I gave a great sigh then followed the leader of the Town Guards who had requested my presence at the Council Chambers of Cristrin. Oh to be a mere priestess again and to be able to visit a town without all these formalities.

As I walked I felt just a twinge of unease – nerves? Surely not, I was not unaccustomed to dealing with town councillors. But the twinge quickly grew, and I felt distinctly queasy. Before I could voice my feelings however, I seemed to fade from existence and everything went black.

Suddenly I came back to reality with a thud – or rather a squelch! I appeared to be stuck in a quagmire of foul smelling mud. Cursing what the mud must be doing to my beautiful clean white dress, a present from the Queen of the Hinithôn, I became aware that I was not alone. Around me I could hear several other voices, some sounding angry, others doubtful, and seemingly out of place, an oft repeated snigger which I was sure I had heard somewhere before.

As I struggled to get out of the stinking quagmire, I wondered where on earth – or out of it – I was. In the pitch black I could see nothing except some totally unfamiliar stars. My heart lifted slightly when a few feeble rays of sunbeams began to appear over the horizon, rapidly becoming a blaze of light as dawn broke.

I joined ten other mud-splattered figures in hastening to some solid ground at the edge of the marsh, distinctly irritated to see two rather smug-looking figures standing watching us as we staggered out of the myre dripping with evil smelling mud and slime.

One of the figures, an extremely handsome looking man, stepped forward, and I heard murmours of recognition from some of my companions.

“Greetings!”, he started “I am sorry to drag you from your business to this Black Myre in such an undignified manner, but I really had no choice. As most of you know, I am T’sardan, a son of L’denon.”

I gasped, momentarily taken aback, T’sardan was not the first servant of the Gods who I had encountered, but I do not think I shall ever get used to the company of such illustrious beings. Besides, one never knows exactly where one stands with a L’denonite, does one?

T’sardan looked around our company and greeted each person by name. Few did I know, but most I had heard of – and not all good tidings, I might add! There, gathered around me were many renowned adventurers: Deathlord, priest to the Runenics; Dardarius of the Rainbow Warriors; Broadscar, the chieftain of Slaylord’s Marauders, a serene-looking T’gellen knight surrounded by a brilliant white aura; there too was Fatty of the Weasles, another mighty T’gellen knight; Krun, a mage from Shayde’s Seekers; Blake, of Falcons of Blake, a powerful looking L’denon warrior; Menahem, priest to the A’stall worshippers, Heroes of Geddon; Empirikol from the Chaos Warriors; and another woman who looked rather pale – apparently she was an assassin called Roatax from the V’garnian party Thanatari. Finally there was a figure in mud-covered, but extremely fine armour – both figure and armour struck me as very familiar, though for the life of me I just couldn’t place them.

As T’sardan introduced everyone, I stood, dripping wet, at the side of the myre waiting for my turn, and felt a complete mess! My hair was a tangled mass and my beautiful white Hinithôn dress was now a mud splattered mass of wet fabric which clung to my body revealing, amongst other things the outline of the chastity belt which, considering the doubtful company I was keeping, I was extremely glad to be wearing.

I took an instant dislike to T’sardan as he eventually turned to me and with a disarming smile crooned “Ah, Damask, High Priestess of A’nis – a dying sect!”. But before I had a chance to retort “Ah, T’sardan – the transvestite!” L’denon’s child turned to the mud covered individual in the superb suit of armour and said “Greetings Belgarion, we meet again!” The muddy face creased to reveal a white-toothed smile and I heard again that snigger. I almost fell back into the myre with shock at being confronted by the murderer of my beloved Aerik!

“You!” I gasped pointing my finger at him in accusation. But before I could shake myself out of my trance-like state and lay about Belgarion with my sword, the second man stepped forward. He was of middle years with an aura of self importance whose very demeanour demanded our undivided attention.

“I am Phylancia, Grand Mage of the City of Seaward,” he said with no little authority. “You have been assembled here to recover, for me, the Crown of Nelarr.” He was bold if nothing else, this mage! I was about to demand who he thought he was to dare to give orders to a High Priestess, but after a quick glance at my muddy attire I decided not to draw attention to myself. I was certainly not looking my best today. And Phylancia seemed to hold all the trumps.

In response to various questions the company discovered that whosoever wore the Crown of Nelarr, be he or she of true spirit, would become the true ruler of Peldere. Peldere…… where on Crasimoff’s World was Peldere, I asked myself? I pride myself in my knowledge of Geography, yet it was a place I had never before heard of.

The Crown, it seemed, was somewhere in the ruined city of Darkamen, located in the nearby Mountain of Dark Wishes, which we could see towering up a couple of leagues away. Almost as an aside, Phylancia threw in the fact that his brother Torain, a powerful F’norian mage was also seeking the Crown, and that this Torain had the power to summon and bind the servants and sons of the Gods.

“And their daughters too?” was my sarcastic, but silent rejoiner. Then it struck me that this Phylancia too must have the power to bind the servants of the Gods if he could make even the smooth-talking and enigmatic T’sardan his tool. I gave a deep sigh – I was far from being a happy woman at that moment! Cold, wet, filthy, stinking from the myre and stranded with a party of strange men including my arch enemy, Belgarion, King of Madness. And the only way out was to undertake a suicidal quest for this autocratic Grand Mage. Why me?

The same thought was on several lips, and Phylancia revealed that he was willing to supply goods or equipment to the sum of 100 oraks upon successful completion of the quest. Personally I thought that he had a good bargain there – a mere 1000 oraks or so for a Crown which would allow him to rule an entire Kingdom. Indeed, it crossed my mind that, should we ever succeed in recovering the Crown of Nelarr, several of us were of good and true spirit – even though we might be in the minority!

When my turn came to state my desires, I asked for something which I coveted above all else at that moment in time – a hot bath! And in answer to Phylancia’s “You’ll get quite a few hot baths for 100 oraks, My Lady” I also demanded some scroll paper and ink.

With all the arrangements made we were given directions by the enigmatic T’sardan and prepared to trudge through the myre towards the Mountain of Dark Wishes. A demand for “Earthbridge” revealed that none of the mages had the spell – what a wonderful start to our quest, I thought!

As we trudged noisily through the mud, Belgarion tripped and skipped alongside trying to engage me in conversation which was as barbed as a Mordel arrow. I pointedly ignored his advances, resisting the almost overwhelming temptation to push him into the Black Myre. I swore to myself that he would pay for what he had done to my beloved Aerik, the old Tree of Life and my sect. However I could not help noticing the casual way he held his Shade Mace, and thinking that discretion was the better part of valour, I decided to bide my time. Those who have the patience to wait generally get what they desire!

I was somewhat alarmed when T’sardan approached me at one point and enquired whether I had been honoured with the ability to resurrect? “Do you think that will be necessary?” I asked him. His lack of reply was eloquence enough. I began to wonder exactly what might lie ahead of us in Darkamen City and decided to conserve most of my power to cast Regenerates.

After about two hours of muddy bog trotting, we drew close to the shadow of the Mountain of Dark Wishes. I felt a terrible sense of unease as we approached – there were no animals or plants to be seen in the desolate area, only a few diseased and dying trees. It seemed to me as if the spirit of A’nis was absent from this place.

T’sardan led us to the entrance to a cave which, he assured us, led to the City of Darkamen. After a small delay while the brave fighters debated over who would go first, Menahem, the A’stall priest from Heroes of Geddon took the lead and everyone followed on in a bit of a rush.

After a couple of minutes walking through rock cut corridors, we came to massive double doors in the side of the tunnel. We listened carefully but heard nothing so we pushed open the doors and ventured in. We found ourselves in a massive circular room with a high domed ceiling. Painted on the floor was a circle with arcane symbols dotted all around – obviously a room for summoning. Belgarion cheerfully offered to demonstrate how the room worked to be told by several of us that we would be willing to demonstrate the finer workings of our weapons on his body if he did!

Everyone crept carefully around the summoning circle, with the exception of Belgarion who skipped gleefully through the middle of it. We came to another set of double doors and upon opening these we found ourselves in another corridor. This we followed until we noticed that the tiles on the floor ahead of us seemed somewhat different from the rest. Fearing some sort of trap we bravely doubled back and headed up the original corridor.

After a while we came to a long corridor with doors down each side. From behind the first door we could hear one harsh voice and two squeeky ones. Fatty, subtle as ever, immediately threw open the door and walked in. As we crowded behind him I could see a somewhat surprised looking Guthrauk sitting behind a desk while two Dark Kin were engaged in a real ding-dong battle in the middle of the floor.

Belgarion calmly walked up to the Guthrauk and engaged him in some sort of guttural conversation, which I presumed was Dark Talk, while the rest of us merely watched. Somewhat upset by the lack of reaction from the T’gellen fighters, Krun let fly with a Fireball at the Guthrauk. From good naturedley offering Belgarion a drink the enormous demon turned into a battle crazed fighting machine. Belgarion quickly melted into the background while our fighters belatedly charged the demon. While this was going on I took the opportunity to walk up to the still squabbling Dark Kin and finish them off with two swipes of my sword – first blood to the sect of A’nis I thought!

Meanwhile the combined assault by some of the most powerful fighters in Crasimoff’s World had laid the mighty Guthrauk low, and everyone started to search the room. In a desk drawer we found a few oraks some papers and a key.

The rest of the rooms in this corridor proved to be empty or cells. The latter were unoccupied except for two. In the first we found a naked man, obviously starved and tortured almost to death, shackled to the wall. Much to my annoyance Menahem, the A’stall priest from Heroes of Geddon put his hands over my eyes to stop me from being offended by the man’s nakedness. Before I could suggest that we tried the key we had found on the man’s shackles, a grinning Belgarion offered to release him and started to smash the man’s chains with the Shade Mace. On his third swing he muttered “Oops, butterfingers!” and the Mace thudded into the man’s hand, smashing it into a bloody pulp.

I was furious, realising that this was no accident, and in a rage, without thinking to conserve my power for our own party, I thrust Belgarion out of the way and laid my hands on the injured prisoner while chanting “By the power of my Lady of the Fertile Fields I regenerate your injured body.” Power surged through me as the man’s hand began to pulse while the bloody flesh coalesced into the rough form of a hand, and his scars and weals began to disappear. Within a few seconds the prisoner’s hand was almost as good as new and he began to take on the form of an extremely muscular fighter. He told us that he, Ableaxe, was a warrior of “the one true God” A’dicne and had been captured when the war chief of the Voxon, a red haired female warrior named Velpere, had led his tribe into battle against Torain’s demons. Ableaxe was asked to accompany us. This he agreed to do, and he was given a sword, and, to my great disappointment, some clothing. We left the cell and I engaged Ableaxe in conversation – any man who accepted a woman as his leader was alright with me. From the back of the party Belgarion pouted and threw poisoned glances at us.

The final cell proved to be empty apart from a very badly decayed body. As we left the cell I noticed the V’garnian priest Deathlord lingering behind. A minute or so later he reappeared with a horrible undead creature shambling along behind him. Pausing only long enough to identify it as a mummy, albeit lacking any bandages, I quickly advanced to the front of the party – where the smell of the hideous creature was somewhat more bearable.

After some more exploring we rounded a corner and walked straight into four Mithrauko. It would be difficult to say who was more surprised, but this time Fatty, Broadscar, Dardarius, Empirikol, Blake and Roatax did not hold back. With the help of a couple of Fireballs from Krun the Mithrauko soon were decorating the floor and walls of Darkamen City. We then noticed a pair of double doors but they appeared to be locked. Eventually, after some not inconsiderable effort, we managed to open the doors – and were almost covered by a shower of thousands upon thousands of coins. We were rich beyond our wildest dreams!

No we weren’t – the coins weren’t oraks! Suddenly someone noticed a small box jutting out from the pile of coins. Our illustrious company was soon on its knees, rooting and grubbing amongst the treasure hoard for any more valuable items with a fervour which a herd of swine searching for truffles would have found difficult to equal. Several interesting objects were found including a pair of gauntlets, some daggers, a gold ring and a jade bracelet. These were given to me for safe keeping; the assumption being that I, as a neutral, held no grudges against anyone – excepting Belgarion of course, who could by all accounts be expected to look after his own interests!

Some time later, we came to a large chamber with the choice of several roads. Which way should we take? The answer was provided when we used Question, to determine the most direct route to the Crown. Continuing further through the streets of the ruined city of Darkamen, we found many shops, some of which we chose to explore. It was in one of these that I uncovered the base of a black statuette. I continued to dig carefully and was soon brushing the earth from a black statuette of a naked man. As I looked at the statue’s face, I suddenly felt an uncontrollable loathing and desire to put as much distance between myself and the statue as possible. With a scream, I dropped the statue and fled from the shop, soon to be followed by Krun who had had seen me drop the statue and who had also picked it up and looked at it. What the others thought when I rushed screaming from the shop closely followed by Krun, I hesitate to think!

After a while I calmed down, and returned to the party feeling somewhat embarrassed at my flight. The offending statue was wrapped in cloth and we continued on our way.

Suddenly there was a whizzing noise and everyone hit the dirt as a Fireball exploded amongst us, burning some of the party. In an instant Belgarion was charging towards the place from where the fireball had come, closely followed by the fighters. A mage was seen to turn and run only to be clobbered by Broadscar and Fatty. A rather undignified scramble followed as Belgarion and Krun grabbed at the mage’s two fallen scrolls. The two mages announced that the scrolls were – Sleep and Locate Person! But no Fireball was found although the mage and surroundings were carefully searched. As everyone wondered aloud how the mage had cast Fireball without a scroll I glanced at Belgarion who was keeping abnormally quiet and looking suspiciously pleased with himself. I decided to watch the handsome F’norian more closely in future.

Handsome? Belgarion? I mentally shook myself. This monster had murdered my beloved mentor and predecessor, Aerik. I hated Belgarion, I hated him, I hated him, I hated him.

I was soon distracted as we came across more Mithrauko, this time in a very small chamber. Combat was difficult but Ableaxe and Deathlord’s mummy forced into the room with Fatty and Broadscar behind them. Dardarius, Roatax, Empirikol, Blake, Belgarion and I attempted to fire arrows into the fray. In that crowded room as I grazed Deathlord’s mummy in the shoulder, I realised that our arrows were almost as much a danger to our side as the enemy. However, as I noticed Belgarion wing his fourth arrow into the small of Ableaxe’s back, I realised that the King of Madness was as usual, following his own path. Furious, I took careful aim with an arrow and appeared to slip just as I loosed it, intending to take Belgarion in the back. Unfortunately, I fell rather further than I intended and to my utter amazement I took out the last Mithrauko when my arrow hit it square in the forehead. My companions praised loudly such excellent archery and I could only curse silently as I rushed forward to help Ableaxe who was clearly close to death. Although I hardly knew this man, he was Belgarion’s enemy, and as such, I intended to cherish him as my champion.

As I reached the A’dicne warrior he clutched at the arrows in his back and weakly demanded “Who?”. “Belgarion!” I said, “Who else?”

With that Ableaxe lurched unsteadily to his feet and yelling “I’ll kill you” staggered across towards a grinning Belgarion who readied his Shade Mace for an easy kill. Just in time I grabbed Ableaxe and quickly chanted “By the power of the Tree of Life, I regenerate you, Ableaxe.” As power flowed from me the A’dicne warrior suddenly lost all look of a dying cripple – for the second time in as many hours. Belgarion hastily backed off as the rest of the party, to my great regret, managed to calm down Ableaxe and another opportunity to deal with Belgarion was lost to me.

Throwing a venomous “Watch yourself, F’norian!” at Belgarion, I headed onwards beside my new champion. Our next encounter proved to be with a drunken Guthrauko which was soon dispatched, surprisingly enough with a fair bit of assistance from our resident F’norian. On the body we found a parchment with some symbols. The ever-serene looking Broadscar was able to surmise that they meant that “Six is the key”. We all looked pleased with ourselves, but T’sardon stood muttering darkly to himself about wanton killing of all and sundry, even those who might have been able to help us. No one paid much heed to L’denon’s offspring however, and we continued on our way.

As I travelled, I conversed with Deathlord, the pale-faced V’garnian priest who amazed me by turning out to be surprisingly good company. Soon we were whispering together discussing an idea of his which depended on ghasts being able to paralyse Mithrauko, Guthrauko, or both. My carefully worded Question provoked sneers from Belgarion. “Cooperating with the V’garnians now Damask?” “At least they did not lay waste my Chapel and kill my dear Aerik!” I hissed back at my enemy. After I told Deathlord the answer to my Question, he disappeared to return with two Mithrauko ghasts.

That conversation with Deathlord soon proved its worth as the next room which we came across appeared to be a large dormitory full of sleeping demons. As everyone whispered conflicting advice whether to attack or retire, Belgarion took matters into his own hands by walking into the room. Cursing silently, we followed with Deathlord’s two ghasts instructed to enter each sleeping alcove and paralyse the sleeping demons with their claws. The rest of the party stood guard as the assassin and I followed the ghasts, cutting the throats of the paralysed Mithrauko. However, our good luck could not hold out forever. Eventually when we had dealt with about half the sleeping alcoves, two sleepy-looking, naked demons appeared and demanded to know what Belgarion was doing there. As I glanced at the repulsive naked demons and felt my stomach churn at the horrible sight, I wondered where Menahem was now? Typical bloody men, I thought! Never there when you need one!

Confusion followed and the alarm was raised with demons leaping out of bed and grabbing for their weapons. Our fighters charged. Dardarius, Fatty and Broadscar headed to the left while Empirikol, Roatax and Blake went to the right. We mages and priests notched arrows to our bows or readied spells, I noticed Belgarion’s eyes on Ableaxe. I grabbed the A’dicne warrior and pulled him into an alcove where Deathlord was just finishing off a paralysed Mithrauk. “How would you like me to make you a lycanthrope?” I asked him, within my mind a gleeful picture of a werecreature tearing Belgarion apart. “No understand woman!” Ableaxe replied. “You stupid barbarian”, I hissed in disappointment. “Make me better fighter, woman?” he demanded. “Just you wait!” I replied and chanted the necessary words as Deathlord handed the man what looked like some Berserker Root saying, “This vegetable will also make you a great fighter.”

Even I was unprepared for what happened as Ableaxe’s body started to ripple, hair grew all over his body, and his screams of agony changed to howls and a maddened berserk werekresh shot out of the cubicle faster than a rat out of an aqueduct! The nearest Mithrauko showed all the classical signs of terror and I covered my nose with my scarf at the smell of their fear. While our fighters battled bravely against several of the Mithrauko, and the berserk werekresh literally tore demons apart, a new creation of Deathlord’s was causing confusion with the remaining demons. No matter how many times they “killed” it, the shambling creature got back up again and continued to fight. “Crypt Corpse?” I enquired with interest to receive a smile and a nod from Deathlord.

The combat was soon over and we were left with only the berserk were-kresh to worry about. Luckily Menahem cast “Pacify Berserker” and calmed the enraged beast. We counted the dead demons which littered the floor of the dormitory – thirty Mithrauko and two Guthrauko – certainly a match several times over for our group in a straight fight and we counted ourselves lucky to have succeeded here so easily. After I had cast Regenerates on some of the worst wounded of the fighters we continued on our way.

As we travelled through the city, I took the opportunity to survey the area we were crossing for any interesting plant life. Amongst the various flora which I saw, three species of fungus were of interest – the first I was unable to identify, the second would cause vomiting if ingested, while the third was deadly poisonous. I collected as much of the fungi as I could and stored them in my backpack. As I did so I went through a moral battle to decide whether or not I could use poison to punish an evil murderer and desecrator? Stealing a glance at a certain F’norian who was wearing my beloved Aerik’s armour, I decided that I both could and would!!

Some time later the party stopped. We had come to a large pit in floor ahead of us. Careful examination revealed that the pit was about 50 feet deep and contained several snakes of various sizes which were writhing about. Krun had the bright idea of trying to kill them using a Fireball and we all came close to losing our eyebrows as heat and flames suddenly soared back up the hole from the ball of flames which had exploded below. Looking down we saw that approximately ten of the snakes were still alive, so the party had some target practice, trying to dispatch the survivors with bows and arrows. Although the larger snakes made easy targets and were soon killed, some of the smaller – and probably more venomous ones – made difficult targets. Eventually, after almost all our arrows had been fired, the last serpent was killed, and some of us descended into the pit with the help of our rope. We found several skeletons, some rusty equipment and, upon slitting open the snakes, some interesting items including several gems and a flask of never ending water. Putting the items into my backpack, we continued on our way.

Soon we came to a strange room with two mirrors in it. Broadscar and I discussed what to do, being wary of such mirrors after Broadscar’s own experience with Mirror Images and those of my T’gellenite friends in S’vaal’s mound. I laid down my weapons and took off all my armour standing in just my white, mud splattered Hinithôn dress. Then I moved in front of one of the mirrors. The shimmering T’gellen knight stood to the side with my sword. Thus, if any Mirror Image did appear out of the glass, Broadscar would hand me my sword and I would strike down the unarmed Image. However, as I glanced at the mirror I burst out laughing. Reflected in front of me was my own self, but squat and very fat! The other mirror proved to be the same and the rest of the party entered. It was Menahem who, while putting his arm against the mirror for support, fell through it. Further exploration revealed that behind the mirrors was a room full of coins similar to those we had already found.

As we had been adventuring for about nine hours, we suggested that we should hole up for the night – thus, as Deathlord and I pointed out, we spell and power casters would regain all our strength for the morrow. Menahem was somewhat doubtful saying that Torain might be close to the Crown, but we decided that there was little to be gained by carrying on in our tired state.

I quietly took some of my poisonous fungi out of my backpack and set about preparing a hot supper for the party. Luckily, this did not arouse any suspicions in the group – obviously they were a bunch of male chauvinist oinkers who assumed that it was a woman’s simple duty to wait on them hand and foot! Using some snake meat to supplement our rations, I prepared, what by normal campaigning standards, was a banquet. I served everyone, mixing a dose of fungus which I estimated contained enough poison to kill a regiment into Belgarion’s portion. Helping myself to some tender white snake meat, I then sat back, munching contentedly, and watched Belgarion, waiting for the tell tales signs that the poison had begun to take effect. I waited, and I better waited, and I waited again. But nothing happened – something was wrong! Taking a closer look, I noticed that my enemy was wearing some sort of medallion. I cursed silently again – no doubt it protected the wearer from poison! The King of Madness was certainly no fool when it came to protecting himself!

After exhausting myself by Regenerating most of the party, I slept like a log that night. When I awoke I was amazed to hear of a visitation by some sort of female wraith,who had been seen only by the mysterious T’gellen knight, Broadscar. The female wraith had harmed no one but had shown great interest in some of the male members (to coin a phrase) of the party. She must have been pretty hard up I thought, but I kept my reflections to myself – men can be incredibly vain, and are easily hurt.

After we set off on that new morning, we collected more coins from behind the mirrors, and then entered a room which seemed almost like a customs point. Behind a desk stood three female wraiths who demanded 500 coins to allow us to pass, upon pain of death. Hurriedly, many coins were piled on their desk, and someone shouted that there was enough too for the return journey before the party achieved what was a very impressive speed for armoured adventurers. I mentally chalked up another point for the better sex! Broadscar confirmed to us all that it was one of these female wraiths who had visited our camp the night before.

Our next problem proved to be a bookshop. Thinking to find rare and useful tomes, half of our distinguished company rushed up to one of the bookshelves and started tearing the books from the shelves. Noticing a fine covering of spored fungi, I put my scarf over my nose and mouth and shouted a warning at the bibliophiles. Too late, Menahem had pulled out a book which was heavily covered with spore cases and they began to pop open casting a cloud of tiny dust-like spores which spread rapidly through the room. The A’stall priest collapsed to the floor, choking and spluttering as he grasped at his throat. I tried to drag him out and forced him to drink some water but this only seemed to make him worse. As he began to turn blue, I quickly chanted “By the power of I’risil, I remove the disease which afflicts you”. As someone shouted “Neutralise Poison, woman” I turned and glared at him through narrowed eyes – did these men think I was a walking medicine chest? Luckily, the Cure Disease appeared to have worked, though from Menahem’s laboured breathing it appeared that his lungs would never be the same again.

Deathlord had an idea to discover quickly which books in the shops were the most useful and valuable, so I cast a carefully worded Question. This revealed that only one book was of interest and it was soon located and removed. In a form of High Astoff it appeared to be entitled “………. My Fate.” Crasimoff? I mused to myself in jest.

Further exploration of the bookshop almost proved our undoing as we entered a room with a golden throne. As Belgarion went up and sat on the throne, trying to scrape of some gold with his dagger, the walls suddenly closed in and we became cut off from the rest of the party.

“You have offended me.” boomed a voice. “Explain to me why I should not simply kill you out of hand?” “This is another fine mess you’ve got us into.” I hissed at the erstwhile gold digger.

Some respectful questioning – with the exception of insults from Belgarion – revealed that the voice belonged to a powerful dead king named Samæris. He offered to allow us our lives if we could answer four out of six riddles which he would pose to us. Luckily, there were some nimble brains in our party, especially the female assassin Roatax, and we answered the first four correctly. The voice then boomed that we could go free, but if we answered the two final riddles he would give us some information to help us. Two correct answers later we smugly asked the voice “How do we get to the Crown of Nelarr” to receive the answer “Go ever upwards!”

The walls parted again and after some more trudging through the City of Darkamen, we found ourselves next to a ravine. While some of the others roped themselves together and went to explore the ravine, I sat down and thoroughly examined the party treasure which had been entrusted to me. Among the more interesting items, we had a Black Fear statue, a very fine dagger and scabbard, an ornate runed golden helm, a belt with two runed throwing daggers, a flask of never ending water, a very fine sword, the book in High Astoff, four spell scrolls, four rings, a jade bracelet, a dozen gems, and perhaps a couple of hundred oraks. Not a bad haul, I considered, with my eyes fixed on the flask of never ending water – it could come in very useful for watering the pot plants back in the Chapel…..

My daydreams were interrupted as the explorers eventually returned, somewhat cut and bruised from minor falls, to say that they had found a path in the bottom of the ravine which led upwards. Some way along the path they had found the bottom of a massive chimney stack. We decided to head for this chimney and try to continue “ever upwards”.

It was no easy task for us all to get down the cliff to the valley bottom which was pitted by large potholes. Personally, I found the descent easy, no doubt due to the amount of time I had spent climbing trees while a girl. It took the best part of an hour to get the men to the base of the chimney however, after some very close shaves for some of them. I made no comment however – one has to make some allowances for the weaker sex!

As I arrived at the chimney, I was told that Roatax had reached the top, after taking a very nasty fall which had come close to killing her – indeed if she had not been wearing those new gauntlets of dexterity, a Resurrect might have been our first priority.

Once the rope had been made tight at the top, we all lined up to be pulled up that chimney. After what seemed an eternity the rope was eventually thrown down and handed to me. Although I have a good head for heights, this experience turned out to be more terrifying to me than the F’norian Depths Temple had been. Before I had time to properly fasten the rope securely around me, it was hauled up. I was unable to release the partially tied rope and it slipped from my middle down to my feet. I was hauled off balance and pulled unceremoniously, feet first, up the chimney with all the grace of a sack of corn. To my horror, the rope started to loosen and I felt myself begin to slip. Luckily I managed to grab the end of the rope just as it unravelled and, with my eyes closed, I clung on to that rope as if my life depended upon it – as indeed it probably did.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds, I arrived safely at the top and was helped onto what I was assured was solid ground. Personally, I was not so sure, although it may just have been due to the way my whole body had started to tremble and shake. After a minute or two I had calmed down sufficiently to open my eyes and realised that we were in some sort of tavern. At that moment Roatax, looking decidedly battered and bruised, limped painfully up to me and, putting her arm round my shoulder, she suggested that I came and sat with her and tried some of the vintage wine she had discovered. And would I consider casting Regenerate on her?

At the present moment, I was in no state to cast any powers, and I was extremely doubtful about healing a V’garnian. After fifteen minutes and a bottle and a half of the most excellent wine I had ever tasted I was feeling much better and even began to wonder why on earth I had been so frightened of falling down the chimney. Responding to Roatax’s request for healing I happily stood up, laid my hands on all three of her and intoned “By cha, Hic!, powa av A’nish ansh cha Tree, Hic! av Lish I regenerish your woundsh Hic!.”

Feeling somewhat light-headed, I floated along after the rest of the party as they went through a door at the far end of the bar. Round the walls of the room were several beds – by now somewhat damp with their sheets faded and moth eaten. “Obviously a room for sleeping off the worst effects of the booze!” someone suggested.

Now that, to me, seemed an excellent idea and as the men left the room I steered myself over to one of the beds and lay down – just for a couple of seconds until my head stopped spinning so much.

The next thing I knew I was being attacked by a crazed Guthrauk which was shaking me about. I screamed – and woke up, to find myself face to face with an obviously drink-taken Krun. I suddenly panicked as I realised I, a young and no doubt extremely desirable female was lying alone in bed with this drunken man leering over me. But I breathed a sigh of relief as Krun merely whisked me up and began to carry me into another room. My relief was short lived however as he quickly tied me up with some silk. “Bondage?” I wondered, tense with anticipation.

Suddenly, I shot along the floor, through a large hole in the wall and was hauled upwards at an incredible speed. I barely repressed a scream as above me I could see that I was being pulled up, what looked and smelt like a sewage pipe, by a giant spider. The nightmare trip up that foul smelling pipe seemed to last forever. Eventually I was pulled, by several helpful hands – some far too helpful I felt – into a small extremely hot and stuffy room. After a bottle and a half of wine, and the extremely upsetting experience of being hauled up that disgusting pipe, the stifling heat of the room was just too much for me and I began to feel very unwell. I staggered a step or two across the room before nature took its course and I gave an enormous technicolour yawn – all over Belgarion!

Needless to say the King of Madness was not at all amused at having a woman – even such a distinguished one as the High Priestess of A’nis – throw up all over him. He reacted in a fury, his fist smashing out to make contact with my chin, knocking me over.

With cries of “Shame” and “How could you hit a woman?” Belgarion was restrained by the others as I sat up, holding my fingers to the blood which trickled from the corner of my rapidly swelling lip. But, by A’nis, I suddenly felt so good! No matter what I may achieve in later life, I shall always look upon that moment as one of my greatest triumphs!

With Belgarion and myself kept well apart by the rest of the party, we opened the door in the wall opposite the pipe to find a set of stairs. After dispatching a lovesick male wraith to his long lost sweetheart below, we continued ever upwards. Soon we found ourselves in what appeared to be a temple – to V’garn it seemed judging from looks of a the large statue on one wall. By now Krun looked decidedly green and after being totally ignored by the statue, promptly dealt out to it what I had honoured Belgarion with. Then he proceeded to throw up all over his scrolls. With my nose in the air and the superior attitude which one who has not a hangover feels towards one who has, I sniffed “Hmm, some people just can’t hold their drink”.

As we continued to explore we found a large chamber whose floor was pitted with large treacherous holes. Opening off the large chamber were several small rooms, seemingly shrines to other Gods – K’nor in one; A’dicne or perhaps T’gellen in another. There was a sudden cry from Menahem, and the A’stall priest appeared with a small bag of tokens which were numbered from I to XII. We walked up to a large door at one end of the temple where, on the door in a star shaped design, there were twelve indentations of the same size as the tokens.

“Six is the key” said Broadscar, and everyone sat down to attempt to work out how the tokens should be placed – or almost everyone.

Unnoticed by us, Deathlord and his undead minions disappeared off down one of the side tunnels. Our study of the puzzle was rudely interrupted by his noisy, rapid and somewhat undignified entrance with an extremely fine sword. Soon the reason for his panic was revealed as a large wraith floated along after him hissing “Put the sword back, put it back.”

As the V’garnian appealed for help from the rest of us, I quietly side stepped as far away from that sword as possible. Taking one look at the wraith, the rest of the party followed my example! With a look of resignation Deathlord dropped the sword, and after repeated threats from the wraith sheepishly carried the sword back to its resting place.

With a sigh of relief we got back to solving the puzzle with the quick-minded Roatax soon suggesting that the lines must add up to 23. With the amazing mental abilities of the shimmering T’gellen knight Broadscar to guide us, we had little difficulty in placing all the numbers correctly. The door slowly opened revealing a set of stairs leading up.

In single file we climbed the stairs, up, up and ever up. Then suddenly we came to the top. On a pederast, sorry pedestal, above we could see – a golden crown. T’sardan, who we had almost forgotten about, for once contributed something, and informed us that this was indeed our goal. Suspiciously, we asked L’denon’s curious son to confirm that this was not only our goal, but the Crown of Nelarr. This he did so, and it was the work of a moment for Menahem’s seagull to knock the Crown from it’s high pedestal into the A’stall priest’s hands.

Flushed with success we trooped back to the temple where T’sardan told us to form a circle and said he would teleport us back to the City of Seaward.

But, just as we joined hands, there was a cry of alarm from Menahem as the crown shot out of his hands! It was then seen to fly across the room carried by a small winged demonic creature which had apparently appeared from within the Crown.

At that point it seemed as if a thousand things happened at once. Each of the party reacted immediately, cursing, grabbing scrolls, loading bows and grasping weapons. But only Menahem was quick enough to let loose an arrow just as the gremlin was about to reach an exit. The arrow hit the creature’s wing, causing it to fall to the ground and the Crown clattered to the floor. Slowly it began to roll towards one of the holes in the floor.

The gremlin made a grab for the Crown as did one of the party, but our prize slipped over the edge of the hole to disappear from sight. Menahem’s seagull plunged after it but the combined weight of the crown and the gremlin was too much for it.

We threw ourselves to the edge of the hole and cursed as we threw down a torch and realised that the hole was apparently a bottomless pit!

“YOU FOOLS!”

The sudden cry of rage turned the party’s heads in unison. There, behind us in one of the doorways, stood a bearded man not unlike Phylancia – Torain had finally put in an appearance! Behind him swarmed many demons, mostly Mithrauko with a smattering of Dark Kin and Guthrauko. I had a feeling that we might just be in a tiny little spot of bother!

My feeling of unease grew as I saw Broadscar, Fatty, Dardaius, Roatax, Empirikol and Menahem disappear through one of the doors leaving Deathlord, Krun, Blake, Belgarion and myself alone to face Torain and his demonic hordes. Gritting my teeth I notched an arrow to my longbow and let fly, hitting a Mithrauk and causing it to grunt in pain. Blake and Deathlord were also firing arrows while Krun and Belgarion were preparing spells.

Next to me, the V’garnian Deathlord proffered some paste-like mixture – obviously a potent poison. While not generally approving of the use of poisons, we were facing F’norian demons, not humans, and this was a life or death situation. My all important personal moral code was abandoned for the second time in as many days. My poisoned arrow hit a Mithrauk square in the chest but it kept coming. I was somewhat disappointed that it hadn’t died instantly, but Deathlord informed me that the poison would take a few seconds before it began to take effect. Suddenly there were two loud bangs as a Fireball from the mage Krun struck a Mithrauk and a Lightning Bolt from Belgarion brought down part of the ceiling.

I had no time to ponder on Belgarion’s action though as an enormous Guthrauk charged into view – by far the largest of its kind which anyone had ever seen. With a silent prayer to A’nis I loosed a poisoned arrow which whizzed through the air and hit the brute square in the chest. The Guthrauk looked at me, broke off the shaft as if in contempt, and continued to charge in my direction. Another volley of arrows, and Deathlord’s poison ran out. We loosed off a final volley of arrows and then the demons were almost upon us. I dropped my bow, and taking up my sword and shield in my best imitation of Meridian Nighthawk, my onetime chieftain, I faced the enormous Guthrauk and prepared to meet A’nis in person.

Then Fatty and Broadscar suddenly charged into view from one of the side passages and Dardaius, Roatax, Empirikol and Menahem appeared from another, having outflanked the demons and taken them by surprise. With screams of “T’gellen!” Broadscar and Fatty hit the confused demons in the flank with the others members of our party close behind them. The “cavalry” had arrived – but was it enough? Even mighty Fatty looked like a little boy next to the enormous Guthrauk which my poisoned arrow had hit.

In fact, the demons had only time to swing a few blows at our badly outnumbered fighters before those which had been hit by poisoned arrows started to drop like flies. I held my breath as “my” Guthrauk continued to swipe at Fatty. But then, the mighty demon stopped in mid swipe and suddenly stiffening, it collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Seeing the Guthrauk fall, the rest of the demons turned round and fled. I turned round and shook Deathlord, priest of V’garn by the hand – strange how impending death can change one’s little religious prejudices!

As we caught our breath, we realised that Torain had been absent throughout the fight and could only have sent part of his force of demons against us – to delay us while he went for the Crown!

As urgency once more took us, I quickly cast a few Regenerates on the worst of our wounded. Broadscar suggested that a lift we had found in the temple antichamber might lead down to the basement. We headed off to the strange machine in the corner of the antichamber. Broadscar and three others entered and it slowly disappeared from sight. All the rest of us could do, was wait.

After some half an hour we grew impatient and Menahem sent his seagull down with a message. Ten minutes or so later the bird reappeared with a note saying the lift had gone down too far low, and could we pull it up slowly.

After an agonizing wait, the lift eventually reappeared and out stepped our four companions stepped back out of the lift – with Dardarius proudly clutching the Crown!

With that T’sardan shouted at everyone to join hands so we could escape before Torain found us. After our last experience we lost no time in complying with his request.

There was a flash of light and we all appeared with T’sardan in a stone walled chamber. The son of L’denon explained that we were in the basement of Phylancia’s tower in the City of Seaward. Everyone then piled their gains from the adventure on a table in the centre of the room. Somewhat suspicious of a certain F’norian I cast a couple of Questions to discover that Belgarion had held back some oraks from the spoils and that he had quickly switched the dead mage’s Fireball spell for his Analyse Object. I could not help but smile at my arch-enemy’s outwitting of us all!

Before anyone could lay hands on Belgarion for his devious tricks, the door to the chamber opened and Phylancia, Grand Mage of the City of Seaward stalked in. Ignoring us, as if beneath his dignity, he looked directly at L’denon’s son and said “You have the Crown I see T’sardan. I suggest you send your helpers back from whence they came and then hand me the Crown in a ceremony my followers have organised. Only then will your oath be broken.” Oh well, it looked like I wasn’t going to get to be Queen of Peldere after all! Phylancia moved further into the room and allowed three grey robed men to enter. Each of the men carried various items which Phylancia announced were our rewards for recovering what was “rightfully” his. As to the validity of his rights, I was somewhat doubtful, but I considered that this proud mage would certainly make a better ruler for Peldere than his F’norian brother Torain.

T’sardan then divided up our spoils from the adventure and Phylancia and his men distributed the rewards. When all that had been done T’sardan thanked each of us and said how sorry he was to involve us in the business. “May your lives hold what you seek.” were his final words as I was swept up by a mystical light and suddenly found myself back in Cristrin.

Clutching my backpack which was full of scroll paper and ink, some fungi, four bottles of vintage wine, several oraks, a topaz, a jade bracelet and a flask of never ending water, I stood silently for a few moments. Whatever else, if I should find myself on Peldere in the future, I considered that it might not be unhelpful to be one of those who King Phylancia had to thank for recovering the Crown of Nelarr.

Then I wondered if I had missed a golden opportunity to get even with Belgarion? But as I fingered my lip, still swollen from when Belgarion had thumped me, I couldn’t help grinning – despite the pain from my mouth and the throb of a mild hangover which was just beginning – I really hadn’t done so badly after all, had I! And perhaps, A’nis permitting, there might even be a next time!

Damask Stonefist, High Priestess of A’nis.