The tale has been long in the telling, and it is nearing time for the tale to end, time for the War to end, time for the Great Duel to decide the victor.

Time for the Prince to return.

Lord General Manus iw Elbirt watched grimly at the battle-worn warrior he had just challenged. He was an impressive sight: tall, his stance alert though tired, his grim expression only evident by his silhouette in the light of fading fires.

Of course he was impressive. After weeks of siege defence, anyone who had fought on the walls would be a survivor. Tonight this man had infiltrated the Kingdom camp and slain a Beast from beyond darkest legend. And now he wielded the Sword of the Stone.

Only a very brave or a very foolish man would ever seek to face such an adversary, but as at this moment, right now, he was tired. The entirety of the Aisorbmii morale rested on the shoulders of one weary, worthy warrior, and for the morale of the Kingdom forces Manus had
to hope he could now be slain.

He twirled his sword, watching the glint of firelight reflect in a wide circle around the camp, and issued the challenge. 'In the name of the King, and the Peoples of the Kingdom, might I have the pleasure of thine name, that it might be remembered when the sun rises and illuminates the place where thine own star has fallen?'

The warrior's head rose and looked at him. 'My star is Inesa, the Star of Hope, which must never fall, and my name is my own to any warrior who challenges from the dark where he cannot be seen.'

Manus licked his lips; the reply was formal, and therefore respectful of the challenge, but also slighting of him, and to continue this challenge he must now present his own name. He worried for a moment that the warrior had shown no sign of backing down from a fight. 'Mine name is Manus iw Elbirt, Lord General of the armies of his Majesty the King Arit fre Togr, and my blade no darker than thine own. Canst thou cast thine own name out of the darkness as quickly as I?'

'Neatly deflected, Lord General, though it will do you little good. The Aisorbmii have retaken wall one of the fortress, and soon they may leap from the walls and chase you all the way back to the Kingdom. But the challenge is well given, and for the people of Aisorbma I accept: mine name is Setovarinesa, wielder of the Sword of the Stone.'

The Minister had moved back into a fighting stance when the shout came across the camp: 'STOP!'

And so the Queen Srindra del Bou finally entered the fray at Rene Ponit, and intervened in a duel which could decide the war, and the Lord General, having adopted a fighting position, was caught between advancing to the Queen's defence and bowing at her presence. Mere moments later, he was completely astonished as she advanced herself on the Minister and embraced him closely with a cry of 'MY SON!'

There was a clatter of steel as several of Setovarinesa's men dropped their swords, and for a moment Manus thought he had dropped his own. Slowly he moved forward to ask 'What is happening here?'

The Minister disengaged from the embrace, and turned to his men, leaving the Queen to answer. 'He is of royal blood, my blood, he is the exiled son of Arit and Srindra. Prince Setov, born under the star of Inesa.'

Manus looked the revealed Prince up and down then, failing to envisage the royal stature because it was dark and the Prince was facing away, facing towards his men, and then Manus realised why he was doing this. Because none of the Aisorbmii knew of his past.

They couldn't see him clearly, though, so he had to speak. 'She's right,' said Setov ar Inesa. 'I'm a Prince and Heir and Exile, and that's why I could never be Prime Minister, though my friend Galomanisula was always supportive of me. Before the War we worked to
prevent war from happenin'. We wrote a letter, 'im an' me, to reply to the King and Queen's request for peace, but we never 'ad time to send it. Durin' the war I've fought and bled with yer fer months. If yer can tell me, truly, where I've shirked my duties then the Sword is yours, an' I'll say nowt more, but you won't find anythin' cos I've never shirked. I've fought every day, and now I'm the wielder of the Sword of the Stone, but I want yer all to think: should yer still be my friends?'

Friends, not merely troops. Like an Aisorbmii would, he'd placed himself equal to those he commanded, and brought sword-brothers with him on his mission. But in this revelation, would they trust him... Or, Manus thought, happily considering an alternative, would they kill him
themselves?

Some of them were nodding. One sheathed his sword, stepped forward, and touched Prince Setov's hand. The Minister smiled, and then -

May I interrupt? asked a voice. Is this a good time?

They are standing among woodlands, trees, he and the Prince and the Queen. A stone building, fortified, glowing. Several small creatures, like three-feet-long alligators, black and oily, small-mouthed, walk up and down and around the glow, which surrounds the fort around and above. Not far away, dozens of Kingdom men move around hurriedly. Some are more stealthy, others more cautious, and the last merely paranoid and panicked.

One Marquis Dibon de Fifelech stands upright, confident, and firmly in the cautious category. With him, three others. A woman, who seems to see right into him, and he senses a name: Cafialerasun. A man, who speaks. The third is man and woman, and ever changing, and silent.

Setovarinesa, says the man. I travelled to the Kingdom as you asked. Sunder, prophesied by Yeonan, met his destiny: he drew the Sword from the Stone. The sword must face the darkness, here at the Psyopalace. The Great... ooh. The sword's shiny, isn't it!

Manus looks at the Sword, which shines white in Setov's hand. What darkness could stand against this?

What darkness? Manus has heard of no darkness.

Lord General Manus iw Elbirt. Your strength is required west, at the forest, to face the enemy. The foe which began the war, which organised a famine and spread a pestilence, which unleashed needless death upon thousands of Kingdom and Aisorbmii. The foe which has
eradicated all rice pudding from our lands, hot and cold.

A truly unholy darkness, thought Manus.

Your Majesty, Queen Srindra del Bou. I am Marshal Rekowarilara, of the Aisorbmii. Your power, too, may be required. The fortress is protected, shielded. The creatures generate it, and we cannot attack them with what talents we have. The talents of a powerful witch would be useful.

The Queen nods, and so Manus does, but Setov does not. Rekowar. You have done well – too well for a mere Marshal. A Paladin, I name you, and shall do so when I arrive. I have one question: where is my father?

Shift. A change in moonlight, a sudden grip of geography, whatever, Manus knows he is west of the fortress. A rider approaches: he is armoured, and carried a wide-bladed sword in his scabbard, a shield on his arm. It is the King Arit fre Togr. A pigeon in a nearby tree –
sleeping, for they do not fly so well in the dark - moves to him and delivers a message.

My son! cries the King. He is well, and seeks to end the stalemate at Rene Ponit. Manus, and Rekowar, and Queen Srindra all look to Setov as he says swiftly Yesterday's news, and then the King exclaims, and looks up.

My son! My general, my Queen, he says.

I do not understand, says Manus. How does he know we are here?

He is a Wordsmith says Srindra del Bou.

The King nods. A gift, lord general, like the Healer's to cure, the Mage's to cast, the Psychic's to see, the Truthseer's to divine. I am a wordsmith, and I have power over words.

The letter to Prime Minister Galomanisula contained a spell, such that only one who had touched the letter could summon this pigeon, and establish this communication. And the oaths to which I bound Dibon de Fifelech, and Rekowarilara, and others: I have bound them by words. A useful talent, you might agree? he smiled, and looked at the Prince. What good fortune that my son, whom I never thought to see again, should have touched the letter.

What ill fortune, says Queen Srindra del Bou, that he carried a sword from Rene Ponit all this time, and rendered himself invisible to us for so long. But perhaps now is the time for all family wrongs to be righted.

Now is the time, my Queen, my lady! Let us go in clean conscience. The darkness is ahead, to east of me and west of you. Ride to the fortress, I shall meet you there. The darkness must be felled. Then, my son, we will have our peace.

The Sword pulsed, shining once then again, as a shadow emerges behind the King.

Ah, the Beast, it follows, says the King.

There is another? says Manus, before Setov.

Two says Cafialerasun. Be here soon

The shadow advances, the Beast gains on the King. Within the Shadow, Manus can see... the Palace at the Kingdom is destroyed.

Just as suddenly they are in the camp at Rene Ponit. The first Aisorbmii has clutched Setov's arm and shook it in the warrior grip. 'I'm with yer. Just tell me where!' he said, to the approval of his fellows.

Setov's smile faded. 'Then come, now, Gen,' he said.

No time has passed, Manus realised, but the Paladins among the Aisorbmii step forward at once. The Prince looked to the Queen, and much is shared in that glance: an instruction to move closer, for her spell requires proximity; an urgency of purpose; an expression of fondness on a face used to regret. She closed her eyes, gathering power in this dark night, and they closed in around her.

The Prince cast an amused grin at Manus himself. 'Lord General. I have it on good authority your strength was requested. On behalf of my mother the Queen I repeat that request and ask you to move closer to us.'

Manus, belatedly, did so. He still holds his sword, and started to sheathe it. 'Don't,' added the Prince. 'We'll be fighting very quickly.'

The Paladin Gen took a ball from his pocket and rubs it against the area of cloak resting on his chest. 'For luck,' he said, replacing it.

Queen Srindra del Bou put her hands together, then arced them outwards, expanding a shining ball of light around them all. And then everything around them grew a lot bigger... Manus realised they were shrinking to size which could far more readily be blown west by the winds.

The world became black, and as they returned to normal size Manus could pick out trees, huge trees. The Forest, evidently. The shining bubble shrank, moving through them back to the Queen's hands where it glowed. As he moved outside the bubble Manus saw dark figures running away from them swiftly, in panic.

A red glow appeared between far trees and flared towards them – specifically, Queen Srindra del Bou's hands.

Manus grabbed the Queen at the waist, lifted her and leapt away, landing on his back and rolling to cover her – but the missile turned.

The Queen, the Lord General, and everyone else within a few metres of them were blown apart before their mission had really begun.

The threads are weaving together now, as forces of light and dark finally gather at the Psyopalace. All that stands between them and their Duel is a magic shield.

An impasse, at the brink of the end.

Next episode: the Realisation of Prophecy.

The Next to the Custard
Archive

Ripper

04.09.03 Front Page

Back Issue Page