A note on chronology - Although this story takes place mostly in the Knightmare realm, it is important to note that the year in the world outside it is 1220 and takes place about ten years after 'The Sorcerer's isle' and the end of the TV series.

Knightmare

Dungeon Deep, Dungeon Blood

1

No matter how long he stared at it, the paths to the dungeon were not going to open. Lord Fear sighed deeply, placing his head on his hand and drumming his fingers thoughtfully on the large over ornate chair he had placed in the chamber at the top of the tower at Marblehead. The chair was black velvet, with a silver skull and bones motif around the edges. He waved his hand despondently in front of his enchanted window. Sixteen million colours, surround sound, automatic detection with and response, he'd decided to call 'windows', it could see nearly everywhere throughout the Knightmare realm and there was still nothing to see. The large, arched window was currently showing a representation of the paths to the mortal realm from where little snotty dungeoneers would come to supposedly 'challenge the dungeon', ha!

Ten years had passed since the last quest. The first few years had been fine. He'd been allowed virtual freedom throughout the dungeon and had gone unchallenged throughout the levels. As powerful as the pompous Powers were they seemed to be lost without their little dungeoneers to do their dirty work for them. But after ten years, he was, well, bored. It was boring having it all your own way. Not that he would ever let on to Treguard. Lord Fear knew matters were becoming desperate when he actually considered trying to contact the stuffy old prig for some intelligent taunting. Lissard and his other minions were all right but nowhere near his level. It was why he'd kept them around really. They were unthreateningly stupid. None of them would ever being to conceive trying to overthrow him. Though it might be fun to watch them try.

Possibly he could attack Linghorm again? He'd sent the dragon to destroy it but the old bat Maldame had been warned by the do-gooding dungeoneers. She'd massed a force of witches who had destroyed the dragon...eventually. He allowed himself a rueful smile. But not before it had all but destroyed the witches and the surrounding area. Poor Madame had been left with the sewers, the Miremen and a handful of witches...and the tower which was annoying. Still she wasn't any sort of a threat any more. No-one was.

Lissard watched his master worriedly. When Lord Fear was in this sort of mood it did not bode well for the rest of his servants. In the end whatever Lord Fear did to alleviate his boredom it would be to Lissard that the rest of them would address their complaints. As if there was anything he could realistically do for them! Still he saw it as his job to at least try and direct his master's energies. Unfortunately Lissard was out of ideas. In the first few years following the last quest they had roamed the levels of the dungeon. There wasn't much else they could do. There was Treguard's castle which remained in the hand's of the 'Power's That Be' and the forest which was in the hands of the Greenwardens and the Elves. The Elves had become isolationists. They did not have contact with anyone if they could possibly help it. Effectively it meant the Elves had decided to attack anyone either from the Powers That Be or the Opposition they saw as a threat. The Greenwardens were loyal to the Powers but they were fewer in number these days. Lissard's anxiousness grew as he watched Lord Fear irritably drumming his fingers. There had to be something he could arrange to divert his master's attention. Unfortunately Lord Fear had incinerated monopoly set the moment Lissard had gained control of the utilities.

Lord Fear had considered leaving. Setting up and intimidate somewhere else. But that involved too much effort. He would have to start all over again and building a reputation of ruthlessness and fear was nothing but hard work. He already had that here, why give that up and be feared somewhere else? Lord Fear sighed again.

"What is it Lissard?" He growled. Lissard started in surprise. He hadn't made a noise he was certain. He hurried to Lord Fear's side.

"How did you know I wassss here Lordness?" He asked. Lord Fear gave him a disdainful look.

"I don't call you 'Tuna breath' for no reason." He snapped. "Now what is it?" Truthfully Lissard had no reason to be there, apart from trying to find something to alleviate his master's mood.

"The Power's!" Lord Fear exclaimed derisively, not waiting for Lissard to speak. "They couldn't locate their rear end with a map! Mind you, I don't think the Miremen or Goblins would fare much better. I mean what have they been doing with the excessive amount of free time we've been lumbered with? At least I actually tried! I invaded all the levels in the dungeon, whilst Treguard..." He stopped suddenly. Treguard was the dungeon master and whilst he was capable of virtually taking over the dungeon, the ultimate power remained with Treguard. He had a connection to Knightmare, a special kind of power that he had tried to destroy more than once. Get rid of the dungeon master and he could be the supreme power. And at the moment there were no brats around to help him get some bloody hammer, or bring a dragon down all over Mount Fear. In fact the poor dungeon-master must be quite alone at the moment, no back up and no-one to help. The idea had considerable appeal to Lord Fear. However, it needed to be carefully planned. He didn't want to ruin it all because he got impatient whilst he was bored. If there was no-one to help the old fool it certainly narrowed down chances of the plan failing. Lord Fear stood and paced the room.

"Show me the forest!" He snapped at the window. It appeared immediately, the view changed to show clearings, paths, elf portals and trees. There seemed to be no-one there at the moment. The view changed, showing the many little hamlets and villages. These Lord Fear studied at length. He could see the occasional green-warden but they seemed to be widely dispersed. He grinned. No-one to help.

"Lissard. I want you to get all the goblins into level one." Lissard sighed with relief.

"At once Lordness."

"They are to prepare for an ambush. Get them into the quest choice chamber." He put on an insincere smile. "Once you're done. Get back here. I want you to change into something uncomfortable."

Lissard hurried away. Lord Fear laughed. One ambush, plus one communication blackout, plus one Lissard would equal one dungeon-master. He was sure of it.

The empty dungeon rooms filled Treguard's mind. Since the last season of the dungeon the paths between the dimensions had sealed themselves firmly. No more new quests, no chance of finally dealing with Lord Fear. The dungeon dimension had sealed itself off and no quest had taken place for almost ten years. Maybe if he could gather the Powers that Be together they could force the paths and allow questing to start once more? However since the last quest they were scattered. Hordriss didn't seem to stir much out of his cottage in the forest, his daughter Sidriss...was as witch but...well, she probably wouldn't be much help. Stiletta had moved on, complaining that these days there was nothing decent to steal. Motely was a good jester but he couldn't help with the large amounts of magic required. Then there were the elves of the Greenwood, but they had dwindled in number and spoke to no-one these days, they trusted no-one and had a healthy dislike of all humans opposition of otherwise. The castle was quiet. Silence echoed through the corridors, it occupied rooms, it filled every available space until it rang in his ears. They had all left. Pickle had returned to the forest and he hadn't seen him for a number of years. Majida had declared that she was tired of Treguard's disparaging remarks and was going to find someone who appreciated her. As he sat alone in the antechamber he found that he actually missed her. She may have been extremely annoying, but at least she was company. They had all gone now and all he had to remember them was the silence they left behind. He stood and paced the chamber. With no dungeoneers, he felt redundant. He felt a sudden envy of Lord Fear, even without quest he still had his plans to take over the world.

A face appeared in the mirror. Treguard has replaced the Pool of Veracity, which was large, cumbersome and took up a lot of space with a new slimline mirror that hung on the wall. The only concession he was willing to make to Lord Fear's technomancy.

"Feeling your age today are we old thing?" Lord Fear said smugly. Treguard considered righteous indignation. A roar something like "Lord Fear you will cease these incursions into my rooms!" But really what was the point? What did he have to be indignant about? A draughty castle filled with pitfalls, traps, goblins and god knows what else.

"What is it?" He said with a trace of annoyance in his voice.

"What?!" Lord Fear said with his typical theatrics. "No righteous indignation? No 'Get out or else?' Feeling it today are we?"

Yes, thought Treguard, but I'm hardly likely to confess it to you. He stood and summoned as much righteous indignation as he could.

"Would you tell me what you want?!"

"Ten years without a quest, I think you should pack it in old boy!" Lord Fear chuckled.

"Gloat all you want! There will be new quests and we will win!"

"Really? You success rate before wasn't exactly stunning. You'll forgive me if I don't start shaking in my boots."

"Lord Fear, if you have no other reason for your incursion other than gloating..."

"Oh yes!" Lord Fear snapped his fingers. "I knew there was something else." He continued sarcastically. The view in the mirror pulled back, Treguard recognised the view as Lord Fear's main chamber in Marblehead. The familiar circular stone room with it's large vaulted windows which gave view of most of the Dungeon realm was largely devoid of occupants. However as the view in the mirror looked up, he saw a cage hanging from the domed roof. Treguard's anger was already mounting, Lord Fear had taken someone, he could feel his heart pounding as he wondering which poor unfortunate it was. He saw the dress first, red and purple. His suspicions were growing. Finally the view zoomed in on the figure in the cage.

"Sidriss!" Treguard exclaimed. The view changed and he was looking at Lord Fear once more. "Let her go!" Treguard commanded, his voice reduced to a low threatening growl.

"Let her go?" Lord Fear put a puzzled expression on his face to taunt him. "I don't think you quite understand how this works. You have no allies. No dungeoneers to do your dirty work for you. The Powers that Be are scattered. I am doing whatever I like your dungeon...which makes me wonder. Can it really be considered to be your dungeon any longer? Hardly in control of it are we?"

"Knightmare castle IS MINE!" The anger Treguard felt finally exploded out of him.

"Then prove it! Come in here and GET ME!"

He was being deliberately goaded. Treguard knew it even as he went to the armoury and blew the dust of Morpheus. However there didn't seem to be much he could do about it. As much as he hated to admit it, Lord Fear was right. The Powers were scattered. His allies who had never been numerous to start with, had considerably reduced in number. Still he hadn't intended to be completely rash. He had tried to contact the Greenwardens, some of whom he still spoke to. But Lord Fear had instituted a communications blackout which meant he couldn't speak to anyone. The paths to the dungeon were closed so summoning a dungeoneer was out of the question. Sadly though Hordriss was a great mage and would be indignant at the capture of his daughter, there was little he could do. If Lord Fear intended him to go into the dungeon on his own he had arranged matters perfectly. He was planning something and the best way to find out what it was, was to spring it. Unfortunately. He stood before the archway that lead into the dungeon. The shadows that filled it seemed to have a tangible quality, as though they were reaching out to grab him. It was the same archway he had sent dungeoneers through. His words to them as he sent them into danger, echoed around his own mind taunting him.

"If your are sure..."

The only thing he was certain of in that moment was that he had to go. He couldn't let Lord Fear hurt Sidriss, and as Lord Fear had so gleefully pointed out there were no dungeoneers to send. The sword shifted in his hand. There had been a time when it had felt like part of his arm, like another limb. Now it just felt heavy and unwieldy. He had caught a glance of himself in the mirror, despite his efforts to avoid it. He was older, greyer and tired. A far cry from his his own questing days so many years before. Lord Fear was probably laughing his head off at the thought his provoking had worked. He glanced around his empty antechamber. No more Dungeoneers, no more quests. He looked back at the portal to the dungeon and stepped boldly forward.