In the months that followed, Zoltar began the proverbial reign of terror. With the Orb of Power in his control, he dished out punishment to those who angered him, and soon he was in charge of the whole area. Most people were quite happy about this, however. He let them get on with their lives for the most part, and most just saw it as a change of ruler, nothing else. Besides, he seemed to be performing some useful administrative functions like attempting to annihalate all the dragons in the region, and getting rid of all those pompous dukes and earls the previous king had been so fond of.

One of the first things Zoltar did was look to secure for himself a companion. As you will remember, he'd been smitten by Laine, a pretty female elf from the Bowery. Of course, he'd conveniently forgotten the circumstances of their meeting, especially the hefty wallop he got for drooling in her general direction. He soon located the Bowery, and paid a visit, grabbing Laine and liberally spraying destruction upon anyone that seemed remotely to disagree with this action, which was most of the elves who were there at the time, several others who came to find out what all the noise was, and a badger that looked at him funny.

So, leaving the Bowery in a state of ruin, he returned triumphantly to his newly-modified castle atop a rocky cliff. There, he proceeded to attempt a seduction as per the evil overlord school's "Picking Up Women Who Are Probably Going To Betray You Later (Especially When They See The Hero)" - ie champagne, music, caviar, soft cushions, an open fire etc that combine to produce an evening with all the subtlety of a brick between the eyes. He was understandably upset when Laine tipped the ice bucket down his trousers and hit him with the champagne bottle.

He continually tried to persuade her otherwise, even resorting to the tried-and-tested method of chaining her to his throne in a suitably revealing outfit, but found it too embarassing when he needed to go to the bathroom, so he chained her to his chais longue. (AUTHOR: He never was too hot at languages. Or spelling for that matter.) Still she stubbornly refused his advances.

Over time, Laine came to notice that Zoltar seemed to pay less attention to her. She was unsure what to make of this, but careful observation revealed a suspicious red tint to his eyeballs. Yes, it was the cliched 'ultimate power that you thought you controlled controlling you' syndrome; indeed, Zoltar had taken a turn for the worse. He began doing unspeakable things to the population like taking away all their money and picking fights with neighbouring regions. Eventually, he had control over a large proportion of the land. Now, unfortunately, this is a story, and not real life, and so Zoltar did not expand beyond his capabilities. Due to the Orb of Power, which he now wore around his neck at all times, he could instantly be in the thick of a battle and cause some serious hurt to the 'enemy'.

In this manner, Zoltar took over more and more territory, and became feared throughout. His name was spoken in a whisper, and none dared speak out against him for fear he was listening. Could this evil be stopped...?


PART THE 12

Evidently, the two young people in this tavern were not afraid to - albeit quietly - speak against Zoltar. Darmok fancied himself as a hero, and Jagne had similar aspirations. But their clandestine conversation was heard by what appeared to be a comatose elf lying on the next table.

A lot has been said about elves and poison. Elves aren't immune to it, just a lot better at combating its effects. Which makes life even more depressing for an elf who just wants to sit in a corner and drink himself into obscurity, which is what this elf had been attempting to do before running out of money. He had then sighed as only the depressed can and let his head fall to the table with a thump. Despite appearences, he was still relatively sober, and because of the size of his ears, he had taken his mind off his worries by listening to the secretive conversation of these two humans. Now he stirred, and spoke to them.

"There's no way to stop Zoltar," he said bluntly. Darmok and Jagne looked at him in astonishment.
"How can you be so sure?" asked Darmok, eventually. The elf rolled his eyes. Humans. So optomistic.
"Why do you think he got rid of all the dragons?" he explained, as if to a three-year-old, "He's got the Orb of Power, so they only way he could be defeated is by a dragon's magical fire. And there are no more dragons. So stop with this wooly thinking and get back to your sad, boring lives." (Okay, so maybe he was rather drunk).
"Wonderful," commented Jagne, "a depressive elf."
"Drunk too," added Darmok, "I thought elves couldn't?"
"Can if you try hard enough," muttered the elf, waiting for the room to stop after moving to the humans' table.
"What's your name Mr Happy?" asked Jagne.
"Vaisen," said Vaisen.

When Zoltar had attacked the Bowery, Vaisen had been patrolling the forest, as he, Gaideln, and Laine had been when Zoltar first came to the Bowery. He had heard - at great distance - the commotion, but, being diligent, had completed his rounds before hurriedly returning, and as such missing Zoltar's exit. What he found appalled him; death and destruction everywhere! The Bowery was ruined! It was then that he'd stumbled over what looked like another body, but turned out to be Teacher Kaife, who wasn't that far from being one. Vaisen leaned closer as Kaife tried to speak and learned what had happened.

Kaife had known the mage that wrote the ancient tome detailing the Orb of Power. He'd persuaded the panicy mage to hide the Orb and the tome, and pray they were never found, sensibly realising the implications of the spell. When Zoltar had started causing chaos in the Bowery, Kaife had recognised the power of the spell, and told Vaisen about dragon fire being the only way to stop Zoltar before joining his followers in decomposing on the ground.

Vaisen had done his best to bury the bodies properly, then spent several months searching for dragons, only to continually find that Zoltar had gotten there first, and that the dragon was now a greasy spot on the cave floor, wall, ceiling, or all of the above. That had contributed greatly to his current depressed mood, along with the death of most of what he thought of as his family, but there was something else that had been nagging him since the attack on the Bowery that, in Vaisen's mind, was far worse, and made life seem totally pointless.


PART THE 13

This was the simple fact that Zoltar had Laine. Not only did this effectively remove Vaisen's last "happy thought", but totally destroyed his world view at the same time. Gaideln had been right, Vaisen did have a crush on Laine. He was however, far too nervous to say anything about it. For quite some time he'd been being especially nice to Laine in the hope that she might notice, but of course he was mortified at the thought of actually walking up to her and saying something, and now Zoltar, in no time at all, had gotten her in his clutches to do with as he saw fit. (AUTHOR: Realistically, Laine had already thumped Zoltar once, and was unlikely to appreciate being whisked away and her home destroyed. In fact, her rejection of Zoltar's advances was a logical conclusion given the circumstances. However, love tends to distort one's logic somewhat, and can make one think up all sorts of wierd possibilities that two minutes rational thought would reveal as silly.)

Having told his story (or at least as much of it as he was willing to reveal), Vaisen sat back again and waited for the humans to order something lethal to brain cells from the top shelf behind the bar. Instead, Jagne shook her head and made a sort of clucking noise.
"You're giving up too easily!" declared Darmok, "There are still dragons out there (somewhere), and we're going to find one!"
To their surprise, Vaisen burst out laughing. After a couple of minutes, he got up off the floor and sat back in his chair.
"Alright, I'll go with you then," he said, "you amuse me."
"Just what we needed as a travelling companion, a cynical elf," complained Jagne, but the three of them left the tavern together and set out on the road.

Darmok's plan now was, since they had an elf with them, to visit the nearest elf-house and see if they knew of any dragons. Vaisen tried to explain that just because you're an elf doesn't mean other elves automatically like you. He was just about to cite humans as an example when he realised he'd better shut up as there were elves watching. The worst part was they were in a rocky gully.

"That's it, we're in trouble," he muttered.
"Have you been drinking again?" asked Jagne.
Darmok, of a (slightly) more practical nature, asked "What's the problem Vaisen?"
"We're surrounded by elves now. Dark elves," said Vaisen, morosely. "Of course, when I say 'dark' I'm in no way implying that they're evil, just they have darker colouring than forest elves like me," he hurriedly added, as three elves dropped silently onto the path in front of them.

Several minutes passed. The elves stood motionless. Eventually, Jagne spoke.
"What exactly is the problem here?"
"Three of them, three of us," agreed Darmok, "we can take them."
"Not likely," said Vaisen, "all elves are expert fighters and magic users. Forest elves are especially good at magic and stealth, whereas mountain elves are known to be strong and fast."
"Then I think you're right," said Jagne after some thought, "we're in trouble..." The elves slowly approached them.


PART THE 14

The elves directed the travellers into what appeared to be just a crack in the rocks but turned out to be quite a spacious cave, still saying nothing. Finally, with one remaining to keep watch at the entrance, one of the elves spoke.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" he demanded.
"My name," said Darmok, "is (suitably impressive pause that lasted a fraction too long) Darmok!" There was silence for a few moments. Another elf spoke. They couldn't tell which one, as they all looked the same. "And they are?"
"My name is Jagne,"
"Vaisen."
"Vaisen?" There was a brief discussion amongst the mountain elves. "Are you from the Bowery?"
"I was."
"We have heard of it's destruction. We were under the impression that none survived."
"Just me," said Vaisen, "Another is alive, but she's as good as dead."
"Why so?"
"Captured by Zoltar."
The mountain elves spat simultaneously on hearing the name.

Meanwhile, Jagne was busy soothing Darmok's deflated ego, and neither were paying attention to the elves conversation.

One of the elves raised his voice, "Why are you travelling through these mountains? Don't you know the trolls are active at this time of year?"
"We're not afraid of trolls!" cried Darmok, anxious to restore some lost credibility.
"Then you're blooming mad," commented another elf with a raised eyebrow.
"If they want to continue, let them," said another, "they obviously are on an important trip."
"We're on a quest!" declared Darmok, still uptight.
"Well, don't let us keep you," commented one of the elves, his voice dripping with irony.

Darmok led them out of the cave haughtily. They continued down the narrow path. Some time later, they found it blocked by a large mound of rubble. Darmok prodded it a few times, but it seemed solid and heavy.
"Well, we either go back or climb over," he declared.
"No point in going back," said Jagne, "what do you think, Vaisen?"
"Nuuuuuuuuuuurrrrr....."
"Vaisen? Why've you gone so pale?"
"Probably the heat," said Darmok, dismissively, "come on," and he began to climb over the blockage. Suddenly, the part he was on moved, and he fell off. Vaisen found his voice at last.
"That's no blockage..."

The troll slowly got to its feet and turned to face these annoying little things that had been climbing on it.


PART THE 15

Darmok drew his sword and charged.

"You idiot!" screamed Vaisen. Even as he spoke, the troll swung one massive arm and sent Darmok into the ground. Jagne rushed to his side, lifted his unconcious head and cried,
"Are you all right?" Vaisen rolled his eyes. Humans.

The troll now turned its attention to Vaisen, who tried to look like an innocent piece of the landscape. It might have worked if he hadn't of been wearing a blue shirt. The troll picked him up in one massive hand and regarded him grumpily. Looking into its eyes, Vaisen could almost see its thought processes working. That is, if he was patient enough. It was rather like watching the minute hand on a clock - if you stare at it for long enough you start to think you can see it moving. He knew the troll would eventually decide what to do with him, which would probably involve him being between a rock and a hard place, in this case the troll's fist. He didn't feel any better for knowing that he'd technically only be between them for a very short time before he would be out. In several directions. Something had to be done.

Vaisen was not particularly profficient at magic. This wasn't due to a lack of ability, just that he couldn't be bothered to practice. Still, no time like the present. He quickly cast a confusion spell on the troll (AUTHOR: A very easy thing to do). This didn't quite have the desired effect of the troll forgetting about them and lumbering off somewhere else. Instead, the only effect was that the trolls expression changed from a frown of anger to one of bewilderment. It was at this moment that Darmok leapt onto the troll's shoulders from behind and began beating it around the head with the hilt of his sword. Vaisen sighed. This was clearly having no effect on the troll other than annoying it again. Momentarily forgetting Vaisen, it dropped him uncomfortably on the ground, and attempted to remove the annoyance from its head. If it were human, the sensation would be akin to that of someone repeatedly tapping you on the shoulder. As anyone who's experienced this knows, it can get annoying very quickly. However, having a troll grab you and hurl you halfway through a tree is slightly worse than having someone turn around and scream "WHAT?!" at you.

Fortunately for Darmok, and for any trees in the area, he was on that area of the troll's back that it was unable to reach. He considered this fortunate. What he didn't consider fortunate was the growth of lichens on the troll that he suspected were causing the uncomfortable itch he was experiencing. He was considering moving, but then the troll would be able to reach him.

At that moment, Vaisen managed a sleeping spell, and the troll slumped forward. Darmok stood astonished for a moment, then raised his sword and loudly proclaimed to the heavens that he had single-handedly bested a troll.

"My hero!" simpered Jagne.
"You pillock!" muttered Vaisen, "Do you want to invite any other trolls to come and have a go?" Darmok coughed, embarrassed (and yes, that is how you spell it!). Rolling his eyes (again), Vaisen grabbed the other two and ran back along the path. Unlike the humans, his keen elven hearing had picked up tell-tale heavy footsteps, getting closer...


PART THE 16

"45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50!"
Darmok, Jagne, and Vaisen burst through the crack into the cave just as the mountain elves finished counting.
"Ah, there you are. Run into a little trouble?" one asked, innocently. He was rewarded with a glare from Darmok.
"We would have been alright if this idiot hadn't started shouting," said Vaisen, "may we impress upon you for hospitality?"
The mountain elves grinned. "Of course! You're very welcome here until the trolls return to their hibernation."

They were lead through a passage they hadn't noticed before in the rear of the cave. The passage went on for a while, slightly downwards, before they emerged into the Cavern. This was an elven settlement, which means it wasn't just any old cave-dwellers realm - it was a massive open area filled with small houses and passages leading off in all directions. Strangely, a large rock sat in the very centre of the cavern. There were no runes or other markings on it, it was just sitting there. Vaisen thought it odd that it hadn't been moved. Before he could reflect on it, Jagne grabbed his attention.

"Where did this passage come from?" she hissed.
"What do you mean?"
"I never saw it until just now!"
"That's because it wasn't there."
"What?!"
"This is an elven settlement. The passages aren't in any set place, they show up where and when they're needed."
"Boy, you elves do like security!"
"If we didn't, Miss, we'd have angry mobs attacking us every day of the week," This voice came from the Teacher who was waiting for them, "If it's not humans demanding the secret of immortality, it's goblins on the lookout for real estate, or dwarves following a seam." His eyes twinkled with humour, presumably a private joke as no-one else was laughing. Vaisen was surprised that the Teacher seemed so young. Seeing his astonished look, the Teacher spoke.
"This is a large settlement. There are three or four teachers at any one time. I have just achieved the position. Now, what can we do for you? Accomodation until the trolls have gone?"

Darmok, Jagne, and Vaisen were shown to rooms, where they rested, before being invited to dinner at the Teachers' Hall.

After the meal, the oldest of the Teachers spoke to them.
"So, I've been told you are on a quest. What do you seek?"
"A dragon," said Darmok.
"A difficult quest indeed," mused the Teacher, "Why do you seek a dragon?"
"Because dragons' fire is the only way to defeat Zoltar!" said Jagne. A hush fell over the room, and all faces turned to stare at the travellers.


PART THE 17

"Did we say something wrong?" asked Jagne.
"Regardless of how we feel about Zoltar," explained the Teacher, his expression making it clear the elves didn't care much for him, "we NEVER speak out against him. Even in here. Nowhere is safe."
"We'll try and remember that," commented Darmok.

There was a few moments silence. Since there seemed to be no sign of Zoltar appearing and raining down unspeakable punishments on the ones who opened their big mouths, the elves relaxed and continued eating and talking. After a while, the Teacher spoke confidentially to the travellers.
"I know where you can find a dragon,"
"Where?" asked Darmok, excitedly.
"They still exist?" said Vaisen, surprised.
"Yes," the Teacher continued, "do you see that rock in the centre of the Cavern?" The others nodded. "Under that is another passage, leading deep into the mountain. Many years ago, the dragon that used to live on this mountain entrusted me with care of her egg. She died soon afterwards. The egg hatched, and for some time the Cavern had its own dragon. The Zoltar arrived, and we decided the best thing would be for the dragon to hide."
"We must seek this dragon at once!" declared Darmok.
"Patience, O slow-witted one," countered Vaisen. "There's still the problem of getting the dragon to Zoltar's castle and defeating him. Remember he's already killed several dragons."
"Tomorrow, we will move the rock, and you can visit the dragon," said the Teacher, and that was the end of it.

The travellers slept beautifully in the comfortable elven beds, and woke bright and early, surprised to find the sun streaming in their windows. Upon exiting, they found an incredible arrangement had been set up with the roof of the cavern. Glow-worms had been encouraged to live on the roof to give the appearence of stars, and a magical sun had been created to simulate daylight. They were most impressed.

They walked down to the large, central boulder. It was higher than even Darmok, and all three of them together couldn't get their arms all the way around it.
"So, how exactly is this thing going to be moved?" asked Jagne.
"Magic!" replied the young Teacher, approaching from behind them, "Watch!"

A dozen elves positioned themselves around the rock, and began a levitation spell in unison. The rock slowly lifted until it was high enough for them to get into the passage beneath it.

"When (and if) you return, knock four times on the rock, and we will let you out," finished the Teacher.
"Thank you for your help." said Vaisen, and the three of them scrambled into the dark tunnel. Once they were safely through, the rock was replaced over the entrance with a dull thud. They were plunged into blackness.


PART THE 18

There was quite a long silence, all three sensibly standing still and waiting for their eyes to adjust to the limited light. Unfortunately, there was no light for their eyes to adjust to.

"Oh well, off we go!" declared Darmok, trying hard to be cheerful. There was a thump and the sound of someone swearing under their breath. "Carefully," he concluded.
There were several more bangs and 'ow's that slowly moved down the tunnel. Vaisen sighed, and cast a simple torch spell on the trio. The sudden illumination revealed Vaisen still standing beside the entrance, Darmok sitting further down the tunnel rubbing his head, and Jagne not far behind him wondering why she was glowing.

"This really isn't my colour!" she complained as they continued onwards.
Vaisen sighed again (AUTHOR: If anyone's keeping track of how many times he sighs, and/or rolls his eyes, I'm not really interested) "What colour would you prefer?"
Soon, they were wandering along happily, with Jagne tinged with a faint orange light.

It takes quite a complexion to not look terrible in bright orange clothing. Most people end up either looking pale and unwell or like a carrot. It didn't help that Jagne had no sense of colour-coordination and was wearing mainly bluish-purple. The overall effect made her skin look distinctly green. Vaisen again rolled his eyes when Darmok commented how radient she looked. He briefly considered turning out the lights so they would hit their heads again, but decided against it when his head twinged at him.

The tunnel continued with no apparent direction other than down. After some time, they became aware of a faint reddish glow coming from ahead of them. Encouraged, they quickened their pace. Soon, they didn't need the spell to see, and they felt warmer. Finally, they rounded a corner and came to a cul-de-sac. And there was The Dragon.

The glow was from its scales, in a rainbow of shades when you looked at them in different ways, but mainly red. Smoke drifted upwards, almost lazily, as if it was only doing it because all the other directions were equally uninteresting, from it's nostrils. It opened a reptilian, yet greatly sentient eye, and fixed them with a gaze that could have melted rock. It's wings were curled neatly along its back on either side of a row of sharp spikes. Twin crests, like ears, sat pointing backwards from its head; which it still hadn't lifted from its front paws. It's curved talons had left grooves in the rock it was lying on, almost as if it had been chasing...well...something...in its sleep.

There it lay, watching them, but not moving, as though it didn't consider them a threat, just something worth keeping an eye on in case they did something interesting, it's body filling most of the cave at the end of the tunnel.


PART THE 19

This would have been more impressive if the cave had been bigger. As it was, the dragon was approximately the size of a shetland pony, except sleeker, and with longer legs.

It was at this point that Darmok surprised even Vaisen by abandoning his optomistic attitude, and sitting down at the side of the cave.
"Well, there goes that idea then," he muttered.

Evidently, these actions were interesting, because the dragon raised it's head, turned it to the travellers and spoke. It was rather strange hearing something without lips and with a narrow tongue speaking, but the dragon spoke with fluent, if rather archaic, english.

"What idea do you refer to, human?"
It listened closely as Darmok explained about their plans to defeat Zoltar.
"Wherefore do you surrender with such ease?"
"Well, Zoltar's already wiped out tons of dragons without so much as a blister, and compared to them, you're - no offence - puny," explained Darmok, slightly embarrassed.
"Humans; so concerned about magnitude!" lamented the dragon, "Have you not learned, yet, that there are more important considerations?"
"They'll never learn," commented Vaisen, "until they stop looking at themselves and start paying attention to other races."
"Too true, young elf," agreed the dragon, "and yet you are not one from the Cavern. Whence hail you?"
"I lived in a place called the Bowery, until Zoltar destroyed it," explained Vaisen.
"Revenge is never a noble pursuit, young one," the dragon admonished.
"Maybe not, but it'll make ME feel better!" declared Vaisen.
"But will it?" sighed the dragon.

Darmok had long since lost the thread of the conversation, but Jagne had followed most of it. She now spoke up.
"Zoltar has done many other terrible things," she said, and proceeded to detail some of the worst. The dragon listened in mounting horror.
"No matter the disaster, you humans seem capable of inflicting worse through your own narrow mindedness," it lamented when she had finished.
"Will you help us?" asked Darmok, brightening.
"Alas, I cannot," replied the dragon, "as you yourself said, more powerful dragons than me have been defeated by this man. I cannot risk leaving this cave."

The trio sadly bid the dragon goodbye, and returned to the Cavern.


PART THE 20

The elves held a party for the disappointed travellers, making sure they served plenty of brain-cell eradicating liquids. The festive atmosphere did nothing to improve the mood of the three, nor did Vaisen's rediscovery of his inability to get drunk. Jagne had long since had enough and retired to her room, but Darmok was a rarity - a human who could handle his drink.

A lot of humans think they're pretty tough when it comes to alcohol. They down their copious quantities of beer, wine, or spirits and manage to stay upright, then order another and promptly fall over after drinking half of it. They had nothing on Darmok, who was almost elf-like in his tolerance of alcohol. So he and Vaisen were sitting morosely at the head table, staring into the middle distance, and not really listening to the revelry going on around them.

"There must be something we can do to cheer you up?" asked the Teacher, concerned.
"If you had some way to get me drunk, that might help," muttered Vaisen, when he'd eventually worked out that he was being spoken to and what was being said. Elves seem incapable of getting beyond this slightly-disoriented state of drunkeness. Darmok wasn't much different, but had drunk little more than half of what Vaisen had consumed.

The Teacher paused, as though making a difficult decision, then spoke quietly to one of the serving elves. He returned with a fairly ordinary looking bottle, only he was holding it with a pair of steel tongs and mist was rolling off the open top of the bottle.

"Have a small amount of this," the Teacher said, "eldeberry wine. Made from the small, dark eldeberries that grow on these mountains. The most powerful drink in the world!"
"Don' be silly," admonished Darmok, "everyone knows vodka's the stuff!"
"No, that's merely the most powerful drink known to man," explained the Teacher, "The recipe for THIS is known only to elves."
"I mus' try some!" declared Darmok.
The Teacher smiled. "If you insist."

Darmok was poured a small measure into a steel mug. He downed it in one mouthful then looked around at the anticipatory gazes turned in his direction.
"Is not so bad..." he declared, and fell over backwards, knocking a candle over next to the bottle of eldeberry wine. It immediately caught fire, although the only visible sign of this was the pinkish flame shooting half a metre above the neck of the bottle. Vaisen was surprised. He reached over, and found the bottle cool to the touch.

"It has to be stored in magical bottles," explained the Teacher, "the heat from the flames would melt ordinary glass, and it catches fire so easily." He sighed. "There goes another batch."

But Vaisen was no longer listening; he was staring at the bottle, his mind racing.