcilis's death. Dragon princes were never slain by any Realmist--they always died from dragon battles or
age."

Damian uttered the word that Pyhrr had all along not been wishing to acknowledge to himself. "Magic. Malcilis is working some kind of magic"

"But Damian," Pyhrr tried to protest this thought. "If Malcilis was indeed working with magic, he was working with death magic--and there is not any magic so potent! Why, you have Perilous--you know! Death
magic is also the most dangerous and unstable magic to work with--one of the few things we know about the Serpent Wizards, after all, is that they have devoted their wizardry long and long again to death
magic--their prolonged lives tells us so."

"Still--"Damian began to return.

Pyhrr was struck by a thought. "Can you read the runes?"

"No." Damian was still studying the insignias. "What is worse
for us, is that no one is sure what dragon runes are for, though I
have always leaned to the Swan Guide story that runes mean dragons do practice magic."

"But among the fair racers, the tale is that dragon runes are dragon tales. Further, there isn't any tale with dragons practicing
magic--perhaps Malcilis has tried in his death to turn upon his
creators. The Serpent twins are the first of their kind to have created dragons and may have gone too far."

"No," Damian returned again. "Again, among the swan guide tales,there is a rare tale about an old book compiled by one of the older snow wizards, Snowfrond. It tells that Snowfrond went about collecting
dragon rune records, and that he had written that there was such a thing as runes on slabs of stone that were vertical and that were horizontal. Snowfrond believed one was the work of magic spells, and
the other the tales dragons told. The book has long been lost, no one knows where Snowfrond interpreted the runes within the book. But it was the wizard felt that the vertical slabs were the slabs of magical
spells.”

"If your tale is true," Pyhrr's brows lowered over his eyes. "Then that means for Malcilis of all the jewel dragons to be the one to practice the rune art is something serious indeed. It is now more important than ever for us to try learn what the serpent wizards have designed in the jewel dragons, and perhaps even more important, to
learn what these dragon runes mean."

All was cold, the two companions, filled with each other's thoughts, began to pick a descent to the floor of the sunken bowl, with Damian stopping periodically to sketch the runes on a parchment he had
produced from his gray robe. Pyhrr, not saying anything, was more conscious than ever of his alarm and the serpent wizards.

It was at the final descent to the floor when it happened. Pyhrr and Damian one moment were holding their torches high studying the high,rising slab of stone, when, Pyhrr, starting to raise his
torch higher, felt a sudden wrench in his head, as if a hand had entered there and was grabbing at his mind. Staggering from the blow,Pyhrr immediately thought of some type of attacking,magical force,
and cried out to Damian. He found a dizziness starting to steal into
his mind as he fell to his knees, but glancing up, was startled to
see Damian’s hand quickly lifting out and sending one of those odd
rings of blue out at himself,Pyhrr.

Pyhrr tried to dodge the ring, but dizzy and weak, he only fell into it. His fall, however, was if he were passing into a sheet of ice and instantly Pyhrr felt the black clench pass away from his mind as he collapsed. He drew himself up weakly, drawing his sword, Cyull, trying to understand what had happened. Then, attracted by a familiar. crackling sound, he looked up to see two rings of purple
and blue eliminating each other's energy. Beyond those rings upon the ledge where he and he and Damian had just been, there were two heavily cloaked, hulking figures--one was in black, the other in a dark violet purple.

The Serpent Wizards. Deathmind and Veilchoke--fully alike but for
their robes, the serpent wizards were in fact black and purple versions
of snow wizards, with less crooked frames, and violet orbs instead of
lavender eyes. Thin and hooked nosed, narrow-featured in swarthy faces,
black-haired, with high peaked hats and swirling robes, the twins were
reputed to be the fullest masters of mind and death magic to be within
the Realms. That they pursued the possessions of those dangerous jewels,
golden horrorstones, told its own tale of their evil. Their presence
told Pyhrr that something of tantamount importance regarding this
cycle of the phase of the Jewel Dragons was pre-eminent in shaping the changes within the Realms, for the twins to both desert the
Double Pythoned Throne mean an event of impending significance. Pyhrr
realized then that the wizards had used their phantom gem mind magic on
him and that Damian had repelled the spell. He also realized that the wizards were regarding their enemies much as would a beast on its prey, disdainfully waiting for he and Damian to try a motion of escape
or of attack.

But Damian's quick action was not what the wizards nor Pyhrr had expected. With another jolt in the earth starting another series of
rumbles within the cavern, Damian was leaping, crashing into Pyhrr,dragging them both to the ground. In an instant, purple spheres of light were raining down from the ledge above. Damian dragged Pyhrr
who was still dizzy to a low area by one of the rock piles, and instead
of lashing back at the purple elementals, thrust his hand out towards the slab of runes. A great blue ring leaped out from Damian's hand,and in an instant the slab was covered with a sheet of ice, and the
runes were obscured. The cavern, growing in the severity of its shaking, was now filled with twin snarls of a terrific and hissed rage. Pyhrr,still fighting waves of dizziness, realized with an even stronger alarm about the dead Malcilis, that the runes were what had drawn the Serpent
Wizards. 1Instinctively, he felt that Damian's spell of ice could not be dissolved, and he felt a relief that at least the wizards would now
have an unidentifiable worry about the yellow dragon too.

Yet now, a great sound of air filled the tunneled dome and Pyhrr raising with Damian saw that the Serpent Wizards had in some way. sailed through the air to land before the two. Damian blocked another two
bolts of purple with equal bolts of blue. Pyhrr,taking a rock up, hurled it at the two seven foot terrors, but the stone was canceled in a purple bolt.

Veilchoke, all swirling purple drapes, was drawing out a great black ax, and was striding forward into the bolts as Deathmind, using his eyes, his throat's gems, and both his hands increased his bolts of purple elementals to keep Damian entirely occupied. Pyhrr drew Cyull, and ducked beneath the sweeping blade of Veilchoke's ax, Heartslice,ignoring the pain in his head. Heartslice, however, was magical. It
crashed into the stone, shattered the rock, and Pyhrr, ducking from the return sweep, was struck in the head by a shower of rock. Stunned,falling to his knees, knowing a sweep of blackness rushing in, he
saw Veil Choke bringing down the ax Heartslice to finish his foe.

But there was a sudden lurch of rock beneath Pyhrr, and sprawling,
the prince felt himself lifted upwards as he saw the force of the disjointed
rock fling Veil Choke backwards. The rock Pyhrr was trying to gather
his senses on rose higher with the prince, and dazed, looking down,Pyhrr saw that Veil Choke had been injured in his fall and was staggering about the cavern chamber, grasping his back. Dizzy and groping to keep
his senses awake, Pyhrr saw too that the strange spherical battle between
Deathmind and Damian was so intense now, a white heat was beginning to drift off the combatants. Their duel reached a higher pitch even now,for Deathmind was turning entirely into a purplish hue and was emitting a glow of phosphorus from his person. Damian, even more astonishing,
was turning into a pure white, his small height emitting a less high,
but a more intensely bright radiance of emitting magic. Sparks of purple, white, blue, and scarlet started showering outwards from the impact of the pure emitted energies of the wizards’ minds, and then Damian’s arm in a wave of white was going towards his  neck. There was a flash of blinding silver and the terrible high-pitched singing of
Perilous the Blade came, as the dagger was flared with the magic of wizardry into its own death magic. The blade became elongated with the white glow and there was an incredible sparkle of green as the
blade impacted into the magical penumbra of Deathmind. There was a wrenched shriek and Deathmind was lunging back, his penumbra
crackling and flickering, his purple orbs becoming a winking scarlet.

Then another sense, a sense of alert, told Pyhrr to look upwards and as he looked he could hear a great quivering, shaking hiss that was too near and too close. He looked up to see the great-bodied Ogolian
emerging to slither out from one of the cavern holes. The great single eye was swirling with colors. Pyhrr tried to call to Damian,but stronger than his try was the call of blackness to Pyhrr's mind.

 

Section F

The Aerie Needle was of a remarkable geography. Even Kunk,a Stumpdweller, could see that. While not a mountain, the spire of
thin rock with its great height was pre-eminent in the skyline and the quartet of questors had seen the Needle long before arriving at its base.  Trees poked out at dizzy, clutching angles from the rock and though the trees were reputed at one time to have nested Bugle Owls, there was no sign at this time of the large yellow birds.  The base of the big column started some three fourths of the distance up the slope of the mountain they had stopped at the base of, and looking up, Kunk could see the rock soaring up into a slightly tilted angle.  Even more dizzying was the large, bare point of rock angling even more out into space.  The stories about the Needle were ones of wizards, harpy parrots, and the site where the lovers Delun and Sythia had killed themselves during a pursuit by a lieutenant of Veil Choke's. Indeed, another well known name for the Needle was Delun's End.

The party shortly before had entered the area, and Kunk was making the fire, while Sidian was gathering firewood. Leaf was up
climbing the rock, scouting the area, and looking for a sign of Pyhrr
and Damian. Caveheart, an alarming grey upon their arrival had retired to a small cluster of the large, heavy trees heavily entangled in what was called drape moss, the ogre indicating he wished to be alone with
a most definited and forbidding ogre stare.

Kunk, looking at the massive heavy trees with heavy, curtain like
moss, felt the area was pregnant with silence and mystery, and grumbled
to himself as he continued his fire, wondering again, despite his
loyalty to Pyhrr, just what was going to happen to him and just why
he had let his king, Kneehump, ever persuade him to be emissary to Turret. Further, although they were not in sight of that malicious mountain, UnNamed Mountain, anymore, they were but a stiff hike's day
distant. Even more, being here at the Aerie Needle was in fact putting them all the more closer to the High Winter Peaks, something that Kunk had pointed out to Leaf in the most grumbling of Stumpdweller tones.
Everyone, Kunk growled, knew that the Winterscliff palace of the snow
wizards had crumbled into the gorge it overlooked, and that the wizards
had disappeared even before the dragons, who could even begin to guess what lurked in the Snow Mountains now. He thought he must be the most thickheaded of Stumpdwellers and Leaf the most vacant headed of Woodlians
to have come to such a far placed area and whatever could have Pyhrr meant to have them all meet here?

There was a slight twig's crackle behind Kunk. It was followed by another slight crackle. "Well, Leaf, you silly Woodlian, did you see any sign of Pyhrr. You and I both are in sore need of seeing
either he or Damian, because Caveheart will not listen to anyone else, and Caveheart is definitely looking bad." Not receiving any answer,Kunk went on fiercely and gruffly, still bending over his stick and
his flints, "I suppose you may have heard me grumbling. If you're mad, I'11 admit Pyhrr was smart picking this place because it lies
in such an unlikely direction. It also seems very little affected with any serpent tracery."

There was a third crack. The continued silence alarmed Kunk and he started up with an embered torch in his hand. He found himself startled to see what almost made him rub his eyes and wonder if a transfer spell had been cast upon him.

Before him was Sythia's ghost. He had heard the lovers’ spirits were to have haunted the rock, but the story had never been qualified
as evidence. Yet this pale, beautiful spirit could be no one but Sythia. She was not saying anything to Kunk yet, only gravely
regarding him, her long fingered maiden's hands laid over each other. Her garment was the palest, wispiest, and most floating of
sea greens, and the princess was close to six feet tall. She was narrowly formed with upswept yellow hair and the lightest of green eyes. Ghostly, her misted beauty took on the quality of a fine painting,
and Kunk realized why so many stories had sprung up about her even while she had lived. Kunk remembered now too, that Delun had been one of the finest of the Woodlian lords. Of an unusually tall stature
and princely background, Delun had met Sythia at Turret. Sythia up
until then had been worshipped and approached many times but not until
Delun had she returned any passion. The romance, however, had been
openly frowned upon by Woodlian and Turretian crowns. Then, when the
element of the purple Veil Choke had entered the story with the wizard's
conceived passion for the princess, the lovers had been doomed. The
lovers had eloped, hoping to reach the sanctuary of the wizards mountains,
but pursued to the north by a fiend Knavegruff, they had fallen short
of their reach.

"Stumpdweller." The ghost was speaking softly, and lady's voice
was even heightened with the softening of what must have been a musical
quality. "Stumpdweller."

"why--ah--yes, Princess Sythia." Kunk even found himself wondering if any would believe his tale. 

"Stumpdweller, beware the dragon tonight. The dragon flies, and the dragon flies here tonight.”

"Dragon?" Kunk was appalled. "What dragon?”
There are no dragons left. You, Princess, ah--"

"Have been dead for three centuries." A light smile crossed the woman's pale lips. "I am but a spirit, as is Delun. Yet as spirits we have some qualities that an orange oracle might."

Kunk could appreciate the princess's last qualification. "But what dragon--what dragon? Has some black dragon been overlooked that still lives?" Kunk asked in momentary glee, what a surprise that would
be for the Serpent Wizards.

"No." The image shook her head. "I dreamed last night--yes, Stumpdweller, spirits dream too, and strange dreams they have--of some
visitors coming to the Needle. When I woke, Delun had had a dream too. Delun had dreamed of a dragon--a shadowy dragon, but a dangerous one. I saw you coming with your companions, and I thought to tell you. Delun
is to the mountains watching for the dragon sign."

Kunk wondered if the princess meant to disappear like so many spirits did bearing messages, but she seemed inclined to linger. She was now sitting on a rock, telling Kunk to go to make his fire and to
cook, she thought she would like to meet his other companions, and to
hear of what news Kunk knew of in the Realms. Particularly, she said,
she wanted to hear of the dragons. She and Delun had not seen Great Gaunt fly for many a day.

Sythia was very sobered and clasping her long-fingered hands again after Kunk, hesitating, told her of the jewel dragons and the damage that they had done. She had glanced up at him sharply when he had
mentioned their entry into UnNamed Mountain, but had not raised any question. Kunk's mention of the golden horrorstones had brought another measuring look from the spirit princess, but she still did not interrupt him. By the time Kunk had finished describing to her their exit,
both Sidian and Leaf had entered into the camp, Leaf beginning to ask where the food was, then frozen equally with Sidian at the sight of Sythia.

"I am Sythia." She rose, and introduced herself. "Long ago princess at Turret, now a haunt of these rocks. Your friend Kunk
has told me of you. She cast another one of her searching looks at Sidian, for Kunk had not been discreet about his opinions. "My lord Delun dreamed of dragons last night and I of visitors, I bid you beware."

With Leaf, the princess was more curious. She and he exchanged several words about Woodweverill, The Laced Wood, and several other forest homelands of the Woodlians. She inquired about Coronostar the current Woodlian king, and traced Coronostar's descent from Delun.

She probably would have talked more of Delun, who Kunk could see was
still her passion, when the brush rustling, Caveheart, haggard, but
not quite so gray looking, slowly trudged to meet them. The grey eyes still had a look of affliction in them from the series
of visions that must be riding with the ogre.

Caveheart still managed a faint gleam in looking at Sythia. Kunk explained her presence, and was reminded of his bad manners when the ogre made a slight obeisance.

"I see, ogre, that you know of the Wizard's Well."

A traced, slight grin spread over Caveheart's craggy face. That
was when Kunk realized the horrorstones were no longer being borne by the ogre. At his look of curiosity, Sythia, her voice more reflective, and her face lowered to the rocks, recounted how in her last mortal
days the subaltern Knavegruff had been about to despoil the bodies of herself and her lord Delun after they had made their suicide's leap, and how, a snow wizard arrived too late, had delivered an ice elemental at the villain, destroying him. The Hooded King with his forces
coming up to seize the bodies, the wizard had delivered another ice
bolt, creating a great, deep hole to swallow the bodies. The bolt had been of a particularly fine magic, and the result had been that the hole had become a vertical cavern coated in a pure blue ice of snow wizard magic. The cavern walls thus far had canceled any magic within their
presence, and there was an entire pocket she and Delun had filled with golden horrorstones, so that playing children might not come to harm. She ended saying she could see Caveheart was a well learned Realmist
to know of the cave, and with that, gave another of her looks at Sidian.
Sidian, who had been listening to her intently, narrowed his eyes, then
with a swish of his soldiers cloak, walked away.

Kunk now served up a meal of drubkob and hetlish. Sythia told them of a close by spring for water, and on Leaf's return with filled canteens, surprised them by partaking of food and drink. She kept them enlivened, enthralled, she must have been a brilliant courtesan, Kunk thought, what a tragedy that she had come to such an early ending
in such a remote place. She was an accomplished tale teller, and in
reacting to Kunk's news, told them the tales of Great Gaunt during her day, and of the disturbances that had swept through Turret on the eruption of the newly born jewel dragons from Gaping Mountain. That
led her into more tales of other dragons and tales of mountains. She told them how Gaping Mountain had received its hole in dueling with Great Diamond, but that was a tale, she explained, she had learned
as a child--only Great Gaunt, what a  strange, terrible dragon he had been
after all-- had been the only creature among the Realms that must have known Diamond. She told them of Fire King's massive lava eruption, she told them of Noira's runes, and wove one of the most dexterous
scare tales of the Miasmic Marshes Kunk had heard. By this. time, the fire was needed now for light besides for cooking. Leaf and Kunk, and sometimes Sidian, interchanged sentences with Sythia during her tales,
and she seemed glad to talk. She was highly curious about Damian, and could tell them nothing of the disappearance of the Snow wizards. She wondered sometimes if perhaps Gaunt had finished the race,he was such
a curious dragon with such unexpected grudge oddities. With Caveheart,she seemed to realize that ogres were not given to speech, and if not talking with him in an exchange of looks, posed the questions she guessed
that must be in Caveheart's mind, then answered them herself.

Wind blew then, and the wavering of the flames made Kunk remember
the trees surrounding them, and where they were. He looked up to see
the massive silhouette of the Aerie Needle, and he realized then Sythia
had made her mind up to sit with them for the dragon's arrival. Kunk
looked fearfully around, and realized the others were doing the same. He posed to no one in particular as to whether they should perhaps ascend the Aerie Needle, but Sythia said that would clearly be dangerous.

The wind was growing stronger. Kunk looking up, saw clouds beginning to roil in black curls above them. The three moonstars of the Realms were battling with the clouds and lightning was struggling with dark,as wind began to increase and increase.

It was but a moment. The wind was suddenly shrieking, and all of them were seeking a tree or rock to hold in a crouched position as the great wind came. Light, beginning to seem the victor with the clouds,
was blocked out, and a huge shadow overwhelmed all in pitch black.
Kunk, filling up with imagination of the great size that Great Gaunt
was reputed to have been, glanced up, and there saw it, the shadowy outline of a great, immense dragon aloft, the wings flapping, the image all embroiled in the clouds that it winged above. The dragon image was continuing to fly towards the direction of the High Winter Mountains,
the wind continued to howl and to scream. Then, the gust dying down,
the five camp keepers were left with the fluttering fire and each other's
faces,staring at each other in wonder at the strange elemental of the sky they had seen, and wondering if the sky's elementals,
always completely unpredictable, were portending the future, or were echoing the past.

SECTION G

Perilous had stopped its shrill singing, but Damian, knowing that the dagger could -be sheathed because its death thirst had seemed
to be satiated with the delivery of the blade into Deathmind's penumbra,
still maintained his grip on the handle as he advanced on his fallen foe again, for he knew that the blow had not been mortal. His dagger arm, however, had taken in some sort of shock, and Perilous too, for both were feeling leaden and numbed. Damian knew however that he must finish Deathmind if he could--the magic of the Serpent Wizards was the strongest he had ever encountered, and he must take this opportunity to break the power of the Serpent Kingdom in half. The rumbling cavern was making progress towards Deathmind difficult however, and Damian was
finding it difficult to even move his arm. Then a great purpled figure was looming up from behind a rock, and Damian stumbled back from Veil Choke, raising hands to ward off purple elementals, and hoping Pyhrr had not fared the worse. But Veil Choke, instead of trying to avenge his brother's wounds, was now spreading his arms, his robes flapping and flapping in wind of magic, and another purple penumbra emerging from him. Then, in all the shaking of the cavern, and the
sloshing of the yellow pools, Deathmind, as if frozen in his fallen position was lifted up into the air as by some invisible magical hand--Deathmind was glided over towards Veil Choke, and Damian, now with
prickles at his neck and his spine because he he had just heard Ogolian's hiss, witnessed another power of the mind magic and the death magic of
the Serpent Wizards, for he saw the two wizards now fuse as if into one.
There was a swirl of smoke and a great eleven foot Veil Choke loomed
over Damian with black smoke emanating from himself. A grim smile came
over the lips of the twin-souled phantom and with a swirl of robes, the
great wizard giant brought his spread arms together and disappeared before Damian's eyes.

Damian, however, had no time to think upon this newly discovered ability of the serpent wizards to absorb each other when they were
wounded. He whirled about, sending immediately two blasts of blue
elementals at the direction of Ogolian's call.

The monster was too close and too powerful. The creature was but a hundred feet away, and the great eye that moved as a whirlpool of colors sucked the elementals into it. The great mouth opened and never had Damian seen such ferocious fanged jaws, even in dragons,
for Ogolian was heavily and multiple fanged. Damian leaped, and the great head came smashing into the wall. Damian tried to 1ift his arm and now found it completely numbed, feeling as if it were two feet longer and dragged to his foot.

"Pyhrr, Pyhrr!" Damian called, backing to the wall, and clutching his arm, desperately looking for the Snow Prince in the yellow washed chamber, watching in horror and searching his mind for a wizards trick,
as the great tunnel maw arced high up into the vault,describing a great slowly curling loop with what was probably a third of his body.

The great body froze for an instant, as the multiple forked tongue came to flicker out into the air. Damian realized he was finished with Ogolian for there was no escaping that tongue. His memories of
his past crowded into Damian as Ogolian paused at the brink of his arcs description, images of Pyhrr and Caveheart crowding most into his mind. "Pyhrr! Pyhrr!" Damian shouted again.

Now Ogolian's great head was turned to look at Damian. The eye roiled, then roiled again, and then, swooping, Ogolian came in a
rushing, swift dive towards Damian. Damian tried with his left hand to 1ift Perilous, but the dagger seemed wounded with the crash into Deathmind's magic too, and would not flare into its death singing. The mind crush Deathmind had sent at Pyhrr earlier must have severely hurt the prince, the cancellation elemental he had sent to heal Pyhrr may have been seconds too late. This terrible tunnel maw seemed much more awesome and terrible than Malcilis--what had this underlair creature feared from the dragons?

A trumpet sound, filling the dome, came. With incredible grace and agility for such a huge size, Ogolian described a sudden swerve
in his descent, and froze in his looped posture to funnel his eye's radiance towards another entrance. Damian, but only twenty feet from a bulging coil of the tunnel maw,  pressed closer against the wall,hoping not to be crushed by the body. Across the cavern, he could see that the light radiating from Ogolian's eye lit a chariot a dull black and of stone. The charioteer who was there was dark, but one of
the fair racers. He was tall, knotty, black-haired, in a brief tunic,he carried a whip over his head that commanded a pair of creatures that were horse-bodied and dragon-headed. The charioteer brought his
trumpet to his lips again, to blow its call of challenge again. In return, Ogolian's jaws rippled, the rippling hiss came into the cavern, and a red light filled the cavern as the swirling colors of the eye
all turned to red shades. The charioteer was some sort of recognized and hated enemy of the maw, Damian guessed, and now the maddened Ogolian was descending in a furor at Damian's rescuer.

But then as if there was no need for the wheels after all, the chariot leaped into the air as the winged creatures, curving, leaped onto Ogolian's ridged back.

Ogolian looped towards his back, the chariot continued to whirl up the ridge and more of Ogolian's body slid out into the vault. The chariot rode close up to Ogolian's neck, then flew off into the air. The charioteer then began to guide his vehicle in a circle around the wall of the dome, and Damian wondered that the charioteer didn't fall out. Ogolian described loops, made low swoops, high arcs, an incredible maneuver of rapid ripples, and lightning thrusts of his head, the red glow of the eye growing intenser and intenser, the quivering hiss becoming more rapid and throaty, as the tunnel maw went after that chariot more dexterous than a Bugle Owl's flight.  The dragon horses were commanded for a burst of speed, they shot into a vault's opening, and Ogolian, streaming his body into a long arrow, poured his body into the hole, the tail now spilling out into the vaulted dome.  But even as the tail went slithering into the tunnel, the black chariot
appeared almost as quickly as the serpent wizards had vanished earlier.

The knotty limbed warrior, a good foot taller than Pyhrr, leaped over his cart's side, grasped a startled Damian under one arm, as Damian stared in surprise and study at the prancing, dragon horses, no larger
than white-maned steeds, but with great curving, luminous feathered wings. Damian in all the rapid movement and the sound of the rumbling cavern tried to tell his rescuer about Pyhrr, but as soon as Damian
was dumped without any dignity onto the chariot's flooring, they were moving rapidly again. Damian got to his feet, ready to grasp at the warrior's elbow. The chariot, however, was whirling to a stop, and
Damian felt himself feeling as if he floated in water. Then he realized the dragon-horses were fanning their wings rapidly, holding the chariot in mid-air. The rescuer was leaping over the side again, but then
returning, was carrying a very pale Pyhrr over his shoulders.

Now the rescuer was looking down at Damian as he deposited Pyhrr on the floor. "See to your friend--Ogolian still Comes!" Damian had a quick impression of black hair, black brows, large, light eyes, someone about two years older than himself and Pyhrr, and someone with intense energy. The impression of energy stayed as the charioteer drew
his whip and turned to urge the dragon horses on again.

Damian glanced back, and indeed saw Ogolian's head was rapidly coming back down into the dome, the eye the most brilliant and glowering red Damian beheld. Again, there was speed, the flash of cavern walls
as pursuant and prey hurtled through the mazes of UnNamed Mountain.

Damian made one effort of sending as strong an elemental as he could summon in his good hand, but as before, Ogolian's Cyclopean eye merely sucked the elemental.

Damian turned to get to the floor, trusting  to his rescuer. He looked at Pyhrr, who was breathing unevenly, moving his head restlessly in a semiconscious state. Damian, feeling the numbness of his arm now in
his shoulder, tore at his own grey sleeve to make a quick wrapping around Pyhrr's blood-crusted head. Damian darted a quick glance  at his pale arm, and saw it tinged with faint purple glows. Damian looked at Pyhrr again, and placing his one good hand on Pyhrr's forehead, tried for a mind-meeting, a wizard art he had discovered with Vel's death, and was still trying to develop. Damian could only get a sense of confusion
and pain from Pyhrr though--and he remembered the reluctance of the decision he and Pyhrr had made to come slay Malcilis. The dragon jewels had seemed all important however, and Malcilis too unpredictable to
leave flying in the skies. But Malcilis now in his rune-art, and his death that had seemed so simple but was now so mysterious, seemed less diabolical while alive in his mad cowardice, and it seemed to Damian the quest had so far been nothing but futile death and injury. He only hoped that the sun pearls were safe with Caveheart and that Pyhrr would heal.

Their hurtling speed was rising even more now, becoming the motion of blurred walls, the great fanning wings of the dragon horses moving so swiftly the wind whipped Damian's yellow hair into streams and rippling the short tunic of the rescuer to expose even more of his long knotty muscle. Damian now was noticing his rescuer's sword, which
was surprisingly short for his height, and there was some kind of necklace
about the warrior's neck. Damian, prodding at his memory into his many visits to the libraries at the Laced Wood and at Stumpknoll, began to recall reading a race of fair racers known as Cavern Keepers, a race committed to an underground way of living.

A final shrieking thrust of speed darted them through several twisting passages and then the rapid chariot was at last stopped.
The walls of the cave where they had halted were now no longer yellow and Damian guessed that they were no longer under UnNamed Mountain.

The stranger had fitted two torches into braces on the chariot and now turned to Damian with a quiet authority. "I beg your pardon for having to make such a rapid journey, but Ogolian and the Cavern Princes
are mortal enemies--at each encounter, the maw grows more maddened and furied at our escape, and calls even more on great strength. Ogolian, you know, is a tunnel maw, and what makes them dangerous for underground dwellers is that with the beam of their eyes, a tunnel maw can broaden
any narrow passageway for its own girth. Tunnel maws, luckily, cannot map the mazes of the underground passages here, and consequently can get caught in a cross confusion when moving at great speed. Three
tunnel maws have we succeeded in killing these last ten years, but
Ogolian, the biggest and largest, has defied all our swords so far,--
Now, how is your companion?"

The Cavern Prince was one of those persons carrying out action while talking. He was bending over Pyhrr with Damian, and continued to talk. "I am Thad, Prince of Tunnel Tomb, capital of the Cavern
Keepers. I am guessing that you must be a swan guide, though I am still rather puzzled by you--at first I thought you a fairy child--who is your friend--I see he is Turretian--his wound seems bad." All
the while Thad's hands had been moving over Pyhrr, and now he was pressing his big hand slightly over Pyhrr's tossing head. "His good sword tells me he is someone of importance.” Now Thad was taking a
flask from his side and forcing it at Pyhrr's lips, and then offered
the flask to Damian.

Damian realized he was quite parched, then took the liquid, which he found to be a cold, clear water that created a tingle within himself.

"I am Damian, Prince Damian in Turret, but prince in politeness only." Damian hesitated, then deciding to tell some truth, said, "I am one of the solitary of the Realms, only recently finding out that I seem to be a wizardling or enchanter of sorts. Pyhrr is Prince Inherent of
Turret."

"A wizard!" Thad exclaimed. "Are you from Snow Drop?"

"No--I do not know of my parentage--the swan guides told me I was found in a swan's nest--later, when the wizard wandering urge came to me, I walked with the ogre Caveheart.” Damian was now unwinding his
makeshift bandage on Pyhrr, using his good arm. "You are of the Cavern Keepers, then."

"Ah," Thad sent Damian a quick, enlightened look. "You are well read in the Realms tales--not many know of us." Thad sent another look at Damian, "But what does the Prince of Turret do away from his kingdom,
and especially what does the Prince of Turret do in the dangerous undertraps of UnNamed Mountain and the lair of Malcilis? And was it you who ice-covered Malcilis's runes? Fortunately, for you, this is my hunt day for Ogolian, and when I couldn't find him in his usual haunts, I was able to trace  him to UnNamed Mountain." Then, Thad said in quickened concern, touching Damian’s purple hued arm in its remnant of torn sleeve. "I see you have hurt your arm. What have you two been doing?" This last question was tingled with concern and the curiosity of one who enjoyed adventures.

Damian gave a level look at Thad. "We have slain Malcilis." Damian followed this with a characteristic, brief hesitation. "The
Serpent Wizards threaten invasion of the Snow Kingdom, and Prince Pyhrr
felt that the power of the sunpearl dragon jewels must be obtained."

"Malcilis slain!" Thad exclaimed. "No wonder Ogolian roams and no wonder UnNamed Mountain tremors to its very undertraps.--Did you
get the dragon jewels?" Thad said this last so swiftly and keenly,Damian realized the Cavern Keepers were well informed of developments within the Realms.

"No--there were others in our party who took the tunnel stair of the fount to try to procure them--the last I saw of my companions, the Hooded King and an Octopythian patrol were after them."

There was a short silence. Thad began to say Yet you did not follow the King?"

Damian interrupted the prince. "It has been our opinion that Malcilis has always been the most dangerous of the jewel dragons, having craft and wile and madness. Pyhrr, when we were about to join the
tunnel's descent, felt his mind alerted to a worry about Malcilis and UnNamed Mountain--we felt we had to seek Malcilis's lair and look for clues--we found the rune-art stone--."

Thad nodded. "Your wounds--?"

"The Serpent Wizards themselves found Pyhrr and I in the lair." Thad sent another startled look at Damian. "Pyhrr has been hurt by a mind crush. I hope it has been severe and I hope I have averted the
death grip of the blow. When I used my dagger Perilous, which is bound
in death magic, to stab into the penumbra of Deathmind, my knife and knife's arm received a return blow."

Damian had taken his roll of black healwrap from his sack, and was wrapping it carefully about Pyhrr's head which Thad was obligingly
holding up. The healwrap was one of the medical crafts Damian had learned at the Laced Wood, "I must also thank you most graciously for your rescue of us." 

"Frustrating Ogolian is one of my great excitements. Perhaps one of these days, his fury at me will melt his great eye.--I'm sorry, I don't know the least about curing wizards, nor wizard wounds. Perhaps
if I made a sling of your black healwrap for you?"

This proposal was carried out, and the two without further exchange, concentrated on treating Pyhrr further. They dampened his face with more of the seep water from Thad's flask, loosened his clothing, and Thad brought from his chariot a large glossy fur cloak for a covering. Damian tried an attempted mind-meeting with Pyhrr, but was unable to reach him. Damian got an impression of flitting thoughts and hurt, but was unable to wade through it. "We have to hope for the healwrap." Damian commented, still bent over Pyhrr's face. "I am not sure any of the Woodlians herb masters could do anything for Pyhrr either--the mind
crush is powerful.”

Damian looked up at the concentrating Thad, who was studying Pyhrr's face. "You spoke as if you know of the dragon runes. Can the Cavern Princes read such?"

"No, but there have been times that I crept up to the lair to see Malcilis breathing his flame into the stone. I saw it created."

Damian decided to be frank. "The Prince Pyhrr and I are concerned
that there is some kind of added magic involved in Malcilis's death. It
is hard for us to see it that Malcilis would have succumbed so easily. Perhaps the wizards  designed some final magic in the death of the last of the jewel dragons. We have thought Malcilis mad compared to other
dragons, but when we saw the rune-art we have begun to think differently. Can you help us?"

Thad now looked at Damian, "The tale the Cavern Keepers tell each other about the rune-stone of Malcilis is that Malcilis, truly mad, and knowing his madness, desired death to escape it. We think his dragon's mind perceived some kind of design of the Serpent Wizards, and that he has created some kind of spell through the rune stone and his death, to frustrate their plans.--That sounds, of course, that we liked Malcilis, but remember, we have had Ogolian and the other tunnel maws to be wary of, who were kept in their lower lairs by fear of Malcilis.--But I am wondering, how I can best help you? You say there are others
of your party within UnNamed Mountain? Perhaps I can send some retainers
for them--Pyhrr--and you, Damian, need rest--I can offer you shelter
at Tunnel Tomb and even the serpent wizards do not know of the city's location though they have heard rumors. In that way--Thad's smile was malicious, Ogolian and his kindred have been obliging--keeping the
tunnels of any wanderers, even serpent kind."

"If Kunk with the others have fought their way through to the Hooded King and the Octopythians, they are well headed towards the Aerie Needle." Damian recalled another story he had read about the tunnel maws being bound to darkness. "Can Cavern Keepers emerge from the undergrounds?"”

"You have read, haven't you?"  replied Thad with another appreciative smile."Of course, many stories are not always correct with truth--and I think that perhaps you have read which was speaking too generally.

A good many of our creatures--and the creature foes such as Ogolian--
cannot bide the light of the sunstar--But Riannid and Giaszo there can emerge from the caverns. Our drahos, however, are our rarest
animal, will mate only every seven years and then have one offspring." The prince went on, "I could send my brother Callinger with his draho team to the Aerie Needle, if this is what you were thinking--we would
need a map though--the cavern keepers are fairly intimate with the Realms and Realmist races, but since we stay away from the surface, busy with our caves, there is some geography we do not know that well."

"Then," Damian looked meditatively at Pyhrr, and wondered what thoughts were passing through the prince. "Perhaps we had better go towards Tunnel Tomb."

The unconscious Pyhrr, who seemed more quiet now, was placed within the chariot again, Damian looked over the drahos, and asked if the caverns were inhabited by any other winged creatures. In the Realms,
Damian knew only of the dragons and the bird creatures who were blessed with wings. No serpent kind, outside of the Hooded King, so far as he knew, possessed flying ability.

Thad returned that there were some foul creatures called fang bats, and that there were a number of birds, such as a black hellbird, a heavy bird with vicious talons and large eyes. Thad then commanded at
Riannid and Giaszo to launch forth again, and Damian marveled at the beasts inexhaustion as they ran with an equal speed again, as if they were elementals, Again the trio hurtled down long passages, tunnels,
the rock formations blurring so and the turns they made done so rapidly
Damian wondered that Thad knew the different tunnels so well. The wind created from their speed blasted into their faces, fanning their robes into tosses and waves. They had just made another turn when Damian, looking up, grabbed Thad's wrist. "That red glow?"

Immediately, Thad called on Riannid and Giaszo to slow, and as the chariot wheels crunching into the dust became audible over the dying down wind, Damian and Thad saw that the passage had become blocked filled with fallen rubble and tossed rock. The scars on the rock were recent, and all of the rock was glowering red.

"Curses!" swore Thad. "Damian, there is going to be trouble. Ogolian is beginning to get intelligent and has raced ahead of us. He still doesn't know where Tunnel Tomb is and even if he did, I believe he would hesitate in attacking there. But Ogolian knows the proximity of the different tunnel gates and has lately been showing more cunning in getting to know the tunnels. We won't be able to get through the rock--Ogolian will have radiated the rocks with his iris eye, making them explosive."

Thad gestured to the drahos to wheel about. He whipped them to a higher speed and they sped right than left. Again, Thad found another smashed tunnel, and Thad exclaimed curses even more vehemently, and
rather uneasily. "Ogolian is trying to trap us.” Thad's face was frozen with thought, then grimly smiling. "Perhaps it is time for me to actually slay Ogolian,"

"Here." Damian used his hand to send an elemental, but as Thad had said the rock absorbed magic as Ogolian's eye did, and when Damian, using one of Thad's torches commanded a flame bolt to smash into the
rock, the rocks only fired momentarily, then settled down to glower red again.

“No use." Thad looked about him. "We've got to get going. The way is getting longer and longer for us to circumvent these blockades."

Again the drahos hurtled them through cavern passages, Damian surprised and amazed at the massive amount of cavern riddlery. Three times Thad made abrupt wheeling motions into three tunnels only to find them blocked with glowered rock, "It looks like I have teased Ogolian once too often now, and the maw's fury will be unsatiated until I and my drahos are smashes." Thad commented with a rueful grin. "If we're fortunate, Callinger may be
somewhere in the vicinity. But what we can do is to go to the Eleven Passages--I am myself not sure where all the passages go there, but that is such a central junction Ogolian won't have had time to smash up
all the rock, and wouldn't do it anyway, for maws can't undo their own blockages. Only mountain magic can and that is a completely fluctuating force.

Thad now urged Riannid and Giaszo to winged speed--his urgency communicated itself to the drahos and the tunnels screamed past them. Damian, however, noticed that the ceiling was rising higher and higher before them, and that now he could see a huge dome room with tunnel and tunnel coming into it. Thad had already made up his mind where
they were going, because now he cracked his whip and cried fiercely at the drahos--they shot spearswift into the room, an even greater, massive, vaulted dome chamber than Malcilis's lair--tunnels that Damian had thought as being close were shown now to be gaping openings several hundred yards distant. Damian wondered at Thad's
increased hurry, when glancing up and back, he saw a great, elongated shadow in the rising dome. Damian realized that there were higher tunnels coming into the vault than the one they had used, and just as Damian was going to indicate to Thad the shadow, the shadow moved. Ogolian from ambush came plunging out into a great rainbow description into the vault, his head almost reaching the other, and his body still
arching out from the tunnel opening. Ogolian's entire length was now in a great loop spanning high above them. 

The chariot made a rapidly jerking motion, the loop slammed down but a foot away from them. Then the drahos were shrieking and Thad crying inaudibly to Damian, as everywhere Ogolian's coils were all about,
threshing and jerking in great spasmodic motions.

"By caverns, he's bunching himself up!" Thad was trying to control the drahos, as all around them, above and any direction that Thad got the drahos to turn to, another loop came sliding in to coil with another loop, leaving less and less opening for flight. Several times in the tossing, twirling maw's body, the frantic drahos were able to
mount a loop, but Ogolian, as Thad had said, was bunching himself, and they were scarce able to escape the descending loops.

Now they could see no more of the dome, Ogolian's body itself doming them in tossing, twirling loops, with rare glimpses of the cavern outside. Damian using his good arm tried several strokes with Cyull
and Thad used a chariot spear. They both drew maw blood, but still the body twirled. Then there was a momentary gap in the loops, but the gap was reddened, and Ogolians head, so raged his throat had become crimson too, was merging inwardly. At the same moment, disaster occurred as one of the sliding loops smashed into the chariot. All the occupants were tossed out, and the chariot fell with one wheel flintered. Riannid and Giaszo, broken from their halters, were flying
towards the maw's head. Flames belched from their nostrils at the eye. Red smoke filled the maw-looped ramparts, and Damian drew up one of the fallen torches. "Get Pyhrr!" he shouted to Thad. Damian didn't
stop to watch for the other two, but running in the opposite direction of the head and the war cries of the drahos, he commanded several fire bolts at a slice in Ogolian where he had used Cyull. The loop
arched high up into the air with the pain and Damian rushed out from the maw's loops into the dome. Thad came behind him, limping heavily,blood streaming all down his left side. Thad was staggering with Pyhrr. He fell to his knees, saying thickly to Damian, "Ogolian's tongue brushed me. I had to--Riannid and Giaszo--" Thad was toppling
to the ground. Damian sent a mind blast at Thad and got a message of extreme hurt.

And then. Damian, with both Pyhrr and Thad helpless, and with Ogolian surely getting ready to envelop them all, found his mind
starting to go into the white heat that it had when he and Deathmind had met. Damian tried with his hurt arm to grip Perilous, but the wounds were still there. Grimly, he took a good grasp of his torch,
and lifting his chin, drained his mind to all but the wizard's flare. Damian was aware of a brilliant white, and Thad, hazy, crawling towards Pyhrr, saw the same luminous Damian Pyhrr had. Damian was whirling himself in a circle with the torch, turned phosphorous white--only Perilous
showed black, and Damian's injured arm glimpses of purple. Ogolian, at last disentangling himself, was still twitching his head back and forth at the drahos, still alive and spouting flame at Ogolian's eye.
Damian halted abruptly, his mind reaching the labyrinth of his magic, and jerking the torch, released a white bolt of fire that was not a regular rock crusher bolt, but was instead a wizard's snow fired bolt. Ogolian was struck in his throat. Instantly, the maw started backwards, rising higher and higher into the dome, a white fluid, splashing out
from the ripped throat wound, and even the eye turning white with the intensity of the pain. Damian whirled a second time, and shot another bolt at the lower part of the body. Ogolian rose even higher into the
dome, the elongated body going up and up.

Now something curious began to happen in Damian's mind. The pressure that had come at his eyes during his wizard's delivery lessened, and in clearing eyes, Damian saw that the tunnel maw, perhaps mortally wounded, must fall, and the fall would be a swoop to crush them. Even now, also,
the tail that still lay in the chamber was curling into a great encircling loop to come in for a second death crush. Yet in that same realization, a vision began to come to Damian--the vision was one of a frosted, cool, rose-hued wall, made up of rose mist and a series of white, geometric braces. Damian dropped his torch, and stepping back
close to fallen Thad and Pyhrr, spread out his good hand at the vengeful tunnel maw, The wall that Damian had envisioned began to rise up from the stony ground, starting to raise higher as it began to beam towards the top of the vault. Damian, still holding his hand out, pointed himself in four directions, and the three companions were
enclosed in the high, thin, vertical shaft, as the four red beams shot up towards the ceiling.

The tunnel maw's body came in from its two directioned death crush. The tail looped in to squeeze the wizard's beam, and Damian,
the white about himself cooling to leave him normal in his torn grey robes, watched Ogolian's body swell in size as it plunged spasmodically forward. But all that happened was that the shaft only glimmered as the body's forefront came against it, and Damian watched in fascination as Ogolian, with no sound penetrating the beam, slid shuddering down the beam, and the writhing coils of the tail still continuing to squeeze and strain for pressure. Ogolians' eye was now roiling in brown colors, and Damian could see that shakes were rumbling through the tunnel maw's body. Then Damian saw Riannid and Giaszo, flying high for a moment,
wavering and looking down at the three in the shaft, then darting to fly away. Sorry that he had not been able to rescue the drahos too, Damian turned to look at Thad an® Pyhrr both. But even as he went over
to his friends, the wizard's shaft began to release the red mist the walls were made up of, and the mist began to fill the shaft, beginning to 1ift all three Realmists upwards. Damian glanced up vertically to
see high over his head that the red mist was melting the rock in the
dome.

Damian realized he found another wizard's enchantment, unless there was some kind of unknown magic at work. Still rising, he looked down to see Ogolian, faltering, agonized, but still trying to finish his foes, as again and again he tried to raise to try to reach them, trying to send
his eye's beam at the shaft. Ogolian slid out of sight as they went higher up into the rectangular tunnel in the rock the ray had created. Damian, not trusting himself to tread on the red mist, watched with
surprise as the beam burst the dome, and he saw the nightstars shining in their multitudes of distance. The beam lifted them out to the ground and halting, Damian got his courage up, to slide Pyhrr off first, and then Thad from the beam to rest them against a tree. The beam Damian had found continued to glimmer.

III DAMIANS WAND

The firecamp had burnt low, long and late the previous evening.
The sky’s phenomenon that had appalled them all night had not appeared again,
though they had posted a watch the night's passing. Kunk had seen
three huge bird shapes wheeling with silent wings about the Aerie
Needle and knew he was seeing the large bugle owls. Praise Stumpknoll,
they hadn't been harpy parrots, one of the Realms' most malevolent
birds. Leaf had reported seeing some Fang bats, and Sidian, who Kunk
was secretly pleased to see with a white face, reported that he had
seen a silvery swan flying the direction of the High Winter Peaks.
The swan had been crested.

Sythia had started at the report--when Kunk, now quite familiar
with the Princess, had asked her what was the meaning of the swan, she
whispered lowly that the swan so far as she and Delun knew, was the only
creature who regularly visited the High Winter Peaks.

The princess was still with them, and hadn't disappeared as Kunk
had thought she might during the watch she had insisted upon performing.
Spirits, it turned out, slept too, Sythia not fading away into a tree
trunk or anything so fanciful, but simply lying on a carpet of moss,
telling them to call her for her watch. The princess had also been one
of the late night talkers, as instinctively huddling closer, with a feeling
of creep at their backs, the Realmists sat around the fire for the night
after seeing the sky's elemental. Sober dragon tales had been told.
Leaf weaving a tale of Quagmist's night descents on the Deepwater Swamp
of the Swamp People. Green mist had spread through the swamp, and
the great silent dragon that had never been known to roar or hiss as
the Miasmas did, had been seen winging low, touching wing tips and
claws to the forest tops. All the night long had Quagmist flew about
the swamp, no one knew how many times circling the place, and petrifying
every swamp person in fear. Sidian had contributed a story of the
black dragon Helleas, better known as the Night Slipper, destroying
whole castles and herds of steeds at night until slain in his own lair
by some mysterious unknown, rumored to be Gaunt. Kunk had brought out a
tale of Garish, who had used a red rain descending on the Stumpdwellers
to veil himself--an entire library of tales had been destroyed in the
ransack. Sythia had narrated another tale of Noira--the rune dragon,
who delivering a roar and a look of his slitted eyes, had caused the
entire face of Shard Mountain to landslide.

Caveheart, who had been listening silently to the different tales
had surprised them all by coming out of his withdrawn ogre's reticence and using ogre gesture and Sythia as interpreter, had told them an -
ogre's tale of Great Diamond that none of them had known. There had
been a mad forest in olden times, the branches of the trees writhed,
the trees released howls at night, and greedily devoured any inhabitants
or stray invaders of the forest who were not among their numbers. Perhaps
if the forest had stayed to its confines, it would have continued to
exist, but the forest was encroaching, and continuing to spread itself,
had killed other forests, ripping up anything in its path. Ogres,
fair racers, woodlians, stumpdwellers, all had tried fire, magic,
wizardry, but the omnivorous forest was too thick and too large to
grapple with-for a tree attacked mean twenty other trees attacking
the attacker.

The forest had been halfway up the slope of Copper Peak when
Diamond had alighted on the mountaintop. White dragon flame from the
dragon had set the forest trees afire. The flame had started to spread
among the trees, and some of the trees had stepped back to create a
gap from their burning advance. In the meanwhile an advancement of
lone trees had flanked on Copper Peak, and their great limbs stretching
out, had Diamond on a foot. Diamond had flamed the trees, but not before
the forest had gain spurted up the peak. A great shudder in the earth
had come--a huge, hulking, underground monstrosity--the source of the forests
madness--had come out--an earthsucker--a huge, leechish creature living
off the secretions of the trees roots and causing the trees in their
mad pain to seek other forms of nutrition.

Diamond's flame had failed to scorch the tough hided monster, and
Diamond had been dragged down into the Earthsucker's hole. The forest
had begun to lurch into an upheaval as the underground battle ensued.
Diamond had emerged after a three days earthquake, heavily scathed and
scored with pocks from the creatures suckers. The earth sucker was
presumed dead, for the dragon had flamed the forest at its heart, and
the sucker hadn't reappeared as the entire forest had burned.

They were occupied in conferring this morning. The place was
still prevalent with a feeling of desertion and abandonment but the
sunstar's light threw shafts of light into the thick wood, and mottled
the crevices of the towering rock of the Aerie Needle. Sidian had just
crisply suggested that the best thing for the company to do was to hie
towards Turret. That had been Pyhrr's instructions, he had sneered at
Kunk.

"Then hie towards Turret, then!" Kunk snapped back now, "Perhaps
even now, Pyhrr would like us to get to Turret, but I cannot return to
the capital until I know about the Prince. Besides Pyhrr did not know, as any of us didn't know, that the dragon jewels would be
horrorstones instead of sun pearls!”

"But the golden horrorstones, once at Turret, could well mean a
mastery over the horrorstones that the Serpent Wizards possess!"
Sidian's eyebrows arched. "We must get to Turret!"

Kunk glared at the solider. Never had so Sidian been so openly
aggressive. He wondered if some incident besides that of the silver
swan had aggravated Sidian into being nervous, "Are you going to
carry the stones?" Kunk asked sarcastically. "It would not be fair
at all for us to ask Caveheart to take that fearsome burden again,
Perhaps it is just as well that the stones stay in the Wizards Well."

Sidian glanced at the ogre, then to Sythia, and to Leaf. None
of their returned expressions were in the least encouraging. "Bah!
Sidian clenched at his spear and strode from the group.

Leaf looked after the Turretian solider. "But what are we going
to do, Kunk? We just shouldn't stay here. We ought to have a plan.
There is a chance--that Pyhrr--"Leaf didn't continue his thought, but
just let his voice trail into silence. :

"Your Prince Damian was there." Sythia observed quietly, her
smooth voice already making the atmosphere more comfortable. "I do
not know where your two princes are, and UnNamed Mountain is exceptionally
perilous, but I think you are right, Kunk, to wish to stay here. Perhaps
one of us should trace the route back to UnNamed Mountain to see if we
can find out what has become of the princes."

"Three days," said Kunk. "Let us give them three days. In the
meanwhile, should that elemental return, or something unusual occur,
we will consult again.” Then he muttered, "And let us hope Sidian
takes a notion to go to Turret.”

There was at that moment a rustle in the forest. Leaf looked up to see a tall, dark-garbed man with narrow, but noble Woodlian
features. Unlike most of the brown-haired Woodlians, this lord was
black haired with thick, arching brows, black eyes. The lord wore a
long bow over his shoulder and bore a blade as well.

Sythia had looked too. "Delun!" She leaped up, and Kunk and
Leaf wondered at the substance of the love in her, for now her faded
spiritual being was taking on the full color of living being. Delun,
who had just stalked into the clearing, was taking on a richer hue in
his garb and complexion too, equally effected. He was easily taller
than any of them but for Caveheart. His broad lips went into a hint of a deep internal smile as Sythia ran towards him, and his eyes were directed at Sythia alone.

Kunk wondered if this strange couple would disappear. But after -
an embrace from his love, and then whirling her off her feet in a hug,
Delun was advancing towards them with Sythia. His eyes were first on
Leaf.

Sythia tells me you are Leaf A1orn--you have the look of a
woodlian from the Evening Pines-is that not so?"

Leaf was delighted to find one of his own race, much less than
to actually talk to a woodlian lord who had figured in many of the
Woodlian tales. "Ah, Lord Delun, you are right. It is a pleasure
to meet you--but would I have lived but three hundred years back, to
have known your full being." :

"And a pleasure to meet you and your friends." Delun bowed
courteously, then turned to Kunk. "Sythia tells. me of the stones you
brought and of the sky dragon shadow the clouds created. Perhaps I
can offer some assistance--perhaps, it could be I who could go to
the Shadowed !"mountain and seek your princes. Sythia would stay with
you.

Kunk found himself surprised at Delun's offer. It was however,
a good one, He did not trust Sidian, Caveheart had done his share
already in bringing the horrorstones, and Kunk wasn't sure that Leaf
or himself alone would be able to handle an advancing Hooded King alone.

"It is most gracious of you, Lord Delun. But I--Kunk found
himself holding his words at his embarrassment. "But I," he essayed
again, and reddened at his thoughts.

""But--Stumpdweller--"Sythia flashed an arch smile, and Kunk
envied Delun this woman, spirits though they both were. "It puzzles
you that the Lord Delun and the Princess Sythia should concern themselves
with adventure rather than love."

"Not quite that," Kunk blushed and apologized, "But of that
essence."

"The Aerie Needle is our home, Stumpdweller." Delun was replying.
"you are harried travelers. It is natural that your hosts--remotely
located as they are in begin full flesh and time and geography--still
make an effort to make your worries at ease. --Besides, is it not
the Serpent Wizards you duel with for possession of the dragon jewels?
And there Sythia and I will gladly help. Now," Delun shifted his bow
which Kunk swore was not at all a ghost image, but quite real. "I
should like to see the horrorstones.”

"We should all of us go." Sythia suggested. "Caveheart! Ogre without his prince! Come. Bring the soldier too!"

Her calls brought the ogre and Sidian. Sidian was still looking -
harsh.  Caveheart's eyes darkened at the sight of Delun,but as with
Sythia, the ogre gave the Woodlian an ogre’s salute. The assembled
company began to move across the clearing, and as they did so, Leaf
asked the question Kunk had been longing too, as the small Woodlian
boldly fingered the great long bow Delun carried. "It is real!" Leaf
was exclaiming. "Can spirits grasp such things then?"

Lord Delun and Sythia were walking arm in arm, Sythia's narrow
face radiant with the fresh coloring spring painted the forest, and
Delun with the smile of the moon on his. face, "The magic of the
wizard in creating the well touched us as we were dying. We
were permitted immortal spirit, renewed into full substance when
we are with each other--our substances fade after any separation of
three days." Delun explained politely.

"How amazing!" Kunk exclaimed. "And what wizard worked this
wonder, if I may ask?" :

"The wizard Reynal." Sythia glanced over her shoulder, sending
warm beams through the company behind her. "One of the last appearances
of a snow wizard was Reynal's act, before-their disappearance."

"Reynal," Kunk, typically Realmist, followed the name identified
with the most natural question. "Are there many stories about Reynal?"

"Few--the Wizards Well was Reynals greatest magic feat."
Sythia's voice came as the company merged into the forest, and began
picking their way between the dangling moss and heavy trees down a
narrow winding path. "Reynal was a young wizard and died young, and
unlike most snow wizards, was given to romanticism--which was what had -
moved him to hurry to our assistance.--Anyway, the story is that the
wizards had all tried to get Reynal not to dream enchant so much, but
advance himself more in magic mastery. Reynal was at last sent away
for a week's retreat, but upon his return, he reported that he had fallen
deeply in love, and that he was sorry, he could not mind his magic.
Because Reynal could still make flowers and new songs for the birds,
and make little waterfalls pretty as you please, he was allowed to
continue at Winterscliff, Of course, the most rampant stories speculated
upon the maid of Reynal's affections, but her identify never came to
be known. And until Reynal borne himself upon a swan to rescue
Delun and I, no one had thought Reynal possessed any wizard ice within
himself. Then, after the wizards well, many saw that he would have been
one of the greatest of snow wizards, his magic was so inherently pure."

Yet Reynal succumbed to an ailment soon after his wondrous feat,
and Delun and I never were able to meet our rescuer, It was, the
wizards said, who can be sentimental, from pining for that mysterious
love."

Their curling, downward, threading path, had finally brought
them to a joint of four slopes--at the center of the slopes there was
a hole, some twenty feet broad, and lipped at the edge with heavy
sponge moss, There was the faintest of glows emitting from the hole,
and Kunk, looking up, realized they were in the huge, enveloping
shadow of the Aerie Needle, and that the towering stone structure
looked as if were about to topple. Kunk was curious if Sythia or
Delun knew the age of the Aerie Needle, but now, Delun was already
stepping into a narrow ledgeway curling around the well's interior, :
reminding Kunk of their descent at UnNamed Mountain. As his turn came
to begin to enter the well, Kunk could see the shining coated rock of
phosphorus blue. As they descended more and more into the vertical
cave, the blue became intenser,  making the walls glower a fairy's
blue. Kunk, touching the rock, found it cool and cold, and momentarily
thought of:the riches to be had if this rock were mined-but he shook
this idea away easily, for wizard's magic could rarely be broken, and
it would seem sacrilege to destroy this wizard's miracle.

Kunk had been noticing several side chambers, all coated in the
same blue, and now he was seeing the dull gold stones with only the
faintest of gleams within them telling they were the golden horrorstones
Delun and Sythia had gathered. But then Kunk realized the paradox
that his thought was--Delun and Sythia had gathered horrorstones?

Kunk suddenly had visions of reptilian breasts housed beneath the
gown and the velvet. Kunk told himself it was impossible, and his worries
were added to even more when he saw that Sidian, seeing the gold rocks
too, was unconsciously opening and closing his hands.

Caveheart, almost bent double, as was Delun, was now leading
them among a maze of passages. Kunk loosed his knife, and renewed his
grip on his axe, Maybe, he told himself, now would Sidian try something
overly bold.

But Sidian still seemed quite in control of himself, Caveheart
was finally bringing them into a taller chamber, where the blue was
glittering in blue bubble gleams, The huge horrorstones were seated
on the floor of the chamber, the malevolence of the magic they housed
was showing its strength in that the stones had only lost the glitter
about their edges.

"Can one handle the stones safely now?" Leaf was asking,
reminding Kunk of his own question about Sythia and Delun.

The ogre was putting a paw on the woodlian's shoulder, his
restraint giving an answer. Delun advanced towards the stones but
made no gesture to handle them. :

"Malcilis's jewels." Delun was saying softly. The dragon's name
gave a start to Kunk and he guessed to all the others who had been at
the mountain too. Again he had visions of the high, arcing dragon
head and neck, the belching poisonous gas and flame, the terrible,
hideous yellow eyes that bulged in their sockets, the great, heavy
claws--how had they ever managed to slay the dragon? More than a dozen
times, he had thought he had been ended when one of the company or
another would detract the dragon's attention to himself and another
drag the threatened party member from the dragon’s fury.

“And such size™ Delun was continuing. "That, it anything, is
something that needs to be unlocked about the Serpent Wizards--their
mastery and use of these horrorstones--I wonder, do you think, if
the Serpent Wizards thought of horrorstones when they created Malcilis?"
Delun was turning around on the group.

The idea that the Wizards had not: been designing sunpearls as they
thought had not occurred to Kunk before. If the wizards had meant
sunpearls, maybe it meant vile, mighty Malcilis had chosen the
malignance that was UnNamed Mountain as a residence to transform the
sunpearls to horrorstones, What a dragon! Kunk involuntarily shuddered.

Leaf was about to recount a story of a horrorstone and a woodlian
child when he noticed that Sythia had stiffened. "Delun!" She was
whispering. Then Leaf, then Kunk, Sidian and Caveheart were hearing it too--the whispers of large wings.

"Weapons! Weapons!" Delun called, and then before they knew it,
there was a whoosh of great wings outside the chamber, and now with
twelve foot wing spans, flashing golden feathers and pale blue underwings,
huge owl birds which could only be Bugle Owls were diving in at the
company.

Kunk threw his ax, Gayblade, Leaf shot an arrow, and Caveheart
was swinging Crimsoncleft. Somewhere in between Kunk heard Sythia crying
that she didn't understand. But the birds, despite their shadowing
size,and despite the wooden quills that were protruding from the one
bird, were dexterous. They swooped, dived, their blue claws blocking
the aimed missile weapons, and one owl, with a quicker-than-an-eye
movement, was clawing at Caveheart's hand, causing Crimsoncleft’s fall. Then the wings were beating about and there was a hush in
the cave, as Kunk felt himself slammed back by a fanning wing and
slamming feathers.

"The stones! The stones!" Leaf was exclaiming, and Kunk, getting
back to his feet, saw the three monster owls, fleeing the cavern,
two of them each bearing a golden horrorstone.

"No, "Magg! No, Eduard! No, Godlwine!  I don’t understand, T
don't understand!" Sythia was screaming in vexation.

Delun was running in pursuit of the owls, blood doping from his
forehead where he had fallen. Kunk ran after him and was aware that the
others came too. Leaf, then Sidian, than Caveheart and Sythia were
past him in several bounds, and ahead Kunk could see the silhouettes
of the three owls and Delun rounding a corner in the passage. Then
Sythia with the others were rounding the twist too, and it was after
the princess Kunk ran to catch sight of, to know the direction of the
pursuants.

Their ascent was rapid, and Kunk knew without being told the owls
were fleeing the well, rather than even trying to lose their pursuers.
Kunk tried to remember if he had ever been told if the owls were part
of the Serpent Wizard empire but couldn't recall any story. Then,
running up the serpentine ledge, Kunk followed Sythia to join the others
as they saw the bugle owls erupt high into the air, Their flights were
taking them to the Aerie Needle, and the quills of Delun and Leaf
were being sent in vain,

“I don't understand!” Sythia was still exclaiming. "The owls
always cooperated with us, and were glad to bring the golden horrorstones
to the Wizard's Well that Delun and I would find and tell the owls where
to fetch from!”

Kunk realized in a flash that the bugle owls, perhaps in their
gold feathers, housed some type of protection against carryinz the
golden horrorstones and that Delun and Sythia had in some way become
friends with the Aerie Needle birds, He watched with his companions
as the three sailing silhouettes, glinting yellow and blue in the sun,
two of them holding intensely spangling, flashing, golden globes,
wheeled about the towering Aerie Needle, the birds wheeling higher and
higher as they circled the high dark stone.

he beam Damian had found was still glimmering, sending a light
out from its hole into the night air. Damian, anxious about both Thad
and Pyhrr, was using his fast dwindling supply of healwrap on Thad's
wounds, wondering now what they three should be planning, and more
than ever, wondering on the safety of the party headed towards the
Aerie Needle.

"Thad, Thad," Damian kept urging. Damian had used some of the seep
water on the seared, flayed wounds all down Thad's left side, and in
ranging about the immediate ground, had been fortunate enough to find
some sprinkleflower, a universal herb commonly used by any of the Woodlians
in their different herb mixtures. Damian sprinkled the pollen from the
flowers onto Thad's wounds, finishing his bindings, and wondered if
below, Ogolian had settled into a death coil or were seeking his maw's
lair. Again, Damian wondered what the serpent had feared from the dragons.

Ogolian was not as massive a creature, but was of greater length, and if
the dragons had flame, the tunnel maw had that strange eye that appeared
to be able to absorb anything. So much had occurred, Damian reflected,
from the time they had entered UnNamed Mountain to the time they had
escaped Ogolian, he felt he could fill three tale tomes. Perhaps now,
there might be even time to write those tales, and prepare the defense
that Pyhrr wanted for Turret, for all three omnipresences of the
Serpent Kingdom were now injured, with the Hooded King perhaps even
dead.

Damian was now using some of the sprinkleflower on Pyhrr, on
the healwrap. Damian had returned Thad's cloak to Thad, for the air
was cool, and he wrapped Pyhrr's own gray cloak tighter about the prince.
He reflected on the magic he had worked in dueling with Deathmind and
in saving the three of them from Ogolian's tongue, and resolved that
he might try the magic in private again to explore the circumstances
needed for their use. Damian reflected also on his haphazard career
for wizardry thus far, with blank spaces of learning nothing new for
months at a time, and wondered if the Serpent Wizards knew they were
dealing with a fledgling who had had no instruction, but only chance
self-discovery. A familiar longing woke in Damian again, the longing
that had taken him on his wanderings and his extensive reading in
libraries--always hoping, always wishing to find some kind of wizard's
book which he could at least use to develop his arts, or even more,
to find in some tale the explanation for the snow wizards’ disappearance.

Damian had once even been with Caveheart to abandoned Winterscliff.
The feel of magic there had been stronger than anywhere Damian had felt it, but the fell of desertion and abandonment had been ever stronger.
Harpy parrots had circled the palace all the while.

"Riannid--Giaszo--Callinger--." Thad's hand was moving, and he
was moving his good leg to prop up his knee. Thad's hand was pulling
at his cloak, and Damian, striding over to Thad, saw the cavern keeper
prince's large light eyes open.

Thad was pale, but in his senses. "Ah--Damian--I remember now.
How ever did we escape? I seem to remember you looking some elemental
or ghost creature from the Miasmic Marshes.--Ouch!" Thad had tried to
sit up. "Is Pyhrr all right? Riannid? Giaszo? They were killed?"

Damian answered the prince's most anxious question. "Riannid and
Giaszo escaped, but were unable to come with us. I would have used
your horn, but I am afraid you lost it when Ogolian struck you. I--I found a wizard's power to get us escaped, and I may have deprived
you of your Ogolian sport.”

"Tell me about it." Thad continued to lay.

Damian had the pleasure of seeing the full gleam of Thad’s eyes
come when he described the throat wound he he had delivered Ogolian,
and as he paused, trying to explore in his mind how best to describe
his visualization of the geometric beam, he was interrupted. "Damian!"
Beyond you!" Thad with great exertion sat up. "What is it?"

"The elevation beam." Damian began to say, but was cut off,

"No! Look!"

Damian whirled about, ready to try for another elemental transformation. But the phenomenon was not one for alarm and weapons but
rather one of wonder and contemplation.

The beam was spinning, filling with sparkles of light, much as
the flashes of sunlight in a light water. The red color had disappeared,
and the beam, raising into a column, some fifty feet high, blossomed out
in its girth, the glitter of diamond elementals all the while sparkling
like jewel moths. There was a strong pungeance in the air, the smell
of flowers at their most profuse after a heavy rainfall in one of the
flower meadows of the mountains. Damian wondered with event occurring
now, if what the Serpent Wizards had designed with Malcilis's death,
had been the intention of having magic go rampant in the Realms.

But now a silhouette was beginning to form with the blossom of
smoke, and as Damian and Thad watched in amazement, the outline of a
tree began to form. The tree was not of towering size, nor of dwarf
size, and would in face have only qualified as an understory tree in
The Laced Wood or a middle sized tree in Stumpknoll, but a tree it was,
and as the smoke drifted away, the good sized tree stood revealed to Damian and to Thad. It was first of all green in its bark and its
branches, a hoary, delicate white lichen tracing itself over the
tree's trunk. The waving leaves added even more to the striking
appearance--pinnate, the leaves were rows of huge leaflets, fourteen
in number, that were white colored with generous green swirl patterns.
The pungeance they had smelled came from large spikes of white flowerets.
poking here and there from the green and white tree that had covered
the hatch of the elevation beam.

"By caverns!" Thad managed to speak first. "What will you do next,
Damian, and what did you do to Ogolian? That is a Snow Wand Glory, if
my name is Thadderick Talestone."”

Damian was as equally surprised. The Snow Wand Glory was one of
the stories he had uncovered about the wizards--a tale he had found in
one of Turret's dusty attic libraries, and had later found existing
with the Swan Guides and the Swamp People. The story was that when
a snow wizard had done a feat of great magic, then the snow wand glory
would appear to signal that wizard's spellwork. There was reputed to
be a whole forest called Wizard Wood of an entire grove of Snow Wand
Glories in the pass in the High Winter Mountains where Firebread had
raised the storm to destroy himself and his enemies host. But Damian
had also read another tale, and instead of saying anything to Thad,
waited silently.

The snow wasn't long in coming. The Snow Wand's branches started
to wave, and its large, heavy spikes of flowerets began to shake out a
white snow. Damian stepped back to Thad, knelt down by him, and placed
his hand on Thad's shoulder. Together, the two watched snow start
falling from the tree, disregarding the thick pelter of flakes coming
down on them. The snow lasted some fifteen minutes, and as the snow
settled down, Thad, but not Damian, was surprised to see flowers
springing up from the earth--glimmering wands, rare fairy slips, pink
nodding bells, whorled tulip roses. Both were surprised, however, to
hear Pyhrr's weak voice. "Damian?"

Damian bounded over to Pyhrr's side, who, though still completely
white and having a shadowed look about his eyes, asked Damian what had
happened and where were they? Damian, about to give a full recount,
and to introduce the two wounded princes to each other, was interrupted
to hear a rattle in the snow wand glory, which Pyhrr, noticing the
first time and recognizing, was astonished to see. The rattle they had heard was a falling branch, clattering among -.
the different boughs. A long, polished wood fell from the tree, and
Damian retrieving it with his good hand, held up a light and straight
wood some six feet long, already smoothed and polished. At its end,
the wand had the carving of a glimmering wand flower. Damian and
Pyhrr recognized that this was Damian's first wizard staff, and that he
had done the mandated wizard's act to earn his staff. Damian stretched
with his bad arm to grasp the staff. As he grasped it, with his hand
still in its sling, the staff gave off a brief radiance that shot up
into Damian's arm. Perilous echoed a brief hum, and Damian, looking at
Thad and Pyhrr fully, slowly drew off his sling that he no longer needed.

Now Kunk, Leaf, Caveheart, Sidian, Sythia, and Delun were
clambering up the Aerie Needle. Kunk was alternately shivering with
shut eyes at the height they were climbing, then cursing at the nimble
Leaf whose slipping feet kept dislodging stones to come clattering atop
Kunk's head. The Needle was much larger than it had appeared from
below, virtually soaring up into the sky, while the claw-root clutching
trees were not at all the young trees they had appeared to be from below.
Any moment, Kunk found himself thinking, the weight of the climbers
would bring down the Needle, but the spired rock didn't waver.

There was no trail. There were bulges and crevices the rock
face all over where running waters had carved away natural shelves,
darkened with grasses and mosses. In some places short gullies ran
from one shelf to another and this made climbing easier. Several times
however, they had already had to rely on the heights of several trees,
first climbing up into the upper branches, and then making stomach
clutching leaps for an upward climbing hold.

They were breathing heavily with tears in their clothing and
scrapes on their hands. Sythia had bound Delun's gash, and Kunk did
not know if he should be grateful for the stops that came so Delun
might check to see if the Bugle Owls were still aloft on the Needle.
One was glad for the rest, but then, one could survey the dizzy height
of rock one had climbed, and worse, survey the higher length of rock
to ascend.

Delun even now was calling for a halt. Since it was impossible
to sit in a circle in a nonexistent flattened area, all the members
of the party scattered themselves out on different ledges. The Woodlian
lord was seating himself on a boulder as Sythia, her hands on Delun's
shoulders, craned her neck upwards to search for the Bugle Owls,

"I am wondering," The prince spoke aloud,his tentative thoughts.
"If perhaps it would not be better for the Realms to leave these
golden horrorstones with the Bugle Owls." He gave a look at Kunk. His
look, as soon as Delun's words with their implications had sunk into the
others of the party, was copied by them, for it was Kunk whom Pyhrr had
asked to lead to Needle and from the Well.

The responsibility of this expedition! Kunk wished that Pyhrr
were here or had commanded Leaf as leader. Still, however, Kunk knew
himself it was he who had to make the decision, and it was for the
Snow Prince's sake and wishes that he would make the decision. Kunk found his mind crowding and whirling with names, geographies, magics,
dragon jewels. As he weighed his thoughts, the others began to express
their reactions.

"That is true." Leaf had been a great deal struck by Delun’s
realization. "It is not as if the Serpent Wizards have the superior
number of stones. Quagmist's jewels have been irretrievable--that
“would mean two magics to the Serpent Wizards, two magics to the Realmists,
and two magics to the elementals of the Miasmas and the Aerie Needle."

"The Aerie Needle, too," Sythia followed up Leaf's reasoning, "Is
remote from the Serpent Kingdom, and none but ourselves know the stones
rest on the nests of the Bugle Owls."

"Think of the. danger of their presence at Turret too. There could
be no prediction as to how torn apart the capital could become." Leaf
was speaking again, then in a lower voice, the woodlian added, "There
is so much division there already."

Kunk, disturbed by the very possible visions of a clashing Pyhrr
and the astutely politic Orme, still did not respond, furrowing his
features into greater furrows. Kunk found himself chasing his thoughts,
trying to grasp what for him was the idea that seemed most weighty.

"I represent Orme. I say," Sidian was adding in his biting, hating
voice. "That the golden horrorstones would master the necklaces of
the Serpent Wizards and that we must retrieve them.”

Caveheart had been pondering the stretching views of the peaks.
He harshly guttered, a glare of thought settling over the rocky mask
of his face.

"Wait." Sythia interpreted. "Wait for Pyhrr. Wait for Damian, The
Bugle Owls would not be likely to move the horrorstones."

Kunk leaped from his sitting posture, gazing and staring at his
waiting audience. "Malcilis!" Kunk brought his fist into his palm.

"It is that vicious, that foul, that evil, that vile, wicked, ferocious,
and demon yellow dragon we have to think of first! I think we must
think of 01d Malcilis more than anything."

"But Malcilis lies dead in UnNamed Mountain," Sidian hissed.

Kunk huffed his chest in utter disdain of Sidian, as his words
came. "We have been so sure, " He continued, "Of the existence of the
sunpearls. All along everyone predicted it would be those kind of
jewels, and it was in everyone's thoughts that the Serpent Wizards had
had sunpearls in mind in creating the yellow member of the Jewel Dragons.
I tell you. I think that the Serpent Wizards chose the wrong mountain
for their magic. Dragons that they did not dream of erupted from a magic that the wizards created but that Gaping Mountain seized.
Witness Quagmist. Witness Malcilis. We came on this quest because
of Malcilis. We came on this quest to retrieve the dragon jewels of
Malcilis. UnNamed Mountain was flared with the poison of that mean
yellow dragon. That dragon meant something terrible in his death
legacy. He was incapable of anything but dragon hatred. Dragons
think everything out. Dangerous as it is, I think we should yet try
to recover those stones. When, and if, we can discover the design of
Foul Malcilis, we shall have those stones at hand to somehow destroy.
They are too powerful to leave unguarded and magic rampant in the
Realms."

Kunk was sure he had convinced everyone on the need for the
continued climb that at the thought of it his throat constricted. Leaf,
however, was making a mention of the difficulty and the danger of the
climb up the rocks. Kunk retorted, "And has there not been increased
danger at every step of this quest? I would, like you, have preferred
that this quest been to procure the jewels for Pyhrr and
Turret. But it becomes more. It becomes the Riddle of Malcilis."

Again, Kunk had made an impression. But now it was Delun who was
speaking. "My kinsman Woodlian does not know how potent a truth he
says when he talks of danger, and you, Kunk, do not know how sharply
an increase in near death it is to climb higher into the Aerie Needle.
Sythia and I ought have warned you, but we have been carried away in
the chase after the horrorstones kidnapped by the Bugle Owls.--There
are other dangers.”

Kunk became aware of the brooding, solemn, damplike air he had
been feeling since climbing the rock. It had been uncanny that none
of them had perspired or become hot in their climb of the Needle. Kunk
realized with a mild, panicking shock that it had been the presence of
a hidden danger and a creeping fear all the distance up the Needle that
had made them so quiet, so silent.

"What dangers?" Kunk looked about the rocks uneasily.

"There are the battlewinds. There are the harpy parrots that you
have surely heard about. There is the Black Archer high near the top
of the Needle. there is--there is Lump-0g and Redwiss, the North Peak
Wolf also known as the Scarlet Claw and the Crimson Ripper."

For shock at the mention of the last two names, the other dangers
Delun confronted Kunk with, did not register with the Stumpdweller.
Lump-0g was an ogre gone mad and with a most fearsome reputation--he
was a killer and eater of wanderers and travelers and questors, and was a wandering solitary of the land. A most erratic solitary,
Lump-0g was feared everywhere, for none knew his route of wandering,
nor was the range of the mad ogre's wandering limited. Redwiss, the
fabled North Peak wolf, it was rumored, had been caught in a trap by
Lump Og and had had such a savage, fierce nature, the ogre had finally
found a like companion for his vicious nature. Lump-0g's name came
from his head, which was unusually misshapen and coarse in its baldness.
As ‘the Crimson Ripper and the Scarlet Claw, Redwiss had no need for
story-telling--his names themselves told new tales.”

"Lump-Og," was all that Kunk could manage at first. "Here on the
Aerie Needle. Oh!"

"This Black Archer? These harpy parrots? The battlewinds?"
Leaf was prodding at Delun.

"The Black Archer is a story." Delun toyed with his sword. "He
is a fair racer, with a heavy curse high atop the Needle. He came one
day, planning to climb the peak and despoil the Bugle Owls of their
young. This was in the time of the wizards, When he was espied by
Wizard Rannhuss flying on his swan, the wizard threw an awful ice curse
on the Archer's feet, chaining him forever to the Aerie Needle. His
curse included immortality and black arrows that would never miss the
target of other trespassers who would try as the Black Archer had done."

"You know of harpy parrots." Sythia went on quietly and softly.

"Such fiercely screaming, maddened birds there has never been the
like. They flock and nest here."

"And the battlewinds," Delun went inexorably on, "Are winds that
circle about the Needle. Some say they are the spirits of dead wizards,
others a pair of malignant elementals. When the winds come to pass
each other there are storms surrounding the Needle the like you have
never seen."

"And all this for the golden horrorstones." Kunk muttered.

"Do we turn then?" Delun returned.

Kunk shut his eyes in desperation. "No! I still say that no
matter what, it is most wicked Malcilis we must think of, dead and
slain as he is."

Delun gestured to the rocks again, and the climb continued. Leaf,
Kunk, and Sidian were given boosts to a projecting boulder, chilly
because it was hoary with moss. Delun reached up with his hand and
drew himself upward. Caveheart locked his gnarled hands together to
boost Sythia to Delun's reaching arms, and then as the others began
up the slant of the rock before them, clutching rocks, and highly conscious of the yawning space at their backs and in hunching postures
Tor balance, Caveheart followed.

Leaf slipped. Kunk grasped the woodlian's slippers, and as he
felt his own hold giving way, Delun leaped, pressing both Kunk and
Leaf forward on the rock. The three of them all stared at each other,
thankful but wordless, because this had already happened to all of them
any number of times. They continued their reaches with foot and hand
for the sharp projecting rocks again, all the while climbing higher
into the sky, and conscious of the increasing cool and cold.

Sythia had moved up with Kunk. "You spoke well and true, Stump-
dweller. Do you master a stumpknoll?"”

"Nay Princess." The Dweller panted. "I am my lord Kneehump's
tale gatherer. But ever since arriving at the Court of Pyhrr to gather
a tale for my lord about the Lord Damian, I have also become Orme-brawler,
friend of a Fair Racer Prince, a wanderer, follower, tale gatherer,
dragon-battler, and what have you."

"You have been able to decide on your own movement so freely?"
Sythia queried, short of breath herself, Her long fair hair tossed
in streaming manes down her back.

"Tale gatherers can  always tell their lord they have found a tale
to gather.”

Then, a whistling shriek was filling the air. Shadows were passing
over the party, and even as Delun was shouting about coming to the level
of the harpy parrots, the howling, screaming birds were coming at their
prey. Kunk could not for his panic release his hands’ grips on the
small crevices he clung too, nor, he saw, could Leaf or Sidian release
their holds. Delun however, and Caveheart, taking great risk, stood on
small projecting boulders scarcely big enough for the spread of their
feet. . Delun's arrow found one harpy. Caveheart had tied Crimsoncleft
to a rope, and swinging it in a wide arc, scattered the approaching
harpies, large feathered flashes of green, orange, and insane eyes.

A harpy had come in from above. It brought its broad wings
against Delun. Sythia's scream alerted Caveheart, who swung Crimson-
cleft to the toppling Delun. Delun, grabbing the rope, swung with the
arc of its swing to land some twenty feet below the others. The harpies
had formed a wheeling line, and shrieking and crying to the air, began
flying in a tightening ring about the Aerie Needle, their howling
cries unbearable. Kunk and Leaf looking for a recess in the shadows
that they could retreat to, to make a stand, were now hearing the
harpies shrieking in alarm and terror. The birds were scattering,all of the harpies flying in every direction downwards as a bugle
owl, all glistening gold and blue, dived in their mist with great
feathered claws and boring eyes.

The aerobatics of the owl was marvelous. In long, sailing,
vertical swoops, then horizontal curves, the owls claws had raked
four harpies at once. The owl made several loops, dives, and wheels
in the space out from the Aerie Needle, gradually slowing in is
movements.

The owl was eyeing them, as it gradually slowed to float on a
current of air,

"Eduard, Eduard." Sythia was pleading with the owl, "Eduard.
Kunk was unsure what was passing. He was more unsure as the owl
began flapping in rising circles up into the lofts and rises of
the Aerie Needle.

K-1

The journey to the Aerie Needle was beginning to be arduous.

Pyhrr, though beginning to recover, was still exhausted, and given to

periods of blurred consciousness. The snow from the snow wand glory,

however, had done some initial healing, and in his periods of lucidity,

Pyhrr could see that Damian with his small frame, and Thad, still

badly hurt and heroically coping with his wounds were hard put to bear

Pyhrr in the crudely constructed litter they had made. Pyhrr, in his

weariness, kept having dreams of Malcilis, Veil Choke, and Ogolian;

the Snow Prince was finding himself so utterly weary and exhausted,

he wondered if he would live to see Turret again, and try to stop the

impending darkness and fall he saw forthcoming. Pyhrr did not however,

feel prompted to speak of his worries to Damian or Thad, who both plainly

had too much to worry about already, food was scarce and the way to

the Aerie Needle was so uncertain. Damian and Thad too, Pyhrr saw,

attributed his weariness to the mind crush, and perhaps, he acknowledged

ruefully to himself in his rudely constructed carrier, resting now

against one of the infrequent spider oaks of this mountain region,

Damian and Thad were right, and he was wading into his worries in his

hurt.

Thad, looking haggard and white, and quite in rags, was coming up

with refilled flasks. Thad, dragging his leg, was in gray and black

bandages all on his left side where Ogolian had struck him, because

Damian was daily subjecting both Pyhrr and Thad to new wrappings from

washed healwrap and strips from Damian's own robes. Damian had

liberally stashed his sack with sprinkleflower before leaving the

Snow Glory, to both Thad's and Pyhrr's nostrils dislike.

Thad was now joining Pyhrr. Damian, Thad reported, was climbing

up one of these bewildering peaks of the North Mountains, looking for

the best direction to the High Snow Mountain-border where the Aerie

Needle was. Thad, never one to stop speaking, and always engaged in

whatever was at hand, began to illustrate the surrounding mountain peaks

for Pyhrr in the bare mountain side, using his short sword, Pan, and

Pyhrr, reflecting what he could remember from this journey, listened

with a faint smile.

Pyhrr had first become aware of Thad as some mysterious being

with a highly gentle manner, which always seemed to be there when Pyhrr

found himself merging into that dimmed state of knowing voices and

words only, and quite unable to do any wording or thinking himself.

K=-2

Thad's voice had come filling Pyhrr with strange, faraway tales, of

delicate maids and their loves, of unsurpassed flower beauties in some

place known as the Tunnel Caves, of children's fairy tales, his lulling

words always stilling that confusion in Pyhrr's brain into a healthful

rest. Later, as Pyhrr found himself able to extend his senses beyond

his constant hurt, he had become aware of the voice as belonging to :

someone with intense strength and iron determination, who could lift

him, Pyhrr, as if he were some Woodlian child, and who always insisted

to Damian that they all three should make more distance yet that day,

Damian was not to worry about him, Thad.

For embattered Thad, whose fur cloak was the only thing about him that

hadn't been savaged in the battle with Ogolian, had suddenly

announced to the trio at the Snow Wand Glory that he had decided he :

would accompany them to the Aerie Needle. Pyhrr was incapable of

travel on foot, and Damian, Thad had said with his irrepressible

gleeful humor, though undoubtedly on his way to becoming one of the

most renown of Snow Wizards still couldn't manage Pyhrr alone. They could

alternately search for a cave opening and they still might try to reach

Tunnel Tomb, but it was highly apparent to him that this story of the

dragon jewels was reaching into a climax or becoming one of epic pro-

portions, and he was of a mind to be one of the stories lesser heroes.

Besides, it was time Cavern Keepers became better known to the Realms.

Moreover, time was important, the safe security of the sunpearls within

Turret's strong vaults was important, and further, he, Thad had a

hankering to see more of the upper geography of the Realms. Callinger,

his younger brother, would certainly experience a sharp anxiety over

his absence and be upset if he found Thad's horn, but their sister,

Kara, who was something of a mystic, would know that he was alive

and untortured in mind. Callinger, besides, needed a taste of throne

responsibility, for he was even more adventure-prone and 0golian minded

than Thad. These declarations, despite the wounds that were obviously

paining him, Thad had made the following day of the tree's wand gift,

and had insisted that they at least should start on their journey

immediately. Damian and Thad between themselves, made a rough study

of their location, and had found themselves at midpoint between

Tunnel Tomb and the Aerie Needle. Pyhrr, having one of his conscious

moments, had thought that the obstacle of UnNamed Mountain was one

of foreboding, but he with Damian and Thad, overcame this disquiet

in thought of how it must be with Kunk and his party.

K=3

It had been a labor for Thad to journey, and they found themselves

continuously making frequent stops. But though exhausted, and minded of

his leg's and head's wounds as he journeyed, Thad still managed to

be the best spirits of the company. He told Pyhrr of what he had

seen of the battle with Ogolian, and of the Snow Wand Glory, and what

he couldn't supply, he coaxed from Damian. When Pyhrr was able to

speak, Thad was eager and fascinated to hear of Turret, the Miasmas,

the Serpent Kingdom, and anything else of the upper geography, never

seeming to tire of the duties of nurse and litter bearer. When Damian,

the most fit of the three, was not seeing to scouting the trail, collecting

a firewood, writing in a tome from his sack, or collecting herbs to

replenish his depleted heal sack, or the practical physical performing

duties he had assumed, then Damian too would contribute in his quiet

manner tales he had read in his many library visits, and the three would’

share the spirit of tale absorption. The three of them did not talk of

plans, or any steps they knew they must yet decide upon. They instead

concentrated on their journey, conferring on direction and topography,

having emerged as they had onto an unfamiliar region of the North Peak

Range.

Food was scarce despite the streams they had paralleled at times,

or the small tree groves that were now giving out completely. They

mainly subsisted on herbs that Damian deemed safe for eating. But

they were also assailed with cold, rough climbing, and a strong, sweeping

feeling of desolation. A harpy parrot stayed with them for two days,

its hoarse, wailing shrieking even making happy-tempered Thad irritable,

The mountains, too, were beginning to reach greater heights, ridges

were beginning to be more steep, and the stream had turned into a wild,

raging river gorge of white water and sharp boulders, bordered by high

impossible cliffs for descent. Damian insisted that they were on a

correct route, and in private was beginning to make private experiments

with his newly endowed staff. As of yet he had made no discovery for

using the staff for direction or map, but found he could command flame

bolts from it to slay a stray rodent, or to start a campfire. Damian

had had Pyhrr and Thad both handle the staff to see if the magic that

had flared up into his arm would heal their wounds too, but it had not

done anything.

Thad was still illustrating his map. His ventures from the caverns

to the upper areas of the Realms had been few, and he was absolutely

fascinated with the wonderful variety of the landmarks of the topside

of the Realms--he had been familiar with mountains and his several

K-4

surface explorations had been to different ranges, but he had never

made such a length of stay as this. Thad kept most sheltering his

eyes to gaze at the sunstar that Thad never tired of, his, large

light eyes becoming immobile, his face rapt, as he looked at this new

delight.

But now there was the exploding, calling sound of a deep throated

bird, piercing the lonely air with a feel of chill. Pyhrr tried to

push himself to a raised position, but as on previous attempts, found

that raising, clenching dizziness in his head. Thad's, hands were at

his shoulders, pressing him back into position. The call had been

sudden, once, a long continued, single, high pitched, hooting wail,

that was now echoing in faint reverberations in the valleys below. Pyhrr

felt a cold touch running along his back with the eerie sounds, and

he reached up to hold Thad's. wrist. "Thad, you mustn't as Thad made

a gesture to move up the slope they had halted on, "Damian may hear

it, and may be able to surprise it."

The call came again, its single note a cry to the air to

the mountain.

"A harpy! A sick harpy!" Thad, exacerbated, gripped Pan and

rose. "I am not going to have one of those pesky parrots following

us again,"

"Not a harpy-- their call is not like that." Pyhrr grabbed at

Thad's bandaged calf, "Perhaps, whatever it is, doesn't even know

we're here."

"But suppose that it comes from the Serpent Kingdom?" Thad kept

eyeing the ridge the call came from.

"Serpent kind shun the North Peaks and the High Snow Mountains--

mountain magic, snow magic, and the elemental magic is the bane of

the Serpent Wizards Deathmind and Veil Choke. The wizards work with

substance magic~--not land magic.”

The strange call was immediately with them. Both were paralyzed

in scare and alarm, but Thad whirled about, looking for some type of

beast. Pyhrr, however, laying where he did, was the first to see the

visitor, looking as he did straight up into the spider oak. He saw

a great-sized bird, huge as a young stumpdweller, in a golden yellow

plumage with flashes of pure blue in its feathering. Pyhrr called

quietly and warningly to Thad, who had stepped outside of the tree's

fringes, to look upwards and to see a bugle owl,

The roosting bird was in the same direction as the sunstar for

Thad. Pyhrr saw Thad. shading his eyes, squinting. "Why," he said to K-5

Pyhrr, instinctively lowering his voice, for the spider oak was not

a very large tree, "It looks like your sunstar has painted a black

hellbird from one of our caves. As large and every bit as fierce as

our hellbird he looks too. What do you call him, again?"

Pyhrr, about to answer Thad, saw the owl's wings begin to flutter.

He caught a glimpse of the powerful bluish white claws, and a flash

of the frost blue eyes. The bird was making a swooping dive, and.

Pyhrr, with a rush of blood into his head and his heart, ignored the

rising dizziness, grasping Cyull and leaning against the spider oak

heavily--the owl was swishing towards Thad, Pyhrr had never heard of

a Bugle Owl as being aggressive towards one of the fair racers, but if

he could, he must help Thad. Looking up, he was about to stagger forward

when halting he saw the strange sight of the bugle owl and Thad regarding

each other but a distance of three feet apart, as if, in some manner,

the owl, silent now, were a talebearer, and never having seen a cavern

keeper before, was studying Thad to take a tale back among the bugle

owls, if bugle owls indeed shared tales.

Grasping his head, Pyhrr slid down against the tree's trunk to sit

and watch what developed. Thad, as surprised as Pyhrr at this golden

owl, found himself filling up with an idea, and emboldened, took one

step forward, lowering Pan, then letting the sword fall from his hand.

He spread his hands out, and one of his long knotty arms reached out

towards the low bough that the owl perched upon. His palm was close

to the owl's claws. The owl was still motionless. The wide open,

strange blue eyes didn't blink, nor the thick feathered neck so much

as quiver. Thad brought his other foot forward, and Pyhrr grasped Cyull

again as the bugle owl's wings fanned. But the owl kept his wings drawn

up as if in a large cowl, the feathers spanning almost the width of

Thad's arms. Pyhrr, not being able to see directly into the owl's

eyes, wondered if the owl had woven an enchantment spell about Thad,

using a mind magic, Pyhrr didn't even think of moving now though,

for if he moved, the owl might move too, and Thad was actually laying

his large hand over the huge, powerful, feathery claw, looking up

fearlessly and with all the strength and energy of character Damian

and Pyhrr had recognized in the lithe prince. Then but for a second,

and it seemed mind magic on Thad's part to Pyhrr, the huge bugle owl's

head darted down. The beak pressed against Thad's forehead, and then

with a powerful jerk, the bugle owl leaped up from its bough, and with

swift powerful strokes, flew to descend into the yawing gorge below

the two princes, K=6

Thad was still staring after the owl, and Pyhrr stumbling -.

into his carrier again, relieved to be off his feet, when they

realized that Damian had just come up over the ridge. Pyhrr, looking

at his approaching companion, was aware of the news response inside

himself that had been growing these last few days to his wizard

companion, There was no doubt now, his childhood and young manhood's

friend was beginning to soar into the power of wizardry. The wonder

of the snow wand glory was sufficient tale, and Pyhrr had no doubt

that tales even now were fanning through the Realms about the return

of a snow wizard. Damian's eyes, too, seemed more lavender, and his

hair more yellow than even the bright blonde of the Swan Guides,

Damian's manner seemed more considered too, his words dealt with more

weight, Damian's quiet reticence now had become the quiet of awakening

authority. Pyhrr now wondered, as never so much as he had when he had

seen Damian in that wizard's fury, if Damian would now be staying at

Turret. Wizards were wanderers, and Damian in last night's campfire

had revealed his deep interest in knowing of the snow wizards' disappearance.

Pyhrr would miss Damian's advice, and the staunch support Damian's mere

presence had given him in the face of sour-tempered Orme.

But yet at the same time Pyhrr knew he himself had changed. Since

this blow of the mind crush, he now realized that if he lived he must

dip more into the tales of magic, so that he could discuss intelligently

with magic bearers the thrusts and the repulsions they might use against

the Serpent Wizards. If Pyhrr had been active in preparing a defense

and in_skirmishing with the Serpent Kingdom before, he realized now that

he must try to draw the entire Realms west of the Serpent Kingdom into a

united defense. That the Serpent Wizards and their kind had been so bold

and even able to penetrate the western Realms this far to UnNamed Mountain

told its tale of the scattered, rival races,

Damian saw the exhaustion on Pyhrr's face. "What is it?" He sprang

forward, kneeling down by the prince. "Are you worse?"

"No, no," Pyhrr gestured towards Thad who was now turning towards

them with his surprised and awed face returning to its normal animation,

"A bugle owl was here--I thought it was going to attack Thad and tried

to get up."

"Do those bugle owls do that?" Thad dragged himself up the slope

and sat on the other side of Pyhrr's litter. Then scolding Pyhrr,

"You shouldn't have strained yourself--I am Thad the Ogolian Hunter--

I've handled bellbirds before,but your golden friend was--I don't know

what to make of him=--I'd like Callinger to draw him though--I have never

seen such a bird. K=7

Damian, looking bewildered at the details, was set to rights

about the event. Looking at Thad, he returned that he had not read

any story in which the owls had ever shown curiosity in a fair racer

before, but that perhaps there was something to Pyhrr's thought of a

tale-bearer.

"I've found UnNamed Mountain now." Damian interrupted himself.

"We are on this side of the gorge of the mountain, but it looks like

we are fortunate and won't have to ascend or descend any more ridges

until we reach UnNamed Mountain itself, and then have to cross the

gorge there, or look for a crossing. The mountain--" Damian trailed

off, staring down the bare mountainside to the lip of the gorge that

they could hear the crashing river lurching through below,

At the name of Malcilis's former home, Pyhrr again felt that

press of chilled bone pass through him again. "The mountain--go on."

Pyhrr urged, not only for his premonition, but also because he was

alerted again to his thoughts of Malcilis, and to the rune-stone he

had pondered every evening, wondering what the mysterious dragon had left

in its death legacy.

"UnNamed Mountain has flared with magic." Damian was now no longer

looking at the gorge, but was instead staring out to the mountains

across the wide, gaping separation. "The mountain has enlarged itself--"

and Damian's voice was lowering--"It has also taken on a yellow glow

about itself, and even emits a faint mist from its peak.”

"Could the mountain be volcanic?" Pyhrr involuntarily placed his

hand to his head, the memory of the rune stone bringing back the memory

of the mind -blow.

"No," Damian shook his head.

Malcilis," Thad suggested. "Malcilis has bored his malignant

personality into the mountain--no one will be able to get near the

mountain now because it will have foul Malcilis's poisoned temper

and poisoned makeup--how wicked of Malcilis, but how keen and living

up to his wile at the last too! Bequeathing his poisoned self to

the most unstable mountain of magic within the Realms!--It may be very

dangerous for us to even be anywhere near the mountain."

"The trail is there near the base though--that trail is the best

route to the Aerie needle, and unfortunately, the only one that any

one of us knows. We had better risk it." Damian answered Thad's latter

statement. The young wizard now took his staff and rose, K-8

Then Pyhrr felt himself uplifted again, feeling a darkness

inside himself as he thought about UnNamed Mountain's presence. The

haunting runes from the lair of Malcilis, and the strange terrifying

narrowed eyes of the yellow dragon. Damian's staff was at Pyhrr's

side, and Damian, at the head of the litter, started them toiling

up the slope, the blowing cool wind growing cooler and colder the

higher their ascent.

They had climbed an incredible three thousand feet,but because

of their twisting route the measures were considerably more. There

was still a third of the Needle to get upwards, and Kunk marveled

at the wild birds who roosted in such a remote, isolated area, deciding

that bugle owls had a strong streak of the solitary character inside

of them. He himself felt as if he were leaving the Realms and entering

into a new world. So high were they, so continuing the vistas of the

mountains flowing into each other, and so spreading the fantastic drop

below them, Kunk had almost forgotten the threat of a lurking Lump 0g ,

or the possibility of a fatal black arrow. The Aerie Needle in itself.

was worthy of quest and tale volumes. He thought of Pyhrr and he thought

of Damian, The princes must surely be on their route, he must hold to

his belief that Damian was not simply a solitary geographer and tale

gatherer, but was more.

Delun was returning around a bend of the the Needle here is too smooth

for further ascent by hand and foot." He reported to the others who had

gathered beneath one of the soaring Twisted Oaks. Caveheart's rope

cannot reach any of the projectiles. We are going to have to climb

again, and leap again,”

Kunk shuddered. “He would be back in the Realms fast enough were

he not to make just one of these tree-to-cliff leaps that were sure

madness. The climb was staring. Caveheart and Delun went first,

followed by Sythia, it having been agreed that the more powerful leapers

among them should be the first to jump and to provide assistance. Time

passed as each member of the party went alone up through the towering,

jetting tree. Twice, thrice, four times, five times, Kunk saw his

companions become smaller as they went up into the threshing branches,

and then he saw their leaving forms sail across to reach the cliff.

And he short, Kunk muttered to himself. What a fool he was to think

they ought to rescue the golden horrorstones. No one, no one, could

ever reach the nests of the Bugle Owls--it was madness to come up this

spire.

Kunk now started climbing up into the leafs. He pushed at twigs,

and at more leaves, he moved up branches and boughs, focusing his mind

entirely on the leap he had to make. He had just reached out for

another limb when the tree gave a tremendous shudder. Kunk's tale teller's

imagination gave way to the idea of an earthquake shuddering at the base

of the Needle and to ideas of Serpent wizardry. But when the stumpdweller

looked down at the base of the Twisted Oak, the sight that he saw there

L-2

was much worse than his imagination's twists. There was an over heavy

ogre, all in hides, unmistakable in his hideous, contorted face. With

the ogre was a huge red wolf, whose forehead was covered with a swept

back mane of scarlet fur, and whose fangs dripped over his mouth's

edges. There was no question, it was fabled Lump-0g, and his death

companion, Redwiss, the Magical Jumper. What was terrible was that

Lump-0g was shaking the tree, and actually wrenching some of the roots

out.

Even now the tree trembled again, and with a grating, protesting

crunch, a root on the upper cliff side ripped away, and Kunk had to grab

at a 1imb to hang on. He desperately grabbed at another higher limb

to climb somehow to his companions, and climbed even more nimbly when

he saw that Lump-0g had changed his mind and was sending Redwiss up

into the tree. Kunk made a leap for a bough across from him. He heard

Leaf calling to him, he heard Sythia calling, and there was the whiz

of Woodlian arrows as both Leaf and Delun shot barbs at the wolf,

Redwiss however had cut Kunk off from ascending in the cliff side

branches, Kunk began to scramble to the outer branches, hoping that

the wolf's weight would be too heavy to bring him into these jouncing,

dipping lighter limbs.

Then there was rescue, Caveheart threw his rope, looping the

branch Kunk climbed. Redwiss was leaping, and quickly, Kunk used

his ax to chop at the limb. The limb snapped, Redwiss's jaws snapped,

and Kunk grabbed for his being as he felt the limb plunge. Then he

was sick and dizzy as he was hauled up the cliff side and helped from

his hold by Sythia to the comfort of a rock ledge.

Meanwhile, Redwiss had barely managed in his leap to retain a hold

among the limbs, There was a decided creak and give in the twisted oak,

and the companions saw it moved significantly away from the cliff,

Lump-0g, however, was that frustrated he had not noticed the tree's

movement, and decided he would join the ascent too, Redwiss howled

with rage at the ogre, and halfway up into the tree, Lump-0g began to

realize just what he had done to the tree, for his great weight much

more than Caveheart's, together with the threshing form of Redwiss

was too much for the root ripped oak, The oak groaned, there was a further

crushing sound of torn root, ripping up from rock and soil, and with

a wolf's howl and a hideous ogre shriek, the tree lunged out into space.

For a moment, Kunk thought that another tale he would be entering

into his diary would be the tale's end of the terrible Lump=0g and the

red fury, Redwiss. But the twisted oaks on the Aerie Needle had grimly

L~3

dug into the Aerie Needle. The lower roots yanked, but still held,

and the tree hung perilously at a dropping angle over the yawning

drop into air, Redwiss without a thought for Lump-0g shoved his hind

legs to land safely on the Needle, and Lump-0g delivered a look of

hatred at his prey and his predicament, Uttering a roar of wrath,

the ogre rushed madly back up the column of a very jouncing tree, but

still reached the safety of the rock. :

Still, Kunk with the others didn't turn to go upwards. Lump-Og

and Redwiss now had no way of ascent, but the companions wished to see

if the mad-hearted pair had another route they might ascend for pursuit.

But Lump-0g and Redwiss were both too frenzied at each other for being

at fault to think of any climbing. Lump-0g's face was becoming a harsh

mask of icy eyes and glared teeth, and Lump-0g was taking up a club to

approach Redwiss, The wolf was slinking back with savage snarls, and

glowering orange eyes, It was reported that the two fought when frustrated

of their prey, blaming the other for mishaps, and now it was that this

report was truth. Now Lump-0g was leaping in, in disregard to anything

but his maddened frustration. Redwiss made a lunge to the side, but

Lump-0g's club caught the North Peak Wolf giant in the side. Redwiss

tumbled, and Lump-0g followed his attack with a blow to Redwiss's head.

Then, Redwiss's fangs and claws drew blood from Lump-0g's leg, and in

primeval hatred and screams the ogre and the North wolf began a frenzy

of exchanging snaps and blows, Caveheart was grimly picking up a boulder

full the size of Kunk. He pitched it down at these two terrors of the

North Peaks, but just then Redwiss launched himself at Lump-0g's

throat, and the two landed several feet away from the boulder's place

of impact, both battlers totally disregarding the nearness of the

cliff's edge. Chips flew from the striking boulder that continued its

bouncing descent, and startled, Lump-0g and Redwiss parted for a moment.

Redwiss, whose lunge had been met with Lump-0g's fingers grasping his

throat, whirled suddenly with his opportunity to flee, and did so.

Lump-0g, staying his stand, brandished a fist and screamed ogre threats

at Redwiss and then at Caveheart with words so much more menacing than

the shrieks of the harpy parrots, Kunk thought the curses would have

turned himself into stone. Then Caveheart was lifting Crimsoncleft and

in a fierce pleasure that showed his race relationship to the ogre below,

broadened his face into one glinting taunt.

Lump-0g's throat became purple, he tore at his body hair, and

hides, and the coal black eves turned into slits of silver with recog-

1-4

nition and deadly enmity. If Lump-0g had been in a passion of hate

and frustration before, he was in a tempest of quivering and shaking

fury now. Lump-0g became red, he stripped away his hides in shreds,

he tore at his flesh, his muscles became larger lumps as they tightened

and knotted. The ogre tore a projecting rock from the Needle,that

proved to be almost of his own size.

Kunk, Sythia, Delun, Sidian, and Leaf began to scurry to higher measures

as they thought Lump-0g was not going to falter with the boulder. Lump-0g made a shoulder-heaving

shove and the boulder came hurling upwards. Caveheart, still smiling

in grim pleasure, continued to stay at his overlook. Crimsoncleft

swung out, and the boulder that had been bearing upward split into a

blast of pebbles. For the first time Kunk realized that the blade Crimson-

cleft was possessed of a magic, Together with Caveheart's ogre strength

the weapon was indeed formidable. The dweller now wondered if it were

the blade rather than Caveheart that had enraged Lump-0g.

The terrible screams and threats of Lump-0g were continuing,

Caveheart, however, had turned to his companions,guttering about

boulders that would drive Lump-0g away when they descended.

The companions mounted again to climb, their thoughts more centered

than ever on the golden horrorstones.

M-1 MA we

x 1 :

IV Gliding Manes

They were still tracing a curving rate on the curling ridge. There

were loose stones, making progress difficult, and the cold wind kept :

buffeting them all the while. Both Thad and Damian kept glancing out

to the sky, which had been turning a more and more heavy, billowing

white the last hour. They were nowhere near UnNamed Mountain as far

as Thad could tell, who was beginning to feel the strain in his leg

and arm. Pyhrr, feeling the fever swirl inside himself, scarcely realized

the howling sounds about him, or the bobbing motion of the carrier,

He hadn't even known that they had made three halts already at small,

scarcely sheltering boulders for Thad and Damian to catch their breaths

and build their strength, Pyhrr only knew that hand's grasp within his

head, and was trying to burrow down deeper into the carrier to get away

from the penetrating cold,

They were also that high now, that Thad, his huge fur cloak billowing

in furls about him, and his face taking on a blue grey tinge, could see

down into the plunging gorge far below on their left, and out to the

spreading peaks of the North Mountains interceding into each other on

their right, for they were on one of the higher ridges. Just now,

another powerful gust of marrow-cold wind came blasting in at them, and

Thad, certain his leg was becoming numbed, shouted to Damian about a

permanent shelter for the rest of the day and night if this god-forsaken

mountain had one--perhaps the wind would not be so dread on the morrow,

Damian returned a vague shout back to Thad. Thad, catching the word

elemental, felt his neck turn several degrees chiller, as he realized

that Damian was right, the sky that had been menacing a snowstorm that

Pyhrr had told him about was taking on a ghastly yellow hue, with yellow

flashes appearing in the sky. UnNamed Mountain, he whispered to himself,

as the cold wind increased more and more.

Damian at last, led them off from the ridge. The slope was

considerably steeper here though, and Thad was dragging his leg now as

he would a post. He found himself panting heavily, as the wind, not

quite so fierce, still came. A sting of wetness came at Thad's nose,

then several at his neck. Thad looked up, he realized that the

swirling sky of yellow and white, was releasing snow. The snow was

now coming heavily and steadily, blowing and swirling in the sky. Unlike

the snow of the snow wand glory, which had been moist but not cold, this

was the snow of a true snow fury that Pyhrr had told of, and that Thad,

but for that manifestation of the poisoned mountain source the yellow

in the snow told of, wished that he might dally to see, never having

seen this delight within the caverns. How delighted Callinger would

M=-2

be with the wonders of the upper realms--the colors, the textures,

the multitudes of phenomenon. But just now--Thad glanced up.

"Damian! Damian!" :

Damian, struggling with the gathering snow that was getting waist

deep looked too--the yellow of the sky had gathered together in a yellow,

spinning spiral and Damian thought of Ogolian's eye. "A whirlstorm!"

He shouted to Thad. "Hurry!"

Thad, hearing the panic in Damian's voice, didn't stop to question

him, and drew upon a source of reserve he hadn't been sure of. Together

the litter bearers plunged down the steep slope to a projecting elbow

of rock jutting out from the slope, made of numerous boulders. Thad,

glancing up to the ridge, saw a yellow, twisting, tailed mass of wind

hurtling down from the sky, tossing up great snow masses, rocks, and

the whole mountainside was spreading apart in seams at the wind's digging

vortex. The snow was now so thick Thad could scarcely see, and he merely

held on to his end of the carrier, letting Damian guide them. The whirl

storm on the ridge was shrieking, and Thad gasped as he felt a shard of

splintered rock hit him in the back. He staggered, but kept up with

Damian, hearing the scream of the wind and the shriek of the torn rock

and eruption of the settled snow as the whirlwind began to descend the

ridge, But then Damian was hurrying them into a dark low crevice, The

rocks now didn't seem so low, though the snow dimmed their outlines.

Snow still swirled about them, but the whistling wind was faint in echoes

as they went into a narrow passage between the split halves of a boulder.

The passages became labyrinthine, as Damian, still hurrying, guided

them further, with boulders spewn and titled upon each other in every

possible way. Finally, Damian, after passing several overhangs Thad

had thought suitable, brought them to a halt in a small conclave formed

of five boulders with one massive boulder resting its bowels on the

supporting shoulders of the other boulders. The enclosure filled with

wind and seeping snow was scarcely tall and high enough for Thad to

stand in, but Thad, exhausted, was thankful to sink down and lay by

Pyhrr's deposited bier,

Damian gathered some small rocks, glancing outside to see glimpses

of whirled yellow and yellow hued snow. The wizardling hoped the

whirlstorm would stay on the ridge and wondered if Thad had been right

about UnNamed Mountain unleashing the storm. He flared the rocks with

his wand for a temporary heat, then busied himself gathering the snow

within the chamber and packing it into the various crevices of air.

This left the high passage they had used

1-3

to enter the recess. Damian, using his wand's staff again, with

carefully aimed blows, brought down several chunks of the ceiling's

boulder to fall into the entry-way. The remaining holes he filled with

more snow, taking one last look at the stormed exterior. Damian, beginning

to find himself exhausted and tired, went to the pile of heated rocks,

and wielded his wand with such intensity against the smoldering

rockpile, the rock melted into an elemental flame, Damian dragged

Pyhrr's litter to the fire, then dragged Thad over to the flame too.

Damian,weary, sank down to sit with folded knees by the flame, and

put his hand to his head--they were straying further and further away

from the destination point of the Aerie Needle--first the rune slab,

then the Serpent Wizards, then Ogolian, and worse, Pyhrr hurt. Now this

storm. Perhaps, after all, he should not have let his anxiety about

Caveheart to persuade to listen to Thad's arguments. Thad's

declaration to join them had certainly helped his decision, but now,

Damian looked to the princes, and hoped the sunpearls were worth this

damage of mind and body. It would be pleasant, Damian thought, to sleep

by this warming flame. He began to lull, propping himself up by grasping

his wand.

But now there was a silence outside--a quickly arrived silence.

Damian sprang to his feet, he grasped his wand, as a reversing, erupting

sound of fury and scream came, and the boulders making their retreat

rumbled. The whirlstorm had descended the ridge. Damian stared at the

sealed opening, and was an instant too late. He had meant %o destroy

the exploding boulder rocks into flame before the wind exploded them.

But the wind's impact was the pass of a flickered flame, the boulders

burst apart, and a good sized rock hit Damian in the chest, slamming

him against a boulder at his back. Damian's head impacted, but he willed

himself against the pain. Stunned, he crawled to Pyhrr and Thad and

the snowed flame. He dragged his two companions to the most slanted

of the boulders, seeing snow and wind swirling in again , for the

whirl storm had smashed a good part of the ceiling boulder too, and now

there was a gaping hole. Damian placed Pyhrr in closest to the boulder,

he dragged Thad up to place him against Pyhrr. Then Damian himself,

spreading out Thad’s great fur cloak, huddled up against the silent

Cavern Keeper, getting the cloak over the three of them, taking one last

look at the whirling snow. The yellow, at least looked like it had

cleared. Damian passed out.

N- 1

IV GLIDING MANES

None of them had expected it. One moment they had just turned

from their flight of the level of the harpy parrots, with the screams

of the rampaging Lump-0g still ringing in upwards echoes, then the

next moment, all of the questors were instinctively crouching downwards

as a howl, a continued howl, filled the air, and a leaping red blur

came to land in the low limbs of a tree some twenty feet above them.

The wolf Redwiss had demonstrated his name the Red Leaper, and jumping

again another several ledges of forty feet to escape Delun's quick arrow,

the Crimson Striker pressed into a ledge where he could not be seen,

but still indeed could hear his howls.

"He calls" Sythia blenched, and grasped Delun. "Oh fatal hour,

it surely reminds me of that day that the monster Knavesgruff overtook us

here on the Aerie Needle." :

"What is it?" Kunk asked. "What is it?"

"He calls the Wolfbane of the Aerie Needle." Sythia whispered.

"The wolfbane are the foul kind of the Realms died violent deaths, and

transformed by curses of the Serpent Wizards into wolf forms. Knavegruff

is among them."

"How many wolfbane are there on the Aerie Needle, Princess?" Leaf

was quick to ask, already fixing an arrow to his bow.

"It is unknown to me."

"Mayhap the Red Fury has felt the blow of Lump-0g's fury once

too often now." Delun, as usual, was being calm in the threat of a

danger, and was thinking out his threatening enemy's thoughts,

"Mayhap, but look!" Kunk's trembling finger pointed at a quick

moving, gray, twilight figure that too rapidly melted into a maze of

vertical fissures. The gullies ran in cracks every direction now almost

to the very peak of the needle, Kunk could see. How many wolfbane

crawled among the gulches, he did not like to think.

A rustle followed, and Leaf exclaimed excitedly about another

wolfbane, marked, he said, with a white blaze across his forehead, and

Sythia paling, identified that bane as being the foul villain, Knavegruff.

A pounding that seemed the din of a thunder in a cave filled the air,

and this was followed by the most unearthly of primal ogre shrieks Kunk

had yet heard from the savage Lump-Og below. Indeed, it seemed as if the

ripping notes of the shriek filled the earth with its vibrations. Again,

there came the sound of a smashed rock, and with the sounds, there were

more whispers of flitting gray among the frowning rises of rock above

them.

N-2

"We will never reach there. We will never reach there." Sidian

was exclaiming. "Curse you, Orme, curse you."

"We're going to have to find a place to make a stand.” Kunk

quickly told Delun. "Can you think of any place that we can reach

most rapidly on this spire?”

"The Leaning Rock." Sythia intervened with a quick breath. "We

have to, Delun.

"But--" Kunk was keeping a close watch on the gray of the rocks

and the gray of the wolfbane above. "But I thought the Aerie Needle

was the Leaning Rock!"

"There is a finger of rock jutting out from the Needle at an even

more daring angle--if we could get to the top of the rock, being

careful of bugle owls and harpy parrots, we ought be better off for

defending ourselves."

As if the Scarlet Terror had divined their thoughts of retreat,

Redwiss was now seen to be making a descent. That his descent was

not in a running stride, but in a creeping, slinking, jerking but

still rapid stalk was all the more fear rousing, for the attack was

the attack of a beast overcoming its fear.

Redwiss with a leap was amongst them. Caveheart rushed in at

the wolf, and Kunk turning about to meet another leaping gray form,

saw the great jaws of the Red Ripper sink deep into Caveheart's forearm.

Then, swishing his battleaxe back and forth in rapid swings, Kunk found

himself backing up to keep the wolfbane at bay. Vaguely, he was

aware that Sythia was near him, using Delun's sword in a most unprincess-

like manner. Instinctively, he knew that Sidian and Leaf were at his

back, while Delun, a slight distance away, was dealing blows with the

staff of Caveheart at several of the bane. Above all sounds, Kunk

could hear the rapacious yells of Redwiss, as the red titan fought the

ogre solitary.

There seemed no chance of breaking through. Even as Kunk thought

of the need of a diversion, Kunk's eyes found more gray forms, gray

as the rock they climbed on, slinking down from the mountaintop. Kunk

thought of the bugle owl that had fought the harpy parrots, and

wondered and prayed that the bird friend would descend through the air

again. But now another wolfbane, Knavegruff, for there was the white

blaze, was leaping into the battle with Caveheart and Redwiss. The beast

fell back with an arrow shot by Leaf in its loin, but then leaped into

the threshing forms again. Kunk's blade met the snout of the bane

snapping at him, and the bane fell back howling--quickly the jaws of

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of two more dripping whiskered bane replaced him.

Deliverance came from a most unexpected source. All the while, the

fanatic shrieks of Lump-0g and the strange, loud, punching blows had

been filling the air with the howls of the wolfbane that filled one's

ears. But now Lump-Og himself, in increased rage yet again, came

crawling over the lip of the smooth-faced drop. The ogre's massive

Hands were large lumps of broken, smashed, bloodied bone, blood was on

his hidelike skin where he had scraped and torn it, the appearance of

his clublike feet matched his hands. Worse was his head, his head bent

forward like a hunchback's, his eyes filled with a mad white, more

burning white than any of the nightstars of the Realms. The insane

giant had beaten with his fists and hands a way up the bare cliff,

insensate to anything but his rage, beating in holes to clamber upwards.

Tales always afterward were to refer to that portion of the Needle as

Lump-0g's Climb.

In the pass of a falling tree, the conflict changed. Lump-0g

saw Redwiss. With a hideous shriek that scattered the wolfbane in

retreating terror, Lump-0g tore Knavegruff from the battling opponents,

and had grasped Redwiss about the throat. The jaws of the red wolf

sagged, and the companions, getting ready to turn as Delun dragged

Caveheart to his feet, were delayed again, as a wrenching moan of great

hurt came from Lump-0g. Immediately, thoughts of Redwiss and Lump-Og

and Bugle Owls and Harpy Parrots were thrown to the winds, for Lump-0g

was sinking with a black arrow in his side. Had Kunk with his fellows

looked, they would have seen Redwiss, almost seeming to absorb the

mad fury of Lump-0g into his frenzied bloodlust, whirl with a twitching

tail and blazing eyes in the direction of the arrow's shot. Too long

had the Red Striker been denied access to the Aerie Needle's crown,

and now the red wolf was calling the bane for an attack on the guardian

fiend.

But the companions were only thinking of hasty retreat to reach the

Leaning Rock. Caveheart, with a leap and a bound had scooped up

the short Kunk and small Leaf, ogre's blood despoiling Kunk's costume

from the wolf's wound. Together, all of them scrambled about the

Aerie Needle, rocks and the space's plunge of the Needle rushing up at

Kunk as they clattered down a slope towards an all too quick brink of

a drop. Caveheart sailed, and for an instant, Kunk felt his whole

self flee upward as the drop he had been fearing all along had been

made. Kunk had consigned himself to old Knoll Oak and the end of his

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tale forever when he felt a distinct shock, as Caveheart's bracing feet.

took in the shock of landing on top of the Leaning Rock. Leaf and

Kunk were dropped like so many fire logs to the rocky ground and as

Kunk cursed, Sidian, Sythia, and Delun made the suicidal leaps, to land

with Caveheart's assistance on the Leaning Rock.

But yet another danger lurked. A stiff, cold wind blew across

the companions, and they drew together into a huddle on the bare flat

rock that Kunk could see no possible descent from. The wind was growing

stronger, blowing and blowing, and now Kunk could see the wind was not a

current, but a being, for the air had a haze to it, and was the form of a

massive, twirling veil, issuing in an upward spiral around the Aerie

Needle.

All this while, also, the companions with straining eyes could see

a battle in miniature as the wolfbane made their mad pursuit up the

Aerie Needle. A gray form far in advance would fall, but still the

wolfbane getting at greater heights yet still advanced, their numbers

too many for the unerring Black Archer. Then, Leaf was pointing to the

top of the Needle--a flock of birds were flying outwards in sailing,

unflapping wings, all in a wheeling, swinging line. With a rushing

swoop, the bugle owls, for there was the glint of blue and of gold even

at this distance, were flying into the battle.

But even as the last of the owls curled away from the Aerie Needle's

Peak, the owl was followed by an even slower curling substance, much more

massive, as veil shaped as the other wind, but unfurling itself in black

smoke. The battlewinds were drifting towards each other.

0-1

There was a great weight pressing on him. It almost seemed

impossible to move, because the weight was also at his side. Pyhrr

was also aware of an intense cold, and pulled at the great fur cloak still

penetrating its warmth into himself. His eyes opened, and he frowned

without recognition at the nearness of the black-gray boulder he lay

beneath. Then, Pyhrr's hands moving, he felt Thad's larger hand.

Pyhrr's consciousness came back with a rush, and. Pyhrr remembered the

fever had come back upon him. when they had started climbing the ridge,

and Pyhrr clamped his teeth together in frustration at the weakness in

himself. He was however, of a freshness within his mind that hadn't

been there since the grip of Deathmind's in UnNamed Mountain. Perhaps

Damian's cancellation elemental had at last eased its way into his

brain's hurt. Pyhrr managed to turn his head, and found himself

puzzled at the place he found himself in. It was a rock shelter, but

it would have been untypical of Damian or of Thad, to have not had any.

fire or let all the snow and wind that was blowing in that was doing so

now, Fortunately, the shape of their shelter had created a craft the

shape of a circle, and the snow was piling itself up in the center of

their half-roofed shelter rather then the edges.

Pyhrr shivered. He remembered Damian had said they were heading

towards UnNamed Mountain. Cautiously, he started easing out of his

position. Pyhrr looked at Thad, who was pale but breathing, and hoped

he could return the prince's generosity in helping he and Damian. Pyhrr,

weakly crawling, saw Damian's yellow hair all sprawled out on the snow.

Jerking with alarm, Pyhrr pulled back the robe, and touched Damian's

neck, thankful for a pulse. He took Damian's staff and got to his feet.

The rising dizziness for once did not rise in him. Pyhrr, using the staff,

staggered around the snowpile to the rock entry, and looking out, gasped

as he found himself on the edge of a high drop. He grasped the staff

more firmly, and advanced more gingerly, grasping the boulder too. It

was at least fifty feet to the next lowest level, and all around him in

his view, there was a fresh ripped mountainside. Huge, great slabs or

rock were upthrusted vertically, presenting high smooth walls before him

some three hundred feet across, creating a sharded bowl filled with

rock fragments and snow drifts below Pyhrr. Pyhrr wondered how

Thad and Damian had got the the three of them here. There appeared to

be no other entry.

Pyhrr sank to sit at the doorway, looking out the impossible escape

route--there was a choice of impregnable rock behind him, and unscaleable

rock below him. There was a choice of cold in here and a more bitter

0-2

cold outside. Then, hearing a moan, Pyhrr turned to see Thad

stirring in unconscious mutters. Pyhrr, taking Damian's wand,

crawled over to Damian's loose herb sack, and crawled over to Thad.

He turned the black-furred robe back, and put a hand on Thad's

forehead that was hot and feverish, Then Pyhrr saw that the bandages

at Thad’s wounded leg were unusually tight. There was a faint, foul

odor at the wrapping, and Pyhrr quickly drew out Cyull, slashing the

healwrap.

Pyhrr reeled back for a moment at the sight_of the swollen and

infested leg. The only thing he could think was to take some of the

sprinkleflower that Damian seemed to so liberally use, and mix it

with some of the snow--this he rubbed over Thad's leg, and looking

at the state of rags they were all in, finally ripped the sleeve from

his blouse for a wrapping. Pyhrr passed his hand over his forehead,

brushing some of his disordered hair into other runaway locks, thinking

that he must trust to Caveheart to see the sunpearls to Turret. Thad

would be in no way able to walk, and if Thad were able to manage with

a crutch, there was a chance that fevered clamp could come back, and

then they would be tied in place again. Were he able to manage his

own crutch, it would mean a more lagged pace than ever.

But Pyhrr must worry yet about Damian and about their present

situation more than anything. He found his bare arm shivering from

the cold, and he noticed that Thad's frame was shaking too. Pyhrr found

the wizard solitary had a bruised head, and seeing the smudged, ripped

front of the grey robe, Pyhrr parted the rip to find several more of

the large, black bruises. Nothing seemed broken, and Pyhrr wondered

at the cause of the bruises.

Pyhrr looked about, cold. There was no way of telling when Damian

would come to, for it appeared he was unconscious, and it struck Pyhrr

that fire was what they most needed. He looked about not seeing wood

but the thin staves of his carrier. He had firerock and flint in his

tunic himself, but he felt that no more of their clothing could be spared.

Pyhrr covered his companions up with Thad's fur robe again, first taking

the sashes of their robes and tunics. Pyhrr took his own sash, and

burrowed through Damian's herb sack which no end amazed him with the

variety of spider pouches, flower pollens and bark crushes.

What Pyhrr wanted, though, a rope, wasn't to be found. Pyhrr's hair

tousled as he shook his head grimly, knotting the sashes together,

finding he only had a twenty foot length. He took Cyull in his hand

again, weighing the sword in his hand as he thought of what possible

0-3

dangerous solitaries he might find roaming the area of UnNamed

Mountain. With great reluctance he laid aside Cyull, and using

Cyull's belt and the sword belt of Thad, found he added another

six feet. He would simply, he told himself, have to descend the

rope and hope for a ledge on the face of the rock.

Pyhrr went to the rock shelter's opening feeling the blast of cold

air prickling his skin. Now he saw there was a light snow falling,

but looking at it with the experienced eye of a Snow Kingdom

prince, saw that the snow was a peace snow rather than a fury snow

and would not gather into a storm. Shivering again, Pyhrr found a

projectile rock to to tie his sash to and tying Damian's staff to the

other end of the sash rope, dropped the staff over the drop. The

wind hit him as he dropped too far out of the shelter, and the rock was

a burning cold against his body, as he braced himself. Then, hand

over hand, Pyhrr continued his descent, using his feet again and again

to find a brace but finding none. Then his body was in space where

a concaved wall had been scooped into a cliff. Pyhrr, juggling his

body, saw he only had three feet of his sash left and there was still

a major drop of distance below him. His choice, he saw , was one of

return, or taking a risk, one of dropping into the snow, hoping for.

a drift that was neither shallow nor engulfing. For his return, Pyhrr

thought that if he could find the wood he wanted , he could perhaps

also find a tree, to make a bark rope. Swaying, he considered again.

Pyhrr reached down to loosen the staff. He grasped it firmly in

his hand, and staring at the snow, released his hold. His body

sliced into the snow, and a chill wrapped into Pyhrr as he fought

against the shock of the cold of the snow he was sliding into,

twisting his body, clawing with hand, feet, staff,and knees for any

kind- of hold, as he saw the small hole his body had made start to

collapse with spilling snow. The snow finally beneath Pyhrr held, and

feeling a great effort in his lungs, Pyhrr, began kicking and clawing

his way upwards. He reached air, exhausted, and feeling snow flakes

coming down on him. Thinking of the rock shelter again, Pyhrr grimly

dug his way out of the snow, and wishing for a heavier cloak than the

brown one he wore, and wishing more for flame, Pyhrr took his bearings.

He was in the bottom of the great, carved bowl, and the peace

snow was still falling with the slow and the grace of diamonded powder.

There was no sign in the snowflakes and the deeply lying snow of a

torn tree or uprooted shrub. All was snow and rock, and the concaved

cliff Pyhrr stood beneath so reared over his head, that he could see

0-4

no sign of the shelter that he had departed from. Sheer curving

cliff was everywhere but for the extreme wall across from him where

rubble had spilled from a slope. He must cross the bowl to get there.

The Snow Prince took the staff of his wizard friend, and using it

for support, started moving slowly through the flakes that were the

bane and the blessing of his kingdom--for it was the fierce snowstorms

of his low mountain kingdom that kept the invader out, but also kept

his people hard pressed under harsh conditions. Even when green summer,

and gay flowered spring arrived, the borders of the Kingdom in the

High Peaks and in the North Peaks were subject to descending snowstorms

from the mountains, and wary invaders had to beware of geography changes

effected by the great snow avalanches of the Kingdom each year. Even

dragons had been checked in savage descents on the kingdom until the

coming of the Jewel Dragons, housed with Serpent Wizardry against the

cold. The robes of state were printed with the snow flake design, and

the points of the crown and scepter of Turret were carved into likenesses

of the flake as well. One of the rarest of treasures at Turret was a

large tapestry woven of snow dust and stardust depicting Turret's patron

dragon, the great white silver dragon, Diamond. Diamond in snowfall,

too, decorated the furling banners of the Snow Kingdom, and so closely

was the drqgon associated with snow in Turret, that there were some

whispers that Diamond had actually been a sole solitary dragon that

unlike any other dragon race, could only be described as a frost dragon.

Other tales began filling Pyhrr's mind as trudging through the

snow, he began dipping into his store of tales on the North Peaks--

ogre Solitaries were reported to be fond of the area and there was

an ogre tale of the ogre Juglop meeting and battling with the monster of

the Stone People, Tritarian, the battle ending in death of both of the

warriors. There was also a tale of a party of Stumpdwellers getting

lost in the North Peaks for the period of some twenty tales, extolling

the severe problem of traveling stumpdwellers- without guides. Another

tale that came to Pyhrr as he walked with sinking steps was one that

told the Snow Wizards had centered themselves in remote Winterscliff

in order that they might be near the North Peaks, where they could

find the rare flowers that some of the wizards studied for magic.

Pyhrr stumbled. He wavered, then fell. He nursed a bruised

knee and was about to grasp the staff when the thought struck him that

he had tripped. Quickly turning around, disregarding the seep of the

cold and the wet of the snow into his leggings and hands, Pyhrr began

digging in the snow, He found a torn root, and eagerly began scooping

0+5

at the snow to see if he could find any more of the tree remnants.

There was a flash of color. Pyhrr, startled, slowed in his haste,

and used his fingers rather than his hands at the snow. Suddenly

his hollow exposed a mass of flowers, all growing on a rock of a strange

and unnatural rose color. Pyhrr, in his long association with Damian,

had not been able to help but learn some names of the Realms' botanical

specimens, and he saw to his surprise that the flowers he had found had

among them, several specimens of the glimmering wand. The rock, Pyhrr

realized, had been torn from somewhere in a fierce storm that had

created this bowl, and had been cast down here. Besides the glimmering

wands, there were several other flowers he had no recognition of at

all. One flower he knew as the yellow swallow, a dancing sort of

flower, but the other flower, a fiercely orange flower that seemed

nothing more suggestive in its shape than a round pond, so perfectly

did its petals fuse into a flat circle. Remembering Damian's heal

sack with its odd assortment of herbs, Pyhrr carefully removed two of

the orange pond flowers, two of the glimmering wands, and one of the

yellow swallows,

The snow had become more thick. But still it wasn't at the will

of a wind and all of the flakes still moved in plummets at the ground.

Pyhrr shook his thick hair to get some of the flakes out of it, and

found a pin in his tunic to pin the flowers to the inner folds of his

cloak. He clutched at the wood he had found, wondering where the mother

tree of the root was, so he could get more of the fuel wood, and create

a rope.

There was a movement of two distant forms. The snow blurred

their movements, and Pyhrr stiffened a moment, his tunic without its

sash flapping as loosely about his body as his cloak, and aware indeed

of his decision to leave Cyull behind. The blurred forms disappeared--

all that there had been of them had-been the motion, there had been

no sound, no voice, no whisper of snow with their steps.

Pyhrr had just moved his one hand inside of his cloak to feel

the petals of the flowers to make sure they had remained pinned,

when in the first second, there was the touch of over cool hands at his

shoulders, the next second, a vision of Deathmind leering leaped into

Pyhrr's mind, and the clench at his mind that had been felling him

since UnNamed Mountain came back, harder than ever. Pyhrr grasped

the back of his head with both hands, his cloak being flung back and his

wand of wood dropping into the snow, along with his root. Pyhrr rallied

for a will in his mind to fight the hold back. realizing that Deathmind's

0-6

mind crush had caught him in a grip of the powerful phantom gem

magic of the Serpent Wizards, and that this crush meant that the

wounded Deathmind was recovering.

"Damian, " Pyhrr could hardly shout. In pain, Pyhrr fell forward

into the snow, rolling on his side, then back, his whole face contorted

with twisted thought and pain, trying to form in his own mind Deathmind's

head, and trying to return an equally savage grasp. The pain lessened

a moment, then Pyhrr felt a force that he had never felt pour through

his veins and filling into his mind a dark, violet flow of pure terror

exploding into his mind into a vision of purple as Deathmind began

ebbing the essence of his evil into Pyhrr. Pyhrr felt the force leap

out of him, and he jerked spasmodically, writhing in pain, wondering

how near his death must be. Then Pyhrr saw that Deathmind had used

he, Pyhrr, as a medium for Serpent Wizardry, for the dark force that

had leaped out of him, was creating jerking, quivering movements in

the snow. Rock ripped, and a crevice, growing into a gap, then into

a chasm parted Pyhrr from the concaved cliff wall he had descended from.

Pyhrr clutched at his head, knowing a severe weakness, and fearing a

return of the fill of terror into himself. If he had but a dagger,

he could fall on it, and perhaps somehow in suicide slay a part of

the chaining Deathmind's soul.

"Damian, Damian," Pyhrr pleaded. Then Pyhrr found in his body's

movement he had fallen upon the gift of the Snow Glory. His hand

reached for the staff, but a$ his hand opened to clutch the wood, his

hand stiffened into a claw as the hand's grip on his mind came back.

Pyhrr willed his body to fall forward, his hand had the staff, and

a shriek rose than faded in his mind. With the disappearance of the

shriek, the grip fell away too, and Pyhrr, panting, and finding himself

weak anew from the blow of Deathmind, stared at the wood that apparently

had blocked the magic of the Serpent Wizards. He must never let loose

of the wand until giving it to Damian. He now found a fear filling his

mind that Deathmind had formed a permanent grip on his mind.

Pyhrr tried to rise, but even as he rose, he felt the cursed

lightness in his head and legs. He slid back down the rod, trying to

essay for the stark strength he had seen Thad drew upon in physical

exhaustion. Then, there was the movement of the two forms again. They

were closer now, and Pyhrr, blinking in the snow, felt instinctively

that the two forms didn't move forward out of violence, but out of

curiosity. Pyhrr, blinking again, saw the forms starting to take shape

O07

in the snow as they came forward, the outlines of riderless steeds.

Then the steeds were standing right before Pyhrr. Awed,

Pyhrr saw that the steeds who had found him curious were Gliding Manes,

horses who were cousins to the White Maned Steeds, but who instead of

being cream-colored with almond eyes and white manes and tails like

the white manes, were of different solid colors among the individuals,

but among the species had manes which were more an ice white rather

than a cream white. And, like all wild mountain inhabitants, such

as the Bugle Owls, the Gliding Manes had the fine, icy pale blue eyes.

The two steeds in front of him, Pyhrr grasped dimly in his pain, were

even atypical of their race. Their manes were longer, whiter, shaggier,

and the one horse, small enough for a stumpdweller to ride, was a

bright red raspberry color, while his companion, a huge steed, all

of black but for the white mane, seemed almost the size of the huge

purplehorn steeds that the ogres rode. Pyhrr reached his hand out,

and the steeds proved their names, as startled, they turned to leap,

their bodies floating in the air as if without effort and without weight

in their limbs, to land a good safe distance from the prince. The

steeds were dimmer, Pyhrr felt as if he were fading inside himself,

but maintained a good grip on the staff. Desperately, he got to his

feet, and stumbled forward several paces. He sank to his knees again,

and the small pungeance of the orange flower filling his nose, Pyhrr

remembered a trick that Damian had shown him once with a herd of White

Maned Steeds. Pyhrr removed the nosegay of flowers from his hands, his

whole arm and hand shaking with the weakness of an effort he had no more.

He knelt. He held the flowers in his hands out towards the steeds, and

the trick worked with the gliding manes too, The steeds moved through

the whirling, falling snow, and Pyhrr felt the breath from their nostrils

as the huge steed and his small red companion sniffed at the pungeance

of the glimmering wands and the orange ponds, Pyhrr looked straight

into the strange, glittering blue eyes of the black steed, and spurred

towards creativeness by the realization that there was no channel but this

steed left, Pyhrr seized on an image of Turret on a summer day in his

mind, and the red orange eyelight that gave Pyhrr his name flicked for

a moment in the Snow Prince's eyes. The black steed's eyes widened, and

then the steed was stepping forward carefully, to bend itself to Pyhrr's arms.

The mulberry pony pushed at Pyhrr with his head, as the Snow Prince

got a weak arm about the neck of the black, felling a surging strength

and power of a steed he had not known the like of beneath his arm.

0-8

The mulberry steed gave Pyhrr a harder shove, and Pyhrr was able

to throw his legs about the powerful flanks of the Gliding Mane

Solitary. He fell forward across the steed's neck, knowing he

was passing out.

"Damian, Damian.” He could only think to say to the Gliding

Mane Steeds. "Damian Glimmering Wand, Damian Blade, Damian of

Perilous the Black Dagger. He needs us."

Then the Prince of the Snow Kingdom was aware of a sudden

surge in the muscles and frame of the black steed he was sprawled

over, and then he was feeling a power of being airborne effortlessly,

as the Gliding Mane began to take him he knew not whither.

The battlewinds struck each other, the black smoke of the

descending wind spiraling thrice, four times about the high reaching

peak of the Aerie Needle before the slowly,curling, menacing white

wind came up against the black descent. A shuddering crack and rumble

issued from the core of the Aerie Needle itself as a shuddering tremor

shook the whole rock structure, and then a storm as if from nowhere

began twirling in a high vertical shaft about the Aerie Needle. That

elemental fire of the skies, lightning-lace, drew itself in fine,

splintering lines, and water in alternating spells of steaming heat

and shivering cold drenched Kunk and his companions immediately, all of

them laying down upon the rock and clutching each other as a fierce

wind tried to tear them from the Leaning Rock.

The companions selection of a retreat had been fortunate too.

Now there were gushes of torrents and gathering waters rushing down

the carven gullies of the Aerie Needle, the waters sliding rocks and

loose boulders in their paths. Wolfbane, shrieking and howling were

being crushed in the pounding boulders and being thrown over the face

of the Aerie Needle as they were caught in the watery avalanche. Yet

still, the death battle calls of Redwiss the raging Crimson Ripper sung

with the other calls trying to dominate the battlewinds. More eerie

than anything were the great booming hoots of the bugle owls, and Kunk

shivered even more,for there was death in those calls.

Now the terror of Realmists when elemental battles of the sky

formed--the lightning-lace fire, tried to dominate itself in the storm.

Spidery strands of illumination danced down in bright flights, striking

the Needle. Where spider oaks caught the strike of the fire, they

burst into flame, only to be consummated into black fired shells as

the continued water spills drenched the flame. Rock exploded where the

lightning struck. Then it seemed as if some fiber of rock magic, or even

mountain magic, reached out from the spire. The rumbling increased, the

whole of the spire began to shudder and Leaf's eyes opened wide at the

thought that perhaps the Leaning Rock seemed to be yawning more outwards.

geysers erupted from the Needle, the steam spewing up into the storm,

and boulders were pitched upward as the whole spire heaved.

Now a great leap of lightning-lace filled the field of conflict

becoming an unearthly spectacle as it broadened into a sheet of mystical

light. The sheet disappeared, the spidery illuminations came again,

became broad illuminations once more, and then like daggers, the

lightning leaped as the spokes of a fired wheel, hitting the Aerie

+

Needle simultaneously at a ring of rock high up the spire, as if

in a gesture of strangulation. Rock exploded, wolfbane were hurled

into the air, geysers exploded, and bugle owls twirled in great loops

about the Needle, their wings fighting the centrifugal force come all

at once. Now elemental sparks, as if the fire lightning had exploded

into flinders, began falling and drifting like so many snowflakes.

Wind now took its turn, slamming into the Aerie Needle, and ripping

at the spider oaks so much that they writhed as living things in

torture. A great, wrenched sound filled the air, a great black shadow

passed over the companions on the Leaning Rock, and looking up they saw that

a spider oak was plunging down at them. The tree's branched crown

crashed into them, as helpless, they cowered under its fall. The Aerie

Needle began to glower a faint orange as if in a heated malignance

similar to the mountain furor of UnNamed Mountain. The elemental fire

returned to join the wind, and the drops of the rain elongated into

watered spears as the wind thrust itself at the Needle's rocks.

The orange, however, increased, the rumbling increased, and

the Leaning Rock was shaking with great exertion, The falling

water now became interspersed with hail, with ice, with fireballs,

and Kunk was glad now of the tree that had fallen on them, for its

protection.

"Oh, deadly!"Sythia was screaming, and through the wet leaves,

through the rain, through the falling rage of the battlewinds on the

Aerie Needle, Kunk saw the deadly funnelforms so deadly to Stump Villages

and to the Woodlian Forests beginning to issue from the ghastly storm

column. These were not the high, vertical, deadly spinning columns of

wind that could tear up stump and tree to throw out from stunning,

killing falls of heights, but were rather strangely, horizontal aiming

funnelforms. No less than seven were boring in towards the Aerie Needle,

one of the funnelforms aiming itself at the blackened ring the throat

lightning had wrapped itself about. More rock, and even more rock was

torn up into the air, but the deadly twirl tempests were short lived,

as the battlewinds, still in their spirals trying to overcome the other,

consumed with scarce a breath the funnelforms. Of wolfbane there could

be seen no more, hear no more. The wild howls of Redwiss that had

raged with the tempest had vanished too, but the bugle owls,flying now

as if for their lives and for their nests, still could be seen. They

no longer boomed their haunting cries, and Kunk, in all the rush of

water and storm, found a moment's thought to wonder if the owls had

slain the Scarlet Leaper.

Pe)

Sythia was shouting something at the entire party. Kunk thought

the princess might be shouting something about another twirl tempest

or funnelstorm, but then he caught the word golden, and realized in

a flash that the princess was trying to tell them that the golden

horrorstones were exerting an influence on the malignance of the

tempests.

The great tree that had fallen on them, was still attached by

torn roots high, high up the Needle, it was one of the greatest sized

of the spider oaks that the wind had felled, and Sythia, tossing her

water-soaked hair behind her, and giving a squeeze at Delun's sword

in her sash, started climbing into the branches.

"Sythia, no." Kunk called. "The winds are too dangerous, There

are too many erupting elementals. Come back. Come back!"

Kunk shouted to Leaf, Then Leaf was shaking Kunk, shouting with

the screams of the wind that the spider oak's fall had pinned Caveheart

and Delun both, that Sidian was unconscious, that try as hard as he

could, Leaf couldn't lift Crimsoncleft to chop at the great boughs.

"Then we must go with the princess," Kunk shouted back.

"She is not of the races--she is a spirit princess,remember!"

Leaf screamed, "She cannot be harmed."

Kunk was startled at Leaf's thought, but still, he found there

was something in him which knew that more explanation was needed yet.

On the spur of the moment, Kunk decided to use his storyteller ability,

and instead of telling history, tell a made up story--it would serve

Leaf right, the Woodlians made up so many horror stories about the

fearsome Miasmas without ever knowing the interior of the Marshes,

"The story is that when ghost racers associate themselves with their

living kindred again," Kunk yelled into the wind, "they take on the

substance of living attributes again, but woe, woe to them, that die

a second death in their transformed substances. They become wolfbane,"

The last Kunk whispered in his most ghastliest and scare hollowing voice

possible.

Prickles formed at Leaf's face. Without a word, he began to clamber

into the tree top. Kunk followed.

Pyhrr stirred. There was the faint sound of voices, the low

neighs and nickers of steeds, and most, there was the deep; pleasant

warmth of heat. He felt the familiar pallet's lumps beneath his

back and the thick lushness of Thad's fur was up to his chin. For a

moment, Pyhrr thought he was a boy again fallen asleep in the straw

in his father's stables. But then Pyhrr found himself awakened and

staring at the now familiar low ceiling of the rock shelter. He

gingerly pushed with his hands, and found he was not as light-headed

as before. He carefully pushed himself from beneath the rock, then

propped up against a lower ceilinged wall, drawing up Thad’s robe.

Thad was awake, and so, Pyhrr saw was Damian. Thad had Pyhrr's

own cloak gathered around his shoulders while Damian, looking the most

ragged that Pyhrr had ever seen him, was working with some kind of

scooped stone over a strange green flame. Then Pyhrr became aware of

two shadows looming near him. He looked, startled to see the two

gliding mane steeds who had found him, contentedly munching at some

strange green weed piled up in proliferation,

"Ah , your tea has done Pyhrr much good already." Thad cracked

with a hoarse voice, seeing Pyhrr. The Cavern Prince was deathly

white, and his face's bones were pronounced in his gaunt face, but the

same dauntless spirit rode in the eyes and voice.

"Praise Great Diamond!" Damian in rare animation turned on Pyhrr

the tautness of the carefully formed bones slackening in their tension.

Damian, approached the Snow Prince, smiled, and took hold of Pyhrr's

wrist, "Pyhrr, you have saved the expedition. The Gliding Manes can

give us the way to the Aerie Needle. I have been worried about

Caveheart and the others ever since we saw those runes in Malcilis’s

cave, and was dreaming that Serpent kind were crawling after our

friends when I first awoke."

With that, Damian gave the warmed stone full of a pungent

liquid to Pyhrr. Pyhrr, on drinking the tea, found it permeating

with warmth. A burst of questions and exchanges followed as Pyhrr

drank, Pyhrr first telling of the return of the mind grip and the finding

of the steeds. Damian and Thad told Pyhrr of the whirlstorm, and

Thad made a joke about Damian having a most unmagical headache from

getting cracked good by a most unwizardly accident. When Pyhrr

explained that he had made his departure to find wood for a flame,

Damian, smiling, told him that there had been a fire all along.

Q-2

Damian, on rousing from his stupor, had been unable to raise an

elemental flame without his staff, but green spider mould from his

healsack made a good combustible. Thad grimaced. "Would you believe

it, he used green spider mould on my leg too, and made me swallow what

he calls gribbug brew."

“But where, Pyhrr," Damian interrupted the excited flow of talk

that all three of the companions had continuously interrupted to

gaze in unspeaking and moved looks at the Gliding Manes,assuring

themselves that the magical, rare creatures were actually before

their eyes and continued to remain in placid companionship. "did you

find the carnelian flowers?"

"Carnelian flowers?" Pyhrr was the moment taking a long, studying

look at the black steed.

"Those were the red flowers that you picked. They are more

scarce than even the glimmering wands or the yellow swans. I have been

looking for them most carefully ever since that foul blow you received

from Deathmind. The tea made from it is the only cure I know to counter

a mind grip from phantom gem magic--and I have even been looking for

carnelian flowers ever since I read of its tale in the 01d Bollywood

tale library. I have already been giving some to you, and Deathmind-

should no longer be able to send his grip at you, though you shall be

weak yet for a while,"

"Shall I be able to stride a steed?" Pyhrr's studying eyes.

moved over the black steed again.

"Yes, With care, perhaps even tomorrow."

Pyhrr caught the quickened note in Damian's voice, the fixed,

stiff gaze. "What is wrong, Damian?"

"when Thad and I both arose to find you gone, we guessed that

you must have gone scouting. We found we both had awakened from an

identical dream. Dreams that a party of six--of a stumpdweller,

a woodlian, an ogre, a fair racer, a lady and her knight, were in

deadly peril at the Aerie Needle, and dreams full of a large, menacing

dragon shadow. We must reach the Aerie Needle."

"You have UnNamed Mountain yet." Thad pointed out.

"Aye, I have UnNamed Mountain yet." Damian's words were more

weighted with a silent menace than Pyhrr had ever heard his quiet

wizard companion use before. "That evil mountain has done too much

now. "

Pyhrr saw that Damian had determined to strike at the mountain

somehow, Involuntarily, he said, "Damian, the mountain is centuries

Q-3

old and practiced in its particularly malevolent magic: while you

have only just begun to discover your range. If we have to detour,”

Pyhrr wrestled with the frustration of taking a longer route, and

thus endanger the others of the company even more. "We have to

detour.

Thad was awed. "You will combat a mountain, Damian?”

"We must take the short route," Damian quietly insisted to

Pyhrr. That means passing by UnNamed Mountain. Perhaps," he ceded

to Pyhrr's words, "The mountain will feel it has done us enough evil

when we bypass it."

Pyhrr, knowing he couldn't dissuade Damian, had been thinking.

"The carnelian flowers--how do they work against such a potent a magic

as Deathmind's?"

Damian kept his hands busy over the strange spider mould fire.

"The Snow Wizards did many of their lesser magics with the flowers of

the Realms, realizing the magic in a plant can be as powerful as the

magic of jewels. Plants, do they not, crush rock eventually into soil?"

"Yes." Pyhrr had returned his thoughts and gaze at the fantastic

G1iding Manes again. A thought was becoming ¢common to all three

friends, which Thad spoke aloud. "It is strange that the Gliding Manes

knew where to bring you, Pyhrr. You were in one of your raging fevers

and Damian had just finished patching my leg when those two beasts filled

the doorway."

"I asked them to take me to you, Damian." Pyhrr replied. "I

used the flower trick you had showed me with the White Manes and it

worked. --It almost looks like the trick has even enchanted them into

being friendly."

"There is a tale," Damian spoke thoughtfully. "That the Gliding

Manes can fill their minds with the image of what one wishes and of

what one thinks. And filling their minds, be able to bear their riders

to where the rider wishes to be."

"Will we able to ride them again?" Pyhrr questioned lowly. "Might

we be able to enchant them with the flowers again?"

"Damian has already ridden the smaller steed." Thad spoke. "How

else do you suppose we came by that pile of foul weed those silly steeds

seem so fond of? When you arrived, and fell off that big black fellow

with those flowers still in your hand, I don't know which our wizard

friend was more surprised to see--you, your flowers or the Gliding Manes.

Before Damian could do or say anything, that small red horse's ears

thrust forward, and he walked forward to nudge Damian's dagger, Perilous.

Q-4

-

He and Damian made friends, and your black steed just stayed in

the entrance. Damian took a glance at you, grabbed your flowers, told

me how to make your tea and give it you, and walking right to that

little red steed, hopped on his back, and then leaped out into the

snowfall. When Damian came back, he was carrying those armfuls of

green weed."

"Have you, then, Damian, been able to communicate with the

Gliding Manes?" Pyhrr asked, for even now, with the blue eyes becoming

excited into a deep blue, the small red steed walked over to nuzzle

Damian's yellow hair.

"No," Damian answered, unconsciously putting a hand up to the

red steed. "To talk with any steed is very difficult, as you know. I

have simply established a trust with this red steed, as the black, I

believe, has with you.--It is a shame there has not been a third steed

for Thad.

"I will be able to get Draw-wind to bear both Thad and I."

Pyhrr replied. "“Cannaberry will bear you, Damian,"

"What did you say? Both Thad and Damian were gazing at Pyhrr with

widely opened eyes, with stiffened postures.

"I--" Pyhrr suddenly realized he had named both of the steeds.

Quickly, he gave a look at the black steed, and in that moment, Pyhrr,

as if in overlooking a cliff in a cave and finding the current of a

river, recognized that a flow from the first had begun to tide between

the huge powerful gliding mane and he, and that though there was not

a communication of conversation between steed and prince as between

the racers, steed and prince would henceforth be able to place unconscious

thoughts in each other.

"Pyhrr said, "Come, Draw-wind. Damian and Thad were amazed to

see the black steed come towards Pyhrr. Thad was minded of his

experience with the bugle owl, and saw the same raptness was between

the snow prince and his steed savior. Damian saw the rare soft orange

light grow in Pyhrr's eyes and saw the quickness that was developing

between the two. He looked to Cannaberry and saw the warmth of softness

in the steed's blue eyes. And though there was snow blowing outside,

Damian now felt more easy about the shadowy, forbidding UnNamed Mountain.

Several times already now, Kunk had thought for sure the moment

was going to be his last, as the battlewinds came whirling in with all

their force at the great spider oak that the stumpdweller still climbed.

The tree despite the shaking still was holding though, and Kunk was

not even allowing himself to peer over the rounded edges.

The Princess Sythia was well ahead of himself and of Leaf. Her

pale skin seemed to emit a greenish tinge, and her hair was in limp

tangles. Most unladylike, Sythia bore Delun's sword with no effort

of strength, and when the winds would seem to threaten to throw the

princess off her climb up the oak, Sythia would bend in double,

fighting for progress against the raging winds and the falling drops

in her face. Once, another twirl tempest had come in at the tree, but

caught and swallowed by the battlewinds, the storm had found itself

baffled by the Aerie Needle again. More dangerous was the geyser that

the Aerie Needle was spouting forth from its side, spraying the grimly

grasping Spider Oak, There were formidable rushes of water still

pitching down the Aeries Needle too, and Kunk hoped that ever were he

to wander alone again, it would never be to this race-forsaken geography

of the North Peaks again. What was appalling, moreover, was the fact

there he was here only in the North Peaks, and not even in that greater,

loftier and more mighty range to the north, the old haunts of the

disappeared Snow Wizards, the High Peaks.

Leaf glanced down the length of trunk they hd ascended. He

paled as he saw that Sidian and the pinned ogre seemed but specks,

and the tree, so mammoth that it veiled all sight of the jutting

Leaning Rock, seemed a ramp into the deepest of any drops. It was

most mad of Kunk to have led them here, the Woodlian thought, and it

was even more mad of himself to have ever become included in this

expedition.

A blackness more covering, more enveloping than the falling tree

had been, started coming over the three climbers. The remembered horror

of the dragon-elemental came to Leaf, but looking up, he saw that it

was black curled smoke of the upper battlewind descending. He cowered

down with Kunk, throwing his arms over his head. A great cold passed

over him, and there seemed to be the whispers of a touching fog at his

ears and cheeks, and he quivered at this new feature of the assaulting

storm. The cold lasted five minutes, ten minutes, and Kunk realized

that with this mist, a silence was beginning to come--there were no

mad calls of the bane or of the Red Ripper, Redwiss. The shrieks of

R~-2

the winds, the howls of the battlewinds had faded, and Leaf could not

even hear Kunk or Sythia. Leaf paralyzed, fearing a new and unknown

magic of the elementals. Nothing he could see as he chanced a look,

only the edge of the spider oak's tree trunk a few feet on either side

of him, and the deadly black-gray smoke, furling and unfurling. There

were no calls of the uncontrolled funnelforms, no whizzing sounds of

arrows.

The black passed, and with it the ferocious storm passed away too.

Kunk saw that the battlewinds had emerged from each other, and even now

he could see the white battlewind continue to spiral towards the top of

the Needle, now but several hundred yards from the roots of the fallen

oak.

But now an orange blur moving among the grey boulders caught

Leaf's eye. No sooner than he saw the skulking form of Redwiss and

his mind suggested the sure certainty of what Redwiss planned, than

the Crimson Ripper acted out the thought.

The wolfbeast came to the torn roots of the spider oak. With

a short leap, the Ripper came out on the trunk of the oak, fangs

showing, the eyes an intense burning hatred of red.

"Sythia, wait for us, " Kunk was calling, for he and Leaf were

still several hundred yards behind the princess. It was evident that

Redwiss had been wounded and hurt in the storm and battle, great

talon tears were along the wolf's side and whiskered Jaws. One leg

was being favored as if perhaps one of the numerous shards of rock had

struck the wolf a blow. Also, the shaft of a black shined arrow

protruded from the wolf's shoulder, At this sight, the wolf seemed

to take on an added wraith's appearance, to assume an elemental form,

for the thought to Kunk was what but could be the brute's source of

strength, that it could resist the deeply sinking arrows of the fearsome

Archer?

"Sythia," Kunk's lips trembled, as Redwiss descended some twenty

feet, baring his teeth now in a dare that the others try to brave him.

But the Princess Sythia did not hear Kunk, and now on the strange,

sloping bridge .with its fantastic backdrop, Kunk and Leaf found themselves

without leg or arm motion as the princess, seemingly unaware of their

presence, rang out in a loud, royal voice, "Bane of the North Peaks,

begone!"® :

Redwiss snarled, showing more of his ripping teeth, Again

Sythia rang out a voice that echoed about the Needle, " Wolf Redwiss,

Crimson Ripper, Scarlet Leaper, Bane of the North Peaks, I bid you

beware! Begone thine carcass!"

The only action of the wolf was now to twitch his brushy tail,

and to brace his legs. Sythia had been walking forward all the while,

and it appeared to Leaf that it was the princess’s command of character

that was keeping the wounded Redwiss in his yet slinking stance.

"Behold, Redwiss!" Sythia raised the long sword of Delun in a

challenging gesture. She spread her arms, and with a crack in the air,

Leaf and Kunk were appalled to see the Princess Sythia's gown of green

becoming a black velvet bordered in green fur, her pale yellow hair take

on the gold of the the sunstar. The princess's hand slipped into the

throat of her gown, she brought out a discolored heavy disc that was

a medallion. "Behold, Redwiss! The pass of the Enchantress Rhodora

to the Aerie Needle." Princess Sythia’s voice was stark with warning

of impending power, and even as Sythia spoke the medallion in her hand

seemed to take on a red glow and heat, giving off a smoke.

Redwiss was now slinking backwards along the oak, scowling more

savagely, keeping his stance in its threatening spring, but still

retreating. Sythia, meanwhile, merely kept staring at the great North

Peak wolf, the toss in her black robes being the only thing in motion

about herself, as her green eyes directed themselves fully and almost

with contempt at the red mountain wolf. Redwiss, not as insane as

Lump-0g, knew when his ferocity could not strike.

"The Enchantress Rhodora" exclaimed Leaf to Kunk.

"Her presence was only known at night!" Kunk began one story.

“She dueled with Lurkthroat, sire of Deathmind and Veil Choke,

and came off the greater magician!" Leaf told another.

"She struck the bridge to Winterscliff in two!"

"She struck the ogre Wundegan mad!”

"She was the power of her age until she became too bold and

challenged Black Great Gaunt himself. It must be--it must be,”

Kunk whispered to Leaf. "That the Aerie Needle was the tower retreat

of that tempest woman."

"Indeed, that seems so. For it was the wind that Rhodora was

the mistress of, and where would have the battlewinds come but from

such a powerful hand?"

The question, of course was the relationship of Sythia and

Rhodora, of how the princess had come by the ancient medallion. But

now the cowering Redwiss was uttering a new and intensified hiss of

rage. Kunk looked up to see that the scarlet wolf was no longer

R-4

cowering, but staring directly at Sythia in a deadly, fixed stare.

The wolf's eyes took on the look of a crystal,polished glass, the

hue of flame, and then the eyes of Redwiss became filled with the

blaze of an exploding sunstar. Redwiss sprang, coming forward, and

the medallion the Princess bore exploded with a crimson light, becoming

as a shield. Yet even as the firelight of the medallion sprang out

towards the leaping wolf, Redwiss now became a mist shape, his

hair seeming to burst into a half gaseous, half misty flame, his teeth

glistening orange flames.

Kunk and Leaf heard Sythia scream, they saw the red light of the

medallion radiating out, and become mixed with the orange light of

the crimson-clouded Redwiss.

gleam of Delun's great sword as the blade crashed through the mist shape

of the wolfwraith, Redwiss was as dragons, Kunk and Leaf now saw--an

internal power, a possession of magic within the wolf's makeup, a

cunning intelligence that could be vile or deep knowing, and most, an

overwhelming strength of personality, these were what would describe

a dragon's character, and all of these wild creature traits Kunk saw

exhibited by Redwiss to an unnatural degree.

The exploding smokes and mists of the orange crimson of Redwiss

and the scarlet of Sythia was now within range. But Kunk and Leaf retreated

to a distance as the searing heat came drifting out, the scarlets and the

crimsons so bright and intense that no sight could be seen of wolf or

of princess. Then, vague shadow form of Redwiss could be seen, his

claws and jaws raking at the mists, trying to find his opponent, trying

to break through the opposing shield.

A low rumble issued from the Aerie Needle. The torrents were

finally running thin, and the avalanches had stopped, as the rain had

ceased. But the rumbling continuing, and seeming to issue from near the

peak of the Aerie Needle, the Woodlian Leaf saw that that portion of the

Needle that was shaking was also taking on a white and snowed appearance.

"Snow wizards!" he exclaimed to Kunk.

But the rumbling had also attracted the attentions of the combatants.

The mists drifted apart, and Kunk what the princess knew as her sword

involuntarily went down to her side, while she and Redwiss gazed up at

the patch of snow in the Needle. Sythia's arm was letting blood, her

gown had become the limp, draggled green once again all in tears, and

there was a tear on her cheek as well. Redwiss howled at the sight of

the snow. The wolf leaped over the tree, and the last that Kunk saw

R-5

the wolf was continuing to make a downward, scrambling rush.

"Sythia?" Kunk approached her carefully, planting his feet for

balance, wondering if he could touch her, wondering how she could be

a spirit if she bled too like a full racer?

"When snow falls," Sythia answered the unvoiced but anxious

worry in Kunk's face, "Without snowfall being elsewhere, then that is

a sign that a spell of a snow wizard has been broken. It means that

the Black Archer strides. That is why Redwiss flees--the throat lightning

must have destroyed the spell."

"Should we flee too?"

"We shall go meet the Archer. I still bear Rhodora's Medallion.

Come, Stumpdweller, come, Woodlian." Sythia took a kerchief to her

arm, and led Kunk and Leaf onto the last leg of the climb up the

Aerie Needle.”

The fury snow whirled. With one leap, Draw-wind would land in

shallow Snow; with another, the black steed would land in a drift,

which Pyhrr could tell from the surge of the muscles beneath him, took

more effort for the floating steed to launch himself from. The blurring

form of Cannaberry nearby could sometimes be seen, but then the snow

could become so thick, it was only the instincts of the Gliding Manes

for each other that kept the princes and Damian from becoming separated.

The trio had come far. The fury snow was so thick they wondered

at their location, and Pyhrr instinctively felt that UnNamed Mountain

must be very near, for there were occasional pure yellow swatches of

snow, and that maltempered mountain could very well be the source of

the snow fury. But still, Draw-wind and Cannaberry were doing well,

keeping in motion of one leaping bound after another, occasionally

broken by spurts of running, the small horse moving at a much more rapid

rate than his longer-limbed companion, but as little exhausted as the

big steed.

Draw-wind came to a halt. His head tossed upwards, and Thad,

whose face was necessarily close to Pyhrr, whispered, "What is wrong,

why does Draw-wind stop?"

Pyhrr in vain tried to peer through the increasingly thick snow.

"There is more yellow," he returned.

Now Cannaberry was drawn alongside of Draw-wind. Damian had

fashioned the three of them all burnooses from a green cloth he had

produced from the bountiful heal sack, and now Damian was looking out

of his cowl at Pyhrr. "UnNamed Mountain is very close," He shouted.

"The steeds are restless."

"Can we not ask the Gliding Manes to take us another route that

is known to them?" Thad asked.

Damian, for answer, looked fretfully in a fixed direction, and

Pyhrr knew that it was the yellowed mountain that Damian was thinking

about. The old, gripped fear clutched at Pyhrr again.

"Damian, no. I do not know the measure of power you have found

with your staff, nor to what heights of wizard sweeps you shall be

climbing, but tales tell us that even before the dragons there were

the mountains, and UnNamed Mountain is ancient even among the mountains.

The mountain will strike back. You mustn't."

Damian continued gazing in the single direction, but his stiffened

shoulders told the two others that he had listened.

"Perhaps you are right," he ceded to Pyhrr. "Let us see if

we can travel by the mountain without confrontation--I have my doubts,

S=2

but indeed we should be making no stops at this point, after all."

But now it seemed the malignance of UnNamed Mountain had sensed

a potential duel, and became bent on destroying the passing power it

felt near its territory. The snow beneath them rumbled, and the earth

collapsed into a pit of collapsing rubble and rock where the princes

would have fallen but for the floating leaps of the gliding manes to

another position. The manes leaped again, and now there was the

sound of a thrusting rock, as the maddened mountain flexed one of its

long roots upwards. The Gliding Manes however, dropped the effort

of their jumps to land short of the collision. Then the land beneath

the snow began moving in folding, undulating movements, as tremors

issued from the undertraps of UnNamed Mountain, and the Gliding Manes

began having difficulty keeping their footing as they tried to leap.

The Manes resorted to straight forward running, and gain the princes

making headway in escaping the mountain,

A chill was increasing in the atmosphere. UnNamed Mountain

had found a way at last, and the steeds began laboring as the air

thinned with a cold becoming cloth-penetrating, bone-chilling, lung-

wrapping.

Thad felt Pyhrr shaking in front of him, for despite the carnelian

tea, the weakness was still in Pyhrr's arms and limbs, "Damian,"

Thad tried to catch the wizardling's attention but the cold was becoming

so intense now, Thad could barely move his own quickly numbing lips.

Thad found his breathing becoming painful, he heard Draw-wind starting

to wheeze. The staggering Cannaberry came up to the faltering Draw-wind.

Damian's hand was quivering, but Thad saw through his frosted eyelids

the lavender irises of Damian beginning to fill with that glow of

wizard rise.

“No, Damian," Thad tried to reach out with his hand. "Pyhrr

warned you."

Even as Thad reached out, his freezing body was unable to keep

its balance and he fell with Pyhrr into the snow, Draw-wind, staggering,

stood over the princes to give them shelter to this phenomenon that the

steed could not understand. Damian, his arm shaking with the penetrating

cold, took the staff which he had strapped to Cannaberry's side. His

arm still quivering, he jerked the staff with a suddenness, bursting

flame at the snow, His fire never reached the snow, the air so cold

and thick now it was vapor. The heat had come into Damian's hand though,

and Damian kept firing his staff at the snow, finally able to melt a spot,

and firing the ground beneath them, heating the rocks.

Damian now fired enough bared ground to create his own steam

to rise and baffle the vapor's cold. Breathing became easier in a

the less freezing atmosphere, and the cold, baffled by the prey it

had sought to put among the skeletal remains scattered on UnNamed

Mountain's slopes, retreated, as Damian fired up a ring of elemental

flame, the fire warding off the creeping chill. The Gliding Manes

stamped their hooves, and their pale blue eyes lighted with steed anger.

Pyhrr and Thad dragged themselves, gulping the air, out from beneath

Draw-wind, rubbing their limbs. Damian was raising his staff in a

more deliberate gesture, the same fixed look on his face as before.

Pyhrr was about to speak his companion’s name, but his voice paled

away as he realized that now Damian must call upon his strength of

wizardry for UnNamed Mountain had them imprisoned within the rings of

Damian's elemental flame.

A strong wind caught Damian's cowl, and the green velvet tossed

away from Damian's head. Damian's yellow hair streamed out, and Damian

jerked the staff forward in the same fixed direction. A blowing,

slicing wind struck out from the staff, blowing both Gliding Manes off

their feet, cutting into the flakes of the snow fury as a scythe into

grain. The snow storm was split, cleft, the bolt of elemental wind

spread wide several hundred yards, shearing entirely through the storm.

Damian’s magic had struck true. A canyon swathe now appeared

through the storm; and UnNamed Mountain; distant, remote, its ridges

twisting into each other, with the the tail ends of the storm issuing

from its peak as if they were elaborate veils, stood revealed in a ghastly

glowering yellow color.

"UnNamed Mountain, hah!" Thad shook his fist at the Mountain,

"I will name you, you foul mountain, Mountain, I name you--"

"No!" Pyhrr clamped his hand over Thad's mouth.

Thad fought himself free. "I was only going to name it--"

"No!" Damian spoke so fiercely Thad subsided. "It could mean your

death. This is why I hesitate even now to strike for our escape.”

Long, stretching ridges stretched out before towards the mountain,

the slopes gentle until nearing the mountain, they swept upwards

suddenly. Pyhrr, looking closely, saw that there were signs of fresh

ripped landslides on UnNamed Mountain, and remembered what Damian had

said about the mountain reaching for greater magnitudes.

But even as Damian was about to make an exclamation to Pyhrr about

the mountain's size, he saw a queer lurch in the mountain side where

the slope abruptly steepened. It was as if a great rent of air was

bulging out from the mountain's interior vats and pits. Their distance

was that far this side of the western slopes that there was no sound,

but Pyhrr could only watch in gathering horror as he saw the bulge

in the mountain's underside swell into a great upheave, a gathering

wave in the earth's surface starting to slide into the ridge.

Now there was the sound as of dropping pebbles. Yet Thad,

Damian, and Pyhrr knew that close, tearing trees being mercilessly

buried in the gathering upheaval, ripping mountain slabs, and

wrenching forests were the sounds of the end of the earth, for it was

its entire western slope that UnNamed Mountain was heaving a massive

uplift into. The landheave was aimed for them.

Now there were slight shakes in the ground beneath the

princes feet. Yet still, the raging potency of the breath killing

storm battled with the elemental flames of Damian's wand.

Damian held his breath. He placed both hands on his staff, a

chant came to him, and Damian spoke aloud, weaving his first spell.

"Mountain mad, which would stop Pyhrr and Thad, throwing magic in air

and land, known then the strike of Damian's Wand!"

The Polished brown wood of the Snow Wand Glory swished out at

the swathe of air again. Damian remained fixed in his posture, his

whole form quivering as he clenched at his wand. A burst of immense

elemental flame leapt forth from the wand. The fire struck the ground.

But the flames, instead of racing forward, swirled into each other.

Rapidly rising into an eyeglittering sight of a column of slowly

curling flame, Pyhrr and Thad saw that Damian had created a most

fearsome funnelform radiating a deadly wind fire. The funnelform

hesitated in its direction, then whirled first into the surrounding

snow fury. The eruption of the fire colliding with ice threw Pyhrr

into Thad, and Damian into some melting snow. The Gliding Manes

spooked momentarily, and all was chaos as flakes of frozen fire and

streams of melted water fell into the ring of elemental flame. Pyhrr

saw that Damian was looking pale and was having difficulty moving. Pyhrr

bent over, shielding his ears from the screams and the shrieks of the

opposing wind forces and the wobbling of the ground. He went to Damian,

and helped him to mount Cannaberry, strapping the staff too. Then

Thad galloped up on Draw-wind, reaching a hand down to Pyhrr. Pyhrr

leaped up on the steed, and then a gush of cleared atmosphere came

as the snow fury became consumed. The whirlwind was higher than before,

and now the prince saw that the course wished for was taking place as

the twirl tempest of flame went towards that horrible, ever rising

tidal wave of rock.

eh �"h

"Hurry!" Pyhrr shouted. The gliding manes did not even hesitate,

They both leaped forward in arches floating higher and higher, so much

that Thad and Pyhrr clutched each other dizzily, losing their stomachs,

as the landscape beneath them miniaturized. Cannaberry was leaping even

higher than Draw-Wind and they saw Damian clutching the raspberry Steed

about the neck. Higher into the atmosphere they rose, and Pyhrr

knew it was fear of the great rockswell that had given the steeds an

extra 1ift of their magic. Then, close to the height of a mountain's

reach, the manes started the freeze in their muscles that mean a downward

descent, and the princes found themselves gained a reach of a thousand

yards in their trail.

The manes galloped forward snorting and whinnying now, for the

roar of the earth was drawing nearer, and Pyhrr found his throat swollen

as he saw they were galloping into a long and narrow gorge, snow filled

in the bottom and shaded with overhanging boulders. The snow manes

leaped again another stomach lurching height, but their sails only

brought them half the height of the rising gorge. The manes landed,

and a sound seemed to shake the Realms around them came as the shrieking

firewind of the funnelform and the ponderous, shattering of the ripping

mountain root broke into each other. The explosion rent into the air,

and the force of the shock spread into all pockets of air. Damian,

Thad, and Pyhrr were flung from the Gliding Manes, and Draw-wind and

Cannaberry found themselves off their hooves too. The whole gorge quivered,

and there was a sickening lurch in the eastern wall as the swelling

underground force still waded through the might of the funnelform.

Damian's staff blazed again, The wizardling took on the heat of

the wizard's spell chant, and began firing the staff again and again at

the whole face of the cliff that was groaning.

The subterranean swell came beneath their feet. Damian was

thrown off balance and for one precious second lost his wand. The

gorge a hundred yards in front of them began to collapse into itself,

and whole seams of rocks were outlined as the looming cliff above them

began to shift apart. Thad had tossed Damian's staff to him again, but

Damian,lost his grip on the wand, and the seams widened into rips.

The cliff yawned, moaned, as its whole face split into sharded boulders,

Pyhrr and Thad pressed against the western cliff, desiring they knew not

what, all the while the sounds of the tempestuous landheave being blasted

by the funnelform exploding the air.

Damian whitened at the sight above. He spread his hands out,

looking directly at the cliff. Bolts of pale blue leaped from his hands.

Damian kept his hands spread, sending bolt after bolt at the cliff

face, throwing ice into the splitting rock, packing it together,

sending more ice and more ice into the rocks, to shore the treacherous

and weak underpins.

A brief moment the rocks seemed to sit. Damian motioned to his

companions and leaped up on Cannaberry. Draw-wind dashed to the princes,

and almost slid his head under their legs as Thad seized Damian's

staff. The Gliding Manes galloped, leaped, leaped, galloped, reached

the already collapsed portion of the gorge as Damian's ice spells,

unequal to the weight of the ponderous landheave, gave way, and the

cliff collapsed.

There were continuing echoes of the damaging landheave and the

funnelform still mountain ascending towards the main dome of UnNamed

Mountain itself as the princes finally fled past it the dangers of UnNamed

Mountain.

The Riddle Known

T-1

V THE RIDDLE KNOWN

The last tail to the very tip, to the lookout, to the dazzling

rise of the fantastic Aerie Needle was now before the stumpdweller,Kunk.

With him was Leaf Alorn the Woodlian, and Sythia, the princess spirit,

the bearer of the medallion of the wondrous enchantress, Rhodora.

There had been no sign of the black Archer, and the three companions,

awed at the height they had come, the dangers they had come through,

had been still and silent ever since leaving the slanted Spider Oak

and merging into the blasted landface of the Needle.

At first, Kunk and Leaf had both been bursting with questions

about Rhodora, about Sythia's possession of the talisman, of the powers

that the medallion possessed, and of what Sythia knew of Redwiss, who

it now appeared had more to his nature to be feared than his mad rage

and brute strength. Yet, the closeness of the jewel legacy of the

dead Malcilis was too close now the thoughts of reclaiming the jewels

for Pyhrr and a way to be able to convey the stones back to the Wizards

Well precluded question and rose only thought. Even more though,

the covering, smothering effect of nothing but sky surrounding them,

interrupted in its vast expanse by a daring mountain peak or two, had

awed the three into silence. The strangeness of the plants, the absence

of any flitting birds, this too kept the strangeness about the Needle's

last rise too. The blasted rocks, the lightning laced trees, and

storm riven face kept their memories stirring of the battlewind storm,

and how close death and succumbment had been, So, as their climb up

the peak had progressed, so had the oppressiveness of their silence.

There had been no sign of a stray wolf bane nor of a floating bugle owl.

The silence was as penetrating as the sight of much sky, and the dipping

vistas of the North Peaks. Cold was present too, and it was penetrating

into them, Kunk was shivering,

The trail was another one of the numerous gullies of the Aerie

Needle. It twisted, curved, and zig-zagged, yet Kunk, looking at the

end of the chute, saw nothing but sky, and knew that the Aerie Needle's

summit was there. The gulch, it was true, was clogged with boulder

fragments, tossed limbs, and even there a slain wolfbane or two, but

there was at least no treacherous, smooth face of rock before them

anymore, It was almost as if the Aerie Needle, throwing all its

preventive forces at the party, was finally content for their climb.

The three began the last climb. Sythia motioning the Woodlian and

Stumpdweller to follow her, as she fitted the bared sword of Delun in

her sash, and threw some of the long tresses of her yellow hair behind

T-2

her shoulder. The medallion of Rhodora gleamed in a Flared, swirling.

red on her breast, she had left it exposed ever since they had climbed

onto the Needle. Their progress had been slow at first as they had

looked about themselves for the motion of a large shadow,and had pricked

their ears for the crack of a twig. After the first hundred yards, they

had almost slowed to the pace of a Realms turtle, dreading the whiz

of a black arrow or the step forward of a black figure, Yet, oddly,

the Archer had now shown himself. Kunk's legs trembled all the

distance to the area of the Needle with the snow patch--there he and

Leaf shivered violently, as they found a stump of stone raising above

a lumpy patch of swirling, wind-stirred Snow. Odd, twisted figures

covered by snow made up the lumpy mass, and these, the three knew, had

been wolfbane. Whether the Black Archer was among those slain, they

were unsure, They relaxed in their tensions as they left the snow patch,

and Kunk wondered if the Black Archer had passed to make a descent on

the Needle to follow the track of the Red Ripper.

Still, they were unable to talk, Kunk himself full of thoughts of

the powerful, unpredictable golden horrorstones, the impact they might

have upon the Realms, and finding his rising worry over Pyhrr and

Damian finally beginning to take precedence in his thoughts as now,

it appeared, he had accomplished his objective. Leaf, more concerned

with the present, thought of the adventure ascending the Aerie Needle,

and was hoping no new menace awaited them at the top of the Needle.

Neither Woodlian nor Stumpdweller knew the princess's thoughts, but

from the contemplative, almost Serene, look on her face, the paintbrush

stroke of an inner calm, Kunk thought that Sythia was thinking into the

far past of perhaps-a possible friendship with the stormy Rhodora, or

her romance with the Lord Delun.

Half the distance had been covered now. They were passing the

bodies of three slain wolfbane who from the charred fur on their

bodies, appeared to have been flamed by the lightning streaks of the

battle winds. A black arrow in the throat of a fourth bane told its

tale, and a fifth they found had apparently had the misfortune to

have been dived upon by a talon-slashing Bugle Owl. Kunk thanked

his tale way that he hadn't been in that ferocious battle of bane,

storm,and enchanted archer.

Sythia had disappeared over the gulch's mouth. Kunk's mind felt blank

as he reached his gnarled dweller's hand to grasp the lip of the rock. The

Princess Sythia was reaching a hand to help the dweller upward

turned around to give a last lifting hand to the Woodlian before

looking at what was before him.

The three turned.

They found while they were in fact, on the summit of the Aerie

Needle, they were not yet at the highest point. A low, tilting slope

was before them, covered with short, stubby, writhed, gnarled trees,

scarcely more than the height of an ogre's reach. Because of the

position of the Realms' sunstar and the slant of the slope, there

was a shadow cast all over the tree slope, with only stray rays of

light here and there brushing the upper spreading cushions of

leaves the trees splayed out into to form flat crowntops. In these

fiat crowns there were large, bulky nests of twigs every where.

A flash of gold in one tree told Kunk they had indeed reached the

retreat of the Bugle Owls, that this was where the great birds

nested. Beyond the clumps of the closely gathered trees, however,

the Aerie Needle jutted itself again, to form a steep, tilted pinnacle

of rock, completely bare of any growth, an abrupt blade, the pinpoint

of the Needle.

Sythia was now beginning to talk in a low voice, her hand closing

in about the round shape of Rhodora's medallion. "The trees that you

look at are the homes of the Bugle Owls. The medallion as key and pass

of the Aerie Needle commands my safety among them and a degree of

command--that, my wondering, but polite companions, is how Delun and

I have gathered our cache of horrorstones--and until now, when the

Bugle Owls bore off Malcilis's jewels, I have been their mistress. I

know not what has possessed the owls, unless it bean exuding malignance

of the horrorstones themselves into the atmosphere of natural things.

Indeed, this might be true, Stumpdweller and Woodlian, for the medallion

before this has always been able to get me through the Aerie Needle's

rise unendangered." She paused, then continued. "I have visited

here twice. Rhodora, when she was dying--yes I came by the amulet because

she was my friend--cautioned me not to come here often--so I am

unfamiliar with the individual trees, and am not sure where the bugle

owls would have nested the horrorstones. Be not frightened of the

trees as we explore."

The three companions advanced into the low trees. The trees

were a reddish color, covered with a red moss. Bits of black sparkled

among the tree bark, as if the mosscap were a jewel black. There were

no booms of the bugle owls, almost as if the battlewinds had carried

7-4

the owls away. They glided from tree to tree, gradually moving up

the low slope towards the bared rock, Sythia saying in a low voice

that at the bare dome of the Needle they would be able to look down

into the crowns of the Gnarltops. Sythia continued leading them

through the low trees.

Gold light accentuated the shining black of the moss, a goldish

cast of sunstar light on the tree trunks as the sunlight played with

itself among the peeps of light through the crowns of the trees. Gloom

deepened, and the gold light disappeared as the gnarltops interlaced

themselves thickly, and the princess delved through more closely

spaced trunks. Kunk found the gloom and the dark so brooding that

a wondered thought of Caveheart and Delun and Sidian still trapped

made them seem far away and remote. The tale was swirling, he knew

now, and he felt as if he were in a spell drifting through the trees

on slow wafts of magic.

A trance came to the stumpdweller, and dully he saw that the

gnarltops they had walked through had given way to trees which were

purple blossomed, purple trunked, and purple branched giving way to

blue twigs. He heard Leaf whispering, and saw as in a haze that the

Woodlian was trying to reach with weak fingers towards Sythia, saying

something about dream trees. But the princess was failing too, her hand

reaching up for her mouth. Kunk fell, the trance deepened, as all

swirled into a blue mist.

In the mist there was no sound. Kunk saw himself, Leaf and Sythia

joined in a circle. Then, looking over their shoulders as if one, a

great plain, the three were seeing the great rock tower of the Aerie

Needle jutting up into the sky, all blue hued. Leaf was making a cry,

and gesturing to the most massive and most midnight of black elementals,

carrying with it ten times the powered doom that Great Gaunt had flown

the sky with. The appalling shroud swept down on the Needle, and Kunk

tried to make a cry but couldn't. He tried too, to wake, but couldn't.

The dream changed once again, and Kunk was in the lair of Malcilis again,

but this time with Sythia and Leaf only. Dream trees and Gnarltops

were freed of their roots and were dancing through the cavern, and then

the trees were prostrating themselves as a great shadow, a hissing

dragon shadow came over the heaving walls of the cavern chamber. A

dragon's shuddering breath came, and in a gloom, Kunk saw the yellow

glittering slits that could only be the eyes of Malcilis. The eyes

gleamed as jewels gleamed, became the magic, spearing light of golden

horrorstones, and Kunk felt himself jabbed with magic. He screamed,

Tad

and waking, saw that to his waking horror that a bugle owl was

flitting above his face, and that that owl had prodded at him with

a claw. The owl lifted itself, fled into the gloom of the gnarltops,

and Sythia was stirring with Leaf.

"Hurry," Sythia gasped hoarsely, pointing towards another bugle

owl flying the opposite direction from the dream trees. The two

smaller companions stumbled with the princess towards the flying owl,

a dark and gray color filtered through the haze of the dream tree

blossoms, and the companions stumbled out onto the base of the last

eminence of the Needle.

They fell gasping, then Kunk realized that he with Sythia and

Leaf were moaning, letting loose fragmented phrases, whispers of

fright, and their attempts at forming intelligence were

murmured anguishes of the dream that they all three had had one and

the same.

Their shaking subsided after several moments, and Kunk shook at

the sight of the dream trees still waving their lavender blossoms.

Sythia was gesturing wordlessly to the bared rock rising above them

some hundred feet yet. Kunk saw that a climb would be easy despite the

tilt, for the face was roughened with weather battle. But Kunk still

looking up, saw something else too. There was a ripple of black describing

itself in the sky that had clouded with cloud elementals. Even as he

gesticulated to Sythia and Leaf, the black ripple curled, then unfurling

itself in broadening puffs, formed a great ring of gaseous expanding

smoke. No magic, Kunk thought, of the Serpent Wizards, this. No magic

of the Aerie Needle, no magic of the battlewinds. The black was a

pure elemental magic of the skies, whose power was only equaled by

the magic of mountains and the magic of sea.

Leaf was gesturing excitedly too. Kunk turned, and saw the

unmistakable glowering gold of the Golden Horrorstones. The gems

were in the crown of a dream tree, and Kunk looked again at the

spreading puffs and surging billows of black in the sky. But

Sythia had made a third observation.

"Listen! What does it mean?"

Kunk and Leaf strained their ears. There was the low note

of a single, calling horn. Kunk knew the horn. He had never known

its call before, but its continuing, harping, single note that was

echoing all over the Needle could only come from the horn that Caveheart

treasured next only to Crimsoncleft. There was no doubt why the call

had come either. Caveheart was seeing the black elemental of the sky,

T-6

knew that the three of them were here at the Aerie Needle's very

verge. The bugle's call was one of alarm.

U-1

Damian, Pyhrr, and Thad still galloped and glided on the Gliding

Manes, Draw-wind and Cannaberry. They were now in the forested narrow

valley between two of the lesser mountains of the North Peaks, though

the trees were so heavily frosted with snow, they looked like ghost

images of themselves. A fine, silver mist was through the forest too,

giving Cannaberry's form a blurred outline to Thad and Pyhrr, who

galloped in the rear.

They had only had one halt since leaving UnNamed Mountain in their

path's wake. Having urged their manes up one of the lesser mountainsides,

the three princes had scouted the possibility of any more peril from

UnNamed Mountain. Damian’s funnelform had disappeared, consumed no

doubt by the omnipotent magic of the mad mountain, for the only sight

before them was the peak still twisting in its tortured ridges into as

menacing a mountain as ever. There was no sight that the funnelform

had ever struck the main dome itself, though there were signs of a

wreaking havoc on the lower slopes. The western face beyond the

mountain where the under-roots had heaved, had stopped in its fluctuations

too, though the catastrophic proportions of the land disaster were so

spreading it looked as if four dragons had engaged in a most spectacular

battle.

Pyhrr, looking at the mountain had felt that same vague uneasiness

and disrest he had previously sensed about Damian and the mountain, and

had involuntarily lifted himself in speculation.

Thad had noticed the gesture and had asked a question, as the

three had looked out to the yellowed mountain, all of them in a state

of rags and gaunt, ravaged frames. "The sunpearls are now about to pass

in your possession, Pyhrr. What are your plans once you have conveyed

the jewels to Turret?"

Pyhrr had continued looking towards the mountain. "There are

many factors." He answered measuringly. "A cooperation among the

races that has yet to be gained. The snows in the Snow Kingdom.

Somehow we must ascertain what the Serpent Kingdom's plans of invasion

are and prepare accordingly." Pyhrr slowed his thoughts, and ceased

to talk as now he looked beyond UnNamed Mountain, in the southeast

direction, where Turret and the Snow Kingdom lay.

U=2

"There is also Orme.” Damian's sober voice came. Its lowness

of mood and very emptiness of control told Thad just how much the

Throneguard was a menace.

Thad nodded his head. Pyhrr had described to the Cavern Prince

some of the clashes the politic Orme and the Snow Prince had had

already--Orme and Pyhrr almost dueling over an ambassadorship to the

ogres, the prince arguing for the need of a traveling ambassador to

visit the scattered bands, Orme, protesting a vicious negation. When

the two already occurred kingship tests had come to pass, Orme had almost

thrown all masks aside and had tried to discredit Pyhrr as much as he

had dared.

Thad smiled at Damian and Pyhrr, trying to joke them out of their

heavy thoughts. "You have also the Riddle of Malcilis. Have you yet

deciphered the dragon runes, Damian?”

Pyhrr's milling thoughts instantly cleared at this powerful reminder.

He cast a quick penetrating gaze at Damian without speaking. Damian in

his turn only shook his head in a slight negation.

"T have yet to decide what they mean. I am hoping though that

at the library of the Laced Wood or in one of Pyhrr's dusty story chambers

we can find some kind of cipher.”

Pyhrr's thoughts returned to the present. They were still in the

wood, and it was now but a few leagues to the Aerie Needle, though

there had been no sign of the spired rock yet. Perhaps, during their

wait, Kunk and Caveheart and-Leaf had gathered a cache of food that

would be most welcome. Pyhrr only hoped that no Serpent Kind had found

their slinking way to the Needle.

"You worry." Thad was now whispering to Pyhrr as Draw-wind leaped

with no difficulty over a long, snowy lump that they thought a boulder.

"I can feel the tenseness in your shoulders. What is it--Damian?”

"Ah--you feel it too." Pyhrr replied, after a moment's study.

"The many stories associated with UnNamed Mountain, Thad, are none

of them happy tales. Damian's magic is indeed most powerful and it

almost seems to me his magic grows with the hour, and he has so far

been capable of reaching to magics utmost power to answer any danger

that has thus far come.---Yet," Pyhrr hesitated.

"Yet--"Thad prodded.

"UnNamed Mountain is vengeful." Pyhrr answered. "No, I don't

mean that the mountain is capable of revenge. But being enchanted,

you must see, Thad that it is dangerous to anyone who dares battle those

enchantments as Damian did."

v3

"Yet Damian creates enchantments and spells as a wizardling,”

Thad returned. "He dueled, as you said, the Serpent Wizards themselves,

Why cannot he duel with the magic of the mountain too?"

"It isn't magic that the mountain, churning in its underroots,

that Damian has dared." Pyhrr cleared his words. "I am not worried

that Damian threw the funnelform at the land heave or his elementals

at the death freeze the mountain issued from its substance. What I am

worried about is that the powerful enchantment woven about UnNamed

Mountain has known an assault now. Damian not only fought UnNamed

Mountain, but when he hurled the funnelform at the mountain, he was

trespassing his powers against the spell of creation that was cast

over the mountain that gave it its evil nature.--Such enchantments,

Thad, can be accompanied by heavy curses, and the malignance of

UnNamed Mountain is such that to try to destroy the mountain itself

must mean a curse of a most dire nature."

The princes fell silent, unresolved in their fears and confidences,

They saw that they were now half way through the strange, silent

forest. There was at this moment an interruption of a cracking branch

in the air. Immediately, Damian was falling back with Cannabury.

Draw-wind with Pyhrr and Thad drew up alongside.

Damian did not even speak. His hand, moving in a small, staying

gesture, spoke of a need for silence.

Thad drew out Pan, Pyhrr put his hand on Cyull's handle, and used

his other to hold the grassy reins of Draw-wind. The three companions

advanced slowly forward on the narrow winding path. A broad break

of white was ahead, and going at a slower pace, they went to he edge

of the clearing to discover a great wreckage among the trees. The

unweathered rips of the tree trunks told the princes that the damage

had been of a most recent date.

‘"Tracks." Thad exclaimed, pointing to large, rounded prints.

"A wolf's."Pyhrr identified them, bending over on the saddle.

"A huge wolf's from the distance between his paws and the very size

of the prints themselves. A very huge wolf running, and not in

pursuit of anything. "

"The wolf was bleeding too." Damian pointed to the bright red

splashes in the snow.

"What is a wolf?" Thad had politely kent his curiosity in while

Damian and Pyhrr had examined the tracks, but now could no longer keep

his questions silent.

Pyhrr and Damian smiled. So it had been these many leagues now

U-4

with Thad whose cavern life had been of such marked variance among

beasts and plants.

At this point there was no need to answer Thad's question. Damian's

eyes widened and he was grasping quickly at his staff, as he whispered

lowly, "You need no description, Look for yourself." He gestured to

the ending of the ripped up trees, where a huge sized, reddish wolf,

limping, had stopped for a moment, throwing a look of frowning brows

and narrowing eyes over his shoulder. The wolf giant was not evidently

aware of the three princes, for now its long, yellow eyes narrowed,

it licked its chops and whispers, panting.

"Redwiss!" Pyhrr exclaimed lowly.

"What a beast!" Thad spoke with a. pleasure. "Can you pet them?"

Pyhrr put a staying hand backwards on Thad's forearm, and Draw-wind

moved uneasily beneath their legs. "Redwiss is far fiercer than even

many of the serpent kind. What do you suppose the mad beast is doing

here, Damian?"

Again, action answered question. Great tearing sounds, low

at first, came intermittently with hissed howls of rage that Thad found

chilling his blood. The level of sound increased, and they saw trees

shivering and shaking as the advancing screamer came towards the still

unmoving Redwiss, whose tail was twitching, and whose mouth was showing

signs of foam.

Redwiss was backing into the trees. An echo-sounding cry of rage

came, and Thad saw a hideous creature, he had no trouble identifying

as an ogre, came into sight. The creature was naked, his ugly, contorted

muscles were exaggerated, and his overboned face was hideous. A huge,

jagged club was borne in one hand. At sight of the red wolf, the ugly

thing bent forward, screaming one long continuing scream as it purpled,

then choked. A rasping and bared growl came from Redwiss, who with

another twitch of his tail, fled into the wood. The beast of prey

followed the wolf, tearing up more trees.

"Lump-Og too." Pyhrr took on a momentary pallor. "He is of the

type such as Caveheart, whom we have told you about, Thad, but is one of

the few maddened ones. Damian, we need to get out of this forest,"

Pyhrr had turned for a second last look a the ripped trees,

trying to follow the sounds of the enraged ogre and mocking wolf giant

when a rustle among the trees caught his attention.

The rustle had been the toss of a breeze in the snow-laden trees.

Draw-wind was stiffening and the steed’s head raised, as if hearing

a sound yet inaudible to Pyhrr. Cannaberry made a nervous whinny,

and the three princes cast nervous looks into the forest as the breeze

U=5

became more tree tossing, more sound-calling, more violent. The

echo of a shaking, hissing laugh sounded for a moment to them seeming

to filter from bush and bough, air and rock.

The chill of the hand that Pyhrr had felt in the lair of Malcilis

in staring at the dead dragon came back to the prince. He shuddered,

and now the wind was blowing everywhere, full of currents that bore

a chill not common to any wind, violent or calm in the Realms. The

white of the snow was darkening into a pale gray, the princes looked

up to see a black mass of clouds eerily hanging low over the forest,

blowing northwards. The glimpse of a flashing yellow elemental showed

in the clouds like the slipping moonstar through a cloud ridden night.

The breezes paused a second, the clouds stopped their movement for

the space of a candle's flicker, the entire Realms seemed to halt its

breath for a second as an outline, massive, ominous, black, elemental,

passed with no movement in its own shape, gliding northwards too, and

the outlined elemental was the shape of a dragon never tale told or

imagined.

The breezes were back. Unvoiced shock and renewed intensity

in the worry about the runes of Malcilis came back to Pyhrr. and Damian,

as the sky elemental passed away.

"Northwards!" Pyhrr urged, his whole soul leaping towards

UnNamed Mountain.

Damian had wheeled Cannaberry too. But now what Pyhrr had feared

came, and the event came too swiftly. Thad was shouting to Damian,

and Pyhrr turned his startled head to see a tall, dark man, garbed in

black with a feathered cap step out to bar the snowy path, The man had

a great black bow, and a barbed shaft that sheened in black was drawn

tightly to his shoulder. The man gave a short, quick laugh, and

his voice bristled with a dark eagerness. "Ah, one of wizard kind,

who cursed me for two centuries! Have my revenge!"

The black shaft flew. The mysterious archer had been glaring

at Damian, and Damian who had been raising his staff to fire one of

his blue bolts, toppled backwards over Cannaberry as the force of

the blow in his shoulder slammed into him.

"Revenge!" Pyhrr felt a blind, rushing rage leap inside of him.

Pyhrr scarcely felt Thad throw himself off the steed as Draw-wind

leaped forward, going after the black figure melting into the wind

struck forest. "Cyull!" Pyhrr called, galloping on Draw-wind into

the wood.

The archer was vanished. Pyhrr looked about fiercely for a sign

U-6

of a flapping, black cloak, but minded of Damian, turned back,

wondering if the archer had been a tool of the magic of phantom

gems.

Both Thad and Cannaberry were over Damian, the steed making anxious

attempts to grasp the black shafted arrow with his teeth, to draw it

out. Thad was crowded beneath the steed's head, making efforts to

staunch the crimson that was rushing out everywhere. Damian was

passed out, his pallor almost gray and the staff lay but a few inches

from his hand.

Pyhrr dismounted, moving to his friend, and quickly tore at the

robe about Damian's shoulder, the wind all the while blowing his brown

long locks into his face. Pyhrr's thoughts were filling with

sprinkleflower, glimmering wands, the other flowers he had found.

Delay looked like it was going to be necessary again, this for all

the terror of that vision of that elemental of the sky, for Damian

was most seriously wounded.

UnNamed Mountain had indeed been cursed. It was at this moment,

that the loud blare of a continuing bugle call, billowing because of

its bouncing echoes from the mountain peaks all over, came to sound

in their ears. Thad and Pyhrr looked at each other, wondering, helpless,

and feeling that they were at the brink of a yawning drop about to

open further to engulf them.

V-1

The black elemental clouds were continuing to expand into

puffs, the puffs were continuing to expand into balloons, flickers

of yellow flashed vividly in throats and crevices of the lowly

hanging mass, and Delun, desperate at the sight of an elemental

clearly so weighted with the potency of the sky elementals that it

was drifting downwards, somehow found himself free. Caveheart's horn

had just finished its summoning note, and Delun stumbled against one

of the many meshes of tree branches that had pinned him. He gasped

for air, he had a weak grip on his sword's blade now, for not only

had his injury in the head from the bugle owls reopened, but also.

a sharp, broken branch had ripped open his shoulder. Delun's other

arm was feeling bruised too, and he wasn't sure that his head was

still spinning. He had only shaken off his daze when he had seen

Sythia with the stumpdweller and the woodlian face Redwiss, but it

had been those sailing bulges in the sky which had made him start

first threshing for freedom.

Delun looked about for Caveheart, his slanted green eyes unusually

bright. He could hear the guttural, harsh mutters of the ogre, but

looking all about the crown of the Jutting Finger, it seemed covered

everywhere with thick, gnarled, broken treetop. Delun pushed his

way through several clumps of boughs, aware that the only sound was

the sound of wind, and at last found the ogre, pinned beneath the

main trunk of the oak itself. Caveheart was fallen forward on his

chest with boughs everywhere about him, making it difficult to see.

Delun spoke briefly in ogreish to Caveheart, relieved to learn that

the ogre had dived in a hollow in the ground, but was quite unable to move.

Crimsoncleft, the ogre was telling Delun was quite beyond his arm's

reach--it had been flung from him in his fall.

Delun darted a look over his shoulder at the elemental-- the

huge puffs of black were now making slow wheeling motions into each

other, the curled movements of flocks of birds curling into each

other. He gave a second's thought to his lady on the Needle, then

turning resolutely back, started hacking at the smaller limbs with

his sword to reach the ogre. He exposed a space about Caveheart's

forearm and hand, and saw the slightest trace of the indention beneath

the tree.

The tree was far too massive to lift or to move. He gave some

words to Caveheart, and then started slashing weakly at the boughs

again, his arm feeling weaker, as he threshed forward, looking for

Crimsoncleft. He at last caught the dull gleam of the heavy gems

V-2

that studded its blade, and he slashed at more entrapping branches

and twigs. Delun reached. the axe and bore it back to Caveheart.

Now Delun brushed back his hair with his good hand, and fell to

his knees as he reached the ogre again, placing the ax in Caveheart's

freed hand. Caveheart began chopping at the earth, and Delun, taking

his knife, began to chip at the digging too.

The winds were continuing to blow, and Delun found himself

hunched over, wondering if those billows and furls of black would

be mantling the Aerie Needle soon. A stronger gust of wind came, and

a slice of cold blood rushed through Delun, as he told himself he was

a fool as he had been as a child, fearing far more than the beasts

and the enchantments of the realms the elementals of the air. The

Red Ripper could take life, the the Aerie Needle could hurl down

landslides, the Serpent Wizards could invoke tempestuous spells, but

to Delun, the elementals were uncaptured, free reined. Delun resolutely

turned to Caveheart, where the space beneath the ogre's arm was

rapidly widening,

Delun's hands were about to dig at the hole again, when he

saw a strange gray look come over Caveheart's face in the cracked

opening. With Caveheart's look, that renewal of fear came at Delun

and he whipped about, wondering if he were going to encounter the icy

stare of a mad snow wizard. He saw nothing in the immediate proximity,

but from the overpregnant elementals he saw that there were plumes

of mist coming down to spray into the atmosphere in a fine black spray.

The winds that were blowing were not rapid, but cool, and continued

at an equaled rate. The appearance of the eerie, black curling clouds,

the rhythmical winds reminded Delun of an adventure he had had once

with Noira the rune-dragon.

Then the thought that had just come to Delun registered with the Woodlian lord, and now he

knew full well why those masses of unbooming bulges made him wish to

flee the Aerie Needle. The chill of the air was dragon's breath.

Delun hacked furiously now, without regard to his strength. He was going through his mind the

names of the black dragons, Helleas,

Prongtail, Zassitas, no dragon could he think of that may have survived.

He thought back to the tale of Junjo's sire, the enchanter Vollice and

master of the elementals and wondered if that long dead wizard had

invoked a dragon spell spanning even time.

The mist was thickening now into a fine raining spray, making

Delun's hair entirely wet. It was now as if a great column of black

made up of black and wet drops were spinning itself about the Needle,

while the whole face of the Needle took on a ghastly shade from the

huge blackness that was most frightening because of its very soundlessness.

The cold, single wind still continued, flapping Delun's cloak.

Delun was just about to raise his knife for another blow when

there came the unmistakable prick of a sword in the back of his neck.

"You shall not," came the harsh biting voice of Sidian.

Delun stiffened. A reinforced movement of the blade made Delun

drop his knife. Caveheart's face was a mixed mask of contorted rage

and frustration at thus seeing Sidian.

"There have been so many others dead on this journey. It could

easily happen that two more may cease." Sidian smirked.

"Are you sure of this?" Delun was quick to reply. "Can you get

the horrorstones returned to Turret the whole distance without Cave-

heart's ax or my own blade to rely upon?”

"Fool Delun, I think your princess might well be able to convey

the horrorstone to Turret and Orme. I am not worried about the

stumpdweller and the woodlian, and as for your spell-spirit itself,

I think mortal weapons have a fearful nature for you--I wonder what

would happen if I stabbed you--would a long denied death demon come

riding down you to feast on your vitals?-- And by doing away with this

ogre, I will be doing myself a personal favor by spiting the false

Lord Damian."

The mention of the throneguard gave Delun another thought. "Are

you so sure, though, Sidian, that this is what Orme would wish?"

"To remove Caveheart? To remove another possible alliance for

the Prince Pyhrr? Hah!"

Then it was that the ogre Caveheart gave a sudden shriek and it

did its purpose. Sidian whirled at the ogre's scream, thinking that

the hideous Lump-0g had found them anew, This was all that Delun

needed. His hand darted to his longer sword and Sidian whirling again,

found himself exchanging the shock of clashing blades as he and Delun

began to parry.

The mist was becoming rain now, and the wind was turning from a

gust to a rise of a tempest, It was so dark that the faces of

the opponents were shadowed. Delun, an excellent swordsman, knew

that he would normally have had no difficulty disarming Sidian, but

his arm was weak. It was difficult moving about in the recesses of

the fallen boughs, and he could feel the power and desperation of fear

Re

v-4

in Sidian's blade. Delun was barely aware now that that the wind

was roaring the sound of a sea tempest bent on destroying an island

and that a new power was soaring into the elemental storm beginning

to rage in the sky. Blinding flashes of gold and scarlet in the black

clouds illuminated Sidian's face with strange hues, bugle owls were

wheeling down the face of the Aerie Needle, to escape the elemental’s

fury at the crown of the spire. Delun sent a long lunge at the soldier,

Sidian sprang back, but in doing so, tipped over one of the too many

leafy boughs. Delun, leaping forward, was met by Sidian's foot. Delun

stumbled back and Sidian, showing unexpected dexterity, leaped to his

feet, flashes of yellow coloring his face. A surge of power seemed

to come in the soldier, for now with a single blow, Sidian knocked

Delun's sword from his hand. Delun rolled to the side as Sidian stabbed

downwards, and getting to his feet, Delun took up a stout branch.

The strength in Sidian, seeming. to come from the skies, came again.

A shock numbing Delun's arm and hand came as Sidian'’s sword broke the

bough and a flash of purple came over Sidian as folding his arm

back under his shoulder, and bracing his grip on his sword, he aimed

to deliver a thrust at Delun.

Sidian's blow was never delivered. A bolt of a small blue

elemental, delivered a short distance from the writhing ruins of the

Spider Oak, came and Sidian was Shrieking as his sword dropped, burning

in a blue fire, His hand a livid, glowing blue, Sidian staggered to

his knees, grasping his hand wrist,

Delun was looking up to see perhaps the strangest and strongest

sight of his Realmists and enchanted life.

There were three young men. There were with the young men, two

of the most unusual steeds Delun had ever seen, one an unusual rosy

color, quite small, and rather plump, the other a vision of midnight

and magic, Yet if the horses were arresting, the three young

men were striking. Almost, they looked as if they might be haunts of

the Aerie Needle called forth by the power of the launching storm

still spiraling about the Needle, They were emaciated, they were

gaunt, there were hollows in the cheeks of all three, and strange

clashing lights of haunting care and impassioned determination were

in all three of them,

But for all of this they were all striking Delun as being different.

The first, somewhat in the forefront and mounted on the rosy steed,

looked to be quite ill, and Delun was confused for a moment if he

was looking at a child--for the young man was of slight stature, with

with profusions of yellow hair and unwavering lavender eyes. A slight

shock of a second's length occurred to Delun that this young man was

a snow wizard no less and that young man must be no less than Damian,

about whom he had heard Kunk and Leaf talk with great animation.

Damian's complexion was a most unnatural pale pallor and the great

stains about Damian's robe and at his neck told Delun that the wizardling

had a recent and bad wound. Delun had no way of knowing that only

but several rods away when Caveheart's bugle summons had run in his

ears, Damian had come out of his swoon, and summing a great will of

effort, leaving him more weakened but determined, had told Pyhrr and

Thad that their arrival at the Needle must be, and that he must go,

should there be need to summon his wizard's power again.

The second or the third of the young men, then, must be Pyhrr,

the Prince of the Snow Kingdom, Delun told himself, and he surveyed

the two companions. The second was of middle height, his frame a

shade more narrow than of average build, and he was standing at the

side of the great black horse. His long, chestnut brown hair blurred

into the dark background of the sky, and while he was not delicately

featured as Damian, his high forehead,and his large grey eyes bespoke

awakening dignity and responsibility. An indefinable trace of

magnetism seemed attached to this quiet prince, and now this prince

was striding towards the wounded Sidian, still crouching over his

burned hand. A momentary flash of pure orange came into the prince's

eyes that told Delun just who the prince was, and with a short epithet,

Pyhrr was delivering a slapping blow into Sidian's face, knocking the

soldier over. This slap was followed by a kick from Pyhrr's shabbily

shod foot, and Pyhrr, evidently shamed by his quick anger, was now

speaking with a heaving chest but a controlled voice.

"I ought have you slain, Sidian Guard. I know not whom this

is you duel, but you have continuously brooked this quest, at great

peril to yourself. You abandoned Damian and myself to the blade of

the Octopythians and to the Hooded King. You fled the fight with the

Stone People. You, I am almost convinced, left clues to our trail

for Yellowtooth, until you found that 1 had stolen back to slay the

creature. For all this, I ought have you slain or pitched off this

strange, spired rock, but I am not like you, Sidian, and I scorn

Orme's ways and methods. You shall bear back the tale of our quest

to Orme, and you shall tell him as you wish, that he may hear from

one, who would not color his suspicions and imagination, accursed

soldier!" With another oath, Pyhrr whirled away.

v-6

The third prince, to Delun, was striking like the great horse,

giving an impression of black arid of power and incredible strength.

His features were more carven than his other companions', but his

age could not be much more. His eyes were large and dark, he was

every inch as tall as Delun himself and a ready humor showed as he

smiled with a pleasure at Pyhrr's pronouncement upon Sidian. His

swarthy complexion, his long knotty build suggested that power was

almost second nature to this stranger. The power on the other hand,

in Damian was one of a willow reed bending against a tempest but

keeping its roots hold, while that indefinable trace of power in Pyhrr

seemed one more of unassuming certainty and unwavering intentness.

The tall, dark stranger was now striding forward, and Delun almost

felt as if he were being ignored, but then he realized that the

three arrivals were caught up in their pursuit of the horrorstones.

They were all three exchanging rapid words, Pyhrr throwing gestures

out at the sky, and at the top of the spire, Damian speaking in

weakened efforts of intelligences, the dark stranger with great animation

as if he thrived on storm and on passion. Then Delun realized with

a swiftness that these three princes did not know what had been discovered

in the undertraps of UnNamed Mountain.

"I beg your pardon." Delun strode up to the red pony where Damian

was remaining mounted. "I have most serious and dark news for you."

"I am sorry that we cannot talk to you, but--" Pyhrr began gesturing

towards the elementals weaving in the sky, but then saw the expression

in Delun's face. "What is it,Kunk is not dead? Or the sunpearls gone?"

"Worse," Delun shook his head. "The sunpearls do not exist. The Jewels that

Malcilis's death has unleashed are golden horrorstones.”

Pyhrr stared at the stranger in shocked thought. He found a

numbness starting to creep into his whole frame, as thought after thought

came registering*to him in bittering appallness, as he realized the

pending downfall and reversal of the quest's goal--the slaying of Malcilis

had been but to unleash the most malevolent of magics in the Realms--

this was the shock, the uneasiness he had felt--and the loss of the

other companions for a mistaken power of the Realms, too, he remorsed.

The tall commanding stranger to Pyhrr, a Woodlian without any

question and a Woodlian lord too, continued to speak. "You are, I am

guessing, Damian, Pyhrr, and a new companion. "Kunk, Leaf and my

lady Sythia were seeking the spire’s eminence when I last saw them.

Caveheart is here trapped beneath the fallen tree. I am Delun.”

Delun saw that both Pyhrr and Damian,recognized his name and

had guessed who he might be as soon as they had heard Sythias's name.

V7

Pyhrr was speaking with great decision as the black steed moved in

restlessness with another of the flashes in the atmosphere.

"The sky is disturbed. We must get to Kunk and Leaf, Thad.

Damian," The prince's voice perceptibly softened. "You must not exert

yourself any more. Even you cannot battle elementals when they storm.

Stay here with the Lord Delun, care for your wounds, and care for

Caveheart too, Come Thad! Draw-wind!"

Pyhrr turned to draw himself on the great black steed, Thad

slipping up behind the Snow Prince.

Up, Thad and Pyhrr went, the Gliding Mane Draw-Wind making

lifting, vertical leaps. Delun, at the moment that Pyhrr had turned

to go, had taken Cannaberry's weed bridle with an authoritative grip,

and Damian made no negation. He was exhausted to the brink of collapse,

and ever since Delun's announcement of the golden horrorstones, he

felt as if everything inside of himself were falling, for the quest,

to Damian had failed.

Meanwhile, rock face was flashing by Pyhrr and Thad, and they

were seeing strange, unusual exotic plants. Draw-wind drew on

greater energy, making slanting,zig-zagging leaps, jumping from one

projection to another. More color seemed to be leaping through the

sky, and the tempest’s gusts were tossing the spilling waters about.

But beneath all his sense of the atmosphere, and even beneath

Pyhrr's thoughts of Kunk and Leaf and of marvel at the strange exotic

nature of the Aerie Needle, was the same stun of shock about the horror

stones for Pyhrr that Damian had. No wonder to him now that the

Serpent Wizards had sought themselves, the lair of Malcilis. No wonder

the nature of Malcilis in contrast to the other jewel dragons. Worse

was the decision now of what to do with the horrorstones. Were he

to take the stones to Turret, he could be placing Turret in grave

peril, were he to cast them from the heights of the Aerie Needle, he

knew that somehow the Serpent Wizards would seek again the stones for

the mysterious design they had meant to make with the stones. More,

Pyhrr would be unable to offer the power of sunpearls to the

Stumpdwellers and the Woodlians--an alliance would be more difficult

to achieve. Orme would also have a powerful tool in his hands whatever

Pyhrr's decision--he could either cry out against the housing of the

dread jewels or belittle Pyhrr for not capturing the gems.--All of

Damian's magic, all of his efforts; his pained, risked decision that

they must after all take the chance of destroying Malcilis and move

v-8

closer to the Serpent's Wizards goals, all of the repercussions,

the barren fruitlessness, of these labors bore inexorably upon Pyhrr.

The higher the altitudes that Draw-wind sailed up, the higher

they seemed to climb up into the sky and the storm of the elementals

in the sky. Pyhrr thought that he had never seen so menacing an

elemental clash, not the least reason for which was that instead of

moving in a radiant fury, the elemental clashes were slow and deliberate,

as if some ponderous, impassioned music were in the skies. A glower

of yellow would appear and would stay, rather than flicker, and then

still staying, fork out several fingers of elemental fire, then

disappear. Instead of looming up in one ponderous mass of storm-filled

clouds, the clouds were continuing to shift, to curl into one another.

Winds were catching whole streams of water and describe half circles

in the air, before another current of air would come ripping into

the air borne slash of water and burst it.

But now the two princes were at the peak of the dizzying rock

itself. The crown of the rock was sloped, but they could see that

at the top of the rock they were, with flashes of light illuminating

the abrupt tilt of bare rock beyond a grove of trees. A glance to the

horizon showed vistas of North Peaks and the more remote reach of

the High Peaks. Pyhrr slowed Draw-wind, and the steed paced back

and forth, as Pyhrr studied the trees, and the gleam of purple blossoms

beyond the gnarltops. The two princes were about to enter into the

gnarltops when stumbling and panting through the trees came a tall,

slender, bedraggled woman, and with her a sour and soaked Kunk came,

Behind them was Leaf,

Leaf was muttering something about a slim neck of gnarltops they

had been fools not to see before, and Pyhrr leaped from Draw-wind,

whirling Kunk about in the air, then did the same with Leaf. Pyhrr

made hurried introductions, all the while glancing to the sky. "Where

are the horrorstones?"

"Nested in those purple blossomed dream trees.” Kunk screamed

through the wind. "Listen, Pyhrr--"

It was now that a strange, continuing whistle started to fill

the air. Accompanying it, a yellow light, fanning through the clouds,

was beginning to come, as if the sunstar of the Realms was descending,

The cold was less ending, and as Pyhrr's thoughts retreated to that

dragon's bulk he had seen, the elementals that had been roils of black

were all curling backwards as yellow came more and more. All that

were present on the Aerie Needle, and indeed, all who were in the

V-9

Realms and were witnessing the great elemental storm that seemed to

be centering over the North Peaks, gasped as flame, actual flame in

tongues and whispers, started flicking through the clouds. The flames

stopped a moment, but Pyhrr, looking at the clouds, saw that the clouds

seemed as if they had become heavier, for they were now floating low, and

filled with a yellow that instead of being the yellow of the sunstar

was becoming the yellow of poison.

Pyhrr's mind flashed back to the lair of Malcilis and all the

strange runes. The shock of the announcement of the golden horrorstones

reeled away, like bricks cast down into a dark well. The thought of

the great, vertical rise that he stood upon was cast away from Pyhrr, too,

as it came to him the enormity of what he had done.

"Get down! Get down! Hide!" Pyhrr shouted in a panicked voice,

grasping Draw-wind and going immediately to one of the crouching

gnarltops.

The clouds parted into a great ring. Gaseous yellow floated

in the center. There was the rasp of a dragon's call, the flicker of

dragon's claws and dragon's wingtips, A violent, fanning wind came,

and Pyhrr, crouching with his companions, blinked against the wind

to see what he had most feared to emerge from the clouds come.

It was the great, fearsome and poisoned Malcilis. But this was

a new Malcilis, a mighty Malcilis, flashing with gold and glittered

poison that was coming down to alight on the bared Needle tip, his huge

bulk kept aloft more by his fanning wings. The dragon was so huge now,

and the Aerie Needle's tip so insignificantly small.

There was menace and malignance and poison every tip of the wings

of the revealed dragon. The companions could only watch in amazed

horror and wonder at the reincarnation of the dragon, and the numbed

shock- the golden horrorstones had given Pyhrr spread into an all pressing,

lung stifling, heart imprisoning pain. Malcilis was increased--Malcilis

had intended his death--Malcilis was now the full size of Great Gaunt.

The great yellow dragon was fanning his wings. Now the horror

increased even more, for now the companions saw that the wings and

the dripping whiskers of Malcilis melted away at the tips into flickers

of fire and mist. The ethereal quality was increased even more in the

dragon call that was more a hiss than a rasp, and now the dragon spouted

a flame into the sky. Now Pyhrr felt as if he were falling into the

well of his mind's own shock, as he saw the flame describe itself,

The flame was not like other dragon flame--quick and brilliant in reds,

oranges, and yellows that all the time shaped itself into a thousand

V=10

forks of fire, but was a fire instead that whispered out as a sort

of mist flame--a fire that instead of forking, billowed out as if

smoke, all in shades of yellow. When Pyhrr looked at the peculiar

slanted eyes of Malcilis, he felt as if he were pitching down the

Aerie Needle, for the eyes instead of having the hard and brilliant

quality of jewels, were filled with a blazing, smoldering mist.

There was no denying the shock and the transformation, Malcilis

had somehow become a rune-dragon and had cast a wondrous spell. With

his death, Malcilis had become a ghost-dragon--.

With another inspired, spreading shock, Pyhrr thought of the

golden horrorstones. All of his thoughts fled from him now but this

single one.

"I must stop the dragon!" Pyhrr was exclaiming, and to his

companions' horror, darted out from the gnarlto, racing into the

other grove of the trees and the direction of the dream trees.

"Nay, Pyhrr, nay." They were all screaming.

The tale accelerated, With no thoughts but stopping Pyhrr from

his mad course, Thad, Kunk, Leaf, Sythia and even Draw-wind dashed

out to show themselves. Malcilis's eyes caught the movement, and

his wings rising high, and the awful head dipping, Malcilis

released a burst of the ghost flame.

3elow, Delun, Caveheart, and Damian barely clinging to his

senses, saw the dragon's flame start to puff itself downward. They

all three had watched Malcilis's appearance with as strong a shock of

defeat and crushed hope as Pyhrr's had been. Damian's mind went in

its most blazing white and with a single gesture of his hand, he flung

with reaches that seemed hollow and as long as the tunnels of caves

into his magic, desperate for Pyhrr.

Damian's magic answered. A showering mist of ice exploded from

the enormous white ball of of smoke that had sprang from Damian's hand.

The icy mist and the fire of Malcilis clashed to form a steaming vapor.

Thad and the other companions who had retreated to the ground at Malcilis's

flame, felt a hot and cold wind pass over them, Malcilis's wings

flapped, and the yellow vipered eyes glittered, and the dragon's fangs

bared. Damian found himself still standing, but knew it was only the

braces of the hollow that were keeping him there. His hand spoke a

small blue elemental, letting Malcilis know where he was, and

Malcilis's narrow head reared back, knowing a snow wizard challenged him.

Again, Malcilis blew his ghost-flame. Again,Damian delivered

another ice blast, defying the flame, but now he was only hanging onto

V=11

his sense by the clutch of a flower's stem to a rocky precipice,

Malcilis's eyes seemed to grow larger, and the dragon's wings flung

back, flickering more fire, as the dragon's eyes tightened in narrowed,

apparent recognition of Damian. The wings fanned even more, the dragon

was readying himself for a dive.

Delun thought it was his end, Yet above, just as Malcilis

was about to launch himself, Pyhrr caught the dragon's attention.

The Snow Prince was still caught in his passion, and disregarding

the battling heat and cold, and dreamed visions that kept pushing

into his mind, hurried into the dream trees. Without even hesitating,

he found the tree he knew he wanted, his energy keeping away the

drowsing sleep, but not enough to keep away visions of Turret in flames

or recollections of his deceased mother and father. Still passionate,

Pyhrr climbed into the crown of the tree. Like great eggs, he found

the golden horrorstones, It was at this juncture, his movements

caught Malcilis's eyes, his flickering ears laying back. But even

flame was not quick enough for what happened next.

Pyhrr had in one embracing clutch of a profound despair and a

hope to at least do a minor service for his kingdom, gathered up both

of the golden horrorstones, almost too much for him. His mind completely

exploded, his arms and his heart feeling as if he were enfolding the

pulsating, throbbing heart of Malcilis itself, the poison of the heart

pressing into all of Pyhrr's senses and filling his mind with tortured

Turretians, Lump-0g eating Damian, and Redwiss slaying Thad.

Yet Pyhrr was able to call out several words of sense. "Malcilis!

I defy you your eyes! Snow spirits of the North Peaks, take them!"

With a heaving toss, the prince of the Snow Kingdom flung the poisoned

stones from him. The stones went tossing into the air, and Pyhrr fell

completely senseless from the dream tree to its base roots.

The howl of rage from the ghost dragon was terrible. Ghost flame

burst everywhere into the sky, as the horrorstones arched out into

space below the reach of Malcilis's tail or claws. The atmosphere,

as if the mountain had heard Pyhrr's desperate appeal, burst into a flurry

of snow.

But Malcilis was now a rune -Dragon. The dragon's head rose, his

wings fanned, a yellow pulsated from the dragon, yellow piercing lines

describing sunstar needles. The needles penetrated into the snow,

the snow vanished, and the horrorstones could still be seen, tiny

pinpoints of gold still falling.

V-12

-

Damian saw that there was but one thing he could do for

himself, Pyhrr, and more importantly, the quest. He made an effort

in his mind to reach out to weakened walls of the cavern of magic

he had reached within. He pushed at the walls, and flinging his

hands upward, brought forth the snow again, creating a great snow

cloud in the sky, and then creating a deadly blizzard. Damian

collapsed, as senseless as Pyhrr. The ghost dragon,howling, invoked

his enchantments of the golden needles against the blizzard's onslaught,

but the needles only showed as glints, then disappeared. The howls

of Malcilis were lost as echoes in the blizzard as Thad and Kunk above

hurried to find Pyhrr, and Caveheart below, shook his fist after the

dragon he knew not whither.

Snow was paltering all the companions on the Aerie Needle.

---end of the prologue

copyright 2024 reserved by the publisher

Carol A. Wells

I

Author's Note

(NOTE: This story was written to be a prologue to a 3 part book called The Fantasy of the Wizards. The parts were meant to be Prologue: The Riddle of Malcilis, Kingdom's Fall, The Miasmic Quest or Book of Quagmist and Tales End or the Great Gaunt. Only the prologue was written and completed by the passed author).