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Anarchy Warlock, General of the Kaos Army, Black planet, opened his closet of work clothes and saw an uninspiring choice of green and brown trousers and shirts. He wore the same outfit every single day; his tees and fatigues were comfortable, practical and easily recognisable. No matter where in the universe he went, people would point and say, ‘that’s General Warlock’. It helped that he was an aardvark, too. The grey skin, tall ears and long round snout made him unmistakable. And then there was the jacket. He had designed it himself; it had a tall stiff collar that wrapped around his neck, red satin stripes at collar and cuffs and a vibrant blue silk lining. Made of black linen, he wore it no matter the weather.

He turned to his wife who was sifting through her jewellery box on the other side of the room, “I have nothing to wear!” he complained.

“You’re being stubborn, dear. You have lots of clothes.”

“Work clothes, yes, but those snotty elves won’t let me wear those to the charity dinner tonight.”

“We accepted the invite a month ago. You had plenty of time to get a suit. Like I say, you’re being stubborn.”

“I’ve been busy,” he huffed, closing the closet in disgust. “I can’t go in my underwear.”

“More’s the pity,” she smiled.

“I’m being serious, Sarah.”

“So am I. A whole month! Don’t you have a magic bag around somewhere that you can pull a shirt out of?”

“I don’t want to wear a shirt.”

“Of course you don’t,” she sighed, “you know, for a man who spends most of his time negotiating peaceful outcomes between warring nations, you’re very inflexible yourself. Hypocrisy, you could call it.”

He folded his arms, “why invite General Warlock and then say no military apparel?”

“They want your money, dear, not your professional services. It’s a charity dinner! They’re having an auction and want us to buy things to help build a new spiritual retreat. Cost of incense must have gone up,” she grinned. “Now find a flipping shirt and stop moaning!”

She was right, of course, he was being stubborn. Wearing his work clothes and jacket made him feel like a hero. He’d stride about feeling smug, flashing his medals and winning smile to all and sundry, whipping out his blaster and spinning it in his hand as he went about his day-to-day business. Without it, he was just an odd-looking fellow from another world.

He pulled out his Bag from its spot in a dusty corner; he didn’t have much use for it these days. He had everything he could wish for already. He frowned; wearing all black would make him look like an assassin, wearing a suit brought back awful memories of his time working in the offices down in the Underworld and wearing elven robes would simply be ridiculous. He could always ask his best friend Rap for fashion advice but there was a non-zero chance of him being put in a kilt and, frankly, that wasn’t a risk he was prepared to take. He only needed a shirt, but he didn’t want a shirt, because then there would have to be a tie and he’d gone all these years without wearing one and wasn’t about to start now.

He could almost feel the stare from his human wife burning into the back of his head. He had had a whole month, it was true, and fair play to her she hadn’t pestered him about it once. He’d even agreed to the invitation because they didn’t get many evenings out together alone. He flipped open the Bag, which was currently in the form of a khaki satchel with a million straps and flaps fitting for his current status. Inside was a small portal, capable of summoning any item you could think of, so long as it existed somewhere at some point in time and could fit the physical parameters of the holding vessel. In the distant past he had used it for late-night snacks. Dipping his hand down into its cloth interior he immediately brushed against cool, smooth silk and his brow furrowed in confusion. He hadn’t even thought of anything yet! Something chunky and hard was in there too and curiosity got the better of him. He pulled it out and stared, dumbfounded, at the long sumptuous piece of fabric he held. It was a bright blue cloak. Fastened by a rough piece of dark sapphire.

His cloak.

Well, not exactly. It was his in another life, in another time, when he had been a great and powerful mage, full to the brim with dragon magic. He’d seen it in the old portrait back at Warlock Court, wrapped around the neck of his ancient ancestor when he’d posed for a portrait.

He dipped his hand in again and pulled out a cream long-sleeved tunic with red satin edging at the hems and V-neck collar, pulling the odd ensemble on and admiring himself in the mirror.

“Oh, that’s very fancy. Your favourite colours, too. Better tuck your dogtags in, though, dear. And don’t forget a pair of leggings or something.”

He nodded. It was strange feeling so comfortable in these clothes, like they were familiar in a curious way. “Better?’ he asked, pulling on black woollen tights like the elves wore and finishing off with a pair of pointy-toed shoes on his feet.

Sarah tried to hide her amusement, “very dashing.”

“You’re taking the piss.”

“No!” she smiled, “no, it’s a good look, honest.”

“It’s ok for you, you just wear any old thing.”

“Excuse me, this dress is new,” she gave him a twirl. It was a long gown of shimmery teal, poofy-sleeved and cinched at the waist.

“They’re all new,” he insisted. “You only wear them once.”

“I can’t be seen in the same outfit twice, can I?”

“you should donate your old ones to the charity auction.”

She waved a hand, airily, “the elves would use them as blankets! Skinny things. I swear they live off sunlight and moonbeams.” Swiping some cosmetics into her matching bag, Sarah fussed over her hairdo one last time, “ready?’ she asked.

He patted his tunic pockets. “As I’ll ever be. Is Raz having Victus tonight?”

She thought a moment, “Raz said she had something going on tonight. Well, she is a Queen these days, even if she does still turn up for work to play with guns. I asked the dinosaurs but they said they were busy, too, so…” she trailed off.

Anar wiped his long, grey face, “who did you leave our son with?”

“Ynskypp’s always liked him,” she reasoned.

“You left him with the rats?!”

“He’s your standard-bearer, you like him! He goes around with you, waving your flag and everything.”

“He’s alright, yeah, but I don’t think he’s quite qualified for child care, Sarah.”

“Victus likes the rats, he thinks they’re funny, with their long tails and twitchy whiskers. Anyway, he’s got his toys and his favourite pyjamas, he’d be happy anywhere. We’ve brought him up surrounded by monsters, nothing fazes our Victus.”

Anar had to admit this was true. When Victus had been born one of the first faces he’d seen was Rave’s, to everybody’s surprise, who had cooed at the aardvarkian infant and demanded to have a cuddle. The grumpy dinosaur held his title of uncle proudly, albeit with an ulterior motive: he took every opportunity he could to tell Victus of all the daft things his father had done. Rave was terrifying to most grown adults yet the little boy adored him.

The Titan’s quiet quantum engine hummed as the large alien metal vehicle made its way up into the mountain landscape where the elves dwelled. They had been the last of this planet’s races to embrace the wondrous future technology that the Dragon and its army had brought with it, preferring elk-power over cars. They were a haughty lot, on the whole, snooty and proud, swishing about in their elaborate outfits with their tiny, pointed noses stuck in the air. They didn’t like guns. They didn’t like mobile phones. They certainly didn’t like anything that resembled ‘modern music’. Or at least, that was the case with the elders; the younger elves were certainly curious about those things and that was what brought them down from their lofty peaks and into the ranks of the Kaos Army. Losing their youngsters to a warmongering aardvark only made the elder elves more wary of the grey General. That was why they insisted on no military attire. Anar was simply another guest, and another pocket to empty.

“Look at them,” he sniffed, “I swear they wear their whole wardrobe at once.”

“You like elves,” Sarah smiled as they parked up outside the gates of the ivory citadel next to the other outside visitors.

“They don’t like me.”

Guards in polished armour bowed ever so slightly as Sarah showed them the invitation and they lowered their long swords to allow them through the archway, past heavy wooden doors and into the courtyard.

“Isn’t it pretty?” she stopped at the flowerbeds raised up on the cobblestones in bright coloured planters. “I miss flowers. Living in a desert is hard, sometimes.”

Anar put his arm in hers, “we could have plastic ones. We’ve got a potted plant in reception.”

“Yes and that poor thing is hanging on by a wing and a prayer.”

Round tables were laid out in front of the hall, decorated with pastel tablecloths and a candle to give a friendly, warm glow to the atmosphere. Chairs of twisted willow were made more comfortable with padded velvet cushions. Lanterns hung in the trees that sprouted around the alleyways and paths of the mountaintop city.

Scraping back a seat, they looked around at the other guests; “wow, they all look the same, don’t they? All pale and human-like and pretty. It’s quite the contrast to back home, isn’t it?” Sarah whispered.

“You fit right in, dear.”

She beamed at the compliment.

A large carafe of water was placed on the table and they were presented with a menu and leaflet outlining the elves’ charity evening goals.

Birds twittered as the end of the day drew in. Sarah sighed, “it’s so…”

“Romantic?” Anar offered, hopefully, taking her hand and giving it a small kiss. “I know we don’t get much time to ourselves.”

“No. No I was going to say…”

“Don’t,” he said, firmly. “Don’t say it.”

Sarah laughed, “what? I can’t say it’s quiet? It is quiet! You can even hear the wind.” She saw Anar’s face and carried on laughing, “just saying it’s quiet isn’t going to make anything suddenly happen, is it?”

“I’m a Queen, I am!” came a loud, high-pitched voice from out of sight.

Anar put his head on the table with a thump. “Oh, no…”

Sarah brushed hair out of her eyes, “is that…?”

“Yes,” came the muffled reply from her husband, his long ears drooping.

“I got a invite I have! And him! You can’t change your mind now! Don’t you point that sword at me or I’ll give you what for, mister! I’ve got security, I have!”

Sarah let go of his hand, “shouldn’t we try to help?”

“I can’t get one night’s peace,” he wailed.

“Come on, it’s Raz.” She pulled him up and they returned to the gate where an important looking elf was looking over an invite and then looking back to the green-skinned woman and her meek human partner who was hiding behind her.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t know I was half-orc, is it?”

The elf stammered in the warrior Queen’s presence, “it does say no military attire,” he nodded to persons out of view.

“We’re security detail, we are!” A grumpy voice barked.

“Do you know what? I’m going home,” Anar threw his hands up, “it’s the bloody lot of them!”

Sarah pulled on his cape, “stop that right now, it’ll be fun with our friends here.”

“We don’t need guns, we got weapons attached,” Rave growled. “Can’t have royalty going in without protection, what if there’s assassins?” he squared up to one of the guards who backed away, “yeah, that’s what I thought. We’re here to buy stuff, not to cause any trouble.”

“Cooo-eeee!” Rap waved. “I didn’t know it was fancy dress or I’d have joined in.”

“Very funny,” Anar rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t wear my work clothes, could I?”

Rave took one look at his aardvark friend and blinked before creasing in laughter, “what do you look like? You’re Superman if Superman was really lame!”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, ‘ello General, what are you doing here?”

“That’s a very good question, Raz and one I’m struggling to find an answer to right now.”

Raz strode past them to a table, “I hope there’s pies,” she rubbed her hands together, “I’m starving.”

King Alanin scurried behind the glamorous half-elf she-orc, his fur-trimmed robes trailing behind and his crown slipping with his awkward gait. Raz waited for him to pull a chair out for her before she sat down. “Get me a menu, Alny,” she barked.

“I think it’s on its way, my love.” He arranged his robe fussily before sitting down, glancing around nervously at the dark looks they were receiving from the other guests.

Rap and Rave placed themselves close to Anar and Sarah, Rap all smiles and compliments on their outfits and Rave as unbothered about everything as ever. He put his green, clawed dinosaur feet up on the table and crossed his arms.

Rap clapped his hands, “there’s going to be rare gemstones for my shiny rock collection, I just know it!”

“I want more tiaras for my closet,” Raz squeaked, checking her lipstick in a small compact.

“You look beautiful, my love,” Alanin sighed, gazing up adoringly at his huge green wife, with her sharp polished tusks and tight leather corset.

“I know,” she grinned, flicking her long blonde ponytail.

“Now that’s a bedroom dynamic if ever I’ve seen one,” joked Sarah, making Anar choke on his water.

“Better get some food before the auction starts. What do you fancy?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he peered at the small print, in a needlessly fancy font and held the paper out a little, eventually giving up and pulling out his reading glasses from his tunic pocket.

“Oh my goodness, Rap, Rap look at this. Big Ears has got glasses now!” Rave pointed.

“Oooh, you look very intellectual, mate.”

Anar tried to look nonplussed, “only for reading. I hardly use them.”

“You’re such an old bastard.”

“He looks great, shush!” Rap chided.

Raz slammed a ring-covered hand on the dainty table, “it’s all vegetables! I wanted pie! Almy, sort it out, will you?”

The small human king looked apologetic, “I don’t think elves eat pie, my love.”

“Well they better start! I’m not eating this qwinnyowa stuff.”

“Please stop shouting,” he begged, “for me?’

Raz calmed down, “ok, maybe I’ll skip straight to pudding.”

Alanin paled, afraid to mention that elves did not do pudding, neither.

The melodious sounds of a flute filled the air and everyone paused to look and listen as a priestess daintily stepped up onto a makeshift stage area at the castle doors in front of them all. You could tell this lady elf was a priestess because of the big moon that sat on her forehead, held on with a dainty chain that wrapped around her head. It was almost in her eyes and they would have found it funny if not for the dry company. She played a lonely, haunting tune, her white ringlets blowing in the breeze and glittering silver robes shining in the torchlight. The final note tailed off and she looked up to applause, smiling shyly, a small pink blush upon her pale cheeks. Her gaze gently fell upon Anar and she looked shocked for a moment, her hand reaching out until she quickly withdrew it again and turned to daintily totter off again on her elven heels.

“What was that all about?” Sarah demanded, “not another ex-girlfriend, is it?”

Anar scoffed, “don’t be ridiculous! I’ve never seen that woman before in my life.”

“And your past life? You are dressed as your ancestor,” she reasoned.

He could only shrug. His gut was twisting, and it wasn’t because of hunger.

Rap leaned over, “not much of a disco, is it?”

Anar agreed, “they need some happy hardcore in their lives, these elves.”

As they finally made an order for vegetable-based dishes, another important-looking elf took the stage, tugging on his navy tunic and preening his short black hair. “Friends,” he smiled widely, “fellow elves,” he continued, “and er, other guests…”

“They always mean us,” Anar nodded, fully aware that they were, once again, the misfits in a sea of bland.

“Welcome to this wonderful evening of food, good company and charity…”

“Notice how they never say ‘fun’?”

“Shhh, dear!” Sarah giggled.

“Please, taste our homegrown produce, carefully cultivated upon our own soil by those who respect it; drink our pure clear water from the mountaintop, filtered by ancient rock for a taste unlike any other, hear the beautiful music of our talented band as they take you on a journey of emotion, and finally, but most importantly, bid generously upon our auctioned items so that we may provide a haven for all lost souls everywhere. Our spiritual retreat will heal wounds that are never seen, will provide rest for those who find that sleep is not enough and will give peace to those whose lives are full of turmoil. We can only do it with your blessings,” he bowed to applause.

“I want to work there,” Rap sighed, wistfully.” I bet they’ve got so many crystals.”

“They haven’t built it, yet,” Anar reminded him. “Don’t leave me just yet.”

Rap patted his arm, “I would never. Not for all the shiny rocks in the universe.”

As they pushed the food around their plates and dreamed of pizza, Anar and his friends watched various items delivered to the stage; used staffs and charms sold as jewellery and accessories, fine hand-spun dresses and tunics, home-made furnishings built by master craftsmen and rugs of wool woven in garish colours. They were all snapped up eagerly by those who had more money than sense. Elk-horn walking sticks, delicate pottery, bone-carved figurines – a middle-class couple’s dream.

Raz was lamenting the lack of spare crowns and dessert.

Occasionally, the clink of metal caught his long ears and Anar carefully watched out of the corner of his grey eyes as spears and helmets bobbed in and out of view. He tried to push it out of his mind, for now. This was a charity auction. A dinner for posh people. They wanted money, simple as. Still, he reached down to where his blaster holder would have been if he was armed. He wasn’t. As his blood fizzed, faintly, he told himself that it was indigestion from too many vitamins. He was here with his wife and zany pals to have a nice time. To forget about work. He had a fleeting, awful thought that maybe, maybe work hadn’t forgotten about him.

Elves still had enemies. Everyone had enemies. And a night such as this, when they were all preoccupied with showing off and being extra snooty, was a perfect opportunity for a surprise attack.

He kissed Sarah’s hand, sweetly, “I’m going for a piss.”

“Really, dear,” she shook her head in despair, “you’ve no class.”

He walked quietly, aided by his soft shoes, finding a dark tunnel away from the auction where a stone staircase led to the upper level of the citadel. Atop the walls, he could see far out across the landscape and the starry sky above. Twenty miles east, almost out of view, lay the lowland desert and his home where a gangly brown rat would be reading his toddler son a bedtime story. If discovered, he’d lost his way to the toilet. It was an old excuse, but a solid one. Footsteps approached and his ears pricked. The sound was not boots of an elf soldier. They were heels. He knew who it was before she appeared.

She stood at the top of the staircase and tilted her head, her large crescent moon swinging, “you knew I would come?”

“I had a feeling,” he nodded. “So, what’s your deal? Do you know me?”

She looked him up and down, “I know what you are,” she said, coyly, “even if this…” she gestured to his clothing, “is a little peculiar.”

“Fancied a change,” he said, not moving, “you need my help, don’t you? I see that look almost every day. I can do something that no one else can. Or will.”

She stepped closer, talking quietly, “something has come through the Sacred Seal,” she whimpered.

“Always does.”

“Our fighters are brave,” she insisted, “but don’t have your particular skills. Lord Bartimus is willing to offer it gold to return to its filthy lair…”

“But then you won’t get your sanctuary? If it even accepts.”

She nodded.

There was a commotion down below. Shouting. It sounded like a really good item had finally come up for auction. He blocked it out.

“I’m no good with a sword,” he frowned, “and I don’t have my blaster.”

“We have swords. What we don’t have… is dragon magic.”

Raz yawned and slouched in her chair, making it creak.

Rap and Rave had pulled out a pack of playing cards and were trying to remember how to play Rummy.

Alanin was admiring the nice vase he’d successfully bid on and was pondering aloud where it should go in the Royal household.

Rap dropped a card, reaching down to pick it up just in time to see a red car being pushed into the courtyard. He froze.

It was an old Italian sports car. There were vents along the side. A prancing pony upon the bonnet in bright yellow.

It also had most of the front hanging off and deep gouges along the side panels.

“It’s the Ferrari!” he yelped.

Rave whipped his head round and his cards went everywhere. “Anar! Where’s Anar?” he blurted, leaning on the table, “it’s his car!”

Sarah blinked, taken by surprise, “what? He went to the loo…”

Rave exploded, “old bastard can’t hold his piss and his car’s up for sale?! I bid one million gazillion pounds!”

She looked at the wreck – a ‘fixer-upper’ as the auctioneer described it, “that old wreck? It looks like it’s been driven into a wall…”

“THAT’S BECAUSE IT HAS!!” the two dinosaurs roared.

“I don’t think they use that currency,” Rap panicked at Rave.

“Dollars! A million gazillion dollars!”

“Not that one, neither.”

“I’m all out of currencies! Do something!” Rave pleaded.

“I don’t have any money!”

“Aaaaaaa!”

“Aaaaaaa!”

They clutched each other, screaming and crying, “he’s gonna kill ussssss!”

Raz thumped Alanin’s arm, almost toppling him, “you heard them! We want the car!”

The small human King gulped, “yes, my love…”

Anar followed the white-haired priestess into the bowels of the castle; into dark, forgotten tunnels and servant throughfares that criss-crossed their way under the stone foundations. “It likes the shadows,” she explained in a hushed voice, “moves in them, melts into them, but how do you kill a shadow?”

“Lure it into the light?” he suggested.

“Yes,” she said slowly, thoughtfully, “lure it…”

“Offer it something. Any ideas?”

“I did have one idea, actually.”

He could see her nodding in the dim torchlight. Cobwebs swung down from the curved tunnel roof. The chill of damp brick made the hairs on his arms stand on end as goosebumps tingled. It was already cold at the top of the mountain and here in the subterranean depths it was downright frosty. Their soft footsteps barely echoed. They were down here together, alone.

Anar felt his stride shorten, his body trying to hold him back. Fear was nothing new to the General; it was a vital part of his job. A hero didn’t last long being fearless. You had to know when to retreat; when to use caution, when to smile in the face of danger and open dialogue instead of fire.

He carefully considered some vital points in his current situation: 1, nobody knew he was here in the underground tunnels. 2, there was a monster on the loose only described to him as ‘liking shadows’. 3, the elf had an idea for a lure for the (presumed) evil creature yet was empty-handed and not open to discuss this idea any further.

He stopped. “I’m the lure, aren’t I?”

Her pale, pointy face turned to him, her expression solemn, “and what if you are? Will you run, forever lost in this maze of tunnels?”

“I have a lucky streak a mile wide,” he told her, “I could do it with my eyes closed.”

“You don’t strike me as the running type.”

“I’m definitely the surviving type. If that involves running, then so be it.”

“And how will you get past our guards at the gates? You forget you’re unarmed, General. There are no weapons allowed inside these citadel walls that are not wielded by our own.”

He held up a finger, triumphantly, “I do have my dragon magic.”

Only now did this miserable elf smile, “a spark, nothing more. Enough to draw out the shadow creature but not to defend yourself with.”

He lowered his hand, slowly, his mind running through multiple options at once, none of them involving dying as a tasty snack. He shrugged, apologetically, “looks like I’m following you, then. Lead on…”

“He’s either managed to get himself locked in the loo or he’s fallen into the toilet,” Rave frowned. “Both perfectly plausible for that oaf.”

Sarah tugged at the long frock of a passing waiter, “excuse me? Have you seen a grey, long-eared man with a bright blue cloak, by any chance?”

The elf frowned, staring at her hand on his clothes and shook his dainty head, “no, madam, I have not.”

She released her grip. “Thanks. Sorry.”

Rap pushed back his chair, “let’s go check the gents. Someone must have seen him. He sticks out like a sore thumb at the bast of times, never mind among this lot.”

King Alanin glanced up, “oh? You’re off already?”

Raz leapt to her feet, her heavy boots thudding, “if you’s off on an adventure, I’m coming, too!” she folded her muscular arms, tossing her high ponytail.

“An… adventure?” Alanin repeated with a squeak.

“You wouldn’t like it, Alny. You stay here and look after the car. Can sit in it if you wants. You bought it,” she pecked her royal husband on the cheek, grazing him slightly with her tusks.

He grinned, giddily, touching the smear of pink lipstick the glamorous she-orc had left behind, “yes, my love, I did, didn’t I?”

“Not much of an adventure if he’s in the men’s having a chin wag,” Sarah scoffed.

Rave clicked his cyborg eye bionic implant that the elf guards had not liked the look of, “heat signature on,” he said to nobody in particular. “Scanning…”

“I know Anar. He’s found trouble,” Rap declared, heading off.

“I left the warg behind!” Raz insisted, “Alny said the elves wouldn’t like it if I brought him along, even if he is my emotional support animal.”

“Emotional support?” Rave screeched, “Trouble’s a killer!”

“Exac’ly. A very fluffy killer who’s a good boy and loves his mummy.”

“That’s not the kind of trouble I meant,” Rap tutted, peering into the very posh rest rooms, “I’m talking about the kind Anar is very good at getting into but usually needs help getting out of.”

“Three signatures. None aardvark shaped,” Rave barked. “Moving on.” He strode on towards the castle, tail swaying.

“Actually, I’m the most senior officer here,” Sarah objected, “I should be giving the orders.”

Rave sneered, tapping his metal head piece that wrapped around his dinosaur skull, “Well_, I_ got the magic gizmo that lets me see through walls, so I’m leading this rescue mission if it’s all the same with you, so-called-Field-Marshal-who’s-been-on-maternity-leave-for-three-years.”

Rap patted her arm, kindly, “let him play, he’s doing no harm.”

The castle was full of waiters coming in and out with platters of fruit and veg, all tastefully arranged on pretty plates, fresh from the kitchen. “Smell that?” Rave asked, nostrils sniffing, moving through the entrance hall towards a distant staircase heading down.

“Old cabbage,” Raz wrinkled her nose.

“CK One, that is. Anar always stinks of it. Leads this way. Nightvision mode: activated.”

There was a crunch behind them. Raz gripped a marble strut ripped from the fancy furnishings, “what? I’m not going down there without summat to clonk with. Ain’t a warrior Queen for nuffin’.”

“Follow my nose,” Rave advised, “Big Ears is down here, somewhere.”

Rats squeaked and scampered in the gloom as the group wandered the cold corridors led by the largest raptor and his keen senses.

“Bet there’s catacombs,” Rap chatted, “that’s old dead elves in fancy boxes.”

“As long as there’s no old dead aardvarks, I couldn’t give a fig,” Sarah muttered under her breath.

“It’s here. I can sense it.” The elf moved across the inner sanctum, extinguishing the lamps one by one.

“So, I get eaten by a shadow beast, then what? How are you going to bring enough light into this dingy basement to kill the thing? Lamps cast shadows, torches cast shadows, even fire will cast shadows.”

She grimaced at ‘dingy basement’ and paused her activities, “once it is in the centre of the room I will surround it with light. There will be nowhere for it to go and it will return from whence it came,” she said, firmly.

“See, if you’d just sent an email, I could have brought some of our industrial lamps down here. 10,000 lumens is a LOT of light, believe you me. I could have opened a portal that leads to an actual fucking sun if needed. This doesn’t seem very well thought through. Dying is bad enough, but dying because of shoddy tactics is plain rude.”

The last lamp’s flame fizzled out.

Anar was aware of a glow. It surrounded him in an eery blue light.

His ancestor’s cape.

The elf backed against a wall, furtively glancing about, ears pricked, oblivious.

Dragon magic wasn’t seen by very many people. Those who were sensitive to its energy could only feel it, as she had back at the auction that seemed so long ago now.

Back in his youth, Anar had seen it in his ancestor’s portrait, hanging up in a forgotten room back up on the upper levels of Warlock Court. He had touched it, receiving a jolt of power and strange visions.

He knew now what he had to do. In a fumble of fingers and cloth, he pulled the long, ornate tunic over his head, letting the silk of his ancestor’s cape flow over his skin. His blood bubbled as energy flowed into him, charging up his very soul. It was a feeling he hadn’t had since his demon days in the Underworld, when he’d let his magnified natural magic build up for release. Euphoric. Mighty. Dangerous.

Let the shadow thing come. He’d kick its teeth in!

Sure enough, the air in the room began to feel thick and heavy as the darkness took on a serpentine form that wrapped around the sanctum’s inner walls, coiling and flowing with ease.

Anar stretched out his palms, his grey fingers flexing. Blue orbs of swirling dragon magic appeared, waiting for his command, ready to strike.

The shadow snake opened its smoky jaws wide, dust teeth glittering in the magical glow that Anar was creating.

He watched as its interest was focussed not on him, but the elf priestess; weaving around her, observing her, waiting for something. She stood, motionless, her eyes flitting around, unable to see the creature next to her.

He stayed his hand, resisting the impulse to lash out with a blaze of light for a moment more. He’d been in the business of war for long enough to know that your enemy was not always obvious. A pretty elf was as capable of evil as a dark viper any day of the week. What was she a priestess of, anyway? He hadn’t a clue, not that it all wasn’t mumbo jumbo to him in any case.

He tensed his shoulders and took a deep breathe, he’d get some answers one way or another. “ARGH!” he screamed, piercing the silence, “argh, it’s got me!” he scuffed his shoes on the floor, adding to the noise, making out he was being dragged around by forces unseen.

The elf smiled. “Yes! Good! Take his power, feed upon it! Grow stronger…”

A cry rang out from up ahead, spurring the group on; “we’re coming, Anar!” Rap fretted, almost pushing Rave onwards as the big raptor fiddled with his bionic implant.

“Heat sensors: on. Two signals, one Anar-shaped and flailing around, one maybe-elf standing still.”

“I’m ready to clonk!” Raz growled, brandishing her piece of decorative furnishing.

“I knew that pretty elf with the stupid headwear was bad news,” Sarah moaned.

The door splintered with a crash as Rave thudded into it in a full-body slam, roaring and swinging his tail to send the skinny priestess careering to the centre of the room where she collided with Anar.

“Guards!” she yelled, scrambling to upright herself, reaching out blindly to a rusty old bell, yanking on its chain to ring a tinny clang for reinforcements.

Anar waved his hands about. Bricks exploded into showers of dust.

“I can’t see a bloody thing!” Raz complained.

Rave twiddled his knob again, “torch: on.”

Dust and debris covered the floor. Anar was flinging something unseen at the elf as she attempted to escape the room.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Raz swung at her with her makeshift weapon.

“You can’t attack me! The guards are coming!” she shrieked, covering her head, “they’ll have your ugly heads!”

Metallic clangs echoed down the underground tunnels.

The elf suddenly seized, stiffening, lifted off the ground.

“Our friend with the silly fashion accessory here tried to feed me to a shadow snake,” Anar explained, raising his hands until she almost touched the grimy ceiling.

“You’re using magic,” Sarah noted. “From the cape?”

“It won’t save you,” the elf sneered. “You can’t take on our whole army.”

“I mean, we could give it a jolly good go,” Rap shrugged, “nobody tries to feed my buddy to a shadow wotsit and gets away with it. I got teeth and claws. She’s bruising for a scrap,” he nodded to Raz, “and he’s always dangerous…”

“Right!” Rave snapped.

The elf shook, violently, almost turning upside down.

“What were you trying to do with the shadow snake, anyway?” Anar demanded, his ears pricking at the approaching footsteps.

“You dragons think you’re the only ones who can wield power? There are forces outside our mortal realm who can raise the lowly such as I to positions of authority, all we have to do is summon them… and feed them… not that that’s the story I will tell to Captain Swift,” she spat. “You’ll rot in the cells. Until it comes to you and then there will be no escape from the darkness!”

“Stand back!” Anar ordered, amid much objection from his wife and friends.

He lowered the elf down just as swords appeared at the door.

“Arrest them!” the priestess cried, pointing at the strange group.

Raz swung again.

“Stand down, Sergeant!” Anar ordered, picking up his tunic, now filthy with brick dust.

The muscular she-orc’s brow furrowed, “yes… sir,” she mumbled in confusion. “Just a little smack, sir?”

He glared at her as the guards rounded them up.

“What’s Big Ears’s deal?” Rave hissed.

“He’s smart, he’s thinking of something,” Rap reassured him.

“Honey?’ Sarah hissed, trying not to wince at the armour-clad hands restraining her.

“These guards are not the enemy,” he said, solemnly.

“Get your ‘ands off me, I knows how to walk! I’m a Queen, I am!”

Anar addressed the only guard wearing golden armour, “Captain Swift, I presume?”

The tanned elf frowned, “I don’t talk to prisoners.”

“You should. They might have interesting things to say.”

“Funny clothes or no, I know who you are, General,” he growled, “and I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you.” He roughly shoved Anar into the tunnel, a sword pointed at his grey neck.

“Me? You don’t have to trust me, I know how much of a stretch that is for a man like yourself. I only ask that you trust in facts. Like the fact we were acting in self-defence against dark forces brought forth by your priestess back there.”

The sword point made a dent in his flesh and he wanted desperately to use his magic to make this whole situation go away. He grimaced, holding himself back.

“I’d be silent if I were you. Our priestess is a servant of the moon goddess. I’d take her word over yours every time.”

“Of course,” Anar sweated, “my word holds no merit. But proof would.”

Captain Swift laughed at him, “save your proof for Lord Bartimus.”

“Troublemakers! Scoundrels!” the elf Lord raged, “this is why I don’t allow weapons into my citadel! Imagine the damage a bunch of ruffians like yourselves would cause, unhindered!” he threw up his hands, hazel eyes sparkling in the light of the hall’s chandelier.

“Whatever your priestess has told you is not the truth,” Anar said, firmly.

“Oh? It’s not true you were using your magic cloak to bring forth a shadow creature from another dimension?”

“No.”

“But this is a magic cloak, is it not? I can feel its power!” the elf Lord waved the piece of blue silk, accusingly. Anar had allowed it to be taken from him without resistance.

“Yes,” he nodded, “it is.”

“I should execute you!” the elf roared.

“You wouldn’t be the first to say that,” Anar smiled. “But I’m still here. The Kaos Army have many toys and gadgets at our disposal, no matter how distasteful you find them, and my Lieutenant here is wearing one right now.”

Rap’s head tilted, “I am?”

“Yes. All security forces have them, for occasions just like this, where it’s one person’s word against another’s.”

The small raptors face lit up, “that’s why you got her to tell you everything before the guards came in!” he grabbed at his chest where a small, square piece of plastic had been sat all this time, its tiny red light blinking. He unclipped it, holding it out, “it’s a body cam. Records audio, too. Take a look see. Your priestess is bad vibes.”

The Lord eyed the small gadget with distrust, lest it should suddenly explode.

“Helps if you plug it into a monitor,” Anar shrugged.

Taking it gingerly, Bartimus gave them a dark look. “We will inspect it. Until then, you will not move.”

Surrounded by armed guards, the grumbling from the group increased in volume.

Until, that was, the closed front doors to the castle’s hall were obliterated by a large red object crashing through it. A large red object that continued moving towards them at a fast speed, sliding and careering straight to the circle of guards who duly scattered in its wake, until it came to a sliding stop in front of them.

King Alanin was screaming, attempting to grab at the steering wheel that had been moving by itself, “it’s possessed!” he shrieked, “I can’t get out! Help!” he futilely rattled at the inner doorhandle.

“No,” Anar stared wide-eyed in disbelief.

Rap grinned, “we got your car back, mate.”

The driver door flung open and the human King bowled out of it in an instant, glad to be away from the hideous thing.

“My Ferrari,” Anar gasped.

A tinny electronic voice inside spoke; ‘To-do list: escape. High priority: survive.’

“It’s good to see you, too,” he smiled. “I’ll get my goblin whizz-kids to fix you up, don’t you worry.”

The dinosaurs lunged for the open door, “what are you waiting for? Let’s go!”

“We’re not all going to fit in there,” Sarah scoffed.

“I fold up on the back seat,” Rave explained.

Anar shook his head, “she’s right. She always is. We don’t need to run from this. We were never in the wrong. Anyway, I want my cape back. It’s the only one of its kind and its mine.”

Lord Bartimus reappeared, his long face twisting at what he was faced with saying. His own moon priestess was, it seemed, bad vibes. There was a dark creature from another dimension loose in the shadows of the castle. The freaks were innocent. He wasn’t sure which of these was worst.

Then he saw the hanging remnants of his castle doors and his jaw fell open.

“He did it!” they said, pointing at King Alanin who tried to pull his bejewelled crown down over his face in shame.

“You are free to leave,” Bartimus stated, weakly, “any time you like. Sooner, rather than later. Please?”

“Not without my cape,” Anar gruffed.

“Take it! Just go away!”

Wrapping it around his bare torso again, Anar flexed his fingers, “haven’t you got a monster you want rid of?’ he asked, airily.

The elf’s face drooped, “several,” he replied, moodily.

Anar winked at him, “think of it as a goodwill gesture.”

“Brilliant!” Raz flexed her biceps, “time for some action!”

Alanin paled, “I don’t like adventures…”

His Queen gently stroked his pink, shaved cheek affectionately, “that’s ok, Alny. You can stay here… and pay for the door.”

Alanin sagged, accepting his expensive fate, “yes, my love.”

The Ferrari began producing a long list of necessary repairs in a whiny, electronic voice.

“Best you’ll get from my goblins is gaffer tape and glue. Man up,” Anar barked. “Ok, this priestess has had plenty of time to scarper back to her temple and call for backup, let’s show them some Kaos Army shock and awe, shall we?”

The moon temple glittered in black stone studded with glass shards, a still pond lay before it, the water’s surface broken only by night lotuses – delicate flowers that bloomed in the light of the moon. It was a serene landscape. Stretched out across the circular door were the phases of the moon, etched in silver. Milky cabochons studded the frame.

Rap anticipated what was coming next and pleaded for Anar not to explode the door because it was so pretty.

The aardvark graciously agreed, setting his sights instead on the glass dome roof. He whipped his hand back and as it pushed forwards the roof exploded in a million tiny crystals that erupted into the air, scattering the pale moonlight glow like ice shards in the frosty night sky. “Shock and awe,” he nodded, “bloody love it. That’ll give her the fright of her life.”

The ground beneath them trembled as they scrambled up the window ledges and downpipes.

“Something’s pissed,” Rave grinned, “laser: primed.”

“You’ve got a laser on that?” Sarah asked as Anar created a soft landing for them to jump down onto.

“I got the deluxe package,”: the big raptor grinned, toothily. In demonstration, he aimed it on one of the statues dotted around the altar room they had landed in, cutting from shoulder to thigh until it slid down with a dull thud.

“Stop breaking shit,” Rap tutted, ‘we’re here to fight monsters.”

“And here they come,” Anar warned as the ground trembled again, a low rumbling approaching them at speed.

Creatures from a dimension outside of their own swarmed into the temple’s sacred space from the seal embedded in the floor, a force of light and power firing through the polished, ceramic surface in sickening green hues until it congealed together into bizarre forms of fur and teeth and legs and wings and horns. It reminded Anar of the catalogue back at the Infernal Holy College from which an aspiring demon could choose their new minion body shape and appearance.

Raz wasted no time in testing these apparitions for punch-resistance, her green solid fists colliding with strange eyes and noses until unworldly howls rang out.

Rave’s bright red laser beam cut through the darkness of the shadow viper as it made a celebrity cameo, lunging for the aardvark General and his tasty magic. Darkness and dust whirled as it evaded the strange weapon, jaws snapping.

Anar backed away slowly, allowing it to slink after him, calculating its next strike as the caped soldier retreated into the perfect darkness of a linking corridor. When all of its long body was out of the room, Anar slammed the door behind them both, sealing them inside a thick, inky gloom.

“Let there be light,” Anar snarled. And there was light. A scorching wave of it that lit up the corridor like the heart of a star, shining out through every crack, every translucent surface, leaving nowhere for the exotic manifestation to hide. In a shudder of collapsing scales and fangs, it faded into the magical brightness until all it left behind was a snake-shaped scorch mark upon the holy stone.

Anar blinked, spots in his vision burned no matter how much he rubbed at his eyes. “And that’s how you kill a shadow,” he said to nobody in particular. He continued blinking, blindly reaching for the door he had shut. His hand touched the crescent-moon shaped handle but he didn’t have the strength to turn it. A searing pain spread down from his neck, a sensation like nothing he had ever experienced before in all his years of using magic or leading futuristic battles. He groaned, tasting metal in his mouth, his knees buckling beneath him. Crimson splats dotted the floor. Fuck.

His long ears rang, the loud whoosh whoosh of his blood rushing in his head. From the other side of the closed door he could hear Raz’s triumphant whooping, the dinosaurs roars as they bit and slashed. Sarah’s cross and bossy voice telling off various weird fantastical creatures like the toddlers she used to be in charge of in her old job. With every last bit of his strength, he raised his fist to bang on the hollow wood but it was brought back down again by a dainty heel, the sharp plastic crushing his wrist.

“I don’t think so, General. Funny thing, magic. It isn’t effective against surprise attacks. You have to concentrate, you see. But you know that. Hard to concentrate when your life’s essence is seeping out…”

He could feel the flow of warm liquid dripping down from his mouth. From his neck. It stained his clothes. It pooled together in a gory, darkening flood at his knees.

“Lucky streak a mile wide,” he panted, feeling faint.

“Such a pity. You could have died for a much nobler purpose,” the elf priestess mocked.

Anar looked around him. He was in a breakroom of sorts. A matching Smeg toaster and a kettle sat on a dirty worktop. Around a dining table were three other shapes, but he couldn’t get them to focus. His bright spots had gone from his vision. The ringing in his ears had stopped. Instinctively, he reached up to feel his neck and felt a long, raised scar on his flesh.

One of the blurry outlines put down the newspaper it had been reading.

Another paused the sudoku puzzle it was filling in.

The last remained still. Unmoving.

“I can’t be dead,” Anar heard himself say, firmly.

“Oh, here we go. It’s that Seven Stages of Grief thing all over again,” said the newspaper-reader.

“I thought it was Five stages,” the other mused, twiddling its biro.

“No. No, I can’t be dead. I’m… part dragon.” His inner voice trembled as he tried to reason with himself in this peculiar situation he had found himself in.

The biro pointed at him, “you are! That’s why you’re here, in fact.”

“True, that. Only special beings get into our part of reality.”

The unmoving figure seemed to loom, even though he was dark and blurry and, as stated, didn’t move. “WOULD YOU LIKE COFFEE? WE HAVE THE GOOD STUFF. FRESHLY GROUND COLUMBIAN.”

Anar backed away, “No, I don’t want coffee. I want to go back.”

The three blurs leaned in to each other for a conflab. Or at least, two leaned in towards the scary one. Much muttering in a strange tongue filled the breakroom amid the hum of the fridge.

“As an appointed dragon, you do have a choice in the matter, it seems,” explained the sudoku master. “Those of magical creation are able to be reinstated at will. Aren’t you lucky?”

“I… yes, yes, I am lucky! That’s my… thing.”

“YOU ARE NOT YET READY. THERE WILL COME A TIME WHEN YOU WILL ACCEPT THE COFFEE OFFERED TO YOU. THIS I PROMISE.”

“Anyhow, you don’t have your Nightmare with you. Can’t be a Rider without a steed, that would be embarrassing! Nice cape, by the way.”

His brow furrowed; there was something about these three that scared the absolute crap out of him, yet at the same time they seemed friendly towards him. He looked at the coffee pot that he hadn’t seen before upon first glance. His mouth was dry. The aroma of the hot brown liquid was delicious. The Dragon back home made terrible coffee. The Dragon was a tea drinker. Thinking about the Dragon brought back faint memories of an office, of friends, of family.

Anar turned for the door, but there wasn’t one. He looked out of the breakroom’s window but there was only darkness. Nausea swept up from his belly, filling his cheeks with a sour taste.

“Be seeing ya,” the figures seemed to say, but all he could really hear was his own awful retching.

Chunks of half-digested vegetable lodged in his throat and Anar coughed, gasping and choking as he took great gulps of air, his nostrils filling with the acidic aroma of his last meal.

He was on the cold floor of the corridor, the wooden door in front of him… the murderous priestess at his side. Her foot was still on his wrist. With a vice-like grip, he wrenched himself free of her sharp heel and grabbed at her bony ankle, bringing her down with a crash into the door, sending her flying head-first into the room with his pals.

“There you are!” Rap cried, his happy face turning to one of sheer horror as he leapt towards his mammalian friend, “oh my goodness, Anar, you’ve got a frickin’ dagger in your neck! Don’t move! I’m comin’!”

“You’re in for it now, bitch!” Rave roared, red lasers carving up the struggling priestess until she twitched her last.

“You’re a mess,” the fussy raptor fretted.

“Lucky streak a mile wide,” Anar coughed, grabbing onto his friend for support.

“You’re telling me!”

Sarah rushed to his side, cradling his head, carefully, “you’ll be ok, honey,” she soothed, stroking his ears.

“Feeling better already,” he smiled, weakly.

A sharp metallic clink could be heard as the intricately carved ceremonial dagger clattered onto the floor, slipping out from the quickly-healing wound site.

“What the bloody ‘ell happened?” Raz demanded.

Anar closed his eyes, concentrating his magic on his own healing needs. “Not sure, but I think… I’m giving up coffee.”

Rave threw up his hands, “silly sod’s delirious!”

Jolly music filled the air as they returned to their tables. Apparently they had missed a marvellous light show. King Alanin had paid for the door repairs and smoothed things over with Lord Bartimus as best he could before carefully driving the crazy car out of the castle’s hall. The vehicle was trying to tell him a mad story about doing donuts in the dust of the Purgatory wasteland and how his driver was a lunatic who wouldn’t let it read out the local news. Alanin would be only too happy to hand it back over to Anar and never set eyes upon the infernal thing again. Also, there was no pudding.

“We might as well go, then,” Raz sulked. “No crowns, no jewels, no cake. At least I got to thump a few monsters.”

“We’ll get ourselves a treat, I’ll see to that,” Anar said.

Sarah looked at him, concerned, “you need rest, you daft grey bugger.”

“Look, we came here for a nice night out. I’m feeling much better. I have my magic back, might as well use a bit of it for funsies, right?” he winked.

“Wasting magical power on frivolous things is so you, mate,” Rap grinned.

The waiters walked out of the castle with silver platters piled high with shiny gold confectionary, each tray’s contents carefully arranged into neat, pointy cones. The guests sighed in appreciation. They weren’t the only ones who had been looking forward to a bit of dessert, it seemed.

Wrappers rustled as small chocolatey truffles were revealed, the sweet nutty globes admired before gentile chewing commenced.

Alanin inspected his offered morsal’s shiny outer, smiling widely, “delectable! Why General, with these Ferrero Roche, you are really spoiling us!”

The raptors glared at Anar, “you think you’re funny, don’t you?”

The aardvark crunched, loudly, “if you can’t have a laugh,” he said, “what’s the point of living?”