From a high ridge a few miles to the west of Braemar, Lord Badenoch watched the dawn spread its fingers of light beyond him and across the rolling fields, the sun reaching out to the west. Scores of crows and larger vultures hopped and flitted about, from one corpse to the next. So many bodies.

Battle had been joined the day before, with Badenoch's forces out on those same fields, hidden behind stone walls or within the many dotting corpses of trees, waiting for the Connacht army's approach. There was no doubt of King Kinnemore's intent; many people, including Kelsey's band, had ridden into Braemar with news that Kinnemore marched east for conquest.

And so Badenoch and the militia of Braemar, along with a small contingent of dwarfs and gnomes, had gone west to meetthe invaders. Kervin's dwarfish folk and the gnome designers had worked through two days and nights preparing the battlefield, concealing deadly pitfalls, and laying lines of pickets that could be raised quickly by a single crank.

They had met the enemy head on, with the element of surprise on their side, for Kinnemore hadn't expected the men of Braemar to come out so far from their sheltered mountain dells and meet them in the open fields, where the larger Connacht force held so obvious an advantage. Kin-nemore's first ranks hadn't even sorted out the curious sound, the hum of so many bowstrings, before the rain of arrows decimated them. Panic hit hard in the ranks, surprised soldiers at first scattering every which way. When one group had sought shelter behind a stone wall, they had found many more soldiers waiting for them there, poised on the other side of the stones. The Connacht soldiers were not inexperienced, though, and after the initial shock, they had regrouped into their battle formations and roared across the battlefield, as Badenoch had expected all along.

But something was missing in the Connacht force, Badenoch realized - that element of discipline that had earned them their reputation as the finest army in all the land. They charged as a horde of animals, a bull stampede, straightforward and wild.

In reflecting on it now, in looking down at the corpses strewn across the fields, the Lord of Braemar understood what had been missing. The Connacht army was without the binding presence of Prince Geldion, their undisputed field commander for the last several years. King Kinnemore was likely struggling with too many duties (not the least of which was answering to Ceridwen!), and his field generals, each trying to fill the void left by Geldion's absence, each trying to win the utmost favor of the King, were reportedly fighting among themselves. Badenoch had even been given information indicating that some generals were being executed in the Connacht camp.

At least there was one good point in Prince Geldion's apparent change of heart, Badenoch thought. The Lord of Braemar still did not trust Geldion, and certainly he had no love for the man. All of his encounters with Geldion before the Prince had so unexpectedly shown up in Braemar with Kelsey had been unpleasant and, lately, openly confrontational.

Badenoch looked to his left, to the sparkling snake of a small stream winding through the thick grass. Many soldiers had died there in a group, their right flank terribly exposed when the dwarfs had come out from behind a ridge. Had that flank been left exposed on purpose? the Lord of Braemar wondered. Had one of Kinnemore's generals allowed the slaughter merely for the sake of making a rival commander seem a fool? The thought sent a shudder along Badenoch's spine; the whole scene sent a shudder along Badenoch's spine. Living in the shadows of wild Dvergamal, the middle-aged man had fought many battles, but he had no taste for war. His heart ached and more than a few tears washed from his experienced eyes, tears for his men who had died the previous day, for the handful of dwarfs and gnomes who would not return to their distant homes. And tears for the Connacht soldiers, helpless misinformed pawns of a ruthless King. Badenoch hated battle even when it was a fight of self-defense against evil goblins or mountain trolls, even when it was necessary. And the Lord of Braemar never considered battle, man against man, to be necessary.

He had to suffer his emotions alone, though, for his force could not afford to perceive any weakness within him. Despite the slaughter of the previous day, with well over a hundred Connacht soldiers cut down as compared to only two score of Braemar's soldiers, Badenoch could hardly claim victory. The traps were all gone now, along with the all-important element of surprise. The pickets were blunted by bodies, and in the end it had been Badenoch, and not Kinnemore, who had been forced to withdraw. The Braemar force had given several miles in exchange for a new battlefield, one that Kinnemore and his soldiers were not now familiar with, one that would put the defenders on the higher ground in the foothills of Dvergamal.

Their next retreat - and Badenoch fully expected that there would indeed be another retreat - would put them all the way back into the village of Braemar, with their backs to Dvergamal's towering mountain walls.

And where from there? the beleaguered Lord wondered. Kervin of the Buldrefolk had offered refuge in the moun-tains, an invitation Badenoch believed he would ultimately be forced to accept. But that refuge would cost his people their homes and their way of life, would separate them from kinfolk across the land, in County Dilnamarra and even in Connacht, and would turn farmers into hunters. And what peace might Dvergamal offer to the weary folk of Braemar? Kinnemore would send scouting forces into the mountains after them, and Ceridwen, when she was free of her isle, would surely give them no rest.

Badenoch looked far to the south, to the distant end of the rugged Dvergamal line. Around that bend, farther to the east, lay the mysterious Crahgs. Somewhere around that bend, Kelsey and Geldion and Gary Leger and their companions hunted for an answer to this unwanted and evil conflict.

Badenoch shook his head and straightened in his saddle, firming his jaw. No more tears washed from his eyes. The Lord of Braemar could not hope for any easy resolution. He had to act based on what he saw before him, had to prepare for this day's battle, and the next.

They would hit at Kinnemore again, and then fall back to Braemar, and from there, Badenoch had to admit, to himself at least, they would accept Kervin's invitation and slip into the mountains, would realign their lives to fit in with the new and harsh realities of Ceridwen's impending reign.

Better that than the price of all their lives should they stay in Braemar. Better that than swearing fealty to Ceridwen's murderous puppet.

The wild hairy haggis wailed and wailed, kicked and bit at the wire netting until its limbs and mouth bled in a dozen places. Gary's prodding with the spear did nothing to calm it; Geldion's words to soothe his transformed father only sent the beast into greater tirades.

Gerbil and Geno hopped about the cage, inspecting the joints, and both of them shook their heads more than once and wore worried expressions upon their faces.

"It's in pain," Diane observed. She looked back to the row of Crahgs, realizing that the creature's agony had started the moment they had left the hilly domain. Diane remembered what Gary had told her about his imprisonment on Ceridwen's isle, how the witch had cast a spell to keep them in place, to make the surrounding lake as acid to them should they try to leave. Was a similar spell the cause of the haggis's torment? she wondered, and Mickey seconded her guess a moment later.

"More evidence of Ceridwen's spellcasting," the leprechaun said, looking to Kelsey. "If the witch put Kinnemore in the place o' the haggis, then she'd be wanting him to stay in the Crahgs."

Kelsey, too, looked back to the rolling hillocks, his expression grave. He also remembered the imprisonment on Ceridwen's isle, and the spell the witch had used to bind them. The named price of breaking that spell was his very life. What good would King Kinnemore be to him and to the goodly folk of Faerie dead? he wondered and looked back to the cage, where the haggis continued its wild frenzy.

The sun was up in full by this point and the haggis seemed to like that fact as little as it liked being out of the Crahgs.

"Kill it," Geno said to Gary, motioning to the spear. "Just kill it and be done with it!"

Yes, do, young sprout, agreed the sentient spear.

Gary took a deep breath. He feared that he would have to do just that. If the haggis broke free of the cage (and that was beginning to look more and more likely with each passing second), it would probably kill half of them before running back to its hilly home. The thought of stabbing the caged and helpless creature repulsed the young man, though. By all the evidence, this was Faerie's rightful king and no monster. Even worse, this was Faerie's greatest hope for peace, and killing Kinnemore now would do little good for the land. Gary growled and pushed the spear into the cage.

"No!" Diane cried, but when she moved near him, Geno caught her around the waist and easily held her back. Geldion rushed for Gary as well, but the powerful dwarf's free arm hooked him and stopped him in his tracks. The haggis twisted and kicked to keep the spear at bay, but finally Gary had the thing pinned, the spear's powerful tip pressed against its belly.

Zap it, like you did to the men in the barn, Gary's thoughts said to the spear.

Plunge me home, the spear replied. Vanquish the beast!

"Zap it!" Gary growled and gave the handle a shake.

The ensuing jolt pushed the haggis halfway into the mesh. Gary prodded the spear ahead, keeping pace, keeping the tip pressing on the beast. It looked at Gary curiously now, its hair standing on end, its fingers and toes twitching from the electrical blast.

"Ee ya yip yip . . ." the creature started to wail, and the spear promptly zapped it again.

Then the haggis was calm, suddenly, whimpering and trembling but no longer in its frenzy.

"You're not going back to the Crahgs," Gary said to it calmly. "You're going home, back to Connacht." The haggis snarled, but the snarl turned into a whimper quickly, the battered creature granting the speartip a great deal of respect.

Geno let go of both Diane and the Prince, and Geldion moved to the side of the cage nearest the trapped haggis and began talking to the creature once more. Gradually, with the haggis seeming under control, Gary eased the speartip away from it.

He looked around to his friends, to Geno, and the dwarf was shaking his head doubtfully.

"That thing starts jumping about again and you kill it," the dwarf ordered. "The cage will not take much more of the beating and I'm not fond of the idea of a haggis running free among the group!"

Gary looked to Kelsey and to Mickey, both of whom seemed in complete agreement.

Geldion's cry startled them all, made Gary clutch tightly to the shaft of the spear. The Prince was not calling out in distress, they soon realized, but in surprise, and when he fell back from the side of the cage, the others began to understand the source.

The face of the haggis seemed less hairy, with clumps of hair falling out before their hopeful eyes. Also, the creature's eyes seemed not so wild, not so animalistic.

"Kinnemore," Diane and Mickey whispered together.

Suddenly, the creature went into its frenzy once again, kicking at the cage near Geldion's face and sending the Prince sprawling backwards. Gary was on it in an instant, his spear prodding through the mesh. The spear loosed a jolt of its stunning energy, then a second, but the haggis ignored them, too consumed by its pain. It thrashed and threw itself against one side of the cage repeatedly, weakening the integrity of the supporting beams.

Tommy grabbed at the iron box, trying to lend it some support, but a haggis arm tore through the mesh and clawed at him.

"It will not hold!" Geno and Kelsey cried. The elf drew out his sword, Geno took out a hammer, and Gary shifted the angle, lining the speartip up for a killing strike.

As the tip neared the beast, though, it suddenly calmed, looking more confused and scared than angry. "Easy, lad," Mickey implored.

Then the haggis began to jerk violently, and Gary retracted the spear, lest the creature impale itself. It let out a bloodcurdling shriek, a cry of sheer agony, and the companions looked on in disbelief as the haggis went through a series of convulsions and contortions. Bones crackled and popped as the creature's arms shifted, one shortening, the other lengthening until they had become the same length. Then its legs went through a similar realignment. The edges of its wide lips retracted and its face reformed, soon appearing more human than beast. Hair continued to fall from its face and body.

Then it was done, and in the cage, in the place of the wild hairy haggis, sat a naked man of about fifty years, a haggard look on his face and his gray hair standing about in a wild tangle. Deep scratches covered his body, especially on his arms and legs, and his fingers and fingernails were caked with dirt and dried blood from his frantic burrowing.

Prince Geldion fell to his knees and could hardly talk; Gerbil fell all over himself fumbling with his keys to unlock the cage, and Kelsey rushed to get a blanket from his saddlebags.

The cage was too battered for the door to be simply unlocked and pulled open, and Geno had to hammer at the thing for several minutes before freeing the confused and haggard King.

Kinnemore came out and stood straight for the first time in many years, his eyes wide with confusion, his limbs trembling. He wrapped himself in the offered blanket, seeming a dirty hobo awaiting the next train. Gary and Diane looked at each other, neither of them prepared for this pitiful sight. So stood Faerie's King, but could the man even talk?

"We'll stop at the nearest farmhouse," Mickey reasoned hopefully. "And find some clothing more fitting the man. And then we'll get him straight away to Braemar, for a meeting that's long overdue."

Kinnemore looked at the leprechaun and blinked, but said nothing.

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