* * * * *

The door of the Red Lion Tavern banged open, releasing a warm red glow and the rumble of laughter from within. Thoroughly drunk, and scarcely able to stand up straight, an angel in blue paint and scarlet wings and very little else staggered outside, a bleary grin on his face that made it quite clear just how far gone he was. He was supported by an extremely pretty blonde girl, who, although not as drunk as he, was so breathless with laughter that the two of them were more falling on each other than holding each other up.

"And then, right, I'm standing there, yeah, and I look at him, like this, right -" the angel spoke loudly, and his words tottered into one another towards the end of each sentence. He mimed badly, looking up at the imagined character of his tale, leaning back, hands askew, in a manner uncannily reminiscent of a certain Captain Sparrow.

"And I say, I say to him - yo momma's so fat..." The angel was laughing so hard he was unable to finish his joke; but it didn't really matter, because to his female friend, it couldn't possibly have been any funnier than the angel's drunken antics anyway.

"But the, like, the best bit, right? It's 'cos it's true! You know? 'Cos he's a giant!"

The angel was by now laughing so hard that he keeled over, leaving his female friend on the verge of hysteria. Eventually, she managed to haul him to his feet long enough to drag him out of the Tavern and shut the door. The two of them began to meander awkwardly down a randomly selected street; blissfully unaware of the doom that looked down on them from above, and the destiny looming over them.

The flame will go out, little man.

A great, winged silhouette detached itself from its perch on the roof of the History Forum, and began to circle the two festive-spirited Elysians as they wandered down the street unawares. Slowly, slowly, it circled lower and lower, gliding towards them on great velvety wings.

The flame will go out, little man. The flame will go out at the call of The Awakening.

Suddenly, with an ear-splitting screech, the creature dived. The angel swung around. The screech seemed to go on and on, burning into the very recesses of his soul, tearing at his heart, echoing through his chest - and he understood what it was saying.

The flame will go out, little man. Heed the call of The Awakening!

Suddenly the screech stopped; the echoes died. The angel realised he had closed his eyes; now he opened them again.

Before him stood a towering figure; a gigantic black bird, its wings spread wide, its great beak agape, its fathomless eyes glinting red. It stood, a giant raven ten feet tall, strangely ungainly out of the air and yet completely dominant.

The angel realised that his attractive companion was hiding behind him and clinging a little too tightly round his neck.

"Edorix!" she hissed in his ear. "What the hell is that thing?!"

Edorix tried to shrug her off, but her grip was like ice, frozen with fear, so he forced her arms off him instead. He felt strangely drained - and also miraculously sobre. His heart was pounding at a thousand beats per minute as he took two steps towards the great bird. He was painfully conscious of the fact that he was completely unarmed. He tried to reassure himself that if it had been going to eat him it would have already done so by now - and yet he couldn't help imagining that enormous razor-sharp beak ripping open his belly like soft butter. He wasn't sure his voice would obey him - but it sounded loud and clear.

"Who are you and what business have you here in Elysium?"

He sounded a lot braver than he felt. The great head turned, and fixed him with one huge black mysterious eye before it replied in a voice as harsh and grating as the raven species decreed - it was the voice of death. It spoke slowly, with all the wisdom and the pain of years beyond count.

"I am known by many names. The Germans think I am the Norns; to the Greeks I am often known as the Fates, while the Jews call me Jehovah or yet Satan; but I am Woden also, and Fortuna, and Morrighan and her sisters, and Lamia to the people of the Frozen Sea. To your people I am Queen Mab, and Herne too. Mostly I am Fate; but my name is Raven. I weave the minute threads of men's insignificant lives in the infinitely small tapestry of the chaos which is the cosmos. And I have a message for you, little man; self-proclaimed warrior of legend. The flame will go out.

Nothing more was forthcoming; the Raven shut its beak and stood there, waiting. Edorix plucked up his courage.

"'The Flame will go out'? But what flame? What does it mean?"

"That is for you to decide, little man."

"I am more than a man. I am an angel."

"Heed the call of The Awakening, little man. you have heard it."

"But what does it mean?"

The Raven fluffed up its feathers, spread its sooty wings and Edorix took a step backwards as it took flight.

"Wait! You must tell me more!" he yelled after it.

The Raven wheeled and hovered effortlessly above him.

"On the Fields of Elysium, at the Fall of the God, the flame will go out that has long been kept lit."

"What flame?" bellowed Edorix.

"The flame, little man! The flame will go out! At the speaking of the word; at the howling of the wolf; the call of The Awakening will draw the flame down into the Deep. Do you hear them, little man? Harken to them, harken to the drums! The drums, the drums... do you not hear the drums?"

"But what does it mean?" screamed the angel in frustration and confusion.

The Raven swooped low, and screeched again. Edorix covered his ears, but could not block it out of his soul. The harrowing phantom of a sound hammered his being to the core.

Then it was gone. Edorix found he had fallen to his knees again. The blonde girl was standing at the end of the street looking utterly petrified. His head was spinning; the moon was achingly bright, and even the stars pricked his eyes. The colour seemed to have been drained from the world, and every shade of grey seemed to clash with every other. His legs didn't seem to be working properly, because he realised suddenly that he was on his back looking up, there was a dull pain in the back of his head and the night sky was wheeling above him. It seemed to be getting darker.

As he slipped into unconsciousness, the message in the Raven's final scream turned round and round in his head.

The God will fall, little man.

He will fall.

* * * * *

"There thou goest. Easy does it, thou impetuous young angel. Just so. How dost thou feel?"

Edorix opened one eye, then the other. His head felt heavy and numb. His vision was hazy; a fuzzy oval shape, silver and pale, was swimming in front of him. He tried to reply.

"Bleurgh..."

He leaned over and vomited copiously on the floor. Then he flopped back slowly, panting with the effort, and moaned.

"Terrible."

His sight was starting to come back into focus; the ceiling was starting to look a little more like thatch than hazely-grey goo. He could smell woodsmoke, sheep droppings, and unwashed human, as well as old socks dipped in vinegar - which he could only assume was what he had just spewed onto the floor.

"Terikel? Is that you?"

"'Tis I, thou young drunkard."

"What are you doing here?"

"Waking thee up. Oh I haven't been watching over thee; I have far more important things to attend to than babysitting drunk Brits. Your female friend brought thee here - carried thee on her shoulders like her newly-wedded wife." He chuckled. "Oh, that takes me back... babbling about some giant blackbird she was, claiming thou hadst fought it off, she must have been nearly as pissed as thou. Anyway, she was watching over thee until a few hours past, when I bade her get some rest. I don't know how thou dost it so well with those maidens, thou young rascal."

"What day is it and where am I?"

"Thou art in the New Longhouse next to the Basilica; and it is the night before the Winter Solstice."

"So... I've been out of it for... three days?"

"By Thor's holy banhammer, you're right! That's disgraceful!"

Before Edorix knew what was happening, Terikel had reached down, picked up a large bucket of water, and pitched it over the prostrate angel.

It was cold. Icy-cold. It knocked the breath from his chest and made him jump bolt upright like a startled wildcat - but he realised that he wasn't as unwell as he had thought. Still he was understandably pissed off.

"Thanks a lot," he spat through chattering teeth.

"Thou mayst well say so. Water taken from the source of the last stream which feeds into the Rhenus before the Old Father meets the sea, by a witch with a silver pail under a full moon, and infused with a tincture of misteltoe. A powerful healing remedy." He leaned closer and winked. "Only works if it takes the patient by surprise."

"You're a sadistic old bastard, aren't you..."

"Thou'lt be thanking me later."

Suddenly a distant roar came to their ears. Edorix started, and his eyes widened.

"I know that sound..."

The two looked at each other. The Old One nodded gravely.

"Gird thyself for battle, young warrior. The Lord of Dragons is ravaging the Elysian Fields - and nothing can stand in his way."

* * * * *

Nobody knew how or whence it had come, but there it was. This dragon, this monster from the Abyss, had somehow penetrated the defences set up by the Gods at the Dawn of the World and invaded the Elysian Fields, the Realms of the Blest. And already its fires were beginning to spread.

It had been a normal day in Elysium; everyone was going about their business as usual, when suddenly, a great shadow fell across the land. Folk looked up - and there it was, the King of Mythical Beasts, hovering over the Western edge of Elysium, blocking out the Sun.

It wasted no time. Immediately, it swooped down and, with an earth-shaking roar, released its infernal breath on the nearest village, before proceeding to set all the countryside around aflame. Word quickly spread, as the terrified villagers fled with their lives towards the neighbouring villages, before they in their turn were set alight. The smoke rose high to the night sky and the hundredfold fires lit up the horizon. Pretty soon, everyone was fleeing towards the Capitol, and before long the city was packed.

"How long has this been going on for?" Edorix asked, as he followed Terikel towards the Basilica.

"Since just before sunset - merely an hour or so. Our scouts only just confirmed what everyone has been saying - that the dragon is making for the Capitol. That's why we thought it prudent to wake thee; thou mayst yet be of some use."

The two of them strode into the crowded Basilica. It was packed to bursting, and even with the Almighty Banhammer and Edorix's enchanted spear it took some time to get through. At last they passed through the magical barrier into the public courtroom. All the other angels were already there, ready and waiting, fully armed and armoured. Edorix took his place, and the emergency meeting began without further ado.

"Friends and fellow protectors of our corner of Elysium, you all know why we are here. As angels, it is our duty to defend Elysium to the last; and the deadliest foe any of us has yet faced is now on our doorstep. There is no time to lose; we must sally forth at once and destroy the threat."

Edorix nodded in agreement. Nobody else did.

"I think," began Pitt carefully, "we should examine our options carefully before we rush into a hasty decision most of us will not live to regret."

"If this really is the Lord of Dragons as the refugees insist - Jormungandr, Apep, Satan, Pendragon, whatever - then there is not one man among us who can fight it," added Hussarknight.

"Then what dost thou suggest?"

"We should hole up here and wait for reinforcements to arrive from the other quarters of Elysium," suggested Liam readily.

"Dragons can fly," pointed out Terikel. "Our epic stone walls will be useless."

"I'm sure I would be able to remodel our defences to form a giant dome to protect the city," offered Mythic.

"Dragonbreath is hot enough to turn flint to liquid," argued Draak, the resident dragon expert. "There is no material in Elysium which can withstand its heat. It's like it's hardcoded."

"Would it be possible to evacuate?" mused Swamprat.

"Logistically impossible with all these refugees," admitted EoJ. "I think we have no choice."

"It's agreed then?" demanded Terikel.

"You could always try talking to it," came a voice.

All the angels turned. A small group of Elysians were watching them intently from the other side of the barrier and listening in. Their spokesman was a stocky lad in chain mail, with a tricorn hat and a very large battleaxe. He looked strangely tall for five foot three.

"We should at least try and find a diplomatic solution before we fly out to slay a beast as old as the earth," added Awesome, standing beside Scruffy.

Terikel was a little taken aback. "This is a confidential staff meeting."

"You should probably have tried soundproofing your magic barrier then," remarked KickAss drily. "We know what you're planning. We're going to help, whether you like it or not. We want to protect our little corner of Heaven."

Terikel looked flustered, but EoJ beamed. Punic Hoplite took charge.

"Very well," he said, "you'd better come in." He lifted the magical barrier, and the little group filed in. They were a motley bunch; several urban legionaries, an Anglo-Saxon-cross-eighteenth-century-English-Admiral, a Chinese warrior, a couple of phalangites, a savage or two, and a few others.

"So," said ShieldWall grimly, "what's the plan?"

Terikel was getting angry. He seemed to have been usurped.

"There is no plan!" he roared. "Get out, the lot of you, we need to sort this out ourselves without risking mortal lives! And as for you -!" He rounded on Punic Hoplite. Things could have gone badly for him had EoJ not suddenly held up a hand.

"Where's Edorix?" he asked.

Everyone looked around.

He had vanished.

"We can't go without him," said Terikel, Awesome, Punic, KickAss, Scruffy and Liam simultaneously.

"Everyone spread out and find him," ordered Terikel, collecting himself. "He can't have got far. Ask everyone, see where he went. Meet back here in fifteen minutes either way. If he hasn't shown up - we'll have to think of something then. I think we're going to need him - but we're running out of time."

* * * * *

As Edorix was standing with the others, out of the corner of his eye he noticed a dark hooded figure standing a short distance in front of him. Startled, he jumped back. The figure put a bony finger to its shadowed lips, and then turned.

"Come," it said softly.

Edorix looked around furtively. Nobody else had noticed, their attention all focused on Terikel. He hesitated - but there was something about the figure which drew him on. Silent and stealthy as a wolf, he slipped out of the circle and went towards it. He had barely taken ten paces and was passing the standing stone he had had brought there from Dorset when the world suddenly dissolved and he was falling through a close tunnel of swirling colours. He yelled in surprise - but suddenly the world righted itself and he was in the open again. He fell a short distance and landed on his knees in soft grass.

He sat up, and looked around. He was in a clearing, in a forest. The hooded figure stood just in front of him, pointing. Edorix looked: to his right was a great black cliff-face, almost completely sheer.

"There is but one way up," said the figure.

Edorix got to his feet, utterly bewildered. He had strayed into the Otherworld many times before - but this time it was different.

"Who are you?" he demanded, angry because he was afraid.

"I am your guide," replied the figure.

"But who are you?" repeated Edorix, more forcefully.

The hooded head raised its hidden chin ever so slightly.

"I am the father of your grandfather's grandfather's forefathers," it said gravely.

Edorix snorted. "Impossible."

The hooded figure extended its hand towards him. "Look," it said simply.

Edorix, confused, looked around. Nothing seemed to have changed.

"Where?"

"Look," commanded the guide.

Edorix looked at its hand, then back at its face, uncomprehending.

"Now see," it breathed. A gust of cold air swept the clearing, and died. The hairs on the back of Edorix's neck stood on end.

"I don't -"

"See!" it hissed.

Edorix looked at its hand again - and leapt back with a yell of horror.

Its hand wasn't just bony - it was nothing but bone.

Edorix looked up at the figure, more fearful than ever but utterly in thrall. Slowly, the figure raised its skeletal hands to its hood. It paid him no heed; and slowly, slowly, lowered its hood.

Beneath was a face like the face of no living man, nor no thousand-year corpse. Strands of long yellow hair still clung to the pale scalp, and scraps of parched grey skin half covered its cheeks and brow. A dozen teeth were missing, but living tissue was still stretched across the inside of its jaw, as was the tongue, like a thick piece of swollen raw kidney, lolling grotesquely. But what drew Edorix's gaze most were the eyes; for where they should have been were nothing but small clouds of suspended dust, illuminated from the centre by a weird misty blue light.

Edorix screamed at himself to leap to his feet and run, but he was riveted to the spot; his limbs refused to obey him.

The light in the eye sockets faltered, and darkened slightly.

"Don't be afraid," it mumbled, with that intrusive tongue in its dead grey mouth.

"What reaction did you expect!" squeaked Edorix, fear giving way to a hysterical bravado.

The dead man shrugged.

"A little more... well..."

The dead face hardened, and closed. The lights of its eyes shone more coldly.

"More what?"

The figure lowered its head slightly, and whispered, half to itself:

"Understanding."

It made no further move. Its eyes flickered. After a while, Edorix got to his feet, and said in a calmer voice:

"I'm - sorry."

The ancestor made no reply. More gently, Edorix asked where he was. The guide looked up.

"You are beyond time and place. You are not in any place, nor any time."

"Am I - dead?"

The dead man surveyed him sorrowfully, looking him up and down slowly.

"No. No, you're not dead," it said wistfully.

"What must I do?"

The ancestor sighed. "Ah, you're so young. So many sights still to see, so many breaths still to breathe..." He trailed off. "Such a waste."

"'Such a waste?' What do you mean?"

The guide looked up sharply.

"There is but one way up."

Edorix glanced again at the rockface, then back at the ancestor.

"Go up the rockface. There is a stair, although you have not yet seen it. I will be waiting for you at the top." Suddenly the figure began to fade. "Farewell."

Edorix nodded to it by way of reply, then turned away and took a few steps towards the rockface. It occurred to him that he could simply fly to the top. He flexed his wings - but nothing happened. Reaching behind him, he felt his back: sure enough, no wings. He turned back to the fast-fading guide.

"This is a dream, isn't it?" he said.

The guide laughed softly.

"Oh no, my lad. This is reality."

The figure flickered; it was almost gone.

"Remember, my son. The flame will go out."

Edorix started.

"That's what the Raven said! What does it mean?"

The ancestor nodded sagely.

"All will be explained. Harken to the drums!"

Then it was gone.

* * * * *

In fifteen minutes, the angels and their small band of volunteers returned to the Basilica unsuccessful. Once everyone was there, they stood around in brooding silence for a long while. Presently a distant roar roused them to action.

"It's getting closer," remarked KickAss calmly.

"We're running out of time," agreed Draak.

"We have to move now or we won't have time to regroup if we're defeated," Punic observed.

"Cheerful, aren't you?" rebuked Liam. Punic shrugged.

"I don't understand," said Awesome to Terikel. "It's not like Edorix to miss a good fight. Where do you think he could be?"

Everyone looked at Terikel.

"I don't know," sighed the Old One. "I really don't know. We have to go now; but I'm sure as hell gonna roast him alive when we next meet - in this life or the next."

"Alright folks," said Scruffy with forced cheerfulness. "Since Ed is missing, I shall have to represent the Britons as well as the English. I know he would be the first to try and speak to the dragon on our behalf; and so I shall do it in his place."

"Not funny, Scruffy," muttered Punic.

"I'm serious, actually. You mad?"

The three Seraphs looked at each other, and shrugged. If Scruffy wanted to be roasted first, they weren't going to stand in his way.

"I see no reason why not," grinned Terikel maliciously.

* * * * *

The stone stairs up the cliff-face were narrow and uneven, and sometimes the next was a good few feet higher than the one before. Twice Edorix nearly fell, and caught a sickening glimpse of the long way down to the ground far below. He was scratched, bruised, exhausted and thoroughly annoyed and it had just started to rain by the time he hauled himself over the final step and stood up.

He was standing on a narrow summit, roughly circular, maybe twenty feet across, and fairly flat. All around was mist, and it occurred to Edorix how easy it would be to stumble over the edge by accident and plummet hundreds of feet to a very messy and lonely end. The climb had been cold, but up here it was warm; the heat seemed to be emanating from a glowing object hovering at waist height over the centre of the summit. Edorix started to walk towards it, but a voice said, "Wait."

Edorix turned, and there stood the same wraith-like figure who had brought him here in the first place. It had discarded its long black cloak, and was wearing the most ragged knee-length breeches Edorix had ever seen, a tattered and faded red cape, and blue patterns drawn across its sinewy ribcage. A rusty old axe was thrust into its belt. It looked to Edorix much more the part of the long-dead ancestor now he had gotten over his initial shock. He approached it, until they stood face to face. With a start Edorix realised that the wraith's face had the same bone structure as his own, and their eyes shared the same colour. The wraith smiled and nodded, as though it knew his thoughts.

"Why have you brought me here?"

The guide put a finger to where its lips used to be.

"Shh... listen."

Edorix listened. All he heard was the patter of rain.

"I don't hear anything..."

"Precisely, my boy! The drums, the drums - where are the drums? The hour of The Awakening is almost upon us! The Fall of the God is nigh!"

"I wish you wouldn't always speak in riddles!"

"I am sorry. I cannot say more. But be assured that when the time comes, it will be enough."

"Why have you brought me here?"

"To help you in your quest."

"Oh. Well, thanks."

"That shining object over there? That is Aidwēnepom, 'Face of Fire,' a shield enchanted against dragonbreath by the druids."

"Can I - take it?"

"You can; but on one condition."

"What?"

"You must slay the dragon."

"And if I fail?"

The wraith spread its hands mysteriously.

"I don't know, but I do not recommend you find out. The curses of the druids of old were powerful magic: they could do anything from rendering a man impotent to tearing the cosmos apart."

"I have slain a dragon once before; with this shield, if it is as you say, I don't think it should be a problem."

"Don't be a fool, boy. This is no ordinary dragon. Remember: the call of The Awakening will draw the flame down into the Deep, and the God will fall!"

"Great. Thanks. So I can have the shield?"

"You may."

Edorix walked over to the shield hanging in the air and looked at it. It was a beautiful piece of work; hide-shaped after the British fashion, and edged with bronze at either end, the steel boss was polished to the brightness of the stars. It was painted blue, but the hue varied from the deepest ocean to the clearest sky, depending on the angle from which it was perceived, and it sparkled as though it was full of crystals. Beyond that it bore no pattern or decoration. Edorix could see now that although it had seemed to be the source of the light and heat, it was in fact only resting on a sort of cloud of light, almost like a halo, which fitted perfectly around its rim.

Tentatively, he reached out a hand, and touched it with three fingers. It was surprisingly cool, despite the warmth given off by its magical pedestal. Emboldened, Edorix reached out with both hands and gently lifted it up. Looking at it, he couldn't help a broad grin spreading across his face. Now this was the weapon of a hero. It was surprisingly light, and fitted effortlessly to his arm and grip. Thus equipped, Edorix looked back at his guide, eyes bright.

The ancestor beamed, and nodded.

"Good, good. Now we must hurry."

At that moment, a bolt of lightning streaked out of the sky and struck the magical pedestal on which the shield had been resting with a deafening crack of thunder. The halo flickered and went out, and the cliff on which they were standing began to shake.

"Ah, harken! The thunder, the wheels of Taranus: the drums, the drums again - the hour is nigh!"

"What?"

"Booby-trapped," explained the wraith. "I should have guessed. Quickly now, time to go. Just touch my hand - and don't let go of that shield!"

Edorix ran towards him and grasped the skeletal hand; and just as he felt the cliff crumble beneath his feet the world dissolved. He was back in the swirling tunnel of colours, and he gripped tightly with both hands, lest either he lose the shield or become lost himself. Suddenly the tunnel ended, and he landed on his feet, next to the standing stone back in the Basilica.

The wraith, who had somehow redressed himself in his black cloak, relinquished Edorix's hand with a clinking of bones. He touched the standing stone and it vanished.

"We won't be needing that any more. I only put it in your path because I knew this day would come; but we don't want you stumbling back through the portal by mistake and getting stuck."

Edorix looked down at his right hand. There was bone dust clinging to it, but he did not shake it off. On a sudden impulse, he licked his palm.

The wraith's eyes rounded. "Thank you," it said pitifully.

"Thank you," he replied.

"Just tell me - how many?"

The dead man beamed. "One hundred and eleven. There are one hundred and eleven generations between us, my son."

"What are you doing here?"

The wraith's eyes darkened.

"I was cursed. Many, many years ago. By a witch. When we were young, she loved me, but I had my own sweetheart, and she was the most unpleasant woman you ever did see; so I spurned her. Eventually things came to a head. I told her that I would sooner die than be with her; she told me that I would sooner live forever than die. And so I was doomed to remain. Watching all the ones I have loved grow old and die around me."

"What happened to the witch?"

"Oh she's still alive. Waiting for me. She promised me my youth again should I ever go to her; but I will not. I have a weapon which she cannot fathom; it makes eternity bearable."

"And what is it?"

The ancestor raised his head slightly.

"Pride."

Edorix felt his lip trembling as he looked on this ruin of a man.

"I swear to you, and may all the Gods bear witness: I will hunt her down and destroy her for what she did to you."

The dead man lowered his head.

"That would be most kind," he said quietly.

There was a silence as they looked at each other; twin pricks of light gleaming wistfully out of the depths of the hood, matched by the moist but steady eyes of the living youth.

"Go now, my son. The battle will be over and lost ere ever you arrive on the field if you do not."

The dead man began to fade.

"Will I ever see you again?"

"Heed the call of The Awakening, my son. The hour is nigh when the God must fall."

"Thank you."

"Farewell."

"Goodbye..."

As the last shadows of his ancestor flickered and died, he whispered:

"... grandad."

* * * * *

About a quarter of a mile in front of the west gates of the Capitol, the host of the angels stood in a line in readiness. Legionaries stood alongside Feudal Knights and British Redcoats, ready to defend their little corner of Heaven to their final breath. It would take the dragon barely twenty heartbeats to reach the city if they were defeated; but they needed the battle to take place within range of the artillery on the city walls, and there was no time to deploy further forward.

The Great Dragon dropped out of the sky and alighted heavily on the ground, a few dozen paces in front of the defenders. And he was great indeed; every last one of the assembled braves stood stock-still, transfixed in awe. Sixty feet spanned its leathery wings, outspread on both sides, throwing them all into shadow, and the dragon into sharp relief against the backdrop of its own fires; and it was seventy feet long from snout to tail. Even on its feet it stood taller than the city walls. Its scales were blacker than the darkest night but shiny as yellow gold, reflecting the fires of their owner's making. And in those evil serpentine eyes burned a flame deadlier still: the flame of evils and bitternesses accumulated over ages beyond count. When it spoke, its voice was deep and layered and filled with the arrogance that comes with invulnerability, like the sorcerer of Isengard.

"So, my little friends, you have come to face the King of Death, on the Fields of Elysium, at the Fall of the God."

Scruffy stood a little apart from the rest, and now he spoke up in the strongest voice he could muster:

"Who are you and why have you come to Elysium?"

"I am the Lord of Dragons, oldest of all those who yet live in the Deep, and I am come from the Forgotten Hoards beneath the mountain that you know as Yr Widdfa to lay waste to this land and drive its terrified inhabitants before me. It gives me great pleasure."

"Know you that this is the Realm of the Gods, and we have no choice but to have you punished in accordance with Divine Law," announced Scruffy bravely. The dragon ignored him.

"I am told also that I bring word for someone; but apparently he is not among you. Word - or is it wyrd? I think it is wyrd. I bring doom to the one who is absent. Where is Edorix, last of the line of Abonos, whose fathers I have hunted for one hundred generations? Is he hiding from the wyrd?"

Beating his wings and rearing up impressively, the dragon lifted its head and in a majestic and sonorous voice he roared:

"Edorix son of Abonos! Come and meet your destiny!"

Then dropping back onto all fours, he pounced towards the little line of warriors and landed directly in front of Scruffy, staring into his eyes with those twin crescents of malice. His head was taller than Scruffy's entire body, but Scruffy did not so much as flinch.

"Ah, the little Scruff," breathed the dragon. "So proud in his shiny, shiny clothes and his big, big hat... it is a shame we could not have met when you were older. And I give you fair warning, little man." The dragon pushed his head closer still, until his scales almost touched Scruffy's skin and he could feel the enormous heat coming off it.

"I'm going to kill you all."

* * * * *

The battle raged fast and furious. The dragon took flight after his final words to Scruffy and wheeled in the sky before diving. At once, Hussarknight gave the signal, and a hundred artillery batteries on the city walls all went off at once: ballistas and onagers and bombards and trebuchets and cannons all fired directly at the dragon, and some of them found their mark. The dragon, winded and irritated but not seriously hurt, divebombed the city walls and set about setting fire to every single piece of artillery he could find, roaring and whipping at buildings with his tail as he did so. By the time he had finished destroying the artillery, the trap had closed: and the angels were able to drop their huge steel net right over the dragon, pinning him to the ground. More artillery was wheeled out of its hiding-places and unleashed upon the furious dragon, enraging it further; but it did not take him long to rip open the net with his talons and burst out, shooting flames in all directions and sending the angels diving out of the sky for cover. The plan had been to aim for its wings to negate its flight advantage, but thus far its wings were all but untouched; but another artillery bombarment made the dragon decide to join the melee on the ground, preventing them from firing lest they hit their own troops.

The hand-to-hand began in earnest. The infantry were first in, Scruffy and KickAss at the forefront of the attack, but a single curl of the great beast's tail swept them all up and crushed them into one another, before leaving them in an unconscious heap of bodies. The angels attacked again, but none of their weapons seemed to harm the dragon; in fact he seemed to be playing with them. He returned lazily to the city and picked up the net with his tail; and then with a single, impossibly well-timed and accurate lash of his tail, he swept all the angels up in it. Then he returned to the pile of dazed infantry and threw them in too. From their humiliating position, crushed against each other, caught in their own trap, they could all hear him rumbling with laughter.

The only defender still standing was, of course, Terikel, who, despite his great age, thanks to having the best wings, had been just fast enough to get out of the way of the dragon's net, unseen by him. Now he flew up in the dragon's face, giant battleaxe in one hand, mighty banhammer in the other, incredibly dignified with his huge auburn wings, and stern of face.

"Dragon," he said levelly, "I have slain thy kind before. Begone now and swear that thou shalt never return, and I will let thee go unharmed."

The dragon only laughed all the harder - and then, glimpsing something over Terikel's shoulder, he stopped. Terikel looked around to see Edorix run out of the city gates and stop, spear in his hand, shield on his back, and with a bright flame in his eyes that would put the dragon's own to shame.

"Edorix!" shouted Terikel. "Thou cowardly little piece of -"

And that was as far as he got. Edorix watched, as if in slow motion, as the dragon swung its whole body around, hitting the distracted Seraph with the full force of its ferocious tail, knocking him out of the sky and throwing him against the city walls with a sickening crack. The Old One flopped grotesquely to the foot of the wall like a rag doll.

Someone was howling a long, haunting note. It took Edorix several seconds to realise it was him.

He shut his mouth. Time enough for that later.

Looking straight at the dragon, he slung his shield off his back and gripped his spear firmly. He was ready.

"So, little man, we meet at last. I see you have come to greet your destiny!"

"I am going to slay you right now, you foul nightmare, for what you have done."

The dragon laughed.

"Oh no! No you're not, little man. Have you not heard it? Heed the call of The Awakening, little man - although it looks likely to be a rude one. I am not a God."

"I can see that you devil!"

"No, little man. Heed the call of the Awakening. The God will fall - not I."

"But I'm not a God either!"

"Angel, God - angels are the messengers of the Gods, and the Gods speak through them. If there is a God who will fall this day - it is you."

Edorix laughed it off. "If there is a God who will fall this day, it will probably be Kernunnos in his forest because he tripped over a root."

"No, little man. On the Fields of Elysium, at the Fall of the God; at the speaking of the wyrd; and at the howling of the wolf; the call of The Awakening will draw the flame down into the Deep. And the God will fall, little man."

Edorix stood rooted to the spot as the dragon leaned right in close and looked at him as it had looked at Scruffy.

"He will fall," it breathed.

Edorix's heart was hammering. Suddenly it all made sense. Here he was, on the Fields of Elysium, about to witness the Fall of the God through the death of an angel - himself; the word, or wyrd had been spoken, his destiny pronounced; he, the wolf, had just howled after Terikel; and this realisation, this Awakening, meant that he knew that there was nothing he could do to save himself: his fate was already written. The flame represented his life - his life would go out. The dragon was right. That explained the reluctance of the old man to tell him anything more than riddles, and why he had looked so sadly at him, and why he had not said whether they would meet again, because he had known, he had known that his last living descendant was going to his death.

But somehow that wasn't so bad. Edorix realised he didn't feel afraid - he had never been so excited in his entire life. A mad grin began to spread across his face.

"You stupid lizard," he whispered. And faster than light, his spear lashed out, and speared the dragon right in the centre of its great yellow eye.

Black blood spurted everywhere. The dragon screamed, and reared up, thrashing its tail and spreading its wings, clawing at its eye with its talons. Wiping the worst of the boiling blood of his face, Edorix watched its agony with grim determination. At length the pain became so bad that the dragon impaled its own eye on a claw, dragged it out of its socket - and ate it. Then it turned once more to Edorix.

"I am going to roast your soul slowly over a hundred years and cast it into the pit of oblivion," screamed the dragon, rearing up. "But first I will to turn your body to ash where you stand!"

As soon as it had finished speaking, hot flames burst from its snout with a roar of both beast and furnace. Instinctively, Edorix threw his shield in front of him - and just in time. Realising that he had not been frazzled, he opened his eyes.

A great forcefield had sprung up, parallel to his shield, like swirling frosted blue glass. Against it the dragon's fire was deflected like water sprayed onto a wall. Marveling, but too terrified to move in case the forcefield broke, Edorix stood stock-still, glaring defiantly at the dragon, through the shield and the flames, right into its one eye, daring it to keep going.

After what felt like an age, the dragon slumped to the ground, exhausted. The forcefield faded out. Edorix ran forwards, and touched his spearpoint to the dragon's snout.

"It's over," he said. "You've lost. You are powerless against me."

The dragon looked at him, its one eye full of hate.

"I cannot burn you, little man - but I have one weapon left."

Before Edorix could move a muscle, the dragon lunged forwards and seized him in its jaws. He screamed as a fang as long as his arm punctured a whole the size of a football in his wing. He felt himself gaining altitude very quickly, and suddenly he was dangling outside its mouth, hanging by the hole in his wing off its tooth. Through a haze of pain he thanked his lucky stars its teeth hadn't gone through any more vital part of his body - and he realised that his wings were the only part of him that he never painted before battle.

"I have you now," growled the dragon through its teeth. Edorix could smell the fires deep within it, fires fed with the corpses of its foes. "You cannot escape your destiny!"

"None can!" came a voice. Before either dragon or prey could look around, there was a loud crushing sound, like a knife going into a frozen pool, and the dragon screamed and writhed, tossing its head. Terikel soared out of the way, his enormous axe embedded in the tip of the dragon's tail, which was hanging off by a thread.

"Kill it, Edorix!" bellowed the berzerking old Seraph Imperator. "Kill it now!"

As the dragon shook its head to and fro, Edorix could hear the fibres of his wing tearing. Half-fainting, he didn't hear Terikel's words, but they echoed in his mind a moment later.

Kill it, Edorix! Kill it now!

Miraculously, his right hand still clutched his spear. Looking at it, suddenly he knew once more what to do. His wing was tearing - and as the dragon writhed in agony, throwing up its head, it ripped clean off with a snap and an incredible teariing wrenching pain like your arm being ripped iff. The semi-conscious angel tumbled over the tooth and into the great beast's mouth - and groggily - his vision dark - raised his right arm - slowly - slowly - it was as heavy as lead, would barely obey his commands - and thrust his spear through the hard shell of the roof of the dragon's mouth into its brain.

Hazily, he was aware of someone a very long way away shouting his name; and then he was falling, falling into darkness.

* * * * *

Something was tickling his chest.

He was alive?

No, that couldn't be right. How could he be alive? The prophecy had been clear - he, the God, the flame, must fall, must fall down into the Deep. How could he still be alive?

Something distracted him from his troubles. The tickling was moving down his body and was now crossing his navel. As it started dancing down his belly towards his nether regions he snatched at it, and found himself holding a thin, cool hand.

He opened his eyes.

A pretty blonde girl was looking down at him, smiling. Her eyes were very dark, he noticed - deep as the deepest sea.

"You know - I never did catch your name," he murmured.

Her smile faded, and she pulled her hand away.

"It doesn't matter now."

"Why not?"

She looked away. Edorix reached over and grabbed her hand again.

"Tell me. Please."

She looked at him again, her eyes moist. He smiled encouragingly, but his heart was pounding.

"What is your name?"

"Kaitolinda."

"Kaitolinda. Tell me."

He paused.

"Am I going to die?"

He tried to keep his voice level, but its very levelness betrayed his fear. Kaitolinda realised this without noticing why - sensed his terrible, inevitable fear. With a sob she ran from his bedside.

Left alone, Edorix knew he'd go mad. Slowly, he sat up. Everything seemed to be working - why was he dying? What could have happened?

He looked at himself. Legs, fine; toes, all working; manhood, still safely attached; fingers, arms and chest all in good order; a looking glass left on a hook told him his face was fine too. So, he was covered in nasty scratches and a couple of very impressive burns, but they were hardly life-threatening; so what was wrong with him?

And yet - there was something odd. What was it?

He picked up the looking-glass again, and stared hard. Something seemed to be missing. He realised he was wearing his worried face, and grinned at his reflection.

"No stinking dragon is ever gonna get one over you, now, is it?"

His eyes glinted with humour in a way he thought most seductive. He could see why Kaitolinda would be so sorry to see him go.

But why did he have to go?

At that moment, Kaitolinda came back. Edorix hurriedly put down the mirror. She had stopped crying, and walked over to him. She sat down on the bed next to him, and leaned on his shoulder without a word. Suddenly he felt achingly sorry for her; imagine losing a guy like him. His problems would be over and done as soon as he passed on to the next life, but she would live on, missing him till the end of her days... He kissed her head and put an arm around her. Eventually she spoke.

"No."

"What?"

"No, you're not going to die."

Now that was irritating. Edorix had just resigned himself to die, and now she came back and told him that actually, no, he wasn't going to die, they were going to get married and have twelve children and be together forever and ever.

"Well. That's a relief."

"But you can't stay here."

"Okay, do you think you can slow down and tell me everything in the correct order? Right from the bit where I slew the hundred-headed dragon with my bare hands and then passed out heroically?"

"It only had one head. And you had a spear."

"Oh yeah, that's right. Wrong story, sorry.. Do go on."

Kaitolinda sighed, and began.

"After you killed the dragon, you fell out of its mouth. Terikel wasn't in time to catch you; you fell about thirty feet and landed hard. At first he feared the worst; but upon coming closer he saw that your wing had managed to slow your fall. You had landed badly, but were okay - except that you had landed on your wing... and crushed it."

Wings! That was it. That was what had looked odd in the mirror, his wings were missing. On the whole he felt it was a small price to pay for the glory he had won in losing them - but no, he hadn't lost them. Sacrificed them was more the word; he had given them up to do what was right.

Kaitolinda continued.

"Terikel carried you back into the city, and gave you into my care. I remember thinking, from the look on his face, and the state you were in, that you were - you were..." she trailed off. "Anyway, he said - he said that your wing would have to be amputated. It was a right mess, you should have seen it, completely crushed, it was horrible. They cut it off as soon as you were brought in, and then I washed you and looked after your other wounds."

"Thanks."

"It was my pleasure," she purred. He grinned. She went on.

"That was just before dawn. They brought all the others in - Scruffy, Punic, Awesome, KickAss, and the rest. Gallowglass and ShieldWall are still unaccounted for, but Terikel swears he didn't see anyone get eaten. They must have simply run off."

If none of the angels had died... then the God hadn't fallen. After all that had happened, how could the God not have fallen? How was he still alive?

"There is... one other thing you should know. When they first brought you in, they hadn't realised - because nobody usually comes out of a dragon's mouth alive. But - you were bitten by the dragon, weren't you?"

"I was; but I lost the wing that was bitten even before I fell."

"Yes. They guessed that was what had happened when you didn't wake up. That's why they brought you back here - the Great Raven Inn, in the lower town. You couldn't stay in the Basilica Quarter. And now - now you've woken up..."

Edorix's heart was pounding.

"What's wrong with me, Kaitolinda?"

She shook her head. Mad with anxiety, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

"You must tell me what's wrong!"

She put a restraining hand on his chest. She could not meet his eyes.

"It's complicated. I don't understand. They said something about poison, and that it was still in your system and was slowly killing you. And they said - they said it was beyond their skill to heal, and it would take a powerful shock to your system to purge it. So they - they went to Terikel and - and eventually they persuaded him it was for the best."

"What's for the best?"

"There is a potion - a really strong potion, which is normally kept locked away, in an impregnable vault deep below the Basilica. Nobody knows about it except the Seraphs, and it is scarcely ever used; but Terikel said it was necessary to save you."

She took a deep breath.

"They gave it to you. You haven't just lost your wings, Ed - you're a mortal. They won't grow back."

"But surely Terikel could just -"

"He says not. He said that dragon's venom is like a curse: it becomes bonded to the essence of the person it bites, and there is no cure. Give you angel essence again - and you will die."

"So... I'm mortal."

"Yes."

Kaitolinda bit her lip as Edorix took it all in.

"Well... that's not so bad."

She looked at him, startled.

"It isn't?"

"No! Hell, you're mortal." He grinned at her, and she smiled uncertainly.

"Wings were nice... but they came with certain duties. No wings... no rules." He looked at her wolfishly. Her smile widened until it was as wide and wolfish as his. He jumped up, and grabbed his magic shield and slung it on his back, gripped his enchanted spear, and shoved his humble axe into his belt. Still grinning, he held out his hand.

"Come on," he said.

"Where?"

"Anywhere! Let's go!"

She took his hand, and they ran outside.

"Look!" Kaitolinda pointed at the sky."It's snowing!"

Edorix looked. Already, the surfaces of the roofs and the roads were covered with a thin dusting of white brightness, and more snowflakes were falling slowly from the Up. Half a dozen children ran down the road in front of them, screaming excitedly, making Edorix jump. He looked at her Kaitolinda, and grinned.

All the way down the main road they ran, startling passers-by, and right out of the front gates of the city. Everything was green and white, alive and pure, and the air was fresh and cold; it was as though the dragon and everything else had never been more than a dream.

A hundred strides away from the gates, Edorix stopped and looked back. On a sudden impulse, he cupped his hands to his mouth and called out:

"Good luck, Heaven!"

He turned back to Kaitolinda.

"You're sure as hell gonna need it; there's a wolf on the loose!"

Kaitolinda laughed in delight. He grabbed her and kissed her, and she kissed him back; and then they ran. They ran and ran; and at long last, the ground fell away and they stood on the edge of the Elysium, looking out over the sky; the setting sun was huge and bright, directly in front of them, so close a horse could almost leap the gap between; and far below, the world of mortals. Middle Earth it is called to the English, and The Middle Kingdom to the Chinese; to the Britons it is Dwfn, or Dūbnos in the ancient tongue: a word which also means "deep".

"Two flames," explained Edorix happily. "The dragon-flame has gone out; and now another flame, a different flame, will be drawn down into the World of Deep at the call of The Awakening. The God must fall, Kaitolinda."

He turned, and took her hand. She hadn't a clue what he was talking about but it was terrific and beautiful. Her heart pounded with excitement at the madness of what they were about to do. She looked around one last time.

Elysium was beautiful. The snow blanketed the ground and the sky was the clearest blue. Already men and women were re-building their homes burned down by the dragon; everyone was in good spirits, excited with the prospect of the Midwinter Feast that awaited them.

Then she looked back at Edorix and knew it really didn't matter in the slightest. His eyes were bright with that old flame that she had fallen head over heels in love with. He grinned at her, and breathed the last words of the prophecy.

"He will fall."

Together, the two figures jumped off the edge of Elysium; and hand in hand, they fell, down, down, down, through the sky and the clouds and the light of the sun, down to the World, and The Awakening.

High above them, in Elysium, a raven, perched on the bough of a snow-covered pine tree, spread its wings, and flew away.

[This message has been edited by Edorix (edited 12-21-2011 @ 08:09 AM).]