Jemmy slashed his sword in all directions, beheading several rats and slicing another in two. The other rats retreated, though their glittering little eyes were fixed on him.

Tira tapped his shoulder, and he quickly scrambled onto the broom, putting his arms around the witch's waist. Gloom was perched on the end.

Tira gritted her teeth, her green face creasing as she concentrated on making the broom defy gravity and fly. Then they were up, leaving the rats and mouldy old straw below. The heat of the flames wafted up to them. It was intense. There was a hole in the rotting timber beams of the barn roof. Jemmy struck and the beams with his sword, and the rotten wood fell apart easily. They rose out of the roof and high above the doomed barn, the wind whistling around them. Higher and higher, as flames licked through the hole in the roof beneath them as the fire really started blazing. Higher they went, then round in a wide arc, slowly down to the ground… but Tira misjudged the landing somewhat and they landed rather heavily, causing herself to fall over and Jemmy to stumble. Gloom leapt off the broom neatly.

Jemmy gathered the witch up in his arms. Her green face glistened with a sheen of perspiration and there was soot in her blond hair. She smiled at him weakly and then kissed his cheek. "Y-You were wonderful, dear."

He held her skinny body to him and stroked her back as she clutched him. "It's obvious I couldn't have done it without you."

"Nun-no, Jemmy." Then she peered at him. "You've got smut on your face." She licked her green finger with a black tongue and rubbed it over his forehead.

Gloom clambered onto her shoulder, putting his fingers in her yellow hair. "Are you going to lick the soot off me, Mistress?"

She glanced sideways and smiled awkwardly. "Sorry, Gloom… I'll have to wipe you with a piece of my dress. But you hardly have any soot."

"Oh, forget it," said the imp, leaping onto the ground again.

They could hear the dying screeches of the plague-rats as they roasted alive. They could smell the smoke from the rat pyre. The setting sun cast a bloody light over the hills and trees. Tira shuddered and grimaced. Jemmy hugged her and stroked her hair. Gloom however pranced about, balling his little hands into fists and screeching in exultation. "Take that, you disease spreading vermin. Your days of pestilence are over."

As the barn roof collapsed and the flames blazed higher, a small crowd of the villagers surrounded them and gave them a rousing cheer. While some of the villagers stayed around the barn to make sure it burned to the ground, the others escorted the trio back to the elders to report success. This time it was Edith, the silver haired lady who spoke to them. "With the rats gone, there is hope anew for the people of Arill."

Jemmy remembered the grey-haired Pilgrim's troubling story. "Arill. Arrun's Hill. There's a legend around these parts, isn't there? Of the canker in Arrun's Hill?"

Edward, the third elder, nodded his hoary head. "Yes, m'boy," he wheezed. "A servant of the Demon, the Spirt of Disease. The evil one who brought plagues of rats and flies to Arrun's Hill. A great Warrior Hero struck him down. Decades came and went, and the evil still lies entombed. The curse lives on and on."

Jemmy turned to Tira, whose blue eyes were wide and fearful. "This ancient evil must be stirring again. Perhaps the evil rat-man aroused it? We should investigate, or our work is only half done."

She nodded, her blond hair rippling and bouncing.

"Great," grumbled Gloom. "Bet this is even more horrendous than the rats were."

The elders ordered Gerrod, the village tanner to take the trio to the point at the bottom of the hill where the stone used to rest. Jemmy noted grimly that the hillside had caved in, opening a way into the hill. Dusk had fallen.

"If the Canker lives again, he'll have conjured plagues of flies…" said Gloom. "Mistress, don't you know a fly repelling spell?"

"Yes, Gloom." Tira opened her spellbook and thumbed through the pages. "This is it… it holds flies at bay."

"Then there's the cursed pebble routine," urged the imp. "Practice now! I can't do it for you."

Tira picked up a pebble. "Bear with me please, boys." She clutched the pebble in her green fingers and murmured a garble of syllables. The pebble glowed green. Tira squeaked and dropped it and it exploded with a little pop on the ground.

"You were supposed to aim and chuck it," grumbled Gloom.

"OK…" The witch picked up another pebble and mumbled. The pebble glowed green and she chucked it at a rock. It exploded, leaving the rock cracked down the middle. Tira scooped up a fistful of pebbles and put them in a little cloth bag tied around her waist.

"Are you all set?" asked Jemmy.

"I-I, yes. But it's scary, isn't it? Hope we can do it." He squeezed her green hand. She felt even clammier than usual and she was trembling a little. Gloom hopped onto her shoulder and Jemmy held his lantern aloft. They crept into the tunnel in the hillside, watched by an anxious Gerrod. The lantern cast flickering shadows over the walls of the tunnel as it twisted and turned into the darkness. The place had the fusty reek of an underground dungeon, and as the went deeper, there was a rotting smell all around them.

"Ugh! What a place. Stinks like a charnel house," grumbled Gloom. Tira was wrinkling her shiny green nose in disgust.

Turning a corner, they heard a snarl, then saw a gigantic rat running towards them down the tunnel. It was nearly as long as Tira was tall, and that didn't even include its bald tail! The diseased yellow of its eyes showed that it too was a plague carrier.

"Get it, Mistress and don't think of being gentle, or it'll bite Jemmy," urged Gloom.

Tira gritted her teeth and held a pebble, as Jemmy raised his sword. The witch chucked the glowing pebble at the rat. The stone exploded and the rat screeched, and slowed down, but didn't stop its attack. Jemmy neatly sidestepped it as it charged and clove its head from its body. The thing had no skill or coordination.

"Looks like we're expected," he said. Tira nodded.

The tunnel broadened out into a small chamber. On the opposite side of the room there was a large pair of stone doors. Above the doors there was a skull carved out of the rock, under which was the inscription: Abandon hope all ye who enter here! A dire warning.

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At that moment, rotted, scabbed hands broke through the loam floor and the three of them watched in horror as decaying corpses broke out of the earth. Tira screamed as the plague zombies clawed their way out of their graves beneath. Jemmy's heart beat fast and he willed himself not to lose it. Desiccated skin was stretched over the zombie skulls and their eye-sockets glowed with a red light in the dark.

Tira chucked a pair of glowing pebbles at them, blowing the leg off one and blasting a hole in the ribcage of the other. They kept coming however. Jemmy lashed out with his sword and his blade bit through spine and sinew, cutting off a zombie's head. Tira screamed again and flung a pebble at the skull of the other horror, beheading it with a pop. The disembodied heads blundered around until Jemmy struck them with the flat of his blade and they fell twitching to the earthy floor. Tira put her hands to her mouth, looking at them in horror.

"You were more than a match for them, Mistress," Gloom consoled her. "A witch inspires greater terror than zombies."

The stone doors swung open. Jemmy pointed through them with his sword. "The only way is onwards."

Through the door, the smell became even more fetid and Jemmy realised his boots were squelching.

"Urgh! Maggots!" Tira looked down at the cave floor, wrinkling her shiny green nose in disgust. The floor of the cave was coated with slime and bloated maggots writhed around.

"Mm. They are just maggots," agreed Gloom. "I could snack on them."

"Don't be gross," scolded Tira.

"Well maggots are harmless," said Jemmy, "but flies could carry the plague."

As soon as he said that, a terrible buzzing filled the air. A mass of winged insects covered in stiff bristles and at least eighteen inches in length flew straight at them. Their multi-faceted eyes reflected the light from the lantern, while long, sharp mouth parts darted in and out. They must be carrying some fell disease. But didn't Tira know a spell to repel flies?

"Your spell, Tira!" cried Jemmy, standing next to her.

"Get on with it, Mistress," screeched Gloom.

Tira weaved her green fingers in a complicated motion and murmured a weird, esoteric chant. The flies crowded around them, but stopped in mid-air, as if an invisible barrier formed a dome around the three of them.

The trio hurried onwards through a tunnel leading out of the maggot cave and into another. They found themselves standing at one end of a pillared crypt. Patches of phosphorescent algae grew on the walls, giving off a dim light. Jemmy choked on the smell of the place. The stench of disease and putrefaction made him gag. At the far end of the crypt was a large sarcophagus and rising out of it was a disgusting mass of pseudopods and seething, rotting flesh. The Canker! Formerly a human servant of the Spirit of Disease. Now an abomination returning to bring plague to the lands.

It lurched towards them, its tentacles reaching out. Without thinking, Jemmy flung his lantern at it. The burning oil of the lantern splashed over the infernal creature and it gave a weird bellow of pain and seemed to stumble. Tira gave a cry and flung glowing rock after glowing rock at it, causing its putrefying flesh to rupture.

"Don't look now," said Gloom, "but there are zombies surrounding us."

Rotting corpses were emerging from the shadows, scabbed hands outstretched, stalking towards them.

"Just stop the Canker," said Jemmy frantically. The horror must be directing the zombies.

Tira screamed a garble of syllables and flung a handful of pebbles at the canker. They exploded and its seething flesh broke and bubbled. It lurched towards the witch, tentacles groping forward, apparently forgetting Jemmy. He lunged and thrust his sword clean through it, where he hoped its heart would be, if it still had anything resembling a human heart…

The Canker froze, its tentacles stiffening and then it collapsed lifeless to the cavern floor, like a grotesque puppet with its strings cut.

The plague zombies froze back into corpses and collapsed as well.

Jemmy breathed hard.

"Jemmy… you alright?" Tira's voice was quivering.

"As fine as could be expected," he said drily. "I've lost my lantern though."

She took out another pebble and murmured very softly. This pebble glowed with a faint, blue glow, that lit up her green face in a ghostly light. "This may last long enough to light our way out."

They made their way back through the maggot chamber. Fortunately, the flies had gone and they did not see any rats in the tunnels. They emerged into the cool, night air. Gerrod was surprised by elated to see them and took them back to the village, where they were given a hero's welcome. They gladly bathed and accepted brand new clothes.  The elder's invited them to a banquet the following day, where they would be guests of honour, but Jemmy was mindful of their quest to stop Nazek and the Infernal Beast. Time was running out.

The elders were sorry they couldn't stay, but as a reward, they revealed the location of the barrow of Gawain the Warrior in the hills to the south. Gawain was said to be buried there, along with his fabled sword. A blade any Warrior Hero should be eager to get his hands on.

"Sounds like an important hint," said Gloom.

"This could be crucial to our success," said Jemmy. "By Seraton, I'd like to wield the blade of such a Hero. I could be a true hero then, like he is."

Tira's blueberry lips twitched to form a smile. "By Shekka, you so are a true hero already, Jemmy. But if it's important to you, we should stop at the barrow."

Before they left Arill, the elders gave them a bag of provisions, a new lantern to replace the one Jemmy had lost, and a purse of bronze, pewter and silver coins.

They set off through the hills. "Just as well witches and imps are resilient," rambled Gloom. "I wouldn't want the plague."

Jemmy felt like he was hearing the imp from a great distance. He felt dizzy all of a sudden, and was sweating profusely. He staggered and Tira caught him before he fell and helped him into a seating position.

He could see her green face peering into his, although his vision was blurring. "Jemmy… y-you're really ill!"

"It must be the plague," he croaked. There were red blotches on his hands.

"The Canker may yet have its revenge," said Gloom dourly. "Don't know of a spell that can fix this."

"No! I don't accept that. Think of something!" snapped Tira. She rubbed her temples with her green hands. "Think…"

"You're the witch. I'm just the familiar. Must I do your thinking for you?" snapped Gloom.

"There has to be something. That herb Jemmy got at Redstone Monastery?"

"We've eaten it," croaked Jemmy. "Lot of good it did me."

"Oh yeah… well the elders at Arill must know something… we've gotta go back. Wait. You met a man from Arill. At Hollowell. He was cured at the well. You said you got something at the well. What was it? Some kind of Panacea?"

"Oho, you have a good memory Mistress," said Gloom. "At least you take note when you find the storyteller charming and attractive."

Tira rifled through Jemmy's possessions with green hands and found the crystal flash with the glowing water. "Is this it?" She demanded. "You got this cause of Seraton's blessing?"

Jemmy nodded. He felt hope kindle in him. Could he have been carrying a cure for the plague all this time and not realised it?

"Well Seraton and Shekka better both help now," said Tira, unscrewing the top, "if they don't… I – I'll never sing their praises."

"Tush, Mistress, don't be so irreverent about Shekka, your creator," urged Gloom. Tira ignored him and shoved the flask in Jemmy's mouth, forcing him to swallow.

A blessed, golden warmth spread through his body and his head stopped spinning. He ceased to sweat as well. The blotches on his hands began to recede. "It's working. Seraton really did bless me with a heal-all."

"Huh. Then thank Shekka for small miracles," said Gloom.

Tira gave a long sign of relief and kissed Jemmy, her face cold and clammy against his.

"What's that for?" he said smiling.

"How 'bout, for not dying?" She still looked giddy with relief. She sat herself down beside Jemmy as he rested, putting an arm around his shoulder. "Tell me when you can move again, dear. We've gotta find shelter."

"Erm… might be too late to be thinking about that," said Gloom, pointing upwards.

There was a clap of thunder and a cold wind arose, blasting their faces. The wind grew stronger and stronger. Tira hugged Jemmy to her and gazed upwards, her blue eyes wide. "Don't like the looks of this…"

The wind grew even stronger. Now it sounded like there were voices on the wind… in fact, there were! Screeching, cackling voices.

"Thrice around three sisters go,

Rain and hail and wind and snow,

Thrice around the stormy sky,

Causing bedlam wher'er they go."

Jemmy looked up. There were three wildlooking women with green skin, wrapped in tattered black cloaks. They were all riding broomsticks! What were they doing? Creating a hurricane? As far as Jemmy could see, they could only be doing such a thing to stop his quest. What could be done? Tira hadn't brought the broomstick with her from Arill and in any case, she was surely no match for three other witches. And Jemmy wasn't fully recovered yet. Had they defeated the Canker only to fail now?