This is the accompanying text file for RETRIBUTION, the
Sixth Map in the Last Hope Series.  It is authored by 
Timothy Duncan.  If you have comments/questions/just 
want to chat, write me email at tduncan@haverford.edu.
If you've played the previous five maps in the series, 
you are familiar with how it works - read the intro, and
then at the appropriate times, designated by events in 
the map, read the appropriate entries.  As this is the 
climax of the series (not the ending, though!), it is
a bit text heavy.  Reading the entries is NOT necessary
for the completion of the map, but are there for 
entertainment only.  Hope you enjoy..



INTRODUCTION - The King's Council

	"I don't like it, sire.  It will never work." 
Lord Bred Toran frowned and shook his head, pointing at 
the map. "Castle Winscott is too far inland for us to 
aid right now. Our army is not large enough to engage 
all of Darrence's forces at once."
	Corribus leaned forward in his chair.  "I 
understand your trepidation, my friend.  But Winscott
risked much to aid us in the past.  It would be 
dishonorable for us not to return the favor.  Besides,
the plan is not that bad.  I believe it will succeed."
	Sir John Tale, Lord of Tale's Keep, stood to the
right side of Lord Toran, one hand fumbling at his lower
lip in thought and the other resting on the hilt of his
serpentine long sword.  "I still don't understand," he
said, breaking the momentary silence, "Why we can't just
land all of our forces on the shores of Winscotia and 
march straight for the castle itself?  It's only about
a half day's ride."
	Corribus sighed in frustration, tired of going
over the same tactics so many times.  "Because," he 
returned, "A half day's march is too far inland. Our 
reports are that Castle Winscott is besieged by a force
that has cut off the road and the shore, and -"
	"A force smaller than ours, sire," Bred 
interjected.
	The king frowned, pointing to a spot a ways west
of Castle Winscott. "Yes," he agreed, "but if we manage
to break the siege, Darrence has other large armies to 
the west and north, I'll wager, and we will find 
ourselves trapped just as Winscott is now.  No, my friends,
a direct assault is not logical.  We must land some
distance north of Winscotia, perhaps in Elland, and 
navigate our way through the Avantgir Mountains.  Then 
we can take the seiging army by surprise, from the 
northern passes, and surround them before they can 
report back to their mother force.  We will also not be
cut off from retreat."  Corribus smiled at his own 
brilliance.
	Bred Toran stared at the map as if hoping for
some insight from the intricately drawn mountains and
shorelines.  It was a bad plan, and he was sure of it,
but if his commander ordered him to proceed, he had no
choice. "But Corribus, sending us along those valleys
is suicide.  Darrence is no idiot, and neither is that
witch of his.  An army a tenth of our size could trap
us in those mountains and kill us to the man without
losing a single soldier in the fight, and even the least
competent of generals would realize it.  This plan has
ambush scrawled all over it, sire."
	The king slouched back in his seat, pressing
callused fingers to his temples.  He sighed and drew
a deep breath for another argument, but was interrupted
by a sharp rapping at the door.  All three heads turned
at once, and John Tale instinctively grabbed for the 
hilt of his sword.  Corribus stretched out a hand, 
motioning the anxious knight to relax.  "Come in," he
shouted.
	The door to the study swung open, allowing
torchlight from the hallway beyond to spill into the
darkened chamber.  With all the arguing, none of the
three generals had realized how late it had become. A
large, muscular guard wielding an enormous halberd 
poked his head through the door, trying to find his king
in the relative darkness.  "Sire, a rider has come. 
He says he hails from Winscotia."
	"Send him in, Baylor," Corribus replied.
	Baylor set the halberd in the crook of his right
elbow, and ushered in a small man wearing a torn and 
filthy leather jerkin.  A large half-healed cut marred
the man's forehead, and his cheek and left leg were 
stained with dried, clotted blood.  The man looked half
starved and even more frightened.  Sensing the man's
distress, Corribus jumped up from his chair and raced
to the messenger's side.  "Baylor, some water please!" 
the king yelled.  The guard nodded and ran off to honor
the king's request.
	The man allowed Corribus to escort him to a 
chair beside the single table that served as the staging
point for the war that would begin in the next few weeks.
Baylor returned and offered the man a mug of cool water.
The scout accepted it graciously and, after taking 
several large gulps, he began relaying his message.
	"M'Lord, Corribus. I bring grave news, sire,"
he began, "I hail from the township of Berry Hills, 
sire.  Darrence's armies have vanquished our defenses.
With the fall of the last keep in the area, Winscotia
will be drowned by enemy forces in a matter of days.
My Lord, Robin of Winscott, knows you will want to come
to his rescue, but he begs you not to try.  He feels
your strengths will meet with better success elsewhere."
Finished with his message, the scout returned to his
water.
	Corribus returned to his chair and sat motionless
for several minutes, a confused, sickly look on his face.
Finally, when Lord Toran was about to inquire about his
majesty's health, the king stoop up again and yelled
for Baylor.  When the burly guard reappeared at the 
doorway, Corribus indicated the scout with his hand.
"Please see that this man is given quarters and food,
Baylord."  The guard nodded and escorted the messenger
from the room.
	When they were alone again, Corribus returned
to his chair and took it like a throne. In a very
dry, un-Corribus-like tone, the king began giving his
orders while pointing at the map.  "Our armies will 
land to the northeast of Winscotia. Right here," he
said, pointing at a point of beach along the Eryl Sea.
Scrawled in small lettering beside his finger was
written 'Elland' in dark red ink.  Lord Toran bowed
his head and muttered to himself.  Corribus ignored 
his friend.  
	"From there," he continued, "They will march 
through the mountain valleys and circle around the
west and south until they reach Winscotia from the
north, where they shall take their enemy by surprise."
Sir Tale also seemed perturbed, but Lord Toran looked
outwardly distressed.  Yet he said nothing.  "A small
fraction of our forces, nor more than five hundred men,
will be landing here," he hand moved across the map to 
the very western edge, some two hundred and fifty leagues
from Elland.  While Winscotia is being freed from the
claws of Darrence's armies, this small force will enter
the lands of Gloriale, and see if we cannot persuade
the sorceresses who live there to join our struggle. 
I have aided them in the past in their battles against
the barbarians across the Western River, and so I believe
they may offer their armies to me to repay the favor.
Sir Tale and I will be leading this small contingent
of troops, as only I will be able to convince them of
our need."  The king-general paused and looked up at his
two commanders.  Tale met his stare eye for eye, but 
Lord Toran turned away, his jaw clenched in anger. "Any
questions?" Corribus asked, assuming there would be 
none.
	Toran turned again, his fists clenched into 
little white knots.  "Yes, sire." he said through 
clenched teeth. "Who is to lead the mission into the 
hills?"  
	Corribus was taken aback.  "Why, you are, Bred."
	Lord Toran glared fire at his king, and, nearly
growling, replied, "I most certainly will not."
	The king's surprise faded slowly into anger. But
he reigned his temper.  Calmly, he explained. "Bred, I
would not trust my men with anyone else but you.  I 
need you.  Winscott needs you.  I believe you can do 
this."
	"And I believe I will fail. This mission is
doomed, and I believe my king has taken leave of his 
senses. We must not divide our army, and especially
not into a place that lends itself so well to disaster."
Bred was visibly shaking, and spittle dripped down his
chin as he talked.  He gruffly wiped it off with the
back of a mailed fist.  "If Darrence doesn't ambush us,
then that whore of a concubine of his will."
	"Bred," Tale cut in, "Nobody has seen or heard
from the witch in months. Word is she was killed after
her defeat at Toran Rift."
	Bred snorted, and his curt and vitriolic reply 
was wisely kept inaudible.  But Corribus had had enough.
"Listen Bred, your misgivings are noted.  If you will
not do this because I request it, then you will do it
because I order it.  It is the only way.  You are both
dismissed.  You leave on the morrow for Elland, Bred,
and we depart for Gloriale." 
	The king began to turn aside, but Bred caught
him by the shoulder.  "Corribus, I will not be a part
of the slaughter of so many innocent soldiers."
	Corribus scowled; finding his virtue tested, he
kept his hands away from the blade at his hip.  The
fact that he even thought of harming his friend of
thirty years sent a chill up his spine.  He loved Bred
dearly, but matters of state came before matters of 
friendship.  Thus, his reply was nothing short of
caustic and he wished he could take it back the moment
he said it.  "Bred, I will not tolerate cowardice 
among my generals.  If you'll not do it, I'll find 
someone deserving of your knighthood to fill your space."
	Bred fell back a step. He opened his mouth for
a retort, but found himself speechless. The insult took
him aback, and was possibly the most horrible thing
anyone had ever said to him.  It was that much worse 
coming from his best friend.  It took him a minute to
recover, but he managed to face the king and look him
in the eye.  "Very well, MY LIEGE," he said, making a
mocking bow, "I will lead your army, despite the fact
that it goes against my better judgment and my honor.
Farewell, Corribus."  When finished, gave a cursory nod
to John Tale, turned, and stormed out of the room.  Tale
gave a more graceful bow to his king and followed, closing
the door closely behind him.
	With a sudden outburst of rage, Corribus smashed
his fist into the table, sending small colored army
figurines scattering to the floor.  He had always been
such a good king before.  Why had things gone so bad?
Was he any better than Darrence anymore?  Still, his
mind defended his actions, justifying them with loyalty
to his ally of Winscotia.  They must be aided.  
	The king lifted his hand from the map where he 
had crashed his fist a few moments ago.  He couldn't 
help but notice that his fist had come down on the region
of the map detailing the mountainous valleys north of 
Winscott.  He began sifting through the scattered
glass figurines until he found the one he was looking
for, a small blue man waving a sword above his head and
a large feather protruding from his hat.  The blue color
designated the figurine as a member of the King's army
and the plumage indicated that the figuring represented
a general in battle.  'The leader of the expedition into
the mountains,' Corribus thought to himself.  He cradled
the figurine lovingly, admiring the skilled craftsmanship,
and at the same time cursing himself for his treatment
of a friend.
	His musing was suddenly interrupted when the 
figurine snapped in his hands, splitting at the waste
into two pieces.  Corribus stared at the broken stone
in horror. It must have cracked when he hit the table.
He set the piece aside and looked at the other blue 
figurines that lay scattered about the map, a few moments 
ago symbolizing the army that would begin their attack 
tomorrow.  Most of them lay smashed into several pieces,
looking ominously like mangled corpses.
	With a single swipe of his arm, he sent all the 
pieces flying off the table.  "You dumb fool," he 
muttered to himself, eyeing the broken figurine of his
commander on the floor.  It's eyes seemed to stare back
at him in disapproval.  Something told him that he and
Bred would never be friends again.

THE END, INTRODUCTION.  PLEASE PROCEED TO MAP.







Journal Entry One -  Another Enemy


	Castle Sourwine was as beautiful as Corribus 
remembered it.  The path leading up to the fortress
roughly split the Sourwine Meadows in half.  To either
side of the cobblestone thoroughfare, tall grasses and
colorful wildflowers drifted lazily in the afternoon
breeze, giving the pastures almost a liquid motion.  It
was as if Castle Sourwine sat in the middle of a giant
green writhing ocean.  The smell of spring wafted to the
King's nose from the grasslands around him, and he 
paused for several seconds to reflect on the beauty of
the scene before proceeding to the castle gates.
	The fortress itself was a sight to behold, and
as the King's small army approached the gatehouse, it's 
splendor became more and more captivating.  The entire
structure was carved centuries ago by Dwarven artisans
from green limestone.  The castle walls were smooth and
seemingly untouched by time, and from every window 
draped long swaths of golden cloth.  Flowers decorated
the crenelations of even the tallest towers, lending an
aura of peace and youthful pleasure.  It would certainly
be a shame to lay siege to the castle.
	When the army came within firing distance of the
walls, Corribus raised his arm to call for a halt. With
a flagbearer and knight at either side, they cantered up
to the castle gates and attempted to capture the 
attention of one of the guards standing atop the 
gatehouse.  After a few minutes of yelling, a single 
guard appeared between the perfectly carved battlements.
He was dressed in a deep blue tunic and matching golden
cape over polished chain mail.  In his right hand he 
clutched a pike taller than a man and in his left he 
wielded a shield bearing the symbol of a rising phoenix.
Most of the costume, Corribus judged, was probably for
show rather than performance.  "Who goes there?" the
guard yelled down.
	"It is your King.  I wish to see Lady D'Testra.
And please hurry."
	The guard's features contorted in confusion, 
and he appeared unsure of what to do.  Finally, he 
yelled back down, "I'm sorry sire, but her ladyship is
not here.  She is attending to affairs of court in
Castle Cewtsy to the north.  But her niece, Lady S'Nestra
is here, it you would see her instead?"
	Corribus cursed at his bad luck, but nodded his 
head in consent to the guard.  Within minutes the gate 
was raised and he was led into the castle proper.  After 
being escorted down dozens of marble hallways, he 
finally arrived in a small receiving chamber.  Sitting
on a hastily constructed throne (for your benefit, you
assume) was a ravishing woman of certainly no more than
seventeen years.  The King couldn't help but thinking of
how he had become so old.  The lady S'Nestra wore a 
long, yellow silk gown that did nothing to hide her 
anatomy, and brandished a near trunk-load of golden
jewelry, most of which probably belonged to her aunt.
The King tugged at the mail coif covering his head and
scolded his choice to wear something so hot and stifling.
	Lady S'Nestra cleared her throat loudly, and the
guards left them alone, slamming the doors as they left.
Suddenly, the girl began shouting, "How dare you think 
to come here?  Villain!  I should have you arrested and
put to trial for your crimes!  If my aunt were here, 
she'd-"
	"She'd show her king some manners is what she 
would do!" Corribus piped in, now angry himself.  The
fact that this little wench would try to flaunt power
she didn't have in the face of her king made him quiver
with rage.  He clenched his mouth shut growled to himself.
Why had he gotten so touchy lately?
	S'Nestra did not seem perturbed.  "My King is 
a felon, and my, AND MY AUNT's, loyalties are to 
Darrence.  No doubt you came here to seek aid against
his eminence, but let me be the first to guarantee you
that we will have no part in your attempts to regain a
throne that you never deserved."  S'Nestra's cheeks were
flushed, and she tried unsuccessfully to reign in her
nervousness.  "Now," she said finally, "Remove yourself
from this castle.  You were a King once, and aided us
in the past, so I will not kill you on the spot, but
don't think we will be intimidated by the rabble you've
got perched outside our castle walls."  She curtly waved
her hand in dismissal.
	Corribus couldn't believe his ears.  Never had 
he been treated with less respect.  He arms twitched in
violence, and his hand drifted to the hilt of his sword.
S'Nestra's confident smirk wilted as she read the King's
intention, and she seemed to consider calling from your
guards.  The King anticipated her thoughts, and before
she could call out, he moved his hand to the opposite 
side of his body.
	"Do not call them, MY LADY," Corribus said with 
sarcastic derision, "Little good they would do you 
anyway.  Any one of my rabble could best ten of your 
well decorated fops." And it was true.  Over the past
four weeks, he, Tale, and Bred had trained their army
extensively.  "I am a man of honor, and I would never
kill a helpless lady, rude though you may be.  Under
no circumstances would harm come to you from my blade."
	S'Nestra seemed to relax, but Corribus was not
finished.  "But know this.  Gloriale has just declared
war on Holbark, and just because the King is not on his
throne at the moment does not make his justice any less
real.  You are unprepared for war, your men are weak,
undisciplined, and spread thin.  You have castles, but
we have training.  Consider that before you sentence
thousands of them for your own selfish pride."
	The lady, unaccustomed to being treated like a
child, flushed with anger.  She seemed unsure how to 
reply, and only managed to scream, "GET OUT!"  
	Corribus bowed a mock bow and turned to the door.
"Do not worry, Lady.  I'll show myself out." 
	When he got back to his camp, Tale was not at
all happy with the circumstances, but Corribus felt 
refreshed and alive. With Toran's success in the 
southwest, and his decent chance of victory here, he
felt like things were really going to work out for the
better.  Before retiring for the night, Tale and the 
King made plans for the battle ahead, deciding to attack
Sourwine in the morning and then moving north. D'Testra
would be caught by surprise, and with any luck, Gloriale
would be stomped by the end of the month.  The two 
generals shared a drink, and Corribus said a silent 
prayer for his sister, and then he fell to sleep.

END - CHAPTER ONE






Journal Entry Two - Return of the Witch

	Bred Toran led his armies northward through the
valley meadow, his hand poised nervously over the hilt of 
his broadsword.  Something wasn't right.  The army 
guarding the mountain pass was too small.  Occasionally,
he would turn his head from side to side, scanning the
far cliffs for some hint of an ambush, but the entire
valley remained devoid of sound.  It was if even the 
animals and the wind and earth itself held their breath,
waiting for the critical moment to come and pass.
	The army was in a standard formation, cavalry and
knights in front, followed by pikemen, swordsman, and 
bowmen last.  Bred stopped his tan gelding with a 
controlled jerk of the reigns and looked back.  The line
of marching soldiers snaked back into the distance,
curing behind a mountain and out of site.  The commander
shook his head in disgust.  They would be sitting ducks
to whoever wished to attack from the advantageous heights
above.  What was Corribus thinking?
	Suddenly, a worried yell issued from the front 
of the line.  Bred reacted immediately, and in one graceful
motion, managed to draw his sword and turn his mount
around before galloping off towards the front of the 
army.  He rode quickly, heedless of the dangerous grassy
terrain beneath him.  It was a risk he had to take; if 
the army was under attack from the front, he'd have to
be there to issue orders.
	He rounded the next bend expecting to find arrows
or rocks raining down on his mounted knights from the
heights above, but all he found was several men trying 
to control their spooked horses.  Most of the army looked
intact; men shifted calmly in their saddle while the 
horses underneath them took advantage of the halt to
find some grass to eat.  Bred was taken aback by the 
lack of any real emergency, and quickly became angry by
the false alarm.  He jammed his sword violently back into
its scabbard and rode to the very front of the line,
where two knights were helping a third fallen comrade
back onto his mount.
	"What's the meaning of this?" Bred yelled.
	The fallen knight, now back on his horse, was
the one to respond.  It was Sir Gorlas, leader of the
cavalry and third in command of the entire army. By custom,
the General of Horse took the very front of any marching
contingent of troops.  He indicated the space of air in
front of him.  "Tis a wall sire.  We were riding forward
when suddenly I was thrown from my horse.  At first, I 
thought myself victim to an arrow, and sounded an alarm.
But I found myself unscathed, and after standing up,
that's when I found it."
	Bred's features scrunched in irritation.  There
was clearly no wall anywhere in sight.  He cleared his
throat for a reprimand, but when he saw Gorlas begin 
knocking a mailed fist against the air in front of him,
his mouth clinched shut.  In a huff of annoyance, he
dismounted and walked over to where Gorlas was standing
and roughly elbowed the man aside.  Wall, indeed.  He
threw his arm out, fully expecting it to swing normally
through the air, but his momentum was stopped short by
a sharp CLANG.  Bred grimaced in pain, and jerked his
arm back.  He stared at it in confusion, wriggling his
fingers to make sure that it was, indeed, his arm.  He
reached out his other arm, this time slowly, and pressed
against the air. Sure enough, there was a solid, albeit
invisible wall, stretching across the valley.  Convenient,
Bred guessed, seeing as it cut of the only way to get the
password to the gate to the south.
	Suddenly, a loud whoosh followed by the smell of
sulfur came from behind him.  Lightning quick, Bred, 
Gorlas, and nearly every other knight in the area 
unsheathed their swords.  Bred spun around.  To his 
horror, the Wizardress, Mok Choi, stood proudly and alone
in the middle of the pasture.  "I should have known,"
Bred grumbled. He made to move against her, but she
smiled and held up a staying hand.
	"Spare me your ignorant bravery, fool knight,"
she sneered, "I would not come alone if I wasn't 
confident in my ability to protect myself from your 
little," she stared at the blade in Bred's hand, "toys."
	"And why did you come alone, witch?" Bred shot
back, "We thought you dead, or at least occupied.  Or
did Darrence grow tired of bedding the same withered
old hag for so many months?" Bred smiled in triumph, even
though he knew the Wizardress was anything but old and
withered.  Indeed, if he didn't know her better, he'd 
have thought her quite attractive.
	Mok Choi's smile vanished, and here black eyes
flashed violently.  "It really is a shame Corribus
did not lead your convoy himself.  He really must be a
coward to send his best friend on such a mission, a 
mission he must know would fail.  Either that, or he
is much more shortsighted than I thought."
	The belittling of his friend and King angered
him, even if the two had parted on less than friendly
terms.  He opened his mouth to speak, but Mok Choi was
first. "Do not bother, knight.  I did not come here to
banter words with an invalid like you.  I had hoped 
Corribus would be the one to spring my trap, but he
has less courage than I thought.  But you'll do well as
a second choice.  With you, and more importantly, your
army, out of the picture, Darrence, incompetent as he
is, should be able to stomp all over your noble king."
	It was Bred's turn to laugh.  "Witch, powerful
in magic as you are, you cannot hope to win against an
entire army unaided."
	Mok Choi's lips curled maliciously.  "Blind to
the end, aren't you?  Little man, I don't intend to 
fight you at all.  That's what my little friends are 
for..."	 With a blinding flash of light, the Wizardress
disappeared, leaving behind a ball of pungent smoke. 
But through the sound of coughing and gasping by the men
around him, Bred heard a noise that made him freeze in
fear.  The smoke began to clear, and in the distance he
could see forms coming near, flying in the air.  The 
sound of flapping wings, though distant, was growing
louder, and he swore he could hear laughter resonating
from the air around him.  
	Bred turned around and stared at the tent off
to the distance.  With no way through the magical 
barrier, a roadblock to the south, and an army of 
dragons to the east, the commander's worse fears were
realized.  His protests suddenly became justified, and
Corribus's pride had assured the inevitable.  Bred
Toran found himself ambushed, and there was no escape...

END, CHAPTER TWO.  PLEASE READ CHAPTER III AFTER 
'THE BATTLE'.






Journal Entry Three - For the King

	The battle was short lived.  The enemy forces
fell upon Bred and his army like a boulder rolling
down a mountain.  Though they outnumbered the dragons,
the infantry and cavalry of the King's Army stood 
little chance against the more capable flying lizards.
Sir Gloras, being at the front of the line, was one
of the first to fall, impaled through the chest by a
curved talon.  Soon after the Cavalry Commander's death,
the mounted division fell into disarray, and the valley 
meadow, previously a breathtaking study of nature's
artistry, became awash in human blood and corpses.  Men
fell to the ground by the hundreds, some not even quick
enough to draw a blade in defense, not that any metal
weapons would suffice against the barrage of saber-sharp
talons and fangs, fiery breath, and heavy buffeting wings
that assailed them.
	Lord Toran watched in horror as his army was
decimated.  He tried to reform the remaining army, but
they were attacked again from behind, and even more men
were killed.  The battle lasted only minutes, and soon
only he and four other soldiers remained.  As quickly as
the assault had started, the dragons withdrew, leaving
a tired and wounded Bred to stare in sullen melancholy at
all the men who had died a useless death.  Blooded 
corpses littered the meadow, some whole, most savagely
torn apart.  A few wounded soldiers crawled along the
ground, screaming for help or mercy.  Bred ached to help
them all, but he stood frozen in disbelief.  He felt the
need to blame someone for the disaster, but he chided
himself for thinking to blame his King.  Surely, Corribus
had had the best intentions, even if he was letting his own 
emotions cloud his judgment.
 	A sudden roar brought Bred back to the present,
and he cursed his own lack of vigilance.  Surely the battle
was over; there were only five survivors!  He wheeled 
around, expecting to see the army of dragons returned, but
was surprised when he saw only one.  The dragon was a 
deep ebony color, so dark that it seemed to suck the light
from the surroundings and create shadows where there 
should have been daylight.  Despite its vicious appearance,
however, the beast managed to fly with a grace that most
birds would envy.  It landed in the meadow some fifty 
feet from Bred, and the commander absently reached for
his sword, not because of the giant lizard, but because of
the man who rode it.
	As he dismounted from the dragon, Bred could
see his whole height.  The man was nearly seven feet tall,
and wore polished black platemail.  Even with the weight
of armor, the man walked nimbly over the dead bodies in
his path.  Suddenly he drew his sword, and fastened a giant
shield to his other arm, which bore the symbol of a rearing
black dragon on a silver background.  Bred's remaining men
made a move to stand between the foreigner and their 
general, but Bred waved them aside.  He understood now why
the enemy had pulled back.  This was the commander of the
dragon army, and he wanted to collect his trophy.
	Bred brandished his sword towards the enemy, 
agreeing to an honorable combat.  The enemy knight raised the
visor on his helmet, showing his face.  It was hideous.  A scar
ran from his temple to his jaw through one missing eye, and the
entire left side of his face was seared off, as from a fire.  "I Kar,"
he said in a deep, rugged voice.  "You Corribus?"
	Bred shook his head negatively.  "I am Lord Bred 
Toran," he said formally, commander of his majesty's army.
	General Kar barked a laugh, "Army gone.  You 
command nothing.  But I kill you anyway.  Then I find 
Corribus and kill him too.  Now, we fight."  With a sudden 
quickness that surprised Bred, the black knight threw down
his visor and charged forward, slashing high.  Bred blocked
the thrust with a quick parry that resonated through his arm.
The strength of Kar's blows were unforgiving.  The black
knight was relentless in his attack.  He swung low and then
feigned to the right, only to thrust to the left.  It was all 
Bred could do to block the blows, and he could not find
an opening to counter attack.
	The fight lasted minutes that seemed to Bred like
hours, and he began to weaken.  Between the battle and 
the strength of Kar's swings, he felt fatigue creep into
his sword arm.  Suddenly, Kar pulled back a thrust towards
his head.  Bred, his reflexes dulled, did not catch Kar's 
maneuver in time and he did not recover quickly enough to 
lower his sword to the position of Kar's next strike.  The
evil knight's black blade darted quickly to Bred's left side,
slicing neatly through his arm.  Bred gasped in pain and
stumbled backwards.  He dropped his sword and fell
onto his back.  With his hand that was now free, he clutched
at the bleeding stump.  Dizziness swarmed in and he 
fought a losing battle against unconsciousness.
	The sudden sight of Kar looming over him
allowed Bred to focus for a minute.  He pushed agony
aside and looked up at the knight.  The hideous man
swayed uneasily in his vision, and he battled to remain
focused.  Though the visor was still down, Bred could
feel the man smiling at him.  A rough voice issued out
from the man's helmet.  "You yield? I spare your life."
Bred forced a smile.  At least he would lose to a noble
enemy.  
	But he could not return to Corribus now. 
He loved his king, but the man's pride had caused too
many lives, and things would never be the same 
between them.  He said a silent prayer for Catarina;
a part of him had always loved his king's sister, and
he sincerely hoped she would be made safe 
eventually.  Perhaps his sacrifice was selfish, but
nobody would call him a coward.  With a tremendous
mental effort, he managed to pull himself up.  A 
burst of adrenaline allowed him to grab his fallen sword,
and he labored to stand on his feet.  Kar seemed to 
watch with amusement.  With a growl, Bred charged,
abandoning all defensive tactics and concentrating on
one last offensive effort.  "For the King!" he 
screamed.
	Bred's swing was well timed, but without 
his other arm, he was unbalanced, and he lacked the
strength or coherency of mind to cause any damage.
His sword balanced harmlessly off of Kar's black mail.
The sudden impact of the knight's mailed fist sent
fire shooting through Bred's jaw, and just as he 
recovered from the blow, Kar planted his foot square
in the middle of Toran's chest.  Bred went sprawling to 
the ground once more.
	"So be it, Lord Toran," Kar grumbled.
	Bred fought off unconsciousness one more
time.  He looked up to see Kar spinning in his field
of vision.  The knight's motions seemed awkwardly
slow, but Bred could see their outcome before they
happened.  Goodbye, Corribus, Bred breathed to himself 
as he watched Kar's sword come crashing down
towards his face.  Suddenly, his skull exploded into
fierce, numbing pain, and just as quickly as it had begun,
his sense of consciousness shattered into oblivion... 

END CHAPTER THREE






Journal Entry Four  -  A Tear for a Friend

                 Corribus stared in shocked horror as
he viewed the valley directly north of Castle Winscott.
Half-rotted corpses virtually littered the entire
area, some so densely packed that they rested on
top of each other in gruesome piles.  What horrified
the King was not so much the number of dead bodies;
he had many times walked the battlefield long after 
the fighting was finished and was accustomed to 
the degree of mass slaughter.  What really confused
and angered Corribus was the evident lack of 
enemy corpses - every body that he could see 
somehow displayed the royal blue and gold colors
of his house.  It was as if the enemy had consumed 
his entire army from afar in one massive strike.
	The sudden realization his Corribus like a
fist - they were ambushed!  The King cursed himself
and his foolish pride.  To think Bred was right and
he was wrong was irritating.  That it had cost so many
thousands of life was heartbreaking.  The few large 
dragon carcasses the rested among the human corpses
told Corribus that the battle had been quick and 
brutal, but he could not help wishing that he could have
had the chance to die the death of every soldier on the 
field if it would have saved every one of their lives.
	A sudden sharp cry from some distance to the
north brought the King back to his senses.  His hand
moved unconsciously to the hilt of his sword.  There
was a time when he would not feel the need to reach 
for a weapon every time he heard a noise.  Corribus 
fought the urge to draw his sword and led his horse
down the small hill towards the yell.  Apparently, his
scouts had fanned out during his reverie and had 
found something.
	It took him a few minutes to reach the 
haggardly rider who had called the warning, but what
the man was pointing to hesitantly almost made 
Corribus fall from his horse in dismay.  Hanging from
a lonely tree, strangely devoid of carrion birds, was
a single corpse still dressed in a dented suit of mail
and brilliant, albeit bloodstained, blue tabard.  The
stench, though unpleasant before, suddenly became
extremely foul, and his attempts to ward off the
odors with the back of his hand did not prevent 
the several minutes of retching and vomiting that
quickly followed.
	The initial wave of nausea passed, and he
forced himself to look upon the dead body.  It was 
a much more recent kill than the other bodies; blood
had barely congealed and gaping wounds still dripped
and oozed.  The head was nearly split in half, as if
someone had taken an axe and tried to chop in two 
pieces like a log, and the man's brains, untouched by 
scavengers or the natural forces of decay, oozed out
from the gaping cracks in his skull.  One eye was 
smashed into jelly, but the other, hanging slightly 
a bloody cheek, stared at him quizzically, as if asking
him 'Why?'
	The head was too badly mangled to 
identify the officer, but Corribus could tell nonetheless
who hung from the tree.  The King climbed down from
his horse and began to walk towards the dead body of
his friend, but he found that his legs would not support
his weight, and he tumbled to his knees.  In complete
anguish, Corribus cried out, screaming unintelligible syllables
to the skies above.  The scout looked nervously from 
side to side as his lord collapsed in front of him, unsure
of what to do.  The King was oblivious to the other
presence, however, and tears flowed freely, streaming
over his hands and dripping to the ground.
	It was not so much the death of a friend that
bothered him.  Though Bred had been like a brother,
Corribus would have honored the death of his finest 
officer had it been under any other circumstances.  The
fact that of his own selfish pride, his own stubbornness 
and unwillingness to compromise, his ridiculous notions
 of honor and sacrifice, and his inability to see the needs
of his closest friends had led to the death of Lord Toran
almost drove him to madness.  He had tried to do 
everything right, and he had lost the only things he cared for.
What use was being good if evil always took away the
only things you cared for?  It was as if the gods themselves
mocked him for his blind faith in their virtues.  Corribus
clenched his teeth.  Well, no more!
	Gathering his dignity, the King stood and 
climbed back upon his horse.  He eyed the scout 
disinterestedly.  In a sniffling, yet casual voice, he
said, "Scout, lower that man down and see that he
is properly buried."
	The scout bit his lip and seemed to ponder his
King orders.  "But sire, 'tis infested with magic.  See 
how the flesh doesn't rot??"
	It bothered Corribus, too.  The fact that magic 
had been used to preserve his friend was evidence that
Mok Choi was behind the slaughter.  She had undoubtedly
left the mutilated remains of Lord Toran as a taunt to her
enemy.  But Corribus did not let his worries show.  His
eyes flashed in anger at the man standing below him, and
an incredible urge to kill the offending fool nearly overtook
him.  "Take him down now, little man, or I'll kill you and 
all your brothers, and then hang you all up next to him."
	The man, completely taken aback, hastily bowed
to one knee and began carrying out his orders.  Corribus
turned his steed and began marching back towards the
camp.  He was almost completely lost in a blind rage, 
directed an nothing and everything at the same time.  He
cursed the cause of good.  It had brought him nothing.
He cursed the cause of evil, as it had stolen everything.
He no longer fought for his people, his nation, or for 
law and justice.  He now battled solely for revenge.  Darrence
would die because of his crimes, but the Wizardress 
Mok Choi would suffer an eternity for her sins.  The
pleasing thought of roasting the witch alive and the
promise of her pleading screams was the only thing
that was keeping him from lashing out at the nearest
creature in vengeful malice.  Yes, he sneered to nobody
in particular, there would be hell to pay, and woe to 
the person that tried to stop him...

End, Chapter Four








Journal Entry Five -  The Foulest of Secrets

	Darrence was staring out the window of 
the administrative chambers, watching the slow birth
of the night, when he felt a tingling presence behind 
him.  He had become accustomed to the Wizardress's 
sudden entrances and exits, but it still managed to 
send a cold wave of irritation through him.  He did 
not turn, but instead focused on the late dusk sky and
the growing number of torches on the ground below.
From his vantage on the fifth floor of the castle, he 
could easily see the entire southern edge of Holbark.
The night was becoming alive as the sun was dying
in the sky as people, ending a day of work, milled 
in momentarily sober crowds outside of the city
taverns.  The sight made Darrence yearn for the days
of old when his father would take him out on the 
town for nights of wild revelry as a young teenager.
	But his father was dead now, killed by the 
stray sword of King Tomas, father to the dethroned
King Corribus.  Those pleasant autumn nights would
never be his again to share with the only role model
Darrence ever had.  The Councilor shook his head in
momentary grief, still ignoring the presence behind
him.  It was unlike the Wizardress to wait calmly for
so long before saying something demeaning or rude.
Patience and etiquette were not her strongest virtues.
"Go on," he muttered, "What news have you of import
that you would ruin another fine evening?"
	Annoyance wafted from Mok Choi, but she
strangely kept it on a leash.  "I have come to thank
you, Darrence."
	Darrence rubbed absently at his bruised right
cheek.  The last time the Wizardress had appeared,
the two had quarreled, and he had ended up injured.
She had proven several times in the past months who was
really in charge, and the fact that it was her irked him.
He had had to tell the rest of the court that he had fallen
from his horse, but he suspected that they suspected.
Even a pimple faced squire can ride a horse.  He 
told himself that one time, the Wizardress would 
push him to far, and she'd find herself on the other end
of his sword.  This was his country now, taken by his 
strategic wisdom, and he wasn't about to be bullied
around by some woman wielding magic tricks.  The 
dull, lingering ache in his head reminded him that there
was no trick about it.  
	"Darrence?" Mok Choi said, coming closer.
"Are you still angry because of my lesson?  You know
it was necessary to teach you that I will not be mocked."
	Darrence snorted in half-hearted mirth.  He
ignored her question and addressed her prior statement.
"What does the grand Wizardress wish to thank a 
measly KING like myself for?"  He still faced the 
window, staring at the distant city as if the witch didn't
deserve to be looked at.
	The Councilor could feel her pursing her lips.
"Turn around, damn you!" she snapped suddenly.  "I'm
here to thank you, not be treated like one of your 
city tramps."
	Darrence turned halfway, making it appear as if
it was completely his decision.   "Thank me for what?"
he reiterated.
	The Wizardress returned to her pleasant 
demeanor.  "You guessed right.  Corribus took the bait.
They went for Elland.  I didn't realize he would sacrifice
intelligence for loyalty to a friend in need."
	Darrence almost jumped with glee, but he 
remained calm outwardly.  After almost three years of
corresponding with Mok Choi, he had learned that 
expressing any emotion always gave her an advantage 
later.  "He was always predictable," the Councilor 
returned, shrugging, and then added, "Just like his father."
	Mok Choi smiled wickedly.  "Yes, his father 
was very predictable.  Same glass of wine at the same 
time every night... even a child could have arranged 
Tomas' murder."
	Darrence stared in shock.  "So... you..?" he
left the question unfinished.
	The Wizardress shrugged.  "Of course..."
	The Councilor could help but feel angry.  The
Wizardress was now even the one who had stolen his chance
to avenge his own father's death.  Not wanting to get in 
another argument over it, Darrence changed the subject.  
"So the ambush was successful.  You have capture Sir
Corribus and ended the war?"  He eyed the Wizardress
expectantly.  If he couldn't kill Tomas, he could get just
as much satisfaction by killing Tomas's son.
	But Mok Choi sighed, trailing a finger along the 
wooden desk behind the window.  "Alas, Corribus was 
not among them.  Our scouts say he has been fighting -
and defeating - the Sorceresses across the Western River.
At least your bribes have kept them loyal.  No, the large
host invading Elland was led by his best friend, Lord 
Toran.  But I don't think you'll be seeing much more of
him." Mok Choi's lips curled up in an evil smile.
	Darrence's face paled, his imagination running 
wild.  "You killed him?  He could have been a valuable
prisoner."
	"Don't worry," Mok Choi replied, "I left him 
where Corribus would find him."
	The Councilor tried to imagine what the 
Wizardress had done, but he knew it was futile.  She
seemed to get more gruesome every time she killed
someone.  Though upset at the lost opportunity for
vengeance, he knew it was a big victory.  With Corribus's
army in tatters, there'd be little chance for him to rally
his remaining troops to a victory over the Barbarians 
and Knights on the mainland to the west of Holbark.
As if reading his thoughts, Mok Choi edged
closer and said, "Yes, Darrence.  For once, you did
something right, and we may be able to recover from
your earlier bungling.  That's why I've come to thank
you."  Darrence did not interject to remind the witch
that it was her THUNKs, not his, that had been destroyed
in the wilds, and that Sir Kyle was her choice to run 
the assembly factory in the far west.  He let her continue
uninterupted.  "However, the war is far from over.  We
have underestimated him too many times already, and
once he finds his friend, if he hasn't already, he will find
a new cause against us, though I hope his anger will be
his undoing.  You have won a victory, and for that I 
give you praise, but I will still not accept another failure
from you."  
The Wizardress's eyes seemed to burrow 
through his flesh and soul, promising a slow and painful
death should he fail her.   Darrence hated the way she
asserted her authority over him, but he held his tongue. 
To anger her now would prove fruitless and painful.  He
nodded and responded, "Of course.  He will be defeated."
	The Wizardress straightened her posture and
grunted, pretending, almost mockingly, to be convinced of
his talents.  "Should Corribus be lucky enough to subdue
the barbarians and knights, kill Lord Kar, and find his way
south, the Warlocks of Terran Lea still stand in his way.  
I've also summed a few of my last remaining THUNKs as 
a last barrier against the castle.  But our deposed king has
proven resourceful in the past, and should he manage, by
some unearthly miracle, to overcome all of these challenges,
it will come to you to stop him."  Mok Choi stopped 
speaking and glared at him, her eyes once again speaking
the price of failure where her tongue had gone mute.
	Without another word, the Wizardress turned 
and began retreating to the back of the room.  Darrence 
couldn't help but gulp in relief.  He watched her go, 
hoping it would be some time before he saw her again.
But something suddenly stuck out in his mind, and he
couldn't help but blurt it out.  "He doesn't know."
	Mok Choi stopped.  It wasn't a question, but
the Wizardress turned her head and responded.  "No,
he doesn't.  He thinks it was suicide, and to my 
pleasure their presumptions tore the entire family asunder. 
I can hardly wait until I get to tell him.  And it will be ME
who gets to tell him..."  Without another word, as if any 
were necessarily, Mok Choi vanished in a flash of blinding
darkness.  Darrence shuddered, a sudden chill overtaking 
him, and he returned to the window.  For some reason, 
he didn't enjoy the view any longer, as the night had 
somehow lost its beauty.

End of Chapter Five.






Journal Entry Six (Short) - Path through the Woods

	Corribus ay'Laraset, King of Holbark, sat slumped
in the worn saddle of his gray steed.  The horse's color 
matched his mood: uncaring, weary, and reticent.  He had
called a halt to the army nearly fifteen minutes earlier, 
and still sat frozen in the same position.  Yet he obviously
was not staring warily at the edges of the forest road, 
searching the depths of the foliage for some hint of 
ambush, as his lieutenants had initially thought.  In fact,
his eyes hadn't left the ground since he had stopped.
His men shuffled restlessly behind him, attempting in 
vain to adjust their armor-weighted stances without 
letting their king know that they had been standing in the
same place long enough to require adjustment.  Hushed
voices muttered in the background, and even the 
army's top officers, even Lord Tale himself, eyed each
other quietly as if trying to ascertain what they should
do.  Finally, Tale nudged his horse up beside his Kings.
	"My Lord," he said softly, "If I may ask, why
have we stopped?  We still have a ways to march and
the men grow more tired by the -"
	"The men can wait," Corribus interrupted. 
	"Of course, sire," Tale replied, "They will 
follow orders.  But I'd still like to know, if I may be
so bold to ask, why we have stopped.  Out scouts 
have reported no ambushes in this area."
	Corribus turned to face his second in command.
Tale gasped inwardly at the sight of his monarch.  What
before had been a proud, hardy face full of youthful 
optimism and brotherly compassion was now a face
full of cold malice and pained weariness.  Sodden brown 
hair with more than a bit of gray was growing out from
beneath his rusting chain coif.  Droopy, rheumy eyes 
complimented his sagging cheeks and jaw.  His skin was
a clammy white color, dry and loose.  It is as if the man,
only in his mid thirties, had aged to sixty in the last few
months.  His whole body slumped sideways in his saddle,
as if he might collapse to the ground at any moment,
and he spoke with a heavy, raspy sigh.  The sorrow of 
losing a friend and that hate of the one who caused it had
gnawed at him for weeks now, leaving a living corpse 
behind.  The man Tale knew as Corribus seemed to be 
dead, and only a zombie with revenge on its mind seemed
to be left in his place.
	Corribus spoke in his same torpid, uncaring 
tone.  "This is where the county of Holbark begins.  This
is home."
	Tale marveled at how little Corribus seemed to 
care that he was finally home.  The lands of Holbark were
as beautiful as the King had once described it.  The land
was locked in mid-autumn, and the earthy hues of red, 
yellow, and orange seemed to almost drip everywhere around
them, as if an artist had just recently painted the entire
forest.  The foliage blended together and, combined with
the warmth and streaky rays of the afternoon sunlight, 
the scene was truly breathtaking.  The trees above him bent
over the trail, forming a nearly perfect tunnel.  If not for 
the lingering threat of war at the other end of this road, Tale
would have seriously thought about building a cabin on the
spot and giving up his lands and title for a life in the 
forest.  And yet Corribus, who hadn't seen his home since
he was expelled nearly two years ago, appeared as disinterested
as a mime in a room full of blind men.
	"Yes, it is home.  And it's good to be here I admit, sire.
This place is as beautiful as you promised it would be.  I can
hardly wait to see the castle.  But you still haven't told me why
we've stopped.  There's nothing remarkable here."
	Corribus nodded slightly, and jerked on his reigns, 
causing the horse to begin walking again.  "You are right. 
There's nothing remarkable here.  We have to get to the 
castle as soon as possible.  Darrence and his witch await, and 
I must kill them."
	"And you must rescue your sister when you get a
chance," Tale threw in.
	Corribus nodded, totally missing Tale's sarcasm.
"Yes, of course, she will be rescued... when I get the chance..."
Tale shook his head and dropped back to ride with the other
officers.


End Chapter Five.






Journal Entry Six - Over the Walls and Through the Gates

	Castle Holbark was a formidable sight, even in its
state of negligent disrepair.  It was a mountain fortress, only
accessible from the south, and because of this, in all the 
hundreds of years it since it had been constructed by King
Colaren it had never fallen to a direct assault.  The mountain
road leading to the castle gates was very susceptible to 
ambush, so on most occasions when an enemy had decided
to challenge the castle, they had been destroyed long before
reaching the castle proper.  King Corribus and his company 
had reached the castle gates unchallenged, however, and
when he looked up on the castle walls, he saw why.
	High above, where archers should have been
raining arrows down upon his army, Corribus saw fighting.
Men battled ferociously with sword and axe, the losers
often plummeting off the walls to the ground below.  The
sounds of rebellion wafted from within the confines of the
castle.  Apparently, the troops still loyal to Corribus had
heard of his coming, and had begun an attack from inside
the fortress.  Though Darrence's men probably still 
outnumbered the rebels, the distraction would give
Corribus and his army sitting outside the chance they
would need to take the nearly impregnable castle.
	Tale rode up beside his King, who stared
in silence at his former home.  The knight chose not to
speak, but instead followed his master's example and 
looked at the castle walls looming above them.  Tale
shuddered, imagining he was an invader who had to 
take the castle by force in order to secure his rule over
the country.  It was no wonder the only people who 
had every taken the castle had done so by guile and
treachery instead of direct force.  Tale turned his 
attention from the castle to study his King.  He had 
half-hoped that the sight of his former home and the 
loyalty of his men, would prove enough to wake the
man from his anger-induced coma.  But Corribus
sat just as motionless and withdrawn as before, always
contemplating the moment of his revenge.
	"Sire, the revolt will not last forever.  We 
must join our men on the walls if this castle is to fall
to us," Tale said.
	Corribus spoke without turning his attentions
to his captain.  "Yes, you are right.  Prepare the men."
	Tale began to leave, but instead decided to 
risk his king's wrath.  "Sire, doesn't the sight of your
home make you happy?  You sister awaits you in there,
you know."
	The king shrugged, not turning around.  "Only
one thing can make me happy..."
	Tale sighed and returned to the troops.  He could
only hope a swift victory could pry his king from his 
depression.
STILL JOURNAL SIX - 
	Darrence fumed in his council chambers, 
stomping back and forth in a mad fury.  "Betrayed!
I can't believe those filthy maggots betrayed me!  The
first sight of their criminal king and they turn their
swords against me.  I cannot hope to win this battle
now!"  The councilor, dressed in a red coat that fastened
tightly around the neck, spat as he screamed, spittle
frothing down his chin.  In his angered state, he did
not seem to notice.
	Mok Choi sat at the desk, equally angry, but
more sparing in displaying her emotions.  Several 
loyal lieutenants, all slightly wounded, stood at attention
at the far side of the room, awaiting their lord's
commands.  The Wizardress eyed Darrence, waiting to
see what he would do.
	Darrence continued to pace.  "Damn them all!"
He yelled again.
	One of the lieutenants, a tall, skinny man with
a bandaged left arm, spoke up, "Sire, Corribus is outside
our castle at the moment.  The traitors in the castle are
rallying towards the gatehouse, obviously bent on 
lowering the drawbridge so that Corribus and his army
can gain easy access to the castle.  If that happens, sire
we have no chance, and at the moment, our men are too
scattered about trying to guard this and that to stop
the rebels from taking their objective.  I'm sorry sir, but
it only makes sense to consider surrender while we still
have our heads."
	Darrence stopped in his pacing and faced the
speaker.  By the look on his face, he was seriously 
considering his lieutenants words.  If he could surrender
now, he might avoid a death at the hands of the former
king.  Darrence rested a hand on the hilt of his sword
and prepared to speak, but Mok Choi was too quick.
	The Wizardress shot from her chair and crashed
into the lieutenant who had spoken, a whirlwind of magical
air smacking the man across the head.  The soldier's neck
snapped, and he crumpled to the ground with a deadening
thud.  It happened so quickly that the man hadn't had time 
to scream.  Darrence and the other men stared in shock.
Mok Choi turned her eyes on the councilor; though her
anger was immense, her facial features belied bored
 indifference.  Her voice, when she spoke, however, was
filled with calm rage.
	"The next person," she growled, "who mentions
surrender will not die so pleasantly."  She eyed Darrence
in particular, daring him to challenger her authority.
	Darrence looked uneasily at his men, knowing
that to say nothing would jeopardize their faith in his 
leadership, while to protest would jeopardize his life.  He
chose to the former, and ordered his men out of the room.
"She is right," he said confidently, as if it was his idea in
the first place, "We cannot surrender.  The brigand Corribus
cannot be allowed to reassume his rule over Holbark.  It 
would be a transgression of our honor to permit such a vile
creature to delegate the affairs of honest men like you all.
Return to your posts, and one of you bring Corribus's 
sister to me.   I want to have her here as insurance if 
he should manage to breach the walls."
	The men nodded and marched out of the room.
Darrence spared a look at the Wizardress, and she
returned it coldly.  "Do not attempt to make a decision
without me again," she sneered, "Or I will correct the
problem by removing your brain from your ugly head."
She vanished suddenly, leaving Darrence to curse by
himself.


End Chapter Six.  Please Fight the Last Battle and 
When you Win, Read the Conclusion Below.







Conclusion - Retribution

	The door to Corribus' old council chambers
smashed inward, the centuries old oak frame splintering
on newly oiled hinges.  King Corribus came through the
broken frame first, longsword in hand, followed by Lord
John Tale and twenty or so highly skilled officers, all 
bearing a weapon of some form or another.  As it was
pushing towards evening, the room was dim, and shadows
began to strengthen in the corners.  Corribus scanned the
contents of the room quickly; being very familiar with the
way it was laid out, it did not take him long to assess the
situation.  
	Darrence stood behind the long, oaken table, his
sword still sheathed in its scabbard, though his right hand
rested uneasily on the hilt.  In his other hand, he held 
tightly to the arm of Catarina.  Corribus's sister looked 
tired and dirty, her hair disheveled and face smeared with
grime, but otherwise she looked well treated.  Two of
Darrenece's remaining healthy military officers remained
quietly against one of the walls, watching closely and 
attentively, ready to rescue their superior if they had to.
Corribus scanned the room once more, but saw no sign
of the Wizardress, though he knew she could appear where
and when she wanted to without warning.  
	John Tale waited calmly, awaiting his King's
first move.  Corribus stood rigid, breathing heavily, 
obviously unsure of a course of action.  The dead corpse
Tale had known for the last few months had suddenly
become animated at the sight of his sister.  Tale 
could tell the indecision gnawing at his King.  Corribus
no doubt had an overwhelming urge to run heedlessly
into a duel with his adversary, placing his sister at risk,
but the sight of his sister seemed to cause him to think
twice about making revenge his top priority.  
	The King suddenly advanced, slowly yet
deliberately, sword still drawn, but pointed downward.
Corribus stopped at the opposite end of the table.  
Darrence poked a previously unseen dagger into 
Catarina's side.  "Come no closer Corribus.  I shall
kill her if you do."  A slight squeal escaped Catarina's
lips, but whether it was due to pain from the blade in 
her side or to fear was uncertain.
 	Corribus hovered over the table, staring at
his sister, making sure she was not acutely injured.
Satisfied, he lowered his sword even more, so that 
the razor sharp blade rested on the ground.  Tale
eyed the two men from afar and could not help but
notice that Corribus looked more the villain than 
the treacherous councilor.  Darrence's brilliant red
velvet coat clashed violently with Corribus's faded
blue military tabard, and where the King's face was
haggard, unshaved, and rheumy-eyed, the councilor
had a well trimmed beard and mustache, flecked
with gray, and appeared well rested and well fed. The
difference was the while Darrence's eyes darted
nervously back and forth, Corribus stood confidently,
waiting for his opponent to make a move.  In attitude,
Corribus was clearly the king and Darrence the 
cornered cat, clinging to his royal catch.
	Tired of waiting in silence, Corribus 
spoke first.  "Why?" he asked gruffly, the dust
of the road and exertion of battle making his voice
come out in a wispy, rugged rasp.
	Darrence licked his lips nervously, shifting
his weight to his other foot.  His hand around the 
dagger at Catarina's side was clenched into a white
knot.  The councilor seemed more afraid of something
jumping out of the walls than the angry king asking
him why he tried to steal his throne.  Darrence 
swallowed before responding, "It was retribution, 
Corribus.  Your father killed mine, and so I would
kill you.  But you were too clever for me, and now
we have an unfortunate stalemate."
	Corribus did not seem to react to the news.
"My father killed many people.  He was king, and it
comes with the job."
	"Your father stabbed mine in the back!" 
Darrence shot in accusingly.
	Corribus seemed upset by the accusation.
To stab someone in the back was the biggest 
affront to one's honor, only done by thieves and
rapists and murderers.  "My father was a good
king, and would never have done such a thing."
Corribus did not sound convinced.  Most people
had suspected King Tomas of being a bit on the
shady side, but it had never been proven, especially
after his suicide had come so suddenly.
	Corribus opened his mouth to speak, but
closed it again.  Darrence wiped his eyes with the
back of the hand with the dagger in it.  Catarina 
stared wild-eyed at the blade.  "I loved my father
so much.  He was a good man," Darrence sobbed,
tear flowing down his cheeks.  "And then Tomas 
killed him over a friendly deck of cards!"
	Corribus looked back at his men, unsure 
of what to do.  During his whole life, he was taught
that the crown was a symbol of goodness and purity.
Hearing this news about his own father was churning
up his own personal memories.  His sword sagged
even lower to the ground, and it was obvious that
the King had no intention of fulfilling his vows to
kill Darrence.  The councilor let go of Catarina and
dropped to his knees, crying wildly.  Catarina ran
back to her brother and hugged him tightly, weeping
relieved tears into his dusty clothes.  
	Corribus gave her a reassuring hug and 
then, after sheathing the sword, walked around the table
towards the crying councilor.  Tale watched with 
pride as his King reached out a friendly hand to 
Darrence to help him up.  Darrence sniffed back 
tears, and mumbled, "Mok Choi convinced me to 
lay arms against you... I..." He could not finish
his thought without crying again.  "I loved my father
so much...I didn't know what to do..." Corribus 
nodded, showing the powers of compassion instead 
of hate.  He, too, was silent, and the two men 
grieved together for more than a few moments.  
	Tale's relaxed position almost caused his
king's death, as suddenly, in a flash of bright light,
the Wizardress appeared in the middle of the room.
In an explosion of fiery magic, she sent Corribus
reeling towards the far wall.  Darrence fell back,
shielding his eyes with his arms.  Tale stood in
stunned shock, unsure of how to proceed.  He had
never fought a wizard before.
	Mok Choi seemed to hold the whole room
in frozen stasis.  Nobody dared raise a hand against
her.  The Wizardress approached Corribus, who had
fallen down, his arm bent at an odd angle.  The King 
moaned, clearly disoriented by the sudden attack.
Mok Choi, radiating magic and wrath in equal amounts,
closed on the injured King.  "Corribus," she hissed,
"I have been far too kind for far too long.  You have
really pissed me off this time.  I will see to it that you 
feel pain even in your sleep!"
	Corribus squinted, still seeing stars from 
hitting his head against the wall.  "Mok Choi? You
can't hope to win.  Look, you are surrounded.  You
have... lost!"
	The Wizardress's lips curled up in a vicious
smile.  "I don't lose, Corribus.  I can't lose.  You are
mine!"  She approached closer and began to chant,
weaving her hands in arcane patterns.  Small sparks
of electricity jumped from her fingers as she prepared
once and for all to end the life of the King who had 
caused her so much trouble.
	Suddenly, a roar from behind her caused 
Mok Choi to start in surprise.  Her spell fizzled in a
puff of odoriferous smoke.  She turned more quickly
than her size and state of surprise should have allowed,
and managed to catch Darrence's wild charge in the 
shoulder rather than in the square of her back.  The 
dagger bit deep and the councilor's momentum twisted
it in the Wizardress's flesh.  Mok Choi screamed in 
pain and anger.  Blood gushed out of the wound, soaking
her white dress and spraying to the floor beneath her.
	Darrence went sprawling to the ground as
Mok Choi reeled backwards from the blow, the dagger
still buried to the hilt in her shoulder.  Corribus tried
to stand, but dizziness refused to allow him to gain any
sense of equilibrium, and he sank back to the ground,
forced to watch the events before him.  Tale and his
men began to circle to witch as she regained her
senses.
	"Darrence?" she said in angered shock.  "You
would attack ME?"  The Wizardress turned and stared
at the man who had attacked her as he gained his feet.
He had no sword or dagger, and prepared to defend 
himself with his fists.  Mok Choi's eyes seemed to 
shoot flame at her betrayer, and her lips curled in a 
snarl.
	"It wasn't right, Mok Choi," Darrence shouted, 
"I cannot blame this man for the death of my father."
	"I did not give you permission to grow a 
conscience little man," she growled.  
	Darrence eyed the fallen king, still too bewildered
to stand.  He considered his future in a second.  Even if 
Mok Choi didn't kill them all, even if he was forgiven,
he had no life.  His father was dead, and he was responsible
for the deaths of thousands of Holbarkian lives.  The 
councilor, his beautiful clothes torn and soaked with 
blood, squared his shoulders and stood proudly against 
the wizardress.  "I have been your pawn for too long,
and will be no longer," the councilor declared before 
charging wildly towards the evil woman.
	The Wizardress did not shy back in fear against
the wild man hurdling towards her.  Instead, she held 
both hands out and mumbled a few words in the arcane
tongue.  Her eyes burned with fury and her breath seemed
charged with electricity.  A sizzling crack shook the room
as a bolt of electricity left her hands and tore through
Darrence as he ran towards her.  The impact threw the 
man into the air and sent him crashing against the
ceiling.  Warm blood fountained from the gaping wound
in his chest and sprayed across the room.  Mok Choi
smiled in satisfaction as her already blood-soaked dress
became even a darker shade of red.  Darrence landed 
in a heap on the far side of the council chambers with
a muted thud.  He did not stir.
	Tale motioned for his men to charge the 
distracted sorceress, but she was ready.  A bolt of 
magic split the head of the first man to engage her.
His body crumpled silently to the ground.  Another
bolt took the arm of the second man, and he fell,
screaming, to the floor.  The rest of the officers
were more cautious, approaching together in a 
circle.  Mok Choi eyed them all, ready to kill each
if she must.  But Tale knew she couldn't.  Already,
he saw that she rocked dizzily on her feet.  The
dagger in her shoulder still drew blood, though not
as quickly.  The magic spells had drained what 
little energy she had left, and Tale knew that it 
wouldn't be too long before she joined her enemies
as a corpse on the floor.
	The Wizardress must have realized this 
as well, for she lowered her hands in submission.
"Well, Corribus," she said, staring past the circle
of soldiers to the King, who was just standing up.
"It seems you have gotten lucky again.  Who 
would have thought that coward Darrence would
have given his own life to save another?"  The
Wizardress swayed on her feet, and her breath 
came out in a rasp.  "No matter.  I'm not finished
with you, but it seems I'm getting a bit tired."
	She raised her arms and muttered two
indistinguishable words, "Goodbye Corribus.
I wouldn't go to sleep if I were you..."  With
a spark of light, she disappeared.
	Tale and his men stared in wonder 
at the vanished woman.  Corribus seemed not to 
notice their victory.  He rushed over to where
Darrence lay in a heap against the wall.  The king
knelt and turned the man over.  An ugly, mortal
wound gaped in the councilor's lower chest.  Blood 
and entrails leaked out onto the floor underneath 
him. The councilor rolled his eyes, fighting the death
that would take him momentarily.  Corribus was 
silent, allowing the man to speak.
	"I'm sorry, Corribus," he whispered.  "I
was a fool and I let my malice destroy me."  He
gasped in agony, blood leaking from his mouth.
"Please.... Forgive me... I know I don't deserve..."
Another episode of pain coursed through his body,
and then he was dead.
	Corribus bowed his head in silence.  Catarina
padded up next to him and laid a hand on his 
shoulder.  "Corribus," she whispered.
	The King turned his head and stared at his
sister.  "Yes?" he muttered, tears streaking his cheeks.
	"Please, come.  It's over, finally.  We've won."
	The King wiped her hand from his shoulder
and stoop up, adjusting the sword at his hip.  "I'm sorry,
Catarina," he said, "I love you dearly, and I'm glad to 
see that you are still well, but it is far from over..."
	Corribus stalked out of the room, motioning
for Tale to follow.  "She will die," he muttered over
his shoulder.  "If it kills me too, that's fine, but I promise
you, she... will..........die....."  


THE END, RETRIBUTION, LAST HOPE, PART VI.
Look for the last map in the series, Abode of Evil,
Last Hope VII, very soon.

Question, comments, predictions, hate mail: email me at
tduncan@haverford.edu. :)












































