Torham Zed: Meat
                        Broker
                           
                     By Jeff Long
                           
                      Episode 2
                           
                              Milini looked up from polishing the king's shoes, startled by
          a sudden commotion at the castle gates.  There was an exchange of
          angry voices, and then a loud splash like something falling into the
          castle moat. Then a man stormed through the castle gates, his angry
          gaze firing lightning at anyone who crossed its path.  The man was tall
          enough, with dark eyes and a face that might have been handsome if
          not for the hard lines carved into it by the thirty or so years of his life. 
          He was dressed all in black, from his knee-high boots to his long
          cloak, except that the glove on his right hand was silver in color.  A
          silver headband kept the man's dark brown hair from getting in his
          eyes, and he also had a silver cloth tied around his left forearm.  A
          golden-hilted sword was slung across the man's back.  Milini shivered:
          The man was Drake Giltheas.
               Like an angry thundercloud, the man in black stormed through
          the castle anteroom.  A well-dressed man approached him.
               "Lord Giltheas, perhaps you'd be interested in our new . . . " 
          With a backhand, Giltheas sent the man flying across the room.  But
          yet another man approached.
               "Lord Giltheas, we'd like you to have this flower and were
          wondering if you'd like to make a . . ."  Giltheas spun around with a
          roundhouse kick that flattened the other man instantly.  This time, a
          shabbily dressed man approached the black-cloaked man.
               "Charity for the poor . . . "  A straight punch to the nose sent
          that man to the floor.  But even as he fell, half a dozen more men
          surrounded the ominous newcomer.  Giltheas went into a flurry of
          attacks to keep the men at bay.  A man in a floppy hat was felled by
          a quick kick to the ribs.  An elbow in the chest took care of a man
          with large moustaches.  An uppercut to the chin and a man in fancy
          clothing went sailing across the room.  A nearby serving maid was
          felled by another roundhouse kick.  Milini winced.  Poor Jeanie.  She
          was still recovering from her fall down the stairs the other day.     The man in black had finally
broken free of the throng of
          oppressors, and he rushed with all haste toward the king's chambers. 
          There was an almost audible sigh of relief in the anteroom as the
          heavy wooden door slammed shut behind the black-cloaked warrior.
               Shaking her head in bewilderment, Milini went back to her
          work of scrubbing shoes, hardly looking up as the medical crews
          arrived to clear the unconscious bodies from the floor.
          
          
          
               King Mylius III, ruler of the kingdom of Zalk, sat nervously on
          his throne, chewing absently on his fingernails.  To his side stood his
          Lord Steward, Stuard Yavin.  
               "My liege, are you absolutely sure this is necessary?" asked the
          Lord Steward, Stuard, in a shaky voice.  "I mean, the Avengers are .
          . . "
               "I'm afraid there is no choice, my friend," the King replied in
          a heavy voice.  "There's probably only one man in all of Zalk that isn't
          scared of Torham Zed now, and that man is Drake Giltheas."
               As if in answer to the call, the double doors of the king's
          private audience chamber flew open with a crash, flattening two of the
          King's Guards against the wall, where they collapsed in a heap. 
          Through those doors strode a hard-faced man dressed all in black,
          with a silver cloth tied around his left forearm.  The man bent down
          on one knee to the King, but there was no submission in his gesture. 
          Mylius motioned for the man to rise, and he did so stiffly.  His dark
          eyes first searched those of the King, and then moved onto the Lord
          Steward, Stuard, who bowed his head beneath the deadly glare. 
          Finally, King Mylius cleared his throat and spoke.
               "Commander Giltheas, I have called you before to take up a
          quest.  You and the Avenger squadron are to be reactivated
          immediately."
               "Of course, my liege."  There was no hint of emotion in the tall
          man's voice.  Mylius cleared his throat again and went on.
               "Your quest is to find evidence to convict and bring to justice
          the man known as . . . Torham Zed, meat broker."
               This time, the dark man's left eyebrow went up in surprise. 
          "Evidence?  Such is not usually the way of the Avengers, my King."
               "Torham Zed is a powerful man, with many friends throughout
          the world."  King Mylius explained.  "If we do not have uncontestable
          evidence against him, we may find ourselves on the brink of war."
               Giltheas once again bowed stiffly.  "It shall be as you
          command, my King."  Pivoting on his heel, the man in black strode
          out of the room.  A serving maid was flattened by the swinging open
          of the doors, and Drake Giltheas made his way out of castle Zalk and
          onwards to his mission . . . 
          
          
               
          
               The streets of the City of Zalk cleared at an amazing rate as
          Drake Giltheas exited the castle grounds and made his way across the
          city.  The black-cloaked man hardly noticed the emptiness around him,
          absorbed as he was in his thoughts.  Torham Zed had long been one
          of his arch-rivals, ever since the day that he had broken his best knife
          trying to cut a steak bought from ‘Superfresh Meats'.  Now, Giltheas
          swore to himself, Torham would be brought to justice.
               While heading toward the Avenger barracks, however, Drake
          spotted one of  his men, a blond-haired fellow, Theerin Baine by
          name, and wearing the black clothes and silver cloth tied around his
          left arm that marked him as an Avenger.  Baine appeared to be
          hassling a man in simple peasant's clothing.  Curious to find out what
          the problem was, Drake Giltheas walked over within earshot.
               "Don't try to talk back to me, peasant," said Baine in a  rough
          voice.  "You know that bananas are illegal.  Now unless you tell me
          where you got that banana you were eating, I'll haul you down to the
          dungeon right now."
               "But . . . Lord . . . I'm . . ."  The peasant's stammering was
          frozen by Theerin Baine's icy glare.  
               Quickly, Drake Giltheas moved to step in.  
               "Avenger Baine," said the black-cloaked commander in his
          quiet, no nonsense voice.  Baine snapped to attention immediately.
               "My Lord-Captain."
               "Baine, they got rid of the Banana Law 2 years ago.  Bananas
          have been legal for quite some time now."
               Baine's jaw dropped open for a moment, before he managed
          to regain his composure.
               "Umm, right.  Well, then, peasant, you just get on your way .
          . . but remember, I've got my eye on you."
               After slipping on the discarded banana peel, the peasant
          scurried away down the street.
               Drake Giltheas set off toward the barracks without another
          word, and Theerin Baine set off beside him.
               "I'm sorry, Commander.  I must have been out of town when
          they legalized bananas."
               "I suppose that must be it," Giltheas replied drily.  "But in any
          case, we have more important business right now.  We must hurry to
          inform the others."  With that, the captain of the Avengers quickened
          his pace, and Theerin Baine had to almost run to keep up.
               The Avengers themselves were one of the many special units
          of the King's Defenders.  By far the most feared of any law-officers,
          the Avengers usually needed little or no evidence to convict someone
          of a crime, and no one, not even the king himself, had ever opposed
          them before.  Thus it was that a large area of abandoned houses had
          quickly grown around the Avenger barracks.  Even other squadrons
          of the King's Defenders shunned the Avengers to the best of their
          ability, and the only one who would dare to give them anything that
          remotely resembled an order, or a haircut, was King Mylius III
          himself.
               Roughly, Drake Giltheas shoved open the heavy door of the
          Avenger barracks.  The impact of the door sent a short, dark-haired
          Avenger, who had just been on his way out, flying across the room to
          land heavily on a bunk on the other side of the room.
               "Sorry about that, Goerl," said Giltheas without emotion. 
          Goerl Ulades moaned unintelligibly in response.  The rest of the black-cloaked men in the room
quickly snapped to attention.
               "At ease, Avengers," Giltheas continued stiffly.  The half-dozen men in the room relaxed
their stance slightly, but none sat.  In
          the eerie silence, Giltheas crossed the room, picked up a jug filled with
          a clear liquid and labeled "vinegar", and took a swig.  Just as
          promptly, he spit out the vile liquid and coughed violently.  "What the
          . . . All right, who put vinegar into the water jug?!" roared the
          Avenger captain in anger.  The members of the Avengers all lowered
          their eyes as Giltheas scrutinized each of them in turn.  Finally,
          Giltheas tossed the jug out the window beside him.  There was a
          clunk, and the sound of someone saying "Ouch!!" before Giltheas
          once again addressed his men.
               "No matter.  Members of the Avengers, we have been given
          a quest by the King of Zalk himself.  Though I know that no task is
          too difficult for us, this may well be the toughest challenge we have
          faced."  His cold eyes met those of each of his men, and they returned
          the look just as impassively.  Giltheas seemed satisfied, and continued. 
          "The assignment with which his Majesty has charged me is to bring
          the man known as Torham Zed, Meat Broker, to justice."  There was
          a slight murmur among the Avengers, but Giltheas ignored it and
          continued.  "Zed is a powerful opponent, and to give to him what he
          deserves, we will have to obtain incontestable proof of his crimes
          against the kingdom and indeed all humanity."  Giltheas' hand went
          up to briefly touch the handle of his golden-hilted sword, Excsymyr,
          before he went on.  "Torham Zed has already begun killing those who
          have complained about his products.  He would not hesitate to do the
          same to us.  But nevertheless, our mission, should we all choose to
          accept it, is to bring Zed to justice, no matter what the cost."  Giltheas
          paused and an uncomfortable silence followed.  The silence was
          briefly broken by a construction worker's scream as he fell off the roof
          of the barracks.  
               "I will not back down from a royal quest, my captain," said the
          red-haired Kaith Stonebreaker in his booming voice. 
               "Nor I," added Theerin Baine, a deadly gleam appearing in his
          eyes.
               "The man who frightens me has not yet been born," affirmed
          Ganz Oryon confidently, a cool-eyed man with waist-length black
          hair.
               "Ooomph mergh!" groaned Goerl Ulades from where he lay
          collapsed on the bunk. The rest of the Avengers were quick to add
          their acceptance of the mission.
               Drake Giltheas smiled coldly.  "Good.  There was never any
          doubt in my mind that any of you would refuse this mission.  I think
          that Torham Zed will have his hands full in the next few days."
          The rest of the Avengers returned the coldly confident smile of
          Giltheas, if not as successfully as their leader.  A barber briefly stuck
          his head in through the open window of the barracks, looking slightly
          confused, and then wandered off down the street . . .
          
          The Avengers are prepared to take on Torham Zed.  The question
          is, will the Kingdom of Zalk survive the confrontation?
          Join us next week for another exciting episode of:
                           
               Torham Zed: Meat Broker