Kastro stood where he always did in the Cow and Calf. In front of the sink, up to his elbows in tepid, greasy water. He had worked there for the best part of a year, though it was not much of a living. Generosity was not one of Fat Rolf's virtues, if he had any, and the long hours brought Kastro just enough oraks and left over food to keep body and soul together. And soul was very important to him. He had been one of the poor children picked out for priestly training in a benign attempt to involve ordinary folk in godly pursuits. Except that benevolence ran out once he took it seriously. You need to be the child of the rich and influential to progress and Kastro was neither. After five years training, he was turfed out hungry and unfulfilled.

A loud hiss broke his thoughts. The sound came from the open window and was followed by the smiling face of a halfbreed. "Fat Rolf about?" it asked in a whisper that could have been heard two streets away. Kastro shook his head and motioned the halfbreed inside. It was Orcules, his oldest friend, the two of them having grown up together in the wrong part of town. Orcules father had been Orc-Eye, the famous adventurer. The old man had settled down to raise a family and Orcules was the result. Unfortunately the money didn't last and Orc-Eye had left to find another fortune, he didn't return. His son stood in the kitchen, helping himself to a piece of bread that he dipped in someone's left over gravy. He wore what remained of Orc-Eye's legacy. A battered pot helm and an oddly curved bastard sword slung at his hip. Orcules also carried a shield on his arm. It had the word 'Dunkillin' painted on in a childish hand and looked as if it had been sawn from someone's front door, which indeed it had.

"What's all this about?" asked Kastro pointing to the trappings of war, "don't tell me the Town Guard want you as a recruit." "Gonna be an adventurer," spluttered the halfbreed through a shower of bread crumbs. Kastro shook his head. He had heard it all before, Orcules always wanted to live up to his father's memory. He was a great romantic and his recklessness had got the two into trouble more than once. "No it's true!" Orclues protested, offended by his friend's obvious incredulity. "I met these elves, an' they're adventurers an' they want me to join 'em." He went on to explain that he had met the elves that evening. The three had begun to get drunk together and they had told him of the fame and fortune awaiting any man with a steady nerve and a strong sword arm.

Orcules had been carried away by the talk of derring-do and imagined himself his father's son, surrounded by fallen enemies and loading loot into his backpack. Not one to let the moment pass, he had gone home to gather his weapons with a promise to meet the elves later. "Does Orc-Id know about this?" asked Kastro suspiciously. Orc-Id was the halfbreed's woman and renowned for a vicious right hook and an intolerance for Orcules' disreputable friends. The halfbreed smiled sheepishly. "Err...of course she does," he said lamely. Orcules was not a convincing liar.

Before Kastro could continue this line of questioning, the door burst open and the noise of the tavern filled the kitchen. A short, stocky figure entered, staggering under a stack of dirty plate and cutlery. It successfully negotiated the large table before dumping the mess into the sink. A flushed and sweating face appeared, only to vanish again as its brow was mopped on the bottom of a greasy apron. It was Astris, Kastro's fellow kitchen slave and former student of all things spiritual. Their studies had brought the two together and now they shared the same garrett as well as Fat Rolf's kitchen.

"By the Gods, it's busy tonight!" Astris complained. He was a florid-faced dwarf with a red beard and a temper to match. "Not a single orak have I had from that tight-pursed lot. There has to be an easier way to make a living. Oh, hello Orcules. Didn't see you there." The halfbreed was relieved to get off the subject of Orc-Id and back to matters in hand. "Yer absolutley right!" he enthused. "There is an easier way to make our fortune. We can go adventurin'! Killin' 'oribble monsters and rescuin' beautiful maidens an' such. I was jus' telln' Kastro 'bout these two elves I met. They says we can join 'em an' make lots of loot. Beats working for Fat Rolf, don't it?"

Astris was only half convinced. He knew Orcules well enough to guess where his half-baked schemes could lead, but after the night he'd had, it surely couldn't be worse than the Cow and Calf. Orcules could see he was nearly there and began recounting some of the tales the elves had told him, adding a few more he made up himself for good measure. Astris' grin grew wider with the telling and his doubts melted. "Right, you're on!" he said. "Where do we meet these elves?" Orcules whooped for joy and turned to Kastro appealingly. "Yes, count me in. If you two are hell bent on trouble, best you've got me to get you out of it again."

Astris and Orcules rushed out into the cool night air, chattering like children. Kastro sighed and took off his apron. He may not be much but he knew that adventuring was not quite how his friends saw it. It was cold nights sleeping on rocky ground; it was poor food and damned little of it; most of all, it was about people and things who really wanted you dead, who would go out of their way to make it happen. But his friends would not believe it, they wouldn't even listen. Besides, Orcules was right, it did beat washing up as a career.

He was about to leave when Fat Rolf appeared, demanding to know where Astris had got to with the food. The natives were growing restless. "He quit," Kastro simply said, "and so do I!" "Well don't think you're getting paid for tonight!" Fat Rolf shouted after the retreating figure. "Kids! No respect these days," he complained staring at the mound of washing up and boiling pans. How the hell was he going to see to all those empty bellies outside? More important, how was he going to find anyone so desperate to replace Kastro and Astris?"

Xanhti and Keromoti were giggling drunk, an unusual occurrence for the normally reserved elven race, but then the brothers believed themselves well removed from the norm. Young, even by human standards, they exasperated their father with their bad behaviour. Wilful and wastrel were the words he regularly used to describe them during the countless lectures he gave them. Finally, they tired of the small-minded elven community and its rigid morality. One night, they crept away to a life of adventure.

And gallant adventurers they had been for all of three weeks which was how long it had taken them to reach town. They should have arrived sooner, but their knowledge of geography had got them lost more than once. For the brothers, it was the most exciting place in the world. There were more people in one tavern than they had ever met in their sheltered lives, and these were disreputable and interesting. Best of all, there was the strong drink denied them at home.

They had soon fallen into conversation with a mean looking halfbreed, clearly a great warrior who boasted memorable victories against the odds. Not wishing to appear innocents, they invented a colourful past for themselves, the tales becoming more outrageous as the drink flowed. The halfbreed had been impressed and suggested the three team up, an offer they graciously accepted. He had left with a promise to return. The elves said farewell and made a mental note not to be here when he came back.

But the beer beckoned and they followed. By the time Orcules returned with Kastro and Astris, they were slumped across a table snoring contentedly with half-finished drinks before them. Xanhti managed a raised eyelid and a sickly grin as Orcules tried to wake him. It was a valiant effort, but it did not last and he sank gratefully into oblivion.

"I don't believe it! You call these adventurers?" snarled Astris in disgust. "We should just pour them back into the barrel!" "They's jus' relaxin'," said Orcules, "venturin' is tough work and folks need a day off now an' then." "Well we can't leave them here," Kastro observed dryly. "In this state, they'll get their throats cut no matter how tough they are. We'll take them back to Orcules' place for the night."

"Err...I don't think we should," said the halfbreed concentrating hard on the floor, "Orc-Id's not been too good an' her mum's staying over tonight. Best we take 'em to your place, eh?" Kastro gave Orcules a hard look, but his friend was too busy moving around sawdust with his toe. Orc-Id obviously had no idea what he was up to. When she did, he was dog-meat. But that was for tomorrow, for now they hauled the elves to their feet and carried them back to the small room that Kastro and Astris called home. Snoring soon filled the room. Only Kastro was awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what sort of mess Orcules had got him into this time.

Xanhti woke with a start, dreaming he was trapped beneath a fallen tree. Looking down, he was relieved to find it was just an unsavoury halfbreed slumped across his legs. The elf sat up and instantly wished he hadn't, his head pounded and he felt sick. Sinking back to the floor, he wondered if this effect could be distilled into a magic spell. If it could, he would be a mighty mage indeed.

"Morning," said a voice behind him. Turning, he saw a man sat on the edge of bed. "The introductions were one-sided last night, I'm Kastro and you must be the great and powerful elven mage Orcules has told us about." The elf attempted a dignified bow but was more than hampered by the presence of a slumbering halfbreed across his legs. "I am indeed," he croaked through parched lips, then tried again because the lump of wood he once called a tongue did not seem to do its job properly. There was a general stirring amongst the others sprawled about the room. Astris provided a large jug of water from which the elves sipped gratefully.

"Got anything to eat?" Orcules asked hopefully, he was missing Orc-Id's cooking already. Astris produced dry bread and various pieces of meat pilfered from Fat Rolf and the five set about eating. This restored Orcules' spirits. "So when do we go adventurin'?" he asked munching a mouthful of pork fat. Three pairs of eyes turned to the elves. Xanhti and Keromoti's jaws stopped chewing, they looked confused by said nothing. It had all seemed so easy last night, they had fooled the halfbreed but in the cold morning light, how do you go about adventuring?

"You've never done this before, have you?" said Kastro with insight. First they were speechless, then they blustered. As a last resort, the elves resorted to honesty. Shaking their heads, they stared at the floor, feeling once again that they were being lectured by their father. "Humph!" said Kastro, unknowingly echoing a senior elf not too far away. He got up and moved to the grimy window, then turned to address the group. "Alright, so none of us know much about this adventuring business, but here we are. It's too late to go back now, so we'd best make the most of it." "Great!" beamed Orcules, "we is gonna kill lots of things an' make lots o' oraks so Orc-Id won't 'it me too 'ard when I gets back! Wait a minute, we needs a boss. Who's it gonna be?"

The halfbreed looked at the elves, then shook his head, immediately dismissing the idea. Then to Astris whose face was a definite 'no thanks'. It didn't occur to Orcules that he might take charge, he never had done since meeting Orc-Id. Finally his gaze rested on Kastro. "Well I know who I votes for!" he said and held up Kastro's arm in a victory salute. The others nodded vigorously, partly to placate the intimidating halfbreed, but mainly in relief that the burden of responsibility had been passed to another.

Orcules has jubilant. Democracy was a foreign concept, but deep inside, he felt he had scored a victory for the common man. Then he stopped. "Wait a minute, we needs a name! All good 'venturers got a name. Hows about Kastro's Band of Axe Wieldin' Might Magic Usin' Right Bunch O' Bastards on the Bright Road to Glory...err Brigade. Nice and subtle don't yer think?" Democracy began to falter. The shocked faces told him that his majority of one no longer carried much weight. He snarled to reimpose his authority, but Kastro stopped him mid-grow, "Bit of a mouthful that. Why don't we shorten it to Bright Road to Glory?"

"Sendero Luminoso," muttered Keromoti. Realising the others were looking at him, his face reddened. "Sorry," he continued, "Sendero Luminoso, it's old tongue for the Shining Path. Er...they were an ancient sect who used to go around terrorising people. Sorry I mentioned it." "Better still," said Kastro, "Sendero Luminoso it is. That way no-one will know what the hell we're up to." "That's great! Send 'Eroes Luminoso! I'll drink to that!" bawled Orcules taking a deep draught from the jug. He grimaced when he realised it was just water. "Err...who did he say this hero bloke was?"

Orc-Id was angry, very, very angry. She thought she had known Orcules long enough not to be surprised, but the previous night amazed even her. She had come home from one of her many cleaning jobs. She was tired hungry and with a splitting headache. Orc-Id needed home. It was too much to expect that Orcules would have cooked anything, but he might have a glass of her special spirit poured. She saw the candlelight shining through the ragged curtains and from the great round window. "Wait a minute," she thought, "we haven't got a round window."

Suspiciously, she hefted the weapon from her back. She claimed the iron headed broom was a necessary tool of her cleaning trade. Anyone fortunate to survive an encounter with the brush swore firmly it was indeed a warhammer. She crept forward to find a large hole sawn in the door, right where Orcules' dad had christened it 'Dunkillin'. "Orcules! What have you been up to!" she bellowed. She stomped into the room expecting to find him cowering somewhere, but the only sign was a scrawled note which read "Gon for a lofe of bred. Luv O." She snarled with rage, poured herself a glass of spirit, then settled behind the door, 'brush' in hand, waiting for Orcules to poke his head inside. It was to be a long wait.

Dawn came and Orc-Id's own snoring woke her up, still perched on the stool. Her anger burned as fierce, now compounded by a stiff back and a headache. She stumbled to her feet and went into the bedroom, expecting Orcules to have sneaked in during the night, but he wasn't there. Now she was worried. Orcules had many faults but he wasn't a stop-out. He liked his home comforts too much and terrible visions filled Orc-Id's mind as she imagined him dead in some back alleyway. Despite everything, she loved him. Well was fond of him, at least. She had always said she was too good for him and indeed she was. Being only an eighth-breed she passed as human. But the two were well matched, first in bodyweight, because they could trade punch for punch, but also in spirit. Orcules was the one for flights of fancy and irresponsibility, but Orc-Id was the anchor who kept his feet on the ground.

Wrapping herself against the early morning chill, she set off into the all but deserted streets. Her search began at the Cow and Calf, bashing the door with her 'brush'. This went on for several minutes until an upstairs window opened and Fat Rolf's bleary face poked out. "D'you know what time it is?" he yawned. "D'you know where Orcules is?" came the reply. "Orcules?" Get away woman!" exclaimed the dwarf, "He's probably whoring someplace. Now leave me in peace so I can get some sleep." "D'you want this door left standing?" snarled Orc-Id, giving it another crack that splintered wood and raised a cloud of mortar.

"All right! All right!" Fat Rolf snapped realising she was serious. "He was here last night with Kastro and Astris. Lazy bastards quit their jobs and nearly got me lynched. They had a couple of wino elves with 'em. Said something about adventuring. That's all I know, now leave the masonry alone!" Orc-Id 'humphed'. So the silly sod had got his Orc-Eye head on again. Well she'd see about that!"

Orcules stepped out into the crisp morning sunshine and breathed deeply on the cold, clean air. The others staggered out behind him, blinking at the sudden brightness. "Right," said the halfbreed quickly. "Let's grab a few bits and pieces and get outta town for some adventurin'. Like soon yeah?" Kastro wondered at his nervousness for this was the friend who feared nothing, not even the town guard on their regular 'let's beat up the drunks' missions. The only thing that scared him was Orc-Id. The newly elected chieftain was beginning to get a bad feeling about this.

They set off down the street and in the distance, they heard the cheery whistling of the man who brought fresh milk to town. It was a homely sound, one that made them feel secure. Then the whistling stopped as the milkie shouted, "Mornin' love. Had a tough night on the town, eh?" followed by a dirty laugh. They froze when a familiar voice cursed. There was a whoosh of air, followed by yet another, the way someone does when every breath of air has been forced from their body from the stomach up.

The birds stopped singing and the morning went very quiet, only to be broken by a very loud clang. There was a metallic ringing as round the corner came a dented milkchurn and a wave of off-white liquid. Orc-Id followed a few seconds later with a face that had turned the milk to sour cream. Orcules gulped and moved behind Astris. Realising that using the dwarf as a human shield was a little pointless, he gulped again, then put his arms around the shoulders of the elves on each side of him and pulled them to him like armour.

"Er... hello dearest. Out for a stroll?" he said lamely. "So yer at it again, eh? Mister big adventurer," exclaimed Orc-Id, "jus' like your dad?" Astris made the mistake of trying to calm the situation. Without taking her eyes off Orcules, Orc-Id grabbed the dwarf by the throat and lifted him up off the floor. "Butt out, short-arse!" she growled, before tossing him into a crumpled heap. "I haven't come to stop you this time," she said softly. "Nothing will get this adventuring nonsense out of your head until you find out what a rotten life it really is. Why do you think Orc-Eye retired? Because he didn't like the hours. And why did he start again? Because he didn't have the brains to keep what he'd worked hard to get. You're just like him! But this time I won't stop you. You can go out there and get your head caved in and maybe then you'll come to your senses!"

"Hey! That's great!" beamed Orcules. "I'll make us rich an' we'll live in luxury wiv our very own privy, an' our kids can go to school an' marry somebody important like the butcher's lad, an' it's time we woz goin', so I'll be seein' yer!" He could hardly believe his luck. At last, he was going to be an adventurer like his dad and Orc-Id said it was okay. But he wasn't going to push it. It was time to leave town before she changed her mind.

"Not so fast," came the familiar voice as he turned to go. The head of the iron broom rested on his shoulder. "I haven't finished yet. You don't really think I'd let you loose on the world without supervision? I've got the pots an' pans and the money I put away an' I'm coming with you." She smiled sweetly, or what passed for sweetly. Orcules' jaw dropped, this wasn't in his plan. He thought about protesting, but changed his mind.

Keromoti came to Orcules' aid. "Sweet lady, where we go is fraught with danger. It is a wild and scary place where only the strong can survive. Can one so fragile as yourself live in such a world of pain and hurt?" "Hurt," she said sweetly, "like pulling a brush end out of clenched buttocks?" Keromoti conceded the argument and Kastro tried on his ill-fitting authority. "Let's go," he said wearily. Orc-Id took Orcules' arm and the two smiled at each other, one genuine, the other weak acceptance. They set off and the others followed. Halfbreed voices sang a favourite song:

"The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling
For you but not for me.
For me the angels sing-a-ling-a-ling
They've got some wings for me.
Oh! Death where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling
How great the victory.
The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling
For you but not for me!"

THE END (for now!)

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