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Mortimer raised his head up from her withdrawn hand and the Queen narrowed her mascara-laden green eyes, taking every detail of him in, her tusked mouth full of questions, “what happened to your hair, sir?” she gasped.

He reached up to his soft flop of receding grey locks, “I… had a haircut,” he gulped.

“Huh. And what happened to your jacket? You always wear your fancy jacket; it’s got all stars on and everything.”

He creased his brow in thought, “it’s… in the wash,” he said, not wanting his voice to sound too unconfident and failing, miserably.

“Huh,” she said again, pointing behind him, “and what about Destroyer? Why’s he a red horse now?” her smile was fading fast.

Mortimer shot his friends worried glances; “he’s… in disguise.”

This seemed to do the trick, she returned to a smile, chatting happily, “you’re on a secret mission! Ooooh, I like it! That explains why I didn’t know you were coming, you always tells me if you’re dropping in for coffee and cake, don’t you, sir? I keeps a stash of your favourite one from the gnoll bakery in our larder, who are your new friends? Are they on the secret mission, too? Where are you going? What’s it all about? I suppose you can’t tell me, can you? I’m not very good at keeping secrets, am I? ‘Motor Mouth’, you calls me, well it’s true, I suppose. ‘Always yapping on’, that’s what you say, ‘not enough paracetamol in the Universe’! that’s why you don’t mind me coming back here to help run the realm instead of turning up for parade duty. I do miss my gun, though, have to leave that back at base, don’t I? Is anyone missing me?” she finally paused for breath.

Mortimer gulped, “oh, yes, heaps,” he eventually answered.

She gave a shrill laugh, “that’s my General, always with the jokes! You’re so funny, bet it’s quiet without me, isn’t it?”

Mortimer squared his shoulders, nodding, “we really have to go, your majesty,” he gestured to the others behind him, “very secret mission and all that.”

She fiddled with her dress, “can I come? Please? Pretty please, sir? I promise to behave, only running a realm is so boring dull, you know? Nobody fights here, well you makes sure of that, don’t you? But I miss a scrap and our adventures. It’ll be fun, just like old times, you’ll get cross with me and I’ll talk too much and please, please, please?” she lifted her boot heels off the ground, bouncing them excitedly.

Mortimer’s ears drooped and he knew his friends were going to object; but she had a big warg with her for protection and she knew the way to the Lowlands, evidently. “I need to have an emergency strategical meeting about this matter,” he bowed again, spinning around to the others.

“Are you mad?” Lizzy hissed, leaning in to the huddle, “no!”

Chase was with Lizzy on this one, “an orc? Have you learned nothing from our last encounter? That beast on her leash will devour us all,” he scoffed.

“Have you seen the rack on that lass?” Patrick whistled. “I could spend more time with her, no problem.”

“Patrick!” Lizzy chastised with a huff.

The human humphed, “it’s 50/50, then. Your decision, General.”

“Fat lot of help you lot are,” Mortimer sighed. It was a big warg, true, and it would turn on them the moment he let his pretence down, and how long could he pretend to be his nephew around someone who knew him well? “I am sorry, your majesty, but I have been outvoted on this matter,” he ignored Patrick’s cynical snort in his ear, “you simply cannot join us in this adventure.”

Raz’s eyes flashed and she twisted her painted lip, “after all the babysitting I did for you! Cheek! Well, you can ask some other softie to do it for you from now on, I can’t believe it, turning me down so… politely?” her head tilted again, her ponytail swinging. “Wait. You’s tell me to get knotted,” she said, slowly, “you’s tells me to bugger off cos I’m a pain, you’s don’t talk so nice,” she leaned towards Mortimer, her face one of increasing suspicion.

The aardvark tensed, holding his breath. This was it; they should start running and very swiftly.

“Who’s your best mates?” the Queen demanded.

His head spun, “Rap and Rave, the dinosaurs.”

Quiet groans from the party could be heard.

“And who’s your wife?” she was getting closer, now.

“Sarah. A human,” he was controlling his instinct to flee as long as he could.

“And who… is your son?”

This one he knew, he’s seen the toddler on his last visit, “Victus,” he nodded with confidence.

“Huh.” She folded her arms, “well, you’s still actin’ funny, more’n usual, I means. Alright, you’s can go off on your secret mission thingie without me. I’ll still sulk about it, though. Come on, Trouble!” she yanked at the leash chain but the animal didn’t move. It rumbled low in its throat. “Mummy has treats! Walkies!” the Queen coaxed in her shrill voice.

Mortimer leaped up on Flamed’s back, spurring Patrick to follow him. The human man struggled but managed, gripping his grey friend, tight.

Chase stretched his legs, getting ready to sprint.

Lizzy’s whiskers twitched, also flexing her big feet as the warg refused to be moved, its growl growing more dangerous.

“What’s the matter with you, you big, soppy thing? Do you miss your little grey friend? He’s very busy! He said so. What’s that thing you always say, sir? You’re fighting wars in five different dimensions…” she waited for Mortimer to finish it off.

He couldn’t.

Flamed took a step and the warg was up on its haunches, vibrating, pulling at the metal links binding it to the she-orc warrior Queen.

Pink-lidded eyes blinked, her expression turning sour, “you’re not him, are you?”

“I’ve had a very long day!” Mortimer groaned.

“It’s mornin’!” she scowled, giving the warg named Trouble more leash length, “and my baby knows you’s off, even if you had me fooled!”

Mortimer grabbed a fistful of mane, spurring Flamed into an instant canter, “Run!” he yelled, leaning forward and hoping Patrick would stay seated for the flight. Hooves lifted off the ground as glorious wings spread and a lurch pulled at the pit of his stomach.

Raz shook her fist, still raging, “just you wait! He’ll punch your lights out!”

Wind whistled in his ears as they swept high into the sky. Why had he been so stupid? He’d been so happy to see people treating his nephew fondly, coming to him for help, now they were having to run away from a city because he WASN’T his nephew!

Beneath him, Chase and Lizzy were bounding through the city streets, headed for the tarmac road with a warg hot on their heels and a screeching orc Queen striding on her laced, heavy boots, pink dress billowing around her. City soldiers scrambled for action, filing out hot on their tail, long pikes at the ready.

But they had their own problem; a black, whirling spot in the sky on webbed, bat-like wings. Mortimer groaned, feeling sick. It wasn’t just boats that made him travel sick; he was no flier, neither. Chase had told them it spits green fire, and he knew Destroyer couldn’t do that, but a weapon of the future could. It would be just his luck to get shot down out of the sky by his own nephew who was unaware of what was going on! Their only available move was to make for the mountain and find the pass and hope.

The soldiers were catching up on his friends. All he could do was sit on his ride and look on helplessly.

No. Not this time! He’d got them all in this mess with his desire to show them another world, he couldn’t let them down so easily!

With a point and yell, Flamed descended at his command, bringing a sudden drop to his stomach that made him grateful they had not had any breakfast to bring back up. Patrick was swearing behind him, gripping onto him so tight his thought his lungs would surely collapse.

With a great swoop, Flamed flew right into the ranks, her hooves knocking on their heads, sending them sprawling, reeling sharply back up again and turning for another dive.

The black dot on the horizon grew larger, taking interest. “battle draws it closer!” Mortimer wailed to himself, “I must be mad!”

“Absolutely fucking BONKERS!” Patrick bellowed. “I can’t get you out of this one, not this time!”

The soldiers were ready for the next assault from above, pointing their blades upwards as they crashed through, stabbing out viciously at Flamed’s legs. She screamed, wobbling, nearly unseating her riders as crimson drops dribbled down her skin. “I’m not doing that again!” she neighed, teeth bared, tossing her head angrily.

Chase and Lizzy had gotten ahead, at least, still running as fast as they could from the clamour behind them, taking a sudden exit from the road and making a beeline for a wood that could conceal them.

A loud bellow roared around them as the black, winged form came straight for them.

Mortimer tried waving his arms but wasn’t confident enough to draw the creature’s attention without falling off and tumbling down into a broken heap.

“What are you doing?!” Patrick’s gruff voice was almost hysterical, “don’t get its attention!”

“My nephew will blast us out of the sky, Patrick!”

“What, the nice hero who isn’t a bad guy?! Say it ain’t so?!”

“Shut up! It’s all a misunderstanding! Anar! Anaaaaaar!” he shouted into the air, reaching out with a hand, desperately.

The beast roared again, terribly, now close enough for Mortimer to recognise Destroyer the prince of nightmares, his massive dark body shiny and sleek, his terrible nose-horn sharp and deadly, mane flowing and sturdy hooves flashing with polish. He was going to crash right into them, like an airborne game of chicken.

Mortimer and Patrick screamed in unison as Flamed took evasive measures, pulling in her wings to drop down.

“It’s me! Uncle Monty!” he sobbed, hanging on for dear life as Flamed turned and twisted away from Destroyer’s reach.

“I don’t think he can hear you!” Patrick bellowed. “This is worse than riding Nemesis, this is!”

“I never did like rollercoasters,” Mortimer grunted, pointing to the trees, “follow Chase! Get to the wood. We can talk to him on the ground.”

“I’m trying to,” Flamed grunted through her gritted teeth, “he’s not a prince for nothing, you know! His wings are better than mine at this sort of thing!”

Patrick hissed into the aardvark’s ears, “he wants to play chicken, let him! Let him come right at us and we’ll dip down at the last possible moment.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Mortimer moaned, retching as they turned in the air again, rising upwards.

Flamed faced Destroyer as he hurtled in their direction, screaming like a wild animal; noises no horse could be able to make. His wings were outstretched to their fullest, his face down, pointing his horn at them, his eyes glowing like lanterns. His noble face loomed larger… and larger…

“Going Dooooooooooown!” flamed clipped in her wings tight and they plummeted as if in an elevator wildly out of control.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!” her riders shrilled.

Destroyer continued on his flightpath, still speeding along at an alarming rate, carried by momentum.

Flamed pushed out her feathers at the last moment on their fall and swept over to the trees, her flanks sweaty and her limbs trembling.

Leafy canopy swallowed them up, hooves thudding into the ground once more.

Mortimer slid down, rolling on the floor and clutching at his stomach, moaning and spitting up phlegm onto the soil. “How does Anar do that?” he coughed, “I’m dying. Ohhhh!”

“Oh, my days…” Patrick had fared no better, bending over double.

Destroyer’s roars faded again as he flapped back to his hunting grounds, high above the mountains.

They lay, panting, their chests still heaving as they waited for Lizzy and Chase to find them.

Flamed limped about, muttering darkly, in pain.

“I knew it would all go wrong,” Mortimer said, softly to the grass.

“You promised you would give us an adventure,” Patrick panted, “and by heck, you did just that.”

“I’m so poorly, I haven’t felt like this since ’87.”

Patrick laughed despite his discomfort, “I remember that, you chucked up in a public bin. That German schnapps hits hard, doesn’t it?”

“Ohhhh thinking about it is not helping!”

“Small sips, I said. Did you listen? Oh wait, who’s that, now?” Patrick reached for his sword with a trembling arm, fumbling at the grip.

Soft footsteps approached. Chase crept in, crouching low, “hey,” he hissed, quietly, “you lost the Winged Horror?”

“Barely,” Patrick admitted, trying to get up. “You lost the soldiers?”

“I don’t know if we lost them or they called for backup…” he muttered, frowning. “Either way, this is a short respite at best.”

“That Queen sure was something, wasn’t she, lad?”

“An orc! With a crown! I never imagined such a thing. Who would be loony enough to put an orc in a position of power?”

Both sets of eyes flicked over to Mortimer, who was still bemoaning his twisted guts.

“Where’s our Lizzy?’ Patrick asked, his face full of concern for their rabbit friend.

“She’s ok, she caught some stones in her foot. She’s hobbling, but fit. Decided to take her wellies off to help her run faster. Turns out, bad move.”

Patrick was upright, holding the elf by his shoulders, “I’m glad you’re alright, kid. You’re a fast little bugger, ain’t you? I used to sprint, you know, back at Cambridge. You could give ole Four-Eyes Farthington a run for his money.” He clapped Chase on his back, fondly.

“I must say,” Chase’s voice was soft, only for Patrick, “my own father never cared for me as much as you. Thank you.”

“I raised two strong lads, I did. One works for BP now, out on the deep-sea oilfields. Bloody good money, you know, but hard work. I know how to get the best out of strapping youths. A bit of praise, a bit of stern guidance and a whole heap of insults,” his face creased up in chuckles. “My old money ain’t what it used to be. Kids these days don’t want land, they want Nissan Skylines.”

Chase could only nod, the human’s words utter gibberish to him.

Patrick ruffled the elf’s golden curls, “Whatever happens, just know you’re never on your own. I’ll have your back, just as I’ve always looked out for this decrepit aardvark,” and he gave the decrepit aardvark an unsympathetic nudge with his boot.

Mortimer gave a thumbs-up, his belly finally feeling like it wasn’t stuck in a washing machine’s spin cycle.

“I’ve achieved more with you than I ever have before,” Chase smiled, “if anyone can help me fulfil my destiny, it is you.” He leaned into the human’s broad shoulders, exhausted. “But we can’t keep running. Lizzy is hurt. Flamed is hurt…”

Mortimer rolled over, “yes, it is time we gave ourselves up, gracefully. We only have to explain ourselves. Some well-chosen words could settle all of this.”

“Still don’t fancy our chances against that warg, though.” Patrick was serious. “I’m glad we never met one in the wild.”

“I certainly couldn’t run from one, right now,” Flamed agreed, showing off her wounds.

“My brave steed!” Mortimer patted her from the grassy ground, “you flew so well, and we stayed on! How, I honestly don’t know, but we did. You evaded Destroyer himself.”

The nightmare blew air from her nostrils, hotly, “or he let us get away. I can’t be the only one who thinks worse is coming.”

“Might as well wait and see. Two of us are injured. Goblins are preparing for war. My nephew is pulling invisible strings we can’t even comprehend. I thought we’d be chatting in his office and getting a tour of the Kaos Army headquarters, all cosy and pally, laughing at the funny dragon in his leather jacket and sunglasses. Not running for our lives from everybody we meet.”

Lizzy limped in, “that was before you impersonated him and tried to play peace-keeper with goblins. You could have told the Queen you were the General’s uncle…”

He nodded, solemnly, “I let it all go to my head. Nobody’s ever paid much attention to me back home, I’m just a rich guy who runs an ancient crumbling castle and has rescue horses. I’ve never had anybody particularly love me or hate me, I’m just some grey guy.”

Lizzy held out a paw and Mortimer grasped it, getting up with an exhale of air. “we’re done for,” he admitted, cupping her chin, “look at us.”

Lizzy held her fluffy head up, her small nose twitching, “we’ve made it this far. We only have to get past the mountains. Don’t give up so easily, honey.”

“It’s so complicated,” he whined, “orcs are bad, but the orc Queen is good; goblins are bad, but they’re just little guys who can’t catch a break; elves are good, but they don’t keep their promises…”

Patrick laughed to himself, “people are people, I suppose.”

Chase had to agree, “I didn’t really think about things from the goblin’s point of view. I grew up being told they were menaces that needed to be eradicated. Same as orcs. Once they were all killed, everything would be better. Now… now I’m not so sure that’s accurate.”

Mortimer’s eyes widened, “maybe that’s what the dragon wanted us here for,” he said, softly. “he wanted to show us that good and bad wasn’t a fine-set line or boundary. That’s why we had this adventure. I knew we were exactly where he wanted us.”

Chase folded his arms, “he wanted me to kill him?”

“That’s still not clear. But we’re going to meet him. We’re going to get the chance to find out. Only if we keep moving, limping and hobbling or no. Queen Raz will have called for back-up, and who is that going to be, exactly?” he was calmer now that the things that had happened made sense.

“More orcs?” Lizzy suggested.

He nodded, “Kaos Army orcs, I bet!”

Patrick frowned, “and the real General?”

“Him, too. I do hope he will forgive me. Those goblins are relying on him. The stability of the entire realm is relying on him doing whatever it is he does.” Mortimer patted Flamed’s flank, walking alongside her out of the wood, checking the coast was clear. All was still. All was peaceful. For now.

Leaving the city of old and new behind them, they slowly travelled to the foot of the mountains. Chase wasn’t sure where the path through was located, exactly, but the group knew that they would find it one way or another. They followed the road closely but not directly, keeping it within their sights, but not wanting to make easy targets of themselves. Patrick had given the elf his heavy, heirloom blade and was encouraging him to swish it about, to become adept at wielding it though it was burdensome and ungraceful. With the light of the rising suns they climbed atop a steep, rocky rise of sandstone and gazed down at the alien world before them, once more taking in the beauty of the rings glimmering across the skies and the vista that stretched out to the distant horizon; roads appeared, filled with traffic, cities sprawled full of glass and metal, reminding the Earth-travellers of their home world, as behind them lay the stone and cobbles of ancient architecture and rural modesty.

“I never knew any of this was out here,” Chase marvelled. “Is this like your home?’

Patrick, Mortimer and Lizzy nodded.

“I am going to be stuck in the Glade forever,” the elf sighed. “We distrust anything outside.”

“It’s nice in your Glade. All those flowers. The nature. The chirping of the birds,” Lizzy said, giving him a small smile, “you said there’s danger outside and you were right.”

Chase fidgeted, “yes, there’s danger… but there’s also… life. People. Lights and excitement. My mind has been full of monsters and fear for so long. But this,” he pointed to the roads and power pylons, “I like this.”

“Nothing wrong with the simple life, lad. I’m a Lord and I spend all my time rescuing ex-racehorses, cleaning out muck and trimming hedges. The dragon thing is an anomaly, I’ll be straight with you. I don’t get any excitement unless the aardvark or drink are involved. Both, for preference.”

Mortimer added to this, “until that demon and demonologist turned up at my gates, my life was similar; one day blending into another following a familiar pattern, watching my castle crumble and not caring an ounce. The minute that portal was opened… ah, but Patrick is right; a simple life is no bad thing. I haven’t screamed like that in years, not since Alien came out in the cinema.”

Chase scrunched up his pointy-face, “but you’ve seen both sides. I haven’t! I want to drive a car, if I go back to the Glade then I won’t have that chance. I won’t get to live like this.” The elf stared wistfully at the city full of wonders, trying to take in all the curious details; the coloured lights and moving vehicles.

A low rumble filled the air. The sound of an engine. Somewhere, sharp stones were being crushed under tyres.

Chase’s ears pricked, “is that… a Land Rover?’ he asked, his face full of hope.

“Could be,” Patrick nodded. “We will stay here and find out. If we must fight, we will fight with valour; if we must talk, we will speak only the truth, and if we are captured and tortured then we will probably die a gruesome death while cursing Mortimer to our very end. I always had a feeling my demise would be all thanks to him.”

Lizzy gave a noise of objection.

“He’s joking! I hope,” Mortimer raised his thick, grey eyebrows at the human who had tried to stay stoney-faced, with only the smallest tell of a smile at his lined lips. “I still think we could have taken that snake’s head back to the Glade and convinced the elf elder it was a dragon.”

Chase tutted, “we could have, you know. Father would have taken that as a victory. Father would have taken anything!”

Lizzy stared, “we still could! It’s only lying there. It’s not that far. We only have to avoid the cities… and the orcs…”

The sound of the moving vehicle drew ever nearer.

Patrick stood firm, his face set, “never look back. Never shy away from a scrap.”

Chase lifted the old sword up, his thin arms bulging, “he’s right! I can be a mighty warrior. Those orc ankles won’t know what hit them!”

“Don’t try and beat up any of my nephew’s soldiers, whatever you do,” Mortimer pleaded, “I’m likely in enough trouble as it is.”

“If they bring a fight to us,” Patrick growled, “it’s only fair we respond in kind.” He looked over to Chase, “come on, lad, put on a pose! Plant your feet… wider… lift up the sword, let ‘em know you mean business! Think hero!”

“Hero,” Chase repeated. He gritted his teeth, struggling with the broadsword, “right.”

Lizzy shrugged and joined in, bringing her fists up to her chest, looking out to the rumbling sound’s direction down below.

A cloud of dust was rising.

A few minutes passed, “this is heavy,” Chase grunted.

“Stay firm, you look good! First impressions count, don’t you know? Like a job interview. Or so I’m told. I never had a proper job.” Patrick had Chase’s slim dagger flicked out in front of him, one hand drawn back, fingers flexed like he was a King-Fu fighter or ninja turtle.

Only Mortimer stood relaxed, his hands in his tweed jacket’s pockets, blowing air through his lips as the seconds ticked by.

Even Flamed looked noble, but this was her default on account of being a fabulous magical steed with flames for mane and tail, and wide, white, red-tipped feathery wings. Her silver-spiral horn glinted in the morning light atop her raised head.

Eventually, finally, a great dark-olive coloured slab of welded metal and bolted rubber rose up over the ridge and roared to a crunching stop next to them. Across its bonnet, above the thick, iron, protective bull-bars that shielded the headlights, was the Kaos Army logo and the words PATROL in military stencil.

Doors swung open and large, gloved hands appeared, followed by calf-high polished and laced brown boots, and hardy cotton fatigues. Two neat and tidy, green, clean-tusked orcs climbed out of the large lorry and stood, staring, at the heroically posing group. Dressed in camouflage and flak jackets, with thick belts at their wide waists, the orcs looked like they had come straight from a bizarre version of Operation: Desert Storm. In their arms, they both carried bulky pewter-coloured guns, the chunky metal bodies slashed with blue lights in thick strips that glowed brightly.

One of the two had glasses that sat on its large, squat nose. It pushed them up with a thick, green finger. “Looks like we got us some adventurers here, Corporal.”

“My word, yes, mighty heroes indeed, Lieutenant, sir. Better watch ourselves. We’re outnumbered. Nice sword, elf, does your dad know you took that?”

The orcs sniggered.

“I am a mighty warrior,” Chase pouted, still holding the blade up with effort.

“I can see. Bet all the mice are terrified. I hear…” the senior orc looked around him, lowering his deep voice further, “I hear you’ve been causing quite a ruckus.”

The elf nodded, “that’s right, we have.”

Mortimer raised his hand to interrupt, “excuse me,” he said, politely.

Sharp green eyes met his grey ones, “we’ll get to you!” the senior, spectacled orc glared, silencing him.

“We found a dead Spiked Serpentine out in the Meera marshes, was that you, little elf?” the Corporal asked, sounding a bit too friendly.

Chase jutted his chin, “sure was!”

The two orcs looked at each other, shaking their heads, “you do know that those are a protected species, don’t you?”

Chase blinked, “what?”

“Oh dear, oh dear, our hero here is not aware of the Endangered Monsters Act.” The spectacled orc looked sad.

The other orc, who had a beret upon his bald head, much like how Patrick covered his with his cap, growled, “that’s BAD. That means you will be charged for a criminal act, kid. Do you have crime where you come from?”

Chase looked lost, his sword dropping. “I… I did something wrong?”

“That’s right! You did!”

Lizzy huffed.

“And the rabbit here was reported to have assaulted nomadic campers.” The beret tipped as the orc tilted its large, green head.

“That’s ridiculous!” Lizzy exploded, “they attacked us!”

Mortimer stepped forward, “please, let me explain,” he pleaded.

Large, blue-lit guns pointed right between his eyes with a building whine, “I told you; we would get to you!”

He held his hands out in defence, “sorry, sorry!”

“Then, we got a call from our lovely Sargent-Major Raz and, well, it’s not looking good for you lot,” the Lieutenant rumbled, a grin spreading on his thick, tusked face. “Now, are you going to come quietly or are you going to be brave?”

Mortimer nodded, “we are going to come quietly.”

Patrick spluttered, reluctantly lowering his knife, “we are?”

The orcs looked at each other again, “sure? Don’t want to have a swing for the fun of it? Try and make a distraction and then clonk us about the head or something?”

“No,” Mortimer said, firmly, “take us to your leader.”

Spectacles pouted, “we’re too good at this, Corporal.”

Beret agreed, “it’s the big guns, sir. Maybe we should leave them in the lorry, next time?”

“I like my gun.”

“Me, too. Maybe we should take it in turns, you know, just one of us gets out at a time?”

“I could pretend to get a comms call in the cab,” spectacles offered.

The group stood, bewildered, as the military orcs discussed the best ways of getting a fight out of them, right in front of them.

Mortimer opened his mouth to speak.

“SHUSH, YOU!” a warning shot was fired at his feet in a blast of hot blue light and he yelped, stumbling back away from the smoking crater on the ground.

Spectacles rolled his eyes, “they’re not gonna fight us, now, are they? You plonker.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant, sir.”

“Come on,” the senior orc sighed, “in you get. I don’t know, you meet a bunch of adventurer heroes and they don’t even wanna have a go…”

“I did!” Patrick objected, being manhandled inside the back of the patrol lorry, “but now I think I’ll pass.”

“Right,” Chase gulped, climbing onto the bench seat, “I thought you’d have cutlasses, not exploding light on a stick. That’s not a fair fight.”

Flamed waited for the tailgate to be dropped and she stumbled up into the bed of the rear, covered in canvas tarpaulin. It slammed shut behind her and a bolt was dragged across as she snorted rudely at the orcs.

Lizzy didn’t wait to be grabbed, she sat inside, quietly next to Chase, followed by Mortimer who was getting some VERY dark looks indeed from the soldiers.

The truck rumbled off down the slope, bouncing its passengers around without a care. They sat huddled together, watching the mountains draw closer. Above them, the familiar roar of the Winged Horror, Destroyer, rang off the rock, sounding more ominous with every second.