Trial of Champions

[Daniel Daly]

Chronicles of the
Children of Destiny

‘Trial of Champions
by
Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly
Copyright Noahide Books 6176 SC / 2012 CE-AD


Seven Kings. Seven Angels. Seven colours of the Rainbow. Who can say what has really been, and who can say what really shall be. But Saruviel has taken over, and the time is drawing nigh, the time is drawing nigh. For Jesus has 7 horns, and those 7 horns are his 7 older Seraphim brother, and those brothers are Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Raguel, Phanuel and Saruviel. And they are his 7 horns. And there are also 7 spirits.

And Logos himself has 7 chosen ecclesia, the Seraphim of Infinity. And those 7 chosen of Infinity are Michael of Infinity and Gabriel of Infinity and Raphael of Infinity and Uriel of Infinity and Raguel of Infinity and Phanuel of Infinity and Saruviel of Infinity. And thus were the 7 chosen Ecclesia of Logos.

And then there were the Saruvim. And there were 7 Saruvim of Infinity. And Satan smiled to himself and said to Lucifer, he really is still that stupid, isn’t he. He really is that stupid. And Lucifer nodded.

***

Jesus was one hell of a guy. Saruviel admitted this at times, for the son of God of his own imagination seemed determined to win every soul in heaven - or, to be precise - every soul in the Realm of Eternity. The Realm of Heaven, as it were, was were the special children of God, who had special roles given to them by God as cornerstones in creation and cornerstones in life, lived.

Jesus taught he was the cornerstone of life, to put it bluntly. The Cornerstone about which everything, ultimately, revolved. It was funny. God himself taught that he was that cornerstone, so the Theophany maintained, but the Spirit which he had first known, who spoke to Saruviel from the throneroom of Zaphon, did not say such things.

It once commented.

'I AM NOT AS VAIN AS SOME SUGGEST. MY PERSON - MY THEOPHANY - IS ONE WITH ME, YET DISTINCT AS A REAL PERSON AS WELL. I ENJOY OUR ADVENTURES TOGETHER. YET, WHILE HE HAS GREAT CONFIDENCE IN HIS GODIANITY, I AM ALWAYS REMINDED, ESPECIALLY IN THE PRESENCE OF ONE WHO KNOWS BETTER, THAT NOT EVERY INDIVIDUAL IN CREATION DESIRES GOD MOST HIGH AT THE CENTRE OF HIS OR HER HEART.'

And Saruviel had been tempted to say Amen that day, but had been cautious in God's presence.

Yet Jesus was a soul of confidence, determined at this very time to justify his revelation, to justify his Christhood, and to exalt his 7 horns of glory, his 7 spirits, in opposition to the Dark Lord's dreaded Saruvim.



Yet Revelation was false. It was maintained in the Torah community that Christianity, still, was not true. That Judgement Day had failed to remind Yeshua that he was not Christ and that he was not God and that he should now learn his lesson. But, over these past few Arcs of the Archangel's Glories, Jesus had not learned that lesson, persisted with his prophetical fulfilments and, ironically, Satan the Dark Lord himself had gone along for the ride. He knew the truth, so it seemed. At least he claimed to in his macho bravado.

Daniel, of course, had persisted with the prophecy, taking Saruviel along for many a ride over the last few million years, painting various truths into John's revelations, some of these truths quite fanciful, yet Saruviel constantly humoured him. He felt, in the end, Daniel was having fun with talk of dragons and beasts and empires and so on, much the stuff of his younger cherubim brother's biblical prophecies. For the creator of the Prophecies of Daniel the Seraphim, though, this was natural enough to assume his interest in. He was an eschatologist of fame in the Realm of Eternity, and of all the souls to go on about the grand conclusion to galactic and universal harmony, as it was often called, Daniel had written the most speculative ideology. But that was ultimate eschatology, not the present day ramblings of the Christian church. Still, that was Daniel's field, and even Callodyn, his namesake, often got involved with those studies as well.

Saruviel, himself, was mostly over it. From personal observations of the simple fact that God left Satan alone most of the time, he had concluded in his logic on salvation that God did not really care that much, and was letting his children have some fun.

Of course, today was a special day. In all the fun times that Daniel had been having with himself and Samael, speaking of dragons and beasts and so forth, Saruviel had not forgotten that, traditionally, the Overseer, upon completion of his million years in office, usually now handed over the executive toilet key, which was now eternya, pushed on to his successor, and retired in many ways, to play golf, watch the cricket and live the good life. And this he fully expected Phanuel to do. He had ruled, of course, earlier in the realm. Back near the beginning. But that was brief. And then Michael's long tenure really began. But here it was - the 7th Arc, as they were called, beginning today, and Saruviel, so it was expected, was to claim the glory of rule in Zaphon. A tremendous honour. His father was generous to bless an angelic son with such responsibility. He never forgot that, in all his lessons from early childhood, that rulership was still an honour. And praise be to God for the glory he was willing to share with his child Saruviel.

***

'Morning Stars is the greatest story ever written,' commented Daniel. He was slightly drunk, his sister Melanie the Cherubim, an illustrious Spice Girl, to whom he had made this boast many a time in their latest and greatest drinking session, disputed the point.
'Morning Stars II' is better,' she responded.
'Callodyn's fiasco?' he queried, through blurry eyes.
'Indeed,' she said, belched, and collapsed her head onto the bar, drunk, dead to the world, and having the beginnings of a dream which would see her rule the world at its climax. A dream only, though.

Daniel managed to hand over the credit card to the bartender and, with his help, they dragged Melanie upstairs to a vacant hotel room with a double bed and he undressed her down to her knickers when the bartender was gone, put her into bed, put the first sheet over her, then collapsed into bed on top of the sheet and barely managed to get the doona over them both before he was off with the fairies, snoring to his hearts content.

Daniel seemed to join Melanies dream that night, and the two of them ruled in glory, man and wife, but each dream favoured themselves as the ruling power, ironically, in this battle of powers and battle of hearts.

In the morning Melanie awoke, clutched her head immediately and wanted to puke, but managed to hold it back. She soon found out she was half naked, with only her knickers on, and queried wether Daniel, who was snoring loudly, had taken advantage of her. She woke him. He said he might have fondled her breast once or twice, but couldn't remember. She hit him on the arm anyway.

Later on, getting home, for the two of them were shacked up with each other for the time being, Melanie, having had her third cup of black coffee that day, sobered into Daniel's den and said 'You know. I think I'm starting to like you Danny. We get along somewhat. We have never been that close, the two of us, but since we ran into each other at that computer fair things are going ok between us. K What do you think?'
Daniel, sitting at the PC, looking at World of Warcraft site that he was a member on, turned to her. 'Yeh. I suppose. Hey, you are an amazing Spice Girl Mel. You've done great things.'
'Is that why you like me?' she asked.
'Hey. Your my little sister. My little Cherubim sister. We all had some glory in life. Even me. Sure, I like your music, but your commercial and spiritual at the same time, and that is sort of my own focus. We get along, I think. Good for each other.'
'Right,' she said, ladling another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, looking at him as he returned to his game, and wondering back into the main room.

She looked at his CD collection on the bookcase. A small part of his overall one. She had only paid it cursory attention in the small time they had been together, but decided to have a proper look. Funnily enough, in the 'C' section, she found her first 8 albums. All of them the originals with 'Eternya Prayer Prayed' written on them. Heck, he had even prayed them to Eternya before they started making the stuff. He really was a diehard. And these were a few of the rare originals as well by the looks of it. Very valuable items.

She put on her album 'The Sea' and, listening to the familiar tunes, she mellowed out on the couch, eating ice cream, listening to the music, and wondering just what life had in store for her in her time with Daniel the Seraphim.

***

'Lord Grimsby!' announced the porter.

Lord Kolm Grimsby, risen to glory from early adventuring days on the 'Wolfklaw', strode forward into the ballroom, his rough masculine looks the instant attention of the flattering ladies of yet another melancholy affair. So melancholy, this district of Londinnium, were the old ways paraded themselves in happy defiance of all modernizing trends, which was a habit of much of the realm of eternity, the outer sections at least, were humanity had now settled greatly and called heaven there home.

Kolm Grimsby was a grand-son of a figure of quite notable fame, the illustrious Jan Kolby, aka 'The Rimwalker'. The Wolfkalw, Kolm's spaceship, was based on an old model space ship from the physical universe, were Jan Kolby had known the beast and loved it greatly. Upon arriving in heaven he had undertaken a reconstruction of his prize, but ultimately bequeathed it to one of his noble great-grandchildren through marriage to Kalan's daughter Esthelle. Kalan Kolby was Jan's son, and his daughter Esthelle had married Garry Grimsby, their firstborn son Kolm, like his great-grandfather, enjoying the life of the stars.

Yet Kolm, in his latter years of life as he was wont to express it, had found an outlying disc of a Seraphim who didn't mind his presence, nor any much other resident for that matter, in whose protocols of residency were none to strict as too allow the lavishness and decadencies the great grand son of Rimwalker would all to rightfully be known for. And Kolm followed his genes to the hilt.

This particular Londinnium, as they liked to call it in the fashion of the social scene, was a place were old sins were practiced somewhat, and the ladies of the ball scene were not always paragons of virtue, and bedding this or that Lord's current mistress was wont for the fashion. A fashion Kolm had grown accustomed too, spending his vast wealths, enjoying his grand decadencies, revelling in the fame of the circuit, and not giving any morality much more concern than the occasional priestly offering to, as they would say, 'Keep the Faith.'

Yet the melancholy, the spirit which pervaded this western side of Londinnium, were the old Lords farted, and the old ladies waved away with giggles and hankies, had, finally, become enough. He needed a change.

He went through the motions that night, found a great-grand-daughter of Britney Spears who seemed to have a heck of a lot of her Great-Grand-Mothers passion, and settled in for a firey new romance, hoping that this would be a new chapter in an otherwise uneventful millennium, which had become bogged down with meaningless chatter on Beethoven symphonies, the current vogue for the scene, and cuban cigars and other trivialities currently the in thing.

And the immediate sexual activities in an unguarded upper room, with quite an erotically pleasing firey Irish lass were, indeed, far from melancholic.

***

Phanuel looked at the executive toilet key in his hand. Could he? Should he? Would he?

Still, fair was fair, and Raguel had not cheated himself.

He knocked on the door of the overseers office of Kalphon Keep, found Saruviel himself answering the knock with the door opened, and looked at his younger brother. He flicked the key into the air and watched as it spun, yet the nimble hand of the 7th Archangel reached out, grasped it safely, and held it up to gaze upon his newfound glory.

'I am not sure if I really must say anything at all,' said Phanuel. 'You will do what you will do. Good day, Sir Saruviel.'
And as immediately as he had come he was gone, and Saruviel had become, once more, Overseer of the Realm of Eternity.

***

Melanie C awoke. It was the middle of the night and a shade had grabbed her soul, instantly waking her. And while the room was dark, silent, and the aether of the Californian city they were currently living in reverberated through its motions, a drunk pilgrim outside, singing away his blues over his lost girlfriend, an alleycat sniffing at what was probably not the best outdated meat, and a couple, just opposite, engaged in illicit affairs for the first time, she couldn't shake a sudden premonition. And then, 'A Wild Ride' whispered the shade once more, and it was gone, out the window, and as she relived the dying elements of her dream of Glory, Daniel woke as well, asked what all the fuss was about, but she shooed him back to sleep, took the bottle of honeycomb schnapz from the cabinet - DANIEL'S honeycomb shcnapz, and whiled away the early morning hours, thinking on what the shades words could possibly mean and what new strand of adventure destiny seemingly had in store for her.

In the morning she got her answer.

Daniel seemed to be in a good mood. He had just checked that months sales figures and the 'Chronicles of the Children of Destiny' was once again the number one selling saga on the bestsellers chart for the month, seemingly never really leaving the charts, while David Rothchild's 'Love' saga had come in at number two again. It was proposed by Daniel to herself, which she imagine he vanitied to all and sundry, that his success counterparting David's was the result of his true and decent long service to God and a proper and correct expounding on the wisdom of Daniel. She thought him terribly vain, which his sly grins constantly confessed to, yet he indeed had the record. At least 45% of the time his 'Chronicles' were number one, David around 40% of the time, and various other sagas, when their authors pushed for a while, held the dominance in the age long war of popularity for the hearts and minds of the children of eternity, especially the children, to rule their fantasies and enshrine themselves as the cornerstone of the fictive world. Daniel took it seriously. That much was obvious. Yet David never really relented, and his Japanese 'Love' saga, with its classic ending in which the valiant warriors tasted melancholy death, was enshrined in the movie going public of heaven as 'Unforgettable' by so many. Yet, for now,the Chronicles remained unfinished, for Daniel and Callodyn had special dispensation from God, when the times were right, to gradually continue the saga to God's complete satisfaction. 'It has to be done properly,' God maintained of the Chronicles,' for it is a mirror on real life, a Pseudepigrapha of glory, and so many hearts and souls base their entertaining existence on its wonderful tales, its excessive sarcasm, and delightful wit. And, fortunately, Daniel and Callodyn seemed to genuinely know how to entertain.

This morning, though, such was the mood of 'Daniel San' that he groped Melanie's butt, smiled at her, and said 'Lets do something wild.'

And, as they neared the local space port, booking rights to a month-long hire of a rather flash and expensive looking ship, Daniel assured her his qualifications were both current and up to scratch, as they set sail for, of all places, 'The Dralikon', to see if they could at all possibly make contact with some of Daniel's friends there, some who had been inducted into the galactic cult for progeny purposes, to catch up and relive old times. But with the fame of the Dralikon Melanie really was not quite sure what to expect.

'The Dralikon?' she asked him.
'Why not, sweetie?'
'Its a galactic cult? Not even a mainstream one like the Mormon's.'
Daniel shook his head. 'Still having a go at the Mormons, hey. So what if old Joe had a fertile imagination. Romney redeemed them.'
'He tried to,' said Melanie. 'But a cult is a cult is a cult.'
'They are lovely people. Your too judgemental.'
'I take my faith seriously.'
He didn't respond. The last thing he wanted was a religous argument on the merits of the Church of Latter Day Saints.
'Look, sweetie. The Dralikon is misunderstood. They have set ways. Ways they like to function in life. Most of the mainstream world are non-adaptive to their particular style of things.'
'They're all interbred!', she exclaimed.
'Goes with the turf,' he responded. 'Even Adam and Eve had problems with that.'
She didn't respond to that statement.
'Besides, maybe, you know. Maybe one day, in the dim and distant future, you might join a cult and be less judgemental.'
'Me? In a cult? Hardly.'
'You never know,' said Daniel.
But Melanie just shook her head, gravely dismissing the notion of ever leaving the mainstream.

'The Dralikon will be fun. Besides, it will take us a while to get there in the thing we've rented. We can take our time. See the sights.'
'The sights?' she queried, towelling herself off after her shower.
'Yeh. The sights. Its a big universe. There is a lot of shit going on.'
'Definitely probably shit,' she said smartly.
He almost grinned.
'Look, unless you have other plans, come along with me on my little jaunt. You could learn a lot. About other cultures. About being 'Open-Minded', you know. Like you claim to be.'
'I'm open minded,' she exclaimed.
'But the Mormons are a cult?' he defended rhetorically.
She didn't respond. She acknowledged the point. But the Dralikon? I mean, seriously, what kind of idiot would get herself involved with the Dralikon? What kind of first class moron would want to get involved with that cult of cults?

***

'We're visiting the Dralikon, babe,' said Kolm Grimsby to his latest squeeze, full of confidence.
'What is that?' asked Estella, coming into view, looking every inch like Britney her great-great-grandmother.
'The time of your life,' said Kolm.
'I'll bet,' responded Estella, and sighed, a portent of doom suddenly coming over her young and naive heart.

***

'A fool is known for his many words,' began Phanuel's dissertation, and Saruviel almost smiled at the 30 page length of the document.
'So remember, brother of mine, in your time as Overseer of Zaphon, it is what you do, not what you say, that will be remembered. Words of inspiration are often necessary, but actions always speak louder than words. In our time as overseers......'
And on went the 'words' of Phanuel, Saruviel drudging along to honour his brother, but not terribly interested in reality. But something stood out after the 'Protocols of the Overseer' rambling.
'Make your mark.'

He thought on that, and an idea came to him. Taming a heretic. The founder of the Dralikon. Arthur Drake. So far unconquerable. And now, the ruler of a galaxy, from humble beginnings, to a growing rival to the powers of Zaphon.

7 Angels, not that many Arc's ago, had taken him on. They'd had moderate success in understanding the motivations of Arthur Drake, but not much more than that. Was he to be feared? Was he to be adored? Was he the worlds saviour, or the devil himself come to send them all to hell?

The name was known as the ultimate cultist throughout the realm of eternity, the man and his own empire, the man and his own sovereignty, but Saruviel, the Antichrist himself, would teach this Arthur Drake, with the powers at his disposal, just what it meant to be a rival to the Kingdom of God.

And in doing so he would make his mark. One way or the other.

***

The dragon's danced through the skies, the red and violet clouds in the dark green afternoon glory bringing calmness to his heart and soul.

He soared. He let his wings out, to their full measure, and soared, through the skies of this glorious world, a world were the magical touched its aether unlike any other, and Michael thanked Samael in his heart once more for this private taste of glory, known to so few, the private knowledge of Arthur Drake of the Dralikon, in his personal dealings with God most high - his personal requests.

Arthur, in so many ways, was a misunderstood soul, so Samael of Infinity had remarked to the first Archangel of the Realm of Eternity.
'He is a child of Fantasy, Michael. And in the heart of the Dralikon, shielded off and away from the rest of the universe, it is Fantasia itself, in the inner worlds, were Arthur is truely known as the Lord Dreldragon Drakedon Douay, at home most of all on his planet Olo Malan, were he was a warrior of ill repute, true infamy, born from the heart and imagination of an ancent cleric of New Zealand, were his heart was born, and then born by Almighty God as Arthur Drake in flesh, yet to be a human, ultimately, born into the heavenlies as the moniker bearer of his famed counterpart in the Chronicles of Darkness, when the Dralikon, finally born from his yearnings, to house his fantastic worlds of fantasy fiction of his favourite talebearers of the 20th and 21st centuries.'
'So he fancies himself an adventurer,' queried Michael that day.
'Indeed he does,' had responded Samael. 'Yet God had entertained Arthur's fantasies with the man's offspring, and has brought to life in the Dralikon fantasy worlds of great renown, for middle earth lies hidden there, and Thomas Covenant fights for his faith with wild magic, as does Belgarion in his battles with Torak, and Harry Potter is in endless demand from the new children of Hogwarts for their neverending lessons at the hand of the master. And, ironically, their Harry is an offspring from a certain Radcliffe child, who was sought by Arthur for his progenity plans of fantastic glory.'
'Fascinating,' said Michael.

Michael was waiting, as he flew, for the Theophany had spoken to him and said fun, fantasy and adventure was in the offing, for certain other names he was familiar with would be heading for the Dralikon soon enough, and a gathering of gentler hearts, in love with the magic of fantasy, would collide with the innermost joys and peaces of the Dralikon, and the Theophany had spoken with Arthur and sought his son's glory, Michael the Archangel's exaltation, on the fantastic day in which destinies would intertwine and come into fruition.

So Michael soared, awaiting he knew not what, as dragons flew around him, and wyvverns blew fire, and far below, on Olo Malan itself, a dark wizard by the Moniker of Zen Durander, plotted his glories, and his challenges, to God Most High's premiere Archangel.

***

'Faster than the speed of light?'
'The speed of Infinity, babe,' said Daniel, cocksure.
'Bullshit,' said Melanie Chisholm.
'Well, probably,' said Daniel. 'But we are going bloody fast. Way beyond the speed of light.'
'Which explains all the blurred lights,' said Melanie, fascinated by the screen.
'Haven't you ever travelled by spaceship?' he asked her.
'Lots of times,' she responded. 'But only in the cruisers. I've never seen the open windows.'
'Oh, yeh. They are usually banned on the cruisers. Safety reasons. You need thick protection to travel through space.'
'Then why does this have windows?' she asked him.
'They are eternya stuff. Technically illegal for such practices, but this ship got an exemption. Its why I purchased it years ago.'
Melanie nodded, fascinated, as they blurred on through the eternal darkness, the shimmering lights passing them constantly.
'Our first stop will take a few days to arrive at,' he commented. 'There are faster ships for this purpose, but the spaceways fees cost a fortune the faster you want to go.'
'What is the limit?' she asked curiously. 'Of the possible speed?'
'We don't really know. I asked the Theophany, once, when he was around. He just winked at me. Its like computer memory. It just keeps on improving.'
'Fascinating,' she said, glaring out at the darkness.
'When we get to our halfway point we'll take in some supplies and some new crystals. The ones we have got will do the trip if we need them too, but they will be shockingly drained and some new ones would be better.'
'What type of crystals?' she asked.
'Special ones. A noahide firm I know, funnily enough, produces them. Jews are good at oil and petrol - they manufacture the stuff very cheaply, but Noahide industries concentrated on solar and crystal power back at the beginning. Crystals work well as they are about the right density for use in the fusion related processes, and give a good spark as fuel.'
'Right,' she said.

They played card games for a while that day, and slept together again that night. Melanie was starting to like this Daniel, never having really gotten to know him that greatly before, but he was lively and fun, and she found he was also deep enough, despite the sarcasm, to have an intelligent conversation with. And his mind seemed to have absorbed an endless supply of data, all to noticeable when he began blathering on about this or that subject. A real man of learning, despite what you might otherwise have assumed about him.

It was a part of her life like no other she had really experienced, and she learned patience as they travelled the spaceways, patience in being lost in the eternal darkness, relying on the machinery of an ancient beast of a spaceship, entrusted to an angel with a reputation quite unlike others in his eccentric infamies. But she was really living, she reminded herself, as they closed in on their halfway space station stop one afternoon, the space port 'Rebellion', and looked forward to a few days rest with someone new to talk to and a chance to stretch her legs, as it were.

***

'The Heart of Darkness,' said the Witch Queen.
'Yes, mistress,' said Zen Durander, looking down at the watery portal.
'The Heart of Darkness is eternal, a creation of the all powerful, the central being of existence. It is were our fantasies, our desires, our true selves are born, in the wild magic of our hearts, in the DARK magic, were freedom is absolute, and no rule of law can prevent the triumph of what will be.'
She continued on in her merry dialogue of the power of the dark side for a while, Zen occasionally yawning, for he was well familiar with the witches ramblings on this subject, when he finally said 'Get to the good bits.'
She glared at him, but looked at the portal. 'Your destiny is not certain, Zen. For Lord Dreldragon has carved a many and wicked World here on Olo Malan, and his tutelary counsel of Guardian Jedi Knights who protect the Dralikon serve the power of the Nexus forthrightly in true honour to their sacred duties.'
'So you don't know?' he queried bitterly.
She smiled at him. 'Well, you know,' she said.
'Great,' he commented, and reached into his satchel, threw a few copper coins on the ground, which she rushed to grab, and insulted her intelligence as a witch of pathetic magical abilities, which he had done more than once previously, and left the cave, mounted his steed, and made haste back to his abode.
'The 'Prophetess of Dark Portents', as she was known as, was really a charlatan, he was quite sure. Quite sure. Yet Olo Malan had a whole host of dysfunctional characters, each serving the sarcastic wit of Lord Dreldragon, and amidst all the chaos of a world were power, riches and wealth were the ultimate glory, it was not easy to make a buck, as it was oft said in the wizarding guilds of the Cold West, the most frequent place of Zen's drunken escpades and ramblings to earn his pay.

Sitting on his throne in the heart of Argan, he considered the Odex against the wall, which Togura had traded him for the life of his fair maiden Day Suet, and with the index once again within his reach, perhaps he could access the deeper regions of the Odex, were it was rumoured - or to be precise, stated boldly in the 'Nexus Technical Manual' which he had copies of, difficult to read, for they were in German, to which he was not that familiar, and his offworld ordering of a German Dictionary, yet to be finally approved of by the Universal Trading Post near one of the World Rings, were the spaceways were accessed, and the larger world, beyond the fantasia of the Dralikon, functioned - lay untold weapons of mass destructive capability, certainly more than enough to aid him on his eternal conquest of the world of Olo Malan. Or at least to find one of the mythical 'Microwaves' with which he could cook his steak dinners.. Yet Nexus policy, which was these days synonomous with the hierarchy of the Dralikon itself, refused to sully Drake's creation with anything too much of the real world, lest it suited the purposes of divine fantasy which Dreldragon maintained 'Must' be complied with, Thus obtaining a German dictionary, the laborious translation of which into his own tongue would certainly set him back a pretty penny, or even an ugly one as they did say. was not going to be an easy affair.

Dreldragon had announced himself, not that long ago, as the ruler of the Nexus - the ruler of the Dralikon - and Zen had even received words of the legendary 'Lord Cook' to whom the ancient scribal creation of his homeworld was attributed, the all powerful god of this universe taking inspiration and handing Lord Drake - Lord Dreldragon - the fulfilment of his fantasies.

He longed for the real world, in many ways, did Zen Durander - but he knew he would never gain access beyond the trading posts hidden communications to the stars, for he was a child eternal of Olo Malan and, it seemed, the place he would forever reside. For such was the will of the All powerful one. Such was the will of God.

* * * * *

Michael gazed at the scroll. Twas an ancient scroll of prophesy, quite apparently, so Dreldragon maintained. Or, more likely, something he had some bloke do up and look like an ancient scroll of prophesy. Michael, in truth, favoured the latter, as this jaunt he was currently on, sponsored by the fantasies of Arthur Drake, lent little to the world of actual Torahic prophetical credibility, or to much in the way of credibiliy in general, really. It was just a fantasy holiday, and in the Fantasia he found himself caught up in, he constantly reminded himself, while very real and very true to countless citizens of the Dralikon, or the Nexus as it was more commonly wont to be called by Drake the further into this fantasy universe he found himself propelled, he constantly taught his heart that attachment would not be wise for at the end of all glories fables, the real world returned, and even Peter Pan became a normal boy in the end. Didn't he? Or so Spielberg would have you believe.

Yet, looking at the scroll, translating it carefully from the tranlsation key at his disposal, provided by Dreldragon, it spoke of a warrior of legend, who would come to the Nexus, and defeat a dark lord and his wizarding compatriot in a most chilling and ultimate endgame encounter.

An endgame encounter, thought Michael to himself. Very puzzling.

***

'It's a bucket of bolts,' said Estella.
'I'ts the greatest spaceship of all time. Pisses on the Millennium Falcon.'
'It's still a bucket of bolts,' said Estella, upon coming inside the illustrious 'Wolfklaw. 'I bet it won't even go. How long since you have flown it?'
He ignored her, but when she ran her finger accross the control deck, bringing up a solid inch of dust, she said, 'It's prehistoric!'
He just smiled sarcastically.
'This bucket of bolts will get us to the Dralikon, babe.'
'And what exactly is the Dralikon?'
'The empire of Arthur Drake. I know a little about it. Have some contacts in the outer worlds of his conglomeracy. He has gradually been claiming system after system in the galaxy he is based in and one day he will rule it. That's certain.'
'So,' she said, surveying the control deck one last time, taking a seat on the captains chair, and turning to him, 'What exactly is it?'
'The cult of cults,' he said, grinning at her.
'The cult of cults?' she queried, eyebrow tilted.
'The cult of cults,' he affirmed. 'Now get out of my chair, babe. I have work to do.'
So, taking the side seat, she watched as the offspring of the Rimwalker, Kolm Grimsby, fired up the 'Wolfklaw', set his target on the galaxy of the Dralikon, and pulled out an ancient beer from a fridge under the control panel, ensure her it was the 'Long Life' variety and, when he didn't throw up immediately, she settled, as the mad grin on the face of the new Rimwalker lit up the ship as they started off to the Dralikon, and a crazy new destiny.

***

Melanie looked at the strange concoction of a cocktail, sipped on it once more, and almost turned her head. It wasn't that it tasted fowl, really. It was just that it tasted so - recycled.
'Thats the way of everything on the main spaceports,' said Daniel. 'They recycle a heck of a lot of stuff. Have to this far in space.'
'Right,' she nodded, taking another sip on the brandy and tonic. It wasn't actually that bad, she admitted to herself after a few moments. It was just a little - weird.
They were in a bar on 'Spacehaven 74XXT', as it was identified as, and Daniel had a grin on him that morning, as the copy of 'Morning Stars' in front of them was testimony to. Even here, on the edge of never, there was a solitary 'Noahide Books' bookstore on the lower level of the marketplace in the central column of the spaceport, and Daniel had spent half an hour browsing, then introducing himself and sorting out, funnily enough, some of their employment concerns and giving the manager, who had been there forever, literally, some words of advice on long term promotional opportunities within the Noahide Books franchise. Daniel was in a good mood because of it it.

They were schmoozing away, happy little customers of the bar, when a familiar looking face walked into the bar, ordered something or other with a girl following him, and sat down nearby. He looked so familiar, but not quite. Perhaps a son or a cousin of the person. And then he knew. Jan Kolby. It was Jan Kolby - the Rimwalker - or someone just like him.
'Jan? Jan Kolby? Is that you?' asked Daniel.
The man turned to him and nodded. 'Yep. I guess so. In reality. His great-grand-son, actually. Kolm Grimsby. But everyone says we're the spitting image of each other.'
'Kolm Grimsby. Wow!' said Daniel. 'Your not flying the Wolfklaw, though, are you?'
Kolm grinned. 'This little lady is Estella.'
You look familiar,' said Melanie.
'I get that,' said Estella. 'I also have a famous great-grand-parent. But your Daniel, aren't you? The Seraphim? And Melanie C? The Spice Girl?'
'Guilty as charged,' said Daniel.
'Its a small universe, after all,' said Melanie.
And the group chatted away, found out they were both headed for the Dralikon, and agreed to travel in tandem for the next few days until they reached their destination.

***

Saruviel sat in his office, playing with a little basketball, which he occasionally threw into the ring against the wall next to his desk. He was bored. Three weeks in the job and he was already bored. He looked at the manilla folder lying on his desk with 'The Dralikon Project' written on the tab, swore at himself one last time for his stupid pride in even thinking about acting on Phanuel's words but, despite millions years, now, of humbling correction from Almighty God, swore once more at his dumbass male bravado, for his spirit had a portent of what was coming, and buzzed in Cindradel, asked her to organize, of all things, space travel to the Dralikon, and swore one final time as he prepared to set off for the adventure of his lifetime.

***

Michael sat on the collapsible seat, next to the dais, were Artie Drake was giving a speech. Or, to be precise, the Lord Dreldragon Drakedon Douay, the Supreme Sovereign of Glory of the Nexus, Regent of Olo Malan, was giving a speech. The crowd were a group of nobles of Argan in Chenameg, were the recently restored city, the swarms having been driven back by the powers of Togura Poulaan and a Warlock of questionable reputation, as well as a Wyvvern of dubious characteristics, of all creatures, through the power of ancient Nexus technologies. The Lord Dreldragon had travelled back to Argan, taken residency in Chenameg and built a palace to his glory, and was now welcoming a visitor from the 'Nexus' who was a chosen child of destiny. The speech was fascinating - all sorts of glories Drakedon promised from this otherworldly visitor - who was a saviour redeemer, known by the watermelon itsel, whatever that meant - to take them from a dark world to a restored, Nexus reunited, Empire.
'For he is a saviour of great diplomacy, and the Nexus will surely favour us upon his glorious triumph in the trial of champions.'
Michael cocked his head. 'Trial of Champions?' What the hell was Dreldragon going on about.
The crowd gathered cheered and one fair maiden ran down in front of them, threw a boquet of flowers at Michael, and said 'Long live the Champion of the Nexus. Sure to be our saviour.'

Later, Michael got the official story. He was the Nexus chosen warrior for entrance into Chenamegs restored 'Trial of Champions'. The old Trial of Champions, Drake informed him, was his borrowing from a famous fantasy series of solo roleplaying game books, Fighting Fantasy, with a definite twist added by Drake, for the purposes of, putting it bluntly, entertaining the masses. If the Nexus champion emerged triumphant, the Nexus would look with favour upon Olo Malan and grant them restoration, like the old days, back into the life of the Nexus. The fact that this particular Olo Malan, unlike the one in the novels which Michael had been reading the past few days, was never really riddled with the fantastic history Argan was known for was, to put it bluntly, a minor issue in the words of Drake.
'What they don't know won't hurt them, huh?' commented Michael sarcastically.
Drakedon had only smiled.
And then he had gone on to speak about how funny life in the Dralikon had become in many ways, with so many familiar names from the legendary tales of early fantasy having real life equivalents in these fantasy worlds, not even knowing themselves of the ancient tales from which they had been birthed by the foundational prayers of Arthur Drake to God Most High when the Dralikon was originally formed.
'Back in the day you were often into fantasy AND science fiction, if you were that kind of person. They often went hand in hand for some of the classic writers. I conceieved of the Dralikon with a cold metallic exterior - a cyborg, if you will - were science fiction worlds were dominant, and Paradises of Dune and other worlds from the classic authors could live out their glorious existences. But fantasy was my heart, and still is, and in the inner worlds of this galaxy Heavenly Father has formed for me my deepest desires in this heavenly universe, were Frodo lives and has his adventures, and Gollum constantly strives to regain his precious. Of course, my prayers were for the true histories of those chronicles by those authors to have been relived, were possible, in this heavenly world, and so much true history according to those stories has indeed transpired.'
'The hobbit came to be?' inquired Michael.
'Indeed it did,' said Arthur Drake. 'Very closely so. Eru Illuvatar had all sorts of glory in those days, for the Theophany visited me more than once as we watched on the events through portal view.'
'Fascinating,' said Michael, entertained by the ideas.
'Even the Enterprise and Captain Kirk are out there, having there adventures, battling Klingons, all within Dralikon territory. They can't escape their section of the galaxy, though. Special electro magnetic shields prevent them leaving the 'Roddenberry' systems. But they have enough space to chew on, and I access that world when I need to. So many of my offspring are in that world, living their lives, making me happy for their sake.'
'Your a kid at heart,' said Michael to Dreldragon.
'I'm a kid at heart,' confirmed Drake.

Michael chatted with Drake for a number of hours that afternoon, then Drake duly informed him that word was all over Argan and that champions were gradually arriving. And then he said, suddenly, he had to leave him be for a few days. Something urgent had come up.

Michael spent his time in his chambers in Dreldragons palace of Chenameg, entertained by young maidens, one of them dressed in red late one night, coming in to him, taking off her top and offering herself to the champion. He gazed at her beauty, her nubile figure, her luscious breasts and, for the first time in a very long, long while, temptation spoke to his heart. Could he? Should he? Would he?

When she was gone a moment later, he took out the photo of his wife Elenniel he kept always in his wallet, prayed that God would forgive him for having been tempted, yet he had remained faithful anyway, and knew in his heart, he always would remain true to Elenniel. Hopefully.

He drank a lot of nectar in those days, and sometimes alcohol made from various plants, for the other types of manufactured drinks were not known on this strange world of Olo Malan, beset in an eternal dark age world of Terra, were dragons roamed the earth, and fair maidens cried for their knight saviours. He travelled the city at times, looking at this and that of the restoration projects, for only this last century had Chenameg been reclaimed from the power of the swarms, deadly creatures who lived in the deep south of the continent, and in the old city were he was living much of the older industry was still be resettled. There were traditional markets, noble houses, economic centres, and all the traditional fair of a dark age city emerging into a new world, but this was, apparently, the way Drakedon liked it. The way the fantasy afficianado preferred his fantasy world to be run. With Kings and Queens, and galleys and dungeons. With magic and monster, and gold chests and quests unlimited. The stuff of fantasy to the Archangel of God, but even he delighted in this world, this fantasia, and was almost wishing he would not have to leave at the end of his quest. Almost.

The maiden dressed in scarlett returned once more, another night, and this time she had a blonde lady, completely naked with her. She said that if one virgin was not enough for her champion, then he could take her and her sister. But Michael, valiantly, refused them, and when they were gone, despite his loyalty to his wife, the reaction from the naked beauty had just been too much for him, and he lay on his bed, unrobed his gown, and relieved himself in the manner that all too many men had wont to do from time to time in their solitary lives.

The days turned to weeks, and then months, and Drakedon had not returned. The Trial of Champions seemed to be currently on hold, but he was kept informed by various palace officials that contestants from all over Argan and even as afar as Tameran and Yestron, had been arriving, Michael having completed his knowledge from the dekalogy by Mr Cook that he had now read, and that Lord Dreldragon was to return soon.

And then, one bright afternoon, a rainbow in the skies, Michael thinking about that ancient rainbow which Noah saw the day of his own sacrifice, Drakedon returned and, with him, a number of 'quite familiar faces. Quite familiar, yet definitely sarcastic looking, faces.

***

Daniel stood there, a mad grin on his face, yet Michael, once more, felt the need to rebuke his younger brother.
'Do you know just how problematic the situation is about to become?'
Daniel didn't answer.
'For starters, why on earth you have come to the Dralikon for adventure is beyond me, but knowing you well enough now Daniel I shouldn't be surprised. You have always been a little crazy.'
'Hey, you're here,' he responded.
'I was invited,' shot back Michael.
'I mean, come on Mikey, what the frucks the problem?'
'The problem,' began the Archangel of God's greater glory,' is that our beloved host has gotten the idea into his head that, as you and your compatriots, and how on earth you found Saruviel is beyond me, but now that you are here, the Lord Dreldragon Drakedon Douay has somehow gotten it into his head that you are Destiny's offerings for his current glorious escapade.'
'Which is?' asked Daniel cautiously.
'The Trial of Champions.'
'Your a champ, Daniel,' said Melanie. 'You might even win it.'
'Its too the death,' responded Michael.
'Oh, bugger,' said Melanie, and came over to Daniel, caressed his head and said, 'It was lovely knowing you, Danny boy.'
He grinned a little despite the situation.
'I mean, how bad can this trial of champions be?' asked Daniel to Michael.
'There are 7 death defying events were we must be put to the ultimate test. And if we survive the first 6, the final and 7th contest is, for the survivors, to the death.'
'Sounds wonderful,' said Daniel, swallowing.
'It will be,' grumped Michael.

Nevertheless Michael did not call in divine favour, thinking, however Daniel would manage to wrangle himself out of this one, he should bloody let him taste his medicine. I mean, the bloke had gotten this far without tasting death in the heavenlies. Lets see if he could make it the whole way, as it where.'

***

And then Arthur Drake was gone again, and Michael was accross the corridor from Daniel and Melanie, with Saruviel down the corridor a little and Kolm Grimsby and Estella, to compatriots they had run into on their travels, a level down.

Lord Dreldragon had given them 6 more months of prepration time and, as the officials came in,and instructed them, they began to get a sense for what the Trial of Champions was all about.

It was a savage encounter with passion and warfare, and only the strong would survive. Michael almost looked forward to the challenge.

He and Daniel played chess a lot in those few months. Daniel took black most of the time, as Lord Dreldragon favoured the game and had introduced it to Olo Malan, and Daniel reveled in the variant designs for the Black pieces, so much more dramatic, that Olo Malanese culture offered him. Michael won the majority of the time, but only just. It was 17 games to 15, in favour of Michael, before the Trial of Champions finally began.

The maiden visited Michael, again, each and every night after a while. She would come in late, when everyone had gone to bed, and take off her top, and give him a longing, lust-filled look of adoration. But he would shake his head, and she would depart, sorrowful, only to return the following night. It was an ongoing temptation for the Archangel of God, but his fidelity to his wife Elenniel bore him through.

Daniel and Melanie, from the looks of it, had become very close indeed. He groped her ass a lot, and she hit his hand away constantly, calling him a creep every time, but Michael could tell she liked the attention from the looks she occasionally shot at him when he wasn't looking. Nabbing a spice girl, thought Michael to himself, was just like Daniel. Just like his ego to go for the pick of the crop. Of course, Melanie was a cherubim sister of his anyway, and he remembered their youths in the realm of eternity, when Melanie had goggled at her big brother, awestruck in his presence, always complimenting him and asking about him. Apparently there had been a bit of a crush, Daniel had once informed him in their private chess matches, but that had long since passed. He did remember, though, the attention from that one all those years ago. The looks of admiration.

Kolm Grimsby was one hell of a guy. Offspring of the Rimwalker, a space hero of various reputes, whose name in the Realm of Eternity was synonomous with action and adventure. And the girl with him - Estella - she looked so much like the pop singer Britney Spears, it wasn't funny.

All things considered, they were memorable times, and while the anxioiusness of waiting for the Trial of Champions to begin get them on edge, perhaps that was a good thing. To be alive - to be really alive - even frightened of its possibilities, was something Michael had not experienced in he knew not how long. Almost since Judgement Day, when the ultimate confrontation of confrontations came to pass.

Would the Trial of Champions exceed that glory? Time would only tell.

***

Kolm examined his laser pistol. Weird, of all the things in the world to be concerned about, you would figure a laser gun by your side, in this day and age, would be the least of your worries. But, no. In the trial of champions coming up, with which about the most details they had was that it would be exhausting mentally, spiritually and physically, Kolm had a hunch that the simplest thing like a laser gun just might get him through some tricky situations. That was, if it didn't end up being banned from the contest, for he still had no idea yet on the official rules for the tournament.

Apparently, each of the 7 segments would be a free for all, but the final 7th one would be against all remaining contestants. The thought off having to knock of Daniel, should he make it through, was daunting, but Michael and Saruviel looked a handful as well.

Of course, death in the heavenlies, was not permanent death. Not really. Only if evil had been involved, and he was not quite sure just how those realities were affected by a competition like this. Probably, if, say, Daniel got killed, at the end of each millennial restoration, as they were called, those who had died of accidents and other illnesses, which was still very rare compared to the total population, were restored from death to live once more, lessons hopefully learned. But this particular lesson was somewhat different - potentially to the death - deliberately. Maybe God would not be so tolerant on such realities.

Yet, images of 'Hunger Games' movies flashed through his head, and it was rumoured the Theophany was a big fan of those ones, so who knew for sure.

One thing, though, was on his mind. Arthur Drake's request to him in the time he had gotten to know him. He and Daniel had arrived out an outer Dralikon planet, landed, and requested some of Daniel's friends. No sooner had they arrived then they had been locked up at another planet, apparently a holding planet of sorts, and then the Archangel Saruviel had been thrust in with them not much later. And then Drake himself had arrived, spoken long and hard about the need for his privacy, then offered them an early way out of their jail cell - competition in the Trial of Champions. But, to gain their freedom, one other requirement had to be complied with. If they survived the Trial they were forbidden from speaking the true realities about the Dralikon, as Dreldgragon favoured his privacy more than any other truth.

Kolm signed the agreement, as did the other 4 prisoners, the girls included, and while he looked with great interest to see what wonders of the Dralikon would now be revealed to him, he kept on reminding himself he would have to keep mum about whatever strange wonders he encountered. Or fail to be a man of honour, which is how he had always been raised.

A spider flicked past him, lowering down on his web, and instinctively, knowing his gun was only set on stun, he took aim and fired at the little insect. It fell to the floor, singed somewhat, but on the setting it was on it wouldn't even kill the spider. He watched it on the ground for a few moments, almost tempted to tread on it, but he was against killing things, even bugs, just for the sake of it. They were all God's creatures and unless there was a definite reason for the action, even for a man like Kolm Grimsby, then it just wouldn't be right. He watched as the spider gradually came to its senses again, awkwardly crawled away, under the shelter of a couch, perhaps wondering to itself just what strange force it had encountered. Hopefully it wouldn't bother him again.

Well, the laser pistol seemingly working well enough, he finished up with his exercises that he had also been doing in preparation for the trials, went back to the main section of his chambers, and laid down on the grand bed, next to the resting Estella, who was dressed in luscious green with flowery designs, accentuating her young and lithe figure and her true feminine beauty.

He was suddenly randy.

'How about it, babe,' he said, putting his hand on her hip.
She slapped it away, but when it returned she did not press him to move it and, slowly, she turned to him, smiled at him, and they passionately made love in the cool afternoon air of a Chenameg summer day, the rains having just passed for the day, common at the moment, with nothing to bother them but a potentially miffed Chenamegian spider with a grudge in its heart.

***

Saruviel sat at the desk, with the papyrus, taking notes. Of course, by honour of his agreement with the Lord Dreldragon Drakedon Douay, aka Arthur 'Artie' Drake, ruler supreme over the entity known to all and sundry as 'The Dralikon', he was forbidden from ever speaking of the things he had seen here, ever. Even upon any potential resurrection upon the advent of his death, should he recall the details of what he had seen he would, by his own word of honour, never speak to them of anyone. Drakedon wanted his mystery to remain just that - his mystery.
'I can't have every Tom, Dick and Harry traipsing around here to visit Gandalf on a most urgent quest or cast spells with Harry Potter. We are not an amusement park.'
Saruviel saw the point.
But Drake had not forbidden him from taking notes for his own personal memoirs of the place and so, with not much better to do right at that moment, he had ordered some papyrus, the standard writing stuff used in Chenameg, from one of the officials who saw to his need, gotten ink and a quill as well and, later on in the afternoons of this balmy summer weather, he had taken to recording the fascinating things he had seen for his own personal posterities sake, if none others.

Thinking about it for a while, it really was a memorable way to begin his term as overseer of Zaphon. Stranded on a crazy world half way accross the universe, nobody to talk to much, except a couple of his brothers who were caught in the same situation, somewhat. Although the details of how exactly Michael had come to be here were still not known by himself, it was still kind of funky having come into the room and see his bigger brother glaring at him in judgement. Not the kind of thing you expect, normally. Traveling the universe to sus out a cult of cults and have your bigger brother one step ahead of you.

But, naturally, Michael had not clearly stated his reasons for being here, and had in fact yet to do so, but one thing was clear now, from the things that he had let on about. He was expected by all and sundry to be the glorious entrance into the Trial of Champions, representing the Nexus, as it was called and that, from what they had been talking about, upon Michael's most assured of victory, the world of Chenameg and Argan and Olo Malan in general would be restored to the community of the Nexus, whatever that was, and restoration to full citizens of that entity would bring wealth, prosperity and true salvation to all and sundry. At least that was the commonly held belief.

A child of destiny, so, apparently, Michael was at this time. A child of destiny.

Saruviel, once, in the beginning, long ago, had felt that he, too, had been a child of destiny for a while. A specially chosen vessel of God, for not only Saruviel's own glory, but for the glory of the lesson being taught in and through that son. In some ways much of that destiny had come to pass, but he was still walking down, it felt, a fate of eternity almost chosen step by step for him.

But there were others, of course. Lots of them.

Lots of Children of Destiny, whose lives, perhaps, were being recorded by some strange recorder, some divine being, who typed away at a typewriter or some other strange instrument, valiantly boasting to all and sundry of Saruviel's brave feats, or Michael's daring leadership. Or probably, more likely, boasting on about Daniel and his magnificent sarcasm to all who would listen. Yes, probably Daniel, thought Saruviel to himself, smiling at the thought of it.

Here they were, the Children of Destiny. The Children of Fate, if you will. Stuck on a strange world, awaiting a Trial were their lives, once more, would be put to the test. Were they would face triumph or tragedy and, in the end, so it really seemed, only destiny herself knew the answers to their struggle. Only destiny herself.

He reinked his quill, wrote down some of these strange thoughts and, sleeping that night, he had another dream. A dream of a cosmically minded Daniel, writing about the life of Saruviel and his adventures on Olo Malan, grinning to himself all the while. And he awoke, and he shuddered, and, as they say, that was that. That was that.

* * * * *

And suddenly, the Trial. of Champions was upon them.

'You will choose a partner,' said Drake to the gathered competitors. 'So team up.'
Daniel, naturally, chose Melanie, and Kolm Grimsby paired with Estella. Leaving Saruviel looking at Michael. Yet, a figure came forward.
'I am Zen Durander. I have heard much spoken of you, Saruviel. Chenameg fears you. I will partner with you.'
Saruviel nodded, leaving a solitary Michael after all the other competitors had been teame up.

And then the female, the one from his nights, came forward, and said she was Bree, and that she would fight with Michael. And Michael assented.

The first trial was the Pathway to Oblivion. The Pathway to Oblivion was a pathway over a lake nearby Lake Chenameg. The lake had been filled with deadly man eating fish, sharks and terrors of various kind. Drakedon pointed to the obelisks sticking up from the lake, each with a letter carved in rock into the face of the pinnacle of the obelisk.
'Everyone. Watch, and try to remember, as best as you can, what you see,' said Drake.
And then in front of them servants unrolled a large banner which had 10 symbols on them.
'Examine them closely, for you have but one minute to remember them,' said Drake.
Michael looked carefully, spending a few seconds on each symbol, taking mental notes of the designs in his head, and rechecking them all once over before the scroll was wound up.
'Did you get them all?' Daniel asked Melanie.
'Trust you to stuff up,' said Melanie.

'Now, on each of the obelisks is a symbol. If the symbol matches the ones you have just seen, it is safe. If not, you will plunged to your doom. Simple? Its not as easy as you look,' grinned Dreldragon.

All around the edges of the lake the crowds had built up and Michael knew it could, really, be sudden death. His wings would work, and he would fly if he needed to, but best to not let on.

'Now, on the other side there is a red flag. You all need to claim red flag to continue at every stage of the Trial. Fail to get the red flag and your contest is finished.'

Bree stood next to Michael, and dressed in leather, her breasts poking out a little from the top, Michael didn't want to let on how attracted he now was to this female. She had touched him in the last few months, with her flatteries, with her looks. And while he would do his best to remain faithful, he was sorely tempted.

'Begin,' said Dreldragon, and the competitors took off.


Half way accross Bree and Michael were in the lead, but it didn't seem to matter on a stage by stage contest anyway. He had carefully memorised each of the symbols, and knew them well from observation now. But he was now stuck. There was one symbol, right in front of them, which looked like the tenth, but he couldn't be certain, because just to the right was another one which looked quite similar, with an extra stroke.
'Was it there, Bree? Did it have the extra stroke?'
Bree just shook her head. 'I don't know Michael. I didn't get to the tenth one.'
A guess, he thought to himself. He would have to risk a guess.

Over to the right yet another competitor had taken a dive and the crowd had gone berserk seeing the deadly sea creatures attack them. Michael shuddered. It really was to the death.

'Guess,' said Bree. 'We might get lucky.'

He stood there, about to take a leap ahead, when a little voice in his head said 'Go right'. And listening to that voice he stepped to the right - safely.

When they made the other side with no further inciden, Daniel and Melanie greeted them, holding a red flag, and Daniel sarcastically said 'Unbelievable. Even dullard Michael made it across.'
'Where's Saruviel?' asked Michael.
'Here,' said Saruviel, coming forward with a red flag.
'The flags are just there,' said Melanie pointing.
Bree walked over, grabbed their victory flag, and the crowds cheered even more so.

* * * * *

The second trial was the caverns of doom. The caverns, at the base of Mt Valiant, were filled with all sorts of snakes, creepy crawlies, vampire bats and other hideous creatured hidden within. Red flags had been hidden at various points within the caverns and they had 1 torch which would last an hour to find their flag.

Saruviel and Zen descended into the caverns before anyone else, and Michael entered last. He would give them all a fair go.

'This is creepy,' said Bree, brushing through a spider's web.
'Tell me about it,' said Michael.
'Uh, well, its creepy,' she said again, a quizzical look on her face. Michael just grinned at the cultural divide between them.

They had been down for 10 minutes, carefully searching from one cavern to the next, looking for red flags, and had seen two other teams rush back out having claimed their victory prizes. And then, suddenly, a host of bats flew over head and swarmed around the two of them. Michael plunged the torch at them and they took the hint and flew off.
'I hate bats,' said Bree.
'Lets find that flag,' said Michael.

10 minutes later they had gone even deeper into the caverns and their torch was reaching the halfway point.
'If we don't find it soon, we'll be stuck here,' said a disconcerted Bree.
'Trust me,' said Michael, but he was worried inside.

And then they came to a cavern, with a pool of water in it, but a red flag on the other side.

'I'll wade in,' said Michael. 'Here, hold the torch.'
Michael handed the torch to Bree and carefully, taking out the dagger he had been given at the start just in case, he waded in.

And then a tentacle grabbed him, pulled him under, leaving a screaming Bree shuddering.
'Were is he, were is he?' she stammered again and again.

Underneath the water, breath running out, Michael was finally ready to hack at the beast. It had a tight grip but he found its body, hacked in with a dagger, and the tentacle went limp, and he rushed to the surface, gasping for air.

'I'm ok,' he yelled to Bree, who had started crying.

He got to the shore, grabbed the red flag, and decided to cheat. He unfurled his wings, flew accross back to Bree, and she looked at him strangely.
'What are you?' she asked.
'Just a regular guy,' smiled Michael.

* * * * *

Climbing Mt Valiant didn't look that imposing to Daniel. He'd done tougher things. But when Drake talked of were-cats and other fowl creatures lurking on the mountain he wasn't so cocky.
'There are 3 special transporters, and 1 phoney one, hidden on the mountain somewhere, which will instantly take you to the top of the mountain if you choose to use it.'
'And the phoney one?' asked Daniel.
'To space and beyond,' smiled Drake.
'Great,' said the Seraphim.

Daniel and Melanie got started, using the euqipment they were supplied with, and about 3 hours into the climb, they came to a crevice, which had a small space vehicle with a big red button on it.
'Will we?' he asked.
'It could be the phoney one,' Melanie replied.
'It will save us a lot of bother,' he said. 'And how bad could space be?'
'Mmm,' she said, but followed Daniel inside the small space craft anyway.

Daniel pushed the red button when they were strapped in and the doors closed, sealed themselves, and it took off. They were lucky. They got the right one. It landed a short time later on top of Mt Valiant and while Daniel said 'Ha', Melanie knew they had been lucky.

They claimed their red flag, with a crowd even up here congratulating them, and waited.

Half a day later Michael and Bree emerged, and then they saw a ship skying upwards.

'It's Kolm,' said Michael. 'And Estella. They were deciding wether they would risk it or not. We saw you guys reach the top.'

Daniel smiled. Another competitor bites the dust.

* * * * *

Michael and Bree had some quiet time. The contest was over for the day, and they were in tents on the mountain side. Thinking to himself about the competition he considered his competitors. Three events down and, somehow, his brother Daniel had still survived. Of course, Saruviel was still in the contest, but with Kolm Grimsby and Estella, apparently, now transported to some God forbidden planet at the end of the third trial, the competition was really starting to thin down somewhat. It could be tough, but Bree seemed like a born survivor, and the prophecy still remained true. He was headeded for a confrontation with Saruviel, and one which they would likely, never, ever, forget.'

He sipped on his hot coffee, smiled as Bree took off her leather top and stared at him, suggesting she was his if he wanted her, but he just shook his head as she shrugged, nestled into her blankets, and settled in for the long, cold night.

The morrow would see the victor, and Michael was intense with anticipation.

* * * * *

'These are the ropes. As you can see, they are strong,' said Drake, hanging on a rope extending from the summit of Mt Valiant, a good mile further outwards to Mt Impossible.
'Three quarters of the way accross is the red flag. You may only go one way to get the flag. There are 17 ropes. We only have 5 teams left. Good luck.'

Bree looked at Michael. 'I am strong, but perhaps you would have a better chance.'
'I'll see you on the other side,' said Michael.

He looked at the ropes. They did look strong enough, but a fall further out could be disastrous for his identity.

As he watched Daniel started off and soon Saruviel on one of the other ropes, leaving Michael last again. He got to it.

Half way accross it was a long way down and, despite himself being an ancient angel, long ago having conquered his fear of heights, he still felt a little dizzy. He crawled along the rope slowly, bit by bit, when a large eagle landed on the rope above him, and started pecking at him.
'Go away bird. Go away,' but the eagle persisted in having a go at him.

20 yards away Daniel laughed, when the eagle, deciding it had had enough of Michael, flew over and started pecking at Daniel. Poetic justice, thought Michael sarcastically to himself.

He steadied, continued on, and as the morning light turned to afternoon, he claimed the flag, put it in his tunic, and continued onwards.

'Well done, Mikey. But the competition is drawing to a close. One of us could be in the shit soon,' said Daniel.
Michael smiled. Daniel, ever the sarcastic champion. Ever.

* * * * *

'Mt Impossible is an extinct volcano, and at the bottom is a labyrinth. Beware the wrath of the minotaurs, for you must overcome them to claim your flag.'

'Sounds wonderful,' said Michael.

Zen Durander looked at Saruviel. 'Shall I cast the spell, then, Master Saruviel.'
Saruviel wanted to think better of it, but decided he may as well go with the flow. The spell would be cast.



Charting their way through the upper levels, the torch suddenly flickered and went out. Zen's spell had been cast.
'What do we do?' sobbed Bree.
'Hold my hand,' said Michael. 'I will lead the way.' But he was lost. Then he remembered an old truth of labyrinths. Hold one side, and if you started that way, you inevitable came to the exit. He had subconsciously been trying to do that, so putting his hand on the wall to the left of them, they slowly creeped along.

It was 10 minutes later, they came to a door. Michael, daring, opened it, and they were rewarded with a torch against a far wall, with a small wall in front of them. They bypassed the wall and then Bree touched his arm nervously.
'Look,' she said.
The wall had been hiding a sleeping minotaur, with a red flag at the end of the minotaurs bed.
'Shhh,' said Michael. 'Be vewy vewy quiet.'
He relit the torch, and, slowly, creeped towards the red flag. But the minotaur suddenly awoke, and when they had backed up it was halted by a chain around its neck, roaring at them.

'How do we get the flag?' yelled Bree.
Michael thought quickly. The minotaur, in the end, while quite well built, had no jagged looking teeth.
'I'll wrestle it. You grab the flag.'
'You sure,' she said.
'You only live once,' he smiled back at her.
'Very funny,' she said.

So Michael launched himself at the Minotaur, who doubled back on the bed in a wrestle with him, while Bree snatched the flag.

'Ok,' she said. 'I've got it.'

'Urrggh,' said Michael, with the minotaurs thick arm around his neck.
'Cuudd you heelpp,' he managed to screech.

She thought quickly, and, looking at the torch in her hand, flared it at the minotaurs face, who squealed, relaxed his grip on Michael for a moment, who bolted out of reach of the raging beast.

'Let's get out of here,' he muttered. 'And if I never seen another labyrinth again it will be too soon.'
'I concur,' she said smiling.

* * * * *

'Congratulations. Survivors!' smirked Drake. 4 Teams left. The barbarian thug who had been mocking Michael occasionally. Daniel and Melanie. Saruviel and Zen. Himself and Bree. 4 Teams. 1 winner.

They were beyond the labyrinth, on the outskirts of Mt Impossible, and a coliseum was in the distance, with houses all around it, another city nearby Chenameg, with a vast grass plain between them.

'The sixth trial is simple. Cross the plain. A red flag is on the other side for all who are successful.'
Michael knew it was a trap instantly, with the smile on Dreldragons face.

Michael strode forward carefully, watching his steps. It had to be a trap.

Over to his left Melanie and Daniel seemed to be having an arguement, which was good news. Hopefully they would make a fatal mistake.

Saruviel was over to his right, Zen following him. That one wouldn't make a mistake. The 7th one would never make a mistake.

They crossed, slowly, carefull, and then the Barbarian yelled as he and his lithe female partner disappeared under the earth.

'They're are traps,' yelled Saruviel. 'Pits.'

'Right,' said Michael, and took out his dagger, poking as he went.
'We'll be alright, Bree. It could be slow, but we'll make it.'
'I trust you, Michael.'

Suddenly a yelp and, ironically, Daniel and Melanie had disappeared.

'Fuck!' swore Michael. 'I hope they are ok. God watch over them.'

Slowly, as the afternoon passed, he watched as Saruviel and Zen were doing similar to them and, finally, reaching the edge of the plain, they came upon the mosaic platform and claimed their red flags. The barbarian and his partner had been killed by snakes, but Daniel and Melanie had fought them off with their daggers, and were very lucky. Theyr'e had only been a few of them. They'd needed help out of the pit, but were now disqualified.

'I guess I ended up in the shit after all,' said Daniel to Michael, holding a pitcher of the ale they had grown accustomed to.

'Pride comes..'

'Don't remind me,' said Daniel the Seraphim.

* * * * *

The final victors, Michael and Saruviel's teams, were celebrated at the colliseum for a number of days as the crowds, who had been following the event, gradually filled up the colliseum in anticipation for the final contest.

'Choose your final champion,' said Drakedon in front of the crowd. The cheers were intense.

Michael stepped forward, and so did Saruviel.

'The endgame encounter has Team Saruviel & Zen Durander vs Michael and his Maiden in a game of 'Dragon Chess' were Death is the end result for the loser.'
'Chess,' said Saruviel, amused.
'Its hardly a death sport,' commented Michael.
'We kill the loser,' said Drakedon smartly.
'Oh,' said Alexander.
'I see,' said Michael.

Daniel, who had been consulting Drake's official rule book, excused himself. I'll be back in a jiffee.'
He disappeared, as Michael stared at Saruviel, and the game began.

Michael was cold, for once in his life, and with the killing blow he looked at his brother with sorrow. 'You'll be back, Alex. At the end of the Millennium. Try to look on the bright side of life.'
Alexander Darvanius II shuddered. He didn't like death.

Suddenly Daniel appeared, with the child of heaven 'Aphrayel - Death' and 'Samael - Devil'
'What are you doing here?' Michael asked Death.
'Death is for the loser!' she exclaimed, a funny look on her face, looking coyly at Daniel.
Michael turned to Samael the child of heaven, the Devil. 'And you, Sam?'
'Daniel invited me along for the ride. Said it would be fun.'
'What exactly does it mean by Death is for the loser?' asked Saruviel, noticing the funny look on Daniel's face.'
Aphrayel smiled. 'I get to have my wicked way with the guy who didn't win,' she said, and smiled that oh so deathly familiar smile.
'That could be interesting,' said Saruviel, a grin on his face.
'That's the idea,' said death, slithering over to him, and caressing his shoulder.

Drakedon, axe in hand, gazed at Death who stared deep into his soul, reminding him just who she was.

'The Reaper herself has come to claim her prize,' he yelled to the crowd, and the cheering was intense.

'Time to die,' said Aphrayel, leading Alexander away to a room beneath the Colisseum.

Later on, when Alexander reappeared to Michael and the rest, with Kolm Grimsby and Estella restored to them, having been transported back from an apparently jungle like planet with no intelligent life on it, Michael asked Saruviel, as they were all travelling back on Daniel's ship, 'Did Death claim her victory?'
Saruviel looked incredibly guilty, put both his hands down defensively to his nether region, and smiled a wicked smile.
'Oh, brother,' said Michael.
And Saruviel grinned and grinned and grinned.

The End

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