Sometime in the dark ages, somewhere in the Keltic world, five men and a laden donkey are walking along a dusty road on a summer's day. They do not speak as they walk and their countenance are sombre and determined. All are dressed as monks but one is distinctly older as the other four.

All at once the older man signals a stop and looks about him, comparing the lay of the land to the symbols and marks drawn on a parchment pulls from a purse tied to his waist. Satisfied he motions for the group to leave the road and they move to the far side of a copse where they are hidden from the road. They kneel on the ground and the older man, clearly a priest, leads them in prayer. When finished, the four younger men change into clothes that a knight might wear while travelling: no armour except for plain leather surcoats. They strap back scabbards with large arming swords words on their backs. The older man retains his monk's habit and arms himself with a mace - the favoured weapon of the clergy.

Leaving the donkey to graze they leave the road on a track leading through grazing sheep an over a small hill. They walk close to the edge of a small wood, which is one of several dotting the landscape. Despite having a map they lose their way and backtrack, crossing their own path several times. Frustration grows on the face of the priest. A horn sounds in the near distance indicating their presence has been detected. After a few more false starts they find what they are looking for and march into a small village.

They find the village deserted. A few chickens are the only sign of life and they scatter quicky out of the path of the men and somewhere nearby a goat bleated. A low murmur coming from the back of the village where it borders a forest betrays the whereabouts of the village population. The path worn by years of use leads the men to the entrance of a hidden enclosure. It has such a narrow entrance that only one person can enter at a time. The entire village is inside and the walls consist of tightly arranged Menhirs so that no other entrance or exit is possible . At the far end is a stone altar with a priestess performing some sort of ritual. They know that the altar holds the purpose of their quest and that they must act with utmost speed.

As the band enters, the crowd acts as one and press to the entrance in order to prevent access by the knights and the priest. The villagers are dull eyed and apart from a unified rhythmic chant they make no effort to attack the interlopers or to defend themselves. The knights have difficulty in gaining access and are forced to use their swords to hack a path through the throng. They find it hard to kill unarmed peasants but the importance of the job in hand far outweighs the constraints of chivalry. The future of the world is at stake. It is hard work as men, women and even children, all in a trance like state, press forward to hinder them. Mindless of their fallen family and neighbours, they step over the dead and injured in order to hinder the valiant band. Another force is attempting to hinder them. They find it hard to concentrate in the work at hand. Resolve is slipping with each step toward the goal. They have been forewarned of this attack and reciting prayers they are able to fight the weakness of the mind and let the strength of a righteous soul lend them courage and determination. But it is many exhausting minutes before they can break through and make a dash to ward the stone altar at the far end of the enclosure. The quietly chanting priestess, dismayed that her work is not complete turns, just in time to see the sword sweeping to sever her head from her body.

Stepping over the still bleeding body, the priest steps up to the altar and beholds at the purpose of this quest. Hovering over the stone is a small fist sized translucent orb. It is glowing blue and is fuzzy at the edges. On the altar is engraved a pentangle and at each point is a grey stone. The witch had been trying to control it, perhaps hide it or to activate it for her defence he surmises. He crosses himself and begins to recite prayers of protection for this is one of the portals of hell where evil flows into the world and daemons pass to and fro on their evil tasks for their evil master. The knights now take position behind him facing the surviing villagers who now, leaderless, only look on.

From a purse tied to his waist the priest extracts a large metal sphere. It is ornately worked with strange symbols and characters. He pulls on the sphere and it separates into two halves. It is hollow but of solid construction, the metal being about a finger width thick. Orientating the two halves on each side of the glowing orb he brings them together trapping it. Now he twists the two halves in opposite directions. A glow appears at the place where the halves meet first red then white then back to the grey metal veneer but now it is a seamless sphere with the intricate patterns now making one perfect design.

Once this happens the surviving people change their demeanour and become aggressive moving toward the altar. Once more the knights are forced to kill, this time in self defence. When the slaughter ends there are only a handful of small children and a baby left alive. The priest gathers them to him and smiling down he retrieves a bottle of holy water. He baptises the infants and hands them to the knights who humanely despatches them by slitting their throats – the baby the kills himself with a deft blow the head, killing it but spilling no blood. This pleases him immensely. In the midst of this horror he has been able to save a few pagan souls. Oh that he could have bought the whole village to salvation but he knew that that was not possible.

They leave the village and make their way back to where they have left the donkey. The is now confusion now, the mind addling influence was now gone and within minutes the knights are removing their blood soaked clothes and changing back into the monk’s habits they had arrived in. Next one digs a pit and they cast the clothes into it. One by one the priest confesses the men and hears them vowing their lives to one of monk hood. Then the priest charges the men with the fate of the metal sphere and gives the purse containg it to one of them. When finished he stands before the pit and blesses it, making it consecrated ground, then with his face towards heaven commends his soul to God. The men, in unison, take their swords and as the priest had instructed, run them through his body. He collapses dead into the pit that is now his grave and the newly initiated monks throw the weapons after him. They fill in the grave but leave no marker. They make their way back to the road and continue the journey and are soon lost from sight.