Ch.2

The house was quiet. Kiernan grabbed another couple of logs from the lumber pile and tip-toed down the hallway. He'd just settle the fire in his den before retiring. Sister Wilson sat in her room, reading. She looked up as he walked past.

"He seems to have settled for the night, doctor," she whispered.

Kiernan nodded. "You're not staying up all night for him, are you?"

"Well - I..."

"I'll sit with him tonight. For a while, anyway."

"All right, then," she agreed. "If he worsens..."

"Don't worry."

She shut her door, and he entered the den quietly, placing the logs carefully by the fireplace.

"Grandpa?"

So he was still awake. Kiernan walked over to the bed. Terry looked up at him and sniffed. The lines of tears marked dark trails down his cheeks.

"You should try to get some sleep," he chided gently. "You'll need to feel fresh if you're coming outside tomorrow."

Terry looked at him and sniffed. "I can't feel tomorrow. It's as if it isn't there."

The stethescope was lying on the metal locker beside the table. Kiernan listened to Terry's chest, noting the signs of diminished respiration. The heart was labouring. He knew the signs, too.

"Want some oxygen?" he asked, adjusting the flowmeter and slipping the tube over Terry's head. "I got four big bottles of the stuff," he said as he adjusted the canula to the boy's nostrils.

"I can't smell it."

"You're not supposed to smell it. If it gets smelly, tell me and I'll take it back to the gas company."

They were silent for a while. Terry looked at his grandfather and closed his eyes, but he couldn't sleep. Finally, he opened them in frustration.

"You've been sleeping during the day. I often stay awake all night. Old men do that, you know."

"Grandpa, can you take me for a walk to the Indian Camp?"

"What? Right now?"

"Yes."

"You're in no condition to go anywhere, Terry. That chest of yours is complaining enough already - just lying there. Tomorrow, we'll put you out in the garden where you can look out over the lake. We'll take you for a walk when you feel better."

"I'm not going to feel better. And you're pulling my chain. We both know it."

They sat in silence for a while. There wasn't anything to say, but Kiernan felt guilty. He couldn't even get angry.

"We could pretend," he said, looking at Terry.

"Not hypnosis."

Kiernan shrugged. "Next best thing to reality that I know," he said.

There was another long silence. He listened to Terry's laboured breathing.

"All right," Terry said. "Use the charm. From the medicine man. I like that."

It lay locked in his cabinet across the room. Kiernan pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. He reached in, and lifted it out. It lay golden in the moonlight, reflecting half shadows.

Terry handled it gently as his Grandfather gave it to him. "It looks like a clip."

"It is. The other part was a round golden shield - about ten inches across. A sort of breast plate. A circular charm like that is called a 'Mandala'. This clip held it at the top. The leather thong went round the medicine man's neck. I never..."

"You searched and searched, but never found it. Grandad, you musta told me that story about fifty times."

"Good stories are worth telling."

"O.K. Hypnotise me then. We'll go on a walk your way."

Kiernan took the charm and held it by the thong, rotating it in the moonlight above Terry's eyes.

"Concentrate all your thoughts and attention onto this charm. Watch it as it rotates in the moonlight. Notice how the facets sparkle as I twist it back and forth..."

"That's right," Dawn Dancer said, as he watched Terry and his Grandfather reflected from the Pool of Ancients. "Get him to feel the grass under his feet. You, too, old man. Feel your own trance."

Kiernan yawned as he droned on and on into the induction. He watched the shaman's charm as it circled back and forth. Terry's eyes seemed reluctant to close. He persisted.

"You can feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier," he said, noticing with irritation that his own eyes had begun to water.

"Sleep. Both of you, sleep," commanded the shamman.

The grass swished beneath their feet as they walked through it. Kiernan put his arm over Terry's shoulders. He felt the strength flowing back into the youngster as the snap of the night air assailed their nostrils with its soft pine scents.

"You warm enough, Terry?" he asked.

The boy pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his windcheater. He felt the softness of the flannellette checked lumber shirt, and the thick corduroy trousers. "Sure," he said. "Let's go to the bridge."

The path seemed shrouded in mist, but the ornamental japanese bridge stood above the smoky ground. Beyond it was the line of pines that marked the edge of the forest. The path meandered into it.

"I'm not going into the forest at night - least, not without a torch and my rifle," Kiernan said.

"You worried about bears?" Terry asked, waiting for his Grandfather to catch up. "You said there aren't any."

They stood on the bridge and looked across the still waters of the lake. In the moonlight, they could see the thin clouds reflected in the water.

"Bears, wolves. You never know. I haven't seen any for years, but that doesn't mean there aren't any."

Something clouded the water of the Pool of Ancients.

"What is that on the end of the bridge, behind them?" Thunderhead asked.

The shaman looked at the vaporous form.

"The enemy has come! He strikes before we are ready!"

"Can you do anything?" the warchief asked.

Freezing cold air ran in a trickle down Kiernan's back. He turned around suddenly, as if expecting a bear to materialise behind them. Terry grasped his Grandfather tightly around the waist.

"What is it?" he asked.

A swirling black patch of vapour seemed to materialise at the foot of the bridge, cutting off all retreat to the house. It began to materialise.

Kiernan recognised the scythe, then gasped as the faceless cloaked figure materialised from the smoke. There was a cackle of glee, as from a very old man.

"We meet again," The figure said. "My old friend, the physician."

Their eyes locked together in a silent struggle for a few moments, until Terry cried out in fear.

"Who is it, Grandad?" he asked.

Kiernan hesitated.

"Why don't you tell him?" Death taunted, "Or shall I?"

"Stand behind me, Terry!" Kiernan shouted.

"Why not merely open your eyes from this ridiculous trance and feel his pulse?" Death asked. "Do you think you can prolong what must by fleeing to this timeless phantasy?"

A pinpoint of light materialised at the other end of the bridge. It grew larger and larger, then with a flash of brilliance, Dawn Dancer stood beside Kiernan and Terry. He pointed his lance at death.

"They are here at my summoning, Grey One. Your time is not yet."

"The boy is mine!"

"Grandad!" Terry shouted.

"He can't hurt you, Terry. Not here." Kiernan said.

He struggled to comprehend what was happening. Somehow, he had lost control of the trance state. Other events were happening, psychic events, over which he had no control. He sought for the symbolism.

"The bridge - Is it one of choice?" he asked the shaman.

"Indeed it is so," Dawn Dancer answered.

"If we go back towards the house - out of the trance - we return to death?"

Dawn Dancer nodded.

"Therefore to go on?" kiernan asked.

"Is not safer, for anything deadly can kill just as surely, and return you to Death's side of the river. However, there is one safe exit."

"Which is?"

"The Star Gate. Those who pass through are deemed with the immortals. But none may reach the gate, unless they have the complete Mandala. Clasp and disk must he wear to gain entry."

"Do not interfere, Shaman! The boy is mine - to take now!"

"In the Name of the High Council of this realm, I deny you, Grim Reaper. He stands on Our side of the eternal river. Only by his death here can you gain posession of him."

Dawn Dancer held out a hand and gently lifted Terry's face towards his own. The old Indian and the boy regarded each other for a short time."

"You are an Expert Warrior?"

Terry nodded.

"Mark these things. You may bring into this world, anything you can touch in the other. Yet caution - your sickness dwells there. Each thing you bring shall weaken you. You are not immortal until the Star Gate is gained. Die here, and you will return to Brother Death's side of the bridge."

"I understand," Terry said.

"The path to eternity lies that way," Dawn Dancer said, pointing towards the forest. He faded away, as if he had never been.

Kiernan turned towards Death. "You must wait, Old One."

"Oh, I shall," Death replied.

Kiernan pushed Terry towards the path leading into the forest. They hurried towards the blackenning wall of trees.

Behind them, from the other side of the bridge, came a ghastly mocking laughter.

The beat of the war drums rolled through the village. Young men lifted painted fingers to their cheeks to daub clay lines in symbols of death. Thunderhead stood watching impassively as two warriors lifted his war bonnet to his head. For a moment, it hovered above him, then they lowered it into position as if performing an ancient coronation. Dancers hurled themselves with growing frenzy around a fire. To one side stood two poles about six feet high which had been planted firmly into the earth.

To one side, a young warrior, smaller than the rest, lay on a buffalo skin. Two older men massaged his rippling muscles with oil. He stared at the tomahawk burried in the soil in front of him.

Dawn Dancer appeared at the edge of the firelight. He walked stiffly towards Thunderhead.

"They are coming," he said. "I have done all that I promised. Must you continue with this test?"

"If the Expert Warrior can not fight, then he is useless to us."

"But a fight to the death..."

"I have so ordered. Small Beaver wishes to prove his manhood. If he wins, he shall have a man's name."

Terry stumbled along the path. The high moon shone through the tops of the high pines with a flickering light, deceptive in that it hid roots and protruding rocks, yet clear enough to mark the way.

"How far is it?" Terry asked.

"Bout two miles, I reckon, from memory. Listen."

They heard the drumming and shrieks as if from a great distance. Terry looked into the dark forest. He heard other sounds too, such as the distant howl of a wild dog.

"That's a wolf," he said.

His Grandfather tightened his grip on the boys shoulder and they increased their pace.

"Where there's one, there may be two or three more," he said.

They hurried forward. Terry found himself breathing heavilly, yet clearly. For the first time in a year, he felt strong and well. His young muscles fairly rippled with power.

The wolf's howl was answered by another. Closer.

"Grandad!" Terry shouted, as a form crossed the path ahead of them.

With a supreme effort, Kiernan felt for the flashlight with his hand - groping back into a phantom world of metal lockers and hospital beds. The beam shot through the trees exposing the wolf. Its eyes gleamed red in the reflected light, and it backed off puzzled by the glare.

"Where did you get the torch?" Terry asked.

"On the locker by the bed," Kiernan said. "Remember - we can bring anything here that we can touch in our own world."

They walked on, protected to some extent by the beam. Their footsteps were now sure. The beating of the drum was closer.

On either side, the wolves gathered. Their red eyes glowed through the night and they became bolder. One gave a sudden rush, snapping at Kiernan, who swung at it with the back end of the torch. It yelped as the blow landed home.

"We need something to fend them off," Kiernan said.

"Use your chair," Terry suggested.

It appeared as if by magic. Kiernan handed the torch to Terry, grasped the chair, and smashed it heavilly to the ground. The wooden back legs were long enough to be used as clubs.

The wolves struck again. Terry and his grandfather soon found themselves fending off more and more attacks as they ran towards the camp. Suddenly, Terry felt an enormous weight on his shoulders as one huge wolf jumped from behind, throwing him forward onto the ground. Kiernan swung at the beast which grabbed ferrociously at the chair leg.

The pack sorrounded them, baying savagely. Man and boy struggled to their feet and stood back to back facing them.

There was the swish and thud of an arrow, a sudden yelp, and war cries from all sides. The arrows flew into the pack, which broke up and melted into the forest as if it had never existed. Wounded and dying animals dragged themselves away. Instead of a pack of wolves, Terry and his Grandfather stood facing a circle of grim-faced indian warriors.

"Are we glad to see you," Kiernan said.

The nearest warriors ripped the makeshift clubs from Terry and Kiernan, rough hands grabbed them, and within moments, they found themselves with hands bound behind their backs, being pushed towards the Indian camp.

"Grandad, I don't think these guys are the right Indians," Terry said helplessly as he was shoved forwards.

Ch.3

In a secluded dell behind the Indians' camp, the lovers played, oblivious of the events contemporary to their courting, for such is the blindness of romance, that it has its way during famines and earthquakes.

"You're hiding from me," Yogroot said accusingly, putting stubby dwarfling fingers across his eyes to create a seeing spell.

A tinkering of laughter came from a nearby bush, and two detached wing scales flittered like fireflies to the grass below a weighted branch.

"There you are!" Yogroot declared, pointing his finger, at which the delighted fairy threw back her wings, thus uncloaking her visible form. She threw herself forward and floated towards him.

"It took you long enough, and true lovers never can hide from each other," she said accusingly.

He hung his head awkwardly. "I love you truly, Millander Frey, but what is the point if your father will not permit our match?"

"Don't take any notice of that old fossil," she said crossly. "Deeds of chivalry, indeed. All that stuff went out years ago. Next time you see my father, just tell him that you love me. That will be chivalry enough."

"Indeed, m my love. It will be. Did he not swear to turn me into a toad next time we met?"

"You don't have to impress me with 'Deeds of Chivalry', Yogroot. Surely we can just elope?"

"Knowing your father, that would indeed be a brave deed, if not a very foolish one," Yogroot muttered.

A commotion broke out nearby, and the two lovers jumped into the safety of a nearby bush as a crowd of Indians cursed their way across the clearing. Yogroot and Millander stared in amazement as they watched Walter and Terry being shoved towards the Indian Camp.

"What on earth is happening?" he asked.

The indians ignored him.

Millander was not so patient. She waited until the crowd had passed, then put out a foot to trip one of the tail-enders. He cursed and spat out sand and mud as the fairy materialised in front of him.

"Damned forest spirit!" he swore ungraciously. "What do you want?" he asked, as Yogroot appeared.

"What do you want with the Other Worlders?" Millander asked.

"It's a test. They're going to test the Expert Warrior," Youngdeer explained. He's got to fight Small Beaver to the death."

He brushed himself down and sped after the retreating band. Yogroot and Millander followed breathlessly, arguing as they flitted from shadow to shadow.

"A fight to the death is not allowed," Millander asserted knowingly.

"High Council ordered it," Young Deer said, skipping clumsilly though the roots and nearly upending himself again.

Terry and Walter were pushed roughly towards Dawn Dancer and Thunderhead. They stood facing the two men who sat amongst a motley throng of Indians, Dwarves, Goblins, and Forest spirits.

"What's the meaning of this?" Walter demanded. "Untie us at once!"

"This is the test," Dawn Dancer said quietly. "Watch how you behave, Kiernan. You are before the High Council."

"Your tongue is arrogant!" Thunderhead said sharply. "Pray your grandson is as sharp with his wits. Tie them to the poles."

"What are they doing?" Yogroot asked nervously.

"They're to pass the test of courage," Youngdeer answered. "As the braves dance around them, they will shoot into the poles. If they cry out for mercy, they will fail and the arrows will find their mark."

"Oh, how exciting," Millander said, dancing from foot to foot with glee.

"Depends where you are," Yogroot said, "Personally, I'd rather not have to pass any tests at all."

"Grandpa!" Terry called out as the first arrow swished home next to his ear.

"Don't call out, Terry," Walter warned. "If you do, the arrows will hit you."

The dancers whirled around and around the two, firing arrows and throwing knives and small tomahawks which stuck into the posts all around them. As the two kept still and silent, not one struck home.

The dance stopped as suddenly as it had begun. For a moment, there was silence, then the whole assembly started to clap and cheer. Thunderhead walked forward, and with deft sweeps of his knife, cut the two from the poles.

"You do have courage," he said. "Now let us see if you have skill. Expert Warrior, you must slay Small Beaver."

The warriors moved back to form a circle. Dawn Dancer took Terry's coat and shirt from him so that he could fight freely. Then he pulled Walter back with him to the edge of the clearing. Terry and Small Beaver stood facing each other.

"I don't want to fight you," Terry protested. He looked closely at Small Beaver. The boy's dark eyes smouldered back at him with a hatred that Terry could not understand.

A small axe thudded into the ground between them. Small Beaver dived at it, snatched it up, and swung it at Terry's head. The surprised boy moved out of the way in sufficient time to feel its wind cutting past his ear.

Jees, he means business, he thought to himself, dodging once again as Small Beaver pressed home his advantage.

The young Indian threw himself forward to strike a killing blow, when Terry pirouetted on one foot and delivered a roundhouse kick to Small Beaver's stomach that sent him flying breathlessly to the centre of the ring. For a moment, the youngster lay stunned, and Terry backed towards his grandfather.

Dawn Dancer put his hand on Terry's shoulder. "You remember the bridge, Expert Warrior? Look behind Small Beaver's eyes and you will see Death. He takes many forms, and craves you still."

Small Beaver stood uncertainly. The axe was still clasped in his hand. He looked at Terry and opened his mouth to give a battle cry as he rushed forward. Terry jumped to one side just before they met and threw his foot out. Beaver tripped, but swung the axe so that its blade swiped across Terry's outflung arm. Blood flowed freely as the brave, scenting victory, closed once more.

Terry was ready for the move. He blocked the downward thrust of the axe with crossed arms, then forced Small Beaver's upthrust arm backwards. At the same time, he stepped up beside the Indian boy and threw his right leg behind his opponent, bringing him down with O Soto Gari - a leg sweep. Small Beaver crashed to the ground allowing the axe to fall free. Terry straddled the Indian boy, trapping his arms under his knees so that he could only stare helplessly as Terry picked the axe from the ground. With his left hand, he grasped Small Beaver's hair. His right lifted the axe and slammed it towards the young brave's face.

It stopped - a fraction of a centimetre above the boy's face.

"You're dead," Terry said.

"Phew! He killed him! He killed him!" Yogroot said.

"He did not," his fairy companion snorted. "He just pretended to."

"Oh, the disgrace," Youngdeer said. "To be pretend dead. Oh, dear."

Now, Terry and Walter sat as honoured guests at the feast. In front of the Chief's seat, gnomes danced with sprites while goblins and elves cavorted. Terry fingered a roasted bone, thick with meat. Because he was the victor, he now wore a cloth band around his head, and an eagle feather. While Walter and the Chief spoke in low tones, he looked around. Small Beaver sat to one side with his head bowed, eyes smouldering with hatred. Every now and then, he looked towards Terry, making him feel distinctly uncomfortable.

Dawn Dancer was telling the story of his breast - plate: "I do not know how long it was in my family, but my great grandfather said that it came from the far South. The gold shield had great power. What do you call it, Walter Kiernan?"

"A 'Mandala' - that's a circular sacred object of great power and magic."

"That would fit the description very well. As you know, when the plague struck my people, many became the slaves of the Dark One - Death. Only by the power of the Mandala were the rest of the tribe able to slip away into this realm and so escape the fate of disease and death."

"What is this world, anyway? Some kind of parallel dimension?" Terry asked.

"There are many names," Thunder Head said. "As you can see, there are many peoples here. It is not a pure realm"

"It is held in the race memories of many people," Walter explained. "A kind of dream world or alternative reality. You could come across virtually anything here - Ogres, Trolls, fairies - whatever has existed in folklore."

"Even Vampires and Werewolves?" Terry asked.

"Fair or foul, if it ever was, it is here now," Dawn Dancer said. "And without the great seal of power - the Mandala - all are trapped here. The only exit is through Death's dark dominion. With the Mandala, we could once more open the Star Gate. The way to the Heavens would be ours, and we would then be free to travel as immortals in the glorious realm which lies beyond this."

Beaver left the feast quietly. Scant attention had been paid to him since he lost the fight. Indeed, as he was not even wounded, he had not even the pleasure of being tended with sympathy by the healing maidens. The wound to his pride festered within, growing hot on his anger.

Unseen eyes watched his departure. "Let's follow him," Millander suggested.

"Oh, Leave him alone," Yogroot chided. "He's had enough for one night without us pestering him."

Beaver sought the solace of the forest. One path meandered past the stream called forgetfullness. He found himself standing by the spring. The darkness gripped at his soul. Behind him, a shadow formed in the air, then hardened.

"It is wise to watch behind one, in the woods at night," Death said.

Startled, the youth swung round. His blood froze in his veins at the sight of the hooded faceless figure standing on the path.

"I ... Urrrgh!" he said, choking on his words with fear.

"You failed me, boy," Death said, "But you shall have other opportunities. Befriend the one called 'Terry' - the Expert Warrior. Then when the chance is right, strike him down."

"He can never be my friend ..." Beaver said.

"Be that as it may be," Death said, "But obey me in pretence. Your friendship shall be a sham. I want his soul."

"Why should you want that? And what do I get out of it, anyway?"

"If he is mine, he cannot recover the Great Seal. I shall enslave him to toil in my foul pits for eternity. The purity of his essences shall delight me for aeons. As for you, Beaver, I can delay my appointment with you and make your ride to my domain especially easy, where you can find a soft spot to contemplate Eternity."

"He denied my manhood," Beaver said.

"Tonight, you shall have it. Take it as a sign from me. Do we have a bargain?" Death asked.

As Beaver nodded in agreement, the shadow evaporated. The forest stood undisturbed, wrapped in deathly silence for some moments, before a lowly cricket sounded his mating call. At once, the noises returned, cloaking the night in sounds of the forest.

Before the cave of far horizons, at World's Edge, Death paused to summon his great messenger, Tharon, mightiest of winged serpents, who's anthracite scales glistened in the moonlight. Advancing from the caves, he spread his ebonny wings wide, stretching his claws towards the distant stars. At once, he belched, and fire poured across the land.

"Tharon, my pet. Beware of one who is young, a warrior of the Other World, who seeks your trinket," Death said, pointing to the Mandala which hung on a golden chain around the Dragon's neck.

"One dares?" the serpent asked.

"Assuredly he shall try," Death said.

"Let him. I shall await his coming with interest."

"I rest assured."

"Tell me, Dark One, how do you like your souls, toasted, or plain?"

"My pet, I envy that you have a sense of humour. Now cleanse me."

Fire spewed forth around the cloaked figure, who glowed red hot within the blaze.

It is said that Laughing Waters is half fairy, and half Indian Prince, such was her beauty. Happily, she drew water from the meandering stream and carried it back to the camp along the moonlit path. She feared for nothing, for was she not within sight of the flickering firelight, and well in hearing of the dances and the beat of the drums.

She turned at hearing a sharp barking cough behind her. A great bear stepped from behind a tree and lunged forward to grasp her. She ran, and the beast persued her. They broke from the forest at the clearing as the bear caught her up and lifted her high above its head, for it was a creature posessed of an evil that its poor brain could never fathom.

At that instant, the screams of the frightened girl joined with the battle cry of the young brave, Small Beaver, who reached the clearing by another path. Seeing Laughing Water's peril, he drew his axe and charged with no thought for his own safety. The men at the feast were still reacting with alarm, standing, calling for bows, reaching for lances.

The bear cast his intended prey to one side and advanced on his new attacker. As David to Goliath, Beaver stood his ground, then at the critical moment, dodged to one side and swung his axe to cut the bear's forepaw. The wounded animal screamed with wounded fury and rage and rushed at his small opponent. As quick as a flash, Beaver feinted once again, then, raising his axe high above his head, jumped forward to meet the beast head on, cleaving through skin and skull in a death blow.

Yet even in death, the bear's claws grasped the brave and ripped across his back, dragging him to the ground in the throes of his death.

For a moment, there was silence. Then Beaver pushed himself from the limp form and stood erect, holding his axe high above his head in salute to the High Council of Chiefs, still scrambling from the table. They advanced towards the boy, dragging weapons of all types too late to the fray.

Beaver ignored them, and lifted Laughing Waters to her feet. "Are you harmed, Maiden?" he asked.

Her heart melted at the sight of her rescuer, and she could only nod as she gazed on his handsome face. From where he stood at the centre of these events, Terry looked at the beautiful young woman, and felt his heart race.

"I speak for the manhood of Small Beaver," Thunderhead acclaimed. "Is there anyone who doubts that he is now a man, a most valiant man, and a true brave?"

They shouted their assent, and bore him to the table to sit with Thunderhead, Dawn Dancer, Walter, and Terry. After due deliberations, the company agreed to Small Beaver's new name.

"I give you all - Bear Slayer!" Shouted Thunderhead.

He rose to acknowledge the cheers, and sat to watch the dance given in his honour.

As the ceremony drew to a close, he turned to the Other Worlder who sat beside him and said, "Expert Warrior, We have met in contest, and you defeated me, yet even so I have been given the chance to prove my manhood. There should be no enmity between us. Will you take me for your friend?"

For a moment, Terry was speechless with the surprise and honour of the youth's words. Then he grasped Bear Slayer's arm with his own.

"I take you as my friend," he said.

"Friends until death," Bear Slayer swore, gripping him tightly.

Ch.4

Terry felt himself being shaken and opened his eyes to find himself warmly wrapped in a large bearskin. Beneath him was a pile of soft furs. Smoke from a fire in the centre of Thunderhead's tent curled lazilly upwards to the lighted vent at the top.

"Come on, Sleepyhead. It's morning," his Grandfather chided.

"What's happening?" Terry asked, rubbing his eyes and stretching as he clambered from his makeshift bed.

"There's to be a 'Council of War' and you're invited. That is, as soon as you're properly awake."

Terry drank from a gourd of goatsmilk, arranged himself as best he could manage, and presented himself to the circle of warriors who sat waiting patiently for his presence.

"Welcome, Expert Warrior," said Dawn Dancing as Terry sat cross legged beside the old medicine man, in the space that had been prepared for him.

Terry nodded respectfully, and waved a greeting at Thunderhead. He knew it was important to keep silent until it was necessary to speak. Terry laid a hand onto his Grandfather's arm, gave it a quick squeeze, and considered the Council Circle. On his side of the fire were Thunderhead, Dawn Dancer, Himself, and Walter, his Grandfather. They represented the Race of Man. Opposite him, sat Rezak, chief of the dwarves, Gonoban of the Goblins, Shialtor of the Shadow People and Silverkin of the Elves. They represented the Old Worlders - people of the Mists and Fables.

In the branches of trees, and amongst the rocks were myriads of sprites, elves, fairies, and forest spirits. Bear Slayer, Yogroot, Milander, Laughing Waters and Youngdeer sat with the Indians.

Thunderhead lifted a hand, and a brave thumped on the Council Drum for attention.

"Friends, we are gathered here today to consider what must be done so that our Great Destiny may be accomplished. As you all know, our great enemy, Death, the Grim Reaper took from us our great seal - the key to the gate which leads to the worlds beyond death. Some call it 'The Star Gate'. To others of us, it is the doorway to the 'Happy Hunting Grounds' or 'The Dreamtime'. Whatever it is named, the way now remains closed to us while the Evil One enslaves our departed in his own domain - The Mines of Hopelessness.

"To further taunt us, he has placed the Key on a golden chain around his Dragon's neck, that no man or halfling shall retrieve it."

A groan went up from the assembled multitude.

"For Aeons, we have searched for the one who is to free us. At last, the clasp of the Mandala - a small part of the Great Key - has come into the posession of Terry Kiernan, Expert Warrior, and his wise adviser and Grandfather, Walter Kiernan. Using all our art and power, we summoned them here to this Netherworld, that by their skill and art, they might recover the Mandala for us, and free us of Death's tyranny!"

Cheers broke out, rolling over the valley in waves of sound. Terry looked at his Grandfather with dismay.

"Grandad, I can't fight a dragon," he said.

The comment was made louder than he expected. There was a sudden silence around the circle, and every eye turned on him.

Dawn Dancer coughed, then said re-assuringly, "Don't fear, Expert Warrior. I know of many who have fought the dragon. We shall see that you have the finest of weapons, the best of training."

There was a general murmur of agreement.

Walter turned to Dawn Dancer and whispered to him, "Did anyone defeat the dragon?"

"No," Dawn Dancer replied. "But we came close a few times."

The Council debated all morning, each problem was analysed at length. At last, it was decided that the best way to defeat the beast would be to counter Fire with Ice. Only in the realm of The Ice King at the top of the mountains could Terry learn the skills of swordsmanship and weaponry that he would need for the battle.

"Milander, they're going on a Quest. They will fight great battles. It will be chivalry and - and great deeds," Yogroot said as the lovers wove their way through the thickets at the edge of the stream. "I shall go with them. Your father will surely agree to our match then."

"Chivalrous rubbish!" Milander said sarcastically. "I don't notice my father volunteering. 'Yes, Gonoban. No, Gonoban' at the Council, but did he once volunteer anything?"

"You won't dissuade me, I've made up my mind," Yogroot said.

"Then I'm coming, too," Milander said.

He protested noisilly and for long, but she remained stubborn, at one stage throwing her wings around herself and vanishing so that she wouldn't have to listen to his ravings. At last, he relented, and together, they went to tell the Goblin King of their determination.

Bear Slayer volunteered, as did Laughing Waters. With Walter, Terry, and Dawn Dancer, the company numbered seven, which all counted as being lucky, and a good omen.

There was a great bustling and toing and froing as all in the camp made themselves busy in one way or another to prepare the great expedition. Food was cooked and packed, skins aired and rolled, blankets shaken, weapons sharpened, fletched, strung or bound as appropriate.

The choice of steed was complicated by the fact that neither Terry nor Walter rode, and though motor transport was difficult to describe, two nappy mares named Widow and Lady were found which were quiet enough but not too old for the journey. If there was any disquiet, for an Expert Warrior who appeared diffident at fighting dragons, and ignorant of horsemanship, it was not expressed.

Bear Slayer cut a fine sight on his painted pony, a lively young stallion that reared and bucked for show, but was obedient to command, and highly intelligent. Terry watched enviously as the young indian brave put Spring Lightning through his paces. Laughing Waters was well seated on Battle Veteran, a powerful, middle aged gelding. There was nothing fancy in her simple approach to riding, which was that the horse went where its mistress bade, without fuss or botheration.

The jingle of Elven tack announced the arrival of Yogroot and Milander. Terry turned to stare at the strange couple, and his mouth dropped open in surprise, for both were mounted on fine white unicorns harnessed in finest goblin leather, highlighted in silver and jewels such that the two steeds sparkled in the sunlight with flashes of red and green. Behind them, on leading reins, came two pack mules, Mushroom, and Toadstool.

Excitement mounted as preparations drew to a close, and the party gathered at the South end of the encampment. All awaited the arrival of Dawn Dancer, who would lead the party into the High Mountains and the realm of the Ice King. There was a whooping and yelling as the medicine man rode from his encampment to join the main party. His magnificent stallion, Midnight Magic, was as black as polished coal. Beside him as escort, were Thunderhead and the Chiefs, all mounted as appropriate to rank and tribe.

"May good fortune accompany you all on this journey," said Thunderhead, as he bade the travellers farewell.

Dawn Dancer faced the path, waved his lance forward, and the journey began.

For some time, the path was wide, and led across flat country, but it soon divided, and commenced along less used ways forging uphill through difficult foothills. In places, jagged brush poked across the path from high banks on either side, so that the party had to push jagged spikes of brushwood aside as they climbed. At length, however, as the cold increased, the vegetation lessened so that by the time they could see the snowline far above them, only grasses and mosses remained across the ill-defined track.

Dawn Dancer called a halt, and the company dismounted, glad enough to stretch their legs. Their animals were left to graze, under the watchful eye of Yogroot, who took it upon himself to be master of horse, though what qualified him for the position was anyone's guess.

"Stiff?" Walter asked, handing Terry a hunk of bread and rich cheese.

"And some," the youngster replied, taking it after elaborately stretching his back.

Below stretched cloud cover, so that they had no view of the lowland, although Terry imagined that he could see the lake and the woods far below. Seeing Laughing Waters standing alone on a ridge below, he approached and tried to strike an acquaintance.

"You get a good view from up here," he said.

She had been watching Bear Slayer as he jumped from boulder to boulder, blowing on his hands and stretching himself with lively activity.

"He is by far more handsome than you are," she said, turning to look at Terry with an expression of some disdain.

He looked at her with surprise, for the sharpness of her voice shocked him, so that he turned and walked away to where Dawn Dancer and Walter stood talking to each other and pointing upward into the mountains.

"The route above is difficult and dangerous," Walter said as Terry joined them.

"At this time of the year, avalanches are common," Dawn Dancer said. "We must be careful to avoid any noise or action that will bring one down onto us.

The little party rode on into the afternoon and took few rests until dusk found them just below the snowline. Dawn Dancer decreed that they should camp the night, and they found a small depression which was ideally suited for their purpose. Firewood was brought from a pack on the mules, and soon they had a merry blaze which pierced the night with flickerings of red and yellow flames. Three small tents were pitched, and it was decided that Milander and Laughing Waters would share one, Yogroot and Bear Slayer another, while Dawn Dancer, Walter and Terry would have the third, which was larger. One would stay at watch all night.

Sleep was difficult, despite the furs and thick winter clothing, Terry felt himself shivering. Dawn Dancer slept as one entranced, while Walter was on watch. Terry would have stood watch beside his Grandfather, but was forbidden.

"One hour each, Terry. Else we'll be too tired come daylight," Walter said.

So he was still awake when his grandfather slid into the tent, saying, "Your turn, Terry. Here, take my watch. It's luminous."

The night air was briskly stimulating, and the landscape, lit only by the moon, took on a phantasy of shapes. Blue and black mingled together so that the mind could imagine almost anything in the scree strewn slope of boulders, ravines, and rocky crags. Terry lookead around nervously. Against the mountains, the shadows seemed to form faces that changed from moment to moment. A particularly vivid one seemed to grin at his discomfort. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or the slow movement of the moon, but for a heart stopping second, it seemed to wink at him with a malevolent vissage foretelling doom.

He was about to call out, but a hand gripped his shoulder from behind. Terry froze in fear, his muscles turned to water, and a scream died silently in his throat.

"I thought you might like company," said a young voice. It was Bear Slayer, next on watch.

Terry let out a sigh of relief and turned to face the young Indian warrior.

"You're early, but welcome," he said quietly. "The shadows were beginning to play tricks on me."

Bear Slayer gave a low chuckle. "You're not used to standing watch. I can see that. I was able to get right up behind you without your knowing. I would have found a place where my back was secure," he said, pointing to a large boulder. "With that behind me as cover, I could hold the whole camp secure until it was aroused. Are you armed?"

"No," Terry admitted.

Bear Slayer said nothing, but added a small stick to the tiny fire from the pile of wood. The flame reached hungrilly for the small offering. The Indian youth warmed his hands. An expert warrior who knew nothing about fighting dragons, could not ride a horse, seemed to be scared of the dark, and was not even armed was indeed a puzzle. And yet he could fight. None knew so well as Bear Slayer who had been defeated. The way of his fighting was wierd. He struck with his feet without warning, was there when he was not, and was not there when he was.

"Sleep tightly, Expert Warrior," Bear Slayer said when Terry's hour was up. He watched the boy enter the tent, then backed himself against the boulder and stood motionless with the shadows, bow half drawn, ready for anything.

Time passed.

A hand grasped Bear Slayer on the shoulder. It could not be - there was solid rock behind him. Yet the hand was there - an old, old hand.

Ch.5

The little band of adventurers decamped at first light, and by the time the sun rose above the mountain peaks, they were well into the land of everlasting snow. The road which they followed snaked cunningly along ridges and below overhangs, so that, even though deep drifts and unknown snowfields abounded on each side, yet their path remained clear and secure.

At last, however, the path broke away, so that there was no trace of it for several hundred metres, but a long slope of snow that stretched in a single sheet across their path. They pulled their steeds to a stop, and contemplated the angular field.

"An avalanche, waiting to happen, if ever I saw one," Walter said.

"Wow! How are we going to cross that?" Terry exclaimed.

"Carefully," Dawn Dancer said. "Lightest first. The main thing is, that there must be no noise. Do not talk, or even cough for that matter. The slightest sound could trigger the snowfall."

So it was Milander and Yogroot who set out towards the distant roadway which could be seen on the furthest ridge. The two unicorns flashed and sparkled in the sunlight. Yogroot felt the vaguest sense of unease, but knew that, should a crisis occur, he would cope with simple fairy magic. Milander, equipped as she was with wings, felt not the slightest alarm.

Laughing Waters was next to ride the trail that had been blazed, and Dawn Dancer followed at a respectable distance.

"I shall follow Dawn Dancer," Bear Slayer said in an exaggerated whisper, "By then, the path shall be so well beaten down, that even your two fat mares will be able to follow without feeling winded," He said, but in such a tone that it was taken as a jest.

Terry allowed him a good two hundred yards before setting out. His mare looked about nervously, and he had to give her a hard nudge before she set foot onto the steep snowplain. Once on the trail, however, she sensed the presence of other horses ahead and began to trot eagerly. Terry, unused to the bouncing pace, pulled Lady back. Walter rode on Widow, and led the two pack mules, Mushroom and Toadstool. He saw Terry having difficulty ahead, and was closing the distance, as Lady chose to hesitate.

Bear Slayer reached the safety of the road and turned Lightning around so that he could watch.

What happened next, was confused, but almost spelled tragedy to the whole expedition. Lightning shied and bucked unexpectedly, throwing Bear Slayer in an arc onto the soft snow. He cried out - no, it was more of a scream, as he fell. At any rate, the silence was shattered. There was a sound from overhead - a growl, as if all the peaks on the mountain had belched at once.

Walter saw the avalanche descending towards them. He released the mules and gave Widow a mighty slap on the rear. With a cowboy yell, he urged her forward to full pace.

"Hang on, Terry!" Walter shouted as he reached him. He grasped Lady's reins and gave a hefty tug and kick. Lady, seeing the avalanche, needed no further urging. She bounded forward, with Terry hanging on grimly for all his life.

They made the safety of the ledge, mere moments before the slope became a heaving mass of snow, thundering down the mountain face. Mushroom and Toadstool vanished.

"If Bear Slayer says he saw a Mountain Spirit, then that is what he saw!" Laughing Waters exclaimed heatedly as they discussed the accident.

"Now hold on there," Walter said placatingly, "Nobody's accusing Bear Slayer of anything. His horse shied, and he fell. Happens to anyone. What we've got to discuss now, is whether to go on with no supplies."

Dawn Dancer pointed to the mass of tumbled snow that blocked any return. Nothing more was said. There was no retreat.

They rode onward and upward. Their spirits were low, and they rode in silence, each to their own thoughts.

They stopped to rest the horses. There was no food, nor even water, although snow lay all around, for without firewood, there was no way to melt it. Despite the warm fur clothing, Terry felt that he was freezing. They were all - all of them - suffering from the height, the cold, hunger, and thirst.

It was decided that their best course of action would be to remount and continue, for at least the heat of exercise would bring some benefit. Clouds dropped over them, and it began to snow. They continued onward into a nightmare world of cold and pain.

As twilight descended, Dawn Dancer halled a halt for the night. "We cannot continue on," he said, "Or we will all die, frozen into our saddles."

"What can we do?" Terry asked.

"We must build a snow cave," Laughing Waters said, "And we shall all huddle in it, and soon be as warm as toast."

"What about the horses?" Walter asked.

"They shall be of no use from now on. The path is too steep and slippery. We shall send them back," Milander said. "The unicorns shall lead them."

And so it was decided. They watched the departure of the horses with sadness, but decided that really, it was for the best. Better they leave now, than perish in the terrible cold which would follow.

They all dug by hand into a deep snowdrift, until it was hollowed out and secure for all of them to enter. The entrance was low, a small hole, but it enlarged into an ice-cave about the size of a four man tent. Inside, the temperature held the walls smooth and firm, without melting, yet allowed the interior to heat up through the warmth of their bodies, so that once more, although cold, they were in reasonable comfort.

"Do we have to stand watch?" Terry asked.

His suggestion was met with quiet laughter from all around.

"I think not," Walter said, curling himself back to the wall. "Anything nasty outside will freeze long before it finds us here."

The snow cave was warmed within from their own bodies. Milander consented to cast a spell which gave them a low level of light, for contrary to general belief, a fairy is conservative in the use of magic, prefering to use it for real emergencies.

The night was nevertheless, long and uncomfortable. Tales were told, and songs sung, until the small hours decreed that universal tiredness should overcome them.

There was a stillness at Dawn. No breeze stirred the cave entrance, but light filtered through to wake the travellers. One by one, they left the cave into the world of mist outside. They stood in a group, trying to gain their bearings, but in the whiteness of the all-pervading fog, no direction could be seen.

Then, as if on signal, the cloud cover lifted to a sight which would have brought fear to the staunchest men at arms, for around their encampment, standing shoulder to shoulder, stood the Ice Warriors of the Frost King.

They eyed each other for an uneasy length of time, until Dawn Dancer raised his lance in salute.

"Greetings, and peace be with you," he said loudly.

"Who are you, strangers?" boomed a voice from one who stood in authority over the rest.

"We are travellers, come to pay homage to the Frost King," Dawn Dancer replied.

There was a muted muttering from the cold crystaline forms sorrounding them.

"Anyone would think he never had visitors," Yogroot muttered.

"Anyone would probably be right," Bear Slayer said, "If our journey is any example."

"Little thanks to you," Milander said crossly.

"You take that back," Laughing Waters said hotly. "It wasn't Bear Slayer's fault."

"Shh!" Dawn Dancer said, turning around with reproof.

The leader of the Ice Warriors made his decision. "Follow me," he said.

Once again, the small group was on the move, escorted on all sides and behind by soldiers that appeared to be made entirely of ice and snow.

The Ice Castle stood on a peak sorrounded by fields of snow. Its spires and towers glistened in rainbow hues against the sky as light refracted from its facetted walls. The sight of it made them all stop and stare in amazement and wonder.

"Now that - is real magic," Milander said in awe.

"Move on, you lot," said their chief of escort. "We haven't got all day."

They reached a deep crevasse, that dropped into blue unknown depths. The Ice Warrior raised his hand, and from the castle wall, a huge drawbridge dropped slowly and majestically to span the gap.

"No need for crocodiles in that moat," Terry said as they walked across the ice bridge and into the courtyard.

At the far end of a magnificent throne room, on a raised dais, sat the Frost King, attended by his court. To his right and left stood his magnificent Ice Warrior bodyguards, The one to his Right holding the royal sword, and the one to his left holding the royal shield. Precious gems were set into his crystal throne, and it was covered with the magnificent skin of a snow leopard. Before him, Ice maidens danced on frozen ponds, skating figures of purest joy. Icicles tinkled the softest music, and light shone from a thousand different ways. From the depths of the castle, cooks bustled about with Ice Creams, jellies, and frozen fruits, each a masterpiece of cullinary art, served on crystal platters amongst stutuettes carved by masters from blocks of snow or ice. Giant snowflakes hung in splendid mobiles from the ceiling, rotating slowly to the gentle breezes that brought rosy cheeks to those humans and magic users who were not frostilly indigenous to the realm.

At an entrance fanfare, the court split asunder to form two aisles along which the seven adventurers passed in triumphant procession to halt at the foot of the dais. There was an impressive silence, and Dawn Dancer bowed low, taking his right foot backward, to rest on one knee, with his lance swept elegantly across his breast, and his head lowered most respectfully.

The others, on cue, did the same, with various degrees of elegance, which, however inept, must have pleased the King, for he greeted them heartilly.

"Welcome, travellers, to our humble abode. Pray, what brings you so far that you would risk life and limb to travel to this frosty domain?"

Dawn Dancer stood erect and faced the king, speaking in the style which appeases sovereigns with its flattery and circumlocution.

"Most Mighty Monarch of this Cold Dominion," he began, "We, the delegation of the tribes of the forests and plains, bring you greetings and best wishes."

"And presents," the King interrupted.

"Er. Er. Unfortunately, my Lord, we met with an avalanche that carried away our baggage. I regret - we are as we stand," Dawn Dancer said somewhat lamely.

"No presents," The King said with obvious disappointment. He sighed and signalled for Dawn Dancer to continue.

"As you are aware, no doubt, that grim commander, the Lord Death, has obtained - taken - stolen - the great seal and key to the other worlds - er - including the Star Gate. Even now this treasure hangs around the neck of his Dragon, Tharon. After many years, I was able to bring from the Other World, these two warriors..."

He paused, gesturing to Terry and Walter, who both stood and bowed their heads to the King as he scrutinised them with interest.

Dawn Dancer continued: "The younger one is an Expert Warrior. The older is his kin and adviser."

"And you hope to defeat Tharon with their help?" the king asked with no small measure of sarcasm. "Presumably with mine, also? Have we immortals nothing better to do than intervene in the squabbles of the lower orders?"

Dawn Dancer shook. His hands trembled and his confidence went. He muttered incoherently.

Terry could stand it no longer. "Yet the Gods themselves have used humans to their purpose - the legends tell us so."

"Expert Warrior, indeed," snorted the icy monarch. "Your own fight with death is so obvious - the pallor of your skin, your hairless head. Why not accept the inevitable and bow to my noble brother death. Can you not hear your own laboured breathing in the Other World, boy?"

"I hear it," Terry said, for the sound suddenly penetrated the whole room with its struggling gurgling gasping wretchedness, "But I am a fighter! I defy death! I search for the Star Gate."

At this point, Milander intervened. With a soft flutter of fairy wings, that sprinkled diamond points of dust as she flew, she alighted on the Frost King's throne.

"Oh Mighty Sovereign," she asked sweetly, "Would you deny the boon of a dying child, for such he is?"

The Frost King's heart melted a little. He gathered himself together and an icicle formed from the running water.

"Your words are soothing, and your eyes see clearly, dear lady," the King said, "For this is no warrior, but a boy. Expert Warrior, indeed! Yet he has courage, and that should be rewarded."

He turned to Terry and said, "Very well. Somewhere in this castle is a shield that is strong enough to turn the Dragon's breath, and a sword mighty enough to pierce its skin. If you can find these two weapons within the space of one hour, you may have them. But beware. The castle is full of hidden traps, wandering beasts and spirits, good and bad spells..."

"I know the game," Terry said.

"Indeed. Then let it begin. Behold - yonder stands a door," the King said.

"I shall enter." Terry replied. He walked boldly towards it. Without apparent command, it opened. As he passed through, it closed, shutting him from sight.

The King regarded the remaining six and opened his hands widely, as if welcoming them warmly for the first time.

"And for the rest, dear friends, feast with us. There is nothing you can do for your Expert Warrior, save spend his hour in merry company."

So saying, he rose, and with attendant court, recommenced the merrymaking that had been so surprisingly interrupted.

Ch.5

The little band of adventurers decamped at first light, and by the time the sun rose above the mountain peaks, they were well into the land of everlasting snow. The road which they followed snaked cunningly along ridges and below overhangs, so that, even though deep drifts and unknown snowfields abounded on each side, yet their path remained clear and secure.

At last, however, the path broke away, so that there was no trace of it for several hundred metres, but a long slope of snow that stretched in a single sheet across their path. They pulled their steeds to a stop, and contemplated the angular field.

"An avalanche, waiting to happen, if ever I saw one," Walter said.

"Wow! How are we going to cross that?" Terry exclaimed.

"Carefully," Dawn Dancer said. "Lightest first. The main thing is, that there must be no noise. Do not talk, or even cough for that matter. The slightest sound could trigger the snowfall."

So it was Milander and Yogroot who set out towards the distant roadway which could be seen on the furthest ridge. The two unicorns flashed and sparkled in the sunlight. Yogroot felt the vaguest sense of unease, but knew that, should a crisis occur, he would cope with simple fairy magic. Milander, equipped as she was with wings, felt not the slightest alarm.

Laughing Waters was next to ride the trail that had been blazed, and Dawn Dancer followed at a respectable distance.

"I shall follow Dawn Dancer," Bear Slayer said in an exaggerated whisper, "By then, the path shall be so well beaten down, that even your two fat mares will be able to follow without feeling winded," He said, but in such a tone that it was taken as a jest.

Terry allowed him a good two hundred yards before setting out. His mare looked about nervously, and he had to give her a hard nudge before she set foot onto the steep snowplain. Once on the trail, however, she sensed the presence of other horses ahead and began to trot eagerly. Terry, unused to the bouncing pace, pulled Lady back. Walter rode on Widow, and led the two pack mules, Mushroom and Toadstool. He saw Terry having difficulty ahead, and was closing the distance, as Lady chose to hesitate.

Bear Slayer reached the safety of the road and turned Lightning around so that he could watch.

What happened next, was confused, but almost spelled tragedy to the whole expedition. Lightning shied and bucked unexpectedly, throwing Bear Slayer in an arc onto the soft snow. He cried out - no, it was more of a scream, as he fell. At any rate, the silence was shattered. There was a sound from overhead - a growl, as if all the peaks on the mountain had belched at once.

Walter saw the avalanche descending towards them. He released the mules and gave Widow a mighty slap on the rear. With a cowboy yell, he urged her forward to full pace.

"Hang on, Terry!" Walter shouted as he reached him. He grasped Lady's reins and gave a hefty tug and kick. Lady, seeing the avalanche, needed no further urging. She bounded forward, with Terry hanging on grimly for all his life.

They made the safety of the ledge, mere moments before the slope became a heaving mass of snow, thundering down the mountain face. Mushroom and Toadstool vanished.

"If Bear Slayer says he saw a Mountain Spirit, then that is what he saw!" Laughing Waters exclaimed heatedly as they discussed the accident.

"Now hold on there," Walter said placatingly, "Nobody's accusing Bear Slayer of anything. His horse shied, and he fell. Happens to anyone. What we've got to discuss now, is whether to go on with no supplies."

Dawn Dancer pointed to the mass of tumbled snow that blocked any return. Nothing more was said. There was no retreat.

They rode onward and upward. Their spirits were low, and they rode in silence, each to their own thoughts.

They stopped to rest the horses. There was no food, nor even water, although snow lay all around, for without firewood, there was no way to melt it. Despite the warm fur clothing, Terry felt that he was freezing. They were all - all of them - suffering from the height, the cold, hunger, and thirst.

It was decided that their best course of action would be to remount and continue, for at least the heat of exercise would bring some benefit. Clouds dropped over them, and it began to snow. They continued onward into a nightmare world of cold and pain.

As twilight descended, Dawn Dancer halled a halt for the night. "We cannot continue on," he said, "Or we will all die, frozen into our saddles."

"What can we do?" Terry asked.

"We must build a snow cave," Laughing Waters said, "And we shall all huddle in it, and soon be as warm as toast."

"What about the horses?" Walter asked.

"They shall be of no use from now on. The path is too steep and slippery. We shall send them back," Milander said. "The unicorns shall lead them."

And so it was decided. They watched the departure of the horses with sadness, but decided that really, it was for the best. Better they leave now, than perish in the terrible cold which would follow.

They all dug by hand into a deep snowdrift, until it was hollowed out and secure for all of them to enter. The entrance was low, a small hole, but it enlarged into an ice-cave about the size of a four man tent. Inside, the temperature held the walls smooth and firm, without melting, yet allowed the interior to heat up through the warmth of their bodies, so that once more, although cold, they were in reasonable comfort.

"Do we have to stand watch?" Terry asked.

His suggestion was met with quiet laughter from all around.

"I think not," Walter said, curling himself back to the wall. "Anything nasty outside will freeze long before it finds us here."

The snow cave was warmed within from their own bodies. Milander consented to cast a spell which gave them a low level of light, for contrary to general belief, a fairy is conservative in the use of magic, prefering to use it for real emergencies.

The night was nevertheless, long and uncomfortable. Tales were told, and songs sung, until the small hours decreed that universal tiredness should overcome them.

There was a stillness at Dawn. No breeze stirred the cave entrance, but light filtered through to wake the travellers. One by one, they left the cave into the world of mist outside. They stood in a group, trying to gain their bearings, but in the whiteness of the all-pervading fog, no direction could be seen.

Then, as if on signal, the cloud cover lifted to a sight which would have brought fear to the staunchest men at arms, for around their encampment, standing shoulder to shoulder, stood the Ice Warriors of the Frost King.

They eyed each other for an uneasy length of time, until Dawn Dancer raised his lance in salute.

"Greetings, and peace be with you," he said loudly.

"Who are you, strangers?" boomed a voice from one who stood in authority over the rest.

"We are travellers, come to pay homage to the Frost King," Dawn Dancer replied.

There was a muted muttering from the cold crystaline forms sorrounding them.

"Anyone would think he never had visitors," Yogroot muttered.

"Anyone would probably be right," Bear Slayer said, "If our journey is any example."

"Little thanks to you," Milander said crossly.

"You take that back," Laughing Waters said hotly. "It wasn't Bear Slayer's fault."

"Shh!" Dawn Dancer said, turning around with reproof.

The leader of the Ice Warriors made his decision. "Follow me," he said.

Once again, the small group was on the move, escorted on all sides and behind by soldiers that appeared to be made entirely of ice and snow.

The Ice Castle stood on a peak sorrounded by fields of snow. Its spires and towers glistened in rainbow hues against the sky as light refracted from its facetted walls. The sight of it made them all stop and stare in amazement and wonder.

"Now that - is real magic," Milander said in awe.

"Move on, you lot," said their chief of escort. "We haven't got all day."

They reached a deep crevasse, that dropped into blue unknown depths. The Ice Warrior raised his hand, and from the castle wall, a huge drawbridge dropped slowly and majestically to span the gap.

"No need for crocodiles in that moat," Terry said as they walked across the ice bridge and into the courtyard.

At the far end of a magnificent throne room, on a raised dais, sat the Frost King, attended by his court. To his right and left stood his magnificent Ice Warrior bodyguards, The one to his Right holding the royal sword, and the one to his left holding the royal shield. Precious gems were set into his crystal throne, and it was covered with the magnificent skin of a snow leopard. Before him, Ice maidens danced on frozen ponds, skating figures of purest joy. Icicles tinkled the softest music, and light shone from a thousand different ways. From the depths of the castle, cooks bustled about with Ice Creams, jellies, and frozen fruits, each a masterpiece of cullinary art, served on crystal platters amongst stutuettes carved by masters from blocks of snow or ice. Giant snowflakes hung in splendid mobiles from the ceiling, rotating slowly to the gentle breezes that brought rosy cheeks to those humans and magic users who were not frostilly indigenous to the realm.

At an entrance fanfare, the court split asunder to form two aisles along which the seven adventurers passed in triumphant procession to halt at the foot of the dais. There was an impressive silence, and Dawn Dancer bowed low, taking his right foot backward, to rest on one knee, with his lance swept elegantly across his breast, and his head lowered most respectfully.

The others, on cue, did the same, with various degrees of elegance, which, however inept, must have pleased the King, for he greeted them heartilly.

"Welcome, travellers, to our humble abode. Pray, what brings you so far that you would risk life and limb to travel to this frosty domain?"

Dawn Dancer stood erect and faced the king, speaking in the style which appeases sovereigns with its flattery and circumlocution.

"Most Mighty Monarch of this Cold Dominion," he began, "We, the delegation of the tribes of the forests and plains, bring you greetings and best wishes."

"And presents," the King interrupted.

"Er. Er. Unfortunately, my Lord, we met with an avalanche that carried away our baggage. I regret - we are as we stand," Dawn Dancer said somewhat lamely.

"No presents," The King said with obvious disappointment. He sighed and signalled for Dawn Dancer to continue.

"As you are aware, no doubt, that grim commander, the Lord Death, has obtained - taken - stolen - the great seal and key to the other worlds - er - including the Star Gate. Even now this treasure hangs around the neck of his Dragon, Tharon. After many years, I was able to bring from the Other World, these two warriors..."

He paused, gesturing to Terry and Walter, who both stood and bowed their heads to the King as he scrutinised them with interest.

Dawn Dancer continued: "The younger one is an Expert Warrior. The older is his kin and adviser."

"And you hope to defeat Tharon with their help?" the king asked with no small measure of sarcasm. "Presumably with mine, also? Have we immortals nothing better to do than intervene in the squabbles of the lower orders?"

Dawn Dancer shook. His hands trembled and his confidence went. He muttered incoherently.

Terry could stand it no longer. "Yet the Gods themselves have used humans to their purpose - the legends tell us so."

"Expert Warrior, indeed," snorted the icy monarch. "Your own fight with death is so obvious - the pallor of your skin, your hairless head. Why not accept the inevitable and bow to my noble brother death. Can you not hear your own laboured breathing in the Other World, boy?"

"I hear it," Terry said, for the sound suddenly penetrated the whole room with its struggling gurgling gasping wretchedness, "But I am a fighter! I defy death! I search for the Star Gate."

At this point, Milander intervened. With a soft flutter of fairy wings, that sprinkled diamond points of dust as she flew, she alighted on the Frost King's throne.

"Oh Mighty Sovereign," she asked sweetly, "Would you deny the boon of a dying child, for such he is?"

The Frost King's heart melted a little. He gathered himself together and an icicle formed from the running water.

"Your words are soothing, and your eyes see clearly, dear lady," the King said, "For this is no warrior, but a boy. Expert Warrior, indeed! Yet he has courage, and that should be rewarded."

He turned to Terry and said, "Very well. Somewhere in this castle is a shield that is strong enough to turn the Dragon's breath, and a sword mighty enough to pierce its skin. If you can find these two weapons within the space of one hour, you may have them. But beware. The castle is full of hidden traps, wandering beasts and spirits, good and bad spells..."

"I know the game," Terry said.

"Indeed. Then let it begin. Behold - yonder stands a door," the King said.

"I shall enter." Terry replied. He walked boldly towards it. Without apparent command, it opened. As he passed through, it closed, shutting him from sight.

The King regarded the remaining six and opened his hands widely, as if welcoming them warmly for the first time.

"And for the rest, dear friends, feast with us. There is nothing you can do for your Expert Warrior, save spend his hour in merry company."

So saying, he rose, and with attendant court, recommenced the merrymaking that had been so surprisingly interrupted.

Ch.6

Terry looked around the room as the door closed silently behind him. It was larger than he expected, and almost bare. At one end was a fireplace - made of ice. As if this was not surprising enough, there glowed within it, a light which flickered as if of fire. Terry approached and looked carefully at it, amazed to see flames which appartently came from logs of ice.

"Everything's made of ice," he said aloud, "even the fire."

Above the fireplace was a coat of arms - a huge shield emblazoned with a dragon, and crossed by a sword.

That couldn't be it, Terry thought. It's not a real shield or sword. There must be another way out of this room. He looked around. The door to the Throne Room was closed.

A clock, somewhere in the huge castle, tolled the hour.

There must be a secret door somewhere, he thought. He examined the sword handle, then gripped it and pulled. Immediately, to the hum of a strange mechanism, the fireplace swung back, revealing a long dark corridor. He stepped in, and as if on a signal, torches along its walls glowed to life.

He walked forward, and the fireplace door slid shut behind him. Terry swung round in alarm and began searching for a spring or lever with which to open it. There was nothing.

"Damn," he said aloud, as if to keep his spirits up, "A one-way door."

The floor was marked with tiles of checquered black and white. He moved forward cautiously. Suddenly, one of the tiles gave slightly beneath his foot. As quickly as a cat, Terry jumped backwards. There was a thundering crash as a huge pillar of ice dropped from the ceiling above, striking the tile with a fatal crunch.

"Shit!" Terry swore. "He plays for keeps."

He moved forward again, testing each tile as he moved. With little warning but a slight tremor, the floor beneath his feet gave way. It was only by spinning himself around, and catching hold of the edge of the trapdoor with his fingers, that he managed to save himself from dropping into a huge, bottomless cavern. Below him, the tiles continued to fall, and he did not hear them strike a bottom.

Carefully, he pulled himself upwards. Only when he was safe and sound on the remnants of the passage floor did he dare to look at the hidden trap. It yawned in front of him, a huge gap that seemed impossible to span.

He looked carefully at the walls. A thin cornice of ice jutted from them, perhaps enough to grip with the fingers? He stepped back and hung his weight onto it. It held. Gingerly, he began to inch his way across the pit.

Halfway across, and a piece of the cornice broke off as he reached for it. Desperately, he swung from one hand and clawed at the slippery wall with the other. The ice froze painfully at his fingers; the coldness of it pressed against his face; the slipperiness of it scraped against the toes of his boots as he scrabbled for a grip.

"Don't panic!" he told himself fiercely.

Gasping for breath, he swung across again, reached the whole piece of cornice, and pulled with all his might. It held. On and on he swung, gently, carefully.

At last, he reached the other side of the pit. As he stood once more on the solid floor of the passage, the trapdoor of tiles behind him magically resealed themselves.

"Thanks a whole lot," Terry muttered ruefully.

The Frost King insisted that the remaining members of the party should sit at the high table as his guests. At first, they were uncomfortable, but he proved to be a jovial host, and despite their reservations at his frosty reception and the dangerous quest that Terry had set about, they soon found themselves mollified by the steaming food, the exciting entertainment of the dancing skaters, and the warm wines.

He demanded a tale from each of them, so they told him how they joined the search, Yogroot to prove his valour and earn the hand of Milander in marriage - Milander to accompany Yogroot and see that he came to no harm - Dawn Dancer to lead the expedition and the search for the Mandala, Key to all the Realms - Bear Slayer as a newly made warrior and Laughing Waters both in search of high adventure.

"And what of you, Walter Kiernan?" asked the Frost King, staring through corn blue eyes at the old man. "Trying to cheat my kinsman, Death?"

"As a doctor, I've cheated him many times," Walter said, staring back evenly. "However, this time..."

"The stakes are more personal?" the Lord of the Ice Realm asked mockingly.

The end of the passageway was closed. A skeleton lay, arms beseeching the door for an exit. Terry looked at it, then the door, which was strangely marked.

It looks like a magic square, Terry thought to himself, but made with geometric figures instead of numbers. The last square of the grid was blank. Below, in a line, were four possible designs that might fit the last square.

"Bet I only get one guess," Terry muttered. He reached down to the skeleton and drew from its belt, the long dagger ensheathed in a leather scabbard.

"Sorry, friend, but I may have need of this beyond the door," he said.

He traced carefully over the patterns with his fingers before making his final decision. Then he pressed one of the designs.

The door slid open.

The distant clock struck the quarter hour.

The Frost King quaffed more steaming wine and looked once more at Walter Kiernan.

"Tell me, Ancient Warrior, Scholar of then Ages, Collector or trivial knowledge - and some not so trivial. Will you follow your Grandson through the Star Gate, should he gain that prize?

Walter was surprised by the question.

"I would be tempted, of course. Such an easy path. Yet I still have responsibilities in the otherworld. Perhaps I should face Death on his own terms - when it is time."

Terry entered a room that was richly draped with tapestries and hung with grand paintings. A grand chest stood in one corner, and a large double door faced him.

He examined the chest. A moment to decide, then he lifted the lid carefully. It swung up suddenly, as green vapour poured forth into the room. It swirled about terrifyingly, then resolved itself into a fiercesome mummified vampire with torn wings, bloodstained claws, and great teeth. For a second, it regarded Terry through glowing, bloodshot eyes. With a growl of anger, it moved forward to attack.

Terry fought furiously with his only weapon - the dagger he had taken from the skeleton in the treacherous hallway. He felt the pain of the slashing claws as the vampire struck home - telling blows which drew blood from freely flowing wounds. Just as he felt about to faint, a lucky jab with the knife reached the monster's heart. Immediately, it vapourised into green smoke that slowly dissipated.

Terry felt his vision fading. He could see within the chest, a flask of milky white liquid. As the coldness clutched at his heart, he reached in and retrieved the flask.

"HEALING BALM" Was printed on the label. Terry drank it and fell to the floor exhausted.

The Grey Lord of Death felt the near demise of his young adversary, and consulted his Crystal Oracle, exulting at the battle with the vampire. Death realised that Bear Slayer had failed in his task. For a moment, he had a clear view of Terry, as he drank the magic potion, but as the boy rapidly healed, the vision faded.

He cursed wildly, throwing the cauldron across his dimly lit cavern, scattering the attendant harpies to the walls, where they hid from his wrath in twisted nooks and cold, slimy, crannies of rock.

"Tharon! Tharon, my beast. Come, serve your master!" he cried, at which the ferrocious, coal-black, dragon roared acknowledgement in a fiery blast that shook the Realm of Hopeless Despair to its foundations.

Terry found himself in a room that held several strange exits. They seemed to be pipes of ice, leading downwards in all directions.

"Ice slides," Terry said to himself. "Wonder where they lead?" he mused, looking down into one. He decided on a more conventional doorway that opened at a touch to a room that seemed bright, but filled with fog. He stepped through the doorway, to find himself on a wide balcony, halfway up the vertical castle walls. The balcony held no railing, but was merely a platform, suspended hundreds of feet above the ground. He turned to re-enter the room, only to find the door had shut behind him.

The clouds, for that was the mist he had seen, cleared away, revealing his true situation. He was trapped on a wide ledge, facing a sheer ice wall. To either side the castle wall fell away, dropping for thousands of feet to the valley below.

He pushed at the place where the door had been. There was no sign - merely the deep translucent blueness of pure frozen water. Far off, there was the sound of the castle clock striking the half hour.

"Your adventurer is half-way through his quest," The Frost King commented, as he swallowed a particularly large shrimp from a plate of seafood. "Have some," he said, "A gift from Neptune."

Walter took an oyster on its shell, while the others chose similar delicacies.

"I take it that the sword and shield ARE in the castle?" Bear Slayer asked.

"Young man, I speak the truth," the King protested. "They are indeed, but the castle has so many rooms, and so many of them are dangerous, that I doubt an hour is time enough to search them all."

"Dangerous?" Walter asked.

"A test of wits - An expert warrior has a fighting chance," the King said, reaching for another large shrimp. There was the clash of gongs, and another dance troupe took to the central floor.

"Open Sesame!" Terry tried.

Nothing happened.

The castle clock chimed the three-quarter hour.

"You're not being fair!" he shouted at the castle wall, belting it in frustration, "There has to be a way in - a clue."

The ledge, being warmed by the sun, had taken on a glassy surface, slightly slippery due to some surface melting. Terry sat down on it, cradling his head in his arms in despair. Without warning, he bagan to slip towards the edge. Frantically, he clawed at the surface, which was so slippery by now, that his fingernails scratched helplessly along it. He pulled his knife from his belt and dug it in. The area where the door had been was now outlined in an arch with familiar, but odd symbols around it. He looked at the arch in dim recognition for a moment, before it faded into the blank ice wall.

"Tolkein - of course. That's the only other door I can think of," he muttered. Dragging himself towards the wall awith the point of the dagger, he called out once again, "Friend!"

The ice door swung open. As he hauled himself inside, the melting ledge slumped away from the wall and fell silently into the depths.

Terry approached the doorway on the opposite wall. It opened at his touch, but he did not walk through it. It opened out onto a long balcony that ran round an inner court of the castle. He looked into the courtyard and saw thousands and thousands of rooms, some connected by bridges, some on long collonades, some merely windows - hundreds of windows on long, blank walls.

Desperately, he ran down the balcony, peering in at rooms, some empty, some furnished. Nowhere was the sword or shield to be seen.

"There isn't time!" he shouted. "An hour isn't long enough!"

Suddenly, he stopped.

He stood, puffing with exertion. "Oh you fool, Terry Kiernan," he said to himself. "You stupid idiot."

He turned around and clapped his hand to his forehead. "I know where they are. They have to be."

The clock began the long process of chiming the hour. Four notes of the chord for each quarter - four times. Then the long strokes to Noon, twelve in all.

"Seems like your little friend has lost," said the King sadly, wiping his lips on a dainty napkin. "Sorry, my friends..."

Terry burst into the Throne Room through the double doors that he had entered an hour before. As the bell tower commenced the sixth stroke, he strode to the dais where the King's arm bearers stood like statues.

"One shield, please," he said, taking the object. "And a sword, if you don't mind," he said, removing the weapon from the bearer's hand. "Am I right, Noble King? These are the weapons of which you spoke?"

The King stood as to answer, but there came a tumultuous interruption. A huge flame and a sound as of thunder rocketted across the hall towards the dais on which Terry stood. Instinctively, he crouched behind the shield which deflected it. Pandemonium broke out throughout the hall, as Tharon, the huge dragon, smashed his way forward through the castle defences with his mighty wings.

Ch.7

Amidst the screaming and tumult, the falling blocks of ice, and the blasts of flame that raked the hall, the seven adventurers took refuge behind the great dais that held the King's throne. Tharon pushed his great head forward into the hall, raked at the walls and pillars with his great claws, and caused immense terror and confusion. Of the Frost King and his retainers, there was no sign, and presumably he managed to flee at the first hint of trouble.

"You've got the sword and shield now," Bear Slayer said to Terry. "What are you waiting for, Expert Warrior. Go slay him!"

"You're crazy - if you think I'm taking THAT on," Terry said.

He looked at the shocked faces of Bear Slayer, Laughing Waters, and Dawn Dancer. Their disappointment was pointedly obvious.

"What Terry means, is that there is a time to stand and fight, and a time to run away. This is time to make ourselves scarce," Walter said.

"Yogroot will make an impassioned speech that will fill you with courage, dear boy, so that you can venture forth and slay the beast," Milander offered.

"Actually, my love, I think the boy is right," Yogroot said. He pointed to the side doors. "I think that is the best way." So saying, he made a dash for the doors and pushed them open. The dragon had chosen that moment, to lift its head high and trumpet an awful challenge before resuming his attack on the throne room, so the other six took the opportunity to follow Yogroot's dash for safety.

Terry looked around at the tapestries on the wall. "The ice slide is behind one of these, he said. There's probably one that travels downwards." So saying, he struck at a framed mirror with his sword. It shattered, revealing a hidden doorway. Steps led downwards.

Walter, meanwhile, had found an ice slide. "Here's a slide, Terry. What do we do?"

At that moment, the wall exploded inward, and Tharon pushed his nose forward. His great tongue reached out, flickering between Terry, Laughing Waters, and Bear Slayer, on the one hand, and the rest of the party on the other.

"Go! Just Go!" Terry shouted. He pulled Bear Slayer and Laughing Waters towards the doorway just as a huge blast of flame and smoke blasted across the room. At the last moment, Just as he stepped through the doorway, he saw the other group take to the ice slide. Satisfied that they all were safe, he followed Laughing Waters and Bear Slayer down the steps. From above came the noise of the room being demolished.

"Do you know where this leads?" Bear Slayer asked.

"No idea," Terry admitted. He pushed them downwards from behind. "Just keep going."

The others on the ice slide had the ride of their lives.

"Feet first, lie back, and don't try to sit up until you've reached the bottom," Walter warned them as one after another, they jumped into the tube.

The heat from the flame blast had melted enough ice for the tube to be extremely slippery, so their descent reached dizzying speeds. The tube twisted and turned unexpectedly, and at one stage, corkscrewed wildly, so that they rose up the wall, spun around by centrifugal force.

"Hold me tight, my darling!" Yogroot called.

"You look after yourself," Milander shouted back ungraciously.

Suddenly, light blazed ahead. The tube angled upwards slightly, so each one of the travellers was tossed through the end of the tube, flying for a terrifying few seconds, before landing in a thick bank of snow below the castle.

Above them, they could see the terrifying sight of Tharon, his tail twitching furiously, digging into the remnants of the Frost King's home with his powerful claws.

They stood wordlessly, huddled together, then as quietly as mice, ran towards the rocky ledges that would give them some cover should the terrible beast chance to look up from his grim task.

"We shall have to find a cave, or something, and hide," Dawn Dancer said. He led them downward through cracks and crannies in the broken rocks and snow, each following upon the one before.

The stairs plummetted downwards in a seemingly endless descent.

"Can we not stop for a while now?" Laughing Waters asked. "We have surely put enough distance between us and the dragon."

"I fear he would try to follow us to hell itself, if he could," Terry said. "These stairs must end somewhere."

As if in answer to his comment, they found themselves facing a great studded door - not of ice, but of solid wood.

"We're in luck," Bear Slayer said. The door is barred on this side. It must lead to the outside.

"Or it's meant to keep something nasty out," Terry said unhelpfully.

Bear Slayer looked at him for a moment, uncertain. "Well I'm opening it," he said. "Doesn't seem we have much other choice."

As they wrestled with the great drawbar, a tumultuous noise came from the other side of the door. It was the sound of loud talking, shrieking, and the hubbub of a great crowd.

They stepped into a huge cave, and found themselves once again with the Frost King and his retainers. Obviously, all had fled to this sanctuary when the dragon attacked.

"Here they are!" someone shouted, and they were pushed forward towards the King.

"Ah! You made it! The Gods be praised!" he shouted.

"I guess you want your sword and shield back so you can go up there and belt the snout out of that dragon," Terry said hopefully.

"No, No! You keep them. You won them fairly, and as Tharon is after you, not me, I won't have as much need of them."

"But he's smashed up your castle and everything," Terry exclaimed. "Aren't you going to do anything about him?"

The king vented his rage. "That villain! Send his dragon against me would he? Send it against my guests - after all I've done for him! Well let him choke on this - for today I've summoned a great storm - the mightiest blizzard that will freeze the very air that lizard breathes!"

The King took a lance from a nearby Ice Warrior and struck the floor of the cavern. The earth shook. He began to sway, and was joined by the dancers of his court as they rotated in a spiral fashion across the floor - circling - circling - to music that came from the very stones.

"Spirits of the Earth and Air

Storms that blow and Tempests foul

Come to me, I do declare

I shall have vengeance -Hurricanes growl."

"What's he doing?" Terry asked.

"Frost magic," Laughing Waters explained, "He will cause a great storm and the dragon shall have to retreat. It can't get down here, anyway. This place must be inside the mountain. Caves run in all directions."

She grasped the arm of a dancer and pulled her towards them. "Tell me," she asked, "How can we leave the mountain? Which cave shall we take?"

"The caves are a maze," the dancer replied. "Some lead in, and some lead out. Some go nowhere, or twist and turn in circles. Follow the running water as it travels downhill - that is the best way to leave. Remember - follow the running water.

Bear Slayer grabbed a torch from the wall. "Come on, let's get out of here," he said, leading Laughing Waters and Terry into a large cave that ran downhill from the King's sanctuary.

The great storm gathered at the top of the mountain. Huge bolts of lightning blazed towards the ground, sending boulders crashing down the slopes. Tharon looked up from his digging and gazed into the rotating mass above his head. A huge funnel descended towards him, and he backed away uncertainly. Moments later, the tornado struck the ground, sucking up snow and earth to form a great black tube that wriggled across the snowfields like some venemous snake. A bolt of lightning struck near the Serpent's tail, and Tharon, gnashing his teeth with anger, and spitting forth hell-fire, retreated. Finally, as snow began to fall, and as the wind reached a fever-pitch, the dragon launched himself into the air, and with a great cry, flew off in defeat.

Below, in the shelter of a rocky cave, Yogroot, Milander, Walter, and Dawn Dancer, peered at the sky.

"Never have I seen such a powerful storm," Dawn Dancer declared. "Truly, it must be the work of the Frost King, for only he could unleash such elemental power."

"We must find Terry and the others," Walter declared.

Dawn Dancer put his hand on Walter's arm. "In this storm, you would only perish, my friend. Wait until it abates, then we shall search the ruins."

They pushed up a wall of snow to shut out the stormy blast, and huddled together for warmth, hoping that the blizzard would not last long so that they could resume their quest.

Terry and his companions had wandered through the caves for hours. They had discovered a stream, and followed its course, but were frustrated by rockfalls and syphons that saw the water disappear through small cracks and crannies through which there was no way to pass.

At one stage, they came across the skeleton of a traveller, who, like themselves, had become hopelessly lost in the labyrinth. They wandered on, clinging together, taking every possible downturn, and following every flowing stream they came across, until the torch burnt low, and finally, with a splutter, gave out completely.

"Now what will we do?" Bear Slayer asked in panic. "There is no way out of here. We shall die!"

"Don't panic," Terry said, not feeling at all confident himself. "Let us sit for a while and think calmly about what we can do."

Their eyes adjusted to the darkness, and it was Laughing Waters who first noticed that there was but a trace of light in the cave.

"I can see my hand," she declared. "Faintly, but it is there. Look! Light is seeping in from under that ledge!"

They found a wide crack through which they wriggled with some difficulty, until at last, they stood in a small antechamber - a surface cave. Light streamed in through a wide entrance. For a moment, they stood dazzled, but their eyes soon adjusted to the bright daylight. Cautiously, they walked outside and looked around.

They found themselves amongst leafy ferns and tall trees, moss covered rocks, and small streamlets that meandered through marsh plains.

"We must be down at the base of the mountain range," Terry said with surprise. "But how is that possible? It took ages to climb to the snowline."

"We are on the High Plateau," Bear Slayer said, "On the other side of the mountains. This is a place of strange peoples and enchanted forests."

Laughing Waters looked carefully around them. "I don't like this place," she said, "It is too strange. Let us gather wood and make a camp for the night in the cave. Tomorrow, we can make preparations for our return journey."

"Back to the Indian Camp?" Terry asked.

"We have no other choice," she said bitterly. "Our party has split, and we are saddled with a coward who has no liking for battle, even with the foe in his grasp."

"That's not fair!" Terry shouted in anger. "Tharon is huge. You saw him. There's no way I could fight him face to face. I don't even know how to use a sword."

He threw the weapons onto the ground, enraged, but she merely turned cooly from him, and gathered sticks for kindling. Bear Slayer sat under a dry tree and watched the exchange impassively.

Terry looked at him for a moment. "And what do you think, Bear Slayer?"

"I would not call you a coward, Expert Warrior, for I have fought you, and know better. The dragon is indeed a frightening sight. My blood turned cold at the sight of it. Yet, perhaps, a small swish of the sword in its direction - a poke, or cut - such a gesture may have appeased her."

"I can't fight the dragon with a sword and shield. I just don't know enough..."

"Yet he will continue the hunt, Expert Warrior. Confront him, you must, and will, before this journey is over. I suspect you fight more with your head than your strength, and in that, perhaps, lies the solution to destroying the beast. Meanwhile, help Laughing Waters gather wood, while I hunt. We may yet have a meal this night."

So saying, he slung his bow over his shoulder and walked off into the forest in search of game, leaving Terry alone to his thoughts.

Ch.8

The blizzard had finally blown itself out, permitting Dawn Dancer and Walter to venture from the cave. Seeing it safe, they called for Milander and Yogroot to accompany them, and they set about searching the ruins of the Ice Castle for any sign of Terry, Laughing Waters, and Bear Slayer.

The castle was but a twisted mass of ice, melted, then refrozen, so that bizarre shapes were all that remained of its splendour. After an hour, they decided that any further search would be hopeless, and set out on the downward journey that would take them from the frozen wasteland as fast as possible. Knowing that, without food, water, or supplies, they would soon perish from the intense cold, they determined to reach the lowlands as soon as possible. Milander unfurled her wings, and scouted the fastest paths from the air, so that they were able to make fair progress. By evening, they were below the snowline, and although it was still cold, yet they knew they could survive the night.

Bear Slayer stalked carefully through the enchanted forest in the hope of catching a rabbit or small deer. He crept stealthilly from tree to tree, his bow taught, arrow always ready.

The landscape with its thick moss and web-spun branches took on a life of its own, and he felt prickles marching up and down his spine. Any game, he concluded, would have more sense than to inhabit such a strange landscape. He stood erect to ease his aching muscles, and stepped back against a seemingly harmless palm tree.

Suddenly, great tentacles of fibre spun around him, pulling him back tightly against the tree. Green limbs coiled around his ankles and arms, pinning them tightly. He dropped his bow and arrows to the ground and screamed in fear. Leaves began to wind themselves over him, until only his head remained above the plant. The tentacles began to squeeze, and he could feel small spines beginning to push themselves into his skin.

"Terry! Expert Warrior! Help me!" he screamed.

"There is no help for you," said a soft, deep voice, that filled him with more dread than the terrible plant. "You have failed me, Bear Slayer."

Death floated forward from the shadows and confronted the young hunter.

"I tried," Bear Slayer said, desperately. "I really tried. I did as you said, and the avalanche fell."

"That is all you did. You had other opportunities. You could have killed him while Tharon was attacking the castle. You could have lost him in the caves beneath the Ice Mountains. Now the Trap Lilly will devour you - slowly. It may take a few hours, or perhaps days, but the spines from the tendrils shall grow inwards - slowly, inexorably, and agonisingly painfully, until one pierces a vital organ and you meet a merciful death. Then we shall meet again, and you will savour the delights of My Kingdom. I have something special prepared for you as a slave to torment in the slime-pits of eternity."

Bear Slayer sobbed hopelessly at this terrible threat, begging for mercy, for one last chance.

"Oh, please. I'll do anything for you. Anything. Just let me go, and I'll bring the boy here for the Trap Lillies. Anything, but don't let me die this way, please."

Death smiled. "Very well. It is a bargain, then. One last chance."

There was a flash of light and the apparition vanished. Smoke filled the clearing, and Bear Slayer found himself standing free of the terrible carnivorous plant. He picked up his bow and arrows, but found himself shaking too badly to hold onto them. He dropped them, and his legs shook.

Then a feeling of calm overcame him. He stood still. His eyes seemed to lose their focus, and as one entranced, he walked back towards their camp.

Terry and Laughing Waters stood near their fire, warming themselves in its friendly flames when Bear Slayer walked into the clearing.

"No luck, eh?" Terry said lightly. "Never mind. We'll probably get something tomorrow..."

"I shot a small deer," Bear Slayer said, somewhat hollowly. "And I need you to help me carry it, Expert Warrior. Come, for darkness falls, and we shall not find it if we do not go fast."

Terry had to run to catch up, for Bear Slayer moved at a jog from the camp. On and on they went through the ethereal shapes that took on twice the menace in the gloom.

A spider web blocked Terry's path, and he careered into it. For a moment, the great eight legged creature seemed to attack him, but Terry grabbed a stick and pushed it away with an exclamation of disgust.

Bear Slayer stood silently in the clearing, as Terry joined him. He looked around, but saw nothing except some strange looking plants.

"So? Where's the deer?" he asked.

"Stand back against that tree, and keep silent," Bear Slayer said.

Terry was puzzled, but did as he was asked, looking with some concern and puzzlement at Bear Slayer, who stood with head down, fists clenced by his side as if in anticipation. Beads of perspiration broke out on the Indian's brow, and he stood as if entranced, waiting.

Terry was so engrossed and concerned at Bear Slayer's strange demeanour, that he did not notice the hungry tentacles until too late. With a sudden convulsion, they wound themselves around him, dragging him back against the tree trunk. The leaves folded over the trapped boy, muffling his shouts.

"Bear Slayer! Help me! Don't just stand there, get me out of here! Bear Slayer! What's wrong with you? Help me! Help!

Bear Slayer could stand it no more. He put his hands to his ears to shut out the sounds, then ran and ran as fast as he could towards the fire - the only sanctuary he knew.

Behind him, the leaves closed with finality over Terry Kiernan, Expert Warrior, wrapping him into the enchanted forest as if he had never existed.

To the unseen watcher, the event was a victory of the first order. He lifted his cloaked hand and scratched the throat of the terrible lizard, allowing his skeletal digits to caress the gold plate on the Dragon's chest.

"Ah, Tharon, my pet, 'tis done at last. Now I have but a few hours to wait until the wretched plant does its work and I am summoned for his carcase. I shall have the clasp at last, and then we shall unlock the doors to eternity. What say you? Should we ravage Earth first, or consume the stars beyond the Star Gate that thought themselves impervious to my reign? Shall we run Suns into Suns and rage war with Galaxies. Ah - the Glory of it. Chaos and suffering on a Universal scale."

Saliva dribbled from the corners of his lips as he contemplated his ghastly future.

The small pile of sticks that Yogroot and Milander had gathered blazed merrily against the rocky outcrop that sheltered the other party. They sat in a circle warming themselves by the heat of the flames, yet silent for the loss of their three friends weighed heavily on their minds.

"I'm sure they'll be all right," Yogroot said for the umpteenth time. "My bones tell me it's so."

Milander, weary from flying and ferrying in the wood from the tree-line below could only mutter vaguely.

"If you say so, my love," she said, wrapping her wings around her for extra warmth.

"They must have found themselves on the other side of the mountains," Dawn Dancer said.

"What's there?" Walter asked.

"A strange world of enchanted forests, wizards, magic, and strange temples," Dawn Dancer said mysteriously. "We never go there unless we really have to."

There was a crackling in the forest below them, and a strange noise that drummed closer and closer. The little group, alarmed, stood up - ready to fight or flee.

"The horses!" Milander cried. "They have found us."

Indeed, it was so. There was a whinny of recognition, and the two unicorns, followed by Magic, Lightning, Veteran, Widow, and Lady, ambled cautiously forward into the firelight.

"Horses, and to spare," Walter said. "Now, Dawn Dancer, can we re-provision ourselves and set out once more to these strange lands beyond the Ice Mountains?"

There was silence for a while as the others looked at him with surprise.

"Of course," Dawn Dancer said. "We must continue the quest. There is a way, through the Great Rift Valley, that is long and dangerous, but that is the path we must follow. Meanwhile, friends, let us rest. Tomorrow, we must hunt. Then once more, undeterred by misfortune, we shall set out to find our three friends and complete our mission."

Bear Slayer stood dejectedly by the fire, sobbing inconsolately, while Laughing Waters held him tightly, trying to assuage his grief with hugs and kisses.

He shrugged her away, and cried out in a most anguished voice, "Oh I am not worthy to be called a brave. I have betrayed you all. Most wretched man am I to save my own skin at the price of my friend's!"

Laughing Waters decided that this was all too much. She took him by the shoulders and shook him. Then in breach of all Indian law, she slapped his face in a most determined way.

"What has happened?" she demanded. "Where is Expert Warrior?"

Bear Slayer made no reply. Instead, he snatched up the shield and sword and ran from her into the night.

The forest took on an aspect of dread as cobwebs clutched at his face and ethereal shapes appeared from the darkness. At last, he reached the clearing. In the night, the Trap Lillies put forth their tentacles freely, seeking anything that might blunder into them in the darkness. Bear Slayer soon found himself fighting for his very life as they clutched towards him, grasping at his ankles and wrists.

It was the sword that saved him. Its keen blade severed tentacles at a cut, and finally, he had cleared a space for himself. He attacked the tree holding Terry with vigour, slashing at the base of leaves, which fell away one at a time until the boy was at last uncovered. At the threat to its meal, the Trap Lilly at once attacked Bear Slayer with a vigour that demanded all his skill, grasping at his ankles and wrists while he slashed away for their lives.

At last, the battle was won. One of the lillies had grasped the shield and swallowed it into its leafy bundle. There was a loud spitting noise as it rejected the steel object, spinning it out to land with a thump at his feet.

"Bear Slayer," Terry groaned, "I thought you had deserted me."

"Quiet, Expert Warrior. I shall tell you all when we are safely back at our camp."

Bear Slayer lifted the semi-conscious Terry from the ground, threw him over his shoulders, and with shield and sword also in each hand, trudged his burden through the menacing darkness to their camp.

Fortunately for Terry, the Furs he wore were some protection against the intruding thorns on the tentacles of the Trap Lilly. However, they had made some headway into the flesh of his wrists and ankles where he had been grabbed.

"They are the nastiest pieces of work I've ever had the misfortune to meet," he said ruefully, as Laughing Waters rubbed the sore areas with heated leaves to hasten healing. "No wonder Bear Slayer had to run back for the sword and shield. If he had tried to save me straight away, both of us would have been consumed."

Bear Slayer stood some distance off, his back to the fire. For a moment, he was tempted to jump on Terry's explanation as a way out of their dilema. He knew, with gathering dread, that if it is impossible to serve two masters, it is even harder to betray both of them.

"Forgive me, Expert Warrior, and Laughing Waters, but I have betrayed you. Indeed, I came on this quest in order to destroy you all."

He turned to face them, for they remained silent.

"I met the Lord of Death after our fight in the village, Expert Warrior. He promised to make me a man before our people if I would serve him. I was angry at losing the fight. There seemed no real harm in the sham. For a while I was happy with my newfound manhood, but on the path, Death demanded more. He came from the rocks behind me. There is no way to escape his summons. I caused the avalanche, and claimed it was an accident. Last night, while hunting, he trapped me in a plant, as you were trapped. Only by agreeing to lead you into a similar predicament would he release me."

Laughing Waters drew her breath through clenched teeth. "Rogue!" she shouted at him furiously. "And you did - to save your own miserable hide!"

Bear Slayer knelt dejectedly on the ground before them. "Oh I am the most miserable of men," he said dejectedly. "I cannot ask you to forgive my treachery."

There was a long silence, broken at times by his penitent sobs.

At last, Terry stood up and walked over to the miserable wretch and placed a hand on his head.

"Lord Death is a pretty mean son-of-a-bitch," he said comfortingly. "I've met him once, and he scared the hell out of me. I draw closer to him day by day. I have come on this quest, not for the sake of the Shaman and his Mandala, but so that I can find the Star Gate - perhaps I'll escape Death's dread kingdom."

"You men are all so selfish," Laughing Waters exclaimed.

"You came to follow a hero, who didn't exist," Terry said to her firmly and gently. "Let us accept that we all have our own reasons for this quest. It is a noble one, even if we, the searchers, aren't very noble. At first light, we must move off - far away from this treacherous swamp. Death will search for us, and I have no doubt that he will send Tharon to do his dirty business."

"Will you fight the dragon, then, Expert Warrior?" asked the maiden.

"If we can find the right spot, I shall stand and fight," Terry said determinedly. "I believe I can defeat him, but both of you must help me."

"Anything you say, Expert Warrior," Bear Slayer said hopefully.

"Yes, Bear Slayer. You are the one I must use, for you are the strongest. Do not forget that Death shall miss me tomorrow. He shall know that - once more - you have failed to do his bidding. The die is cast."

Ch.9

Sister Wilson awoke with a start. She felt somewhat guilty at dozing off, even if the Doctor had suggested it. She looked at her watch.

Two in the morning, she thought to herself. About time for a look in at Terry. The Doctor should be in bed also. Sitting up all night at his age.

She pulled her dressing gown on and walked softly to the door of the Den and peered in. A frozen tableau met her eyes - Terry holding the clasp above his head, and the doctor with his eyes shut, sitting in the chair. She moved forward to shake him awake.

"Do not touch me, Sister," he said.

"What's That," Yogroot demanded from the back of his unicorn. He looked back at Walter with some concern. "Nobody's touching you."

The shaman threw his hand up and ordered a stop at once. He looked at Walter keenly, sensing the trance state.

"I am under hypnosis, linked with Terry. Can you understand that?"

"Who are you talking to?" Yogroot demanded.

"Shh!" Dawn Dancer admonished. "He's talking to the other world."

Milander threw a handful of dust into the air, and the scene in the Den became visible to all.

Sister pulled her hand back at once. She knew about hypnosis, of course, but to come across it under these circumstances - it was a bit weird. She checked Terry's pulse and breathing rate. The latter was labored, and she turned up the oxygen slightly.

"Can I get you a cup of coffee?" she asked. "You should be in bed, you know. I can sit with him."

"It's important that I remain here at the moment, thank you Sister. I am quite rested. The trance does that, you know? I'll explain it tomorrow."

She stood for a moment, uncertain, then decided to leave it to the doctor.

"Have a good night's rest," Walter said. "You can sit with him all tomorrow night," he lied.

"I guess you know what you're doing," she said, "Good night then, Doctor."

"Goodnight."

She walked from the room and closed the door behind her. Walter drew in a breath and hurled his mind back into the deepest trance.

He shook his head to clear it, and saw Yogroot and Milander looking at him with concern.

"You were nearly out of it," Milander said sternly.

"A close call," Walter admitted. "However, we do know now that Terry is safe - wherever he is."

The landscape lay before Terry and the others in a long, flat plain stretching towards the horizon. They walked for hours before a low rise in the ground finally marked the end of their journey.

"This may be what we are looking for," Terry said, hastening forward.

A crack in the ground, the product of erosion, gave them a brief shelter from the warmth of the sun.

"I figure that Death will be getting impatient about now," Terry said.

"He'll come for us," Bear Slayer said, shaking with emotion.

"No - not necessarilly. Don't forget - he can't harm me directly. No. He'll send the Dragon to get us. I hope. Now - How does the dragon kill its victims? Fire. He grabs them and gives them a good roasting - right?"

They nodded, uncertainly.

"Well, I'll give him something to grab and roast - only it won't be healthy for him," Terry explained. "Bear Slayer - you're going to have to help me get it."

Sister Wilson was far from satisfied. She lay awake in the dark, unable to sleep.

"This is what an Oxygen bottle looks like," Terry explained, drawing it on the ground. "Look - one will be hooked up to me, right? and I'll be holding this Talisman above my head. Don't bother with what you see - just grab a spare oxygen bottle and hold it. I'll pull you back here."

Bear Slayer nodded and took Terry's hand.

He vanished.

There was a distinct "Thump" from the den.

That does it, Sister Wilson thought to herself. He's fallen off his chair.

She rose and walked in slippered feet to the den. There was the sound of heavy breathing and a grunt as she opened the door.

Only years of training prevented her from screaming. A young indian brave, completely costumed, with feathered headband, stood beside the bed looking around in amazement. He gazed wide-eyed at the Sister.

"What do you want?" she demanded. "What are you doing in here?"

Bear Slayer held up his hand to command silence. "Wait," he demaded. "Expert Warrior has need of this." He grasped the large oxygen bottle in a firm embrace.

She watched in amazement as the Indian and the oxygen bottle disappeared. There was an involuntary gasp from her throat.

"I told you to go to sleep," Walter Kiernan said firmly.

"I saw an Indian boy - he just took an oxygen bottle and vanished," she said to the entranced doctor.

"That's what happens when you're tired, Sister. Now go to sleep." Walter comanded.

She wanted to argue, but something in the tone of his voice demanded otherwise. It must have been an illusion, of course. A waking dream -

"Goodnight, Doctor," she said uncertainly as she left the den once more.

"Got it," Bear Slayer said, letting go of the huge cylinder.

"Must be a good hundred pounds in that," Terry said. "O.K. Let's get it dressed up."

They planted it above their chosen hiding place, and covered it with the furs. Bear Slayer's Bow stood as arms and shoulders.

"Best 'Scare Dragon' I've ever seen," Terry said when they had finished. I just hope I don't need to warm up again.

"What do we do, Expert Warrior?" Laughing Waters asked.

Just hide, and hope the trap works," Terry said, clutching his sword and shield tightly while he scanned the sky. He stroked the clasp casually. "Come on, Tharon. I'm waiting," he said.

The summons through the clasp could not be ignored. It was as if Terry stood before the Lord of Death to call the ferrocious dragon.

"Come on, Tharon. I'm waiting," echoed the challenge.

"He's alive! Treachery, my pet! Alive!" cursed the robed figure, "Sieze him, my Tharon - yea! Sieze them all. Bring them to me!" he shouted enraged. He stretched forth his vision to see the three waiting. Terry stood on the small hillock, with Bear Slayer and Laughing Waters crouching in the eroded gully.

"Do they think to hide in that crack," Death exulted. "Swoop now, Tharon. Sieze him, then the others!"

"He comes!" Terry shouted, as clouds gathered and the wind arose. The Dragon brought the stormy blast ahead of it, so that dust spattered the little party of warriors as they prepared to do battle.

Tharon settled from a cloud, in front of the Expert Warrior. He drew back his wings and intook a breath.

"Alive. I want them alive!" Death commanded.

Terry gazed on his Nemesis and marked the Great Seal that hung around the Dragon's neck. The Dragon arched his head backwards and struck!

Terry jumped back as the huge teeth slammed into the steel bottle and the Dragon took to the air with a flurry of wings that raised dust in all directions. Higher and higher Tharon flew.

"What have you there?" Death asked. "That is no boy. Get rid of it."

The dragon felt the hardness of steel against his teeth and the anger raged within him. It was a trick! A decoy!

The great breath of fire hissed out to destroy the mischievious object forthwith. A hundred pound bottle of oxygen turned white hot in a fraction of a second and exploded.

The flash lit the heavens, and the sound of the explosion rolled down towards the little group of warriors so that they stood and cheered as parts of the mighty beast floated downward.

"Come on!" Terry shouted. "The Mandala - now's our chance to get it!"

They ran towards the place where the Dragon fell to earth.

A great scream rent forth from the depths of torment as the Lord of despair, the Grey Lord, Death, felt for himself the loss of his beast.

They ran forward to retrieve the Great Mandala, only to find their way blocked by a great Rift Valley that split the plain. Below them, clouds rolled to cover the great corpse that had fallen from the sky.

"How are we going to get down there," Terry asked in wonderment and frustration as he looked at the sheer cliff walls confronting them.

"There must be a way," Laughing Waters said. "Perhaps a path, or a break in the formation somewhere. We just have to look for it."

"Just as we seemed so close, we are so far," Bear Slayer lamented.

They set off again along the top of the valley, hoping to find a way to the bottom of the great unscalable cliffs.

"Well, we certainly can't climb up this wall," Yogroot said in disgust as he contemplated the same barrier that faced Terry, but from the perspective of the base. "It's a sheer wall."

"We shall just have to carry on and hope that somewhere ahead, there will be a path or break that will enable us to scale to the top," Dawn Dancer said.

A brilliant flash, as if of lightning, filled the sky. There was a terrible report and the sound of hellish screaming that lasted for a few seconds, then all was silent once more.

Dawn Dancer was still for a moment at the commotion, then raised his hand to sweep the small party forward with a flick of his wrist.

Terry and his friends saw the temple from afar, and it took two hours of walking before they stood at its entrance doors. Strange writing adorned the walls, and grotesque carvings, the pillars.

"A place of evil," Laughing Waters exclaimed. "We should go on, Expert Warrior."

Terry looked at the carvings and shuddered. "I guess you're right, but it's built right on the edge of this cliff. There may be a way down from inside." He knocked loudly on the door, then stood back, listening.

For a long time, nothing happened.

"Let us move on," Bear Slayer said.

"No. Wait a minute. I can hear something," Terry said.

The great door swung open. Terry stood in front of the others, sword and shield held relaxedly at the ready position. Two strange men appeared, both with shaved heads and wearing a brown coloured robe.

"They're monks," Terry said to his companions. "Some kind of Eastern religion, I expect." Then he addressed the two men who stood facing him. "Can we reach the valley floor through here? I mean ... Is there any way down to the valley?"

"Welcome, travellers. Many pass this way, and ask the same question. In truth, I do not know the answer, but this holy house is called 'The Way' and there is a ladder which descends. However, no traveller who goes that pathway ever returns to tell us," the monk on the right said sadly.

"Which is a great pity, for we would like to know the truth ourselves," the other added.

"Haven't you ever tried yourselves?" Terry asked.

"No, for we are the guardians of the gate, and may not leave our posts," the first said.

"Indeed, we would try, but the journey permits travel in one direction only. There is no return from the journey, once begun," the second said.

Terry and his friends held a quick council of war.

"I reckon we could have a look, at least," Terry said.

They decided that it could do no harm, so they bowed deeply to the two monks and entered the strange temple. The interior was a great courtyard, at one end of which was a stone beam supported on two pillars. A rope from the beam dangled through a large hole in the floor. Rooms on either side of the courtyard held objects that Terry realised were personal effects - swords, baskets of finger rings, the bric-a-brac of travellers. As if in answer to his unspoken question, a large black crow flew into the courtyard and dropped a single ring. The first monk picked it up, looked at it closely, and put it into the room containing baskets of rings.

"They find them in the valley below," the second monk said. "Perhaps grateful travellers leave them for us."

"Who knows?" Terry muttered. He looked at the hole in the temple floor, then backed away from it. "Oh, no," he said.

"The temple juts over the valley wall. There is a ladder that descends," The first monk said.

"To reach the ladder, one must climb down this rope and swing across to it. The rope is short, so at the final moment, the traveller must make a leap of faith onto the ladder. Once there, the rope is out of reach. One is committed to climb down."

"And you guys can't organise a longer rope, eh?" Terry said with ill disguised disgust.

"No," they chorused at him.

The little group huddled together and whispered a quick conference.

"What are we going to do, for goodness sakes?" Terry asked. "These two are unbelievable rogues if ever there were any."

"Expert Warrior, let me be the first to go. I shall tell you if it seems safe. If not, you can climb down and swing the rope towards me so that I can get up again," Bear Slayer said.

"Oh, I don't know," Laughing Waters interjected.

"It's too much of a risk," Terry agreed.

"But if we don't get to the body of the dragon soon, we wont get the Mandala. Death will reclaim him in the dark of night. We must try," Bear Slayer said.

So it was decided that Bear Slayer would descend first. While the two monks watched impassively, neither assisting nor hindering as he grasped the rope and swung down into the hole.

Down, down, he slid, not looking, for fear that the sight of the valley floor so far below might make him giddy. He found himself at the bottom of the rope, which was tied with a great knot. True to the word of the monks above, there was a strong looking ladder attached to the ceiling of rock above him. It was made of thick chain, and seemed to descend into the swirling clouds below. He swung on the rope towards the ladder, finding that the rope stopped an arm's width from the chain.

"Is it all right?" Terry called from above.

"Yes, I think so. It looks quite strong," Bear slayer called back. Then, in a moment of great courage, he released his hold on the rope and grasped at the ladder.

For a heart stopping second, he fell, but the arc of his swing was true, and he found himself clinging to the chains. His feet found the steel cross steps, and he felt secure once again.

"All clear!" he called out.

Terry, then Laughing Waters, soon joined him.

"That is some jump," she exclaimed as she untangled herself from their saving embrace.

Terry looked at the rope, dangling several feet away out of reach. "Well, there's no way back. Lead on down, Bear Slayer. There's quite a climb ahead of us."

Ch.10

The climb down the long chain ladder was tedious, exhausting, and dangerous. At one stage, Laughing Waters felt for one of the steel steps with her mocassins and slipped. For a moment, she clung desperately, then Terry, who was just below her, grasped her feet and guided them to safety. She clung to the ladder, puffing in exhaustion and fright.

"How much further must we climb?" she complained.

There was a shout from below.

"There is some bad news, I think," Bear Slayer said. "The chain ladder has become a rope one. See? It joins on here."

Terry and laughing waters joined him, and they swung in a group looking at the way in which the rope ladder was tied.

"It seems strong enough. Why was this done, I wonder?" Terry said almost to himself. "Of course - the weight. The ladder would have to get lighter as it got longer, or the weight of it would be too much. Don't you see?"

If he sought an enthusiastic agreement from the other two, he was doomed to disappointment. Once more they climbed. Down, down, down.

Soon, there came more bad news.

"Expert Warrior. The rope ladder has become a thick rope with knots in it," Bear Slayer warned.

"Perhaps we should go back?" Laughing Waters said.

"There IS no way back," Terry said.

Down, down, down, they climbed. It was much harder, and the knots finally gave out, leaving but a rope that they had to cling to with hands and legs.

"The next rope!" came an alarmed cry from Bear Slayer. "It is thinner. I can hardly grip it!"

Terry clung beside him as they inspected the thin rope.

"We shall just have to try," Terry said.

Bear Slayer tried to move lower, but the rope cut into his hands. They carefully eased their way upwards for a few feet.

"So much for our kindly monks," Laughing Waters said in disgust.

Terry searched for a solution. The rocky canyon wall was but metres away.

"We would be better off trying to climb down the wall," Terry said, looking at the rock face. "There are large cracks in it. A bit hairy, but lower down, and we can get a decent hold onto it."

"How could we get across?" Laughing Waters asked.

"We could cut the rope below us, and swing," Bear Slayer suggested.

"Well, that's better than hanging here until we fall off," Terry said. "Here, Bear Slayer. Use my sword."

The Indian brave swung the mighty blade at the rope, expecting it to part, but it held stubbornly.

"It isn't cutting," he said. He tried again with a mighty swing. This time, the blade cut true. The rope parted, jolting upwards as the pressure of tons of weight released. Bear Slayer gave a mighty cry of despair as he lost his grip and hurtled into the void below.

"Forgive me!" he screamed as he fell.

Laughing Waters and Terry clung together, silent in their grief.

"I spy the wings of carrion ahead," Dawn Dancer shouted, urging his steed into a light canter. Yogroot and Milander needed no further urging, but Walter found himself clinging to the saddle as his horse broke into a gallop. For a moment he panicked, but pulled back on the reins to check Lady into a rough, unbroken trot. Mindful of Walter's inexperienced seat, Dawn Dancer and the sprites slowed down so that he could catch up to them.

"There is something ahead - a great black body with huge wings," The shaman said.

"Tharon. It must be the dragon," Walter cried. "And look - there against the cliff face - climbing down..."

They hurried forward as fast as they could. Crows and Vultures hovered about the great beast, awaiting a feast. The sun was already setting on the Western Horizon.

"We must find the Mandala before nightfall," Walter said.

They came to a huge pile of rope spread untidilly on the ground. It lay in all directions as if it had fallen from a great height.

"Who climbs down the Cliff Wall?" Walter asked, shading his eyes.

"It is Expert Warrior!" Shrieked Milander in glee, for she had the sight of fairies, "And Laughing Waters! Come quickly!"

They raced to the wall as the two exhausted figures climbed painfully down the last few remaining feet to stagger towards their friends.

Evening found them searching the valley for the Mandala, while Terry and Laughing Waters hunted through the rope pile in the hope of finding Bear Slayer. Their meeting with the others had been subdued - darkened by the news of his loss. What should have been a merry time of re-union was spent in frantic haste.

It was Milander who caught the glint of gold in her fairy eye and hastened to Walter to bring him the news that the seal lay between two rocks. They stood in a small circle around their find, and the Shaman reached forward reverently to pick it up from the ground.

"At last, after all these years," he said, holding it up to reflect the light of the setting sun onto his face, "I have it once more in my keeping."

At the same time, the glint of metal revealed Terry's sword, and beside it, amongst the coils of rope, lay the body of their friend. They waited as the other party joined them - good news and bad, side by side.

They gathered wood, and built a great funeral pyre for their friend. Terry stepped forward with a flaming torch and lit it. The others stood in silence as the flames licked higher and higher.

Suddenly, there came a mighty rushing wind. Smoke and dust seemed to fill the valley.

"Expert Warrior - To me! Come to me!" Dawn Dancer called urgently.

"What is it?" Terry shouted as he joined his friend.

Dawn Dancer reached for the clasp hanging around Terry's neck. "These must be joined!" he shouted, clicking the Mandala into place so that it hung on Terry like a large breast plate.

"Look!" Yogroot shouted. "The Dark One comes!"

Death walked from the funeral pyre. In both hands, he held a shining light that glowed.

"Behold, the Soul of Bear Slayer!" he said. "He is mine for ever."

"You cannot harm him!" Terry shouted, confronting Death with his sword and shield.

"Baaaaargh!" Death railed, hurtling lightning bolts at both objects, so that they vapourised in a flash, backing Terry off and hurling him onto the ground. Another bolt hurtled towards the boy, but the Mandala attracted it and absorbed it as if it had never been.

Death stared at the device.

"How did you come by that?" He asked.

"I won it - from your pet. Tharon is finished, Dark One. I defeated him," Terry said.

"As I recollect," Death said. "But Tharon is immortal. Tomorrow, he shall rise whole again, and once more you shall meet in battle. You can delay me as long as you have the strength, Terry Kiernan, but you will never win."

There was a mocking laugh as the figure stepped backwards into the fire and vanished.

"Terry, Are you all right," Walter asked, rushing forward to help him to his feet.

"Yeah. I feel pretty weak, though. That climb down, and now getting beat up on by ... I brought the oxygen bottle here. That's why I feel weak. It took a lot out of me."

Walter listened with concern to Terry's breathing, now heavy and laboured. He looked pale.

"I've got it here, too. Haven't I?" Terry asked. "The sickness?"

"You have brought it back with you, when you got the oxygen bottle to kill Tharon," Dawn Dancer said gravely. "You must rest, Expert Warrior."

They lay him carefully on the ground and sat in a circle with him to discuss what they should do next.

"This is the Great Seal - Key to the Gateways of the Worlds," Dawn Dancer said, holding up the Mandala, now fitted properly with its clasp.

"How does it work?" Walter asked.

"It can be commanded to open any Realm, and it shall do so. When my people were threatened by the Great Plague, I opened the door to this world. It was hurriedly done, but there was no changing it."

"How can Death move about - if he has no key?" Laughing Waters asked.

"He has great powers - given to him by the Lords of Good and Evil. He is an immortal. He has taken Bear Slayer. Tomorrow he intends to take you, Terry Kiernan, Expert Warrior."

"So Bear Slayer is alive - in the Realm of Death?" Terry asked.

"That is so," Dawn Dancer said.

"Then if we have the key to all the realms - why can't we go there and rescue him?" Terry asked.

Dawn Dancer's face went white with shock at the thought of it.

"Because the only way to reach the realm of Death is to die!" the shaman shouted in extreme agitation.

"But if we use the Mandala ..."

"Enough!" Dawn Dancer said sharply. "I have heard enough of this nonsense. Let there be no more talk about entering the realm of death," He paused. "I know that Bear Slayer is there, and that ... he endures ... "

"Endures what?" Laughing Waters pressed.

Dawn Dancer sat down heavilly, letting the mandala fall from his fingers as he cradled his head in his hand.

Terry picked up the charm and held it to himself. "He endures because - in the end, he couldn't betray me. He defied Death. He sacrificed all for his friends, despite his fears. He seemed to be weak, but he was stronger than any of us. He failed, but in his failure, he was victorious over his own spirit."

A teardrop fell from Terry's cheek and splashed on the Mandala.

"I wish we could save him," he said.

There was a sudden shaking of the ground. Dawn Dancer opened his eyes and looked at Terry with fright.

"Expert Warrior. What have you done?!!" he asked in surprise and shock as the door to the Realm of Death opened, spilling a great red light across the valley.

Great pillars of fire outlined the mighty cavern - an inferno of fires and running lava. Grinning harpies lined the walls of the great portcullis that yawned over them. There was a roaring as they moved helplessly forward on the heaving, billowing, ground. Terry had just enough time to place the Mandala around his neck before the fiery grid descended behind them. Their valley had gone. They were in another - totally terrifying world.

On the horizon, black volcanos spat fire and smoke into the dull red sky. Rivers of lava criss-crossed the plateau of rolling sand dunes. Of water, there was no sign, and no plants were to be seen. Strange reptillian birds crossed the sky, and on the sides of nearby cliffs hung strange animal shapes like winged monkeys with spiked tails and reptillian heads.

Some of these creatures detached themselves from the cliff face and sped towards the group of travellers, fluttering close, and issuing threatening cries.

"What are they?" Laughing Waters asked in alarm.

"They are Harpies - legendary birds of hell," Walter said, striking out at one that ventured too closely.

They travelled onward, looking for any sign of their friend, or indeed, any other person who might help them, but there seemed to be no one.

"Where are all the Souls that are said to inhabit this world?" Dawn Dancer asked.

"I can't see anyone," Milander agreed.

A voice that filled the heavens and shook from the red sky above thundered an answer: "Some may seek solace in the suffering of others, and there is no solace to be found in my realm."

Terry looked at Walter as the group clung together in surprise and not a little fear. There was a swirling of sand, and the cloaked figure of death appeared before them.

"Stand back, Terry," Walter said, thrusting the boy behind him. "I'll handle..."

"This?" completed Death with a wave of his hand. Walter found that his feet had sunk into the sand, and were now stuck fast.

"Let my Grandfather go!" Tery shouted, bounding forward in his anger. Death held his arms open wide, and it was only at the last moment that Terry veered to one side, avoiding the deadly embrace.

"No!" The boy shouted. Perspiration stood out on his brow, as he backed away.

"What a pity," Death said. "I thought I had you for a moment."

He waved his hand contemptuously, and Yogroot and Milander found themselves grasped by the fierce Harpies. Milander was held helpless by two that stretched her wings apart, as if to rip them off. Yogroot and Milander were terrified, calling desperately for help. Laughing Waters and Dawn Dancer, like Walter, were entrapped helplessly by the sand.

"Let them go, you oaf," Terry said. "Or I'll use this against you," he said, indicating the mandala.

"You can not harm me in my own realm," Death said with a low chuckle. "Yet I do perceive you have courage. Who would have imagined that you would seek your dead friend here - brave your worst fears and confront your sworn enemy for his sake. Oh, I do want your soul," Death sighed.

"We have come for Bear Slayer's soul," Terry said.

"What would you give me for it, Terry Kiernan, Expert Warrior? Your own?" The cloaked figure asked.

Terry swallowed nervously. It was too much. Death asked far too much.

There was mocking laughter that echoed around the realm.

"No answer. He has no answer to that." Death laughed.

"Leave the boy alone," Walter said.

"Silence!" Death commanded.

Milander's sobs and Yogroots entreaties stopped, and all were frozen in dumb tableau.

"Only you can move, Terry Kiernan, Expert Warrior," mocked Death. He waved his hand, and a huge crystal ovoid appeared, within which swirled a monstrous black form, growing, developing. "Behold the egg of Tharon. He grows before your eyes. In one hour, he shall hatch, and then feed. Who shall be his first morsel? Or shall my other pets grow weary of their game and rend the pixie folk before your brimming eyes?"

"You're not fair. If this is your idea of playing a game with us, you're cheating. You have to give us a chance."

"A chance? What a novel idea. Behold your chance, Expert Warrior," Death said, waving his hand.

Terry felt something clasp him around the ankle. He looked down at the huge brass fetter that enclosed it. A chain about nine feet long was linked to a huge metal ball, some ten feet in diameter. It rested on the sand, reflecting his image back at him, diminutive in the rounded reflection.

"This is no chance," Terry said, enraged.

"Oh, but it is," Death said, waving his hand once more. Some twenty feet away appeared a huge hourglass, with sand trickling away the time. "Hear this, Terry Kiernan, Expert Warrior. If you can find Bear Slayer within the hour, and defeat the mighty Tharon in single combat when he hatches, you may all depart this realm - in peace. If you fail, you shall all be mine, and I shall gain the Mandala - Key to all the Realms."

Terry thought for a moment. He looked at the giant ball, and the hourglass some twenty feet away.

"How can I slay Tharon with my bare hands?" he asked.

Death held out the shield and sword of the Ice King. Terry took them.

"Well?" Death asked.

It was a hopeless situation. The boy looked away in despair, but then steeled himself. His face firmed, and he looked up at his nemesis.

"Agreed," Terry said. "I accept your challenge."

There was a sudden mocking laughter from the heavens and from the black cloaked figure. Death vanished into the sand hills as a wisp of desert dust.

Ch.11

Yogroot gave out a piercing shout, as soon as Death vanished, leaving no doubt that his command of silence had lasted only so long as he remained.

"Let go of Milander, you brutes, before I turn you all into worms!"

"I think they're spellproof," Dawn Dancer said. "Try your sword against the chain, Terry,"

Terry struck at the chain and fetter, with no effect. "It's no good," he said despondently. "I had hoped that the sword would cut it. Talk about a ball and chain! How can anyone move that?" he said, indicating the huge metallic ball.

"Why move it, anyway?" Yogroot demanded to know.

"Because if I can get to the hourglass, I can rescue Bear Slayer," Terry said.

"Is he in there?" Laughing Waters asked.

"He must be," Terry explained. "Didn't you hear Death say I had to find him within the hour? These immortals are sometimes so boringly obvious."

"He isn't very obvious with that chain around your leg," Yogroot said mournfully. "How are you going to take that off."

"With very great difficulty, I think," Terry admitted, setting about trying to get rid of it. He pushed it, tugged at the chain, hit the sphere with his shield, and tried all manner of things, with no result. The others plied him with advice, until he put his hands over his ears and hollered at them:

"QUIET!"

There was a long silence, while he sat in the sand and thought. The giant red sun lifted overhead, bringing the sand of the desert to sweltering heat. The others were all feeling distressed.

"We must get water," Laughing Waters said, her speech thick with the dryness of her throat and mouth.

Terry moved into the shade offered by the huge ball. He sat despondently, drawing in the sand with his finger.

"It's no use," he admitted sadly, "I can't think of anything."

He rubbed the sand doodles away with his hand, sweeping underneath the ball. As he dug slightly in front of it, however, the ball rolled into the slight depression that he had made with his hand.

"It moved!" He exclaimed. "The ball moved!"

"That's it, Terry!" Walter said enthusiatically. "Dig away in front of it, and you can move it anywhere. Move it towards the hourglass!"

Terry started immediately, to the encouragement of all the others. Only the harpies holding Yogroot and Milander stood immobile and impassive.

On and on he dug, shifted, cajoled and nursed the giant ball towards the hourglass, and all the time, the sands of the glass got lower and lower.

There came a chipping sound from the crystal egg and the form of Tharon could be seen, his beak tapping at the interior, seeking to hatch out into the world, a dreadful phoenix born anew in a world of fire.

"Hurry, Expert Warrior, Please hurry," Milander said tearfully.

Terry merely grunted as he continued to dig and pull, dig and pull, inching the huge steel ball towards the hourglass.

There was an ominous cracking from the crystal shell, and the ebony tip of a beak appeared. A birdlike cough, and a spurt of flame shot out at the sky.

"By the Gods," Dawn Dancer exclaimed. "Even as a chick, the Dragon has all his powers."

"Some chicken," Walter said softly.

With a tremendous squawk, Tharon cracked the egg and staggered forth. Terry was still some five feet from his goal as the immature dragon rocked back and forth, drying his scaly skin beneath the hot red sky.

"Just keep digging and pulling," Terry muttered to himself.

Tharon gave a half yawn and looked about with young, but hopeful eyes. He noticed Milander and the Harpies. With a twitch of his spiked tail, he stood erect and stretched out his wings, flapping them for strength. Then, eyes fixed on the fairy figure, he waddled forward, inelegantly, but with dreadful purpose.

"Milander! No!" Yogroot shouted, kicking his feet and struggling against the harpies holding him.

The dragon towered over the little fairy and nipped downward as a chicken pecks at wheat. There was a dreadful scream, as he lifted his head with his victim and swallowed the unhappy Harpy whole.

Milander acted swiftly against the other one. "Squirm, squirm, you little worm," she shouted, sprinkling wing dust in a silver cloud over the unfortunate beast.

There was a flash of light, as the harpie became a wriggling worm. Tharon, as quickly as the first, swallowed it at a gulp.

"It's the early bird that catches the worm," Milander said, moving to release Yogroot.

The two harpies, mindful of what had happened to their companions, released the goblin and attempted to flee. It was hopeless. Tharon had obviously developed a taste for harpies. One he trod on, while he despatched the other, then the fourth followed down his cavernous throat.

At each meal, the Dragon grew bigger and bigger.

Meanwhile, both Milander and Yogroot tunnelled away at the bottom of the great ball, while Terry pushed and pushed at it. Slowly, it rolled towards the hourglass.

Tharon rested for a short while, and then the commotion of the diggers attracted his attention. He moved towards Terry, just as the latter gained the hourglass.

Yogroot handed him the shield and sword as the dragon drew closer. Terry looked at the hourglass anxiously.

"Here goes nothing," he said, swinging his sword against it.

The hourglass was about to drop its last grains, as he hit it. With a sharp crack, it shattered. A ball of light appeared, at which Tharon backed off a little, puzzled. There was a bright flash, and Bear Slayer stood beside his friend once more.

"Bear Slayer!" Terry said, hugging his old companion with delight.

"If you two don't mind, His highness is coming for breakfast, and you're it," Yogroot said with some concern.

Terry turned to face his attacker. "Get behind the metal ball," he said.

Tharon had at last reached his full size and maturity. He trumpeted a challenge to the scarlet sky, beating his wings in the fulsome lust of his youthful strength. Bear Slayer and the others barely had time to take cover before the beast saw Terry and recognised him as his enemy.

For a moment, the two regarded each other with hatred.

There was a blast of flame, and Terry ducked, kneeling behind the shield. The others sheltered from the blast as best they could. In the fierce flame, the chain melted immediately. Terry leaped free, and without waiting for Tharon to recover, darted forward to plant the sword deeply underneath the beast's chin.

"Aim for its heart!" Dawn Dancer called. "You must strike it in the heart!"

"Now he tells me," Terry shouted back as an enraged Tharon swung a great claw at him, knocking Terry to the ground. The claw pinned him, and the mouth came lower and lower, sulphurous fumes foaming from the throat, and a great roar from the back of the throat. Terry pushed his shield up, just in time to deflect the huge flame that roared over him.

The dragon backed off momentarilly, then charged, just as Terry got to his feet. There was a moment of confusion as he jumped in through a gap in the beast's defences, and with a mighty shout, Terry plunged the sword into the beast's huge scaly breast.

There was a thrashing and screaming from a huge cloud of dust, that prevented the onlookers seeing what had happened. Then it settled, and the beast lay motionless on the ground. Two human legs poked out from underneath one of the forelegs.

Terry kicked helplessly and yelled, "Will someone please help me get out from under this overgrown lizard?"

Bear Slayer, Yogroot, and Milander soon had him to his feet, and he walked with them to where the other three stood, still entrapped by the gripping sand.

"So you have won, Expert Warrior," Came the hollow voice from the sky and the walls of the realm.

"Oh, no. Guess who's back," Terry said.

Death stood before them once more.

"You may go, as I agreed," he said.

The gripping sand loosened, and the brass fetter fell from Terry's ankle.

"I've won," Terry said. "You didn't get me."

"Enjoy your victory," Death said, vanishing as mysteriously as he had come. This time, however, there was no mocking laughter. Merely silence.

Thunderhead, the Warchief, looked up in fear as the huge portal to the realm of the dead opened against a mountainside near the Indian encampment. The flaming portcullis and roar of the incessant volcanic activity made all who saw it wonder and fear, but at the sight of Dawn Dancer, Bear Slayer, Laughing Waters, and the others, the heart of the old brave lifted in joy, for he saw by the sparkle of the breastplate on Terry's chest, that the quest had been successful.

"May the door to Death's Domain be closed for a thousand years!" Terry commanded, sealing the great entrance for the maximum time permitted by the powers of the Mandala.

By this time, the whole tribe and the folk of the Netherworld had been roused. It was to no slight welcome, that the brave little party returned that day. First, they drank, for they were thirsty. Then they rested while Dawn Dancer addressed the Council with a long speech recounting their adventures.

The night was a great feast to celebrate the triumph of the Quest. As Midnight came, the wedding of Bear Slayer and Laughing Waters took place alongside that of Yogroot and Milander in a forest clearing amongst fairy magic, spritely music and dancing.

Suddenly, the noise of the Chief's wardrum put a temporary hold to the celebrations. Thunderhead gathered everyone together, and introduced Terry and Walter to the assembly.

"Tonight, we pay homage to our two warriors, who came from the world of men to save us, and restore our sacred seal. The Mandala - Key to all the realms.

As Terry and Walter stood acknowledging the cheers of the crowd, each was given a Chief's head dress of feathers, and a ceremonial tomahawk. Terry stood looking at the crowd, and suddenly felt himself become quite dizzy. He fell unexpectedly.

"Terry - what is it?" Walter asked, concerned.

"The sickness. Grandad - it's time."

The Indians, and his companions, stood around him uncertainly.

Then Dawn Dancer spoke. "Yes. It is time. We must open the Star Gate for Expert Warrior. Give me the seal, Terry."

The boy looked at his Grandfather, who nodded assertively. Terry handed it over, and Dawn Dancer put it on.

"Oh, Great Seal and Key to all Realms," the shaman intoned, "I summon you to open the Star Gate - that Door beyond which is eternal delight, that through it one may pass to the realm beyond death."

The Mandala took on a glow, and there was a shimmering beyond the fire, on the raised platform from which the Chiefs spoke.

"Behold, the Star Gate." said Dawn Dancer, helping Terry to his feet.

The glittering gateway scintillated as if calling for him.

"You must hurry," Dawn Dancer said.

Terry held his Grandfather for a last time. "I'll miss you," he said.

"Not for long," Walter promised.

"Look for me in the sky, tonight," Terry said.

Walter held his hand tightly, as if he would not let it go.

"You must hurry," Dawn Dancer warned.

Terry walked up to the shimmering doorway and stood for a moment. He turned and waved a last farewell, then slipped through.

There was a flash of lightning, and the gate closed, vanishing from sight as if it had never been. Dawn Dancer looked around, Walter had gone.

There was a sudden wind that sent a storm window crashing against the wall of Sister Wilson's bedroom. She woke with a start and looked at her watch. Five in the morning. Could he still be there? She wondered. Quietly, she rose from the bed, wrapped herself against the freezing cold of morning, and put on her slippers before walking to the door of the Den.

Terry looked around him. There was absolute silence, as if he was in a room that was made from pure whiteness. He tried to step back through the door, but found nothing behind him.

There was a gentle cough. He turned, and his blood froze in his veins.

Standing so quietly, was the white robed and hooded figure of Death.

Terry looked at him for a moment and despaired. "Oh, no!" He cried aloud in disappointment. "You said that I'd won! You wouldn't take me!"

"All must come through me to Heaven or to Hell," Death said, in a voice that was no longer hollow or mocking, but authoritative.

"Grandad! HELP! HELP ME!" Terry shouted, trying to run. Death stretched out an arm and held Terry as he pulled away in fear and anger. He sat and pulled fiercely, but the figure held him and at last, all the fight left him. He stood and faced the cloaked figure that helped him to his feet.

"Are you ready?" Death asked.

"Do I have any choice?" Terry asked.

"No."

"I thought this was the Star Gate."

"It is. You have won. On this side, I am the Star Gate," Death said, removing his cloak.

A huge black man stood facing Terry. Wings of Peacock ebony sparkled from his back.

"I am not Death, whom all men dread, but Death, the Dark Angel," he said. "Come to me, and fear not."

The angel looked so peaceful and beautiful, that Terry approached. The angel reached behind Terry's back and rubbed at his shoulder blades. There was a prickling sensation, and wings sprouted, small at first, but bursting into full magnificence within moments.

"Hey - All right!" Terry said with growing delight. "Is this for real?"

The angel waved his hand, the white clouds vanished, and the magnificence of the Universe was revealed. Stars and Galaxies shone in profusion, and a magnificent nebula floated past.

"Shall we go?" The Dark Angel said, glowing now a brilliant blue fire.

"Can I be a star? Can I be a yellow star? With a solar system and a planet like Earth?" Terry asked as they floated away.

"You can be anything you like," The Angel said, and Terry began to glow a brilliant yellow.

"What about two Earths?" he asked, his voice fading into the distance.

"Imagine all the fights," the angel chided.

"Oh. O.K. Only one then..."

Walter stood by the bed looking at the still form of Terry, who lay peacefully on the bed, eyes closed. Strange - even in death, he was smiling. Walter was scarcely aware of Sister Wilson standing beside him.

"He went in his sleep," she said quietly. "That's a blessed relief, Doctor."

A tear coursed down the old man's cheek. He knew, better than she ever could, the manner of Terry's passing.

"Goodbye, Expert Warrior," he said, leaning forward to kiss his Grandson lightly on the forehead.

"His parents - should I wake them?" she asked.

Walter nodded.

"I'll let them know," she said.

Walter nodded again and walked to the double doors that led to the balcony. A cold blast of air hit him as he walked outside. He stood against the railing without seeing, his mind numb with grief.

A flash of light caught his attention.

He looked up into the dawning sky, staring at the waning stars.

A brilliant yellow star flashed across the heavens on its outward journey.

"Farewell, Grandad," he heard it say.

Was he imagining it? Did it really speak to him?

His heart warmed with a sudden joy of understanding.

"Look for me in the sky," Terry had said. It was his last promise.

"Goodbye, Terry, My brilliant star," Walter said.