Chessie Bligh and the Scroll of Andelthor

“That nasty thing bit me! Kill it!” Marge ordered. “You kill it! One more bite isn’t going to make any difference, is it?” Penelope replied. “Oh for heaven’s sake! You’re about as dependable as a tent in a hurricane!” Marge scolded and took another lumbering bear paw step toward the retreating, deadly snake. Penelope the lion roared. The asp turned, and stood its ground, as its tongue protruded between its fangs and it hissed a warning. “Who are you?” Marge asked. “We know you’re some sort of Elf wizard – but who?” The dreaded intruder didn’t answer. It kept the heinous color, then shape shifted into a puddle of tar pits. The oozing goo surrounded the Penelope lion and Marge bear. The women started sinking into the sticky bog. Exhausted from the shape shifting, both returned to their Elf forms. They sat panting on the floor. Tar dripped from their hair and noses. The dangerous intruder morphed back into his brown-hooded figure. It loomed above them. “Oh Marge, we’re doomed!” “Silence!” the intruder’s powerful voice boomed. The low baritone male voice was ominous and foreboding. It sent a shiver down the women’s spines. “You two are going to tell me where the scroll is!” “What scroll?” Marge asked, her voice shaking. “Get up!” the intruder said. In fear the women scrambled to their feet. Marge rose first and whispered into Penelope’s ear, “Not a peep about Chessie!” “What was that?” the intruder demanded. “Nothing!” Marge replied. “The scroll, where is it? No more stalling!” If they had been given enough time they could have lit a signal bonfire, that could be viewed from deep space. Or could have pressed the magic silent alarm which could be responded to in five minutes. Both were flogging themselves for their shortsightedness. “Really sir,” Marge said, “There are lots of scrolls! Is there one in particular that you are interested in?” The intruder raised the back of his hand and slapped her face. It contorted, and her lip began to bleed. “Oh please!” cried Penelope, “Pl . . please don’t hurt her! She doesn’t know!” Before she could wince Penelope also suffered the lash of a hand against her cheek. Suddenly they heard William the caretaker yell, “Penelope? Marge? What’s going on in there?” The intruder said, “Master will kill me!” He raised his arms making the women levitate toward the twenty-foot high ceiling. Eyes wide, they awaited their doom. Marge grabbed Penelope’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Penelope whimpered, “Oh, Marge! I’m afraid.” “Easy, dear. William will tell Niles and my sister Mabel. We’ll get us out of this. Be brave!” She hurriedly cast a protection spell. A shower of purple sparks swirled around them. The vicious intruder let his arms fall. The two women crashed to the floor. They landed in a lifeless heap. . . their faces affixed with a blank stare. His icy voice boomed, “Now you two will understand a boring eternity!” Cackling evil laughter erupted. He pivoted on his heel, and raised his arms, palms outstretched. Blue balls of energy shot from his hands and hit the two limp figures on the floor. In the blink of an eye Marge’s plump form and Penelope’s beanpole physique were frozen into marble, Iamassu statues. Creatures with the face of a human, the body of a lion, and the wings of an eagle.