IT WAS STILL DARK OUTSIDE when they all gathered in the great hall. There was a dull throbbing behind Holt's eyes. The strong Gnome ale flowed well last night.

'Today we are going to plunder Vultaur Syth's Castle,' Thayn was saying.

'What!' exclaimed one of the listeners. 'We only raided it last week.'

'Precisely, they will not be expecting us back so soon,' the red-haired Gnome continued. 'Unless you have any objections, that is. I am sure Varg would like to hear them.' 

The Gnome who had voiced his misgivings shuffled nervously and shook his head.

Holt knew of Vultaur Syth, another Gnome Warlord, a very powerful one at that. But his stronghold was on the other side of Yar-Atgur, hundreds of miles away from here.

'And how do you propose we get there and back in time for lunch?' Holt asked him feigning ignorance.

'That is where Shabur Varg and his Amulet come in, my friend,' Tiber Grist interrupted. 'Come, you said you wished to meet Shabur Varg, now is the time.'

They left the hall and climbed a wide, curving stairway that led up to the topmost floor of the keep. There, great studded doors, guarded by two of Ixil Driz's brethren, barred their way. The doors swung back on well-oiled hinges as they approached. Another great hall spread out in front of them, light from the approaching dawn penetrated the large windows that surrounded the room. A roaring fire blazed in the fireplace, its flames glinting off the piles of gold and jewels that spilt from chests stacked high around the chamber.

But it was the gargantuan figure sprawled on a massive bed in the centre of the room that captured Holt's attention.

Shabur Varg's vast bloated bulk lay spread out across the thick mattresses, swathed in a thin sheet that did little to hide the abundant rolls of fat that covered his body. His features showed little of his Gnome heritage. Lank greasy hair hung over the discoloured pillows that propped up his body. Sweat pooled across the Gnome's forehead and dripped into his eyes. The nose had all but disappeared in the fatty tissue of the face. His mouth, a cruel misshapen gash full of rotting stumps of teeth, broke into a hideous grin as they entered. Thick drool dribbled from it, running down onto the jowls beneath. The odour of unwashed flesh made Holt feel nauseous, especially on top of the ale he had supped earlier. 

Holt could see now why Tiber Grist thought the warlord may not have long to live.

Two She-Gnomes fussed and pampered around him, feeding him morsels of food and drink. He waved them away with a stubby-fingered hand and beckoned to Dagan Thayn.

'Thayn, come closer,' he wheezed uncomfortably. 'Has all been prepared.' 

Dagan Thayn moved towards the bed. 'Yes my lord, everything has been arranged as instructed. Grist and his Brigands stand ready.'

Tiber Grist clapped Holt on the shoulder, moving him closer.

The overpowering smell grew more pungent the nearer he got. Holt almost took a step back but steeled himself against it. 

'Holt here will spearhead the attack.'

'Will I...' Holt started to say.

'Ha, the new blood,' Varg interrupted him. 'Yes, well done.'

He looked Holt up and down. 

'I am sure you will do well,' he gasped. His vast bulk shuddered convulsively as he broke into a deep racking cough.

The She-Gnomes rushed to his side, speaking soothingly, trying to convince him to drink a little water. He shushed them away, forcing himself upright.  

Varg reached beneath the sheets that covered him and withdrew a circle of metal. The thick chain attached to it had become partially embedded in the folds of skin around his neck. He held the disc before him, the metal gleamed golden in the first rays of the sun that were beginning to peep through the windows. 

Holt noticed a large gemstone in the centre. Colours that ranged from the palest yellow to an emerald green seemed to flow across its surface, and pulses of light flashed deep within its heart. 

It was the object that he had come to this place to obtain.

The Amulet of Hidden Ways. 

The bulky figure lying on the bed held the amulet out in front of him. Holt could see Varg's lips moving, muttering almost silently the words he knew would activate the portal. 

A stream of white cloud billowed from the amulet snaking its way to a corner of the room that was still in shadow. The darkness in the corner dispelled by a sudden pulse of shimmering light.

Then before him, a breach opened, a glowing tear in the very fabric of the room. Holt watched as it grew until it was large enough to step through. Instantly there was a subtle shift in the air around the room. Holt heard a roaring, far off like a great wind, that seemed to draw closer. He felt it tugging at his hair and clothing. The brightness seemed to pull at him, beckoning him in.

Magic. It sent a shiver along Holt's spine.

Once again he recalled the witch's words about the amulets and how it could tap into hidden pathways.

He had been right, this was how Varg's brigands managed to traverse the great distances so swiftly and unseen. He had managed to gain access to the paths of mystical energies that flowed across Yar-Atgur.

'Time to repay some of that debt you owe me,' Tiber Grist was shouting above the growing noise.

Grist thrust a short sword into Holt's hand. Holt noticed it was his own, the one taken from him after the ruckus in the tavern.

'You may need this,' he said, ushering him towards the glowing circle of light in the corner of the room.

'Look, I do not know what is expected of me?' Holt pointed out. 

He did not like magic. Did not trust it. Nothing good ever came from magic he had found out. Usually at his own cost. Give him a foe he could see and a sword in his hand and he was happy to take it on, but magic...that was a lost cause. 

'Not a lot...' Grist slapped him on the back. '...just step through the portal and make sure it is all clear. Call back if it is. Do not worry we will be right behind you.'

Holt thought about protesting, but as he turned he saw the others, crowded behind Grist awaiting his move. Farther back in the room, he caught sight of Dagan Thayn standing by Varg's bed. They seemed deep in whispered conversation. Thayn nodded and looked up; a cruel smile flickered briefly on his lips, his eyes burning into the back of Tiber Grist's head. 

Holt shrugged and stepped forward into the light. It seemed to flow around him enfolding him in its embrace. The winds whipped fiercely at him, and he felt a coldness seeping into his limbs dragging him down. Lightning flashed, making his skin prickle and his hair stand on end. It was an uneasy sensation, feeling like he was standing still, although he knew he was not.

The next moment he was through.  

He stood in deep shadow looking out along a long passageway. It smelt of damp and decay and he guessed he was far underground. Further along, torches flickered along the walls revealing several doorways and a set of stone steps that wound upwards into the gloom. He listened closely for any sign that he was not alone, but could hear nothing except the roar of the portal behind him. 

Something tickled at the back of his mind; he did not know what was causing it. Just an uncomfortable feeling that something was terribly wrong here.

Holt turned and called quietly back into the darkness assuring them that all appeared well.

Moments later the unmistakable figure of Ixil Driz stumbled out, his axe held ready in front of him. Then came Tiber Grist and the rest of the Gnome warriors.

'All appears quiet,' Holt reaffirmed. 'But something does not seem right.'  

'Nonsense,' Grist nodded, listening. 'I sense nothing out of the ordinary. Come, the treasure room is on the floor above us.'

He motioned for Holt to lead the way.

'Where is Thayn?' Holt queried over his shoulder.

'He does not sully his hands by joining us on the raids,' Grist told him. 'Leaves the dirty work to us.' 

They moved forward to the bottom of the staircase. Holt peered around the corner, at the top of the steps a faint light spluttered. He strained, vainly trying to catch any sound, but nothing came. All was hushed. 

Pressing tightly against the wall, they crept silently up the steps. The stairwell opened onto a vast hallway that stretched off in both directions. Great pillars arched along one side supporting a walkway high above. Doorways and more passages led off at intervals along the walls.

'The treasure room is to the left. The third door along,' Grist indicated.

Leaving several Gnomes to guard the stairwell, Holt employed the pillars as cover to steer them towards the doorway the Gnome leader had pointed out.

The tickle in the back of his mind worsened. If this was the treasure room, then surely it should be guarded? but as yet he had seen no sign of the castle's occupants since he had arrived. Where were they all? 

Something was not right.

Shafts of early morning sunlight suddenly lit up the hallway, flooding through the windows set high in the walls.

Then Holt knew what had been worrying him since he had entered this castle. He had not heard any noises at all. It was first light, some of the Gnomes should have been up, going about their early morning rituals. There were meals to prepare. The guard should have been changing shifts. That is why Grist had chosen this hour to attack, hoping to catch them unaware, before the whole castle came fully awake.  

But all was too quiet. 

Vultaur Syth was waiting for them. 

'I think we have been lured into a trap,' whispered Holt to no one in particular. He scanned the hallway for signs of an ambush.

As if on cue, there was a shout from the balcony above them. 

'Surrender!' ordered the deep booming voice of someone in command. 'You are surrounded. There is no way out.'

Holt looked up. Limned against the sunlight, he could see two dozen Gnomes, crossbows pointed menacingly at them. He also made out a heavy set figure, slightly taller than the others, dressed in chain mail with a dark cloak, slung over his shoulders. Holt caught a glimpse of the haggard scarred face, one eye covered by a patch, the hair and beard grizzled with grey. 

Vultaur Syth thought Holt. 

Syth raised an arm, signalling. Doors at either end of the corridor swung open and a small army of heavily armed Gnome troopers crowded into the passageway.

'Sorry I doubted you,' Grist shouted. He drew his sword in readiness.

Once more the voice shouted down to them. 'Surrender now, and I, Vultaur Syth, will be lenient with you all.'

'Like hell, he will,' Tiber Grist murmured. 'This is the second time we have raided his castle in a week. He will display our heads on his gateposts by midday. We need to get out of here.'

Holt desperately wanted to tell Grist he thought that Varg and Thayn were behind the trap. That somehow, and for some reason, they had orchestrated this with Vultaur Syth. But it was neither the time nor the place. They had to escape first. 

'I knew this was a mista...' the Gnome who had raised a dissenting voice back in the castle started to say. He was cut off as a crossbow bolt caught him in the throat.

As if sensing they were not going to surrender without a fight the Gnome Warlord ordered a volley of bolts fired at the raiders below.

Over half of Grist's Gnomes fell, several mortally wounded. Ixil Driz threw himself in front of his boss, the rock like plates of skin shielding him from the flying bolts. Even when one found its way between the plates of his shoulder, he did not cry out.

Holt jumped aside as bolts clattered off the wall where he had stood. He rolled across the passageway into the shelter beneath the walkway. At least the archers could not fire at him while he remained there.

He directed his attention to the Gnomes advancing from both ends of the hallway. They had not yet been cut off from the steps back into the cellar. If they could reach them, they might still have a chance of escaping.

Holt caught Tiber Grist's eye and motioned towards the opening. Grist nodded. The remaining warriors leapt for the shelter as another volley of crossbow bolts rained down on them. One of the wounded, slowed down by an arrow in his leg, collapsed to the floor. His moans of pain swiftly ended by two more bolts in the back.

With Syth's Gnomes closed in on them from both sides, Ixil Driz charged for the steps. His axe slicing through the air in front of him, he urged the others to follow him. The huge Stone Troll carved his way through the ranks of the Gnomes before him, scattering them, they fell back under the onslaught. The remainder of the party crowded behind him picking off any of the Gnomes that slipped under his attack.

Vultaur Syth's Gnomes closed in behind them, a couple of Grist's wounded Gnomes tried to hinder them off, but stood little chance, and were soon cut down.

'Quickly, back down to the cellar, it is our only chance,' Grist shouted to the remains of his party. 

He then turned back and charged at the advancing warriors. His ferocious assault caught the defenders of the castle by surprise, several fell beneath the attack and the remainder retreated momentarily. 

But although he was large and muscular, with excellent fighting skills. The sheer weight of numbers threatened to overwhelm him. Holt could not abandon him to the mercy of the castle's defenders, even though he thought he may have to kill him to steal away the Amulet of Hidden Ways. 

'Our blades bite deep!' Holt cried out the time-honoured Gnome war cry, then leapt into the fray. Luckily with both sets of antagonists now closed in battle, the archers on the balcony could no longer fire for fear of hitting their own warriors.

Steel clashed against steel, and the cries of the wounded and dying filled the crowded hallway as Grist's raiders fought their way to the cellar steps and hopefully, escape.

Ixil Driz was still holding the doorway, Gnomes piled around his feet, struck down by his great war axe. The remaining brigands pushed through and ran down the steps.

Holt and Tiber Grist retreated, parrying and slashing at the advancing defenders. Holt felt a spear thrust burn across his ribs, he grabbed the haft, pulling his assailant towards him, then smashed the pommel of his sword into the Gnomes nose. He fell back, blood spurting from his ruined face. Holt knew that even if they would not give a second thought about killing him, he was different, and if he could avoid killing them he would. Another sliced at him with a sword, narrowly missing his chest, Holt feigned a stabbing movement and as the Gnome jumped back he kicked him hard in the stomach.

Then Holt saw Tiber Grist forced backwards, as half a dozen attackers piled into him. He stumbled over a body and fell to his knees. Holt sliced savagely at the Gnomes in front of him, driving them away momentarily. He then dived to Grist's assistance. He tumbled into one of the Gnomes, bowling him into the others, they fell into a heap of thrashing limbs and bodies. Quickly Tiber Grist was on his feet racing for the cellar doorway. Holt was hot on his heels; he felt a crossbow bolt graze across his shoulder has one of the archers on the walkway saw an opening and fired at him.

Then he was through, taking the steps two at a time. Behind him, he heard a roar from Ixil Driz, then the Stone Troll was thundering down the stairwell behind him.

Tiber Grist was waiting in the passageway at the bottom of the steps. He slapped Holt on the back as he overtook him, nodding his thanks. 

'Are you the last?' Grist asked the Troll.

'No more are alive up there,' Ixil Driz nodded gravely.

Grist shook his head sadly. He had lost over half of his raiding party.   

Holt risked a glance up the stairwell; they were not being followed yet. The Gnomes obviously reluctant to engage the giant Troll and his battle axe in the narrow confines of the steps.

But even as he looked, he could hear Vultaur Syth raging at his warriors, rallying them into pursuing the looters who had dared to raid his castle not once, but twice. 

'Quickly now, back through the portal,' Holt shouted back to the remainder of the party. 'It will not be long before Syth's Gnomes pluck up the courage to come after us.' 

They ran for the portal in the darkness at the end of the passage. He hoped it was still there and Shabur Varg had not seen fit to close it after his treachery. 

It was their only way out of there. 

Then he could feel the familiar rush of the wind tugging at him, and as he drew nearer he could see the pulsing flashes of light from deep within the darkness, it was still open.  

Holt reached the portal; he pushed two of the wounded Gnomes through, then made sure the remainder of his party stepped into the shadows and disappeared. Ixil Driz was sent through next.

'You get clear Holt,' Grist shouted to him from where he had been keeping watch. 'Quickly they are coming.' 

Just as he was about to step into the portal Holt turned, Grist was racing towards him. 

'When you get back, be wary, I believe Varg and Thayn had something to do with this,' Holt called out, warning the Gnome Boss of his fears. 

Grist looked up, signalling he had heard, just as several Gnomes armed with crossbows appeared in the tunnel. They ran forward; aiming and firing as they did so.

'Look out,' Holt cried. But it was too late. Two of the bolts struck Grist in the back. He gasped and took a step forward before collapsing to the ground. The other bolt whizzed passed him and embedded itself in Holt's shoulder, throwing him backwards.

He felt the darkness spinning about him and the roar of the wind in his ears, lightning flashed all around. Far away, through a haze of pain and disorientation, he saw Grist struggling to his feet, the Gnome boss staggered as another bolt struck him. Holt heard him cry out, telling him to get clear and close the portal. Then all went black and Tiber Grist was gone. 

He was back in Shabur Varg's chamber; he stumbled forward, dropping to his knees.

Through a haze of pain, he saw the bodies of several Gnomes lying in front of him and Dagan Thayn standing there bloodied sword in hand. 

'Where is Grist?' Holt heard him call out.

'He's not coming...Syth's warriors...they cut him down,' he cried out breathlessly. 'Seal the portal...quickly...they are right behind us.'

Thayn moved towards him.

Holt heard Shabur Varg shout something. 

Almost immediately he felt the air in the room returned to normal, the wind died,  and the light in the corner faded away.  The room seemed to spin around him, and he fell face down onto the carpeted floor as darkness enveloped him.