CHAPTER 21.

Umbrage of the Bane

Khran-Av'ees felt the cold dampness of rotten, wet leafs sticking to his cheek. For a moment, in the blurry anarchy reigning in-between the realms of trance and reality, he wondered whether he was waking up from yet another one of those blasts that had torn apart the plain filaments of his essence. A horrible drowsiness was upon him, and every inch of his muscles stung and throbbed, as if he had hauled to and fro small planes for a fortnight sans a picosecond's sleep.

Yet he shook the fog from his eyes, and propped himself up on his elbows on the muddy ground, noticing for the first time that he was free to move around. What, what had he been on about? Grhrh... Drilled through that pulsating tumor which had blocked the rift between the other-realms of power and his mind's edge... His spirit had pushed itself through, and speeded past immense, dark valleys of twisting, wavering shapes. Therein, he eventually had reached this, this... measureless, black mass akin to mount whose roots tickled the dawn of tides and summit the very last heartbeat of the dimming welkins. Somewhere by the impossibly steep slopes, he had come upon a winding, uneven passage full of the wail of netherwinds and nameless shadows. Mayhaps some inane shaman that had enjoyed a few too many a magical mushroom during his career might have called it an archway, but...

Then, there existed almost a blank blotch in the warlord's memory. He had committed something... something... wossthing... and some wossisname had as if answered to a... wossisding... summons...

Hearing returned to his ears with a loud bang. It would have caused him instantly to jump to his feet and perchance make a handful of somersaults, had not lacked the necessary strength. Instead, he rolled to one side with a stifled groan, and found himself staring at a chaos unlike aught else he had ever beholden. Even the small hairs on the back of his neck rose up, as he realized what had responded to the call.

The erstwhile, watery gray light of the afternoon had been suffocated by a black-purple mass of smoke whence some kind of dark beams, nigh akin to the very opposite of pure light, streamed forth. The tops of the trees were furthermore aflame with this strange, consuming energy: burning branches fell crashing from the heights, blighting everything they touched on the way down. Wherever the grim-light billowed or ate its way through wood and grass and sometimes the bare air, its black substance seemed to tear holes into the very kernel of reality and dimensions. Against it, everything appeared as if a poorly painted picture without depth. The roiling flames gnawed at something more than what your plain, cozy campfire might, swallowing the intensity of the colors alongside. The mere bright tones existing in this odd pocket of elseworldly terrors emanated from the various spells of the wizards, who all stood or crouched with their backs against him some distance away.

They were toiling to ward off the appalling sight that had obviously slithered out of the gaping rift in the middle of the smoke-cloud. Yet it seemed that e'en the strength of their together-bound incantations barely matched that of the beast. On staggering legs they stood, arms aloft in the air, as if supporting a mountainous, invisible load about to crush them any second. Their fingers were obviously feeding some sort of shield, which they had half-desperately created to parry off the foe's worst attacks. The enemy itself had however already won its share of victories: several mangled bodies were sprawling in the dirt, dark flames licking and nibbling at the blackened bones and singed scraps of armor.

The daimon itself was hardly a pleasant sight either. A purple-black mass the size of a small house -- seemingly stitched together from what resembled giant, glistening entrails and more of the same smoke whence it had emerged* -- writhed above the rebels, attempting to push itself through their defenses with hideous jolts that shook the trees. A myriad of octagonal eyes glared out from its every side. The air reverberated not only with the sizzle of flying incantations and the monster's trashing, but also with the whispers and screeches of a thousand invisible mouths.

Cold shivers ran through every fiber of Khran-Av'ees's body, his heart about to burst through the ribs due to its violent hammering. Wh- what in the name of all seventeen thousand and twelve hellpits had he invited out of the Plane of Wyrds? Had the surges of the recent daytides been the fault of G'Uhageid and his insufferable imp-spawns or this?

Yet, there be no time to brood on that. He had been unleashed, even if something was dreadfully wrong with his strength. Free, free, he had to get away from here, NOW...

Grunting, grinding his teeth, he clambered up on his elbows and knees, and fought gruelingly back the oppressing drowsiness. Every other second it made him want to curl up on the soft, sinking bed of rotten underbrush and close his eyes evermore. In the blaring, constantly exploding light of doom-fire and other blasts, he could discern two half-laden ghamyrluuschk still being tethered to a thick tree only a little distance away. However, judging by their incessant, hysteric wrestling against the harnesses, it be a sheer miracle that they still remained tied. All the other air-beasts seemingly had fled or perished amid the hubbub. At least the one on top of which the warlord had been bound was but a smoldering pile of horny limbs and cracked ribs twenty meters off.

Arduously he began dragging himself onwards, panting raggedly. Even a moderate movement felt as if his muscles had been sawed with a blunt, serrated blade. He had to, had to reach one of those, somehow, somehow... climb on its back... fly away... If only the damned kingfolk would nay cast a shrewd eye upon him, lame as he be and reduced to creeping on the feastgrounds of lowly earthworms...

At that moment, from the corner of his eye, Khran-Av'ees glimpsed how the yonworld daimon contracted and swell in the fraction of a heartbeat. Ole commands of instinct carved into his very essence darted through the agonies and made him roll behind a large, slanting stone to his right. He just managed to draw his slack-feeling legs into the shelter of the rock before the monster belched. From its open tubes shot out a ring of black fire, which quickly expanded and spilled everywhere. Khran-Av'ees could not behold what occurred behind the measly sanctuary, but the ensuing booms and shrieks told their own story. A chunk of the dark-burning substance smote the spot where his feet had lain but mere seconds agone.

Even if a miss, the splat with which it landed into the muck made him wince horribly. There be no name to this gut-venom of the yonbeast, but indeed a kenning as to what it would do.

Nay, he had to get onwards, onwards... The steeds remained yet unhurt, though the other one might prise itself loose any moment now. Yet, whither ought he to flee; where in this abhorrent trap existed another safe haven beyond which to rush? Grah, for all he cared, the daimon be free to devour and despoil every remaining droplet of kingsblood from the plains of Rha-kan'Ocka, as long as he did not turn into carrionfood!

One of the several shrieking wights was hastily approaching Lord Khran-Av'ees's tiny refuge. Prying himself slightly more upwards, the warlord pressed himself tight against the rock, attempting to look as tiny as possible. While this feat would have been akin to stuffing an adult ostrich inside a ping-pong ball, it perchance aided in not becoming the black fire's next victim. Flailing, and screaming on top of his lungs, a ponytailed man stumbled over the lower end of the stone. The gut-flames and some kind of tar-like substance were eating their way through his clothing and flesh even as he fell before Khran-Av'ees, his tortured rictus of a face almost touching the warlord's boots. And so did the rattling scream continue to issue from his throat while the skin of his visage blackened and blistered.

For some reason, Khran-Av'ees could not turn his temporarily stupefied gawk away from the deathscene, even though he ought to have seized the moment and started crawling behind the next clump of rocks he had spotted. There was just something too disconcerting in seeing those disturbingly familiar features flaking and peeling off, the voice curling into a snapping death-rattle, clumps of blue-black hair falling off from the now partly revealed skull, and the eyes melting and fizzling away. Which merely twinklings agone had borne that gaze of uncanny kinship to something...

Coughing, Khran-Av'ees swallowed back the bile. However be he, the reaper and unvanquishable conqueror of whole nations, here and now diminishing into such a cowering pipsqueak eeking and cringing before the death of some flyblown bugger of the Dusk-Father? Grah. And most of all, as he had sworn and wished in his inmost heart of hearts for the utter ruin of these foes! He ought to rejoice, not recoil!

The half-giant gingerly peeked out from behind the boulder in order to check whether the course was clear. However, ducking was again obligatory, as yet another blast of bowel-slime -- or whatever in the name of Dthg'aar's warhammer the gook was -- whizzed over his head and slopped on top of a nearby bush. The branches were instantly swallowed by the greedily chomping flames, and something warped at the very reality thereabout. Just alike on the last moments of the wasting G'Uhageid brat, when he had appeared more akin to a cardboard puppet than an actual, departing wight...

Grarrh, that must be the reason wherefore he had fallen into such foolish gawking! Aye verily! The fiendish belch-fire must have been consuming something akin to the very life-spirit of all things walking or growing; wherefore elsewise would it weave such illusions? Zounds, and all this cringing and lollygagging had turned his former sanctuary into an open playground for the beyondworldly powers to gnaw at him.

Grunting back the aches, the warlord began yet another roll-and-crawl journey towards the next rocks. Every second was a torture chamber of its own: falling branches gushing with the horrible soul-eating fire, astray spells of the wizards flapping hither and thither, the slimy underbrush making his knees and elbows slide, the constant fear of being spotted by one of the rebels whom he almost neurotically kept peeking at over his shoulder... In the few coherent glances he managed to acquire, they appeared almost weary to the bone, having perhaps already wasted a majority of their vigor.

He... he had to escape ere that downfall would come to pass. Yet what if... what if the daimon would pursue him? Unto Rha-ghi'Leh, anywhither... nay, nay, he must not dwell on these now! Nay, concentrate on moving... quarter a meter more... he had to be at least halfway through now...

Onwards, onwards, inch by inch... Hot sweat dripped down into his eyes, stinging them, blurring his vision. He must have been bleeding somewhere in the face, as the damned droplets had such a sticky quality. But there be no time to heal minor wounds, rrrahrrh, he scarcely had power left e'en to summon a blade of blasted grass! And if he proceeded to do such a foolish thing, his limbs would no more carry him onward.

Someone screamed blood-curdlingly behind; mayhaps yet another mage had been sprayed with black fire. Eke, the chaotic, mixed susurration and shrieks of the daimon-beast's thousand voices were whirring in the warlord's ears. Hitherto there had not subsisted any coherency to the cacophony. Yet now, as his every sense had been pricked nigh unto the breaking point, he started distinguishing patterns in the whispering as the seconds sluggishly trickled on: curses being tossed hither and thither, threats, names... The invisible tongues were wagging partly with a language beyond his witting, partly with the yoretide dialect of the highlords, which he himself nowadays mastered quite finely. But why ought it to be fraught with such bygone kennings of the elvenhome, if...

Erenow, his mind had but skimmed over the notion of the daimon's probable origins, but as the thousand voices abruptly burst out growling, wailing, and murmuring the same words all at the same time, its prime-tides and true master became hair-risingly clear.

"Lickest thou the pus and ordures of graveworms before the Almighty, the All-Father Perghk'el, the All-Seeing Gha'ugomhiel, the King of Kings, o thee last of the lastmost, thee festering-filled son of the worst blood-traitors upon earth, ikgh-u'ayjoch Guarh-Schul'ochlhemp of Ghyv Uhageid! Whom pursued we from the boneyards of thy filth-kin, wherein we were granted powers to take leave of the ice and fires or the nether-prisons, through the torn-out seams of balances hidden therein since the rising of the Shadow-Masters, sucking strength from the life-powers of thy lowly minions on their foolish errands. Since then have we been seeking for a gateway into the midmost sphere of the worlds, an entrance whence to finally spring forth and feast on thy flesh, to wipe out thy maggot-kin from the sacred dominions of the All-Father! Thus, hark the All-Master, the Almighty on these final moments of thee and thy muck-breed, beneath the welkins of the Usurper of Windhalls and above the grim-courts of the Nether-Tyrant, o thee whoever thus grossly hast befouled Father Perghk'el's bejeweled inheritance evermore by spilling thy foul seed into the flyblown inners of every trollop-wench and hag on thy lust-driven voyages, on pursue of thy soiled wanton-forefather's footsteps, and whom the earth shalt throw up in the puremost disgust when the sacred rule of Father Perghk'el shall rise anew from the shadow-abysses of..."

Hoh, what garrulousness. That wall of blather seemed to bear no end or beginning, Khran-Av'ees briefly mused, having inadvertently halted his crawling. Not even he was that pompous in his famed victory speeches. Apparently the gaffer sported the same opinion, even though the litany of offensives seemed abrading his nerves in a different manner, one that made him seethe with newly awoken fury.

Grahrh, and he was not supposed to be loitering about! Yet, the sudden, blasting uproar in the chittering made him glance back over his shoulder at the heat of the battle again. In this fraction of a minute the hoarfrosted goon had gone nigh beside himself, snarling akin to a pack of hellhounds. Still he contributed energy from his fingers to the shield between the monster and the paltry five standing wizards. It nevertheless had to be he who schemed something foreboding, as the whining and twittering of the else-realms were but growing in volume. Mayhaps the geezer's head had finally cracked after beholding the raw horrors of yonworlds, thus causing him to over-exert his magical aptness.

Hah, hopefully the oaf would make himself blister and burn down to bare bones akin to his wee little bastard back there!

"...And we shall feast on the souls of thy weakling sons and daughters, suck them empty of their vharjitsch so that they ne'er will reach the sleep of Tghuonegh'lchach, but shall be tormented unto the shattering of the welkins amid a thousand times thousand horrors in the nameless, dark pits beyond the spheres of the worlds and kenning of even the lowliest of shadow-wights! One by one shall we bring them to a-" the daimon buzzed and yawled on.

It could not finish its threats ere the elder G'Uhageid's furious growl boomed out, together with a spell-attack such as the warlord had ne'er yet beholden him performing. All in all, this probably was the first outright counterstrike issuing from the rebels: heretofore their incantations had been nigh purely defensive.

"GROOOAAAARRGH, get back to your squalid netherpits together with your hundredfold-damned shadow-master! You will nay, NAY touch the blood of mine e'er anew, and neither shall the Bane ever and unto the dimming of hereafter despoil the lands of my elderkin! It be MY inheritance, MINE; nevermore the plunder of the Nameless!" Therewith, he pushed onwards, muscle and sinew rippling beneath the torn clothes, knobbly fingers still channeling the purplish fire.

The shield spell was apparently just a ruse. The chittering exploded, and abruptly something akin to an invisible sawblade lashed at the monster from behind. The thousand hidden maws squealed, as several of the crimson, octagonal eyes burst and a large chunk consisting of that greasy, smoke-like substance and glistening tubes was torn from the main body.

Khran-Av'ees flinched, spurting forth to continue his desperate crawling. Nay! This... this was ne'er supposed to happen; that ole fool still possessed hidden powers of unthinkable strength! And, and... rage was adding to their vigor, just akin to his own force! He had to get away, away...

The miry weeds made Khran-Av'ees lose the balance of his upper body, and with a splash he sunk into a shallow bog. Coughing and sneezing mud out of his mouth and nostrils, he half-blindedly lunged at the rocks. Furthermore, some new, mightily sudden predicament had begun blazing e'en over the pangs and fatigue: something tore at his mind, breathed against his skin with netherworldly coldness... He wiped the muck out of his eyes with a couple of cleaner dreadlocks, and for his horror noticed a fast-spreading gut-fire frolicking along the hem of his overcoat. He had not perceived amid all the flickering lights and patches of almost pitch-black darkness that the whole thicket whence he had emerged had transformed into a sheer inferno. Obviously not even outright water could halt the fire's course, even if somewhat slowing it down.

The warlord's scream was trampled beneath the roar of G'Uhageid, who struck at the enemy anew, eyes blazing red and foam spilling out of his mouth.

"MY BLOOD, MY SEED SHALL NE'ER BE YOUR FILTH-FARE! Father, deep in the halls of T-Tghuonegh'err, h-help thy only and sole heir beneath the hidden sun; o Ygh'mir of e-eld and... t-thhy mighty sons, o Rha-ntdm'Hyrschk the Wise... th... t-the First Seed of all thy kin, o gharajmahtd Lhoschkg and thy wasted kinsfolk..."

Another slice of demonic entrails and punctured eyes fell splashing to the ground, where it exploded and splattered everything unshielded by magic with its venoms. A little way off, Khran-Av'ees clawed at his clothing, and barely managed to throw away the coat and vests whose sleeves had amid the scrabbling caught fire, along with torn-out tussocks of his own hair. The chilly ground felt like an icy bath against the southlander's skin, so much more used to the blaring heat of grasslands and sand-deserts. One last spurt brought him at the destination.

"The boundaries of the worlds have been torn apart on this dire hour, the latched gates of yonplanes and secret netherpits blown into splinters and tossed aside, h-hence, fly to... th-the aid of thy wretched, hhh... lh-lesser kinsman, ssh-o that the foretellings of yore would nay fall... into... th... th-the blackmost n-nnn-nothingness! FATHER! Thee I call, and the mercy of Tghuonegh'err and Yl-maargh'Inegn! Lhh... lh-let your grace rain down upon the one who yet bears the... th... b-bbb-blood of elder-glories in... h-his-" the gaffer still bawled on with a cracking voice, accompanied by a myriad screeches issuing from the daimon and the gusty swishes of his attack.

A sight both welcome and uninvited met Khran-Av'ees behind the rocks. Two of his crew, still miraculously alive, had somehow ended up huddling against the boulders. Mayhap they had been thrown thither from the backs of agitated steeds or by one of the frequent blast ricocheting from the slayground. The black fire had nonetheless begun infesting even this priorly somewhat safe haven. Alike Khran-Av'ees's discarded raiment, the veteran Gho-Ni'ngobsch's cloak suffered from the unwelcome plague. But unlike their lord, both him and Ghaagh'urih were still bound and gagged, and could merely writhe on the spot, staring in horror as the doom advanced. Now, upon beholding the bedraggled warlord crawling out of nowhere, free of bonds and still breathing, an acute flash of hope lightened up the slivers of faces that could be seen under the gags and mounds of dirty hair. Ferociously the bodyguard began mumbling, poking at the general direction of the elf-in-danger with an elbow.

There was nought to it. Khran-Av'ees realized that here be his mere wherewith of reaching the steeds, as his wobbling knees would not drag him on another ten meters. And it was a humongous relief to behold someone alive. So dismal was the hour that he would have hailed those of his brethren that had once caused his facial injuries with open arms, had he not slain them eons agone. The warlord well kenned he would weaken himself upon venturing into the act on his mind, but all their blades and axes had been confiscated, and even his talonlike fingernails could not cut through metal-reinforced rope.

"Weeh... mussht... catsshh shhosshe sshteedssh, fly... awayhh..." he mumbled, reaching out for some minor magic. Nought fell out of his lips with ease, the left side of his face having gone utterly slack. The eye that on occasion played tricks on him was able to roll unhindered in its socket, but the cheek and jaw had no feeling to them, not even the needly tingle of irregular numbness. The first three finger-flicks provided no results. On the fourth however the hampers started snapping open, and the burning, luckily very sodden canvas of Gho-Ni'ngobsch's cloak tearing.

Elsewise the cronies appeared to be in a fairly good condition, aside from some bruises and broken teeth. Without asking for further instructions, Gho-Ni'ngobsch and Ghaagh'urih grabbed Khran-Av'ees by the arms, and half-running, half-stumbling hauled him at the rampaging beasts. The second one was already of no use; trashing against its oncoming fate it merely contributed to the outbreak of gut-fire in its wings and body. Huge dollops were now flying into every direction from the battleground, so it was nigh impossible to find shelter against it. Luck and quick reflexes were the only aces in this fatal game.

The single, unharmed ghamyrluuschk reared and twisted around in insane hysterics, but the combined strength of the warriors pulling at its harnesses forced the beast down. As there existed no wastable minutes for fancy throne constructions for the honor of the Dark Lord, they lifted Khran-Av'ees up and tossed him lengthwise on top of it. Some rope was wrapped around his waist and legs to prevent him from falling down, as he scarcely seemed to possess the strength for plain sitting. Half the time the two elves were forced to duck and dodge deadly missiles, and twice chop off more of the warlord's hair, as it caught fire.

"Now, ge' 'em bloody bugger up an' flyin'! Me's hoppin' on!" Gho-Ni'ngobsch shouted at Ghaagh'urih who had invaded the front saddle.

Nevertheless, just as they were about to take off, a whimpering, half-incoherent plea for help issued from the nearby bushes. As if there already had not been enough interruptions. Always a new 'yet' or 'nevertheless' bouncing about, jeering at the ones in danger...

It unfortunately is the natural law of thrill and action that always a disruption has to occur on some crucial moment. The law does not govern over events as a default, but requires a certain framework to kick in. These conditions might include running people being chased by a huge rock rolling down a tunnel, a dangerous, addiction-causing piece of jewelry being thrown in lava, a student arriving late at an exam to which he has forgotten to study... Generally anything that encompasses a high amount of randomness and adventure will trigger it.

Hence, try not to make your toilet-time too exiting for instance by attempting to hit the bowl while standing on your head. A swarm of killer bees might just fly in through the concrete wall.

Ghaagh'urih yet hesitated. "Dere's sumone right dere! Should we nay sees...?"

"We ent got enow tides for ane foolish errands! Gets ye 'em bleedin' damn flapper up, an-"

The bodyguard hardly could kick out his deep-rooted nature, which in some sense resembled those semi-propagandist holomovie characters that plunged straight into the enemy fire to save kittens and puppies. He hopped down, and twirled about for a second, seeking for the source of the noise. Then the elf darted into the thicket, and a blink later returned with Qwertyui slung over his shoulder, pinching at his nose with a few free fingers. The weedy lowlander had panicked so profusely at some point that he scarcely reeked any more with mere cold sweat.

"Whut? Ye hadta go fer'em wee li'l craven gutter-creeper, when we shoulda-"

"By de blazes an' sparks o' Dthg'aar's fire-anvil, me ent leavin' none o' me feller-men beyon', if 'em cans be saved from dem wraths o' eldritch wossnames! Makes ye sum room over dere, 'em poor lord's lollin' over three saddles," Ghaagh'urih snapped, and pushed the whimpering, sobbing scribe to huddle before Gho-Ni'ngobsch.

"Eyyurgh! Me ents wanna bloody damn nurse sum sissy dastard who ha' crapped his puny pants! Tha' scuggan ents nay a prop'r man or e'en a wenchie, v'rily, me tells ye, me's beholden fiercer wenches inne harlot-houses, me has, whe' 'em lads sumtimes gets a li'l too rowdy, an' 'em snaps off deir-" The veteran nigh pushed Qwertyui back down into the bushes in sheer disgust. "Look'a 'em mighty sir who wents through dem thousand an' one hells de'selves! V'rly, 'is breeches ent oozin' wi' noughts! Me ents-"

"O' course he woul' nay crap hissel', he doesn't e'en ken dem meanin' o' fear! Dere be nay 'em likes o' oor lord, so shuts ye yer bloody trap an' we can gets goin'!"

"Thisssh doth be all tha... remaineth leffthhh... of ourrh mighty companion; none shhalt thou... thhrow... awayhh... Bloodyhh damnitssh, get thissh thh... thhing up anon..."

Furthermore, this was just about the last chance too, as the canopy above creaked with burning, falling branches. The half-maddened steed was not easy to control, but somehow Ghaagh'urih managed to get it airborne. If a literal nightmare had not broken loose on the battleground heretofore, now the scene opening before and below passed well beyond the wildmost experiences of the warriors.

The daimon had lost about half of its mass, but its swelling fury matched that of G'Uhageid. One could well regard it was attempting to recreate itself from the guttering tubes and the waning, greasy fire littering the surroundings. Nevertheless, it had ended up wresting against a force much mightier than the five wizards, out of which three were visibly trembling and reeling with fatigue, the flames from their fingertips ebbing by the second. Breaths nigh getting stuck to their throats, the refugees gawked at the swirling, light-blue cage of shadowy beings around the daimon. Every once in a while the misty wights would grow into a recognizable shape, and then scatter again like ashes in the wind. Pearly eyes, grinning, befanged mouths, high-ponytailed hair coiling and billowing in the invisible streams...

Bloody swounds, no son of a man ought to have been capable of breaking the fortifications of Tghuonegh'lchach and summon the elderkin for his aid beneath the yoke of the Dusk, Khran-Av'ees swore under his breath. Nor the shadow-terrors of the Bane, for that matter... For one of those this peril verily be, as it had highte its master with the forbidden name. And what damned inheritances had that geezer been raving on about?

Below, trapped or nay, the monster yet made a few last efforts to escape the destruction that awaited it in the hands of the yoretime wizard-kings and the smattering of living mages. Bit by bit, tube by tube, it was being torn apart much alike how its own gut-flames destroyed matter and souls, and would soon fall into a wyrd much worse than that of its lord: an utter oblivion.

There was yet cunning left in its tangled mind, and it perceived that the strength of Ghgalev would soon fail. On the moment the lightning from his fingertips sputtered to an end, the beast amassed the last dregs of its might, hoping to be able to fulfill the ultimate wish of its master.

Ghaagh'urih had succeeded in steering the ill-mannered ghamyrluuschk quite on level with the treetops already. If the black fire possessed any profits, they lay in guaranteeing Khran-Av'ees's micro-troop an easy exit from the woods, as vast chunks of the tangled canopy had burned away.

Or, maybe not so easy as they initially believed. Something exploded beneath. The ghost-cage and the surrounding forest mayhaps swallowed most of the impact, but a blasting current of heat and air hit the steed nonetheless. Squealing and clicking its pincers madly, it dropped for a short while like a bowling ball plummeting down from a skyscraper. Khran-Av'ees swung sideways in the saddle, too drained to be able to balance his considerable weight. Sans Gho-Ni'ngobsch and Ghaagh'urih's hard pulling and tugging, the very unusual and ugly meteor bundled together from hairy half-giants and a barmy beast would have dropped straight on top of the shadow-daimon, and probably left quite an extraordinary crater behind.

And, just as Ghaagh'urih had steadied the steed anew and Gho-Ni'ngobsch hauled his lord upright, the white-haired elder below yelped, "Bleeding hellholes, look, above! That damned fool is alive and fleeing! Anon, Y'Jhaidr, shoot them down-"

The craftiness of the daimon had perchance foreseen this distraction, as it decided to blow up anew, even if with much lesser power. The spirit-cage swallowed again the gut-fire, but still let through the waves of pressure. Gha'ugonak, worn-out and deflected, had not recalled fortifying his own shields. So, the impact hit him. In this pandemonium of elseworld rifts, escaped spells, and bygone G'Uhageids risen from their ancient graves, he very much according to the illogic of Rha-kan'Ocka ended up flying upwards. The ghamyrluuschk burst out into a novel frenzy, as the wizard hit its underside. Its legs grabbed Gha'ugonak whilst making a few perfect somersaults in the air, and eventually cast him aside like some uber-loathed ragdoll.

A second later the wizard smacked straight upon Lord Khran-Av'ees, knocking him backwards in the saddle. Ghaagh'urih in the frontmost seat was desperately attempting to gain altitude again, and hardly could lend a hand. Neither could the veteran exactly manage this new danger, as his job already consisted of trying to hinder the warlord and the retching, fainting scribe from falling off.

"GRAH! Gerritoffsshmeeh!" Khran-Av'ees roared, fumbling and scrabbling at the bundle of robes and skinny limbs that was blinding him.

"Why you filth-bastard of mongrels, I shall saw your skull open for all the ill deeds you-"

"GROAH BLOODYSSH SHHUDDUPHH!"

Obviously even in the utmost tiredness Khran-Av'ees's basic instincts pumped some extra adrenalin into him, or then it was the sheer size difference of the two opponents. The mage who ne'er had placed much importance on gaining muscle was mayhaps one fourth, one fifth of the warlord's weight and besides over a foot shorter. Khran-Av'ees sensed the touching of magic, but any spells possibly aimed at him were misdirected, as he tore the wizard from over him, accompanied by hideous grinding and snapping sounds. Judging by these and the sudden screams, a bone or two might have been broken.

Of course, it was hard to tell whether it was the gaffer or the scribe yawling. Every time the ghamyrluuschk had performed even quarter a flip, the lowlander had squealed akin to a swine sinking into vitriol. Considering the increase in stench, his bowels must have become slack for the second time somewhere during the lapsed minute.

"WHUT DE HELL'S GOIN' ON? I cannae land anywhiter now, we hasta go up an'-" Ghaagh'urih yelled over the rush of wind and screaming. They were reaching the treetops anew, this time with increased speed. Behind him, Khran-Av'ees was pounding the flailing wizard, who drooped halfway over the beast's back, into more or less sodden pulp.

"Doohh nay sshstop! Thake leaveh offh thhisssh damn plaissh, anonhh!"

A new whirr in the beyondplains. This time it was ended by both the boot of Gho-Ni'ngobsch and the knuckles of Khran-Av'ees smashing simultaneously into the wizard's skull.

They were over the treetops now, beyond the black, diminishing smoke-clouds of the yonworld ghastliness. The cursed pouch in the forest had lured the warriors into believing that the hours of midnight were jogging past. However here, amid the gusty winds free of the daimon's putrid essence, watery daylight still reigned.

"By 'em doom-helm o' Vhe-dt'echinech, throws ye 'em damned witch-wossthingy away from ye, lord!" Gho-Ni'ngobsch growled, and grabbed the finally unconscious Gha'ugonak by the hair. "Ge' rid of it fer good; it ent gonna be creepin' around 'em worlds anew afta dis fall, unless 'em bugger kens howe'er ta grow wings nowhence!"

Against all reason, Khran-Av'ees raised one, grubby hand in opposition.

"Whu? But, Sir, ye shoul' weet now, tis be ane o'em bloody wizzardkin, ane o'em most perilous worms o'-"

Brow furrowed, the hand still aloft, warlord seemed brooding hard over something, slumped in the saddle. No fancy kingstalk slithered onto his tongue in this state. Half of his braincells were dreaming of a soft feather bed by a warm hearth. Out of the remaining amount, two thirds feasted on the idea of a whopping, steaming meal, the next one fourth lamenting the loss of Ghalowazahrh, and the next five percent for some incomprehensible reason urged him to rush onto the nearest cold hill to build a Snow-Khran. Those that still possessed some sense, sluggishly bandied the matters of the state and any hereafter plans regarding the rebels.

"Sir! Lord! Harks ye prithee yer officers, wha' if it'll wakes up an' damn well roasts us all?"

One of the warlord's shaking, clumsy hands disappeared into some inner pocket** of his fashion disaster combo of loincloth-over-breeches. A fistful of the weeds confiscated earlier that afternoon were pulled out, and stuffed into the wizard's open mouth. Another hand pulled out a singed flagon from his belt, from which Khran-Av'ees erst took a long swig himself, and then poured the rest over the brown substance in Gha'ugonak's cakehole. Hoh, the silly rebel scum had obviously been satisfied with confiscating only the weapons and the most visible valuables. Perhaps they had verily counted on the bindings and spells, or had simply been amid a great haste. But still it stank as carelessness. Verily, if you were about to rob someone, then plunder them properly!

With his world-famed hygiene, the warlord stuck one muddy finger into Gha'ugonak's mouth, and mixed the drug and strong mead together with saliva.

"Affecteth... abssshorbethh th... through the mouth... sshalt nay wh... whhake up from dh... dhat in ahh while, cunneth nay ussh... usshe masshic. Jushht makessht thou sshure he dothhssh nay sshuffocate. Urrh... krrh... I needhh... to find out... thingssh... from him... crusshialhh..."

Only the wail of the wind sang in the heights. The lone air-steed soared over the forest, pursuing the road that wriggled akin to an overstretched earthworm through the purple and brown trees. Its flight was aimed eastward, towards the hilly wold that spread out in the horizon as a gray, uneven line.

Miles and miles behind, underneath a slowly dispersing dark cloud that hung oddly low, a reedy hole gaped amid the elsewise healthy growth. The ground all about smoldered black, and coils of greasy, gray smoke whirled up here and there.

The wavering heroes of bygone tides had vanished, their misty robes and hair no more tumbling in the invisible streams of air. By a shallow crater right in the middle of the opening a white-haired man crouched, sobbing and cursing, hugging at his knees and on occasion beating the ashes with a bare fist.

It would take a while from even the most sharp-eyed elf to discern any other movement in the midst of the shadowy bushes and piles of corpses begriming the ground. Not even carrions would fly into a foul waste such as this, doomed to become a barren patch of soil for forever more, a ruinland of the vanquished daimon and its vile secretions.

After a while, though, one might spot a second stirring shape, limping through the carcasses and kneeling down every once in a while, seeking, perusing. And after some waiting a third which equally looked for something and winced on every other awkward step. Yet that was all.

Vain. All in vain...

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