"Whew, whew, whew," whistled Madrick.

Their traveling urgency had dissipated now that they'd crossed the border which marked the limits of Mifal's kingdom.

"Let's dance again," he said as his feet performed another little shuffle.

He was dog-tired and his feet ached but his mood was light and happy.

"We're free. We made it," said Tung.

"Well, yes and no, but let's not get complacent."

"Oh, come on, we're free. Time to make dreams."

"Walk, Tung, we'll celebrate as we walk."

After a few more days they reached the sea and that put a watery stop to their southerly trek. Now they faced a new dilemma; should they head east or west? Madrick had made all the decisions so far, so a frustrated Tung decided it was about time he had a say.

"We've seen no sign of any pursuers for ages. I reckon we've left Mifal's men far behind so we're probably running from shadows. As far as I'm concerned it's time to have a rest. I really don't care whether you agree or not. I'm staying put and if you don't want to stay with me, you can go off on your own merry way. There's an inviting alehouse over there. I, for one, am going to accept its invitation. I'm booking a room and taking a break."

"The big sign says it's called the Traveller's Rest, Tung, which is actually quite appropriate."

Five days later they were enjoying their fifth day's stay at a rather pleasant little, secluded seaside tavern. It wasn't terribly busy and, as time passed, the homely atmosphere gave both men a feeling of calmness and safety; the warmth of the log fire, the mulled wine and the busty barmaids saw to that.

They'd traded some silver spurs, which Tung had created, for seven night's board and all the food they could eat.

"No ale's to be included in the package," said Madrick.

"I'll have ale in my package," insisted Tung, "the old man can do what he likes with his."

"Ale for both of us then." There was no point in him going without alcohol if he couldn't make Tung do the same.

So far there'd been no problems. Eat, drink moderately and be merry was the order of the day. The world seemed good, although Madrick had an unshakable niggle that there may be a nasty surprise just around the corner, however a couple of tankards of ale and a hearty meal was usually enough to dampen any niggle, even the most unshakable one. But only one thing would get rid of his niggle for good.

"Create the next spell," said Madrick.

"No," said Tung, "we're safe here and spells hurt my skull."

"Please, for me, let's have the next spell ready up your sleeve, or to be more precise, in your head... just in case."

"I hate you, Madrick."

The usual batch of useless spells were enchanted and subsequently dissipated but, after Tung had described his latest creation, Madrick couldn't contain himself.

"Oh, oh, oh," he said as his feet shuffled and shimmied. "You've just created the ultimate escape spell; the perfect spell should we ever be cornered by our pursuers. Now, you have the Time Shift Spell in your brain."

"And what's that when it's at home?"

"This spell will transport us both, if we're touching, into the future," explained Madrick. "Our time transportation could be a matter of days, or weeks, or even years but whatever the time period, we'll confound our enemies and be long gone, literally. There is one small problem though."

"Of course there is," said Tung.

"The spell will only time-travel our bodies, nothing else. Nothing will travel with us unless it's contained within our bodies."

It was déjà vu. Again, one of them would have to secrete the Scroll within their body. They both just stared at each other. There was only one option, and it was the same option as before.

Tung was the first to speak. "It's not going to be me..."

Madrick was having none of it this time.

"I did it last time and I'm not doing it again. It's your turn."

"No chance. I have to suffer the head pains. I'm not suffering pains at the other end as well."

They gave each other hard looks but it was obvious neither was going to crack. Madrick broke the deadlock.

"This time we'll leave it to skill and chance. This time we will play Rock, Parchment, Knife... best of three."

The ale in Tung's stomach convinced him this wasn't a problem; after all, he was pretty good at the game so he was bound to beat the old man. The pair faced each other and clenched their fists.

One, two, three - Rock, Rock.

One, two, three - Rock, Rock.

One, two, three - Parchment, Parchment.

One, two, three - Rock, Parchment. First blood to Tung.

One, two, three - Parchment, Knife. Tung wins!

"In your face, old man," shrieked Tung, although it wasn't Madrick's face which was going to suffer.

And so it was decided that, once again, Madrick would hide the Scroll. Tung handed it over to Madrick who slipped it in his pocket and hoped he'd be ready when the time came. It was deeply unpleasant but at least he knew they'd prepared themselves well for escape should the worst come to the worst.

***

A couple of miles away the trailing pack wolf-marched towards them; thirty-six paces walking followed by thirty-six running, and so on, and on, and on. They hadn't given up at the border; wizards don't recognise borders. They'd followed the remains of spells, traded silver for information, extorted directions by threatening locals and used their inherent tracking abilities to get ever closer to their fleeing prey. It had been a long and arduous trek but their combined skills had kept them relentlessly going in the right direction.

"We're closing in on them," said Gravalar.

"Yes," said Devligrate, "I reckon we're only two or three days behind now."

From nearly a mile away, Nextar's spell-enhanced hearing picked up the happy hubbub which emanated from the tavern. He steered the small army of wizards and serfs in that general direction. It was Gravalar who first spotted the secluded inn.

"There it is," he said pointing at the faint lights in the distance, "we'll stay there for the night and make our plans for tomorrow."

The small army trudged down the hill towards the Traveller's Rest.

Only the wizards, of course, would stay in the inn. The rest of the entourage would camp nearby in makeshift tents. Serfs and common people had no place indoors as far as the elite brethren were concerned.

As the eight wizards entered the tavern, they saw Tung and Madrick almost immediately; the descriptions they'd been given fitted perfectly. Tung and Madrick spotted the new strangers at exactly the same time. They had no idea who they were but they spelled trouble with a capital 'T'... well, Madrick knew about the capital 'T'.

"Run," yelled Madrick. "We need to get to our room, fast."

The wizards reacted like lightning. Three of them set off through the crowd after the fleeing pair, skittling tables and chairs as they went, while the others darted outside to organise the serfs.

Madrick and Tung pounded up the stairs and dived into their room.

"Barricade the door," Madrick screamed as he pulled out the Scroll and prepared himself for the pain.

Using all his strength, Tung managed to push the massive four-poster bed against the door. Two seconds later, bodies slammed against the now barricaded door but it held fast.

"Give yourselves up," shouted Gravalar through the thick wood. "We only want the scrolls. We don't care about you people. We'll do you no harm."

"Have mercy on us," shouted Tung trying to buy time. "If you spare us we'll happily give up the Scroll. I'll get it for you now. It's here. Let me bring it to you."

"Idiots," said Gravalar. "Do they think we'll believe they only have one scroll?"

Stanverital and Devligrate stared wide-eyed at each other and said nothing.

Shouting serfs and howling dogs congregated outside the window and made it clear there was no escape by that route. Fists pounded on the door.

"Madrick, please don't let me die. I'm really scared."

"Me too," said Madrick. "Me too."

Outside, Stanverital, the biggest of the wizards, shoulder-charged the door.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Nothing. The thick oak with a large bed behind it was too formidable a barrier.

"Get thee behind me, Stan," yelled Devligrate, "I'm going to blast it with the Thunderball Spell.

Stanverital dived out of the way, just in the nick of time.

BAAAMMM.

The door, and most of the bed, disintegrated in a thunderous, ear-splitting explosion. Wood fragments, splinters and sawdust filled the air.

Despite the chaos, Madrick's quick thinking and preparation had bought them just enough time. He'd suffered the pain and humiliation of concealing the Scroll yet again. Now he grabbed Tung and screamed.

"Quickly, use the spell now. RIGHT NOW."

"Right," said Tung, "I guess there's no time like the present."

And then, there was literally no time like the present... there was just the future. Tung and Madrick were catapulted into the twenty-first century, just as the wizards burst through the gap where the door had been.