"Well, that was exciting," said Reginald, climbing once again on to his pony.

    "I wouldn''t know, I couldn''t see anything!" complained Horace. "How come I always miss the fun?"

    "Yes, more excitement than I would have preferred," replied Urt, ignoring the complaining head and making sure his saddle was tightened.

    Urt''s small group had stopped briefly a little way out of Groan, to catch their breath and make sure everything was in one piece after their high profile escape. Also to adjust the backpack carried by Lucy so that Horace could peer out at the passing world through a gap, after a litany of complaints from him.

    "That was an impressive spell there," Reginald said, leaning forward on his pommel and watching Urt arrange his gear. "Melting the poor chap where he stood. Never seen that before."

    "You''ve been in many magical battles then?" Urt asked.

    "Okay, I''ve never heard of that before. How come sometimes you can cast death magic like that with merely a gesture, but other times you can b?r?ly light a campfire?"

    "I''ve never not been able to light a campfire," Urt retorted. However, his companion had a point. It seemed like sometimes his magic became supercharged for some reason. He shook his head. "Never mind, we''ll figure that out later, let''s put some distance between us and this bloody city."

    He mounted his steed again, which he''d bought after a heated debate with Reginald earlier. Reluctant to spend any more of his funds, he''d only changed his mind when the were-sheep had pointed out that they would get back to the Hag faster with mounts.

    Reginald had again shown a talent for haggling at the horse merchant''s, and they''d come away with two, admittedly less than premium, steeds. Still, they were faster than walking, and Urt liked to think it added to their perceived status.

    "I still don''t understand why we couldn''t have had a horse too," complained Horace through his new peephole.

    "Because it was hard enough finding an animal that could cope with were-beast here." Urt gestured at Reginald. "Finding one that would allow undead to ride would be more trouble than it was worth. Anyway, zombies don''t need them. Lucy is quite capable of trotting alongside all day long if needs be."

    "Just another example of the superior species that we zombies are," Horace replied.

    "It doesn''t make a difference to you, you''re being carried anyway!" said Reginald.

    "It would be a better view up there though," Horace m??n?d.

    "Oh stop your complaining," Urt said. "We''ve a good day''s riding ahead of us to the Hag''s. Don''t make me turn round and leave you in Groan."

    "Why would you do that?" Horace asked, perplexed at the threat. Urt ignored him though, spurring on his mount, images of the Hag''s leg wandering through his mind.

    ~ * ~

    Redthorne shifted in his saddle. He was still getting used to life on the road, although he didn''t ache quite as much now, which was partly down to acclimatisation and partly down to several subtly cast healing spells.

    Beside, and slightly behind him, the giant paladin, Prudence, was sitting on her enormous warhorse, no doubt praying to herself or something.

    Half of Redthorne wished he''d not hired her. She was forever going on about the Greater Good and was ridiculously moral. They''d wasted several hours helping a farmer get his cart out of the dirt it had been stuck in. Redthorne had just wanted to use magic, but she''d insisted that would be wasteful and insulting to magic, which she maintained was provided by The Lady.

    In any case, she''d been quiet for the better part of the day so far, which had improved the journey no end, in his opinion.

    In fact the day had been quite pleasant all round. They were travelling along a rough, but fairly clear track through undulating moorland. The odd tree appeared, along with the occasional cluster of rocks, but that had been all they''d encountered, which was fine with the mage.

    "Sir Wizard." The day took a slight dip as his other mad fighter appeared from nowhere, as he liked to do, and nearly made him fall off his horse.

    "How many times must I tell you, warn me when you''re near!" Redthorne rebuked the man.

    Yu Sod, a suitable name if there ever was one Redthorne thought, frowned. "But I just did," he pointed out.

    "Never mind," the mage shook his head. "What is it?"

    "There''s a wizard sitting in the road ahead of us," the monk replied.

    "How do you know he''s a wizard?" Redthorne glanced at Prudence, who was frowning.

    Yu gestured at Redthorne''s outfit, which consisted of the Order''s traditional robes, albeit slightly adjusted for travelling.

    "Oh. What did he say?"

    "Said he wanted to talk to you, and I was to tell you not to attack as soon as you saw him."

    "Mmm. That doesn''t sound promising," Redthorne said. "Very well, where is he?"

    "Just over this rise." Yu gestured at the brow of the small hill they were currently ascending.

    Redthorne nodded, and was about to say something more, but the monk had vanished again. Where to was a mystery, it wasn''t like there was a lot of cover.

    The two of them crested the hill, and came to an abrupt stop.

    Yu had been understating in his usual fashion when he said there was a wizard sitting in the road. In fact there was a wizard sitting on a ludicrously ornate seat, practically a throne, in the middle of the track. If there was ever an incongruous sight, this was it.

    Frowning, Redthorne took another look at the seated magic user. He looked familiar somehow.

    "Hello again," the other wizard said. He was clad in orange and purple robes, and wore a rather battered hat on his head. He waved a hand in what could have been construed as a friendly fashion.

    "Don''t I know you from somewhere?" asked Redthorne, remaining where he was.

    "Oh, we met once, about twenty years or so ago?"

    Memories flooded back suddenly, and Redthorne raised his eyebrows. "Von isn''t it?" he said. "Harry?"

    "Harvey," the other mage said. "Harvey Von McVon." He stood up and bowed, very slightly. "At your service sir."

    "I heard you''d been killed in the battle of the Overlords," Redthorne said.

    Harvey shrugged and sat back down. "I''ve always viewed remaining dead as optional."

    "Mmm. What do you want?" Redthorne asked.

    "I believe you are back, how do they say it? ''On Mission.''" Harvey made the air quotes sign.

    "What''s it to you?"

    "Maybe we could help each other," Harvey smiled.

    "I''m fine, thanks for the offer though."

    "But you do know where the baby is don''t you?"

    "He won''t be a baby any more," Redthorne said. ??And why?"

    "I know a bit about who trained him, even the name he goes by now, after you lost him," Harvey said.

    "I was ambushed and he was taken from me!" Redthorne snarled. The memory of that continued to rankle.

    "Yes, yes, very unfortunate. The thing is, I have this knowledge and... other details. I could be very useful to you in your search."

    "You can''t find him can you?" Redthorne said.

    Harvey scowled. "No, he''s been masked. I ?ssume you put a Mark* on him when you had him as a baby though, which is why you can."

    "Maybe."

    "You couldn''t detect him though, until recently, because he was within a larger area, also masked. Isn''t that right?"

    "I don''t need your help," Redthorne said. "I can find him whatever he looks like."

    "You''re making a mistake."

    "I don''t think so." Redthorne rolled up his sleeves and pulled his staff from it''s travel harness.

    "Bah. I''ll remember this." Harvey made a gesture. There was a loud bang and an eruption of smoke which, once it cleared, revealed nothing more than some chair marks in the road.

    *A Mark – A magical rune, invisible to all but the caster. Once placed upon a person or item, the caster can track the whereabouts, even if the person/item is personally cloaked.