

About the cover: The cover image is titled Medieval Shots. It was produced by Andrew Taylor and is being used under a Creative Commons CC BY License. Fonts: Lucid Blackletter and Lucida Sans.

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Verum Et Inventa

DARK FICTION BY RAYMOND TOWERS

This is a magazine of dark fiction, mostly, in the genres of fantasy, horror and science fiction. Primarily, I am here to promote my fiction writing, but I am also looking forward to including submitted material from other writers with similar styles or non-traditional ideas, as well as contributions from reviewers, commentators and, hopefully, one day, even fans. In addition, and following what you might be familiar with from print digest-type magazines, I will also include articles based on my personal research, or the research of others, many of which will be controversial and difficult to absorb for the normies. Honestly, there are plenty of other outlets out there that pull their punches or whitewash what is true and promote what is fabrication. Verum Et Inventa is Latin for Truth and Fables, or Truth and Fiction, if you will. If you've come to read an adventure, I will give you one. If, after that, you want to read an article that might cause you to see things in a different way than before, I'm aiming to provide that as well.

_Real soldiers aren't supposed to scream. But all around me, I heard screams._ \- Quote from this month's Story Starter, Slithers

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Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2018 Raymond Towers

**Smashwords Edition, License Notes:** Thank you for viewing or downloading this free e-book. You are welcome to share this e-book with your friends provided that it remains in its complete original form and is not used for any commercial purpose. If you enjoy reading this magazine, please consider posting a review or making a purchase of one of the author's other titles. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All of the characters in this e-book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, whether living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This is issue number 4 of Verum Et Inventa magazine, with an official release date of February 1st, 2019. With any luck, this magazine will be produced on a monthly or bi-monthly schedule, with a minimum of 100 pages of content per issue. Links to back issues of this magazine can be found on the E-Zines page at Raymond Towers Dot Com.

Rating: This issue contains a MEDIUM to HIGH amount of controversial subject matter.

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### Table Of Contents

Editorial

Science Fiction

Roaches In The Attic 0 - Non-Retrieval

RITA0 - Chapter 5

RITA0 - Chapter 6

Fantasy

Tales From The Savage Lands 1

The Old Hag's Tales 1

Lady Martin's Manor Part 1

Tales From The Savage Lands 2

The Devil's Vagina

Ben Finds The In Between Place, Part 1

The Wrong Inn

Erotica

Attack Of The Six Foot Vagina!

Story Starters

I Saw Their Faces

Non-Fiction Section

Articles

How I Started Writing Erotica

Mithras, Precursor Of Jesus

Media Reviews

I Want Contributors!

About The Publisher / Author

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### Editorial

Welcome, readers to Issue No. 4 of Verum Et Inventa! This issue goes all over the place, including into naughty directions. Kind of makes sense considering Valentine's Day is right around the corner, right?

Leading off, we have the conclusion of the military sci-fi novella Non-Retrieval. As a reminder, you can download the full novella free through Smashwords.

Next, come several short stories from my Savage Lands series, from Books 1 and 2. SL1, released in late 2017, gives us the dark poem Old Hag's Tales 1 and the short story Lady Martin's Manor, Part 1. (You can read other entries from SL1 in last month's issue!) SL2 was released on January 15th, 2019, and we have three entries from that collection, including two sort of kinky ones in The Devil's Vagina and Ben Finds The In Between Place, Part 1. Savage Lands 3 through 7 will be released, tentatively, one title at a time, every month or so. These are different than Books 1 and 2 in that they are not short story and dark poetry collections, but longer novellas and full novels. SL3 is scheduled for release on February 15th. You can pre-order that one for 99 cents!

Now, I wasn't planning on including my erotic writing in this e-zine, because I have a whole other pen name and different websites for that. Since I've been baring my soul recently with my writing articles, and since this month's big article is about how I got into writing erotica in the first place, not to mention with Valentine's Day coming up, I thought I would toss in an example of the kind of erotica I get into. That would be my short story Attack Of The Six-Foot Vagina, as opposed to my medieval fantasy short The Devil's Vagina, which is a vagina of an entirely different flavor. I won't put my erotica pen name here, or links to it, because I don't want any underage kiddies (or prudes) getting corrupted (or traumatized). Caution: My erotica is pretty wild. Read my How I Became articles, or the article in this issue, to get an idea of just how wild.

So far, I've covered science fiction, medieval fantasy and erotica. I have a really short piece, almost flash fiction, in the sci-fi horror genre. That's this months' Story Starter titled I Saw Their Faces.

Finishing off this issue is an article on the Roman / Persian / Indian god Mithras, my source notes, and a couple of random media reviews. I've got a bunch of other articles lined up for future issues, by the way, including many on specific types of writing. Stay tuned for more!

Raymond Towers

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### Roaches In The Attic 0

Non-Retrieval

About the series: For the first time in recorded history, humanity has developed the technology to travel at its leisure among the stars. The unrestricted exploration of space begins, only for our first wave of pioneers to discover abruptly and brutally, that we are not alone in the cosmos. It will be up to the Space Marines not only to counter this new threat from far, far way, but also to prevent these bizarre new enemies, the Roaches, from finding Earth and bringing their unforgiving brand of destruction down on all of us.

About this title: \- For rookie Spaceman Harold Douglas, the mission sounded simple enough. Take the squad of Space Marines out, discover why the outpost had gone offline, and bring them back home in one piece. That was before his transport suddenly vanished, stranding them on an alien planet. Now, they're fighting for their lives against the greatest threat humanity has ever seen. Rating: MEDIUM controversy.

Non-Retrieval was first released on Sept. 6, 2010. It has recently been revised and re-released. Download a free copy of this novella at Smashwords, or find out more about the series on Raymond Towers Dot Com.

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This is the conclusion, continued from the last month's issue.

5

Platoon 10-20's come to town,

Platoon 10-20's come to town,

Tougher hombres can't be found.

Tougher hombres can't be found.

We're gonna blast some Roaches today,

We're gonna blast some Roaches today,

' _cuz Platoon 10-20, we don't play._

' _cuz Platoon 10-20, we don't play._

So to any hellbugs on this rock,

So to any hellbugs on this rock,

Platoon 10-20 won't be stopped.

Platoon 10-20 won't be stopped.

Ten! Ten!

Twenty! Twenty!

Ten! Ten!

Twenty! Twenty!

Soldier down behind enemy lines!

Soldier down behind enemy lines!

Platoon 10-20's going in double-time!

Platoon 10-20's going in double-time!

We find our man, we get him out!

We find our man, we get him out!

That's what 10-20 is all about!

That's what 10-20 is all about!

It's time to stand our ground and fight,

It's time to stand our ground and fight,

' _cuz at 10-20 it's do or die!_

' _cuz at 10-20 it's do or die!_

Ten! Ten!

Twenty! Twenty!

Ten! Ten!

Twenty! Twenty!

"Hold still a sec." Rubalcava said. He stepped behind me, rummaged through my pack. A minute later, he handed me a small flashlight. "Here you go."

"Thanks."

The focused beams of light led us over the dark landscape. I could see plenty of Wehnteweisell all around us as we walked. Some of these were curious enough to stretch their leaves out to touch us on the arms or back. Rarely did they reach out for our heads, as if they held some sort of respect for that part of the body.

I hadn't even imagined that there might be little ones, but I came across them every so often. They were only a couple of feet tall. They looked like perfect miniature copies of the adults. As I stopped to shine a light on one of these young ones, it reached out with a nimble leaf and surrounded my hand. I closed my eyes to see if it communicated like the others.

Instead of being immersed in a great black cloud, however, I found myself staring at the black chalkboard of my mind. A two dimensional image came forth. It was a pretty picture of a plain where a soft breeze rustled over a stretch of black grass, overlooking a placid lake of soft blue. Several small pineapples were gazing over the serene landscape. That was a time of freedom, I understood, before Roaches or humanity had claimed their planet for war.

The image blurred, shifting to another impression where the young pineapple that communicated with me had been standing in a forest. It was playfully lifting its leaves in trying to catch the happy and colorful young birds that were flying around and teasing it. Whenever the tree managed to catch a bird, it would wrap it within its leaves and give it a sort of joyous blessing before the bird was released. This was considered a form of love, I understood.

'This happy come back?' The young plant asked.

The question was crude, the voice reminiscent of a little boy's, but I got the gist of it. I answered, "Yes. Once the Roaches are gone, you will get your world back."

The scene faded. I sensed an ominous dread sweeping through the young plant before me. A new image rose, of planet Lesenia hosting a huge Space Corps Recruit Station. Big machines came in to level giant patches of trees to build a colony. Later came a city with roads. Soon, several cities were lighting up the black expanse of night on the planet's surface. I saw recruits arriving by the hundreds, even thousands, marching, running, doing jumping jacks and brandishing plasma rifles. And I saw war, once these recruits graduated from their training, war among the rest of the worlds surrounding Lesenia. The young Wehnteweisell before me conveyed a feeling of deep regret. Slowly, it withdrew its contact with me.

Those last few thoughts were human, I realized. I wondered which of us humans could be having them, when I heard Renquist's sharp voice slicing through the night.

"Get away from me!" The rough Staff Sergeant snapped, apparently barking at another Wehnteweisell up ahead.

Along with the rest of the squad, I stepped clear of all the pineapples.

Renk was still shouting. "No grab-assin' (horseplay), jarheads. Roll out your fart sacks (sleeping bags) and ree-tire! We are heading out to Fiddler's Green tomorrow, and I want to be prim and proper when I get there."

I pointed my flashlight at Rube while he got his sleeping bag off his pack. A minute later he returned the favor.

"I see that Renquist is all motivated again." I smirked.

"Yeah, that guy's a Hard Charger." Rube nodded, as he tried to find a good, flat patch to lay his bag on. "He prefers a straight-up battle to all this sneaking around bullshit. Once he's got the enemy in his sights, he's a hundred percent again."

"What did he mean when he said Fiddler's Green?"

"Paradise."

"Paradise? We're heading out to paradise tomorrow?"

"He meant Heaven." Rube explained. "Some of us may not be coming back."

The Marines had a morbid sense of humor sometimes, I thought. "Did you catch what Renquist was thinking, just a couple of minutes ago?"

"No. What was it?"

I told Rube about the vision I had, of recruits running all over the planet and wars all over that solar system. I also told him about the Wehnteweisell's reaction to that.

"Damn." Rube muttered. "I really hope the trees don't turn against us. I hope they don't roast us like they're planning on doing to the Roaches."

"Do you think they might do that? We're supposed to be the good guys here."

"Are we?" Rube shrugged. "I sure hope they see us as the good guys. If they want their planet back bad enough to set a quarter of it on fire, I think we'd better play it safe just in case. The Staff Sergeant thinking about colonization and conquering, that doesn't make the best impression of us. And what happens if they start getting sick from our bacteria, like they are from the Roaches?"

I dragged my sleeping bag over next to where Rube parked his.

"Three feet apart." Rube cautioned. "I don't want your leg draped across my thighs in the morning. Wouldn't look right for morale and all that shit."

I couldn't help but laugh.

Once I'd set up my bag, I crawled in. I left the zipper open in the event I had to get up right away, as Rube suggested. Renquist was barking something about a one-hour fire-watch for some of the Marines, with him volunteering to go first.

"Can you imagine, not having been in a war so long that these beings have lost the concept of what war is?" Rube asked. I clicked the light on briefly to see him lying down with his hands behind his head. "Back on Earth, it's been one war after another for well over a century. Thanks to the Pulse System, humans have even succeeded in taking war into space. I'm losing the concept of what it is to have peace."

"The pineapples have no weapons." I concurred. "They have no defenses. They have no way to prevent an invasive species from coming in and stomping all over them."

"Well, they do have their mental powers."

"Which they use for nurturing animals and plants, and for maintaining ecological cycles. If they could make something's brain explode, don't you think they would have done that to the Roaches by now?"

"Maybe they're waiting for the right moment."

"No, they're not evil beings. They're righteous, like monks."

"Yeah." Rube agreed. "You get the feeling that maybe this planet is a sort of paradise? That just by showing up, the Roaches and us are fucking it up?"

"I've been thinking that, a little."

"Maybe human beings don't deserve a paradise, if all we're going to do is fuck it all up." Rube stifled a yawn. "Try to get some sleep, man. We've got a big day tomorrow."

Maybe Rube was right, I thought. Maybe humans didn't deserve a paradise.

I lay there a little while, before the day's exhaustion set in and I too drifted off to sleep.

Early the next morning, I was awaked to the sound of a buzz saw. Once my head focused on the grating sound, I discovered it was Renquist's raspy voice instead.

"You heard me, ladies!" The Staff Sergeant's shouting gave me instant irritation. "It's show time! Get your butts out of your fart sacks before I start kicking them out. And let me tell you, having a size twelve boot jammed in between your butt cheeks is not a good thing to have!"

A heavy hand began slapping at the side of my head. "Rise and shine, meathead."

It was Mason, fully dressed and going around making sure everyone was roused.

"I'm awake." I said impatiently. To prove it, I sat up.

Mason turned away and began slapping on Rube's head next. "Time to pack your gear, man. We've got us a battle to fight."

Rube ducked his head further into his sleeping bag. He said, "Mommy, the monster's come back! It's the one from all my nightmares!"

"Fuck you." Mason stood up, before he went to bother someone else.

Like a frightened child, Rube poked his head out to look at me. "Is the monster gone?"

"Yeah." I chuckled.

"Well, all right!" Rube sat up, looking spry. "We've got a fresh set of cammies in our packs. Let's get geared up and ready to roll!"

As I was getting dressed, I noticed that Dempsey was hounding Renquist like a lost child, but twice as loud.

"We've only got nine rifles, and that's if you're counting that Spaceman." Dempsey whined. "And you seriously expect us to take on four Roach nests? Are you kidding me? We should just grab a transport and head out. Once we round up enough troops, we can come back here and launch a major assault on this planet!"

"What if the Roaches aren't here when we come back?" Renquist countered. "What if they figure out how to use the Link System before then and they Pulse all the way out to your family's backyard?"

"The Roaches don't know the coordinates to my family's house."

"That was a hypothetical statement, you asshole." Renk snapped. "Finish getting your gear together, before I put you in charge of retrieving live rounds (flying bullets) for me!"

Mason was walking past us, mumbling, "What a rat turd, what a major waste of space."

I watched as the big lout lumbered past, just to make sure he wouldn't slap my head again, before I looked over at Dempsey. Apparently, he hadn't gotten the hint, because he was still hounding Renquist like a dog wanting attention.

I turned to Rubalcava. "What is it with that guy? I mean, the rest of you Marines all bring something to the table, like combat skills or versatility, and you with your theories. But what about Dempsey? What does he provide that makes him worth bringing along?"

"Long story short, he's our good luck charm." Rube explained. "We get ourselves into some real scrapes sometimes. Just when it looks as if our platoon is about to bite the bullet, just when things get to their absolute, hairiest worst, Dempsey comes through in the clutch. It's crazy, because he can turn the tide of a battle all by himself. I'll give you some examples.

"One time, the platoon got pinned against a ravine wall and the Roaches were massing up right in front of us. Dempsey went freakazoid like he's doing now. Then he makes like a mountain climber and starts up the side of the ravine. We didn't even see what he was doing until he was three quarters of the way up. He sets off this rockslide, and a bunch of us barely had enough time to get out of the way. The rockslide keeps on building momentum and smashes right into the wall of Roaches, scattering them all over the place. The Roaches thought we'd started the rockslide deliberately. They fell back in case we tried to set off another one. This gave us the chance to find a better position to defend from. Some choppers came by a little while later to zoom some rockets up their collective Roach ass. Thanks to Dempsey's rockslide, we got out of that pinch with only minor injuries."

"Another time," Rube continued. "We're under heavy fire again. Dempsey freaks out after a heat blast sets his backpack on fire. He's jumping up and down and slapping at his pack trying to put the fire out. He trips on his own two feet and accidentally pulls the trigger on his Spitfire. It's a one in a million shot, because the plasma bolt goes right into this huge pile of brush that we hadn't been paying attention to. What we don't know is that behind the brush is the core of a Roach nest, and this is a highly volatile piece of shit. It blows up, killing all kinds of Roaches in the process. Just like that we have more boots on the ground than they do.

"The guy may look like he's too dumb to tie his own shoes, but I'm telling you, the universe has a crush on him. It has bent over backwards to keep that guy alive and the rest of the platoon right along with him." Rube shook his head. "I just hope he has that same mutant luck with him today because we're going to need it."

We quickly finished gearing up.

"All eyes and ears on me." Renquist called us to attention. "This is the word. We will enter the transport-hill and get shipped out to the location nearest the outpost. Once there, this is how we will organize ourselves. Rubalcava and myself will climb to the top of the hill, both to supervise the situation and to provide suppressing fire. Two teams of two Marines each will simultaneously round the sides of the hill. Mason and Brickwell will head in one direction, while Strawberry and Dobson go in the other. Once we are in position by the side of the hill facing the outpost, Mason and Strawberry will attempt to extract the captured humans, while the remaining four of us will continue to fire and keep the Roaches off those two Marines' backs. If we are unable to extract the captives, we will render them unusable to the enemy."

This time, I knew what that meant.

"While this is going on," Renk continued. "Dempsey and Neelson will escort and defend Spaceman Douglas to the first usable transport. Spaceman Douglas will ascertain the condition of the transport. If it is incapable of operating, he will move on to the next transport in the row. Spaceman Douglas will make every attempt to load the Pulse Magnifiers on one of these transports and have the vessel ready to Pulse out once our main objective has been achieved. We will have approximately forty-five minutes to carry this plan out. Remember, we are under the deadline of an approaching wall of fire from beyond the transport end of the field. If you are not inside the transport with the main body of our squad... You will be left behind, to your detriment."

It was a sobering speech.

"Now, who's ready to make like a hero?" Renquist asked.

"Oorah!" Brickwell shouted.

"Oorah!" All of the others, except Dempsey, Neelson and myself, followed suit.

"Then let's get this caravan underway." Renquist directed us toward the transport hill. "To the rock elevator from Hell!"

All nine of us marched into the mouth of the hill. Even though the sun was already starting to rise, the innards of the hill were still as dark as a cave. Without our flashlights in hand to guide us we barely kept from bumping into one another.

"Move further back, Dempsey." Dobson complained. I could hear him slap the other soldier's pack. "You've got plenty of room."

"I have to be one of the first ones out." Dempsey protested. "I have to help secure the transport."

"You mean you have to go hide in the transport." Dobson pushed him further inside. "Move your ass!"

"Let's keep it tight." Renquist said. "Nuts to butts."

"That's what Mason likes." Dempsey insulted.

"Where are you, little man?" Mason's voice growled. "I'll show you some nuts!"

"Mason, Strawberry, I want both of you up front." Renquist tried to break the friction between his men. "Packs on the floor, grenades and extra plasma clips at the ready."

"We're all inside, Staff Sergeant." Strawberry commented, as we dropped our bulky gear on the ground.

A solitary Wehnteweisell slowly crept into the cave mouth, laboriously pulling itself away from the black grass and onto the gray soil. It wasn't as tall as the others, as it stood at about four feet if you didn't include the leaves. I wondered if maybe this one was an adolescent. In my mind's eye, I could almost see the short tendrils that the creature used to propel its body along the ground.

"Do you think they've started that fire yet?" Rubalcava asked.

"They'd better have." Brickwell replied. "Once the Roaches see the smoke from that thing, it'll scare the living crap out of them. I bet they'll abandon the entire outpost trying to get away from it."

"As long as we don't get caught in the blaze, I'm all for it." Dobson related.

In my head, I could already see the fire. It was a giant wall of flames, impossibly high at twenty to thirty feet. It raced along the fertile landscape at an unbelievable speed. Gulping at its intensity, I saw the destruction, complete and unforgiving, that the flames left in their wake. Scorched, blackened ashes were all that remained of the previously lush landscape. Everything combustible was gone. Even the surfaces of boulders had been charred. It looked as if the hand of God was sweeping across the planet.

I glanced around, but nobody else seemed to be catching the visions I was. Simply, I said, "The fire has been started."

"How do you know?" Dempsey asked.

"Cut the chatter, jarhead." Renquist said. "I think he's right."

It was as if the Wehnteweisell had opened up some part of my brain and they'd forgotten to shut it off. Wondering what else I could catch a glimpse of, I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to roam freely.

My thoughts centered on the young Wehnteweisell at the cave mouth. Emotions of anxiety and fear were exuding from the being's mind, of the horrors of war that the naïve creature had recently been exposed to. It felt a gnawing dread that it was about to die.

The Marines around me, they were having their own thoughts as well. These were images of their particular version of home or the faces of their loved ones. Some of the men thought about their achievements or their disappointments. A few images were so strong I was able to pick out who was thinking them.

I saw Staff Sergeant Renquist, who had been obsessed with emulating his cold and heartless father, a strong military man like him. In this bitter man's life, there was Marine Division and nothing else, and without this drive there would only remain an empty void. I saw Mason's thoughts as well, past the cruel and tough exterior, back to a time when he was married and had two children. Now, he was a divorced drunk and prohibited from seeing his offspring. From Mason's own mind, I could see that he'd become as bitter as Renquist. Dempsey's head was a confused tangle of knots; he wanted attention, he wanted glory, but he wasn't secure enough to push his worries away or relaxed enough to become his ideal self. His fear was becoming strong enough to infect me. When I realized this was happening, I pushed him and the rest of the Marines out of my thoughts.

I reached out to the Wehnteweisell again, sensing its joyful memory of how it had been assigned to watch over a tiny nest of bat-like birds. By chanting to them, it eased the young birds' anxieties, as the parents flew off to acquire their nourishment. It made the Wehnteweisell happy when it sensed that the babies considered the tree to be a third parent. Then came the day when the Roaches arrived, when this young pineapple had been torn away from its task and enslaved into the vast, living machine that now served the cruel Roach masters. It understood well why such a large portion of their planet was being sacrificed. It was also wondering if it would ever see those bat-birds again.

Then the pineapple hummed a short song, more symbolic than essential, some sort of established ritual, before it moved on to the task it had been given.

As I stood there, among the creature's innermost thoughts, I could feel it reaching out with its mind as it hummed. It was scanning along the inner surface of the cave, reaching far into the hard dirt to an ancient circuitry that lay embedded within. There were hidden, narrow circuit boards there, built untold eons ago by long forgotten space travelers. The circuits were formed from such an extremely advanced design that the technology was able to both analyze and repair itself. The transport-hill had far outlasted its original designers, so that not even an ancient race like the Wehnteweisell could recall who the actual builders were or what they looked like.

Into these panels, the young Wehnteweisell's mind reached, to the liquid metal switches that could be activated by the electrical impulses of the tree's mere thoughts. I watched as the liquids flowed from one juncture to another, a tiny fraction of space apart. This triggered the entire inside of the hill into trans-dimensional operation. The physical integrity of the entrance changed, becoming almost fluid. Its new properties allowed the softened dirt to flow together and seal the entrance shut.

The circuitry switched into its next phase and the cargo of nine humans, plus one big-ass pineapple, was instantly transported to a location several thousand miles away. Our group was moved into another transporter-hill, built exactly like the one we'd left behind. Strangely enough, I understood that several hundred such hills existed all over the planet.

The hard dirt wall began to disintegrate, once again from an unexpected direction. A strong shaft of sunlight pierced into the darkness of the small cave. The sunlight was on a level plane with the hill's mouth, blinding us temporarily as the opening enlarged into its usual dimensions.

Just as our eyes finished adjusting, we saw the distortion of air from the Roaches' heat beams, heading right for us. Mason and Strawberry had been shuffling forward to exit the cave as they'd been directed to, but only Strawberry managed to jump out of harm's way.

Mason grunted as the two separate heat beams jarred his body from opposing directions. Their combined fury caused the soldier's frail flesh to explode into the cave. Even as far back as I was standing, bits of muscle and bone slapped into my face. One human fragment even made it into my mouth as I opened it up to gasp at the atrocity.

The young Wehnteweisell, unable to move that quickly to begin with, exploded a second after.

"It's an ambush!" Rube cried out. "Everybody down!"

"No!" Renquist refuted, instantly angry at Mason's loss. He ran up the edge of the opening. "I only see a handful of them, hiding out there among the transports. Move out now, Marines, before they mass up against us! I'm taking Mason's place!"

"I've got you covered, Staff Sergeant!" Brickwell threw himself on the ground, square in the middle of the cave opening.

With some dismay, I watched the Marines begin to fire in the direction of the transports. Renquist made it out, followed in the opposite direction by Strawberry. Both Dobson and Brickwell stepped up to take their places. I grimaced when I heard a grenade going off, again in the direction of the transports.

Rubalcava moved forward, gauging the situation quickly. "Two Roaches left! The rest of you are going to have to deal with them. Brick, Dobson, let's go!"

The three Marines disappeared around the edges of the cave.

Dempsey took a spot at the edge of the cave mouth. I jumped over to the opposite side. The two remaining Roaches were both standing and firing at the Marines who'd just exited, but their heat rays were falling short. I watched as the normally uneasy and frantic soldier steadily aimed, popped off a shot, aimed and popped off a second shot. Both Roaches were down a fraction of a moment later.

Dempsey lowered his weapon and laughed in disbelief. "Did you just see that shit? You have to tell the guys when they get back, because they aren't gonna believe me! Two shots, two kills, man! That was fucking incredible!"

I hardly believed it myself. I glanced back into the cave, noticing that Neelson had not budged from his spot. "Are you ready for this?"

Neelson nodded unconvincingly.

Dempsey stepped out and looked to either side. "We're clear! Let's go!"

He led the charge, with me following close behind and Neelson a longer distance back. We covered the twenty or so yards in record time, where Dempsey quickly jumped into the third of the four transports ahead of me. Just as I was about follow him in, he jumped back out and we both ended up on the ground.

"Sorry, man!" Dempsey scrambled to his feet. "They took out a bunch of panels and wiring and shit on this one!"

The Marine bolted past me and ran toward the next transport over.

I stuck my head inside, in case the transport was still functional, but it wasn't. A lot of its control panel had been taken apart by force. As I headed toward the next transport, I noticed that slowpoke Neelson was just barely arriving. For some reason this infuriated me. Dempsey could be labeled the chicken-shit of the outfit, or even me, but the thought that there was someone even more cowardly than the two of us pissed me the hell off.

"You have to keep up with us!" I shouted, but even so I quickly left him behind.

Dempsey was sticking his head out of the last transport's hatch. "This one's good, man! You can fly us out of here!"

I went in and looked. The control panel was sound. Everything else looked in order. Then I looked up at the Plasti-Shield.

"Let's go, man! Start this bitch up!" Dempsey urged.

I pointed at the thick window, where a bolt of plasma had very recently struck the plastic and cracked it. "If we try Pulse off the planet, the window will collapse and we'll die. We can only Pulse on-planet."

"Mother-fucker!" Dempsey screamed. "What good is that gonna do? The whole fucking planet is on fire!"

"What?"

"Don't you get it?" Dempsey cried out. "These pineapple fucks, they don't want us here! They want to get rid of us just like they're getting rid of all the Roaches! They're going to burn this whole planet to shit! And not just a quarter of it, either. I mean all of it! They're burning the entire fucking planet!"

I thought back to that young Wehnteweisell that had accompanied us into the hill, the one who had been splattered all over the place right beside Mason. They had chosen that one because it was a young one, and because the rest of the trees hadn't told it the entire plan. This way, none of the humans could mentally gather information from it that it hadn't been given. We'd been set-up by a bunch of plants, I realized. It was only through Dempsey's uncanny intuition that we found out ahead of schedule.

"You're right." I chuckled nervously, as my own psychic intuition kicked in. "They're going to burn up the entire planet." I glanced out the window but the angle was wrong. I couldn't see the flames from there. "Not only that, but they lied about the timing too. The flames are going to reach us a lot faster than we figured."

"Fucking great! What do we do now?"

"I guess we die like rats." I said, but just having this thought made me angry. Angry enough to lash out at the next thing that dared to step in front of my face. "Or we can die like Marines!"

Like a scared rabbit, Neelson stood before the hatch, timidly clutching his rifle.

"Move!" I yelled.

Once he did, I jumped out. I started to run back toward the hill.

"Where are you going?" Dempsey called out after me.

My strides didn't falter, nor did my fury. As I reached the entrance of the hill and witnessed the gore that was once Mason, I remembered the radio built into my helmet. I pulled the microphone end out near my mouth and activated it. "Staff Sergeant Renquist, this is Spaceman Douglas!"

"Go ahead."

"All transports are out of commission." I said, feeling even angrier than before. We'd tried every option, and every single time the door had been slammed right into our faces. "Repeat; all transports are a No Go! Also, the Wehnteweisell are planning to burn up the entire planet, not just a fourth of it. They will be burning all of us right along with it!"

"Well, ain't that just beautiful?" Renquist sounded as if he was laughing. "You hear that, jarheads? Planet Murphy's Law has pulled out all the stops on us! Fiddler's Green, here we come!"

"What's the word, Staff Sergeant?" This sounded like Dobson.

"We will proceed with the extraction." Renquist's voice sharpened. "And we will give these Roaches one hell of a send-off! Dempsey, Neelson, Douglas, won't you come up front and join the party?"

I slid the mike shut, so it would be out of my way while I cursed.

"Our goose is cooked!" Dempsey came to a stop beside me. He was panting as if he'd just run back from the transport.

"Where's Neelson?"

Dempsey turned back, but the last Marine was nowhere in sight. He looked to me and shrugged. "Praying in one of those transports, probably. What are we going to do?"

"I guess we go and back up the others."

"There's no point!" Dempsey replied. "We're all going to die out here anyway! What does it matter if we get Knotts and the others or not, if we're all about to be part of the biggest barbecue the universe has ever seen?"

"You can stay here if you want." I said, checking the tiny readout on the plasma rifle in my hands. I still had plenty of ammo left.

Without another word, I left him behind.

I'd rounded about fifty feet of the hill, when I caught sight of Brickwell. He was leaning tight against an outcrop of dirt and firing almost without taking a pause.

"Douglas here." I announced as I got in closer. "What's the situation?"

"We are in the Galactic Suck of All Ages." Brickwell cursed. "That first skirmish near the transports warned the rest of the Roaches up here. A bunch of them were on their way to investigate when they ran into us. Now, there are so many of them firing at us that we can't budge but an inch a time."

"Where's Renquist?"

"About forty feet ahead." Brickwell informed me. "He's hiding behind a short dirt wall. That's part of the defenses the Roaches were setting up, but Renk got to it before they could. He's pinned down, though, and that wall's been getting nailed non-stop."

A cloud of dirt exploded from the hillside, just a couple of feet above Brickwell's head. Crumbs of gray dirt showered down on the two of us.

Brickwell moved back by a few inches. "They're getting a little ballsy, now that they know there's only about five rifles firing at them."

"What can I do?"

"Do you know how to use a flash grenade?"

"Yeah. We threw a live one back in recruit training."

"Well, you're about to throw a live one again." Brickwell replied, quickly taking off the belt around his waist. "Unless you think you can shoot better than I can."

"I'll take the grenades."

"Okay, set them for five seconds. Jump out, toss them and jump back. Do it that quick or else you're burnt toast. If you're still holding a live grenade when you jump back, you'll be taking me down along with you. We don't want that, okay?"

The landscape was teeming with Roaches, I observed. "Where do I aim? They're everywhere!"

Another section of dirt detonated, cutting Brickwell's refuge in half.

"We're going to have move back if we don't do something right now!" Brickwell cried out. "Just aim anywhere you see a large bunch of Roaches!"

I unclipped one of the tennis ball sized grenades from the belt and activated it. The device had a good weight to it, I realized, as I set its small timer to five seconds. The timer's countdown only began once I pressed a red button with my thumb. I could do this while I positioned myself to throw.

I slipped back by about four feet, jumped out into the open, and pressed the button as I launched the grenade. Without waiting, I jumped aside and onto the ground, then rolled as close to the hill as I could get.

When the grenade went off, Brickwell stood up straight and fired about half a dozen shots, then crouched back to his previous position behind the crumbling outcropping. "That was good! Toss 'em another one! Right down their throats!"

Another grenade blast could be heard from the opposite side of the hill.

"I'm glad somebody's still alive over there." Brickwell commented.

I set the next grenade, just before mounds of dirt started erupting only a handful of feet from me. I couldn't move any closer to the hill because my back was already on it. The heat blasts were getting too close for comfort.

"We're going to have to pull back!" Brickwell said. "We don't have anything big enough to drive off the Roaches! We need some kind of massive diversion!"

A diversion? An idea suddenly popped into my head. "Do you have a GPS tracker?"

"Yeah."

"Let me have it!" I took the device the moment Brickwell held it out to me, quickly finding the app that would allow it to act as a beacon. I sure hoped the Mapper was as sturdy as it looked. "Okay, I'm tossing a grenade out to, uh, about nine o'clock, to drive back the Roaches coming in on the left. Ready?"

"Yeah."

I jumped out and tossed the grenade, then got out of the way as three heat blasts started ripping up the ground beside me. In my head, I counted down the five seconds. Once I heard the grenade go off, I jumped out again and tossed the GPS tracker directly over Brickwell's head. It landed about a third of the way between the hill and the hanging prisoners.

"Was that my tracker?" Brickwell asked. "You know those things don't blow up, right?"

I didn't answer, because I was already running full throttle away from the man. As I ran, I pulled out the helmet's microphone stick, sure that everyone was listening to my heavy breaths as I fled the battle. "This is Spaceman Douglas! I have one major league diversion coming up, but you have to hold your position for about four minutes!"

"What are you up to, Douglas?" Renquist came through.

I slid the mike out of the way as I ran around the hill. I paused near the cave mouth when I saw Dempsey standing just inside. He was nervously pointing his weapon at me.

"Shit! I thought you were a Roach!" Dempsey said. "I almost shot you!"

"What are you doing back here?" I asked, suddenly irate that he wasn't helping.

"Waiting to die, I guess."

"Do you want to be a hero today?" I asked. "Right now?"

Dempsey's face showed confusion, but I didn't have time to wait for him to make up his mind. I started racing toward the transports.

"Wait!" He shouted, but I didn't stop. Whether or not he joined me, I was going through with my plan.

I made a beeline for the last transport and jumped into its hatch. In two more seconds, I was glancing down at the control panel and activating switches. The Pulse Magnifiers were all at fifty percent or so, which was good enough for what I had in mind. I activated the Nav-Com and linked up with the outpost computer. After that I scanned the local area for the GPS beacon.

Dempsey jumped in through the hatch. "What are you doing? I thought you said this thing couldn't fly?"

"Not off-planet." I answered. "If you want to help the others, shut the hatch."

Surprisingly, he did.

The Nav-Com beeped when it located the beacon, and I entered its coordinates as my destination. Quickly, I adjusted the transport's landing orientation. I had the sudden thought to change the elevation to plus ten feet. In quick sequence, I activated the four Pulse Magnifiers.

I pulled my mike back out. "Diversion coming up in twenty seconds! When this happens, I want you to cease fire! Repeat, cease fire when the diversion starts and resume once you have seen my location! Do not fire until after you've seen where I am!"

"We're the diversion, aren't we?" Dempsey asked from behind me.

"You want to get out, now's your chance."

"No." He shook his head. "We're going out in a blaze of glory, right?"

"Probably." I nodded, as I checked the transport clock. "Have a seat on the bench for a second. Diversion in five, four, three, two, one, and... zero!"

I pressed the Pulse Activate button. We were enveloped in the familiar super-bright sheen of a Pulse. Since the distance was so short, one Pulse is all it took.

The transport's glow, appearing suddenly and ten feet high in the air, caused the Roaches to pause in their actions and turn away from the glare. A few had already made the instinctive decision to scatter back to a safer distance and see what the hell was going on. When the transport dropped down and smashed into about twenty of their fellows, the resultant crash and squealing from their maimed compatriots made even more of them want to take a very long step back, and they did so in droves.

Inside the transport, both Dempsey and I had neglected to use our security belts, so we got a good jarring as well. We were soon scampering for the hatch. Once we'd shoved it open, we were privy to a scene of five Space Corps Marines driving back at least one hundred enemy combatants.

"Good deal, Douglas!" Renquist sped past me, right before Dempsey and I leapt out to join the chorus of plasma fire.

Strawberry was ahead of Renk, and nearly at the tiny grove of trees where the captured humans were strung up. With his field knife in hand, the tall soldier jumped up and hacked at the thick cord that held them aloft, causing the rope to rip and bringing the entire bunch plummeting down to the ground. Renquist was soon at his side. The two men began patting the green-dyed humans roughly enough to figure out if they were alive or not.

"They're already starting to come back!" Rubalcava's voice screamed through my helmet radio. "Eleven o' clock and three o'clock!"

Heat rays began bombarding the small grove of trees, hampering the rescue effort briefly, before our return volley allowed Renquist and Strawberry to start back. Each of the two Marines had a person dragging on an arm. Dempsey and I rushed over to relieve them of their loads, although we struggled to walk with the overwhelming burdens. Both Renquist and Strawberry went back for more people.

In horror, I witnessed as the two rescuers propped one unfortunate up against a tree. As they moved on to free the next captive, heat missiles struck the dazed and helpless man. Just as Mason had minutes earlier, that man burst into a gruesome red and orange spray.

The vision of carnage was still vivid in my mind, as Dempsey and I hurried our heavy loads toward the transport. We dropped them right in front of the hatch. By their arms and legs, the two of us dragged them through the hatch, one at a time. Just as we were finishing up Renquist and Strawberry came by with another four. Knotts was the most coherent of these. Although much dazed, the big man was able to make it inside the transport by himself.

"That's the last of them." Strawberry said, once all of the personnel were inside the vessel. Are you sure we can't ship out on this thing?"

"Positive." I shook my head. "The front window's cracked. We wouldn't survive the compression through space."

"Then we get all of us somewhere safe." Renquist said. "Somewhere as far away from this outpost as possible. A place where the fire has already gone by."

"It's not safe!" Dempsey protested. "This whole planet isn't safe!"

"Why not?" Renquist asked.

"It just isn't!"

The answer popped into my head, as soon as Dempsey said that. "Multiple waves. The Cleansing fire is going to take place in multiple waves, because the Wehnteweisell aren't going to risk any bacteria surviving just one pass."

Renquist took this in stride. "Where is it going to be safe? Dempsey, do you know where?"

"I have no idea, Staff Sergeant!" Dempsey was whiny all over again.

"Take a guess, god damn it! Use your freak power!"

Dempsey threw his hands up in the air. "I don't know, maybe the hill we just used to come out here. I can't think of anywhere else!"

Renquist shook his head and grimaced. "That's still in the path of the fire, but it's the best idea we've got. Douglas, maneuver this transport as close to the teleport-hill as you can and get all these people inside of it!"

"That's bullshit!" I balked. "I'd rather try to teleport between the waves of fire."

"The Pulse Generator is going to be melted after the first wave." Renquist returned. "You're going to run out of Pulse power, unless this Great Fucking Cleansing is finished in one wave or two. Take these people to the hill and that's an order! We'll try to hold the Roaches back until the captives are all inside."

Renquist was right, I thought. If I tried to Pulse more than a time or two, depending on the distance, I would be too low on energy to do it again. I had no idea how many Wehnteweisell were willing to sacrifice themselves in order to destroy the Roaches, or how many waves of fire they were willing to start up to get us off-worlders away from their planet.

6

Renquist and Strawberry hurried outside while I rushed over to the controls. "Dempsey, get the hatch!"

A second later, I heard it clang shut. I pulled up the coordinates where the shuttle had been parked previously, and I halved the distance between that spot and the teleport-hill. I shifted the coordinates slightly so that when the flames reached the transport's Pulse Magnifiers, the side of the hill and the transport itself would buffer the resulting explosion and not let it enter directly into the hill unhampered. It was a fairly pointless gesture, as we still had the planetary fires and the other exploding transports to worry about, but I was grasping at any straw I could think of.

The Magnifiers were running low. I quickly snapped them all awake even though the regular procedure was to fill them up one at a time. I wasn't going across the galaxy, I was only going to the opposite side of the hill, and so I didn't need as much energy for such a short trip.

"More Roaches spotted at one o'clock." Rube's voice came over the radio.

I glanced out the cracked window, where sure enough I could see them massing up out there. I hoped the Pulse Generator worked faster than they did.

Before I became unnerved by the threat, I turned to look at the inside of the vessel. We had seven green-skinned people lying on the benches and floor, three women and four men, and one green Knotts sulking by himself in a dizzy stupor. They were all stripped naked except for their underwear.

Dempsey was looking over the women. "I've never seen green tits before. You know why they left the underwear on these people, right?"

"No."

"The Roaches can't stand the smell of our piss." Dempsey revealed. "We've caught a few of them before. When we pissed on them, it made them go ballistic every time."

I was about to ask the man what had compelled the Marines to piss on the Roaches in the first place, when something like a hammer blow smashed into the front of the transport. Instinctively, I ducked down from the impact.

"They're blasting us with heat." Dempsey said, leaving his own crouch to take a look outside the window.

I went and checked the Magnifiers, finding them all to be at least at forty percent.

"They're not as full as I would like them to be, but here goes." I said, right before I pressed the Pulse Activate button.

Another heat wave smashed into the heavy window, causing me to jerk my head back. Thankfully, the heavy plastic held. A moment later the Pulse came.

Dempsey was undoing the hatch the instant the Pulse began to subside. He pushed it open and glanced back at the cargo we were about to unload. "We don't have a stretcher around here, do we?"

"Probably, but we don't have any time to look for it. Where the hell is Neelson, anyway?"

Dempsey shrugged, as he took the legs of the survivor closest to the hatch. "I don't know. He grabbed his pack and disappeared right after you took off running earlier."

Between the two of us, we lugged the heavy load out and across the thirty or so feet to the cave entrance. We deposited the guy just inside the entrance, but if Neelson was hiding in there neither of us could see him.

By the time we got back to the transport, Knotts was doing his best to escort his own survivor back. Since the man Knotts was escorting was upright and slightly coherent, we didn't take over for him. Instead, we grabbed the next unconscious body in line, which to Dempsey's delight was a female. She was a lot lighter to move than the first guy, so we were soon on our way back for the next one.

"I'm getting pressed over here." Brickwell announced on the radio.

"Fall back a little." Renquist answered. "Douglas, how about you get that transport back up here? Let's give these Roaches a fireworks show they'll never forget. Make sure the ass-end of the transport is facing toward the hill while you're at it."

I scrambled inside and looked at the dashboard. The Pulse Generator at the outpost was still active, I noticed, but the Magnifiers were all at less than twenty percent. I pulled my microphone stick out. "I need at least five minutes to replenish."

"You've got the time." Renquist replied. "Now that the captives are out of the way, all we have to do is keep these Roaches busy until you get here. They're holding back right now, in case we have any other surprises for them."

Dempsey helped me get the rest of the outpost personnel outside, and about fifteen feet away from the shuttle so the Pulse wouldn't singe them. By the time we'd done this, the Magnifiers were over thirty percent. It wasn't great, but once I'd rerouted auxiliary power I could work with it.

"Ready to launch." I announced to Renquist.

"Modify coordinates to ten meters closer to the hill than your previous landing, and see if you can find me some duct tape."

"Copy." I replied.

After shuffling through some metal cabinets of odds and ends, I soon had the requested item in my hand. I went to close the hatch, observing Dempsey and Knotts lugging away another unconscious man from the group lying on the ground, before I made my way back to the controls.

Into the mike, I said, "Transport incoming."

The Pulse took me nearly to the edge of the hill. When I opened the hatch, Renk was standing just outside. He snatched the roll of duct tape from my hand and hurried to the rear of the transport, where he started taping thermite grenades to the Pulse Magnifiers.

Rube's frightened voice broke through the radio. "Mass charge incoming, ten o'clock through two o'clock!"

"That's a suicide charge." Renquist said, hurriedly setting the timers on the grenades. "Now that the Roaches know we're not getting any new troops from this transport, they're going to try and roll right over us like a tidal wave. We've only got five minutes to get to safety, Spaceman, before this thing goes off!"

Hammer blows began smashing at the front and sides of the transport.

"Let's move!" Renquist said.

We fled using the structure of the vessel as cover. All around us, big geysers of gray dirt and rock shot up from the relentless attack the Roaches were perpetrating on us.

A loud groan from the radio caused the two of us to look at the top of the hill where Rubalcava had been positioned. All we saw up there was half a dozen clouds of scattered dirt.

"Rube, are you there?" Renquist barked into his mike. "Rube?"

No answer came back to us.

"Fifty meters and closing!" Dobson's voice cried out.

A second later, another distressed voice came over the radio. "This is Brickwell! I just got hit by debris! My leg's tore up! I can no longer hold my position!"

"Your proverbial shit-fan has just been turned up to full speed." Renquist growled, before he addressed the mike. "Calling all jarheads! It is time to head back to the teleport-hill! Ree-treat! Do you hear me, Marines?"

A pitifully few voices answered: Dobson's and Strawberry's.

"You're going to have to get Brickwell to safety, Douglas." Renquist told me. "I'll hold them off as long as I can."

I glanced down the field, my eyes widening when I saw the massive wall of Roaches scurrying toward us on all six legs. The ground teemed with their dark shapes.

"Are you crazy?" I asked. "You can't hold back all of them!"

Renquist made sure his plasma rifle still had a good charge on it. "I know. I'm planning on setting off the fireworks early." He looked at me evenly. "Go. I know I was meant to die out here, and believe it not, I dreamt it would happen like this. You've got some other kind of destiny to fulfill, so get the hell out of here!"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but Renquist was already stepping past me, taking aim and firing away. Against the rushing wall of Roaches, he was hitting one every single time, although he was only knocking them aside by blasting at their hard shells as they galloped at us.

I walked away slowly with my first few steps, as my mind calculated how many seconds it would take for the Roaches to overwhelm Renquist. Half a minute, I projected. Although I hated to leave the courageous man behind, I knew that if I didn't move right away both Brickwell and I were going to suffer a similar fate.

A moment later I was running. Clods of dirt were bursting at my heels and right in front of me. I vaulted a low mud wall, just as several Roach rays struck it and caused it to explode up and into me. I landed hard, almost winding myself. As I scampered away again, I couldn't help but take one last look at the Staff Sergeant.

"Come and get me, you bastard horde from Hell!" Renquist was shouting at the black mob.

He was standing up, away from any cover, and so help me, laughing out loud as the incredible Roach army surged forward to meet him. Ripples of superheated air could be seen flashing by on all sides of him. I shuddered as one slammed into Renquist's side, and shoved him down onto his back.

I started running again, rounding the corner of the hill and spotting what little remained of the dirt outcrop Brickwell had been using as cover. The man was dragging himself away on the ground, some twenty feet further on. He had a bloody, makeshift tourniquet wrapped around one thigh.

Upon seeing my approach, he asked, "Where's Renquist?"

"Back there." I replied, as I grabbed the fallen man and forced him to his feet. "Let's move!"

"Is he... is he gone?" Brickwell asked, as we started moving away from the approaching horde. His microphone was still pulled out, giving everybody wearing a helmet the bad news.

"Hell no, I'm not gone!" Renquist's grating voice came across the radio. Perhaps for the first time, I was actually glad to hear it. "I hope you jarheads are back in that little gopher hole by now, because I'm about to give these hell bugs a one way ticket to oblivion!"

I was still dragging Brickwell, and Brickwell was hopping frantically on one leg, when I heard the worst sound I'd ever heard in my life. It was the sound of the Pulse Magnifiers detonating, followed closely by the wrench of screaming metal. The impact wave threw us ten feet forward, even though we were nearly to the far side of the hill by then. The blast was followed by a wave of scorching heat and radiation that made us feel as if we were being cooked alive.

A rain of rock, dirt and shrapnel began tormenting us, but neither of us could hear it as the blast had left us both deaf. I started bringing Brickwell back up, when the welcome forms of Dobson and Strawberry appeared and grabbed him for me.

Something heavy smashed into the top of my helmet, and I fell. When I got up I was only able to stagger forward by a couple of yards. A big, green and nearly naked man with a plasma rifle grabbed my arm and started pulling me in the right direction.

"Move it, Spaceman!" This was Knotts, looking almost fully recovered from his ordeal with the Roaches, except for his strange green skin.

Within a couple of minutes, the small bunch of us stumbled into the cave mouth.

This is all that was left, I thought, as I scanned the shadowy insides of the hill; seven rescued men and women, some of them now half awake and scared. Most of them were still unconscious or nearly so. Besides them were Brickwell, Dobson, Knotts and Strawberry.

"Where's Dempsey?" I asked. "And Neelson?"

"Dempsey ran back out to the transports." Knotts pointed. "No sign of Neelson."

"Figures, huh?" The seated and panting Brickwell managed to chuckle. "They're the two biggest chickens in the platoon."

Resentfully, I felt like pointing out how Dempsey had helped me load and unload all the people we'd rescued, and how he'd shot down those two Roaches earlier.

Dobson's voice blurted out. "Look! There he is!"

We all turned toward the transports, where sure enough, we could see Dempsey's head peering out from between the first and second vessels. He ducked down, just as Roach heat beams started smashing into the frames of both transports.

"Somebody better cover me!" Dempsey sounded frantic over the radio. "You guys listening?"

"I guess the Roaches are already swarming on us." Knotts positioned himself on one end of the hill mouth. "You'd have thought an exploding transport would have given us a little more breathing room."

"They just started a suicide charge." Strawberry said, as he took the opposite side. "You know how those things go. The Roaches don't stop until they're all dead or dying, or we are."

"I've got Roaches creeping in on the left." Knotts said, glancing outside. When he leaned back in, he noticed the mess that had once been Mason. "Hey, Spaceman, would you mind getting me that grenade belt?"

Queasily, I pulled the item off what remained of the man's lower torso and tossed it over.

Knotts pulled off a couple of grenades. "Somebody tell Dempsey what I'm up to."

Dobson sent the message.

About a minute later, Knotts lobbed out a couple of grenades, one right after the other. As soon as the first blast was heard, Dempsey scurried out from between the transports, a full pack on his back and a black case in his grip. There was a tense moment when a Roach blast lifted Dempsey up and off the ground. Luckily, it hadn't hit the man directly but only the ground right in front of him.

Dobson joined Knotts at the edge of the cave. Between the two of them, they held the enemy back long enough for Dempsey to right himself and make it in with the rest of us.

Looking as white as a sheet, Dempsey found a clear spot and dropped the case he'd been carrying. Next, the Marine removed the backpack and let that drop as well. "That's Neelson's pack! That son-bitch just left it on the ground, along with his helmet and his rifle! Neelson left his freaking cammies too, back behind one of the transports! I think he stripped naked and went out to meet that fire! Didn't I tell all of you that guy was crazy?" He glanced around the interior of the hill. "Where's the old man?"

"He didn't make it." Strawberry said.

"What do you mean? I just heard him say he was all right!"

"That was before he blew up the transport, by standing right in front of it and shooting at it."

"What?" Dempsey cried out. "Renquist is immortal, man! Nothing can touch that guy! Nothing!"

The look on Strawberry's face told me he'd thought the very same thing previously.

"Roaches creeping in on the left." Knotts said. "They're darting back and forth, trying to look into the cave."

Strawberry crouched and poked his head out on the right. A second later, he jerked his head back in, just as a heat wave ripped out a chunk of hard dirt from the edge of the hill. He joked, "Looks like they're creeping in on the right, too."

"Let's get a grenade count." Knotts suggested.

"For what?" Dempsey queried. "There are still like a million Roaches out there! Even if they all bunched up for you, you still wouldn't be able to kill all of them with the grenades we have left! What we need is for Renquist to tell us what to do!"

"He's gone." Dobson reminded him.

"Renquist can't be gone! He can't be gone!" Dempsey's voice went down to a whimper. I could see he was crying now. "He can't be. He's fucking immortal."

Not even ten seconds later, the whine of a plasma rifle could be heard nearby. Everyone tensed up, but we were all still startled when the bedraggled form of Rubalcava flopped down from the top of the cave. With a dust-raising thud, he landed just outside the entrance.

"Friggin' last step..." Rube groaned in pain.

Knotts, green skin and all, was the first Marine to react. He reached out with a long brawny arm and grabbed Rube just past one boot. After a mighty heave, Knotts yanked the fallen man into the shadows with us. The ground where Rubalcava had landed suddenly burst and stung our faces with dirt and pebbles.

"I got knocked loopy up on top of the hill." Rube stammered out. "Half-buried under the dirt so the Roaches thought I was dead. My fucking radio broke. I thought I was the only one left, until I heard you guys tossing out grenades. Did you guys see me making like a human dive bomber right now?"

"Renquist is dead." Dempsey informed the new arrival.

"What?" Rube asked.

Dempsey repeated the grim tidings.

"Renquist can't be dead! That man's a superhero!"

"I know." Dempsey said.

"Well, let's just do what we can, until we figure something out." Knotts tried to keep the despair from setting in on all of them. "Hey, Straw, let's push the Roaches back with a couple of grenades."

"We won't need them anymore." From his spot sitting on the ground, Brickwell pointed outside. "Take a look."

The entire group of conscious cave dwellers turned their heads that way. Huge towers of black smoke billowed into the sky, still dozens of miles away from the hill. They formed a dark and impenetrable blanket, as they culminated into one great and living torrent that rose up toward the highest reaches of the planet's atmosphere. One by one, the soldiers' gazes followed the incredibly tall spires of death down to the ground.

A great wall of flames, also writhing and swaying as if alive, spread forth like a virus. As far as the eye could see, the fire reigned supreme, climbing over mountains and stampeding over forests. All the while it maintained a steady, rapid speed as if it were being timed or directed. Whatever was left behind, no man could say, as whatever object or terrain encountered the fire was quickly snuffed from view by both flames and smoke.

"For crying out loud!" Dempsey shouted. "Why can't we ever get a break? Why do we always end up in shit like this?"

"Roach fodder or fried crispy." Strawberry muttered dryly, glancing at some of the others. "Not much of a choice there, huh?"

Knotts peeked out of the cave again. "I guess we can hold on to our grenades now, seeing as how the enemy is no longer anywhere in sight. Gee, I wonder why they didn't stick around?"

"Because they're smarter than us, you ape-shit!" Dempsey snapped out in frustration. "That's what we should be doing; getting the hell out of here!"

"It won't do us any good." Strawberry replied. "That fire's moving at a good fifty or sixty miles per hour. There is no way a human being is going to outrun that for long. Or a Roach for that matter."

"We can at least try!"

"And gain what? Twenty more minutes before the fire reaches us?"

"At least I'll be alive for twenty more minutes!" Dempsey argued out of desperation.

"If you want to make a run for it, the door's wide open for you." Brickwell said. "Nobody's going to stop you this time."

Dempsey lowered his head.

"Anyway, you won't even have that long." Brickwell went on. "I think that fire's moving a lot faster than sixty miles an hour. I'm guessing we have about ten minutes left."

"Maybe less." Knotts estimated.

"Grim Reaper's comin' with a flame-thrower." Rube said, just before he grabbed at his bruised ribs. "Hey, Douglas, do you think that those pineapple chunks on the ground will heal me if I eat them?"

I shrugged. How the hell would I know?

"Doesn't anybody have any ideas?" Dempsey asked.

"Yeah, I have an idea." Brickwell requested. "Toss me Neelson's backpack."

Dempsey did. The heftier man starter digging through it. He cracked a smile when he discovered a package of red licorice vines. "I knew that knucklehead had some poguey bait (candy) in here. You guys want some?" After taking a couple of strips, he tossed the package over to Strawberry.

"Does anybody have any real ideas?" Dempsey repeated. "Anybody?"

"We don't have enough time to do anything." I said.

"What about these frog people?" Dempsey pointed. "Maybe they can think of something! They're smart. They were smart enough to set up the outpost, right?"

I looked into the faces of the people we'd rescued. Well, the few who were conscious, anyway. Their expressions were lifeless and numb, or just plain scared. "I don't think they're fully awake yet. I don't think they'll be able to help us."

"We've gotta do something!" Dempsey screamed.

Strawberry was starting to look angry. "Look, I understand how you're feeling. I didn't want to end up like this either, boxed in by fucking Roaches on one side and giant fruits on the other. I think Renquist was a fool to send out that Non-Retrieval code! If he hadn't done that, we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place!"

"Hey, hold on, man." Rube countered. "It was either we go Non-Retrieval or we would have had another Betelren Six out here! And on top of that, you know how close the Roaches are to hopping on the Links!"

"I'm starting to feel the heat now, from the fire." Knotts said, but nobody seemed to be paying attention.

"Why can't you just admit that Renk made the wrong call?" Strawberry growled. "Why do you always have go around kissing Renk's ass?"

"He made the right call!" Rube shouted back.

"Guys," I tried to calm them both. "If these are our last few minutes, we shouldn't spend them fighting with each other."

"Why don't you shut the hell up?" Strawberry looked ready to pounce on me. "Maybe if you'd done a better job steering your stupid transport, we wouldn't have ended up in the middle of nowhere like we did!"

"So, it's his fault the Roaches landed on Lesenia?" Rube shot back.

Unable to listen to any more of the argument, I decided I needed to take a stroll. I thought to walk outside, but I didn't want to take the risk of Strawberry taking a swing at me, so I went further into the cave instead.

As I stepped over the horizontal bodies of a few outpost personnel, I noticed that Dempsey had crawled back there as well. The timorous man had his flashlight on and sitting on the ground beside him. I could hear him fumbling around in the dark with something that sounded like plastic.

"What are you doing?" I asked, clearly startling him. I reached into the pocket where I'd stashed my own flashlight and shone it into Dempsey's face.

"Somebody has to do something." He said, avoiding the glare. As I flashed the light down lower, I saw the case Dempsey brought back from the transports. It was a case full of LRR radio parts. He was busy putting together a Long Reach Radio. "This thing won't turn on. What am I missing?"

"The battery's probably off." I said, at once remembering Dempsey's clumsiness and the exploding battery back at Message Hill. There was a possibility that Dempsey could manage to blow us all up before the fire reached us. "Here, let me finish it up for you."

Sure enough, after I opened the seal I saw that the battery switch was still set to off. I clicked the battery on, resealed it properly and handed the radio back to Dempsey. In his haste, the itchy Marine turned the radio on and set it to a high volume. This resulted in a long squeak followed by a wall of static.

"What's he got there?" Rube's voice filtered over.

A moment later, a second flashlight beam illuminated Dempsey.

"A working LRR radio." I answered.

"Won't do us much good now." Rube sighed. "I wish we'd had one of those when we first Pulsed onto this goddamned rock." His flashlight wavered away. "Hey, guys, what's the ETA (Estimated Time of Arrival) on the blaze?"

"Two minutes and counting, until we're all chicken tenders." Brickwell replied.

"We've at least got to try, right?" Dempsey said, refusing to see the hopelessness in the situation. "I should go outside for better reception but I don't want to get myself flash-fried."

The little assistance I could provide was to point my flashlight at the radio's digital tuner. I suppose I was as scared as Dempsey at that moment. Drops of sweat were now running freely down my forehead and a huge knot was forming in my stomach.

"What the hell good is a radio going to do us now?" Strawberry's angry voice boomed back.

Dempsey looked up at me. "We've gotta at least try, right?"

"Yeah." I said.

By the cave mouth, Knotts fired a few shots of plasma out at the horizon. "I guess that didn't work. The fire is still coming."

"Yeah, we've gotta at least try." I nodded, wondering if that might be the last sentence I would ever say.

"One and a half minutes." Brickwell called out. "Maybe less."

Thick waves of heat began to ebb into the small cave. These seemed to intensify as they bounced along the walls and gathered together in the open space. I found myself drawing fast breaths. My head was quickly becoming muddled.

"Stupid radio." Dempsey complained. "I can't lock on to any coordinates. Whoever designed this thing, whoever put these circuits together like this, was an asshole! The scanner should have picked something up by now!"

Despite the situation, I found myself chuckling, but I had to cut this short when my head started to throb. A strong wave of dizziness came over me, bad enough that I had to reach out and place a hand against the wall to steady myself.

"Minus one minute and counting." Brickwell said. All trace of hope was gone from his voice.

The circuits, I thought to myself in amusement. Whoever designed those circuits was an...

I stopped short, nearly realizing something important, and becoming more than a little frustrated when the thought didn't stand still long enough for me to recognize it. Trying to find that lone revelation among the stifling waves of heat, I wiped at my forehead, inadvertently taking the flashlight's glare away from Dempsey. The light was shining in a small circle on my cammies and near my bicep, I noticed.

"Hey, I can't see anymore." Dempsey complained. "Bring the light back!"

With the beam, I followed the cammie blouse down to the crook of my elbow, past my forearm, and over to my scraped up wrist...

"Come on! We're running out of time!"

... and to my dirty fingertips resting heavily on the cave wall.

"I can't see anything!"

"Shut up, Dempsey." I said, staring at my fingertips under the glare of the flashlight. What was my brain trying to tell me?

"I can't see!"

"I said, shut the hell up!" I yelled, so loud it disrupted the arguments and the whining, and even Knotts' random shots outside.

Everything was silent except for the throbbing heat and our heavy breaths. As the growing steam began wringing tears from my eyes, Dempsey accidentally happened upon another burst of static.

"Shut that off, now!"

I could only imagine the bewildered look on the man's face as he complied, as I continued to stare at my glowing hand.

Then, it began to dawn on me. I wasn't just staring at my fingers, but at what lay behind them as well. I was looking through many thick layers of hardened mud and rock. Behind this natural wall was a sheet of unknown metal that had been buried there for countless centuries. With my mind, I was looking at insulated tubing, at self-repairing mechanisms, at a maze of connectors and leads. All of that had been made of materials and substances that hadn't even been imagined by human engineers yet. I almost giggled, as I recalled Dempsey's comment.

Whoever designed these circuits was an asshole!

Whoever designed the radio, maybe, but not the being responsible for the inner workings of the teleport-hill. Whoever designed that had designed it to last forever.

"Hey, don't take it personal, man." Dempsey was saying. Now, he sounded as if he'd given up as well. "We've got enough problems as it is. I was just trying to help."

I grinned like a madman. If only we had a Wehnteweisell pineapple around, perhaps we could persuade it to activate the teleport and seal us in from the fire. By the mere force of its will, it could save our lives. Who ever thought a pineapple could be sentient, anyway, like a human being?

A human being like me, I thought.

I became aware of some of the Marines' clothing, dried out so thoroughly by the unbearable temperatures that it was bursting into flames, while panicked voices were being hurled in all directions.

These sounds I pushed aside, concentrating instead on those circuits that held the precious and powerful liquid metal on one side, liquid that had to breach across a tiny gap of space in order to activate the closing of the teleport hill. What would it take to cause that liquid to make that tiny, yet monumental leap?

And suddenly, as I gagged on strangling smoke and squinted through tear-filled eyes, I was doing it, willing it to happen. The liquid metal stream started reaching across that bare fraction of space, setting the technology into motion and instantly bringing about a union of circuits where there had previously been none.

Amid the cries of pain and the chaos, my conscious mind wavered on the brink of oblivion. As I felt the darkness inside my head begin to surpass the darkness outside of it, I forced my brain to complete the process. I mentally screamed an order for the circuitry to engage my command.

Soldiers shouted near the cave entrance, their frantic forms appearing as fleeting shadows in a bright red furnace, even as the dirt began to ebb itself over the cave opening. The gaping mouth seemed to yawn and quickly, determinedly, it closed up just as the wall of flames began lapping its way inside.

Becoming nauseous and disoriented, I tried to keep my faltering eyes open, only to have them blink back at me defiantly. Then, my body lost control, lost its balance and collapsed like a rag doll to the ground. I bounced as heavily as a corpse would, and my head rolled to one side as if lifeless.

We survived the fire, of course.

I succeeded in activating the portal door and closed up the cave entrance. The Marines who weren't in flames helped put out those of us who were. They triggered some anti-biological warfare, air-purifying chemicals; they called these AB-Vacs, to suck out the smoke from the cave before it killed the bunch of us. (These came from Neelson's backpack, I might add. You don't know how much of a hero Dempsey was for having retrieved it.) The AB-Vacs left us with a thin yet breathable layer of oxygen, which could be replenished with diminishing returns as long as we had the AB-Vacs available. To preserve oxygen further, we all lay down on our backs, as we used less air this way than if we were all standing up and jabbering away all the time.

It took hours and hours for the waves of fire to pass over us. We counted either four or five waves altogether, as we heard their rumble and felt their heat through the packed dirt. Too many waves for a Unilink Transport with full Pulse Magnifiers to outrun, so it turned out to be a good decision not to try and Pulse around the planet.

One of the women we'd rescued passed away in there. The others feared that I'd take that same route myself, but somehow I managed to pull through. Maybe it was because of all those pineapples I'd brushed against during our stay on Lesenia, but I couldn't say for certain.

Once we were fairly sure that the fires were over, I tried to open the hill up with my mind. I couldn't do it. My best guess is that the repeated waves of intense fire and its terribly high temperatures had done what time and neglect had been unable to do. Those ancient circuits were either melted or in some way impaired. Engineers who later excavated the site were unable to figure out exactly what kinds of devices or structuring were buried into the hill, because they were so badly melted. They couldn't identify half the metals they dug out, either.

In the end, we had to dig ourselves out. It took a few days, seeing as how the outer shell of the hill had been hardened as tough as rock by the multiple furnaces that had rolled over us. Insta-Shovels sometimes broke against the barrier. We ended up using them as spades, which let me tell you, weren't any picnic to use that way. Somehow, we managed to poke open a tiny air hole on a clear and chilly night.

I'm sure you can imagine what kind of celebrating took place inside the hill. We all took turns putting our lips up to that hole and sucked in air that was not as sweaty and grimy as what we'd been breathing ever since we'd been buried alive. It was cool, only somewhat refreshing because it was still so ashy outside. One of the outpost women was so happy she gave Dempsey a kiss. Her green coloring had started to fade by then. I have to say, that after flashing our lights at her mostly nude body for the better part of three days, she was starting to look pretty attractive to the rest of us as well.

We got the hole wide enough to squeeze a man through. The first one to get out was Dempsey, because he'd been thoughtful enough to grab a radio before we'd been buried alive. Rubalcava escaped next, with his GPS tracker and his laminated coordinate sheet in hand. We had another party, once the satellite relayed the message that a transport was being sent out to pick us up.

Several transports came to Lesenia, as a matter of fact. They brought with them scores of biological experts, engineers and Explorer Drones. The drones scoured the planet to obtain new air and soil samples. The multiple Roach nests were discovered, now that the foliage around them had been burned away. So were the underground chambers where they'd been stockpiling their ores and minerals. The Roaches were all dead, just like the rest of the planet. The brass decided that Lesenia would no longer be a suitable place for an outpost, much less a recruit training and deployment station. It was estimated that the planet would remain inhospitable for many generations to come, if not centuries. In one fell swoop, the Wehnteweisell had succeeded in getting rid of both humanity and the Roaches from their world.

I'd chosen to stay behind, long after the surviving members of platoon Ten-Twenty and the personnel we'd rescued were gone. After some long and deep thinking, I found that I couldn't disagree with the Wehnteweisell's decision to destroy their planet. It was either the Roaches taking over or humanity, and in the end they chose neither. They did what they had to do to preserve their integrity. This meant they had to destroy the paradise they'd worked so many eons to create.

I suppose the pineapple people learned a lot from the clashes between humans and Roaches, like how to deceive, how to manipulate, how to subjugate, and worst of all, how to wage war. I really can't say that we taught them anything good.

The Explorer Drones reported no signs of life anywhere on the entire planet. As everything began to wind down and the flock of Space Corps personnel began to slowly abandon Lesenia, I had a sudden thought. They were still there, the Wehnteweisell, way down in the depths of the planet with their herds of camel-horses, their little gibbon-like mammals, their insects and their bat-birds. And they were all waiting, some with the patience of moons, some with a lot less, until humanity was gone from the surface.

I couldn't even tell you how I know this, only that I sense it's the truth. When the Wehnteweisell opened my mind up, it stayed that way. It's funny because now I can catch random thoughts from people I talk to.

Of course, I didn't admit to anybody that the pineapple people were buried deep in the earth. Otherwise some high-handed military Jack might order huge drilling machines to Pulse to Lesenia and dig them out. Then the Wehnteweisell would be turned over to the biologists and these people would work very hard to pry open all their mental secrets, just like the Roaches had done.

I've always said, it's better to live and let live. If the Wehnteweisell want their planet to be absent of humans and Roaches, then who's to say they're wrong?

#####

### Tales From The Savage Lands 1

Tales From The Savage Lands 1 was first released on Oct. 1, 2017. Buy or sample 20% of this short story fantasy collection at Smashwords, or find out more about the series on Raymond Towers Dot Com.

About this series: When the gods bicker, the world of Grond trembles. More and more, the barriers of this world are shaken, affecting reality, time and space. In this cosmic battlefield, gods will seek to walk the earth, while their rivals will seek to prevent it. Throughout the ages, this great war will persist. Only the greatest heroes of this world, and those drawn from other worlds, can hope to bring order out of chaos.

About this title: A land tainted by ancient sorcery, full of corruption and evil that spreads and infects whatever it grasps. What can be done when the very trees watch with sinister eyes, when all is not it seems? A sorcerer will cast his spells, while a scoundrel hunts for treasure and a knight holds his head high with honor. The greatest test of all is here, here in the Savage Lands. Rating: HIGH controversy.

#####

The Old Hag's Tales 1

### Endrick, the Goblin Slayer

Gobbling Goblins in the sewers, stray too close it's you they'll skewer.

Scouring 'cross the countryside, their favorite prey, children at night.

Always some would stay out late, always some would disappear,

Little piles of bones found later, this would happen year thru year.

Some say Goblins; they got greedy. Others say, they're simply needy.

Matters not what others say, just know that Goblins come your way.

They'd raid the orchards, eat the figs, or disembowel your favorite pig.

Chickens found without their heads, goats and sheep, they all be dead.

Then from the ranches, far and near, slaughtered families, they did, my dear.

Even worse when they reached town, now half the folk there can't be found.

Instead of dying, some moved away, but there was one, would not be swayed.

That one be Endrick, son of a farmer, big as two men and even stronger.

Carries a club made of mighty oak and gauntlets tempered in smithy smoke.

But on his head he wears no helm. His face, well known across the realm.

Came to the tavern, there on King's Hill, and asked for himself a keg of ale.

For this, he'd rid the town of Goblins. Restore the peace we are all wanting.

The patrons scoffed, who was this man? Could boast so in their stricken land.

But they agreed, yes, in the end. Could things be worse than how they'd been?

And so that night, Brave Endrick stood, in our square where no other would.

O' course they came, this Goblin scourge, swept our hero with sudden surge.

But with a swing of his mighty club, did he halve the number of their mob.

They did regroup, this Goblin gang, with shrieks and howls, the war began.

Flying Goblins, on walls they'd splat. Screeching Goblins, rechristened Flat.

Stumbling Goblins, Hobbling Goblins, even Goblins Split In Half.

They might have won, but dare I say? Had not Endrick turned to sorcery.

From empty air, there came a demon, which cast out sparks, Goblins Screaming.

For whichever miscreant the hero maimed, the demon would fry 'fore it got away.

Flaming Goblins, Scattering Goblins, Burning Goblins 'cross town square.

Blackened Goblins, Boiling Goblins, burnt flesh and hair stench in the air.

A few, they made it to the sewer, thinking they'd be not pursued.

But Endrick and his demon had no qualms, and off they went under the town.

Twelve years since this act took place, and none have seen our Endrick's face.

Some claim to hear the sounds of battle, howls and Endrick's hearty laughter.

But those who venture to those depths, beware, for few of them come back.

I do utter a frequent prayer, for Endrick our bold Goblin Slayer.

You've more than earned your keg of ale, it's time, my hero, to be revealed.

#####

### Lady Martin's Manor

### Part 1

"They tell me that that the children go insane here." The soldier of fortune with the red hair commented in a low voice. "Have you ever heard of such a thing?"

Timehre of the Red Fold sipped a drink from his mug. "This ale is so diluted with water I am insane for having purchased it."

The redhead Otto chuckled. "This settlement is less than a village. The men went insane first, and then the women. Now only the children are left for whatever darkness there is here to prey upon. You're a well-traveled man. Is it possible for curses to only afflict children?"

"I've never heard of it."

Unexpectedly, Otto reached over and harshly slapped Tim on the arm. "At first you hardly spoke at all. And now, when you do speak, all you give me is a bunch of half sentences. Take a full breath, will you, and give me your story, man!"

Tim felt the sting on his arm, wondering if he should retaliate against Otto. He let no man mistreat him or insult him, but he enjoyed the redhead's company. Also, Otto was a different sort of man than most, as he was abusive and rough even with his fellows. The broad-shoulder former knight did take a breath, but hardly any words emerged from his mouth. "The story is mine alone. I will share it when I am ready."

"At least tell me, man, did it involve a woman?" Otto persisted. "Was she beautiful? Let me guess at what she looked like!"

"Not a woman, but a man."

"Say again? Was it a man that broke your heart, oh strong Timehre?" Otto started bellowing out laughter. He stood up in the tavern, pointing at his companion and making a big fuss to the other patrons present. "Will you all look at this bold warrior? It was a man that broke his heart!"

Tim sat there, cursing the weak ale in his thoughts. He wondered if Otto was trying to pick a fight with him, if only to see which of the two men was the stronger. With a casual eye, Tim looked from one end of the tavern to the other. The burly men laughed at the redhead's joke, while the weaker men gave him only brief glances. The few women present did not know what to make of Otto's joke. Two well-dressed older women whispered about him; this is what angered Tim the most. He hated women that gossiped and spread their poison behind a man's back. He felt like walking over to the women and slapping them both.

A big, strong Nubian mercenary came over to take a closer look at Tim and Otto. This was Caspian, whom they'd shared their last adventure with. Somehow, the black buck had managed to get drunk, but Tim wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't seeing it for himself.

"If a man breaks your heart, you rip his heart out and feed it to the ants!" Caspian said, sitting beside Tim and setting his broad black arm over Tim's shoulders. "Give your heart to me, man, and I will take good care of it."

Both Otto and Caspian laughed at Tim's expense. While the redhead was more of a brusque type of man, Caspian was the sort that naturally reached out to touch others. This was also a behavior that Tim was not used to. He wondered if he should remove the Nubian's arm, and how the man would react to him if he did. Perhaps Caspian would become offended if Tim did that.

Since Otto had not provoked Tim into anger, the redhead quickly lost interest and walked over to torment the musicians. The three music players would not play unless they were paid. Apparently, whatever the crimson-haired fighter offered was enough, as they soon struck up a tune. Otto then strolled over to the handful of prostitutes sitting along the far wall and chose one to dance with. The same as with the musicians, the women would not dance unless they were given money.

"Forget that man that broke your heart, Tim." Caspian nudged him. "Let us go and dance with those women."

"Are you too drunk to see what they look like?" Tim asked.

Upon hearing this, Caspian leaned over for a better glance. This ended up with the black man's shoulder and chest pressing on Tim, and his big face only inches away. Again, Tim wasn't sure of the proper etiquette to follow, for his knight's training was one thing, and completely different from the way mercenaries comported themselves.

"You are in the right, Tim." Caspian nodded, before drawing back into his chair. "Those women look as if they were reared by very ugly pigs. What of those other women that sit at the bar? They arrived well after we did, and so they cannot be prostitutes that work here. They are older, but they certainly dress well. Will you dance with the one that remains if I approach the other?"

Tim frowned. Those were the women that had whispered about him. He decided to change topics. "Listen, you black bastard. How is it that you are drunk while I am sitting here drinking piss and getting nothing from it?"

Caspian started laughing again. When his mirth was over, he leaned in close to Tim's face. "Do you see that bartender? I told him that if he gave me an inferior drink, I was going to cut off his balls and force him to chew on them. Behind that bar are two barrels of ale. You are drinking from one, while I am drinking from the other. I won't let the serving girls refill my mug. I take to the bar myself and watch the tender fill it, to make sure he won't give me the same swill that he's giving to you."

Where Otto had failed at getting Tim angry, Caspian had succeeded. He was paying the same coin as the black man for drastically inferior ale. Fuming, Tim stood up and hurled his mug at the bartender. By some miracle, the husky man managed to avoid the wet missile, but it did spray him with ale and make a racket against the back of the bar. In a moment, the tender ducked under the bar and came out with a woodcutter's axe in his hands. Despite being armed, it was clear the oaf did not want to tangle with a man such as he. Tim stood up and drew his sword, while everyone around stopped to see what would next transpire.

"Go and cut off his nose, Tim!" Caspian urged, before pointing at the tender. "Do you see, man? You've made my friend very angry with your piss-poor ale, and now he's taking it out of your arse!"

"You shouldn't bring your trouble in here!" The tender warned, although his hands and arms trembled.

"I want a return of all the coin I've given you tonight!" Tim demanded.

"Oh, will you let me keep it?" The tender pleaded. "I will give you my better ale. All you want to drink is yours from this moment forth. All you need to do is ask."

"How reasonable a man is, when he is facing a good sword and a man who knows how to wield it!" Caspian joked.

"Give me my coin." Tim persisted. "You gained it through dishonesty. I've spent an entire two pennies here tonight!"

Having no recourse other than to fight, the bartender reluctantly went into his pouch. He withdrew two pennies and set them on the bar, motioning for a serving girl to bring the coin to Tim. The irritated man took them and stuffed them into his leather purse.

Before his temper could get the best of him, and before he struck the tender with the broad side of his sword, Tim trudged out of the tavern. Smiling wide, Caspian came with him. The Nubian put his hand on Tim's shoulder, still sniggering over the incident, but both men halted when the two gossipy women stepped out behind them.

These were no common women. Tim had already gathered as much inside, but now he was able to get a closer look at them. He guessed them both to be well past their thirtieth birth dates. Their attire was fancy enough to mark the women as minor nobles. One woman's kirtle was in walnut, the other in blue. The sleeves of their kirtles were cut close to their arms and reached to their wrists. Both women wore padded rolls on their heads, with their long hair flowing at the back. As far as Tim could tell, they wore little in the way of jewelry.

"Greetings, ladies." Caspian gave them both a winning smile.

"Greetings to you." One woman replied, before turning away from the Nubian and facing Tim. "Are you a knight, sir?"

"I was before." Tim admitted. "My order was vanquished some years ago, when the Church put two rival kingdoms against each other. At the end of it, the kingdoms were weakened enough for the Church to send in soldiers from elsewhere. The Church claimed both lands for itself. Most of my order were killed in battle, but the few of us who survived were prohibited from carrying on the name."

"You have no love for the Church then?" The woman asked.

"I refuse to work for them." Tim revealed. "Too many of my fellow knights died for no good reason. The kingdoms and their people are in a worse state today than when the Church began to meddle with them. This is why I have become a soldier for hire."

The woman held her hand out. Knowing what was expected of him, Tim took the hand and kissed it. It was a sign of respect for them both. If she considered Tim of a lower caste, she would not have done this.

"I am the Lady Martin." She declared. "To my side is the Lady Reed. We wish to hire a man of some fighting skill and refinement. This man will be paid two pennies per day. He will have the post of constable and marshal."

"Two posts?" Tim wanted to confirm. "For such a low wage?"

"Yes, for the time being. That is all I can offer."

Otto stepped out of the tavern, apparently having concluded his dance with the prostitute inside. "Ah, I see that you've found two ladies to hold a conversation with. Is there a third lady left over for me?"

Both women looked to the redhead, but only for a moment. They returned their attention to Tim. Lady Martin went on with her offer. "We are in a predicament. If you accept this post, you will the first man we will hire. You may choose to hire others at the rate of one penny per day, but these men will in no way be higher in status than you. We encourage you to do this, even if you hire men such as these."

Neither Otto nor Caspian looked bothered at being referred to as lesser men. Tim guessed this was because the women obviously had some worth to them. Given a choice between guarding merchant wagons and fighting for poor chieftains, or serving nobility as he had in the past, the path was clear for him.

"I accept your offer." Tim bowed his head.

"Slow your horse down, man!" Otto stepped over to push him. "Ladies, what sort of predicament are you speaking of?"

"The worst sort." Lady Martin replied. "Our husbands were cousins. They held a manor to the east of here, bordering upon the Savage Lands. This was not a difficulty for us until recent times, when the darker scourges came to invade our lands. Our husbands were able to fend the vile creatures for a time, but in the end they and their knights were killed. Under Church law, two-thirds of our lands were to be claimed away. The Church sent its own archbishop and knights to retake the land, but they were rebuffed, and very soundly, mind you. It has been quite a battle with the clergy, but since they will not spare another effort to conquer those lands, they have given up and returned its ownership to the two of us. Our staff has run off, but some are willing to return if we can wrestle the land free again. The land is fertile and good. We can produce most everything we need, if all is running as it should be. There is an entire village there, sitting empty and going to waste because there are no workers for it."

"Oh, what a good bargain." Otto sneered. "To battle demons and monsters for one penny a day! I could earn more than that by hunting those creatures in the forest on my own, and finding their hoards that they keep hidden!"

"There are many creatures and they keep many hoards." The lady replied. "Whatever is recovered on our lands will be split into thirds."

"What thirds?" Otto asked.

"One third for the manor, so that will fall into my hands. One third for the Church, as they must have it by law. The last third will belong to Captain Timehre and whoever he sees fit to hire on with him."

"Captain Timehre?" Caspian laughed. He punched Tim on the shoulder. "Do you hear that, man? You will be a captain!"

Tim had never revealed to his fellows that he had been a captain before.

"Even one third could be a great amount of treasure, if the hoard is big enough." Otto calculated. "But how can we hope to defeat any such scourge, if they have already bested your husband's knights and the knights of the Church?"

"Mercenaries fight like the scourge does." The lady compared. "The knights will always stand in a formation and expect their enemies to mirror them. Even the knights of the Church did not enter the forests or the swamps, but only waited on the edge until the scourge came to them. Men such as you are more loosely arranged. They will not wait for their captain's orders before they adjust their tactics. I would hope that you, Timehre, would appreciate the different ways of fighting and use them to your advantage."

"There are marked differences that I have noticed." Tim nodded. "I am your man. Otto, Caspian, you may accompany me if you wish, as my soldiers."

"Ha, look at you and your swollen head!" Otto complained. "You're a captain now, are you?"

"I will go!" Caspian slapped his chest. "We will see how many heads of foes I will stick on poles when I am done!"

"You've both gone soft in the head." Otto mumbled. "I'll stay here with the ugliest prostitutes in the history of prostitution, I will. Oh, no, I won't! Not if there's a chance to wrestle a chest of gold away from a fiend out there! There are three or four good swords back in that tavern. Let me go and stir them up, yes?" He pointed at Tim. "And if that man's a captain, then I'm a monkey!"

The still drunk Caspian began laughing at the remark, as Otto hurriedly trudged his way back into the tavern.

The more Tim learned about Lady Martin, the more her nobility and prestige impressed him. She owned a fine carriage with two good horses and a servant to drive it. With no thought as to the cost, she hired a second wagon to carry Tim and five other men to the lands she claimed to have.

"Ho, will you scabbies have a look!" Otto called out, after a day and a quarter of journey.

It was still morning, with the sun in full bloom but the day overall cool and fresh thanks in part to the breathing of the forests they rolled through. The wagon was covered over with canvas; easy to draw to the sides so the men could watch the country they were traveling through. The crimson-haired mercenary caused them all to stand and look up ahead.

The manor was constructed in a manner typical to what Tim had seen before, and also attested to the lady's wealth. At least half a dozen medium-sized farms were situated around the lord's house, from what he had already seen. Whoever Lady Martin's husband had been had the status of a minor baron, or perhaps a captain retired from an army. At the center of the farms was seen a wall made of stone, twenty feet high and with stairs leading up to walkways that went all the way around. Tim counted only four archers behind the highest reaches of that wall, all of whom gathered over the main gate as the vehicles rumbled inside.

Within the walls were seen long stretches of gardens that were largely neglected, and many wooden benches covered over with thatched roofs for the farmers and their families to gather when they weren't laboring. The manor house was a small castle built of stone with four levels to it. Each of the castle's four corners contained winding staircases from top to bottom, leading up to another position for archers on the flat roof, although this time Tim did not see any bowmen up there. The chapel was built against one wall of the castle, with two floors to it and a separate entrance.

"I am guessing that those two ladies have purses the size of potato sacks." Caspian mused.

"They won't be having them for long." Otto murmured. "Look there."

A young man had sprinted away from the gate the moment he'd seen the vehicles coming in. The man was dressed as a peasant, heading directly for one of the roofed-over patios where a small group of other men waited. At first, Tim assumed them to be the lady's workers, but as the wagon came closer, he saw the red and gold attire that marked them as being from the church. The priests wore red robes with gold edging, while the soldiers were dressed in red tunics, also edged in gold but not as lavishly, and brown trousers. Once the runner had announced the arrival of the wagons, the entire grouping of Church representatives stood and strode out to meet them, with a dozen soldiers in formation behind three priests. At the lead was a man in exemplary dress, with a high, pointed hat in red that marked him as being a bishop. The other two priests, Tim observed, had no fancy hats, while the soldiers all wore felt hats in brown.

The carriage driver pulled the horses to a stop, as the runner came over to open the door for the ladies. In the time it took Lady Martin and Lady Reed to be helped out, Tim and the other mercenaries jumped from the wagon.

"Stay here." Tim told the rest, as it was his place to do so.

"If you think we're wanting to get closer to those people, you'd be wrong." One of the other men growled.

There was no love lost between representatives of the Church and soldiers of fortune. The Church always tried to tax everything a man owned or earned, or a woman for that matter. Because mercenaries sprouted no roots in any community, they were notoriously difficult to track down and tax. Often, the clergy would declare men like Tim to be outlaws, if it were becoming known that they were harboring too much wealth that the Church wanted to get its hands on.

"Why are you here, Bishop Landon?" Lady Martin demanded to know, as she strode directly to the head of that red welcoming committee. Tim jogged over to pace her from a few strides back. "You know very well that these lands have been returned to me!"

"The Church has reversed its decision." The bishop answered.

"What do you mean by that? I paid what tax I was obligated to pay!"

"Ah, but a faithful servant of the one god Mithras would have very willingly given more than the minimum asked for by the Church." The man smugly returned.

"The law is the law!" The lady nearly shouted. "Show me your letter from the Church!"

A secondary priest held a scroll out for her.

Lady Martin took it and read through it. "There is no reversal shown here! There is no additional tax for me to pay! All this decree tells me is that the church will help to guard this manor while I try to fend off the evil plaguing it!"

"If you were to abandon the manor, the Church would become its steward." Landon replied.

"Do you think I am abandoning it?" She pointed back at the small mob of fighters. "I have just hired these men to help me protect it! They will keep the scourge from breaching these walls!"

"The walls have already been breached." Landon revealed. "While you were away, it seems that some very vile creatures have come into the castle and made it their home. They are inside the castle now; dozens of them I believe. We have been waiting for them to take their leave, but thus far we have only been able to kill a single one. Soldiers, bring that foul thing forth!"

"In my castle?" Lady Martin looked appalled. She turned toward the stone structure. "How did they enter into my castle?"

With a fierce determination, the woman took several strides nearer the building.

"I advise you not to enter." The bishop warned her. "They will rip you to shreds."

The second lady hurried to reach the first, catching Martin by the arm while telling her to go no further. At the same time, the soldiers in red dropped a hideous little beast on the ground. It was a demon made real, as it had dark blue skin, short horns, and claws on both its hands and feet. The creature had the rough shape of a man, but clearly it was not. It was about half the size of a grown man.

"Lady Martin, is this the sort of devil that plagues these lands?" Tim called out.

The woman strode over to examine the beast. "Yes. They attack in droves of twenty or more, usually in the night. I don't understand how they entered the castle!"

"And you say there are dozens of them inside now?" Tim asked the bishop.

"Certainly more than only six men can overcome." Landon replied.

"Six men?" Tim looked back at the mercenaries, before he again addressed the clergy. "I count six with me, including myself, but I also count twelve standing behind you. By that count I see eighteen swordsmen, and at least four archers manning the wall."

"Oh, no, no." Landon shook his head. "The Church has already lost too many souls to these evil beasts. I refuse to risk any others. If the beasts come out into the daylight, we will strike them down in the holy name of Mithras. My soldiers will not be entering into that castle along with yours."

"On your decree, it is written that you are here to help me!" Lady Martin shouted.

"We are here only to guard this place." Landon reminded her.

"And if I abandon my manor, will the Church give me just compensation?"

"What compensation?" The bishop huffed. "It the property is abandoned, the Church will become its steward. There will be no compensation. I will forward the news to the archbishop, and he will decide what is to be done with the manor."

The lady again looked as if she were going to run over to enter the castle. This time, it was Tim who went to stop her. With a firm grip on her arm, he walked the distraught woman over to where the mercenaries stood watching the argument.

"Otto, do you see that blue devil there on the ground?" Tim ordered. "Bring it here."

"That think is uglier than Caspian." The redhead joked, but nevertheless he strode over. Showing no squeamishness, the man grasped the creature by the ankle and dragged it over for the others to look at.

"Do you see?" Lady Martin spoke in a low voice to Tim. "Now that my husband is dead, the Church means to take my lands away. These are my lands! I won't leave them! I know it was that repulsive bishop who somehow caused those creatures to come here!"

After having dealings with clergy in the past, Tim knew what those corrupt men were capable of. He had never heard of a priest conjuring up blue demons, however.

"Control your anger, otherwise that man will continue to needle you." Tim told her, before turning to Otto. "Have you seen devils like this before, man?"

"Oh, yes, these are abundant in the Savage Lands." Otto confirmed. "I've seen red ones and yellow ones, but hardly any that are blue as this one."

"That bishop claims there are dozens of them hiding inside the castle. Are they difficult to kill?"

"Not too difficult." Otto kicked at the creature's stiff leg. "They do come in a mad rush, however. By the time you skewer the first, you'll have another gnawing on your leg and a third gnawing on your back. That is how they kill: by overwhelming with greater numbers. They're as fast as mice, they are. They're good hiders too, waiting under tables or in dark corners until they get a good leg to sink their teeth into."

"I've heard they fear cats." Caspian spoke up.

"Do you know, I've heard the same." Otto recalled. "I couldn't tell you if there is any truth to that, but I have heard it."

"We should find a cat and set him loose in the castle." Caspian decided.

"Stay still, woman." Tim said, before he let go of the lady. He crouched down to scrutinize the devil. It had been stabbed in the belly and left to bleed out. The man poked at the devil's side, discovering that its skin was as thick as leather. His strikes would have to be stronger than normal to pierce that rough hide.

"It's a good place to live." Otto looked impressed with the castle. "It must have cost a pretty penny to build, I reckon."

"It must have a thousand places for those cretins to hide in." A hired man said.

"Are we going in there?" Asked another.

"I will." Caspian volunteered. He started off. "Let me fetch a cat first."

"They may fear cats, but they certainly fear fire." Otto said. "If Caspian can look for a cat, let's have a look for some torches to light our way in. Give us a hand looking, fellows. Cats and torches are on the gathering list."

When Tim stood up again, he glanced over at the bishop and his entourage. The men seemed to be bothered that Lady Martin and the mercenaries hadn't simply returned to the vehicles and left. In fact, the priests were gossiping to one another. Tim reached out to clasp Lady Martin's arm, this time pulling along more gently than before. He wanted to be sure that no Church representative heard him.

"How did these attacks first begin?" Tim asked.

"In the fields to the south. The farmers were harassed first of all. When a few of them were killed, my husband took his knights into the forest to raid those creatures in the same way they were raiding us. When he was killed, most everyone that worked here ran away. The reason the beasts were in the fields was because they were eating the crops. Why would they need to come any closer than that?"

Still clutching her arm, Tim took the lady around the entire castle, with Lady Reed following close behind. "How would you say they got inside?"

"They couldn't have." She answered. "The gates were shut by my servants before I left. I had five men posted here, but where have they gone? Has that repulsive bishop chased them away? If those creatures came, they would have to first climb over the walls and go into the castle after. The storeroom is locked. It is possible that they could have broken the locks and gotten into the food, but not likely."

Tim studied the castle as they took their tour around it. The thin windows on the first two floors were boarded up, while the doors to three of the staircases were still locked. Only one door was open. Its lock had been smashed apart, he noted, as he crouched to pick up and examine the fragments.

"Those animals did not break that lock." Lady Martin said. "It was a man that broke it, and it was the bishop who told him to. My servants must have refused to unlock it, as they knew the Church had released its hold on my manor. The bishop broke it, and he put those creatures inside to scare me off!"

Tim looked up at the great height of the castle. As Otto had said, it was a good place to live, a place for a wealthy man. Any lesser man would have envy of it, so it was no wonder that the bishop was taking great pains to acquire it.

"If the Church takes my manor, I will be ruined!" The lady cried out, causing her friend to come close to hold her.

Mercenaries usually kept their selves hidden from the Church. As a knight, Tim would at times work for the clergy, but also sometimes against it depending on the pay. As a man for hire, he detested the Church. He would have to consult with his fellows as to whether they would stay on or leave, as the bishop could easily declare them criminals and put them all into stockades. Tim felt sympathy for the ladies, but he also knew what happened to people who got in the Church's lording way, even if it was an accidental trespass.

By the time they'd gone around the castle, Caspian had recruited a pair of scrawny cats with an offering of cheese. Otto had outfitted three men with torches made of branches, with rags rubbed in pig grease on their ends.

"We'll enter in pairs." Otto gave out instructions. "One man holds a torch while the other holds a sword. Don't you drop those torches on any wooden floors!"

"There are many candles set into the walls." The lady told him.

"We will light them as we go along." Otto resolved, as he went to a covered patio where the cooking was done. With the help of another mercenary, they soon got a small fire going and the torches lit.

The moment the mercenaries and two ladies started toward the castle, the bishop and his entire group stepped in line after them. This was not lost on Lady Martin.

"Timehre, those men are not allowed to come in." She ordered, as she followed Caspian and another man into the open stairwell.

Blast, Tim thought. If he posted a man or two at the door, that would leave less men to go inside with. Still, he had no little mistrust of the churchmen.

Loudly, he called out, "Otto, watch this door. No one is to come in after us. It is much too dangerous, as the bishop clearly told us only a few minutes ago."

He thought the redhead might balk at the command, thinking that there might be plunder waiting for him inside the castle. Surprisingly, Otto held another mercenary back. The two stood by the entrance with the bishop clearly expecting to walk through them, until Otto put his hand directly on the clergyman's chest and halted him.

"Where are you going, man?" Otto asked.

"Step aside, ruffian." Landon scoffed. "I am clergy. I go wherever I please."

"You're only allowed into the chapel, and that's sitting right around the bend." Otto taunted. "But you can't go in the castle."

"And why not?"

"Because you, sir, are a coward and a cheat. If you couldn't clear this castle out before, even with your twelve monkeys at your back, then you certainly won't enter now that the six of us are here."

"Move aside, before I have my men crucify you to the front gate."

"No, I won't. This is for your safety, man of the cloth. Go and sit on a bench, as you were doing when we first arrived. If we need you to bless this place once we've searched it out, we will know where to look for you."

Landon looked to the mercenary in irritation, before he strode to one side. "Guards, kill this man. Disembowel him."

Twelve soldiers unsheathed their swords as the lone mercenary withdrew his. Before any swinging of weapons could begin, Otto and the man beside him jumped through the doorway and onto the landing behind it. This caused Tim and the rest to quickly move up the stairs, as the staircase wound upwards and was designed narrow for situations precisely like this one.

"I'm in the door, while the lot of you are out the door." Otto teased. "In order to come at me, you'll have to come through the door one at a time, as the door isn't very wide to allow any more than that." He reached out to grab the door's edge, swinging it back and forth. "What's this? Well, it does look like a rather large shield on hinges, does it not? I just happen to be an expert at fighting in a tight space behind a door, so any of you that think you are in my league, please step forward to prove it."

"I said kill him!" Landon demanded.

Two soldiers moved forward, only to crowd in close before the door. Finally, one was forced to step back, as the other would not have any room to swing his weapon otherwise. The man made a slow approach.

"I hope you don't poke your arm through this door." Otto kept provoking him. "If you do that, I shall have to slam the door on your arm. Not only are you going to lose your sword, but you're also going to lose your hand when I cut it off. Will you ask your holy coward to make your hand grow back, man?"

Hoping to save face, the soldier thrust his sword toward Otto's belly. The redhead slammed the door on his arm, as he said he would. The man cried out in pain, opening up his hand and yanking his arm away, but also causing his sword to fall.

Otto kicked the sword away from the door, but the man was not in any hurry to attempt to get it back. "What a nice sword I've found. It looks very expensive, but I will have to try it out to see how effective it is. Next man, come on!"

The bishop's face was turning red from anger.

"I said come on!" Otto insisted. "I want a collection of nice swords at the end of today. I'll be piling them up right here inside this door. After I'm done with swords, I think I'll start to collect boots. We do know what the law is concerning invading the home of a noble, don't we? I do believe this qualifies as an invasion, especially when one considers that the Church either is here to help the noble who owns this castle, or has no grounds to be here in the first place. What do you say to that, holy coward? Will we hear some yelling from you now?"

"Give that man back his sword." Landon ordered.

"Of course, as soon as you tell us how many blue devils you set loose inside this castle."

"Are you accusing me?" Landon growled.

"Of course I am." Otto laughed. "Any fool can see long scratches on the hands and arms of your men. How did those men get the scratches, coward? Were they scratching each other, or did they handle the blue devils as they put them into the castle? It is no wonder you sent the lady's help away, so you could bring your wagon with cages full of blue devils in it without being witnessed. What a clever man you are! You are so clever that no one can possibly see through your ruse. I am thoroughly deceived!"

When the redhead started laughing at him, the bishop relented and told his men to return to the benches. The man who'd lost his sword stared at Otto, until finally he was the last to go.

Tim was still standing there along with the others, glad that the tension was beginning to subside, but also knowing what a perilous predicament they were now in. "You play a dangerous game, friend."

"When the men were looking about for cats, the archers tried to keep this man from exiting the gate." Otto explained, motioning to the mercenary closest to him. "He did push his way past the archers, and guess what he found hiding behind the wall here. Well, none other than a wagon covered over with a tarp, and on that wagon were a number of animal cages. Five cages in all."

"I told him the moment I got back inside the wall." The mercenary admitted. "Those cages were only big enough to hold one creep in 'em. There shouldn't be more than five of those creeps in the castle, but only four if the dead one we saw was one of 'em."

"By the Devil's toenails." Tim grumbled. "This trap has been set not by the evil of these lands, but by those who've been entrusted to protect it."

"Trust no man, as I always say." Otto replied. "And especially no man who works for god."

"That bishop wants this manor for his own, and he is using his post with the Church to obtain it." Caspian was in agreement.

"Tell them, Lady Martin." The second lady spoke. "Tell these men how the bishop demanded to know where we would go to hire men."

Tim looked at the ladies.

"Yes, that bastard asked me twenty times." Lady Martin nodded. "When I gave him a destination, he sent soldiers on horses off, pretending they were being sent elsewhere. I suspect those soldiers were told to go ahead and dissuade any men from coming here. This is why I went so far to find a man such as you, Tim."

"You should have said we'd be having a great deal of trouble with the Church." A hired man complained. He turned and banged on the wooded door just past the stairwell landing. "What is kept here?"

"That is the storeroom." The lady answered. "The lock is still secured on it, so all should be well inside there." She looked up above her head, past Caspian, the second lady, and the other mercenary that had crowded in the narrow space. "If the bishop has the intention to scare me away, he would only need to place those devils into the higher floors."

"I will lead the way." Caspian said, pushing past Lady Reed and the hired man holding the torch. He started off with his sword in one hand and a small cat in the other. To the man behind him, he said, "Stay close to me, Hound."

"I'll keep guard here at the door, with this man Garren." Otto said, motioning at the mercenary standing closest to him. "Don't you worry, Tim. The bishop has to rethink his plan now. That will take a duration, as his plan has to be good enough for him to take this castle intact with a minimal loss of men. Any scandal here will reflect badly on him. Past that, I do have a few more surprises on their way."

"What surprises?" Tim asked.

"You'll know soon enough." Otto chuckled. "Go with him, Peck, and take that flea-infested creature with you."

"I thought Tim was the captain here." Peck commented. "I won't be taking orders from you, you red peacock."

"Me either!" Garren added.

"We have a mutiny already, Tim." Otto grinned. "Go on and tell these oafs what to do, otherwise they'll only stand here scratching the boils on their arses."

"Garren, you stand with Otto and hold the door." Tim said. "Ladies, you'll come after me, and you Peck, hold your torch up high so that I can see ahead. Caspian, go on and lead the path with Hound."

The six explorers wound their way up by twenty steps before they reached another locked door.

"That floor is reserved for the guardrooms." Lady Martin revealed.

The third floor was the great hall, where banquets were held for the noble family and any worthy visitors and entertainers.

"This lock has been forced open." Caspian announced. The black man peered into the dark chamber, before setting his cat on the floor and ushering it in. Right away, the cat tried to turn and scurry past the man's boots, but he kept it at bay with his boot and the door. "Go forth, you little scavenger. You haven't done your work yet!"

"I'm telling you, they're in there." Hound worried. "At least four, maybe more, maybe three hundred and fifty four."

Both mercenaries laughed at Hound's rhyme.

Caspian quickly grew impatient, however. When the cat still wouldn't budge, he propped it up on his boot and lunged his leg out to hurl the creature into the room. There was no telling where the cat landed or how fast it would be coming back, so the Nubian only kept the door open by a crack. Inside, the cat was heard hissing and screeching. A loud crash was heard next, as if someone had hurled a pot out.

"Caspian, you go in or I will!" Tim declared, coming up close to the black man.

"I'll go." Caspian nodded. "You keep watch around these bending stairs, in case we have a creep just above us. Come on, Hound. Let's go earn our penny for today."

"It had better be a shiny penny!" The hired man grumbled.

The two mercenaries went inside, shutting the door behind them.

"Keep the light ready." Tim said, as he went past the landing and peered around the corner. The stairwells were extremely dark because their narrow windows had been boarded up. He was about to suggest that Peck open the windows, but paused when he heard another crash coming from the banquet hall.

Unexpectedly, a large black shape leapt into Tim's face. He flinched back so quickly he would have burned his head on Peck's torch, had the other man not been holding it up high. Going on his instinct, Tim held his free hand out as if he were holding a shield, only to feel several claws ripping into his flesh. He stabbed out with the point of his sword, missing because the beast attacking him had already darted away. Tim crouched just as it made a second leap. The creature had been aiming for his head this time, but with his body lowered, it went over him and bounded into Peck.

Luckily, the mercenary had seen it coming and had the torch ready, although he did end up losing his cat in the tumult. Unable to stop in midair, the blue devil was caught in the flames for a moment. It screeched even worse than the cat had, before it jumped to the floor and tried to scramble back up the stairs. Tim's sword slashed down in the devil's back, opening up a great wound. A second slash took its head off. Its blood smelled of something putrid.

"Stay close!" Tim shouted over his shoulder, as he hurried up the steps. At the final landing, he found another blue devil. He could hardly believe it, but those creatures had females among them with small blue breasts. The thing shrieked at him, but its furor was short lived as Tim brought his sword down to kill it.

Through the torchlight, Tim saw the lock still secured on the door. This fourth level would hold the bedrooms of the nobles. With some disgust, Tim understood that Bishop Landon wanted to keep as much of the castle as he could in pristine shape. If any damage were to occur to its contents, that damage would be confined to the single floor with the banquet hall.

"Two are dead!" Peck announced, as Tim squeezed past the man in the narrow staircase.

He had to squeeze past the ladies as well, for they were right behind the men.

"That last door is still locked." Tim announced as he went by, with Peck shoving his way around the women a moment later.

Together, the mercenaries jumped into the banquet hall. It took a good moment for Tim to realize they'd left the ladies outside in the dark, but the greater danger was on this floor. Hound managed to light a couple of candles mounted into the wall, but the greater part of the hall was still dark. Tim saw a dead devil on the floor, while further away Caspian and Hound were running about trying to kill the last creature. The beast was running under banquet tables and chairs, or jumping over them, to get away from the two men chasing it.

"Light more candles, Peck!" Tim instructed.

Behind him, the mercenary hurriedly moved along the wall, lighting up more and more of the chamber.

"Hound, help Peck!" Tim called out, catching the other man's attention.

As the two mercenaries provided a brighter illumination, Tim ran forth with his sword ready. The devil lunged across a table, knocking over a candleholder and a few wooden bowls that had been left out. It leapt in the direction of a far door, going as far as pushing and banging on that door before it realized it was locked from the outside. The blue devil then ran clear across the room, jumping on a window ledge and jerking at the secure wooden shutter.

"I'll lead him to you!" Tim called out.

"That won't work!" Caspian replied. "Hound was trying to do that very thing, but this Devil's son is too quick for us!"

Luckily, one of the other mercenaries was crafty enough to come up with a solution. Peck went over and undid the thumbscrews on a shutter, before pulling the wooden cover off and letting in a stream of sunlight. He'd hardly moved away when the blue devil scampered over, thinking it was about to gain its freedom. The beast jumped on the inner ledge, sticking half its body out the window before realizing how high off the ground the window was. Both Tim and Caspian honed in on the window, poking out with their swords until the cornered devil screamed and jumped to its doom far below.

The Nubian pushed his large head past the narrow edges of the window. "That Devil's son is not dead, but it is maimed. It is dragging itself along the ground. I must go out and finish it off."

"Can they rejuvenate their bodies through magic?" Tim wondered.

"I don't know that answer, but I won't risk it."

"Be wary out there with the bishop's guards."

"They should be wary of me!" The proud man stomped off.

The moment after the mercenary went through the door, the ladies came inside.

"Have you killed them all?" Lady Martin asked.

"On these stairs and in this hall, we have." Tim confirmed. "You must unlock the rest of these doors for us if we are to investigate the remaining floors."

"I have no keys." The lady replied. "My steward had them all, but the man is no longer here."

"I'll wager that bishop has them now." Hound said. "But don't you worry about that. We're good men at picking open locks."

"Aye." Peck chuckled. "You tells us which doors we should open and they'll soon be open."

Each level had four doors, all of them leading to the stairwells, except for the storeroom on the bottom floor that only had one entry.

"Lady Martin will tell us." Tim resolved. "First, let us remove all these storm shutters to let in the natural light."

Bishop Landon was a very angry man that afternoon. This was mainly because of Otto's theatrics. At first, the crimson-haired rascal made a great show by having the hired men carry the headless devils out of the castle, and all the way to the hidden wagon with the cages on it. Not only were the devils put next to the locked little prisons, but one corpse was also set up as the driver on the forward bench. Caspian stuck the four heads on spikes over the main gate.

Later, the garrison floor was opened up. There was enough bedding for twenty-four men, plus several armaments including bows, spears, short swords and shields, all of a better than average quality. The mercenaries were quick to want to steal the weapons for themselves, until Tim asked them to respect his post and also the lady that was paying their wages. It was Otto, however, who won them over.

"Who do you hate the most, the lady or the Church?" The redhead asked the small assembly. "If this lady were corrupt, I'd say rob the bitch blind. But she is not corrupt, is she? All of us here have been finagled by the Church in one form or another, and now it is Lady Martin's turn."

"The Church put me out of me home." Hound admitted. "That's when my wife took me children and went away to live with her relatives."

"We will use this equipment, but as Tim has said, we must respect the lady who will be paying us." Otto said, heading over to a weapon rack. From it, he removed a pair of practice swords. A wicked smile crept across the man's face. "I haven't had my fill yet of plucking at that bishop."

The rabblerousing mercenaries all followed the redhead out, where Otto proceeded to challenge the bishop's soldiers. "If one of you can best me with a wooden sword, I will return your man's sword to him. If I win the match, I get to keep your sword as my prize. Come on, then. Who wants a go with me?"

Tim noted that the ladies were watching the event from the castle's fourth floor. He also saw that several of the other rascals were daring the churchmen to place bets on the outcome. It would be interesting to see Otto fight against a disciplined opponent, Tim considered, as so far he only seen the redhead battling the occasional brute monster or being chased by a spirit in the woods.

The contest was based on the usual rules: one point for a hit on the arm or leg, two points for a hit on the chest or back, and three for a head strike. The first man to reach ten points would be declared the winner.

Otto looked clumsy at first, when the match started up. He let his opponent build up his confidence by striking him on the forearm and lower leg. Becoming cocky, the foe leapt in too eagerly the next time, giving Otto the opening to smack him on the head with the flat part of the blade. After this, the true skill of the fighters was revealed. Otto had been trained well by a capable instructor, but he had also acquired a new bag of tricks while in his office as a man for hire. He danced around the soldier's predictable moves, tapping him lightly here and there until he got the win.

"Your sword." Otto wiggled his fingers at the angry man. Instead of handing it over, the man vehemently hurled it to the ground. Otto retrieved it and made a display of looking the weapon over. "Did I or did I not say I would have a collection at the end of this day? Who else would like to tussle? How about you, bishop? Your golden staff put against my wooden sword? Did you even bring your staff on this trip? I know how you clergymen enjoy showing off your wealth, while taxing the poor and turning them into beggars."

"Tell him, Otto!" Hound nodded.

"You are a wretch of a man!" One of the secondary priests accused.

"Oh, do you hear that?" Otto cried out in a dramatic voice. "I'm wounded! I think I shall die! Me, a wretch! Ba ha ha ha!"

Hoping to curb the humiliation, Bishop Landon ordered his contingent into the two-story chapel. Apparently, the clergy and their soldiers had been sleeping there. Otto meant to keep ribbing them by showing off his new swords, but Tim pulled him away.

"If you persist, we'll have a legion of them here in the morning." Tim said.

"So will we." Otto replied, finally relenting and striding toward the castle's only unlocked door.

"What do you mean?" Tim followed.

"Oh, you will see in good time." Otto chuckled.

Earlier, Lady Martin had asked the drivers of the two vehicles to head out. They went to the nearest village, where several of the lady's former workers were staying. By the late afternoon, both vehicles came back full of people. Once the storeroom was opened, the indentured cook and her helper made a supper of beans flavored with garlic, leeks and potatoes. The chamberlain, who oversaw food and drink, and the steward, who was in charge of the manor's finances, also returned to serve under the lady. Lastly came two farmers and their small families, who were eager to return to their former duties as they were having a difficult time in the new village they were staying in. These people were all put into the garrison for the time being.

Tim's office would be the most complicated. As a constable, he would look after the buildings and defenses. As a marshal, he was charged with managing the garrison and all outside servants. Because he had gained no trust for the bishop, his final act for that evening was to schedule a guard watch, in the case Landon might grow irate enough to attempt to burn down the castle during the night. Fortunately, no incidents took place.

The captain was woken up early the next morning, when an announcement was made that two wagons were coming in. From the second floor window, Tim saw the bishop's men hurrying over toward the gate. Apparently, the two wagons wanted in, while the bishop wanted to keep them out.

"Let's have a look, men." Tim called out, hurriedly donning his constable outfit, before he and the mercenaries hurried down the stairs. Peck was still guarding the castle door, but he fell into the ranks with the rest the moment they went outside.

Otto had a rather large smile on his face. "I thought for certain they'd be here during the night."

"Who?" Tim asked him.

"Well, when I first gathered Hound and the others, I left a message at that tavern." The redhead admitted. "I told the men who wouldn't come to pass this word along. I said there is a very wealthy lady who is looking to hire a band of rebels such as us, and not only that, but we'll be able to fling mud and shit at the Church if they hire on. Also, I said, my good friend Tim will be the captain of the guard. Now, Tim, how many men do you think are willing to fling shit at the Church?"

The main gate was still shut, with only a squared peephole open to view the wagons outside. Tim wasn't able to get that far, as several of the bishop's soldiers were standing in his way. He did manage to see Landon's furious face, however. When the clergyman saw Tim, he immediately strode to him.

"Who are those men outside?" Landon's face trembled with anger. "I demand to know who they are and why there are here!"

"Those must be the rest of our hired men." Otto started pushing his way past the soldiers. "You didn't think our half dozen was all there were, did you? No, you silly little man. We have droves and droves of fighting men coming here. Stand aside, you soldiers, especially the two of you who don't have any swords thanks to me. Move, you smelly bastards! I have to get that gate open!"

"Don't allow him to open it!" Landon commanded.

"You have no authority here, man." Tim countered. "As captain of the guard, I order Otto to open the gate."

"There, you hear that?" Otto smirked and pestered the soldiers still barring his path. "Step to the left, step to the right. I care not which way as long as you keep on stepping."

"I will have you boiled in shit." Landon threatened.

"Ha! I've never been threatened with that before!" Otto laughed. "Tell your men to draw their swords, you coward. It will be our six against your ten armed men and your two worthless, unarmed men. Your men may very well win, as they do have the numbers and the gate is presently closed. I will tell you what your men will be unable to do. They will be unable to stop me from using my sword to put daylight into your heart. Am I in the legal right, coward? An invading force draws their weapons in a noble woman's estate, when that woman has clearly stated she does not want that invading force present. An altercation ensues were several men are killed, including the leader of the aggressors and the men hired to protect the noble lady. And who is the leader of the guard, but a former knight who knows his business. How will the law see it, coward, after you are dead and your head hangs up there on the gate next to those of the horned devils you brought here with you. If your head were blue, we wouldn't be able to distinguish it from your devils, would we?"

"You tell him, Otto!" Hound called out. "He's already got the horns, except you can't see them! Maybe he's hidden them in his arse!"

The redhead pushed his way over to the peephole. "Ho there, Bullen! How many men come with you?"

"Eighteen. We were sitting on each other's laps, we were. What's this about us not being allowed inside?"

"There are six of us here, against ten armed men from the Church, and two men who handed their weapons to me willingly." Otto explained. "Oh, and four archers up above. Have you seen them?"

"Aye."

"Last but least, there are three cowards who are afraid of the sword and who've put on priestly robes instead. These men want to pick a fight against us. I wager we'll kill half of them or more before they finish us off. Because you are hired men under our Captain Tim, your orders are to breach this gate and finish these aggressors off, as they are clearly starting trouble here and we are within the law to defend ourselves. The archers will give you the most trouble, but the priests will only throw dirt at you and run off like scared monkeys."

"We have archers on our side." Bullen said. "We have a mage too. I don't imagine we'll have too tough a time getting this gate open."

"I don't know." Otto teased. "There is a bishop here. He uses a heavy breath of foul language. You know how foul language can break us down."

"This is true." Bullen agreed. "Foul language does dull the blades of our swords. Perhaps our cause is lost already. Did I mention our mage can turn a man into a woman for a brief time?"

"Hmmm." Otto considered the bishop. "This one would need to have very large breasts, as he is quite ugly as a man. Do you know that large breasts can cure any ill, bishop? At least, that's what the last prostitute I bedded said to me. She said that right before she..."

"Enough!" Landon shouted. "Men, draw back away from the gate. We will all return to the chapel for now!"

As the bishop retreated, he glared at both Otto and Tim. The captain knew they'd made a mortal enemy of him.

"But where are you going, man?" Otto stepped after the clergy. "There is a good chance you'd like being a woman, seeing as how you act so much like one already. Just look at your robe. It reminds me of a woman's kirtle. Women hardly ever pick up swords, so in that respect you're also like a woman, and..."

"Enough!" Landon screamed, yet Otto kept on harassing him.

Caspian followed to make sure Otto would not be attacked, or perhaps to help him provoke the bishop into ordering his men into a fray.

"Garren, open the gate." Tim instructed. "Hound, tell the bishop's archers they won't be needed any longer, as we will soon be posting our own. Peck, you come with me. We are about to tell Bishop Landon he is no longer welcome here."

"If we were out in the woods, we wouldn't have to hold back like this." The hired man said. "That bishop would be swinging by his fat neck and his little army would be swinging up there next to him."

That was another thing Tim was learning about mercenaries; how little those men respected human life. For a few coins, they would turn on their own. In many ways, they were only a step or two away from bandits.

Regardless, these were the sorts he had to work with. If the greedy bishop could be chased away, Tim would see to the battle skills of the hired men. Perhaps the mercenaries knew more about fighting monsters than he did, as he was mainly trained to fight disciplined men who moved in formations and used known tactics.

Certainly, Tim was going to have his hands full of trouble, when he eventually stepped into the forest to square off against the monsters plaguing Lady Martin's manor.

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### Tales From The Savage Lands 2

Tales From The Savage Lands 2 was released on January 15, 2019. Buy or sample 20% of this short story fantasy collection at Smashwords, or find out more about the series on Raymond Towers Dot Com.

About this book: Dobrynia the Valkyrie, hurled into an ancient and mysterious world, struggles to find her companions, who are trapped in a land of evil magic that shifts its reality without warning. Follow Dobrynia's daring steps, and those of her friends, as they venture into this hostile land that refuses to give up its dark secrets. The greatest test of all is only beginning. Rating: HIGH controversy.

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### The Devil's Vagina

It was a typical night at the Brouhaha Tavern in Wantonbury. People were fighting everywhere. It was bad enough that some of the more rough and tumble sorts were buying insurance at the door, so they wouldn't have to pay a full price to the quartet of magic healers employed by the house.

The capable Tihmere, formerly of the Red Fold, sat with his sidekick Andre, a man who had once been employed by the Church but who'd abandoned his post as a soldier and run off. Actually, Tim had his own troubles with the clergy, but after a successful recovery of many sacred relics and a goodly amount of wealth, both men had paid their hefty fines and were forgiven by the holy men of the red cloth. Tim and Andre were now free of legal obligation and debt, and still held enough wealth to carouse at a fairly lavish place such as the Brouhaha.

The next round of trouble started quickly, in the corner most heavily populated by wenches and their clients. Three buffoons had thought it wise to grope a woman and to sex her there on a table, wanting to avoid the room fee the tavern charged for having the service upstairs. The prostitute raised up a clamor, as they always do thanks to their guild rules, and the security staff dressed in blue came to quell the matter.

"She's coming, she's coming!" Andre said excitedly.

Indeed, Tim was also looking forward to seeing Dobrynia the Valkyrie in action. The two mercenaries had adventured with that woman once already, and found her as good at fighting and using weaponry as any man, and better than most. Tim's pride refused to allow that she was his equal with the sword, but she was also a master with the bow and spear as well. Very, very few men could lay claim to the fighting skills that brave woman possessed.

One bouncer in royal blue halted before the three toughs. "You haven't broken the rules yet, ye dumb bastards. Let the wench go and return to yer drinking. We've no need to have this go any further."

The ruffians weren't small men, and they might have rushed at the one bouncer all at once, if only to cause a disturbance they could brag about later. When they saw Doby at the bouncer's side, however, their tough bollocks were no longer as bloated. It was one thing to take on a strong bouncer, for that was a rough bloke and would heighten their reputations. It was a whole other story to be trounced by a woman considered to be among the most dangerous in a town half-full of scoundrels. The tavern's bouncers merely cracked heads open, while this Doby was said to chew on demon bones.

Quietly, calmly, the three men backed away from the half-undressed, messy-haired wench and returned to their chairs.

"Oh, come now!" Another patron balked. "She's only one woman! Does any one truly believe the rumors about her?"

Perhaps that patron had not been around to watch Doby take on the entire mass of prostitutes once, and win. Those closest to the dark-haired beauty, the guilty as well as the innocent, leaned away from her, for another tale was that she'd lash out a fist or leg at random victims, if her mood was foul enough. Her hair was pulled back, and her eyes pierced souls like daggers.

"Are you all cowards before this one woman?" The same patron asked, not believing his eyes. "I see many of the best fighters in town here, all turned to jelly because of her. Is there any man here brave enough to fight her? Will a good wager bring a man to raise his fists against this woman?"

The tavern could be a noisy place; it usually was that. Those close enough to hear the challenge were suddenly quiet. This caused the next group over to grow silent, and the trend continued until it reached the far end of the bar. The dead silence was only heard for a brief moment, as a new murmur stirred up like a flock of pigeons to spread the announcement of a wager for fighting Doby. A runner was seen running upstairs to tell Sai, the vicious enforcer for the wenches' guild.

Tavern owner Malkum heard the gossip as well. He stood up on the crowded bar and held his hands up for silence. "What's this about a wager?"

"You heard right!" The patron confirmed. "I'll put good coin up for one of the better fighters here to take on your woman bouncer!"

"A wager in what amount?" The bartender asked.

After sizing Doby up again, the patron figured he could not lose by putting her up against a man a third or more bigger than she was. "I'll bet a pound of silver!"

That was a small fortune, Malkum knew, as his clientele was suddenly in an uproar over the matter. The barkeep looked about, seeing everyone suddenly excited. The Asian woman Sai was standing at the head of the stairs, also watching. Many in the crowd were already calling out names of men they thought could beat her. Malkum had seen Doby fight, and she was an exceptional brawler, but some of those men had fists the size of her head.

"Choose a strong man!" Some were shouting.

"And also an agile man!" A singular voice added. "You'd best believe this bitch can catch a streak of lightning!"

"That's right, Malkum!" The wealthy patron called out, now barely heard against the noise from the crowd."

"Corren! Corren!" The crowd began chanting.

"Is that who you want?" The patron called out. "Is that the man you want?"

Malkum looked around his tavern. Doby looked unconcerned but ready, as always. Sai had a look of shock taking her face over. The crowd continued to shout one man's name. Corren was a big, fast brute that could fight two big men at once. The barkeep would be reluctant to let all three of his bouncers fight that monster, let alone one pretty woman. He thought he should give Doby the chance to step away from the challenge, while saving face. Malkum held his arms up to quiet the crowd, but this took several moments since they were in frenzy now.

"A pound of silver, you say?" He tried to turn the matter into a joke. "That would be half a pound for me and half a pound for her!"

That would be enough, Malkum thought. Doby would think his condition absurd and refuse to fight. If the woman was smart, and she certainly was that, Doby could make a disgruntled face at him and resume her duties.

Instead, she stood firm. "I will fight."

The roar of the crowd increased by a hundred-fold. People were standing and calling out for the servers to start taking coin. Frequently, fighters would square off in the center of the tavern, in the singing and dancing section. These could be professional fighters or simply rivals with grudges. Already, the people were clearing the area.

Doby was in a foul mood, Malkum saw, because she still had no word from her friends that were lost out there in the dreaded Savage Lands. He didn't know if she could last very long against a beast like Corren, but the crowd was riled up and expecting a good battle. They would not like it at all if he tried to call it off now. The man nodded at his servers, who were familiar at remembering bettors and bets, and they began circulating among the crowd. Malkum also waved at his magic healers. He wanted them near the edge of the fight, as one good punch from Corren might take his pretty bouncer's head off.

Doby walked toward the square, pausing when some imbecile touched her bottom. Malkum thought she might retaliate, as she usually did when that happened, but instead he saw the raven-locked woman lean over and say something to the man. Upon looking closer, the barkeep saw it was one of the two mercenaries she'd been keeping company with recently. The rumor was that Doby, those mercenaries, Sai and a few others had gone into the Savage Lands to battle a kingdom full of devils. Several of their party had not come back.

Another uproar took place when Sai sent her errand-boy to place her bet. The crowd, and especially the prostitutes, expected her to wager that Corren would win. When it was revealed that the Asian warrior had put a pound of silver on Doby, it caused a furor that hadn't been witnessed in the Brouhaha in some time. Not only that, but Sai trotted down the stairs and walked onto the square with Doby.

Malkum knew the two used similar fighting styles, and he heard they often sparred together, but he'd never seen them trading blows. Sai was now holding her hand up, moving it rapidly as Doby threw punches at it to loosen up. When Doby began using her legs, Sai moved her hand around from chest to thigh level. In her final warm-up strikes, Sai held her hand up just above her head. No one expected Doby to kick that high, but she did. The fast woman did it once with a straight kick, and a second time with a bizarre move where her entire body swung around. Certainly, Malkum had never seen a woman, and hardly any men, able to kick that high. Doby looked like a whirlwind.

Stuck in the crowd, Tim began pulling his companion up. "Andre, come with me! We can say we are also Doby's trainers and see the fight up close!"

Other maneuvers that Doby showed were hopping about briefly, and even tying thin strips of cloth around her hands. Not many had ever seen the like of it.

"Corren is large and very muscular, but he is very fast." Sai warned. "His arms are as thick at the legs of most fighters. I recommend not letting his fists get near you."

"Does he use his legs in kicks?" Doby asked.

"No, he only pushes with his legs, to bring his opponents down to the floor."

"Can he wrestle?"

"No." Sai revealed. "He can only punch, really, but he is very fast at that."

Doby nodded. "I will be ready for him."

"I would hate to see your angelic face becoming bruised." Andre worried.

"It is possible." She replied. "But I have fought legions of strong men before and beaten them. This one will be no different. Bet on him if you like."

"Should we put a bet in?" Andre asked Tim.

After they'd paid off the Church, the pair of mercenaries still had a comfortable amount of coin left. Prostitutes and frequent drinking had winnowed that down to only a decent amount.

"Yes." Tim nodded. "Whatever you bet, make my bet equal to yours."

"Oh, I'll wager everything I have left!" Andre laughed, making his way to the nearest server.

Tim turned when the crowd began to cheer. As Doby and Sai went on with their practicing, Corren walked into the square. The big brawler had seen Doby's strikes, and was not too impressed by them. He raised his arms to show off how massive they were, causing the roars to erupt even louder. Corren was the sort of man Tim would choose to face with a spear, if at all, and he was not one to scare easily.

Doby did not use an Eastern fighting style, as Tim assumed she would. Instead, she pulled her neck in like a turtle and fought with her fists up close to her head. Even her back was hunched like an old man's.

Corren would usually fight men as big as himself, straight on and trading blows back and forth until his oaken fists weakened his opponent. This woman that was a third smaller than him, he could have hammered her into the ground like a nail, except she kept moving to his left constantly. It looked like Doby was going to throw a punch, and the fast brawler would let one fly right away, but she moved, always moved and left him striking only air.

Many in the crowd wanted to see Doby smashed and put into her place. They were irritated to see her weaving around like a bee, not hitting and not getting hit. The men and women of the Brouhaha began to boo the beautiful bouncer, when others who knew a bit more about strategy and cunning began calling out to silence them.

"And how would you fight a giant brute like Corren, you idiots?" They said. "Aye, if we were facing him, we would be dancing around him just the same!"

One fourth of the crowd began to cheer Doby and urge her on, while the rest still wanted to see her massacred and bloody.

"Can you not catch that pretty hare, Corren?" They teased him.

"I paid to see a fight, not a dance!"

"Smash the bitch!" One prostitute demanded. "Smash her to pieces!"

"Come now, Corren!" The patron who had started it all encouraged. "Land one good punch, man, and you'll have free drink for the rest of the night!"

The brawler grew impatient, as he too thought it would be over quickly. Foregoing his usual, precise strikes, Corren started swinging further out in arcs, hoping to catch this elusive woman who kept evading him. His long, sinewy arms stretched out hoping to strike her head or shoulders. He was coming close to nailing her. The near misses became wilder, at times nearly throwing the big man off balance.

Corren gave an effort so powerful it would have sent Doby flying, if only he had connected. He missed because she ducked and darted aside. The big man's side was left open for an instant. If Doby had punched his ribs or belly, she would have done nothing to him except find out how thick Corren's muscles were. She used her leg, the strongest limb she had, and slapped her shin on his thigh so hard it sounded like a strong man's clap. The kick had been loud enough that it was heard above the din of the crowd.

Corren was stung. Doby's legs were as strong as his arms, he'd just found out. He lunged at her, hoping to catch her with his hands. All night she'd been moving left, but this time she ducked and unexpectedly went to the right. Corren had gone too far after her and now she was behind him. She let fly another kick, catching him on that same part of the thigh, with that same sharp smack.

He saw that Doby was close, and launched a hard, straight right. It took both of her arms to parry the blow, before she turned like the whirlwind he'd seen before and drove her elbow into the side of Corren's face. For the first time during that fight, the big man had shut his eyes and flinched, giving his fans pause. Perhaps even this powerful brute could not bring the hated bouncer to the floor.

Even worse, Doby had measured out the length of his swings and the time it took for him to reach and retract his fists. Corren swung too hard because he was getting careless. When he brought his arms back, Doby would come in close. She slapped a kick across his stomach, and another on the red welt that was taking over his thigh. That thigh was throbbing now, filling Corren with pain, but he hid that away with his determination, as he did not want this foe to see how badly she'd hurt him.

Her eyes, however, were like a hawk's. Doby saw how Corren favored one leg, and must have known she'd caused him some damage. She jumped at him, before jumping back. Corren swung, putting weight on the pained leg, not moving out of her way when he would have done so earlier. Doby lashed out her shin, missing because she'd been too low, or maybe that was her intention. She caught Corren behind the knee, buckling his leg. He went down, only briefly because he summoned his great strength to get him back on his feet. Doby landed another leg on his thigh, and this time Corren could not hide the wince and grunt of pain that arrived with it. A second kick caught his stomach, so that now he had an obvious welt there too.

The mighty Corren looked as hobbled as a man with a cane. He went down, hiding his pulsating leg with his arm to avoid another kick there. Doby could have jumped on him, but she stayed back, still in her fighter's pose and still spry. If she made a mistake in miscalculating her foe, she might have run into a hard fist, and against one as big as Corren, she could not afford to make such a mistake.

She kept her distance as Corren slowly got to his feet. The man only stood for a few seconds, before the palpitating hurt caused his leg to tremble. He buckled again, calling out that he could not continue because he was unable to stand.

"Get the healers!" The few who had bet on Doby cried out. "This fight is done! The bouncer has bested the brawler! Healers!"

There were few cheers for the Valkyrie, as few had thought she could win. The larger part of the crowd was stunned at the outcome, or hating her even more than they had before.

As Tim and Andre congratulated her and offered her drinks, Sai went to stand in the square and make her own challenge. The Asian woman could not have Doby take her title as the best woman fighter in Wantonbury. She had her hard-earned reputation to uphold. Sai challenged any woman or any man her size or less to fight her. A handful walked to the square, where she had the crowd choose her opponent. Because no man wanted to see another of his kind humbled, this time they chose a woman.

Sai used her remarkable martial arts skills to finish the fight quickly. Afterward she was showy and arrogant, so the people would mention her in the same breath as they had the beautiful bouncer who'd fought before her.

Later, Doby was found in Sai's private room on the tavern's second floor. Tim and Andre would have been generous in buying her ale, as the Valkyrie had won them a good amount of coin. They didn't need to spend a penny of their fortune, however, as Sai made a motion to her errand boy. The servant would leave right away and come back shortly with a full pitcher of ale. Not the most expensive, mind you, but the most savory and popular drink the tavern had to offer.

Grateful bettors came by, giving Doby gifts of appreciation. Most she set aside, as they were showy and gaudy, and she was not the sort to flaunt her wealth. The woman did like a black, leather belt, three fingers wide with a polished silver buckle. It was a better item than the one she wore.

She'd had some drink, Tim saw, but Doby was not drunk. He saw her falling into that same pit of despair she always did when she thought of her missing lover and of her friends that she hadn't seen.

For weeks now, Andre had been trying to bed her, unsuccessfully. Doby had first let the man get close to her because she claimed that he reminded her of her lover Victor. It seemed that the time had come for Andre to have his way. The room was empty of all except for the two men and two women. When Doby went to a mirror to remove her belt and try on the new one, Andre was at her side to make sure either belt would stay off.

Tim did not think his friend would get very far, but Andre did manage to remove Doby's tunic, leaving her dressed only in two cloth wraps, one around her breasts and the other on her hips. Andre would give her kisses on occasion, but this is the first time Tim had ever seen Doby kiss back.

Sai was jealous, as she also had it in her mind to bed the Valkyrie. She went to Andre and tried to push him away. This romantic strife allowed Doby to walk away from them both. She went to sit on a couch, alone and near the pitcher of ale. As Doby refilled her mug and drank, Tim could see a conspiracy brewing between those two who thought to have her. Since neither one could seduce her, as they'd both tried many times before, the decision was made for them to approach the Valkyrie together.

Andre and Sai could be selfish, and they'd been rivals for Doby's attention since the start. It was no wonder it had taken them this long to come to such a sensual agreement. Andre went to sit to one side of Doby, coaxing her with caresses to the arm and leg. Sai was impatient, as was her nature. She had no desire to drag things out, as she leapt onto the couch and pushed Doby onto Andre. It was Andre who pulled on Doby's wrap to expose her breasts, but it was Sai who first touched them.

Doby laughed the moment she realized the two were working together to undress her. She allowed them to continue, when she would have been quick to stop them in the past. As Sai kissed Doby's chest, Andre kissed her lips. When it was becoming clear that the ploy had worked, the two conspirators stood her up and took her to the luxurious and wide bed. They finished undressing the Valkyrie, before they too removed their clothing.

Tim watched it all, from his seat on a plush chair that was colored in red and gold and had come from some faraway place. That Doby was magnificent, he thought, and he was ten tines more of a man than Andre was. He could admit a twinge of jealousy from his heart. Then again, he could be considered a rich man in many parts of that land, and there were many prostitutes waiting for him downstairs. The wenches would still be there tomorrow, he decided, as he had near a full pitcher of good alcohol sitting just a few steps away.

The mercenary dreamt of the Valkyrie that night. He imagined pushing Andre and Sai away and taking her on that bed that was undoubtedly so expensive he would never purchase its like, even if he could afford do. His eyes opened up, giving him a dark view of Sai's room, lit now only by the flicker of an oil lamp in a corner.

As Tim adjusted his sturdy body on the chair, he felt his manhood aroused. This prompted him to look to the bed. Andre and Sai were still there, sleeping apart because they did not truly get along. Doby, Tim saw, had returned to the couch to sleep. She had covered her beautiful form with a linen blanket that had Oriental designs, but from the glimpses he could see, she was still nude.

Tim could be a daring man, and he knew he was a better man than Andre. His friend's good fortune was that he looked or acted like Doby's lover. Tim was unlike Andre; he did not hide behind another man's shadow. Taking a risk, the adventurer stood and quietly removed his clothing. He walked as a mouse to stand before the couch. With his heart racing, he lifted the single blanket and in the shadows observed the pleasing form of her. Taking a great chance that he might anger Doby, he slipped onto the couch. She was on her side, facing away, and now his body pressed against hers.

"I am awake, Tim." She said, in a quiet voice.

For a moment, the mercenary was dumbfounded. His plan was to wake her gently. Tim wondered how long she'd been awake, and what she thought of his stiff manhood against her flesh. The rest he could guess at; she'd obviously heard him leave his chair and undress, and walk across the room to get to her. Of course the chair he'd been on made different sounds than the bed. She knew it was he, and not one of the others.

"I will withdraw if you ask me to." He said, wanting her and yet not wanting to draw her ire. This was the sort of woman he might never run into for the rest of his days, and he did not want to lose her friendship.

In response, the woman reached back between their bodies, finding him hard and willing. She shifted about, drawing all manner of groans from the couch she was on, until she was on her back. It was clear that she wanted him between her thighs, and so he put his body in that place. Tim's hardness found her yielding and warm, and he made love to her quietly, wanting to keep their intimacy private and away from the others.

The following day, Doby was in the courtyard of a school for boys, a training place for future pages and squires. It was a rough academy, where the taskmasters were harsh and cruel to their wards, in order to toughen them up for a career as a warrior or a knight serving a rich lord. Tim was trained in a place such as this, many years ago.

At first, the governors had refused to let her through the large wooden doors of the school, for it was not a place for women. She did prove herself, both with her wrestling and her mastery of weapons. Tim was a capable and knowledgeable fighter, so he went in with her. Sai came because of her reputation and skills in martial arts, and because such fighting prowess could be used by the smaller boys, who would never be big enough to wield two-handed weapons or lead charges on the field. Andre, well, he had no special abilities, but Church sentry captains had trained him and he could at least serve as a live 'training dummy,' as Doby referred to him.

At the moment, the Valkyrie was in a competition with the best archers in the school, and also their teachers. Sai had the rascals of the lot to one side, showing them her collection of daggers, fighting claws and poison-tipped hairpins. Once five volleys of arrows were launched at straw and wood targets, time was called and observers, Andre included among them, went to the targets to tally up the scores. This left the Valkyrie standing alone.

Tim had rarely spoken with Doby that day, mostly to give no indication that he'd slept with her. Andre and Sai were none the wiser, with Andre even boasting to Tim that he would never have her. You are most likely correct, the knowing Tim had nodded back. Now, he seized the moment to grasp a water pitcher, flavored with lemon juice and honey, and took it out to this woman who was as rough as he.

The Valkyrie took a long drink, handing the pitcher back. Tim meant to return it, or at least to hand it to another, when Doby began speaking in confidence.

"Andre is a soft man." She said. "He is not the same caliber of lover as my Victor."

Because Tim had gained a smidge of humor from his time as a mercenary, he replied with, "I've never bedded either man, but if I did, surely I would feel the same."

She laughed, turning to face him with her dancing eyes. "You, Tim, you are more like my Victor. You are not noisy like Andre. You are quiet, and yet you were fierce with me. I'll have you know that other women have sought my affection, but Sai is my first female lover. Had they come at me separate, I would have refused them both."

"It was a busy night for us." Tim said.

"Andre was nothing like Victor." Doby lowered her head, her mood heading into those dark places where it was necessary to become turbulent in order to shake her out of them. "I must find my friends, Tim. I understand this is a busy city and that the chances are good my companions will find their way here. At the same time, I can no longer wait. I must go into the Savage Lands to search them out."

"You don't understand the vile magic of that place." He warned. "Time can become different there. Maps lose their meaning; the laws of the universe become as twisted as a baker's pretzels. People do not willingly enter the Devil's mouth."

"I have, and I will do so again. Sai has her place here in the city. Andre is after gold and glory, but he prefers safer, saner ventures. You, Tim, you are the sort of man that might leave this place behind for the adventure of it."

Tim glanced at the targets, where Andre was busy pushing arrows through and bringing them out the other side. That man did have a bold side, for he'd seen it already in a few adventures. All the same, Tim could easily imagine Andre as a common drunk with a prickly habit of touching women's bottoms and laughing with drunken men.

"Andre will seek to bed you again." Tim said.

"Now that I have seen his competence as a lover, I will refuse him. With Sai, it was more of an interesting encounter. I would see what she is like without a man constantly getting between us. I will make my leave tonight, taking a wagon south as far as the driver will take me, and walking the rest of the way if I must. You may join me."

Those words would go on to haunt Tim the rest of the day. He had enough money for drink and wenches to last him a few weeks, and a couple of months if he rationed it out. At the same time, he was a man who preferred to be on the move. The main reason he'd set light roots into Wantonbury was because of Andre.

"Have another pitcher of ale, my friend." Tim patted his friend on the shoulder, that night at the Brouhaha. "I have a matter to attend to. I've hired these two girls to keep you company since you won't have me to converse with."

Andre was grinning with his arms around the shoulders of the two pretty wenches. "I'll be done with them quickly, and then we can hire two more!"

Andre was a joker, Tim knew. Still, Tim noticed how his friend had not thanked him, or how Andre had not offered to share one of the women. It made things easier. Tim turned and weaved through the growing crowd. It was going to be another busy night. A rumor had been floating about that another big brawler would challenge Doby to a fight, but Tim knew it was the servers who had first spread it.

He walked outside, his head and shoulders informing him that a weak rain was falling. Away from the Brouhaha he strode, to where the wagon waited. It's back was covered by canvas, and inside it he would find Doby with her strange black pack, plus a few weapons she'd purchased locally. Tim's pack and a few extra clothes were also there.

Tim reached the wagon, seeing through the glow of a secured lamp that Doby was in it. He climbed up the back to join her, when a familiar errand boy ran up.

"You will wait for Sai." The boy said.

Tim glanced at the Valkyrie. "Sai is coming?"

"I did not tell her." Doby said. "I spoke to four drivers before this one. They all refused to take me south. I supposed one of them passed the news back to her."

The boy stood close to the back of the wagon, as if he might be punished if it were to leave. Tim wondered what would happen to the young servant if Sai were to run off, as she had once already. Where did that little boy go, and what did he do until his master returned?

Dressed in a black cloak that looked like a slender form of death, Sai appeared shortly after. Her head was covered, but her easy, graceful climb into the wagon was unmistakable. The woman carried with her a pack smaller than either of the two warriors, which she set with a loud thump on the wagon boards. She said something in a strange tongue to the boy, before he turned and ran off.

"He is your son?" Doby asked, thanks to that uncanny ability to decipher every language that was put to her.

"He is." Sai answered. "His father was my lover, until I killed him for butchering a small tribe of my people. I will tell you no more about this, only that Malkum has sworn to raise him as his own boy if I should perish."

"What is his name?" Doby wondered.

"I will tell you no more." Sai replied. "Think of him as Malkum-son."

Tim thought the women would sit apart, as their tone was one of indifference. Sai went to sit directly next to Doby, however. Tim considered if that was to keep him away from her. The women weren't speaking as Doby called out for the driver to depart, and they still weren't speaking as the journey got underway.

These types of trips were always rough on the arse, Tim knew, or on any other part of the body left too close to the floorboards for very long. One day he suspected that flat roads might be constructed, but it was not something a man should hold his breath for. He sat on his pack, or spread out his cloak and lay on that, or he tried any of number of other positions to ride along in.

The horses went until near midnight, still within the safety zone around the city limits. They stopped due to the darkness and rain, under a grove of trees.

In the morning, the wagon started up again.

By late the next afternoon, the travelers were weary and ready to put their legs on solid ground again. The chance to do this presented itself after the wagon had rolled by a number of abandoned farms and fields. Two men with the look of brigands stood in the center of the road, waving any approaching traffic off the beaten track and into one of the neglected homesteads.

"What's the hold-up here?" The driver called out. "We're wanting to get closer to the dark lands, we are."

"We're not here to rob you, man." One of the men called out. "And you won't have to go very far to reach the Savage Lands, either. They've crept up a ways over the last two months. This is the last safe point before you're in it up to your knees."

"I should still have a good day and a half's ride before I reach the border." The driver argued. "Why has there been no report of this in Wantonbury?"

"The same reason as usual. The Church is suppressing it. They have a good hold on that town now. If word arrives that the evil might be creeping up that way in a short time, the population will likely start to move elsewhere. Think of all the tax revenue Wantonbury's privileged clergy will lose as a result of that."

The driver cursed, while his passengers stayed quiet and alert in the back.

"See for yourself." The brigand pointed down the new path. "There's a farm. All the people staying in it will tell you the same story. If you go past this point, you might as well kiss your arse and hope the Devil won't be the next man you pick up. You go in and you hear their stories. If you still want to go, we'll let you pass. A couple of commoners like us you may not believe, but you've got a good twenty people from all walks over yonder, including the clergy. You'll see the banner of Mithras as you come up to the buildings. You know what the penalty is for flying that banner without permission."

It was a grievous offense to use that religious banner, Tim knew, punishable by as harsh a sentence as quick execution. He heard Sai whispering to Doby about that. At any rate, it seemed to satisfy the driver, who pulled the reins on his two horses and sent them down the narrower, unkempt road.

Tim had kept the canvas top on the wagon secured, mostly to ward off the sun. As they came to the structures, he stood up and loosened a portion, enough for him to look out at what they were rolling into. He saw two small homes made of stone and wood, a longer building for workers and a barn for horses or cows to hide in during bad weather. He also saw stables, a granary and a small mill that animals would operate, and the red flag of Mithras with its golden bullhead in the center.

"This was the farm of a man with some coin." Sai commented, as the wagon went along.

"I'll be resting the horses in the stables." The driver called back. "If we can go on, I'll take ye. If the story is true, I'm afraid I won't go any further."

Men came out of the barn, dressed both in decent clothing and in tattered. They were eager to help the driver with the horses.

"The Church must be giving these people a stipend for their help." Tim assumed.

The moment the wagon came to a halt, the travelers gathered their packs and arms and made their way off the back. Tim and Doby wore their tunics, trousers and boots, while Sai wore her black hood and cloak and kept her slender frame covered. Men began walking out of the barn to have a look at them, once a few shouts announced two women had arrived.

"Ho, will ye look at this queen with her pretty black hair." One man marveled at the Valkyrie's looks. "Ye be going down the wrong road, lass!"

"Has it become dangerous?" Doby asked.

"Is it dangerous?" The man laughed, turning around toward the others. "She asks if it is dangerous?"

One man with a heavy beard got close enough to peer into Sai's hood, getting a close look at her Asian features. That same man went to stand before the pensive Tim.

"Well, say hello to me, you ugly brute!" The man demanded.

Tim hadn't paid much attention to the single man, as he was keeping his eyes on the men standing in small groups, in the case this was an ambush. Now that he focused, he saw a familiar face. "Hound, is that you? I swear to Mithras, I did not recognize you with all that scraggy hair and beard!"

In response, the lean man raised his head and howled like a dog. "Oh, it is me! They haven't dug the plot for me to fall in, not yet! How are you, Tim, my good friend!"

Tim grinned and patted the man's shoulder. "Good to see you, Hound!

"I see you've found some lady friends, and comely ones at that."

"They come for adventure, the same as I." Tim nodded. "Is it true? Has the black magic of the Savage Lands come this far?"

"It is close enough to make a man have to grow eyes on the back of his head. I've got a couple other adventurous sorts you might know, hiding out in that barn's shade."

"Who else is here?"

Hound shook his head. "I won't tell you! You'll see them for yourself!"

"Is that wily redhead Otto here?"

Hound grinned. "Before you wake that ornery bastard up, we have to stop by that first house. A pair of priests is taking down the names and destinations of any travelers that come by here, in either direction. The idea is that a written record will remain if the lot of us vanishes overnight. O' course, nobody will ever know of us if the written record is taken when the rest of us are!"

As the four of them strolled along, Hound took another look at Sai. "I heard a story once. It was about a chieftain who took a ship across a southern sea, with a boat full of pirates. His idea was to subdue the queer-looking people there. From what I hear, he took a wife from among those people. They say that she got to be a pretty good fighter. Some o' those queer-looking people had master fighters among them. They helped the pirates pillage those lands, and they taught the pirates the fighting arts. The way the story goes, that woman killed her chieftain husband and fled, and nobody ever heard from her again. O' course, there are some that say she changed her name, to the name of the weapon she used to kill her husband."

"If you tell that story to any other man here, I will kill you in your sleep." Sai threatened.

"I'm only saying I heard a story once." Hound held his hands up. "I never said it was true. Maybe I should forget I heard it."

"That would be very wise of you." She replied.

The priests warned the travelers as they took down their names, before sending them into the farm for rest. Doby was eager to keep moving, while Tim wanted to see his old friend Otto. Sai simply tagged along, and even made conversation with Hound regarding things that were found in exotic, Oriental places.

Tim did find Otto, sitting on a bale of hay, chewing on a blade of straw, with another friend named Peck next to him.

"Ho, Tim, we've heard stories about you!" The redhead Otto stood up and pointed a finger at him. "About a certain tower full of wealth, and the recovery of certain religious artifacts. They say you drove off in a wagon-full of wealth after that caper!"

"It was a good chest of wealth, although the wenches of Wantonbury have relieved me of most of it." Tim admitted. "I'll have you know, man, that these two women here with me were part of that, as you say, caper."

"These two women?" Otto sized them up. "I did happen to see the records from the clergy, from that caper at the tower. A bishop came by here only a few weeks ago, fleeing from the magic scourge and comparing his books with what the priests here have. I don't recall what the names of the women are, but the name of a Captain Tihmere rung in my head like a church bell. Are these women really good fighters, and did you really spend all that coin on prostitutes? Oh, I am so envious of you, man!"

After introducing the ladies, Tim said, "I have cleared my debt with the Church. Now I can freely go anywhere and openly use my name. The only caveat is that I must not mention the order of the Red Fold. This freedom did not come cheaply, friend."

"Nothing ever does with the Church." Otto nodded. "So you want adventure in the Savage Lands, do ye? I'll give you adventure. We are heading to one now, except this roadblock has given us a bit of anxiety. The place we want to head toward is south and east, but we fear that if we go there, the scourge will move north and cut us off from this main road. I don't fancy traveling through bogs and thickets, man, to get back to a safe haven. I don't fancy having the Devil in front of me, and also at my back."

"Knowing you, Otto, there must be a pot of gold waiting for you out there."

"Not quite that, but I would call it more of a pot of honey." Otto chuckled. "You see, the place we're going to is called the Devil's Vagina."

"Here we are at the abandoned farmsteads." Otto pointed on the map the priests had rolled out for them. Because the scroll had a tendency to roll back up, several hands were holding the edges down. "We are at about a day's ride south of Wantonbury. If we travel south another ten miles, we'll come to this smaller road that goes east. It is difficult to say exactly where the boundary of the Savage Lands lies now, but it must be somewhere between here and here."

"And we know this place." Hound chuckled, putting his finger on a spot further south.

"That's the location of Lady Martin's Manor." Tim knew. "I thought that was edge of the Savage Lands."

"The edge has moved since then." Otto frowned. "Rather quickly, I'm afraid. We can only hope that the manor is holding up well, but we haven't had any news from that place in some time. At the last, the defenses were being fortified with a platoon of forty soldiers under the authority of the Church."

Plus the ruffians he had hired to serve as guards there, Tim recalled.

"The Church is unwilling to send any more soldiers down that way, yes?" Otto asked the two priests, waiting for their replies. "One thing we know for certain is that Bishop Landon has made it out safely from that place. Back to the task at hand, this minor road is ten miles south and only a handful of miles east. There is the potential that the dark magic has already corrupted that land and any attempt to extradite survivors is without hope of success. If there are survivors, they are here at the Pond of Lilies, or Lily's Pond. Our task is to go there and rescue any women and children still left."

"Women and children?" Tim wondered. "What of the men?"

Otto turned to a priest, who took up the tale. "Our last messages from that village were that a strange malady had taken over the men. They left their homes and became possessed or wild, and went to live in the forest. All of the men were affected this way. What's worse, adjacent to the village of men was a village of elves. The same thing happened to the elf men. They went berserk and ran into the woods. When the elf men returned, they began to capture their women and children and drag them off. We must assume those that were taken were killed.

"The surviving elves ran to the human village. We must all know that while elves and men can live side by side, they cannot live in the same village together. Whatever took place with the elves was frightening enough to force them to break this unspoken rule of separation. The Holy Church accepts elves as fellow souls, for Mithras took the time to create elves the same as he created men. Fearing for the worst, two wagons with a priest and twelve soldiers were sent to bring the elves and humans out, but they never arrived at their destination. Their horses were driven insane by some sight or scent at this point, just before they reached the minor road."

"Crazed men?" Doby asked. "This sounds much like the harrowing battle we had at Lady Bella's Tower."

"That was further south." Tim commented, pointing on the map. "That occurred here, at two and a half day's ride from Wantonbury."

"The tower is two days' ride." Otto corrected.

"Two days?" The priest asked. "No, it is four days out."

"I was there only recently." Tim reminded them. "It took us two and a half days to get there from Wantonbury."

"You're wrong, Tim." Otto shook his head. "We were on that road only two weeks ago, and in a great hurry to leave!"

"Men, will you point to the spot where you believe Bella's Tower lies?" Doby cut in.

Five men put their fingers on the map, all in different places, and on both sides of the road.

Sai gasped, adding her recollection to the rest. "I recall it being here, two and a half days south, but on the west instead of the east as Tim shows. It can only mean that the map has been changed by the black magic."

"Or our memories have changed." Doby added.

"Are we sure we want to go there?" Hound asked. "These Savage Lands will do things counter to how men expect the world to work. There is the chance that this Lily's Pond is no longer to be found out there."

"These priests were given the authority to expunge our crimes from the past." Otto revealed. "If we get those people out. I'm speaking to Hound and Peck here, and also for myself. This is why I must go, or at least make the attempt."

"Go on, you red-haired scoundrel." Peck urged. "Tell him the other reason."

"Well, this is a village full of elf and human women." Otto grinned. "I'm sure a number of them will be very appreciative at being rescued."

"That's why the Church is calling the village the Devil's Vagina." Hound nodded. "Seeing how mostly women are left there, and their children."

"We will be going in like the cock of Mithras!" Otto declared.

"Blasphemy!" A priest scolded him.

The daring redhead laughed. "Mithras will strike that vagina with a powerful thrust!"

"Control your lunacy, man!" The priest cautioned. "Before our holy Mithras brings this house down upon our heads!"

A roll of thunder rumbled across the land, coming from the south.

"Oh, I do believe Mithras heard me." Otto commented.

As the priests hurried to look out the windows, the redhead laughed again.

The feeling of dread woke up with them, was present as they readied and climbed into the wagon when it was time to ride. The driver from Wantonbury would take them ten more miles, to the start of the minor road, but no further.

"So you're a captain again, Tim?" Otto kidded. "When will it be my turn to be captain?"

"When your balls drop, you imbecile." Sai cursed. "Red hair and a big mouth do not give you a leader's presence."

Otto made a pained baby's face, accurate despite his trimmed facial hair, prompting the other men to laugh. "Where did you find this Asian woman, Tim? Surely she's come from the same Devil's armpit as my former wife!"

Every man enlisting for the adventure had their hair and beards trimmed that morning. It would do no good to attempt a rescue of women if they looked as hairy and wild as the men who'd run off into the forest.

Peck had a look out the back of the wagon. "The clouds are still dark. We'll find ourselves in a downpour sure enough, likely the moment we step from the wagon."

"Did you think this would be easy, man?" Otto laughed. "If it were, the churchies would have done the job without us!"

Tim sat there brooding, as was his custom. Doby and Sai were both quiet, having to quell their own inner demons. The only people talking, really, were Otto and the rest. Their banter and teasing were keeping the others from worrying.

They hopped from the wagon once it stopped. The driver gave them a quick blessing and farewell, before he turned his vehicle and quickly left. The wagon became a small spot fast enough, and then the road was empty.

Tim and Doby were in front, walking with six-foot spears in hand. They both had swords but no shields, as their backs were already burdened with packs of food and water. Doby also had a bow and quiver on her person. Behind them came Otto, Hound and Peck, swords at their sides and also carrying packs, and except for Otto, also armed with hunting bow.

At the last came Sai, with her weapons hidden beneath her cloak and her smaller pack hardly big enough for a hen to fit into. During their last adventure, Sai's daggers and fighting claws had been detrimental to her, as she could not battle the enemies with long swords and double-grip axes they had encountered. Tim grunted; the woman hadn't yet learned to adequately prepare for a fight. Perhaps she was too stubborn.

The rain started a mile into their hike, adding to the gloom that already surrounded them. The day was dark thanks to the gray and black clouds.

"Be wary of the trees." Sai announced.

Tim turned back to look at her. "Have you seen a threat out here?"

"Yes, the trees."

Tim had been as vigilant as any of the others, but he was trained to catch furtive movements in the distance, and not to recognize subtle changes in a tree's appearance. Focusing on the nearest specimens, he understood what Sai hinted at. The trees were barren of leaves and looked menacing with their branches and twigs like jagged claws ready to rip them apart. Their bark was cracked and lined, reminding Tim of the bitter faces of old witches.

"They are possessed." Doby said. "By what, I cannot tell."

"By evil magic, that's what." Hound seconded. "Could we entertain the thought, that perhaps Mithras is not powerful enough to defeat the Savage Lands?"

Tim had pondered that same question in the past, but never aloud, as the priests of that god would have accused him of blasphemy. Mithras, the slayer of bulls, the creator of the world, surely had more power than the Devil plaguing those regions. If this was so, why hadn't the Savage Lands been beaten back and vanquished?

"Some say these lands should be burned, and also all the people that live in them." Peck said. "They say the people are as wicked as the land they inhabit."

"I say the Church has invented that fable," Otto refuted. "Only because its priests are too frightened to go in and collect taxes."

"This land won't need burning, if Mithras was truly a powerful god." Hound reasoned.

"For many centuries, I lived with the gods of my world." Doby revealed. "They have their good reasons for acting and not acting to the plights of men. These reasons will at times be incomprehensible to the people suffering from these plights."

The Valkyrie's words quieted down the rest, for who could claim to have seen the faces of the gods as she did? Tim and Sai had heard Doby's musings before, but not the others. The other men were dumbfounded.

With the rain splattering on their heads and shoulders, and the ominous trees seemingly coming closer to the road, the half-dozen adventurers strode on.

"They say a walking army can advance fifteen miles a day." Tim commented, once the rain had abated for a time. "It feels as if we've traveled twice that far already."

"Be thankful we're not in mud, or in a bog." Doby said.

"This land to the north," Tim pointed. "Only a short distance from where we stand, it does become a bog. This is why it is crucial that this road remains available to us. If the road is gone, we'll be surrounded by swamp and evil, and nothing good."

"Keep your mind set on all those pretty women we're aiming to rescue." Otto joked.

Tim looked back. "I know you, man. Your eyes don't pop open for women, as much as they do for treasure. What's your real reason for coming here?"

"I've heard a rumor, that if a human man pleases an elf woman well enough, she'll fall in love with him," Otto divulged. "And bestow all manner of riches upon his person."

"And you're aiming to find out if this story is true or not?" Tim asked.

"Oh, it is true." The redhead nodded. "I've seen the gold and silver jewelry forged by elves. The jewelry was meant for very small hands."

"I've heard the tale as well." Hound nodded.

"And this cannot be a clever band of thieves?" Tim suggested. "Who made jewelry that size deliberately, so they could lure treasure seekers such as you into the woods to ambush them?"

"It could be that." Hound supposed.

"The equation changes, doesn't it, when you factor in the creep of the Savage Lands?" Otto countered. "Any forgers would be in the same pickle as the men they're trying to fleece. On top of that, this is an established elf village next to an established village of men. This is a small farming community, not a place of cutthroats. I'm not hoping to find treasure here, but I am hoping to learn more of the truth of the rumors about the rest of it."

"Besides bedding an elf girl." Hound chuckled.

"Well, there is that." Otto smiled. "The elves are notoriously difficult to catch. But they won't be too hard to catch if they're hiding in one village. How many men can claim they've bedded an elf girl? I've only met a handful of women in all my years who claimed to be elves, and I'm certain most of those were liars."

"The village." Doby motioned ahead of them.

"You mean the Devil's Vagina." Peck joked.

Ahead of them, the travelers viewed about a dozen homes, all of them dark as the gloomy day around them.

"We heard the history of this place from the priests." Tim reminded them. "Lily's Pond started off as a farming village. The residents worked together for the common good. The farmers brought their produce here, where others would sort it out and give a portion to the village. The rest would be driven out on wagons, either traded for food they did not have here, or for materials to start up an industry. They made wood furniture here, and soap from lye and candles from bee wax. It was the children of the village that first came upon the elves in the woods. At the start, the humans left gifts of food for the elves, but after a time they became friends and traded with each other. The elves would trade flutes and clothing sized for human children. I hear the clothes were very popular among the lords of this region..."

"Down!" Doby called out, dropping into a crouch.

The rest were familiar enough with sudden danger to mimic the woman's action.

"To the south, I saw a form hidden between the trees." She pointed. "For a moment, I glimpsed a spike of wood which could have been the limb of a bow."

"We're out here in the road, sitting like ducks." Otto griped.

"But the village is near." Tim said. "In pairs we'll run there. Those of you who carry bows; put them in hand."

Tim and Hound went first, followed by Otto and Peck.

"That red-beard is a braggart." Sai complained to Doby, when only the two of them remained.

"Have you never met one before?" The Valkyrie teased. "Most men are that. I'm sure you've dealt with your share of boasters at the tavern."

"I don't like him." Sai replied.

They heard a quick birdcall from the others, a signal for them to move.

The women started forward, hunched and running, when Doby caught the snap of leaves. She whirled about, trying to focus her aim. Both Sai and she caught a flash of antlers darting further back, out of sight.

"It was only a deer." The Asian remarked.

"It felt evil." Doby said.

"An evil deer?" Sai chuckled. "Truly, everything is evil in the Savage Lands."

Upon reaching the edge of the village, Tim set the archers at strategic corners, before the swordsmen went around the homes with their blades drawn. He noticed the shutters were over the windows, some of which had real glass, which was expensive, or nothing at all. The doors were dark and forbidding.

"Could be all the people are gone." Otto commented.

"Then we've come for naught." Tim grunted, choosing a door at random and pounding his hard fist on it. "Hear me! We've been sent by the Church to gauge if there are still people living here. Is there anyone inside?" He waited a few moments, before he strode over to the next house. "Hear me! We're come to help. We've come to take you out of this place, if any still live!"

Tim waited, becoming disheartened when no reply came. Otto made a quick noise with his mouth, catching Tim's attention. The redhead motioned toward a covered window. When Tim heard a shutter being removed, he hurried over.

"Hello in there!" He called out, seeing nothing but darkness inside.

"Are you men or are you monsters?" An old woman's voice asked.

"We can be both, especially if the moon is full and our stomachs are full of ale." Otto joked.

"Silence, man." Tim hissed at him. "Woman, we've come from a day's ride to the north. The priests there have put up a roadblock, keeping travelers away thanks to the evil creep that has come over this land. They meant to send a wagon full of soldiers to lead the people of this village away, but they were unable to make the full journey."

"They were cowards." Otto added.

"At any rate, the priests have sent us here." Tim concluded.

"How many come with you?" The woman asked.

"There are six of us: four men and two women. A smaller group can move faster than a larger one."

"Bring one of your women here. I wish to talk to her."

Tim gazed about. Sai was the closest, but she could be foreboding with her black hood and cloak. "Otto, will you go and fetch Doby?"

"Yes, my Captain." The man strode away.

After a pair of minutes, the Valkyrie stood before the window.

"Is it true?" The woman inside queried. "Have you come to help us?"

"On my honor, we have."

"How will you take us out?"

"We must walk to the main road." Tim explained. "A wagon will come by once a day at noon to see if we've returned. They will come by every day for the next seven."

"Have you any food? We ran out of food days ago!"

"We have some." Tim nodded. "Will you come outside so that we can get a count of your people and the conditions you're in?"

Otto was set to jump through the door when it opened, until he caught a whiff of the heavy smells of sweat, urine and feces. Covering his nose, he took several strides back. "The Devil's left his old shoes here, he has!"

"We have not left our houses in over a week." The woman, who was not quite as old as she sounded, stepped out first. Her hair was stringy and dirty, her kirtle worn.

Behind her came other women, as scraggly as her, and children. At the last came the short, slender elves with their pointed ears and larger eyes. All of them were dirty and smelly, and every adult among them was female.

"Is it true?" Tim asked. "All of your men are gone?"

"It is." The woman confirmed. "The evil took them, to the last one."

While Otto was too repulsed to enter the hovel, Doby harbored no such reluctance. She strode in, found the full waste buckets sitting along the wall, and carried them out. After dumping the waste out at the edge of the village, she found a puddle of rainwater and old rags to clean them out.

"While we remain here, you must empty these out every day." She said, returning the buckets to their places. "Tim, you must go into my pack. Bring out my foodstuffs and ration it out among all these people. These people will eat only minor portions, but I'm afraid that is all I carry."

"What will you do?" He asked.

"I must clean these children, and heal their sick." She said. "We will have to begin our walk tomorrow morning, before sunrise, if we are to reach the road by noon."

Tim counted sixteen bodies that had been stuffed into that one house, which only had two rooms inside of it. Peck and Hound were now walking around, banging on other doors and causing more women to filter out of them.

"We'll move to the center of the village, for a better count." He decided.

When Doby came back this time, she had two buckets of well water with her. She called out to the nearest woman. "Bring me rags. I must give these children a good wiping, because they smell so awful. It must have been terrible to have to stay indoors for such a long time."

The human women became more animated. They gathered their children into one large group, good for Tim and his amateur census. Altogether, he counted fifty women and forty children, with about a third of that number being elves.

The humans and elves looked reluctant to touch each other's little ones, but Doby's constant orders forced them to overcome their shyness. Soon, an assembly line of the young was formed. Some women cleaned children's hair, others wiped faces, necks and arms, while the last of them cleaned lower halves. The clean were sent to stand in one group and the sickly in another. Those found with lice were to have their hair cut entirely off, but this became so common in the end they were all sheared like sheep.

"Tim, we must wash their clothes." Doby directed. "You will build a fire to dry the clothes faster."

The mercenary looked around. Everything was wet.

"Some houses have cooking pits." Peck divulged. "We'll have the fire indoors. We can boil the clothing in a cauldron if we must."

"Yes, boil the clothing to rid it of sickness." Doby nodded. "Women, don't put any clothes on these children until we've boiled them."

Even a few hours later, the bustle was still going strong. Naked children were allowed to run around for the first time in many days, some of them ending up muddy and having to be cleaned a second time. Their clothes were being heated up in water and would be dried soon by the very same fires.

Otto and Sai were the only two who held back, choosing instead to watch the woods around the village. When the local women began to undress, however, the redhead strode over, catching good glimpses of both larger human women and the slimmer elves.

"Now he's come to ogle, hasn't he?" Hound joked.

"I won't deny it." Otto laughed. "The children don't attract me, but the ladies do! Will one of you tell us how the trouble all started?"

Sai came closer, to hear this as well.

A woman named Aledunn was the first to speak up, although she was conscious of the way Otto was looking at her as she undressed. "At first it was the men who went out to hunt. They never came back. We thought perhaps they'd gone out farther than usual, as some hunts would last days. And then the farmers toiling out on the land went into the forest, and they too vanished. Last it was the men from here in town, including me own husband. He said, Aleh, we must find these men or the village will die of hunger. At the same time, there was a queer look in his eyes, as if he were drunk in some way, but my husband did not drink at all. He was allergic to the taste of barley, you see. The stronger, healthier men went first, but the old and the adolescents, they went soon after. Some of the farming women, they were strong and brave. A group of nine went out east, toward the elf village. We heard their screams through the trees. We thought the elves were killing them."

An elf woman burst out in her native tongue, which Doby could understand, but the others could not. After a few moments, she began to speak the Common Tongue. "It was not us! Our elf men were being taken the same! We hid in our homes, knowing there was some evil out there, creeping about. When those human women were killed, we fled our places. We came here, because we know the women here, and they let us stay. Our people have been here ever since."

"And the men never returned?" Tim wondered. "No traces or remains were found?"

"Only the remains of women." Aleh answered. "Women have been snatched away only in going to the well, and you see how close that is. They went in pairs and did not return. The elf women would climb on the houses to see further, but they say they saw nothing unnatural."

"Aye, it is as she says." The elf nodded. "There was nothing unusual, but we could sense the evil out there, watching us."

"Many of these women have lice." Peck announced, after having gone through the hair of several. "We'll have to cut their hair and boil up their clothing, same as the little ones. With any help from Mithras, the lice will be boiled away."

"We must cut your hair." Doby told the worried females. "I know the vanity of women and their hair, but this is necessary, otherwise you will carry your infesting bugs all the way back to Wantonbury. Remove your clothes. Peck and Hound will cut your hair and burn it. Tim and Otto will take your clothing for boiling. You will wipe your bodies clean afterwards, and then you can wipe down your homes before you spend the night in them."

"And you, where will you sleep?" Aleh asked.

"Out of doors, to confront the evil that will surely come."

Otto never thought he would enjoy throwing clothes into a great cauldron and waiting for the water to slowly boil them, but he did, and greatly, mind you. At first, the women would come in to pick up the garments for the many urchins, after they'd been boiled and hung inside the hovel to dry. These were both human and elf women, and they were conveniently naked.

"Will you stay with me a bit longer for a shilling, lass?" He was heard to ask, more than once.

None would take him up on his offer, but that was fine for Otto. At most places, he would have to pay a few pennies just for the privilege of watching a woman take her clothes off and dance, and here they'd already taken that first step on their own. Now, if he could only get some music going with the old flute he carried, but had never learned how to truly play.

Conditions worsened outside, but for Otto they actually improved. You see, the rain had begun to come down again, harder and faster than before. The children had their garb on by then, nice and warm thanks to the heat of the cauldron. The women, on the other hand, were cold and wet. Many of them came inside to warm their bodies by the fire, and that was exactly where Otto wanted to keep them. He pulled his flute out and failed to carry a tune on it.

"I'm no piper, lasses, but I am trying!" The redhead joked.

While the human women kept their distance from him and stayed near the walls, the elves were much less shy. As he stoked the fire and played, they peered over his shoulder to have a closer look at his musical instrument. Some of them very nearly put their chins directly on him.

"I had not an inkling that elf women were so nosy!" He said, turning to face them, and also to wonder at their small but delightful breasts.

"Nosy?" One girl asked. "Our noses are small and pretty! It is you who are nosy!"

Mildly offended, the mercenary took a moment to touch his nose, but it seemed an adequate size to him. "You misunderstand my meaning. I mean that elf women are very curious sorts."

"We have never seen a man play a flute so badly." The elf replied.

"Do you think you can do any better?" Otto held the flute out, this time irritated.

The elf took his flute and threw it into the fire. Otto jumped off the stool he was on, intending to retrieve his instrument. Alas, the throw had been aimed so well that the flute caught instantly.

"That was my favorite flute!" He growled. "Why did you do that?"

"That was no flute; that was a hollow twig with holes in it." The elf replied. "Your fingers were too fat for the spacing of the holes!"

Otto was not a man who took insults lightly, even from women. According to the elves, he had a big nose, fat fingers, and he was such a bad flutist they'd tossed his flute into the flames. He considered throwing the entire lot out of the hovel, except then he wouldn't be able to look at them anymore. In the end, Otto returned to his seat and pretended his flute was still in his pocket.

The elves began speaking in their language, animatedly with their hands moving and their expressions flittering. Two of them ran out of the small house, but not before Otto caught a view of their slender backs and waists, and their tight backsides. That pleasant sight encouraged the man to try another tact.

He turned to face the small flock of elves. "You are peculiar little beings, aren't you? May I touch your pointy ears?"

"Only if we touch yours." One elf answered.

"Well, of course." Otto agreed. He touched and they touched, and he thought to take the matter one step further. "May I next touch your pretty breasts?"

"No!" The elves shouted at him, in unison.

Their outcry was loud enough that the human women were now laughing at him. Otto's face turned red from embarrassment.

"Let us speak of other matters." He said. "I am thirty and two years of age. How old are you?"

"In human years, you mean?" One asked. "I am seventy."

"And I am sixty and four." Another nodded.

"And I am forty and forty." A third said.

"Forty and forty?" Otto asked. "Do you mean eighty?"

"No, she has her count wrong." An elf corrected. "She means forty and fourteen. This is the same as fifty and four, is it not?"

Instead of staring at their figures, this time Otto was studying their faces. If he had to guess, he would have wagered each elf was in her twenties.

"Ours is a young village." One elf nodded.

"A young village?" Otto balked. "How old do your people live?"

"Oh, very old, compared to human years." The one who talked the most nodded. "We only begin to show our age after we are one hundred. We age very quickly then."

One elf girl spoke into Otto's ear. "The human women are very jealous. They turn fat at thirty, and wrinkle up like raisins at forty."

"But how can you live so long?" Otto asked, also quietly.

"We are a happy people, with none of the worries that you humans carry about like an extra back." An elf explained. "We've pondered this many a time among ourselves. You see, we live in harmony with nature, while your people knock trees over and tear up the land. Elves love other elves, even from other clans. We do not lie or steal, or covet, we do not hunger for wealth only so we can turn around and spend it a moment later, we do not have wars, we will only fight when we are threatened, we do not grow big, fat bellies, we do not..."

"There are many differences between our kinds." Otto cut her off, as too many of her points were hitting the mark with him. "I have heard that, on occasion, an elf girl might be seduced by a human man, or a human man might be drawn into the forest by an elf girl. Does such a thing truly happen?"

"On occasion, it will." A new girl replied.

"It will be necessary for us to seek out men to mate with, now that are husbands and lovers are surely perished." Another nodded.

The elves had names, of course, but Otto was hard pressed to remember a single one of them. His hopes arose upon hearing what that last girl said. "You seek to mate with men, do you? Would you mate with a human man?"

"We must, as there are no other elf villages nearby." One said, while several nodded.

"Would you mate with a man such as myself?" Otto asked.

Several heads nodded. That caused the man to perk up considerably.

"Our entire of village of women would marry you." The elf elaborated. "You would spend the rest of your life with us, and we would have many, many children together."

"Oh." Otto suddenly felt deflated. "Yes, I have heard that those men who run off with elves will never return to their homes."

"We cannot allow it." A girl explained. "Because then our secrets would become known."

"What secrets?" Otto insisted on knowing.

"You are not married to us!" An elf explained, causing others to laugh. "We will not tell you our secrets! Marry us and find out!"

The two girls who had run off came back into the hovel. They held out two nicely carved flutes to Otto, who marveled at their carvings and craftsmanship.

"They are made for humans with fat fingers." One nodded, innocently. "Even you might produce a good song from it!"

"Even me?" Otto grumbled. "They must be very special if even I can play them!"

The mercenary tried one, finding it produced soft, pleasant tones. He went on to bring a new life into the melody he'd been butchering earlier.

"You are in the right!" Otto laughed. "Even I can play this!"

The next tune he tried was so lively he started swaying happily on his stool. The elves enjoyed it so much they danced for him. Oh, this was so much better than another night at a brothel, Otto thought, so much better! And cheaper!

In the rain, Tim and Doby were walking between the houses setting up defenses. They put up twine with bells in some places, high enough that small woodland animals would not trip them, but low enough so a man's knees or thighs would. Two inquisitive elf girls were following them, making a great clamor by ringing the bells right after they'd been set in place.

"The point of the bells is to give us a warning in the night." Tim looked at the two short women sternly. "It won't be to our advantage if half the forest knows they're in place, now will it?"

As soon as the mercenary's back was turned, the elves started playing with the last bell again.

"I know a dwarf as mischievous as they are." Doby said, wistfully. "He is here, somewhere in these lands. I hope I see him again."

The words caused Tim to remember Victor, the Valkyrie's missing lover. He wondered what he would do if he ever came face to face with that man. From what Doby said about him, Tim expected Victor to be several years younger than him, but equal to the woman in unarmed fighting skills. His friend Andre joked that if he ever fought this Victor hand to hand, he'd come prepared with a sword.

Just then, Peck came by. He was swinging his arms at his sides, up and down in the shape of alternating crescent moons. It was a jubilant action that caused the elf girls to laugh and mimic it.

"What are you up to, man?" Tim chuckled.

"I can't get the footwork right, but I have the arms the same as I saw them." Peck replied. "On any given day, Otto will play the flute as if he's playing it with his arse. This must be a magical day, as he'd playing it like he's about to lead all these women out of the village after him. He's a regular pied pier, he is! And the elf women, they're dancing like this while he's playing."

As Peck continued to move his arms, the two elf girls sidled up next to him. Not only did they copy his arm swings, but they performed a complicated shuffle with their legs that was quick and left them off the ground at times.

"Can't get the legs going!" Peck grinned, although he did try.

"Who will dance this way?" One elf asked.

"Well, everybody over where the clothes are drying." Peck pointed.

The two girls rushed off a moment later. Peck ran after them.

"At least they're not ringing the bells anymore." Tim shrugged.

The rains continued through the night.

Doby's plan was for the mercenaries to stand in a centralized place, with the women barricaded inside the homes as usual. The downpour ruined that idea. Instead, one fighter went into each house, both to protect the villagers and for their personal safety.

Tim's sanctuary had more children in it that the others, from farms that had lost their men folk, and in some cases, even their mothers. He stayed awake half the night, but when the rain did not let up, he posted women by the door, in pairs so they could keep each other company and not fall asleep.

The bells were heard ringing; he'd put one just past the end of that house. Tim could not tell if it was the wind and rain, or some other threat out there ringing them.

"Five miles." Hound said, early the next morning. "We only have to walk five miles."

"Short miles for us, but these little ones will make it seem like twenty." Peck said.

"We could get lucky." Otto said in a hopeful tone. "Perhaps the danger won't come out after us. Perhaps those five miles will be a walk in the park."

Tim looked over at Doby. Neither of them believed this.

"The six of us to protect over ninety of them." Peck surmised.

There was no choice in it, Tim knew. If they took the villagers in bunches, the evil magic might swallow up the minor road and the stragglers would surely get cut off, with no hope of rescue.

"Most likely, the danger will come from our backs." Doby said, readying her gear. "I will walk at the last."

"Aye." Tim nodded. He had Otto and Hound up front, and Peck and Sai in the middle. He too would protect the rear flank. "Otto, you redheaded barnacle, I hear the Devil's given you lessons in playing the flute. Won't you lead us with it?"

"I surely will, my good man." The mercenary complied.

With the redhead at the front, the long procession started out. Ninety people, Tim counted, with only the six of them to hold any attackers off. Some of the women held garden tools such as hoes or small-head shovels, or even broomsticks with the straw cut off. Those women would be no good in any battle.

They walked, with leaves still dripping and the ground too soft, and the sun barely beginning its climb into the sky. Thanks to the children, their progress was so slow even an old man with a cane and bad eyesight could pass them by.

"Deer in the woods, to the north." Sai called out, less than an hour later.

"Deer, aye." Peck replied. "I saw a deer a quarter hour ago, on the south end."

"Must be a good place for deer." Hound called back, from way at the front. "I've seen two or three already."

The reports became more frequent, both from the watchful mercenaries and the villagers they escorted. Tim noticed that Doby was looking behind them more and more often.

"Has anyone seen an entire deer, or only the antlers?" The Valkyrie called out.

The replies were concerning. Everyone had seen antlers, but the presumed deer were more difficult to describe. Some were saying the animals had dark gray fur, while others said the deer were black.

The road was already narrow to begin with, but in places it could become a choke point thanks to the blasted shrubbery. As they reached one of these tight spots, Otto's flute lost its voice.

"I say, these are not deer but some other creatures." The redhead informed the others. "Unless deer have learned to stand on two legs like men."

"Is it still there?" Tim asked.

"No, it has hidden back behind the trees. They're tracking us from afar. Now that we're out in the open, and not hiding inside the houses like before, I believe they want to pick us off a few at a time."

"A deer that walks like a man?" Peck asked.

"That's what I saw." Otto confirmed.

"Let us move past this choke point." Tim said. "It will be easier to defend our backs on its other side. Be careful as you go through, Otto."

"I'll throw my pretty flute at them." The mercenary laughed.

"Don't play it anymore." Sai warned. "Perhaps these creatures are following because they can hear it."

Tim frowned. The reason he'd asked his friend to play music was to help keep the many children from becoming frightened. He'd hoped the danger would stay back around the village, instead of pacing them from the forest.

"No more flute, Otto." He relented.

"Such a happy tune, too. Oh, well."

They got past the tight spot, but not long after they were coming up on another one.

"We've gone near two miles now." Hound announced.

That was good, Tim thought. Two miles distance in about an hour and a half, and no complaints so far from the children. With any luck...

"Lots of movement in the trees up ahead." Otto called out.

"Could it be men wearing antlers?" Peck wondered.

"Could be. They don't move too much like men. They look to be plodding about like walking barrels. They might be slower than us, except for how we're twice as slow thanks to the little ones."

From what Tim had heard, he'd assumed the threats would be faster than people. He wondered how something that slow could catch strong men and fleeing women. It made no sense to him. He had only one trick available to him, and he thought this would be a good time to use it. "Otto, let's let the elves go loose."

They were already up ahead of the rest, making it easy for the redhead to sort them apart. Elves were smaller and faster than humans, spry enough to evade capture among the foliage by bounding, and even faster on open terrain. The ground was soft thanks to the previous day's rain, but it was still firm enough to run over.

"They're ready, man." Otto called out.

"Tell them to go."

A third of the villagers broke away. Elf women were at the edges, deliberately running slow so their young ones could surge ahead. When the children had a good lead, the women burst forward. The humans were quickly left behind.

"Figures are coming out of the woods, on the north side." Hound informed the rest. "I don't think they expected the elves to bolt away like that. They won't be letting us pass them by so quick."

"They're not deer and they're not men." Otto added.

Tim was about to ask what they looked like, when he saw Doby drop her bow and pack. She poised for battle with her spear. Half a dozen figures lumbered out from the trees, not running but ambling rapidly as if that was the fastest they could move.

The mercenary got a good look at them. What they thought were antlers were really branches on the heads of the creatures. They had the rough form of men, with arms and legs, but the limbs were thick and stumpy. Each monstrosity looked like a cross between a man and a tree, with eyes, a nose and a mouth, and bark for skin with branches and even leaves seen on it. Some of them looked to have trappings on them that might have been clothing once.

"The men from the village." Doby understood first. "Something has turned them into these creatures. We cannot let them get close enough to hurt the villagers."

Instead of six mercenaries guarding ninety people, they were now guarding about sixty. The odds were a little better, but not by much.

"Otto, you and Hound stay at that choke point!" Tim bellowed. "Peck and Sai, you must guard our sides!"

The Valkyrie was already jogging off to meet the threats. Behind the first half dozen, more were seen emerging from the forest they'd just walked through.

Tim understood how it had all happened. Some dark magic had converted the men into trees and driven them insane. They would hide in the thick copses, pretending to be foliage until someone was close enough to strike at. Surely some sinister mage was behind all this.

Doby was brave, but she was human. Too many of these lumbering threats could surround her. That spurred Tim into running after her.

The creatures had bark for flesh, but they were not invincible. Doby's first strikes slashed at the thick limbs, producing amber sap. Her next attacks were aimed at the rough texture of their faces. Their eyes, Tim saw, were vulnerable.

Tim had the mastery of several weapons, including the broad-sword and the two-handed axe. He was proficient enough with the spear that he could teach its use. Against, these clumping monsters, however, many of the powerful blows he would normally employ were not effective. Even a man wearing armor had more places of weakness than these creatures: the neck, the armpits and the joints. Doby danced around the plodders as she had against that big fighter in the tavern. Tim was not the same sort of dancer, but for this fight he would have to be.

With their eyes gouged or their faces slashed by cold, sharp iron, the tree-men would stumble back out of the fray. The first six were repelled, but more were coming in their clumsy wake.

Tim had a chance to see how Peck and Sai were doing. Peck had two creatures to fend off with his sword, with more on their way. Sai, the proud fighter, had a handful. As on their last adventure, her short fighting claws were woefully inadequate against the tough tree monsters. She was slashing and tearing at the ends of their hard limbs, with arms more suited for fights against men armed with daggers. All the while, the threats were coming closer to the people they'd come to rescue.

"Trade spots with Sai!" Doby ordered.

Tim saw the wisdom in this, and he hurried to comply. That Valkyrie had proven time and time again that her skills in battle were worth their weight in gold.

"Sai, pull back!" Tim shouted. "You must go to Doby's side!"

The stubborn Asian refused. Already she had many scratches on her arms, from where the coarse bark had scraped her.

"Damn you, woman!" Tim scolded.

It wasn't until Sai was broadsided by one too many of the trees that she was knocked back off her feet. Tim saw red streaks on her arm, but only for a short moment. Lunging, he thrust his spear out and struck wood, hard enough to cause his foe to cringe. His next strike was too close to the tree's head, causing it to swing its arm out wildly. Sai was on her feet, angry at having been shoved away from the fight, while Tim was taking on all five of her attackers.

Tim could no longer focus on her, as even with his spear to fend with, the trees were still closing in on him. He heard shouts from up front, from Hound and Otto, but he could not spare a moment to see what transpired there. He was too busy fighting for his life.

A short form pressed against his back, scaring him, as he thought perhaps a tree had gotten around him somehow. He managed a quick look, seeing an elf woman with her hand on his side, and her other hand on the shaft of his spear. For a moment, Tim felt his weapon tingle with magic, so disconcerting he almost dropped it. The long, iron tip began to glow in a smoky, wispy ice blue.

The elf spoke in her native language, a strange way to speak full of chirps and clicks such as those heard in the wild. Then she backed off and went to Sai.

The few seconds of distracting had allowed the trees to form an arc around Tim. He slashed out, trying to move them back again. His blue spear tip struck the limbs of two trees, creating a magical blue fire on them. The trees withdrew, leaving Tim to face at least three more. Now he did not have only the small target of their faces to strike at, but their entire hulking frames. He took the safest action and slashed at their legs, starting fires there that took hold right off and would not be extinguished with the battering of the trees' ugly limbs.

"They're heading away, into the forest again!" Hound called out.

Tim had five burning hulks before him, fallen over on their sides or collapsed on their knees. The fire was consuming them whole, as if the blue flames were eating away at the evil magic that had taken those men over. The man looked to the end of the loose column. Doby was still in the thick of it, too far for the elf girl to reach her safely. The elf had used her magic on Sai's claws, however, and that allowed the Asian to come to Doby's aid.

"Otto, I cannot see you!" Tim shouted. "Peck, how goes it with you?"

Both men gave good reports. With Sai now equipped with magic claws, she drove the trees back and even chased them and struck at their retreating forms. That's when Tim observed that Doby had broken her spear, and was fighting in closer quarters with her blade. Her arms showed red scratches, as did Sai's, but the Asian woman had a bloody shoulder to nurse along with them.

"We did not know these monsters were wooden." The elf came by, telling Tim. "We use the blue magic to start our fires. It will burn any wood!"

"Those monsters were once your men." Tim said.

The hard man wished he hadn't voiced those words, once he saw the face of dismay on the pretty elf girl. It was a strange, woeful face to look at, a face of anguish frozen still that he would remember for the rest of his days. After this, the elf hurried away, crying. Some men said that elves did not shed tears, but this saying was untrue, for now he'd seem one cry with his own eyes.

"Press forward." He called out. "We still have a distance to go!"

By the time the bulk of the refugees reached the rendezvous point, the wagon had come and gone. It had rolled away with mostly younger elf children and a few of their women, upsetting the human women when they found out. According to the elves, the driver promised to return with more help, as soon as possible. The humans did not believe them.

"It's the fear making them edgy." Otto said, staring at his blade that no longer glowed blue as it had earlier. "That elf magic made all the difference, man. If it were not for that, we would not have survived the attack."

Except for Doby, the mercenaries were sitting on the ground together, keeping their eyes on the minor road and the forest they'd recently left behind. So far, no tree-men had lumbered out after them. The elf women had been sitting in a circle ever since they'd arrived, speaking in their own language that only the Valkyrie could understand. That's where Doby was now, talking to them, as the elves were agitated and seeming to want to return to the forest for some unknown reason.

"I'll be glad to leave this place behind." Peck griped.

Tim glanced at Sai. The Valkyrie had healed the Asian's wounds, but she'd only used a small amount of her magic to do so. Doby did not want to be left debilitated if she used too much. As a result, Sai was left with ugly, streaking scabs on her left arm. A healer could clear the blemishes away once they reached Wantonbury, or perhaps the priests at the farmstead could do it, if they'd been taught how.

"A few of the elf women want to go back." Doby said, upon her return.

"They want to go back there?" Otto pointed down the minor road.

"The elves do not want their men roaming through the forest as trees." The woman explained. "They would rather burn them and finish them. Because of their longer life spans, the women fear their men will roam for fifty years or a hundred."

"We only just came from there!" Hound complained.

"They are set in their minds." Doby replied. "I will go with them."

"They're going back for their treasure." Otto suspected. "They couldn't bring it into the village with them, because then the humans would find out about it. I do believe they want to burn their men, as they are no longer men, but did they also say they wanted to go back all the way to their dens in the forest?"

"They did." Doby nodded. "They said they wanted to get every last tree."

"It's a ruse, I tell you." Otto told them.

"Why is it a ruse?" Hound asked. "Why can't the purpose be as they said it?"

"Because they do not need to go back to their dens." Otto reasoned. "Look at the habits of these trees, man. They hide and they pounce on people. If there are no people, they will go to where the people are found. Follow the trail, you dunce. They attacked the hunters first, and then the farmers, and then they arrived at the village. The women were caught when they stepped out of doors, but only one or two at a time. The rest were able to escape a dire fate by staying indoors for a week! The elves don't need to go into the forest because the trees will come to them. They only need to get as far as the village, unless they have a secret reason to go further!"

"They tried to dissuade me from going along." Doby confirmed. "And also any of the rest of us."

"Do you see?" Otto asked. "They don't want us to see what they've hidden in the forest. Oh, it could be some keepsakes or religious items, things that are private to them, I'll grant you that. But what if my suspicions are correct? What if they've a hidden trove in there, that they wish to move to a safer place?"

"Then you go with them and try to take it." Peck joked. "And have them burn you as they burned those trees!"

"I learned a few things about the elves last night." Otto revealed, going on to tell them about potential marriages to humans.

"Would you do it, Otto?" Hound wondered. "Would you marry an elf if it meant you'd never leave their village again?"

The redhead shook his head.

"He's only after their treasure, if they truly have any." Peck said. "I might do it. The young ones are young and pretty, and the old ones also look young and pretty. You won't have to worry about your wife getting old and fat with that bunch!"

While the other men laughed, Hound considered the matter more fully. "It is true, isn't it? Elves don't get old, and they don't get fat. They forage for food, mostly eating berries and nuts. A man like you or me, Peck, we could set snares and hunt. We could fish if a stream were nearby! That would give us enough food to feed ourselves, if we are determined enough. That whole lot would marry you, Otto? Isn't that what you said?"

"They said they would." The man nodded.

"Well, let me go and find out if they'll marry me. I'm not so ugly as all that!"

A few chuckled at Hound's eagerness, but not Peck. "That one man, and what was it, seventeen of them elf women? May the Devil flatten me!"

Peck stood up and ran after Hound.

"Well, I won't do it." Otto said.

"Doby, so you're going back with them?" Tim asked. "I'll go also. If there is treasure the elves will share with us, I'll take it gladly. Even if there isn't, I'll go if only so the elf women will know their men have been put to rest."

"You are the sort of man my Victor is." Doby remarked.

"I came for an adventure, and I have found one." Sai said. "If the elves grant me their magic, then I am the equal to any one of you!"

"This is not a competition between us." Tim told her.

"It is for me!"

"Let her come." Doby said.

"If there is treasure, I mean to put my hands on it." Otto said. "The Church is set to forgive me my back taxes and trespasses. Perhaps they will look the other way if we come upon a horde of elf wealth."

"Not likely." Sai replied. "You should see what the Church taxes us at the brothel. You could fill a wagon with it."

"Imagine enough wealth to fill a wagon." The redhead fantasized. "I'll wager the wagon will break from the weight! Count me in, you scabbies! I'm going!"

Two wagons showed that afternoon, one full of armed men. The wagons took as many survivors as they could, while leaving the men to guard over the rest. Tim and three others checked their gear and provisions before setting off. Hound and Peck would not be going with them. Four female elves would accompany them, however, enough to spell-cast their weapons when the time came.

Eight entered the village, as the evening shadows fell.

"See their many tracks." Sai pointed out. "They were all over here once they knew we had gone off."

Otto followed the plods toward a hut, one whose door had been left open that morning. The man leapt back, when a heavy branch of an arm took a swipe at him, through the open doorway.

"Did you see that?" Otto shouted, bouncing back as the tree-man lumbered out after him. He drew his sword as he retreated. "I'll halve you into a stump, I will!"

The tree moved stiffly, ambling as a very heavy person would. Tim saw the reason why; it's joints were not as flexible as those of a flesh and blood being.

Before the redhead could strike, the faster elves were around the tree-man. They'd picked up small amounts of tinder during their walk back. The elf girls threw the twigs and bits of wood at the tree, causing them to ignite in mid-flight. When the bits struck the monster, it was instantly set on fire. All four elves began chanting in their language, as the tree lumbered off into the woods.

"We must check the houses, one at a time." Doby stated. "Two go in, while the rest stand guard."

Tim would have done it another way, but he saw the merits of the plan. He motioned to Otto, and they both entered that first home. The elves were impatient, as by the time the two men exited, they were already running around like hares and looking through the rest of the houses. They found one more tree-man, drawing him out of doors and burning him as they had the first.

"See there." Doby pointed. "Both burning creatures ran in the same direction."

"I know what you will say about that." Otto grimaced. "We must go in that direction, yes?"

"That is what I suggest." The Valkyrie nodded.

"It is the direction of our village." An elf girl informed them.

"It will be dark soon." Tim noticed. "They will be harder to see among the normal trees, even with plenty of fire to guide us."

"We must go." An elf argued. "We must finish this quickly!"

"They were our husbands." Another agreed. "We must hurry to free them from this abominable state they have been ensorcelled into. Gather more wood bits, my sisters!"

The elves went into the houses, filling pots, pouches and sacks with as many small pieces as they could carry.

"Give me your spear, Tim." Doby held her hand out, not expecting to be refused. "I will take the lead."

For a time, the Valkyrie had treated Andre as if he were her lover Victor, sometimes even calling him by that name. Apparently, Tim now found he'd been put into that same spot. Doby said she'd nursed Victor back to health after a grievous injury, before training him with all her fighting knowledge. She was used to giving orders, much as Tim was. Still, Tim could admit, she was better with the spear than he was. He tossed it over.

"Now would be a good time to put your magic on our weapons." Sai prodded the elves.

Soon, their battle arms were glowing in soft wisps of blue smoke, and they were moving into the forest.

The elf village was situated in the midst of some of the largest trees in the region. Each trunk was nearly the size of a house. Elves had dug into the roots, or burrowed into short rises close to them. To the humans, the entrance holes were slightly larger that the space a child would need to enter, but the slimmer elves could almost dive in without touching the sides.

Several tree-men were ambling through the village, with no specific purpose in mind. When they saw people approaching, they attacked. The humans felled a few, but it was the eager elves that downed the greater number.

"These were elf men." One girl decided. "They were shorter than the others."

The other elves nodded the same, although to the humans the height of all the tree-men they'd seen was fairly consistent.

"We'll be needing some torches now." Otto commented.

With Doby holding the spear in her hands, Sai and her torch were set to staying close to her. Tim and Otto watched the flanks as best they could in that narrow space, with the elves centered in their midst. The elf women would become nuisances, when they darted off unexpectedly, as their senses picked up the tree-men better than the humans. They went to light the creatures, making them blaze bright, before hurrying back to their loose places in the formation.

"We are coming closer to a great evil." An elf said.

"I can sense this as well." Doby seconded.

Only moments later, Tim felt the same sinister presence. To him, it seemed as if they had walked into a dark cave, except there was no cave. He looked around, seeing that they'd entered a black grove full of trees of the same type.

"What is this place?" Doby asked. "What do these oak trees signify?"

"We hold our dances here, and our feasts." One elf revealed. "This was never a dark place! Something evil has taken it over!"

"Yes, I feel that." Doby said, taking a few strides forward, trying to fathom the source of the evil. "The harmony of this place has been corrupted."

The Valkyrie moved again, but this time an unseen force slammed into her and threw her back. The action was so sudden that Doby tumbled into Sai, and into the Asian's blue claws. Right away, Doby's hair and tunic caught on fire. Sai had no choice but to move to avoid her, as she still wore the claws and had the torch besides.

The elves moved rapidly, touching the blue fire and sweeping it away before the Valkyrie could become incinerated.

"The blue fire is like lightning." Doby grimaced, as she used her magic to heal the worst of her fresh injuries. "It burns from without, and also from within."

A wave of black energy swept through the adventurers, making them tremble. This was followed by a grim, hissing voice. "Give me your men. You have brought two. You must bring more!"

A woman's voice, Tim realized. It had come from the clearing, from nothing.

"What has haunted this place?" Otto asked.

"Oh, the man with red hair, he must become mine!" The voice demanded. "Give him to me at once!"

"What do you want with me?" Otto shouted.

"You will become my trophy, as all the others before you. But you, you will have splendid red leaves. I will plant you here, in my grove, and you will worship me forever!"

"It is our grove!" An elf girl cried out.

As with Doby, an invisible hammer crushed into the four elves and sent them rolling away on the ground.

"No longer!" The spirit voice shrieked. "This grove is now mine! All that I desire is mine! Where are your husbands, but here, worshiping me!"

"Where are they?" Sai asked, knowing full well that they'd been downing tree-men right and left all day. "Where are all the men you've already captured?"

"I have sent them to capture even more men for me, and to destroy any women they come across!" The voice replied. "Soon, I will be the only woman left, and all the men will be mine!"

"Yes, yes, you are very powerful." Sai agreed, in a ruse. "This is why we have brought you these two fine men. Look, one has the build of a bold fighter, and the other has that remarkable red hair. You must spare us for this! We know where such men can be found. We will bring you more, but we cannot unless you spare us!"

"More men with red hair?" The spirit asked. "Are there more like him? Are there many?"

"Not many, but there are some." Sai said. "In Wantonbury there are many, many men. There are men a head taller that our Tim here, with muscles the size of his head. Oh, you would be tickled to have a man like that!"

The four elves had regrouped, and now looked ready to pounce on the entity speaking, if they could only grab hold of it.

"You must stay still!" Doby ordered the four women, with as much authority as she could muster. "You are not to move!"

The elves were suddenly confused, as the Valkyrie's words were full of force.

"Let us go and find more worthy men for you, yes?" Sai continued speaking to the spirit. "You must spare us, and perhaps you will even reward us. Men such as these two are very uncommon."

"I will reward you with death." The spirit said.

"We need no reward!" Sai changed her request. "Take them both and spare the lot of us women. We will find more like them and give them to you, only let us live."

"Otto, go to stand before Sai." Doby said.

"No!" The redhead refused.

"Otto, you must do this!" Sai encouraged. "Let her see how handsome you are!"

"Tim is more handsome than I!" Otto protested. "Let him go!"

"Then Tim must go." Doby decided. "Go, man, stand before Sai, before this spirit grows angry with your slowness."

The women were up to something; the mercenary began to understand. He was full of worries, as he strode to the Asian's side. Sai came to him, rubbing his thick arms and pulling the front of his tunic apart to reveal his chest.

"Do you see his strength?" Sai asked. "Is this man worthy of you?"

A new scent, woodsy but mingled with sensual want, ebbed through the grove.

"He is worthy." The voice said. "Bring him closer."

"How close?" Sai replied. "I do not know where you are. Perhaps you can come closer to us. Perhaps you would like to touch this man, as I am touching him. Would you have me remove his clothes, so that you can see the rest of him?"

"Yes, leave him nude. He will be the finest tree in my army of trees!"

"You must change his form, yes?" Sai wondered. "Before you do, will you come and touch his body, and see how it feels. Will you touch his flesh as I am touching it now?"

"The feel of bark is more to my liking."

"Bark is coarse and cracked to my fingers. You will have him like that forever, yes? But for this one time, before you have changed him, would you see what his body feels like? And that redheaded man, won't you touch his hair, before you've changed it into leaves forever? Can your magic turn a man into a tree, and back again if you wish it?"

"I cannot! What becomes a tree must stay a tree!"

"Then this will be your only time to touch either of them, while they are still men." Sai said, taking a step back.

"Otto, go and stand at the side of Tim." Doby said. "Play with your hair."

The redhead grimaced. Sai went to take him by the arm and pulled him. When he was next to Tim, she very obviously ran her fingers through his hair, and also across his beard.

"He is mine!" The spirit shrieked at her. "Do not touch him!"

Sai feigned worry. "I only wanted to try to describe the feeling of his hair, but I cannot. His hair is indescribable in its beauty. If you wish to know this feeling, you would have to touch his hair for yourself. He is yours, come and take him! Your shirt, Tim, remove your shirt!"

The two anxious men glanced at one another. In the end, Tim grunted and handed his sword to Otto, freeing his arms so that his shirt might come off. Sai stood behind him, lighting up his sturdy frame with her torch.

"Before they become my trees, I wish to touch them as men." The spirit rumbled. "Lower your swords, men. I will come closer to you."

Tim tossed his weapon to one side. Otto made a face, before he did the same. Behind them, Doby motioned for the elves to stay back.

Every tree in that grove looked to have stood there for decades, or perhaps even longer than that. One tree of the bunch abruptly trembled, before it's branches and leaves shook as if a gale was striking them. That tree looked to grow before their eyes, until Tim's mind saw that it was pulling its roots from the very ground. The trunk of the tree split into two giant legs. With a mighty step that was felt on the dirt below their feet, the tree moved into the center of the clearing. Otto fainted and fell, while Tim did his best to stay firm and upright, as the tree leaned forward to bring its massive branches closer.

Even this courageous warrior felt fright, when he saw that the tree had a huge face, with great, uneven knotholes for eyes and a craggy bump for a nose. Even without a true mouth, Tim could see its gnarled features. Those ugly, terrible eyes loomed nearer, until, in a startling flash of motion, Doby hurled her spear and caused the iron tip to plunge into one. Blue fire began to lap from the tip and spread across the hideous face.

The tree's instinct was to stand straight, to create distance between itself and these hurtful people that had just tricked it. That was all the distraction the elves needed, as they ran around the tree's enormous roots, littering them with wood bits that burned blue on contact with the rough bark. The giant oak must have felt some pain, as it stepped back, too quickly, and caused its branches to become entangled with those of the other trees in the grove. The worst screech Tim had ever heard resounded through the woods, as the possessed tree burned and was too stuck to flee. Sai leapt, slashing roots and creating new flames, while the elves ran on the roots and burned further up on the trunk.

"Tim, help me pull Otto!" Doby ordered, grabbing the redhead's arm. "Tim!"

He snapped out of his numbness, dragging his friend along the ground, before he recalled their swords. The mercenary retrieved them, even as blue flames consumed the bewitched tree and began spreading onto other stalwarts of the forest.

The screams continued, loud and dreadful, long after the two had revived the redhead and were dragging him back toward the village.

"What was it, then?" Otto asked, the next day as the wagon rolled back to the roadblock at the farmstead. "Was it the spirit of a witch cast into a tree, in some ancient time that has been forgotten? Or was it a tree that some corrupt mage animated for his vile purposes?"

"Who can know, friend?" Tim replied. "Some mysteries in the Savage Lands we are never meant to know the answers to."

A large number of children were running around and playing, as the wagon made the final turn toward the houses where the clerical priests slept.

"I do hate so many little ones." Otto frowned. "They remind me of a dog's fleas."

"They're all human children." Sai noted. "Where are the elves?"

"Here come two of them now." Otto pointed.

As the wagon came to a stop, the adventurers hopped off the back. The four elves that had gone with the mercenaries went to talk to the two who'd been waiting there. They spoke in their unknown tongue, guardedly so the Valkyrie could not hear.

"Doby, you go and find out what they're up to." Otto urged.

Tim looked around, seeing no other elves in sight, but plenty of people. He waved when he saw a priest in the usual red robe coming to greet them.

Doby strode up to the elves. They talked for a very short time, before the elf women turned and ran off, so quickly no human could hope to catch up to them.

"Will you look at them go?" Tim grinned.

Priests, displaced rogues and awed children watched the small streaks. The elves ran past the barns and into the fields. At the last, they were seen heading into the hills until they were lost from view.

"They rested here last night, and they ate a good meal." A priest revealed. "And in the morning the rest of them were gone. Only those last two remained to wait for their companions."

"You spoke with them, Doby." Otto strode up to her. "What did they say?"

"They believe they will find a brook or stream somewhere in those hills. It is their intent to begin a new village there. They have already taken Peck and Hound. We should not try to find them, they said."

"Those two scoundrels went with them?" Otto asked, incredulously. "Oh, those lucky curs! Two of them for all those elves! If I could run half as fast as those women, I might consider going after them!"

"You won't find them." Tim shook his head. "Elves are only seen when they want to be seen."

Doby faced the priests. "I would like a good meal, and permission to replenish my supplies. After this, I will go south to seek out my friends and anyone else I might rescue along the way."

"You're insane, woman!" Otto balked. "No one wants to go into the Savage Lands!"

"I'll join you." Tim said. "Will you put that down in your ledgers, priests?"

The clergy agreed that they would.

As the small group walked away, Otto turned to Sai. "What of you? Surely you have safer matters to worry over in Wantonbury! Surely you haven't lost your head as these two have!"

"Have you ever loved anyone with all your heart?" The Asian asked. "Loved them so much that you will travel to the ends of the world to find them?"

The redhead could only motion that he had not.

"This is how Doby feels about her Victor." Sai revealed. 'I cannot go. I must swallow my pride and admit that my weapons are better suited for a rough brawl than an open battlefield. Besides this, I have a son. People who venture into the dark lands have a tendency not to return from them. I would hate for my son to lose his mother, after he's already lost his father after, as I see it, a grave misfortune. What of you, you man of the red mane who nearly became a tree? What will you do?"

"I won't risk my life, I tell you!" Otto blurted. "Only a fool would willingly walk into certain death!"

"A brave man would not faint at the sight of an oak tree." Sai teased. "A brave man would walk up to the Devil's cottage and clap the knocker until the Devil opens the door for him."

"I am no fool." Otto emphasized.

"Perhaps not, but you are the type who will brag at a brothel to all the wenches there, speaking of his prodigious courage and exploits."

"I have done worthy things!" Otto argued.

"You can tell me all about them when we get to Wantonbury." Sai told him, as she too started toward the priests' house. "I will provide you with the best ale in town, at no cost to you, so I can personally listen to all your grand stories."

Otto watched the woman stride off, wondering just how brave a brave man really was.

#####

### Ben Finds The In Between Place, Part 1

"I tell you, this village was not here before." The old Eastern mage said, anxiously. "From the ether it came. From the nothing."

The old man's name was Ahkgunon, but to rile him up, the two younger men called him Goony. The mage had hired the two able men because they were among the few brave enough, or stupid enough, to enter the Savage Lands with only the lure of potential wealth to tantalize them. Trad was the better fighter, as he'd grown big and strong while swinging an axe and felling trees for a living. Benassen, called Ben-Ben when Goony was in good spirits, and simply Ben at other times, was the shape-shifter. He wasn't much good at all unless he changed into his canine form as a wolf. Transformed, he could see and smell much further than normal men. He could fight as well, with his strong jaws and sharp claws, but his mind was difficult to keep straight and he needed expert guidance. Ben had come to rely on the mage's voice early on in their adventure.

"How can you be sure the village wasn't here before?" Trad asked.

"I traveled this way many times, to reach High Mountain." Goony explained. "I always followed the stream. There were no villages for many miles."

"It's here now." Trad said, stepping over to knock on a beam holding up an old awning. "And it's not an illusion."

Goony stared at Ben, wondering if he should ask the young man to change into his animal form. Ben's snout could have picked up anything that smelled out of the ordinary, but it came at a cost. He could only maintain his canine body for a limited amount of time before his magic reserve ran out and he reverted back into his human self. The magic would spend itself out faster if he were active, such as in a fight, when compared to being in a more restful state.

"Let us have a closer look at it." Goony relented. "A careful look."

The old man was not a very good magician, and both Ben and Trad knew this. He'd been disgraced in some way, or perhaps was merely incompetent, and cast out from the handful of sorcerer's guilds in Meriland. All he was good for, really, was entertaining children with his minor magic tricks, but that paid next to nothing. Because he was registered as a mage, he was taxed in that bracket. The last round of Church taxes had rendered him destitute and desperate. If Goony did not find wealth on this venture, he would not be able to pay off his debt to the Church and the greedy men of the cloth would confiscate his meager home.

The village was fairly large for being founded in such an out of the way place. It had a main road bordered on both sides with a dozen two-floor structures, merchant's homes, with the bottom levels reserved for business and the top for living quarters.

Goony motioned at the two men exaggeratedly, as if they were children. This had irritated them at first, until the hirelings realized he was more used to dealing with little ones that with adults. Once they understood this, they usually let the offense pass, unless Ben was in the mood for arguing. At any rate, they followed the old man past one row of wealthy homes, to witness the stream that ran behind them.

"Will you look?" Goony pointed. "There is a tiny water wheel, only big enough to seat one woman at a time next to it."

The younger men walked around the mage, knowing how timid he could be. At the moment, the wheel was lifted up and out of the stream. If set into place, the wheel would turn a small millstone, used for grinding grain into flour. Trad went further than Ben. He looked into a small trough full of old clay, and to a dozen finished bowls, pitchers and vases formed from it. Because Trad liked touching things to feel their texture, he put his hands on nearly everything.

Once Goony observed that Trad was walking safely among the artifacts, he strode beside the strapping young man, with the intention of valuing the modest find.

Ben stayed behind, usually entrusted to make sure nothing was coming up behind him. He'd grown up in a poor place, poorer even than the outskirts of Meriland. Hardly anyone could have afforded building a two-story house such as these. The windows even had real glass covering them, instead of mere cloth or leather. It would have taken a pretty penny to carry those glass panes through the rolling hills they'd walked through.

He surveyed the back of one home, counting three windows on it, before shifting his line of sight over to the next one. Looking through the glass, he thought he saw a form, vaguely human, peering back at him. Ben jumped when the figure moved back, out of his view. He was left staring anxiously at nothing.

"I thought I saw someone up there!" He pointed.

Both the mage and the woodsman looked. Just then, a brown sparrow flew by, casting its reflection on that very same window.

"Are you sure, boy?" Goony wondered. "Could it have been that bird?"

Ben followed the sparrow's flight. It went to perch on the roof of the first house. It was a skittish thing, turning its head this way and that. Only a few seconds later it flew off in some other direction.

"It could have been, I suppose." Ben admitted.

"You keep your eyes open, boy." Goony said, walking back in his direction. "The pottery isn't worth much, hardly worth the trouble to carry it back. We may come for it if we find nothing else."

None of the houses had back doors; they simply hadn't been built that way. To enter any of them, they would have to walk through the main road that went through the center of the village. In safe times, Goony would walk ahead of the younger men, eager to set his sights and hands on any lucrative find first. In times like these, the mage would stand still and motion for his hired men to walk ahead of him.

"Do not enter these houses, not yet." Goony said, waving them further ahead. "We'll walk the entire village first."

While the first row of merchant houses backed up to the stream, the second row had smaller homes behind it. These could have been reserved for relatives, workers or minor artisans. Seeing nothing worthy of taking, they returned to the main road and followed that for a spell.

After a short walk past nearly thirty houses, they made an appalling find. The local people had built a stone aqueduct, diverting water from the stream away, into a raised pool and back into its source. Several stops had been built into the apparatus, to prevent water from coming in, or to keep it in place. The water was not running now, but there were old streams on it that resembled dried blood.

The men soon discovered where the blood had come from. A man had fallen at the start of the aqueduct, some time ago. He'd been dressed as a knight in sectioned armor and struck down, most notably at the left shoulder and neck. Ben stood back as the other two studied the old corpse.

"The armor is still in a good condition, mostly." Trad analyzed. He pointed at the mangled left shoulder. "That part will have to be mended. It will cost a pretty penny to do that. Once done, we will have an entire suit fit for a wealthy man. Of course, we will have to do a bit of scrubbing to get the blood off."

"What of the weapon?" Goony asked.

The knight had carried a broad-sword, a heavy blade over three feet long, with an ornate two-handed handle and a pommel with an engraving on it. Hoping to get a better look at the pommel, Trad tried to kick the sword from the corpse's hand.

Not only did the dead man hold on to his weapon, but he also began to stir up. Trad leapt away, Ben saw, the man's actions and mind taking a good moment to realize he was in danger. The woodsman pulled his small axe from the loop at his waist, even as the dead knight got to his feet and lumbered at him.

"How can he come back to life like this?" Trad called out.

Ben realized that Goony was standing there dumbfounded, close enough to the knight that the mage might be the first target. He grabbed the old man's arm and yanked him. Goony weighed nothing, Ben just found out, and the old man's arm, which had been covered up in a long-sleeved cotton tunic, was as thin as a twig.

Trad moved back, away from the approaching knight and his broad-sword. The good thing was that the weight of the armor was keeping the corpse slow, but steady.

"Use your magic, Goony!" Trad urged.

The mage issued a quick spell in some other tongue, causing a crevice to appear in the leaf-littered ground. It was enough to stumble the knight to his knees. As the dead man sought to push himself back up, Trad went to hack at his armored head and shoulder. Unfortunately, even on his knees, the knight was still protected by his coating of hard iron. Trad believed he was causing damage by smashing down on the knight's head, and if the man were alive, he might had jarred him senseless. Because the foe was already dead, or felt no pain, it was easy for him to grasp his wide sword with both hands and plunge it through Trad's leather vest.

The young man issued half a gasp as the pain wracked through him. He scampered back, slipping among the leaves and falling, clutching as his bloody wound. The knight pushed himself off, standing and heading to finish the fallen man.

"Goony, you must do something!" Ben called out, but the mage was only dribbling out fear. "That knight is dead. It cannot be! That knight is dead!"

Ben shook the old man, but only succeeded in causing Goony to fall the ground. The knight was done with Trad. He was coming for them next.

"Goony, you fool, get up!" Ben shouted. "Get up!"

It was no use. The sorcerer was mesmerized when he should have been acting. Ben had seen people freeze like this before. A few times, he had even caused this, when he turned into a wolf before their eyes.

That was it, Ben thought. He should cast off his clothes and turn into a wolf, and lope away from that carnage. As a canine of the forest, he could surely outrun that knight and preserve his life. At the same time, he would have to discard his clothing and small knapsack. Dropping his things was something he would rather not do, as his clothing would keep his human form warm, and his sack held the little food and coin he still had left. Their foraging hadn't been good, Ben recalled, as Trad's snares had caught them nothing. He might have similar bad luck as a wolf out hunting.

"Drop to Hades!" Ben called out, as the knight took the old wizard's life.

He would run, Ben decided. He would leave that haunted village until he was sure that knight returned to the dead. Ben had made the agreement with the others, that if any of them should fall, the survivors could split their belongings. Trad has as little as Ben did, but who knew what secrets the mage had in his little belt of pouches. Perhaps those pouches would be worth something. Yes, Ben decided, he would run into the forest, and stay away from that knight. Once the threat was gone, he would return and pillage what he could.

Ben ran, around the structure of the aqueduct and past the stone pool with its old splotches of blood. He sped down the road, as there was a gradual slope down the hill, and through all the expensive homes that once were full of life. As he neared the start of the village, he looked behind him. The knight was a way off from him, but he was surely on his way, with a freshly crimsoned sword held out before him.

For a moment, Ben wondered if he might hide in one of the houses. He looked to his side, to that second house. It was in the back of that house that he'd seen what he thought was a form, earlier. This time, one of the front windows showed two faces. They were women, young women, staring down at him just as he was looking at them. One of them motioned with her hand, beckoning Ben to come closer.

The knight was still coming, but for some unknown reason, Ben felt he would be safe inside the house. His instincts told him to flee, as he had the way open for him into the forest. His mind, however, saw two pretties in an expensive home, in an abandoned village that should not have been there. A wealthy village, he knew, a village that could make him rich if he stole the right items from it.

Ben ran to the door, with the knight still a ways off. To enter, all he had to do was push, as there were no knob and no locks such as those found in the bigger towns and cities. He entered a storeroom, dusty and full of webs, but well supplied with barrels of dried food and useful goods. Check for weevils, Ben remembered, check for bugs and throw the infested food out, or eat it that way if he could stomach the taste. Later, when he had more time, he would inspect everything, but first he had to make sure his pursuer would not follow.

The knight came, prompting Ben to scan for the stairs. In a pinch, he could run up to the second floor and break a window to jump through. The knight did not move to come into the store. Instead, he stopped in the road, standing proudly with his worn armor and his bloody sword propped up from the ground. He was waiting, Ben thought, for the young man to step out.

"He will not come in here." A woman's voice said, from the top of the stairs.

"You are safe." The second spoke. "Come to us, so we might see you closer."

Ben looked at his rough attire, with its soiled parts and its patches. "I would not be agreeable to be seen like this, not in the presence of two ladies."

"Oh, we have a tailor here." One of the two women dismissed his worry. "He will sew you up a new outfit in no time."

"Come to us." The other repeated.

Ben walked to the foot of the stairs, hoping to eye the women further. They were only a few years older than he, pretty, but made all the more prettier by their kirtles and aprons of linen. They looked like the daughter's of a shopkeep of some decent means, he decided, as he trod up the many wooden steps.

"I am a bit dirty." He said.

"We will bathe in the pool later, when the water is running again. We will all bathe together."

Ben shuddered. The last place he wished to bathe was a pool caked with dry blood. He reached the top of the stairs, seeing the two young, hopeful faces. The women took hold of his arms with their soft hands, walking him into a bedroom. Many people of little means slept on the floor, or on straw cots, but this room had an actual bed with a stuffed mattress, and most expensive of all, a wooden, carved bed frame. It even had stuffed pillows of linen!

The young man wondered how soft it would feel to lie on such a bed, instead of the lumpy straw on wooden boards he was accustomed to. He saw other furniture with intricate carvings on it, and a glass lantern that burned oil with an adjustable knob, and real curtains set on a wooden rod over the window. So this is what the inside of a rich man's home looks like!

The women halted him by the window, so he could see the knight standing outside, the same as the women had seen him earlier.

"What is your name and where have you come from?" The first woman asked.

"I am Ben, from Meriland."

"Ben, you must say this. I renounce myself from Meriland, and I claim my home as this place, called In Between."

"No!" Ben refused. "That is a witchcraft! It will bind me here! I don't wish to stay here! I have a home to go to in Meriland!"

"No more." The second woman said, setting her hand on his chest. "You will stay with us from this day forth."

"Do you see that knight?" The first woman told him. "He is not the only one. There are over a dozen of them living here."

"Their ghosts, you mean?" Ben asked.

"Call them what you will." The woman dismissed his question. "They will stay outside, unless we bid them to enter. And they will come and they will kill you."

Ben shuddered, as he saw other knights appearing from nothing to stand beside the first. "The mage was in the right! This entire place is a witchery!"

"Look through all the windows." The second woman said. "You are surrounded now. You cannot escape us."

"Renounce your home, and claim this one as yours!" The first told him.

"Or you will have me killed?" Ben blurted out. "What choice is that?"

"Wise men make wise choices." The first woman told him.

He still had a chance, Ben considered. If he were on clear ground, he'd rip his clothes away and become a wolf. He was fast enough to outrun all those knights, but not if he gave in to the women's request. Ben would be cursing himself if he did that.

"Tell us your name and the name of your home." The second woman persisted.

"I am Ben from In Between." He said, automatically.

Both women laughed.

"What?" Ben realized what he'd voiced. "You've tricked me! You've used your magic to put words into my mouth!"

"The magic is strong here. It is binding." One said.

"You will stay with us forever." The second whispered, as she came closer to him. "Do you see our soft bed? Would you lie in it?"

The women, the witches, were mesmerizing him, Ben knew. They were pulling at his arms now, leading him to that side of the room where the bed stood.

As Ben went along, because his will was gone from him, he saw the hands and arms of the women changing. They became withered and mottled. Apprehensive, he looked into their faces. No longer were they young and pretty. The witches had become old, their faces full of wrinkles, their hair white and wispy. Their faces revealed their true ages of sixty or seventy years, or more.

"We have many stories to tell you." The second witch said, daring to plant a kiss on his cheek. "And you have an abundance of time to listen to them, as you will be here forever!"

"Yes, forever!" The first witch cackled. "Forever!"

His will sapped, his focus lost, Ben could only fall back when the witches pushed him onto the bed. They both climbed on the bed with him, entirely nude, as they had used their magic to cause their fancy attire to vanish.

#####

### The Wrong Inn

"Run faster!" The tall barbarian woman demanded.

The two minor mages were terrified of Garra. The barbarian had been mad at Orissi ever since the battle with the necromancer, where the mage's foolishness had caused all three of them to get sucked into the other-dimensional trap. Garra had slapped, punched and even kicked Orissi, hard enough to lift the slender woman off the ground at times. Alery, the ice mage, wasn't faring any better. His big mistake was trying to get between Garra and the Asian woman one time too many. Instead of beating only Orissi, the big woman was now taking her anger out on both of them.

At the moment, they had something other than the barbarian's giant fists to worry about. Several very large and hairy hulks that had come out of the forest were loping after them. Garra thought they were upright bears at first, as they looked to move both on two or four feet when they wanted to. Thanks to the full moonlight, however, the runners caught a glimpse of the monsters' faces. They had human features underneath all that facial hair.

"Around the bend here is a bridge!" Alery announced, wanting to run faster, but having to slow his pace thanks to the tired and lagging Orissi.

"Get across it!" Garra ordered. "And best prepare a defense from the far side!"

The bridge foundation was made of stone and mortar, with sturdy wooden planking stretched across. It was only wide enough for a single wagon at a time.

The mages cleared it quickly, while the barbarian halted at the halfway point and turned to face their pursuers.

"Yaahh!" Garra screamed, as four hairy hulks came together.

One creature roared, and another, and then all four. Their bellows were loud and guttural enough to make the nearby beech and oak trees shiver. The first creature beat its huge chest, declaring its dominance over its kin, before it rumbled onto the bridge. It's giant feet made the entire bridge rattle. The mages wondered if the hulk could possibly weigh as much as a fully loaded wagon.

"Ice ball on your left, Garra!" Alery shouted.

Immediately, the barbarian jumped to the right. Not a moment too soon, as the Alery's magic ball hovered past her and directly at the oncoming monster. The ice orb was strong enough to freeze a man solid, but all it did to the hulking beast was stun it and turn it blue for a handful of seconds. That was enough time for Garra to run up by two full strides and put her entire momentum into swinging her deadly two-handed axe. Just as the ice effect left the hulk, the axe tore into its right shoulder harshly enough that the entire arm was nearly severed. Only a thin stretch of meat and bone held the now useless arm to the rest of the body.

No longer did the monster issue a fierce roar. What came out of it was the shriek of unbearable pain, from an open mouth and a throat that expelled every bit of air from its desperate lungs. The monster's cry sounded a cross between wounded simian and canine, primal and profound. The creature began jumping up and down, reacting to more pain than it had ever felt before, gasping and grunting, shaking the bridge enough to crack its sturdy planks. It turned and ran, trying to hold its loose arm in place so it would not flop around hitting its side or back.

"Another ice ball, Alery!" Garra ordered.

The mage saw the wounded beast running off, while the other three hulks were having second thoughts about engaging the tall woman. "I think they've had enough, Garra."

"I say when it is enough!"

Not wanting to see any more violence, Orissi lifted her arms and created lights in the dark air. They were shiny and bright, colored in pinks and yellows, and they floated as fast as the ice ball. As the half-dozen spectacles scattered toward the hairy hulks, they became frightened enough to flee down the narrow road they'd just come from.

Garra watched, making sure the threats were gone, before she walked over to Alery. She gave the mage a backhand on the arm, hard enough to send him sprawling to the ground. Alery held still for the blow, because he knew if he didn't the barbarian would surely have struck the weaker Asian girl.

"Who is in authority here?" Garra demanded.

"You are." Alery said.

"Then next time you will listen to me!"

"Garra, we must leave." Orissi dared speak. "Those animals might throw rocks again."

That's how it had all started. The three had been walking in the dark, looking for the next village, any village, when they'd heard the sound of wood striking wood in the trees. Shortly after this, large rocks, big enough to kill them if they'd been struck, began falling from the air. Luckily, the rocks were bouncing on branches first, before they dropped with loud thuds on the ground. The three started running on the path, but that had only encouraged the beasts to come out of hiding and chase after them.

Without a word, the barbarian walked off the bridge, forcing the mages to jog while keeping up with her long strides.

They came to tilled lands eventually, and later to an outpost at the edge of a small village. The trading place had been built away from the homes, so that strangers would not venture in any closer than they had to for business. With no food or water on them, the three travelers took the discouraging road. Branches were left to grow close to their heads, forcing them to duck or shift about to avoid them, especially for the taller Garra.

"A good place for an ambush." The barbarian grumbled.

"Do you really believe this?" Alery asked, incredulous. "What village will set itself to attack its visitors?"

"A village full of outlaws."

The ice mage had no wish to romance Orissi, but he was anxious enough to reach for her arm, so they might walk closer together. The Asian girl made no complaint to him.

"In my world, we had no villages full of outlaws." Alery mentioned.

"It was the same in my world of Beyond." Orissi nodded.

"You haven't traveled enough then." Garra told them, walking leaned over like an old woman. "I see lights ahead. Prepare for anything."

It made for a strange defense, to have homes set into the trees, with only a narrow pathway as the main road through. If it weren't for a few lanterns hung from posts, they would not have been able to see anything at all. They only saw six or seven small homes, and a horse hitch and trough with no horses around them.

"Yah, who goes there?" A man called out.

"We are strangers here." Garra announced them. "We have come to this strange land through an evil magic. Will you spare any food or water for us?"

The man strode up to the barbarian while she was still getting past the low branches. The moment Garra was clear of them, she straightened up to her full height. Seeing her suddenly grow by a couple of feet was enough to make the man jump back in fear.

"Be gone, you devils!" The man cried out. "Back to your abyss before we purge you there through fire!"

"She is no devil!" Alery pleaded. "She is a brave warrior from another place, human as the rest of us are!"

"Swear it upon the holy name of Mithras!" The man demanded.

"I am from the Sky People." Garra revealed. "My people live among the clouds of the highest mountains. We know of no god by that name."

"We have no mountains here! Go back to where you came from!"

"If we were not lost, we would go!" Garra growled in irritation. "Give us water before I cleave you in half!"

"First you must swear you haven't crawled out from the Devil's fingernails." The man insisted. "May the holy fire of Mithras burn you if you lie!"

"I'll do it." Alery volunteered. "We bring no harm to you or to this village. May your god do as you say if we come with evil intentions."

"What is your office? This big woman has the look of the Devil, but you do not."

The mage wondered if sorcerers were seen as good or bad in that hidden away village. Hoping to not provoke any violence against them, he replied, "We are simple clerks who study manuscripts and copy them over onto fresher pages. I swear to you that we are not of this Devil you speak of. Look at our faces and hands. We are gentle people, except for Garra who leads us through your perilous forests."

"Come here, under the light." The man motioned. "I want to see you better." When the mages were illuminated, he pointed at Orissi. "That one has the Devil's eyes!"

"She is from a land far away from here..." Alery started, but Garra beat him to the punch, literally.

The barbarian smashed her fist into the man's chest, knocking him down to his knees. A hefty kick sent him airborne, before he rolled into the shrubbery. Both mages winced upon seeing the attack, as they'd suffered through the same several times thanks to Garra's unrestricted rage.

"Give me water, man, or I will castrate you!" She ordered, yanking him from the bushes by the leg. "Do you see my axe? Do you see the blood on it?"

The moment the man was upright, Garra clamped her huge hand around the back of his neck. It was enough for all the fight to leave his body. Docilely, he lowered his head.

"We have a well, but we don't trust the water in it unless it is boiled first." He weakly divulged. "Some have sighted little blue devils pissing in it late at night. That's why I'm out here keeping watch. See the well there? I'll take you our town hall."

"So we can talk to your mayor?" The barbarian asked.

"No, no, we don't have one of them." The man shook his head. "We have a council of five that makes all the decisions, but that isn't why I'm taking you there. We keep our extra food and water at the hall, and our beer if you're wanting any."

"Then takes us there." Garra ordered. "Any trickery and I'll pinch your neck until your head pops off."

The man grumbled, but he did walk. After a few strides, Garra released his neck and held the collar of his tunic. Alery and Orissi kept close to their backs.

The town hall was the best fortified building in the village, but that wasn't saying much. The walls were of hastily built up wattle and daub, while the corners and middle used thick and rounded timbers to hold up a plank roof. The insides were cozy, just big enough to hold fifty people or so. Even the mages could see that the structure only offered a slightly better defense than the weaker houses around it. Candles that smelled of beef fat were set on wall holders, spaced out regularly and giving the hall an amber glow.

Garra pushed the townsman inside, finding about two dozen similar skinny men and women hiding there. The folk had gaunt, weathered faces that matched the worn look of their clothes. They were sullen people, not given to quick action, but they did give the big barbarian plenty of room. The people were short as well, seen by how close Garra's hairy head came to the roof of their hall.

"Water." The big woman demanded.

"Best do as she says." The man Garra had captured cautioned the rest. "She's about as strong as the whole lot of us put together, as strong as a team of oxen!"

"And twice as harsh." Garra added. "Show me where the water is!"

They were pointed toward the far end of the hall, where several sacks and barrels were found, along with a soup cauldron and small fire pit. Garra shoved her man aside and strode over.

To the ice mage, it looked as if Orissi wasn't comfortable with how the folk were staring at her. Certainly, Alery thought, they were not pretty people, but the sort that worked their fingers to the bone just to grow enough food to survive. At the same time, there was something about the crowd he could not quite put a finger on. As he studied their number, he observed something that gave off an alarm in his head. Many of the villagers were drifting over toward the door they'd come in through; it was the only way in or out. They weren't going outside, however, but gathering there and watching the three newcomers very carefully.

Alery reached out grasp Orissi's arm again. The Asian woman did not pull away, but came closer to him. Perhaps she sensed an unknown danger the same as he did.

"What's in these jars?" Garra was heard asking.

"Our ale, and root tea, and cinnamon tea." One wiry woman replied. "We've boiled it all in that cauldron there. It's not the best you'll ever taste, but it is passable for us."

"What flavor of soup is that?"

"Dog boiled in onions and radishes. That's all we have to eat."

"I'll have a taste of it." Garra decided, pouring ale from a pitcher into a cup.

Half the crowd had gone to stand by the door, Alery noticed. Perhaps they were standing in fear of the barbarian, or perhaps not. The other half was quietly working their way around Garra. Orissi glanced at the ice mage, seeing the same thing.

"What I see there is a very big woman." One thin man chuckled. "And she carries a very big axe. Surely even a woman your size can't swing such a large weapon!"

"I do well enough with it."

"It must weigh as much as I!"

"It probably does." She agreed.

"I'll bet you can't lift it." Another man told the first.

"It will take two of us, or three!" The first speaker laughed. "If only one tries, he'll have a bent back in the morning for sure!"

Garra was barely paying attention to the discussion. She propped her axe against a table as she drank from her cup. Next, she set the cup down and walked over to the cauldron, reaching for the iron spoon hanging over the cauldron's holder.

"Dog, you said?" She asked.

"That's right." A woman nodded.

Alery and Orissi both observed the people crowding in front of the door. A wild look was coming over their eyes. Alery pulled the Asian further back, closer to a wall where no one could get behind them.

"Go on, try to lift that axe!" One man dared another.

"She'll get angry with me!"

"No, she won't! She'll only laugh at you!"

Two villagers walked over to inspect the axe. Abruptly, they grabbed it by the thick handle and began pulling it away.

Garra didn't look too concerned; as she was busy tasting whatever was in the cauldron. "Put that back or I'll flatten the lot of you with my boot."

The townsfolk didn't listen. Two men dragged her large axe away behind the rest, while they crowded together like a wall to keep her from retrieving the weapon.

"Garra!" Alery called out a warning.

It came too late. As the irritated barbarian dropped the iron spoon she'd used to sample the soup, the villagers sprung forward. Garra was not left unarmed, for her eight-inch knife was soon in her grip. She swiped out at the people, causing them to clear a path for her. She thought she might grab her axe, until the very faces and shapes of the haggard men and women changed before her eyes. Their faces became twisted and angry, their skin black as pitch and their eyes glowing red. The bodies of the villagers changed also, becoming thinner and longer. Their arms grew to twice their length, while their legs shortened by half. This left them with a tremendous reach and stunted steps. Garra held her blade out before her, while the black creatures grew fangs and claws. At the same time the demons leapt at the barbarian, the others by the door swept at the minor mages.

"Orissi, do something!" Alery cried out, summoning his magic.

"What?" The Asian blurted.

Against so many, the ice mage knew he had to expend more power than normal. He created an ice wall before him, cutting off the two mages from their horde of attackers. The wall went from the ground of the hall and up by four feet, isolating them in the corner they'd backed into. Already, the monsters were stretching their long arms over the chilled barrier. Their dagger-like fingers were plunging down, attempting to spike into the crouching mages.

Alery added another layer of ice on top his wall, creating a dome that was thinner than the ice wall and hoping it wouldn't come crashing down on their heads. "Orissi, blast you, create an illusion!"

"I don't know what they fear!" The terrified woman cried out.

The wall was too thick for them to see the black creatures, but they could hear the sharp fingers scratching away at it, and Garra's fierce and courageous yells.

The ice mage glanced around at his dark surroundings, hardly able to see anything. "Make a bright light, quickly!"

Orissi created a glowing orb, allowing Alery to scan the wall at their backs. It was as badly made as he'd assumed earlier. There was a time not too long ago, when the mage would wear a fancy, belted robe and soft slippers. That was before he'd gone to Loam, where long marches and the fear of being singled out had prompted him, and also Orissi, to wear the attire of commoners. Once, he'd even seen the Asian mage in a very beautiful dress from her world of Beyond. The two sorcerers presently had their rough cotton tunics, their belts of leather and most critically, their marching boots. It was the footwear he was about to put to use.

Calculating at what the weakest portion of wall was, Alery kicked out. His boot went straight through the wattle and daub that turned out to be only a couple of inches thick. His kicks wouldn't be fast enough, he decided. Alery created a weak shield of ice on the wall. This would hold the material together for his next kick. His boot crashed into the ice, cracking it and sending a portion of wall falling outside. The hole, thankfully, would be big enough for them to crawl through.

"Go first!" He hissed, hoping he wasn't loud enough for the demons to hear him.

Being smaller, Orissi was gone in a flash. Alery scraped his forearm as he slipped past a jagged edge, tumbling over the woman who had stopped just outside.

"Cover that hole!" She demanded.

"I shouldn't!" He said. "I've used a third of my magic already. We might need the rest if we should become surrounded again!"

"What of Garra?"

Alery didn't have an easy answer for that. His power was greatly restricted, thanks to the strange limitations of that world, and the Asian was only good at casting illusions. Against even half a dozen attackers, they would be hard-pressed to give a good fight, and now they were facing a good four times as many. "I don't think we can help her."

"We can't leave her!"

"How do you plan to save her then?"

"I don't know that!"

Inside, Alery could hear the demons chipping holes into his ice wall. "Orissi, you must listen! We don't have the time to talk this out!"

He snatched her by the arm, leading her away from that building and into the trees clustered past it. When they halted, Orissi clung to him in terror. A great many wails and screeches were heard from the hall.

"We must get back to that road!" Alery insisted. "We can wait there for Garra! If she finds us, you can have an illusion ready, of many soldiers and many lights! We cannot do that here, because if they get past your illusions, we are both done for! At least at the road we will be able to run!"

For a moment, the mage thought the woman would refuse. When he tugged at her arm, however, she came willingly. Because of the obscurity, she created a blue orb to guide them through the brush.

"I have put a wall of black behind us." She said shakily. "The demons should not be able to see us."

"But they might hear us or smell us. Let us move quickly!"

It took them the better part of an hour to find the road, as they'd taken several wrong turns in the foliage. Alery took the Asian woman to the far side of the pass, hiding them both behind a tangle of bushes.

"Alery, I must tell you."

"What is it? Speak low, woman, so your voice won't carry off."

"There were times, Alery, when I wished that woman were gone." Orissi whispered. "She always hit us, and we are so defenseless against her. I wished you would freeze her, so we could run away and leave her behind forever."

"Say not more about it. Garra is a hero on Loam."

"She is no hero here, in whatever place this is. Am I wrong, my friend, to feel a gladness in my heart that she is gone from us?"

"Say no more."

Hardly had they hid in that spot for ten minutes, when a great cackling was heard from above their heads. The mages could not tell what was making the horrible noise. It could have been the night birds of that bizarre world, or some passing ill wind that could make such a wicked sound, or even demons up there telling the village demons where the mages were hiding. At first it was only one voice cackling, but it was soon two, and later many. When the cackling was heard from dozens of voices, reverberating all across that section of forest, the mages could hold out no longer.

With hardly any moonlight left to guide them, they fled on that solitary road in the middle of that twisted land of insanity.

#####

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### Tales From The Savage Lands 3

About this book: From humble origins rise the greatest heroes. Sir Hoppe, cursed to live among criminals, yearning above all else to become a knight. Herri, Brun, Cerny, escaping their poor village for adventure, taking a path that will lead to the emergence of the Red Lady. Here are their beginnings, trials and tribulations. Soon, the evil of the Savage Lands will shatter their lives! Rating: HIGH controversy.

Tales From The Savage Lands 3 is scheduled for release on February 15, 2019. Buy or sample 20% of this medieval fantasy novel at Smashwords, or find out more about the series on Raymond Towers Dot Com. As a special offer, you can pre-order this e-book for only 99 cents!

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### Attack Of The Six-Foot Vagina!

"What do you think it is? It's a giant vagina! Run, you asshole, run!"

Let me tell you something. I'm not a man who runs, but that night, by Jove, I was running, running like a man with a red scarf and a white shirt in Barcelona, when they let the bulls go on stampede. Letting those bulls go like that, and stirring them up ahead of time, that's madness, I tell you. And what I saw that night, well, that was madness too.

Let me tell you something else. This wasn't my story, or at least, it didn't start off as my story. Like so many other things in my life, it kind of reached out and smeared me, like a guy trying to change a diaper in a hurry so he can get back to the ballgame. I was just sitting there in my office, smoking a vapor cig because that's what all the high school kids were doing, trying to look cool but not really. That's when my partner Harry Shanks burst in.

"There's something going on at the detergent plant!" Shanks barked at me. "We need to get out there, Dicks!"

Yes, yes, he did call me Dicks, because that's my name. I'm Dan Dicks, Private Eye, plus I do mediations and fugitive apprehension as well. I know what you're thinking. I have some dusty office with the shades pulled down, in a seedy part of town. I sit on a wooden chair with casters, wearing a fedora with a curled brim and chain-smoking my cigs waiting for the dames to give me a ring. You'd be one wrong fellow to make such assumptions. I don't even qualify for a real office yet. All I have is a corner space in the back of a flower shop, run by a fruit that likes putting flowers in his ear and winking at me a lot.

When Shanks burst in, I jumped to my feet. "What are you talking about? I get off in half an hour!"

"You going to miss this, Dicks?"

"I have to!" I answered. "The fruit closes the shop at five!"

"Never mind the fruit! Whatever is happening over at the plant, they've got the cops, the firemen and the chopper heading out there! If we jump into the jalopy, we can get there at the same time they do! Think of the reporters, Dicks!"

That settled the matter. I grabbed my box of business cards and went out the door so fast Shanks had my footprints running up his belly. No publicity is no publicity, know what I mean?

After the investigation, I figured out a few things that Joe Public didn't know, and that he wouldn't like to know. For starters, the detergent plant didn't pay its workers very much. You couldn't entirely blame management, either. The employees were coming in with ten-gallon buckets and filling up from the big, round tanks the plant churns out. It was easy; just lower the bucket into the giant vats, fill it up, and hide the bucket in a car until the end of a shift. The small-time pilfering got so bad the company put surveillance cameras at the plant's entrance and parking lot. The employees, no longer able to steal detergent, were understandably pissed.

What happened next was unexpected, depraved, twisted. Two employees were angry enough to climb the metal stairs up to the top of the tank. They masturbated right into the detergent. It was their way to buck the system, I tell you. Little did they know what they were setting in motion. One employee blew his wad out with a vengeance, and the other one, well, the other one was a woman. Don't ask me how she did it, because I don't know, and my imagination sticks its head in the sand when I try to figure it out.

I know what you're going to ask next. What happens when a man's spunk and a woman's cream mix together in a giant tank full of chemicals? You won't believe me if I tell you. I don't believe it myself, and I was there, man! I saw it with my own two eyes!

"Dicks and Shanks!" Shanks told the decrepit security guard at the gate.

"Yeah, right." The old man snarled back. "And I'm the Easter Bunny! Get the hell out of here!"

Shanks gave the guard the evil eye, because he was on the driver's side and closest to that octogenarian with a bad attitude.

"All right, all right!" The old man pleaded. "Go on in! Just don't look at me anymore!"

"Where is the incident taking place?" I demanded.

"The parking lot is over on the south end." The guard squealed. "That's where the cops parked. They all ran over to the north end a few minutes ago!"

"Go north, Shanks!"

My partner aimed the rust bucket that way. The firemen were out there, doing whatever firemen do in situations like that. Shanks missed the first two, but the third fireman jumped in front of the car and became a hood ornament for about two seconds.

"Hey, asshole, I'm driving here!" Shanks shouted, as the fireman bounced on the asphalt.

He didn't stay down for long, as he got up and came chasing after us.

"Stop here, Shanks!" I ordered. "You deal with the fireman, while I go check things out!"

"Like hell! You're not hogging all the credit again, like you did when we frisked the old ladies at the convalescent home and found that pound of coke!"

Some things, I did not want to be reminded about. Why couldn't Shanks bring up the time I got the paternity lawsuit from the all-girls school? I'll tell you why! It was because Shanks was one envious son of a bitch!

"Fine, Shanks! Have it your way! You take the lead this time!"

"That's more like it." Shanks said, pulling over when he spotted half the police force running around the giant tanks.

We leapt out of the metal heap like Olympic jumpers.

"There's Sergeant Garcia!" I pointed. "Hey, Garcia, what are you chasing, an angry employee or an angry manager?"

"No, we got something worse out here!" Garcia barked back. "Something came out of the fucking vats! It's a fucking monster!"

"What kind of monster?"

"That's just it, we don't know! It's big and it has two legs, and it has hair all over it!"

That sounded like my grandma, but it couldn't be! She was way out in Kansas! I looked at Shanks. "Hey, do you think..."

"No, it can't be!" He cut me off. "She's way out in Kansas!"

"Didn't you just hear me?" Garcia shouted. "I said it came out of the vats!"

"Could it be a two-legged rat?" I asked.

"Or a two-legged mongoose?" Shanks chimed in right after.

"We don't know what the hell it is!" Garcia growled. "Just stay out of our way!"

The cops ran around one of the huge tanks. It took them almost five minutes to get all the way around. And then, they started running around the same tank a second time.

"What do you think, Dicks?" Shanks asked me. "Should we follow the cops?"

"No, no! All they're doing is going around in circles. We've got to try something else!"

"Like what?"

"We'll keep going north, all the way to the company fence!"

Hardly had we moved by ten feet, when the monster came out after us. It had been running around the same tank the cops were circling, after all. I'll never in my life forget the next words that came out of Shanks' mouth, when I asked him what it was.

"What do you think it is? It's a giant vagina! Run, you asshole, run!"

It was a good thing Shanks had taken the lead, because that put the monster closer to him than me. I had taken two running strides, while Shanks had only taken one. The giant vagina, that thing was fast. It swept up on Shanks and enveloped him with its extra meaty giant flaps. That was the most hideous thing I've ever seen; Shanks was covered up and trying to punch his way out.

"Shoot it!" Garcia ordered his men. "Shoot the damned thing!"

"No, wait!" I threw my arms up. "It's got my partner!"

That giant vagina was treating Shanks like an old blanket in an even older washing machine. It tossed him and turned him and flipped him over. Of course, we couldn't see any of this, but we could hear Shanks screaming. Those screams are something I will never forget. Finally, the vagina spit Shanks out as if he was a used piece of gum. He was slimed all over, and when he crawled, it sickened me because he reminded me of a giant slug. Not that I've ever seen a giant slut; just saying.

"The things I've just been through..." Shanks uttered, his face completely covered with vaginal fluid. "No man should ever go through!"

The giant vagina ran around me. I couldn't help but stare at it, mesmerized as it passed under the clear glow of a lamppost. How could something so beautiful be so dangerous, that's what I wanted to know!

"It's getting into your junker!" Garcia pointed.

"No!" I cried out. "I just paid that car off last month!"

Somehow, the vagina twisted about and got the door open. It squirmed into the driver's seat. I checked my pockets for my keys, but Shanks had driven us up there. "Shanks, tell me you have the keys!"

"I left them in the lemon!"

"No!" I shrieked. "Nooo!"

People will tell you that giant vaginas don't know how to drive, but this one did. It set the car in gear and backed up and everything. The next thing I knew, it was making a u-turn and heading for the gate. I had just enough time to jump in front of it. I didn't bounce off like the fireman had, because I had wits enough to grab onto the wipers. The vagina swerved right, then left, trying to buck me off, but I held onto the car like a Chihuahua clamping onto a mailman's calf!

"Where'd you get your driver's license?" I shouted. "From a cereal box?"

The vagina really didn't like that. It kept swerving all over the road, but now it was honking the horn at me, too. After one jerk too many, the clunker went off the road, taking the vagina and me with it. I flew into a clump of grass and bounced around a bit, wounded more in my ego than anything else. The bucket of bolts wrapped itself around a tree like a pretzel. There goes my insurance, right through the roof, I tell you! I might as well give up on driving and start taking the stinking bus!

As for the vagina, right before the crash it leapt out of the driver's seat. I thought it looked beautiful before, but there it was soaring through the sky, like an angel with big boobs sweeping through a strip club. Well, an angel with a lot of hair, in any case. The vagina landed on its two feet, a miracle in itself, before I lost it in the foliage.

I couldn't help it. Since I was largely unscathed, I stood there and unzipped my pants. In my mind, I pretended that I was a man worthy of having that giant vagina. Yes, I did. I rubbed one out, and I'm not ashamed to say it. When Shanks came up next to me, he rubbed one out, too. And then the cops came, and the firemen came, and even the decrepit old security guard came. Every single one of us came.

"Some things, a man only gets to see once in a lifetime." Shanks nodded wistfully.

"Are you kidding me?" Garcia said, after he'd zipped his pants back up. "We've got to catch that thing before it eats somebody!"

The cops gave Shanks a shock blanket to wipe all that cream of his clothes. I helped him, wondering what the world was coming to, now that we had man-eating vaginas on the loose.

Since our wreck really had become a wreck, the cops weren't too sore to leave us out there. They took us to the station, where Garcia rallied his troops in blue and gave the whole bunch the rundown. That man was angry, I tell you. He wanted to catch that vagina and stand next to it on the steps of city hall, so the voters would remember him come next elections. Garcia had political ambitions, you see?

"We are going to canvas the neighborhoods until that thing turns up!" Garcia vowed. "That goddamned vagina is a menace to our children, and our wives!"

Garcia didn't say anything about the men. He didn't have to. Half of us were already in love with that thing, myself included.

"The bastards at the detergent plant won't tell us what was in that chemical vat!" Garcia railed. "They claim it's a secret recipe! I don't care about that! I want that vagina snared! Shanks, do you want to give the boys a statement?"

"Sure, Sarge." Shanks nodded. He didn't walk to the front of the room; he only stood where he was and started talking. "That thing swallowed me, right. It was like... Well, I can't really say what it was like. I got nothing to compare it to! All I can say is that giant fucking vagina wouldn't let me go. I used to be a welterweight in the army, and I tried to fight my way out. I tried to beat that pussy up, but I couldn't do it! It beat me up! I was in that pussy, and it was squeezing and undulating and doing all sorts of crazy things to me. It was wet and warm in there, and really tight! And then, I don't know, it spurted cream all over me, like... You know what I'm talking about. All that rassling around got that thing... You know. All you straight guys know what I mean."

By the time Shanks finished talking, half the police force had hard-ons. All at once, the cops started excusing themselves so they could go to the bathroom. There weren't enough bathrooms in the entire joint, so I ended up walking to the roof to do my business. Garcia ended up standing next to me.

"She's still out there somewhere." Garcia told me. "We'll find her, because we have to."

Garcia unzipped, and so did I. We were two hard men on a roof, looking over a dark city, both of us wanting something we knew we couldn't have.

I couldn't eat, drink or sleep anymore. My thoughts were obsessing over that giant vagina. I wanted to marry it. I wanted to take it to Bermuda. I wanted to have its children! I was so desperate for it I jerked off like a champ, but I had to stop when the fruit at the flower shop caught me. And then, my wishes and prayers were answered, when Shanks burst through the door.

"I just heard on the police radio, Dicks!" Shanks shouted at me. "The cops got it cornered in a warehouse down at the docks. It was trying to sneak onto a ship bound for Shanghai! We've got to move, Dicks! We've got to move now!"

I wasted five minutes negotiating with the fruit, over him letting us use his car. Five whole minutes! In the end, I promised I would let him watch me and Shanks jerk off for him. Shanks didn't like hearing that, but I was desperate! In the end, we were tearing down the street in the flower shop van, with daisies and marigolds and all sorts of other shit flying around.

"What are we going to do when we see it?" Shanks asked.

"Stop calling her an it!" I lambasted my partner. "She's a she! She's a her! Give her the respect she deserves!"

We found the warehouse. We saw all the cops hiding behind crates bigger than they were, with their guns out and pointed at one dark corner. Garcia was there, torn between rubbing one out and ordering his men to shoot.

"What are you going to do, Garcia?" I demanded from him.

"I don't know." The Sarge answered. "Shit like this has no precedent. It isn't in any of the training manuals!"

"Let me try, Sarge!" I pleaded. "Let me go talk to her!"

"After what she did to your partner?"

"Shanks is alive, isn't he? She didn't mean to hurt him. She was just scared! Think of how scared you would be, if you were born in a chemical vat and had just climbed your way out, and all of a sudden you've got all these cops chasing after you with guns."

"Don't forget the firemen." Shanks added. "I used to have nightmares about firemen hiding in my closet, and under my bed. It took me years to get over that!"

"Shanks, you have to keep it together!" I said. "Sarge, let me talk to her! You have to let me try!"

"All right, Dicks." Garcia nodded. "It's your funeral."

I didn't wait to be told twice. I marched past the line of nervous cops, hoping they could keep their trigger fingers steady. There were more large crates across the way. I knew she was hiding behind one of them.

And then I saw her, trembling, stuffed between a wooden crate and the wall. She was scuffed up and bruised, but she was still beautiful.

"I'm not here to hurt you." I called out to her. "I just want to talk to you. Look, I've got my hands up. Let me take care of things. I promise, everything is going to be all right."

I got close to her, closer than I thought I could get. She was still shaking with fear, fear of the cops, the city, maybe even the entire world. Poor thing, I thought. My heart went out to her. I couldn't let anything bad happen to her, now that I saw how scared she was, now that I knew she existed.

"I love you." I said. "Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I've loved you."

You might assume that giant vaginas had no feelings, but this one wept for me. It glistened down its wide, flappy slit. It still trembled, but not from fear, not anymore. This time, it was trembling with want, want for me!

And I wanted her so badly, more than I'd wanted a tricycle for Christmas way back when. I still had my clothes on, but she was naked. She'd always been naked, ever since she was born. To even things up, I stripped for her. I even shook my hips a little bit, like a salsa dancer.

When she reddened and swelled up, I went to her. I rubbed her long, long lips, and stroked her hair, and found her enormous clit that was as big as my head. And then, as nude as she was, I slipped into her soft, moist, heavenly folds.

I'm sure you've seen those movies with giant, fifty-foot women walking around tearing up the place. If you're a man, I know you've fantasized about that giant muff, and what you would do with it if your wife or girlfriend weren't around.

She's too much for only the one of me. I let Shanks have her sometimes, or I rent her out to the cops. Sergeant Garcia was racking up the frequent flyer miles until his wife found out. Friday, Saturday night, she's out partying with the neighbors, but the rest of the week she belongs to me.

It's not so bad, being inside a giant vagina and not knowing where to hump. You just go with the flow and find a comfortable crevice, and you go at it until you're done. She likes that; having a guy inside her like that, and even more so if the guy wiggles around a lot. If you want the premium ride, you start rubbing on that big, fat clit until you feel like you're riding on a water slide.

Every once in a while, she'll help Shanks and me solve a case, so don't think she's one dumb vagina. We feed her; she doesn't eat much, and we trim her hair, because if it gets too long she starts getting smelly, no matter how many baths we give her. One time we shaved her bald, but that didn't look right so we never did that again. Another time, we forgot some guy was in her and we didn't find him until the next morning. He was okay, but we have to check her every night before we go to bed, just in case.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's not so bad having her around. At any rate, that's the story of how Dan Dicks and Harry Shanks solved the case of the Six Foot Vagina. Next time, I'll tell you about the Giant Titties From Space. You're going to want to stick around for that one!

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### Story Starters

Okay, you may have heard of these goofs that think their story idea, which is only one or two sentences long, is destined to become a Hollywood blockbuster or a New York Times bestseller. These are the goofs that jump up and down crying out, so and so author stole my idea! First off, if their idea was so incredibly awesome, why aren't they sitting down and writing their screenplay or novel? I have come across too many non-writers who think creative writing appears like magic, and the cash flow will always follow like a magnet, or a flood. That's not the way it works, folks. There is a lot of hard work and research, and a lot of time sacrificed from other things, like a social life, that go into producing a finished written work. After that, there is a further obstacle in marketing the work and hoping the public will one day discover it.

I have, right now, 280 pages worth of story ideas that are sitting around doing nothing except gathering digital dust. I'm going to present some of these ideas in this magazine, because if I can't get to them, maybe they can inspire you to write something. If you do, I'll put your story here in my magazine. As a further incentive, if you find anything in my magazines that inspires you into writing a story, do it. That's how writing works: you read something, you see something, and you write something as a result. See my Contribute section for how you can get your writing to me.

Here is the Story Starter for this issue. Can you do anything with it?

*** The short story I Saw Their Faces was directly inspired by this month's Story Starter. I challenge anybody out there to produce a short story based on the details I have provided! ***

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### Slithers

"Real soldiers aren't supposed to scream. But all around me, I heard screams." - Man is frightened by massacres

03.29.00 – An armed military squad gets into a confusing firefight with an unknown enemy. The squad is decimated, leaving only one human survivor, who flees into the brush. The aliens, similar to land adapted octopi, use their hairy tentacles to search through the foliage, narrowly missing our hero. (Perhaps, main flees when he sees an alien snap apart a fellow soldier.)

02.26.12 - Hard to believe this fragment is nearly twelve years old. Might have to develop an entire new planet for it, but at the moment I don't know if it will fit into RITA. Perhaps in a sequel?

01.11.18 - Besides my huge 281 pages of Story Starters, I have a bunch of story ideas tucked into several themed folders. I just extracted a dozen of these extras, with this particular idea of Slithers coming from my Roaches In The Attic folder. I originally meant to use it for that sci-fi series, but was never able to work it in. So, I've reread my notes, and now I'll take a moment to think them over and see what I can come up with...

Okay, I'm ready to rock and roll here. I love that original quote, by the way, even if it is nearly 18 years old. I think I'll lead the story off with it.

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I Saw Their Faces

Tough guys aren't supposed to scream. But all around me, I heard screams. I'm not talking about short, manly growls like you might hear in an action movie. I mean, long, drawn out, emasculated shrieks that change pitches and keep spewing out of panic-stricken throats... And they keep going too, going forever, like they should have ended already, but they refuse and keep rattling around in your head. Like they know, they know it's the last time the lungs making those screams will ever utter another sound again. That last scream, or howl, or shriek, it has to make an impression. It has to count for something, because once it's gone, it ain't coming back.

I was on a merry go round from Hell, where the screams never died out. With my head and chest full of clammy sweat, and my breaths coming out of me like there was no more oxygen left on the planet. Lucky to be alive, the medic said to me. Yeah, sure, doc, I told him, really fucking lucky. So lucky I feel like doing cartwheels...

Think happy thoughts. That's what the medic said. Think happy thoughts. Yeah, right. Like our brains have any of those left in them. The guys I was with, we weren't even a squad. We were a rag-tag group of survivors who had seen it all. I was a line worker who used to package veggies in little plastic trays. The guy next to me had been a security guard at a strip mall. The guy next to him used to make sandwiches at that same mall. That's it. Besides the doc, that's all of us that were left. All of our happy thoughts were soaked in blood.

They made us crazy, you see. And by They, you know who I mean. They came in their giant pyramid-shaped ships, leaving triangular holes in the clouds. They studied us, but they didn't need to. Our world leaders were in contact with Them, giving Them all the information They needed. Our world leaders, who told us they were dimming the sun for our own good, to stop global warming. Our world leaders, who'd been chemtrailing the skies with lithium to keep us brain-numb. Everybody believed them. Everybody thought they were telling us the truth. Nobody realized our world leaders were making the planet habitable for Them.

I was fooled, too. When They landed their ships, when They stepped out, They looked like angels. That's not what They were, though. No, They had this technology that masked what They looked like. They were something else, behind the costumes that made them look like angels. They were Things, Things that people had never seen, and if people did see Them in Their true forms, people would go insane.

I've got to tell you something. I saw Them. I saw Their faces. I went insane, thanks for asking, and I stayed that way until the medic gave me those fucking pills. We were on the offensive that time, where one of our eggheads used some kind of electromagnetic device to disrupt Their disguises. Don't ask me about the device, because I don't know anything about it. Wait, that's not completely true. It worked on the Schumann Frequency and on Earth's radiation and electrical levels from back before the chemtrailing program began. The device was short range. They had adapted Their forms, so that They didn't always look like angels anymore, but like us. The device threw off their auras, shaking away the disguises so that we saw what They really looked like. I went insane, until I started taking the pills.

Let me tell you, those fucking pills aren't any picnic either. They fuck with your system, making you sweat all the time, making you tired. Every time I dream or have a nightmare, my heart starts racing a marathon. Some guys, they go into cardiac arrest thanks to the pills, because the pills are that bad. Me, I was one of the lucky ones, because I was still alive when so many others were gone.

We don't know anything about Them. They die if you pump enough bullets into Them, but we never have enough bullets. You can't really get too close to Them, like in hand to hand combat, because Their auras are so alien to what humans can take that They disrupt us: our thoughts, our body functions, everything. Let me tell you about those auras, from firsthand experience. They send images into our heads, ugly, violent, angry images, and those images feel real to us. One time, one of Them sent me the impression that I was getting hacked up by a guy with a machete. I swear, I felt every single hack as if it had really happened. It didn't even have to touch me, because my body was killing me as if I was really being attacked.

Those sons of bitches are devious, too. I once saw a mother running down the street with her kid, when a disrupter device went off. One second, we were crying out to the mother, telling her to come to us so we could hide her. The next second, after the device had gone off, we saw her jet-black form, and her tentacles with the long hairs on them. She set the baby into its stroller, leaving it as some of the other guys chased her.

The baby, and it was one of Them, but a really small one, stayed in place. It was up to me to get rid of it. I got to within ten feet of the Thing, before its aura started making me nauseous and dizzy. If it wasn't for the pill, I wouldn't have been able to kill it. I saw its little baby tentacles with the hair on them. I saw its face.

They do have faces, but nothing like you might think. They... Forget it. Just trying to picture it in my mind is giving me anxiety. That's one of our theories; that if they get into your head, even for a short time, they can affect a human mind forever. I don't know if you've ever heard of guys who take hard hallucinogenic drugs, where the drug lingers for years and years after you stop taking it. They are like that. Their mind-attacks stay with you forever, so that even thinking of Them triggers bad things in your body.

The screaming stopped finally. I called out, hoping I wasn't the only one still alive. So lucky to be alive. I saw the security guard ambling toward me. He was ripped to shreds, yet still able to walk. I saw the medic too, in pieces, approaching me from another direction. They looked like zombies, no, worse than zombies. They weren't talking, weren't answering my questions.

I felt their auras. They sickened me, made me want to barf. In my mind, I saw past their human bodies, saw the different shapes of their outlines, their tentacles, their ugly hairs, like bug hairs. But I couldn't be sure, because the auras sometimes made a person see something that wasn't really there. Sometimes, They tricked us that way. I had to make sure whether or not these were humans or Them. It wasn't easy. It was never easy to tell Them apart from us.

And then, I saw their faces.

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Non-Fiction Section

I do a lot of research on a lot of different subjects, including history, mythology, metaphysics, politics and science. Much of my research coincides with whatever fiction project I'm currently working on, but sometimes I'll break away from the pattern and head off in some other direction at random. I will study both mainstream and alternative sources, in the form of non-fiction books, documentaries, lectures and discussions, in trying to come up with a good basis to form my opinions on, or a good foundation for whatever concept I'm trying to incorporate into my stories. Often, I will write articles based on my research and state my sources, so that readers can see how I came to my conclusions.

I also enjoy going through a lot of entertainment media of many types, including written fiction, movies, cosplay, comic books, music, you name it. I do this for my creative writing to set the mood, if you will, or to see points of view on what others have done in certain genres, such as military science fiction, medieval costuming, zombies or whatever other subject I'm delving into.

As a result, I end up with a tremendous amount of notes that I can reference later, or media reviews that I can sort through if I want to stimulate my brain with science fiction, horror or any other particular genre. Many of these articles and reviews will also be found on either my writer's blog or my conspiracy blog. (Links to both are found at the end of this magazine.) Since a lot of this information comes from online sources and Youtube videos, I recommend looking up any referenced articles or videos that interest you for additional resources and links. In general, my research and Truther posts will be found on the conspiracy blog, while all writing related stuff will be on the writer's blog.

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### Articles

How I Started Writing Erotica

Between 2001 and 2010, I took great leaps into becoming a writer. Starting in early 2002, I began organizing all this material I'd collected throughout the years, from as far back as elementary school. I had sketches, notes, notebooks and computer text files to work with. My first endeavor was to get as much of my handwriting into computer files, because they were infinitely easier to work with when doing revisions. At around this time, I started submitting my work to print magazines and online websites. I had a rough draft of A Terrible Thing To Waste that I pitched to brick and mortar publishers, and an early draft of The Two Sides Of Humburg that I sent out to publishers of children's books. I also started looking for a literary agent who worked with up and coming writers.

I dabbled a bit into vanity presses, because I didn't know what they were at the time. This is where a person will pay to have their writing or poetry published. It doesn't at all matter if the material is good or not, as long as payment is made. Some of these vanity presses published poetry collections, and I thought it might help for me to get my name out there by taking part. When I began to understand that only people who paid for their poems to be published actually purchased these collections, I saw these presses as more of a scam and left them behind. I do have a wooden plaque of one of my early poems, titled The Concrete Jungle, which I purchased through such a venue.

By 2005 and 2006, when I was in my mid-thirties, I had set up a small network of young people to help me in my writing career. These were people that worked with me when I was rehired at Casino Morongo, as a parking cashier and valet on graveyard shift. I had a couple of readers who checked my work and gave recommendations, and who brought me books to read in the same genres I wrote in. I had one young man who was willing to go to bookstores and pitch my books to the owners, if and when I had physical copies in hand. Lastly, I had another young man who wanted to draw cover art for me, because then his name would be out there too, and a couple of budding graphic designers who could put the various elements of a book cover together. It would cost me between $3,000 and $5,000 to publish one to two hundred books, depending on which small press I used. I had saved up nearly enough money to get started, and things were looking pretty good.

I was fired from that valet job in March of 2006, when I damaged a car by trying to beat a gate arm that was on its way down. The car was a sleek black, late model Dodge Charger, and the damage went from the car's roof to its trunk. The reason many of us in the valet department were trying to speed through that gate, was because the gate arm was very slow in resetting. It would come all the way down, wait a second or two to register our gate cards, and slowly rise back up. If you've ever worked at a valet stand, you'll understand that the faster we got the car to its owner, the better the tip would be. Since we had long runs to begin with, up to three city blocks for each car on our busy weekends, and with that gate adding another 10 seconds to our run time, many of our impatient customers would gripe and not tip us at all. After I was fired, my life went into a tailspin then that I never truly recovered from. Jobs were getting tougher to find, the economy started to tighten up, and people started losing their homes.

Between 2007 and 2010, I split my time between my house in Beaumont and my mother's house in San Diego. If I could find a job near home, I would live at home. If not, I would live at my mother's during the week, and drive out to see my family during the weekend. It was a rough period for me, because I was so used to being around my wife and kids. It was difficult for me to see them only on Saturdays and Sundays. At times, my wife and I were on good terms, but at other times, we were not.

It was especially heartbreaking for me, when my wife started siding with her mother and her sisters regarding our problems with the mortgage company. It was my fault, she said, that we might lose our house. Even though For Sale signs sprung up on the yards of, maybe, ten to twenty percent of the houses in our neighborhood, it was still my fault that the economy had gone to shit. Believe me, I tried everything I could, including leaving the house completely, refinancing, working multiple jobs, etc., but my wife's stance did not change. The mortgage company didn't care; they siphoned away my payments as quickly as I made them and kept raising my Adjustable Rate Mortgage. At the same time they threw one financial obstacle after another in my way, while pretending they were working with me to sort things out. The failing economy slowly broke my marriage apart.

Most guys I know, if they were apart from their wives, would have gone out to fool around with other women. I had two friends in San Diego who did this. They would tell their wives that they were hanging around with me, and they'd hand their phones to me so I could say hi to their wives. Half the time, they did hang out with me, but the other half, they'd go off to fool around with other women. I didn't like being a part of this, so when I figured out what they were up to I told them to stop coming around. I hope I've impressed upon you by now that I am largely an unemotional person. I crave tenderness and love in a relationship, more than physical sex, because I'm lacking in such qualities myself. During the time I lived at my mother's, I suppose I could have gone out and screwed around, but I did not. I went to work, I went home, and I sent most of my earnings to my wife in trying to keep the mortgage company satisfied.

I used a lot of this time at home to write stories. I had my plots ready, my characters ready, and all I needed to do was put this all together into something I could sell. I was looking into producing PDF copies that I could market on my own, since I no longer had any kind of writing network going.

In my entire life, I've never been a big video game player. I'd played some video games in my late teens, but that was about it. In my late twenties, I discovered the horror game Diablo, the original, mind you. I enjoyed playing that game because I could pretend to be a bowman, a sorcerer or a knight. I loved Diablo II when that came out, and I played that game while I lived in Beaumont, until my wife decided I should stop. It was easier to just put the game away than to listen to her complaints, so I did. While I was living in San Diego with my mother, I had a lot of free time in the evenings. I purchased another copy of the game in 2007 or 2008, I think, and I started playing it again. When my wife found out, she flipped her lid. She reacted as badly as if I'd admitted to cheating on her, all over a $40 video game! What did she realistically expect me to do, when I was a hundred miles away from home from Monday through Friday?

During this time, I was putting stories together with better plots and better roles, with obvious and subtle changes happening to my characters. I hadn't written anything romantic yet, other than a few contemplative, brooding poems that I'd written many years ago. I realized I could not write a good love story, and I asked myself, why not? The answer was that I had a sexual hang-up, a fetish, based on younger / older relationships between people related to each other. This went back to my teenage years, when my first crushes were over my mother's older best friends, my aunts and my girl cousins.

I read erotic literature online and took a couple of stabs at it. I couldn't do it. My best effort was a short sci-fi story featuring a cheating wife and two soldiers. I posted this story on a website the featured erotica and I got a decent rating on. Despite this, I saw that my fascination with certain topics was holding me back. What if, I postulated, I wrote a number of these taboo stories and got this fetish out of the way once and for all. Well, the taboo stories got higher ratings and better comments than my first one. I thought to myself, that idea didn't work out the way I planned. I left these stories posted online, and I was still befuddled as to how I would go about writing straight romance.

Meanwhile, I played my Diablo II video game. This was an online game where a player can play with other people from all over the world, through the parent company's computer servers. Most players were kids or young people, ranging from elementary school up to college age. There were guys as old as me playing, but these were few and far between. The point of the game is to advance a character to higher levels, while battling hordes of monsters and enemies, and claiming gold and valuable loot such as weapons, equipment, gems and runes.

I mixed in with the crowd, helping others raid dark lairs where the bosses were waiting with their hordes of minions. I made alliances, traded things with others, or simply gave prized items away to players just starting out. Seven characters were available for me to become. They were the Amazon, Assassin, Barbarian, Druid, Necromancer, Paladin and Sorceress. Of the seven, I loved the Amazon most of all. This was a fearless, busty blonde who specialized in lightning strikes, who handled the javelin and the bow.

Most of the boys or young men would play the tougher male characters, with the exception of the Sorceress, who was extremely popular because of her ability to find special / magic items quickly. If a male played a female character, they would usually use a manly name for it. When I played, I gave my characters names appropriate for their genders, so some players would assume I was a female because I used a female name. I did some research here! My ninja assassins had Japanese goddess names, my druids had authentic pagan names, and my paladins had knightly names from the Middle Ages.

My Amazons were a little tougher, because there aren't that many Amazon names to begin with. One of the skills of the Amazon was to summon a Valkyrie spirit to fight for her, and so I used authentic Viking names such as Brynhilde, Hlokk and Rota, which are true Valkyrie names from mythology. When I read ancient Germanic / Slavic legends, I came across the name Dobrynia. This name had such a beautiful sound to it that I've been using it ever since, and despite that it was originally a masculine name. The Valkyrie Dobrynia is the major character in my Chaos Rift books, and, obviously, the lead in the Dobrynia's Path sub-series.

When playing Diablo II online, there are two options. In the first option, a person can join a public game. These games are open to anyone, from any skill level, and for the most part are tremendously entertaining. Sometimes players will come into a public game and flame other players, or spam the screen with garbage. Other times, players will come in with high-level characters and basically massacre all the lower-level players, and laugh while they're doing it. Then you had bots coming in seemingly nonstop waves to advertise where you could purchase better gear for your characters. The second option is to start a private game. Private games require a password to get in. In these games, players can go on quests together without outside interference, make trades or simply chat.

I made a number of friends while playing. I didn't know who these people really were, and they didn't know who I was, either. We were all simply fantasy characters in a make-believe world. Sometimes, they'd mention something such as their job, their kids or some other detail that revealed they were adults with wives, kids and bills to worry about, like me. Sometimes these were little kids who didn't understand the mechanics of the game. I'd try to show these youngsters what would work and what wouldn't, but my patience would run thin here. Because I played so often, and because so many others did, I sometimes formed alliances with others I 'knew.' I would enter both public and private games with these people. This became a routine. I would play with the same two or three people for several evenings, then we'd drift apart and I would meet new people and ally myself with them instead.

I met a low level Sorceress when I was starting out with a new, low-level Amazon. I don't remember the character's name, or the name of the girl who played her. There were a few tricks and short cuts a player could use to raise the level of a character quickly, and both this girl and I used them. It was a good partnership, because my stronger Amazon would fend off attackers, while the sorceress would stand behind her and cast spells. We built our characters up to fearsome levels fairly quickly.

Well, one day this sorceress was feeling a little chatty. She invited me into a private game. The person behind the character was a nineteen year-old girl, who lived with her boyfriend in an apartment in Arizona. This girl already knew I was an older guy, but I was still shy when I told her my true age of 37 or 38. I told her a few details about myself, such as why I was living in San Diego instead of in my house in Beaumont, and how it was such a pain to only see my family on the weekends. After our chat, we went back to playing the game. Our age difference didn't seem to be that big a deal to her.

Well, over the next few days, this sorceress started coming on to me. I didn't know how to take this at first, because at that time I had a daughter who was 17 or 18. Maybe this Arizona girl is just messing with my head, I thought. When she started becoming explicit, I found myself scratching my head. If you were in my apartment right now, she'd say, I would do this and that to you. I thought, wow, this young woman has an older guy fetish, and here I am, an older guy trying to get rid of a younger / older fantasy 'dilemma.' I don't want to blame it all on her, even though she first brought it up and was pretty open and descriptive about it. Her fetish was the same as mine, and so I wasn't as appalled as I should have been, to read these explicit things this young woman was writing to me. When she asked what I would do to her, if she were alone in my room with me, I wrote some explicit things back. Our interaction ended a few weeks later, when this girl's boyfriend caught her by using a computer program to track her keystrokes.

I have to mention here, that the Universe has played a sort of cosmic joke on me ever since I split up with my wife. Most of the women that have popped up in front of me in the last few years, romantically speaking, are fifteen to twenty years younger than I am, or more. I go out of my way in trying to attract a woman near my age, but I don't really have a lot to offer in terms of what women my age are looking for, such as a big bank account, a nice car or a respectable job. On other occasions, circumstances have kept me from finding a suitable woman that will stick with me. I'll give you the ages of the younger women I've come across during just the last two years, (circa 2013-15): 19, 22, 23, 26, 27 (two of them), and just a couple of months ago, another one at 25. This is while I've been 43 to 45 years old. The Universe knows that while I might chat and even flirt with these younger women, I always refuse to put my hands on them, and so the Universe will tease me by putting such girls in my way frequently.

Moving on to late 2010. My wife and I separated in September of that year. That was the same month that I committed, once and for all, to giving my best effort into becoming a writer. I published my first e-book, Non-Retrieval, during that month, and followed that up with a sci-fi collection, a horror novella, and a horror collection. I took an entire year living, breathing and eating writing, from the moment I woke up, until the moment I went to sleep, with the exception of when I was out at work. By September of 2011, I'd published 8 titles. For most of that time, I refused to find a girlfriend. After the way my mother told me I would never be a writer, and the way my ex-wife always pushed me away from writing, I was not going to let another woman have that same chance to thwart my dreams.

Towards late 2011, I went back to my taboo stories. I revised them, added new chapters to them, and submitted them to the same erotica website. I think I had ten chapters by then. I read a collection of fictional ghost stories, titled The Mammoth Book Of Haunted House Stories. This large collection has a section on paranormal lovers, which is largely bland and won't offend mainstream readers. I could see how the authors held back on a number of those stories; in one, the climax was that the protagonist saw the shadow of a nude woman's ghost. Really? Not even the outline of a female ghost, but the shadow of one? This is the best literature in terms of ghostly romance / sex?

No, no, no, I thought. That's when I began writing paranormal erotica and posting it online. One particular story so impressed a young woman that she sent me a direct email to compliment me on it. Her name was Marie and she was 22. She even sent me a couple of pictures to show me what she looked like. Marie had her own erotic fetishes, as it turns out. That's how I ended up writing my first collaboration, and it happened to be younger woman / older man erotica.

Later, in the summer of 2012, I met Natalie. This woman, thankfully, was one year older than me. Each one of these encounters was pushing my author's viewpoint further along. With the Diablo sorceress and Marie, I understood how two people could create sexual situations over the computer in real-time. Because Natalie was around my age, I was more comfortable with relating to her intimately. Further, Natalie showed me a new trick: mutual masturbation while on the phone. My encounters with Natalie ended up becoming another sexy novella. This was also the first time a woman inspired me enough to write a full-length novel, Raymund And Natalie's Grand Adventure, which I wrote in about three months. I had enough material in my original series of stories by then to complete another book, but I was nervous about how this would reflect on me, as a person and as a writer. I asked Natalie, should I even market this book? Even though she was against my older / younger / familiar fetish, her advice was that I should go ahead and do it.

At this point, I came to realize a few things. One, I'd had this fetish since puberty, so it probably wasn't going to go away. Two, I knew a lot of women I could talk to now, close enough to ask them about their sexual fantasies. Three, I wrote good taboo erotica, based on the comments and ratings I got from readers. Four, my female characters, in my non-erotica fiction, were developed much better than before thanks to the insight I got from writing erotica. Five, the book I wrote for Natalie had a tremendous amount of love and sensuality in it, which I hadn't been able to accomplish as well before meeting this woman. Six, I was a much better writer thanks to of all these things. For better or for worse, this non-traditional, taboo facet of my writing was here to stay.

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### Mithras, Precursor Of Jesus

### By Raymond Towers

Introduction

Mitra Before Rome

Mithras In Rome

Christian Plagiarism

Conclusion

Sources

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Introduction

There is a great controversy regarding the Roman sun god Mithras and his links with the Christian sun god Jesus. I have covered a few sun god angles before, such as Hercules as Jesus, and Apollo as Jesus, but those deities are much easier to research and connect the dots with. As I began this intensive study into all things regarding Mithras, I soon became aware of the huge debate even among the scholars and experts on the subject. Western academics, Iranians and Indians all want first rights to claim their people created this god. This may not be far from the truth, as it seems that the original Indian Mitra went through multiple reinventions to the Persian Mithra and later the Roman Mithras. In a moment, we'll take a closer look at this controversy for ourselves.

When I undertake a study like this, I'll look at a number of different sources. I had several documentaries, discussions and books ready to go for this one. This proved to be too much and the disparity between ideas too great for me to get a good handle on them in a short span of time. Nabarz' book, for example, tallies up at 327 pages, and even the Wikipedia page on Mithras was 33 (Masonic!) pages long. In total, I bookmarked seven long articles or books and four videos that I wanted to go through.

Sometimes, when I do research on a topic, it is because I want to include it into a fiction project I'm working on. That is the case here, as I've created a medieval fantasy world where Mithras is the primary deity instead of Yahweh or Jesus. My needs are for a decent grasp on generalities regarding Mithras, and so I've decided to set aside the books for now and to concentrate on the information I've absorbed from the videos. I may go through the books at a later date to produce a more detailed or supplementary article, but for now I think I have enough information to incorporate into my story plots that will give readers a good idea of what Mithras is all about.

Originally, I had four videos slotted for later viewing, but one proved to be too random and made unfounded claims, so I tossed that last one out. After doing another search on Youtube, I found the Nabarz interview, giving me two pro-Western viewpoints, one neutral, and one pro-Persian point of view. In this article, I want to give an outline of who Mithras was based on these multiple expert opinions and research, his origins and his connections to the Christian god Jesus.

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Mitra Before Rome

Mithras was known in both India and Persia, now modern day Iran. As Mitra, he is mentioned as a minor or major god in the Indian Vedas, depending on the scholar. There is a debate as to when the Vedas were first written. Bible apologists will say the Vedas came about in 900 BCE, when the stories found in the Old Testament were first heard in oral traditions. This implies that Indian and Jewish mythologies developed at the same time, or contemporaneously. However, other Western scholars trace the Vedas back to 1500 BCE, coinciding with the Aryan invasion of India. I have an Indian modern day Mithraist saying that from his research, Mithra was known to Iran and India in 2000 BCE. To make things even more complicated, some Vedas mention the melting of Ice Age glaciers, and that was way back in 11,000 or so BCE!

We can't really prove when Mitra / Mithra first emerged, past that it was much earlier than the advent of Jesus. We know that the Indian name of this deity was Mitra Varuna, and the Zoroastrian name was Mitra. From what Atabaki claims, and this is very possible thanks to the many waves of immigrants out of India, the Persian peoples were originally Aryans from the Indus Valley, so they may have simply carried their Indian god over when they moved and made a few changes as the years went by. Note that early Europeans are called Indo-Europeans, again alluding to an Aryan origin in India.

In Zoroastrianism, the creator god Ahura-Mazda created a son during a time before humanity existed. This cosmology dates back to 1300 BCE. In Persia / Iran, Mithra was a god of signing and fulfilling contracts. He is seen as a mediator and his name means friendship. The first recorded handshake comes from 1400 BCE, where we see artwork of Mithra shaking the right hand of a Hittite king as a sign of an arrangement or contract. Also, the sun was thought of as being the eye of Mithras, similar to the Egyptian Ra.

Sometime between 200 BCE and 100 CE, the mythology of Mithra spread west into the Mediterranean. Maybe merchants or soldiers brought it with them when they returned from the frontiers of the Roman Empire, or maybe it was the Roman hierarchy, or maybe it was even pirates. We simply don't know.

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Mithras In Rome

In the 1st Century CE, we see an explosion of Mithraic temples in Western countries. Some say the Cult of Mithras first started in Greece, while others say it was in Rome. The Roman sect might have originated in Anatolia, Turkey. This was a widespread cult, but I have heard some researchers say it was localized and because it was so small Christianity quickly overshadowed it. I'm not buying that bag of bullshit. The list of countries and regions with Mithrae (temples to Mithras) is quite extensive to anyone with an unbiased point of view: Armenia, the Celtic lands, Great Britain, Greece, Germany, North Africa, Palestine, Rome / Italy and Spain. Over 100 temples have been excavated so far, including one or maybe several under the Vatican. The cult was prominent for about 200 years, before Christianity eclipsed it in the 3rd Century.

From the start, Mithraism was an exclusive cult. Only a very small percentage of men were part of it, including Roman upper hierarchy and military officers. The cult has been referred to as the Mysteries of Mithras or as a Mystery School. We do find secrecy among its wealthy, upper class members, including private rituals and a ranking system with multiple levels of initiation. Unfortunately, no written records exist. Most of what we know about this cult comes from the writings of rival Christians.

Mithrae were rectangular structures 10 to 20 meters long and 5 meters wide. They were built into the ground, so that a visitor would have to walk down steps as if they were entering the earth. This was a very unusual construction method for those 1st Century days. Plato wrote that the temples represented caves and metaphorically the entire world. Long, raised benches were found along the walls on the left and right, with an aisle leading up to a raised and centered altar at the back of the room. An estimated 20 to 40 worshipers could fit into a temple at one time. Most modern churches today are set up in a similar fashion.

Behind the altar, we always see a relief carving of Mithras slaying the bull. Mithras is dressed in Persian clothing, wearing a Phrygian cap, a cloak and a trouser-suit. This artwork also depicts esoteric astrological symbolism. The symbols include the bull (to represent the constellation of Taurus), the dog (Canis Major), the serpent (Serpens), a crab (Cancer) and a scorpion (Scorpio). The image as a whole appears to show the path of the sun as it enters and exits this world, and also the precession of the equinox spaced out to 1800 years. Mithras killing the bull inside of a cave (the world) could represent the end of the age of Taurus. The killing of the bull is called the Tauroctony. Over 700 artistic examples of the Tauroctony survive today.

Other artifacts also show esoteric, Mystery School leanings. Some art shows the cave surrounded with images representing the twelve signs of the zodiac. Other art shows a figure holding up a torch, and another holding the torch down, reminiscent of the Masonic 'as above, so below' concept of duality. We also see solar and lunar chariots. Some carvings show Mithras holding a dagger and a torch, or a dagger and the world, while others show him holding a staff. (Not by coincidence, 1st Century Christian art depicts Jesus performing miracles and healing the sick with a wand or a staff.) A carving shows Mithras shooting an arrow at a rock and having water spring out, similar to Moses striking a rock with a staff to the same effect in Exodus 17:6.

In some versions, Mithras was born from a rock. The name of this rock is Petra Genetrix. Petra means rock, and it is close to Petros, or Peter, who is considered the rock of the Christian Church. Mithras is sometimes portrayed wearing a crown with seven sunrays on it, similar to the U.S. Statue of Liberty and the goddess Columbia.

A stone carving reads that the powerful primordial bull Mithras slays is the first begotten creature. Mithras must shed the bull's blood as a sacrifice to save humanity. He struggles with the bull and carries it on his back like a shepherd carries sheep, taking it into the cave. The cave may represent the Cosmic Egg or the universe. After the sacrifice, the blood and semen of the bull rejuvenate humanity. An actual bull was not slain in the Mithrae, as there is no evidence of that. However, bull meat or meat from other animals could have been prepared elsewhere and eaten inside the temple. Animal remains have been found, suggesting that feasting did take place there.

After the slaying of the bull, Mithras ascends to heaven and rejoins his father Ahura-Mazda. Through the Mysteries of Mithras, his followers are re-born and created anew.

We don't have written records of what went on inside the temples, but we do have a lot of artwork. Carvings show people reclining on the benches or couches, and eating from low tables. New members or initiates called Ravens served food. We see processions in the art, swords, blindfolds and initiates lying down on the ground. These rituals are very similar to what is seen in Freemasonry.

Initiates went through seven stages of initiation, ranging from the first level of Raven up to the seventh level of Father. The typical level was in the middle, the Lion. Passing from one level to the next required a member having to go through some kind of ordeal, again similar to Masonry or college or military hazing. The seven levels coincide with the seven rays on the crown of Mithras, the seven visible planetary bodies and / or the seven chakras. Here is the best breakdown of the various grades I could come up with, but I don't know where the Lion Leo fits in because it was not expressly stated in my research:

1st Grade - Mercury, Raven, resurrection / rebirth

2nd Grade - Venus, male bride?

3rd Grade - Mars, soldier

4th Grade - Jupiter, lightning bolt, lion?

5th Grade - Luna, crescent moon

6th Grade - Sol, crown with 7 rays

7th Grade - Saturn, Father

The name Mithras has a numerical value of 365 in Greek. This is the number of days in a solar year. In addition, we can speculate that Mithras had commandments, because Roman Emperor Julian referred to them in his writings, but we don't know exactly what they were. There is a hotly debated claim that Constantine worshiped Mithras after he allegedly converted to Christianity. I have heard that said about Constantine worshiping Apollo as well.

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Christian Plagiarism

Atabaki put it best. The Sun (Jesus) is born of Virgo (the Virgin), with Orion (the Three Kings) standing by. Shepherds make the big announcement and celebrate with bread and wine. All of these are parallels to Mithras. Church fathers and apologists such as Justin, Origen and Tertullian acknowledged many of these parallels, but they blamed the Devil for them. The Devil is a crafty fellow, you know. Sure, some of you can deny one or two of these 'coincidences,' but this isn't just one or two of them. Have a look at the Big List of Christian Plagiarism from earlier Mithraism:

* Mithras was born of a virgin on Dec. 25th. (This is the Persian version. In Rome, we see Mithras being born from a rock or a Cosmic Egg. Dec. 25th is the Winter Solstice and when the festival of Saturnalia took place. The date represents, are you ready, the birth or rebirth of the Sun. See my article Have A Merry, Pagan Christmas for more information on the Winter Solstice and Saturnalia. According to 2 sources, the original birth date of Jesus was January 6th, but the Church of Rome later changed the date to what we now celebrate as Christmas.)

* Shepherds bearing gifts present at birth.

* He was attended by 12 figures.

* Good Shepherd

* Great Teacher

* Messiah

* Identified with the lamb and the lion.

* By worshiping Mithras, man can achieve salvation / immortality.

* Defender of Righteousness

*Forgiveness of Sins

*Performed Miracles

* Baptism

* Eucharist / Oblation / Holy Communion

* Holy Meal / Lord's Supper / Last Supper on Sunday

* Holy Water

* Made a sacrifice for world peace.

* Buried in a tomb for three days (unverified)

* Resurrection celebrated annually (unverified)

* Festival became Easter, with a Passover (unverified)

* Worshiped on Sundays

* Monotheism

* Fish symbol (unverified)

* Holy Cross (two sources, unverified)

Note: By unverified, I mean only one source is saying it, but I usually find that one source to be very accurate (and entertainingly cynical). In this case, that would be Michael Connor of Aeon Byte Gnostic Radio. The example of the Holy Cross I have not yet seen in the Mithras research, but both Atabaki and Connor say it is there.

The biggest differences from Christianity are that Mithraism was male dominated. Well, whoop-de-do! Have a look at Judaism or Islam, peeps. Also, Christians made it a point to help widows, orphans and the poor, but we don't know if the same was true for Mithraists because the Catholics went and destroyed all their writings. Lastly, the Mithras cult accepted other gods as secondary, while Christians refused to believe in any other gods.

While we're on the subject of lists, here are a couple more of them.

Sun gods born on December 25th:

* Adonis, Phoenicia - 200 BCE

* Attus (unverified)

* Buddha, Nepal - 563 BCE

* Dionysus, Greece - 500 BCE

* Jesus, Israel - 0 CE

* Heracles, Greece - 800 BCE

* Hermes, Rome - 200 BCE

* Horus, Egypt - 3000 BCE

* Krishna, India - 3200 BCE

* Mithra, Persia - 1200 BCE

* Nimrod, Babylon - era not specified (mortal that claimed he was god)

* Quetzalcoatl (unverified)

* Osiris (unverified)

* Tammuz, Babylon - 400 BCE

* Zarathurstra (Zoroaster), Asia - 800 BCE

Madonna and Child, or Mother of God and God motifs:

* Aphrodite and Adonis (Greece)

* Ashtoreth / Astarte and Molech / Baal (Canaan, I dispute this one)

* Mary and Jesus (Christianity)

* Isis and Horus (Egypt)

* Semiramus and Tammuz (Babylon)

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Conclusion

I don't know, but to me it looks like the apologists don't have much here to make a counterclaim. The best they can do is nitpick at the details such as the virgin / rock / Cosmic Egg birth, while ignoring that different countries had evolved or adapted versions from the same original Mitra. The rest of this is pretty cut and dry, and that's without even bringing up Apollo, Hercules, Ra, Osiris and Horus.

Of course there are going to be regional differences, just like we have dialect and cultural differences in different parts of the U.S. Compare a Texas drawl to a Joysey accent, for example. The same thing happens with religions, as shown by the estimated 10,000 separate Christian sects presently in this country alone. Jesus was the new black for his era, while Mithras went back some 1300 to 1500 years before anybody even thought of Jesus.

I said this in a previous post; you can't take the body of Mithras, put a new face on it and call it an entirely new god. I understand Jesus as a spirit entity or thought-form through my metaphysical dealings, but as far as religion and politics go, I have to say that, thanks to Rome, Jesus was an inside job.

#####

Sources

Ancient Rome: Mithras - Lord Of The Cosmos

Ancient Rome: Round Table On The Cult Of Mithras

Andre Atabaki: The Bible Of Mithra And The Science Of Light

Payam Nabarz: The Savior God Mithras

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### Media Reviews

Books

The War Lord by Malcolm Bosse (1983)

Rating: 5 stars

Overview: For about 8 months, this was my go-to reading material for those times when I had writer's block or was between writing projects.

Plot: Several diverse characters interact during China's upheavals following World War I.

Comments: This is a huge paperback novel at a hair under 750 pages, all in smaller than average printing type. The cover describes it as 'an epic novel of China,' and that tagline fits this book perfectly. Off and on, I'd been reading this novel for at least 8 months.

Parts of it have inspired and influenced my writing in at least 3 of my recently written novels. There's a scene, for example, when one of the handful of protagonists, a Christian missionary named Embry, is kidnapped by Chinese bandits and forced to live among them while a ransom is demanded. I mimicked that general concept for one of my Savage Lands projects, where a medieval squire, recently graduated from a fighting school for knights, was kidnapped by rogues, and like Embry, he adapted to the outlaw lifestyle. Similar to Embry, my squire becomes infamous among his captors, in time changing from a sometimes cocky, sometimes insecure young man into a notorious figure known as the Wolf of Loxden. (Savage Lands 4, to be released in a month or two.)

Modern writing instructors have the saying 'show don't tell' when it comes to writing, inferring that all writing must conform to this biased standard to be considered good. I don't agree entirely with this concept, just like I don't agree that all heroic / epic writing has to fit Joseph Campbell's Hero Journey outline. Author Bosse doesn't accord with the idea either, as his perspective is more like 'tell don't show,' to an extreme. You'll see two or three pages of dialogue, followed by six to ten pages of physical descriptions, social customs, historical references, religious / mythological conjecture, and pretty much all under the sun including the price of goods in Shanghai. Think of a good spy thriller, where the protagonist takes a couple of pages to think things through before he finally acts. Double that time of deep, philosophical pondering, and double it again, and you'll have an idea of what Bosse has done in this long, long, very long story.

This is not to say that the story is bad or badly written. There are engrossing and revealing parts throughout this novel; the problem is it takes forever to get to them. We are presented with five main characters that we will grow to love, or hate, as the novel progresses. They are Embry, the Christian missionary who becomes a worthy soldier in a Chinese army, Tang, a general who wants to kick out the Japanese and return China to traditional values, Vera, a Russian prostitute trying to find happiness, Luckner, a German arms dealer who keeps Vera as his mistress, and finally, Kovalik, a Russian exile who promotes communism in China, despite that the communist ideal has already failed in his home country. Don't get too caught up with any of them, because you'll read about one or two for thirty pages, and then Bosse will move over to somebody else for the next thirty pages. Every one of these characters has intricate stories to tell and actions to go through during their time in the spotlight. This results in a tremendous amount of detail to keep track of, and that is one of the reasons why it took me so long to read this book. I had to read it in spurts, because I was working on my own writing projects and had to keep track of my stuff first.

Speaking as a writer, there is an overwhelming amount of information presented / condensed into The War Lord. Bosse can drop one line into his story that will stick into my head, such as his wisdom regarding Chinese culture, philosophy or how religion and / or Westerners are viewed. (Everybody that is not Chinese is considered a Westerner.) Stuff like that will stay with me after I have finished a typical novel, and it will inspire me in my own writing. The drawback here is that Bosse will toss in these juicy morsels every four or five pages. There are too many to keep track of! A sentence Bosse writes might influence me into writing a couple of paragraphs, for example, or a couple of his paragraphs might become a couple of pages for me. There is too much intricacy and detail in this novel, more than the average reader will be able to handle, and so much even a lifelong reader like me gets overwhelmed, and even overburdened, by all that this story presents. In fact, I want to reread this novel, one page at a time, as a writing exercise where I can squeeze all the juicy parts out and modify them into my stories.

Is this a great book to read? No, I can't say that it is. It takes too long to get to the action and dialogue. Think of it more like a fine painting, where only a few can stand before it, for hours and hours, and discover its many angles and intricacies. Is it a very good book? Yes, I will put it into that bracket. You'll have to learn to like all of its characters, even the selfish arms dealer and the drug-addicted communist, because if you don't, you'll have to wait 30 pages until the characters you do like come back into the picture. There are no true villains in this novel, as even supporting characters, such as the enemies of General Tang, have their motivations and ambitions explained. You'll meet lesser characters such as poor rickshaw drivers, a young daughter from a family of Chinese nobles, the head bandit who kidnaps Embry, Tang's military subordinates, etc., and they all add their little flavors to the overall broth. This novel is more about cultural, historical immersion, and the people caught up in that immersion, than about anything else. If you like profound historical novels, and you have the patience to get through the colorful yet lengthy verbosity, this might be your ticket to early 20th century Chinese escapism. You have to really be a detached outsider, an observer, to fully appreciate what Bosse has created here.

One last word of warning; this novel contains many detailed instances of gore, violence and gruesome descriptions of death.

Documentaries

(Following are my notes for the article on Mithras found in this issue.)

Ancient Rome: Round Table On The Cult Of Mithras (2012)

Category: History, Mythology

Run time: 42 minutes.

Academics mentioned in this discussion include Greg Woolf, University of St. Andrews, Almut Hintze and John North, both from the University of London. Having three experts on the subject was very good. Also, there was less Western bias when compared to other videos I've seen, and they did mention when certain findings are disputed. Points not covered before:

1:15 - The host states that the Roman Cult of Mithras began in the 1st Century CE. Before I get into the talk, I just want to say that this sounds like an incorrect statement. We know that the concept of Mithras came from India, but that isn't the entire story either. In case the conversation veers off in another direction, I want to remind the reader that there were a number of other cults competing for followers at that time, including those of Jesus, John the Baptist, Simon Magnus, Apollonius of Tyre (I think?) and the Essenes. Also, the Romans had dozens of gods, and other cultures such as Egypt and India also had dozens of gods, all vying for the same limited number of people within the expansive Roman Empire. Most Western historians will narrow down these options into the cult of Jesus and one or two others, but that's not true. This huge number of gods was what prompted the Roman emperors into unifying all religions into the 'universal' Catholic Church.

1:50 - Note that all or nearly all religions performed ritualistic sacrifices. I think the only group not doing this was the Gnostics, because they thought the god of this world, i.e. Yahweh, was the Demiurge bad guy.

4:00 - The first Roman temples of Mithras were discovered in Frankfurt, Germany and along the Danube. Wolf hints that it mysteriously popped up in several places at once, late in the 1st Century. He hasn't mentioned the India connection yet. Right after, the cult also appears in places such as the Rhineland, Israel, Italy, Spain and Africa.

6:20 - The Indian Mithra is one of the oldest deities in the Indo-Iranian pantheon. He dates it back to 1300 BCE. Kings swore upon his name, and also a few others including Varuna, when signing contracts.

7:30 - In Iran, Mithra was more of a primary god, and was mentioned in contracts along with Ahura-Mazda from Zoroastrianism.

9:50 - The Western view is to start with Western ideas / evidence and reverse-engineer them going backwards in time. The contrary point of view is to start with Ancient India or Iran and move forward. I will look at both sides of the coin, but I don't like the idea that history has to conform to modern Western standards. To me, those standards are too set in stone, too set in their bias and ignoring too many potential clues. We've seen too many examples, such as in ancient archeology and human evolution, where if the pieces don't fit the Western model, they are disregarded or even hidden away.

10:30 - From my previous research into Zoroastrianism, I agree with the point that there is no clear evidence that Mithras was dualistic, while Zoroaster and Ahura Mazda were.

10:45 - North mentions that Mithras killing the bull does not convey a sense of good versus evil. I agree with this. The bull killing to me is more astrology or a new power overcoming an old power. It was a transition, not a good guy defeating a villain.

There follows a semi-garbled reasoning into where Mithras came from, with some acknowledgement to Eastern religions. This is another example of the isolationism that Western scholars continually promote. Of course Rome knew about Zoroaster and the Vedas! These people were trading goods and migrating all over the place, similar to how we know about Buddha or Krishna today. The Cult of Mithras surely went through changes in Rome, but as the speaker mentions, in the carvings Mithras is wearing Persian attire, with a Phrygian cap, a cloak and tunic.

13:35 - A good point is made. Christianity sprouted out of Judaism, while Mithraism sprouted in a similar way from Persia. Mithras and Jesus are both sun gods, with the costuming or window dressing colored by the customary beliefs of their respective founders.

19:00 - Only males were allowed to worship Mithras. They went through seven stages of initiation, beginning with Raven level and advancing to Father. Passing from one level to the next is described as an ordeal. This reminds me of college hazing and Masonry. Suggested is that the levels represent astrological knowledge or lore.

22:00 - Each small temple had an estimated 20 to 40 male worshipers.

(I have to mention the depths of Christian stupidity here. Earlier, we heard that the Devil planted evidence of Mithras before Jesus came around, in order to defame later Christianity. This is as ludicrous as the idea that the Devil created dinosaur bones to give the 'false' impression that the Earth is over 6,000 years old. If Christians can't accept it or can't refute it, always blame the Devil! Christianity is a religion for babies.)

25:40 - The seven grades correspond to the seven visible celestial bodies. They are: Sol, Luna, Mars, Mercury, Venus, Jupiter and Saturn. Note that the highest level, the Father, is linked to Saturn. That brings up a whole new slew of esoteric connections, but I won't get into it here.

28:10 - The typical, middle grade was that of Leo the Lion.

30:45 - Mithras' attire is described as a 'trouser-suit.'

31:10 - The serpent represents evil, while the dog represents good.

Mithras, Lord Of The Cosmos - Rover Films (2013)

Run time: 32 minutes. Here are my notes from this documentary. I am jotting all this info down in preparation for a future article on the cult of Mithras. Notice the bias at the beginning, where Westerners want to credit Rome with making the Cult of Mithras their invention, saying it was 'newly created,' as if Persians weren't intellectual enough to come up with the advanced concepts on their own. These egocentric scholars say, sure, Mithras came from India, but we made him so much better than they did! Really, we did! Of course, this is nonsense. We only have to look at truly spiritual religions like Buddhism and Hinduism to dispel that notion. What a coincidence that both of those religions came out of India, the same as Mithraism!

This bias continues throughout the documentary. At one point, one scholar pooh-poohs the idea that Christians adopted Mithraic rituals and symbolism for 'market share,' as he puts it. To debunk this idea, all you have to do is read through the Old Testament, where you see the cult of Jehovah in a constant rivalry with the cults of Baal, Dagon and Molech, and also with the gods of Egypt. The apologist idea that Christianity developed in a vacuum is ludicrous. All of these pagan religions contributed in some way or another to the official religion that Emperor Constantine established for the Roman Empire in the 4th Century CE.

The Cult of Mithras can be traced back to the 1st Century CE. Its prominence lasted for about two hundred years, when it was eclipsed by the dawn of Christianity. Very little detailed information remains for this cult. It was a syncretism from Persian and Indian sources, and was adopted by Rome to include rituals and astrological references. Much of what we know about Mithraism today comes from what rival Christians wrote about it.

Originally, Mitra was the name given to an Indo-European deity. Mitra dates back to 2000 BCE in Persia and India. The Indian name is Mitra Varuna. In Zoroastrianism he was also known as Mitra. This deity is associated with the Mitras of the later Greeks. We are told that the original Persian attributes of this god were modified, by Greek and Roman culture, in the same way the Egyptian Isis and Osiris were culturally adapted.

The Roman cult may have first emerged in Anatolia (Turkey), where a large religious center to Mithras has been excavated. Raised benches for worshipers to sit on were found in Mithraic temples, which was very unusual for the 1st Century. Temples were partly built into the ground to create a subterranean feel. Temple sizes were 10 to 20 meters long and 5 meters wide. The temples were referred to as 'caves,' and represented our world according to Plato.

Despite the speculation, there are no written records showing what went on inside the temples. Animal remains have been found, suggesting feasting. Carvings show people in the temples reclining on couches and eating from low tables. The food servers were new members called 'ravens.' The new members must have known about the religion, as only initiates could enter the temple. One carving shows an archer shooting an arrow at another man, and at the rock behind him. Another carving shows a procession. It is assumed these carvings show what took place within the temple. Frescoes show swords, blindfolds and initiates lying down on the ground. All of these inferences point to Masonic ritual. It is possible that lights and sounds were used to create effects for the people in the temple.

The image of Mithras killing the bull is comparable to the Christian Cross, as far as religious importance goes. Below the image of Mithras and the bull are the following: a dog, a crater or mixing bowl, a serpent, a crab and a scorpion. Some artifacts show Mithras killing the bull inside a rocky cave. Around the cave image is a band showing all the signs of the zodiac. Other symbolism includes a figure holding a torch up on one end, while opposite we find a similar figure holding a torch down. (As above, so below; Masonic.) Also shown are a solar chariot and a lunar chariot. (Also Masonic.) Note that the same sort of symbolism that is described here can be found on a Ouija Board.

Deciphering the symbolism from the image. The dog represents Canis Major. The crater apparently also signified a former constellation. The entire image appears to show the entrance and exit of the sun into this world. The sun's path also relates to the precession of the equinox, spaced out to 1800 years, from Taurus (pre-Rome), to Aries (Roman Age) to Aquarius (today). Mithras killing the bull could theoretically show the end of the age of Taurus. Note that many ancient religions from all over the world saw the connection between astronomical science and religion.

Another important aspect is the idea of the soul. If the soul is virtuous, it will rise up towards the moon after the body dies. Note that alternative researchers such as David Icke and Santos Bonacci have also made reference to the moon as a place where souls go to after death.

Similarities to Jesus and Christianity

Mithras was born to a virgin on the 25th of December.

He was attended to by 12 figures.

By worshiping Mithras, man could achieve salvation.

Holy Communion / Holy Sacrament

Holy Meal / Last Supper

Baptism

Monotheism

Differences from Jesus and Christianity

Mithraism was male dominated (compare to Judaism, Masonry, also male dominated)

Christianity was aimed at a wider community, including women

Christians aided widows, orphans and the poor

Mithraism accepted other gods; Christians did not

Some images apparently show Mithras born from an egg

Let me add that I see Mithraism as a Mystery School religion. In that light, the cult had no aspirations to be spread out over the entire world, the way Christianity did after the Council of Nicea was meant to influence all of Rome.

Here is a part that I particularly disagree with. One speaker states that the original Christians met in synagogues and were later thrown out by Jews, causing the outcasts to establish their own Judaic-based religion. From my studies in Gnosticism, I think it more likely that the first Christians were Gnostic, meaning they met in public places like meadows or hills, or in private homes, and away from Judaism altogether. Because the Christians were meeting away from Roman or Judaic temples, Rome could not keep an eye on them and that is why Constantine and the emperors that came before him worked so hard to unify all of Rome under one religious banner. Constantine was not the first emperor to try to bring the various faiths together.

In trying to debunk the connections, one speaker states that the number 12 doesn't hold up connecting Mithraism to Christianity. This is nonsense. The 12 tribes of Israel are not 12 by accident. The number 12 appears in numerous religions before and after the 1st Century, such as in Romulus and his 12 followers (Rome), Hercules and his 12 labors (Greek) before that era. After the 1st Century, we have Robin Goodfellow and his band of 12 men and King Arthur and his 12 Knights of the Round Table. Not to mention the witch's coven of one warlock and 12 witches. This number always represents the 12 months of the year, so the debunker and his nonsense argument are debunked. By incorporating rituals, key dates and numbers, Christianity as a pure religion that sprung out of a sort of holy vacuum is debunked.

I also don't agree that the 2nd Century rise of Christianity caused the demise of the pagan religions. We still had festivals to Isis and Saturnalia going on, didn't we? The Romans didn't like their Jesus without a female counterpart like Ishtar or Isis, so they complained until they got the Virgin Mary. What this documentary is trying to show us is that Christianity did not evolve from Mithraism. I agree with that. Christianity came from all sorts of other religions as well, including Canaanite, Egyptian, Indian, Judaism, Roman and probably even Druidism. If you toss in the origins of the Gnostic Jesus, then you've got a whole bunch of other influences, most importantly including Buddhism, Hinduism, the Mushroom Cult of the Essenes and the Archon / Evil Yahweh sect that believed this world was hell, and that by coming here we were sinners that had to redeem our souls by living virtuous lives. Yeah, that's where the part of us having to 'save' our souls came from, from the Gnostics and definitely NOT from the self-serving master race of the Jews.

Jesus came from Mithras as an amalgamation, that included other key figures such as the Good Shepherd Apollo and another half man, half deity sun god in Hercules. This idea that Jesus and Christianity are somehow 'different' than what came before them, or what was going on at the same time Gnosticism was taking root, is in effect putting on blinders and deliberately ignoring the tons of evidence that is out there waiting to be looked at. Taking the body of Mithras and sticking the face of Jesus on top of it doesn't really create a whole new god, now does it?

Payam Nabarz: The Savior God Mithras (2015)

Category: History, Mythology

Run time: 1 hour, 9 minutes.

The guest was really difficult to understand as the interview went on! Points worth considering:

4:00 - Connor's list of savior gods born on Dec. 25th: Jesus, Osiris, Dionysus, Quetzalcoatl, Krishna, Attus, Tammuz and Mithras.

6:00 - Constantine worshiped Mithras after his conversion to Christianity. This was disputed in a previous discussion.

7:55 - Connor's comparison between the Persian Mithras and Jesus:

* Born of a virgin on Dec. 25th, in a cave.

* Shepherds bearing gifts attended his birth.

* Considered a great teacher / master.

* He had 12 companions / disciples.

* Followers were promised immortality.

* He performed miracles.

* He sacrificed himself for world peace.

* Buried in a tomb, rose after 3 days.

* His resurrection is celebrated annually.

* He was called the Good Shepherd, identifying with the lamb and the lion.

* He was considered the Light and the Messiah.

* His sacred day was Sunday, when he had his Last Supper.

* His main festival later became Easter.

* He had a Eucharist / Communion, a Lord's Supper and a Last Supper.

* He had a Passover.

15:40 - In Persia, Mithras was considered the god of contracts. The name translates as 'friendship.' Later, he is called a mediator.

16:25 - The sun is seen as the eye of Mithras.

18:00 - The handshake may have first started up in 1400 BCE, based on artwork, when Mithras went to shake the right hand of a Hittite king.

20:30 - Roman soldiers may have brought the god from the fringes of the empire into the hub of society, circa 100 CE - 200 BCE. An exiled Roman ruler or even pirates may have also done this. This is interesting because we see many of the Mithraic temples springing up all at once in the 1st Century.

27:00 - In Greek, the name Mithras has a numerical value of 365, the number of days in the solar year, as compared with 360 in a lunar year. Connor tells us this is the same for another ancient deity named Abraxas. (I haven't studied him yet, but hopefully I will!)

30:00 - Souls originate from the Milky Way. Earlier, Nabarz mentioned that the blood of the sacrificed bull also represented the Milky Way.

32:00 - Mithra was considered a savior god in Rome and Persia. In Persia, he was born to a virgin woman. (In Rome, he came from a Cosmic Egg or was born from a rock.)

37:30 - Mithras carried a staff. I've seen pictures of 1st Century Christian carvings showing Jesus with a wand or staff while performing miracles. (So did the Good Shepherd Apollo.)

38:40 - Modern churches are still designed similar to the Mithraic temples. The Mithrae had two long benches facing each other, with a centered, raised altar way in the back. Modern churches have their pews on either side, with the altars or pulpits in the same place.

Some of Nabarz' speech comes out garbled and is difficult for me to understand. There are similarities to modern Islamic Sufism, but that takes me off the subject. I am having to repeat sections here, especially when it comes to the grades of initiation.

1st Grade - Raven, resurrection (Mercury?)

2nd Grade - Venus (male bride?)

3rd Grade - Mars, soldier

4th Grade - Jupiter, lightning bolt

5th Grade - Luna, crescent moon

6th Grade - Sol, crown with 7 rays

7th Grade - Saturn, Father

Nabarz has the annoying habit of rambling his words together, and sometimes laughing at the end of it. The last half hour was a real chore to get through. Take your meds, dude!

The Bible Of Mithra - Persian Astrology (2015)

Category: History, Mythology, Spirit.

Run time: 1 hour, 8 minutes.

I've been doing research for a series of medieval fantasy books I've titled the Savage Lands. In this fictional world I'm creating, the Roman deity Mithras is the salient god for the population, instead of his later derivative Jesus. The Roman god is a very enigmatic figure, but he does have origins in India, the same as many of our modern day Western deities and religious figures. Basically, I bookmarked any video results for the Roman Mithras or the Indian Mithra that were at least 20 minutes long, and slowly I'm making my way through the list.

I'm very surprised and pleased by how this lecture starts off, as speaker Atabaki right away hits on the false premise of organized religion. It seems this talk is more about the spiritual side of Mithra than the historical aspect, so let's see what this is all about.

5:00 - Mithra is mentioned in the Vedas, and was known from ancient India to Iran. From the start, we are told this is a god of light.

5:30 - I've done previous research on how the Indus River dried up, but this guy gives us a very good condensed version. The people to the east of the Indus became the Hindus. The people on the west of the Indus Valley became the Aryans, later known as the Persians.

6:25 - Mithra sounds like a god of Enlightenment, ahem, Jesus. His worship spread to the Greeks, Armenians, Celts and Romans.

6:45 - The Roman elite, or the top 1%, turned to Mithras. 100 ruins of Mithraic temples have been found from Great Britain to Palestine.

7:20 - Many Mithras temples are found under the Vatican. That's a big one, people! Mithra was Aryan / Persian / Indian before he became the Jewish Jesus! Also, note the Roman Catholic routine of building their temples over the temples that already existed in those places. My studies elsewhere suggest Mithras was a Mystery School religion, compared to how Atabaki mentions that the rich and powerful wanted to keep this religion secret to themselves.

8:20 - Mithraic rituals include baptism, communion, resurrection, and celebrating the winter solstice, which just happens to be the birthday of Jesus. Atabaki claims the Holy Cross is borrowed from Mithras, but I haven't heard that before, I don't think.

9:15 - The Mystery School reference comes in. That's exciting for me! Why? Because my research into the Mystery Schools goes back to Egypt and Rome, but it gets hazy earlier than that when I get to Biblical figures such as Solomon and Nebuchadnezzar. That's where Masonry, Numerology, Kabbalah and Magic come in. I have read that MS teachings may have come from India, but haven't been able to establish a link, so this might be it.

The next section is very interesting. Instead of going toward the direction of Alchemy, we are diverted toward Meditation and Disassociation. That's worlds away from the esoteric teachings of Hermes / Thoth.

The next part is called The Final Stage. In this section, we are told that advanced awareness leads to being drawn inward and away from identity. Personally, I'm in this tug of war between wanting to let go and reaching that kind of Enlightenment, and having to deal with everyday issues and turmoil. I feel I have to advance in my physical life to find happiness or contentment before I can relax and tune in toward higher vibrations. I've been butting heads with my spirit guides for years on this.

As the talk goes on, Atabaki describes our individuality and experience. This goes right along with my own ideas regarding Hologram Universe Theory and Quantum Physics. We are given an analogy that we are the sun that everything revolves around. That's like when I say we are the stars in the movie of our life. From our personal perspective, the universe does revolve around each and every one of our consciences. That's the whole deal with the New Age belief that we are all Creators, as opposed to religious doctrine that demands we become uniform and subservient to an authority figure. If God is within us, and if we can find that God, we don't need anyone to be our pastor that has to herd ups along like sheep. There's a saying; church is for those who can't find God by themselves.

32:40 - 'Your existence comes before the existence of the universe.' - That's a very profound quote. If you believe in the idea of an eternal soul, it has to be true because the theorized Big Bang was a starting point for all that exists in the physical realm. You soul wasn't born with the Big Bang, right?

33:00 - When you go to sleep, do you go there or does sleep come to you? Do you go to the next day and night, or do they come to you? That's the kind of deep philosophical concepts I got from reading the Mahabharata. Give me a second... Let me see if I can find some other similar Hindu queries I jotted down...

Here are some examples I included in my novel Avalon 1 - The Search For God, in order from easiest to hardest to contemplate:

What is quicker than wind? The answer is thought.

What can cover the Earth? The answer is darkness.

What is more numerous, the living or the dead? The answer is the living, because the dead are no longer.

What came first, the day or the night? The answer is the day, but it was only a day ahead.

What is an example of grief? The answer is ignorance.

* What is an example of poison? The answer is desire.

* What is an example of defeat? The answer is victory.

* Why do men revolt? To find beauty, either in life or in death.

What is inevitable? Happiness.

What is your opposite? Yourself.

I can write full articles on my personal deeper meanings for the items I marked with the asterisk. The grief / ignorance and the last two give me brain farts. About the inevitable / happiness bit, let me toss this in here as well. King Cyrus was about to burn King Croesus at the stake, after Croesus tried to invade his kingdom. Cyrus asked, 'What is the meaning of happiness?' Croesus replied that a life could not be counted as happy unless we know how it ended. Cyrus didn't burn Croesus after all, and they became good buddies after that.

Now, I get that Croesus would have a crappy end to his life if he was burned to death, but I'm from the 'hood, okay? One of my credos is 'today is a good day to die,' no matter what's going on, sunny day, rainy day, whatever. So, if I were Croesus, I would have tried that invasion and failed, but as I was about to go down in flames, I would have thought, you know, I gave it my best shot so I have no regrets. To me, the revolt / beauty example contradicts the inevitable / happiness idea. See what I mean?

33:40 - Another profound concept: We dream that we are awake, or asleep, or unconscious. This has to be correct if we are eternal souls, because the soul has to become immersed into a condition or theater of reality. Can you imagine how complex our Hologram Universe has to be to accommodate an estimated 9 billion human individual realities within it? That doesn't even count animals, vegetation, weather fluctuations or even dirt and rocks, which are also going through their own experiences of reality at a much faster or slower rate that we are.

37:00 - As synchronicity, Atabaki mentions theater and hologram in close proximity right around this time. He states that Mithra is the Film Projector, and by attaining a oneness with him, we are both the Projected and the Projector.

Atabaki gives an eloquent description of Mithra as Sol. Yeah, I can see how a lot of the qualities he describes could be seen as human attributes, but I think Sol is more a part of the holographic construct than a sentient being watching over us like some kind of protector. I mean I could be wrong here, but Sol communicates through subtle forms of electromagnetic energy and radiation, and less like a parent / father figure. Calling Sol a father is demeaning it, I feel, and dumbing things down for the masses, because human attributes are being assigned to a non-human entity. Of course, nearly every religion in history has a sun god with human reactions and motivations in it, including the Christian Jesus and the Greek / Roman Heracles / Hercules.

49:20 - I would dispute that all civilizations worshiped Sol as their sun. The Golden Age of Greece and the Roman Saturnalia come to mind, and there is good theorizing that Saturn was once the most prominent star in our Earth sky, even among the Electric Universe crowd. To listen to Atabaki, you'd think the solar system was always the way we see it today, but I don't think this was always the case, unless it is a false origin meant for the people coming into the Hologram Universe. Is it possible that we'll have a new sun arriving with the Age of Aquarius?

53:00 - Note the parallels to the fable of Jesus- birth: The Sun / Jesus, born of Virgo / the Virgin, with the Belt of Orion / Three Eastern Kings standing by. Shepherds make the big announcement and celebrated with bread and wine. That's all from pagan Mithraism, before the Holy Church of Rome adopted it!

55:15 - The video moves on to moon goddess Anahita. This is good stuff! While men follow Mithra, women are initiated into the cult of Anahita, the Mother Goddess or Divine Feminine.

56:15 - Anahita is associated with water. It can be scientifically proven that Luna affects all living things through their water. Anahita influences creativity, psychic powers and intuition. She represents consciousness. It makes me wonder if we are conscious because of the water content in our bodies. Mithra and Anahita are not in opposition, as many other philosophies suggest, but work as a team.

This presentation is just what I needed. I'm in line with some 90% of the material already. I think I'm going to stick a watered down version of these concepts into the story collection I'm working on, so my characters can roll them around in their heads. The conclusion is as strong as the start, and the tenets sound to be more full of meaning for me personally, than what I've heard from Mystery School deals such as Egypt, Greek, Gnostic, Rosicrucian, Zoroastrian and others. My previous spiritual ideals came from Buddhism, Hinduism and Gnosticism, and I have to say that Mithraism as described here is right in there with them.

Movies

Run Lola Run (1998) starring Franka Potente

Directed by: Tom Tykwer

Starring: Franka Potente, Moritz Bleibtreu

Genre: action, modern fantasy

Storyline: After a botched money delivery, Lola has 20 minutes to come up with 100,000 Deutschmarks to save her boyfriend.

Run time: 1 hour, 20 minutes.

Rating: 7.7 on Imbd, 5 out of 5 on my scorecard

If you see a giant female treasure troll running up and down your street, catch her! Or better yet, give me a buzz and let me go catch her! Having an Amazon / Lilith beauty going back and forth in tight, pastel green pants is something I found very appealing to watch for the better part of this movie. The treasure troll is, of course, gorgeous Franka Potente, sporting the unkempt red locks, the unorthodox outfit and making like a long distance marathon runner.

I first watched this movie back in the early 2000s, when I would binge-watch rentals on my days off, to stay out of the 100+ degree weather at the eastern edge of very hot Riverside County. I think I picked it up as a 'hope I like it' last minute addition, after having chosen a couple of big name productions beforehand. I was so impressed with the title that it has stuck with me ever since. It's on my To Buy list, along with a thousand other movies. I was very happy when I saw the movie show up on Pluto TV this month. I saw it about four days ago, as a refresher, and saw it again tonight while taking a few notes, because this is the sort of movie that necessitates notes to fully analyze.

As an action movie, its premise is okay. The story centers on a girl who must come up with a way to raise some big money fast, or else her boyfriend won't be around much longer. She has twenty minutes to do it. What this movie does different than others in this same running out of time genre is that it presents the audience with 3 potential outcomes in rapid succession. Boom, boom, boom and we have a bad ending, a bad ending, and since the third time's a charm, a good finale. (Or is it? We'll talk about that later!) What I like most about this movie is that it becomes as complicated as you want it to be. For action guys, you have minimal tough guy action, but that balances out because Potente is always on the move, active, and she's a whole lot better on the eyes than anybody else in the flick. For people who like romances, you have the impression that love will win out in the end, and I thought this movie was fine as a chick flick for tough chicks. If you want to go past that, there are sooo many different angles to discover in this movie.

Potente as starring role Lola goes without saying. She didn't show a whole lot of emotion, and she didn't change a whole lot during the movie, but that was because she was a tough chick. She was practical and pragmatic, fixing things that needed fixing and never giving up. Moritz Bleibtreu as her boyfriend Manni was the opposite, or the Yang to her Yin. He had his tirades where he was banging on things, and he showed frustration, and he was always reacting impulsively to his situations. He was the cornered animal, ready to lash out at anyone and anything so he could save his own skin. In a real world situation, it is unlikely that a steady swimmer like Lola would have ended up with a wishy-washy, low-level thug like Manni, but all right, let's say for the sake of argument that it did happen. I have known women who go around picking up and mending things that their men frequently break into pieces or disrupt, figuratively.

The rest of the cast was unique, in that all supporting characters had singular faces and filled their niche roles well. Lola's father, for example, was as stoic and steady as she was. The mistress of Lola's father, the security guard, the teller in the bank, the bum who stole the money, the guy on the bike, the injured guy in the ambulance, everybody really, covered their narrow screen time exceedingly well. Even the bland characters, such as the woman pushing the baby stroller (they call it a pram over there), and the bank employee on her way to the copy machine, had their flash-forward moments to tantalize us with.

The story, as I mentioned already, was good. Thanks to the premise, the background didn't change very much, so all we saw was Lola running across the same five or six blocks, and repeating several scenes over and over. That was probably the weakest part of the movie for me. Music was largely subdued. The short animation sequences I didn't like very much. If I had to stop there, I would probably give this movie 3 or 4 stars. I would not have bothered to watch it again.

As a writer and deep thinker, there is so much more to this movie that I barely caught the first time around. All these nuances and time-angles would have me thinking, oh, they did something neat there, but I wasn't sophisticated enough back then to see all that was hidden between the lines. I'm about to go quantum here, so clear your head a bit and try to absorb all of this, because we're going into the deep end.

1. Lola lives in a Hologram Universe where people are vibrating energy fields. In Copenhagen Many Worlds Theory, we have the concept that everything that can possibly happen does happen in an infinite number of worlds. In the Butterfly Effect, something done today causes a chain effect far into the future. Lola's world is a combination of the two. In her world, Many Worlds happen in succession, one, two, three, instead of all at once on infinite timelines. What happens in path one has its own Butterfly Effect, and so does path two, path three, etc.

2. Lola and Manni communicate in the astral plane, beyond time and space. In path one, Lola is accidentally shot by a nervous policeman. In path two, Manni is run over by the speeding ambulance. Note that after both deaths, we are taken to a new environment with red lightning, where Lola and Manni speak abstractly about staying together and being in love. This only happens when one of them dies. In these red scenes, Lola and Manni are insecure about their relationship, but they make a loose agreement to stay together. It is these agreements that reset the clock and allow Lola to leave the old path and begin a new one. She gets a new chance to rescue Manni in the real world.

3. Lola is a demigod in her world. Lola is to her world what Neo is to the Matrix. Her energy field can change localized reality, as in the people directly in her path. She cannot change the future for people that are not in her path, such as her distracted mother whom Lola passes by three times. Notice that we only see flash-forwards for people that Lola bumps into: the lady with the pram, the woman on her way to the copy machine, the guy on the bike, the bank teller, etc. Also, Lola can learn from her previous paths, or past lives if you will. She shows this in path two, when she remembers to remove the safety from the gun, and when she warns the ambulance driver to wait because he might hit the glass window. These were things she learned in path one, and here she is recalling them in an alternate future.

4. Lola's spirit guides are influencing her choices. Pay close attention to the security guard here, and to the blind woman standing next to the pay phone Manni uses. The security guard pivots Lola at times, and in his words he shows that he has knowledge of prior events, just as she does. I'm paraphrasing here, but I think he said something like 'it's about time you got here' during path three. Also, the guard talks to Lola as if they are close or have prior history, and she seems to understand him. That's why they stand there staring at each other a few times. It is the security guard's words that set Lola on the final run where she ends up at the casino. Also, the blind woman might be Manni's spirit guide, as she's there to provide him with a phone card when he desperately needs it, and she overhears Manni's plight, and she even physically turns him around to put him on a new path, too.

5. Lola can change the future... at a cost. In path three, Lola closes her eyes and starts another run. During that run, she asks deity or her spirit guides for help, because she is so desperate to save Manni. After nearly getting flattened by a truck, she opens her eyes and finds herself in front of a casino. Deity has given her a short time to perform miracles. Two of these miracles occur when she hits the winning number on the roulette wheel twice. A third miracle occurs when she saves the injured man's life in the ambulance. At the same time, a fourth anomalous incident occurs, when, through the Butterfly Effect, the bum rides a bike in front of Manni, and Manni recovers the loot. Yay! They all live happily ever after... Wait. No, they don't.

Lola has saved Manni, yes, but in Lola's universe that creates an imbalance. Either she or he was supposed to die. Because they did not die, somebody else did. In this case, it is Lola's father and Mr. Meyer, who crash into another car. Mr. Meyer has dinged this same white car twice already, in paths one and two, but this time in path three there are fatalities. It was either Lola as a demigod or a separate deity that decided to take those two men instead of Lola or Manni. I think Lola worked this out in the astral plane, since in all three paths, her father was about to cause a major disruption in her life. Better her father gone than Manni, she has decided, and that's what happens in the end.

I could get into this deeper and analyze the flash-forward sequences. The woman with the pram, for example, has her future changed three times when Lola's potent energy field runs by her. In one, she loses her kid and steals somebody else's, in two, she wins the lottery, and in three she becomes religious. That's too much analyzing! I'll just add one other oddity. At the end of path three, Lola has the casino winnings and jumps out of the ambulance to look for Manni. She is in a dead zone, without any moving people or cars, looking around at empty sidewalks and stores. I could speculate that she affected time so that she would make sure she made it there before noon. After a short duration, real-time catches up with her, and we see Manni being dropped off a block away and other moving cars in the distance. Time-space returns to normal; Lola and Manni live happily ever after, and let's hope she doesn't let out a reality-changing scream again unless she really has to.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention this. There is a random incident generator in Lola's world. This is represented by the animation sequence where Lola runs down the stairs, and comes across the kid with the growling dog. Thanks to that kid, Lola's time sequence gets screwed up twice, and she avoids him the third time by jumping over, thus avoiding another potential setback. That is what triggers a time advance and allows the creation of a new path with new variables. In other words, Lola bypassed normal time and space to rescue her lover. How cool is that?

Didn't I tell you this movie was quantum?

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### About The Publisher / Author

Greetings, reader. My pen name is Raymond Towers. Primarily, I write darker fiction in the fantasy, horror and science fiction genres, but I do dabble about in other genres as well depending on my whims. I like to think that I have a unique perspective on the world and life in general, and I tend to shake things up to break people out of their doldrums. If you want to read something 'safe,' then I'm probably not the author for you. My favorite authors are in a wide range, from Asimov, Clarke and Farmer, to King, Lovecraft and Poe, to Burroughs, Tolkien and Twain. All the big names, as that is the level I aspire to reach. I especially enjoy combining aspects you won't normally see together in fiction, and on taking the next step and reaching for the farthest, blackest edge of the abyss. The place where most other authors leave off, that is the place where I get started. The question is; are you ready for that?

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