The attack

         The dragon began to attack the king, so the other soldiers charged the dragon. their spears rained down on it. The soldiers swung

their swords at it, the dragon swung its tail at them as it tried to fly up into the sky. It knocked several of them off their feet. They fell, it

turned to face them, the dragon breathed fire. A gout of flame sped toward the soldiers. It engulfed the soldiers, those not touched by the

flame leapt away from the flames that had engulfed the others. They were frightened by the actions of the dragons.


         The king is laying on the ground, his hands rest on the staff that the monster had held. The lightning calmed down. The thunder was

still roaring, His body was glowing, his skin began to turn pink as if his body was renewed. the staff vanished from view it was as if there

was nothing left of it.


         The humans are attacking the huge dragon as it lowered its head toward the soldier who was attacking it. The soldier stepped on

the flat portion of its nose, he swung his sword at the bulbs that rose from the sides of its head. The weapon sank into the right one

cleaving its eye from where it was. A fluid erupted from the eye. What appeared was a wisp of what could be called smoke, emerging from

this eye climbing to the heavens.


         The scent made his stomach wrench and spill. His vomit washed over his hands, the sword pommel became slippery. It slipped

from his grasp to fall upon the ground, The dragon threw its head back to knock the soldiers from its snout. Several of them fell from it to

the ground, in its throwing its head back lifted its head high into the air.


         Several soldiers ran beneath its throat to drive their spears and swords into the throat. There was an glowing object in the throat that

had produced some heat from there. The other soldiers climbed across its nose to its back. Their swords could not cut through the scales

that were there.


         The undead began to rush toward the soldiers attacking the dragon. The soldiers did not dare to turn their threat from the dragon to

attack the undead. The undead did not draw back, they fought as if their very lives depended upon their survival. The scent of their bodies

being cut open. It wafted into the air, it stank of decay. Black fluid spilled from their bodies to wash across the edges of the soldier's

weapons.


         The soldiers struggled to breath the very air, It caught in their throats causing them to gag. The stumbled and fell from their feet to

the undead's very weapons. The soliders eyes teared. They could not see. They were blind with the scent of the undead. They dropped to

their knees.


         The dragon vamished as if it was but a nightmare. They had evidence that it was not a nightmare as their dead foretold of it being

here. The undead began to draw back from them, it was as if they had no need to fight the soldiers. The undead began to fall upon the earth

as if they had died.


         The king rose to his feet. He lifted the staff that lay with him to the air. A golden light appeared at its top, it was blinding. The wounds

that the living soldiers had fallen upon them were healed. The king looked at his soldiers, he smiled. He asked, "What has happened?

Where is their leader?"


         "He vanished from veiw. He attacked you," a young soldier said as he approached the king, his arm was blood stained, there was a

line on his arm, where blood ran down this line to stain his arm and hand. There was a bulge on his arm where this line appeared, pustules

appeared where the bulge was.

####

         Oliva began to look around to see if she could spy the bowman, there was nothing that she could see,

The brush had no evidence that there had been a shotter. She heard a rustling of leaves shifting about. She

turned to face the cause fo this to have happened there. She stepped toward the sound with her sword drawn.


         A man appears there, he is wearing a velvet red jacket. He stepped back as she put the swords point

toward his throat. He stutters and says,"I mean you no harm. I heard the scream of a man, it came from over

there." He eases the sword from his throat, he winces as he looked into the face of Oliva.


         Oliva turned to see where he was pointing. That was where her friend was. She asked,"Did you see who

was here?"


         "I did not see anyone here," the man said as he looked at her. His eye brow arched as he looked at her. He

lifted his hand as he began to retreat from where he stood. He was afraid of what this woman poised to him. He

nearly tripped over a branch on the ground he toppled from his feet into the earth.


         Oliva laughed, as he turned to draw himself to his feet. Oliva began to lift her arm, a bird arrived on her wrist.

She patted the bird on her wrist. The bird began to chirp. She lifted her wist to release the bird from her, She knew that

the bird had seen the bowman leave the area.


         She knew he was blond. Muscular build. He wore a black jacket, his hands were covered in gloves. He left by

going through the brush to her right, she raced toward where he exited the brush. She saw him as he ran down the

street heading toward the water front. It was going to be a challenge taking him on here with people around no doubt

someone would object to her doing this.


         She grabbed him by his arm, he twisted about. He brought up his right hand to take the hand off his arm. He

turned to face who grabbed him. Oliva hit him with a heavy right. It drove his hand off her arm. Others there turned to

face this woman who attacked this man. He toppled onto his side. He had disposed of his crossbow.


         A few others there approached her as she knelt down beside him. She cradled his head in her hands. He

peered into her eyes he saw no mercy there. She glared at him. She lifted her closed fist to drive it into his head to

have it crash against the street, blood began to pool beneath his head, she continued to rain fists down upon his

head, blood ran from his nose and mouth.


         A hand grabbed her arm that held that fist. She looked into the face of the hand that held her. Her lips were

blood less. She struggled to be free of his grasp. It was a man built of muscle and brawn. He lumbered above her.

His eyes were slits. He closed his hand about her arm. She felt it tear through her muscle. She winced, tears

began to fall.


         He lifted her into the air, she dangled as if she was cloths on line she shuddered and shook as if a wind was

blowing. She swung her opposing hand at his face, but she was to far away from him to reach her. He threw her at a

store's door. Crashed into it. She lost conciousness. He turned away from her.


         The man she was plummeted to death was not far from it. He was knocked out. The big man lifted him into his

arms and carried him toward a hotel.


         Jules hung there on the door. A guard pried him loose from the wall. Jules toppled to the grounf. The guard began

to lift him beneath the arm of the dart impaled shoulder. Blood began to spill and run down Jules' arm and splatter on the

sidewalk and the wall. Jules' head began to fall upon his chest. The guard put him down on the sidewalk away from the

door to the tavern where he hung.


         The guard slapped him across his face. Jules winced, he shook his head. He saw the guard's hand descending

to his face. He brought his hand up to stop the guard's hand from striking him. The guard smiled, and said,"So, you're

awake. I think you should see a grocer about the bolt. It could kill you if you don't!"


         Jules began to get to his feet. He struggled to get there, but he did it. He walked away from the shop, he had to find

Oliva. Where did she go? Did she find who shot him? He needed to find the person who was there. He walked into the

dense brush to allow him to find the bowman.


         He didn't see Oliva or the bowman. He looked about trying to see the bowman, he walked out of the brush, He saw a

lad walking up the street. The lad saw him approaching,


         Jules is staggering about, he slowly stepped into the lad's path. Blood dripped and splattered on the sidewalk. The lad

stopped moving as the man stood there. Jules reached out to grab the arm of the lad. The lad struggled to be free of Jules'

hand.


         This was until Jules said. "If you can tell me where a black haired woman with curly. Wearing a blue dress. I will give

you a gold coin."


         "Sure you will." the lad said as he lifted the hand from his arm.


         "I will I tell you," Jules said as he reached into his purse to pay the lad. He knew that this coin would have the lad

yapping his head off. He showed him the coin.


         The lad froze when he saw the coin, he said, "I did see a lady on the sidewalk she was running in the other

direction."


         Jules dropped the coin in his hand. He patted the lad on the shoulder and proceeded in the other direction. He was

growing dizzy. The blood was growing shallow in quanity. He stumbled and fell to the sidewalk.


         A few other people surrrounded him. One of them raced off to find a surgeon, he knew where there was one of

those people.

{center###

         Sir Grey walked toward the boudier, where Marissa was. She looked frightened, what was happening here.

She was shaking, trembling, there was a scent of shit in the air. her skin was white as bleached flour.


         Benadict was standing in the room looking at the body of the bishop. He was crying, he opened his mouth as if to

speak, but no words came out. He was fearful and a young man. He did not know what to do. He knew in

theory that the bishop's life must be sent to the Pope so he could send a replacement or appoint anotherr person to this

position.


         The soldiers that Sir Grey had sent to protect the queen. Those who still lived were standing out side of the room,

they looked worried. They did not know how this had happened. Was this because the woman who entered the Queen's

boudior to practice black magic.


         Marissa looked at Sir Grey as he stood. She made a motion for him to approach. Sir Grey began to walk toward

the bed where she was. Being careful not to trip over the bodies that lay there. He stopped before her, he slowly drew to

her. The Queen was crying and was saying,"Why did this happen?"


         "Your sister was responsible for this to have happened. I do not doubt that , was wanting to see this woman," Sir

Grey said as he brought up beneath her eye to wipe away her tears.


         She looked at him, she crumpled into his chest. She lifted her head toward his face. Sir Grey patted her back.

Sir Grey said," You don't have to worry. You are safe."


"Safe,' she wimpered.

####

         The Pope glared at the person that spoke of what the people of Marissa's kingdom had done. The Pope looked

at him, he did not desire to stop what he was willing to do to them. They should pay for this crime. How could they not

represnt the death of his son. It defied any sense of justtice, that they would do nothing.


Nothing, he said as he looked at the man who told him this. They will see what he was undersranding to want to do about it.

He closed his hand, imagining his hand on their throats as it drew away their very breath from their very lungs. He would

watch them as they died beneath his hand. He dreamt of the death of Queen Marissa and her friend SIr Grey's as well.

The soldiers breaking into their castle's very door. He imagined that his soldiers would ride into the castle's ground. Their

hooves would fall upon those who stood in the street, would crush their very bodies/ He watched as their hooves crush

and break the bodies of those who dared to oppose him and his desire.


         They did nothing to appease his pain. They would feel his pain. He would make them pay for this happening to his

son. Damn. Them all. They will die/ He would see to it happening. They could rest assured that they would understand his

pain.


         The chamber was lit with the light from the fire that warmed the chamber, its glowing red flame colored everything in

scarlet. The chamber where he was. There were tapestries that hung from the rafters. There were many pews here/ The

peons were awaiting his words to calm their fears. They did not dare to look into his face, it was as if they were frightened to

do this.


         His wrinkles were more pronounced, now. His eyes which sparkled with delight now didn;t sparkle. It was as if the life

in them had died long ago. His jacket was scarlet, the belt that held the jacket closed was black, on his hip was a mace. His

head was not adorned. He peered into the crowd. AS if he was seeing someone there, there was a hint of a smile on his face.

A faint smile crawled across his lips. His eyes were nearly closed. The frown was etched into his face, as if it was made of

stone.


         He struggled as he lifted his hands to pour wine into the glass for his people to drink. His hand trembled, he was pale.

His lungs craved the air he was breathing. He turned to face the person whom he saw and for whom the smile was meant to

be seen by. He began to reach out for Gaul's hand.


         Gaul came from the kingdom where his son had bee killed. He looked to be very old. His hair that which still

was on his head was a few strands, his brow was deeply furrowed, his eyebrows were bushy and white. His eyes cold as ice

and colored like concrete. His nostrils were large. His tunic was grey, woth dark patches beneath his arms, and across his

chest. He said, "I have returned."


         "I see that. And..."

         "Queen Marissa is deeply troubled by your son's death. I tell you. They beg of you to forgive them for their error,"

the man said as he took his Pope's hand in his own. They began to walk away from the peons here.

         I don;t care," the Pope snarled as he with drew his hand from his friend's hand.

         Gaul drew back as he began to rethink his words to him. He was concerned with the belief that he should take on one of his friends to draw blood from the kingdom which supported the Pope's dynasty. He never desired to make war with hid friends until now. The Pope had been waging war with the people of the east presently. The Pope was a benevolent ruler, until now.

         HIs blood was boiling, he glared at his people as they began to walk briskly to his chamber. He arrived there he was angry. He drove his right fist into the air. His aids knew he was not in a good mood at the moment. They knew it was best ti leave him be. They remembered another time when he was this angry he killed a soldier who approached him.


"The end result finding, they are hunted."