With a groan, Kowolski sat up and glared at the rock face, upon which he'd tried to slump.  Clearly he was even more tired than he'd realised, because apparently, somehow, he'd missed.  Whilst he summoned the energy to stand, he allowed himself a few moments of silent reflection on man-eating birds, lethal cutlery and possible alternative career choices, but then found himself taking a closer look.

It was not the same rock face.  Oh, it was certainly similar, and seemed to be covered in the same runes.  But it was different, nonetheless.   The rock wasn't quite the right colour, and its irregularities, its lumps and bumps, were not the same; Kowolski was sure of it.  He should know, he'd spent long enough staring at the bloody thing.  Warily, he reached out and touched the surface.  Cool, solid, and unquestionably rock.  It was just the wrong rock.

A quick glance around the cave provided further confirmation that strange happenings were afoot.  Technicians had set up lighting and a work-station, but of these things, there was no trace.  Gingerly, he got to his feet, rubbing his backside, which had taken the brunt of his fall, and made his way to the entrance of the cave.  Blinking in the bright mid-morning sunlight, he found himself looking out onto a lush, heavily-forested mountainside, nothing like the barren landscape he'd apparently just left behind.

He swallowed.  It had worked.  Somehow, someway, through magic or science or alchemy or who the hell knew what, he'd been transported somewhere else.  Somewhere other.  Where exactly that was, he didn't know, and frankly, that was a question that could wait.  For the moment, his priority was making sure that it was a two-way process.

He was already back inside the cave before he remembered that he'd thrown away the translation.

On the other side of what was now a seemingly impenetrable wall of rock.

"Are you sure your know where you're going?"

"Hmm?" Reluctantly, Arnutz dragged his calf-like gaze away from Marie's face and turned to look at Laya, stumbling on the narrow staircase as he did so.  "What's that?"

The young woman sighed.  She'd been reluctant to accept the alleged guard's apparent change of allegiance, but stuck on the rooftop, with it only being a matter of time before the barricaded door was broken down, there really hadn't been much choice.  Although now, looking at his glassy eyes, and mildly vacant face, she was beginning to wonder whether maybe jumping might have been a better alternative.  "Is this definitely a way out?"

"Oh, yes," replied Arnutz, his gaze wandering back to Marie, causing him to miss a bend in the staircase and walk straight into a wall.  He paused to push his helmet back above his eyes.  "There's all kinds of secret passages running through the castle.  I found that hidden trapdoor we came through ages ago, so sometimes I go exploring.  You know, when I haven't got a book to read, or we're meant to be polishing our armour, or if I'm in trouble with the squad captain."

"Can't imagine why on Volanda you might get in trouble," muttered Laya.

Arnutz's awareness of sarcasm appeared to rank alongside his grasp of guarding.  "I know, right?  The captain's always on my back over the tiniest things.  'Arnutz, why aren't you wearing any pants?  Arnutz stop cracking those nuts with your helmet.  Arnutz are these your socks in my soup?'  I don't know, sometimes I wonder if guarding is really my true calling.  Maybe I should have listened to Mother and gotten into bonking.  I bet I would've been a great bonker.  I can just imagine myself, bonking all day.  I bet nobody would ever tell me I was the worst bonker ever.  I'd bonk with the best, if I was a bonker.  People would come from miles around, to bonk with me.  I'd bonk in ways nobody has ever imagined.  I mean, traditional bonking has its merits, but I've got all kinds of ideas about new ways of bonking.  If I was a bonker, I'd show everyone just how to bonk.  I'd bonk like a..."  He trailed off, as he realised the rest of the party had ground to a halt, and were all staring at him.  "What?"

Marie smiled weakly.  "Well..." she began, diplomatically, "that all sounds very interesting, it's just that, um..." Rapidly running out of steam, she looked desperately at Laya.

Who rolled her eyes, and snorted.  "Oh, please.  You don't look like you'd have the first clue about bonking.  Also, shut up."  If she was being honest, this wasn't really a topic she was particularly knowledgeable about either, but she still felt it had to be said.

"But...but...I do so know about bonking.  I'm really good with money.  I've got a whole budget thing worked out, and in a few months I reckon I'll have enough saved to get myself that new Blade figurine, and after that—"

"Banking!" exclaimed Marie, in relief.  "You mean banking."

Arnutz gave his chin a thoughtful scratch.  "Oh, yeah.  I'm always getting those two mixed up."

"I ain't been told nothin' about no messengers."

Pushing back his oversized helmet, George nervously looked the huge guard sergeant up and down.  He seemed big enough to barricade the castle all by himself.  "Er, um..."

"And where'd you get them uniforms from?  Berik the blind tailor?  I seen better fittin' clothes on scarecrows."

So impressed had he been at the speed with which Wuck had 'acquired' the uniforms, that George hadn't had the heart to mention that they weren't really the right size.  He had also refrained from asking how they'd been obtained.  He was rapidly learning that sometimes ignorance could be bliss, especially when it came to acquisitions of the gnome kind.  "Um, you see..."

"Listen, shit-for-brains," Grandpa stepped forward, and prodded the enormous man in his barrel chest, "why do you think you and all these other numbskulls are standing out here in the sun, baking whatever's left in your sorry skulls?"  Prod.  "Think it's for your health?" Prod, prod.  "Think it's so you can work on your tans?"  Prod, prod, prod.  "Well, genius?  Tell me, why is it?" Prod, prod, prod, prod, prod, prod.

The sergeant shifted uneasily.  He badly wanted to stop the old goat from prodding him, preferably by ripping his bloody arm off, but a lifetime of servitude had made him automatically deferential to authority, and this wrinkly bastard was dripping with the stuff.  "Well, we's guardin' the castle, aint we?"

Prod.  "Obviously, moron."  Prod, prod.  "The question is, what are you guarding it from?"  Prod, prod, prod.

The sergeant's left eyebrow began to twitch.  "Well..."

Grandpa stopped prodding, and smiled sympathetically.  "Let me guess.  They probably gave you some cock and bull story about an old man and a boy, didn't they?"

The sergeant blinked.  Uncertainly, he looked from Grandpa to George, and back again.  He scratched his head.  "Actually, now you mention it—"

Any further speculations were cut short by Grandpa giving him a hearty slap across the face.  "Don't be such an idiot.  Do you seriously think that you and all this lot are out here guarding the castle from us?  Oh, please.  Do we look like a threat?"

Shocked, the sergeant rubbed his cheek.  "Well—"

Another slap, this time on the other cheek, and even heartier than the first.  "Wake up to yourself, sunshine.  They're just feeding you bullshit, to avoid a panic.  If they've got this many guards out here, they're obviously expecting something bad, aren't they?  Something big?"

The burly guard gave a sniff.  "I guess—"

Grandpa unleashed the biggest slap yet, grimacing as his back twinged.  "Does this seem like the time for guessing?  When there's a good chance you and most of these dimwads will be dead by tomorrow, and the ones that aren't will be wishing they were?  Do you think guessing is a good idea?  Well, do you?"

Wincing, the sergeant attempted to stifle a sob, before replying.  "Uh...I...no?"

"Good man.  Course it's not.  Now's the time to let us humble messengers through, so we can tell Lord Ri what we've learned about the hundreds of horrible monst...um, that is to say, about the threat that's on its way.  It's the only chance you've got."

The sergeant's teary eyes widened.  "So, you know what's really coming?"

"Course we do.  Our squad ran into it, just yesterday.  The boy and I are the only survivors."

"But...but...what is it?" stammered the big man.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough.  But for now, this information is top secret, for Lord Ri's ears only."  He leaned in, conspiratorially.  "I'll tell you this, though.  It's bloody terrifying.  See this wrinkly face of mine?  I'm only thirty.  This is what just the sight of what's coming did to me."

The sergeant absorbed this for a few seconds, before hurriedly stepping aside.  "Right, in you go, in you go, quickly now."  He turned towards the men guarding the castle's courtyard.  "Let these two through," he bellowed, "and if anybody gets in their way, they'll have me to answer to!"

Pausing only to give the sergeant a nonchalant salute, Grandpa gestured for George to follow him, and together they sauntered into the courtyard.  Or at least, Grandpa sauntered.  George sidled awkwardly alongside him, terrified that at any second their ruse would be discovered.

He whispered to Grandpa, from the side of his mouth.  "I can't believe he fell for that."

Grandpa whispered back.  "It's all in the attitude, boy.  Plus, Wuck tells me they have an intelligence test for recruiting guards, these days."

"What?  But—"

Grandpa gave him a furtive grin.  "As it turns out, they only let in the ones who fail.  Seems Vardy doesn't like his muscle to come with brains."

Vardun Ri strode into the courtyard.  His awareness of the Blade's presence had become too strong for him to passively await its arrival.  Like a fever, his need for it was consuming him.  He must have it; the time for waiting had passed.

Some halfway across the yard, he slowed at the sight of two people walking towards him.  Guards, it seemed, although he noted with annoyance that their uniforms were a disgrace.  On any other day, his punishment would have been brutal and swift, but now was not the time.  He had bigger fish to fry, and more important men to kill.  Those two imbeciles would have to wait.  Those two imbeciles walking towards him, so nonchalantly.  Those two imbeciles, one old and one young.  Those two imbeciles, so strangely familiar...

He stopped walking.  He could hardly believe it was true.  It was like a gift from the gods.  Smiling an evil smile, he drew himself up to his full height.  The fools hadn't even noticed him yet.  Good.  He knew exactly how he was going to make them aware of his presence.  He knew exactly how best to crush their spirits, how to let them know that they were about to meet their doom, how to demonstrate his complete and utter mastery of the situation.  He knew exactly what he was going to say.

Which was a shame, because he'd barely gotten started before he was interrupted by the sudden and noisy arrival of two men, two women and a fairy, bursting through a secret doorway, hidden in the courtyard wall.  A doorway that sounded as though it was at least a century overdue for a good oiling.