Chapter 1

The guests filtered through the bronze archway, making their way down the
long corridor towards the Galerian dining hall. They chatted to one another
as they walked, occasionally glancing upward towards the high pillars
and the torchlit decorations on the ceiling.

At the entrance to the hall Jorm greeted his guests, smiling at some,
passing words of welcome to others, but his guests were nervous. Behind
Jorm, on a pedestal of white marble, perched Cretin. For all the world he
may have been no more than one of the many gargoyle statues which adorned
the grand buildings of the Harandos, alas the talons on his feet which
curved over the edge of the pedestal were tapping impatiently and
occasionally his dark leathery wings which folded neatly on his back
would twitch, it unnerved almost everyone.

All the guests but one had passed Jorm by. Jorm stood with one arm resting
across his chest, his other arm folded upward with his chin resting on the
palm of his hand. He was watching Giyorn striding down the corridor,
dressed in his crimson tunic and dark breeches - sheathed dagger strapped
to his side. Jorm extended a hand in greeting. Giyorn was about to do the
same when Cretin hissed violently, then leaning forward, his forked
tongue whiplashed towards Giyorns throat.

Giyorn took one step backward, his dagger flashing as he drew it from its
sheath. It swished through the air narrowly missing Cretins retreating
tongue.

'I see he still likes me,' snapped Giyorn.

Jorm pointed at Giyorns dagger. 'He takes offence to weapons in my
household, but do not feel unwelcome, he was merely dropping a hint.'

'One day he will go too far and I sense that day is not very distant,'
snorted Giyorn, sheathing his dagger angrily.

Cretins emerald eyes blinked, then he put his head to one side and in a
deep croaky voice said, 'Nasty Giyorn.'

                                    *

Jorm and Giyorn strode across the dining hall to take their places at the
far side of the long dining table. On arrival Jorm glanced down the row of
seats to his left, then smiled to Miowni who stood to his right. He seated
himself - his guests followed suit.

Giyorn seated himself to the left of Jorm, he too glanced down the table to
his left. There were perhaps a score of guests in that direction. He then
turned to his right where there were approximately the same amount. He
noted some of the faces which crossed his line of vision, including the
boyish faces of the brothers Dromar who carried only a score of years. He
then turned his attention to the food lying on the table.

There was a great spread of fruits, meats and vegetables from which to
choose and Giyorns appetite was not lacking. He reached forward towards a
juicy red apple, picked it up, opened his mouth, then paused. His ears
had detected the faintest flap of wings. He did not bother looking
behind, he simply turned to Jorm and said, 'Why do you have a pedestal
behind your dining table?'

'There has always been a pedestal behind the table,'

'With that wretched creature stood on it?' queried Giyorn.

'No. It used to hold a bust of my great grandfather.'

'Then why did you not leave the bust of your great grandfather on the
pedestal?'

'Cretin is my guardian.'

'Guardian?'

'He watches over me.'

'He watches over your guests as well?'

'You could say that.'

'They do not look very comfortable.'

'They will after a few tankards of ale and a few goblets of wine.'

'Do they usually drink so much?'

'They do when Cretin is around,' said Jorm bursting into laughter.

                                    *

Musicians entered the large hall silently and positioned themselves in the
eastern corner of the hall, then without a single practised note, they
began to play. From down the hallway dancing girls began to appear, moving
majestically to the hypnotic sounds. The faces of the male nobility
lightened and their chewing became less vigorous. The ladies however looked
on with a little less enthusiasm.

Miowni smiled sweetly at Jorm, brushing a few black locks of hair from her
face, revealing smooth youthful skin and eyes of stone.  'I see our poor
dancers can still afford no more than waistbands with hanging tassles.'

Jorm lifted one eyebrow. 'It is in keeping with the music my dear, besides
do they not cover the lower half of their faces as modesty requires?'

Miowni bit her bottom lip and said no more.

The music steadily increased in tempo. The guests downed their wine and
tapped their feet. Like the music the dancing had its own hypnotic
attractions. Faster played the music; faster flowed the wine. As each
moment of time elapsed the guests became more absorbed. The musicians were
lost to their vision, in fact the whole hall was lost to their vision, only
the dancers remained.

Cretin swayed on his perch, lifting his legs alternately to the beat, his
head moving from side to side like those of the dancers.

The music rose to new heights and the dancers writhed erotically around the
floor. The populace of the hall was lost in bliss, even Giyorn had parted
with the world of reality.

                                    *

Above the dining hall two figures cast long torchlit shadows across Jorms
bedchamber. Shiny metal implements glistened in their hands. Their voices
were no more than whispers, their intent was clear.

From below came the sounds of song and dance. It seemed the assassins would
be in for a long night. Time passed slowly, but as surely as night follows
day the sounds subsided, until there was only silence. Two silhouettes
flitted across the chamber, then they disappeared into their surroundings.

                                    *

Cretin watched the guests leave with a look of dismay, then with an instant
change of mood he grinned fiendishly, opened his wings and silently glided
the short distance to the floor. 'Check the corridors, stairwell and
bedchambers,' he chortled, then as if playing a game he partially retracted
the talons on his feet and set off towards the rear exit, chuntering to
himself. 'Cretin creepies quietly through the doorway on tippy talons so no
one hears him - he spies a guard near the stairwell. Cretin moves like a
shadow. The guard is dozing; he is unaware of Cretins presence. Guard
should not be asleep on his feet; Cretin will teach him. Cretin crouches
low and approaches the guard, then he straightens his sturdy legs till his
eyes glare at the closed eyelids of the guard, then he reaches out with his
tongue and tickles the guard under his chin; the guard smiles; what is
he thinking? Cretin tickles again. The guards eyelids flutter; just one
more tickle.'

The guards eyes opened. Sheer terror crossed his face which reflected more
than the sight of Cretin, he was lost for breath; his skin grew pale; then
without a word he collapsed in a heap.

'Guard still sleeps, but now he is more comfortable... Cretin turns and
creepies up the stairs; he spies the bedchamber entrance; he stops; he
smells vermin.'

Cretin moved steadily towards the bedchamber entrance. He stopped no more
than a handspan from the open doorway. Very slowly he leaned forward,
str-e-tching his neck through the doorway. He paused for a moment and
listened, then he turned his head to the left and then to the right. There
was no one there. Cretin scratched his head.

Stealthily he crept into the room, his eyes wide in the semi-darkness. When
he stood in the centre of the chamber he stopped and peered all around,
then he crouched and looked under the bed. 'Come out, come out, wherever
you are,' he called in a silly voice, but no one came. He looked towards
the window drapes, then towards the curtain which divided the bedchamber
from the bathing room. After studying a moment he moved towards the window.
His clawed fingers reached out and he tore the drapes open. 'BOO,' he
cried... to no one. 'Not having much luck tonight,' he chuckled -
knowingly.

The bathing room curtains rustled; two figures darted into the bedchamber.
Cretin feigned surprise.

'It is his masters pet,' chastised one, as he began to work his way around
Cretin.

'Ugly brute,' commented the other.

Cretins left eye followed one assassin and his right eye followed the
other, he crouched and hissed venomously. His adversaries halted.

'Come on Chard, lets take him.'

Chard moved a little closer. Cretin reached out with one hand, his fingers
coiled, their needle sharp nails beckoning Chard forward.

'I do not like the look of those claws Jame, look at the way those nails
curve.'

Cretin took one step towards Chard. Chard took one step backward.

Jame moved two steps closer - talons extended between Cretins toes.

'NOW,' cried Jame.

Nothing happened.

'Are we a little nervous?' queried Cretin in a curious, if over exaggerated
voice. 'Does Cretin frightens you?'

'Let's put an end to this charade!' exclaimed Jame. 'This thing makes fools
of us.'

Cretin shifted both eyes to Jame, their emerald shade turning to blood
red.

Jame looked uncomfortable.

'It is just trying to scare us,' said Jame with little conviction.

'It is doing a good job,' replied Chard.

'There is nothing to fear; it is a demon; it puts fear into our minds to
protect itself; it cannot defeat the two of us.' Jame's face contorted as
if he was fighting with an invisible enemy in his head, his hands began to
tremble, then with what seemed an extreme effort of willpower, he lunged at
Cretin with his dagger.

Cretin had foreseen his action. He deflected the blade with his left arm.
His right hand clutched at Jame's face; two clawed fingers thrusting into
his eyes.

Jame shrieked.

Chard put a hand to his stomach, his face drained of colour.

Cretin turned and slammed Jame's head into the wall; once, twice. Bones
smashed and blood spattered the wall. He retracted his hand, blood dripping
from his fingers. He turned to face Chard.

'Keep away from me,' stammered Chard. 'We did not come here to harm you.'

Cretin moved towards him.

Chard began to walk backwards. 'We can talk. Are you not an enemy of these
people?' Chard backed into a chair. He stumbled; he regained his balance
and picked up the chair.

Cretin moved menacingly close.

'All your fellow creatures serve Nomarn, should you not join them?'

Cretin remained silent.

'Listen to me, damn you.' Chard hurled the chair at Cretin.

Cretin ducked, then leapt at Chard feet first. His taloned feet impaled
Chard's stomach. His clawed hands clasped Chard's head. They fell to the
floor. Chard tried to wriggle free, but Cretin held him firm; he opened his
protruding jaws to reveal razor sharp teeth then he bent forward towards
the throbbing jugular in Chards neck...

                                    *

Giyorn was the only man sat at the table. Jorm was somewhere down the
corridor bidding farewell to the last of his guests.

Giyorn leant back in his chair feeling rather satisfied and very tired. He
was musing to himself in the quiet of the hall when a distant scream
reached his ears. He sat bolt upright, then glanced at the ceiling. 'What
was that?' he mumbled. He looked towards the corridor in search of Jorm,
but naught could he see. He turned to look behind and saw the empty
pedestal. Leaping from his seat he made for the rear exit, his drowsiness
had fled him and his eyes were alert.

A guard lay before Giyorn, his face horror stricken. He glanced up the
spiralling stairway, then back towards the hall. For a moment he appeared
hesitant, then he turned back to the stairwell and began a stealthy
ascent.

Giyorn leapt silently but swiftly from the top step to find cover at the
side of the bedchamber doorway. He leaned forward to see through the
opening; he heard slurping and licking sounds coming from the chamber. A
puzzled look crossed his face, then he drew his dagger and stepped briskly
into the room. Giyorns eyes scanned the room quickly. The first thing that
caught his attention was the lifeless body of Jame. It was in a sitting
position against the far wall, eyeless sockets seeing nowhere. The slurping
sound stopped. Giyorn moved his eyes to the right. He saw two sparkling
rubies. It took only a moment to recognise the outline of Cretin, but what
was he doing?

Giyorn moved towards Cretin. Cretin watched him for a moment then began to
back away. Giyorn could see blood dripping from Cretin's mouth. He looked
down, then grimaced; he lifted his head to glare at Cretin.

'Nice Giyorn... er.. Cretin was only doing his job.'

Giyorn began to walk towards Cretin. His face as black as thunder.

Cretin continued to retreat. 'Poor Cretin. Cretin did not get supper.
Cretin has not been drinking wine. Poor hungry Cretin. Why is Giyorn not
speaking?'

Cretin backed up against the wall where Jame sat. He looked down at Jame
and patted him on the head. 'Nasty Misters, came to hurt nice master.
Cretin showed them.'

Giyorns face looked gnarled and angry, he crouched to attack.

'Hold,' came a cry from the doorway. 'What is the meaning of this?'

Giyorn half turned towards Jorm. One eye still watching Cretin. 'Your
creature, Jorm,' he growled. 'Your disgusting monster.'

'Cretins not disgusting,' said Cretin. 'Cretins guarding his master. Look
on the floor. Daggers; daggers to cut out masters heart.'

Both Jorm and Giyorn looked around until they saw the daggers.

'Assassins,' murmured Jorm, looking at a ring on the index finger of Jame's
left hand. 'Nomarns assassins. You have done well Cretin.'

'Well,' snapped Giyorn. 'To kill or to capture is one thing but to tear to
pieces and then... and then...'

'Have supper,' added Cretin.

'You are repulsive,' added Giyorn.

'But effective,' added Jorm. 'Would I have been shown any mercy?'

'Certainly not,' said Cretin.

Giyorn looked thoughtful, his temper slightly cooled.

'Nomarn is playing for keeps. Spies everywhere -assassins...Every day that
passes, poor masters life is in grave danger.'

'You are right Cretin, we must act and act now,' affirmed Jorm, 'though I
suspect these would be murderers were only unwitting pawns, sent to harass
me into rash decisions.'

'Act on what?' queried Giyorn, taking a more relaxed stance. 'We need your
fathers weapons if we are to confront these cloaked devils; these wraiths
of evil. Where do we start to look?'

'I do not think Nomarn has the power to place these weapons where he wills.
I think they are back where my father found them.'

'It took him ten years and six to discover their whereabouts. The elden
kindreds of yesteryear did not intend these weapons of power to fall into
any fools hands.'

'No, they did not, but my father had to search for clues of their
whereabouts, whereas I know where he found them.'

Giyorns face lightened a little. 'Then we muster our armies?'

'NO. Armies will not aid us in our quest. A handful of trusted friends may
travel more discretely.'

'Cretin is a trusted friend,' said Cretin.

'QUIET !' rasped Giyorn.

'On the morrow we head for the village of Bouder to see what we may find.
Let us go now and prepare ourselves.'

Giyorn walked toward the doorway with Jorm. At the doorway he stopped and
looked back at Cretin. 'What may I ask do you feed him on when there are no
assassins around - friends of the court?'

Jorm laughed. 'Certainly not... only strangers.'

