I wrote this story pretty much on a whim. The creative bug bit me, and voila. The setting is primarily from Fallen Empires, but I did not hesitate to bring in material from Revised. I wasn't particularly careful about sticking to the timeline of the Land of Dominia, although, I did try to stick to the rules for the game and the actual statistics on the cards. Anyway, this is my first attempt at writing a story in the Magic multiverse, so I hope you like it.

* * * * * * * *

Sillik looked up as he heard the latch on his cell door click. So, he thought to himself, it is finally to be my turn. He was the last. All of his brood-brothers had been led off one by one. Kalth, Gramde, Holt... He went over the names of his twelve brood-brothers in his mind. He had never had a chance to become close to them (such ties were thoroughly discouraged by their masters), but they had been his brood, and so had shared a unique bond with him. It was no mystery what had become of them. All Basal Thrulls knew that their destiny was glorious self-sacrifice in the name of Lord Tourach and the Order of the Ebon Hand. Klithul had been the last to have been led out. Maybe Klithul had traded his soul for that of a great warrior from the Ebon Hand's dark past. Or perhaps he had been broken down into his component materials in order to cast some hideously powerful spell to decimate the ranks of the enemies of the forces of darkness. But there were rumors... rumors of an evil presence that the Ebon Hand had summoned... a presence that they could not completely control... a presence that required feeding...

The door began to open. Sillik's heart began to race. He didn't want to die. He was surprised to realize this, and part of his mind chided him for being such a coward. He was supposed to be grateful to be allowed to die for the Order. Nevertheless, though he had only had life for a few months, he wanted to keep living. And he certainly didn't want to end up as...food for whatever horror had recently come into their midst. His eyes darted around nervously, but there was no place to hide. Desperate, he huddled in the corner, hoping not to be seen.

"Sillik!" he heard a raspy voice whisper. He recognized that voice. It was Cluthon, a Thrull Wizard. That was odd. The Order had always sent Initiates to fetch the sacrificial Thrulls. Curious, Sillik looked up. "Sillik, I offer you a choice: come with me and live, or stay here and die."

Sillik responded, "I don't understand. What is happening here?"

"There is little time to explain," answered the wizened Thrull, "Endrek Sahr has been executed."

"What?" exclaimed Sillik. While he could hardly have been called an ideal father, Sahr was the man who was responsible for the creation of every Thrull. He had personally named every one of them (a practice the Order found foolishly sentimental), and every Thrull felt a certain loyalty to him. It was hard to imagine the old man gone. "What for?"

"Failure in the first degree," replied Cluthon, "I was there when it happened. Sahr was attempting to create a truly powerful Thrull, one even greater then the Champions. But something went wrong. He tried to charge the reanimation matrix with too much power, and some of it began to leak into the creature itself. When the procedure was complete he had created the Derelor. It was an awesome creature, powerful indeed, but it generated an odd sort of magical pull. It was soon discovered that the creature was drawing dark magic into itself from every spell in the stronghold. There was chaos. Every spell in the building was requiring more resources than could be produced. This was something that could not be tolerated, particularly considering the problems that the Order was having with the Demon... So, Endrek Sahr was fed to it..."

Sillik's eyes widened in horror. What an ignoble end to their creator. Cluthon continued, "After Sahr's death, Skaluk defected to the enemy."

This was even more of a shock. "The Champion?" Sillik demanded incredulously. Cluthon nodded once. Kulaks and Skaluk were the remaining two brood-brothers of a brood of three Thrull Champions. They were the idols of every Thrull, and there were few who would not gladly give their life for either of them. However, they had always seemed devoted to the Ebon Hand, and it was hard to imagine even Sahr's death swaying their loyalty.

"Skaluk convinced his brood-brother to join him, and the two of them asked me to help smuggle out other Thrulls. Naturally, I couldn't refuse them. No Thrulls shall have to give up their life for the Ebon Hand again!"

"You don't mean-"

"Yes!" the old Thrull exclaimed, "It's the Thrull rebellion! Care to join?"

Sillik jumped to his hands, and the two of them raced down the corridor.

Amrou Kithkin frowned as she gazed into the pond. She thought about the developments that the past couple days had brought. She had not been part of the Army of Light for very long. In fact, she had only joined two months before, when a recruiting regiment passed through her village. It was every child's dream to serve in the Army of Light, although few were given the chance. The recruiters were always very careful in choosing which people to allow to join. To be a soldier in the Army of Light required courage, fortitude, and moral purity. Every soldier was valued as highly as any officer--the Army of Light had no "disposable" soldiers. From the fifty or so children in the village, only she and two others had been chosen. She did not know them well, only their names. Katrina had chosen to train as a member of Icatia's Phalanx squadron. Derek had decided to be a Medic. She herself had not yet chosen an assignment. Though extremely fast and agile, she was not very stealthy, and saw no future for herself among the Scouts. She lacked the physical strength to join the Infantry, and she had no skill with healing. She sighed, and struck the water lightly with a reed she had plucked from the bank, causing ripples that distorted her reflection in the water.

She turned her thoughts to the events that had transpired over the past couple days. She was very disturbed by the Army's new allies. It had taken her a while to get used to the fact that the Army of Light was supported from the sea, but after she had become accustomed to the bizarre illusory effects of blue magic she found the sea creatures to be quite likeable. She had even befriended an absent-minded young Vodalian mage named Erek who was learning blue magic. Occasionally, she even helped Erek practice his spells. But the Army of Light had been friends with merfolk long before she had joined. She had only really started to get worried when the Army of Light began accepting the Thrulls into their ranks.

It had started with that awful Skaluk fellow. He looked like a gruesome serpent with four arms and several toothy faces. He had come under a white flag of truce, asking to join the Army of Light. Amrou had been certain that he would be refused. He was the product of the magic of death, and he looked it. Besides, Skaluk was known to be faithful to the followers of Tourach. The counsel that had assembled to speak with the Thrull seemed to agree, and were about to dismiss him. But then a River Merfolk approached from the direction of the sea, apparently bearing a message for the counsel. He whispered the message to them, and they whispered among themselves for a while. Then, to Amrou's horror, they accepted the Thrull's offer. That had been nearly a week ago.

Since then, Skaluk had brought several others of his kind over to the Army of Light, including one who looked much like himself, whom he referred to as his "brood-brother". Amrou didn't trust any of them. Why couldn't the others see what was happening? The Thrulls would keep coming, and eventually, there would be too many Thrulls to handle. Then the Thrulls would turn on the Army and wipe them all out. The world would be plunged into an Age of Darkness and Thrull Drool.

"Amrou!" a cheerful voice called. Amrou recognized it as belonging to Ailis Connaut, a newly knighted member of the Order of Leitbur, and Amrou's best friend outside of the sea. "It's mealtime!"

"Coming!" answered Amrou Kithkin. She picked herself up and began heading back to camp.

Sillik was slightly confused. He wasn't very familiar with the layout of the Stronghold, but he knew that the way out was up, and not down. Yet the Thrull Wizard was leading him down a twisted spiral staircase. "Where are we going?" he whispered hesitantly.

Cluthon replied, "We've got to rescue Bruce. He's scheduled for the Demon's next feeding time."

"Who's Bruce?"

"Oh, of course. I didn't tell you." The old Thrull slapped his head. A bit fell off, but neither he nor Sillik paid it any mind. Thrulls were not the most cohesive of creatures. "Bruce is the Derelor. Sahr named him before being arrested."

Sillik scratched his head with a free hand. Bruce the Derelor?

As if answering Sillik's thoughts the Wizard continued, "I think Endrek had an odd sense of humor there toward the end. Anyway, it is the hope of the Order that eliminating the Derelor will solve the power drainage that has been plaguing the citadel since his creation. I believe that it is also their hope that feeding the Derelor to the Demon will weaken it enough to bring it under their control."

That brought up another question that had been bothering the Basal Thrull, "Who exactly is this 'Demon' you refer to?"

The Thrull Wizard shuddered briefly before responding, "They refer to it as the Lord of the Pit. I haven't actually seen it myself, but I do know some about it. It is a creature of terrifying power, but it demands a terrifying price. It demands a constant supply of live sacrifices." He shook his head violently, "They should never have summoned it!"

"What happens if the sacrifice is not made?" asked Sillik.

"The Order tried that once. The foul thing rose up out of its pit and wrought havoc on the castle for days, slaying dozens. Afterward, it settled back into its pit, dormant for a while. But eventually, it became hungry again. The Order was only too happy to feed it."

The two reached the bottom of the stairs. Cluthon opened a door, revealing a long hallway lined with doors. One door stood out, though. It was securely locked and barred, and had arcane symbols of warning burned into it. Greasy black smoke drifted out from under the door. "That is the door leading down to the pit of the Demon," explained Cluthon. "That door wouldn't stop it for a second if it decided that it wanted out. The Derelor is shackled down there." Sillik gasped, and Cluthon quickly added, "The Demon is out at the moment. Probably attacking the Army of Light. But still, we should hurry."

The Wizard quickly wove a spell, and the door became insubstantial. The two nervously walked through it. The smoke was thick inside, but the two Thrulls weren't greatly bothered. Soon, they reached the bottom. It was very hard to see anything with all of the smoke in the room. Cluthon called out, "Bruce! Where are you?"

A muffled grunt came from across the room. "Hang on, Bruce," answered the Thrull Wizard, "We'll get you out of this!" He turned to Sillik, "Stay close to the wall. You don't want to accidently fall into the pit in the center of the room. Believe me, you really don't."

The two circled around and eventually came to a large figure. It was too smokey to make out, but Sillik assumed that it must be Bruce. Cluthon cast a quick spell, and Sillik heard shackles falling to the floor. "Quickly!" exclaimed Cluthon urgently, "We must get out of here." Bruce grunted in response.

The three Thrulls raced up the winding staircase and out the insubstantial door. Cluthon solidified the door behind them. While he did so, Sillik took the opportunity to get a good look at Bruce. The Derelor looked somewhat like a large, green, patchwork centaur. One green arm looked somewhat normal (even if the claws were awfully long) while the other was a purple tentacle. His eyes looked like those of a fish, and he was gagged. Gagged? Quickly, Sillik removed the gag. Bruce opened his mouth and extended several jagged red mouthparts in a bizarre sort of yawn. Then, the creature spoke: "Oh, thank you, my good fellow. That gag was really starting to chafe." It was strange watching Bruce speak. The mouthparts weaved around each other in a bewildering tangle that somehow caused speech. Not only did the speech look odd, it sounded odd as well. "My my my, it has been so long since I have had a good cup of tea. You wouldn't have any, perchance?"

"There's no time for tea now," exclaimed Cluthon, "we've got to get out of here! When the Demon returns and finds that there has been no sacrifice, he's not going to be happy!"

"A good point, my good fellow. Shall we be going?"

Back at the camp of the Army of Light, Amrou was enjoying a meal with Ailis. The menu that night included roast duck, glazed in a white wine sauce, lamb curry garnished with peppers, vegetable quiche, and lime sherbet for dessert. The cooks of the Army of Light loved their work. Between mouthfuls of steaming duck Amrou spoke to her friend. "So what's it like, being a knight of Leitbur?"

"I love it!" exclaimed the former Scout. "It is not much like being a Scout, but I think that it suits me. I've learned so much about Bethan Leitbur. He was truly a great man. There is only one disadvantage. I am now immune to the magic of death, and none of its creatures can get near me."

Amrou was surprised, "Isn't that a good thing?"

Ailis Connaut sighed. "In part. But now I can't get to know the Thrulls."

Amrou's face darkened. "Why would you want to?"

"Amrou, I'm surprised at you! You don't even know them!"

"What's to know? They are evil creatures created by evil men. Some of them were probably even made from soldiers captured from our army. They'll betray us when it suits their purposes."

"If there is one thing that Leitbur taught above all else, it is to judge people by their actions, not by their appearances. Besides, the council that accepted the Thrulls seems to trust them. Why can't you?"

Amrou refused to respond. The two friends spent the rest of the meal eating in stony silence.

As the two of them left the tent, a sinister black shadow passed over the camp. Someone screamed and pointed up. A huge bat-winged creature was hovering over the camp. It roared and dove downward. A trio of beautiful pegasi rose to meet it, and they were brushed out of the sky by a huge taloned hand as if they were gnats. Tim, the camp's resident blue sorcerer cast a small ball of flame at the beast, with little effect.

The Demon growled, "Is this the best your pathetic little army can do? I'll smash you all!" As if for punctuation, it slammed into the ground like a meteor, smashing tents and wagons into kindling. It swung both arms in a wide circle leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. One arm came towards Amrou and Ailis, but Ailis pushed Amrou down and fell on top of her. Her aura flared brightly for a moment, and the arm passed over them harmlessly.

Evidently, the creature had decided that it had done enough damage for one day. As it leaped into the air, it screamed, "I will return! But for now, I hunger!"

Ailis and Amrou stood and stared blankly at the carnage. It had all happened too fast. Wounded and dying were all around. Medics ran from victim to victim, helping all that they could. White sorcerers warded death from the fallen pegasi. "You see?" shouted Amrou through her tears, "Evil only brings more evil! I bet those Thrulls led that thing here!"

"Amrou! No-" started Ailis, but Amrou had already gone.

At the Ebon Stronghold, the trio of Thrull rebels was slowly making it's way out. At the moment, the three were passing through an eldritch laboratory. There was a constant hum all around, and various alchemical flasks bubbled with multicolored liquids. Sillik noticed a row of boxes. "What are these?" he asked.

The Thrull Wizard glanced at them and replied, "Those are experiments that the Ebon Hand has been working on. They're supposed to be spells in a box, spells that don't have to be memorized. All you have to do is open the box, and the spell will cast. Unfortunately, they have not been perfected yet. They tend to backfire and cast their spells on the caster as well as the target."

"Are any of them safe?" asked the Basal Thrull, thinking that a spell in a box could prove very useful.

"Hmmmm," hmmmmed the Wizard, studying the spells, "Drain Life... Paralyze... Ah, here's a pretty safe one! Earthbind." He picked up the box. It had a picture of a Mesa Pegasus in a circle with a slash through it. "This must have been imported from the Mountains to the west. Still, it's probably safe enough, as long as you aren't airborne!"

Sillik took the box and looked at it. "What exactly does it do?"

"When you cast that spell, it will cause a flying creature to crash to the ground. Hard. Hard enough to kill small creatures. For creatures tough enough to survive the fall, it strips them of their ability to fly."

It sounded useful enough to Sillik, so he stashed the box away. (Who knows where. A Thrull probably has lots of places on it to keep a small box.)

"I say, good fellows, but does it really make any sense to leave those other spells here for the Order to perfect? I believe that we should retrieve them and take them away from this dark demesnes."

The two other Thrulls agreed with Bruce, and so they began to pick up the other spells. Disintegrate, Fireball, Sillik shuddered to think of the consequences of opening those. As they were picking up boxes, Cluthon gave a start. "I recognize some of those formulas! They're Sahr's breeding formulas! They must have rebuilt his three Breeding Pits!"

"Is that bad?" asked Sillik. "After all, we can just rescue the Thrulls as they are produced, right?"

"Not necessarily," sweated the Wizard, "With three Pits active, they will be producing immature Thrulls faster than we can retrieve them. I believe that they are going to use them to feed the Demon! Oh, if only we had destroyed the Pits rather than merely disabling them. But we hoped to use them again after the Order had been eliminated. I must tell Skaluk!" Hastily, they picked up the remaining boxed spells and moved on.

As they walked down the empty halls, Sillik wondered why there were so few creatures around. Other than the occasional Drudge Skeleton or Cyclopean Mummy (either of which tended to ignore everything unless specifically ordered to pay attention), there seemed to be no one to stop them. Then the answer came to him. The castle was rapidly being drained of personnel by two sources, the rebellious Thrull Champions and the Demon. Sillik shuddered briefly, and hoped that he would be one of the former.

That brought another thought. He knew that they would not be able to get out the front gate. It was guarded by three Sengir Vampires, and it was unlikely that they had been fed to the Demon (at least, not all of them). "How are we gonna get out of here?"

"When he left, Skaluk crafted a secret exit. It is nearly invisible to the untrained eye, but I know how to find it. Ah, here it is." Cluthon had stopped in front of a gaping hole. Scattered rubble was strewn all about, and the floor had partially collapsed. Sillik had to admit that it didn't stand out much in the decrepit Ebon Stronghold. They walked through, and found themselves in the Ebon Garage. This was where the Order of the Ebon Hand kept all of its powerful Artifacts. At the center of the room was the centerpiece of their collection: Mishra's War Machine.

"Quickly, this way!" exclaimed Cluthon, running toward another hole in the far end of the garage.

"Wait!" said Sillik, indicating the War Machine, "Why don't we just take this?"

The old Thrull shook his head. "We can't. It requires a tremendous amount of magic to power, and its tanks are empty-" Suddenly it dawned on him. Sillik began whistling as he balanced on one hand and juggled spell boxes with the other three. "Of course! We have all the magic we need to power it, at least as far as we're going! And nothing is likely to stop us in a War Machine!"

The three approached the massive machine. It towered several stories above them, and it bristled with cannons and other weapons. There was a narrow staircase leading up to a metal door near the bottom of the impressive Artifact. Sillik was momentarily worried that Bruce wouldn't be able to handle the stairs, but he seemed to have no trouble. Soon, they were all inside. Cluthon turned a crank, and the staircase folded almost seamlessly into the bottom of the Machine. He then closed the door and locked it. For a moment, there was total darkness. Then a great low hum started, and eerie white lights flashed on, illuminating the area.

"Please follow the yellow arrows to the command center," spoke a resonant feminine voice. The Thrulls were startled for a moment, but then began to follow the fluorescent yellow arrows that had lit up in the floor. Soon, they had arrived at a huge room. A gigantic window along one wall allowed them to see the front of the garage. There was a bank of blinking lights and buttons in the center of the room. There were also many chairs to sit in.

"Fuel levels are at 03.2%. More fuel is required for operational status." One particularly large light in the center of the control panel blinked along with the rhythm of the voice as it spoke.

"Where can we add the fuel?" asked Cluthon. Sillik got the impression that the Wizard was finally out of his element.

In answer, a metal box rose swiftly out of the floor next to the control panel, and the top flipped up. Sillik could make out a squarish funnel. Fortunately, it seemed large enough to fit the boxes into. The three Thrulls dumped their cargo of spells into the box, except for the Earthbind spell.

"Fuel levels are at 87.3%. Powering engines. Powering weapons. Powering auto-repair. Powering jukebox. Powering atmospheric controls. All systems at 97.6% efficiency. So, where to?"

"Huh?"

"What's our destination? Where do ya wanna go?" the voice sounded exasperated.

"Oh, yeah." The Thrull fumbled for a moment. "Do you know where the main camp of the Army of Light is?"

"Scanning... Sure, I can see it. What music should I play?"

Bruce was quicker to answer this time. "What can you play?"

"Um, lessee. Ride of the Valkeries... Ride of the Valkeries... Ride of the Valkeries... Looks like all that we've got on the jukebox is Ride of the Valkeries."

Bruce beamed. It was not a pretty sight. "A splendid selection!"

Soon the exciting, yet horribly cliched, sound of Ride of the Valkeries filled the air inside and outside of the War Machine. The huge Artifact crashed through the door of the Ebon Garage leaving a hole even a Thrull Champion would be impressed by. Idly, Sillik wondered when Bruce had had time to develop a taste in music. Perhaps Endrek Sahr had given it to him. Cluthon had mentioned his odd sense of humor.

A few of the Ebon Hand's troops followed Mishra's War Machine for a while, but soon gave up. None could keep up with the awesome speed with which the huge wheels crashed through the swamps around the Ebon Stronghold. It seemed like no time at all before dank swamps gave way to grassy plains, and they arrived at the camp of the Army of Light.

Amrou, who had returned to her pond, was the first to notice the massive vehicle. She ran back to camp as fast as she could, and sounded the alert. Soon a number of soldiers, including Ailis, had gathered to repel the invader if it meant ill. They all seemed pitifully small against the Artifact, and it occurred to Amrou that Ailis's protective aura wasn't going to do her a great deal of good. She steeled herself to join the defence, but at that moment, the machine ground to a halt a few yards in front of the assembled soldiers. The exciting, yet horribly cliched, sound of Ride of the Valkeries was deafening. Suddenly, it stopped. A few moments later, a staircase appeared in the side of the Machine and lowered to the ground. A door opened at the top of the staircase to reveal... Thrulls! Amrou stifled a scream. So the Thrulls were finally going to destroy them. But the Thrulls weren't attacking, they were leaving the machine. The first she vaguely recognized. She seemed to remember having seen it in the camp; some sort of Wizard, she remembered. The next she didn't recognize. It looked like a twisted sort of four-armed human spider. The last really alarmed her. It was some sort of grotesque Thrull centaur, and it looked strong enough to pulp almost anyone in the camp.

To Amrou's disgust, the elders of the camp once again welcomed this new menace into the camp. She returned to her pond again.

Amrou's behavior did not go unnoticed. Ailis watched with concern. But what could she do about her? Amrou was essentially a good person, Ailis knew that. But her refusal to accept their new allies really disturbed the young knight. For the moment, though, she turned her attentions back to the assemblage. She and the other knights were keeping a good distance away, as they did not want to discomfort their Thrull friends. But she could still hear the conversation.

"These are the last of the sacrificial Thrulls," Cluthon was saying.

"An excellent job!" beamed Roderick, the leader of the assembled elders. "And what a magnificent gift as well! Is this truly Mishra's fabled War Machine?"

Cluthon nodded, "Unfortunately, I have some bad news. We must speak with Skaluk at once."

The elder nodded, and he and the Thrull Wizard headed away. Curious, Ailis followed. Sillik and Bruce were led to join the rest of the Thrulls.

The three of them followed the river to its mouth, where it met the sea. Here, as always, Skaluk was spending time with his friend Criss. Criss was a Seasinger, a Merfolk with the ability to control other creatures. He looked up as Cluthon and Roderick approached. Ailis, naturally, stayed a respectful distance away, but well within range of their voices. Cluthon told the Champion of the three new Breeding Pits.

"This is not good," croaked the Champion majestically. "Much as I hate the thought, we must shut those pits down permanently. Such a waste." The Thrull shook his head sadly. "Still, it is better than letting them use the Pits to feed infant Thrulls to that horrible Demon of theirs."

"So should we do about them?" asked Cluthon.

"We'll need to send in a small team. No, we need to make it even smaller. Speed is of the essence. We need to get them in there and out before the Order knows what happened. A team of two should suffice. We'll need a guide, someone that is familiar with the layout of the castle. We'll also need someone from the Army of Light to Disenchant the pits, someone fast and at least vaguely familiar with magic."

"I could be the guide," suggested Cluthon, "After all my rescue attempts, I have become extremely familiar with the castle. Of course, I wouldn't be able to cast the spells, as I am too much attuned to the magic of death."

"No good, my friend. We have too great a need for you here. The council of elders has finally agreed to allow some of our magic to be used on their behalf--as long as the the spells pass a rigorous examination by their members to make sure that the spells are not too harmful in execution or effect. I have high hopes that spells like Paralyze will meet with their approval. At any rate, we need you here to help explain the spells. Can you think of any others who may be familiar with the castle?"

Cluthon thought for a moment, "You or your brother?"

Skaluk gargled a charismatic laugh, "An excellent thought! Unfortunately, we are both too slow and bulky for such a mission, powerful as we are. Is there no one else?"

"Well, not really. Wait, perhaps there is one more. The Pits are located near the Pit of the Demon. Both the Derelor and the young Basal Thrull that I rescued on my last mission should be able to find them, given a few directions. Bruce is far bulkier even than you, so I suppose the task must fall on Sillik's four shoulders. He seemed fairly bright for a Basal Thrull, and he should be able to get the job done. Yes, we should send him."

Skaluk glanced sharply at the Wizard, "Now, now. You know that we can't just send him. It is a voluntary, if somewhat vital, mission."

"Of course," Cluthon amended hastily.

"Now, who should we ask to cast the spells. Roderick?"

The elder mentally ran through a list of all the white Wizards, Enchanters, and mystical Healers in the camp. None of them seemed to fit the bill. They were mostly too old or slow for a mission like this. "None of the mages of our camp seem appropriate for this mission," he admitted with a shrug.

Cluthon spoke up, "From what I've seen of the Disenchant spell it doesn't seem very complex. Are there any apprentice mages that could get the job done?"

Ailis suddenly thought of Amrou. She spoke to the assemblage. "I know someone perfect for the job. Her name is Amrou Kithkin. She's very fast and agile, and she's had a little experience with magic."

Cluthon was interested. "Really? What sort of experience?"

"She's been helping an apprentice Vodalian mage with his spells."

Criss suddenly spoke up, "A Vodalian? Who?"

Ailis answered her, "His name's Erek. Do you know him?"

"Sure do!" she said, "Erek's my brother. Wonder why he hasn't mentioned her..."

Cluthon was thinking aloud, "Hmm, well, Vodalian magic is blue magic, but it is likely that Amrou has not become attuned to the color blue as yet." he addressed the group, "She should be able to learn the spell."

"Excellent!" Skaluk rasped boldly. "We have our team, if they are willing. See if they wish to volunteer."

Ailis colored slightly, "I'm afraid that I have an admission. I haven't been completely honest with you. Amrou would be perfect, except for one thing. She has an irrational distrust and dislike of Thrulls."

Skaluk seemed amused. "I wouldn't necessarily call it irrational. We Thrulls are hardly the most cuddly of allies..."

"And that would explain why my brother was too embarrassed to mention her," Criss added thoughtfully.

Roderick seemed to take Ailis more seriously however. "I believe that I see the problem. You suggested her for this mission because you wanted her to get over her problem, correct?"

Ailis nodded, a bit embarrassed.

"Well, I think that it is a splendid idea! You have learned Leitbur's lessons well, young lady (although you really should be a bit more open with your plans before initiating them). Besides, the Thrulls are our allies now, and we cannot long tolerate such xenophobia. If you bring her here, I think that we will be able to convince her to go. Bring her." He turned to Cluthon, "And you, bring Sillik here as well." The two headed off.

As expected, Ailis found Amrou sitting by her pond. It was where she always went when she was troubled. And Amrou was troubled. How could they? she wondered. Right after that horrible thing decimated the camp, they go and welcome a few more black creatures into our midst. "Amrou!" Amrou looked up. Ailis. What did she want? "Amrou, Elder Roderick wishes to speak with you. He has an important mission for you."

Amrou was skeptical. Why would he want her for a mission, when there were so many other, better choices in the camp? Still, a call from an elder was not to be ignored. "I'm coming!" she called. She ran up the small hill to where Ailis was standing, and the two of them began to walk.

It didn't take Amrou long to realize where they were going. "Isn't this the path that leads to where that big Thrull stays? I don't want to get near him!"

"Don't be silly, Amrou! Do you really think that Skaluk is going to attack you with Roderick and I watching?"

That was what Amrou had been thinking, but she realized that that was silly. Why would Skaluk attack someone as insignificant as her?

Soon, they neared the shore. Amrou suppressed a shudder as the serpentine Thrull leader came into view. Roderick was standing next to it, and didn't seem at all worried by the fact. Then, Ailis stopped. "This is as close as I'm going to come, for now," she said. "Don't worry, I'm close enough to intervene if he attacks you," she added with a wry grin.

Hesitantly, Amrou approached the two keeping a wary eye on the muscular Thrull. "Come! Come!" urged the elder with a smile, "We have much to discuss!" As she came closer, Amrou noticed that there was a third person present, a Merfolk woman in the water. Was she part of the mission as well?

She reached the group, and the Thrull grinned at her with a few of its faces. This did nothing to relieve Amrou's anxiety. Roderick spoke first. "Ah, Amrou! How nice to see you. Ailis has told us much about you. Please, allow me to introduce Skaluk. I don't believe that you've met."

"Pleased to meet you," boomed the Thrull in a scratchy voice. It extended an arm to her. She mumbled a reply, and hesitantly shook the Thrull's hand, half afraid that it would rip her arm off. She shuddered at the cold, dry feel of the Thrull's grip.

"Now, you are probably wondering why we called you here." Amrou nodded, and Roderick explained the situation to her.

"So you want me to go into the Stronghold, and destroy these...Breeding Pits so that they don't make any more Thrulls? Fine by me. But who is this guide? Is it one of the Scouts?"

"No, no member of the Army of Light has successfully infiltrated the Ebon Stronghold as yet. Your guide is--wait, here he comes now!"

Amrou turned to look, and her heart sank. There were two Thrulls approaching, that Thrull Wizard, and the spidery Thrull she had seen get out of that big Artifact earlier. One of them had to be her guide. She began to have second thoughts about this mission.

Skaluk slithered forward. "Greetings, Sillik!" the creature said. The spidery Thrull seemed to swell with pride.

Skaluk ushered Sillik toward Amrou. "Sillik, this is Amrou. Amrou, Sillik."

"Hello," said the Thrull, and Amrou was again forced to endure a cold, dry handshake.

"Sillik," began Skaluk, "you were with Cluthon when he discovered that the Breeding Pits were again operational, correct?" Sillik nodded. "Then he must also have told you why they must be destroyed. Well, we have a plan to do just that, and you are a key part of it."

"Me?" asked the small Thrull incredulously, "What can I do?"

"We need you to lead someone to the Breeding Pits, so that they can destroy them."

"But I don't know where they are!" Sillik protested.

"Actually, you do," interjected Cluthon. "You remember the door leading down to the Demon? Well, the disabled Pits were located behind the doors nearest to it. It is unlikely that they have been moved."

"Will you go?" asked Skaluk.

Sillik nodded. "I'll do it. Who am I to lead?"

Heads turned to face Amrou (well, not Skaluk, as he already had a face facing Amrou). Amrou felt trapped, though she knew she was free to refuse if she wanted to. But first, she had to know one thing. She turned to Skaluk. "I want to know something, before I agree to go. Why did you leave the Ebon Hand?"

Skaluk was momentarily taken off guard by the question, but recovered quickly. "Well, let me tell you a story. A while back, while I was still with the Ebon Hand, I heard a strange, compelling voice summoning me, I followed the voice, and found Criss." He indicated the Merfolk, who waved. "Her voice was truly lovely, lovelier than anything I had ever heard back at the Stronghold, and I told her so."

Criss spoke, "I was surprised by his praise. My song is compelling, but most people that I sing to find it to be irritating."

"Anyway, Criss stopped singing, and asked me if I really thought so. When she stopped, I no longer felt compelled to be there, but I didn't really want to leave either. Ebon training told me that I should probably kill her while I had the chance, but I didn't want to ruin her lovely voice. Instead, I stayed and talked to her for a while. Eventually, I heard my brother calling, and I had to leave. But every now and then, I returned to see Criss again. I began to doubt my Ebon masters, whom I know would kill people like Criss without a backwards thought. I began to feel contempt for them, and after talking to my brother about it, he came to feel the same way. Still, we both felt a certain loyalty to the Ebon Hand, as one of its members was our creator. Then, they executed Endrek Sahr."

Criss spoke again, "Skaluk returned to me after it happened, and told me all about it. He asked me to sing for him again, to comfort him. I think that it was then that I realized that I loved him." Amrou was startled by this admission. Who could love a thing like that?

"I felt the same way about Criss, although love was not something that I was very familiar with. I think that I read something about it in Tourach's Big Book of Weaknesses to Exploit. Part of me was ashamed for being weak, but mostly I was happy. I wondered what I should do next, as the Ebon Hand no longer held any bind on me. It was Criss that suggested that I ask to join the Army of Light."

"On the day that Skaluk was going to ask, I sent one of my river-dwelling cousins up the river with a message that I knew would convince the elders to let him join."

"What message was that?" Amrou asked, curious to finally know what the River Merfolk had whispered.

"Why, that we loved each other, of course!" Criss answered.

"That's it?!?" exclaimed Amrou. "And that was enough to convince the elders?"

Roderick broke in sharply, "Don't underestimate the power of love. It is in the very nature of the Forces of Light to give love a chance, wherever it may blossom. The power of hate is nothing next to the power of love. It is our one great advantage over our enemies."

Amrou looked unconvinced. "Well," said Skaluk, "I've answered your question. Will you help us?"

Amrou hesitated. "Please," pleaded Roderick, "you may be our best chance."

She gave in. "All right, I'll go."

The elder beamed, "Excellent!" In her mind, Ailis silently congratulated her friend.

"When do we go?" asked Amrou.

"You will leave tomorrow morning," Cluthon answered. "But first, we have a few gifts for the both of you that will help you on your journey. Follow me."

Amrou and Sillik followed the Thrull Wizard. He led them to one of the camp's more experienced enchanters. "Hello," he greeted them, "my name is Zachariah. I have been told of your mission and your respective abilities, and I have selected a few spells that should complement them."

He addressed Sillik first, "You do not have the agility of Amrou, so you are most at risk of capture should something go wrong. To prevent this, I will bestow upon you the same magical aura that protects our knights from the dark forces of the Ebon Hand."

Sillik cringed, "Won't that hurt?"

"Don't worry, you, as the recipient of the spell, will be immune to its effects. If you like, when you return we can have the spell removed, so that you may once again associate with others of your kind."

The enchanter drew some lines in the air, and mumbled a few inaudible words. Sillik sparkled for a moment, and then looked normal. Cluthon, who had been standing nearby, backed off with a queasy look on his face (as much as a Thrull can look queasy).

"Also, take this." The enchanter handed the enchanted Thrull a bottle. "This is Healing Salve. It's a more potent version of the stuff that our Combat Medics use. If either one of you is critically injured, this just might save your life." The Thrull accepted the Salve, and put it away somewhere. Amrou couldn't quite see where.

Zachariah turned to Amrou, "If I had the resources, I would grant you the same protection that I bestowed upon your guide. But from what I am told of you, such a spell would be a waste anyway. You are quick, and can outrun most large opponents. Your main disadvantage is that you are not strong enough to protect yourself from the few opponents that can catch you. So, I will cast a spell on you to improve your strength." He made a few passes in the air, and mumbled some different words. Amrou felt strange. Looking down at her hands, she saw that they were glowing white. Then, they returned to normal. But she felt different... strong, and confident. None of the others around her looked as powerful as they had before. Now she felt confident that she could handle the Thrull, if it betrayed her on their journey.

"Now I will teach you the spell of Disenchanting that you will need to know. Listen carefully." The Enchanter whispered into Amrou's ear. She nodded with understanding. Zachariah handed her three clay medallions. "After you speak the spell, you must break one of these in two. You must be sure to destroy all three Pits. The Ebon Hand must not be allowed to copy them and make more."

"These are all that I have to give you. Good luck on your journey!"

As the two turned to go, they heard a voice call, "Wait!"

They turned to see a blond woman in a white robe covered with flowers. Amrou recognized her as Llalana, an enchantress from the Verduran woods. She was visiting the camp on a diplomatic mission. "I heard about your mission, and I wish to help as well!"

"Llalana, must you spoil their journey with your weedy green magic?" asked Zachariah petulently.

"Oh, shut up you old fuddy-duddy," she answered with a half- scowl, half-grin. "Better that then they go off to the Ebon Stonghold armed with nothing but your paltry defensive spells!" Evidently these two were somewhat competitive.

Llalana waved a twisted wooden wand at Sillik, and threw a handful of purple flower petals into the air. "I have Instilled you with the energy of the forest. You will now be able to fight tirelessly, and go for days without sleep if necessary." The Thrull did appear more vibrant, if no stronger than before. Its four arms fairly quivered with energy.

"And for you, dear girl, a mushroom." Llalana produced a squat grey mushroom from somewhere on her robe. She sprinkled it with some dust, and whispered a few words to it. "When you feel that you are in dire danger, and you feel that all is lost, eat this and you may yet emerge victorious!" Amrou accepted the mushroom awkwardly, and thanked the enchantress.

Cluthon spoke, "Now, you two should get to sleep. You will be leaving early tomorrow."

Amrou nodded. She was amused when her Thrull partner protested that he wasn't tired. Later, in bed, she thought about the things that she had learned that day. It hadn't occurred to her that any creature of darkness could fall in love (not that she had had much experience with love herself). To tell the truth, she was still a bit skeptical of the Thrull Champion's claim. Still, the walls of her distrust for Thrulls had taken a blow today, and she had a lot of thinking to do. She looked forward to talking to her guide tomorrow. What else would she learn? Perhaps this journey wasn't going to be so bad, after all. On that note, Amrou Kithkin fell asleep.

Though he wasn't tired, Sillik found it surprisingly easy to fall asleep. The next day, he awoke at dawn. He sat up in his bed and yawned, stretching his arms. He had found his new bed to be much nicer than the cold stone floor of his former cell. Well, he'd best not keep his new partner waiting. He jumped out of bed and scrabbled nimbly out the door.

To his dismay, he found that he was one of the first ones up. So, he decided to make himself useful until it was time for him to go. He fetched thirty-two pails of water, weeded the Army's cropland, harvested the ripe apples from their apple orchard, raked the Merfolk's beach to pick up stray rocks and branches, helped the cooks prepare that morning's breakfast, and then, with nothing else to do, taught himself to read. By then, the others were up, and he decided to join them for breakfast.

Breakfast that morning included apple danish, apple strudel, apple-cinnamon muffins, apple curry, apple turnovers, sliced apples, and apple juice. It only then occurred to Sillik that he may have done too thorough a job harvesting apples that morning.

"Apple curry?" asked Roderick with a somewhat distasteful look on his face.

The cooks shrugged. Sillik tried some of the curry, and found it to be actually quite nourishing.

Sillik thought of something, "Say, are we going to get to ride the War Machine there?"

Roderick shook his head, "No, I'm afraid not. This needs to be a secret mission, and I'm afraid that the War Machine is just too obvious. No, you're going to have to walk."

Sillik wasn't bothered by the idea. He felt like he could walk there and back a dozen times. That was an impressive spell Llalana had cast.

"So how are we going to get across the swamp?" asked Amrou. "It's a dangerous stretch of land, and all of the good roads through it are likely to be guarded."

"Some of our friends among the Merfolk wizards are going to alter the swamp so that it will be easier for you to cross. They will change a section of the swamp into a forest when you approach."

"Won't the Ebon Hand notice?"

"Yes, but they will be as unfamiliar with the new terrain as you. With your speed and Sillik's protection, you should be able to avoid almost anything that the Ebon Hand sends into the woods. Hopefully, they'll assume that it is just another standard attack on their land."

Soon, breakfast was over. The group headed outside, where they found most of the camp waiting to wish them luck. Ailis stepped forward carrying two backpacks that had been filled with rations and camping materials. The two of them thanked her, and took the backpacks. Amrou added her three medallions, being careful to wrap them up in cloth to keep them from breaking. Sillik placed his Healing Salve in his.

Roderick gave some final instructions, "Walk until you reach the edge of the swamp, and then camp there. During the night, the blue wizards will work their magic and you will be able to cross. Again, good luck!"

Amrou and Sillik waved a last goodbye, and began walking. Soon they had left the cheers and well-wishing words behind. They were on their own.

They walked a distance in silence. Then, Amrou decided to ask some of the questions that she had been planning for that day, to begin with, "Sillik? Why don't you tell me a little about yourself. We're going to be travelling together for a couple of days, and it would be nice if we got to know each other."

The Thrull thought for a few moments, "Well, there isn't that much to tell. I was only spawned a few months ago, and I've spent most of my time since then in a cell with my brood-brothers."

"Only a few months?" Amrou asked, astonished.

Sillik nodded. "Thrulls were created to mature quickly, although the rate is slower for some types of Thrulls than for others. Basal Thrulls, like myself, tend to mature very rapidly. But even the slowest maturers, like the Thrull Wizards are not very old. Cluthon is only ten years of age."

"Really? How long do Thrulls live?" Amrou asked, curious.

"I don't really know," admitted Sillik. "I don't think any Thrull has ever died of old age. All the Thrulls that I know of that have died either died in combat or sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?" Amrou felt a cold feeling of dread.

"Most types of Thrulls are bred for sacrifice. Armor Thrulls, you know, those Thrulls with the hard plates for skin, are skinned for their Armor when it is needed. Necrites, the Thrulls with all the fangs and claws and muscles, are designed to infiltrate an enemy's camp, slaughter a chosen enemy, and then kill themselves to avoid interrogation. Mindstab Thrulls are similar (if less lethal-looking), except that they sabotage magical equipment rather than killing people. Basal Thrulls are general purpose sacrificial victims. We were used in a wide variety of spells and experiments that call for a sacrifice to be made."

"That's horrible!" exclaimed Amrou in disgust. How could anyone be so cruel?

"We were taught to think of it as an honor. Of course, now we want all such sacrifices stopped for all Thrulls. That's why we're on this mission."

Amrou changed the subject. "Just how many different kinds of Thrulls are there?"

"Well, we've already covered most of the types. But there's also the Thrull Retainers. Retainers are bred for their loyalty. They are attached to a master at birth, and when they mature they become a loyal guardian to that master. Not even a Champion can sway their loyalty, and we weren't able to rescue any of them. Of course, they don't make very good sacrifices, as they will fight to the death rather than be separated from their master. A Thrull Retainer will gladly sacrifice itself for the good of his master. There's only one other type of Thrull, and that's the Derelor, that big Thrull that I came to the camp with. The Derelor sucks up black magic like a sponge, so he wasn't appreciated by the Order of the Ebon Hand. Bruce was the last Thrull that Endrek Sahr ever bred."

"Who's Endrek Sahr?" Amrou vaguely remembered Skaluk mentioning that name.

"Endrek Sahr was the man who came up with the formulas for breeding Thrulls. He created and named all of the Thrulls that are alive today."

"So he's sort of a father to you."

"In a way, though I don't think that he cared for us much more than as his experiments. The Derelor was his last experiment, and it was a failure. The Order of the Ebon Hand doesn't tolerate failure."

Amrou's eyes widened, "They executed him?"

Sillik nodded. "They fed him to the Demon, that huge creature that attacked your camp before we arrived."

"My father was killed by the Ebon Hand, too." She bit her lip after saying it. Her life had been easy compared to that of the Thrull's! What right did she have to draw comparisons?

"Really?" asked the Thrull, prompting her to continue.

Amrou sighed and nodded, "Our village was built fairly close to the swamp. My father was out gathering firewood from the edges of the swamp when a Nightmare rose from it and struck him down. I was only a little girl then, but I've hated the creatures of the swamp ever since."

"You did say that we should get to know each other," Sillik said. "Tell me what it was like growing up in a village. I've never even seen a village."

"Well," Amrou fumbled, "There's not much to tell really. A village is just a small gathering of people who live together, a little like the camp of the Army of Light, but smaller and more permanent. I had always been faster than others my age, but I practiced and became faster still. I worked for a while as a messenger for our village, carrying messages to nearby towns and back. But when the recruiters for the Army of Light came to our town, I remembered what had happened to Father, and I asked to join. I was happy in the Army of Light, at least until the Thrulls came-" Oops, she thought. She had forgotten who she was talking to. "I'm sorry. I guess it's no secret that I'm having trouble accepting Thrulls."

Awkwardly, Sillik responded, "Well, er, I hope you change your mind."

The two walked onwards in silence for a while. Eventually, when the sun was high in the sky, the two of them stopped for lunch.

"What exactly do you normally eat?" Amrou asked, as the two of them pulled dried apple rations out of their backpacks.

"Oh, pretty much anything," the Basal Thrull replied. "We were bred to be able to get nourishment from whatever our masters threw to us. Usually Basal Thrulls ate garbage."

Amrou's respect for the Ebon Hand dropped another notch, and her pity for the Thrulls rose. "Wasn't it too disgusting?"

"Not really. Thrulls don't have a sense of taste. Endrek Sahr saw no real need for it. We do have a keen sense of smell, but nothing smells good or bad to us. Things just smell the way that they are. This apple smells like nourishment, and so smells just like garbage."

Amrou Kithkin was finding it harder and harder to maintain her dislike of Thrulls. If things were really as bad as the Thrull nonchalantly claimed, then it was no wonder that they were looking for a change in their lifestyle. Still, the Thrull could be exaggerating in order to deceive her, part of her mind insisted. Amrou recalled the words of her friend Ailis, "If there is one thing that Leitbur taught above all else, it is to judge people by their actions, not by their appearances." Amrou decided to reserve judgement for the time being. Soon the two finished eating, and moved on.

As they walked, the two began chatting. Amrou posed questions asking what it was like inside the Ebon Stronghold, what Mishra's War Machine was like, and what it was like to have no feet. She answered the questions Sillik asked her, though they seemed pretty mundane to her, questions asking what it was like to live on a farm, to have friends like Ailis and Erek, and what it was like to have feet. It seemed like no time at all before the two of them came within sight of the swamp.

"Look, Sillik, there's the swamp," said Amrou excitedly. Then she remembered her father. "Let's not get any closer to it until the wizards set up their transformation. We'll camp here."

The Thrull nodded, and the two of them got to work setting up tents and a small campfire. Amrou was amazed at how quickly Sillik was able to put his tent together. Four arms, coupled with Llalana's spell gave him an edge that Amrou couldn't hope to match. By the time Amrou had her tent up, the Thrull was roasting marshmallows.

Amrou froze and backed up her train of thought. She had started thinking of the Thrull as a 'him', rather than an 'it'. She wondered when exactly she had come to see him in this new light. Perhaps it was one more step towards acceptance of Thrulls. Ailis would be proud.

But that did bring up another question. Did Thrulls even have gender? She asked the Thrull, hoping that it was not too personal a question.

Apparently it wasn't. "I'm not entirely sure," admitted the Thrull. "Perhaps some of us do. Skaluk certainly seems to act in a 'male' manner. I'm used to being referred to as 'him', at least when I'm not being referred to as 'it'." Amrou colored slightly. "I know that there are a very few Thrulls that appear somewhat feminine. But I know for a fact that no Thrull can reproduce. All new Thrulls are created in Breeding Pits."

Suddenly, Amrou was disturbed by a thought, "But we're going to destroy the last of the Breeding Pits, right? What will happen to the Thrulls after we win the war?"

"Well, with luck, we will be allowed to create new Breeding Pits after the war is over, but we have little hope of that. The process by which Breeding Pits are crafted and maintained are not what you would call the most pure of magicks. If we cannot build them, then we will be the last of our kind. But that may not be so bad. At least we will be able to test our longevity in comfort as the allies of the Army of Light. Many of us want to try out more constructive pastimes, like farming. I personally would like to start a village like yours, except made for Thrulls."

"You mean the mission we're on is the genocide of the Thrull race?" Amrou asked incredulously.

"Now, don't be upset. All of the Thrulls have agreed that with or without a new Breeding Pit we are still better off than we were with the Order."

The sky had begun to darken. "You'd best get some sleep, Amrou. I'm not a bit tired, so I'll take the first watch. Good night!"

Dazed, Amrou crawled into her tent. "Don't be upset," the Thrull had said. How could she not be upset? She didn't want to doom a race to extinction, even if it was the Thrulls. She laid down and stared up at the top of her tent. It just wasn't fair.

She wasn't sure if she had fallen asleep or not, but she suddenly heard Sillik's voice. "Um, Amrou, there are some people here who want to talk to you."

Quickly, she scrambled out of her tent. The first thing that she saw was a tall, bald man wearing a heavy robe, like a monk's. Looking around, she saw that there were many more such men standing around the camp. She didn't recognize any of them, but one of them crooked a finger at her, beckoning her. Hesitantly, she followed. Sillik began to follow her, but two of the men quickly stepped in the way. Amrou balked, but the man she was following shook his head slowly. Evidently, the man wanted her and her only.

Amrou was frightened now, but could see no alternatives. She could run, but then they might hurt Sillik. Certainly there were too many of them to fight. She took some comfort in the fact that these men didn't resemble followers of Tourach in any way.

Soon Amrou arrived at another circle of bald men. Her guide indicated that she was to enter the circle. She did so. In the center of the circle stood a tall raven-haired man with bold blue eyes. He looked handsome and charismatic in his blue cloak, and vaguely familiar.

Spying Amrou, he smiled broadly and greeted her, "Welcome Amrou Kithkin! We have been expecting you! You may be wondering who exactly I am, since I seem to know you. My name is Farrel, Oliver Farrel."

Amrou's heart froze. Everyone in the Army of Light knew Farrel and his Zealots. He had broken with the Army because he found their methods of dealing with the Order of the Ebon Hand too merciful. Now he and his followers fought the Ebon Hand on their own, striking viciously and without mercy. Occasionally, they even attacked the allies of the Army of Light, if they suspected that those allies were secretly in league with the Ebon Hand. These strikes, too, were vicious and without mercy, and were more often wrong than right.

Noting Amrou's discomfort, Farrel laughed heartily. "So, you've heard of me, eh? That's hardly a surprise. Therefore, it should also not surprise you to know that I know all about your mission. Rest easy, I am in full support of your effort!"

"So why have you kidnapped me?" Amrou asked weakly.

"Kidnapped? Don't be absurd! I merely wanted to talk to you, that's all. You know, you are doing a threefold service to the forces of goodness and purity! First, you are destroying the Breeding Pits. With them gone, the Thrulls will soon become extinct. One less evil race to worry about, eh?" Farrel chuckled. "Secondly, you are depriving that Demon of theirs of its food supply. Without food, it will decimate the Ebon Hand out of anger. We have seen it happen before. Their only alternative will be to feed the thing from their own ranks, and those ranks will shrink quickly. Thirdly, after that Demon has picked its teeth with the bones of the last of the Ebon Hand, It will slowly begin to starve. When it dies, then all black magic will have been swept from this land!" Farrel laughed again. "For many years, I have foretold that the Hand of Justice would cleanse the earth of impurity! Little did I suspect that you would be the tool of that cleansing."

At that moment, the clouds in the sky parted slightly, revealing the moon, full and bright. It looked vaguely like a huge bright skull. Farrel glanced upwards at it. "Hmm, Bad Moon out tonight. Evil will be especially strong for a few days." Then he smiled grimly, "No matter, soon there will be no evil at all, strong or otherwise!" He began laughing again. He was making Amrou even more nervous.

Farrel stopped laughing and stared directly at Amrou. "It does mean that your mission will be all the more dangerous. You must not fail," he said softly. "To help ensure its success I would like to give you a gift." With a flourish, Farrel swept off his cloak. "I would like you to wear this Mantle. It gives the wearer power against the forces of evil."

Amrou tried to protest, but Farrel had already thrown it around her and buckled the clasp. Amrou tugged at the clasp, but it would not come undone. "When you return in victory, I will reclaim my Mantle. Until then, wear it, and may it give you strength."

Gathering her scattered wits, Amrou took a deep breath, and threw back her shoulders, repositioning the Mantle like a cape behind her. Running was what she did best, and if she had to wear Farrel's Mantle, at least she wouldn't let it get in her way.

She looked up directly into Farrel's eyes and demanded, "What have you done with Sillik?"

Farrel snorted disdainfully. "The Thrull? It is unharmed. I know that you need the creature to lead you to your destination. Sometimes, one must use evil means to achieve a worthy end, as long as one doesn't lose sight of the evil." He glared at her. "Remember that. Never forget that Thrulls, like their former masters, are creatures of evil. All evil must be cleansed, at any price."

"May I go now?" Amrou asked boldly.

"One last thing before I allow you to leave. I have a message for you to deliver to the Army of Light should you succeed. Tell them that I will tolerate their Thrulls only until the Ebon Hand is destroyed. After that, every Thrull must be exiled to the Western Mountains and never again allowed to soil our plains with their presence. Every Thrull, that is, except for the Wizards. They have the knowledge of how to build more Breeding Pits, and that is knowledge that no Thrull can be trusted with. The Thrull Wizards shall be sent to me. Remember that, girl, and tell the elders that failure to follow my instructions will result in war, pure and simple."

War, as Amrou well knew, was rarely simple and never pure. However, she was too shaken to tell Farrel that, so she just nodded dumbly. The circle opened, and a Zealot stood ready to guide Amrou back to her camp. Amrou looked at Farrel again, but he was deep in prayer, as if she had never been there. Glumly, she followed the Zealot back to her camp.

While walking, it occurred to her that Farrel's words, harsh as they were, had reflected her own views, at least her former views. What a chilling mirror to her soul!

It had been a long time since the bald man had led Amrou away, and Sillik was beginning to worry. The remaining men would not communicate with him in any way, except by blocking him whenever he tried to leave. Earlier he had realized that he was feeling especially strong and powerful. It hadn't taken him long to figure out that there was a Bad Moon rising. A Bad Moon was a rare natural occurrence that was especially beneficial to creatures of death. Although it was not always natural. Methods had been found for triggering the phenomenon. Sillik wondered if the present case was natural, or if his former masters had caused it. At any rate, despite his own enhanced capabilities, he knew that he was too outnumbered to have a hope of fighting his way out, and anyway, they might hurt Amrou if he tried anything.

"Sillik!" he heard Amrou call.

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Amrou! Are you all right?"

The men parted, and Amrou ran into the camp. She was wearing some sort of cape. "I'm fine, Sillik. It was you that I was worried about. I'm glad that they kept their word."

Sillik turned to look at the men, but they had disappeared without a trace, just as silently as they had come. "They're gone."

Amrou looked around, startled. Then she shrugged.

"What happened?" Sillik asked. Amrou told him the whole story, including Farrel's ultimatum. Sillik thought about it. "Well, I suppose that we could learn to live in the mountains, but it seemed very important to Skaluk that he be able to remain with Criss. Do the oceans reach all the way to the mountains?"

Amrou shook her head. "The only Merfolk that can make it are the River Merfolk."

"What's more important is the second part, turning the Thrull Wizards over to Farrel. Cluthon and the other Wizards have done so much for us. I don't suppose Farrel would accept a promise not to create another Breeding Pit?"

"Oliver Farrel did not strike me as a man who would trust the word of a Thrull." Sillik noticed that Amrou looked uncomfortable as she said that.

"I suppose not. Do you think that he intends to execute the Thrull Wizards?"

Amrou sighed, "It does seem likely."

"This is definitely a problem. I know Cluthon well enough to know that he doesn't want to die any more than I do. I hope that the elders will come up with a solution to this problem."

With a little urging, Sillik convinced Amrou to go back to sleep while he finished his watch. This Farrel presented a most unwelcome problem. Sillik thought about Amrou's earlier admission that she did not trust Thrulls. Perhaps she did not, but he much preferred her version of distrust to Farrel's.

Sillik kept watch for several more hours. He would have kept watch all night, but Amrou awoke while a few hours remained until dawn. While he wasn't tired, Amrou convinced him to get some sleep anyway.

When he awoke, Amrou had finished making breakfast. The two of them sat and ate in silence. Each had a lot weighing on their minds, and much of that weight was shared. They packed up their tents and smothered their campfire. They turned to face their destination, and gasped. It was just as Roderick had promised. Where there had previously been a dark, greasy swamp, there now stood a lush forest, vibrant with life. The Phantasmal Terrain seemed almost too real to be real. The two travellers marched boldly into the woods.

They walked through the massive trees for several hours, climbing over large roots and small bushes whenever necessary. The foliage screened out much of the sun's light, and the forest was dark. Suddenly Sillik noticed that something had changed. He could no longer hear any birds. Amrou must have noticed it, too, as she stopped in her tracks. Soon, the two of them became aware of a red glow approaching from all around them. The glow soon resolved itself into six sources. Three men and three women were approaching, each bearing a single lit candle. The three women were dressed in robes the color of coal, and the men were dressed in thick leather clothes the color of embers. The men also each carried a large bellows on their back. The candles' flickering light gave the faces of the men and women a frightening, shadowy look. The six of them stopped a few yards away; a circle of fire surrounding Sillik and Amrou.

"What do you want?" Sillik heard Amrou say.

"We are the Brothers of Fire," intoned the men.

"We are the Sisters of the Flame," continued the women.

"It is a betrayer," said the Brothers to the Sisters.

"It must be cleansed," answered the Sisters.

"It must be destroyed," agreed the Brothers.

"By the purity of the Flame," said all six.

They must mean me, thought Sillik with a shiver. Amrou must have come to the same conclusion, as she said, "No, don't touch him!"

"It is an obstacle," noted the Sisters.

"It, too, must be cleansed," decided the Brothers.

"Let the obstacle be cleansed first," the Sisters responded. The Sisters of the Flame simultaneously set their candles on their left shoulders and drew long knives out of their robes. They calmly began to walk forward, candles balanced perfectly.

Sillik watched, horrified, as the three women approached. Suddenly, and without warning, they lunged. "Amrou, look out!" The three knives glinted in the candlelight, and with a sharp crack, found their home in the wood of a tree trunk. Amrou was already halfway up it.

"Don't hurt her!" screamed Sillik, and he lunged at the three Sisters, as they twisted their knives out of the scored tree trunk. A corner of his mind noticed that the three candles were still in place. Still another corner noticed Amrou leaping from one tree trunk to another. But most of his brain was set on stopping the Sisters from their murderous intent. He crashed into the Sisters and grabbed each by the neck. With a remaining hand, he grabbed the tree trunk, and slammed the Sisters' heads into it. Even before he let go, he knew that he had done more damage than he had intended. The Sisters turned as one and slashed at Sillik once with their knives, scoring large painful gashes. They then fell to the ground, bleeding from their foreheads. The candles were standing on the ground by their heads, flickering, apparently about to go out.

"It has attacked the Sisters," the Brothers observed. Sillik turned weakly to look at them. His knife wounds really hurt, though they didn't feel fatal. They were oozing black Thrull blood.

"It shall feel the wrathful power of the Fire." The Brothers announced. Each pulled the bellows from his back, and hung the candle from a hook near the blowhole. The candle flame was now positioned directly in front of the blowhole. With a sickening feeling, Sillik realized what they were going to do. Stumbling, he tried to run. He had only made it a few yards when he felt a searing pain. He saw blinding light; then all was dark.

"Noooo!" screamed Amrou. Time seemed to move in slow motion; she saw the bellows inflate, and then with a windy noise a huge ball of fire roared from the tiny candle flames and enveloped Sillik. Tears streaming, she launched herself from her position on the tree. She didn't care that Farrel's Mantle had started to glow like a fierce blue flame on her back. She didn't care where the glowing blue sword in her hand had come from. She could only see the three Brothers, and a blackened lump where Sillik had been. She hit the Brothers like a falling star, her sword flashing like a bolt of lightning. Soon the Brothers collapsed to the ground, their bellows lying discarded. The candles on the bellows were flickering like those of the Sisters.

Breathing heavily, and sobbing, Amrou began to calm down. The cloak faded to it's normal color, and the sword disappeared.

Then, the Sisters' eyes flew open.

"Know you this. The betrayers shall be ever hunted by creatures of the Flame," the Sisters croaked.

"They shall find no solace with those of Fire," gasped the Brothers.

"Now shall we finally be one with the Flame," murmured the Sisters, closing their eyes.

"The Fire shall at last consume us," whispered the Brothers.

All six candles snuffed out. Then, the blood from the wounds on the bodies burst into flames. With a blinding flash, the bodies were consumed, and a cloud of hot smoke rose into the air from each. When she could see again, Amrou could see nothing left of them but a fine layer of ash and scorch marks on some of the trees. Sniffing back her tears, Amrou approached Sillik's body.

Sillik was a charred wreck. Amrou could see bits of bone in places, but mostly there was blackened skin, in some places cracked and oozing black blood. Amrou was startled to notice that the body was moving slightly. He was breathing! Sillik was still alive! But not for long. He was dying fast, even Amrou could tell that. What could she do?

Then a glint caught her eye. Looking, she saw a bottle poking out of a hole in the Thrull's ruined backpack. The Healing Salve! Without hesitating, she grabbed the bottle and emptied it over the charred body. The Salve's effect was immediate and gratifying. Skin softened and gained vitality, muscle regrew, and wounds sealed. Soon, Sillik was back to normal, and sleeping. Exhausted herself, she collapsed against the tree, too tired to care if they were found again.

The two of them awoke almost simultaneously an hour later. Amrou immediately turned, and asked "Are you all right?" the Thrull asked her. They both laughed.

"Boy, I feel strange," said Sillik, "all tingly all over."

"It must be an after effect of the Healing Salve. That was some powerful stuff."

"How bad was I?" asked the Thrull hesitantly.

Amrou sobered. "Very bad. I was worried Sillik. I thought that you were dead. That was very brave of you, trying to save me like that. Thank you."

"And thank you for reviving me when I paid the price of acting before thinking."

"I thought that it was very gallant." Amrou smiled at him.

"Say," asked Sillik, "what happened to the Sisters and Brothers?" Amrou went over all that had occurred since the Thrull had been toasted.

"So, Farrel's Mantel helped you to attack the Brothers?"

"I guess so. I can't imagine where else that sword could have come from."

"Perhaps his Mantle will be of some use after all." Something was bothering Sillik, Amrou could tell.

"What's the matter, Sillik?"

"It's something about the Brothers' last words, 'They shall find no solace with those of Fire'."

"I thought that they just meant themselves, and whatever other Brothers and Sisters they might have," suggested Amrou with a shrug.

"Perhaps," nodded Sillik. "But they are not the only ones who could be thought of as being 'of Fire'. Mountains are the traditional home of the magicks of Fire and Earth, and so-"

"-all the creatures of the Mountains tend to be known as creatures of Fire!" finished Amrou in horror. "Farrel's ultimatum!"

"Even if I'm wrong, and they were only referring to their Brothers and Sisters, the Western Mountains would be a very dangerous place to live. But the Order of the Ebon Hand has strong ties with the Orcs, Goblins, and even the Dwarves who live in the Mountains. If they have agreed to hunt us down, then living in the Mountains could be suicide for us. We can't go there now!"

Their conversation was terminated, as a cold, black fog suddenly rolled in. It seemed very unnatural. "There's something Evil about this fog." Amrou said though chattering teeth.

Just as abruptly as it had come in, the fog cleared. The first thing that the two noticed was a wet sensation around their legs. Looking down, Amrou saw that she was knee deep in fetid black water. Looking around, she saw twisted, barren trees where there had recently been tall, healthy forest giants. The land around had become a swamp once more.

"What happened?" Amrou asked?

"The deaths of the Brothers and Sisters must have been noticed!" exclaimed Sillik. "They must have changed the land back."

"Why didn't they do that before?"

"They probably didn't want to waste the magic. But now that they know that there's danger here..."

"So, they're really gonna be after us now, huh? We'd better get moving."

The two of them salvaged what they could from the Thrull's charred backpack. The tent was a ruin, but there were still a few good rations, and the tinderbox was, ironically, just fine.

"We can both use my tent. Whoever is not on watch can sleep in the tent." She looked around. "Of course, I'm not sure when we're going to have another chance to set up camp."

They began slogging through the dirty water. They were making pretty good time. Then, they began catching sight of some of the opposition. Fortunately, they were all undead, slow, and pretty stupid. It was easy for Amrou to dodge the Wraiths and Zombies that clutched soundlessly at her. They all just ignored Sillik entirely. His protective aura must have still been working fine. Still, Amrou was starting to get tired. She was sweating in the lukewarm temperatures of the swamp, and the stinking, brackish water had soaked through all of her clothing. When the crumbling towers of the Ebon Stronghold came into view, she was as happy to see it as if it was her own cozy cottage back home. Dodging the tattered clutches of another Zombie, she darted up to the side of the castle, where Sillik soon joined her.

"Where do we go now?" she asked, her chest heaving.

"This way. We need to walk around the side of the castle until we find the hole in the Ebon Garage.

They found it quickly enough. They also found the Sengir Vampire that was guarding it. It shrieked at them when it saw them, and spread its great bat-like wings. It had evidently fed recently, because Amrou could see veins in the creature's face and neck were flowing with bright red blood. Good. That meant that the creature would be slower. And less hungry.

The vampire dove at them, but sheared off as it felt the influence of Sillik's aura. Amrou didn't even have to dodge. The Vampire cursed at them, and flew into a window high in the castle. "Well, I guess we were never really counting on surprise anyway," Amrou shrugged.

"If we were, I think that we lost the chance a long time ago."

The two of them headed into the Ebon Garage. Amrou was impressed by the number of Artifacts that had been collected. She saw famed relics like the Disrupting Scepter, which would leech magic from an opposing mage, and the Meekstone, which would send all but the weakest of creatures into a deep sleep. She also saw dormant, but potentially powerful mechanical creatures, like the huge wind-up Clockwork Beast, and the diminutive but enigmatic Brass Man. Still, nothing there compared to Mishra's War Machine.

"This way!" Sillik urged. Amrou tore her eyes off of the Artifacts. There was nothing there that they could use at the moment anyway. She followed the Thrull through a hole that had been bashed through the wall opposite the garage door.

Soon, they came to an eldritch laboratory. "This is where Cluthon figured out that the Breeding Pits had been started again," he whispered. "We're almost to a staircase that will take us down a level."

They moved out of the laboratory into a long dark, twisting hallway. Amrou soon became disoriented by all of the branching hallways and the multitude of doors. "I'm glad you're here, Sillik. I'd never find my way through all this without you."

The Thrull stopped at a branch of the hallway. "Now which way was it, left or right?" he muttered.

"Don't you know?" Amrou asked, starting to panic.

"Juuuust kidding!" Sillik said, grinning. He started down the left hallway.

"That wasn't funny," Amrou muttered darkly. Actually, it was, she thought. She had left herself wide open for a line like that. She hadn't realized that Sillik even had a sense of humor.

Sillik started down a staircase. "Odd that we haven't come across any Skeletons or Mummies," he said to Amrou.

Amrou remembered the Demon. "Well, maybe not so odd," she responded. Sillik nodded grimly.

At the bottom of the staircase was another hallway. This one, however, was straight. Amrou could see a number of doors, but only one had smoke leaking out of it. "Is that where the Demon is?" Amrou asked.

"Uh huh," said the Thrull, looking a bit afraid. "Cluthon said that the Breeding Pits were located behind the doors closest to the Demon's Pit."

Slowly, they approached the door to the left of the Demon's. Amrou opened it. When nothing jumped out at her, she released the breath that she had been holding. It was very quiet. Inside the room, she could see a small hole in the floor. She walked in, and peered down into the hole. It was filled with a greenish black slime. Every now and then, a single bubble popped to the surface of the thick slime and burst, slowly. The whole thing smelled terrible. Amrou backed away. She began to recite the spell that Enchanter Zachariah had taught her. When she finished, nothing happened. What was wrong? Then she slapped her head. Of course, the clay medallions! Reaching back, she took one from her backpack. It was throbbing with a white light. She held the medallion up, and snapped it in two. The white glow of the medallion stopped instantly. Then, a heartbeat later, the room filled with a brilliant white light. When the light cleared, the floor was smooth and unmarred, as if the Pit had never been.

Amrou heard a noise. Looking at the back of the room, she saw something that she had missed, intent as she had been on the Breeding Pit itself. It was a tiny Thrull, no more than a foot high. He had fangs and tiny claws, and was exercising them on a small rock that he had found. He was cute, in a dark and loathsome sort of way. Carefully, Amrou picked the Thrull up. He hissed at her, and jabbed her with his claws, but they were far too small to hurt. Then he calmed down and returned to chewing on his rock. Amrou walked back into the hallway.

When Sillik saw the baby Thrull, he groaned, "Uh, oh. The Breeding Pits have already had enough time to spawn."

"It's only one Thrull," said Amrou.

"Breeding Pits all produce simultaneously," responded Sillik. "If this one has had time to create a Thrull, than the others have as well. We'll have to rescue them all." Sillik examined the small Thrull. "He looks like a Necrite. Leave him here with me for now (but not too close to me), and take care of the other Pits." Then Sillik reconsidered. "Still, we really should name him first. We can't let this be the first Thrull without a name."

Amrou thought of one almost right away. "How about 'Spike'?"

"Sounds like a good name for a Necrite, and at any rate, we're in a hurry. Spike it is then. Now, take the next Pit out."

Amrou set Spike near to Sillik, but out of range of his aura, and nodded. This time she opened the door to the right of the Demon's. This room was pretty much identical to the first. No sooner had she stepped into the room then a tiny object had hurtled itself across the room and latched onto her leg. She jerked back in astonishment, and then looked down. A baby Thrull had his arms thrown tightly around Amrou's leg. He looked up at her and grinned contentedly. She tried to pry him off, but he would not let go. Exasperated, Amrou let him stay there for the moment while she destroyed the Breeding Pit.

When she walked out of the room, Sillik whistled slowly, "Well, Amrou, it looks as if you've made yourself a friend. That's a Thrull Retainer."

"You mean that he's become attached to me?" She glanced down. "Other than in the completely literal sense, of course."

"Yep. Now nothing short of death will get that Thrull away from you, and when he becomes an adult in a few weeks, he will do his best to aid and defend you. Of course, right now the best he can do is cling to your leg."

"How can I get him off?" asked Amrou.

"Just tell him to let go. Thrull Retainers are born with the ability to understand simple commands."

"Let go," she instructed the Thrull. He obediently dropped off of her leg. Now that Amrou could get a better look at him, she saw that he, like the baby Necrite, was both repulsive and cute at the same time. The little Thrull's brain was clearly visible through the transparent skin at the Thrull's midsection. Part of his skull was warped into a sort of cowl, half covering his eyes. He looked at her expectantly, apparently awaiting new instructions. Perhaps she should name him. "What would be a good name for a Thrull Retainer," she wondered aloud. She thought silently for a few moments.

"Maybe you could name him after someone you know," Sillik suggested.

Someone she knew? How about someone she had known. "I think that I'll call him Petyr."

"Who's Petyr?" asked Sillik with curiosity.

"Petyr was my father," she answered.

"It's a good name," said Sillik thoughtfully. "Now, you'd best destroy the last Pit so we can get out of here. The next closest door is the one across the hall from the Demon's door. You'll have to put Petyr in your backpack or something. I don't think that he'll tolerate being left behind."

Amrou tucked the Thrull into her backpack letting his little cowled head stick out. But as she reached for the door, she stopped. "Sillik, I can't! If I destroy this Pit, your people are doomed!"

Sadly, Sillik shook his head. "Amrou, we've been through this before. It is a choice that we have made. Besides, if we don't destroy this pit, then the Ebon Hand will make more. They will have plenty of victims for their Demon to feed on, and the Demon will be free to attack the Army of Light. It will destroy us all, or worse, take us alive. If we leave the Breeding Pit active, then we will be doomed far more quickly than if we shut it down. Amrou," he said softly, "I am glad to see you so concerned for our well-being. You seem to have gotten over your distrust of us, and I am happy for that. But this has got to be done, and you are the only one who can do it."

Unhappily, Amrou nodded and entered the room. Quickly, she spoke the spell and snapped the last of the medallions. She shut her eyes so that she wouldn't have to see the white flash that would mark the end of the Thrull race. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw another baby Thrull, one that looked like a wrinkled black toadstool sitting cross legged on the ground. He gazed up at her with beady and soulful black eyes. Amrou picked him up. Holding him, she whispered, "You are the last."

Sillik wished that there was something that he could do for Amrou, some way that he could comfort her. But he knew that there wasn't really anything that he could do. The bitter truth was that Amrou was destroying the future of his race, no matter what the reasons, and no matter that it was on the orders of his race. Sillik knew that it was for the best, and Amrou did, too. But that didn't make the task any easier. Sillik glanced at Spike, who was too intent on his rock to have wandered off.

Sillik saw the third flash of light through the crack at the bottom of the door, and shut his eyes sadly. It was done.

A few moments later, the door opened, and Amrou stepped out carrying a tiny Basal Thrull. How ironic, he thought with a smile, the least shall be the last.

"This is a Basal Thrull, right?" asked Amrou. Sillik responded with a nod. Amrou continued, "Somehow I knew it was, even though it doesn't look anything like you."

"Basal Thrulls come in many shapes," said Sillik. "What are you going to name him?" Amrou doubtless had many choices. Perhaps a grandparent?

"There's only one choice, really," said Amrou softly. "I'm going to name him Sillik." Sillik looked up, surprised, and flattered. "Although, I suppose that we can call him Junior when you're around. Now, we'd best leave." Amrou scooped Spike and Junior into her backpack. Petyr seemed to resent the company, but didn't make a fuss.

Suddenly, Sillik and Amrou heard a commotion from the far end of the hall. It sounded like someone was coming, lots of someones. Fortunately, they were coming from the opposite end of the hall from where they wanted to go. Amrou ran ahead, while Sillik stayed a good distance behind her, so that his aura would affect the approaching creatures, and not the Thrulls on Amrou's back.

As they ran, Sillik noticed that there was very little resistance coming from in front. "Amrou! Is everything all right up there?"

"Yes, but a little too all right. Why is everyone behind us?"

"I think that they're forcing us outside. I don't like this. Why would they want us to get away?"

Still, they had little choice. They had to get out. They ran through the eldritch laboratory, through Skaluk's hidden doorway, through the Ebon Garage, and out into the swamp. Then they stopped. There was no one here. There was no sign of the Zombies that had hounded them on their way in, nor of the Wraith. It was as silent as a tomb. Poor choice of words, Sillik chided himself. Hours had passed since he and Amrou had entered the Ebon Stronghold, and the Bad Moon was high in the sky. Sillik heard a noise behind them and spun around. Somehow, an impenetrable Wall of Bones had assembled behind them, blocking their way back into the Stronghold. A lone figure stood atop the Wall, a figure Sillik recognized as Jherana Rure, one of the Order of the Ebon Hand's inner circle.

"You will pay for destroying our Breeding Pits, fools!" she shouted to them. "You will pay dearly. But before you died, I wanted you to know that your efforts were in vain. I have already taken steps to end the petty little rebellion of the Thrulls, and when we have reclaimed our property, the Thrull Wizards will rebuild what you have destroyed." Her eyes narrowed to slits, and she spoke through her teeth, "Now, die, fools. Die!"

With that, she turned and jumped down the other side of the wall, out of sight.

Then, Sillik and Amrou heard a familiar and terrible roar behind them. They turned and paled as they saw the Demon, the Ebon Hand's terrible Lord of the Pit, rising out of the muck of the swamp. It spread its bat wings and stretched its huge arms, flexing its long talons. Under the light of the Bad Moon, it looked even bigger and more threatening than ever. Sillik reconsidered. In the Bad Moon, it actually WAS even bigger and more threatening than ever. The Demon spoke. "You sought to deny me my food, pitiful creatures. For that, I will destroy you."

Sillik looked around for some escape, and saw Amrou doing the same. Then he remembered that he was protected. He ran toward the monster. "Stop, Sillik!" screamed Amrou in horror. Sillik ignored her and kept running.

The Demon laughed and said, "You attack? I will squash you like a bug!" It lifted a huge clawed foot out of the mud and drove it at the Thrull, who froze in terror. Just as the foot was about to land, the Thrull's aura flared, and the foot veered off to the side. The huge creature stumbled, and fell backwards. His impact created a huge wave of muck and mire, and the Thrull was overwhelmed. He finally clawed his way to the surface and gasped for breath. The Demon sat up and blinked. "So, I cannot touch you directly, eh? Well, there are many other ways to swat a gnat." The Demon gathered up a huge double handful of mud. "I will bury you alive. Let's see how your protection fairs against that!"

Suddenly, something jarred the Demon's hands, and the mud fell to the ground. "What's this?" the Demon snarled, and turned to look. Sillik looked, too, and what he saw astounded him. It was Amrou, but she was huge! She must have eaten Llalana's mushroom. But it wasn't enough. She was still only a little more than half the size of the huge Demon. "Ah, a challenge," the Demon grinned toothily.

"Don't touch him!" Amrou screamed.

The Demon did a mocking half-bow. "As you wish, but I will still kill him. First, however, I am going to rake you open from your throat to your belly and devour you from the inside out. Then I'm going to crush your pretty skull and sprinkle the dust on your friends at the Army of Light when I next visit. Prepare to die slowly, girl!" The Demon spread his wings and leapt into the air.

"Don't!" called Sillik weakly. If Amrou heard him, she payed no attention. She was staring grimly at the monster. Sillik watched helplessly as the huge monster hovered in the air for a moment, and then dove at Amrou with its claws outstretched.

Then something odd happened. Amrou's eyes began to glow a fierce blue. Soon her cape was also glowing. Sillik's eyes rounded with wonder. Was this what had happened before? Just before the Demon was going to plow into Amrou claws first, Amrou leapt to the side, and in the same motion slashed viciously with a huge blue sword, that Sillik was certain she hadn't had a moment ago. After the first blow, the creature plowed into the mud, causing another wave. Sillik found his way to the surface again in time to see Amrou slash again, and then again. Then, the Demon was still. Her sword disappeared, and Farrel's Mantle and her eyes returned to their normal color. She collapsed to her knees, exhausted. Sillik breathed a sigh of relief. She had done it! The beast was dead.

But it wasn't. It staggered to its feet. Not dead, but in really bad shape. The sword slashes had left a number of long, oozing wounds on the Demon's body, and one of its arms was obviously not working. Not waiting for Amrou to do anything, it once again jumped into the air and spread its tattered, but workable, wings. It was obviously no longer amused. "I will still kill you!" it rasped, and prepared to dive.

Sillik looked back at Amrou. She was staring up at the Demon with eyes bleak and empty of hope. Sillik could see that she had no strength left to resist the Demon's next attack. There was nothing Sillik could do except watch the Demon fly in and cut Amrou down.

But wait, there was something that he could do! He felt around on his body, and found the spell that he had been carrying for so long. The box was charred, and the symbol unreadable, but it seemed to be intact. Without waiting another second, he opened the box.

Sillik felt a trembling in the earth. Then, red cords began to shoot out of the ground. A few wrapped around Sillik and Amrou, but most found their way to the Demon. It struggled as the cords wrapped around it, and pressed its wings against its body. Then, with a jerk, all of the cords pulled tight. Amrou and Sillik were pulled down with little effect, as they were already on the ground. The Demon wasn't so lucky. With a shriek, the Demon slammed into the ground with earth-shaking force. Then, all was quiet.

This time, the red cords had prevented the wave of sludge from reaching Sillik. So he was able to see as the huge Demon dissolved into a greasy black vapor and dispersed, finally defeated. Sillik pulled the remaining red cords off of himself, and walked over to where Amrou was lying to see how she was faring. She was awake, and looking at him, though she seemed too tired to pull free of the bonds that held her. As Sillik began to remove them, she whispered, "Thanks, Sillik. You saved my life."

"A fair trade," the Thrull responded, "as you saved mine earlier."

"How 'bout we camp here for the night?" Amrou suggested, her eyes already half shut.

"A fine idea," answered Sillik, but Amrou was already asleep. A fine place to camp, thought Sillik with amusement, here in front of the Ebon Stronghold. Still, she needed the rest, and who was he to deny her that?

Amrou awoke to find herself lying in the mud. After a moment's confusion, she remembered the events of the night. "Sillik?" she called.

Almost instantly, the Basal Thrull answered her. Turning to look at him, Amrou noted with relief that she was back down to the Thrull's size. She had been half afraid that she would stay Giant-sized permanently. The Thrull asked, "Are you feeling better, Amrou?"

"Fine," she answered. She sat up and looked around. The black towers of the Ebon Stronghold grabbed her attention. "We spent the night here? In front of the Stronghold?"

"Well, you weren't exactly easy to move. Besides, I haven't heard a peep from the Ebon Hand all night."

"Aren't they angry that we killed their Demon?" Amrou asked.

"They're probably furious," answered Sillik. "But they're probably more worried that they will get more of the same. Still, it would probably be a good idea to get out of here, before one of them gets brave enough to try to take us on."

Amrou nodded and stood up. Then she paled. "What happened to the kids?" As if in answer, she felt a grip on her leg. Petyr had taken hold of her again. Looking around, she saw the other two Thrulls close by. With a sigh of relief, she put the three baby Thrulls back into her backpack.

"After the battle, I found that the mushroom had increased the size of you and your possessions, but not the size of the Thrulls. They were buried deep inside your backpack." At Amrou's worried look, he quickly added, "Don't worry, Thrulls feel fine in close, dark places. I spent most of my life in one. After you returned to normal size, they crawled out from under you. I've been keeping an eye on them." With an embarrassed look, he added, "I must admit that I had forgotten about them until after they crawled out."

Amrou grinned reassuringly. Soon they were hiking back through the swamp. They were not bothered by any dark creatures. "We must have spooked them pretty bad," Sillik remarked. Still, the two of them remained on guard. By the time evening had fallen once again, they had left the swamp behind them.

It was only as they were setting up camp that Amrou remembered Oliver Farrel and his Zealots. "Do you think that Farrel will be angry at us for killing the Demon?" she asked.

"I don't know," Sillik shrugged. "Think he'll pay us another visit?"

Amrou fingered her Mantle. "Well, he did promise..."

Amrou took first watch that night. She didn't trust that Farrel wouldn't harm Sillik now that his 'usefulness' had ended. She didn't have to wait long. As soon as the sun had disappeared over the horizon, she caught sight of a lone man walking toward the camp. Farrel had come alone this time.

"Greetings, Amrou Kithkin," he said when he was close enough. He paid no attention to Petyr, who was, of course, standing close to Amrou. Perhaps he was willing to be reasonable. "I must say, I am very impressed by your performance. I never imagined that you would have had the resources to defeat their Demon."

"You aren't angry?" Amrou was slightly surprised. Farrel's plan had hinged on the Demon's hunger.

Farrel seemed taken aback. "Angry? Of course not! The Demon was an extremely evil creature, and should never have been summoned. It deserved nothing but death. Am I to fault you for granting it that in self defence?"

"But what about your plans?" Amrou asked.

"True, it may take a little longer to root out the Ebon Hand. Still, you have done the world a great deed. And now, as I promised, I will relieve you of my Mantle." Farrel withdrew a clay medallion from his robes. Amrou recognized it as another Disenchanting medallion. Farrel spoke the familiar words of the spell, and snapped the medallion. With a white glow and a click, the clasp of the Mantle opened, and the Mantle fell to the ground. Amrou picked it up, and handed it back to Farrel. She felt as if a great burden had been removed from her shoulders, both literally and figuratively.

Cautiously, she decided to bring up the subject of the Thrulls. "Farrel, do you still insist on having the Thrulls leave?"

"Of course," he responded. "They are evil, and cannot be tolerated here."

"While travelling, we learned that the Thrulls would be hunted down if they ever tried to set foot in the mountains."

"It is not my concern what happens to them after they leave, just as long as they do. My message still stands: the Thrulls must be banished to the Mountains, and the Thrull Wizards sent to me. There will be no compromise."

Amrou was angry. "You tell me that they are evil. Yet you are the one who would send them all to die. You are the one who attacks villages, on nothing more than rumors. Sillik, the Thrull that I have been travelling with, has risked his life for me again and again, and nearly lost his once. He has never harmed anyone that hadn't tried to harm us first." She stared at the tall man, "How does it feel to know that a Basal Thrull has more goodness in him than you ever have?"

Farrel's eyes narrowed. "You are a fool, girl. Just as foolish as all the rest. A creature born of death brings only death. That is, until it meets its own death. What do the lives of a few innocents mean when compared to the glory of a future free of the magic of death?"

"They mean everything," Amrou replied.

Without a word, Farrel turned around and walked away. Amrou kept watch a while longer, and then woke Sillik. As she drifted off to sleep, she thought about Oliver Farrel and Jherana Rure. The two seemed very much alike, ironically. Both were arrogant. Both were powerful. Both wanted the Thrulls dead. And, in his own callousness, Farrel was just as evil. But they would not win. She would help the Army of Light defeat their enemies, both without and within, to ensure that if the Thrull race was about to end, they would at least spent their last years in comfort. She patted Petyr, who would never leave her side. She knew that the elders of the Army of Light would agree with her. She saw now that they were much wiser than she had given them credit for. There was no way that they would send the Thrulls to their deaths simply to satisfy a fanatic like Farrel.

With that comforting thought, Amrou went to sleep.