052ąTHE GATHERING 15 by Merlyn & LoreKeeper / TMG 2------ Part I ------ ±a131A blinding light flared through the ebonyblack night. Earsplitting thunderclaps shattered the stillness. The silhouette of the old, derelict castle on the hilltop etched starkly against the night background. The scene was set! Dire deeds were at hand. In the castle's old throneroom a small fire flickered under a bubbling cauldron. Ten wizards huddling in great, dark cloaks were squatting around the fire. Bending conspiratorically close, eyeing each other suspiciously in the gloom. The fire cast flickering shadows across hooked noses and flowing white beards. Deepset, hooded eyes reflected the fire, like tiny firedragons. Streaks of lightning flared irratically over the grim scene. Bats swooped down and settled on the shoulders and the tall, pointed hat of Greystar. "Keep your damn familiars under control, will you!", Miraculix' harsh voice rasped, "they give me the creaks!" "You may be ancient! But surely you mean "the creeps"?!", commented Oz laconically, the wizard from the all but Forgotten Realms across the Great Waters. However he'd managed to cross that vast expanse of water, remained an unsolved mystery to the other wizards. Every attempt at mind-reading had failed. Oz' unusual mental powers were like castiron; nearly uninpenetrable. Further conversations were rudely interrupted by Rincewinds suitcase (the one with too many legs and the infernally snapping lid) waddling into The Gathering, upsetting a couple of tall glass jars. One of the jars, containing a yellow liquid, tumbled to the floor shattering on impact. Instantly a vile, yellowish gas evaporated. "Blasted nuisance!!" Dark Lord, from The Central Realms, let loose a small fireball, which glazed off the suitcase's wooden lid. It managed to create a small, but fierce fire though. Panic-stricken the suitcase sprinted off towards the well in the courtyard, hotly pursuited by its owner; Rincewind. A crashing of glass, rumble of overturning furniture echoed through the halls, all but obliterating the thunderclaps. "Black bananas!", shrieked Merlyn. "I'm sick and tired of that bleedin' contraption! Why cant Rincewind use shrinking spells when he's packing, like I do! I've taught him the formula, after all. " "Now, now, grandpa!", admonished King Diamond, "calm down. Don't take it to heart. Think of your dicky..." Whatever else King Diamond were about to say withered on his tongue. Strange, unsettling lights flickered in Merlyn's green eyes, monumentally checking further references to his age. "I may be the oldest of us", he hissed, "but I'm still in full possession of my powers!! So beware, young pup! Guard your tongue, while you still have it!" "Now, now.", Sparrowhawk, trying to pour oil on the troubled waters interjected, "please, honoured mages. Calm down and try to remember why we're all gathered here tonight." "All?", jeered Miliamber, "I can count I'll let you know! We're eleven in this council, like The Secret Scrolls demand. But I count only ten wizards. That includes the furniture-keeper Rincewind!" "Yes, yes!", interrupted Raistlin testily, "we still haven't been graced by the presence of our newest member. Meegosh, isn't it?" "Meegosh? Yes, that's the young fella's name. Meegosh... "Dark Lord, quite recovered from his little outburst, narrowed his eyes in deep thoughts. "Something familiar about that name. Could he possibly be related to the small people Willow used to prattle about?" The door burst open and Rincewind re-entered the throne-room, with the dripping suitcase in tow. "No, no, no!"ranted Merlyn, "Not again! I've told you time and time again, Rincewind! I don't want that snooping contraption sneaking around, peeping at my most precious artifacts and scrolls! The monstroity cant even read! At least I hope not! Next time I catch it with one of my better scrolls gripped in its blasted lid, I'll give it a good sizzling right in the keyhole!" 2------- Part II ------- 3Greystar, hitherto silent, raised his haggard countenance and sent a withering look towards Merlin. "Oh, do pipe down, old man! We are all familiar with the Secret Scrolls and their restrictions and shortcomings. " "S.s. shortc... Did you say shortcomings!", Merlyn fairly stuttered, a greyblue hue slowly spreading over his visage. "I'd let you know, my young apprentice! When you were still tottering around in your esteemed tutors laboratory, vainly trying to learn the simplest spells, I..." C-A-B-O-O-M!!!!! A blinding, white flash, closely followed by a tremendous crash, effectively stopped any further vitriolies from the companys grand old man. Dark Lords fearsome countenance could be dimly seen through the billowing smokecloud, which threatened to encompass the entire hall. Rising to his considerable height, he towered over the other wizards. "I'm sick and damn tired of your bickerin", he snarled. "Either both of you keep a civilized tongue in your respective heads or Ill bleedin well tie them up in knots for you!" A bit shaken, Merlyn slumped down in his flame-coloured cloak, squinting myopically up at his enraged fellow-wizard. A rasping cough issued from a darkened corner of the great hall. Anxiously Rincewind creaked to his feet and rubbing his eyes energically, he waddled over to his beloved suitcase. The aforesaid stood gasping and coughing something shocking. Its lid moving up and down like a piston in heat! After several vigourous slaps on its back, delivered with growing despair- ation by its erstwhile owner, the suitcase finally collapsed gasping and wheezing in the corner. "He's got delicate lungs, Ill let you know!", Rincewind complained, looking blue murder towards Dark Lord. Greystar, the garrulous wizard from the Central Isles, stretched out an unsteady hand towards Merlyn, in an attempt of temporary truce. Viewing the outstretched peace-offering suspiciously, Merlyn huffed his thin shoulders and finally gripped GreyStars hand. "Like I always say; its too late to wipe your behind, when your arse is gone!" Raistlins rather ribald attempt at easing the tension a bit fell on deaf ears. At that very moment lightning flared again, thunder roared and the icy wind swept through the shattered windows, all but wiping out what little natural light they had left. From the opening to the throne-room they heard an ominious rumble and suddenly an enormous light filled the enterance. In the centre of the light stood a hooded figure! 2-------- Part III -------- 3Raistlin stumbled to his feet and backed anxiously towards the protecting wall, mumbling a protection spell. The mystic figure strode towards the magical assembly, casting a benevolent eye at each and every one of the astounded wizards. Rincewinds incurably nosey suitcase, partly recovered from its coughing attacks, waddled ungraciously forward, sniffing eagerly at the robes of the apparition. A resounding slap on its lid, delivered with gusto by Miliamber, sent it scuttling towards Rincewind, whose gnarled hands patted it affectionately, though rather distractedly. Rincewinds concentration fully on the advancing figure. Merlyn, finally dispatching the last tendrils of consternation from his mind, demanded harshly; "and who may you be, my dear Lucifer?! Have you run out of matches, eh?!" Dark Lord, raising a demolishing hand, quickly silenced the quarrelsome old wizard. "Pray be seated, dear Sire", he said, offering his own place by the fire. "I thank thee, noble lord", announced the stranger, lowering himself regally down beside the small fire. "You're seemingly a wizard in your own right", observed Raistlin tentatively, eyeing the other closely. "I'm all that", chuckled the focus-point of the gathering. "May I present myself... My name is Gandalv the White", he continued, "and I've been summoned here by my old aquintance Miraculix." All eyes turned towards Miraculix, whod fallen fast asleep. The rate of recent hazardous events taken its obvious toll on his psyche. Faint snorz could be discerned in the sudden stillness. Rincewind directed his side-kick; the infamous suitcase over to try and wake the soundasleep wizard. Prominent lack of speech facilities, alarm-bells and consideration, the suitcase simply trampled all over the unfortunate slumbrian. Taking into account its multi-feet capacity lots of footprints, not to say impressions were the inevitable result. Miraculix woke with a jerk, spilling curses, spittle and tiny fireballs, which consequently ricochetted through the vast hall, making general havoc and sending the still standing wizards scrambling and diving for cover. The perpetrator; Rincewinds indominable suitcase, struck a disdainful pose and regarded the proceedings smugly. Further misdeeds and dark dealings will be revealed in the next scroll from Merlyns quill. Fare thee well till then and may the deities be with thee! ×