My Story

Chapter 1

Isn't that how most of these stories usually start? Hmm, well obviously not wanting to disappoint, the weather was terrible this evening - the waves crashed about the rocks below, as I sank deeper into the long black cape I was wearing. It wasn't much comfort from the battering rain although it was better than nothing at all, I suppose.

I was perched high up above the rocks on the coast, in a little place known only to a few people in The Land. An eagle was nesting nearby, and I couldn't help wondering if it knew what was about to happen too. As if reading my thoughts, it let out a screech and flew off into the night, racing towards the acres of forest behind me. I gazed out across the murky waters for a while - I wasn't surprised the Essex sank all those years ago if the weather was as bad as this.

I waited for the storm to dissipate a little, and decided that it was time.

I took a long deep breath, savouring the sea air deep within my lungs.

After climbing slowly back down to the small, concealed inlet where my boat had been tied, I wiped the rain out of my eyes and decided not to chance the raging waters. Quickly drawing a small symbol in the sand should anyone be unlucky enough to find themselves here tonight, I cringed, muttered a secret word of power and disappeared, leaving only the howling wind in my place.

I hated using the teleport spells. Ever since I'd touched that stone up in the mountains when I was a boy, I been able to use magic spells quite adequately, to the amazement of those around me.

It wasn't my fault though - my parents had been killed by goblins when I was a baby and I was taken in by a kindly young woman, Jincks, who I had later come to think of as my mother. We used to go for long walks though the mountains and, if the weather was particularly good, up to the cave at the top of North Mountain.

Jincks had forbidden me to go in there, telling me stories of brave men who had gone in there and never come back out again. But it had always fascinated me. I suppose it must have been much the same way that a moth is fascinated by fire. Of course, being an inquisitive boy of seven, I never really listened to these stories, and when I did it only made me want to go there more.

On one such trip to the mountains, we were forced to seek shelter due to freak and sudden winds swirling provocatively around us. This was my chance, I thought, my chance to see what was in the cave.

I was mildly surprised, and very disappointed to see that the dark cave was completely bare apart from a large smooth rock in the corner, which caught my attention. No evil demons and no horrible monsters. Not even any bones from the brave men I'd been told about so many times. As Jincks put together some makeshift beds, I decided to explore the cave more, but no sooner had I stepped forward to examine the stone further than did my mother pull me back and scold me.

"Never, ever go near that stone!" She had shouted, causing weirdly distorted echoes to fly around the cave and wrack my brain.

Now this was odd, because Jincks had never shouted at me before. As in, ever. She had always told me that there was no point in shouting at people, as it would only make things worse. So, what else could I do? As my mother reached out and cradled my head in her arms, I spontaneously burst into tears. Hmm. The joys of being seven.

Later on that night, when the rattling wind had stopped and the night was calm, I had awoken to find Jincks soundly asleep, snoring softly. Her eyes had moved around in her head, and thinking back, I wonder what she might have been dreaming. Of course, then, I had more pressing matters to attend to than my mother, like the weird stone that had started to emit a soft light when I looked at it. I'd felt a strong urge to be near that stone, an urge that has remained inexplicable to this day. I had risen, and shuffled slowly to the large stone. The rock itself was smooth - I could see my reflection in the surface, telling me to caress the stone, to feel it. To become one with the stone. In a mixture of wonder and fear, I had reached out and gently stroked the stone…

My mother has told me since that I screamed for hours on end, and was red raw all over my body for months. I don't remember any of it. I was in shock, said a middle-aged, grey-haired man called Eric, who was the local priest at the time. He had stayed with me and prayed for my well being apparently, whilst Jincks stayed with friends for a few days. I grew to know Eric as a friend, whom I could trust, and we had many long midnight conversations, and I learnt much about the ways of the world from him in the years that followed.

My mother told me that anyone who touched that stone and survived would be blessed (or cursed, I've thought) with magical powers beyond the comprehension of most normal people. It also left them with a mark. A mark of power. Most were on the chest or back, but mine was a single line that went from my right eye down to the bottom of my cheek.

After the stone incident, I felt weird and didn't understand why, or what was happening to me. People started ignoring me and laughing behind my back. Rumours started to spread about what had happened, proclaiming Jincks as an evil witch who put curses and hexes on people, and I got into many fights and arguments at school.

I then started to spend most of my time with the town sorcerers - other people who had survived the dreaded "touchstone" - who taught me rudimentary spells, like how to glow and ignite things and even basic telepathy. They were always friendly, most having gone through the same treatment at the hands of the villagers. These days I remember fondly. I used to pretend to light people on fire if they said things about me, as the illusion spell was one I learned to master quickly. Those people never said anything again, not to my face at any rate.

It took a while but the community began to accept me, although they never trusted me, claiming sorcery wasn't natural for someone so young. I had finished school two years early, and at fourteen went to work for Seamus, the rotund old innkeeper who had been around since before people could remember. He took me under his kindly wing and taught me the ways of running an inn. It was tremendously hard work, but I enjoyed it for the most part - cleaning the rooms out and restocking the cellar every now and again.

Near the end of her days when I was around sixteen, my mother took me to live in an old abandoned cottage by the coast, where I have lived since then, even after Jincks passed away peacefully. I was happy there, and Eric popped in every now and again, to check on me, and tell me about the various happenings in the village.

That is how I met my other friends.

One fine summer's day when I was about eighteen, I was out gathering firewood in the nearby pine forest when I heard a soft rustling noise coming from the bushes behind me. An attack spell on my lips I turned around and saw nothing but the leaves on the trees swaying in the soft wind, and a seagull flying overhead. Shaking my head, I started to turn around when I heard a voice say:

"My, he has good hearing".

I couldn't place the voice - I remember it appearing to come from all around. With a flash of light I immediately summoned more strength to my hand and grabbed my short axe tightly. A boisterous, jovial laugh had echoed around me and against my will I was forced to drop my weapon. I gasped - no one had magic that powerful, not even the strongest sorcerers.

Thinking fast, I jumped back, waved my hands and started a spell to turn the trees into an illusionary fire. I suddenly found myself unable to speak the words. Scowling, I grabbed the axe again and swung it furiously side to side, healing myself from the dumbness at the same time.

It was then that I experienced my first teleport spell. I found myself being sucked inwards, toward my stomach. I went right through, into darkness leaving the axe behind to fall softly upon the leaves. I struggled to stay awake and eventually passed out.

My eyes had opened to a swirl of colours that made me feel decidedly ill. I was in a fair amount of pain, welling up from deep within me. When everything cleared, I found myself slouched on a comfortable chair in a well-furnished room, with two seated men I had never seen before, who were looking at me in amusement and chuckling to themselves.

I was furious and dizzy at the same time. I wanted to know what was going on and groggily got to my feet, staggering to a wall. The first man, who was tall with short black hair and a snow-white beard that went right down to his stomach spoke, in a rich and deep voice.

"Greetings young one," he said softly. "Welcome."

"What? Who are you?" I demanded angrily. "What was that all about?"

"Just a small test of your powers," he laughed "You did well. Not many people would have tried an illusion spell in that situation".

Just then, I noticed a second robed figure step out from the corner of the room. "At least, not against an Arch-Wizard." he chuckled.

It was Eric.

Apparently, he had told a few of his friends about what happened to me in the mountains, and they wanted to come and see me in person. They had approached invisibly, under the powerful magic of Umbrarg, an arch-wizard. That explained how he had managed to force me to drop the weapon at least, and maybe also the extremely unfashionable beard (Beard being a pre-requisite for all wizards along with a hat, long robes and a staff).

Eric had also explained that Umbrarg was one of a number of people who attained the highest level of magic possible - that of a Wizard. They could command anything and everything - time, space, absolutely anything. Umbrarg didn't need to use illusion to make the forest turn into fire; he could have done it for real. I was impressed. As well as scared stiff.

The other man who was with him, according to Eric, was known as Foz. He was Umbrarg's apprentice - training to be a wizard. He was a kind and jovial man, who was also a very powerful magic user who had attained the rank of warlock. I was only a spellbinder at that time - warlock was many years of long study and hard work away. I shivered and asked them why they were here, more politely this time.

"The truth is," Umbrarg had admitted, "the other wizards are intrigued by you. We cannot explain why you survived the touchstone. And there are not many things that we cannot explain."

"Yes, and we also believe The Land to be in great danger!" chirped in Foz. Umbrarg shot him a quick glance, at which Foz went silent.

"Danger? What sort of danger?" I had asked, a strange fear welling up in my stomach. Umbrarg whispered a few words and four delicate china cups and a teapot on a silver tray had appeared in his hands. I remember Eric chuckling from behind me and whispering softly in my ear "This one is powerful my lad, stay on his good side." I just smiled at him and accepted a cup of tea gracefully. Umbrarg flushed slightly and pretended not to have heard the remark, although clearly he had. "The drink will ease your pain," Eric said with a hint of a smile upon his face that didn't reflect in his eyes "The stronger spells hurt, my boy."

Darjeeling had always been my favourite tealeaf, having spent many a cold night by the hearth with Jincks drinking mugs of the warm, rich and soothing flavour. That, however, was Earl Grey if my senses didn't deceive me. I tried to hide my grimace as I forced the warm liquid down my throat. Foz's lips twitched ever so slightly. He gave me a wink and then winced as he took a sip himself. I found myself beginning to like this Foz. Umbrarg coughed softly and started to speak.

"I'm afraid my good friend Foz is right. We have sensed an evil feeling brewing from a far away land for a long time. This had not troubled us until now - your new powers cannot be co-incidence young one. We believe that one of the arch-wizards have sent you down to deal with this threat before it destroys the whole world. Eric believes it is a sign from Richard himself." Umbrarg finished, took a long draught from his cup and stared intently at me from underneath his pointed hat.

Richard was another arch-wizard. Apparently the greatest magic-user who ever lived, it was said in legend that he had made the world and all of the creatures in it. No one had ever seen him - those who claimed to have were ridiculed and laughed at. I was never quite sure what to believe. Anyway, I'm getting off-track ...

"Umbrarg, while I truly respect your powers as a wizard - an arch one no less," I added this quickly after Umbrarg's right eyebrow had raised ever so slightly. "I think you have found the wrong person. I am a simple boy - not even a man yet - why don't you wizards do something about this 'threat'?"

Then Umbrarg stood up. The room went dark all around except for where he was standing. A frown upon his face, he walked towards me purposefully. I stepped back in alarm. I remember trying to think of a spell - any spell - which might have been some use to me. It was no use. The big man strode right up to me, shot me a quick glance, and carried on past me towards the only window in the room. When he spoke his voice boomed around the room - truly the most fearsome thing I had ever heard. "We are not allowed to interfere in this matter," he said, glancing out of the window toward the heavens with a scathing look. The room was silent for a few moments, and then the light returned. When Umbrarg turned to face me his face was full of weariness, the frown gone. His voice was softer this time. "No my young friend, this is down to you mortals, I'm afraid. Every spell we have cast against it has failed. Every far-seeing device we have used to view it has broken. Every divination - neutral. Damn it, this is our last hope." His voice had shrunk to a whisper by then "You are our last hope". I paled.

So that was it. After letting me rest in the comfortable room for the night (Umbrarg had summoned the largest and comfiest bed I had ever seen for me), I was teleported back home (more pain, although slightly less this time) with Foz.

In the months that followed he stayed with me, taught me some advanced magic as well as how to use a sword. Umbrarg I hadn't seen since that night - the last thing he had said to me was that I would know that the time had come by a storm the likes of which The Land had never seen before.

Foz left after a year, to return to his master and study more. I had attained the rank of Necromancer under him, and he felt I needed no more guidance. Eric still came around every once in a while. He was apparently learning to cook whilst living in the inn (Seamus thinking he may as well get his uses out of him). I quickly learnt never to eat ANY of his "little tasters" that he brought us, feeding it to the wildlife after he'd gone, who also left it alone after a while, after seeing some of the sparrows drop dead after nibbling it.

Years passed without a sign of trouble, and then one day ten years on I had came home from the woods to find that the barometer I kept on the wall had shattered in pieces on the floor. Being a magical object, this surprised me and troubled me greatly. I knew what was to come and decided to wait out the storm at the cliffs ...

Chapter 2

I materialised to find myself waist deep in the river, fighting to stay upright against the strong current. I hadn't meant to teleport here, and so looked around quickly. The inn was in the distance; it's lights just visible through the heavy rain. This was the right spot, I was sure. I waded slowly to the edge, climbed out and turned back, not bothering to get rid of the excess water from my clothes that the rain would replace anyway. The river itself looked wider than it usually was and I realised it was overflowing due to the storm. I ran towards the safety of the inn, huddling against the weather. A crack of lightning smashed to the ground in the forest to the south, lighting up the darkness all around it. I doubted the merrymakers at the inn even noticed, most intent on getting roaring drunk and having a great time.

Finally, I reached the entrance, dipping inside as quietly as possible and taking in my surroundings for a few seconds. The place was packed full of people I'd known when I was younger, and hadn't seen for a long time. Not sure whether to introduce myself or not, I began listening to the band of minstrels playing a merry little tune in the corner, and decided to head straight for the bar where I could just see old Seamus washing glasses with a dirty cloth. I suddenly felt conscious of the scar running across my cheek. Irritated by this, I squeezed past the patrons and drew Seamus's attention with a loud cough.

Interrupted from his work, the barkeep looked up in irritation and I knew he would have made some remark about me waiting my turn if he had not recognised me and dropped the glass he was cleaning onto the floor. It smashed loudly, but no one seemed to notice. The frown turning to a smile, he grabbed me and embraced me, and I gave him a reassuring pat on the back, which grew harder as I struggled to breathe in the man's grip. Letting me go after a moment, he looked me up and down with those penetrating green eyes of his and I couldn't help but see tiredness and weariness in his usual jolly face. There were a few more wrinkles around the brow and a few more grey hairs, but the eyes still had the old sharpness in them. The old warrior still lurked deep inside him, I knew without a doubt.

Motioning to one of his servants to look after the bar (an old goblin called Sharack who had come from under the mountains years before I was born. He had a shadowy past that no one ever asked about and his lack of a left ear and a patch over one eye accounted for that, but he worked hard and was friendly enough for a goblin so Seamus tolerated him), he took me into a private room and sat down by a grand fireplace. I warmed myself from the coals and didn't look at Seamus, although I knew he was watching me.

"It is good to see you again, son." he said smiling. "My how you've grown since I last saw you. You must be twenty-five or something now."

"Twenty eight," I corrected him quietly. "And you are looking well Seamus. The Bonbow's still going strong I see." I paused and stared deep into the fire, and Seamus laughed, a musical laugh that brought many memories back to me.

"You always lied badly," he smiled warmly "I'm getting too old for this. I thought maybe you might have taken over when I retired, but it wasn't to be I guess. Sharack will handle it well I suppose, he's well liked and respected here."

I didn't reply. Wasn't even listening, still staring deeply into the flames, searching for answers to so many questions.

"I see something's not right here," he chuckled. "You could never hide anything from me, my boy. Come on tell me all about it, we have time."

"No my friend, we don't," I remarked, and sighing, related the events to old Seamus as best I could. He said nothing for a while afterwards. His face was an impenetrable mask, and I couldn't think what might be running through his mind.

A rowdy cheer came from outside the door. The minstrels had finished playing and the people wanted more. I shook my head and stood up slowly, suddenly needing to be away from all this.

"Stop". The voice was Seamus', but the tone was unlike I'd ever heard before. It was powerful and strong. I found myself shivering, but it wasn't the cold. "This wizard, this Umbrarg, did he not tell you what was going to happen to us?"

"No, he mentioned nothing."

"Well I think I might be able to tell you." Walking over to a small inconspicuous wooden cabinet in the corner of the room, the old barkeep took a key from his pocket and unlocked it and opened it. Bending down, he reached inside. I strained to see what was in there, but my eyesight couldn't penetrate the darkness of the cabinet. Pulling out a small book, he closed and locked the cabinet, and then sat down again by the fire. I noticed that he pulled a pair of reading spectacles from his pocket and slipped them on. I've missed so much, I thought to myself. The dry and old parchment echoed in the small room.

Turning the pages slowly perhaps in fear of ripping them, Seamus came to one and showed it to me. The writing on the old parchment was in dark scrawl and I had to concentrate to make the words out. I read slowly, trying to take everything in. It mentioned an old prophecy or some sort and when I had come to the last few lines I gasped and reached for a wall to steady myself. Fear gripped me like never before, and I struggled to breathe. Sinking down to the floor, I shook my head in disbelief and dropped the book to the floor. One word kept repeating through my brain. One word, of which the thought terrified me. One word. Chaos, Calamity, Disaster, Destruction, Despair, Evil. This word embodied all these in one go.

Dragon.

I took a long draught of ale from a mug that Sharack had brought me after Seamus hollered for him. The old innkeeper had then disappeared, leaving me to my thoughts. The golden liquid warmed my throat, and I felt a little better. Sharack smiled a toothless grin and gave me a friendly wink. "What seems to be troublin' ya, young master?" he asked in a raspy voice. Truth be told, I was finding it hard to digest what Seamus had told me. Dragons were stories of myth and legend - nobody believed in them, least of all me. Until now that is. Realising that Sharack was staring at me, I flushed and tried feebly to make up some excuse.

"I ... er ..." I couldn't think of anything.

"It be the dragon?"

I was shocked. How would Sharack know about something like that, unless he had been eavesdropping? I stood up and scowled "What do you know about the dragon?" I stared accusingly.

"Who do ya thinks gave Master Seamus the precious grimoire then?" he said simply. That could be true I suppose, I reasoned. Sharack continued "I haves a gift for you, young master. Wait here in the warm." and with that he went back out towards the bar. I was puzzled. If these two knew of a dragon's presence in the land, why didn't the wizards do anything, or even tell me? I grew angry and started pacing the floor. Seamus had been gone too long, and I didn't have time to waste if I was to somehow to stop a dragon from destroying the land. I took another gulp of ale.

There came a cough from behind me, and I turned to see Seamus and Sharack standing in the doorway, regarding me intently. The goblin was holding something wrapped up in an old rag, which he laid carefully onto the armchair near the fire and turned and left the room, giving Seamus a quick nod on his way past.

The old barman also had something in his hands, and I saw that it was a small cardboard box, closed. Sensing what I was thinking, Seamus opened the box and held it out for me "Take it," he said.

Reaching out for it, I was intrigued to notice a familiar smell coming from the box. Freshly cooked biscuits, like Jincks used to make! I looked down and saw five little golden biscuits, the heat radiating through the box.

"Seamus, I appreciate this but I haven't got time to eat biscuits with you."

"No you don't. And these aren't biscuits. They're wafers. They will help you if you're tired - they will give you vitality." Seamus smiled at my naivete, and I blushed fiercely and looked towards the old rag on the chair.

"Now that," Seamus explained "is ... well see for yourself". He picked up the object while I tucked the cardboard box into a pocket in my clothes. "I think you will like it, Sharack brought it with him when he first came here, although he promised to keep it safe until the time was right. He claimed that it belonged to Nightmare, a famous warrior of yore who slayed a dragon with that weapon, and it was called Dragonsbane ever after. I was dubious ... " he added with a wink.

Unfolding the cloth slowly, Seamus pulled out a glittering silver sword from a dark brown sheath, that reflected the fireplace with its blade, gleaming before me. I took the hilt from Seamus and held it out, examining it more closely. It was the most finely balanced weapon I had ever held. I gasped in awe, and I felt a weird sensation flow from the sword into my arm. I suddenly became relaxed and more confident of my abilities. I would slay any dragon that dared to challenge me, and bring its head home for all to see. I caught a glimpse of light from the hilt and noticed ancient letters on the polished side of the blade. I couldn't read them, and looked at Seamus for an answer. The barkeep shrugged and bowed low, leaving me to my thoughts.

Attaching the sheath to my belt, I put the sword in it and it fitted perfectly. With a new sense of purpose, I stood up straight and walked back into the bar area.

As I walked through the doorway back into the smell of ale and spiced potatoes (a dish Eric had created for the inn - one of his few meals to taste nice and not harm anyone in the process - it was a firm favourite here Eric had told me, and I could smell why), I suddenly fell into the side of the bar knocking glass everywhere. I began to wonder what Seamus had put into the beer when I noticed that everyone else had stumbled too. As people were picking themselves up (or their drinks), Sharack came to me and whispered "It's time laddie, use the weapon well.". Then he was off, asking people to finish their drinks quickly. That was when another tremor struck, fiercer this time, and I fell to the floor with a bump. I got up slowly and struggled round, over and under the crowd to the entrance amid people's shouts and cries of pain.

Crawling out of the inn on my knees, the weather hit me full in the face. Half blinded by the intense rain I managed to draw my cape around me to keep me warm, and turned to the west. I could see nothing except the occasional flash of light from the storm, and the torrential downpour.

"Wait" came a cry from behind me and I turned to Seamus holding onto a small tree near the Inn's entrance "If he starts to breathe, run - you won't survive his fire breath."

"Get everyone out of there" I screamed, trying to raise my voice over the wind. "It's not safe in the inn."

Seamus stopped and I locked gazes with him for an instant. I could feel his voice inside my head. "Do not worry about me. Worry about him". He pointed to the west, and disappeared into the doorway. I was shocked - Seamus could perform telepathy? I didn't have time to worry about it, as another tremor flung me across the road and to the ground. I looked to where Seamus had pointed as I got to my feet, and I saw It.

The dragon was huge even from here; a large crimson beast with gleaming bright red scales upon it's back. Two long leathery wings kept it in the air, pumping furiously up and down. The head, (oh my god) the head! Two piercing yellow eyes were perched upon a massive jaw, scanning the land for prey. I began to shake uncontrollably and sank to my knees with my head in my hands, just wanting to die quickly.

I felt the dragon approach more than saw it, and held my breath as a huge roar came from the beast, and then searing heat against my hands. The trees in the distance were on fire, I knew. Seamus was right about the breath, I slumped totally to the ground, losing all will to live and sobbing profusely.

Then, whether the wind or something else I don't know, Dragonsbane flew out of its sheath and landed on the muddy road in front of me, silently imploring me and encouraging me, begging to be picked up and used against this monstrous beast.

Wiping the salty mixture of rain and tears from my eyes again, I looked up at the Dragon far above in the sky and saw it's eyes on me. Looking at me. For what seemed like an age I looked at the dragon, until I realised that it's eyes were not on me at all, but on the Inn. The Inn, with all the people in it. With Seamus in it.

Jumping to my feet, I grabbed the sword in front of me and ran back towards the Inn, fear clutching at my heart, screaming at the top of my voice for everyone to get out. I heard the dragon inhale, and I knew what was to come, so veered away from the building and into the trees, diving for cover in the grass.

I felt the flames this time, burning and scalding my skin, blistering my arms and neck. My cape was burning as the flames crept away and I tore it off, screaming in agony. Looking at the inn, I saw a veritable bonfire, stretching up into the sky. No one could have survived that, I knew deep inside as the Dragon let out an almighty roar that hurt my burnt earlobes. I felt another earthquake tremor and looked around to see the dragon standing now, on top of where the stable used to be, looking at the destruction it had caused.

Emotions raged inside me, fear of the dragon, horror for the patrons, and sadness for the death of Seamus. Sadness for Seamus ... Anger for Seamus ... anger I had never felt before in my life. A desire for revenge that consumed my whole body and I shook to my very core. Standing up on the cindered grass, I raised the sword high in the air and ran, screaming at the Dragon.

Surveying its handiwork with what looked like a vicious toothy grin, it didn't notice me until the last minute. I screamed a spell for more power to my sword arm, and plunged Dragonsbane into its hind leg with all my might, biting deeply. Howling in pain, the Dragon kicked out with it's injured leg and sent me and my sword flying into the river, along with lots of green blood that spurted from the wound. Swimming to the surface, I saw the box of wafers Seamus had given me floating downstream. I would have to rely on the weapon and my instincts, I decided.

I couldn't hide from the dragon now, and so clambered out of the river and charged right up to the front of the beast and slashed my sword at it. I wasn't as lucky this time, and the beast lowered its head and charged at me, roaring. I rolled out of the way at the last minute and started an illusion spell at the same time. It was a trick Foz had taught me a while ago, although I'd never had call to use it before.

The dragon reared its head and turned around to see seven similar humans advancing slowly towards it. I mentally forced the illusionary figures towards the beast, as I edged slowly around the back of it to strike at its wounded leg.

Realising my error as soon as I heard the dragon inhale, I broke away down the road away from the river. My concentration broke and the spell ended, leaving only me in the sight of the dragon. Wincing, I waited for the blast of heat that would flay me in an instant, diving to the ground. After a moment I looked back to see the huge beast no more than three feet away from me, glaring at me, it's claw poised to strike. I closed my eyes and waited for the blow, defeated. I feebly raised the sword to defend myself.

The last thing I remembered before I fell unconscious was a cool bright white light, a deafening howl, and a gust of wind from the dragon's wings as it lifted itself into the air, and into the night ...

To be continued ...