 
### HEALF

### DAY OF NIGHT

### Will Decker

### Book 3 in the HEALF SCI-FI Series

Copyright 2002 by WILL DECKER

Smashwords Edition

WILL DECKER has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased, or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

DAY OF NIGHT is a work of fiction. The resemblance of any characters to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Names, characters, places, brands, media, situations, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

This eBook may not be re-sold or given away except with written permission from the author or as otherwise permitted through special promotions and programs.

A special thank you to everyone that has made this story possible. My beta reader, my proof reader, and to you the readers. I sincerely hope you enjoy this work of fiction.

Will

More Exciting Stories by Will Decker:

DRIVEN

UNREQUITED LOVE

FIRE BABY

HYBRID KILLERS

The 'HEÄLF' Collection:

MORTALITY REVISITED

CLONE WARS

DAY OF NIGHT

REGENERATIONS

HORSPAW

The 'Mac" Collection:

THE WITNESS

TOXIC RAIN

BETRAYAL

RECORD KEEPER

DEATH IN THE DUNES

WIT-SEC FAIL

SIMPLY PERFECT BINDING 2ND Ed.

If you enjoyed this book, please take a moment to leave a review.

Authors starve or eat based on reviews. Thanking you from the pit of my stomach, Will

Table of Contents:

Epilogue

Discover More Exciting Stories by Will Decker

### **1**

"Oh, it's so wonderful. I can't believe we're really here!" she joyously cried, twirling around with her arms held out, her long, dark hair, flying wildly about her head. She was a vision of beauty, as she spun dizzily over the moss-covered ground, her long trim legs carrying her lightly on her feet, while her full, firm breasts bounced rhythmically to her step. It had been too long since we were last upon the surface, and she was trying desperately to soak it all in, relishing the very fabric of the fresh air tinted with moist vegetation.

Reaching out, I grabbed her around the waist, and gently pulled her into my embrace, lifting her off her feet. Softly, I whispered in her ear, "Yes, my love, we're really here. You're not dreaming."

With a fleeting kiss left gently upon her cheek, I lower her gently to her feet and let her go, watching her run gaily to the nearest clump of dense green foliage. Drawing a leaf gently across her face, she inhales deeply, luxuriating in the scent that fills her expanded lungs; it is a fragrance that we haven't smelled for much too long.

Forcing myself to turn away from her and look around our surroundings, I likewise luxuriate in the flooding of my senses. We have so much to be thankful for; not only are we in the prime of our lives, thanks to Keazar and the recycling machines. But more importantly, we still have each other, despite the harrowing experiences that we have been through together. In addition to all of our other blessings, we have sufficient supplies for an extended journey; a journey that holds many prospects for new adventures and exploits. A man couldn't ask for anything more.

Wary and Brae, two dear friends that accompanied us through Hell and back, step almost gingerly through the gate behind us that leads out of the subsurface. They, too, are finding it hard to believe that they are actually back on the surface. Unlike Loté, however, they stand motionless, contenting themselves for the moment with just holding each other close while taking in the lush green surroundings.

After breathing in the sights for a moment, Brae lithely runs over to join Loté with her cropped blonde hair bouncing gaily in rhythm to her unfettered bounds. Wary looks on happily, noting the unmistakable sprightliness in her step that hasn't been there for a long time.

Giggling with excitement, they dance together on the soft, moss-covered jungle floor, holding hands and leaping about like a pair of wood nymphs.

Along with Wary, the ex-copilot that befriended me so long ago, and his lovely mate Brae, we have finally returned to the surface. After spending years in the deep tunnels and catacombs of Heälf's bowels, we are all overwhelmed by the subdued sky beyond the jungle canopy, and the sweet smell of damp foliage. My heart swells at the sight of Loté's happiness, as I look on, watching her prancing about the small clearing with Brae's hands held in her own.

Together, with help from our sub-surface friends such as Keazar, the great recycler, we not only survived beneath the planet's surface, we prevailed! Now, with their help, Heälf is becoming a much better place to live.

Eventually, there will be gates similar to the one that we just came through, constructed all along the main travel route, or what is more commonly referred to as the equatorial trail. Once the complete series of gates have been constructed along the entire perimeter of the planet, they will make it possible for people to come and go between the subsurface and surface as they please. The only tricky part in their construction is in the triggering mechanism that closes them automatically when a specific temperature is reached. If this trigger fails, the extreme heat from the rising sun will create a tremendous vacuum throughout the directly connected tunnels beneath the surface that lead to the gate. Having experienced just such a phenomena first-hand, I am well aware of the disastrous consequences that can result from such a calamity. When fresh air is sucked outward through the opening or fracture in the surface to fuel the raging inferno, extremely hot air and noxious gases are sucked back in to the planet's interior to equalize the differing pressures. Anything or anyone caught in this backflow of heated air has very little chance of surviving.

Fortunately, we survived the ordeal. By pulling together as a team, and through sheer determination and strength of wills, we managed to overcome the odds. Of course, without Keazar and his recycling lab, it would have been for naught. Because even though we survived the elements, by the time we reached his lab, our bodies were beyond saving by any conventional means. However, Keazar's recycling machines are not conventional. They are anything but! And with thanks to Keazar and his machines, we are alive today to enjoy our return to the surface, to the roots of our very existence!

Yet, that was a long time ago, and another life. Since then, we have pulled the differing factions that inhabit the subsurface together. We have managed to unite them under one cause with one main goal. We are teaching them to believe that all men are created equally, despite their physical or religious differences. And because of this equality, each man is deserving of the same respect that he reserves for himself. It is still a tenuous cohesion at best that binds the varying peoples, but it is growing stronger with each passing day.

With the vast number of men at Keazar's disposal, most of which owe a debt of gratitude to him, I feel confident that the mandates laid out in our last meeting will be furthered along. In addition to these men, there are many more that have volunteered simply because they believe in the nobility of our cause. Building a new hierarchy from the rubble of a corrupt and vile dictatorship is not an easy task. But we have done everything within our power, and now it must grow and prosper of its own accord.

Yet, it is not easy for us to leave the subsurface with so much going on. However, out of love and devotion for Loté, the time has come to fulfill my promise to her. Only after doing everything that can humanly be done to find her parents, or discover positive proof of their demise, will I be able to return to the subsurface. Moreover, when that day comes, I look forward with eager anticipation to returning to my place in the new hierarchy and taking up where I left off.

Glancing over at Wary, I noticed for the first time that he had strapped the end of the sheath containing his long-knife to his thigh with an additional leather band; it struck me as rather peculiar, since that is how the soldiers that we'd encountered in the subsurface had worn theirs. Unlike Wary, I preferred mine to hang loosely off the hip. However, unlike both Wary and the soldiers, I also carried several less conspicuous knives, in addition to the long-knife. My favorite, a short-bladed weapon of superb quality and balanced to fit my grip, hung unobtrusively from the same girth strap as the long-knife, but positioned to ride in the small of my back. Although less accessible than the other short-bladed knives that I carried on my person, it was without a doubt my weapon of choice.

Loté was the only one amongst us that didn't carry a long-knife, preferring a standard-bladed one that was much more popular on the surface where metal was a rare and precious material. She kept it strapped to her calf, where it was easy to hand, yet unobtrusive. In addition to this weapon, she also wore the prized gift that she had received from King Sheesa, in the more accessible place on her hip. This latter was a weapon to be coveted. Not only was the hilt adorned with many fine jewels and gemstones that had been mined from deep within the bowels of the planet, the blade was also comprised of the highest-grade steel available anywhere. Despite the high heat and humidity, it took very little effort to maintain a high sheen, and a deadly edge.

Though the weapon itself was an eye-catching piece, even more impressive was Loté's ability to use it. Being an only child, her father had bestowed all of his wisdom and time on her. He had spent countless hours with her, teaching her the fine arts of food preservation and hunting, in addition to the finer art of hand-to-hand combat. Although I prided myself on my own abilities with a knife, she was every bit my equal. Unlike Brae, who formerly had a big brother to watch out for her, Loté had only herself. She had also been burdened with the chore of protecting her parents when they grew old and feeble, one of which was paralyzed from the chest down. Her mother, injured when Loté was a young girl, spent her life bound to a flat piece of split-rail wood so that others could move her with ease.

Because I promised Loté that I would help her search for her parents for as long as it took, we were going in search of them now, even though a lengthy span of time had elapsed. Ever since they'd been carried off by a stampeding behemoth, Loté hasn't been able to forgive herself. And unless we find them alive, which is very unlikely, she will never be able to forgive herself. She will always feel to some degree that she is to blame for letting them perish. Even more so now, since she has become aware of the recycling process, and what the technology could have meant for them if we had known of it sooner, before they were lost in the jungle.

Although she wasn't aware of the subsurface or the wonders of recycling at the time her parents were wrenched away from her, now she feels even more strongly concerning their loss. Our discovery of the many societies living beneath the planet's surface that view death as nothing more than a temporary condition, has only added to her prolonged grief and immense feelings of guilt.

For her sake, I would like nothing more than for us to find them. Even if all we find are their remains. At least then, we could return with them to Keazar's labs where they can be recycled.

However, in my heart, I know that isn't going to happen. Even if they'd managed to cling to the behemoth's back until it reached the western horizon, too much time has passed since then. When one considered the length of time that Loté and I spent in the subsurface, even if her parents had managed to survive for a while, by now they would have died of natural causes. In all actuality, there is very little chance that we will find any salvageable remains. The natural rotation of the planet cycling through its orbit would have carried their remains well beyond the eastern horizon by now, and the heat of the sun would have turned them into ash, a substance that even Keazar, with all of his knowledge and expertise, is unable to recycle.

Since our only hope lay in finding some remnant of their bodies before the sun rose on them, there was very little chance that we would be successful. Nonetheless, even with that in mind, I am determined to search at Loté's side until we have all of the answers. Because, even if we can't find any recyclable trace of them, we might find someone that met them after their disappearance and can fill in the blanks with answers to their demise. If not, I will continue searching at her side until she is ready to stop, and not a minute before.

Despite our exhilaration and joy stemming from being on the surface again, I was equally anxious to conclude this search. There was so much work that needed doing and I didn't feel that it was fair to leave the burden on Keazar's shoulders, even though he did seem more than anxious by the prospect. In fact, elated might better describe his attitude.

On the other hand, he was equally saddened that he couldn't join us in our search. He had such a wonderful time, he said, regarding our last adventure that he was afraid of what he might miss out on by not joining us. After a brief reminder of what we'd all gone through during our last adventure, though, he quickly developed a change of heart. In his own words, he said, "Someone needs to remain behind that knows how to run the recycling machines, just in case." Then again, if I know Keazar even half as well as I think I do, he's probably training a new prodigy already.

Glancing up at the beautiful twin moons that cast their reflected light upon the habitable side of Heälf, I turned to Wary and said, "We could set up camp right here and stay until the temperature starts to rise, but I don't think that's in our plans."

"Nay, Captain," he quickly replies, anxious to be on the move, as a grin stretches across his handsome features. Turning toward the women, he calls out, "Whenever you two are ready, we've got a long trek ahead of us!"

Smiling, they turn and pick up their respective packs. As Loté steps past me, a flirtatious smirk turns up the corners of her mouth as she softly whispers, "Would you like for me to take the lead again?"

Immediately, I understand the veiled meaning of her words. A long time ago, just after we'd first met, she had led while we tried vainly to overtake the runaway mammoth carrying her parents. As I followed closely in her footsteps, however, I was awestruck by her beauty and the lithe, graceful movements that she exhibited. Without hesitation, I acquiesced to her suggestion. After giving her pack a slight upward boost to help her position it comfortably, I step aside and allowed her to pass.

We set out on a westward heading, Loté instinctively hunting out the easiest trail. Wary and Brae, unknowing of our little secret, assumed that she was leading simply because of her natural ability to break trail. When the terrain allowed it, we walked abreast in pairs, Loté and Brae in the lead, Wary and I bringing up the rear.

Unfortunately, the dense jungle growth isn't very conducive to this. Instead, we spend most of our time either pushing aside leafy fronds, or being slapped in the face by them. When we aren't busy with the fronds, it is all we can do just to keep our eyes on the back of the person directly ahead of us. Of course, since we are all experienced jungle travelers, and can feel the natural westward pull, there isn't much threat of being separated or lost. However, I am enjoying the view from behind immensely, and Wary isn't complaining either.

Overall, the going isn't too bad. We are constantly assailed by the familiar, yet temporarily forgotten, smells and sounds of the jungle. Little critters are constantly on the move, looking for both food, and striving to remain ahead of the sunrise. Occasionally, we even hear the sound of larger predators, some, not surprisingly, stalking us. Although we are safer together than if we had been traveling alone, we are still in constant danger of being attacked. Many of the jungle's predators demonstrate no fear of humans, regarding us as nothing more than a troublesome source of food.

Our largest danger comes not from the creatures that desire to eat us, but instead, from the many roving bands of bandits and murderers that slink stealthily beneath the jungle's canopy. These tribes are comprised of men that enjoy the hunting of other men. They prefer stealing their food and supplies, and even women, from the less fortunate and more trusting of their brethren. Unfortunately, many of their female prisoners are kept only for pleasurable uses. When they grow tired of them, they might keep them around as chattel, or delegate them to camp slaves. But even more frequently, they will casually abandon them to the perils of the jungle, where their lives end tragically from animal attack, or the rising sun. Many times more dangerous than anything the jungle can conjure up naturally, these bands of rogues kill and torture their male captives for the sheer pleasure of it.

At the moment, though, roving bands of thieves and murderers were the furthest thing from my mind. The pure joy of being back on the surface was more than enough to occupy my thoughts. It was like a learning experience, reacquainting ourselves with everything that we had formerly taken for granted.

Strung out in single file, with Loté in the lead and me bringing up the rear, we had barely covered twenty-five miles, when she suddenly veered off the narrow game trail that she'd been following. Turning at a right angle and heading due north, we abruptly came out on the bank of a small, still pool of water.

In an excited frenzy, Loté and Brae shed their weapons, drop their respective packs at the water's edge, and amidst a cacophony chorus of screaming and yelling, dash headlong into the warm embrace of the tepid liquid. The silence of the jungle is immediately shattered by their shrieks and giggles. Unable to resist the temptation, Wary hurriedly shrugs out of his own gear and dives in behind them.

Loté is the first to surface. Turning back toward the bank, she calls coyly to me, urging me to join them. Although I am certain that it is safe, I can't shake the feeling that I should stand guard.

"Enjoy!" I called back to her, stoically resisting the temptation, while simultaneously warmed by the joy on her face. "I'll just wait until someone comes out."

"It's all right, Rod," she pleads, sounding slightly exasperated by my reluctance to let down my guard. "There isn't anything within miles that can possibly harm us!"

She is right, and I know it. Yet, I cannot shake the feeling of paranoia. Could it be something as simple as having forgotten how to relax? On the other hand, were there real dangers lurking just out of sight; dangers that I couldn't see with my eyes, only my sixth sense? From having spent so much time in the dark, sensory-deprived tunnels of the subsurface, my sixth sense had grown more acute, compensating for my other senses; now, it demanded my full attention and wouldn't be ignored!

"Come on Rod," coaxed Wary. "She's right, you know, there isn't anything within miles of us."

Taking a last look upward, and not seeing anything but the jungle canopy, I slowly cave in to their demands. There isn't anything lurking up there, and there isn't anything lurking just beyond the dense foliage surrounding us.

After removing my pack and laying it on the soft green, moss-covered bank atop the others, I hesitantly untie the cords that hold my sheath snuggly to my waist. Before I finish with the knot, however, I suddenly think better of it. Because of the naturally high humidity in the subterranean tunnels, I had developed the habit of keeping the leather well greased. It would easily repel the pond water and protect the vulnerable metal of the blade from rust and oxidation. Despite what the others might think of my sudden attack of paranoia, I determined to keep the weapon with me.

With a whoop, I dove out over the water, landing almost near the center of the pool. The warm, clear liquid rushes over my body, rinsing away the sweat and accumulated grime. Along with the filth, goes the last of my doubts and worries. Much to my surprise, I am overcome with a profound feeling of optimism. Suddenly, I everything seems possible, even finding Loté's parents.

Skidding along the soft, mushy bottom, I plant my feet in the murk, and push myself skyward, breaking out of the water with a whooping cry of joy. Even before I sink back to my feet, Loté and the others start playfully splashing water over me. Splashing back, the playing soon turns into a free-for-all.

Moving slowly through the chest-deep water while taking advantage of all the excitement, I sneak up behind Loté, and grab her around the waist. Before she can react, I lift her high above my head and throw her through the air. The sound of my laughter echoes back from the dense green foliage surrounding the pond, as I watch her land face-first in the roiled water, her screams of feigned anger are abruptly cut off, as the water closes over her head.

Almost immediately, I feel hands grabbing me around the thighs and thrusting me upwards. In a proud display of lissome strength, she circled back beneath the surface, coming up behind me and lifting me up high, clear of the water. Reaching the apex of her thrust, I simultaneously reached the pinnacle of my balance, and began the downward descent, headfirst. Adding to my forward momentum, she tilts me further in the direction that I am falling, driving me face-first into the murk.

I no sooner hit the water, than I scramble wildly to get my feet under me. In an effort to thwart me, she dives in behind me and grabs my ankles. Using her strong arms and grip to full advantage, she lifts upward, easily keeping me off balance. Trying desperately to keep my head above my own wake, I splash and paw frantically at the water. Then, in a move of grace and finesse, she slips her hands up my calves and draws me nearer to her. Within moments, she's manipulated her hands until they're around my waist, allowing my feet to settle back to the bottom, while holding me upright.

Wrapping my arms around her, we meld into each other's embrace, our feet sinking into the muddy bottom. I suddenly want her more than I've ever wanted anything before.

Sliding my hands into the small of her back, I pull her savagely against me, feeling the firmness of her breasts and the hardness of her nipples against my bare chest. My passion is flaring hotly and she is responding equally, the warmth of the water having washed our inhibitions away.

With the intensity of a bolt of lightening, I hear more than feel the rap of something strike against the back of my head. In a haze, I hear Loté screaming, while someone else is frantically shouting. It's Wary, I think, but I can't be sure. Though I'm trying to understand what's being said, I can't comprehend the words. Everything is fading, growing fuzzier and unfocused, while the strength abandons my limbs.

Slipping out of Loté's grasp, I feel my head slip beneath the surface of the water, instantly reawakening my dazed senses. Despite a tremendous pain in the depths of my skull, I can think clearly.

Though I'm desperately in need of air, I realize the folly of bursting back to the surface; I must use the ruse of unconsciousness to my full advantage, at least until I can assess the situation. In the muck of the bottom, my hands come across first a foot and then a leg. It's Loté's, and I give her a sharp pinch before pushing off and swimming away beneath the concealment of the murky water.

Nearing the bank, I draw my knife and plant my feet in the soft bottom, praying that they don't slip and thwart my efforts. With an upward surge, I launch myself skyward. Even before I break through the surface, I'm aware that I will have to rely on my instincts and quick reflexes to judge the situation and react accordingly. But this knowledge doesn't cause me any hesitation; my friends are in danger, and nothing will stop me from protecting them.

In an upward rush of water and splashing wake, I break through the surface, my eyes open and scanning; I am but a few scant feet from where our packs lay undisturbed. Tensed and ready, I fail to find a foe with which to do battle. Instead, the only thing that I see of note is a small, naked boy, standing innocently beside our supplies. He is holding what appear to be two long strings with a small pouch on the end. I recognize the weapon immediately as a sling. In the hands of an experienced wielder, it can be a deadly instrument.

When he sees me exploding out of the water directly in front of him, he takes an involuntary step backwards, tripping over his feet and almost losing his balance. Though he is startled and surprised, his actions put him just beyond my reach.

Hoping to use the element of surprise to my favor, and grab him before he can sling another projectile at me, I lunge forward, only to come up short, as my feet remain stuck in the gooey quagmire. Before I can break loose, he has regained his balance and is twirling the pouch about his head, readying to let loose with another projectile. If his aim is steady, he will brain me easily at this short distance.

There is nowhere for me to go but down. Yet, even before I can start to crouch, I see him slipping on the wet moss and losing his balance again. My sudden appearance so close to him had left him rattled. In his panic and haste, he hadn't fully regained his composure, and the pouch containing the dangerous projectile strikes harmlessly against the moss-covered bank at his feet.

With a loud sucking sound, my feet lurch free of the muck. I am moving forward, quickly closing the distance between us. The look of fear and panic looms in his eyes as he sees me coming. Despite his cat-like reflexes, I am on him before he can plant his feet. Futilely, he scrambles and claws against the moss, trying to break my hold so that he can scurry away, back into the jungle where he came from. To his dismay, however, I am much larger and heavier than he, and easily pin him to the ground.

Realizing that he can't move, and there is no hope of escape, his body goes limp. Meeting his gaze, I am confronted with only defiance, and maybe a small amount of shame and humility at having been captured.

Fixing him with my most menacing look, I hold him tightly while studying his features. And yet, he shows no sign of fear. If he is intimidated by me, he keeps it well hidden.

I hear the others behind me, as they come splashing toward the bank. Even before they manage to clamor out of the water, the questions are forthcoming.

"Who is he?" Wary asks, stepping up beside me and wrenching the sling from the boy's reluctant grasp.

"I don't know any more than you do," I reply, my vision blurring from the pain in the back of my head.

Loté suddenly gasps and cries out "Oh Rod, you're bleeding!"

Reaching behind my head and touching the spot where the pain is radiating from, I feel something that is both thicker and slicker than mere water. Though my hair is still wet, the substance is already congealing. The looks of alarm on Loté and Brae's faces confirm that it isn't just mud from the pond.

"Does it look serious?" I casually ask of her, trying not to sound concerned.

She reaches up and softly probes the back of my head. Gently, she presses her fingers against the wound, both to gauge its depth, and to verify that it hasn't fractured my skull.

"It doesn't look that bad, but I'll put some of Keazar's salve on it anyway," she says, moving past me to the pile of supplies.

Keazar's salve was next to a miracle cure for just about anything and usually healed everything short of death itself. While Loté selected the right pack and began rummaging through it for the salve, I turned my attention back to the boy glaring up at me. I still had my weight centered on his small chest, holding him securely to the ground, and he wasn't caring much for it.

"Who are you and where did you come from?" I sternly request of him, feigning more anger than I am actually feeling, though my head is hurting like Hell.

Instead of replying to my question, he turns his gaze toward Loté, openly admiring her beauty, and simultaneously defying me. Loté, sensing his attention, smiled back at him. Much to my surprise, he immediately returned her smile with one of his own.

"Don't look at her, look at me!" I yell down at him, suddenly angered by his lack of respect toward me. Pressing down on his chest until he is struggling to breathe, I demand again, "Tell us, boy, what's your name?"

"Go easy on him, Rod, he's only a child," intervenes Wary, putting a hand on my shoulder to steady me, before I do something rash and regrettable.

Although I am sure that Wary knows me well enough to know that I wouldn't intentionally hurt the boy, the boy doesn't. For just a fraction of a second, I am certain that I see a flicker of fear flash across his eyes. Then, just as quickly, it is gone.

"He's just a baby," Brae adds sympathetically.

"He may be just a baby, but he's a dangerous baby!" I argue, my gaze not wavering from him.

"What's your name, little guy?" Brae tenderly questions him. When he doesn't acknowledge her immediately, she adds, "We won't hurt you."

"Why don't you take your foot off his chest so he can breathe?" Loté suddenly demands, as she approaches with the salve. Instantly, I am aware that she has tied her sheath back on. In her free hand, she is also carrying Brae and Wary's long-knives. "And put your knife away, he's not going to hurt anyone."

Sheepishly, I put my knife back in its sheath, suddenly feeling foolish for my overt behavior. Here I am, a grown man in his prime, standing over a small boy, his thin, frail body firmly pinned beneath my foot, and I am brandishing a weapon as if I fear for my life.

"Okay, kid, tell us where you came from, and more importantly, if there is anyone else with you?" I ask gruffly of him, my pride feeling bruised.

Instead of answering, he springs to his feet. Wary, assuring that he won't bolt into the jungle and escape, quickly grabs him by the shoulders, holding him firmly, but gently. Although a word hadn't passed between us, we both know that he is being careful not to draw the wrath of the women. Where children are concerned, men are always at the disadvantage.

"My name is Tye," he says defiantly, meeting my gaze.

"That's a start, Tye," I respond appreciatively. "Can you tell us if you're alone, or how far to where your tribe is camped?"

"I have no tribe. I don't need anyone else!" he fires back, the defiance in his voice and demeanor swelling proportionately to the fear that he is trying so desperately to hide.

"No one is going to hurt you, Tye," Brae quickly interjects, her motherly instincts reaching out to him.

Meanwhile, Loté has moved around behind me and is carefully rubbing the salve over the gash in the back of my head. Almost immediately, the pain begins to subside.

"Do you want me to wrap it?" she asks softly, finishing with the salve.

"No, thanks, it feels better already," I reply, grateful for her concern. "So, Tye," I start, turning my attention back to the boy. "You say that you are alone, so how did you end up so far from your tribe?"

"There is no tribe for Tye," he whispers fearfully. And then, as tears suddenly appear from the corners of his eyes, he softly adds, "Anymore."

"What do you mean by that, Tye?" asks Brae, her motherly concern coming through in the tone of her voice and drawing Tye's attention.

With tears running openly down his cheeks, he cries, "They're all dead."

Softly, his tears and sadness affecting even me, I press him to explain. "What do you mean when you say that they're all dead? I'm afraid we don't understand."

"I was hunting in the jungle when men with bows and long-knives attacked our camp," he started, trying hard to fight back the welling tears. "I wasn't afraid, really," he suddenly protested, though no one was saying otherwise. He was only a child, after all.

When he realized that no one was accusing him of being afraid, he slowly continued, the tears now prominent on his cheeks. "I stayed hidden, waiting until they left. For three days, I waited," he said proudly. And then, quickly adding, "Since I didn't have any water with me, I chewed on the damp moss and licked the dew from the glossy leaves, just like my father taught me." He paused a moment, the tears subsiding while he remembered his father. "When they left, I returned to camp, but everyone was dead. The men with bows and long-knives had taken all the food and water, so I followed them into the jungle." He hesitated, his eyes focusing on the ground at his feet. "But I got lost." He was clearly embarrassed over this last fact, yet it showed what a strong character he had by being able to admit to it so readily.

"It's easy to get lost in the jungle when you aren't traveling due west," I said conspiratorially. We were far enough ahead of the sunrise that there wasn't any dire need to maintain a due-west heading. However, almost all the tribes stayed close to the equator where it was cooler and heavier trafficked. To stray into the northern or southern hemispheres meant more exposure to the sun's heat, since it permeated over the poles. If this band of rogues were heading into one of the hemispheres, they clearly had another destination in mind; something more than just keeping pace with or staying ahead of the rising sun.

"Do you know what their direction was before you lost them?" I asked, trying not to sound debasing.

"I'm not sure," he replied, looking confused by my question.

"Which way did you come from? Can you point that way for us?" asked Brae softly.

"From that way," he quickly obliged, pointing toward the south.

"They're traveling northward," said Wary apprehensively. "So what do you think could possibly be up north that it would draw them away from the equatorial trail?"

"Nothing comes to mind. Unless they went north to avoid the heavy traffic on the trail, there must be something more," I replied, thinking aloud to myself. "Maybe we should go north and see."

"No!" Brae erupted defiantly, her concern evident in her face. "My tribe has always traveled along the equatorial route. If we go northward now, I might never find them." She paused for a moment to catch her breath. When she started again, everyone could see her nervous anxiety and hear the quiver of fear in her voice. "We might pass them and never know it!"

She was going to argue her point, of that I was certain. Nevertheless, I was just as certain that I was going north.

"She's right, Rod," interjected Loté on her behalf. "Not only do we run the risk of missing her tribe all together, we drastically reduce the chances of finding my parents." Then, after a moment's hesitation, she added in a subdued tone of voice, "Or, at the least, learning of their whereabouts."

It did me good to realize that she had accepted the dire possibility that her parents were long dead and that the best we could hope for was information regarding their demise. Raising my hands defensively, I pleaded, "Please, don't misunderstand me, I was only thinking out loud. What's more important is figuring out what we're going to do with him," I said, indicating the boy. When everyone's gaze shifted toward the boy, I casually asked of him, "Why did you attack us?"

"I thought you were with the men that attacked my tribe," he said rather impudently.

"For clarities sake, let's refer to those men as bandits. Is that okay? Can you tell us how long ago it was, or how far back you were, when you got lost?" I asked, hoping to learn how far ahead of us they might be now.

"We'll take him," Brae suddenly blurted, interrupting me and drawing everyone's attention by her outburst.

"What are you talking about?" asked Wary, perplexed by her sudden outburst.

"Yes. What are you talking about?" I pressed her, my confusion on a level with Wary's own.

"He can go with us. Wary and me," she said defensively, her voice tinged with an underlying excitement. "When we return to my tribe, he can live with us. We'll take care of him. Treat him like our own."

"I think we need to discuss this as a group before we make any rash decisions," I quickly suggested, not sure that I cared much for the direction this was taking.

"Please, Wary," she pleaded, looking longingly at the boy while pulling on Wary's arm. "He won't be any trouble. He's just a small child. And surely, we can't just leave him here."

Although he wasn't sure that he was ready to be saddled with the responsibility of parenthood, he was finding it even harder to refuse her.

"She has a point, Rod. We can't just leave him here to fend for himself. You only have to look at him to see that he's half-starved already. We'll look after him, see to his needs and upbringing," Wary begrudgingly argued on Brae's behalf.

"If Loté doesn't object, I won't," I said, sounding defeated.

"I think it's a wonderful idea!" she cried out excitedly, hugging Brae to her bosom and sharing in her joy as if she were a new mother.

"Then it's settled?" asked Wary, searching my face and looking for my blessing.

"Don't ask me. Ask him," I replied, indicating the boy.

Brae immediately got down on her knees and put her face level with his. "What do you think? Do you want to come and live with us?" she tenderly asked, taking his hands in her own.

Looking suspiciously back and forth between her and Wary, he slowly weighed the alternatives in his mind before nodding his head in acknowledgement. Although he was a proud little boy, he was wise enough to know that he still needed an adult's assistance in order to survive. Beyond that, what he was thinking was anyone's guess.

"Ask him how long it's been since he lost the bandit's trail, will you, Brae?"

Two day's time," the boy quickly replied of his own accord.

"And they were definitely going in that direction?" I asked, pointing toward the north.

He quickly nodded in acknowledgement.

"That's enough questioning, for now," cut in Brae protectively, pulling the boy into her bosom. "He hasn't had anything to eat in days. I'll feed him now. When he's rested, you can ask him the rest of your questions."

"Sure," I softly agreed. Turning, I threw Loté a wink, as Brae took the boy's hand and led him to a spot on the bank near the packs. "Why don't we all eat and get some rest," I further suggested.

While Loté and Brae sorted through the packs, Wary and I moved farther back from the bank, until we were just within the cover of the jungle.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" I casually asked of him, determined that I wouldn't sound demeaning.

"Did you see the look on Brae's face, and the glow in her eyes? I've never seen her so happy, Rod. How could I not be equally happy? Can you tell me that?"

"Then, I am glad for you. For both of you!" I quickly amended, shaking his hand.

"That's not why you wanted to talk to me alone, though, is it? You weren't just thinking aloud when you mentioned tracking down the bandits that raided his tribe's camp, were you? You seriously intend to track them down. I saw it in your eyes the moment the boy mentioned them. Would you mind telling me why? And what will you do if we catch up to them, kill them all?"

"In all honesty, I don't know," I replied, unable to keep the sound of defeat from my voice. "If it weren't for the promise that I've made to Loté, I'd track them down and serve up justice in a style that only they could understand!"

"But you made a promise, just the same as I made one to Brae. Until we find her tribe and Loté's parents, we are bound to those vows, no matter what other temptations or desires crop up in the meantime!"

"Yes, I know. Yet that doesn't make the desire any less," I hesitantly agreed. "And it's not easy, just going about one's business as if nothing has happened. They should be hunted down and punished for their crimes!"

"Yes, they should. But it's not our job, Rod! Maybe someday, when we've fulfilled our other obligations, we can pursue those men, or others that are equally evil. But until then, we need to concentrate on the charges at hand."

Speaking as though I hadn't heard a word he said, I replied, "I don't want this to be misunderstood, Wary, but I think we ought to detour northward before continuing west."

"But that doesn't make any sense, Rod! If we do that, we'll be moving away from the more populated route, substantially decreasing our chances of finding either Brae's tribe, or information concerning Loté's parents!" he replied exasperatedly. "In addition," he went on when I didn't immediately respond, "Not only will it be unbearably hotter, dryer, and the food scarcer, but the lack of humidity will be atrocious!"

"It was only a suggestion, Wary. All I'm asking is that you give it some thought."

"I've given it all the thought and consideration that I need to, Rod," he replied, his voice suddenly calm. "If you want to parallel the main route along a more northern one, then I guess that I'm with you. You've been my friend for a long time now, several life-times, as a matter-of-fact," he added with a chuckle. "You've never led us astray yet, why would you now?"

Although he was acquiescing to me, I could still hear the reservation in his voice. Nevertheless, because of my self-serving nature, I hastily chose to ignore it.

"Your trust in me is touching, Wary. I really mean that. Having a friend like you makes everything else seem insignificant."

"We still have to convince the women. But if you want to travel northward before resuming westward, that's good enough for me."

"Congratulations again on becoming a father."

"Thanks Rod. Now, shall we rejoin the others and get something to eat before breaking our plan to them?" he asked with a smirk, knowing full well that it wouldn't be an easy task convincing Loté and Brae of our decision to make a detour.

Wary and I sat silently eating cheese, bread, and dried meats, while the women doted over the boy. It was strange, watching them, especially since we hadn't seen anyone that wasn't in the prime of their life, age wise or physically, since entering the subsurface. The boy represented much more to us than just serving as a simple reminder of the fertile, virile people that we had once been; he re-instilled us with optimism toward the future; a reason for wanting to make this world a safer, more humane place to live. He represented everything that we'd been fighting for, and now had the opportunity to achieve.

The boy, Tye, wasn't more than ten year's old, yet he carried himself with a maturity that went beyond his tender age. I couldn't help but wonder if he had always been this way, or if watching your family and friends being slaughtered might have something to do with it. In either case, he was holding up very well, everything considered. With the right guidance, he would grow into a man worth knowing, a son to be proud of. In a small way, I discovered that I envied Wary and Brae.

"We'll rest here a while and give the water a chance to settle out before we refill the flagons," I said casually, leaning back against a soft, moss-covered rock and closing my eyes.

The rest period was for Tye's benefit, not ours. But I also needed more time to think. Although I was feeling confident that Loté would see things my way, once I finished explaining my reasoning, I wasn't so sure of Brae. Now that she had Tye to worry about and mother, she would be even more anxious to be reunited with her family.

Lying on the rock with my eyes closed, feigning sleep so that I wouldn't be disturbed, I found some solace in the fact that Wary had already agreed to my change of plans. I had to wonder if he would have agreed so readily if he felt strongly that Brae couldn't be swayed likewise.

Raising my eyelid just enough to catch a quick glimpse of the others, I noticed that Wary had joined the women in playing with Tye. It suddenly occurred to me that if the boy wasn't getting any rest, why were we wasting time here.

Rising up on an elbow, I leaned over toward the others and said, "If I can have your attention for a minute, there's something that I'd like to discuss before we start out."

Wary, after throwing me a knowing glance, moved over and put himself beside Brae and Tye. Loté meanwhile, stepped around the packs and positioned herself on the moss beside me. The time had come to lay my plan on the table and make my intentions known.

"Although I am well aware that none of you are feeling inclined to alter our original plans, a few things have changed since we started out. Before I go any further, however, I should probably make it clear that I don't find it selfish on your part if you disagree with what I am about to suggest." I hesitated for a moment, running the sequence of my words through my mind and making sure that I was keeping them in the right order before starting. "However, before we continue any farther, we need to take another look at the whole picture once again. We need to reassess our original plans and what changes might be in order due to the changes that we've encountered. Running into Tye here has reminded me of why we fought the battles down below that we did. It wasn't just a matter of our survival that we fought as hard as we did, persevering when others would have given up. We fought as hard as we did because we were fighting for the sake and betterment of all mankind. We were fighting to stamp out tyranny and slavery. And part of the reason we are on the surface now is to spread the word about the gates, letting people know that there is a sanctuary for them, instead of just agony and eventual death.

"Yet, most importantly, we are here to carry on the righteous campaign that we started in the subsurface. And in order to do that, we have an obligation to fight persecution of the innocent wherever we find it. If you don't agree with me when I say that to continue forward in ignorance is to go against everything we've fought for, you must at least agree with me in principle. To ignore what has happened to this boy's family and tribe is to continue forward in ignorance. By doing so, aren't we saying, in essence, that we approve of their behavior? By doing so, aren't we condoning the misconduct of the rogues? Aren't we, in truth, allowing all bandits to do as they please without fear of repercussions?

"Well, I for one cannot sit idly by while such behavior continues. For the sake of this boy and his future, we have to take action!"

"Well said, my friend," applauded Wary. "I couldn't agree with you more. If we continue due west now, despite knowing what we do, we are just as guilty as they."

Brae, staring first at me, and then at Wary, couldn't believe what she was hearing. Loté, on the other hand, knew exactly what was going on, and why. Would she take Brae's side simply out of a feeling of pity for her, because Wary had already aligned himself with me, or would she argue on her own behalf?

"Rod's right, Brae," Loté softly concurred, although hesitantly, not quite convinced that she really wanted to continue. "If we continue forward with our original plans to find our families, and simply pretend that we don't know what happened to Tye's tribe, we will be selfishly deceiving ourselves. We owe it to ourselves, if not the rest of the human population that inhabits this god-forsaken planet, to seek justice for the terrible cruelty inflicted upon Tye and his fellow tribe members. We owe it to Tye! And we owe it to his tribe! We wouldn't expect anything less, if the situation were reversed!"

Her words were shocking to me, and yet, I should have expected them. After all, this was the woman that I loved. She wasn't doing anything more than showing me once again why I loved her so deeply.

"You know what this might mean with regards to the search for your parents, Loté." I gently probed. "Although we will still be paralleling the equator, we will be away from the main route. In addition, we'll have to endure higher temperatures with less humidity. Even more important, we will encounter fewer people, possibly none; you must understand what that means with regard to our chances of finding information regarding their whereabouts."

"Yes, I realize all of that. Nonetheless, compared to the conditions that we had to tolerate in the tunnels, not to mention the time that we lost since being separated from my parents, it seems like a small concession compared to what is at stake," she said sincerely.

"No!" Brae suddenly cried out, her eyes belying the panic within, as she stared at Wary, waiting, begging him to come to her aid. "We can't! We simply can't. Please, Wary, talk to them; make them understand!" she desperately pleaded.

Tye, sensing her distress, slipped his hand into hers, his sad eyes searching her face. In the gray light of the moon, his features looked almost angelic. Brae, upon returning his gaze and seeing the need there for her to be strong, immediately pulled herself together. If she couldn't be strong for herself, then she had to be for him.

Drying the tears from her face and eyes with the backs of her hands, she cleared her throat and asked of Tye, "What would you have us do, Tye?"

Without hesitation, his gaze unwavering from her, he said, "They took my friends and relatives with them. They killed my parents, and they killed the old, the feeble."

Cutting him off before he could say anymore, she blurted, "You're right. You're all right. It was very selfish of me to think that the only thing that matters is finding my family."

"We'll still find them, Brae," said Wary gently, moving to her and drawing her into his arms. "It will just take a little longer."

"I know, I know," she stuttered.

Then, without any provocation, the boy wrapped his arms around their legs. Wary and Brae returned the gesture by dropping their respective hands to his back and pulling him tightly into their embrace. Touched, Loté moved over and took my hand in hers.

Meeting my gaze, she quietly asked, "We are doing what needs to be done, aren't we?"

"I don't believe that I could feel so strongly about something if it wasn't what needed doing," I emphatically replied, trying hard to dispel her remaining doubts, as well as my own.

### **2**

Because of his lack of sleep and the amount of food that he had eaten, Tye fell asleep almost immediately in the comforting embrace of Wary's strong arms. Soon after the water in the pond had settled out and cleared, we refilled our flagons and started out after the rogues that had attacked and ravaged Tye's tribe. Taking the lead, while leaving Brae to bring up the rear behind Wary and Tye, I was struck by the subtle change in the foliage as we headed due north. I had noticed this subtle difference many times before when flying above the jungle canopy. Yet, while I had been born and raised on the surface, I had never ventured far enough from the equatorial trail to see it firsthand.

It wasn't so much a change in the variety of plants that we encountered just miles north of the equatorial trail, but more a change in the plant's growth habits. The plant varieties that we will encounter once we reach deeper into the warmer and drier reaches of the planetary poles will change dramatically from the dense lush green that is so prevalent along the equator. For now, it was surprise enough just noting the different growth habit. When we were near the equator, traveling due west, the going was relatively easy. Whether this was from all the former tribes that had passed before us or not, I couldn't say for sure. But when we veered off from our due west route, we also veered off from any sign of trails, animal or human. Instead of beating and hacking our way through stands of young shoots and immature growth, we were constantly weaving back and forth between full-grown trees. Consequently, we were adding many extra miles, and many extra hours, to our journey, to cover the same distance.

Fortunately, I didn't intend on traveling that far to the north before changing our course back toward the west. Rogue tribes of bandits, as a rule, were not accustomed to hard work or discomfort. They wouldn't reside where the temperature was very inhospitable unless they had a good reason to. It was because of this unknown reason that we were going northward. I was harboring a very selfish need to know what was enticing them northward!

Tye awoke and squirmed loose of Wary's arms. From being rested and fed, he was overflowing with newfound energy. While the rest of us trod along, zigzagging several steps to the east or west for every foot that we advanced toward the north, Tye bounded ahead, only to sneak up on us from behind. It was impossible to keep track of him. He was running circles around us, while it was all we could do to continue in our generalized direction.

Watching him move through the mazes of trees and thigh-thick saplings, I suddenly realized that there was a method to his wildness. He wasn't just running off excess energy, he'd learned how to move against the grain of growth without wasting steps!

With my interest piqued, I continued to study him. Within a short time, I figured it out. To my chagrin and dismay, we had wasted valuable time and energy thanks to our inexperience.

"Wary," I said, indicating toward Tye just before he disappeared into the next grove of trees.

"That kid has too much energy," he chuckled, misunderstanding my intention.

"Hold up a minute," I said loud enough for all to hear. When everyone had stopped and was looking questioningly in my direction, I said, "Watch the boy when he returns. And take note of where he is when you first see him, and how he works his way to us from that point in."

"I don't understand," said Wary, concern etching into the corners of his mouth. "Is there something wrong him?"

"Quite the contrary. I want you to watch him so that you can learn something."

Within a moment, we caught a glimpse of Tye as he tried sneaking up on our flank, a trick that he found humorous despite the repetitions. When he saw us watching him, he suddenly froze, his face taking on a look of fear.

"It's okay, Tye," Brae quickly assured him, coaxing him to her.

"Did you see how he moved through the trees?" I asked.

Loté spoke first. There was no hiding the awe and admiration in her voice when she simply replied, "Yes, I did."

Following Tye's lead, we increased our speed threefold, while exerting much less energy in the process. Moreover, if what Tye told us was accurate, we would be overtaking the rogue murderers in less than three days. What we were going to do when we did finally catch up to them, I had no idea. They were burdened with stolen goods and prisoners, according to Tye. When we catch up to them, we might be able to use that to our advantage, somehow. If we can separate the prisoners from their captors, we might be able to reduce the odds.

But I was getting ahead of myself. Until we catch up to them and can survey the situation and terrain, whatever we do, all I can promise is that they won't go unpunished. Of that much, I am determined.

Moving at a rate of thirty miles per day, instead of the ten that we'd been making prior, I guesstimated that we had traveled approximately thirty-plus miles since leaving the equatorial trail. I still couldn't get over what a difference the topography of the jungle presented when we veered away from a true westerly course. Flying over it for so many years and even having grown up in it as a child, I had never realized this before. Of course, in all my life, I never had cause to travel more than a mile or two in any other direction but due west. The jungle supplied ample game and provisions all along the equatorial trail; there simply wasn't any need to stray from it. When visiting neighboring tribes, we would hurry to overtake them, or wait for them that were traveling behind us, to overtake us.

Not having thought of this previously, we hadn't had the foresight to guide Keazar in his placement of the gates that would lead from the subsurface to the surface. Thinking back on it, I suddenly realized that it had never occurred to anyone that surface dwellers wouldn't travel along any other route except the equator. However, Keazar wasn't a surface dweller, and thus, he wouldn't be aware of that. It would be a shame if he went to all the trouble of setting up gates, only to discover that he had positioned them where no one would think of looking for them.

Of course, Keazar was centuries old, despite his youthful appearance. He was also a very wise man, and it was an injustice to his intelligence to suspect that he would place the gates so haphazardly. The placing of the gateways was much too big of an event for him not to research all of the best locations for their placement, and Keazar knew this better than anyone. For hundreds of years, he'd kept the subsurface virtually unknown from the common surface dweller. While concurrently, he was carrying on a brisk trade with the wealthies, an upper class of privileged rulers. He didn't accomplish this by sheer luck; he did it by knowing where the masses traveled. And he would undoubtedly implement that knowledge in determining the best places to locate the gates.

The change in terrain had thrown me for a loop, setting my nerves on edge and causing me to worry about nothing. At the end of the first day, despite having made good time, we were all bone-weary and hungry. After eating a hasty meal of dried meat and cheese washed down with tepid water, we agreed on what order we would stand sentry before searching out comfortable places to sleep. Everyone was looking forward to an undisturbed sleep and catching up on their rest. Already, the increasing temperatures were sapping our strength, and we'd barely distanced ourselves from the equator. We had gained on the rogues. However, thanks to Tye and our present pace, we would be overtaking them in no time.

Brae was the only one to decline rest, and agreed to the first watch. Even Wary, whom I expected to sit up with her and keep her company for a while, found a comfortable spot and quickly dozed off.

Waking two hours later, I relieved Brae of her duties and settled down in her place. Without a word, she groggily crawled over to where Wary and Tye were sleeping soundly, and snuggled in next to them. She was asleep before her head met the soft cushioning of the thick, green moss. Staring after her, I couldn't help but think of what a fine family they made. Although I was envious of them, I was equally glad for them. Maybe by the time we returned to the subsurface, Keazar would have discovered a way to reverse the sterilizing effect brought on during the recycling process. He was a brilliant man, after all, and if anyone could do it, he could. It was through his efforts that recycling had progressed to what it was today.

In the past, whole bodies were required in order to restore someone to their prime. Now it was possible to restore bodies to their prior vigor using just enough tissue to supply a complete DNA chain. In addition, where it used to require months, sometimes even years completing a body in the incubator, it now took mere days to accomplish the same task. Moreover, if someone was simply suffering from a mild wound or the effects of old age, it was possible to regenerate them within a matter of hours.

Although Loté didn't say anything directly, I could tell that she was envious of Brae's newfound happiness in Tye. Even before the boy came along, Loté had desired a child of her own. Seeing the joyous change in Brae and Wary only intensified that existing desire. Unfortunately, there wasn't anything that I could do to alleviate her ache; men came out of the incubators equally sterile.

In less than two hours, Wary would be relieving me. When his watch was up, we would continue our journey northward. Already, the foliage was changing, and this time, it was more than just growth habits. The actual plant life was becoming sharper edged, while less restricting to travel. The thicker, more formidable trees, were giving way to a wispier, lower growing fauna. These latter were easily pushed aside, so long as one was careful not to slice oneself, and no longer required us to maneuver through the standing growth.

With nothing better to do for the next two hours, I put my thoughts to the near future. More specifically, I debated how much farther north we should travel before turning once again toward the west. Already, the temperature had climbed noticeably, and we hadn't seen any water since leaving the main trail. Another day's travel would surely bring us to the fringe of hospitability with regard to the climate. Even as a pilot for the Heälf Air Service, this was the farthest I'd ever traveled from the equatorial trail; there'd never been any reason to go farther.

So, if Tye was telling the truth, and at this time, there wasn't any reason to doubt him, what was the motivation behind the bandits, to entice them this far north?

With luck, tomorrow we would find the answer to that question. However, tomorrow, regardless of the trail left by the rogues, we would turn due west again. Why I suddenly decided this course of action, I had no idea. Yet, it seemed like the right thing to do.

By the time we turn westward again, we'll be approximately seventy-five miles from the equator. At that point, we'll stay on a route parallel to the equator until we find the answers that I'm seeking, or until the climate or terrain forces us back to the south. Somehow, though I'm not sure how I know this either, I know the answers won't be long in coming.

Loté stirred, drawing my attention away from the journey ahead of us and back to the here and now. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked over at me, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth. Groggily, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

Smiling back, I whispered softly so as not to disturb the others, "How did you sleep, my love?"

Stretching and yawning, she rolled up into a sitting position, and mumbled, "Wonderful." Standing to her full height, she stretched luxuriously before reaching down and retrieving a flagon from the loose pile of supplies. After sluicing a mouthful of water, she asked, "How much longer before we get started?"

"I'll take some of that," I said, referring to the water. "I'd planned to wake the others in a few minutes. Do you want to prepare food for everyone, so we can eat before we start out?"

"Sure, why not?" she haughtily replied, clearly peeved by my suggestion. She viewed herself as a warrior first and foremost. For me to request womanly chores of her was bordering on an insult. "First, though, I'm going to take a quick stroll, if you get my meaning."

Without waiting for a response, she turned to the west and worked her way through the thinning jungle vegetation. Due to the lower growing foliage, she was forced to go a far piece before feeling concealed enough to take care of her personal business. In addition, because of the increasing temperature, at some point during yesterday's travel, the jungle canopy had all but disappeared from above our heads. The open sky was reminiscent of the times spent soaring above the jungle canopy for the Heälf Air Service. Judging from the expression on Wary's face, I knew he shared this feeling with me. However, Loté and Brae, never having flown, were in complete awe of the openness, while Tye, on the other hand, was almost indifferent to it; for the second time in less than two days, I studied the boy in a new light.

Sensing Loté's agitation at being put upon, I decided to surprise her by laying out the food before she returned. Grabbing the largest pack, I was busily rummaging out different things to eat, when she suddenly came charging through the wispy growth.

Throwing herself down beside me, she breathlessly exhaled, "We've found them!"

Suspecting immediately what she meant, I was almost afraid to let myself believe it. If they were that close, why couldn't we see them? Unlike the jungle nearer the equator, the vegetative growth this far north was much sparser, almost bordering on open tundra. In addition, nowhere on the planet did the geology take form as anything other than a rough, rocky surface, and the north was no exception. There were no hills, just occasional shallow valleys; there was nothing to hinder our view. The only variations to the planet's otherwise smooth surface were the many different-sized pockmarks; nothing more than depressions left by escaping gas bubbles before the surface re-cooled and re-hardened.

"How do you know, did you hear them?" I demanded, not believing she could have seen them in her short jaunt away from our camp.

"No! I saw them!" she whispered excitedly. "Or rather, I saw their entire village!"

"You're not making any sense," I barked reprovingly. "How could you possibly see them? You couldn't have gone far enough that we wouldn't see them from here, too!"

"But they're there," she argued, pointing in the direction from which she'd just come. "Just beyond the rise."

"But there isn't any rise," I hissed, keeping my voice low, so as not to wake the others and disturb their rest.

"Come with me!" she hissed angrily, as she jumped to her feet and extended her hand down to me. "I'll show you what I mean!"

Pulling me along, we traced back over the steps that she'd just taken. We'd gone barely two hundred feet when she suddenly jerked me to a halt. If she hadn't stopped me when she did, I would have stepped right off the edge of a sharp decline.

Laid out panoramically before us was the largest depression that I'd ever seen on the surface of the planet. If anything, it resembled a huge bowl, and we were standing precariously on the lip. Sloping downward and away from us at an approximate forty-five degree angle, the surface was covered with loose rocks, scree, and a splotchy splattering of brown vegetation. The bowl-shaped declivity measured more than five miles across from lip to lip, and looked to be almost a quarter of a mile deep near the center.

The actual depth, however, would remain a mystery, because even at this distance, we could make out the reflected gray sheen of standing water. Filling the center of this great anomaly was a natural lake measuring nearly a mile across. Never before had I seen such a sight. But what held my attention more than anything else was the vast number of people that could be seen from our vantage point.

It was a large village, complete with reed huts, and it encircled the entire lake. In addition to the many people, merely lighter dots against the darker background from this distance, we could make out a small armada of boats or rafts floating upon the water's surface. Occasionally, the sound of voices, sometimes punctuated by the higher pitch of a woman's scream, carried faintly to us over the distance. There was little chance that we could be seen from below, however, thanks to our vantage point.

After studying the area immediately in front of us, I hastily determined that the rogues must feel secure enough in their position that they didn't feel any need for sentries. Of course, with such little vegetation growing on the steep, rocky decline, there wasn't anywhere to conceal oneself while descending. In addition, because the slope was covered with loose rocks and volcanic debris, without ropes or climbing gear, it would be a very dangerous descent. If you lost your footing and started to slide, you might set off an avalanche of debris mixed with sharp-edged obsidian. By the time you reached the bottom, you'd be torn and cut to shreds against the jagged rocks, if not buried alive.

"Let's go tell the others of your find," I whispered excitedly, not sure why I felt the need to keep my voice low, the nearest people being little more than tiny specks.

Taking her hand and pulling her gently to her feet, we turned and started hurriedly back to where we'd left the others sleeping. Before we'd taken ten paces, though, we drew up short, frozen by the sounds of fighting and yelling. With a sudden sinking feeling, we both realized that the sounds were coming from our camp. After shaking off the momentary surprise that had frozen us in our tracks, we broke into a run, drawing our weapons as we went.

As we rushed forward, a new feeling assailed me, guilt. With a sick feeling, I realized for the first time that I had abandoned my post. Because of Loté's excitement, I had let my guard down. I had neglected to wake the others before hurrying off with her! Now, because of my negligence, they might be killed.

Chastising myself, I spurred on to even greater speed, leaving Loté to follow in my wake by several feet. As we neared the campsite, I saw many heads bobbing above the low growing reeds. What I didn't see, were any of my friends. Steeling myself to charge in and do battle, I was suddenly tackled from behind. With my legs wrapped within Loté's grasp, I fell headlong, the ground quickly rising up to knock the wind out of my lungs.

Rolling over to my back and gasping for air, I roughly grabbed her by the shoulders, questioning her with my eyes, begging her to tell me the purpose behind her actions.

Instead of replying, she gently cupped her hand over my mouth, not hard enough to impair my ragged gasps for air, but enough to silence it. As my breathing stabilized, and the hammering in my chest subsided, I grew aware of voices very near to where we lay.

Taking her hand from my mouth, she whispered softly in my ear, "There are too many for us to fight. Seeing as they haven't killed anyone yet, let's follow them, instead."

Despite my roiling emotions, I understood the meaning of her words. Rather than speak my begrudging assent, I simply nodded my head before rolling over onto my belly. With our knives drawn and held at the ready, we waited for them to lead us to their lair.

What I thought originally would be a short wait, slowly dragged into hours as the bandits took their time going through our supplies. With much arguing and conversing, they finally sorted out what they wanted between themselves, leaving the remainder scattered and trampled.

After several long hours in the extreme heat, we began to form doubts about our hastily concocted plan of inaction. With a growing thirst and dwindling patience, we would have to take action soon, before we were too weak to be effective in combat. In addition, the long silence spent lying on our bellies behind the reeds left little to do but think. With increasing intensity, it chewed and wormed its way into my thoughts; I'd let my friends down! I could only imagine what angry thoughts they must be thinking of me. Did they believe that Loté and I had abandoned them to save ourselves, or would they have figured out our intentions?

Another thought suddenly entered my head; what if they assumed that we'd been killed protecting the camp? The idea left my head as quickly as it entered it. If for no other reason, they didn't have our bodies. Also, with a weapon such as Loté's, someone would have been flashing it around, showing his new prize off to the others. In the absence of such, there was little chance that they would jump to such a conclusion. Instead, they would also be biding their time, waiting for us to come to their rescue. I could only hope that when we did, we weren't too late.

After an indeterminable amount of time had gone by, the bandits finally dragged their bound captors to their feet and set off toward the north. They moved single file, not bothering to use flankers or scouts. They obviously felt safe from attack.

With a subconscious sigh of relief, Loté and I cautiously got to our feet, every muscle protesting the movement. In a crouch, we moved silently through the wispy reeds, careful to keep our heads lower than the surrounding foliage. Descending upon our old campsite, we looked first for water, then anything else that might have been left behind.

Sighting an almost empty flagon that had been stepped on and ruptured during the brief struggle that had taken place here, I ran to it and scooped it up. Feeling the slight weight of it, I passed it to Loté while continuing my search. Grateful, she quickly put the opening to her lips and sipped at the tepid water inside. After consuming what she estimated to be half of the precious liquid, she passed the remainder back to me, suggesting that I finish it off.

Without hesitating, I poured the remainder into my mouth, savoring it before I swallowed. Then, after looking it over, I threw it back to the ground. Because of the way it had been damaged, it was useless to us. Even with careful handling, it wouldn't hold more than several ounces of water anymore.

Loté moved off, extending her search to the stand of reeds on the far side of the campsite, hoping on the off chance that they might have thrown away items they didn't want. Unfortunately, the reeds turned up as little as the campsite itself; the bandits had taken everything that could be used, eaten, or drank.

Disheartened by the lack of supplies left behind, we set off after the bandits, finding their trail easy to follow. Keeping a safe distance behind them, I continued to chastise myself for having allowed my friends to become captives. I was on duty. It was my responsibility to assure that just such a thing didn't happen. If I had been there when the rogues approached, I might have been able to warn the others. With enough warning of their approach, we might have been able to escape without being found out. At the very least, we could have put up a good fight.

But I wasn't there, damn it! I was off with Loté, having left my post unattended! It was unforgivable of me! The only way I will ever be able to look them in the eye again, will be if I can redeem myself. Somehow, I must find a way to rescue them from the bandits before any harm comes to them.

Having stood on the edge of the basin and seeing firsthand the lay of the land, we both agreed that there must be an easier way down to the village. With that thought in mind, we decided to follow them, letting them lead us to that place. Until then, we would have to control ourselves and resist the urge to attack. To attack now would be worse than committing suicide. In all likelihood, it would also mean the deaths of our friends. Once the rogues were back in their lair, however, they would let their guard down and disperse among their homes and friends, eager to show off their newfound wealth to their comrades. Moreover, unless there were men with the regular duty of guarding captives, they would leave only one or two to guard them. Loté and I would just have to content ourselves with waiting patiently until then.

As we followed their trail, it quickly became obvious that they were skirting along the outer edge of the crater, always maintaining a distance of less than a quarter-mile from it. Since there wasn't any variation from this course, it seemed obvious that they knew exactly where they were going. In addition to their unwavering course, they were gradually increasing their pace.

In an effort to shorten the distance between them and us, we were forced to move at a much faster pace than we felt comfortable. It seemed as if the closer we got to them, the faster their pace increased. They were nearing their home, and their excitement to get there was driving them harder with each step they took. We were finding it more difficult to keep up with them, and still maintain our vigilance in case of stragglers.

They also had the advantage of being supplied with water; Loté and I were parched and feeling the effects of mild dehydration. I sensed a dull throb in the center of my forehead, and my skin felt cool and clammy, no longer warm and moist.

We had been following them for more than two hours, and were now heading due west again when we suddenly heard muffled voices. They were close, too close!

Freezing in our tracks, every sense alert, we listened intently, trying hard to determine the exact location of the source. After a moment, they spoke again. With my heart hammering loudly in my ears, I worried that they would hear it, too. Loté, softly touching my arm to get my attention, gestured off toward our left. The voices were coming from a distance of less than twenty feet, and they weren't moving.

Turning to face Loté, I mouthed the question without actually sounding the words, "Do we continue to follow our friends, or do we investigate the source of the voices?"

Without hesitating, she pointed toward the source of the voices. Then, just as quickly, she signaled that I should take the right while she took the left. Testing the heft of my weapon, we slid off in our respective directions, careful not to move the wispy reeds. With all the stealth bred into us from years of living in the jungles of Heälf, we slowly and methodically closed in on our quarry. Each time the voices stopped, so did we. With abated breath, we'd wait silently until the voices resumed.

Only when they continued their conversation did we resume our steady advance. When we were less than ten feet apart, five from either side of the voices, we slowly got to our feet and cautiously raised our heads above the blanket of reeds. Satisfied that our suspicions were correct, and that there were only the two that we could hear talking, we gave each other a silent nod. In unison, like a pair of wild animals, we pounced upon our unsuspecting quarries, catching them completely unawares.

The killing was almost too easy, slitting their throats before they could cry out warnings to their comrades. Although I had killed more times than I cared to remember, whenever a man died as quickly and silently as these two, I still felt a pang of guilt. Men were born to fight, and when they died swiftly with no chance to cry out, in some strange way, they were denied that right. It never gave me pause when I killed another being in self-defense. Or even when I killed another man in a fight that I was the instigator of, so long as I gave that other man a chance to defend himself.

I only hope that if another man should kill me at some point in the future, he will have more decency than we just showed these two, and give me the chance to defend myself. Even if only to wake me, so I can see it coming!

Hovering over the two bodies, we silently wiped our blades on the close growing reeds before putting them back into their respective sheathes. We did this simultaneously, neither saying a word to the other, though we knew it was probably safe to talk so long as we kept our voices low.

When I couldn't stand the sound of the uncomfortable silence that was building between us for another minute, I forced myself to look into Loté's face. It was then that I realized for the first time that she felt as guilty as I did! But of course, she would! Although she was a woman, and a very beautiful one at that, she was also a warrior, and as such, felt the same unspoken codes of honor as myself.

However, she was feeling guilty for more reasons than just the killing of these two men that we found hiding in the reeds.

"It's my fault that our friends were captured," I said, hoping that by bringing it out into the open it would make it easier to accept. "I never should have left my post. Not without waking Wary and apprising him of where I was going."

"No! Don't blame yourself. You never would have left your post in the first place if it hadn't been for me coming and dragging you off. I never gave you a chance to let anyone else know." She paused for a second, suddenly anxious to get it off her chest. In a hurry, she whispered, "When I stumbled across that basin, I was so excited that all I could think about was showing it to you," she argued, and then fell silent, searching for the right words before continuing. "If..." she started hesitantly, "If I hadn't cried out to you like a damn fool, those men would have walked right past our camp, never even knowing we were there!"

"That's down-right nonsense, Loté," I said too harshly, barely managing to keep my voice low. "They would have stumbled into our camp irregardless! You saw their flanking scouts the same as I did; they wouldn't have missed us." Now it was my turn to search for the right words before continuing. Loté waited patiently for me to go on. "When we stopped the last time, I should've had the foresight to make camp a safer distance from our trail. Just because we were following a band of rogues didn't mean there wouldn't be others coming along the same way."

"You were tired!" she argued. "We all were. You're no more to blame for where we made camp than the rest of us!"

"But don't you see?" I argued, suddenly angrier with myself than I had been. "I am more to blame! When I said I wanted to turn north, all of you became my responsibility. If it wasn't for me, none of you would even be here!"

"That's lame and you know it," she hissed back, the both of us barely keeping our voices low. "None of us ever felt that you were responsible for our well-being. By God, Rod, we're all adults here. We can take care of ourselves. All we ask is that if we get into trouble, we can count on not only you, but also each other as well."

"Everyone knows they can count on me to do whatever I'm able to," I humbly replied with a hint of defeat and despair edging into my voice.

"That's all we ask, Rod. Just do what you can. No one is asking anymore of you."

"Thanks, Loté. You'll never need to remind me why I love you so much," I said tenderly. Though I still carried the guilt, she made me feel better. Looking down at the two corpses, I asked, "Do you think it's just coincidence that these two guys were sitting here in the reeds by themselves?"

"No, I don't. Here," she added, passing me one of the rogue's dirty flagons. "Hopefully the water in it is cleaner than the container."

"Thanks," I said, taking it gratefully from her.

Without pause, I pulled out the stopper and put the opening to my lips, pouring a generous portion down my throat. Instantly, I realized the folly of my haste, as I choked on the burning liquid, unable to breathe without sucking in more of the searing fumes. What I had assumed to be water, turned out to be something much more potent. If I didn't know better, I would have sworn it was highly distilled lamp oil. Yet, even in my sheltered life, I'd run across this concoction before. It was made of fermented leaves from a rare jungle plant. The resulting brew, which if drank in large enough quantities, manifested itself in the form of hallucinations.

However, if the mash was further distilled, it could be separated into two different components. The main product resulting from this was an alcoholic beverage with none of the former residual effects. The remaining mash was used primarily by witch doctors and healers, the properties of which I have always found to be rather suspect.

Loté, fortunately, found only water in the flagon she'd retained for herself. Upon seeing my reaction to the contents of the one she'd handed me, she quickly snatched it back and held it up to her nose. Screwing up her face in disgust, she just as quickly moved it away from herself and held it at arm's length. Smiling, she handed me the other while looking for the plug to re-cork it. It wasn't her intention to keep the liquor for later consumption, but being aware of the value placed on it, we both considered that it might come in handy farther down the road.

Though I drank greedily of the water, relief came slowly to my throat, the burning sensation only being replaced by a raw irritation.

With a smile, I raspily asked, "Where were we?"

"I think you were about to tell me that you think these two guys were sitting here concealed in the reeds because they're guarding the access to the basin. Am I right?"

Laughing softly at the way she had read my mind, I replied, "Yes, you're absolutely right."

Leaning over the corpse of the man lying nearest to me, I slid his weapon free and held it up for inspection. As I scrutinized the metal of the blade, a strange feeling came over me. I'd seen similar weapons before, but never before on the surface! In my hands, I was holding a standard issue weapon for a soldier from the subsurface! It was identical to the one that I myself possessed, if not a bit rusty and neglected. Even before I could remark to Loté the significance of finding this weapon on the surface, she too recognized it for what it was. And like me, she too, understood the significance of it.

"In all of my travels, I'd never seen a long-knife before entering the subsurface. I'd seen custom made swords, many styles of daggers, and the occasional handcrafted blade embedded in a bone hilt. But never had I seen a cold-stamped, mass-produced weapon of this design until we met the armies of Lord's Balzar and Thar; it was a meeting that I will never forget."

"What does this mean, Rod?" she asked uneasily.

"It means one of two things," I said slowly, fearing my own words. "Either these rogues pilfered these weapons from some poor Wealthies floating domain during a trading session, which isn't very likely when you consider the amount of security the Wealthies are usually surrounded with. Or the rogues we're following have traded with peoples from the sub-surface at some time in the past. Neither of which is very promising."

"But is that possible?" she asked, incredulously.

"Well, we know the lords were trading with Wealthies from the surface. Elsa, your young friend from Balzar's slave force, told us that much."

"Yes, I guess I'd forgotten that. I guess someone had to be their go-between," she added, trying hard to convince herself of the truth in her words.

"Exactly," I softly confirmed, my mind drawn back to the terrible memories of what we'd endured at Lord Balzar and Thar's cruel hands.

"How long do you think we have before these two are missed by their comrades?" she suddenly asked, forcing her mind away from the trials that we'd endured beneath the surface.

"Could be minutes, or it could be hours. At any rate, we need to get a move on," I hastily replied, equally anxious to change the subject. The time that we'd spent in the tunnels beneath the surface ended in triumph for us. However, the ordeal leading up to that triumph was better left unremembered. To be reminded of it, accomplished nothing but the reopening of old wounds.

Taking the weapons and flagons from the two dead rogues, we silently worked our way through the thinning growth. In a crouch, we cautiously moved along the rim of the crater. Within a matter of minutes, we found what we were looking for.

Coming over the edge of the rim was a tightly woven mat of dried reeds, the same variety as the ones in which we were currently surrounded. Though we could see through the standing reeds, it was a hazy view at best. Risking a peek above the vegetation, we slowly stood, keeping our backs to each other. In this manner, if one of us saw something before the other, we could quickly drop back down and out of sight, greatly reducing our chances of being seen.

Our precaution, though warranted, was unnecessary. Much to our relief, the only other living beings that we could see were near the water's edge, a great distance away.

Letting my eyes follow the woven mat downward, I was further relieved to see that it was devoid of people. Measuring approximately eight feet wide, it flowed down the slope, looking much like a taut, brown ribbon. Rock, scree, and all other debris had been cleared before it was laid down, leaving it flat and undisturbed until it disappeared into the nearer cluster of similarly colored huts.

Looking across the lake, what had previously been a mystery, now became the obvious; a similar line of brown went straight up the other side of the crater. At this distance, it was impossible to determine what the line consisted of by just looking at it. However, after studying the woven mat extending out before us, if it weren't for the lake in the center of the crater, it would appear that the mat continued from one rim to the other.

"Since there isn't anyone on the trail coming up, do you think it's safe to assume that the guards won't be missed for a while?" Loté asked, still keeping her voice hushed in case there were more guards hiding in the reeds farther to the north, on the far side of the mat from us.

"No, they probably won't be," I said distractedly. "But we can't just go strolling down that carpet, either. Even if we hurry, it'll take us more than six minutes to reach the first cluster of huts; and we'll be out in the open the whole time."

"Well, we can't just sit here and wait for them to pack up and move on! By then they'll have tortured, possibly even killed our friends! We have to do something," Loté desperately pleaded, anguished by her feelings of helplessness.

"You're right, and we will, but not yet," I calmly replied, reaching out and putting my hand on her arm to reassure her. "For now, we have to sit right here where we can keep an eye on the trail and wait. Although that bunch of murderers and bandits has been in this place for some time, we know it isn't a permanent home. Unlike the subsurface, there aren't any permanent homes here. Besides, the way it warms up so much faster here than it does at the equator, they're probably already planning their move. My guess is the only people that will be coming up that trail will be the ones assigned to guard it."

"We still can't wait for them to move out of there!" she steadfastly contended.

"You're right, we can't," I soothingly concurred. "But we do have to wait until the next change of guards."

"Why? We already killed these two."

"Yes, but there could be more than just those two hiding up here. We won't know for sure until we see how many replacements come. And besides, we don't want to be halfway down only to run head-long into their replacements coming up, do we?" I calmly added.

"So, if only two replacements come," she said slowly. "We won't need to worry about being boxed in from behind in case we're forced to retreat back up the slope before reaching the bottom. However, if we see four replacements heading up the trail, we'll need to find the two still up here and take them out before their replacements can reach the rim." She paused for a moment before asking, "When we see them coming, whether it's two or four, do you plan to wait for them to reach the top, or surprise them halfway down?"

"Now you understand," I commended. "Let's wait and see how many come before we cross that bridge. In the meantime, though, let's move back away from the trail a little ways before we make ourselves too comfortable. There could be more rogues returning from their pillaging and murdering at any time. We don't need any more surprises," I added, gently steering her away from the trail with a slight pressure against the arm that I still held.

The change from the jungle had been a gradual one, slowly allowing more of the moon's eerie glow to reach the surface until finally there wasn't any leafy canopy to obstruct it at all. Now, for the first time, I realized just how intense the moonlight really was. In addition to the extreme heat and reduced humidity, there wasn't any escaping the radiating effects of the sun's glare as it reflected off the surface of the moon. With no food supplies, and a rapidly dwindling water supply, we were very limited with respect to how long we could afford to wait for the dead guards' replacements. If they didn't arrive soon, we would be forced into taking drastic measures.

We found some solace in the fact that neither of the dead guards was carrying any other supplies aside from his individual flagon. If the stint at guarding the trailhead were for any length of time, surely they would have been more heavily supplied. As it was, they were carrying just enough water to last them eight hours, and that was based on the total volume their flagons could hold. Clearly, with one of them bringing a potent liquid in the place of his water, they knew they would be relieved well before their water supply ran short.

Since we'd already spent close to an hour here, waiting near the trailhead, and hadn't seen any evidence of people coming up the woven path, it was probably safe to assume that our wait would last less than five hour's more. However, short as that might normally seem, under the circumstances, it might feel like an eternity. With each passing minute, our friends' lives grew more perilous. While we sat by helplessly, our frustration level growing by the minute, they were possibly being subjected to untold tortures, or even death.

"You're burning, Rod!" said Loté unexpectedly, startling me from my contemplation.

"Huh?"

"Your skin, it's turning a bright red!"

Looking down at my shoulders, I realized immediately the focus of her concern. Unlike Loté, the better part of my adult life had been spent concealing my naked skin beneath the fabric of a flight suit. Hence, while her skin was adept at absorbing the increased moon glow, mine was not! Already, it was apparent that I needed to find shelter, and very soon. If I didn't, my skin was going to start blistering, the thought of which was not very appealing. In some places, it was already tender to the touch.

"I have an idea," I said excitedly, jumping to my feet and turning back toward the trailhead.

Scrambling to her own feet, she hurried to keep up with me. Whispering frantically, she asked, "What are you doing, and where are we going?"

"You'll see," I shot back as we broke into the clearing where the woven trail began.

With a quick glance downward into the bowl-shaped crater, I satisfied myself that there wasn't anyone coming up. Then, after drawing my short bladed, skinning knife, I set to work cutting off a short length of the woven carpet. Despite the sharp edge of my blade, the sharpening of which I took much pride in, the woven mat was proving to be very dense and resilient, resisting my efforts with ease.

"I thought this mat was woven from the same reeds as those," I said in frustration, jerking my head toward the wispy growth surrounding us.

"I'm sure it is," she questioningly confirmed, while picking up a corner and studying it. "It would appear that their wispy growth habit belies their true strength. Since we hadn't needed to cut our way through them, we never tested our blades against them, did we?"

"This is amazing stuff," I stubbornly conceded, the sweat rolling down my forehead and into my eyes. "It weighs almost nothing, yet it has the ability to thwart my toughest efforts. I'm not sure it can be cut."

"Step back," Loté said, standing beside me with a recently confiscated long-knife held high over her head. "Let's see if it can resist this!"

With a crashing blow, she brought the weapon down hard, sandwiching the mat between the sharp cutting edge of the blade and the hard obsidian of the crater's rim. Clanging loudly, the blade severed through the material. Not waiting for my approval, only knowing that she might have alerted any more guards that may be in the area, she quickly continued hacking along the jagged line. Throwing a quick glance toward the north after each stroke against the fabric, she worked feverishly until a three-foot by eight-foot piece of the material broke free.

Her body glistening with fresh sweat, she turned toward the reeds and threw the dulled and pitted, now virtually useless weapon, aside. Drawing the second replacement that she'd procured from the dead guards, she whispered raggedly between breaths, "Let's get out of here! Someone might have heard the noise."

Grabbing up the material, I hurried after her, retreating hastily into the shelter of the reeds. When we were safely away from the trailhead, we stopped and listened intently for any sounds of pursuit. Only when we didn't hear any, did we relax and catch our breath.

"Here," Loté said softly, handing me the almost empty flagon of water.

"You go first," I quickly suggested, noticing not for the first time just how dry and raspy her throat sounded.

Nodding thanks, she sipped gingerly of the water, careful not to take more than half of what remained. Meanwhile, I carefully unstrung several of the loose strands dangling from the rough-cut edge of the piece of trail. When I had a length of almost twelve-inches free, I threw the material around my shoulders like a cape and tied the loose strands across my chest to hold it in place. Despite the tough resilience of the material, it was amazingly light and pliable. It not only protected me from the harmful ultraviolet rays reflecting off the moon's surface, it also provided a noticeable amount of relief from the insufferable heat.

After taking a quick sip from the flagon, I handed it back to Loté before making the following suggestion. "I think we should cut this piece in half and make a cape for you, too. It's more than twice as long as I need it to be. Besides, you'll never believe how well it reflects this god-awful heat."

"The moon glow isn't a problem for me. And besides, we can't keep destroying our weapons like that," she gently argued.

"Think about it for a minute, if we're both wearing these, no one will recognize us. They'll just assume we're a couple of them, only slightly eccentric," I countered. "We won't need to wait any longer. Instead, we can leave right now. If we run into their replacements on the trail down, we can walk right up to them and take them out before they know what hit them!"

"You might have a point there," she slowly conceded, thinking through the advantages and disadvantages. "Use the other dead guard's weapon, since I only have the one left, and I don't want to destroy it. I might need it later."

Working quickly, I hacked the material into two equal sized pieces. While I worked on separating enough loose strands to use for securing the improvised capes to our shoulders, I considered the benefit of searching around the trailhead for more guards before commencing on our long descent. The possibility of being caught in the middle by armed men was not very appealing; there would be no place to run. In addition, any men coming down behind us would have a distinct height advantage because of the slope. Unable to decide, I considered running it past Loté.

While I held her cape in position so that she could secure the loose strands across the front, I set my concerns about sounding paranoid aside, and expressed my dilemma to her.

"I don't believe there are any other guards," she stated with finality. "Think about it for a second," she quickly continued, unable to suppress the primal need to gloat over her simple deduction. "Why would they place guards to the north of the trailhead? There isn't anything to the north but even higher, more inhospitable temperatures then what we're experiencing here. No one will approach from that direction."

"You're right," I sheepishly conceded, feeling foolish for not having thought of it myself. "I bow to your superior intelligence," I added sarcastically, bending sharply at the waist and holding out the edges of the cape to imitate an exaggerated display of mock respect.

"Quit it!" she shot back angrily. "If you don't want my opinions, in the future, don't ask for them! Now come on. If we're going to do this, let's get going."

### **3**

Walking abreast, we descended into the crater, following the woven trail. I couldn't remember a time when I'd felt more exposed and vulnerable. From the lip of the basin to the first row of huts, the ground was barren of any plant growth. Excluding the area adjacent to and extending out a few feet on either side of the woven trail, loose scree consisting of obsidian chips and volcanic rubble covered the rough, sloping sides of the basin. Without the aid of the woven mat to walk upon, it would have been nearly impossible to negotiate.

Holding the hilt of the long-knife in my tightly clenched hand, I waited for the inevitable challenge that I felt certain would be forthcoming from the rim behind us. Although Loté's deduction regarding the lack of needing a guard to cover the trailhead from the north seemed logical, I couldn't shake the feeling that we'd left something far too important to chance. In addition, we had no idea when the two dead sentries were due to be relieved.

Only when we were more than two hundred yards from the lip, did I finally allow myself to relax. Now, our greatest danger no longer resided with the possibility of running into the dead guards' replacements, but we were also out of water. As for the beverage in my newly acquired flagon, for the time being, it was more than just useless to us. Not only was I bearing the extra weight of it, but also, if we resorted to drinking it, it would have just the opposite effect of what we needed and desired. Rather than quench our thirst, the potent liquid would only accentuate it. It would also retard our senses and reactions, leaving us less than fully alert.

As we moved easily along the woven trail, the downward slope quickening our pace, I had to wonder at the number of man-hours of intense weaving that it had taken to fabricate it. Despite the reed's wispy feel and appearance, it was in fact a very durable material. And as we were quickly learning, because of the tightness of the weave, it was proving to reflect a good deal of the heat away from our bodies. With a wardrobe fashioned along the same lines as our makeshift capes, the farther reaches of the northern and southern hemispheres would be within easy grasp of man. Granted, we hadn't seen anything in the way of wild game or water, excluding the huge lake lying before us, since leaving the equatorial trail.

Yet, those very factors could be the start of a completely new trade-based industry. With needs such as food and water, and the reeds to trade for it, I was envisioning a very prosperous endeavor. An industry with mutual benefits for all concerned; much the same as what would eventually transpire between the sub-surface and the surface, once all the gateways were installed and operational between the two.

Surely, there was more of value to be found in these farther reaches than just the distribution of reeds. However, even if they did comprise the bulk of the value here, there was tremendous potential to be tapped just in the manufacturing of goods derived from them. Despite the fact that the rogues were the only people to make use of the northern and southern latitudes, and then, usually only within a few miles of the equatorial trail, it surprised me that I'd never seen evidence of the reeds before. Except for the uses that we were witnessing before us, such as their huts, and the mat under our feet, the reeds weren't being exploited. When one considered the extent of trading that the rogues carried on with the wealthies, it was hard to believe that they'd been overlooking the potential value of something that lay right under their noses. And it was virtually free for the taking!

Sadly, this oversight on their part only further demonstrated their shortsightedness. Unless they begot their trading stock through illicit means, they couldn't recognize the value in it. It seemed preposterous to imagine that they were so preoccupied with looting and pillaging that they were blind to the gold beneath their feet.

I was abruptly yanked out of my musing, when Loté hissed at me to wake up. Although the trail wasn't much more than a mile from the rim to the first scattering of huts, nestled in the comfort of the cape, I had literally dozed on my feet. Unbeknownst even to myself, I had been in a near state of sleepwalking.

"Pay attention, we're almost to the huts, in case you haven't noticed!"

"Sorry," I humbly replied, humiliated by her sharp response.

"Oh no," she suddenly whispered, drawing my attention up from the monotonous pattern of the mat.

Coming around the corner of the nearer hut were two well-armed men. In addition to the customary dirk, these men also had long-knives strapped to their waists. It struck me as being very strange that there would be such an abundance of long-knives amongst the rogues, when such weapons were none existent on the planet's surface just a few short years ago. Slung loosely over their shoulders, suspended by thin cords, were bulging flagons. Despite the seriousness of the situation, my first thought was whether the cord was of leather or dried reed.

"They'll probably just assume that we've come to join their band," I said, sounding much more self-assured then I felt.

As I adjusted my grasp on the long-knife that I was holding concealed beneath the cape, I realized with a start that my hand had gone numb. While walking in my trance-like state, I'd been squeezing it so tightly the circulation had been restricted to my fingers. Shifting the weapon to my left hand, I shook my right vigorously until the fingers began to tingle with the renewed surge of blood flowing to them. We were now less than one hundred feet from the approaching rogues and closing fast. Our disguises were doing the job that we'd intended of them; at such a close distance, if the approaching rogues suspected anything, they showed no signs of it.

As we drew within ten feet of them, I shifted the weapon back to my right hand. Although I was proficient with either, I subconsciously favored my right, and thus prepared myself to do battle with it now.

Coming to a halt less than six feet from us, the one on our right smiled, displaying a toothless grin. Speaking as though he'd already been drinking, he slurred, "Greetings."

After returning both the grin and the response, Loté and I suddenly flung back the capes, revealing our deadly weapons and intent. Each of us slashed out at the man standing directly before us respectively. Catching them completely off guard, Loté's opponent went down in a heap; a mask of surprise and confusion forever imprinting his deeply tanned face.

My toothless opponent, however, was much quicker, despite his former impression of being intoxicated. With my attention aimed toward speed and not accuracy, he somehow dodged my blade by springing backwards on the balls of his feet, taking only a light cut across the chest. Although it wasn't a serious wound, I was granted the satisfaction of drawing first blood. Sometimes, when confronted by an adversary of greater strength or skill, to draw first blood can give the lesser opponent a significant psychological advantage over the other.

As my blade came to the end of my follow-through, I twisted my wrist around, intent on catching him with a backward slashing motion. Much to my chagrin, my fingers were too numb for the maneuver. Instead of changing the momentum of the heavy steel blade in such a way that it would pivot around in a graceful arc, it went sailing off into the distance, landing with a loud, metallic clang more than twenty feet distant. What should have been the coup de grace, leaving my opponent with his throat gaping open from ear to ear, became the most embarrassing moment of my life. And judging from the grin of my opponent, it was to be a hastily shortened life.

Making matters worse, my weapon didn't remain where it landed. Instead, it slid noisily down the rubble strewn slope of the crater, stopping only when it became wedged against a sharp outcropping, more than fifty feet from where I now stood. All three of us stared after it in rapt fascination until it ended its slithering journey.

Laughing through his toothless grin, the rogue swung mightily for my mid-section. Standing as I was, uphill from him, my neck was an awkward target from his lower position. However, because of the slope, I was unable to back-peddle fast enough to avoid his extended thrust. With a loud thunk, followed immediately by an out-rushing of air, his blade struck solidly beneath my left arm. Only because of my quick attempt to throw myself backward did he miss my exposed limb, which would surely have been severed from my body by the force of the blow. Instead, though it hurt like hell and convinced me that I was about to die from a fatal chest wound, his blow merely knocked the wind out of me.

Convinced that I'd been delivered a fatal blow, I struggled to draw the short-bladed weapon from the sheath behind my neck, intent on taking my opponent with me to the farther reaches of Hell.

But the cape interfered with my intentions, and before I could get the little weapon free to where I could fling it with any accuracy, a look of utter bewilderment and confusion suffused his face. Even as the little knife whistled through the close gap between us, striking him in the center of the chest with a loud thud, his expression never changed. It was as though he was oblivious of the deadly blow that I'd just dealt him, or even the metal hilt protruding from his chest.

Despite the accuracy of my throw, he was far from dead. Although the little blade had punctured a lung, spelling out an inevitable death for the man, it hadn't struck his heart.

Before he could react, Loté stepped up beside him and landed a slashing blow to the side of his neck, almost completely severing his toothless head from his torso. Yet, even that failed to change the look that had come to be his last.

Only then did I come to realize that I hadn't been seriously wounded. In fact, beyond a little discomfort from having the wind knocked out of me, I felt fine. There was some stiffness when I tried to move my left arm, which indicated a bruised rib or two, but nothing more serious.

"Loté!" I stuttered, shocked by my revelation. "Did you see what just happened here?"

"Yeah, you threw your weapon away," she replied sarcastically, almost angrily, before adding, "What were you thinking? That you'd give him an edge over your superior skills, maybe?" When she saw that she was having an effect on my humility, she quickly continued, not giving me time to answer. "What do you think the element of surprise is? To surprise your opponent by throwing your weapon away?" With growing anger, she added, "Well it sure as hell surprised me!"

"That's not what I'm talking about," I sheepishly replied, having almost forgotten the incident of my weapon coming loose from my grasp and flying down the slope. I was too excited to think about anything but my revelation. Emphatically, I continued, "I'm talking about these capes! Or rather, the material they're made of!" My excitement over my discovery was growing rapidly, as I considered all the implications and uses for such a wondrous material. "Did you see what happened when he struck me with his long-knife?" I continued excitedly, bending over to retrieve the dead rogue's weapon. "He caught me with a killing blow that should have finished me off, and yet, aside from some discomfort, I am fine."

Inspecting the blade, I ran my finger along the edge, determining the sharpness of it. I was impressed by how well taken care of it appeared to be. Although the rogue's physique and personal hygiene were substandard, even when compared to his peers, he kept his weapon well oiled and sharp. Yet, it hadn't even done so much as knick my skin beneath the protection of the tightly woven cape.

With Loté looking on in bewilderment, I held the cape open so that she could see the already darkening bruise beneath my arm. "He struck me a fatal blow, Loté," I said softly, indicating the bruise to her. "If it hadn't been for this cape, he would have sliced me in two."

Waiting, I watched the comprehension slowly growing on her face. When I was sure that she understood the meaning behind my excitement, I asked of her, "Do you know what this means?"

Her expression quickly changed. "Yes, I do. It means if we don't get out of here, and quick, someone else is liable to come along. Leave the bodies where they are, there isn't anywhere to hide them anyway. If we're discovered here with these bodies, I don't think we'll be able to explain them away. After all, these are two guards, probably well known among their peers in this basin community. Come, we can discuss the capes later, once we've reached the safety of the huts."

Putting the dead man's long-knife in my own sheathe, I reached down, intending to roll his body to the side of the trail, then thought better of it. It was equally visible whether it lay on the trail or beside it. Instead, I retrieved his flagon, as did Loté from the one she'd killed. Resisting the urge to take a quick drink, we hurried down the final descent of the trail, stopping only when we reached the questionable safety and concealment of the first set of huts.

Ducking around the nearest corner of the first hut that we came to, we immediately drew up short. Having ran the last hundred yards or so, we were both winded and dehydrated. Without hesitating, I flipped the stopper off the flagon that I'd just confiscated, and handed it to Loté. Taking the proffered flagon, she drank greedily before handing it back. Putting the flagon to my own lips, I noticed the coolness of the container even before the liquid hit my mouth.

"How do you suppose they manage to get it so cold?" asked Loté, watching the surprise on my face. "Even farther south, near the equator, the water isn't anywhere near this cool."

Putting the stopper back, I said, "I don't know how they do it, but I'm sure we'll find out before we leave here."

Looking around at our new surroundings, I turned to Loté and asked, "Where do we begin? They could be anywhere."

I didn't need to explain that I was talking about our friends. "We need to find someone that can tell us," she nonchalantly replied. "Otherwise, we might still be looking for them when the sun rises."

Following her lead, we walked casually between the huts, acting as if we belonged and knew where we were headed. In reality, we were only working our way toward the center of the basin. Or rather, toward the nearer shore, hoping an opportunity to gain information would present itself. If and when it did, I hoped that we would recognize it for what it was!

The huts were spaced approximately twenty feet apart with no rhyme or reason to their positioning beyond facing the entrance away from the sharper glare of the moons. All were constructed in basically the same fashion, leaving one loose flap for an entrance. There were surprisingly few people about, and the temptation to enter a hut was growing on our minds.

The nearer to the shoreline we got, the more people we came across. Yet, considering the size of the camp, there should have been more. Much to our predilection, we continued wearing the woven capes. It didn't come as a surprise that nobody gave us any notice. It was only when we finally reached the shoreline, or at least could see the water from our vantage point among the huts, did it become obvious as to why there were so few people milling around; since entering the multitude of huts, the surface of the lake had become thick with boats.

Watching the occupants of the small craft, which also looked to be constructed of tightly woven reeds stretched over sapling frames, we noticed they were jabbing spears into the water. Every now and then, one of the luckier would strike something with his spear and haul the struggling creature aboard his craft. Although I'd never seen anything even remotely resembling the harpooned creatures, they appeared to have short stubby, single-jointed legs ending in hoofs, as well as a dorsal fin. They might also possess lungs instead of gills, thus explaining how the amphibious creatures had come to live in a lake that was dry less than six months ago, and would soon be dry again.

No sooner would they get the speared creature over the gunwales and into the boat, then they'd set their paddles into the water and make a hasty retreat for the bank. As they neared the shore, an excited band of women would meet them, hurriedly taking their catch from them and running into one of the nearer huts with it. By the time the men reached the shore and handed over their catch, the creatures had stopped struggling, having died from the spear wounds as they were being transported.

No sooner had the men deposit their catch with the waiting women, before they turned their craft around and headed back out on the water.

"What are they doing?" asked Loté softly, not wanting to draw undue attention to us.

"They're stocking up for the journey ahead," I easily replied, before adding, "But what they're stocking up with, I have no idea."

As we continued watching, women started leaving the hut that they'd just entered. Only, instead of leaving en masse, as they had entered, they were now leaving one at a time. But what made their departure all the more interesting was the large bundle, tightly wrapped in the woven reed fabric that they carried beneath their arms.

"Let's follow them," I quickly suggested, noting that they each headed off in the same general direction. "If they're taking those bundles to a central warehouse, it's probably in the same area where they'll be keeping our friends."

"Good idea," she quickly concurred, setting off without further ado, as she followed at a casual pace behind the last woman to leave the hut.

Hurriedly, I sprinted to catch up to her, and then fell in beside her. The woman followed a weaving and winding path through the jumbled array of huts before coming to a much larger one than the rest. Although there were two men casually guarding the entrance, the woman never hesitated, as she pushed the flap aside with her free hand and continued on into the dark interior.

Grabbing Loté by the shoulder, I gently pulled her around the corner of the last hut just before the larger one.

"What now?" I whispered, not sure if we could be heard through the walls surrounding us.

"Come," she quickly replied, moving toward the flap of the next hut.

As she drew nearer to the flap, she casually slid her bejeweled knife from the sheath on her hip. Realizing her intent, I did likewise with my dirk, using the cape to conceal my hands.

With no hesitation in her step, she flung the flap aside and barged through the opening, at the same time flinging her cape aside so that it wouldn't interfere with her movements. Following close on her heels, I delayed only long enough to take a quick look around, making certain that our entrance hadn't been observed from outside.

In routine fashion, Loté had sidestepped upon entering. This maneuver served two purposes. Not only did it leave room for me to come in behind her, but it also didn't leave her silhouetted against the bright glow from the moons. Knowing she would duck to the left, I went in low, shifting to the right, while also tossing the cape off my arm in one flowing movement.

In the brief moment before the flap fell back into place, I could see that the hut was empty of people. This deduction was further confirmed by the lack of any challenge or the rising of a call for help.

"Can you believe how cool it is in here?" I asked, noting the subtle temperature drop. "It must be the reed covering. By blocking out the moons' reflected rays, it also blocks out the heat."

Dropping down onto a soft pile of furs arranged for sleeping, she deftly slipped out of the cape and laid it on the ground beside her. Setting her long-knife and flagon on top of it, she suggested, "Let's take a break from the heat for a moment. Everyone seems to be out on the water catching those poor creatures or working in the processing hut preparing them. Unless they're working in shifts, we probably won't be disturbed for at least a few hours."

"Then this might be the perfect time to find our friends," I coldly suggested, feeling the guilt of their capture coming back to life. "With everyone out on the lake, the village is almost deserted."

"You are such a slave driver," she haughtily replied, rolling off the mound of firs and catching up her cape and weapon.

Peering out past the hanging flap, I was instantly dismayed by what I saw. From my vantage point, I had a clear view to the shore and beyond. Already, many of the floating craft had docked, the occupants heading off in different directions, while many more of the craft were coming ashore. For whatever reason, we had taken refuge in the hut at just the opportune moment to avoid being caught out in the open. Even as I looked on, several men were joining up with several of the women leaving the larger warehouse-type structure. They were coming straight toward us!

Ducking back inside, I turned toward Loté, a look of concern over my sudden actions already lining her beautiful face. Despite the approaching rogues, and our imminent danger, I felt a strong urge to take her in my arms and kiss her. There was a sudden longing in me to tell her that everything would be all right, and that I would be her champion, protecting her from the evil surrounding us.

Instead, though, I brushed the notion from my mind; she was every bit as capable of standing alone as I was myself.

In my moment of lapse, she asked, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Three men, three women, coming this way," I quickly replied, not sure if I should tell her about all the returning boats just yet, or let her deal with one bit of bad news at a time.

Reading my unspoken thoughts, she moved past me to take her own look outside. Indignantly, she said, "There's more, isn't there? What aren't you telling me?"

Instead of answering her, I stepped to the side and let her pass; I saw no point in describing to her what she would see for herself in a matter of seconds. As she lifted a corner of the flap and scanned the scene before her, I drew my dirk. Already, I had decided the long-knife would be too cumbersome to wield in the confines of the hut. Even though we were sadly out-numbered, we had the element of surprise on our side.

Loté, having taken her look and assessed the situation, quickly took up a position on the far side of the flap. All pretense of her earlier insolence toward me evaporated like smoke. In its stead, she adopted the cloak of a trained killer; her whole being was intent on the inevitable battle that was about to take place. Like me, she also drew her short-bladed weapon, the bejeweled knife that had been a gift to her from King Sheesa so long ago and so far away.

We could hear their voices now, as they drew nearer. One of the men said something and the others broke out in laughter. Standing to the side of the flap with my knife held at the ready, I looked across the opening at Loté. She was too distracted by the upcoming encounter to notice me looking at her. If she had, she would have seen the sadness and remorse in my eyes. Though I was ready to kill the next human being that had the unfortunate luck to enter this particular hut, it wasn't for them that I had these feelings. Instead, I felt the way that I did for Loté and me, and all the good times that we might never have again in the company of our friends.

It was easy to tell by the sounds of their voices and the resonance of their laughter that this group of men and women shared a comradery, a friendship. This knowledge increased my level of frustration and regret. It didn't seem fair that rogues and murderers could have, and be, friends, when Loté and I were being deprived of the same.

Subconsciously, I was still staring at Loté when I suddenly realized that she was looking back at me. Looking beyond the deep hazel hue of her eyes, I recognized a sorrow in them equal to my own. Was it possible that she was having the same thoughts as me?

Before I could ponder the possibility, I was drawn back to the situation at hand. While my thoughts had been wandering, the group had stopped just a few feet from the hut. Because of their proximity, we could hear and understand what was being said. They were splitting up, each pair going to their respective hut. Before they parted company, however, they made plans to meet later, after their rest period and before they were due to resume their respective tasks on the boats and in the processing hut.

With their good-byes said, two of them turned away from the others and entered the hut that we occupied. Loté, realizing like myself that the situation had suddenly changed in our favor, quickly crouched down and allowed them to pass. With their eyes unadjusted to the darker interior, they didn't notice us. If we had attacked them sooner, as we'd previously planned, we would only have created more danger to ourselves. Since they came into the hut before seeing us in the gloom, we now had the opportunity to silence them without any one being the wiser.

Holding tightly to my dirk, my legs coiled beneath me, I watched in silence as they moved past us, letting the flap fall shut behind them. Even before Loté or I had a chance to close on them, they began to turn toward each other, reaching out for the other's embrace. As one, they fell to the pile of furs, oblivious of everything around them except each other.

Looking toward Loté, I found her looking back at me, a grin turning up the corners of her mouth. Unlike me, she found the situation comical; it was taking all her will to keep from laughing aloud. With a stern look and shake of my head, I motioned for her to move to the other side of them. When she was in position, I moved in close to the man and put the point of the dirk against the vein in the side of his neck. Speaking very softly and firmly, I said, "If you want to live, you won't cry out. You're friends can't help you."

Loté, having moved up beside them, gently pressed her blade against the softer flesh found just beneath the woman's jaw, where the man could clearly see it without having to turn his head. Pressing just hard enough to prick the skin, she said equally softly and firmly, "If you don't do what he asks, she'll never experience another orgasm."

"What do you want?" he asked evenly, no trace of fear in his voice.

"We want to know where the captive prisoners are," I replied just as evenly, pressing the point of my dirk a little harder against the tender flesh.

"Hah," he laughed. "Do you have any idea how many prisoners we have here? How should I know where they're being kept?"

Loté phrased the next question while my own mind considered what he'd just said. How could I have been so naïve to believe that our friends would be their only captives?

I was still chastising myself, when something else suddenly cropped up on the fringe of my subconscious thoughts. However, no matter how I tried to focus on it, it remained elusive, hovering just beyond my mental reach. Try as I might, it remained more a feeling than a real thought.

While I struggled to comprehend the feeling, Loté explained to the man that we were looking for the last lot of prisoners to arrive from the east. When he still couldn't help, whether he was feigning ignorance or whether he really was ignorant, she added more details, hoping to jog his memory. She went on to tell him that the captives we were looking for would have been captured within a few hours' travel time from the rim of the basin.

Her progress with the man was as frustrating to her as mine was with my elusive thought. While she continued adding what she knew of our friend's capture to the growing list of details, I continued struggling with my own demon. The harder that I tried to grasp it, the wispier it became. If I were a woman instead of a man, it might be called intuition.

But I wasn't a woman; I was still just a man. And unlike a woman, I need thoughts with substance, something that I can clutch onto and wrench out the innards from.

Growing more frustrated by the lack of progress that I was making with my demon, I turned my attention back to the situation at hand and waited for the man to answer Loté's question. When he seemed hesitant to respond, I pressed the dirk a little harder, creating a substantial flow of blood. Though the wound was still only superficial, his blood was running down the side of his neck and dripping onto the girl's chest. There, it quickly formed a bright crimson puddle in the cleavage between her firm, wholesome breasts, before spilling over and continuing on down to her naval.

His earlier bravado quickly deserted him as the sight of his free flowing blood accentuated the seriousness of his situation. While watching his eyes for any hint that he might be lying, I found myself wondering if he would have been nearly as eager to talk if it had been the girl's blood that was flowing so liberally. Seeing the look of disgust on the girl's face, I knew she was wondering the same thing.

"They are being held in the large hut on the far side of the lake," he mumbled, still not wanting to help, yet realizing that he didn't have any choice if he wanted to continue living.

"Can you be more specific?" pressed Loté.

"No," he whined. "There isn't any pattern to their layout and they all look basically alike, it's just larger, is all. What more can I tell you? When you see it, you'll know it."

"I can show you!" said the girl suddenly, a fire burning brightly in her eyes.

"Why would you want to help us?" I asked of her, both suspicious and confused by her sudden willingness to help.

"Shut up!" the man hissed at her threateningly. "If you're seen helping these people, you will bring his wrath down upon us! Is that what you want?" he asked, his voice suddenly growing nervous. None of my threats could bring the kind of fear to him that he was feeling now.

"You shut up!" she shot back, the fire within her showing itself as sparks blazing in her eyes. "You've been telling me for months that when we left here, we were going to break away from him and his evil minion. Why is it, now that the opportunity presents itself, you are backing away from it like a fearful child?"

"He hasn't treated us so badly, woman," he weakly protested, somewhat subdued by her outburst. "In fact, except for the small amount of work that he requires from us, he has treated us very well!" he continued, his bravado growing with his building confidence. "If we betray him now, we'll only be signing our death warrants! Is that what you want?"

Venomously, she replied, her anger seething just beneath the surface of her calm exterior. "You never intended to run away with me, did you? It's all been a ruse on your part just to lay with me on this pile of furs. You don't want to build a life with me! Except for this body that you find so irresistible, you don't even want to know me!"

Suddenly, the man arched his back and jerked away from her; his mouth gaping widely as he struggled for air and couldn't find any. Pushing up, the woman rolled him off to the side, his body beginning to spasm and twitch as the dregs of his life quickly drained free of it.

Loté backed up, giving the woman room, while I looked on in disbelief. Everything had happened so fast that there hadn't been any time to respond. The man was dead, a small incision in the center of his chest. The woman had retrieved a small dirk from within the folds of furs and plunged it into her betrayer's chest. Still holding the dirk in her right hand, a small amount of blood clinging to the blade, she calmly drew her knees up under her. Together, we all rose to our feet.

Looking first to Loté, and then to me, she flatly stated, "I will show you where your friends are." There was no emotion in her voice as she continued, "But then you must take me and a friend of mine with you."

"We have a deal," I agreed, unable to hide my look of admiration for her firm, smoothly muscled physique; her body was on a par with Loté's.

Loté, catching me studying the woman, spoke with a hint of anger and jealousy steeling her voice and turning it cold, "We'll see about the latter. First, show us to our friends."

"What's your name?" I asked when it became apparent that Loté wasn't going to bother with introductions. "This is Loté, and I'm Rod."

"I am called Fayze," she calmly replied, ignoring Loté. "That boar over there was Lap," she added emphatically, spitting on the dead man's corpse. "How could I be such a fool? He used me from the start. He knew how much I wanted to be away from here, and he used it to his advantage. He never intended to take me away from here."

"We all make mistakes," Loté softly concurred, throwing me a contemptuous look.

Feigning naivety of her glaring look, I asked of Fayze, "Where did your other friends go?"

"They're not my friends, they were his!"

"Whatever," said Loté, her impatience growing toward both Fayze and me. "Where did 'his' friends go?"

"Probably to their huts. We get six hours to sleep and eat and do whatever we please before we have to go back to work."

"Then we've got less than six hours to find our friends and get the hell out of here before everyone's up and about again," I said more to myself than to either Loté or Fayze.

"I can show you to your friends. However, it won't be easy getting them out," she continued without prompting. "They are being held next to his place and he has his own personnel watching over them."

"What is this place that you call 'his', and who is this man that you call your lord?" I asked of her, my curiosity aroused by the genuine awe that I detected in her voice when she mentioned him.

"It's the largest dwelling in camp. It's even larger than the processing hut, where all of our supplies and spoils are kept," she added willingly. Then she paused for just the briefest of moments before going on. "It's where the lord resides with his personal entourage of bodyguards, as well as other strange things. No one ever willingly enters it unless they're requested to do so."

With my curiosity piqued, I asked, "Have you ever been requested to enter it?"

"Yes," she meekly replied, all traces of her earlier bravura suddenly replaced with a cold dread. "Everyone is requested to enter eventually."

As I listened to her, that nagging feeling of earlier came back stronger than ever. There had to be a direct connection between that hut and my uneasiness, yet I couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was. Worse, yet, despite Loté's burning looks, I was finding it increasingly difficult to keep my eyes off this beautiful woman standing in front of me. Among a band of rogues that gave little thought to personal hygiene or physical fitness, here stood a vision of perfect health; a woman that was definitely in the prime of her life and looked after her hygiene. Even though we had interrupted her in the middle of having sex after working a long hard shift at the processing hut, she gave off a sweet, almost delicate fragrance. One didn't go hand in hand with the other, and this further added to my growing sense of unease.

"We don't have time for this now!" interrupted Loté, her impatience growing by the minute, as she paced back and forth, repeatedly glancing out the flap. "We need to get to our friends and get out of this basin before the rest period is over. If we're caught out in the open, we won't stand a chance. Even with these capes draped over us, we'll be recognized as outsiders."

"Slow down," I said placatingly. "What she can tell us might make the difference between success and failure."

Turning back to Fayze, I asked her to describe what she'd seen when she was inside the large hut. Even before she began to speak, I had the sinking feeling that I knew what she was going to say. Furthermore, I suddenly realized the real reason behind Loté's sudden impatience, and it wasn't jealousy. Unlike me, she had already guessed at what and who occupied the largest dwelling in the basin, and she didn't like the conclusion that she'd arrived at.

Slowly, giving it a lot of thought, Fayze started describing the contents in the large hut. As she relayed both the events and descriptions of the strange contraptions that lied within, there was no mistaking the fear that suddenly gripped her. What she'd seen and been subjected to within the walls of the large hut had left a mark upon her. Now, as she conjured up the memory of that visit, she felt the fear and anxiety with all the force and vibrancy that she'd felt at the time of its happening.

Although I suddenly found myself wanting to reach out and comfort her, to hold her and make her feel safe, I said instead, "Just take it slow and easy, we have lots of time."

Glancing at Loté, I half expected her to refute me. Instead, she'd calmed down, turning her attention toward Fayze. Having confronted her conclusions, she had already put them in their proper perspective and was mentally prepared to deal with them head on.

I, on the other hand, was still holding out hope that what Fayze was about to tell us would show us just how far off track we'd gotten. Our ordeal beneath the surface of the planet had left an indelible mark on our way of thinking. Yet, we'd lived through it. We'd put those demons behind us. In fact, we'd come out much stronger, both physically and mentally, because of it. It was time that we got over it, and what Fayze could tell us was going to help us do just that, or so I prayed.

Unfortunately, my prayers weren't about to be answered.

"Although I was scared when I heard that I'd been summoned to the lord's hut, it wasn't a real fear. It wasn't like I thought that I was going to be killed or tortured or anything like that," she started slowly, visibly forcing herself to continue. "After all, I'd seen almost every other member of our village enter before me, and they all came back alive. In fact, some of them came back in such good health they were almost unrecognizable to their own families.

"But the feeling of foreboding wouldn't leave me. And although almost everyone that I knew had been in there, no one talked about the experience. So you see, I had nothing to base my fears and anxiety on. It was irrational, when you thought about it," she added, laughing nervously.

Hoping to hurry her along without sounding impatient, I asked, "So, when you arrived at the hut, were you ushered right in?"

"Yes. When I arrived, there were two guards that I didn't recognize waiting outside for me. Without a word, they led me down a hallway and into a small, poorly lit room. It was hard to see, but I was aware of a bed, or something like a bed, in the center of the room." She hesitated, her voice growing shaky with fear as she relived the memory. Then, taking a deep breath, she continued, "One of the guards ordered me to climb into the bed. It was up, off the floor, you see. Although I did as I was told, I thought at the time that they were just going to have their way with me and then let me go. But then another man entered the room. I wasn't aware of who he was until after I was lying on my back in the bed that wasn't really a bed."

Her lower lip was trembling uncontrollably, and I was suddenly afraid that she wouldn't have the strength to continue, when Loté soothingly said, "It's all right, Fayze, we're right here with you..."

Interrupting Loté, she hastily continued, suddenly hoping that she could blurt it out and bring an end to the memory. "It was our lord and master, and he was smiling at me. It was such an evil, depraved smile; it made my blood run cold in my veins. I will never forget that look, or the hunger in those eyes. I'd never seen such naked evil before in my life, and I know many rough and callous men. But even worse, I knew right then that he was going to have his way with me. He was going to hurt me, and there wasn't a thing that I could do to stop him. I'd never felt so helpless in all my life. But later," she continued, her voice losing its harsh edge. "Even though I knew that he had used me for his sadistic pleasure, mercifully, I had no memory of it."

"What did he look like?" I asked, trying to control my own rising level of excitement and dread, a combination that sent shivers down my spine.

Speaking softly, yet deliberately, Loté described Lord Balzar. As she described his varying features, starting with his wiry build, and ending with his dark, greasy hair, Fayze could only nod in astonishment. When Loté finished, she turned toward me, our gaze locking together in understanding; we didn't need words to describe the feelings that we shared.

Our silent communication was gently interrupted when Fayze, bewildered by our mutual silence, asked, "How do you know this man, this sick beast?"

The question was both easy and hard. To answer her question meant that we had to drag up a part of our past that we'd thought we'd left behind. Though the question was easy in that we knew the answer readily enough, we both found it difficult to utter the words. It was almost as if by not saying it, it wouldn't be so.

"Please, tell me," insisted Fayze, not understanding our reluctance. "You have just described our lord and master, yet you've never been in our village before. How is this possible?"

Realizing that she wasn't about to be put off, and not wanting to put Loté through anymore than she'd already been through, I took it upon myself to answer her. "We knew your lord and master a long time ago, before he ever came to your village," I slowly started.

"In fact, we were captives of his for a short while," interrupted Loté, speaking up suddenly. "We were fortunate enough to escape with our lives, so to speak." She paused, the memory of our escape a painful one for both of us. When she started again, her voice no longer able to mask the anger that was boiling up within her, she hissed, "We thought he was dead. But now, we see that isn't so."

"I think I understand now," she said softly, "why you were so hesitant to speak of him. They must be painful memories for you."

"You have no idea," concurred Loté, her own voice growing softer, compassioned by her terrible memories of torture and loss.

"But we beat him once before, and we can beat him again," I said emphatically. "Come, let's go, we're wasting time here."

There was no mention of taking the small-bladed weapon away from Fayze. Although she killed a man with no remorse, it wasn't Loté's or my place to judge her. Under the circumstances, I couldn't swear that we wouldn't have done the same.

With Loté holding the flap aside, Fayze led the way. We moved swiftly between the huts, our capes pulled low over our foreheads, as we followed silently in Fayze's winding footsteps. Of the six-hour rest period afforded to Lord Balzar's subjects, we had already used up the better part of two of them, and it will take us almost three more to reach our goal on the far side of the lake. With luck, we'll find our friends, extricate them from their confines, and be near the far rim of the basin before anyone realizes their absence. But that will be with tremendous luck, and our source of luck was running almightily low at the moment.

It was almost inconceivable to believe that our friends were the prisoners of Lord Balzar. How did the man survive the holocaust that he brought down on himself and everyone else beneath the planet's surface? It had taken a miracle and much good fortune for us to survive. And because of that, we had readily assumed that both Lord Balzar and Lord Thar had perished. Now, I had to wonder, was it possible that Lord Thar had survived, too?

That was a question that would remain unanswered for a long time to come.

But how did Lord Balzar manage to attain such a position of power among the rogues in such a short period of time? Because of these unanswered questions, I suddenly found myself wanting to find him. Could Loté be feeling this way, too? Her experiences concerning Lord Balzar were on a much more intimate level than my own. After all, he'd almost had his way with her, before escaping his groping clutches.

Moving stealthily and swiftly through the maze of huts while following close on Fayze's heels, another thought entered my mind: Did Lord Balzar recognize our friends? And if he did, logic suggested that we wouldn't be far behind them! Had Loté's way of thinking come to that conclusion also? What's more, was it possible that we were following Fayze right into an elaborate trap set by Lord Balzar?

Grabbing Fayze by the shoulder to get her attention, I quietly whispered to her, "Wait up." Then, turning back toward Loté's questioning look, I asked, "Have you considered the consequences if Lord Balzar has recognized any of our friends?"

Immediate understanding flowed into her features. Throwing a suspicious look at Fayze, she said, "What are you suggesting?"

Thinking quickly, I considered our alternatives. My first thought was to silence Fayze and reverse our direction, taking a route that would lead us around the opposite side of the lake.

Loté, reading my thoughts, quickly said, "We can't turn back now; we don't have the time. Besides, the trap may not even be laid along the route; it might be waiting for us at his hut."

She hesitated, turning her eyes away before finishing, "We can't just kill her; we have no proof, only suspicions."

Fayze, suddenly realizing the purpose of our discussion, drew her knife and backed up until she was against the wall of the hut that we'd stopped by. Vehemently, she said, "You're wrong! If there is a trap waiting for us, it will include me, as well."

"That may well be. However, you can't deny the fact that you knew your lord and master's name was none other than Balzar. Or that he recognized our friends when they were presented to him shortly after their capture!" I leveled my gaze at her, making her cringe even harder against the wall of the hut.

At any time, she could have struck out with her weapon while screaming for help, assuring that we wouldn't escape. But instead, her position was one of a defensive nature, and her features only betrayed her hurt; she was upset emotionally because of our wavering trust in her.

Meekly, not because she felt as if she'd betrayed us, but because she should have told us everything earlier, she said, "Yes, you're right, I recognized the name the first time you mentioned it. But I didn't think it was important, whether you knew of him or not. And yes, although it wasn't said, everyone knew by his reaction that he recognized the last prisoners that had been captured. It was rumored that he knew them from somewhere prior."

"What else do you know that you haven't told us?" I impatiently urged her. "Are you leading us into a trap? Are his soldiers laying in wait for you to lead us to them? Tell us!" I demanded threateningly.

"No!" she wailed softly. "You must believe me, I don't know of any trap. The only other thing that I haven't told you was that he increased the number of his personal guard shortly after the capture of your friends. It was rumored that, although he was ecstatic over their capture, he was equally afraid of what their presence here meant. Of course, these were only rumors spread by his looser-tongued guards."

She hesitated a moment, regaining her former composure before continuing, "I'm really sorry that you don't trust me. I was hoping that if I helped you find your friends, you would see that I could be trusted. Maybe even call me your friend and let me join with you. But I can see now that it will take more than my assistance to convince you of my loyalty. The way you two are risking everything for the safety and freedom of your friends, speaks volumes on your behalf. They are very lucky to count you among their friends."

Mulling over what she'd said, it suddenly dawned on me that although Balzar may not have set a trap for us, his vigilance was up, just the same. There could be no doubt that he was aware that we were coming, even though we knew in our hearts that none of our friends would have told him as much. From here on, we would have to be doubly cautious, despite our lack of time.

"Not all is lost yet, Fayze. You will have many opportunities to prove that you can be trusted," I started, hoping to make her feel better, as my heart went out to her.

Before I could say anything further, Loté suddenly cut me off. Reassuringly, she added, "In fact, you have just shown us why we can trust you."

Unable once again to take my eyes from her lithe, well-muscled frame, with a dry mouth and throat, I huskily added, "Let's get moving, we're wasting time here."

### **4**

We hurried along, dangerously increasing our pace to make up for the valuable time that we'd lost. We no longer ducked from one hut to the next, stopped, and took the time to spy around the corner of each before moving on. Instead, we ran full out, relying solely on Fayze's judgment to lead us around the more densely populated areas. Our only hope of success lay in our meager element of surprise. If innocent people happened across our path, we would be forced to silence them before they could sound an alarm. Fortunately, the few that noticed us paid us little mind.

As we ran, a part of my mind raced forward, speculating on what we would find when we finally reached Balzar's dwelling. Since it was unlikely that he'd changed his habits since our last meeting, not only would he be surrounded by his most faithful soldiers, but also an eclectic collection of finer accoutrements. Of the latter, I had no doubts that they would all possess an underlying theme of depravity and perversion.

It was because of his deviant preoccupation that he neglected his duties as overseer of the power plants that supplied the necessary power to the massive air conditioners of the subsurface. But this was not an unforeseen problem. Many years had gone by with a lack of proper attention being paid to their maintenance. When a problem did arise, which just so happened to coincide with our escape, Balzar's lack of swift remedial action led to several of the power plants overheating, ultimately resulting in the deaths of more than half of the subsurface population. Those that weren't fortunate enough to die instantaneously in the violent explosions and subsequent tunnel collapses died a much slower and more excruciating death.

A secondary result of the massive explosions, were many fragmented cracks and fissures in the planet's crust, allowing a deadly influx of surface heat. Anyone caught in the tunnels near or adjacent to the inrushing of heat from the surface were literally baked to death, a fate my friends and I narrowly avoided, thanks in large part to Keazar.

Now, because of men like Keazar and so many dedicated others, the subsurface is in a state of rebuilding. But even more importantly, it is being reestablished with a new hierarchy, one that dictates freedom and equality for all.

There was a position of importance for me in the new chain of command, one that forced me to make a hard decision regarding my obligations to Loté and her parents. Some would question the wisdom of my final choice, but I made this promise to Loté well before the chain of events unraveled in the subsurface. Yet, despite their questions, I could see now that my destiny was still on track. If we had not come looking for her parents, we would never have discovered Balzar's existence until much later. Once the gates are opened between the surface and the subsurface, Balzar will almost inevitably become a very powerful man again. By taking advantage of the current situation, the door had opened for him to become a much more powerful man than he was before. At least, down below, he had been forced to share the habitable area with two other powerful men. Up here, where the ruling class was considerably less structured, he wouldn't have to share with anyone. It was disturbing enough to know that he was already ruling over a band of rogues and killers that numbered in the hundreds. But given time, he would become a dictator of millions.

It wasn't easy to think in terms of eliminating another human being. Nonetheless, the consequences regarding the human race clearly dictated that we had to try. We couldn't just leave here with our friends, knowing the nature of the beast that we would be leaving behind. Loté will argue with me over this, I have no doubt. However, in the end, she will see things my way, as will Wary and the others if they are still alive.

Although Balzar was a sadistically depraved individual, he was also very wise and cunning. He would have realized the value of keeping our friends alive so that he could use them for bait to draw us to him. Once he captured us, and I was sure he felt confident that he would, he would quickly dispatch with Wary and me.

Brae and Loté would be a different matter. His vindictive nature dictated that he would keep them around for as long as he found them entertaining. The tortures that he would subject them to, especially Loté, after the way she had humiliated him once before, were best not thought of. Of the boy Tye, there wasn't any telling what Balzar would do with him. But knowing Balzar the way I do, it wouldn't be pleasant.

Balzar would assume that we would force one of his subjects to lead us to our captive friends. We gained a small advantage, in that we didn't need to use force on Fayze; he wouldn't know that. He would assume, and his ego wouldn't let him think otherwise, that all of his subjects were faithful to him. Maybe there was a way to turn this small advantage into a much larger one. Unfortunately, until we reached his dwelling, it was impossible to form any concrete plan. While he had the advantage of knowing that we were coming, and could plan accordingly, we were essentially being forced to play and react by instinct.

We were making good time. Glancing back over my left shoulder, I could see the woven trail that we'd descended, slowly moving farther and farther around to my left. When it appeared that the one ahead of us was approximately equal in distance to the one behind us, I reached out and tapped Fayze on the shoulder, indicating for her to stop.

Pulling up in an area between several huts, none of which had openings facing us, I suggested that we drink and catch our breaths.

Nodding, she leaned over, planting her hands on her knees and breathing deeply for a minute. Meanwhile, Loté threw back her cape and slipped her flagon from her shoulder. After taking a quick drink, she passed it on to me. Declining her offer, I handed it to Fayze instead, noting the lighter heft of it. We were getting low on water and would need to replenish soon. Fayze, never giving it a second thought, drank greedily of the flagon, leaving only enough in the bottom to wet my lips. Clearly, she had never lived in an environment where fluids or the lack thereof, meant the difference between life and death. On the surface, ponds were generally plentiful. In addition, in this basin there was an entire lake full of water.

Just the same, despite the plenitude of water, we couldn't risk exposing ourselves at the lake's edge in order to refill our flagons. The alternative wasn't much more appealing, since it meant entering a hut, possibly an occupied one, and relieving its occupants of their supply.

Handing Loté her empty flagon, I commented, "We'll need to find water before we go much farther."

Fayze, suddenly realizing her gluttonous attitude with respect to the last of the water, embarrassedly suggested that she would wind our path to take us nearer to the lakeshore.

Loté, cutting her off rather shortly, said, "We can't risk exposing ourselves like that. There must be other ways we can get water."

Taking Loté's empty flask from her, she hastily said, "Wait here, I'll only be a minute."

With that said, she turned and ran around the corner of the nearest hut. In less than a minute, she returned, carrying not only Loté's replenished flagon, but two more as well. Smiling from ear to ear, she handed one to each of us, keeping the third for herself.

"Where did you find these?" I asked, both amazed and impressed by her resourcefulness.

"Easy," she said, beaming her smile at me while ignoring Loté's viperous gaze. "Everyone has been building up their personal stashes in anticipation of the upcoming journey. No one trusts entirely to the leaders to distribute the supplies to us when we need them. I just confiscated someone's personal booty."

Smiling back, admiring her lithe, full-breasted figure, I suddenly realized that Loté was staring even harder at me than she had at Fayze. Although I found Fayze sexually alluring, I found Loté's jealousy even more attractive. However, I didn't believe for a moment that Loté would understand, or even try to.

"Let's go," I said, not looking at either of them.

Without hesitation, Fayze turned and took off at a trot. Loté, however, slowly strode past me, burning me with the fire in her eyes as she did so. Then, emitting a grunt of disgust, she turned away and sprinted to catch up to Fayze. Smiling inwardly, flattered by both Fayze's attention and Loté's fit of jealousy, I set off after them, quickly catching up and following in their footsteps.

Shortly, I put the ego-building incident out of my mind and turned my thoughts back to more important matters. Soon, we would be at Balzar's dwelling, and there could be no doubt that he knew we were coming. He would be busy laying traps while taking much pleasure contemplating our future tortures. In his mind, there was no doubt that we would soon be in his hands and subject to his most decadent whims.

In addition to the small advantage that we gained by having Fayze on our side, we also had the advantage that he didn't know exactly when we would arrive. Understanding his mind as well as I did, though, it was probably a safe assumption that he would expect us during his subject's rest period. During these times, the alleyways between the huts were virtually deserted.

As I considered the timing of our arrival, I questioned if there would be any advantage for us in hiding out near his dwelling and waiting until his subjects returned to their duties. Would the increased risk of being discovered while we lay in wait outweigh the benefits? Moreover, would there be anywhere to hide, short of overpowering the occupants of another hut? And would that include taking the lives of semi-innocent people?

As quickly as the thoughts and questions arose, I forced them from my mind. Even if Balzar was expecting us to arrive during the rest period, there wasn't any better alternative. Somehow, I had to come up with a plan that used the unknown fact that Fayze was loyal to our cause to its fullest advantage. It was the one thread of hope that we had to grasp onto, and I intended to use it to its fullest. Before we reached the far side of the lake, I had to figure out a way to capitalize on it.

Even while my mind struggled with this dilemma, something was still nagging at my subconscious, something just beyond my mental reach. At first, I thought it was the discovery of Lord Balzar. But the more I studied the beautiful backside of the woman that we had come to put our trust in, the more certain I became it was something more, something bigger. I couldn't shake the notion that there was something here even more powerful than just the discovery of Balzar on the planet's surface. Yes, he should have been dead and buried beneath a million tons of rock and yet, somehow, he had survived. But there was more to it than that. There was something very important here, and we were overlooking it.

As the nagging persisted, disrupting my train of thought, I couldn't shake the growing feeling of dread associated with it. Somehow, I knew that when the nagging feeling finally materialized into a solid thought, it was going to paint a desolate picture over our respective destinies. And despite the protective qualities of this new material that we'd draped ourselves in, we were still going to be very vulnerable and exposed.

Following close on Loté's heels, I was further distracted by the sight of her slender, chocolaty brown legs, extending below the flapping hem of the woven cape. She was the most beautiful woman that I'd ever had the pleasure of knowing intimately and otherwise, and I found every aspect of her being exciting to my senses. Despite the alluring figure of the woman ahead of her, or the ego-enlarging flattery that she was capable of, my heart still belonged to Loté, and always would.

Taking a quick glance over my left shoulder, I quickly estimated that we were nearing our destination. Since we weren't sure of the resistance that we would encounter when we reached it, I decided that we should stop and catch our breath before continuing. Reaching forward, I gently tapped on Loté's shoulder, or where I estimated it to be beneath the protection of her woven cape. Reading my intent, she did likewise, signaling Fayze to find a safe place to hold up.

Without hesitation, she suddenly veered left, toward the shore of the lake. After passing several huts, their flaps facing us, she suddenly veered to the right. She was leading us into an alleyway without any exposed flaps. When she was midway along the backside of one of the huts lining the alley, she pulled up short.

Turning back to face us, she whispered, "We should be safe here for the moment."

Without another word, we each unslung our individual flagons from our shoulders and drank our fill. Fayze, having lived in the farther reaches for some time now, felt less need for the water, her body having acclimated to the higher temperature. Loté and I, on the other hand, were sweating profusely from the exertion. Thus, our bodies were demanding more fluids to replace those lost through our pores. Fayze also appeared to be less fatigued by the last hours of running. Already, her lightly tanned skin was dry and her breathing normalized, unlike Loté's and my own. Fortunately, the capes protected us from the higher temperature to a small degree. However, there was no alternative to breathing the heated air into our lungs.

Like Fayze, if we remained in the farther reaches for any length of time, our bodies would adjust. Meanwhile, we would have to keep a close check on our fluid levels and internal thermostat. It could prove deadly if one went too low, or the other too high.

"How much farther?" I whispered softly, looking at Fayze.

"It isn't much farther, now. We are almost there."

"We are almost out of time, too," added Loté, speaking softly, aware that the inhabitants of the huts we were standing next to might be awake. "Maybe we should be looking for a place to hold up until the next rest period."

"We can't afford to," I whispered, sounding sterner than I'd intended. "The guards we killed will be discovered soon, if they haven't been already. Also, when Fayze and her mate fail to show up for their assigned duties, he'll know who's leading us to him, and from which direction we're coming."

Fayze only looked on in silence, deciding not to argue the point that her slain roommate would be her 'ex-mate'. Nor the consequential danger she was in because of her assistance to us.

"Then, have you come up with a plan?" asked Loté, her eyes looking hopefully into mine.

"I've formulated several rudimentary ideas, none of which could really be called a plan, with the exception of one," I replied, hesitating for a moment before continuing while they both looked on in anticipation. "But I'm afraid that it will involve great risks, especially on your part, Fayze," I finished, turning my gaze to meet hers, and losing myself for a moment in the deep brown pools that gazed sensually back at me.

"Let's hear it," she said calmly, before adding, "Like you said, we haven't much time."

"Okay, this is it," I started, trying to sound calm and under control. "Here, start by putting this on," I continued, handing Fayze my cape. "You'll need it to conceal our weapons."

"I don't understand," she interrupted, a perplexed look clouding her otherwise beautiful features.

"You will play the hostage, just like Balzar believes you to be. Only, instead of being defenseless and at our mercy, you will be armed and ready to pounce. Your surprise attack will give us a momentary advantage. Hopefully, it will be enough of one to swing the battle in our favor."

"You trust me enough to put your lives, and the lives of your friends, in my hands? What if I turn on you, hoping to curry some favor from Balzar in exchange?" she asked, completely perplexed and astonished by our show of faith in her.

"You have led us here of your own free will," I started, speaking solemnly. "Anywhere along the path to this point, you could have turned on us or led us into a trap, and yet you didn't. Now we've come to a crossroads in our destiny where we have to make a decision. For what it's worth, the only hard part about making this choice, is the danger it will put you in. There isn't any doubt of our trust in you."

As she fought back the tears that were welling up in the corners of her deep brown eyes, any remaining doubts that I may have harbored were immediately vanquished. Loté, feeling likewise, threw an arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring hug.

"If you're ready," I gently prodded.

Nodding her head, she turned toward the west and led the way toward Balzar's dwelling. We recognized the place the moment we laid eyes on it. Although we expected a large hut, something along the lines of the processing one, we weren't prepared for the ostentatious structure that stood before us now. Not only was it huge, it was heavily guarded.

Balzar, whether for our benefit, or just his normal feelings of paranoia, had stationed two guards at each corner of the structure. In addition to these eight, heavily armed sentries, capable of seeing anyone that approached, were six more, equally heavily armed sentries blocking the one and only visible entry into the structure.

Compounding matters was the fact that there weren't any other huts within one hundred feet of his. Lacking any vegetation or buildings in this cleared area, a better word to describe the barren space surrounding his dwelling would be moat. Immediately, any thoughts regarding a sneak attack went out the window; there wasn't any way to approach his habitat without being seen. Even with a long bow, it would only be possible to eliminate one guard before the others were aware of an unfriendly presence.

Crouching low, near the backside of the nearest hut on the outer perimeter of the barren moat, we looked on in dismay at the layout. Notwithstanding the fact that it didn't change our original plan in any way, we still found the formidable setup forbidding and disheartening.

"What if they search me before we reach the hut?" asked Fayze, no trace of fear in her voice.

"They won't search you," I replied confidently. "You're not doing anything that we haven't forced you to do. As far as they're concerned, you're a loyal subject of Balzar's."

"But when we approach the beast's den," she asked nervously, "won't they surround us and force you two to surrender your weapons to them?"

"That is exactly what I'm counting on," I calmly replied to their astonished expressions. "That's why you're wearing the cape, Fayze. After they've disarmed Loté and me, we wait for the right moment, and then you'll pass us back our regular weapons and we'll take them by surprise."

"That's a risky plan," Fayze mumbled to herself, not aware that she'd spoken aloud.

"Rod's plans always are," added Loté, a mix of admiration and sarcasm in her voice.

"We need to do this now," I said, urging them to move, though I shared equally in their reluctance. "If we don't pull it off before the rest period is over, we'll have to contend with the whole tribe. Once news of our escape attempt spreads, every rogue in the basin will be down upon us, hoping to garner favor with Balzar."

"I love you, Rod," Loté suddenly blurted, searching my eyes with her own.

"And I, you," I offered back, meeting her gaze and sharing a moment of understanding before forcing myself to rise to my feet.

Turning to Fayze, we handed her our favorite weapons of choice, keeping only a single, spare dirk apiece. As Loté handed over the bejeweled weapon that she'd received from King Sheesa, there was no mistaking the look of longing in Fayze's eyes. Such a weapon was a rare thing, and the jewels encrusted into its hilt were worth much more than a man's life in this hellhole that we'd stumbled. Her look of longing was a fleeting one, before she hurriedly fastened the fancy sheath containing it, along with our other weapons, over her shapely thighs. After double-checking, and determining the easiest way to free them, she let the cape drop back into place and stood back from us, looking for our opinion. There wasn't any evidence of the weapons concealed beneath.

"I'll lead Fayze toward the main entrance," I said softly, reiterating the plan one final time. "I'll pretend to be holding a knife to your throat," nodding toward Fayze, "while you follow closely behind us," I added, indicating toward Loté. "Whatever happens, we can't let them separate us, so stay close."

With nothing more to be said, I put my left arm around Fayze's chest, feeling the rise of her breasts through the tight weave of the cape. With my right hand, I held the dirk near her throat, being careful not to accidentally nick her. Sensing Loté move up close behind me, I urged Fayze forward, beginning the slow walk across the rocky moat. We had barely taken two steps into the no-man's land, when the alarm was sounded. There was no turning back now!

"Halt!" ordered the center guard in the group of six that stood blocking the entrance.

Purposely, I ignored his order. If my plan held any hope for success, we would have to get to the entrance. Instead of stopping, I urged Fayze to move faster, striving to close the distance that stood between the door and us.

"Halt, I said!" he cried out, taking a quick step forward to meet our challenge.

Much to my surprise, the sentries at the corners of the building remained where they were. Instead of rushing forward to assist their comrades, they only looked on in amusement. Once the fighting started, though, I knew they would come on the run. But because of the size of the structure, by the time they reached us, we would be prepared to meet them, or we would be barricaded behind the doors standing closed before us. Once inside, we would take care of Balzar, and his minions would lose interest in battling us further. Or so I hoped!

We were more than halfway across the moat, when the solid woven entryway swung open, spilling out a steady stream of soldiers. This, in itself, didn't dismay me; I knew we would be met by overwhelming numbers. However, much to Loté's and my mortification, we didn't expect them to be wearing the chain mail and breastplates so indicative of the soldiers that we'd encountered in the subsurface.

Even more disheartening than the chain mail armor, was the instantly recognizable emblem emblazoned across their breastplates. Somehow, Balzar had not only escaped the total collapse of his empire, but he'd managed to bring an army of loyal followers with him. Each man represented a formidable foe, capable of killing without mercy, and trained to be the best. It stood to further reason that these would be his elite bodyguard, only his most trusted and skilled warriors.

While Loté and I adjusted to this unsettling turn of events, Fayze, not realizing the import of the new soldier's apparel, continued forward, undaunted by the increasing numbers facing us.

When we were less than ten-feet from the advancing armada of soldiers, and less than forty-feet from the entrance, we were forced to a halt. Facing almost thirty soldiers and five darkly tanned rogue guards, not counting the sentries still standing at the structure's corners, my plan suddenly looked futile, and I felt foolish for having thought of it.

As we stood facing the bulk of our foe, the soldiers fanned out to our left and right, eventually coming back together behind us. While Loté watched our back and sides, I met the burning stare of the soldier in charge. Although I didn't recognize his face, he was clearly bearing a torch for me, or at the least, a sore memory of my accomplishments.

Whispering into Fayze's ear, I said only loud enough for her to hear, "Hang on to our weapons, this is not a good day to die."

Suddenly, the lead soldier's face broke into a crooked smile, as he said, "Did you believe that we would be willing to trade one slave-woman for your three friends, especially when our Lord finds the blonde woman to his liking?" He laughed deep in his throat before adding, "I, myself, have always preferred the tender flesh of young boys. As I am sure, you are aware. Because of the recycling process, there was always a shortage of them in the subsurface! Ha ha!"

In that moment, I knew that I would kill the man standing before me. However, before I could dwell on it, the entrance to the hut suddenly swung open. Striding confidently through the opening was none other than Lord Balzar, very much alive! Loté, glancing around, audibly caught her breath at the sight of him.

"Well, well, well," he pompously sneered. As he approached, his men quickly stepped to the side, giving him room until we were standing face to face. Then, glancing past me toward Loté, he exclaimed exaggeratedly, "And could that be Loté, hiding beneath a piece of my trail? Now, why would you do that? Do you find the heat and the bright light too much for your liking?" He hesitated for a moment, licking his lips as he drank in Loté's fear. "Maybe we should all go inside, where it is cooler, before the sun damages that beautiful skin." Meeting my gaze and gauging my reaction to his words, he added, "Your friends are waiting for you inside. Please, do come along, and don't waste any of your blood, or that of my men."

Turning, he started back toward the entranceway, his minions quickly jumping aside and creating a passage for him. When he reached the doorway, he turned back to face us and, signaling with his hand, said, "Come, come, my friends, don't be afraid, we have so much to discuss."

With my dirk still held near Fayze's bare throat, I gently urged her forward. It didn't pass my notice that Balzar never quite came within striking distance. Although I could have risked throwing the dirk at his exposed back, even if I had succeeded in killing him, his soldiers would have killed us all before regaining their senses. It would have been a futile act on my part.

Moving slowly, we closed the distance between Balzar and ourselves. As we passed the lead soldier, he sneered beneath his breath, "Don't even think this is over between us. Once he's had his fun with you, he'll turn you over to me. Then you'll learn the real meaning of pain. You keep that in the back of your mind. When he's done with you, you're mine. Don't forget, now."

Not giving an inch, I returned his burning stare, seeing the hatred that he harbored for me in his eyes. I tried to remember his face, but I only drew a blank; it meant nothing to me. But somewhere in my past, while trying to survive in the subsurface of Heälf, I must have done something to deserve his vile loathing and rank malevolence. Whatever it was, I never would have done it out of spite. But more likely, I did what I did because I was simply trying to survive.

Without a word, we continued moving toward Balzar. With each step forward that we took, his soldiers quickly moved in behind us, closing off any chance of escape. We were committed to our actions, and there was no turning back.

When we were less than ten-feet from the entrance and Balzar's waiting form, he nonchalantly said, "Put the knife down before you hurt her. She is much too beautiful to be wasted so callously."

When I hesitated, his soldiers quickly closed in around us, bringing their long-knives within easy reach of my flesh. Although they didn't make any threatening gestures, their intent was very clear.

Lowering my blade, I moved as though to return it to the sheath on my waist. However, before I could, Balzar added, "Please, don't bother with that, you must know that I can't allow you to enter my humble abode with your weapons."

"You're crazy," I calmly replied. "You don't seriously believe that we will just surrender our weapons to you."

"No, I don't believe any such thing," he replied, equally calmly. "But look around you. You don't really believe that you have much choice, do you? Especially if you desire to see your friends, again."

Although this was an integral part of my plan, to surrender our weapons to him, it didn't make it any easier to oblige him. Especially, since I hadn't anticipated the overwhelming number of soldiers that he'd assembled or brought with him from the subsurface.

Throwing my dirk to the ground, I turned and indicated for Loté to do the same. No sooner had her weapon left the grasp of her fingers and started its descent toward the ground, and then his soldiers fell upon us. With ruthless strength, they roughly restrained our arms behind our backs, forcing us into the dwelling after Balzar. True to my assumption, however, his loyal guards and soldiers all but ignored Fayze. Unfortunately, they also did not include her when following us into the hut. Instead, she was left standing in front of the dwelling to go about her business as though none of this had ever happened.

This, I hadn't anticipated. Not only were we prisoners of Balzar's, our weapons were outside with Fayze, and there wasn't any way of getting her inside without arousing suspicions. As far as Balzar and his followers were concerned, she was just an innocent bystander that we happened on, and she had to remain so if we were to expect any help from that quarter.

It was dark inside the reed-covered hut, and my eyes were slow to adjust, since they'd become accustomed to the increased moon glow of the higher latitude. Balzar, familiar in his own surroundings, moved confidently through a maze of hallways, leading us deeper into his lair. Though I tried to form a mental image of where we were headed, based on the shape of the structure as I remembered it from outside, the hallways didn't allow it. Some were straight, ending in left or right angles, while others curved ever so slightly, possibly doubling back on themselves with distance.

As we continued forward, it dawned on me that the hallways were designed to confuse and disorient the uninitiated. He was actually leading us through a maze; a maze that only his most trusted guards would know the way through unerringly. Furthermore, since the walls were constructed solely of the woven reeds, there could be no doubt that he was aware of the toughness of the material and its impervious nature to an onslaught of weaponry. Even if someone escaped their bonds, they would die of thirst before they ever managed to cut their way through the layers of walls.

These little things showed what a shrewd person Balzar was, especially since he escaped a certain death in the subsurface. Did he really believe that we would risk confronting him with a single hostage that meant nothing to him? Or in his shrewdness, did he suspect we had a more elaborate plan? And if he suspected such, why was he so calm about it? Unless, of course, he was so confident in his position of authority that he didn't feel any need to concern himself with our feeble intents. Moreover, did I now share that feeling of inconsequential futility, after watching my plan be derailed so effortlessly, and unknowingly?

Just when my eyes were growing adjusted to the darkness, we entered a large, smoke-filled room lit with an abundance of oil torches. Near the center, the smoke darkened ceiling climbed to a height of nearly fifteen feet. Approximately six-feet out from and lining the far wall was a row of ten stout, hand-carved pillars. Securely affixed to the top of each was a circular steel ring. To two of these pillars, their wrists lashed securely to the iron rings, were our friends, Brae and Wary. They sagged against their restraints, unable to support their own weight any longer, yet unable to kneel at the base of the post due to the combined height of the post and the short length of their tethers.

At the sight of them, Loté caught her breath, emitting an involuntary gasp. Upon seeing us enter, Wary slowly struggled to his feet, leaning heavily against the post for support. Brae, already too weak to do even that much, managed only to open her eyes. Although they showed no physical signs of having been whipped or beaten, their lack of strength indicated that they'd suffered some form of abuse. With a start, I realized that the boy was nowhere to be seen.

Balzar, leering lustily at Loté, instructed his guards, "Remove that insidious cape of hers and then secure him next to his friends. I'm sure they have a lot of catching up to do." His eyes never leaving Loté, he said softly to her, "You and I have some catching up of our own to do, don't we?"

Realizing his intent, an uncontrollable rage flared up in me. With a vicious shrug, I threw the guard on my right to the ground and, spinning to the left, leaped toward Balzar, intent only on tearing out his throat. As my feet left the ground, darkness suddenly engulfed me. Sprawling forward, unable to break my fall, I landed hard on my face. Though the impact knocked the wind from my lungs, jarring my teeth together with a crunch that echoed through my head, I barely felt it.

Someone had struck me viciously on the head, and although I understood the meaning of my dilemma, I struggled mightily against the encroaching darkness, and the ensuing unconsciousness it represented. Loté needed me, and I couldn't let her down, not again! Through a gray fog, my peripheral vision fading to black, I slowly turned my head skyward. Near the center of my vision, I could see Balzar standing next to a frantically fighting Loté. She was screaming something at him and trying to shake herself loose from the guards that were holding her. She was trying to reach me, but they only tightened their grip on her, eventually turning her screams of anger into squeals of pain.

Slowly, I drew my knees up under me and pushed myself up from the floor. Loté, seeing me rise, gave up her futile struggle against the guards. Though my head was pounding, I was vaguely aware of hands forcing my arms behind my back. Slowly, my vision cleared.

"I wasn't aware that the bond between you two was so strong," he said calmly, amused by my outburst of rage and Loté's response to my injuries. "This just gets better all the time."

Teasingly, he reached down with his right hand and grabbed Loté's left buttock, squeezing hard enough to turn his knuckles white with the effort. Though I could see the pain in her eyes, she gave no indication of it outwardly, steeling herself in order to deny him any satisfaction. Although I wanted desperately to break free of the hands that held me so that I could rip his head from his loathsome body, the futility of such actions was obvious. Instead, I followed Loté's lead, burying my emotions beneath a blanket of calm. Maybe, if we didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing our pain and frustration, he would tire of his petty games.

For the moment, our strategy seemed to work. In an outburst of anger, he lashed out at his guards, "What are you waiting for? Tie him up!" Then, impatiently wrenching Loté away from the guards that were holding her, he added, "I have something special in mind for you. But first, you need to be made ready!"

Unable to control myself any longer, I cried out in agony, "No!" My cry of protest died in a whimper of anguish as I watched Balzar lead Loté, fighting and struggling against his grip, from the room.

Struggling ineffectually against my captors, I was dragged kicking and clawing to the post next to Wary's, where they bound me securely by my wrists in the same fashion. I would have to stand until my legs were too weak to support me, and then dangle by my wrists until my hands were blue from lack of circulation. Eventually, and it won't take but mere hours, the strength will wane in my legs. Then, when the pain in my shoulders and arms becomes too much to bare, I'll be forced to stand on shaking legs until the sensation of feelings and blood-flow returns to my hands. It will quickly become a vicious cycle of torture, something that I can only dread the possibility of by observing Wary and Brae.

Brae, slowly forcing herself to stand, stood trembling, her hands a pale gray from lack of circulation. This was the result of her weight pulling against the bindings on her wrists whenever she rested her legs. Despite my own predicament, my heart went out to her. The feelings of guilt that I'd felt earlier came bounding back with a vengeance. If it hadn't been for my lack of vigilance, they wouldn't have been captured!

Forcing myself to put these thoughts aside for the time being, I concentrated instead on the situation at hand. Speaking softly, so as not to be overheard by the guards lounging near the doorway, I asked, "Where is the boy?"

A thin smile coming to his face, Wary whispered back, "I don't know. When they first tied us up in here, they must have underestimated the knots they used on him." Beaming with parental pride, he continued, "He waited long enough for the guards to let down their vigilance. Then he slipped loose and ran right past them. He was out the door before they even realized what was going on. He was so quick they never had a chance at him."

"I guess it would stand to reason that if they had recaptured him, they would have brought him back here, don't you think?" I queried, raising my voice loud enough for Brae to hear also. It seemed important to include her in the conversation if for no other reason than to raise her spirits. They both needed some reassurances, a reason not to give up hope.

In a continuing effort to elevate their bleak mood, I briefly considered telling them about Fayze and her clandestine assistance. However, I just as quickly decided against it. If a guard should overhear us, we would forfeit all outside chance of being rescued. Notwithstanding the risk of being overheard, it never occurred to me that either Brae or Wary would betray her in a cowardly attempt to gain some favor with Balzar or one of his guards. It never occurred to me because I knew they would willingly die first!

Changing the subject, I asked, "Do you have any idea in what part of the building we're in?"

Wary, having drawn on his past training as a co-pilot in the Heälf Air Service was able to determine that the posts securing us were lined up on an outside wall. He further determined that we were on the north side of the structure. He was able to make these determinations with an almost deadly accuracy, thanks in part to the many hours that he spent riding in the back seat of a rescue craft. In spite of the many loops, turns, course and elevation changes, even without the aid of instruments, he never lost his bearings or sense of direction. He was a natural born navigator. Unlike me, while they were being led through the same maze as Loté and I, he had little trouble maintaining his fix on the main entrance.

"If we could get ourselves free of these posts, do you think you could lead us back through the maze?" I asked of him, forcing myself not to think about Loté and what might be happening to her in Balzar's private chambers.

"Why would we need to?" he slowly answered, puzzled by my question. "Wouldn't it be easier to just bust our way through the wall here?" he asked, nodding over his shoulder. "Once we got outside, we could grab a guard and make him tell us where their keeping Loté."

"I'm afraid it wouldn't be that easy," I started, and then went on to explain how tough the woven material was. I finished by telling them of the battle near the bottom of the basin and how the material had saved my life.

"Whew. Now I see why they only guard the doorways," he softly conceded. "And here I thought all we had to do was get free of these damn posts!" he hissed, his spirit flagging in frustration. "Now you're telling me that option isn't even available to us. You really are a harbinger of good news, aren't you?"

His spirit was rapidly falling into deeper despair, despite his attempt at levity. Without hope, he would be ineffectual in a crisis. Should I tell him about Fayze? Was the risk worth it? Thinking quickly, I asked, "How's Brae holding up?"

Immediately, the old fire returned to his eyes. Turning, we both looked at her, her quivering legs slowly collapsing beneath her as she slid down the pole. Despite the short stay on her feet, her hands remained swollen and colorless. Although I didn't say it aloud, I knew Wary was thinking the same thing as I. If she isn't cut loose soon, she will lose the use of her hands permanently. Gangrene may have set in already. If that's the case, they will have to be amputated just to save her life. We were quickly running out of time.

Looking around the room, I noticed for the first time that a good portion along the southern wall was draped off from the rest of the room. The drape was a hanging length of the woven fabric, suspended from the ceiling and just barely touching the floor. Unlike the walls, it wasn't secured to the rocky ground with iron pegs. Looking down, I noticed that the stone posts were driven securely into hand-hewn holes in the rock surface. They were wedged tight and couldn't be lifted up by less than twenty men working together.

Turning back toward Wary, I asked, "Do you have any idea what's on the other side of that curtain?" nodding my head toward the hanging partition.

"No. But whatever it is, only Balzar and his most trusted guards ever come and go from there. And even then, no one is ever allowed back there unless they're accompanied by him, which, I might add, has been pretty frequent." He hesitated a moment before adding in a hushed tone, "I know we haven't been here very long, at least not as long as it seems to us, but already, Brae's condition is rapidly deteriorating." I looked past him as he spoke, noting again the extreme pain that she was in and how her legs could no longer support her. He softly continued, his overwhelming concern for her welfare evident by the strain in his voice. "Do you think she might be suffering from something less obvious than just this god awful heat? You don't think she might be experiencing a side effect from having been recycled? Something Keazar failed to warn us about."

"No," I firmly replied, stressing my confidence in Keazar. "If there were any ill side-effects related to having been recycled, Keazar would know about them and he would have warned us so that we could expect them and be prepared for them. I'm really sorry, Wary. This must be very difficult for you, having to sit by and idly watch as her condition deteriorates. Especially being tied to that post and unable to do anything to help her. But you can't let your feelings of helplessness cloud your judgment. After all, she might just be suffering from acute dehydration."

Turning toward the guards lounging near the entrance, I cried out to them, "Can you bring us some water? This woman is in a bad way, she needs something to drink."

Instead of replying to me, one of the guards commented to his comrades, provoking a round of chuckles from them. Then, turning away from the others, he headed straight toward Brae, the others continuing to call out lurid remarks as they watched his progress. Immediately, I regretted having provoked them. Between the smirk on his face, and the debasing comments from the others, I realized my folly. Because of my concern for Brae, I had set something into motion that I wasn't in any position to stop or control. I should have known better! How could I have been so stupid!

Except for his weapon, his hands were empty.

As he swaggered up to her, Wary cried out in frustration, "Leave her alone! If you so much as lay one hand on her, I'll kill you! I swear I will!"

Without breaking stride, he suddenly veered toward Wary. Stopping just short of him, he reached back and casually backhanded him across the face, knocking him off his feet.

Stepping forward until he was standing over him, he studied the damage that he'd done to Wary's face for a moment before calmly saying, "I'll do what I wish with the little bitch! And while I'm doing it, you'll keep your mouth shut. If you don't, next time she'll be the one to pay for your insubordination. Do ya understand what I'm telling you?"

Dangling by his wrists, a steady stream of blood running from a broken nose and a gash on his lip, he struggled to regain his footing. Looking on in anguish, I realized my friend was going to stand up to his aggressor. Just when it looked as though he was about to get his feet under him, the guard dealt him a blow with his fist, striking him on the side of the head. Wary dropped like a sack of flour, dangling unconscious at the end of his tethered wrists.

Looking on in frustration, I realized the guard wasn't finished with him yet; he was stepping back and lining up to deliver my friend a swift kick to the kidneys. Unable to watch a defenseless friend being beaten into senselessness, I suddenly spoke up, attempting to draw the guard's attention to myself, and away from Wary.

"You're a brave man when you're beating up on a defenseless prisoner that's unconscious and can't fight back! What are you going to do, beat up on the woman next? What's the matter, don't you have the balls to take on a real man, unless his hands are tied or he's unconscious? Is that it? Are you one of Balzar's eunuchs?"

Stopping in mid-stride, the guard's thin-lipped smile quickly faded from his face, transforming into an ugly grimace. Turning to face me, he growled through clenched teeth, "So you want some of this too, huh?"

As he came toward me, my mind started spinning with all the possible scenarios that were about to take place, none of which looked very favorable to me.

Vying for a reprieve, yet thankful that he was moving away from Wary, I continued to bait him. "You going to untie me first, or are you afraid I'll kick your stupid ass?" I taunted, hoping to heighten his anger to the point where he became careless.

Taking a loud, raspy breath, he drew his long-knife. He was close enough that I could see the anger clouding his murky gray eyes. Stopping just beyond the range of my restricted reach, he hissed through clenched teeth, "I'll untie ya, alright, but first, I'm going to kill ya!"

With his weapon held high over his head, he stepped in close, intending to strike downward with the heavy steel blade. Tethered securely to the stone post, he was over-confident in my helplessness. Instead of waiting for the blow to clove the top of my head, a blow that would surely mean an instant death, I dropped down even lower, forcing him to step in closer than he intended. Then, as his weapon came slicing downward in a rush, I pushed out and around the post, pivoting by my tethered wrists. Realizing my intentions just a moment too late, he tried to adjust his swing, clipping the top of the stone post with a loud clang and a shower of sparks as metal struck metal. Although I hadn't intended him to cut the braided strands that held me, his blade hacked cleanly through them, releasing me from my anchor.

Instead of swinging completely around the post with my momentum, hoping to land a kick in the center of his back and throw him off balance, I landed hard on my side at his feet. Realizing his folly, he quickly stepped back, raising his weapon for another strike. Finding myself free, I resolved not to give him that opportunity. With no time to regain my footing, I scissor kicked him in the shins, cutting his feet out from under him. As he came down hard, I jumped up, landing on my feet. Reaching for his weapon, a shroud of darkness suddenly dropped on me, blocking out everything around me.

Falling headlong toward the unforgiving ground, I cursed myself for being so stupid. In the fraction of a second that the abbreviated battle had taken place, it was all I could do to dodge the blows of the opponent to my front; I had neglected the other guards when I turned my back on them. However, in the realm of small favors, I was unconscious before my body landed. Indeed, the blow to the base of my skull was delivered with such a tremendous amount of force, had it not been the hilt of the weapon, it would easily have decapitated me.

However, since it wasn't the intent of the wielder to kill me, it was only the hilt of the weapon that struck me; Balzar wasn't going to let me off quite so easily. He has many more treats in mind for me than a simple slash of a blade. Fortunately, I wouldn't learn of his full intentions until it was too late for me to do anything about them. Because if I had, I would have welcomed the quick death of a blade to what was further in store for me.

### **5**

Standing outside Balzar's dwelling, all but forgotten for the moment, Fayze suddenly felt alone and vulnerable. Yet, before she could go, she knew she had to continue acting the part of the victim; she couldn't give the guards any reason to suspect that she was anything else.

Working up her courage, she slowly sauntered toward the nearest guards left standing outside the entrance, and when she was within easy speaking distance, casually asked of them, "Where are they being taken?"

The soldier in charge, standing behind the two facing her, overheard her question and spoke up before the others could respond. "They are being taken to where they will be punished severely for their roles in the overthrow of our Lord's kingdom beneath the surface," he smiled. Then, suspecting that she had asked because she feared a reprisal against her for her part in leading them to Balzar, he added, "Don't fret your pretty head none, they'll never see the light of the moon again, even if I have to see to it personally."

Suddenly more curious than afraid, she asked of him, "How is it possible that you know them? They only just drifted into our little settlement, did they not?"

"We go back a long way," he mused, the smile never leaving his face. "But let me assure you, their future will be a very short one now."

Feeling confident that no one suspected her hidden agenda, Fayze pressed him for more information. Although she had thrown in with Rod and his friends, she felt it wouldn't hurt to know everything that she could learn about them; allegiances weren't necessarily cast in stone, after all.

Smiling back at him, ignoring the other two guards altogether, she gave him her most seductive gaze while purring softly, "Why is it that you hate him so? I thought he seemed like a real nice man."

Instead of putting him at ease and making him want to brag and impress her, his demeanor turned anxious, almost apprehensive. Fayze, suddenly fearful that he suspected her of being more than just an infatuated female, glanced furtively around her. Quickly, she assessed her chances of succeeding if she had to make a run for it. The alternative was to use the weapons that she still carried beneath the cape, an alternative that was even less promising against their superior numbers.

It was then that she noticed, his eyes weren't on her body at all, but instead, were locked on the woven cape that she wore. Spluttering, he suddenly asked of her, "If that insolent fool and his woman cut their capes from the trail leading down the slope, why are you wearing one?"

Looking down as if seeing it for the first time, she realized with a growing knot in the pit of her stomach that he was going to ask her to surrender it. When he did, he would discover the weapons.

Thinking fast, she hurriedly said, "My mate made it for me. He wanted..."

Cutting her off, he abruptly asked of her, "Rodick's woman was wearing one just like it! Did your mate make one for her too?"

Even before she could pull the long-knife out from under the confines of the cape, the two guards standing next to him sprang forward, grabbing her viciously by the upper arms. With their fingers digging painfully into her firm flesh, they spun her around and wrenched upward, a small shriek escaping her lips. Losing her grip on the long-knife, it clanged loudly in the still air, as it struck the bare rock surface at her feet. Holding her securely between them, the lead guard bent over and picked up the fallen weapon, studying it closely.

Walking around to face her, he ordered the guards to remove her cape. While one released his hold on her arm and grabbed a fistful of her long, auburn-tinted hair, the other grabbed the cape near the back of the collar and jerked down and back, intending to rip it from her. Instead, the knot surrounding her throat held tight, and she was yanked roughly from her feet. She would have fallen to the rocky surface, had it not been for the malicious grip the other still had on her hair.

With her hair twisted tightly through his knotted fist, the first guard held her upright with his brute strength. She was unable to breathe, the cord surrounding her throat cutting painfully into the flesh of her neck. Her vision was fading and she was nearing unconsciousness from lack of oxygen when the lead soldier snapped at his subordinate to cut the throat cord. Despite the horrendous pain to her scalp, she used the distraction to her advantage. With her arms suddenly free, she took the opportunity to draw the bejeweled knife from the sheath over her left hip. As the guard stepped around to her front, blocking the view of his superior, she slipped the knife through the opening at the front of the cape and into his exposed belly, just inches above his groin.

As his awful breath escaped him in a rush, she pulled upward on the hilt, while simultaneously twisting her wrist. A second rush of air from deep within his lungs shot through his pursed lips; she was briefly aware of a warm, sour smell striking her full in the face.

Before he fell, Fayze had already withdrawn the bloodied blade from his hemorrhaging entrails, and was spinning around to face the burly guard still holding her hair. Standing to her left, his right arm knotted tightly in the hair above her head, his upper torso was left exposed and vulnerable; the flesh beneath his armpit an easy target.

Even as she spun toward him, he realized what was happening. To his chagrin and demise, however, his hand was caught in the tangles of her hair; in the panic of the moment, he couldn't pull his hand loose in time to react.

With a smooth, level thrust, she pushed the already blood-slickened weapon through the thin covering of flesh that was so conveniently exposed beneath his armpit. Feeling the blade slide cleanly between two ribs, she also added a small twist at the end of her stroke before pulling it back. By the rush of air that followed her blade from the wound, she knew she'd punctured his right lung. Because of the extra twist that she had added at the end of her thrust, it would collapse almost immediately, and he would find it difficult to breathe. Eventually, he would die from drowning on his own blood, they always did, she knew. In the meantime, their natural fear of dying would take them out of the fight, as they fought against the overwhelming odds to live.

Fayze knew this instinctively and didn't need to waste time thinking about it now. She had been in enough battles to know what it took to kill an opponent. Unfortunately, the lead soldier was a seasoned veteran that had worked his way up through the ranks by knowing how to fight and take care of himself; he was not as easily thrown off by her sudden, vicious attack, or the turn of events in her favor. He had more fighting experience than all the rogues combined. And he possessed something that Fayze hadn't counted on; he wasn't afraid of dying, it only angered him!

Without a moment's hesitation, he drew his weapon and raised it above his head. Even before the second guard had seen the end of his life coming, the lead soldier was wielding his long-knife downward, fully intending to cleave her head before he succumbed to his wounds.

Out of the corner of her eye, Fayze sensed, more than saw, the heavy iron blade slicing downward toward her skull. From instincts born of surviving, she danced to her left, twisting her head away from the blow. But she was a fraction of a second too late, as the blade came down with tremendous force, slicing off her right ear and striking squarely on the top of her shoulder.

The blow stunned her, setting off a cacophony of sound within her head. Though she didn't immediately feel the lesser pain of her severed ear, she unwillingly dropped her weapon. Yet, because of the incessant ringing in her head, she never heard it strike the hard rocky surface beneath her feet.

She could feel herself falling forward and instinctively put her hands out in front of herself to break the fall. Much to her chagrin and surprise, her right arm refused to obey. In fact, as she saw the surface coming up to embrace her, she was dimly aware that her right side, from her shoulder all the way to her fingertips, was numb.

Landing hard, the right side of her face slapping down on the stone surface and jarring her teeth, she was vaguely aware of Loté's finely crafted weapon lying just inches in front of her face. Knowing that she had to move or die, she forced herself to reach up with her left hand, a hand that seldom felt the grip of a hilt, and closed her fingers around its intricately carved and bejeweled handle.

Not wanting to look up and see the next blow coming, she stared down at the ground, a slow determination building within her. Pushing her knuckles against the hard rock, she planted her feet beneath her. With a mighty effort of will and stamina, she lunged toward the remaining obstacle to her freedom, the knife poised in her left hand.

The soldier, himself stunned and wounded, had never experienced anything of the sort before, and was momentarily stupefied by the deflection of his blade. For the first time in more battles than he could remember, he hesitated. For just the merest fraction of a second, he stood over his opponent, unable to believe that her head was still connected to her torso. Because the cape hid her movements, he was unaware that she was slowly rising to her feet. Nevertheless, even if he had been aware of her actions, his pride wouldn't have allowed him to see her as an equal in combat; she was, after all, a mere woman, and more than two thousand years of living hadn't been enough to change his lowly perception of the opposite sex. Her well-muscled thighs and firm breasts only added to the perception that woman were for his pleasure, and nothing more.

All of these things worked to her advantage, as she looked up into her opponent's eyes, seeing both the surprise and defeat written there. Before he could maneuver with his long-bladed weapon, Fayze was on him, her shorter blade driving toward his sternum with unprecedented speed and strength. She couldn't allow him to step away from her before killing him. He wouldn't give her another chance before regaining the advantage, even if he were already dying.

The blade struck solidly, and slid cleanly through his flesh, stopping only when it reached the hilt. With maniacal strength, she wrenched downward, pivoting the point of the blade upward and against his heart.

Lithely stepping back, she pulled the blade from his chest, watching in silence as he slumped to his knees. His brain refused to accept the knowledge that he was dead, his mouth continuing to work mutely, while his momentum carried him forward, driving his face into the hard, rocky surface.

Breathing hard, she realized for the first time that she was unhurt, thanks entirely to the woven cape that Rod had given her to wear. Furtively, she looked around her, expecting soldiers to be coming toward her from all directions. Fortunately, none of the other guards had been paying any attention to her conversation with their superior. Everything had happened so fast, only seconds had elapsed since she'd asked where the prisoners had been taken; the other guards had probably assumed that he was trying to line himself up with some female companionship for when he got off duty. At any rate, they would see their fallen comrades soon enough, and if she were still in sight, she might not find herself so lucky the second time.

Retrieving the fallen long-knife, she hurriedly moved toward the nearest hut, having to go past the guards stationed at the corner as she did so. Luck was with her. Rather than look back toward the front of the hut and the dead men that lay there, their eyes were drawn to her long, well muscled legs, and the seductive promise of primal pleasure that lay at the end of them. It took all of her self-control to keep from breaking into a run and giving herself away. Instead, she smiled at them and teasingly lifted a corner of the cape, feigning sexual interest. Though it made her stomach turn, she had to do whatever it took to keep their attention until she was safely beyond the nearest hut.

Just as she went past the flap of the first hut, several men emerged, blocking her from the guard's view. Unable to restrain herself any longer, she broke into a fast trot, dodging around the corner and then breaking into a full out run. She continued on at this pace until she had put several huts and many turns between herself and Balzar's dwelling.

When she finally stopped, she was dying of thirst. Her throat was parched, and she was sweating profusely. While taking a quick drink from the flagon that was still slung over her shoulder, she considered her situation.

She couldn't return to her own hut, for surely that would be the first place they would look. In fact, when her ex-mate didn't show up for his assigned duties, they would send someone to fetch him, if they hadn't already. Even now, more and more people were heading toward the lake and the processing hut. The rest period was over, and shortly everyone would know what had taken place. It was only a matter of minutes before they would begin a massive search for her. Where could she possible hide that they wouldn't think of looking? Even more importantly, what could she do to help Rod and his friend's escape, when her own predicament was so dire?

Leaning back against the wall of the hut, she suddenly noticed that there was a puddle of bright red blood forming at her feet. Only then, did she comprehend for the first time that she'd been wounded in the foray with the guards. Although she was aware of the numbness in her right shoulder and arm, she was already able to gingerly move them. However, until she saw the growing pool of crimson on the ground at her feet, she hadn't been aware of the wound to the side of her head, or that she was missing an entire ear.

Now, as the feeling returned to her extremities, it also returned to the side of her head. Using her still tingling right hand, she gingerly felt along her hairline, stopping suddenly when she came to the bloody mass of clotted blood and hair where her ear should have been. Fighting off a wave of nausea that was brought on by her discovery, a small moan trembled painfully from her lips. In a panic, she started running again, determined to put as much distance between herself and Balzar's hut as possible. In her present state of mind, she wasn't thinking very clearly. Nevertheless, her thoughts were clear enough to keep her headed in the right direction.

After running all out for almost fifteen minutes, her overheating body demanded a rest. Although she considered discarding the woven cape, perceiving that it made her stand out from the others, she found that she couldn't bring herself to remove it. Not only did it give her marginal protection from the extreme heat, it gave her tremendous protection against the acute effects of a sharp steel blade, as she'd discovered when she'd received what should have been a fatal blow by Balzar's soldier. Now she understood why Rod and Loté had been wearing them when they burst into her hut. She laughed softly to herself when she remembered her original thoughts; she had assumed that they belonged to a bizarre sect or tribe that still believed the body should be covered, regardless of the heat or consequences. However, after wearing Rod's so that she could conceal the weapons beneath it, she quickly discovered how much cooler she was. This discovery had originally led her to believe that the main purpose behind them was to protect the body from heat.

That thought was drastically changed, however, when she witnessed firsthand the capes truly effectiveness in its role as body armor; now she was convinced that she fully understood their true purpose. But that didn't explain why her fellow tribesmen hadn't discovered the utilitarian value of the reeds before. Someone should have stumbled upon its distinctive properties long before now. After all, her fellow tribe's people had been harvesting and weaving the reeds for as long as she could remember, but never as trade stock. Surely, someone would have realized the reed's true value a long ago.

Unless, of course, they had! Thinking back on it, the soldier in charge was asking her about the cape when the fight started. In recollection, he seemed almost disturbed by his comprehension of what she was wearing. Was it possible that he was afraid others might see her wearing it and discover the outstanding properties of the material as body armor?

Mulling it over, it still didn't make any sense. Even if she wasn't the first to discover the magnificent properties of the woven reeds, why were they surrounded in secrecy? Also, if there was a conspiracy to keep the knowledge of the inherent properties quiet, who was behind it?

This last thought brought up a new theory, one that made her ask, who stood to gain the most?

The answer was obvious, even to a lowly woman born of rogue parents, Balzar!

Whoever controlled the production, from harvesting to weaving, controlled the trade. Without competition from other tribes, or startups within his own, he controlled the price that could be charged. With a lightweight material that protected the body from both heat and steel, the price he could extort would be astronomical!

That explanation further explained his need for capturing more slaves, and why his personal guard was slowly being replaced by a following of loyal soldiers, not inducted from the ranks of the rogues! Eventually, he would have an army of heavily armed soldiers large enough to do away with the bandits and rogues that refused to do his bidding. Were her fellow tribe's people even aware of what was going on? Or were they too busy doing their assigned duties and drinking Balzar's brewed mash to even care?

As understanding came to Fayze, so did the comprehension of what she must do. For the first time in her life, she had a definite purpose. She also understood the bond between Rod and his friends, and the reasoning behind their deep-seated loyalty; they shared a very noble goal. Their individual caring went far beyond the people they knew on a personal level. Their caring embraced the entire human race. What they did, they did for all mankind. Their noble cause was the underlying base that formed the bond between them, a bond that openly displayed their loyalty to each other, and by doing so, drew more people to their cause. People as varied as herself, who never cared one lick for any of the mates she shared a bed with. Yet, now, she was carrying a torch for something even less tangible than the flesh of a man; Fayze had a cause that she believed in! Fayze was seized by an understanding so profound, it grabbed her soul, cried out for her loyalty, and demanded her full being.

Even more astounding, she found herself believing in people that she hadn't even met! Yet, in her heart of hearts, she knew that if they believed in Rod, they were friends of hers.

Taking a furtive look around, she suddenly knew where she needed to go. Although he might not believe her, or even offer his help if he did, she had no other options open to her; not if she was to remain true to her new convictions.

Setting off toward his hut, she was careful to stick to the less traveled alleys. If she were captured before she reached him, no one would believe her story. In fact, since they would surely see her as a traitor to her fellow tribe's people, they would probably regard everything she told them as suspect. She knew them well enough to know this was true. Although it hurt her pride to admit it, she realized that before having met Rod and Loté, she was exactly like them.

Stopping frequently to wet her parched throat and pull her blood-matted hair over the wound where her ear should have been, she began to fret that he might not be in his hut. What would she do then? If she hid in his hut, would it be searched before he returned? If they captured her before she could talk to him, would he believe her story, or would he believe Balzar's? Worse, yet, if he is there, will he give her a chance to tell her story, or will he be afraid that if they're caught together, he'll be punished as her accomplice?

No! She wouldn't let herself entertain thoughts like that. She forced herself to believe that when she reached his hut, he would be there, and that he would be willing to listen to her while she told him everything that she knew. And after she finished, once he knew everything that she did, he would willingly offer his help.

She had to believe that. If she believed anything else, she was destined to doom and failure. In addition, her failure might equate to Rod's failure. She couldn't let that happen. Even if it meant sacrificing herself so that he could go on, she would do it, and rejoice in the act, or so she tried to convince herself.

Although she'd found an altruistic cause to believe in, a cause noble enough to fight for, her many years as a rapacious, self-centered, egotistical woman had spawned many selfish habits. These habits would not die easily!

Between the exercise and her pumping adrenalin, her right arm and hand were working at ninety percent of their former capacity. Stiffness remained in her shoulder, where the soldier's heavy iron blade had bruised her collarbone, leaving a large, gruesome mark. But miraculously, thanks to the cape that Rod had given her to wear, there was no break in her flesh, at least none beneath the protection of the cape.

Unfortunately, her ear hadn't fared quite so well. In fact, it had probably been stamped into the ground during the scuffle. Although she couldn't hear much through the clotting mess of blood and hair clinging to the side of her head, she believed her hearing would improve once she could wash the mess off. She didn't kid herself, though. She was fully aware that she would never hear with the same acuity that she once possessed. Nor could she detect the direction or location of sounds like she used to. But nonetheless, she would learn to adjust to it. It was just a part of life, something she felt fortunate to still have.

As she drew nearer to his hut, she slowed her pace, deciding to error on the side of caution. The man she was looking for, although they'd never been a couple, per se, had shared a mat on more than one occasion. In fact, of all her former lovers, and she'd had many, he was the one that always treated her with respect and kindness; traits that were lacking in almost all the men she'd known. Then again, he wasn't just a common rogue, after all.

Though Fayze knew little of the man's prior history, she recognized the natural charm and charisma he possessed for what it was; he was a natural leader with the ability to draw people to him that were willing to do his bidding, while never fearing to do for himself what he requested of them.

It suddenly occurred to her that if anyone suspected the two of them of being lovers, they might search his hut first. So far, she'd been fortunate. Of the few people she'd encountered since running from Balzar's place, none had recognized her, or even so much as acknowledged her. Though she was thankful of this lack of reaction, she expected as much. Most, if not all, of the people here spent the majority of their rest periods drinking distilled mash, suspiciously supplied gratuitously by Balzar's soldiers. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered how she could have remained naive for so long. Was it because she didn't want to see the truth?

Stopping to take a sip from her water flagon, she subconsciously grasped the hilt of the fancy weapon she had on loan from Loté before closing the final distance between her and her destination. It was imperative that none should see her enter his hut, or they would know right where to find her. If someone saw her now, she would be forced to take their life in order to guarantee their silence. Although killing came naturally enough when it meant the difference between survival and death, she had to admit that there had been times in the past when she'd killed for less noble reasons.

However, she quickly reminded herself that that was in the past. Since meeting Rod and Loté, so much had changed. What was acceptable in the past was harder to justify now. Instead of worrying only that she might be spotted, she suddenly found herself more concerned with the fact that she would be forced to kill an innocent human being. Nevertheless, because of old habits, she knew she would do it if she had too.

She had approached the hut so that she would be moving parallel with the front and not cutting across the alley toward the entrance. She did this so that if she were discovered at the last moment, it would only appear that she was passing by his hut and that it wasn't her destination. As she came abreast of the flap, she glanced quickly in all directions. Satisfied that the alley was deserted, she hurriedly ducked through it, feeling the cool darkness within envelope her.

Using the same maneuver that she had observed Rod and Loté use when entering her hut, she slid sideways, moving to the left, instantly putting her back to the wall so as not to make a silhouette against the moon glow. With Loté's knife held at the ready, she held her breath and listened, waiting anxiously while her eyes adjusted to the gloomy interior.

She realized her mistake immediately. Instead of compensating for the lack of hearing on her right side, by moving to the left side of the door, she had put that side toward the center of the hut. It had been her instinct to put her armed side toward the threat of possible danger, realizing too late that she couldn't hear the danger coming.

The fingers that closed over her right hand were firm, but not brutally harsh. They only meant to restrain her, not hurt her. In a rush of relief, she fell into his arms, drawing strength from his firm embrace. Though she still feared that he might reject her after hearing her story, she knew that for the moment, she was safe.

"My God," she cried softly against his naked, well-muscled chest. "I was afraid that I would never see you again."

Pushing her away and holding her at arm's length, he stated more than asked, alarm heightening the excitement in his voice, "You're injured!" Then, pulling her with him, calm returning to his voice, he instructed her, "Come over here so I can take a look at you."

"It's not that serious," she protested, but still allowing him to lead her to his wash area. "It's more important that you hear what I have to say before they find me."

Not listening to her gentle protests, he asked of her, a hint of anger in his voice, "Who did this to you?"

Fighting back the tears, she brushed his query aside, telling him that who had done it wasn't important for now. Instead, he needed to hear what she had to tell him before they found her.

Not realizing the severity of the situation, he tried soothing her. "You're safe now, my love. No one will find you here. And if they do, I'll protect you," he said calmly, gently pushing her down to his mat before bringing over a bowl with water and a clean chamois cloth with which to cleanse the wound.

As he sat down next to her, he softly dabbed water on the matted mess of hair and blood that was plastered to the side of her head. With alarm, he suddenly cried out, "Your ear is gone!"

"Yes, I know. But that's not important right now," she argued, her voice growing more strident because of the increasing pain shooting into the side of her head.

"Not important!" he shrieked. "My God, your ear is gone! What could be more important than that?"

"What's more important is that you hear me out before they find me. We need to get organized immediately, or we're all doomed to slavery!"

"Okay, okay" he softly replied, wringing the blood-drenched water out of the chamois and reapplying it to the side of her head. "I want you to tell me everything, but let me ask you a few questions, first. If I miss something, you can fill in the gaps later. However, we're going to take this one question at a time. First tell me, who are you afraid is going to find you?"

"Balzar," she blurted, the pain in her head growing more intense with each passing moment.

Seeing the pain in her eyes, he soothingly said, "The shock of the wound is wearing off, it's going to feel as if your head's on fire for a while. However, that will pass soon enough. It'll scab over fairly quickly in this dry air. But in the meantime, I'll tie your hair up so it doesn't get snagged in the hardening scab."

"Thanks," was all she could say for the moment. After several long breaths, she picked up where she had left off, "His soldiers. They'll be looking for me soon, and they won't stop until they find me. If they find you with me, they'll kill you, too." Overcome with pain and emotion, she suddenly broke down. Crying softly, she mumbled, "I never should have dragged you into this. It was my old, selfish nature taking over. Now we're both doomed."

"It's all right, Fayze, we're not both doomed," he said reassuringly. "In fact, I would be willing to wager that we are far from it."

"How can you be so sure when I haven't even told you what's going on yet?" she angrily protested, sensing that he was only patronizing her and not taking her as serious as she deserved to be taken.

"Okay, my love," he resignedly started, setting the bloodied chamois aside and retrieving a dressing for her head. "Tell me what is going on. Then we'll see if it's as bad as you seem to feel, all right?"

"In case I don't have time to finish, let me tell you about this cape," she started, feeling the old sense of calm and relief that his presence had always instilled in her in the past.

"Yes, tell me about your cape," he urged, a hint of anxiety showing through his calm exterior.

Suddenly, Fayze began to question her judgment about coming to him. Although the change was ever so slight, she noticed it almost immediately. She couldn't discount the feeling that his reaction was very similar to the soldier's; despite their interest in the cape, they both tried unsuccessfully to conceal it from her. Was it possible that he knew more than he intimated? Or was he truly eager to hear what she had to say? She found it most disconcerting to discover that she wasn't sure of him anymore. While racing madly toward his hut, and the sanctuary that she was sure she would find here, such doubts had never entered her mind. After all, they were lovers. Even if they didn't share the same mat on a regular basis, they shared something deeper.

In the advent of these latest doubts, another disturbing thought began to manifest itself in her pained mind; the intermittent love affair they shared was completely orchestrated by him. If it had been up to her, they would have moved in together and professed their love for each other to their fellow tribe's people a long time ago. There had never been any doubt in her mind regarding whom she loved and wanted to spend all of her time. In fact, until this very moment, she had believed the same of him. In addition, it had been his idea for her to take a mate, further establishing their separate and unconnected identities.

She knew he was close to Balzar, at least in many business transactions they shared. As a result of his business savvy and many influential friends and colleagues, she further knew that he was a wealthy man. Because of this and her own lowly stature in life, she never questioned his motives, especially when it came to keeping their affair secret.

Now, in the blink of an eye, all that had changed. Though he continued crooning over her head wound, she no longer felt safe in his presence. What was coming over her? Was it possible that she was suffering from delirium brought on by the head wound, or her loss of blood?

With the bandage tied securely in place, he stood back for a moment, examining his handy work. Seeing her opportunity, Fayze jumped to her feet and quickly moved toward the flap, uttering as she did so, "I must be going. It wasn't fair of me to bring my problems to you. What was I thinking, anyway? If they find me here, they'll kill you, too."

Moving even quicker than she, he cut off her route of escape, exclaiming as he grabbed her by the shoulder, "Wait! I don't know what has suddenly come over you, but you can't go out there. You'll be spotted immediately, especially with that bright white bandage on your head. You'll stand out like a sore thumb!" He paused for a moment, holding her firmly so she couldn't move. Almost immediately, her body went limp and she quit resisting him. His voice soft and soothing, he added, "Besides, you haven't finished telling me about your cape, or the rest of what has happened to you."

Finding herself unable to resist him, she slumped into his welcoming embrace. With a gentleness that she had come to know from him, he led her back to the mat. Gently, he eased her down. Despite her previous doubts about him, she realized that she would have to trust him. If he betrayed her trust, it would destroy her, anyway. She needed his love. Without it, life wouldn't be worth the struggle.

Starting slowly, she determined to tell him everything. She didn't want to leave out any details, no matter how small they might seem to her. Pulling her legs up to her chest, she said, "Let me start over, back at the beginning."

"Take your time; no one will dare enter this hut while I am still in it. Then, when you have told me everything, we will come up with a plan of action. Meanwhile, I will fix us something to eat. I'm sure you must be starving."

"Yes, I am, now that you mention it. Thank you."

"It's all right," he said soothingly, turning toward his small stash of supplies. "Now, please begin."

"It started right at the beginning of last rest. We were getting ready for sleep, or at least, I was," she lied, not wanting or feeling the need to tell him how her and Lap were actually embraced, the rising passion within their loins making them oblivious of their immediate surroundings. "They suddenly burst into the hut, catching us off guard. I suspected trouble immediately when I saw them, because of the capes they were wearing. It's a strange enough feeling to see someone covered in animal skins, but this was completely different. The way they closed in on Lap and me, we never had a chance," she hesitated, accepting his proffered flagon of wine. "Thank you."

"Please, go on," he urged, clearly sorry that he'd interrupted her.

"My first thought was that we were being struck by a team of assassins. I know how silly that must sound, but if you'd seen the way they moved, and the way they worked together. It was so flawless, almost orchestrated." She paused, silently contemplating her choice of words, and then said, "No, not orchestrated, that would require practice, a routine. This was much more natural, more flowing. It was almost as if they were reading each other's minds. Lap tried to fight back. He was killed in the struggle," she said slowly, adding to her compilation of little lies. Although she knew that he didn't care for Lap, she wasn't sure how he would respond to the fact that she was the one that had killed him, and this wasn't the time to find out.

She waited a moment, expecting him to say something. When he remained silent, she continued. "At first they threatened to kill me, too. They said if I didn't lead them to where the prisoners were being held, they would slice my throat open." After another pause, she stated, "I believed them. There was a coldness in their eyes that told me they meant what they said."

Although he didn't want to interrupt her, he had to ask. "Is that when they severed your ear? Or did that happen later, when you escaped from them?"

Hesitating, she debated again if she should tell him the truth. Then, remembering her earlier conviction, she decided it was time to divulge everything. "I lied. It was I who killed Lap."

If he was surprised or shocked by her declaration, he showed no signs of it. In fact, he merely asked her to continue, casually suggesting that she try to stay closer to the truth in the future, if she expected him to help her.

"The minute they spoke, I knew there was something different about them, and it wasn't just the capes they were wearing. They were only doing what they were doing because they were trying to help their friends. No one I've ever known has ever done anything like that. It struck me as a noble cause, one worth fighting, for a change. The minute I knew Lap was going to be a hindrance and a danger, I eliminated him." She paused, turning her eyes to meet his, looking for what, she wasn't sure. But she was immensely relieved not to see any condemnation there, either.

"It's okay, Fayze. Please, continue."

"Once I told them of my discontent with our leader, they immediately took me into their confidence. They claimed to know Balzar from their past. Unfortunately, though, we didn't have much time to talk, so I never did learn how. When I told them that I would lead them to the prisoners, they suggested that I wear his cape, this one, so that I could carry the weapons concealed beneath it. It was a dangerous plan, but they were determined to see their friends freed. For some reason, they felt responsible for their friend's predicament. But, like I said earlier, we didn't have time for much talking, so I never did learn why they felt this way." She paused again, a tear forming in the corner of her eye. "They actually trusted me with their weapons, and they'd only just met me!" Her gaze locked on his before she continued, "And now I feel as though I've let them down."

Stopping to wet her throat on the fruity wine, she took the dried meat that he offered, but only toyed with it, her appetite having left her for the moment. Unable to eat, she continued with her story.

"When we arrived at Balzar's dwelling, everything was going according to plan, except for one small detail; there were many more soldiers there than he'd anticipated, in addition to Balzar's personal guards. If we had attacked according to his plan, they would have cut us to ribbons. It would've been pure suicide, and they both realized it. Instead, they allowed themselves to be captured, and I escaped. That's when I lost my ear." She paused again, this time for effect. "That's also when I realized the importance of this cape, and the material that it's made of."

"How's that?" he pressed, his voice rising audibly in proportion to his increased anxiety.

That feeling of mistrust came roaring back from the depths of her subconscious. She involuntarily hesitated, caught off guard. Suddenly she wasn't sure if she was doing the right thing, again. She sensed that he knew what was coming.

Shaking it off before it could get a solid foothold, however, she forced herself to continue, "It saved my life. When Balzar's soldier struck me with his long-knife," she paused, pulling the cape off her shoulder and baring it so that he could see the discoloring of the massive bruise. "His blade couldn't penetrate it! If I'd been wearing it over my head, as they suggested, I probably wouldn't have lost my ear, either. Of one thing I am absolutely sure, if they hadn't given it to me to wear, I would be dead!"

Taking a swallow of wine to wash down the dry, crumbly cheese, she purposely delayed, watching his expression for any telltale signs that might give him away. Although it hurt her to suspect him of knowing more than he was letting on, she couldn't quite let herself go. When he remained motionless, impassively chewing on his own mouthful of cheese and dried meat, she began to doubt her instincts.

Sensing that she wasn't going to get a response from him, she allowed herself to attribute her prior feelings of mistrust to the effects of the head wound. After all, it was possible that he honestly didn't know about the magnificent properties of the reeds.

Clearing her throat, she continued, "On the way here, I finally pieced it together. Balzar has had more people working on reed harvesting and weaving than on any other project. Sure, we've all just assumed the same thing; it was for the construction of our huts and pathways. However, that didn't explain the surplus or the continual production, not to mention the fact that the huts are portable. Everyone knows it's his intention to pack up the whole village when we leave here, including the woven pathways. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became; we are nothing but pack animals and slaves to him!"

She waited, expecting a reaction to this revelation. Instead, he placatingly smiled, gesturing for her to continue. She couldn't help but feel that he was indulging her, though now, she was certain that he meant her no harm by it. It suddenly dawned on her that of course, he would be aware of Balzar's intentions, including the commercial value of the woven material; wasn't he, after all, second only to Balzar in terms of business trading and gross profits. In fact, when she thought back on it, hadn't he shown up in their tribe at almost the same time as Balzar? The only significant difference between the two of them was his apparent lack of desire to control people. Where Balzar was sadistic and demented with respect to the women of her tribe, he had been just the opposite, always showing them respect and kindness. Wasn't that why she had been attracted to him in the first place? And wasn't that why most of the original members of her tribe had been drawn to him, also?

Yet, even more importantly, wasn't that why she'd come running to him now. Wasn't she here to solicit his help to overthrow Balzar before he turned all of her original tribe members into slaves?

"That's it, isn't it?" she asked of him, knowing he'd read her thoughts with regard to having prior knowledge of the material and its commercial trade value. "You've known of its properties all along." Her anger at him suddenly flaring to life, she cried out, "How could you? How could you go along with him when you knew his intentions? You were just going to allow him to dictate over my people, ruling them with swords and whips, so that you could capitalize on this fabric!" she screamed at him, holding up a corner of her cape between whitened knuckles.

Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes as the rage washed through her. Suddenly tired and disheartened, it all seemed so futile. The man she had come to in search of help and solace was proving to be only one notch removed from the man that she had hoped to depose. Even in the face of this unsettling knowledge, though, she still loved him. And because of her undying love for him, she couldn't draw her weapon against him. Never before in all her life, had she felt so crushed and futile.

"It's okay, Fayze," he purred softly, trying to soothe her, as he took her in his arms. "For what it's worth, I've known about the material for some time now. In truth, I have known of its commercial value since the discovery of it. Even as we sit here, Balzar is having armor made from it for his soldiers. It's impervious to steel blades, and it cools the body. Anyone that's been inside one of these huts has to have noticed its cooling properties. Forgive me, Fayze, but only an idiot wouldn't see it for what it is."

"Fine! Because it took me so long to see it, I'm an idiot! Well answer me this, am I an idiot for feeling the way I do about you?"

He flinched at the remark, the hurt showing clearly in his bright eyes. Nonetheless, her hurt and anger wouldn't let her stop. On the verge of screaming at him, she venomously hissed, "Knowing what you do, how could you idly stand by and let Balzar turn my people into slaves?"

Still holding her tightly against him, he humbly replied, abashed by her outburst. "You're absolutely right, on that point. There isn't any plausible defense for me. In order to reap the profits, I was willing to look the other way with regard to your tribe's people. That sounds callous and uncaring, but it just never occurred to me to consider how you might feel about it. For that reason alone, I am truly sorry. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

"No, I can't. Before I can find it in me to forgive you, I have to find you guilty of something, and I don't," she stated emphatically, squeezing him harder.

"Then I think it's time that we figure out how we're going to help your new-found friends out of their current predicament," he said happily, returning her squeeze with one of his own. "We'll have to wait until the next rest period before we can do anything. Until then, we need to keep you out of sight. Despite my position and standing with Balzar, there's no guarantee that they won't search my hut. But since we don't have any alternative, we'll have to take that risk. If they do come here, and I can't convince them of their folly, we'll have to hide you under the furs on my mat. It isn't much, but unless you can think of something better, that's it."

She was so relieved that she hadn't been mistaken about his feelings toward her; she could have cared less about the risks of being captured. All that mattered was that he was on her side; no man had ever made such a commitment to her before. "I have complete faith in you. You'll never let them get a foot inside here."

"Your confidence in me is very reassuring," he said lightly, smiling broadly at her compliment. "In the meantime, we still need to devise a plan of action."

"You reminded me of him, just now," she said softly, a glow lighting up her face.

"Of who?"

"The man that we intend to help," she offhandedly replied, oblivious of the sudden change in his demeanor as he sat looking at her.

"You haven't told me, by the way, do you know his name?"

"Why of course. Him and his mate's," she said lightly, remembering the attraction that she'd felt toward him and the reaction that her flirting had elicited from his woman. Although he was a handsome man, the attraction was only a physical one. In some respects, it was similar to the feelings that she felt for this man sitting next to her, but nowhere near as deep or as strong. She was equally certain that he shared the same physical attraction for her; a point that his mate didn't fail to notice. Remembering those moments brought laughter to her eyes.

Giggling, she said, "Rod and Loté."

Suddenly, the wine he was about to swallow went down the wrong pipe, causing him to choke and gag. Spitting and coughing, he jumped to his feet, spilling more from the cup he was holding. Gasping for breath, he choked out the following, "What did you say?"

Never slow to read people, Fayze recognized the import of their names immediately, and she didn't need his reaction to see it. Rising to her own feet, she patted his back, trying to help him catch his breath. As she hammered on him, she felt again that there was something going on here, something to which she wasn't privy.

Knowing that he'd heard her the first time and was just looking for confirmation, she repeated their names. There was no mistaking his look of surprise and astonishment as he asked her again, "Did you say Rod, as in Captain Rod?"

Confused by his question, she answered as forthrightly as she knew how. "I wouldn't know if he was a captain or not. They just introduced themselves as Rod and Loté."

"Please, describe him to me," he demanded, his manner making her nervous. "Not the woman, just the man."

Trying to remember the details, she hesitantly replied, "He was tall, well built, and very handsome. His woman, though scornful at times, treated him with deference. Though he wasn't a dictator, he was a natural leader. People would be drawn to him, much like yourself." After pausing for a moment, she added, "When I was around him, he reminded me a lot of you. There are a lot of similarities between the two of you."

With a far away, distant look in his eyes, he spoke more to himself than to her when he asked, "How could he have survived? And why hadn't Balzar mentioned him to me?" Turning back to Fayze, he calmly asked of her, "You did say that he and Balzar knew each other, did you not?"

Unsteadily, she responded, "Yes. He knew Loté, too. It's almost funny, but even under the stress of the moment, while Balzar leered at her, I could see an equally vicious hatred toward Rod."

With the distant, faraway look still in his eyes, he murmured softly to himself, "So, Rod, we meet again."

His words and the way he spoke them sent a chill up her spine. Looking into his eyes, she could feel the small hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She didn't know why, but that far away look in his eyes was unnerving her to the very core of her being. There was something of great importance taking place right before her, and she couldn't begin to grasp it.

Softly, almost indiscernibly, her presence all but forgotten, he repeated the same words again, "So we meet again."

### **6**

For a period of time that seemed to drag on forever, I hovered between consciousness and a dark, silent abyss. It would have been much easier to let myself go, to just fall into the warm, enticing embrace of the darkness that was so lovingly encircling my mind. Nevertheless, I couldn't do it. Even in my hazy, semiconscious state, it was unthinkable for me to just abandon my friends, especially Loté. Because of me, she was now Balzar's prisoner! After everything that he put her through in the tunnels and catacombs of the subsurface, I let her fall into his hands. Even if she can find it within herself to forgive me, I can't. She deserves better than this. Any other man would have died trying to keep her safe from Balzar, and yet, I just stood by and watched him take her. The sadistic pleasures that he will extract from her lovely flesh is more than I can bear to think of. To do so will surely drive me mad.

In addition, because of me, my friends were also his prisoners. They had put their trust in me, and I had let them down. Now it was up to me to save them. And to accomplish that, I had to fight the temptation that was trying to draw me into its soothing embrace.

Exerting a determination greater than the blow to my head, the gray fog slowly lifted. Gradually, my eyes came back into focus. For the briefest of moments, I didn't recognize my surroundings. Tightness gripped my chest as memories of the tunnels came swarming back into my consciousness. Although I knew that it wasn't possible, I felt as if I were back in the darkness of the tunnels beneath the surface.

However, the reality of our situation quickly came back to me, as my sight fell upon Wary, still hanging limply from the stone post.

Upon seeing him, his knees hovering mere inches above the hard stone floor, I suddenly remembered my own bonds. While hanging unconscious, my entire weight had also been suspended just inches above the floor by the woven cord securing my wrists. In the time since being knocked unconscious, my hands had gone numb from lack of circulation. The bonds around my wrists were working like a tourniquet, cinching ever tighter as a result of my dead weight dangling at the end of them.

Although I couldn't guess at how much time had passed since being struck over the head, I was sure of one thing, it was a lot less time than what Brae and Wary had endured so far. It was dismaying to think that even if we did get loose now, we would be unable to wield weapons. Our hands were too damaged to even wrap our fingers around the hilt of a knife, much less hold it adequately to do battle. They could cut us loose this very minute, and we would be as helpless as newborns.

Pushing myself to my feet, I tried loosening the bonds that secured my wrists, hoping to start the process of getting the circulation moving again. I was encouraged to discover that although the knots were tight, the pressure was relieved just by removing the tension created by my weight. If I kept at it and my legs didn't cramp from lack of movement, my hands would be almost back to normal in a very short time. Already, they were beginning to tingle, a true indicator that blood was flowing through them once again. Shortly, the tingling would turn into a burning sensation, quickly followed by extreme pain. If I was lucky, the pain would be short-lived and full use of my hands would be restored.

Rubbing them vigorously together and shaking them to get the blood flowing, I turned my attention back to Wary. His situation was much more desperate than my own. Unlike me, his hands had already been suffering from blood deprivation before they knocked him unconscious. But unlike me, he was still unconscious and still dangling by his wrists. It suddenly seemed imperative that I wake him up, though I could see that the damage was beyond repair.

"Wary! Wary, wake up, it's me, Rod!"

Slowly, his head started moving, swaying unsteadily from one side to the other, as he searched for the source of my voice. Even from this distance, I could see the unfocused glaze in his eyes.

"Wary, over here," I appealed to him, no longer shouting for fear of drawing the guard's attention just beyond the doorway.

Slowly his eyes came around and found mine. Much to my relief, I could see the fog lifting from them, and recognition returning. Then, swinging around suddenly, he turned toward Brae; his first conscious thoughts were of concern for her. Seeing her limp form still hanging suspended from the post, his head slumped forward, audibly landing against the stone pillar with a thud. Though the pain must have been tremendous, he was beyond acknowledging it. Instead, he slowly rolled his head sideways until he was looking back in my direction, the fire of a moment ago already dissipating.

"We have to do something, Rod," he said dejectedly, knowing we were powerless so long as we were secured to the stone posts. "We can't just hang here and die. It's not right."

"We'll do something, my friend," I solemnly replied, not feeling as optimistic as I sounded. "First, we need to work on our hands. If we can't use our hands, it won't do us any good to get free."

With a visibly painful effort, he raised his hands up and took a close look at them. Unable to move the swollen, blackened digits, he softly spoke, not taking his eyes from them, "I think they're dead, Rod. See the dark streaks running from them and going up my arms." A tremor in his voice betraying his mounting fear, he continued, "They don't work, Rod. No matter how hard I try to move my fingers, they don't work!"

"Give it time," I said, trying to calm him. Although my voice didn't betray me, I suspected he was right; his hands were already beyond saving. Even from this distance, I could see the black streaks running up his arms. If they aren't amputated soon, the infection will contaminate his entire body. However, I couldn't tell him that. What he needed right now was hope, even if it was false. "Keep moving them. Shake them. Do whatever you can, Wary, but you need to get the blood flowing again. When we get out of here, we'll return to Keazar's lab and take a short rest in the recycling chamber." When he didn't respond immediately, I quickly added, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole ordeal, "By then, we'll probably all need a refresher!"

"I'm not going to get out of here, Rod. At least not alive!"

"Quit talking like that. We're all going to get out of here alive. Don't you dare stop believing that, Wary! Do you hear me? Don't give up, Wary! For Brae's sake, you can't afford to give up!" I shouted, forgetting all about the guards in my anger at his fatalistic attitude. Calming down, I suggested that he try to wake Brae, hoping he would find an inner strength for her sake. For his own sake, he'd already given up.

As he talked to her, trying to coax her back to her feet, I continued working on my hands. My head was still hurting from the blow, but the pain was secondary compared to the fire in my digits. But despite the burning sensation, I was slowly able to move them. With a little more work, they might return to normal. Conversely, though my hands were improving, already I could feel a soreness developing in my legs from standing in one place too long.

In an effort to work out the cramps in my legs, I tried moving around the circumference of the post. Unfortunately, they had secured the cords to the post in such a manner that it was virtually impossible to move more than one time around the post in either direction before the cord bound up. As it bound up on the top of the post, it became an even tighter tourniquet than it had while being suspended from it. Whoever had devised these bonds was an expert in their field, a sadistic expert!

As I went back to work on my hands and wrists, my thoughts turned to Loté and where Balzar might have taken her. Then, even before I was aware of it, my thoughts turned to Fayze, and her firm, full-bodied figure. Though I was feeling guilty that I should be thinking of her at a time like this, I justified my thoughts by telling myself that she was the center of many unanswered questions. She was also the center of my hope for our escape and ultimate survival. It was a lot of hope to place on an unknown, but I was short on alternatives.

After Balzar's men took us away, did she have the sense to get away with our weapons? And if she did, will she return to help us, or leave us to fend for ourselves while she escapes on her own? Although my attraction for her was nothing more than a shallow appreciation of her physical attributes, I strongly suspected that her own moral fiber ran much deeper. She liked to tease, but only because she found the reaction that she elicited from it entertaining. If I had ever found myself alone with her, and was stupid enough to make a sexual advance toward her, I have no doubt that she would have thwarted me. Yet, we both enjoyed the flirting, including the reaction it drew from Loté.

Poor Loté. She didn't deserve even the harmless flirting between Fayze and me. She deserved better than that, and I'll tell her so the next time I see her. But will I ever see her, again? And where did Balzar take her and why? He had a plan, of that much, I was certain. But what was it?

There were so many unanswered questions, and one over-riding feeling, hatred. Never before in my life have I hated someone with the passion that I feel toward Balzar! "God damn you, Balzar, if you harm one hair on her head, I'll see you in Hell!" I whispered through clenched teeth.

Almost as if he heard me, he appeared, stepping out from behind the woven wall that sliced the room into two corridors.

"Where is she, you bastard?" I lashed out at him.

Immediately, his guards jumped forward, their weapons leveled at my mid-section. Before they could strike, though, Balzar gave a small wave of his hand, stopping them in their tracks. With a smirk, he said, "In the future, you would be wise to watch what you say. I may not always be in such a generous mood."

"Ha! You don't know the meaning of the word, generous," I fired back, maliciously anxious to provoke his guards.

"Ah, yes, you may be right," he smoothly responded, his thin-lipped grin never fading. "But where I may be lacking in such graces, your woman is more than abundant. Is she not?"

Raging furiously, I screamed at him, "What have you done with her, you sick bastard! You're no better than a depraved dog!"

"Depraved dog, you say. Well, I guess I've been called worse," he calmly replied, clearly enjoying my anger and frustration. "As for your woman, well, aside from my personal inspection of her, which was very thorough," he paused for effect, casually watching my futile attempts to tear loose from the post. He was enjoying every ounce of my pain and anger. When I calmed myself for a second, he quickly continued, adding more fuel to my raging fury.

"I am glad to say that she is every bit as beautiful as I last remember her. Although she has been away from the recycling machines for some time now, her flesh is still firm and supple. It would appear to be a natural trait of hers, a very becoming one. And, I must say, the moons' rays have not been unkind to her. Her darkened complexion adds a very intriguing new dimension to her overall sexuality. Wouldn't you agree?" he sneered. Then, before I could respond, he quickly added, "Of course, you've been too preoccupied with other matters to really notice her increased sexual appeal, haven't you? Would it matter to you if I told you that I don't intend to let it go to waste," he chuckled.

"If you have so much as touched her with your filthy hands, I'll kill you!"

"Touched her?" he exclaimed, feigning surprise at my comment. "Of course I've touched her! Why, I've even touched her in places she wouldn't let you touch," he added, all the while continuing to study my anguished face, unable to mask the delight that suffused his own.

"I'm going to kill you," I bitterly hissed, the veins in my neck standing rigid and beating in rhythm with my hammering heart. "You will die a thousand deaths by my hands, each one more painful than the last!"

"Oh, you can make all the idle threats that you like, Captain," he said nonchalantly. "But me, I have some unfinished business with a very desirable woman." Looking me straight in the eye, so there could be no mistaking his intent, he threw me a wink. Then, as though he were suddenly in a hurry, he turned and headed around the corner of the suspended wall.

"I'm going to kill him. Then I'm going to dispose of his remains so he can never be recycled, not even by accident!"

"Don't let him get to you, Rod. For what it's worth, I was watching to see what direction he took when he left here. He went the same way the last time and he returned from that way this time. My guess is he hasn't even seen Loté since you two were first captured."

"I want to believe you, Wary..."

He abruptly cut me off, shouting determinedly at me, "Then do, Rod! Believe me the way that I believe you!" Then, almost solemnly, he added, "When we stop believing in each other, Rod, we're as good as dead."

"Okay, I believe," I muttered resignedly, yet trying to sound optimistic; I would easily lie to him if it made him feel any better.

"He's right, Rod," spoke Brae for the first time, her voice weak and strained with pain. "I was watching too, and unless they moved her when I wasn't looking, he hasn't seen Loté since her capture."

"Thanks, Brae," I said with sincerity, knowing how much pain she was fighting her way through just to make me feel better.

Although her effort was a noble one, it had just the opposite effect on me than the one that she desired; instead of finding hope in her words, I found myself feeling guiltier.

"Have you come up with any ideas, yet?" asked Wary, trying to sound enthusiastic, though he still couldn't move his fingers and the color in them hadn't improved any.

Flexing my fingers, I stared at my hands, unable to tell them that I was at a loss.

"Give him time to think, Wary," Brae scolded him suddenly, neither wanting to nor able to hear anything less than a positive remark.

Unable to disappoint her, I lied, "I think I might have an idea, but let me work on it for a minute."

Although neither said anything, I knew they didn't believe me. However, what was even more pressing was the very real possibility that unless I came up with something, and quickly, we were all doomed by our own despair.

Wracking my mind for an answer, my thoughts turned back to the moments just prior. With so many things to think about, it surprised me to find myself wondering why Balzar had come in and tormented me when he did. Having thwarted his plan to be the supreme ruler of the subsurface, he held a personal grudge against me. Obviously, he never got over his humiliation from the way Loté had escaped him, either. Trusting that she was only going to relieve herself, she managed to slip by his guards and find sanctuary with a noble tribe led by King Sheesa. Balzar had naively assumed that she was going to become his queen, a position that many women coveted. And then, at her first opportunity, she left, leaving him alone in his private chamber. Not only was he disappointed by the loss, but also, he took her abuse of his trust very personally, even if it was a limited amount of trust.

So why did he come and taunt me?

Suddenly the answer came to me. While I hung here, waiting for his soldiers to start beating on me, he'd already begun the torture. It wasn't so much that he had a need to see me bleed, at least not literally. If he could make me squirm in my own mental anguish, he would be just as content, if not more so. Nevertheless, the physical part of my torture will undoubtedly come later. To his own detriment, he'd been unable to contain himself. He had to come and whet his appetite. Sadly, he had just the right tool to get through to me, Loté. As long as she was his captive, he held the power.

So now, all I had to do was figure out how to use my knowledge to its fullest advantage.

Although Wary and Brae didn't expect me to come up with a plan, and so far, I hadn't, they did expect me to talk to them in an effort to keep their spirits up. Because of the guilt that I felt at having been the initial cause of their capture, it was the least I could do for them.

"Wary," I said quietly, just loud enough for Brae to hear, since I didn't know who was listening just beyond the wall. "I think I might have figured out our captor's intentions."

"You mean besides just killing us?" Wary quipped, a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

"If that was his plan, we'd be dead already," I calmly replied, glad to note that there was still a little fight in him. "Although, now that you mention it, I'm not really sure why he's keeping you and Brae around?"

"Because he likes us," Wary retorted, casting a wink at Brae.

"How can I argue with logic like that?" I quipped back, relishing in the repertoire. In a more serious note, I said, "He wants to make me suffer before he kills me. It's not enough for him to simply torture me with whips, chains, and all the other paraphernalia at his disposal; it's his intention to use Loté and you guys to drive me mad! And I think he might be able to do it." For a brief moment, they stared back at me in silence.

Glancing over at the guards standing in the exit leading from this corridor, I was again struck with that nagging feeling that I couldn't quite put my finger on. There was something obvious for me to see, but I wasn't seeing it.

Turning back toward Wary, so that I could speak softly without the guards overhearing us, I asked, "Do you notice something different about those guards over there by the exit? Anything unique, or out of the ordinary, maybe?"

Looking past me, toward the guards by the exit, he took a minute to study them. While he did, I noticed his hands were still a dull bluish-gray shot through with black, and his bloated fingers weren't moving. Looking past him, I noticed Brae was also studying the guards by the exit, trying to decipher if there was anything to notice. Like Wary's hands, hers were also discolored, swollen, and unmoving.

"I'm sorry, Rod, they look just like all the others, big, stupid, and ugly."

"Yeah, they don't look any different than anyone else we've seen so far," rasped Brae, her voice accentuating her pain, as well as her disappointment at not being able to help.

"I keep looking at them, but I can't figure it out," I said, frustration tingeing my voice. "There's something about them that we're not seeing. I just know it. But what it is won't come to me."

My train of thought was abruptly cut off when Balzar came stalking around the end of the woven wall. His guards, having a better angle of view, had seen him coming and were standing erect. Hurriedly, they positioned themselves at his side, eager to carry out any sadistic orders he might have for them.

Knowing that we were all watching his every move, he strode past Wary and me, stopping only when he was within inches of Brae. Wary, immediately suspecting his intent grew frantic, his tortured muscles bunching up in the back of his neck and shoulders, as he strained against the cords that held him.

"Leave her alone, Balzar! It's me that you want to hurt, not her," I pleaded with him, trying futilely to distract him away from Brae. "Do what you will with me, but leave her be. She's never done anything to you!"

"I'm warning you, Balzar," Wary threatened, his voice showing no sign of his inner turbulence. "Leave her be."

Grabbing her cheeks between his thumb and index fingers, while her chin rested in the cup of his left hand, he viciously squeezed her face, forcing her to look up at him. With a fire born of pure hatred burning brightly in her eyes, she met his gaze evenly with no sign of fear. Their eyes locked on each other's, neither backing down. Leering over her tortured form, he squeezed harder, exerting even more pressure, forcing her mouth open. He was applying so much pressure that her own teeth were cutting into the soft, inner flesh of her cheeks. Red spittle oozed from the corners of her mouth.

Determined not to give him the satisfaction of her cries, she remained mute, a trickle of blood running down the corner of her chin. The sight of her blood only spurred Balzar on. With slow determination, he bent his own face down to hers until they were less than an inch apart. With much exaggeration, he locked his lips over hers and started sucking the blood and spittle from her mouth. Smacking his lips together for effect, he proceeded to follow the trickle down her chin with his tongue, hesitating when he reached the hollow at the base of her throat.

Not relenting the force of his fingers against her cheeks, he viciously forced her head back. Then slowly, taking his time while he savored the taste of her blood, he resumed his extravagant show of licking her. Unhurriedly, he worked his tongue down the tender, pale skin of her throat, continuing until he reached her breast, even though the trail of crimson hadn't reached beyond her chin.

While still holding her head back, he bit down on the firm flesh beneath his mouth, breaking the skin and starting a fresh flow of crimson. A small cry of pain escaped her throat, an increasing stream of blood seeping from the corners of her mouth. With a great deal of sucking noises, he lapped at the fresh flow of blood streaming from her breast, while sliding his hands down to the base of her throat.

Wary, beside himself with fury and frustration, had jerked so hard against his own bonds at some point that his wrists were bleeding profusely, staining the post a crimson red. Despite the pain, he continued jerking against the cord that bound him. His mind was closed to all but one thought: to get free at any cost. He was determined to kill the man that was injuring his love. This desire to be free of his constraints was so great he was literally tearing his hands off at the wrists.

Meanwhile, Brae's thighs were quivering from the strain of holding herself upright. Yet, Balzar's strangling grip on her throat prevented her from slumping forward.

Only when she started convulsing did he realize that he'd held her airway too tight; he'd asphyxiated her. It was her body's last, desperate cry for oxygen.

Much to my surprise and continued anguish, though, instead of relinquishing his hold on her throat, and letting her gasp back to life, he simply turned to face Wary and me, a sadistic mask of pleasure distorting his otherwise hawkish features.

Seeing the reaction that he was getting from us, he pushed her head even farther back, threatening to snap her neck. She was being torn between her bonds to the post and his crushing grip on her windpipe, her legs no longer able to support her. Something had to give.

When he couldn't force her head back any farther from his current position, he moved himself so that he was wedged between the post and her body. Now, using the stability of the post to brace himself against, he brutally forced her head back, back beyond what her vertebrae were meant to go.

Fortunately for Brae, she had slipped into the welcome abyss of unconsciousness, her mind unable to function for lack of oxygen.

Suddenly realizing that she was about to die, he hurriedly ordered his guards to support her limp body, while slapping her face to bring her back to consciousness. Just watching him was turning my stomach. He was enjoying himself too much, there had to be a way to stop it.

For just the briefest of moments, he looked toward Wary and me. In that glance, I saw more than just pure joy in his eyes; I saw a vicious brutality. There could be no doubt that I was looking into the eyes of a madman.

Satisfied that he had our attention, he turned back toward the helpless Brae. She was just regaining consciousness, her clouded eyes looking pleadingly toward Wary when, with a sudden flexing of his upper torso, Balzar snapped her head back, breaking her neck with a loud crack.

Even before the sound registered on my ears, he had turned back to see the expressions of shock and horror on our faces, the whole reason behind his little show. With a smile, he indicated for his guards to take her still warm body and do with it what they desired before the flesh turned cold. Tauntingly, just inches beyond Wary's futilely grasping hands, he strolled past him.

Crazed beyond reasoning by Brae's death, Wary was like a wild animal, throwing himself against the end of his bindings. With foaming spittle flying from his mouth, and blood flowing from the savage wounds to his wrists, he continued launching himself crazily at Balzar's passing form, madly kicking out with his feet to no avail.

He suddenly stopped his frantic behavior and slumped, broken, to the end of his bonds. With interest, through my own shock and disbelief at what I'd seen, I noticed how quickly Balzar lost interest in him when he could no longer provoke him. Now, his attention was focused intently on me.

"Ah, that was such fun," he said casually, smiling broadly. "But that was just the prelude to what's still to come." He paused for a moment as the guards went by with Brae's limp body held grotesquely between them. Though they intended to taunt and agonize Wary further with their handling of her limp flesh, he was beyond noticing. With just a slight nod of his head, Balzar indicated for her to be taken to the other side of the woven wall. Then, before turning his attention back to me, he nodded toward the remainder of his guards in presence, indicating for them to carry out some prearranged plan. Turning to face me, he snidely remarked, "You should enjoy this."

The two guards approached Wary with their weapons drawn, still cautious of him after his last outburst toward Balzar. Wary, not even aware of them, remained limp, buried in his own private hell of shock and grief. Without warning, one of the guards drove his long-knife into my friend's back, forcing it through his torso and out his chest. Without a word, he slumped against the post, his torment over.

"No!" I screamed, overcome with shock and disbelief. With a rage so profound I couldn't control it, I turned toward Balzar, noting in some small part of my mind that was still functioning rationally that he had stepped backward, putting himself just inches beyond my grasp. Unlike Wary, however, my hands still functioned, and if I could just get him near enough, I could hold onto him. However, he wasn't falling for my inaction, at least not in the way that I intended for him.

Speaking calmly, almost casually, he said, "We'll see how long you can maintain your cool, Captain. I haven't even started on you, yet."

"You didn't have to kill him!" I cried. "You broke him as thoroughly as if you had run him through with a spear when you killed the only thing that mattered to him. There was no need to take what little was left."

"You're absolutely right," he calmly agreed. "There wasn't any real need to watch him die. It did nothing for me, personally. Nothing like the pleasure that I got by killing his little blonde strumpet."

As he spoke, a look of pleasure lit up his face, as he savored the memory.

"Then why, why did you have to kill him?" I pleaded, trying to fathom the nature of the beast that stood before me.

"You just don't get it, do you? Will you ever understand?" he sighed, the smile never leaving his face. "What you just witnessed was my ability to show compassion. Really, I'm not the heartless creature that you think I am." His tone was sarcastic, his eyes never wavering from mine. "It's because of this deep compassion I feel toward my fellow man, which I am sure you can relate to, that I felt this urge to put your friend out of his misery. To end his suffering, you might say."

Spitting at his feet, I emphatically stated, "You don't know the meaning of the word, compassion!"

Looking up, as if contemplating what I'd said, he suddenly locked his gaze on mine and coldly stated, "Yes, you are probably correct. In fact, in a short while you will see just how little compassion I am capable of."

"Why? Why do you insist on making me suffer so?"

"Why?" he repeated, his voice sounding incredulous and outraged. "You have the gall to ask me why! Well let me tell you why! You destroyed my empire! You humiliated me in front of my soldiers! You literally drove me out of the subsurface, from the home and domain that I ruled for centuries! And you have the nerve to ask me why I feel so compelled to make you suffer!"

"If you had treated people with respect, instead of as slaves and worse, we could have been allies. What I did, I did for the betterment of mankind. If you can't understand that, then there truly isn't any hope for you."

"No, there is much hope for me," he countered, his composure recovered. "For you, however, I'm afraid there isn't. If you think it has been difficult watching your most loyal friends die, then you just wait, you haven't seen anything yet!"

During his tirade, he had inadvertently moved forward, placing himself just within my reach. Unable to control myself any longer, I planted my left foot and kicked out with my right, a move that caught him and his guards by surprise. With all the force of my cramping leg muscles, my foot landed squarely in his groin. With a grunt and a whoosh of breath, he doubled forward, his head coming within inches of my grasp. Still, I couldn't reach him with my bound hands. But his head had become an easy target for my feet. Planting my left foot, I shot out with my right, aiming to kick him in the face.

Although everything was happening so fast, his guards were reacting even faster. With all of my weight balancing on my left foot, my right foot already in the air and moving toward his face, I was suddenly free-falling. In the fraction of a second before my right foot snapped into his exposed face, the guard nearest me caught me behind the left ankle with his own foot, kicking it out from under me. With a wrenching snap, my full weight dropped to the end of my bindings, forcing the woven cords even deeper into my already lacerated flesh. My flailing right foot sailed ineffectually upward, striking nothing but air as it came short of his tortured face.

Stifling a scream of pain and anguish mixed with frustration at my thwarted opportunity, I waited for the blow, confident that my life was about to end. Instead, Balzar, gasping and wheezing, spluttered to his guards, stopping them a moment before they ran me through with their sharp steel blades.

Still doubled over, his hand barely raised above the height of his waist, he gasped, "No, wait, he mustn't die. Not yet."

Putting the pain in my wrists and shoulders out of my mind, I looked him in the eye and flatly stated, "If you're half as intelligent as you think you are, you'll do yourself a favor and kill me now. I'm telling you this, because if I ever get loose from this damn post, I'm coming for you. And when I do, there won't be anywhere for you to hide that I won't find you. You can run to the north, or you can run to the south. You can even run underground. But sooner or later, I'm going to find you. And when that time comes, you'll think back on this moment, and you'll wish that you had let your goons finish me."

Forcing himself upright, his only response was his insidious smile, as it slowly crept back over his face, pushing away the pain and anguish of my blow to his groin.

Abruptly, he turned away and strode from the room, veering to the left as he went through the exit, and not to the right that led beyond the woven wall. Surprisingly, his guards followed him out, leaving me alone in the long, narrow corridor of a room with just the company of the other pillars. This was just another phase of his sadistic tactics. It was his intention to leave me here alone, without even the benefit of the guards, in order that I would relive the last few moments leading up to my friends' deaths. In his sickness, he knew that my feelings of helplessness, with respect to Brae and Wary's demise, would begin to eat at me, slowly driving me deeper into the unfathomed depths of my own mind.

To foil him, I couldn't let that happen, I had to remain optimistic. There was always the chance, though it wasn't looking very probable, that I would find a way to return to the subsurface, and hence, Keazar's recycling labs, with small amounts of my dead friend's tissue. Using Keazar's newly developed methods, combined with his years of experience, I knew it was well within his capability to recycle them. Unfortunately, his labs were a world away. And at the moment, I didn't even have the slightest idea where they'd taken my friends' bodies.

To further aggravate the situation, not only was I still bound to this stone pillar, but I also didn't have any idea regarding Loté's whereabouts. For that matter, I didn't even know for sure if she was still alive. However, it was more than just wishful thinking convincing me that she was. Even if she was severely injured, Balzar would have dragged her in here and made her suffer for my benefit. He wouldn't have been content with disposing of her body when there was still some use to be extracted from it. With the exception of Loté, he couldn't hurt me any more than he already had.

Of course, he could torture me physically, exacting every ounce of pain that he could from my ravaged husk. However, he would never break me mentally, only the frail, human shell that my spirit inhabited. If Balzar didn't believe that too, he would have resorted to it by now. This was a truth that I had to cling to if I was going to survive and die with dignity. The moment that I failed to believe in myself, he won! And at all costs, he must never win!

"Rod, Rod," came a small, whispering voice. With a start, I suddenly realized that someone was calling my name. At first, I thought it couldn't be real, and that it was just a product of my imagination.

It came again, louder, sounding almost desperate. It wasn't my imagination, it was real; someone was calling my name!

Shaking off the stupor that I'd been sinking into, I straightened to my full height and turned toward the source of the voice, the wall behind me. As I listened intently for the voice to call my name again, I thought back to the brief conversation that I'd had with Wary. If he'd been correct in his estimation, which I found it hard to believe that he could have been wrong, than this was an exterior wall. But who would know I was here? Was this just another trick being played by Balzar? Was he going to give me reason to hope that I might escape just so he can yank it away and watch me collapse?

Before I had a chance to contemplate the question further, the voice came again, "Rod."

There, down low in the shadows, where the wall met the stone floor. Squinting, I could just make out the shape of a face, a small, angelic face, that of a young boy; Tye!

"Tye, Tye, is that really you?" I blurted, both shocked and surprised by his appearance.

"Yeah," he whispered excitedly, working his way under the wall until his whole body suddenly materialized in the shadows. "I've come for Brae and Wary," he started, his expression of delight fading to concern as he looked about the room and saw only the freshly blooded posts. "Where are they? They're supposed to be here."

"I'm sorry, Tye, but they're both dead," I said softly and straightforward, hoping he could take the news like a man and not fall apart. It was a lot to expect from such a young child, especially when I considered that this was the second set of people that he'd lost now and in such a short period of time. Such a shock for such a young man; I would not be surprised if he never let himself get close to someone again for fear of losing them.

When he didn't move or make a sound, I prodded him with a request. "Can you untie me?"

His voice barely more than a whimper, he said, "Yeah, okay."

Despite my own feelings of loss and shock, there was still room for compassion in my heart. This boy was suffering more than he deserved and my heart went out to him. He will probably carry the emotional scars of his tragic losses for the rest of his life, yet I had no doubts that he would heal with time, eventually growing into a fine young man.

However, we didn't have the luxury of time on our side. At any moment, Balzar's men could re-enter the room and discover him. Even if he managed to crawl back under the wall and escape, they wouldn't give him another opportunity to get this close to me again.

After a long moment and he still hadn't moved, I gently urged him, "We have to hurry, Tye, before the guards return."

Moving much too slowly for my liking, I noticed that he was studying the posts and the bloodied ground where Wary had been killed. Slowly, he raised himself up from the ground and settled into a crouch. Then, just when I was about to say something to get him moving, he quickly made his way over to me. Raising the knife that he was carrying, he put the blade against the fiber of my bonds and drew it toward him. The blade slid futilely against the fiber without making a scratch. Suddenly, not sure what he should do next, he stood perplexed, gazing at the little blade.

"The knife is useless against it," I said to his blank expression. "You'll have to untie the knots by hand. It won't be easy, because they've dug into my flesh."

Taking my hands in his, he silently turned them over, examining the tightness of the knots and the slick covering of blood on them. Then, to my surprise, he put his lips against the wounds and sucked the blood away from the cord. When he was satisfied with their appearance, he set to work on the knots with his fingers, occasionally using the point of the knife to loosen a particularly tough loop. With amazing dexterity and strength, he quickly had the knots loose, freeing me from the pillar.

Without a thought, I started toward the exit, intending to veer to the right, the direction they had taken both Wary and Braes' bodies. No sooner had I started away from the post, however, than Tye grabbed me by the arm and urgently said, "We must go this way!" indicating the spot where he'd just come under the wall.

Torn between finding my friends, possibly even Loté, and the freedom promised by following Tye, I hesitated, unsure what I should do. My mind was quickly decided for me. Coming down the hallway from the direction Balzar and his men had left, was the sound of many footsteps, echoing clearly in the narrow corridor. Turning back toward Tye, I was surprised to see his shadow already disappearing beneath the wall. After indicating for me to follow him, he had turned and headed back the way he had come, just assuming that I would do likewise.

With the sound of many feet rapidly approaching the corridor, I sprinted for the wall, diving toward the gap being held open from the other side. With only my head through, my chest was already pinned between the tightly stretched fabric of the wall, and the hard, rocky surface. Frantically, I forced my hands up and out, scraping the skin off my forearms in huge patches as they rubbed against the uncaring, and unforgiving, surface. With my hands above my head, and Tye's hands locked in my armpits, we dragged and scraped my squirming body through the thin slit of an opening, tearing off several more layers of skin in the process.

Angry shouts suddenly broke out in the corridor behind me, further spurring me on. With a rush of adrenaline, my body broke loose from beneath the heavy, woven wall. Frantically, I scrambled forward, my harried progress landing me on top of a retreating Tye, and knocking him to the ground. Springing to my feet, I reached down and quickly pulled him up by the arms. Fortunately, he was uninjured. Glancing down at my own bloodied chest, I wasn't so sure of myself.

Judging by the frustrated cries coming from the far side of the woven wall, the guards must have seen me disappear beneath it. We had but a scant few moments before they backtracked to the front entrance and worked their way around to this side of the structure. If we didn't use them wisely, we would both be captured within minutes.

"This way," whispered Tye, gesturing toward the nearest alleyway and the promise of safety beyond.

The distance seemed interminably long and it was across an area that had been purposely left barren, totally devoid of cover. However, unable to come up with a better plan of my own, I humbly followed the child, more troubled by the thought of being seen following him than I was about having to fight. It was downright humiliating! Here I was, a grown man, reduced to depending on a mere child for my very survival! Fortunately, we reached the safety of the nearer huts before the guards standing duty outside were aware of my escape.

Moving swiftly through the deserted alleys, I was forced to run in order to keep up with him. Almost all of the village's inhabitants had returned to their respective jobs and chores, preparing for the inevitable move. It wouldn't be many more days before the temperature became unbearable in the basin, as the rising sun approached. Already, the heat would be suffocating, were it not for the cooling effect of the water trapped in the center.

Unfortunately, the water was evaporating with a greater intensity every day. Soon, if it didn't dry up completely beforehand, it would be too hot to support life, aquatic or human. However, long before then, the tribe would have moved on, packing both processed and live water creatures with them in hopes of finding another pocket of water that they could stock. Since I'd never traveled so far from the equatorial trail before, even when flying rescue missions for the Heälf Air Service, I had no idea whether these basins were commonplace in the farther reaches or not. Moreover, I wouldn't have been surprised if they reached all the way down into the subsurface at their deepest point.

Without a doubt, though, the reeds that the woven fabric was comprised of grew abundantly across the rocky surface of the higher latitudes. Stretching from the edges of the more humid jungles, to the dry, barren rock of the overheated poles, the reeds formed a large expanse of tundra. The properties that make the reed such a desirable commodity when woven into fabric are symptomatic of its harsh, rugged growing conditions.

Following close on Tye's heels, I tried vainly to determine his route. Although he constantly cut left and right, alternately going in one direction and then another, his progress unfailingly carried him in the same general direction. In addition, it didn't escape my scrutiny that he never once doubled back; it was almost as if he had lived here and knew exactly where his final destination lay. Yet, I knew that was impossible; he only arrived here with Brae and Wary. They had all been captured together.

Or were they?

His uncanny ability to find the least traveled route through the maze of huts led me to grow suspect of his intent. Where had he come from? Was he really the sole survivor of a raid on his tribe, or was he the bait that trailed after the retreating bandits, luring in any real survivors that came looking for revenge?

Alternatively, was he really captured at the same time as Brae and Wary? Whatever the answers to these disturbing questions, I wasn't comfortable with where my thoughts were going. There was a growing feeling of unease and distrust taking root in the back of my mind, and I didn't like it.

Yet, when I considered the alternative, that of being bound to a stone post in Balzar's dwelling, I found much about my current situation to appreciate. Soon enough, Tye would stop to rest. When he did, I would take the opportunity to question him. Until then, I would have to content myself with putting as much distance between Balzar's ruthless guards and us as possible.

Another thought suddenly crossed my mind as I considered all the questions that I wanted to put to him; where was Loté? Since there was so much that I didn't know, and it seemed as though Tye did, was it further possible that he knew where Loté was being held? After all, he had known exactly where Balzar was keeping me!

Then again, maybe he was telling the truth after all. Maybe he had just learned of where Brae and Wary were being held, and when he came looking for them, he was too late. Since he found me instead, what else could he do but help me escape?

The more I considered this new angle, the more obvious it appeared. Chances are if he had known prior to finding me that Brae and Wary were no longer alive, he never would have risked entering Balzar's fortress. How could I have been so naive to think that he had come to rescue me? If anything, he probably hated me. After all, it was my idea to follow the rogues north. If we had never left the equatorial trail, Brae and Wary would still be alive.

How could I have been so stupid in the first place? Whatever made me believe that it was my responsibility to cleanse the planet of evildoers? Not only did I forsake my commitment to find Loté's parents, I also convinced my dearest friends that this mission was their responsibility too.

They were only here because of me, and now they were dead. In addition, Loté, who believed in me despite how easily I was distracted from my commitment to her, had been captured by the evilest scum that she has ever known. Even if she is still alive, there's no telling what monstrous acts he's already submitted her to. Not only did he want to make her suffer because of the way she'd scorned and humiliated him, but he knew that every ounce of pain she felt at his sadistic hands, I would feel tenfold in my mind. After all, it was me that he really wanted to see suffer.

With my mind so engrossed in these self-tormenting thoughts, it was an abrupt shock to turn a corner and find Tye standing aside the entrance to a hut. While holding open the woven flap, he was hurriedly motioning for me to enter. Putting aside my doubts, I heeded his instructions and, ducking to clear the opening, ran unchecked into the relative coolness of the woven hut. Even before my eyes could adjust to the reduced light levels, I knew we weren't alone.

### **7**

"Where are you taking me?" she hissed, her venom aimed at the large burly guard pushing her forward, keeping her just slightly off-balance with a firm grip on a fistful of her long, dark hair.

"Shut up!" he snapped, yanking her head back with a quick, hard jerk that caused her neck to whiplash and throw her off balance.

"Agh!" she screamed, as the pain of his hold on her tightly stretched hair ripped through her scalp, and her feet momentarily left the ground. Frantically, she struggled to regain her footing before losing a large lock of hair to the guard's callous treatment of her.

For just the briefest of moments, the guard relaxed his tireless hold on her hair, allowing her a moment to catch her breath and steady her feet on firm ground. It was a moment of compassion that would later cost the guard his life. Balzar, unable to restrain himself and wait patiently for Loté to be brought to him by the guard, had come searching for them. His timing couldn't have been less fortunate for the guard's sake, as he appeared in the hallway ahead of them at just that precise moment.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded, anger flaring his nostrils and setting his already narrow chin at an even harder angle. With beady eyes drawn to slits, his breath whistling through his teeth, he regained enough of his composure to state flatly to the guard, "Bring her to my chamber, now!"

With less vigor than he possessed earlier, the guard pushed her forward with his left hand pressed against the center of her shoulders, his right now loosely maintaining its grip on her hair. Silently, she allowed herself to be moved along, a pang of pity for the guard taking hold in her stomach. Both of them knew that Balzar wouldn't let his moment of compassion go unpunished. Moreover, both of them also suspected that Balzar might even go so far as to kill him, making a spectacle of him in front of his peers. Though neither of them was aware of the other's thoughts, they both sensed a kindred spirit in the other that hadn't been there earlier; a connection born from the enmity they shared toward the same being.

Although his guards exhibited a loyalty toward him, or at least the semblance of loyalty, since a rogue wasn't traditionally known for his loyalty to anyone other than himself, they weren't a product of the subsurface. Until Balzar could amass enough of his old army for protection and eventual domination of the planet, he was being forced to use the rogues as best he could. However, once he was satisfied with the size and strength of his army, there was no doubt that he intended to eliminate all but the most worthy of his rogue guards. At that time, also, his intentions were to drop all this pretense of including them in his plans and instead, reduce them to slaves, much as he had done with his subjects in the subsurface before.

Of course, until the timing was right and the size of his army sufficient to extinguish any rumblings of discontent or possible uprisings among them, it wasn't his intention that they should discover his true plans. If that should happen before he was ready for it, they might find a way to overthrow him. Although he highly doubted such an outcome, it could prove to be a costly battle in terms of lives lost. But even worse than the actual human cost was the loss in time, that it would cost. Every man he lost in a battle with the rogues would equate to that much more time that he would have to spend rebuilding. Despite the fact that it could be done, already he was growing anxious to be on the move. Patience was not a virtue of his, and he was already impatient to see and taste the fruits of his mad visions.

In addition, the sun was moving ever nearer; he could feel the heat increasing by the hour. He was not a surface dweller, and because of such, found the extremities almost unbearable.

Compounding his discomfort from the infernal heat was the knowledge that it affected his subsurface soldiers much more extremely than it did the rogues. While his soldiers had little time in which to acclimate, the rogues had been acclimating for generations. Nonetheless, even they, he was glad to notice, were feeling the effects of the approaching sun. He noticed it in the lack of speed and verve in which they applied themselves to their assigned tasks.

However, even more important than their lazy work habits, which could be nothing more than a sign that they were anxious to be on the move too, was the increasing number of arguments and fights that were constantly breaking out between them.

As the temperature rose, tempers grew incrementally shorter. Unlike the rogues, his subsurface soldiers were already too hot and tired to even fight amongst themselves. If it got much hotter, he worried that they might not have the stamina for the inevitable battle with the rogues that he knew would come when he took away the rogue's weapons and rationed their food.

In a whisper, the guard barely breathed the words at the back of her head, careful not to let Balzar hear him. "His personal chamber."

Twisting her head around to look into the man's face, she gave him a quick smile, silently letting him know that she appreciated his sudden kindness, and did not hold his prior actions against him.

The moment was short lived, though, as two of Balzar's soldiers, grabbing her by either arm, wrenched her away from him. He was left standing alone in the narrow corridor as the soldiers hustled her along toward their master's private chamber.

Twisting around so that she could look back over her shoulder, she noticed that he'd drawn his long-knife, but otherwise hadn't moved from the spot where they'd left him standing. Waiting patiently, expecting Balzar to have sent men to apprehend him, he threw her a knowing wink, belying the terror lying just beneath his calm exterior. With horror, she saw a soldier silently closing in on him from behind. The rogue, expecting a confrontation, had no idea they were going to ambush him. In an effort to warn him, she cried out in alarm, but her warning never reached his ears. One of the soldiers struck her a blow across the face, effectively stifling off her scream while setting her ears to ringing. Though she was stunned by the blow, she continued watching the scene unfold behind her, unable to wrench her eyes away.

In slow motion, she witnessed the soldier behind the rogue suddenly lunge forward, thrusting the blade of his weapon before him. With horror constricting her throat, she watched as the blade, now painted red with the guard's blood, slowly erupt from his chest, growing longer with each slow-motion second that passed. Then, while the rogue was looking down at the blade with a mixture of shock and disbelief, it suddenly rotated within his chest, turning almost ninety-degrees. If there had been any optimism regarding the guard's chances, they immediately vanished. There could be no doubt of the assassin's experience, evident by the final twisting of the blade to assure the kill.

Knowing that he was dying, his gaze lifted from the bloodied blade and met hers. In that briefest of moments, while their eyes connected and before his life force left him, she read his apology. Even as he died, he was sorry for the way that he'd treated her.

As the rogue's dying body slumped to the ground, the soldiers still grasping her flung her around and dragged her the last few steps to Balzar's private chamber. Balzar, not interested in the events following his discovery of the guard's momentary compassion, was already in his chamber waiting for her.

Anger came boiling to the surface as the effects of the blow to the side of her head faded. In her fury, she failed to look around the room. Instead, she saw only Balzar, the sole object of her hatred.

Seething at her helplessness and his complete control over her, she found herself at a loss for words. Rather than stand mute and continue to fume in vain, she spat in his face, discovering a pleasure in her act that she couldn't explain. Unfortunately, her newfound pleasure was short lived.

He calmly wiped the saliva from his face with the back of his hand, his smile never wavering. This only added fuel to her fire, hating him all the more for his smugness.

Wriggling against the hands that held her, she demanded, "What do you want with me?"

Even before the words had left her lips, she realized the silliness of her question; she knew exactly what he wanted of her!

"Bring her over here," he ordered the soldiers securing her between them, as he led the way to the far side of the room.

Looking ahead of where he was leading them, she was surprised when she recognized the huge trunk setting against the far wall. As impossible as it seemed, it looked exactly like the trunk from the subsurface, the one that she'd last seen when she was his prisoner the first time. If she remembered correctly, back then it had contained a wide variety of fine garments and exquisite items of jewelry that he expected all of his new female slaves to wear to their initiation party. That was one party that she wished she could erase from her memory. If she had harbored any doubts concerning his sick and perverted mind, they'd been erased at that party. Seeing the trunk again, even after all this time, a spine tingling chill crept down her back despite the heat.

Balzar, noting her reaction to the sight of the trunk, was both amused and delighted by it. "I see you recognize the old relic," he said smoothly, thoroughly enjoying her expression of horror. "Then you must realize that I intend to pick up where we left off," he said in the same smooth tone. He paused for a moment, re-digesting an old memory. When he spoke again, his voice had taken on a sharp edge and turned cold. "Only this time, you will not be excusing yourself. Back then, I was foolish enough to believe that you wanted what I had in mind for you. I thought we saw eye-to-eye. But I have learned some things since then, and I will not fall for your ploys a second time." Then, his voice turning serious, he added, "You have no idea how much I was willing to trust you, and you couldn't appreciate the sacrifice that I was willing to make for you."

"Yes, you were a fool, weren't you?" she mocked sarcastically.

Her quip elicited a renewed sharpness in his voice. "Now you will make amends to me, as I am sure you have wanted to do ever since that time."

Looking him straight in the eye, speaking matter-of-factly, she said, "You'll have to kill me before I'll ever willingly let you have me."

"Oh, you had your chance," he replied, his voice sounding almost casual. "This time there won't be any private room for just the two of us. Oh no! This time we're going to have an audience. When you left me sitting alone in our private chamber, word spread faster than the tunnels could collapse. You made a laughing stock of me! You didn't actually believe that some stupid bitch is going to humiliate me the way you did and get away with it!"

Unable to control herself, and feeling heartened by his mounting anger, she remarked, "If you think I humiliated you in the past, then you haven't seen anything yet. An audience will just make it that much more demeaning for you. This time there won't be a need for rumors, everyone will see your humiliation first hand."

The words had barely passed over her lips, when she regretted having said them. If there had been any doubt before that she might willingly cooperate with his demented desires, she had just unwittingly banished them. However, the outburst left her feeling satisfied and pleased with herself. She never believed for one moment anyway that he was stupid enough to ever trust her again. If given half the chance, she would do whatever she needed to do, and he knew it! He was on a course of his own making, and nothing she said or did was going to alter it, nothing at all.

"You won't make me look like a fool again," he calmly continued, not acknowledging her statement, if he even heard it. "This time, you and that man you can't live without are going to be the laughing stocks. Of course, you will both be dead shortly thereafter, so it won't really matter all that much anyway, will it?"

"Where's Rod?" she suddenly demanded. "What have you done with him?"

For the first time since being captured, she felt concern for someone other than herself, and with the concern came guilt. Why hadn't she been concerned for him sooner? Moreover, would she even have thought about him at all, if it hadn't been for Balzar mentioning him?

Before she could chastise herself further over her selfish inconsideration, Balzar interrupted her train of thought. Opening the lid to the trunk, and dispelling any doubts concerning its contents, he suavely said, "Please, feel free to indulge yourself. Choose whichever of these you care to. However, and I can't stress this strongly enough, do choose something." He hesitated a moment while he searched through the upper layers. Finally, finding what he was looking for, he held it before him and said, "There are several items in here that I'm afraid aren't quite worthy of being worn anymore."

Loté gasped, realizing the dress wasn't originally the bright crimson color, but that it had been stained by its former wearer's blood. Moreover, judging by the pattern of the gruesome stain, there could be no mistaking that whoever the unfortunate person was that had worn the outfit last, had died a slow, gruesome death.

"If you come across more pieces like this, please feel free to discard them. I want you looking your best for your last performance, my dear," he added with a smirk. "And this time, it will be your last performance."

As she overcame her disgust at the sight of the bloody dress, she realized that the soldiers were no longer holding her. In fact, to her surprise, they had moved several feet away, leaving her standing almost next to Balzar and the trunk. Noting her glance at first the soldiers, and then the weapon on his hip, Balzar flatly stated, "My soldiers have orders that you are not to die except by my hands. However, they are well trained, and they won't hesitate to maim or wound you, if you give them reason."

It was enough, just knowing that he'd read her thoughts and was waiting for her to act, she realized she didn't have a chance. Disheartened, she slowly resigned herself to the fact that any action she might take would only result in her being wounded, thus further incapacitating herself. It would be better to bide her time, to wait patiently and play along with his perverted plan. Eventually, because of his over confidence and large ego, he would make a mistake. And when he did, she would be ready.

Looking into the trunk while portraying casualness, she asked of him again, "Where are Rod and the others? You captured my two friends and a small boy, what have you done with them?"

She was surprised by his genuine look of bewilderment at the mention of the boy. Clearly, no one had mentioned the capture of the boy to him. Though she was delighted to see the look of surprise on his face, she suddenly felt dismayed by the possibility that she gave him something that he didn't already have. Of course, this tidbit of information she just let slip might also work to her advantage. If he had any doubts before regarding the loyalty of the rogue guards, they would be increased by the knowledge that they were keeping the boy's capture from him. In addition, it only confirmed her prior belief that his guards were his weak point. After all, didn't she just witness the termination of one for the simple reason that he had shown her some small amount of compassion?

Silently, she made a mental note to herself to look for help from the rogue guards. However, she must never be seen seeking their aid in the presence of his soldiers; from that quarter, she was certain there would be no compassion.

Quickly regaining his composure, he shot back at her, startling her back to the present, "Your friends are none of your business, anymore! If you insist on asking about them, I will have one of my men remove your tongue! And that would be a real shame, considering what I have in mind for you."

At his words, the soldiers moved forward, ready to carry out the order if he gave it.

"You killed them, didn't you?" she screamed at him.

"I will tell you this much," he continued, ignoring her outburst and subsequent tears. "You will be seeing your Rod again, and very soon." Pointing toward the open trunk while casting the blood stained dress to one side, he added, "I suggest that you get busy."

"You didn't have to kill them," she softly cried. "They were only here because of their loyalty to Rod and me. They never would have bothered you again, if it hadn't been for us."

"Don't you see, my dear, that's the whole point? They chose their side. They made their decision, and unfortunately for them, it was a bad one." As he continued speaking, his voice took on a gay note, all his previous anger evaporating as though it had never existed. It was moments such as these when she could almost let her guard down. He sounded so normal, so unlike the monster that he really was. This was the side of him made that him so likable upon first meeting. However, once your guard was down, he would pounce without warning, eviscerating you while continuing to smile to your face.

Then, just as quickly as he'd turned nice, he transformed himself back into the monster that he truly was. Bending over and retrieving the bloodied garment from where he'd just discarded it, he held it up before her and said, "Ahh, the memories. She didn't have your spirit, but it's amazing what a woman will do when she thinks it will spare her some small amount of discomfort."

He paused, savoring the memory, whether it was real or for her benefit, she couldn't be sure. Satisfied that he affected her the way he'd intended, he continued. "You, I'm afraid, don't suffer from such delusions. You have already seen what I'm capable of first hand. That is such a pity, when I think about it. However, your lover Captain Rod now, well, we shall see about him. When he sees you dressed up and realizes what I'm going to do to you, he'll believe anything that I promise him. In his helplessness, he's going to be so desperate to save you from me, he'll grasp at any straws that I dangle before him. But as you already know, his efforts will be futile. This time, you will be mine! Nothing will stop that from happening!"

"I will never be yours!"

Looking with longing at the bloodied garment he still held, he spoke softly, barely loud enough for her to grasp the meaning of the words. "Yes, that is what she said too, before I got down to business. You see, with her it was only a fantasy. Although I enjoyed her screams and the way she squirmed to get away from me, it was really you that I wanted. When I looked at her, all I could see was your face. Well you have haunted me long enough." His voice sounded so sympathetic toward the memory of the dead woman, she almost believed he was sincere. "It's a shame that she never understood why she was being made to suffer the way she was."

"How could you?" she exclaimed, shocked by this revelation of his fervent obsession toward her.

In a far-off, dreamy voice, he replied, "It's your fault that she had to die. And only because you left me, just when I thought that I could trust you. Do you have any idea how I felt, sitting there in that room waiting for you to return?" His eyes slowly left the bloodied garment and turned toward her, the real object of his sick obsession. "She wasn't the first to suffer because of you," he said, his voice turning angry. "Since that time, I haven't been able to concentrate on anything except the day that I would see you again. Now, out of nowhere, you come walking into my camp. It's been your destiny all along, you know. There really isn't any point in fighting it. Why can't you just accept it?"

"I'm here because my destiny is to see you rot in Hell! That I will gladly accept! Can you?" she spat back at him.

"Oh yes, you are a spirited one. I can understand what he sees in you. What I don't understand is what you see in him. If you had stayed with me, you would have been the queen of all that I controlled. Instead, you flung it back in my face like an ungrateful wench. Moreover, to top it off, you weren't content with merely escaping; you had to set off a revolution that overthrew my empire!" He hesitated a moment, studying her beautiful features. When he spoke again, there was a pleading in his whiny voice. "Why couldn't you just be happy playing the part of my queen?"

Flinging the bloodied garment to the floor for a second time, he turned to leave. Before he had gone more than two steps, he stopped. Turning back to face her, he calmly stated, "Your friends are dead. Soon, so will be the man you chose over me. Nevertheless, to show you what a compassionate man I can be, I'll give you one more opportunity." Not pausing to give her time to respond, he continued. "I know my kingdom is small and inconsequential when considered in the whole realm of things, but that will soon change. Even now, as we speak, my army of dedicated soldiers is growing. When I introduce this magical material to the rest of the world, I will amass a fortune of such tremendous proportions no one will be able to stop me! This planet will see an empire like it's never seen before. My domain will be the wealthiest, most powerful empire ever to exist, both above and below this godforsaken planet's surface! I will be the supreme ruler of this planet and all of its peoples!"

As he spoke, his voice grew more animated. He was so taken with his own words that he was literally exciting himself. She briefly wondered how he could expect her to even consider his ludicrous offer. Clearly, the man didn't possess any compassion or real knowledge of love. If he had, he never would have asked such a ridiculous question in the first place.

Dismayed by her own inability to react or find a fitting way to burst his enthusiasm, she stood mutely, her eyes watching him. Though he sported an erection, sex was the furthest thing from his mind. Power was his aphrodisiac, for the moment, at least. Soon, though, when he came back down from his temporary high, he would want a woman to relieve him physically. Not all the power in the world could replace the basic, physical aspects of a spirited woman.

"Already, these stupid rogues are doing my bidding," he went on, less animated, yet still passionate. "Their women are working hard manufacturing tabards and lightweight armor, while the men are unknowingly creating a stockpile of rations for my soldiers. They believe they will join in my prosperity, but once they have outlived their usefulness, they too will be discarded."

"How can you talk so heartlessly when you are referring to living, human beings?" she asked incredulously, though she knew and expected just this attitude from him.

"They think they are a free people, not restricted to the everyday trappings that other tribes have to contend with. When they want something, they steal it. If they have to kill in order to get what they want, they do so without so much as a second thought for their victim. Still, you ask me how I can be so heartless! These people don't deserve any more respect than what I choose to give them. They profess their freedom, yet they slave away on the lake and in the huts, gladly doing my bidding. They know only that they need someone strong to lead them if they are to better themselves in this world. They are an inferior race, and when I'm done with them, they'll know their true place in this world! Can't you see that they deserve whatever they get?"

Pausing for affect and to catch his breath, she noticed that his erection was already sagging. The excitement of the moment had passed. He would return to the business at hand when he spoke next, and he would want an answer.

Although there wasn't any way that she could possibly consider such a preposterous proposal, she debated playing along with him. In his vanity, he might believe that she could be swayed by the promise of riches, if not power. He was much too shrewd to believe that she would suddenly change her moral convictions regarding the domination of fellow men and women. However, he might believe that she could be bought, especially if she made Rod's freedom part of the bargain. It was worth a shot.

Unfortunately, to her chagrin, she wouldn't get the opportunity to try it out on him. Just as she was about to speak, a soldier came charging down the corridor, barely avoiding crashing headlong into the one that had been assigned to removing the dead guard's body.

"My Lord!" he cried out excitedly, stopping just a few feet from Balzar before assuming a position of attention.

"What is it, Arnod?" he asked impatiently, clearly irritated by the interruption.

"The last prisoner, my Lord. He has escaped!"

"How can that be?" he screamed at the soldier, his face suddenly livid with rage. "Tell me, how did this happen, and who is the responsible fool?"

"I'm not sure, exactly," his commander replied, understanding full well the extent of his Lord's temper, and the punishment that would ensue.

"How can you not be sure? Are you not in charge of my army? Do you not know what each individual in your command is doing at any given moment? They are your charges, are they not?" he continued screaming, his face burning brighter by the second.

Uncertain of what was expected of him, Arnod dropped his gaze to the floor in front of his feet, waiting for the tirade to pass. When it did, Balzar would give him instructions. From past experiences, when he'd been fortunate enough to be just a spectator, he knew that his next set of orders would be the most important of his life. If he fulfilled them flawlessly, his Lord might still overlook this problem. However, if he failed, or didn't carry them out swiftly enough for his lord's satisfaction, he would certainly find himself at the wrong end of his master's wrath.

"Yes, my Lord, they are my charges," he answered sheepishly when Balzar stopped. "Because they are my subordinates, I am ultimately responsible for their failings."

"Very good, Arnod," he replied, the words rolling smoothly off his tongue. He had regained his composure quicker than he had lost it, and Loté knew only too well, as did Arnod, that this was when Balzar was the most dangerous.

Though Loté feared for her life, she was overjoyed inside to hear that Rod had escaped. With Rod free of his grasp, he no longer held any power over her. Yes, it was true that he could torture her human flesh, or turn her into an unwilling and uncooperative sexual partner. But he no longer held the key to her soul.

Looking away from Arnod and turning his gaze on Loté, he calmly said, "Go find him, and bring him back here. There isn't anywhere in this basin for him to hide that a well-planned search shouldn't be able to turn him up. I expect to find him retied to the same post before this woman standing in front of me is dressed." Then, slowly turning his gaze back to Arnod and locking him in his sights, he added, "Time is wasting, are you not in a hurry to fulfill my wishes?"

"Yes, my Lord," Arnod stammered, as he turned and made a hasty retreat down the corridor from which he had come.

Even before he was fully out of sight, he was yelling commands and rallying his men. It seemed to Loté that Rod's only hope at avoiding detection would be if Arnod made a blunder in his haste to consummate Balzar's orders. However, looking at the tall, well-muscled form of Arnod, he didn't appear to be a man that made many mistakes.

"You're going to kill him, aren't you?" she queried, though she wasn't sure why she even cared.

"That depends. If he meets or exceeds my wishes, I might just punish him. He has proven to be a valuable leader in the past, I'm not sure that he would be an easy man to replace. Why the interest?"

"I'm not sure," she honestly replied, her thoughts drifting to Arnod's flashing green eyes and strong features.

The blow to her cheek came hard and fast, stunning her for a moment and leaving a ringing in her ears.

"How dare you? Here I stand before you, ready to share my dreams and wealth with you once again, and you have the gall to forsake me for a man that you just met! Yes," he hissed. "Yes, he will die. Your interest in him has just sealed his fate. First, though, he will find your precious Rod, and I will have the pleasure of watching the two of you die. Then, when he thinks everything has returned to normal between us and all is forgiven, he too will die, thanks to you."

"Why?" she beseeched of him. "Why do you have to be so cruel?"

Without acknowledging her cries, he turned and marched toward the hallway leading after Arnod, his back rigid and straight. Just before he entered it, though, he stopped and turned back to face her. Speaking calmly, as though nothing had just transpired, he said, "Please, select the items from the trunk that you desire. I apologize that I don't have any hand-servants to assist you in dressing, but I'm sure you'll manage on your own. If you should finish before I return, feel free to look around. There are many interesting articles throughout the room that are worthy of notice. However, I must warn you for your own sake, don't try to escape. My soldiers will cut you down before you reach the end of the hall. Now don't disappoint me again."

Turning, he headed down the hallway, not waiting for a response. Confused by his comment, she slowly turned around, noticing the contents of his private chamber for the first time since entering. Almost immediately, her eyes came to rest on a very familiar sight, just beyond a woven drape that only half concealed it. An incubation chamber!

Running from it was a multitude of cables and tubes that extended across the stone floor of the chamber and disappeared beneath yet another fabric wall.

Stunned by her discovery, she dazedly walked toward it, understanding his parting comment as she glided along the floor; if she tried to escape, his guards wouldn't hesitate to maim her. They know full well how easy it would be to recycle her. And once recycled, Balzar could start torturing her. There was no escape, not even in death!

As she drew nearer to the capsule, she realized that it was currently occupied, and its occupant was nearly finished. Even without having to see the body within, she had no doubt that it was another soldier from the subsurface. This was how he was building his army, one man at a time! This explained their undying (literally) loyalty to him. Yet, even more importantly, it further explained something else that had been nagging at her since arriving in the basin, why everyone was approximately the same age.

As she thought back to that first pair of rogues they'd encountered when they were coming down the slope, she realized for the first time that except for their apparent lack of hygiene, they were neither old nor covered in battle scars. In fact, like everyone else they'd encountered since their arrival, they were in the prime of their lives.

Her discovery, which Balzar must have intended for her to make, only raised more questions than it answered. For one, where was he obtaining the power necessary to run the incubator? And two, where did he get the raw DNA necessary to grow his soldiers? Still, even more importantly, if Balzar found a way of escaping from the subsurface despite rumors to the contrary, did Thar find a way out, too? And if he did, where is he?

Compared to Thar, Balzar is a much smaller threat to humanity. Though he professed otherwise to her, he is much too preoccupied with exacting his revenge on her and Rod and rebuilding a harem, than following through with plans to rule the planet. Although he seeks wealth and power, in all likelihood he will achieve little more than he currently has. If the truth were known, the true motives behind his interests in money and the recycling of his army, is for the sole purpose of protection. His perverted idea of power is measured by the amount of dominance that he holds over female slaves, and nothing more.

Thar, on the other hand, measured his power by the amount of dominance that he held over the world. He wasn't interested in female slaves, and was much more apt to keep eunuchs around for tending to his domestic needs. If Thar felt he had the strongest army, he would use it to his advantage without hesitation. The moment he felt confident enough to conquer his enemy, he would attack. If indeed Thar has survived the near total collapse of the subsurface, it wouldn't be long before the world knew of it. Fortunately, the possibility of his survival was very small, almost inconsequential. Moreover, if it weren't for the fact that Balzar had somehow survived, Thar's survival wouldn't even have crossed her mind.

Studying the man in the capsule, she briefly considered breaking the seal. To do so, might bring about retardation of the process, maybe even death to the occupant. However, despite her anger toward Balzar and the fact that the man within the capsule would soon be bolstering his forces, she couldn't bring herself to commit an act that might kill him in cold blood. Besides, she reasoned, even if she could, they would just plug him back in and the process would continue on as if she had never interfered with it. For her trouble, she would accomplish nothing more than to secure one additional enemy. Because she had tried to kill him when he was so vulnerable, he would have nothing in his heart but hard feelings toward her. And God knew she had enough of those directed toward her already; she didn't need to intentionally foster more.

Moving away from the capsule, she turned her attention on the rest of the chamber. Much as she expected of his personal chamber, it was dimly lit with smoldering, oil-filled torches. Almost hidden in a fabricated alcove of sorts, was a large, softly stuffed mattress atop a stone slab. Squinting, so that she could see into the darker reaches of the alcove, she wasn't surprised to make out the darker circles of iron manacles anchored at each corner of the slab.

Speaking only for her own benefit, she wryly commented, "Huh, even among the less demanding rogue women, you can't find yourself a willing partner."

Hanging from the walls in either direction from the alcove, she noticed a wide assortment of leather goods; everything from soft suede whips, to smooth, bone carved dildos of varying sizes, all proudly displayed. Moving toward the assortment, she studied the different objects with a keen interest. To her dismay, though, she saw nothing that could be used as a weapon. Clearly, he kept the kinkier, more sadistic items, under lock and key. "Probably so they can't be used against you," she thought aloud.

Pausing to study the whip, she removed it from its peg and tested the strength of the cords with a sharp tug. Although they appeared sufficiently strong for what she had in mind, she returned it to its peg. Her original intention had been to use it as a garrote. But she quickly discarded the idea when she considered how long it took the human body to die from asphyxiation. If she had that much time alone with him, she would kill him with her bare hands, she wouldn't need a garrote.

Glancing around, she noted other objects that further intimated toward a demented personality, but nothing of significance.

Dissatisfied with the results of her search, she headed back toward the open trunk, resigning herself to selecting an outfit. Looking in the trunk, she was mildly surprised to find some of the same garments that she'd seen worn by others at Balzar's party such a long time ago. She hesitated in her search through the trunk whenever a specific item would trigger a memory, reminiscing about that time she had spent as his captive in the subsurface.

She surprised herself, when she realized for the first time since leaving the sub-surface, that she missed the cool, close confines of the hallways, and the welcoming embrace of the caverns. Even more surprising to her, was the sudden concern that she had for the rebuilding that was continuing in their absence. Was Keazar really capable of supervising so many different tasks without their help?

With a pang of guilt, she suddenly understood Rod's reluctance to leave when they had. Though it was important to find her parents, she realized that there was very little chance they could still be alive. Meanwhile, there was so much that needed doing, and all she had thought about were her selfish needs. Until they had departed from their original course and followed the trail northward, she had resented Rod's hesitation and reluctance, even though she knew in her heart of hearts that it was a futile journey from the onset. Her parents were already old and feeble when they disappeared on the back of the behemoth; why did she think there was any chance they would still be alive after all this time? The more she thought about it, the more selfish she realized her actions were, and the sicker at heart she grew.

Yet, Rod, despite seeing this mission to find her parents for what it was, put his responsibilities aside, offering her his assistance instead. She understood now that he wasn't doing it out of an overt sense of commitment to his word of honor, but for his commitment to her; he truly loved her.

"Oh Rod, why couldn't I see the truth before?" she whimpered, a tear running down her cheek.

Putting her thoughts aside, she lifted her armload of things and headed toward the stone slab that supported the bed. With a renewed determination to see this through to the end, she slowly dressed herself, all the while vowing that she would be ready to strike when the opportunity presented itself. Even if it meant the loss of her own life, she would gladly do it if it gave Rod just the slightest of chances to prevail.

After looking through the entire contents, she settled on several undergarments. They were items that she wouldn't normally wear, but decided upon them solely based on the amount of time that they would require to remove. In addition, she selected a dress of the sheerest fabric that she could find. Even though the under garments would be visible through the fabric, she reasoned that they wouldn't have been in the trunk if he didn't want them to be worn. All of the remaining garments in the trunk were much too heavy to be worn in the oppressive heat of the surface, especially if she intended to wear the undergarments too, which she did.

By the time she'd dressed, more than an hour had passed. Even with the protection offered by the heavy woven fabric of the hut, she could feel the mounting heat radiating up through the stone floor. Whatever Balzar's plans were, she knew he needed to hurry them along, because the sun was creeping closer by the minute. If he intended her suffering to be dragged out, he wouldn't have the time. At least she could be thankful for that.

Sitting on the edge of the stone slab, she suddenly realized how thirsty she was. It had been several hours since she'd last had a drink, and her body was perspiring heavily. Moving toward the hall that led from the chamber, she decided to walk until someone challenged her. Surely, they wouldn't kill her without a warning of some sort first, she reasoned.

She never got the chance to find out. Just as she neared the head of the hallway, Balzar came storming through it, almost knocking her over before he recognized her in the smoky gloom.

Before she could speak, he yelled at her, his anger and fury heating up each word. "If you so much as smirk, I'll slit your throat and feed you to the scumbroid in the pond!"

Though she was taken aback by his outburst of anger, she quickly regained her senses enough to understand that something detrimental to his plans must have taken place in his absence. Despite his warning, she felt a growing optimism; she even found herself hoping that the cause of his anger was Rod's continued evasion of his men. Yet, she knew that would be too good to be true. Nevertheless, she had to know one way or the other, even if it meant drawing his wrath down upon her.

Speaking softly and demurely, fighting to keep her excitement contained, she calmly asked, "You haven't found him yet, have you?"

Striking out in frustration, he slapped her across the face, the blow stunning her and knocking her to the floor; he had given her all the answer that she required.

Turning defiantly to look up at him, she flatly stated, "He won't leave without coming back for me. And when he does, he'll kill you just as surely as I would, if given half the chance."

"Shut up, bitch! You'll never be given the chance; so don't even think about it. As for your lover, my soldiers will hunt him down in no time. He can't hide in my village! Someone will turn him over to me. And when they do, I won't waste any more time with these silly notions of revenge, I'll just kill him where he stands. It won't be nearly as entertaining or fulfilling, but then that's life, isn't it my dear?" he added, his eyes coming to focus on her for the first time since he'd returned.

"My, my, aren't you just a delectable sight." Bending over and offering her his hand, he added with a glint in his eye, "Maybe I'm just being too hasty. There might be some fun to be had from this yet."

Refusing his proffered hand, Loté instead pulled the loose folds of the dress around herself so as not to become entangled in them, and slowly got to her feet. She swooned for a moment as the blood rushed from her head. She feared she was going to faint. Then, just as quickly as the feeling swept over her, it dissipated and her head cleared. Her face stung from the blow, but she would live.

Meeting Balzar's gaze, she coolly replied, "Now that Rod has escaped, you'll have to kill me before I'll let you have your way with me."

"We'll see," he replied, turning to face the soldier that had accompanied him. "Leave us be, but don't wander very far, I may need you."

"Yes, my Lord," the soldier replied before turning and slowly retreating down the hallway.

Balzar's full attention was now focused on Loté, and he slowly started advancing toward her. With each step forward that he took, she retreated an equal distance backward, her eyes never wavering from his. It wasn't until she felt the warmth of the stone slab beneath the bed in the back of her knees, did she realize that he had been slowly herding her toward the alcove, and the soft, voluminous mattress contained therein.

Pinned between him and the inevitable scene that was sure to take place if she retreated onto the mattress, she stopped, determined to hold her ground. To her surprise, he did likewise. Despite his calculated moves to steer her into the alcove, he suddenly seemed content to just stand before her and soak in the view. He knew that she was his, even if he required the assistance of his soldiers to subdue her. Likewise, she knew this, too. Yet, he didn't advance, preferring instead to simply relish the sight of her in the garments that she had chosen from the trunk.

Because few articles of clothing were worn on Heälf, and because she disdained even them, the clothing she now wore made her feel both uncomfortable and conspicuous. She had always found the naked body sensual enough to arouse her, if the person embodied in it warranted such. However, seeing the obvious effect that she was having on Balzar, she realized there was more to it than she had previously understood. Even if she didn't see the obvious, she could see the intrigue and hunger in his eyes. He was almost drooling in front of her as he anticipated what was to come. She suddenly wished that she hadn't fitted herself with so many undergarments; clearly now, she could see that each one he removed, would only build upon his growing excitement.

While debating whether she should tear the garments from her body and throw them at him, he slowly spoke to her, his words only confirming her suspicions.

"I won't offer you a place in my future kingdom again. That part of us is history. Yet, it seems like such a wasteful shame to kill one as beautiful as you."

While he spoke, his hand moved subconsciously to his genitals. Slowly, ever so gently, he started stroking himself. So taken by her beauty and the anticipation of what was to come, he was completely unaware of his own actions. Not until he almost climaxed in front of her, did he realize what he was doing.

Then, after looking briefly down at himself, he nonchalantly continued. "With your remarkable beauty, you could seduce the kings of the world. They would grovel at your feet for the chance to share your bed. But alas, they will never get the chance, for even if I let you live, you will never be allowed near another man; you will only live for my pleasure and my pleasure alone!"

He paused for a moment, still drinking in the sight of her. Then, as if he were awakening from a dream, he raised his hand as if to shoo away a fly, and coldly added, "Don't get your hopes up, I have no intention of letting you live. You and that lover of yours have thwarted me for the last time. Once he is found, we will get on with this. After the two of you no longer exist, I can get this village packed up and on the move."

Although she knew there wasn't any chance of swaying him from his demented plans, she felt that she owed it to Rod to try. Speaking softly and calmly, hoping she sounded like the voice of reason, she said, "You are running out of time, Balzar. Even now, as you stand before me, the temperature is rapidly rising. If they haven't already, before much longer, your future slaves will be running out on you. Do you think they haven't felt the rising heat? Furthermore, once they abandon you, it won't be long before your personal guards do likewise. They will not remain behind when they see their friends heading west. In case you don't remember, I am from the surface, the same as these rogues, and I feel the heat!"

"Shut up!" he yelled at her. "You don't know what you're talking about. They are much too loyal to desert me."

"Hah!" she laughed at him. "They don't know the meaning of the word loyal. If you were half as smart as you think you are, you wouldn't be wasting this precious time looking for Rod. Instead, you'd already be hightailing it out of this hole."

Angered by her open defiance and contempt for him, he gave her another stinging blow across the face, sending her reeling backwards onto the mattress. Despite his small wiry frame, he packed a powerful punch.

Holding her stinging face with her left hand, she looked back at him, relieved to see that he wasn't pursuing her onto the bed.

Fuming, he said, "This isn't over. I'll be back soon, and when I am, you better still be wearing those garments."

Turning, he strode toward the hallway. When he was less than halfway to it, she cried out, "Please, I need something to drink."

Stopping just short of the hallway, without turning back to face her, he flatly stated, "Where you're going, you won't be needing anything!"

Then, not waiting for her to reply, he continued into the hallway, his shadow quickly fading out of sight. She had no doubts as to where he was going. Moreover, that she would get a lot thirstier before she ever got anything to drink, she was equally sure.

"To Hell with you!" she cried out in frustration, falling back onto the bed. Though she sensed that he hadn't heard her, she dejectedly repeated herself, "To Hell with you!"

### **8**

Squinting into the darkened interior, it was with a mixture of surprise, confusion, and even delight, when I thought I recognized at least one of the sitting figures. Tye, having fulfilled his mission of bringing me to this hut unnoticed, moved off to one side, and retrieved a flagon of water. As my eyes adjusted, I immediately recognized the figure sitting to the far left as that of Fayze. Nevertheless, even as my eyes completely adjusted to the dark interior, and I could see the smile on Fayze's face as she looked up at me, my mind refused to accept the rest of the scene before me. Somehow, though I couldn't quite bring myself to believe it was possible, I determined that I was hallucinating. Maybe the heat was affecting my brain, and in all reality, I was still tethered to the post in Balzar's dwelling. Nothing before me, including Fayze, was real; it was all just a dream induced by wishful thinking.

Shaking my head in an effort to clear my vision, the man rose to his feet, extending his right hand out to me in the common greeting of friendship.

"It cannot be," I stuttered, unwilling to believe or accept on face value what my eyes were showing me.

"Oh, but it is, my friend," he softly replied, his hand now grasping my own and firmly shaking it. "It's I, alright, in the flesh, alive and well."

"This is impossible, I saw you die," I argued emphatically, my voice sounding incredulous. "Only thanks to Loté and her parents, did I barely get out of there myself, before the sun rose. There was no way you could have gotten away in time? You shouldn't be anything more than ash. Even now, when I think back on it, I can't see how it could have been possible!"

"Not hardly possible," he easily agreed. "Not even very likely," he calmly continued. "Yet, it happened, nevertheless. To this day, I'm not sure if they salvaged my whole body, or just a small piece of it. But whatever they did, it worked, as you can see. I am here, in the flesh."

I was suddenly overcome with emotions, and the tears flooded into my eyes. Reaching out, I threw my arms around his lean, muscular frame. Crying out, I suddenly felt compelled to apologize, "I'm so sorry, Lipton. I never would have left you behind if I had only known..."

He quickly cut me off, allaying my overwhelming feelings of guilt. "But you didn't know, Rod. Hell, none of us knew! Until I woke up in that incubator, I didn't have any idea that there was such advanced technology in this world. Like you, I had always assumed that death was the final ending. The inevitable rising of the sun, burning everything to ash, just reinforced that belief."

"But if it hadn't been for my stubbornness, we never would have attempted that last rescue in the first place. You even warned me that you had a bad feeling about setting our wounded bird down there. I should have listened to you. If we had just kept a straight course for base, we stood a very good chance of making it," I feebly argued.

Although I felt extremely guilty over Lipton's demise, I needed to hear him tell me that it wasn't my fault, that I was just doing the right thing. Without being able to admit it even to myself, I needed to be forgiven. If for no other reason, I needed his forgiveness so that I could shed the guilt that I'd been carrying ever since. I'd carried it long enough!

"We never would have made it, Rod," he countered consolingly. "In fact, if we had crashed anywhere else, they might never have discovered my body before the sun rose. As it turned out, we went down almost on top of an entrance leading into the sub-surface. To my good fortune, a returning party of bounty hunters just happened to stumble upon my corpse. Fortunately for me, even though they were primarily after women, they decided to take me along. Despite being subsurface dwellers, there were a few rogues amongst them that realized the value of an ex-pilot. With only my body lying next to the wreckage, they just naturally assumed that I was the pilot. Once I came to, I figured out very quickly about their assumption of me, and just as quickly, saw no advantage to be gained by telling them otherwise." With a smirk, he quickly added, "You won't hold it against me for impersonating a full-winged pilot, will you? After all, I did go through the same training as you."

"This is all too unbelievable," I stuttered, still too stunned to think straight. In addition to the shock of finding him alive, he was carrying it a step further than simply forgiving me; he was asking me to forgive him for pretending that he was something that he wasn't! "You appeared to me during a low time, when I was ready to give up and die. I was climbing down an air vent that led to the sub-surface, and you appeared before me, urging me to find the inner strength that I needed to continue. At the time, I was certain that it was your spirit hovering before me. But if you weren't dead, how was that possible?"

"That's an easy one," he said with the same smirk. "I was dead."

"I don't understand," I said softly, unsure of my own thoughts, and still not convinced that I wasn't dreaming again. Could this be another low ebb in my life? Has Balzar beaten me to the point where I need Lipton's help to continue?

"At the time you had that vision of me coming to your aid, I was either still lying on the jungle floor or lying inert in an incubator. Either way, I was dead."

"Do you remember that time? Do you remember coming to me and telling me why I needed to find the strength to continue?" I pressed, not sure that I really wanted to hear the answer, but knowing I had to ask it anyway.

After hesitating for a moment, he shrugged, "No, I'm afraid that I don't."

Although I believed him, his hesitation in answering prompted an uneasy feeling in me. Lipton had never lied to me before. Why would he now? Or was he hesitant because he was holding back. Was there more that he didn't want me to know, for whatever reason?

Loosening his grip on me, he slowly stepped back, his eyes carefully studying me. Suddenly, I had to ask the next question that had been bothering me, the one that I'd been subconsciously leading up to, even though I knew he couldn't answer it now. At least, he couldn't answer it truthfully and not make a liar out of himself with respect to my previous question.

Forging ahead, I said, "You say you don't remember that time in the shaft when I was dying, and I believe you. However, I have to ask this next question anyway: You told me that the reason I had to go on was more important than just saving Loté's life. You told me that I was an integral part of a much bigger plan. At the time, I was too weak to ask, but I'm ready now; what is the bigger plan and what is my part in it?"

Before he could proclaim his ignorance and deny any knowledge of what I was talking about, I had already seen the look of shock and surprise in his eyes. It was so fleeting that if I hadn't been watching him intently, I never would have caught it. But If he denied knowing what I was talking about, it was only to buy himself time because he wasn't ready to tell me. That, or he remembered a whole lot more about that meeting in the shaft, and the memories behind it caused him to be afraid.

As I expected, he denied knowing what I was talking about, but a small hint of fear remained in his eyes. With a forced laugh, he said, "If I can't remember the time in the shaft with you, how do you expect me to know what I told you?" Then, his manner relaxing slightly, he added, "I'm sorry that I can't help you with your questions, Rod. Truly, I am. But this woman that you keep calling Loté, she must be something special to you. You say that she saved your life after we crashed. When we have more time, you must tell me about her."

He paused for a moment. And then, with a start, as though he'd just had an epiphany, he continued. "Do you suppose it's possible that your mind was just fabricating the whole experience? Before you argue with me, just think about it for a second. Your mind sub-consciously suggested that you were needed for a role even bigger than just the saving of this woman, Loté. That would give almost anyone the motivation they'd need to push themselves even farther than they thought possible. Nevertheless, because the nature of what your mind suggested was so implausible, the message had to be delivered by someone you trusted, namely, me! Although you won't acknowledge the possibility that what I'm suggesting is correct, I am still flattered."

"You're right," I was forced to agree. His logic made much more sense than anything that I could come up with did. After all, wasn't it our nature to desire to be someone of importance, someone that the human race was depending upon for its very survival? "You're right. It was pretty narcissistic of me to believe that I was even capable of such grand deeds," I humbly replied, my spirit suddenly sagging.

Noting my deflated demeanor, he quickly grasped my arms in his hands and said, "Nonsense! Even if you haven't heard of my deeds during the past years since our discovery of the subsurface, I have heard of yours. It would be very disdainful of me to say that what I've heard is less than estimable. Although I never took an active part in subsurface politics, I did keep my ear to the ground, so to speak. You made quite a name for yourself among the lower classes with your talk of freedom. Even many of the lords' soldiers regretted having to do battle against you. If it hadn't been for their immense fear of punishment at their lords' hands, they would gladly have joined forces with you. However, be it as it may, they never truly believed that you would win. And you must admit, what chance did a ragtag group of surface dwellers being guided by a corpulent old scientist have against the overwhelming numbers of two well trained and disciplined armies? Especially when those armies were fighting on their home turf and their enemies were the invaders? When it came right down to making the choice between possibly losing their eternal youth for this notion of freedom that you were preaching about, it was only natural that eternal youth would win out."

"You didn't hear everything about my doctrines then, because I also promised eternal youth if our democracy won out," I stated matter-of-factly. Another thought suddenly sprang to mind. "Why didn't you try contacting me when you discovered that I was still alive? If I had heard about you, I would have moved mountains and earth to find you."

"I must admit, you got me on that one," he awkwardly replied. Pausing for a moment, he sensed that I was waiting for something more. Feeling pressured, he slowly continued. "Maybe I just wasn't ready to forgive you." Then, before I could say anything, he quickly added, "Yes, you're right, I did hold you responsible for my death. At least I did at first, anyway. Nevertheless, I realized that what I was really feeling was tainted heavily with envy. It took me a long time to understand just how deeply jealous of you I really was. During that time, I'm afraid that if I had contacted you, I would have made a lousy friend, maybe even an unfaithful one."

"But I was your friend," I stated.

"Yes, you were my friend, that's what made it so hard for me to understand and come to grips with my own feelings. Until you're the co-pilot and I the pilot, you will never truly understand what I'm telling you. For now, suffice it to say that I've gotten over it."

"It would be amiss of me to deny that I suspected your true feelings toward me," I said, stepping away from him. "However, one thing all pilots are taught that co-pilots aren't, and that, my friend, is that all co-pilots are envious of their pilots. There were times when I didn't put much stock in it, preferring instead to believe that we were much bigger than that. Maybe even that we were the exception to the rule. However, in the end, I always knew there was something standing between us. Something that just wouldn't go away, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it."

"Believe me, Rod, when I tell you it's gone now. I've learned to deal with my feelings of envy toward you. What I feel now is pride; I hope that as we get to know each other again, you will come to understand just how proud I am to consider you my friend."

"Want some?" interrupted Tye, holding the flagon of water out to me.

"Thanks," I said, taking it from him. Although I was grateful for the interruption, before I could drink there was something more that I needed to do. "Lipton," I said sincerely, "Let's make a pact. If ever there was a chance to drive that wedge out from between us for once and all, this is it. Let us drink of this drink and swear an oath that we will trust in each other as only true brothers can."

With a mutual nod, I put the spout to my lips and threw it back, languishing the cool, wet liquid as it flowed down my parched throat. After taking a second swallow, I passed the flagon to Lipton and watched as he did the same. When he finished, he handed it back to Tye, and, turning to face me, hawked into his palm. I, likewise, hawked into mine. With set, determined expressions, we locked gazes and ground our palms together. The pact had been executed. With a lick of our respective palms, it would be sealed, and witnessed by those surrounding us.

Smiling broadly, he licked his palm and swallowed. Returning the smile, I followed suit. We were long lost friends that had come to find each other again. This time, we would be the stronger for it.

Fayze, having sat silently by, watching the exchange between Lipton and me with mute interest, suddenly jumped to her feet. Turning to Lipton, she grabbed him about the shoulders and gave him a long, hard kiss on the lips. Before I could turn away or say anything to discourage her, she turned toward me and did likewise. Whether it was my imagination or not, it seemed she lingered just a tad longer with me than she had with my dearest friend.

"That's enough!" prodded Lipton, who was quick to notice that her lips lingered a fraction longer on mine. Though he sounded upset, his smile clearly showed that he was enjoying her delight. "We've got some serious business to attend to, whenever you're ready."

Relaxing her hold on me, she started to pull away when she suddenly and playfully ran her tongue over my mouth, gently probing between my lips. With a start, I pushed her away, maybe just a little too hard.

"Rod," said Lipton good-naturedly, "I was only kidding. We made a pact, remember, nothing can come between us now."

"I'm sorry," I stammered, partly to Fayze and partly to Lipton. I felt like such a fool. How could I have let myself think for even a second that Fayze was attracted to me when she was clearly Lipton's woman? She was, after all, just excited to see two old friends reunited and able to put their pasts behind them. To think it was anything more proved just how narcissistic I truly was.

Turning to one of the men that had been standing in the darker shadows since my entry into the hut, Lipton ask him to reconnoiter the situation outside and then to report back to him. Without a word, the man moved silently past us, and then disappeared beyond the flap and into the harsh outside light.

Anticipating my question, Lipton quickly remarked, "He's a good man. He'll find out exactly what's going on without anyone being the wiser. In the meantime, though, we need to make plans."

"This basin is too small to keep me hidden for long," I said, feeling as though eyes were already probing the darkness within the hut. "And besides," I quickly added, though I knew everyone in the basin was equally aware of the fact. "The sun will be rising soon. Already the temperature is almost unbearable, even in here."

"Hidden!" he exclaimed. "Why would I want to keep a man of your standing, hidden? Oh no," he continued excitedly, a plan already taking shape in his mind. "We will do just the opposite of what Balzar expects. He is a smart man. He knows that the rogues can't be trusted beyond their own selfish desires. Even as we speak, he is increasing the size of his army through the use of the recycling chamber."

"My God!" I exclaimed. "He has an incubator here? But how can that be?"

"It was quite easy, actually. While he was busy trying to find you and your woman, I was busy transporting the incubator and all the necessary equipment to the surface. At the time, I had no idea that it would be used almost exclusively for military purposes." Before I could interrupt, he quickly cut me off. "Don't get me wrong, despite everything you think and feel toward Balzar, he has given me quite a few privileges, thanks to the debt that he feels toward me for my efforts."

This time I did cut him off, and sharply. "I can imagine just what those privileges might be!"

"No, actually, I don't think you can," he defensively replied. "Although his number one priority since his arrival here has been the rebuilding of his army, he has still granted me time to use the incubator for my own ends. Haven't you noticed that there aren't any old or decrepit people here? That isn't just by chance, I'll have you know." A sly grin crept over his face as he continued, "I actually convinced him that he needed the loyalty of the rogues more than he needed his own recycled soldiers. Of course," he chuckled, unable to hold back, "Balzar doesn't know the rogues of the surface; he doesn't understand that they hold no allegiance to anyone but themselves. He has been leading soldiers that understand and expect to be told what to do for so long, he has no idea how to lead when it comes to a people that only follow orders when it suits their end!"

It suddenly dawned on me. That nagging feeling that I couldn't shake earlier; everyone here, excluding Tye, was in the prime of their life. Sure, some were lacking in their personal hygiene, but they were still healthy individuals, despite themselves.

"You mean to tell me, you've been using the incubator to recycle the rogues in this basin. But I don't understand," I started, confused by what Balzar had said earlier about eliminating the rogues that he didn't need for slaves. "Why would he allow you to tie up the incubator to rejuvenate rogues, when he intends to eliminate them?"

"But that's the beauty of it, my friend," he replied with a smile. "Thanks to the few men and women that I've been able to recruit here, we have him believing that his army of subsurface soldiers is much larger than it actually is. You see, until a man exits from the incubator and opens his mouth, no one knows who he is. That, and the fact that a lot of the tissue samples that we have are of unknown origin."

"But why have you been recycling the rogues? Surely there is more to it than buying their loyalty; you already know how futile that is."

"I guess you could say I started with one. Fayze. Shortly after we met, she was seriously injured by a rival band of rogues. By using the incubator, I brought her back. When I saw how loyal she was to me, I had an epiphany. Eventually, I told myself, Balzar is going to grow tired of me hanging around. When that time comes, if I'm not in a position to protect or defend myself, there will be no more Lipton. However, if I recycled enough of the rogues, thereby gaining their loyalty, especially with the promise of future recycling, they would be willing to fight for me. In fact, they might even be willing to lay down their lives for me."

"Like I said, my friend, you should be wise enough to know that you can't buy their loyalty," I tiredly protested. "So answer me this, how have you managed to keep it a secret from Balzar? He can be a very intuitive man, you know."

"It was fairly easy, really. I simply started by recycling the elders of the conjoined tribes. As far as Balzar knew, they had died of old age. Since he didn't keep very close tabs on the actual number of men in the tribe, he never even wondered why the population wasn't fluctuating."

"So, by recycling the tribe's elders, you ingratiated yourself into their hierarchy," I murmured, more to myself than for his benefit.

"That's basically how it started. With time though, and we've been here a few months now, I've managed to recycle every last one of them." He hesitated for a moment and a shadow passed over his face. Then, after taking a deep breath and a quick glance at Fayze, he continued. "Sadly, though, I wasn't aware that the recycling process left its recipients sterile. Needless to say, that part didn't go over very well with the elders."

"It would appear that you still have some loyal fans," I said, glancing around the hut.

"Yes, there are those that felt the sacrifice was insignificant. They have stuck by me, and will stick by me in the future," he quickly added, speaking forcefully, almost as though he were trying to convince himself and not me.

"What about the others, will they be a problem?" I asked, fearing they might have realigned themselves with Balzar.

"No, I don't believe so," he said half convincingly. "For the most part, they're just looking out for their own interests. Business as usual, you might say," he added with a chuckle.

"Then we can't expect any help from that quarter?" I pressed.

"No, they won't raise a finger on our behalf unless it will ultimately benefit them. However, you can bet they'll do even less on Balzar's behalf. Of that, I'm quite certain."

"You were always a good man, Lipton. Moreover, even though you say you forgive me, I will always live with the guilt of attempting that landing. However, we are not doomed to repeat the past. In the future, if you say we don't land, then we don't land."

There wasn't any need to explain myself further; he knew what I meant.

Sensing a break in the conversation between us, the sole figure still standing in the darker recesses suddenly stepped forward. Not waiting for, nor expecting to be introduced, he stepped into the smoky haze cast by the lamp that Fayze had taken the liberty to light. Speaking simply and directly, he said, "I'll go see what's taking Jon so long."

"Yes, he should have reported back by now," validated Lipton, the first hint of worry in his voice.

To say that I was impressed by how Lipton had matured in my absence would have been an understatement. Watching him now, as he gave commands without commanding, and carried himself with an air of confidence, I felt like a proud father. Although we were of the same age, especially since we'd both been recycled, he was still the prodigy and I the elder. In the past, he had always treated me with the deference reserved for senior officers. After being recycled even once, age was no longer measured in years. Rather, it was measured by one's life experiences, which was practically the only thing the recycling process didn't strip from you. Now I had to ask myself, if a man is measured by the sum of his experiences, had I grown and evolved into a more mature individual in his eyes, also?

Before I could ponder it further, another thought came to the forefront of my mind, where was Loté?

Turning slowly, my eyes searching the smoky interior, I didn't see Tye. Failing to see him in the inky light, I ask Fayze where he'd gone.

"He didn't say where he was going," she calmly replied. "But I'm sure he'll be right back. Probably just went to relieve himself."

"He didn't say anything about seeing Loté, did he?" I asked of anyone that might have spoken with the boy.

"Balzar is keeping her in his private chamber," replied Lipton when no one else spoke up. "Or at least, that's where she was at the start of last shift." Before I could say anything, he quickly added, "It might interest you to know, also, that's where he keeps the incubator."

"Do you still have access to it?" I asked, though I knew the answer before he mouthed it.

"No. From what my loyal friends are telling me, I wouldn't be surprised if he hasn't already given his soldiers instructions to kill me on sight. After all, he knows I'm the only real organized resistance that he might encounter when he makes his bid for total dominance."

"Then tell me this, how well guarded is his private chamber?"

"Well, let me explain it to you," he started, then abruptly stopped and looked over at Fayze. Before I could discern the meaning of the glance, he quickly continued. "According to Fayze, you've already had firsthand experience with respect to the toughness of the woven fabric." He paused for a moment, reflecting on the marvels of it. "It's pretty amazing stuff, as you well know."

"Yes, it is," I quickly agreed, equally impressed.

"For starters, his whole hut, as well as all of the others, is constructed of it. So you can see, there's no way we're just going to slash our way in through a wall." He paused for a moment while he accepted the proffered flagon from Fayze and took a long, deep swallow. Then, handing the flagon to me, he continued. "The next problem is that his private chamber is located at least one room removed from any of the exterior walls. To reach it from the outside requires going through a maze of hallways."

"But you've been there, you know the way through the maze, right?" I asked excitedly, interrupting him.

"Yes, I know my way through the maze, and I could draw a map of it to show to anyone. However, if you remember correctly from your exploits in the subsurface, it's a lot easier defending a narrow hallway, than it is to fight your way through one. Furthermore, all the rooms surrounding his private chamber are occupied with recycled soldiers. From what I understand, as of this morning, he doesn't even allow his loyal bodyguards within the walls of the hut, much less near his private chamber." He paused for a long moment before adding, "Moreover, latest rumors have it that he's moved the incubator. He probably moved his private effects with it."

Reflecting back on the casualties that we'd inflicted on Balzar and Thar's armies when they attacked us within the confines of the tunnels, I was forced to agree with him; a frontal attack was out of the question. In addition, even if we could count on the entire tribe of rogues for support, which would be foolhardy at best, the sun would rise before we'd route him from his lair. And even then, he might be right about Balzar moving the incubator."

"There has to be another way in," I said, speaking to myself. "Tye managed to find a way in, and he also found a way out."

"Yes, he did, and I just have to look at the front of your chest to know what happened. Not only that, by now Balzar has probably had his soldiers retighten and secure the exterior walls so that even our little boy's hands wouldn't fit under them anymore. Moreover, you know how hard the basaltic surface of this planet is, there's no way to excavate our way in, either."

"That's it!" I cried out suddenly, startling everyone in the hut and eliciting a warning from Fayze. Subdued, I quickly continued, "I think I have an idea!"

"Let's hear it," pressed Lipton, his interest piqued.

"Just give me a minute to formulate it in my own head."

"Take all the time you need. If you have any questions regarding logistics, just ask," he offered, returning to his place on the pile of mats.

"Yes, we'll help you all that we can, just remember how little time we have before the sun rises," added Fayze, turning a worried look toward Lipton.

In response, he frowned back at her and indicated with a hand gesture for her to join him. Lipton had spent many hours in a small confined space with me before; he knew how my mind worked. If I asked for a minute, that's exactly how much time I needed. Nonetheless, I needed that time to be uninterrupted, without any distractions.

Ignoring them, I turned my attention to the framework supporting the hut. It was constructed of poles made from the straighter growing, stalk-like trees that grew sparingly on the edge of the tundra, just above the southern lip of the basin. With a crew felling, and another crew heaving them over the side, they probably rolled almost to the spot where the respective hut was being built. Then, the poles were lashed together with cord made from the dried reeds. Over this framework of poles, they utilized even more of the reeds to secure the woven material.

It was a very sound construction method, considering the tenacity of the material employed. However, from my vantage point, what stood out was the ease with which it could be disassembled-from the inside! From the outside, it was almost impervious to penetration, except for one minor detail. Since it was humanly impossible to weave one continuous piece of material large enough to cover even one of the smaller huts, they were stitched together at the corners and along the lateral seams. These lateral seams drew my attention, since the seams along the corners were also tied continuously to the poles.

Lipton, noticing my intense interest in the seams, was quick to respond, ignoring my request for silence in hopes of helping me along. "It isn't any good, Rod. Unless we can get inside and untie the knots, they'll never pull apart. And if we can get inside to do that, there won't be any need to."

"Yes, I have to agree with you on that last part. Plus, if you say we can't get anyone inside to do the untying, I'll take your word for that, too," I said, speaking softly, while continuing to study the seams. There was something about the method used in tying the two pieces of material together that continued to intrigue me; I couldn't shake the feeling that I was looking at the obvious and not seeing it. Lipton was right, if we were inside and able to untie the knots, we wouldn't need to do so, unless we needed a way to escape. If we can't come up with a way to get inside, we surely don't need a way to get out.

My minute was almost up, and except for something drawing me toward the seams, I hadn't come up with a plan that would gain us access to Balzar's hut, much less his private chamber, or Loté.

And then it hit me; I suddenly understood what I was looking at. Because of the way the seams had been stitched together along the lateral joints, if there was a single break in the cord securing them, either end of the cord could be easily pulled backwards and out of the joint. Once the threaded cord was removed, the joint no longer existed. Instead, there were just two loose edges of fabric! The correct term for the style of fastening might be referred to as a whipstitch. But whatever it was called, it was the one construction flaw that presented a weakness for us to exploit!

"Lipton," I said excitedly. "I think I've found our way in."

As one, they turned toward me, reading the excitement in my face. Suddenly impatient, Lipton urged me to explain, "Well, come on, are you going to share it with us, or do you plan to keep it to yourself?"

"You're as knowledgeable regarding the properties of these reeds as anyone," I started. "I only just learned how tough it is when that guard got a lucky slash in and almost cut me in half. If it hadn't been for this fabric, he would have succeeded." Not waiting for him to reply, I quickly resumed. "I also remember what was left of the long-knife that I used when I cut the sections of material from the woven pathway, so I realize how fruitless it would be to attempt to hack our way in. Long before we could make a hole large enough to send men through, Balzar's soldiers would discover our futile efforts and close in on us from outside. We would be trapped with our backs against his wall."

This time I paused, letting Lipton consider what I'd said, and giving him time to agree, which he did. However, he quickly added, "I think I understand what you're considering. However, if you'll look around the walls, you'll notice that there aren't any exposed seams. When the huts were built, they were designed to use pieces of fabric that would put all the seams over a pole, making them less vulnerable from the outside."

"Sure they were," I readily agreed, my optimism undiminished by his remark. "Nevertheless, my friends, if you look upward, you'll notice that not every seam in the ceiling is secured to a pole. With the cutting of just one reed, we could open a hole large enough to drop an army through before they knew that we were there."

"By damn, you're right," he agreed, his face lighting up as he envisioned it in his mind. "We can build several ladders using the poles from this hut. After we scale the walls, we'll have someone remove the ladders. Once on his roof, I can tell you where the best place to drop in on him will be," he continued excitedly, suddenly looking forward to the adventure.

Up until he believed that we had a chance at actually succeeding, he was willing to fight Balzar and his army simply because he saw it as a way of helping a friend in need. In fact, his loyalty to me was so great that he was going to fight a battle that had little or no chance to succeed simply because he deemed it the right thing to do. He was willing to die for us, even though he knew only me. However, now that there was a chance at actually pulling it off, his spirits began to soar and he looked at the overall scheme with renewed optimism.

"As soon as Jon returns, we will tell him of our plans. In the meantime, we'll get several men working on building the ladders," he continued, his enthusiasm still growing.

"I'll take care of that," offered Fayze. Rising to her feet, she turned toward Lipton and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Then in one fluid movement, she turned and disappeared through the flap.

Looking after her, I commented to Lipton, "That is one beautiful woman you have there."

"You're lucky that I'm not a jealous man, my friend. I saw the look that she gave you, too," he added with a smirk.

"You have nothing to worry about, my friend," I countered. "I have a beautiful woman of my own, and she needs me now more than ever." My voice taking on a serious tone, I added, "I have to get to her, Lipton, before Balzar has his way with her. She spurned him once before, and he hasn't forgotten or forgiven her. If I don't get to her soon, the rising sun will be a mercy."

"We'll get to her," he said reassuringly. "But in the meantime, we need to get what we need out of this hut."

"Won't someone get suspicious when they see the hut collapsing?" I asked.

"No, not at all. It'll just look as if someone is getting anxious to be on the move. The sun is rising, you know, and everyone is preparing to leave, not just us," he said with assurance.

"Yes, you're right, I guess," I hesitantly agreed, taking his lead and reaching for the nearest bundle of supplies that were packed and waiting.

Working swiftly through the mounded bundles, we gathered all the weapons and items of value. After checking the edges on several of the long-knives, I selected the best of the lot and put it in a scabbard over my left hip. Once on the roof of Balzar's hut, I would use this blade for cutting the seam cord. After we gained entry, I would discard it and replace it with a sharp one, if given the chance.

In addition to weapons, we also filled packs with dried meats and cheeses and strapped on several flagons of water. These latter would be distributed among the men that would be joining us. If everything went according to plan, we would need the flagons for the journey west and south.

Fayze returned with close to twenty men. Having explained our plan to them on the way, they merely nodded to Lipton and me before setting to work on the multitude of knots. To my amazement, though they were all armed with dirks and long-knives, none were wearing the loose fitting tabards of reeds. Knowing that they were going into battle at some point in their near future, I had assumed they would have taken an opportunity at some prior time to fashion themselves armor from the abundant material.

Before I could question Lipton about this, another thought came to me. In the excitement of being reunited with Lipton, I had completely forgotten that we had formerly entrusted our weapons to Fayze. Turning my attention toward her, I noted also that she was still wearing the tabard I had fabricated on the lip of the basin. She was busy watching the men undoing the knots and wasn't immediately aware of my attention being focused on her until I spoke her name.

Turning to face me, she smiled and asked, "Yes, Rod?"

"I think you have something of Loté's. If you don't mind, I would like to return it to her myself," I said easily, understanding that it was only natural for her to want to keep the weapon, especially if something did happen to Loté. I also did not want to upset her.

"I'm sorry, Rod," she said calmly, a bit defensively, and definitely cool. "But Loté entrusted it to me. And until I meet up with her, I intend to keep it for her."

Lipton, overhearing us, asked, "What are you two talking about?"

Instead of replying, I stood silently and waited for Fayze to speak first, giving her an opportunity to amend her conviction. Although I had no justification for the way that I was feeling, it disturbed me to find myself not fully trusting her. She had saved my life, or so I thought. But now, when I looked back on it, she never really had. All she'd done was go along with us, leading us to Balzar like sheep to the slaughter, or so it seemed in hindsight. After all, weren't we captured almost immediately? And after our capture, where had she gone then, directly to Lipton? Or had she gone to Balzar first, hoping to ingratiate herself with him? Is it possible that Balzar slashed off her ear as a way of scorning her for her assistance? He was sick enough after all to find humor in just such an act.

When Fayze failed to explain herself at once, I felt even stronger that she was keeping something from us. Something she was having a hard time dealing with. Possibly some dreadful deceit that she knew was going to bring harm to Lipton, as well as to me. Though I felt confident that she didn't really care one way or the other regarding what final act of violence might be inflicted on me, she did have sincere feelings for Lipton.

The tension in the air was mounting; even the men disassembling the poles had taken pause, waiting for one or the other of us to speak. When it became obvious that she wasn't going to say anything unless she was forced to, I broke the silence with a gentle urging, feeling even more confident in my beliefs.

"Go ahead, Fayze, tell everyone what's bothering you."

"What are you talking about?" she fired back, angered and confused by my statement. Then, almost as if a light had gone off in her mind, understanding lit up her face. Laughing with disbelief, she said, "You think that I betrayed you and Loté, and that I set it up for Balzar to capture the two of you!" Then just as suddenly, her laughter turned to rage and anger. "Well you're wrong! In case you've conveniently forgotten, that whole plan was your doing. I never even suggested a part of it, especially the part where I would conceal the weapons. All I did was what you asked of me; I led you to Balzar's hut! Don't try to blame me if things didn't work out as you had hoped. And as for this knife, Loté entrusted it to my care, and until I see her again, it will stay in my care!"

Turning toward Lipton, I could tell immediately by the look in his eyes that I wasn't about to get any support from his direction. If I didn't believe her, it was going to be up to me to prove my case. Since I couldn't do that, because all I had were suspicions, I would have to bide my time. Meanwhile, though, I'd keep a close eye on her.

"I'm sorry, Fayze," I said humbly, feeling the tension slowly dissipate.

The men turned away and went back to their assignment of making ladders. Though things had calmed down for the moment, thanks to my apology, the fire didn't necessarily leave her eyes. It suddenly seemed important that I convince her of my sincerity. Until I did, there would be a wall between Lipton and me. Since he harbored feelings for the both of us, he couldn't take either one's side.

"I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me," I started, speaking softly and sincerely. "With Loté in Balzar's hands, and time running out, I guess the pressure is getting to me. You're absolutely right. Loté entrusted her weapon to you for safekeeping. Until the two of you meet up again, which I hope isn't too damn far into the future, you should look after it."

The look in her eyes softened as my words convinced her of my sincerity. Smiling first toward Lipton, and then me, she said, "It's all right, don't worry about it. Loté will get her knife back and soon. I promise."

"We're all under a lot of stress at the moment," added Lipton, obvious relief in his voice. "Now let's get out of these guys' way so they can get their work done."

Within a matter of minutes, several more men arrived and helped the others complete assembling the ladders. Soon, everyone was armed and either carrying supplies, or the end of a ladder. Lipton, having taken charge, looked nervously around at his band of followers.

Noticing the concern on his face, I asked, "What's the matter?"

"There should be more men here by now."

Although he looked nervously around at the gathered men, I knew him well enough to know that there was something more.

"You're not telling me everything, Lipton. Let's hear the rest."

"Tye hasn't returned, either. It's not like him to miss out on so much excitement. But you're wrong; my main concern is where the rest of the men are. Something must be keeping them, and I don't like speculating on what it might be," he said hurriedly, debating whether to send a man to investigate or continue without them.

Trying to take his mind off the immediate situation, I calmly asked of him, "Not right now, but when we have some time, do you think you could explain Tye's presence here. I couldn't help but notice he's the only child in the basin."

Distracted by my question, he quickly replied, "That won't take any time at all. He just showed up here out of nowhere. Several men returning from a raiding mission right before his arrival thought that maybe he'd followed them here. They admitted to having wiped out a small band of people that they'd stumbled across when they were returning from a trading mission with a Wealthy. It was shortly after their return that he showed up."

"So, what he told us was partly true, then," I mumbled, thinking quickly to myself. "He is an orphan because of men in this basin. But I don't understand why he would throw his lot in with the people who killed his family."

"He hasn't," stated Lipton, his attention drifting back to the situation at hand. "He threw his lot in with me, not the murdering rogues that slaughtered his friends and relatives. Have you forgotten so quickly what I told you about the many different factions here?" he chided, knowing that I hadn't. "Let me remind you, my friend. First, there are Balzar's soldiers, loyal only to Balzar. They can be as deadly as Balzar needs, or desires, them to be. Their numbers are not that great, but they are the best armed and trained. Next, there are Balzar's loyal guards. They are more numerous than his recycled subterranean soldiers, but their loyalty is questionable. Although he would never make it public knowledge, he finds his loyal guard almost as expendable as the other rogues in the basin. Which brings us to the vast majority of the people in this basin; the murdering bandits and thieves that give all the other rogues a bad reputation. Although their numbers are the greatest, they are the loosest knit group. The elders are still their leaders, but they do pretty much as they please as individuals."

He stopped to catch his breath and take a swallow of water. Taking advantage in the break, I reiterated to him, "I know all of that, Lipton; there isn't any need for you to re-explain it to me."

Jokingly, he replied, "If I didn't feel that there was a need, I wouldn't be wasting my precious breath on it. Yet, clearly your memory isn't what it used to be, so bear with me. If something should happen to me, my leadership will fall to you. You must be prepared for that improbability, and knowledge of your enemies is the best way that I know to prepare you."

"I am humbled by your suggestion that your people would throw their lots in with me, but how can you be so sure? They don't know me, and even if they did, they may decide I'm not worthy of their loyalty," I argued.

"They will look to you for their leadership for three reasons, the most important of these being, my directive for them to do so. Secondly, they are aware of your past status as a pilot. In case you've forgotten, that still means something on the surface. Last, but not the least of which, your reputation precedes you. You have made quite a name for yourself through your exploits and conquests in the subsurface. It is made all the more evident by the way Balzar's soldiers react to your name. Their hatred toward you is legendary."

"That may be so," I begrudgingly agreed, "but I did nothing that you wouldn't have done in my place. It was never my intention to upset the balance of politics down there, only to save the woman that I love. But having seen the way they were treating fellow human beings, there wasn't any way that I could just walk away and ignore it. You wouldn't have either, if you had been in my stead," I added dramatically.

"Yes, you might be right. Nevertheless, you can tell me all about your exploits and past history in the subsurface at another time. Right now, you are taking me away from a lesson that you need to know. The final group of people in the basin is loyal to me. Although it may appear to you that we have an echelon, no one is truly in command, least of all me. You might have gathered also that we are the smallest group. Well don't let our size fool you, because we have one thing on our side that neither of the other two have; we have compassion and righteousness to guide us."

He hesitated for effect, letting his words sink in. Then, in a calmer voice, he continued. "Until now, each has tolerated the other, but everyone has known all along that it was just a temporary truce carved out of necessity."

Sarcastically, I said, "Now that you've managed to cheer me up and instill all kinds of confidence in our chances for success, what are you suggesting? Surely you're not still planning a surprise attack on Balzar's stronghold?"

"First," he replied, his voice serious, "we are going to rescue your woman. Then we must escape this basin and the rising sun. We will not accomplish the latter without first accomplishing the former!"

"Thank you, my friend," I said, sincerely gratified and humbled by their unselfish sacrifice for a woman they hadn't even met yet.

"You would do the same for any of us. Now, it is time to get moving," he hurriedly replied, noting that the ladders were finished.

With a minimum of words spoken to his men, they picked up the makeshift ladders, shifted the weights of the packs on their backs, and double-checked their weapons. Moving in single file, we set out for Balzar's hut, and Loté's rescue. I prayed we weren't too late.

### **9**

As we hurried along the alleyways leading to Balzar's fortress, I couldn't help but speculate on the possibility of taking the recycling apparatus with us. In the haste and excitement of having allies to help me rescue Loté, I had forgotten to question Lipton with regard to its power source. However, my question would have to wait, for now we restricted ourselves to moving through the basin with the utmost stealth. If we were discovered before reaching our destination, our small force wouldn't stand a chance of defending itself against the overwhelming odds of Balzar's combined forces. As for the rogues, we felt confident that they wouldn't involve themselves in our struggle, except for picking over our remains.

As we neared the large hut, we noticed a mist on the air, creeping slowly out from the boundaries of the lake. Already, the temperature within the basin was such that the water was rising from the surface. However, despite the discomfort created by the high percentage of humidity in the air, we were thankful for the extra cover that it provided. With the damp vapor-mist enveloping our small force, we all breathed a little easier.

Through the milky shroud, we could hear the frantic work going on around us. The rising sun was just days away. And long before the first rays become visible on the eastern horizon, the air will turn hot enough to literally scorch the skin off our bodies, and the ground heated to the point of burning through the thick callous lining on the bottoms of our feet. Yet, even before then, it would become much too hot to breathe.

Many of the huts were being disassembled and packed up for the journey west. If we could see the western slope of the basin through the heavy blanket of mist, we would see a solid line of rogues, each heavily weighed down with everything they could carry as they make the ascent. In fact, if it weren't for their loyalty to Lipton, the men and women accompanying us would probably be amongst them. The only reason more of the rogues hadn't left sooner than they had was out of fear that Balzar's soldiers would stop them, by use of force, if necessary, even if they had to kill them. Now, however, under cover of the steamy water vapor, a mass exodus was hurriedly taking place.

Balzar, in his wisdom, and I had to give him credit where credit was due, realized that he would need slaves to carry his possessions and supplies. In addition, he was determined to take a large supply of the reeds for sale and trade with the wealthies. He couldn't dare risk using his valuable soldiers for beasts of burden. Laden and encumbered with heavy burdens, they would become easy prey for the rogues once they achieved a safe distance ahead of the sun. In addition, though his soldiers were loyal to him at this point in time, especially with his promises of wealth and power that were yet to come, they would resent having to stoop to the level of pack animals to serve him. They would fight to the death, possibly even dying for him, but they would not be humiliated and disgraced by working like beasts of burden. In their collective opinions, they had after all, achieved the noble rank of soldier, quite an estimable task. It would behoove them to be reduced to the status of that of a common slave.

We relied on Lipton's knowledge of the basin to guide us through the swirling mist. Every now and then, we ran into small bands of rogues, pilfering through their own tribe member's partly disassembled huts in search of stashed loot. What I'd heard was true; there wasn't any honor among rogues, not even for their own tribe's members.

Between the heavy packs and the stout ladders, we soon worked up a sweat in the humid heat. We were less than half way there when Lipton suddenly let out a low whistle, a predesigned signal that meant for us to take cover. Immediately, we broke into two groups, each dropping down into a crouch on either side of the alleyway, or what I believed to be an alleyway. With so many huts having already been disassembled for the move, while others were lost in the mist, it was hard to tell for sure anymore.

There was the slight whisper of steel being drawn across leather as we drew our weapons, then silence as we waited. Not having heard or seen anything beyond the usual sounds that we had grown accustomed to, I suddenly wondered how and what had alerted him.

I didn't have a long wait for either query to be addressed. Coming forward at a hard run was none other than Tye, our missing boy. Reaching out of the swirling mist, Lipton grabbed him around the waist and yanked him in to him, saying something hushed to him in the same instant. Whatever he'd said, the boy responded by not sticking the short-bladed dirk in his throat.

Speaking in hushed tones, they quickly exchanged information. Unable to discern what had been said, I was left trusting to Lipton's judgment and determination of our next move, based on the boy's information.

Without hesitation, Lipton signaled to the man nearest him, who in turn passed it on. Although I hadn't heard the exchange between him and Tye, I recognized the signal for what it was; he intended that the men should fall back and regroup south of our present position. Tye must have brought him important information for him to deviate from our intentions this late in the game. Following their lead, I also worked my way through the mist, stealthily moving southward, and hoping that I would come across them in my path.

The sound of huts being disassembled and packs being put together was growing sparser with each passing minute. The rogues that could take advantage of the obscurity provided by the growing mist had already done so, and were already out of the basin, or quickly ascending the western slope. Those that were left behind were clearly in danger of being pressed into service by Balzar's soldiers. Though we were quickly running out of time, to our good fortune, the mist was growing thicker and more opaque. With fewer huts to use as cover, we would not reach our destination without this divine intervention.

Moving hurriedly toward the south, it was with no small amount of relief that I suddenly came upon Lipton and the others. Already they were discussing the information that Tye had brought them. However, since they'd just started, they didn't see any need to stop and start over for my benefit. What had already been said, I would grasp by what was yet to come. Listening in, I learned that Tye, having discovered the mist rolling off the lake, had used the concealment it provided to sneak in close to Balzar's sentries. Hiding near their feet, he overheard them discussing Balzar's plans and their disgruntlement at his hesitation to be on the move. Even though both of the soldiers were from the sub-surface, they felt the impending doom that overstaying their time here in the basin was bringing them. Even though they weren't afraid of dying in the same sense as a surface dweller might because they had grown to see it as little more than a temporary inconvenience, they still feared the complete annihilation that the rising would bring; they were familiar enough with recycling to understand that ashes were not recyclable. In my opinion, it was because of this lackadaisical approach to death that most of his soldiers had lost their edge. They no longer fought with the degree of fervor that a man who fears for the loss of his life does. It is only because of their vast amount of training and experience that they win most of the battles they engage in.

Listening further, Tye had learned that Balzar was determined to stay put in the basin until he had exacted his revenge on Rod and Loté. His soldiers were not pleased about this petty revenge thing, because it threatened their very existence.

It appeared to Tye that the soldiers were also growing nervous because of the encroaching mist. It was a phenomenon that they had never experienced during their lengthy lives in the subsurface. It was making them jumpy and agitated, ready to lash out at anything that didn't readily identify itself, including their own comrades.

Unable to restrain myself, I asked, "Did you see Loté? Did they mention her, or if they've moved her?"

"No sir," he quickly replied, a cloud of shame passing over his face. "Only what I already said about him seeking his revenge before he lets anyone leave here."

Turning toward Lipton, I stated, "This doesn't change anything. In fact, now we know he's still there, and that means Loté is too."

With the sweat running off our glistening bodies, Lipton looked to the others and said, "He's right. Nothing has changed. Let's go." Turning back to face me as the others got up from their crouches, he quickly added in a hushed voice, "Keep an eye on Tye for me, will you?"

Seeing the concern that he felt for the boy in his eyes, I quickly nodded my ascent. It wouldn't have mattered that I was thinking first of Loté's safety before anyone else's, even with regard to the boy; my nod alleviated his worries, and that was the main thing for the moment.

We were moving back toward the main pathway leading to the rear of Balzar's hut, when I suddenly cursed myself for not asking Lipton about the power source for the recycler. He would have resented my wasting time on such a trivial concern, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than just trivial curiosity. In fact, I couldn't help but feel that our very success and future survival might depend on it.

Something else was eating at me too. Jon, Lipton's right-hand man and entrusted friend, hadn't returned before we left Lipton's hut. Although he didn't say anything, I suspected that he assumed Jon would catch up with us before we reached Balzar's hut. Though Lipton didn't bring this up, either before we left the hut or since, I knew he was anxious about it. In his esteem, Jon wouldn't just abandon them. Something or someone had detained him, and we both knew of only one man that could.

We were nearing the rear of Balzar's hut. The air had grown exceedingly hot and humid, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. In addition, our discomfort was intensified by the fact that perspiration continued pouring from our pores but not evaporating. The air was saturated and only added to the sweat covering our bodies. It clung heavy and warm to our overheated flesh.

With a small amount of satisfaction, I noted that the number of huts still standing increased accordingly with respect to the proximity to Balzar's hut. This little item of interest only reaffirmed the tidbit of information that Tye had overheard; Balzar didn't intend to leave the basin until he'd finished what he had set out to do, and no one was supposed to leave before him. Thinking of all the huts that had already been disassembled and carted off, I couldn't help but wonder if he was aware of what was happening. Knowing about his short temper, would any of his soldiers have the balls to tell him about the mass exodus? Unable to control myself at the thought of what was taking place right beneath his nose, a small chuckle escaped my lips.

Tye, unaware of my inner thoughts, looked at me strangely, his eyes reprimanding me for having made a noise. Wherever this boy had come from, I couldn't help but feel that he was mature beyond his years. Somewhere in the not too distant past, he lost his natural family, his biological parents. In my self-centered lack of caring, I hadn't even bothered to ask if he'd had any other siblings. Now, whether it was a ploy of his, or if he had been sincere in his wishes to live with Brae and Wary, he had recently lost them, also. It made me sad to think that he'd never had a childhood and probably never would, and yet, here he was, still a child. If we were fighting against the evils of this world for no other reason, it would be to give children such as him a chance to be children.

We suddenly arrived at the back of a large hut. Since the ladders were already propped up against the wall, I assumed it to be Balzar's. In the heavy cover of the murky mist, I had trusted to Lipton and his followers to lead us to the right place.

Gathering everyone close, he whispered some last minute instructions. Those of us carrying packs slid them from our shoulders and piled them against the woven wall. It had been previously planned that Tye would remain here with the supplies. Because of the circumstances, his job might prove to be more dangerous than the undertaking that Lipton and I had chosen for ourselves. At any moment, stray rogues might stumble across the accumulation, and Tye would be put upon to discourage them from thieving them away, using whatever means at his disposal. I didn't doubt for a minute that Tye would hesitate to use the concealed dirk he always carried on him.

Taking the lead, I cautiously worked my way up the nearest ladder, noting that the others paced themselves so as not to get ahead of me. Glancing down, I noticed that the scrapes on my chest were bleeding anew from the movement of placing my arms above my head to climb. When the blood mixed with my sweat and the condensation of the mist, it looked much worse than it was.

Putting it out of mind, I hurried up the rickety ladder. Upon reaching the roofline, I gingerly reached out with my hand and applied a slight amount of downward pressure against the woven ceiling. In doing so, my stomach let out a low growl, reminding me that I hadn't eaten anything since leaving the rim of the basin. Praying it wouldn't continue, I climbed a step higher on the ladder, putting myself in a position that would allow me to step out onto the fabric of the roof.

Taking a deep breath and then holding it, I put all my weight on my right foot and lifted the left from the rung of the ladder. To my surprise, amazement, and relief, the fabric barely indented against my weight. Moving forward, away from the edge, I drew my dirk and waited until the others had also made their way out onto the roof. To avoid detection from below, we had decided earlier that the best way to move toward the center of the hut, and Balzar's private chamber, was to follow the support posts where possible, keeping our weight centered over them.

Staying spread apart to avoid putting too much weight on the roof in any one place, and possibly drawing notice from within the hut, we slowly worked our way along the stitched seams, easily identified by the obvious cross-threading of the reeds against the normal woven pattern.

Though the heat was just as unbearable on the roof as it had been on the ground, the mist was less cloying, allowing us to see farther. Even spread out the way that we were, I could make out all of our party. However, the edge was lost to sight, and the best that I could hope for was an approximation of Balzar's personal chamber. By using the distance from the exterior wall to the loosely suspended wall as I remembered it from my brief time within, I led the others to the general area. Because of the room's larger size, it stood out from above, and made it an easy target to find.

In reality, however, with no way of determining Loté's exact location, my confidence was slipping. When I thought I'd gone far enough to put me where we needed to be, I stopped and turned to look back toward Lipton. Sensing my uncertainty, he nodded back, reassuring me that I was in the right area. Crouching down to the fabric, I put the blade of my little knife against the reed holding the seams together and started working it back and forth in a sawing motion. It was slow going and I was apprehensive that we would be discovered from below at any moment.

Working hard, the sweat running into my eyes and dripping like a stream from the bottom of my chin, only to disappear between the weave of the reeds, I started wondering if I would ever get through it.

Then, the thing that I was dreading the most suddenly happened! Though the sound was muffled as it came through the woven material, there could be no mistaking it; our plan to drop in unexpectedly and overpower Balzar's soldiers by taking full advantage of the element of surprise was gone! The cry had gone out, and Balzar's men knew that we were coming! To drop into their midst now would be both foolhardy and suicidal; just as quickly, as we could enter through the roof panel, they would be waiting to slice us to pieces.

Compounding the problem was the fact that now they knew where we were. Things couldn't be looking worse for us. With few options, it took only a moment to decide what to do. Lipton, seeing the folly in committing his men to a fight that we couldn't win, signaled them to disperse. With any luck at all, they would get off the roof before Balzar's soldiers could surround the hut, then blend into the mist and get lost among the other rogues.

As for Lipton and me, we could be identified. Even Fayze and Tye stood a chance at escaping the basin and Balzar's wrath, but Lipton and I knew that wasn't an option available to us. And besides, even if that were an option, I couldn't run out and leave Loté behind.

When the others were gone, leaving just Lipton and myself alone on the roof, I commented to him on the loyalty of his followers. "It wasn't easy for them to run for safety, leaving you behind the way they did. I could see the reluctance in their eyes, especially Fayze's. You don't get that kind of loyalty from them just because you recycled them, my friend. That's the kind of loyalty reserved for men they believe in."

Pausing for a moment, I waited for him to respond. When he didn't, but instead continued looking off into the mist, I continued. "They would have gladly stayed and fought to the death for you. But you ordered them to save themselves and that's why they believe in you; they know that you put their interests before your own."

When he still failed to respond to me, continuing to stare off into the mist instead, I asked of him, "What are you thinking, my friend?" When he still didn't answer me, I jokingly added, "Wishing you had never seen me again, aren't you?"

"No," he said slowly, casually, speaking as if we were sitting be a fire and sharing a flagon, and not as though our lives were about to come to an end. "I was just thinking that we might want to consider getting off this roof before his soldiers have to come up here and get us. They won't be none too gentle in getting us down, you know."

"You always were one to make things easier for everyone else." Standing, I further suggested, "We should head toward the front of the hut and draw as many soldiers away from the rear as we can." He understood that I was thinking of his friends and what we could do to facilitate their escapes.

Cursing softly at himself for not having thought of it sooner, he rose to his feet and started marching toward the front of the hut. Long before we reached the edge of the structure, we could hear the voices of the soldiers on the inside yelling to those on the outside, keeping them posted of our position and direction. Our plan to draw the soldiers away from the rear of the building seemed to be working, because we could hear the retreating footfalls of soldiers hurrying back along the sides of the hut, rejoining their comrades in front.

Though it was with trepidation that we marched to our impending capture and inevitable torture, at least there was the chance of being reunited with my Loté before being put to death. That was something to which I could look forward.

Lipton, on the other hand, had left the woman he loved so that she might escape. He knew that she stood a much better chance of getting out of the basin undetected without him; with him, she didn't have a prayer. Despite the logic behind his reasoning, I knew, it didn't make it any easier for him to accept.

"How did they get wise to us?" Lipton casually asked for no apparent reason.

"My sweat, I think," I answered him, feeling foolish for not having considered it sooner. "It ran through the reeds, probably dripping on the floor inside. Someone took notice of it, and you know the rest."

He seemed relieved by my answer. Yet, he felt compelled to ask, "You're sure that they weren't tipped off?"

I knew why he was asking, but I couldn't give him the answer that would set his mind at ease. His missing comrade might have been tortured until he told them that Lipton was housing the escapee. But that was only conjecture on my part.

"It doesn't really matter how they discovered us on the roof, Lipton. We're beyond that, now."

He said no more, and we continued on. By the time we reached the front edge of the hut, we could hear the sounds of soldiers and their weapons as they prepared to breach the roof. Lipton, realizing their intent, yelled down to them in the mist. "There isn't any need to come up, we're coming down! If you stand clear, we'll drop our weapons over the side!"

An answering voice, ringing with authority, responded, "We're clear, now drop your weapons over the side. Don't try anything funny, I have archers set up that can zero in on a sound at one hundred paces."

"That won't be necessary," answered Lipton, dropping his weapons over the side.

As I let my dirk and then both of my long-knives go, I was suddenly thankful for Fayze's stubbornness in refusing to give me Loté's knife. If events went such that she should end up keeping it, it was much better than for it to fall to one of Balzar's soldiers. Yet, an even worse thought then that, was that it might fall into Balzar's hands.

Weaponless, we turned to face each other, knowing that it might be the last time that we'd ever see each other again as free men. Taking his hand, I said, "I'm sorry I got you mixed up in my troubles, Lipton. If it weren't for me, Balzar probably would have left you alone."

"You only sped up the inevitable, Rod. Even before you came along, he was out to get me. My only regret is that my passing isn't going to leave this world a better place for it. You, at least, can go out knowing that you've made a difference. Your life had an impact on the lives of many. Your exploits have done much to improve the lot for humankind."

Jokingly, I said, "We'd better jump now. The way you're spouting, my head's going to grow so large it won't fit through a doorway." Then, on a more serious note, I added, "Whatever happens, Lipton, I want you to know that you're the best friend a man could ever ask for. I hope you feel the same way about me."

"The natives are getting restless, my friend," he quickly replied, not accustomed to or comfortable with the emotions that he was experiencing.

"Jump down now or my archers will begin shooting!" demanded the same voice as earlier, sounding unnaturally loud in the moisture-laden air.

Although the hard surface of the basin was lost to us in the swirling mist, we knew how far down it was to impact. Taking a deep breath, I bent my legs and catapulted myself from the roof. Lipton, fighting the inevitable, did likewise. We landed next to each other, rolling as we did to break the force of the fall. Rushing out of the swirling mists, soldiers rapidly descended upon us.

As they yanked us roughly to our feet, a man came forward, stepping up close to get a better look at our faces. Even before he spoke, his grin and smug manner dictated that he was Balzar's commander in chief, the same man that ordered us off the roof. At some point, though I couldn't remember when, I had heard him referred to as Arnod. In silence, he looked us over from head to foot, his expression clearly demonstrating how pleased he was with his catch.

"This will make my Lord happy," he said softly, almost as though he were thinking aloud. Then, with a sharp jerk of his head toward the entrance, he brusquely ordered, "Take them inside and secure them to the posts! I will be there shortly with our master."

Before either of us could utter a protest, he turned on his heel and strode through the doorway leading into the structure. With a sharp jab in the back for motivation, we were pushed forward by our captors. Lipton, regaining his footing after almost falling face-first on the hard ground, led the way into the hut. With two guards between us, one holding securely to each of his arms, I came along behind in the same manner.

In the dim interior, it was impossible to tell which direction Arnod took after passing through the entrance. However, I was confident that he hadn't headed directly for the holding chamber, the place that I'd escaped from previously, and where they were taking us now. If that had been the case, he wouldn't have needed to tell his men that he would be there shortly. No, more likely he went to inform Balzar of his feat. That could only mean that Balzar was in his private chamber, and more than likely, he wasn't alone.

There had to be a way to get loose. The thought of Balzar alone with Loté and not being able to do anything about it was beginning to drive me crazy. To know that it was a fact, and no longer just my mind torturing itself, was more than I could bear. With my arms held tightly behind my back, however, there wasn't anything that I could do about it. Even if I could get my hands on a weapon, I would be overpowered by the guards before I could bring it to bear.

I didn't have a choice; all I could do was go along with whatever Balzar had in mind for me. I was being forced to wait until an opportunity presented itself. The most important thing for the time being was to be prepared when that opportunity presented itself. Owing Loté that much and more, I couldn't let her down again.

There was small relief from the overwhelming heat and humidity, even inside the hut. The slighter coolness that I remembered from before was quickly dissipating due to the encroaching sun. Soon, there would be no escaping it.

Was it possible that Balzar was overlooking the inevitable? Had he become so engrossed with his mad obsession for revenge that he couldn't see beyond it?

Although I found these thoughts hard to believe, I did not have to remind myself that Balzar, nor his soldiers, were surface dwellers. Since they or their ancestors hadn't lived on the surface for centuries, it was possible that they'd lost their natural instinct to migrate westward.

When I thought further along this train of thought, I suddenly found myself entertaining a new possibility; was it possible that Balzar didn't feel the anxiety of the rising sun because he had a different escape route in mind, a route that he hadn't shared with anyone except for his soldiers?

This latter thought seemed less likely than just a complete lack of concern for the rising sun due to his not having lived on the surface for so many years. Yet, I couldn't just discount it altogether, either. Two things made me question the validity of it: Balzar's access to power, which had never been explained, or his source for raw DNA. Somewhere, Balzar was coming up with the raw material required to recycle his soldiers. Unless he had brought it with him, which was always a remote possibility, he was getting it from somewhere. And like the power to run his incubator, he was getting it from somewhere near at hand!

Disturbing as these thoughts were, I couldn't ignore the further possibility that Lipton held the answers to these questions, even unknowingly. And if he did, was he holding back from me deliberately or naively? To even consider that he would hold back from me intentionally was even more disturbing. It suddenly became imperative that I not allow myself to consider that possibility. If I started distrusting my friends, whom could I trust?

Reaching the end of the hallway, they shoved us forward roughly, throwing us off balance. To keep from falling, I reflexively grabbed the post directly in front of me. With the point of a long-knife pressed into the small of my back, forcing me to remain against the post, they quickly and unceremoniously bound us with dried reeds to the protruding steel ring at the top.

Turning to face Lipton, I asked, "Do you think he plans to leave us here to burn?"

In the fraction of a second before he answered, I knew my suspicions about him were unfounded. His eyes betrayed no shock or alarm; he fully expected to burn to death in the heat of the rising sun.

Replying softly, so as not to incur any additional attention from the guards standing near the entrance, he said, "If I didn't know Balzar as well as I do, I would tend to agree with you. Any sane man would already be well clear of this hole. Unfortunately, we're not dealing with a sane man. He's so taken with this notion of revenge toward you and your woman, he can't see the danger that he's exposing himself and his soldiers to."

"So you still believe that he intends to exact his revenge before he leaves this hell-hole?" I asked, though I knew the answer.

"Of that, I harbor no doubts. He's crazy enough to believe that he's invincible. But it's hard to believe that his soldiers are so afraid of him, or so trusting in him, of which I still haven't decided, that they will stay with him right up to the end."

"Lipton," I started slowly, "I owe you an apology..."

Cutting me off before I could finish, he quickly replied, "I know, you thought I was about to betray you back there. It's all right, my friend, I would have suspected the same of you, under the circumstances."

"Thanks, Lipton," was all I could think to say. Not only was I relieved that he accepted my apology without taking offense, but that he didn't make me continue with it, as I was feeling more awkward by the moment. Glad to be off the subject, I asked of him, "So, what do you think will happen next?"

"I think we're about to find out," he replied, nodding toward the entrance where Balzar was just coming through with Loté tethered on a short leash encircling her throat.

My heart leaped at the sight of her! She was alive and she didn't appear to be injured. Silently, I thanked the Gods for her well-being. But what the hell was she wearing? And why was her hair tied up in a braid above her head?

Upon seeing me, her eyes lit up. Smiling, she cried out my name and started toward me. Before she had taken two steps, Balzar's soldiers closed in on her from either side and grabbed her brutally by the upper arms, immediately restraining her in place. As she struggled futilely in their grasps, I could see the flesh turning white beneath their fingers. Instantly, my anger flared!

Crying out in frustration, I screamed at them, "Let her go, you heathen scum! Can't you see that you're hurting her?"

When one of the guards holding her chuckled in response, clearly enjoying the pain that he was inflicting, the smile on Balzar's face broadened with anticipation; he finally had the both of us where he wanted us. He was so close to exacting the revenge that he'd been feeding on since we first disrupted his plans, he could hardly contain himself.

With the guards holding Loté less than fifteen feet from me, he slowly moved forward until he was standing directly in front of me, clearly putting himself between Loté and me for effect. In his unmistakable, whiny voice, he gloated, "The time has finally come..."

"In your dreams!" I spat at him, not letting him finish.

"But don't you see?" he calmly replied, not letting my insolence get to him. "There isn't anyone left to save you this time. Even as we stand here, your friends are running away, hoping to stay ahead of the rising sun. They have abandoned you for the sakes of their own lives. Now, isn't that a precious thought?"

"I'll give you a precious thought!" I yelled at him. Then, before he knew what was coming, I hawked a huge wad of spittle at him, hitting him full in the face.

Jumping back and cursing, he wiped frantically at the slimy mess dribbling down his face and off his chin. Yet, to my dismay, even before he finished wiping the last of it away, his smile had returned. This was the moment that he had been dreaming of, and a little spittle wasn't about to dampen his glory.

"That's good, Captain. But before I'm done with you, you'll be wishing you still had that spit." Turning to face his soldiers, he added as an afterthought, "My good friend Lipton, it really is such a shame that you have to end our relationship this way."

"You would do better to be more concerned about your own future welfare," returned Lipton, showing no signs of concern over what was coming. "In case you haven't noticed, we're all about to get our asses fried."

Angrily, his face turning red, Balzar fired back at him, "I have waited much too long for this moment to hurry it now. If you lack the patience, I can have my men dispatch with you right now! However, there is nothing you can do or say that will make me rush this!"

Seeing the intensity in his face, Lipton wisely held his tongue. There was nothing to be gained by his death at this point, except maybe avoiding the pain of watching his friend being tormented and tortured. However, as long as he breathed, there was always hope.

"It's all right, Lipton," I said, speaking with more calm and confidence than I really felt. "He's right, you know. Until we finish with this little show of his, none of us can move on."

"You're as crazy as he is!" he replied, looking astounded.

"Maybe," I calmly replied. "Maybe I am."

"Enough talk! Now you will listen to me," started Balzar, moving toward where Loté was standing silently between the two soldiers. Snaking his hand out and grabbing her wrist, he jerked her forward, the soldiers instantly releasing their ironclad grips from her upper arms; white welts immediately jumped out from the tanned flesh.

Before she could regain her balance, he jerked her wrist again, causing her to trip in the folds of the long hem on the dress that she was wearing. Landing hard on her knees, the thin fabric of the dress offering her no protection, a small cry of pain escaped her lips. Balzar, still holding her wrist with an uncanny strength that belied his wiry limbs, kept her from falling farther.

Torn by the sound of her muted cry of pain, I cried out to the monster standing in front of me, begging him to show her some mercy. "Please, don't hurt her. It's I that you've been after. I'm the one that's always been the thorn in your side, thwarting your plans at every turn." Pausing, I noticed his smile had changed. No longer did he appear to be happy, but instead, he was now leering. The look on his face reminded me of a hungry animal, one that was about to pounce on a defenseless quarry.

Somehow, I couldn't let that happen. There had to be something that I could do to stop him, some way of reaching him. "It's not too late, Balzar. If you let her go now, she can still outrun the sun, and you'll still have me!"

"You just don't get it, do you, Captain? Without her, I could never make you suffer the way that I need to see you suffer. Sure, I could skewer you alive, or have my soldiers stretch you between two cords until your limbs literally tear free from your body. But all that would accomplish would be the torture of your flesh while your mind, though deeply anguished with your physical pain, would remain intact. Yes, it might withdraw deep into itself, hoping to hide from the physical pain. Yet, in the end, that is all it would be, physical pain." He paused to take a breath before continuing. "I want more from you, Captain, so much more."

Stepping around to stand behind Loté as she knelt on the stone surface facing me, he calmly continued. "No my friend..."

"Don't call me your friend!" I screamed at him, cutting him off in mid-sentence.

"As you wish," he calmly agreed, unperturbed by my outburst. "But as I was saying, without her, I would be unable to do anything more than cause you physical pain. With her, I can get into your mind. I can cause you pain like you've never experienced before, and I can do it all without so much as laying one finger on you. Before I'm finished, you won't only be begging me to kill you, you'll be begging me to kill her too." His smile widened, revealing long, yellow stained teeth. "You know, I'm going relish every moment of this. I have waited much too long!"

Without another word, he grabbed hold of the braided hair tied up on the back of Loté's head and viciously jerked it backwards, snapping her head back. Her fear was visible in her eyes, the whites almost bulging from their sockets. Yet even more noticeable was the odor that was permeating through the muggy heat; it was the pungent stench of fear. Although she kept her mouth shut, literally biting through her lower lip to keep from crying out, her fear was physically palpable in the hot still air. The truth of Balzar's words were suddenly evident, her pain and fear was more than I could stand. He was already inside my head, and I was powerless to stop him!

"Stop it!" I yelled in hopeless frustration.

"Go right ahead, yell all you want, you haven't seen anything yet."

Lipton suddenly spoke up, "We're running out of time, Balzar. If we leave now we can still get out before it's too late. Kill me and take them with you. Once you're safely ahead of the sun, you can resume with them. You don't have to do this now!"

"Don't, Lipton," I said softly, understanding he was sacrificing himself in order to buy Loté and me some time.

"It's all right, Rod, you would do the same for me." Raising his voice toward Balzar, he resumed his urgings, "What do you think, Balzar. If it's as you've said, you have already waited one eternity for this moment, what's a few more days?"

He hesitated before he answered, clearly considering the option for the first time. Then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he shook the idea off, preferring the satisfaction of the moment to any that he might acquire in the future.

Lipton, realizing immediately what the subconscious shrug inferred, assailed him with renewed earnest, hoping against hope to sway him to reconsider. Only this time, he knew he wouldn't get another chance, if he even got this one.

"Think about it, Balzar, every time you stop to rest, you can exact a little more pain, a little more blood to fuel your passion. You can take your time; enjoy her flesh with leisure, while torturing him beyond his limits. Can you even imagine the untold pleasures that await you? Don't rush it now, only to regret it later."

Balzar unconsciously licked his lips with his tongue as he considered the untold possibilities. If he took us with him, he could torture us not only this one time, but also anytime that he felt the urge. Better yet, even when he didn't feel the urge or desire, but only needed something to entertain him. It was easy to see by his transparent facial expressions that he was truly enjoying the idea.

"You might just be on to something yet, Lipton," he replied, his mind churning with the new possibilities. "First, though, we shall have a little fun. I've waited much too long to deny myself even a small amount of pleasure."

Working the fingers of his right hand into the folds of her braided hair so that she couldn't get loose of him, he reached around to her front with his left hand and slowly started undoing the buttons that secured it over her full, firm breasts. With great pleasure, he hungrily leered down at her emerging nipples. When he had undone every button leading down to her waist, just the briefest amount of fabric still clung over her large, brown areoles. Watching my face intently so that he could savor every second of my discomfort, he gently pushed the silken fabric aside, sensually rubbing his palms over her nipples as he did.

"Stop it, please," I begged of him. Although it was much more common for the women of Heälf to be naked, rather than clothed, his act of uncovering her in front of me was driving me insanely jealous.

Whispering softly, I could hear Lipton telling me to ignore it, that it would all be over soon enough. In my growing rage, his words were unintelligible. All I could hear was the sound of my hammering heart in my chest, and the rush of blood as it coursed ever hotter through my veins.

Glaring at Balzar, I hissed, "You will pay for this!"

Rolling her left nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he grinned back, clearly pleased with the reaction that it elicited from me. Moving his hand to cup her breast between his sinewy fingers, he breathed huskily with lust, "Did they do for you what they're doing for me?"

With all my pent up rage, I jerked against the cord that bound me, barely feeling them bite into my already lacerated flesh, the smell of fresh blood quickly mingling with the heated air in the confines of the room and adding a surreal effect to the proceedings. Beads of sweat mixed with blood flew from my straining muscles. Every tendon in my body was stretched taut; my breath was coming in loud, uneven gasps that sounded hoarse, even to my own ears. All sense of reasoning was quickly abandoning me. As my vision narrowed, all I could see was his hand, and her beautiful, upturned breast within it.

With my last shred of human sanity, I realized the truth in what he'd said earlier; without Loté, he could never hurt me so deeply.

Moving his hand slowly down the front of her stomach, he took great pleasure in exposing more of her darkly tanned flesh. With a sensuality that I found hard to believe he could possess, he worked the fabric down, sliding it off her shoulders and letting it fall to her knees. With her head still held back, he stepped around to her front, placing his erection just over the bridge of her nose.

Immediately, he realized that he was blocking my view and stepped to the side, viciously wrenching her head around and forcing her to turn her body to face him. Then, resuming the pose for my benefit, he turned his face toward me, delighting in the torment that he saw.

"Forgive me, Loté," I cried out to her, knowing that she was only here because of me, a fact that until now was unknown to Balzar.

As the words registered in his demented mind, the smile on his face grew even more grotesque, if such were possible. Looking at me with a new interest, he released his grip on Loté's hair, letting her defiant eyes burn into his soul.

Stepping away from her and moving closer to me, he asked, "What did you say?"

Realizing the mistake that I'd made by asking Loté to forgive me, I blurted at him, "Go to Hell!"

Absently, he agreed, "Oh, I'm sure that I will, eventually. But I'm equally sure that it won't be for a long time yet, and you'll be there long before me." He paused for just a moment to digest this new information and to decide how best he could use it. When he continued, he spoke cautiously, considering each word before he mouthed it, hanging on each word that I spoke in response. "So, you feel responsible for her being here. Do you also feel some responsibility for the deaths of your friends?"

"Don't answer him, Rod," Loté pleaded behind him, her voice broken with tears. "Whatever you say, he's only going to use it against you."

"Is that true, Captain?" he purred, his voice smooth and rolling off his tongue. "Is there more that I can use against you? Have you done things of which I'm not aware? Maybe even things you regret having done?"

"I won't tell you again! Go to Hell!" I spat at him.

"Oh yeah, there are things, aren't there?" he continued, sensing that he was getting close to something that, as of yet, was unknown to him.

"There isn't anything that you don't already know," Loté continued arguing, however futile her efforts.

Suddenly, his face lit up and his smile grew even broader. Immediately, I knew that he'd figured out the true source of my agony. Suddenly, there wasn't anything that he couldn't do to me. What had I done?

### **10**

Just as Balzar was about to twist his verbal knife a little deeper into my freshly exposed and vulnerable mind-flesh, Arnod, his first in command, came charging through the entryway.

"What is it?" Balzar shouted, cutting off his commander before he could speak. "You better have a damn good reason for this interruption!"

"My Lord," he said breathlessly. "The rogues are abandoning us! They have pilfered the supply hut and left the rest to burn. Do you want us to give chase? Burdened down the way they are, we can catch them easily enough."

"And what would you do with them once you caught up to them, kill them? You fool; it scares me to think that I trust you with the care of my entire army." Glancing toward his prisoners, where they were secured to the stone posts, he thought for the briefest of moments before saying, "Pack up what the men can carry comfortably in the way of food and water. Use these prisoners for beasts of burden. See to it that the woman is given water when she needs it, and be extra careful not to over laden her. As for the men, treat them as you desire. However, take heed of this warning, if they should die at anyone's hands but my own, so shall the person responsible. And if there is any dispute, as to who that might be, you will stand in their steed."

"Yes, my Lord, I understand," he quickly replied before turning on his heel and retreating back the way he had come.

"Idiots! You would believe that I didn't know what was going on around me," he mumbled to no one in particular. After taking one last, longing look at Loté, he motioned to the nearest soldier. "See to her needs first, but remember, nothing is to happen to her unless it is by my hands!"

"Yes, my Lord," he quickly replied.

"I must go see to the packing of the more delicate equipment," he absently added, striding toward the corridor leading to the recycling apparatus.

Unable to control my anger any longer, I was on the verge of yelling profanities after him, when Lipton whispered a subtle warning in my ear. Restraining myself, I looked on as the guard helped Loté to her feet, leaving the garment lay where it had fallen. "I'll get you out of this," I said to her, trying to sound confident.

Looking back at me, she quickly replied before the guard could silence her, "It's okay, Rod, I'll be all right." Forcing a smile, she added, "It's you that he wants to see suffer, not me."

It felt good to see her smile, even though I knew it was just a veiled attempt to boost our moral. The second guard handed her a flagon of water, allowing her to drink her fill. As I thirstily looked on, a small amount splashed down the side of her chin. In all the excitement, I hadn't realized how deep my own thirst had grown. The first guard, seeing the longing in my expression, made a show of pouring some out on the ground after taking the flagon back. With renewed resolve, I swore not to make the mistake of showing my emotions so openly again. Twice now, in less than an hour, I had let my emotions cloud my judgment and reactions.

After binding her hands behind her, one of the guards led her down the corridor that wound its way eventually to the main entrance at the front of the hut. With a deep longing in my heart, I watched her go. When she could no longer be seen, I turned toward Lipton. We both owed him our lives and I felt a sudden need to thank him while I had the opportunity, and the strength.

"You didn't have to do that for us, Lipton."

"I know. But I couldn't just stand by and watch my friends suffer, either."

"You're a good man. I wish I could be certain that I deserve your friendship."

"It's mine to give and I want you to have it," he sternly replied, once again growing increasingly uncomfortable by the direction the conversation was taking. "So," he started, suddenly intent on changing the subject. "Have you come up with any ideas regarding our escape?"

The remaining guard had sauntered over to the entrance, where he stood leaning against the wall and sipping from his flagon, patiently waiting for someone to come and give him his next set of orders. As long as we kept our voices low, he might hear us, but he couldn't make out what we were saying. Also, since there wasn't anyone to impress, he didn't feel the need to order us to remain silent.

"I'm afraid Balzar really got to me, back there. All I could think of was how I was going to kill him if I ever got my hands on him," I answered, unable to keep the defeat out of my voice.

"I understand," he said comfortingly before adding, "But now that I bought us all a little more time, we need to come up with a plan of escape before we're too weak to attempt one. If I know Balzar the way I think I do, it won't be long before we'll have a hard time remembering who we were, much less think about escaping."

"All I can suggest is that we play it by ear and hope an opportunity presents itself while we're still able to act on it."

The soldier standing by the entrance suddenly jumped to attention as Arnod came striding in. Nodding toward us, he instructed the soldier to secure our hands to waist chains. Almost as an afterthought, he added, "And fetch some leg shackles, while you're at it. We don't want them walking in too much comfort."

After watching until the soldier left to carry out his new orders and find adequate bindings for us, Arnod suddenly turned his attention toward Lipton and me. Striding forward until he was within easy reach, he furtively turned his head from side to side, taking in a quick but thorough view of the room, ensuring himself that we were alone. Finally satisfied, he softly whispered, "If I help you escape, what can you do for me in return?"

Lipton and I were momentarily speechless. Here was the leader of Balzar's entire force of ruthless soldiers, many centuries of his life spent in the subsurface serving Balzar, and he was asking us what we could do for him in exchange for his assistance. What he was suggesting was treason, and a slow tortured death by Balzar's sadistic hands!

My first gut reaction was that he was setting us up for a rude disappointment. I couldn't help but feel that this was his own perverted way of having his fun with us. Yet, as I looked into his face, I quickly cast that notion aside. There wasn't any of the anticipation or concealed laughter that would have been lurking there, if indeed this were the prelude to a joke. His face betrayed only a nervousness and anxiety that might be expected of someone in a high-ranking position that was about to betray his master. Lipton sensed it too; this man standing before us was deathly serious.

When we didn't respond fast enough, he prodded, "Quickly, we don't have much time before that idiot returns and I'll have to put the shackles on you. If I aid in your escape, what will you do for me in return?"

"There can be no escape unless we include Loté in it," I quickly replied.

"I'm not sure that's possible," he answered, his voice hushed, but the nervousness still clearly present. "Balzar never leaves her out of his sight long enough. And even then, she is always going to be accompanied by a minimum of two guards. Those were his last orders before I came back here."

"If you can't include her, then we have nothing more to discuss," I responded, abruptly cutting the conversation off.

"Wait!" cut in Lipton, who was thinking more clearly than I. "Maybe we can work something out."

"I won't leave her behind!" I firmly reiterated. "If you two want to discuss plans alone, feel free. I promise I won't interfere. In fact, I'll even assist you if I can, I owe you that much."

"No one's leaving here alone," confirmed Lipton, quickly adding, "And that includes Loté. But hear me out, if we all work together, there's no reason that we can't all get what we want out of this." He paused for a moment before adding, "Which brings us to the point here, Arnod. What exactly do you think we have that you might want?"

"All I want are two simple things, both of which are easily yours to give," he quickly whispered, casting a furtive look about to make sure that no one had entered. "I want my life, and I want my pride!"

"You don't really expect us to believe that you would throw away everything Balzar can give you in exchange for the very things that every man is ultimately born with?" I asked incredulously.

"Balzar is insane!" he quickly fired back, his anger and frustration evident in his terse demeanor. "He cares little for his own life, and even less for the lives of those who faithfully serve him. He has become a madman, and if I stay with him, I will die an unrecoverable death on this godforsaken surface. Ever since you and that woman of yours entered into his life, he has been on an ever-increasing spiral to Hell. All I want is to get off that spiral before we all reach his destination. Is that asking too much?"

"Even now, both of your demands are within your own reach," said Lipton. "All you have to do is what's right, and you will have your pride back."

"And that is why I must help you. For the first time in my life, I must do what is right."

"But we can't guarantee your life. No one can do that," I added.

"If I should live for just a moment as a proud man, it would be better than to live an eternity serving him," he said with a quick nod of his head toward the entrance.

Almost as though that were his queue, Balzar came striding through the entrance with six heavily armed soldiers close on his heels. As they cleared the doorway, they fanned to the left and right, their weapons leveled at Arnod.

"So, my faithful commandant, you would prefer to live a moment as a proud man, than an eternity serving me. Well that can be arranged." With a nod of his head, his soldiers closed in on Arnod. "Take him alive, you fools!" added Balzar, wanting to make an example of him when there was more time to do so.

Arnod, on the other hand, was true to his word, he would rather live a moment as a proud man, and die, then live an eternity serving Balzar.

Drawing his long-knife, he spun to face his attackers, men he knew personally and had served over for some time. Though they hesitated, not savoring the thought of killing a man they had grown to not only obey, but to respect, it came down to the same thing; if they failed to kill him, he would kill them.

Flanking him, they attacked from several sides at the same time, hoping to inflict a debilitating, but not deadly, wound. Arnod, using their hesitation to his fullest advantage, parried first one blow, and then swiftly spun around on his heel to block the next. As he spun deftly on the balls of his feet, he showed them through the calm, steely look in his eyes why he had been their leader. In addition, he also displayed to them his prowess with a long-knife.

Spinning first one way and then the other, he never stopped jabbing outward, inflicting wounds on the soldiers that hadn't even considered themselves part of the foray yet. Then, when they pressed him harder, their confidence bolstered by their overwhelming number, he lashed back with a violent gracefulness that astounded even me. Before the soldiers knew what was happening, two of them lay dead at his feet, and none were without a bleeding wound.

Unfortunately, their sheer numbers had taken their toll on him, also, their blades finding his unprotected flesh along his backside and thighs. Bleeding heavily, but refusing to go down, I slowly watched our chance at freedom dying on his feet.

The remaining soldiers were also losing blood and the extreme heat was draining their energy. As one, they stepped back from their foe, looking hesitantly toward Balzar for further instructions.

Sensing their exhaustion and lack of commitment to the battle, he regaled them with profanities and obscenities. But in his tirade, he took back his order to take Arnod alive, instead, ordering them to kill him or suffer the consequences. More afraid of Balzar than the wounded Arnod, they moved back in, closing the circle ever tighter around him.

Yet, despite Balzar's best efforts to browbeat his men into fighting effectually against Arnod, they were not committing themselves. He would have to raise the stakes if he expected the battle to be brought to a quick conclusion.

"The man that kills him, will inherit his position as commandant of my army!" he shouted, clearly intending for Arnod to hear, also. Balzar was very shrewd when it came to mind games.

With his breath rasping through clenched teeth, and his blood forming a slippery puddle on the stone at his feet, Arnod slowly turned in a circle. As he turned, his eyes locked with each of the remaining soldiers, holding them in his gaze for the briefest of moments. Though Balzar was oblivious of what was going on, as warriors, Lipton and I both understood the meaning of his gesture; Arnod was forgiving his opponents for killing him, he had accepted his fate like a true warrior. Balzar's promise of power to the winner was enough to ignite at least one of the soldiers into action, and Arnod knew in that moment when a gaze turned away from his own, who would be his assassin.

Nonetheless, like a true warrior, he didn't just lay down his weapon and bow his head in surrender. When the rush came at him, with his last remnant of strength, he swung his blade mightily toward the foe that would usurp him, purposely leaving his backside vulnerable. Although he fully realized the consequences of his actions, he also knew that he didn't have the strength left to defend himself adequately. As his blade sliced cleanly through the throat of the man in front of him, a lesser opponent's blade found its way clear to his exposed back. Severing flesh and tendons, it missed the shoulder blades and continued forward, ripping through a lung, and sealing his fate.

Arnod froze, staring down at the point of the weapon protruding from his chest. His arms dropped to his sides, his weapon falling with a clang from his failing grasp. Taking advantage of Arnod's lack of motion, the remaining two soldiers drove their weapons into his exposed torso, each vying for the kill and subsequent promotion to commander.

Yet, neither would get the credit for killing Arnod, because even before their blades severed through his flesh, he was already dead. The remaining soldiers had honored his silent request and made his death a quick one.

"Leave him lie where he is," ordered Balzar, though they were too weak to do otherwise. Between the wounds that they'd suffered, and the effects of the increasing heat, it was all they could do to remain on their feet.

At just that moment, the guard that Arnod had sent to procure shackles and bindings came trotting down the corridor. Seeing the carnage in front of him, he stopped in his tracks, his mouth hanging open in awe at the sight of his dead commander. Yet, what puzzled him even further, was the fact that the prisoners were still secured to their posts.

"Don't just stand there like an idiot, you fool," Balzar shouted, breaking the man's trance. "Secure the prisoners. We're running out of time!"

Quickly, the soldier hurried forward, dropping the assortment of chains and leg irons at the base of the posts. Hurriedly sorting through them, he selected the appropriate wrist irons and clamped them securely to our wrists. Next, he found the waist chains and, with like speed, strung them around out waists. After hooking the wrist irons to the waist chains, he clamped the leg irons around our ankles, securely connecting them to the waist chains in like order. Satisfied with his efforts, he undid the reeds that were still pinioning us to the posts.

Balzar, after checking the man's work and finding it satisfactory, ordered us taken outside. With guards in front and behind us, we were roughly herded down the corridor leading out to the sweltering heat. Constricted by the leg irons, it was impossible to take full-length strides. Instead, we were forced to shuffle along, the bindings quickly rubbing the skin around our ankles and wrists raw.

Once outside, the heat rapidly became unbearable. In addition, the sun's reflection off the moon's surface at such an abrupt angle was considerably harsher and brighter. Because of this, not only did we have to concern ourselves with dehydration, we now had to concern ourselves with ultra-violet rays, and the rapidity with which our skin would burn. Fortunately, if Balzar retained any common sense, he would head at an angle that would lead us south of the reedy tundra and into the dense coverage of the jungle canopy.

Of course, that depended on how rational he was still thinking. As of late, if his actions were any indication, he wasn't thinking rationally. Because of his inexperience with the surface, he'd probably try to outrun the rising sun by heading in a direct path away from it. Although that seemed like the logical course of action, it would only seem that way to someone not of the surface. The sensible plan to a seasoned surface dweller would be to head for the nearest edge of the jungle and the protection that its canopy would provide.

Turning toward Lipton while the soldiers were busy loading their packs and adjusting their harnesses, I asked, "Do you think he has enough sense left to make for the jungle canopy before we all burn to death?"

Before he could answer, Balzar appeared at the entrance, leading Loté on a neck-leash made of woven reeds. Her hands were tied behind her back and the leash was fashioned after a noose. If she failed to stay close to him, she would be strangled by it. Only when she stumbled stepping over the threshold did I notice that he'd also hobbled her ankles. He had finally caught his prey and he wasn't taking any chances that it might escape.

Squinting in the bright moonlight, she quickly noticed Lipton and me standing aside from the soldiers. Unable to raise my hands, I simply nodded and smiled toward her, hoping she could draw some encouragement from the gesture.

Balzar, following her gaze, suddenly bellowed at the soldier nearest to him, presumable his newest commander, though I didn't recognize him from the foray. "Why haven't the prisoners been saddled with their burdens yet?" In addition, although it was obvious to everyone still remaining in the basin that time was quickly running out, he added with a note of sarcasm, "Do you think we're going to take a break before we start?"

Though all the soldiers were busy getting the supplies organized and distributed, several quickly dropped what they were doing and headed back into the hut, returning moments later with woven crates containing hard, angular pieces of equipment. Even through the reed netting, I could distinguish their substance; these were several components from the recycling apparatus. Apparently, the rest of the machine had already been distributed between the soldiers and the few slaves that had remained behind in the basin.

While two soldiers held the bulky weights on our backs, a third secured them to harnesses that encircled our upper torsos. When they were finished, there wasn't any possible way for the equipment to come loose. The only way it could be damaged, would be if we were to fall on our backs. And even then, the reed netting would offer it some protection.

Although we hadn't even started, I could already feel the straps of the harness cutting into my shoulders. Because of the heat and reflected moonlight, it wouldn't be long before we would have neither the strength, nor the desire, to escape. If we didn't think of something soon, we would be too weak to run away, even if we got the chance.

Forming a single file line, Lipton and I found ourselves near the middle of the procession. There were an ample number of soldiers both in front of us and behind us to discourage any thoughts of escape. Farther behind us, but nearly as heavily guarded, came the forced labor, also carrying bulky equipment on their backs. Upon closer inspection, it quickly became obvious that the soldiers were carrying all the necessary supplies, while the prisoners carried the heavier and bulkier recycling equipment. Balzar, leading the precession and leading Loté along behind him on her leash, wasn't taking any chances. If anyone made a break for it, and by some miraculous stroke of luck actually managed to evade the soldiers, their burdens wouldn't net them anything they could use for their survival. Despite his overt preoccupation with his hunger for revenge on Loté and me, he was still thinking quite clearly, a point I would do well to bear in mind at all times.

The trek up the side of the basin was quickly tiring. Even the soldiers, with their lighter loads, were struggling against the rising slope. As we progressed, the amount of steam in the air grew thinner, but never quite dissipating completely. Risking a quick glance backward over my shoulder, I was both amazed and appalled by how bright the opposite horizon was. The last time that I could remember having seen such a brightly lit horizon, was during that last, ill-fated rescue mission when my bird crashed in the jungle. The result of that was the death of Lipton, and my later fortuitous discovery by Loté and her parents. Back then, although I respected the rising sun and the scouring effect that it had on the planet's surface, I also looked upon it with awe because of its immense beauty. Of course, back then we had the superior speed of our aircraft to carry us safely away from it. Now, we were forced to run before it like common refugees.

Cresting the slope, I half expected Balzar to order a short break. Most of his soldiers were panting and exhausted, unable to cope with the extreme combination of heat and humidity nearly as well as the native surface dwellers. Instead, to my disappointment and that of everyone else's, he never so much as looked back for a last glimpse at the hole that had served him as his headquarters for the past several months.

Without breaking stride, he angled to the left, acquiring a southwesterly direction. At least he was making for the jungle canopy and the limited amount of protection that it would afford us from the burning ultra-violet rays. Although the light was being reflected down on us from the moon's surface, because of the acute angle the sun had acquired due to its changing trajectory, it was striking us with a dangerous level of intensity. If we didn't find refuge from it, and soon, we were all doomed to a slow, agonizing death; a death very similar to that suffered by the subsurface dwellers that had been exposed to the radiation of the reactors.

Though Balzar's soldiers were suffering even more acutely from the high heat and cindering rays of light, they were finding reserves of inner strength to draw on. Of course, they had a good motivator; none of them had ever seen anything besides artificial light their entire lives. Because of the strangeness that it exhibited in comparison to artificial light, it sparked a powerful fear in them. Although they no longer feared death, they never entirely lost their fear of the unknown; the two balls of light in the sky above their heads were exactly that, the unknown.

As for Lipton, Loté, me, and the other prisoners that were native to the surface, we didn't fear it nearly as much as we respected it.

Although we had barely started out on what would be many miles of rough terrain and inhospitable temperatures, the straps of the makeshift pack had already dug into the skin on my shoulders. The problem was compounded by the blisters that were giving rise in response to the increased dosage of ultra-violet rays. It did give me some satisfaction to note that Balzar had allowed Loté to slip a woven tabard over her tender flesh. For the time being, he was looking out for her, at least for as long as he deemed it necessary to do so. When he finally sated his appetite for revenge, he would discard her like a piece of trash.

"Lipton," I whispered through my parched throat, hoping to get his attention without attracting the attention of the guards.

When he didn't immediately respond, I forced myself to move up closer behind him, whispering his name over his shoulder. The guards were too preoccupied with their own level of discomfort to pay us any heed. We were pretty much left alone as long as we kept pace with the rest of the column, unless, of course, we should try to escape. There wasn't any doubt in my mind that we would be dealt with quickly and severely if we strayed even a foot to either side.

Just as I was about to give up, he answered me.

"What, what do you want?" he mumbled through parched lips.

I didn't really know what I wanted, except to talk, to feel the companionship of a fellow human sharing the same ordeal as myself. It wasn't fair of me to put this burden on him, and although I understood this, I couldn't help myself.

"Did you happen to glance back when we crested the rim?"

"No. What would have been the purpose? In a few short hours the whole place will look just like any other place beneath the sun."

Although we were using strength and energy reserves that we didn't have and couldn't afford to waste, I could tell that the simple act of talking to someone was raising his spirits, as well as my own.

"I did."

"So, what of it? Did you see something worthy? Anything that I should know about?"

His voice was tinged with just a trace of frustration and impatience, little signs that told me a lot about his current condition. Even though he was irritated to be wasting energy talking, he was equally comforted by the human contact.

"We were the last ones to leave," I replied, hoping he understood my meaning.

"In other words, everyone else had the good sense to get out sooner, before it got so God-awful hot!" he quickly shot back, not picking up on my hidden meaning. Then, after thinking on my words for a moment, he asked, "How could you tell if the place was deserted, could you see through the mist?"

"It wasn't what I saw, but rather what I didn't hear." When he didn't so much as acknowledge that he'd even heard me, I wearily added, "Your friends included."

He still didn't answer immediately. Instead, he digested the meaning of my words. If his friends were still alive, and there wasn't any reason to believe that they weren't, were they devoted enough to him that they would try to rescue him? On the other hand, had they just left him behind, making their concern with their own survival their main priority?

Even before he spoke, I could tell by the sudden lift that came into his step, he sincerely believed that his friends were up ahead, waiting for him. They would have selected the perfect place for an ambush. Moreover, while they waited patiently for Balzar's column to arrive, they would be resting, while Balzar and his soldiers would be wearing themselves out, exhausting themselves in order to make haste. Balzar, as well as his soldiers, was thinking, and it was logical for them to do so, that they could rest once they reached the protection of the jungle canopy.

Nevertheless, even if Lipton's friends were up ahead, waiting to ambush the soldiers and facilitate his release, would they be willing to incur the added risk of helping Loté and me? Or would they be content with getting Lipton to safety?

These were questions that had no immediate answers. Even if I vocalized them to Lipton, his best guess would be little more than conjecture, and possibly a promise of swaying them to come back for us.

However, I was letting my thoughts run ahead of me. His friends, though I was sure Lipton would disagree with me on this point, were probably many miles distant, maybe even safely under the protection of the jungle canopy, already. But even if they weren't that far ahead, I wasn't sure they were harboring any thoughts of helping Lipton escape. Although Fayze appeared to have feelings for him, she also showed an interest in me. Were her feelings for him strong enough that she would want to jeopardize her life to save him? As much as I hated to say it, I didn't feel that she was the type of woman that could give that much to one single man. Even now, she may have already discovered someone new; possibly, even Lipton's trusted friend and right-hand man, Jon.

As I considered this, it suddenly dawned on me that Jon had never returned to Lipton's hut before we left on our mission to rescue Loté. I couldn't help but wonder at what had happened to him. Even if he had run into Balzar's soldiers, there wasn't any reason for them to suspect him of anything. To the soldiers, he was just another rogue, another being to boss around and humiliate if they so desired. So where did he go? Did he have enemies among his fellow rogues? Was it possible that if he did, they caught him and eliminated him before he could return?

Maybe Lipton has formed some ideas regarding Jon's disappearance. Having lived in the basin and being deeply involved in its politics, he was in a better position to analyze the situation.

"Have you been doing any thinking about what became of Jon?" I whispered, not wanting to share our thoughts with the nearer soldiers.

"I have a few thoughts," he whispered back, a sad note detectable in his voice despite the hoarseness.

"I don't want to sound callous, but do you think he's still alive? And if he isn't, do you have any ideas about who might have killed him?"

Sounding even more dejected and disheartened, he simply replied, "Like I said, Rod, I have my ideas."

In an attempt to change the subject, he asked, "How much farther do you think it is to the jungle? If we don't get there soon, there won't be anything left of us to salvage and Balzar will be deprived of his fun with you, yet." Then, almost jokingly, he quickly added, "And we sure wouldn't want that to happen, now would we?"

Unable to refrain from smiling, though the act caused my parched lips to start bleeding, I replied in kind, "Yeah, if that should happen, he might have to use you instead."

"Shut up, you two!" ordered the soldier directly behind me while simultaneously giving me a shove that sent me stumbling into Lipton.

Lipton, hearing me coming toward him, braced himself for the impact. With a strength that surprised me, he easily managed to stay on his feet while acting to steady me and prevent me from falling.

With my head almost touching his, I whispered under my breath, "I'm going to kill every last one of these bastards, if it's the last thing I ever do!"

"I'm right with you, my friend," he whispered back encouragingly. "I'm right with you."

Drawing his weapon, the soldier moved in close to my side and, while making a threatening gesture with it, warned, "I told you to shut up! Now get back in line, you two lovebirds!"

Throwing the soldier a look of pure hatred, I gathered my feet under me and fell into step with Lipton. Despite the soldier's threat, I said thanks to Lipton, grateful that he didn't let me fall unabated to the course and jagged surface. If I had, I wasn't sure that I still had the strength to get back up.

The soldier, having expended his anger and frustration on me, went back to ignoring us. The heat was taking its toll on everyone.

It was encouraging to watch Balzar offer his water bag to Loté on a regular basis. But on the same hand, his motives behind his actions were equally disheartening. He had made no bones about his interest in keeping her alive and well. With her dead, he believed that his methods of torture would have little effect on me. I wasn't so sure that I could fully agree with him. The depth of his cruelty toward a fellow human being was such that I couldn't allow myself not to consider what he could do to my flesh.

When I thought of everything that Balzar was capable of doing or had done, I was forced to question his right to live. Although it would be difficult for me to kill a defenseless man, I could easily justify his death as a mere mercy killing. Still, as a simple man of honor, it rankles me to believe that I am capable of killing him with no remorse.

"Lipton," I whispered through cracked lips.

"Save your breath," he whispered back. "I'd say it's pretty obvious that he isn't going to kill us anytime soon. But he won't save us, either, if we exhaust ourselves wasting breath talking."

"There are just a few things that I'd like to ask you while we still have the opportunity," I insisted, feeling pangs of guilt for wasting his energy.

When he didn't immediately reply, I took it to mean that he would offer what answers he was capable of and started right in with my questions. Unfortunately, he was unable to tell me where Balzar had acquired the necessary power to run the recycling apparatus.

"You have to understand, Rod," he went on to say. "I was much less interested in how the machine worked, than in what it actually did." He paused for a moment. I wasn't sure if he was still thinking, or just catching his breath.

While I waited, I noticed the reddening welts rising along the sides of the straps securing the pack to his back. Without having to turn my head, I knew the same was happening to me. The soldiers, especially those not wearing the reed tabards, were blistering severely. In some cases, a whole patch of burnt skin was hanging loosely from their backs and shoulders, revealing freshly burnt flesh below. If we didn't reach the protection of the jungle soon, Balzar would need the recycling apparatus just to restore his army, again; he'd waited too long to leave the basin.

"I was aware of something, though," he suddenly continued. "There was an array of small shiny plates that interlocked together to form a much larger plate. It was bowl shaped, and when all the pieces were connected, it was very smooth, almost like a dish, of sorts. Of course, I'm using the term 'dish' rather loosely; it's just to give you an idea of what I'm trying to describe. Even then, I'm not sure they had anything to do with the recycler."

"These plates, where are they now? And exactly what size are they?" I asked of him, though I had no idea what he was describing to me.

Although talking through our cracked, bloody lips and parched throats was painful, Lipton seemed revived by the distraction. So much so, in fact, I dreaded to think what had been foremost in his mind prior.

"Do you remember the little concave mirrors mounted just outside the canopy on our bird?" he asked. Before I could acknowledge, he continued. "Now, imagine several hundred of them hooked together like a large quilt and stretched over a frame made of curving poles. Are you with me?"

"I think so," I uttered, not really sure, but hoping he would explain further.

"After all the mirrors are locked together, they position the finished contrivance so it faces directly at the nearest moon. Somehow, the rays are captured in the individual mirrors. Beyond that, I don't know anymore. As I said, I was more interested in what the machine could do, than I was in how it did it."

While we were talking, I was also taking notice of the subtle changes taking place in the scenery around us. Although we were less than an hour's distance from the basin, already the landscape had changed. The tundra of reeds was slowly being replaced by a low, shrubby growth mixed with a scattering of straighter growing pole trees. Unfortunately, though it was a clear indicator that we were getting closer to the jungle, the tangled mass of denser shrubs impeded our progress. With dehydrated bodies already overtaxed by the extreme heat, in addition to the heavy burdens, the rougher terrain was quickly zapping away what little energies we had left.

"We need water," I pleaded to the soldier behind me.

"Shut up!" was all I got for a response.

"Don't waste your breath on him, Rod," suggested Lipton. "Unless Balzar tells them otherwise, they're not going to give you their piss."

"We won't be able to go much farther unless they give us water, Lipton. Even Balzar has to realize that, doesn't he?"

Lipton was about to respond to my comment when Balzar suddenly called the procession to a halt. Turning around to look over his column of soldiers, slaves, and prisoners, I couldn't help but notice the smirk turning up the corners of his mouth. Despite his own discomfort, he still enjoyed seeing the pain and suffering of others.

While he waited for Loté to slake her thirst from his flagon, his eyes connected with mine. Smiling, he took the proffered flagon back and held it over his head. His eyes never leaving mine, he emptied the contents over himself. With an exaggerated expression of pleasure and relief, he slowly turned his back toward me, feigning ignorance of my cold, hate-filled stare.

"I'm going to kill him, Lipton. I swear it! Whatever it takes, I'm going to kill him!"

"You just keep that anger bottled up inside of you, Rod. If anything's going to get you through this ordeal, it's going to be that lethal combination of anger and hunger for revenge," he encouraged.

As I stared fixedly at Balzar's back, I suddenly noticed Loté looking back at me, her eyes ringed with pity. She was protected from the harsh rays by the woven fabric and she was drinking Balzar's water as needed, though I was sure this latter grated on her. She would gladly be suffering the same fate as me, if it meant holding on to even the smallest smidgen of her pride. Unfortunately, the reality of the situation dictated that she maintain as much of her energies and resources as possible. It was very possible that her well-being might spell the difference between our lives and our deaths.

Balzar, noticing her looking back at me, suddenly slapped her along the side of her head with his open hand. She staggered beneath the blow, more from surprise, than actual harm done. Reflexively, I lunged forward, my anger toward him blacking out my immediate surroundings. With dizzying swiftness, I was jerked backwards. Though I remained standing, thanks only to the fact that the guard holding the end of my chain didn't want me damaging the precious cargo on my back, my legs started cramping uncontrollably. The nearer soldiers, sensing my imminent collapse, jumped up and grabbed the pack from either side, lowering me gently to the ground.

Lying on my back while my legs continued to shake uncontrollably, I suddenly felt a hot fire scaling up the walls of my throat. Turning my head to the side, a torrent of bile gushed from my mouth. While I lay choking and coughing fitfully on the stinking slime, one of the soldiers got up and brought over his flagon. With his hand held beneath my chin like a cup, he poured a small amount into it and let me drink. Despite the burning foulness of the vomit, the water tasted better than any wine that I'd ever sampled. Unfortunately, I wasn't given enough to slake my thirst, or even begin to replenish the precious fluids that my body so desperately needed; I was given barely enough to keep me alive for a short while longer. Without a doubt, the soldier had acted under orders from Balzar, and not out of any compassion that he might otherwise have felt toward a fellow human being.

It seemed as though I'd no sooner been laid down, then two soldiers were lifting me back to my feet. Lipton, like the rest of the slaves and prisoners, was forced to remain on his feet during the entire break. Unlike the rest of the other captives, though, Lipton had been denied even the small amount of water that I had been given.

Unaware of how long we'd been stopped, I was relieved to notice that I'd regained some strength in my legs. The spasms had subsided for the time being, and I found I could actually stand without being supported. Though I stumbled at first, after a few steps I managed to find a rhythm that kept me upright and mobile.

Lipton, on the other hand, appeared to be in even worse condition than before the rest stop. He was walking like a zombie, a mindless form being led by his bindings. With his chin on his chest, and his feet shuffling over the broken ground, I sadly realized that he wouldn't be able to continue much longer.

When that time comes, I have to wonder, will they try reviving him with fluids, or will they finish him off and leave him behind, putting a quick end to his suffering?

Although I prayed that if he had to die, they would at least have the compassion to end his suffering quickly, I feared that wouldn't be the case. When he finally reaches the point where he can no longer continue, they will redistribute his load among the other bearers and simply leave him behind. Moreover, they will probably leave him with his manacles intact to further assure that he suffers a slow, painful death beneath the merciless sun.

Traveling in a straight line, on occasion we passed near enough to one of the straight growing pole trees to actually have its shadow pass over us. Though it was impossible to stop and languish in the sparse shade, it was easy to imagine that we could actually feel the coolness of it. Even if it was only in our minds, it felt wonderful beyond imagination. It boosted our spirits, and reminded us of the cooler reaches that we would find in the sanctuary of the jungle, if only we survived long enough to reach it!

Less than an hour since stopping, Lipton stumbled when his shuffling feet tangled in a low growing vine. Before the nearer soldiers could react, he was laying face down on the ground, a trickle of blood running from his broken nose. Leaning forward in an attempt to lend him assistance, I was taken aback by his pale color, or rather, lack thereof. His eyes were closed, and his skin was dry and flaccid in texture. He was severely dehydrated, and his organs were shutting down. Without use of the recycling apparatus, there would be little hope of saving him. Water would only soothe the symptoms, not cure them.

The soldiers, having come to the same conclusion as I, began undoing the straps that held the equipment on his back. Meanwhile, the rest of the procession, realizing what was happening, came to a standstill. Still on my knees, I was vaguely aware of a single precious tear welling up in the corner of my eye, when I was suddenly aware of hands lifting me to my feet.

Looking up, my eyes found Loté's gaze on me, and the renewed pity that she was feeling for me over the loss of my close friend for the second time.

Turning back to take a last look at the man that I considered to be my best friend, I was startled when he suddenly winked at me. Then just as quickly, his face went slack and his labored breathing came to a halt. For a moment, I wasn't sure whether I had imagined it, or if it had really happened. Though I wanted to believe in what I'd seen, my senses were so flogged by my deteriorated condition that I couldn't be sure.

As I suspected, he was left lying on the ground where he'd fallen with his manacles and bindings intact. Though it was suspected that he was dead, no one wasted the effort to roll him over and check for a pulse. In their opinion, if he weren't already gone, he would be shortly.

With his load distributed among the other slaves, the column started out again toward the jungle and the sanctuary that it promised. With his body lying in the path beaten down by the previous members of the column, those coming behind simply swerved to the left, creating a jog in the otherwise straight line.

Within a day, because of the extreme heat, the speeded up processes of decomposition would cause his body to swell. In two day's time, his body would be unrecognizable, and his tissues rendered almost unusable for recycling. In three day's time, what flesh remains clinging to his bones would be cooked by the increasing temperature. In four days, his carcass would be reduced to ashes, along with the surrounding vegetation.

In the meantime, my survival became increasingly important. Another vendetta had just been added to the already long list that I was harboring toward Balzar. Lipton's life demanded vengeance, and I was determined to be the one to see to it!

### **11**

After leaving Lipton's body behind on the side of the trail, we traveled for less than an hour before Balzar called another halt. In the short time since leaving the basin, we could already see fringe evidence of the jungle that beckoned ahead of us. The trees we were encountering, as we moved steadily southward, were growing more substantial in character and size. Since they were also leafier than the pole trees rimming the reedy tundra to the north, they provided us with a modest amount of shade. Unfortunately, they didn't provide enough to have an impact on the ambient temperature. Instead, they offered us little more in the way of relief than the psychological effect that the pole trees had earlier.

The drier heat emanating off the reed-covered tundra was growing gradually more humid as we worked our way farther south. Soon, the humidity would be every bit as dense and smothering as that we'd left behind in the basin. Fortunately, though, the temperature would be considerably less, making the humidity much easier to cope with.

When the procession slowly stopped, even the slaves and captives were allowed to sit. Everyone, including the soldiers, was so near to exhaustion, it would be a miracle if everyone managed to get back on their feet when it came time to move out, myself included.

Once before, many lifetimes ago, I had come very near to giving up. When I reached the end of my endurance, and thought I couldn't go any farther, Lipton appeared to me in a dream-form, encouraging me to continue. It was his words to me now that gave me the incentive to live, the drive to get up and continue when my body wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. This was both the time, and the reason, that he wanted me to remember just how much I hated Balzar. I had reached the end of my endurance. The time had come for me to reach down and find that inner strength. Loté was depending on me. It was time for me to dig deep into my soul and determine just how badly I needed to see Balzar die! I couldn't let Lipton's death be for naught, and I couldn't let Loté suffer at his hands any longer!

The soldier nearest me, having drunk his fill, took pity on my condition and extended his flagon toward me. With a shaking, unsteady hand, I reached out to accept his offer. When my hand was still several inches from closing on it, and the relief that it held within, a dust laden foot suddenly shot into my blurred range of vision, knocking the flagon flying from the soldier's numbed fingers.

"Did I tell you to give him water?" Balzar cried out, his voice ringing with anger and frustration.

Before the poor soldier knew what was happening, Balzar ran his long-knife through the flagon, pinning it to the hard rocky ground. A dark, wet stain quickly spread out from it as the man's water trickled through the container's freshly lacerated side. Dumbstruck, the soldier looked on in shock. He had served Balzar alongside these men long enough to know that when his thirst became unbearable, they wouldn't so much as give him the sweat off their balls.

Though it was needless, but because he was still angry, Balzar yelled out a warning for the others. "If I catch anyone giving this soldier, or this captive," he added, pointing his weapon at my head, "Water, without explicit orders from me, they will be run through and castrated on the spot!"

Looking from one downcast face to the next, he drank in their fear, savoring it more than a cool drink of water. Satisfied for the moment, he sheathed his weapon and ordered the march resumed.

Though my vision was blurred and my head was pounding, I managed a weak smile at the soldier that had tried to show some pity on me. He returned my smile with a subtle nod of his head, not entirely convinced that he had done the right thing. He knew Balzar intended to keep me alive, but he wasn't so sure about himself. He had crossed a thin, almost inconspicuous line, and by doing so, had alienated himself from both Balzar and his fellow comrades.

Due to the length of time he'd served under Balzar, he should have foreseen the consequences of his impulse before acting on it. But the heat and fatigue had numbed his senses, allowing his true character to come out. Though he wore Balzar's insignia, following Balzar's orders explicitly, deep down inside, he was a good man. And, I suspected, so were many more of his comrades.

As Balzar neared the head of the column, he retrieved the leash secured to Loté's neck from the soldier that he'd left holding it. Even from this distance, and despite the burning sensation in my eyes brought on by the bright sky, I could see the look of hatred and loathing that she turned on him. In return, he simply smiled back at her. Then, with a sharp tug, he set out in the same direction that we'd been traveling prior. Loté, pulled off balance, stumbled forward before catching herself and falling into step behind him. If it weren't for the fact that her hands were tied securely, she would have reached forward and strangled him. Of that, I had no doubts.

We traveled for several more hours without taking a break. Occasionally, one or another soldier would drop back beside me, letting me have a few sips from his flagon. Of course, they were acting on Balzar's orders. As for the soldier that had tried to show me a kindness, his pleas for water went unheeded.

When Balzar finally ordered the procession to a halt, the poor man was delirious and on the verge of collapsing. Yet, no one raised a hand to help him out of fear of reprisal from Balzar.

All through the break, the man lay whimpering, suckling at the trickle of blood that flowed freely from his cracked and sun scorched lips. It wrenched at my heart to see a fellow human being left to suffer in this way, and all because of an act of kindness and compassion for a fellow man. This was not the future world that I'd envisioned. Somehow, this monster at the head of the column had to be stopped before it was too late.

When Balzar rose from his sitting position near Loté, I assumed we were about to proceed with the march. Instead, to my surprise and wonder, he turned his attention back along the column, his eyes eventually coming to settle on me. With a pounding heart and mounting anxiety, I waited for him. When he was less than ten feet away, I forced myself to stand, the unwieldy weight of the pack threatening to topple me over. With dogged determination, I managed to stay on my feet, and levelly met his gaze.

"So, you think your time has come?" he asked, enjoying my anxiety. With a subtle flick of his wrist, he motioned toward the delirious soldier curled up on the ground, his limbs involuntarily pulling him into the fetal position.

Immediately, two sweat-glistening soldiers grabbed him by his upper arms, yanking him roughly to his feet. Unable to maintain his balance, the two soldiers stood one on either side, holding him erect before their leader.

Speaking loud enough for the entire column to hear, Balzar bellowed, "This man took it upon himself to disobey a direct order from his Lord. Does anyone have a suggestion with regard to his punishment?"

In unison, the soldiers cried out, "Death!"

Smiling, Balzar studied the man before him, pleased with the instantaneous response given by his loyal followers. "But shouldn't he be made to suffer first? After all, this is a grievous offense, is it not?"

Now, sounding more like a mob than a unit of soldiers, his question was met with a variety of cries and shouts, all of them asking for the man to be tortured before he was put to death. Balzar, raising his hands for silence, said, "Give him water. We will bring him with us for now. When we reach the shelter of the jungle, I will show you what happens to men that disobey my orders. But I want him alive and conscious! Is that understood?"

Another cacophony of shouting went up in response to Balzar's question, all of them affirming their understanding of his instructions. Before turning and heading back to his place at the front of the column, he favored me with another of his cold, slimy smirks. His actions weren't making any sense. Once again, in order to use the man's disobedience for an excuse to torture him, he was putting all of his soldiers' lives at risk. Surely, he could see the deteriorated condition of his men, and how poorly they were handling the extremities of the planet's surface. It was hard to believe that he would burden them with the added chore of keeping this man alive. After all, he had left one man on the side of the trail to die already, why not a second? It would be so much easier, if not more humane, to simply leave him behind.

Once again, Balzar's sadistic need for torturing his fellow man was interfering with his better judgment. However, if there was a way to use this defect in his nature against him, all hope wasn't gone. It was definitely worth considering. Unfortunately, in my current condition, even if I could come up with a way to take advantage of his obsession, there wasn't any way for me to act on it.

The march continued on, interminable minutes dragging into interminable hours. All the while, though, the scenery was slowly changing. Where once the shade was nothing more than an apparition of coolness, it now grew dense enough in places to actually provide some small amount of solace from the heat.

Yet, Balzar continued in a straight path, even when veering so little as a few feet to one side or the other would have led the column through a stand of trees large enough to shade everyone. In fact, the only time that we were afforded any of the precious little shade from the sun's reflected rays was when his straight-as-an-arrow path led us into it. The sad part of this strange behavior was that we all knew he was only doing it to tantalize them. Marching past a shady grove of trees, and not being allowed to accept its cool offerings, was almost more than most could stand. But what dismayed the slaves and forced labor even more than the enticing nearness of relief, were the unsympathetic remarks made by his soldiers. Though they themselves hungered after the shady respite, they still taunted the others by making sure that everyone was aware of its presence and proximity, a behavioral trait that Balzar took much appreciation in. Unfortunately, not all of his soldiers had a compassionate nature buried beneath years of maltreatment.

When it looked as though we could go no farther, Balzar suddenly veered toward a lower impression in the terrain. Protruding upward from the depression stood a thick stand of trees. Even before we reached them, we could feel the coolness of the moss-covered ground flowing out to us, enticing us forward with the heavenly scent of relief. Delirious and unable to control themselves, several of the soldiers broke into a run, passing up Balzar and Loté in their haste to reach the oasis.

To my amazement, Balzar, rather than order his men to halt, handed off Loté's leash to the nearest soldier, and proceeded to hurry after his men. Like the rest of the people in the column, the heat had affected him, too. However, it wasn't just the promise of a respite from the heat that drove him toward the denser growth at the center of the oasis, it was also fear; he suffered from a fear that his soldiers would discover something of interest or value within the basin before he could.

With a breakdown in the structure of the column, I saw an opportunity to talk to Loté without Balzar being present, and hurriedly forced my sodden legs to move faster, quickly closing the distance between us. Upon seeing me approach, she said something to the soldier that held her leash. Unable to hear what she'd said, I was astonished to see him tie her to a nearby sapling before leaving her behind and hurrying after the others into the deeper shadows of the dense growth.

As I reached her, I fell to my knees, my legs unable to carry me any farther. In empathy, she lowered herself down next to me, moving her face close to mine. I couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked, which reminded me of how burnt and pathetic I must appear to her. The woven tabard she was wearing had done a wonderful job in both protecting her from the reflected sunlight, and the extreme heat; she didn't appear to be suffering any ill effects from either.

Still, her face couldn't hide the shock in her eyes at seeing me close up. She was clearly fighting back tears. "My poor baby, I feel so guilty. Was it wrong of me to accept his water and this tabard when I knew you were suffering so horribly at his hands? I'm so sorry," she whimpered, not sounding like the strong, independent Loté that I knew.

"It's all right," I gently argued, trying to assuage her guilt. Unfortunately, my voice came out sounding harsher than I intended it, due solely to my parched throat, and not because of any ill feelings toward her. This was the woman that I loved; I could never feel anger toward her! In fact, it was just the opposite; it was important that one of us remain well enough to escape. And if the choice were mine to decide as to which of us should have to suffer the least, the decision would clearly be for her.

"We must remain strong, my love," I rasped. "If the opportunity presents itself for you to escape, you must take it. Do you hear me? You must take it! Don't worry about me."

"We go together, or not at all!" she angrily refuted.

"No! It's much more important that one of us should get the word to Keazar that Balzar is still alive," I argued, my voice quickly losing strength. "There's no way that I'm going to do that. It's up to you."

"Honey," she argued, fighting the bindings that held her arms. "I can't leave you behind, even if I could get away."

"You have to!"

She was about to protest further, when the soldier came running back, his face set in anger.

Raising his arm to strike her, he cried out, "You bitch! Balzar was not calling out for me. You almost made me look like a fool before him!"

"You don't want to do that," I quickly shouted, feeling my vocal cords tear from the effort. "If Balzar sees any bruising on her, he'll know that it happened while you were in charge of her care," I finished, barely able to sound out the words.

His hand shaking, you could see the mental argument going on within his mind. Finally, the anger sizzled out of him and he grudgingly lowered his hand.

"You got away with it this time," he said softly, speaking in a very controlled manner. "But your time is coming. For now, that's good enough for me."

It surprised me that the man was capable of thinking in such terms. His comment suggested that he was looking forward toward a future; something few people on this planet ever did. Looking into his eyes, I made a mental note to remember his face; here was a man capable of being much more than just an ordinary soldier in Balzar's army. He was definitely a cut above with regard to Balzar's regular soldiers. He could prove to be a very dangerous individual. Loté, like me, sensed the same thing. I half wondered why Balzar hadn't noticed this individual before. But then I quickly reprimanded myself, noting that he had. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have entrusted Loté to his care now. And yet, to her good credit, she had tricked him into leaving her unattended!

With a rough yank on her leash, he hurriedly led her away from the perimeter and into the deeper recesses of the basin. He had already made one grave mistake with regard to her care, it wouldn't do him any good to have Balzar return and find the two of us conversing, boosting each other's moral.

Still kneeling, I turned my attention to my new surroundings. In all the confusion, no one was paying me any mind. If it weren't for this heavy piece of equipment secured to my back, in addition to my deteriorated condition, this would be the opportune time to make a break for it. Nevertheless, despite my best efforts to get to my feet, the bulky weight on my back was more than I could overcome. I had become too weak to escape!

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, two soldiers grabbed my shoulders and lifted me bodily to my feet. As a wave of nausea passed over me, and my vision faded into gray, I felt my knees buckling beneath me. Before I could fall, though, the soldiers reaffirmed their grasp, digging their fingers into my wet, puffy flesh and keeping me upright. The pain of their touch was almost more than I could bear without crying out. From a far off distance, I wondered: why couldn't they just let me die here?

Even before the question had fully formed in my tortured mind, I knew the answer: Balzar. So long as he was alive, I had to remain alive. Even after he no longer desired me to be alive, I had to remain alive.

Just as the soldier's grip relaxed against my charred flesh, I felt a jerk. Before I knew what was happening, my legs were folding beneath me and the ground was rushing up to greet my face. But before I reached the ground, more hands grabbed me, lowering me gently, while still other hands hurriedly removed the burden from my back.

Though my eyes wanted to stay shut, keeping all the pain and discomfort at bay, I forced them to open. I was shocked to find myself looking into the glazed over eyes of a dead soldier! But that didn't make any sense! What was a dead soldier doing here?

Before I could contemplate the situation further, more hands were grabbing me and lifting me up. However, unlike the hands that had carelessly hauled me to my feet just a moment earlier, these hands were being very careful to avoid my blistered flesh. Instead of grabbing me by my sun burnt arms, they maneuvered me by placing their hands only where my flesh had been protected by the pack. More importantly, though I couldn't see the faces connected to the hands, I knew that I was being rescued. They were whisking me away to safety.

Not expecting me to walk, I was laid down on a crude stretcher fashioned of pole trees lashed together. They carefully tied me down so that I couldn't fall off. Because of the speed with which they intended to travel, combined with the inherent roughness of the terrain, it was fortunate for me that they had the foresight to do this.

My mind suddenly screamed in protest; they couldn't take me without Loté!

Though I screamed with all my might, my voice came out sounding distant and unrecognizable. "Loté. You must get Loté. You can't take me without her! She can't be left behind!"

An unfamiliar voice spoke sternly to me, ordering me to remain quiet. It went on to add that they were doing everything they could for me. In my delirium, I knew these people were rescuing me. However, I had to make them understand, and I couldn't do that if I didn't yell at them. They couldn't leave her behind! Even in my delusionary state, I was coherent enough to realize that if Balzar didn't have me for his prisoner any longer, there wasn't any telling what he would do to her. Somehow, I had to make these people understand the situation!

Consciousness flowed in and out. During some of my more lucid moments, I was aware of a blur of scenery going by, as they swiftly carried me along on the travois. During others moments, what was going on around me only touched on the fringes of my consciousness, in a surreal, dreamlike manner. At one time, I was certain that I recognized several of the men carrying the travois. And then, in the next moment, I was dreaming that I saw Lipton. In my dream-state, we were stopped, and I could see him conferring with another man, a tall, slender man with a wiry build. After conferring with Lipton, this latter man gave orders to those around him.

But that was impossible; Lipton was dead!

Some more time passed in a fugue. It was impossible to tell how much time. However, unless this was part of my dream, the air felt cooler. Lying on my back, I noticed for the first time that the sky was no longer visible. It was blocked out by a dark green palette of colors. Suddenly, it came to me; this was no longer a dream at all. What I was seeing was the jungle canopy. We'd made it to the protection of the jungle! But where was my Loté?

Before I could form the question aloud, a strange voice interrupted my thoughts. Someone was asking me a question. "Where are the slaves that were carrying the rest of the equipment?" he was asking. Though I couldn't see his face, I clearly understood that he was speaking to me, and that he seemed intense, his questions of utmost importance.

Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the shade of the jungle. It was soft, almost cool, the burning sensation having ceased some time in the past. His voice came to me again. Turning toward it, I focused on the new identity. There was something familiar about it. Had I met this man before? I was positive that I hadn't.

Suddenly, it came to me! I'd seen him talking to Lipton during one of my many dreams.

"Can you hear me?" he was asking, a genuine note of concern in his voice. "You've been through a lot. But it's okay now. We're going to take care of you."

"Am I dreaming?" I croaked, my voice barely audible.

"No. This is not a dream, though you have been suffering from a few delusions lately." He paused for a moment, a smile touching the corners of his mouth. Unlike the cold chill that one got from Balzar's smile, this man's smile had a way of making you feel warm and safe. It had a way of lighting up his face and generating a true sense of concern; regardless that he might have just saved my life, I was taking a natural liking to him. "I know you're weak, and you probably have a lot of questions. But first, we need you to answer a few of ours."

"Loté?" I struggled, determined to find out what I could.

"I'm sorry," he replied, his face revealing the true depth of his concern. "We didn't find her." After taking a deep breath, he forced himself to continue, asking the next question only because he had to. "Do you know what happened to the other captives that were carrying the recycling equipment? It's imperative that we find and liberate them."

"Depression," I croaked, hoping he would understand that I was referring to the depression with the heavy foliage and many trees. It was also, where the soldier had taken Loté.

"You mean the basin where we rescued you from Balzar's soldiers?" he quickly asked with mounting excitement.

Weakly, I nodded my head.

Speaking either to someone standing beyond my limited range of vision, or to himself, he said softly under his breath, "Unfortunately, we couldn't risk probing very deeply into the trees. By the time we'd stumbled across you, Balzar realized you were missing, and had sent soldiers back to retrieve you. We were lucky to get away with what we did."

It was suddenly making sense to me; despite his winning smile and apparent concern for my well-being, his real concern was for the recycling apparatus, and its current whereabouts! I had never given the black market value of a recycler any consideration. But now that I thought about it, I could see that many men would kill for it.

"Jon," came a voice from behind me, calling to the man standing over me.

His head lifted slightly as he looked across my prostrate form at the man that had just called his name.

"Yeah!"

"How's he doing?" came the same voice, only closer.

There was something familiar about the voice. Suddenly, it hit me!

Fayze! That was Fayze's voice! Was it possible that this man standing over me, asking me questions, was none other than Lipton's close friend, Jon?

"Fayze," I cried out excitedly, though my voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Hi Love," she said tenderly, walking around to stand beside Jon. Bending down to me, she asked, "How are you feeling? For a while there, we weren't sure whether you were going to make it or not."

"Lipton," I croaked, almost overcome with emotion at the sight of her. "Did you find Lipton? They left him on the trail," I continued with growing urgency. "We need his body. We have to find it. Tissue samples."

My burst of speech left me breathless and gasping for air. But it was extremely important that I make them aware of where Lipton was. There might still be time to go back and retrieve the body!

"It's all right, Love," she cooed comfortingly.

Suddenly, from the same direction that Fayze's voice had come, came yet another. This voice I recognized immediately!

"How is it possible?" I gasped between fits of coughing.

Jon and Fayze looked up in unison, both of them smiling at the newcomer.

"Look for yourself," replied Jon good-naturedly.

Sure enough, hobbling stiffly into my range of vision was none other than Lipton. Though he looked worn and ragged, he was alive and walking. Smiling down at me, he burst out with pleasure, "Damn, it's good to see you again. How are you feeling? Are they taking good care of you? Can we get you anything?" Speaking to someone just outside my range of vision, he said, "Hand me your water."

A hand came into view, extending a flagon to him. Taking it, he undid the stopper and leaned down, guiding the opening to my mouth. After choking down a mouthful of the wonderful liquid, he reinserted the stopper and handed it back to its owner.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," I answered him, my throat cooled for the moment. Before he could speak, I asked of him, "Where's Loté?"

Looking nervously from Jon to Fayze, he hesitated before answering; I knew what he was going to say even before he said it.

"We didn't find her." There was a nervous pause before he continued. "I don't know if Jon had a chance to mention it to you yet, but there was very little time in which to get you and as many of the captives away as we could before being discovered. The men searched as deeply into the grove as they dared; only turning back when they met heavy resistance."

"We have to find her," I pleaded. "There's no telling what Balzar will do to her now that he doesn't have me."

"We'll do what we can," consoled Lipton, trying to ease my anxiety. "But first, let me tell you the rest of the problem that we're facing."

He looked over at Jon for support before continuing. Jon, giving a subtle nod of his head, took over the conversation. Speaking slowly and deliberately, he filled me in on the situation. After explaining how they'd liberated me from Balzar and his soldiers, he went on to explain that they also liberated several of the captives. Among those freed were several that were carrying pieces of the recycler strapped to their backs. Although they had left Lipton in a safe place, because he was too weak to participate, they still recognized the significance of their find. As he talked, my mind went into high gear. Even before he finished, I had devised a way to get my Loté back.

"Then we'll trade the equipment for Loté," I blurted, never considering the possibility that Jon and Lipton might have other intentions for it.

Lipton's reaction was not what I expected. Suddenly, he couldn't make eye contact with me. Instead, he looked toward Fayze or Jon each time I tried to meet his gaze. Even before he spoke, my anger was boiling up.

"How selfish can you be?" I shouted at him. "It's only metal and wires. We're talking about saving Loté's life!"

Now it was Lipton's turn to get angry. Turning on me, he shot back in defense, "Selfish? You have the balls to call me selfish! Don't you understand what you're asking! With the recycling equipment, we can save hundreds, maybe even thousands, of lives. And you want us, no, you expect us, to just give it back to that madman so one person can go on living? Do you know how ludicrous that sounds? I love you like a brother, Rod, and I share your pain. But you can't ask that of us."

He made a valid point, one I hadn't considered in my anxious state of mind.

Jon quickly took up the torch, and pressed the point harder. "I understand that this is very hard for you to accept, Rod. We all understand that you love her. But it's clouding your judgment! You must consider the larger picture. We're talking about many innocent lives at stake here."

As hard as it was to accept, he was also right. But knowing that didn't make it any easier. Unable to keep the defeat from my voice, I gave in, "You do what you have to do. I just hope you understand that I, likewise, have to do what I have to do. I can't just leave her behind. If you can come up with a plan that will work for the both of us, then so much the better, count me in. But if you can't, I hope you realize where my priorities lie."

"I am deeply sorry, my friend, I can understand your pain and why you feel the way you do. If we can, let's work out a plan that will solve both of our dilemmas. I get Balzar and the recycling machine, and you get Loté. Our ultimate goals are not all that far apart," he said easily, extending his hand to seal the agreement.

Taking Lipton's hand in mine, I looked him in the eye and stated, "I would feel the same way if it were you, and not Loté."

"I know you would," he solemnly replied, a tear forming in the corner of his eye. "And knowing that scares the hell out of me."

"So, where are we?" I asked huskily, my voice choked with emotion.

"We're more than three day's travel time since we got you away from Balzar," Jon quickly replied.

"Here, drink some more water," offered Fayze, putting the flagon to my lips.

"They did a good job of keeping your burns anointed and giving you water when they were sure you wouldn't drown on it," added Lipton, proud of the work that his friends had done on my behalf. "It shouldn't be much longer before you're up and around again."

"I do feel better," I agreed, looking at Jon, and then Fayze. "Thank you both for all that you have done."

"You're more than welcome," replied Fayze, a look of anticipation on her face.

"Yeah, don't mention it," added Jon, embarrassed by my appreciation.

"Would you like something to eat?" Lipton quickly asked, hoping to alleviate the awkward moment between his friends.

"Yes, now that you mention it. I'm ravenous."

"Good, because what we've got for food only tastes good when you're extremely hungry," he jokingly chided.

An attractive young woman brought us heaping plates of something unidentifiable to eat. Even in my hungry state of mind, it was barely palatable. Not only did it look bad, but it also smelled bad. Although it was soft and mushy, we spooned it into our mouths with our fingers. To myself, I wondered if it wasn't something that they'd found rotting on the jungle floor.

"Who's the woman?" I asked, after she left us alone to eat our meal.

"One of the rogue captives that we liberated," Lipton answered between mouthfuls.

"She's a very beautiful woman," I remarked, setting my empty bowl on the ground beside the travois. "It surprises me that Balzar didn't keep a closer eye on her."

Looking around, I was surprised by the large number of people milling around. "Where did all these people come from?" I asked of no one in particular.

Jon was the first to reply. "Most of them were liberated from Balzar when we rescued you." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Before Balzar showed his true self to them, they were content to simply go along with the flow of things. Most of them didn't align themselves with Balzar or us, thinking they could remain independent. They believed what the elders told them. Unfortunately, the elders, if they saw the changes coming, didn't want to admit it. They preferred the bliss of ignorance, believing instead that they could remain free, and life would continue much as it had in the olden days."

When he paused to take a breath, Lipton picked up where he left off. "When I tried to warn them of their fateful ways, they not only ignored me, but they denounced my warnings, using my concern for their well-being against us. Now, instead of a force of surface-dwellers large enough to oppose Balzar and his soldiers, we were divided into three separate factions, none of which was strong enough on its own to stand against the growing menace."

Pausing for a moment to take a drink of water, his eyes never left the milling crowd. I got the distinct impression that he was waiting for something to happen.

With dreaded certainty, something was going to happen, and it was going to originate within this group of people surrounding us. Setting the flagon down, he slowly continued, his eyes concentrating ever harder on the crowd. "While our group was much more disciplined and dedicated to the betterment of mankind, the elders recruited the majority of the rogues. They did it by promising all the good things that they could remember from their past. Even now, most of these people believe things will return to the way they were before Balzar arrived with his recycling machine, and the resultant army that sprang forth from it."

"Surely, they must realize now after what's happened that Balzar isn't just going to disappear?" I asked, incredulous that they could still be so ignorant.

"You must remember, my friend," replied Lipton, his hand now resting on the hilt of the long-knife strapped to his side. "Most of the rogues left the basin before we did. Until word reaches them of what happened after their departure, life will continue normally. And even when they do hear about it, since it doesn't affect them personally, their lives will go on as usual, at least for a while. Until, or unless, Balzar is stopped, he will continue expanding his army of ruthless killers. Eventually, he will have an impact on every living person inhabiting this planet."

"I've been saying that all along," I heartily agreed. "You have no idea how good it sounds to hear someone else saying it for a change."

My exhilaration was short lived. No sooner had the words left my mouth, than Lipton drew his weapon and rose gracefully to his feet. His body was lithe and supple, showing none of the past week's hardships. Jon, like Lipton, rose up from his sitting position, turning smoothly around on the balls of his feet while drawing his weapon. Several of Lipton's men were mingling amongst the crowd of newly liberated rogues. Judging by their reactions, they, like Lipton and Jon, were waiting for something to happen, some form of queue.

Looking questioningly toward Fayze, I was surprised when she flipped the jewel-encrusted knife of Loté's toward me. With a dexterity that I wouldn't have known that I was capable of, had I not seen it for myself, I snatched the twirling blade from the air, while rolling to my side and swinging my feet to the ground in one fluid motion. My head spun and my vision blurred with the sudden movement, but I was glad of it, just the same.

Waiting for the fog to pass, I felt the gentle pressure of a hand resting lightly on my shoulder. Looking up through the clearing haze, I recognized Fayze standing over me with her long-knife held at the ready. When I moved to get up, she gently increased the downward pressure on my shoulder, effectively keeping me pinned on the travois.

"Let me up!" I commanded of her. "I can fight."

Instead of releasing her hold on me, she increased the pressure, assuring herself that I couldn't move. Without taking her eyes off the scene of carnage unfolding before us, she stated, more than asked, "Who exactly would you be fighting, Love? You don't know these people. To you, we all look alike."

She'd made a good point, and I slumped resignedly back to the travois, contenting myself with watching the battle that was unfolding before us. Although Lipton and his comrades were seriously outnumbered, they were better armed. Most of their opponents were swinging clubs and throwing rocks. It was a furious battle with much blood being shed. However, almost as quickly as it began, it was over. The rogues, seeing the heavy casualties they were taking, with few wounds being inflicted upon their opponents, realized the folly of their ways, and smartly surrendered.

While Jon and his men rounded up the discontents that were still on their feet, I turned to Fayze and asked her what had just taken place. "It would seem to me that they would be grateful to Jon and his men for having rescued them from Balzar."

"You don't understand the way a rogue thinks, my love," she calmly replied, as she held out her hand for the knife that she had loaned me to use for protection. "Your friend Lipton was a very quick learner, when it came to our ways," she remarked, the pride she was feeling for him coming across clearly in the tone of her voice.

"He was a very quick study when it came to flying rescue craft, too," I confirmed, and then added, "Much to his chagrin, however, I was just a little quicker."

The words had no sooner left my mouth, then I regretted having said them. Though I spoke only the truth, it sounded as if I was belittling my friend while bragging myself up. It was too late to take it back, and it left a foul taste behind, in both my mouth, and the air.

"Don't look as if you just swallowed something rotten, my friend," said Lipton jokingly as he walked up. "It's all true. I was a very quick learner, you just happened to be a little quicker. That doesn't mean that I hold it against you."

"I'm sorry if I sounded like a braggart."

"We go too far back to worry about little things like that," he said quickly. "I know what you are, and no amount of bragging is ever going to change my opinion of you."

Jon, Fayze, and Lipton broke out laughing. My own face turned a bright shade of crimson from the embarrassment that I so rightly deserved. In the future, I would try to think before opening my mouth.

Hoping to change the subject, I said, "You knew that a coup attempt was about to take place, and yet you didn't say anything to me. You could have at least warned me."

"We knew we could handle it and that no harm would come to you. Besides, Fayze was looking out for you."

In an attempt to change the subject and catch Lipton off balance, I suddenly asked, "So, when do we go after Loté?" I kept my gaze fixed on Lipton, intent on seeing his reaction.

"Just as soon as we figure out where Balzar and his soldiers have taken the rest of the recycling equipment," he replied without hesitation. "We sent scouts out two days ago. They should be returning with information any time now." He paused for a moment, throwing a wary glance at Jon before adding, "Unless they've run into trouble."

Incredulous, I stated more than asked, "You really are more interested in that damn equipment than you are Loté? Are you going to tell me again how much more important that equipment is because of its saving potential in terms of human lives?"

"Calm down, Rod," he started to say before I cut him off.

"Well, she might be only one human life to you, but I happen to love that human life! And if there's a choice to be made between the rest of that recycling junk and the woman I love, well I guess you know where I stand."

"There isn't any choice to be made," jumped in Fayze, trying to calm the situation. "We're just as anxious to get her back from Balzar as you are. Getting upset isn't going to help anyone, so let's just calm down, now."

Her outbreak had just the desired effect that she was after. Although it didn't alleviate the tension in the air, we sat in silence for the time being, sorting through our thoughts, and thinking about what we would say next. I had already spoken my thoughts without thinking of the consequences earlier. Fortunately, it wasn't during such a dire moment as the one that loomed over us now. No one needed to say something in the heat of the moment that would be regretted later. We were all friends. If we waited for a moment, giving our tempers a chance to cool, we could discuss our differing opinions without losing control.

They had to understand how important it was to get Loté away from Balzar, if it wasn't already too late. Surely, I could make them see that Balzar's actions would not be those of a rational man. Somehow, although I didn't know how, there had to be a way to use that against him. And with Lipton's help, maybe we could both get what we wanted. But even without their help, I was going to find a way to get my Loté back.

"What set off the uprising with the rogues?" I asked, purposely keeping my voice calm.

"They were after the recycling equipment," answered Jon nonchalantly. "Most of the instigators are dead, or will be soon. We suspected it was coming all along, so we'd taken precautions. Some of my most trusted men were constantly circulating among those that we suspected of not being loyal." He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I see by the look on your face that you are confused by what happened here. You mustn't be too judgmental of them until you understand our ways. We can't blame the poor fools when it's their nature to take what they want. You must remember that they know no other rules. And even if they don't understand how civilized society functions, or how to make it work, deep down inside, they realize the value of it."

"It would seem to me that they would at least be grateful enough to you for liberating them from Balzar, they would refrain themselves with respect to your spoils," I said incredulously.

"You have much to learn, my friend," said Lipton lightly. "It all came as a shock to me, too. But once you understand their way of thinking, it's easy to see why they do the things they do. In fact, if they hadn't attempted to steal our valuables, other rogue bands would lose their respect for them. And as a nomad, they never know from day to day if they'll need to align with a new group and need that respect. Without the respect of their peers, they would be total castoffs. None of the other bands would even consider taking them in."

"Then they must change their ways!" I naively decreed, not realizing how close I was to speaking blasphemously of their beliefs.

Although Jon and Fayze gave me warning glances, Lipton broke out in laughter, finding my ignorance comical. "And how do you propose that we go about changing their beliefs?" he finally wheezed, when his fit subsided.

"Simple, we give them alternatives," I calmly stated, unaware that I wasn't being taken seriously by any of them. "Not all inhabitants of Heälf are rogue bandits. In fact, they are a small minority in the overall picture of things."

"It is time that we change the subject, my friend," Lipton calmly stated, a serious tone suddenly replacing his gay laughter.

Turning to see what had captured his and the other's attention, I saw two men approaching. Both were armed with only short-bladed dirks, the kind held in quick-release sheathes strapped to their wrists. The style of weapon, and the manner in which it was carried, suggested they were scouts, a small number of men that practiced stealth in a deadly manner.

Exhausted and covered in perspiration, they approached the camp at a slow jog, their depleted flagons dangling limply from their shoulders. A path opened before them as they pulled up in front of Jon, their recognized leader.

Even before they came to a complete stop, several men were already offering them their flagons. While they drank deeply of the proffered skins, Jon waited patiently, giving them time to catch their breath before beginning his questioning. With Fayze's help, I rose from the travois and joined Lipton, where he stood silently beside Jon, waiting to hear what the scouts had learned.

"They have left the thicket and reached the cover of the jungle," replied the first in response to Jon's question regarding Balzar's whereabouts.

"Are they carrying the remainder of the equipment with them?" interrupted Lipton.

Before either of them could respond to Lipton's question, I anxiously asked, "Was the woman still with him when they reached the jungle? Was Loté still with them?"

Looking first to Jon, and then to Lipton before answering, the one that had spoken prior said, "We did not actually see them. But judging by their trail, it would appear they are still carrying the equipment. We searched the thicket before following the trail away and found only the bodies of the dead."

"Then she is still alive!" I cried out with joy.

"Yes, it would appear so," replied Lipton encouragingly. "It would also appear that he has put most of his soldiers to work carrying equipment."

"How could you possibly know that?" I asked, puzzled by his deduction.

"When we rescued you, most of the captives were fleeing in the confusion. Balzar's soldiers were so overcome with joy to have found some shelter from the reflected rays of the sun that they rushed headlong into the thicket, forgetting everything else for the moment," Jon said quickly.

"I would have thought his soldiers were more disciplined than that," I humbly remarked.

"It would seem that the heat can drive a man to insanity. You would do well to remember that," Jon commented, before turning back to the debriefing of his scouts. "How far into the jungle have they gotten? And how many hours will it take for us to overtake them?"

"The trail led more westward than our own, putting them at least eight hours ahead of us. But they are much more exhausted than we, according to evidence we found on the trail," replied the same one that had spoken before.

Until now, the second of the two hadn't said a word. Instead, he stood by in silence, letting the other tell what he knew first. When the other finished, he finally spoke up, suggesting, "If you would like, we can follow them from cover, leaving a trail for the rest of you to follow."

"No!" I abruptly blurted, startling them. "You must catch up to them and tell Balzar that we are willing to make a trade."

Lipton, the first to get over the shock of my statement, cried, "You can't be serious! There's no way that I'm going to allow a trade of this equipment for Loté. I know that you love her, my friend, but I can't entertain such a preposterous idea." He hesitated for a moment before adding almost threateningly, "And I won't let you interfere with any plans that we might have to secure the remainder of the equipment!"

"No, that's not what I'm suggesting at all," I calmly replied. "What I'm saying is, we should let Balzar know that you are willing to trade me for both Loté and the rest of the equipment."

When my words finally registered, he angrily blurted, "Even if I was crazy enough to consider it, he would never go for it!"

"I think he would. In fact, in his current mental state, I think he would trade everything, including his own life, to see me suffer. And I think you could persuade him to take us seriously, if you polished up on your acting skills."

"It isn't Balzar that needs the convincing, in case you haven't been listening, it's me! There's no way that I'm going to agree to such a preposterous idea! Balzar can't be trusted to hold up the end of any deal that might be made with him. He has an army to crush us! Why would he waste time trading with us, when he will have it all eventually anyway?"

"Because, my friend, I don't have any intention of being an honorable player in this deal. But if you hope to get the rest of the recycling equipment, and I hope to get my Loté back, we need to open up a dialogue with him."

"And you propose to do this by offering yourself up in exchange for what Loté and the rest of the recycling equipment?"

"No, I was thinking that 'you' would propose to offer me up in exchange for what he has."

"Would it make any difference to you, if I told you that your plan is fraught with irresponsibility and recklessness?"

"No, my friend, I'm afraid it wouldn't. Unless you can come up with something better, hear me out."

"Yes, go ahead," urged Jon, his curiosity piqued. "I would like to hear the whole plan. If nothing else, I have a feeling it's going to be entertaining."

"It's very simple, really. Since Balzar's forces are better armed than ours, and they outnumber us by at least two to one, we can use the element of surprise to its fullest advantage," I started, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

"Would it not be easier to use guerrilla tactics?" asked Jon, trying to be of help. "We could easily harass them from the cover of the jungle, picking them off one by one."

"The problem with that idea, Jon, is that we would be lucky to pick off more than five or six before they pulled in their flanks. Once they did that, we'd never get close enough to them again to do any harm."

"Yes, you're probably right," he conceded, his voice crestfallen. "Go ahead. I'm sorry that I interrupted you."

"Quite all right," I said, secretly grateful for the delay. "What I'm about to suggest will be very dangerous for everyone, and unfortunately, it carries a very small chance of succeeding."

"Any chance, no matter how small, is more than we have now," remarked Lipton.

"No, that's not necessarily true," I disagreed. "It would be much easier for you and all of these other people to simply blend back into the jungle and go your separate ways. They, as well as you," I added, glancing at Lipton, "don't have to stay and be a part of what's to come."

"We are all well aware of that fact, Captain," Jon declared defensively. "However, we have chosen to make something more meaningful of our lives. From here on out, we will do what's right for the betterment of all mankind, and not just because of our selfish needs or desires."

"I can appreciate the sacrifice that your words are committing you and your brave followers to. Let's just hope they are strong enough to live, and quite possibly, die by them," I stated, speaking loud enough for those standing nearer to hear.

A dark grumbling rose among their ranks, as word spread to those that didn't hear. Before their anger could get out of control, Jon spoke up, his voice carrying over the sound of the angry mob. "Just give us a chance to prove ourselves and you will see how dedicated we can be!"

"That's what I wanted to hear!" I shouted in response to their roar of approval over Jon's statement.

When the rumble died down, I turned to Lipton and asked of him, "Are you ready to hear my plan now?"

In response, he said, "I think everyone is ready to hear it now, Rod."

Quickly, I outlined my idea, pausing occasionally to listen to offered suggestions for improving upon it. When I finished, it was pretty much decided that a small group, led by myself, would confront Balzar and his army. We were the bait that he would be unable to resist. While we pulled his forces together, Jon and Lipton would attack from opposite flanks, each leading the remainder of our divided force. While it will appear at first that our intention is to decimate their forces between us, by the time they rally in defense, we will be scurrying away with Loté and the rest of the recycling equipment. But in order for the plan to have even the slightest chance at working, Balzar's full attention has to be focused on me, and my select group of volunteers. The only fault that I can find with the idea is the lack of an escape route for the bait. Without an escape route, the bait will be nothing more than a sacrificial lamb.

Even though I was having a hard time accepting this little snag, there wasn't any shortage of volunteers willing to join me. After discussing the details further, it was decided that Fayze and Lipton would lead the group that would be instrumental in liberating Loté. It was with no small amount of relief that I met this suggestion. Although Fayze had earned my deepest respect and trust, it was with Lipton that I placed my greatest hopes on Loté's rescue. His word that he would die trying meant just that. Unless they took his life in the attempt, my Loté would live free again!

After dismissing the two scouts so that they could get some food and rest, we moved back to the travois and began working out the finer details. Although Lipton and I were still very weak from our extended exposure to the extreme heat and ultra-violet rays, we decided to set out within twelve hours. When we got nearer to Balzar's position, we would find a safe place to stash the equipment that we already had. This was a considerable risk, considering who was doing the stashing, but the alternative was out of the question. Not only were we short of weapons, but it would also be extremely foolish to attack a larger force while burdened down with heavy equipment. The whole success of the plan relied on lightning fast speed and maneuverability, and then the ability to quickly blend into the jungle before Balzar's subterranean soldiers can regroup.

The problem of the shortage of weapons was remedied by making many small spears. Instead of trying to fight Balzar's soldiers on a one to one level, Jon's men would simply stick them with the small spears and then move on to the next assailant. The idea wasn't so much to kill opponents before moving on to the next, but simply to disable them, taking them out of the fight.

The plan had more things wrong with it than it did right, but it was all we had to work with. If the men couldn't get close enough to jab their opponents, for instance, Balzar's soldiers would have a field day cutting them up with their superior skills and weaponry; hand to hand, we were no match for their long-knives.

We had one thing going for us in addition to the element of surprise, a winning determination. Balzar, believing that I was too moral to lie, wouldn't suspect that we were up to anything other than what we were professing, or so I prayed. But unlike his soldiers, who fought only because it was their way of life, the rogues fighting for the human cause wanted to believe that there was more. In fact, they needed to believe that there was more to life than just killing, stealing, and being killed. And for some unknown reason, they were finding hope in that belief when they looked to me.

### **12**

"Oh Rod," I cried out in anguish, as he struggled to reach me. Although there were a thousand things that I wanted to tell him, nothing seemed appropriate. With horror, I saw that his unprotected skin was burnt to a black, crispy texture where the pack hadn't shielded him from the ultra-violet rays. Beneath the charred and flaking crust were many patches of puffy, liquid filled pockets. His burns appeared so severe it was a miracle that he was still alive. I silently wondered if it was possible for Balzar not to realize how close to death he was.

Suddenly overcome with guilt, I asked myself how I could wear this woven wrap and drink Balzar's water when my love was suffering so immensely.

Although my feelings of guilt were overwhelming, with Rod close enough to touch, it suddenly seemed all-important to get past it. I had to remind myself that as long as one of us remained alive, there was hope. And right now, that hope was resting on my protected shoulders. If Balzar insisted that it be this way, allowing nothing bad to happen to me, then that's the way it would be. More importantly, though, if an opportunity to escape presented itself, I would be capable of taking it. For the time being, that's all that mattered; that's all I could allow to matter.

Still, it didn't make it any easier for me to see Rod in such a terrible state. If he didn't get some relief and medical attention soon, his only hopes for survival lie in the recycling apparatus. Unfortunately, we didn't have access to the recycler. Hence, it was probably better if I didn't allow my thoughts to go there. He was tough. If anyone could survive the ordeal Balzar was putting him through, it was my Rod.

Before I could find the words to tell him how much I loved him and believed in him, the soldier that Balzar had left in charge of me came hurrying back through the dense undergrowth lining the shallow depression where the others had disappeared. Even before he broke into view, his degree of anger at having been duped by my ruse that Balzar had summoned him was evident by the amount of noise that he was making. When he had left on my ruse of being summoned by Balzar, he had literally skulked away, over-exaggerating the degree of his fatigue, if such was possible. Now, however, he was rushing back with all the momentum of a rampaging behemoth.

"You lying bitch!" he cried out, his right hand poised to strike me. "Balzar hadn't summoned me."

In the fraction of a second before his hand made contact with my face, Rod came to my defense. Though he couldn't protect me physically, due to his bindings and pitiable condition, he did have the presence of mind to remind the soldier of his orders regarding my well-being, and more specifically, that no harm should come to me.

To our amazement and relief, his self-control and better judgment over-ruled his anger. Instead of a sharp slap across the face, he grabbed me roughly by the shoulders and yanked me to my feet. Untying the cord from the sapling where he'd tied it just moments earlier, he quickly wound the end of it around his burly hand, and then hurried off toward the shaded reaches of the thicket. When the short tether came to its end, he gave a vicious yank on it, forcing me to stumble after him. Though I resisted his superior strength and size, my efforts quickly proved futile; all I accomplished was a tightening of the leash that closed off my windpipe. Though it was with reluctance, I was forced to leave Rod behind, lying alone on the edge of the thicket, his body just beyond the reach of the temperate shadows.

In all the confusion and excitement, no one was paying him any heed; each was more concerned with their own immediate welfare. Even Balzar, in the heat of the moment, had hurried forward into the denser shade, leaving both his soldiers and the captives behind. Of course, it was only a natural survival instinct that was driving everyone into the thicket, and the dense, cool shade beckoning from within. The alternative was a slow, burning death, much like the one my loving Rod was enduring. With immediate medical attention, there was still a chance that he could survive his burns. However, left lying where he was, there was little chance that he would outlive the hour.

Before I could dwell on Rod's predicament any longer, the soldier neared the center of the shallow basin. Standing alongside a toppled tree near the very center was Balzar, busily shouting orders and curses at his soldiers for their complete lack of discipline. Seeing me approach, he paused in his tirade to question the soldier leading me with regard to Rod's whereabouts.

The soldier, suddenly looking unnerved and confused, shakily replied, "Forgive me, my Lord, I wasn't aware that I was also in charge of him. It was my understanding that only this woman was in my care, and as you can see for yourself, she is here and in fine condition." He made an exaggerated show of lifting the tabard and standing aside for Balzar to witness that no harm had come to me.

Ignoring the soldier's desperate antics, he shouted harshly at him, his voice tinged with a sense of dread as he realized that Rod might have escaped. "Everyone was in charge of him, including you!" Spinning around, he yelled excitedly, shouting orders, "Everyone, now! Go find him and bring him to me! I don't want to see any of your ugly faces back here unless you have him in tow! Am I understood?"

His face was flushed with anger, and spittle was flying wildly from his lips. In a mad rush, his soldiers scattered in every direction. Each took the quickest, most direct route leading away from him and his threatening wrath. In seconds, Loté was left standing alone with him, the silence almost unbearable. In the distance, several voices could be heard yelling back and forth, but eventually they went silent.

Almost as quickly, as the rage had overtaken him, he relaxed. "Ah, you are a vision of beauty," he casually sighed, his gaze devouring her languid beauty, as all thoughts of the search for Rod quickly evaporated in the heat. "What will I do with you? It seems like such a shame to have to kill you just to make that lover of yours pay for what he's done to me." He paused for a moment, moving closer to her, his eyes sliding up and down the length of her sensuous body. Subconsciously, she tugged at the hem of the tabard, trying vainly to pull it farther down to cover her long, muscular thighs.

Oblivious of her revulsion, he slowly, almost sensuously, ran his fingers through her long, darkly shimmering hair. He pressed himself against her, languishing in the contact of her body against his, all the while purring, "Things could have been so different between us."

While he spoke, she noticed that he was getting excited, his rising manhood giving him away. With morbid dread, she suddenly wondered if the time had come. They were all alone, though she knew that didn't matter to him, since he didn't possess any modesty, anyway. She realized that if she had any chance of averting and deflecting his advances, she would have to suppress his urge before it got any further out of hand.

"Nothing could ever be different between us," she spat. "You're a deviant, sadistic, slimy piece of shit, and always will be. You were stupid and naive to think that there could actually be something between us."

"No, you were the stupid and naive one, my dear," he calmly replied, not only unperturbed by her outburst, but expectant of it. "I offered you a chance to be the queen of my empire, and in your naive stupidity, you threw it away."

As he spoke, his manhood softened and his voice began to take on an edge. It clearly frustrated him that she had foiled his plans. How was it going to frustrate him when his soldiers returned with Rod's corpse? No sooner had the question entered her mind, then she realized with a mixture of shock and dismay how easily she had accepted that eventuality.

Suddenly, clenching down on the fistful of her hair that he held, he forcefully twisted her face around to meet his. With their eyes less than six inches apart, the foul smell of his breath wafted over her, making it difficult to breathe. They silently stared at each other; one with an undeniable lust, the other with hatred so pure, she could easily take his life without feeling a shred of remorse.

"When my soldiers return with your lover, we will take advantage of this respite from the heat. With all of my men looking on, I will finally have my way with you," he said, his voice oozing from his mouth like a foul smelling slime.

She jerked with futility against his grip, only causing her head to hurt and him to tighten his grip on her. "You'll never have me!" she spat in his face.

"Oh, I know I can't have you the way most men want their women, all soft and compliant. But I'll have you in every other way. And when I've had my fill of you, which I assure you will take some time, I'll let my soldiers have their fill of you, too," he growled, the edge in his voice growing sharper with anticipation and impatience. "Where are those damn fools, anyway? They should have returned by now, this thicket isn't that large!"

Secretly, she suspected the delay was because they had found Rod's corpse, and no one wanted to be the messenger of such tidings. Despite her sorrow for Rod, she smiled inwardly; Rod had outwitted Balzar again. Unfortunately, it would also be the last time that he did.

Turning loose of her hair, he dragged her by the cord until he was near enough to a sapling of sufficient size to secure her. Satisfied with her bindings, he marched back in the direction from which they had entered the thicket. He hadn't even gone far enough to be out of sight, when he met a group of returning soldiers.

Watching intently through the browning shrubs, she could see him gesturing excitedly. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and retreated to the small clearing. Behind the soldiers came another group of people, mostly captives carrying supplies and pieces of equipment. Behind this second group of people came the remainder of his soldiers.

Realizing that there wasn't sufficient room in the small clearing for everyone, several soldiers set to work clearing the brush back. As they enlarged the area, they were extremely careful not to hack down anything that helped shield the sun's reflected rays from coming through the sparse canopy. When they were finished, there was just enough room for everyone to lie down and rest. After breaking out the food and distributing it, that is exactly what the majority of them did.

Balzar, not in a mood to be approached, came and sat near her feet. She was the only one excluded from being allowed to lie down and stretch. By listening to the few bits and phrases that she could overhear between the captives, she understood why Balzar hadn't killed any of the returning soldiers for allowing Rod to die. As it turned out, the soldiers in charge of Rod had already been killed by what were assumed bandit rogues after the valuable recycling equipment. Of course, that didn't explain the absence of Rod's corpse.

Although she wanted desperately to believe in the possibility that Rod was still alive, she couldn't allow herself to get her hopes up. When last she had seen him, he was already knocking on death's door. Even if the rogues had taken him, whether as a prisoner or for some other purpose, he was still far from being saved. His chances were dire, at best.

From standing in one place for such a long time with no opportunity to stretch, she was starting to cramp in her calves and thighs. Balzar, though he pretended not to notice, was taking a perverted pleasure from her pain and discomfort. Without anyone else to take his madness out on, she had become his object of infliction. Although there was plenty of food and water to go around, he didn't allow her any scraps until well after everyone else had eaten and drank their fill. And then, only after he had one of the captives go around with a dirty bowl and collect the leftovers from the others. Before he allowed the prisoner to feed her, he inspected the food. Dissatisfied with its texture, he added enough water to turn it into a thin broth. Finally satisfied, he allowed the captive to hold the bowl for her so that she could drink from it.

Despite her revulsion at the sight and smell of the slop, she forced herself to drink it. Without food and water, she wouldn't last very long, and it had become more important than ever that she keep her strength up.

With grim determination, she kept the putrid slop down while thinking of Rod's last words, 'One of us must get word to Keazar that Balzar is still alive'. With grim determination, she vowed that if she couldn't personally get word of Balzar's escape from the subterranean apocalypse to Keazar, then she would make sure that Keazar didn't need to know; she would kill Balzar herself! If eating foul slop from a dirty bowl guaranteed her a chance to meet those ends, then that is what she would do!

Looking into the eyes of the prisoner feeding her, she noticed a disguised hint of sorrow. Between swallows, she studied her benefactor closely. Because the woman had only been through the recycler a maximum of one time, she didn't show any of the telltale signs so obvious of a veteran. In fact, if it hadn't been for Fayze telling them about Balzar's use of the recycling apparatus to initially win the rogue's loyalty, she would have been hard put to notice.

After many times through the apparatus, the skin took on an artificial appearance. Although it was still very supple and elastic, and healed very quickly when cut or scratched, it lost its natural feel and texture. About the only thing that remained unchanged were the eyes; the eyes never changed. According to Keazar, this was because the soul was the same, and the eyes were nothing more than windows on the soul.

After experiencing the soulless clones, for my own sanity, I preferred to believe the eyes remained the same because they looked out on the world through our prior memories and experiences. Because the recycling process left our memories intact, including any that we may have experienced during the process, that part of us never changes; hence, my deduction regarding the eyes. Keazar of course, would continue debating the presumption of mine to no end.

After sucking up the last of the watery broth, I turned my attention to getting some rest. The poor slave girl that had fed me quickly hurried back to be with the other captives. Although I had hoped that she would sit with me for a few minutes, I couldn't really blame her for wanting to distance herself from me.

Balzar, noticing my expression of disappointment over the slave girl's exit, misread the meaning behind it. "You wish that you could trade places with that wench, don't you?" he asked, a smirk turning up the corners of his mouth.

With a subtle nod of his head, a soldier sitting near the captives rose to his feet and went after the girl. The girl, seeing the advancing soldier, cringed away from his reach to no avail. Struggling against his brute strength, the girl was half dragged, half carried across the clearing until she was held squirming in front of Balzar.

With a look of pure hatred, she stared down at me, blaming me for what was going to happen next. Looking helplessly back at her, I found it impossible to convey the deep mixture of guilt and pity that I felt for her.

Balzar, meanwhile, wasn't missing any of the silent exchange that was going on between us. In fact, he purposely remained silent for a moment longer, lingering over the pleasure he was extracting from our mutual discomfort.

Only when the fury of the girl had spent itself and she had succumbed to the fierce grip of the soldier, did Balzar rise to his feet, his manhood giving away the true depth of his perverted pleasure.

Reaching out and clenching her jaw between the fingers of his right hand, he turned her head so that her eyes met mine. I tried desperately to convey my helpless appeal.

Squeezing hard to steady her frantically shaking head, Balzar put his face next to hers and, speaking loud enough for all to hear, said, "That woman sitting there says she wants to see you suffer for making her eat that vile food."

The young girl's eyes darted from side to side. Fear made her heart race and her breath come in gasps. Slowly, subconsciously, my head moved from side to side in denial of Balzar's statement.

Then my anger suddenly boiled over and, jumping to my feet, I screamed defiantly at him, "You lying bastard! I would never want anything bad to happen to anyone except you! If I weren't bound so tightly, I'd find a way to tear that putrid appendage from your body!" Without thinking, and lacking concern for myself, I spat at his erection. "I can only thank the gods that you can't reproduce. This poor planet has enough to contend with in you!"

Drawing his hand back, he slapped the young girl across the side of her face, the force of the blow splitting her lip open and sending up a fine spray of blood, as she sprawled to the ground. Before she could crawl away from him, though, the soldier moved in and grabbed her from behind, forcing her arms to her sides as he lifted her bodily to her feet. Holding her securely in front of him, Balzar moved forward until he was within easy striking distance once more. The poor girl cringed her face to the side, desperately trying to back away from and not have to meet the gaze of the monster that faced her.

Turning toward Loté, he vindictively snarled, "Every time you show me disrespect, this poor wench will be made to pay for it. And when she's beyond feeling, I'll take another and start again. And I'll keep taking them until you learn to behave, or I run out of tender young, female flesh."

Before she could flinch away, he lashed out again, this time knocking the poor girl unconscious. Yet, even as the guard released his grip, letting her fall to the hard rocky surface, Balzar kicked out with his right foot, striking her hard in the midsection. Her breath rushed out in a whoosh, her body rocking over backwards and landing with a thud as her head came to rest against the unforgiving ground.

Slowly, I sank down, a numbing weakness drawing over me. During the vicious abuse that he'd dispensed on the poor girl, several of his soldiers and most of the captives had awakened from their exhaustion-induced sleep. As I dumbly looked on, I could see the shock in the other captives' faces, not to mention the perverse pleasure in several of the soldiers. It was incomprehensible that another human being could find even the smallest iota of entertainment in someone else's pain, and yet I recognized what I saw.

"No," I whimpered, unable to fathom the depth of such viciousness. "She never paid me any mind and you know it." I pleaded with him for a reason. "Why do you have to hurt her?"

"Hurt her? I haven't hurt her!" he fired back. Then, in a calmer voice, he added, "But if you continue to show me disrespect, then I will hurt her."

The soldier, having dropped the girl, returned to his place near the captives, leaving the fallen girl where she lay. The others in the thicket, soldiers and captives alike, quickly lost interest and went back to their fitful sleep. Balzar, satisfied for the moment, also sat back down, catching his own bit of rest.

When no one appeared to be paying the girl anymore attention, she slowly raised her head, a trickle of blood running from her left nostril and mingling with more running from her broken lip. Cautiously, she looked around, quickly assuring herself that no one was paying her any mind. Satisfied, she turned her eyes to mine, and winked.

My first reaction was relief that she wasn't blaming me for her predicament. Gratuitously, I smiled back at her, oblivious to the possibility that someone might be watching me. Too late, I realized my mistake. The girl, throwing me a look of disgust and disappointment, silently reprimanded me for my action. Fortunately, no one had taken notice of my sudden change of expression, excluding the girl.

Composing myself, I looked around the makeshift camp, acting casual in case someone was watching me. When I was sure that no one's attention was directed toward us, I nodded for the girl to continue with her intentions, whatever they might be.

Trusting me, she raised herself to her feet. Before I could be sure of what she was intending, she bolted toward the nearest trees. In an instant, she was lost in the foliage. If another in the camp aside from me had seen her go, they weren't letting on.

But where would she go? Without food, and especially without water, her chances for surviving until she reached the protection of the jungle canopy were almost none existent. Nonetheless, I envied her. If I could trade places with her, I would in a heartbeat. Of course, I wouldn't want to put someone else in my unenviable position. No one was deserving of the inevitable treatment that Balzar would soon be lavishing on me.

But why was he waiting? Did he believe his soldiers were going to find Rod alive? And that he'd soon be able to resume his torturing of him? Or was he just tired? Was the heat on the surface too much for even him? Was it wearing him down?

She didn't believe this latter thought for a minute. Balzar was too demented; he was too obsessed with his hatred toward Rod to let his physical discomforts distract him. There had to be more. There had to be another reason that would explain why he had beaten the poor slave girl instead of her.

Was it possible, in some sick and perverted way that he still lusted after her? That he still wanted her for his mate, and thus, couldn't allow her to be marred or disfigured? As hard as this was for her to believe, she couldn't think of any other reason that she was still alive and, albeit uncomfortable, still unharmed.

She found this new train of thought almost more sickening than the idea of being openly tortured or sodomized in front of his soldiers. Instead of a quick end to her misery, she could be looking at unending years of imprisonment. In addition, eventually he would take her in the way that a man takes a woman. And after his initial time with her, it would be a steady downward spiral to the end; and it will be the end of her dignity, her sanity, and the God's willing, her life. The thought of him and her spending so many unendurable years together was almost more than she could bear. She had to find a way to escape, even if it meant taking her own life.

She had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she'd lost all track of time. It was with a start that she awoke from her revelry. And then, only when Balzar moved, his leg stretching out to the side and bumping against her thigh. Though she was stiff from having sat in the same position for such a long time, she hurriedly moved her body to the side, repulsed by his mere, unintentional touch.

Looking around the makeshift camp, she noticed that others were also waking. Silently, she cursed herself for not having taken full advantage of the brief rest period that had been afforded her. Soon, probably after everyone has a chance to drink from their flagons, they will be on the move again. That meant they would be leaving the thicket and the cooler shade behind; once more, they would be subjected to the unrelenting heat and bright sky.

Although she had lost track of the time and distance that they'd traveled since leaving the basin, she was confident that they were within hours of reaching the sanctuary of the jungle. If they weren't, she thought somberly, many of the captives were doomed to die beneath their heavy burdens. Such a short rest was not sufficient to replace the moisture and energy that they'd expended in reaching this place.

It was a shame, she thought, that Balzar's soldiers, though less conditioned to the extreme heat, were holding up equally well, if not better than the surface dwelling rogues. The only explanation for this that made any sense lay in the fact that they had been in better overall physical condition originally. Although the rogues had been privileged to a treatment in the recycling apparatus, their peak condition in life, which was all the machine was capable of restoring, had never been close to that of the soldier's in the first place. Hence, the soldiers' years of conditioning and recycling was now paying off for them, and ultimately, for Balzar.

The soldiers quickly formed a procession with the captives making up the middle. Even to Loté's untrained eye, she knew that several pieces of the recycling equipment, in addition to some of the rogue slaves, were missing. What she couldn't understand was Balzar's seemingly lack of concern over this fact. Was he really so preoccupied with exacting his revenge on Rod that he had lost sight of everything else? Furthermore, if that is true, was there some way to use this knowledge against him?

She had little time to contemplate her new ideas before the procession started moving. As before, Balzar led the column while leading her by the leash. She was still wearing the woven tabard, but now she was also carrying a small pack. Balzar had one of the soldiers tie it to her before setting out. Although she couldn't begin to imagine what it might contain, she had a suspicion that it was part of the captive girl's burden, having been left behind after she escaped.

Within minutes, they had left the protection of the thicket and were once again immersed in the sweltering heat. While her mind was still clear, she noticed that Balzar modified his course to run on a closer parallel to the equator. Although he still held to a southern slant, his new course would prolong the agony until they reached the jungle. However, because of the more openness of the terrain, they were able to make good time. Thus, they would be farther ahead of the rising sun when they did eventually reach the jungle, allowing them more time to spend recuperating before having to be on the move again.

She understood his logic. It also made sense if he was expecting someone to be laying in hiding, waiting to ambush him. By the time they realized that he had changed course, he would be well ahead of them, and they would be forced to play catch-up. Of course, if she gave him credit for this kind of logic, she couldn't continue to believe that he was as obsessed with his revenge against Rod, as she had earlier. One did not go hand in hand with the other. Either the man was totally whacked and unaware that his course had changed, or he was much more cunning in his fatigued condition than she had given him credit. This latter thought troubled her deeply. Was it possible that she had underestimated her enemy? However, the earlier thought that they were being followed gave her an unexpected lift. If she gave Balzar credit for his cunning, then she couldn't rule out the possibility that someone was coming after him.

A newer, even more disturbing thought was that Balzar had an ulterior motive for his course change. Something that she hadn't considered, was the possibility that he was heading toward a rendezvous; a preplanned destination!

The very idea was too disturbing to consider. It implied that Balzar had prearranged everything in advance. She quickly put it out of her mind, refusing to give it further consideration or thought.

They moved swiftly through the tundra, their course remaining virtually unaltered by obstacles. Occasionally, they would stop, taking only enough time to pass the flagons around before continuing.

After one of these stops, a male captive refused to get up when Balzar ordered the march resumed. Without much more than a slight nod of Balzar's head, the soldier nearest the rogue drew his weapon and clove the man's head. After quickly redistributing the dead man's load, the procession resumed.

Watching the cruelty and disregard that Balzar and his soldiers exhibited toward their charges was enough to make her sick. But even more troubling than having witnessed such blatant cruelty, was the underlying notion that time was of the essence, and not just because of the encroaching sun. His actions were indicative of a man that was in a hurry because of far more pressing matters.

The thought refused to lie dormant and forgotten. Yet, she refused to accept it in its entirety. If it was possible that he was supposed to meet someone at a certain time and place, it couldn't have been planned out too far in advance.

Then it hit her, a way to make it possible without giving Balzar more credit than she was capable of; he must have sent someone ahead with a message! It would have been someone that was familiar with the planet's surface. But even more importantly, it would have been someone that was familiar with the surface's inhabitants!

Of course, that didn't rule out the rogues from the basin, any of which might know men of both wealth and power on the surface. She had to concede to the fact that there would be no shortage of wealthies willing to pay highly for what they believed Balzar had to offer. Of course, this would only be true for as long as they were unaware that Balzar was no longer in possession of an entire recycling machine. Then again, with their limited knowledge of recycling, would they even suspect otherwise?

An idea suddenly blossomed. If indeed her suspicions were correct, and Balzar was in a hurry to meet with someone that was willing to offer him something of value in exchange for the equipment, how would they react when they found out that Balzar was no longer in possession of it? And find out, they would. Of that, she would make certain.

It was a weak straw to be grasping, but until something better came along, it was the only straw in sight. Of course, that didn't preclude her from keeping her weary eyes open for a chance to escape. Although, with Balzar never letting her out of his grasp, including the time she spent relieving herself, it didn't seem a likely possibility.

Though she was tired, and her head was pounding from the heat, she mentally calculated the number of soldiers remaining. With a quick glance over her shoulder to see the length of the column, she estimated the number to be close to one hundred. Although most of the captives had either escaped or perished, there were close to half that number remaining, mostly comprised of women. Whether this was coincidence, or because women were better able to cope with the extreme heat and hard labor, she couldn't be sure. Of one thing, she was certain, there were neither young nor old in the column. All the faces looking back at her were of approximately the same age, including the soldiers. Without a doubt, they were all familiar with the effects of the recycling apparatus.

With her throat parched from the drier air they were encountering, she spoke up, demanding that she be allowed to drink.

"We are almost there, my pretty one," he calmly replied, not bothering to glance back at her. "In just a little while you can drink all the water your heart desires."

Thinking to herself, she mulled this over. Where was 'there'? She realized with a start that 'there', could only be the rendezvous that she suspected. Maybe if she kept him talking, she might learn of whom he was going to meet there. Through the process of deduction, she quickly determined that it had to be a wealthy. Only a man of extreme wealth and power would be of any use to him. It had to be someone that Balzar had dealings with in the past, possibly through an intermediary. He obviously either felt that he could trust this individual, or he knew that he could overpower him if he were betrayed. Either way, his appearance of confidence could only mean that he was sure the man would be waiting for him.

Deciding on a bold tactic, she pried at him, "You're going to meet a man in the jungle up ahead. Are you not?"

He pulled up short, so suddenly that she almost ran into him, barely stopping in time to avoid touching his sweat-slimy body. Fortunately, the rest of the procession was a few feet farther behind, or surely, they would have pushed her up against him before coming to such an abrupt stop.

Spinning around to face her, a look of anger turning his face even redder than the heat had already done, he demanded of her, "Whom have you been talking to? Point him out to me, now!"

Drawing his weapon, he stepped up close, winding the leash around his bony hand until his knuckles were hard against the side of her windpipe. His anger growing by the second, he reiterated, "Tell me, woman! Which one of my men have you been talking to?"

Unable to draw breath without pain and much effort, she tried desperately to tell him no one. Only when he realized that she was trying to respond to his question did he relax his grip enough for her to snatch a gulp of air.

"Speak, woman, or I'll wrench your damn head right off your shoulders!" he demanded, as she caught her breath.

"I have spoken with no one," she gasped, her voice raw with pain. And then, as an afterthought, she quickly added, "Only you."

He impulsively yanked the leash tight in a spasm of anger, clearly hearing the insolence intended by her words. Yet, even her open display of disrespect couldn't fully account for the degree of anger he was exhibiting. She had struck a nerve with him. Although he knew that she hadn't spoken with any of his men, the alternative was even more disturbing. If he openly believed her, it would be the equivalent of admitting that he was at fault, something his tremendous ego could never allow.

With his right hand still holding his weapon, he drew back as if to strike her. Instead, much to her surprise, he re-sheathed his long-knife and drew his dirk. Moving it close to her throat, she suddenly felt certain that he was about to put an end to her life. Once again, he surprised her. With a vicious flick of his wrist, he cut the tenacious cord used to secure the tabard over her shoulders. With another flick, he flung it to the ground.

His eyes gazing into hers, he calmly stated, "When you are ready to tell me to whom you've been talking, I will consider returning it. That and your next drink of water."

"I tell you the truth!" she spat back at him, sensing the anger that she could easily trigger in him by forcing him to realize that he had no one to blame but himself. "It is not my fault that you can't find it in yourself to believe me."

In response, his right hand shot out, striking her a stinging blow on the side of the face. With his left hand still holding the leash tightly around her neck, she was unable to move, her head taking the full impact of the blow.

"Also, in the future, unless I give you permission, I don't want to hear another word from you!"

"To Hell with you!"

Even before the words had left her mouth, she could hear a ringing in her ears from the blow that he dealt her. Then, with all sound around her drowned out by the ringing that was emanating from within her head, they started forward with a vicious yank on the leash. Immediately, she felt the heat beating off her now exposed, tender flesh. And because of his brutal hold on the leash, it had tightened around her throat, greatly restricting her intake of air. Even if she had wanted to speak, to cry out obscenities at his back, she was too breathless. It was taking all her willpower just to suck in enough air to remain conscious. In no time, her head was pounding from oxygen deprivation. It would take all her stamina to remain on her feet for any length of time.

With her thoughts swimming and coherency uncertain, she prayed that her memory was correct when she remembered him telling her that they were almost there. If they had very far to go at all, she was certain that she wouldn't make it. Even now, her vision was blurring and her step was faltering. She needed air. He was literally suffocating her to death.

Another thought pushed itself through to her semiconscious mind; if, or rather when, she passed out, would he stop long enough to guarantee her survival, keeping her alive for future pleasures that only he could comprehend? Or would he be merciful, finishing her off before she could suffer the slow, agonizing death that the rising sun would deal her? Even in her turbid state of mind, she knew that if she was lucky, he would finish her off quickly, leaving but a mere carcass for the rising sun to devour.

She found herself wishing that if he didn't show her any mercy, he would at least be kind enough to let the rising sun finish her off. Even that would be preferable to regaining consciousness and discovering that she was still his prisoner!

Before she could dwell on the possibilities, he drew to a halt. Unaware that the leash had gone slack, she stumbled into him. Reflexively, she drew back, repulsed by his nearness, the sour-sweet stench of his perspiration. Losing her balance in the process, she fell to her knees, unable to put her bound hands out to break the fall. With pain shooting up her thighs and down her shins, she rolled onto her side, unconsciously curling into a fetal position as she did so.

Though Balzar had relinquished the tension on the leash, her breathing was still strained, coming in sharp gasps followed by long wheezy exhales.

Much to her surprise, Balzar ordered the soldier standing nearer to him to give her some water. Holding her head roughly in his hands, he poured the water into her mouth. Unable to drink as quickly as he poured, she started gagging and coughing, spitting precious water out on the ground. He immediately took the flagon away from her mouth and looked up to Balzar for further orders. Balzar, giving a quick nod of his head, turned his attention back to the trail. The soldier, meanwhile, removed the leash from around her neck. Using the cord, he drew a loop around her waist and secured her hands to it.

Standing, he reached down and roughly jerked her to her feet, sending fresh pain racing outward from her bleeding knees. Her head swam from the sudden rising as the blood rushed downward. For a moment, she thought she was going to lose consciousness. Instead, her vision slowly cleared. When she could see again, the first thing her eyes focused on was Balzar's face. During her dizzy spell, he had turned back around and was again facing her. However, unlike the usual sneer that he reserved especially for her, she noticed a hard set of his jaw, a deadly seriousness in his eyes. Despite the stifling heat, she felt a cold chill run down her spine.

"You have cost me valuable time. From here on, until we reach our destination, you will have to keep up on your own. If you falter, or fall back, that soldier behind you will prod you with his blade," he said casually, the sound of his voice belying the look in his eyes. "If that isn't motivation enough, he has orders to run you through and make sure your lovely carcass doesn't block the trail for those behind you. Are we clear?"

Unable to make her voice heard, she quickly nodded her head, grateful that she didn't have to wear the leash any longer. Grateful also, that she could breathe again. Now, if an opportunity would just present itself, she thought quietly, falling into step behind his tall, wiry figure. If an opportunity would just present itself.

### **13**

By the time, we finished discussing battle plans, my ravaged body was crying out for rest. Intentionally, with Fayze's assistance, I returned to the relative comfort of the travois before the discussions started in earnest. When a lull in the talks developed over an inconsequential point, my mind wandered to Loté, and hence, off to sleep.

Upon waking, my first thoughts turned to the boy, Tye, and what had become of him. Looking around the camp, I was surprised by all the energetic activity going on around me. I was reminded of a hunting camp from my days as a youth when everyone was busy making ready for the day's hunt. While some were working hard at fashioning short-shafted spears, others were equally industrious putting up stocks of freshly killed game, replacing the dried aquatic creature with the much-preferred red meat. Still others were busy packing away fruit that they'd foraged earlier from the jungle's bounty.

It took me a few moments to locate Fayze. When I finally did manage, I wasn't surprised to see her working alongside the other rogues, even though she had acquired the status of a folk hero among them.

Rolling over to my side, I stiffly swung my feet to the ground and leaned forward, studying the condition of my burns at the same time. It was with no small amount of relief to see that none were infected and that all were healing quite nicely. Planting my hands on the frame of the travois, I gave an upward push, simultaneously straightening up and planting my weight on my feet. With a sigh of relief, I didn't fall or feel nauseous. In fact, I was feeling pretty damn good, all things considered.

Moving slowly, I turned in the direction that I'd seen Fayze, intending to go to her. It seemed logical that if anyone would know of the boy's whereabouts, it would be her. Even before I'd completed my turn, however, I could hear her calling out to me, telling me to stay where I was and that she was coming to me. Looking up, I was greeted with a warm, open smile.

"It's good to see you standing again. Can I get you something to eat or drink?" she quickly offered, approaching at a fast pace.

"Please," I quickly assented, suddenly aware of a ravenous hunger. "Something to eat would be great. And maybe something to wash it down, if it isn't too much trouble."

"No trouble at all," she gaily replied, veering off to the right, toward where a growing mound of supplies was being made ready for the upcoming journey. Although it was expected to be a short journey, maybe ten hours or less, it was the way of the rogues to stock up on supplies whenever the opportunity presented itself. They lived a life of many uncertainties, the least of which could be an extended journey without an opportunity to hunt or forage along the way. This probably happened more frequently than not. Especially if their raid on a village turned sour, and their victims turned the tables on them, forcing them to run from their quarry instead of the other way around. And with that knowledge embedded in the backs of their minds, they worked doubly hard to prepare for what lay ahead.

Within a moment Lipton, having heard that I was awake, came striding over, a pleased look on his face. "It's good to see you on your feet again, my friend."

"It's good to be on my feet, my friend."

Fayze arrived right behind him carrying a large chunk of dried bread and a moldy piece of foul smelling cheese. Slung over her shoulder was a plump looking flagon. Handing the food items to me, she apologized for the meager offerings, "I'm sorry for what we have to offer you, but without cook fires, the meat is pretty much useless yet. If we were going to be staying here longer, it would have time to cure. But from what I understand, we don't intend to be here any longer than necessary."

"It's quite all right, I assure you," I said, taking the proffered foods from her outstretched hands.

With Lipton's help, I settled back on the edge of the travois. After breaking off a piece from each lump of stale, almost indistinguishable chunks of food, I set the remaining pieces next to me on the travois. Before taking a bite from either, though, I asked of no one in particular, "Does anyone know what happened to the boy since we left the basin? I woke up thinking about him."

Neither answered me immediately. After a brief, almost anxious moment, Lipton finally offered, "We're assuming he was either captured and then killed by Balzar's soldiers, or he never made it out of the basin. He's a resourceful boy, but no one has seen him since leaving the basin."

"I don't believe that," I murmured, a growing anger in my voice. "He was much too smart to have gotten caught by Balzar's soldiers. Moreover, he never would have allowed himself to get near enough to anyone that would have meant him harm."

Fayze, dropping to her knees beside me, put her hand on my arm in a comforting gesture. "You're right, he was a very exceptional young boy. But now we have to accept the possibility of the worse. We'll all miss him, of course. It's always a shame when such a bright young life is taken from this world. But now we have to move on. Think of it as just one more reason that Balzar must pay; I do."

"Not just Balzar," I sadly concurred. "But all the other Balzar's that would wreak such pain and suffering on the innocents of the world."

An awkward silence ensued, while each remembered their past, and the pain and suffering to which they might have been a party. That they had changed for the better was all that mattered, and I turned to the food. Though the thought of Tye's death had put a damper on my appetite, I took a bite anyway. It was important that I keep up my strength, and starving myself wasn't going to bring him back. When I finished the last of it, she handed me a flagon. Relishing the precious feel of the liquid as it rolled down my dry throat, I drank until the bag was almost empty. Even before I took it from my lips, I regretted that I couldn't drink more, that I couldn't savor the feel of it in my mouth for just another moment.

Clearing my throat, I looked up at Lipton and asked, "So, when do we leave?"

"If you're ready, right now," he replied without hesitation.

"I can carry a pack, if it will help lighten someone else's load," I quickly offered, though I wasn't even sure that I could carry myself, just yet.

"We'll see," he lightly replied, sounding distracted.

He moved off toward Jon, leaving Fayze and me sitting alone. After watching his back for a moment, I turned to face her. "I'm sorry that I mistrusted you with Loté's knife," I said humbly, apologizing for the time earlier when I suspected her of planning to keep the jewel-embedded weapon for herself. "Can you find it within you to forgive me?"

"There isn't anything to forgive, Love. I understood at the time that you were just concerned for Loté's sake and that it wasn't anything personal against me," she said reassuringly. "Besides," she quickly added, "You didn't know me very well back then. Who knows, I might have been everything that you'd imagined."

She smiled and laughed softly, her face lighting up, and looking very appealing.

"Yes, you're right. I didn't know you very well back then. However, now that I know you better, I don't understand how I could have been so wrong." I said softly, noting how the color brightened in her cheeks, before turning the subject, and my attention, to where Lipton and Jon were deeply engrossed in conversation. "What do you think those two are discussing?" I asked of her, trying to sound casual, but inwardly disturbed by their secrecy.

"Just some of the finer details of your plan, I'm sure," she easily replied, neither concerned that we'd been excluded from their discussion, nor sensing my unease because of it.

"Yes, you're probably right," I outwardly agreed, deciding that it wouldn't help anyone's piece of mind to vocalize my true concerns. Silently, I made a mental note to bring it up with Lipton the next time that I got him alone. In the meantime, I finished eating a handful of berries that she had kept hidden from Jon and Lipton, sharing the last few with her in a conspiratorial manner. We washed their sugary sweetness down with the dregs of water left in the bag, all the while, smiling and giggling at each other.

"Would you like me to get you some more water?" she asked, shaking the empty flagon. Before I could answer, she winked conspiratorially, indicating that she could pilfer more of the sweet berries, if I so desired.

"Maybe before we leave, if you could," I distractedly replied, the gaiety having left my voice.

"Sure. I'll make sure you have a full flagon for the journey," she responded loudly, sensing my distraction and unsure if she should pry into my thoughts or not. After a moment's hesitation, having decided against it, she added, "I need to get back to the others. There's still much work to be done and it sounds like we don't have much more time here."

"Thank you for the food and water," I said sincerely, sensing that she wanted to say something more.

To my surprise, though, she turned and started back toward the growing mound of supplies. When she had gone barely more than ten feet, she suddenly stopped and turned around. Expecting her to say something, I was surprised and dumbfounded when all she did was give me a friendly little wave, before abruptly turning back around and continuing on her way. I found it disappointing that she felt she couldn't speak of what was on her mind to me. However, I also found it very stimulating, watching her from behind as she strode toward the others. She was a very attractive and desirable woman.

To my chagrin and embarrassment, I was still absorbed in the sight of her swaying limbs crossing the campsite, when Jon and Lipton strode up to where I was sitting on the edge of the travois. The serious look on Lipton's face belied the good nature of the joke that he was about to make when his eyes followed mine to where Fayze was now busy packing supplies into packs. And though he noticed the subtle attention of my manhood, he was considerate enough not to make any remarks about it.

All the time Lipton talked, Jon's eyes never left the ground. Something was bothering him, and now it was my turn to be let in on what it was.

Hesitantly, Lipton said, "Rod, I know we already discussed the plan, hashing out the details and trying to make it more likely to succeed. But Jon has voiced concerns with it, and I think they're valid enough to warrant further discussion."

"Go ahead, I'm all ears," I said easily, my stomach suddenly turning sour, and not from the combination of foods that I'd just eaten.

"Jon doesn't like the expected loss of life. He doesn't agree with risking so many people's lives on the gamble of saving just one woman." Before I could say anything in defense of the plan, he quickly continued, cutting me off before I could get started. "I know what you're going to say, Rod, we've discussed it through to its entirety. The main risk is to you and me, and quite frankly, I'm not opposed to the risk. But Jon and several others feel that my life is more valuable as a leader and that they can't afford to throw it away on such a long shot."

"How do feel about it?" I calmly asked, knowing that I would go it alone if I had to.

"You know I'm not afraid to die, Rod. Hell, I've done it before!" he said, trying to sound lighthearted, but only managing to sound lame.

When he didn't continue, Jon spoke up for the first time. "Try to understand my concern. If something happens to Lipton and Balzar escapes, the world will be at his mercy. No one, me included, can organize people the way he can. He's a natural leader. People are just naturally drawn to him." He paused for a moment and looked at Lipton before adding, "Why is it that I can see this so clearly, when you cannot?"

Hastily, I fired back, my anger aimed at both him and Lipton, "All I see are two grown men afraid of dying for what they believe in! Don't give me that crap about living to fight another day, because I'm not buying it! Yes, there is no doubt that my friend here is a natural leader," I continued, turning my rage toward Jon. "But if he runs from his obligations, no one will follow him in the future, even if logic dictates that this plan doesn't stand a chance in Hell of succeeding! Listen to me, Jon, and listen well; people don't remember your reasons why, they only remember your actions. In the future, no one will remember the reason why we didn't stop Balzar when we could, only that we had a chance to and didn't take it!"

"That's not fair, Rod! I never said that I wasn't going to join in your plan. I just felt it was important that you heard Jon's misgivings so that you could understand why he feels the way he does," Lipton argued in defense of his friend.

"Then it's settled. We have nothing more to discuss," I quickly stated, putting an end to the dispute before it turned ugly and we said things that we didn't mean and couldn't take back. "We leave as soon as you can get your men organized and the packs distributed."

Neither man moved; Lipton refused to look away, while Jon kept his gaze fixed on the ground. The tension mounted with each passing second. Lipton and I had been through a lot together. Yet, I wasn't about to back down either; for Loté's sake, I couldn't. If she was still alive, and I refused to believe otherwise, then I was going after her, with or without their help! Because of me, several close friends were already dead; there wasn't any other choice than the plan that I made!

Suddenly, Jon looked up and said, "I'll go see to the supplies and equipment." Turning on his heel, he hurriedly strode off toward Fayze, joining her by the supply mound.

Without coming out and saying it, he had acquiesced to the plan. Lipton, openly relieved that the confrontation had ended peaceably, breathed a deep sigh of relief. Inwardly, because I still wasn't ready to disclose my anxiety, even to such a close friend as I had in Lipton, I too, breathed a tremendous sigh of relief. Although I was confident that we would rip Loté from Balzar's grasp, if she were still alive by the time that we found them, I wasn't feeling nearly as confident about my own chances for survival. Mostly, I felt this way because I knew that I was willing to do whatever it took to get her away from that monster, including making the ultimate sacrifice; my own life for her life.

It wasn't fair of me to expect Lipton to do the same, and I understood that. Nevertheless, I wanted that to be his decision, and not made by someone else. If I could help it, he wasn't going to die in this campaign, at least not for my sake!

"I hope that doesn't put a strain on your relationship with him," I said sympathetically. "If there is any way to change the plan that will make it safer for everyone involved, I will. However, having already discussed it openly and in depth, I can't see anything that can be done differently. What more can I do?" I added, sounding as if I were pleading my case.

Fayze had returned while we were talking. Coming in on the tail end of my comment, she felt compelled to voice her own concerns.

"I understand your feelings for this woman. Though I've only met her once, and that was for such a brief time, it would be amiss of me to tell you that I wasn't impressed by her. However, I feel equally compelled to ask of you, is it fair to ask others to give up their lives for the chance to save her life?" she asked, her sincerity evident in the tone of her voice.

"I'm not asking anyone to give up their lives," I heatedly fired back. "They are risking their lives to liberate the remaining components for the recycling machine. I am risking my life for Loté! It's that simple!"

Cutting off any further argument that I might make, she quickly stated in a no-nonsense voice, "You are risking their lives, and you know it. Would Loté agree with your decision?"

After a long, awkward pause in which neither said anything, Lipton mumbled something unintelligible and went to join Jon. Fayze, feeling less self-conscious in his absence, continued, "Don't misunderstand me, Rod. I would give anything to have a man love me as much as you obviously love her. But I would never expect, or appreciate it, if he was to risk other people's lives in a perilous attempt to save mine. If he did persist in doing just such a thing, I think I would honestly be disappointed in him." After a short pause to catch her breath, she added, "At the least, I wouldn't be able to look the survivors in the eye."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Fayze. However, unlike you, I wouldn't be able to look myself in the eye if I at least didn't try. As for those that are risking their lives, I think it is a brave and noble act on their part. It will be sad for those that die. And it will be unfortunate. But their deaths won't have been in vain. They will die as heroes and heroines, at least in my eyes."

Whether Fayze wanted to argue with my last statement or not, I'll never know. Before she could continue, Lipton returned with Jon at his side. Each was carrying an extra pack in addition to the one already secured to their backs.

Lipton was also carrying an extra long-knife and sheathe. Holding it out to me, he said, "Here. We only have a few steel-bladed weapons to go around and it's been decided that you should have one. Even among the rogues, your prowess with a long-knife is legendary."

Flattered, I accepted the weapon and immediately strapped it over my hip. While securing the sheathe, I humbly replied, "If the Gods are willing, my strength won't fail me and I won't disappoint them."

No one replied, adding to the already apprehensive sense of pending terror and excitement hanging in the air. Taking the proffered pack, I slung it over my shoulder and secured the straps across my chest. Though the movement reminded me of what I'd just been through, I gritted my teeth against the pain, making a point to keep it from showing to the others. Fayze, her pack secured, nodded her head, indicating that she was ready to travel.

"I sent scouts on ahead," remarked Jon as we headed toward the forming column. "If you would like to lead," he asked, looking toward Lipton, "I would prefer to bring up the rear."

"That would be fine," Lipton acknowledged, moving forward through the throng of men and women.

"The trail should be easy to follow, just look for the sign left by the scouts."

Satisfied, he turned toward the rear of the column and started checking packs. He was making mental notes of who was carrying what and where they were in the column. Although I wasn't in command, I should have done the same. When a group of any size is moving through the jungle, it's easy to lose track of each other. The only redeeming feature in most instances of separation is that we're all moving in the same direction, westward.

With Lipton in the lead, followed immediately by Fayze and then myself, we quickly understood Jon's parting comment. The scouts were leaving a well-marked trail for our benefit. Since these were the same two scouts that had followed Balzar's army to its last known position, they were familiar with the terrain. Their tracking skills were made even more apparent by the ease in which their trail led us smoothly, with very little divergence; it was quite a feat, considering that we weren't headed true west.

As we marched along, I went over the possible variances to the plan in my head. It had been decided that if we reached the last known co-ordinates of Balzar's army and he wasn't there, we would use their abandoned campsite for our own needs. If it turned out that they still occupied the sight, which seemed highly unlikely since there didn't seem to be any reason for them to hold up, the scouts would turn back to warn us. They would also be required to brief us on the area so that we could determine from which directions it would be most beneficial to approach them.

More than likely, though, Balzar and his soldiers would be long gone. Although it wasn't in their nature to migrate in a westerly fashion like a surface dweller, they still had enough captives and loyal followers with them to feel the inborn sense of urgency. Of course, Balzar wouldn't be suspecting a band of rogues on his trail, either. But then, with his overwhelming number of well-armed soldiers, would he concern himself even if he knew there was?

My prior knowledge of the man suggested that he would not. In fact, if he knew that we were closing in on him from behind he would probably turn his army around and hasten to close the gap, despite the protests of the surface dwellers.

With my mind preoccupied by these, as well as thoughts of Loté and her well-being, I wasn't aware of the deep fatigue that was already settling into my recovering body. We had only been on the trail for two hours, when I began to notice the first symptoms. With the arrival of sore joints, muscle cramps, and general exhaustion, also came the doubt. For the first time since the idea of confronting Balzar face to face had entered my head, I began to question the logic of it. Because of the time that we'd lost spent recuperating, it had been decided that we would keep moving until we reached Balzar or his abandoned campsite. Once there, our next move depended on Balzar, and whether he was still there or not. In either event, we would allow ourselves a brief period of rest before doing anything. Then, if he were still there, we would implement the plan. If it turned out that he'd already continued westward, then so would we.

With growing fatigue, and pain starting to shoot out of every joint in my body, I began to doubt my ability to travel for another six hours. Moreover, if I did find the strength within me, would I be in any condition to fight, once we got there?

Looking past Fayze's shapely backside, I noticed the disjointed movement in Lipton's stride, also. Like me, he too had overestimated the degree of his recovery. It suddenly dawned on me that if we didn't stop soon, within an hour we would be moving much too slow to have any hopes of overtaking Balzar. If we were unable to catch up to him, we would never get the opportunity to see if my plan had any merit or not. In addition, Loté would remain at his mercy that much longer, a thought that I couldn't bear to consider.

With Loté foremost on my mind, I spoke up for Lipton to hear. "My friend, we must stop and rest. We cannot push ourselves like this for much farther and still expect to fight when we get there."

Stiffly, he raised his hand above his head, the column behind us ground to a halt. Slowly, he turned around and faced me, his eyes betraying the pain in his body. "Yes, my friend, we must rest. You and I have been through too much lately to be carrying on as though nothing has happened."

Jon, thinking that something must be wrong, came striding up alongside the column, his weapon unsheathed. Even before he reached us, however, word of our fatigue had reached him. Putting his weapon away, he said, "We'll rest for thirty minutes. Make sure you both get enough water into yourselves before we start out again."

"Aye, Captain Jon," I quipped, sensing the concern for our well being in his voice.

Turning to leave, he suddenly stopped and swung back around, "You would do well not to eat anything. Save your blood for your muscles and not your stomach."

Before I could respond, he turned away and started working his way back along the column, visually checking on each of his charges as he went.

"That man cares way too much for his fellow men," sighed Lipton softly, watching Jon's back as he slowly returned to the rear of the column, occasionally stopping and offering water or just a friendly word as he went. "If it was within his power, he would carry each of us on his shoulders, just so we wouldn't have to feel the pain brought on by our tired feet."

"That's called compassion, my friend. Unfortunately, there is way too little of it on this planet," I remarked, noticing for the first time that Fayze was just looking on in silence.

Something was bothering her, but I wasn't sure that I had the strength or the inclination to ask her about it. Closing my eyes and stretching out on the warm, moss-covered surface, I tried easing my sore muscles. Feeling the way that I did, I had to wonder how I planned to fight well-rested soldiers when the time came. In my present condition and state of mind, I felt certain that I would just roll over and surrender. Yet, when the time came, I'd reach down inside, and for Loté's sake and all the other innocent people on this God-forsaken planet, I'd find the strength to keep me going. I had to, and I had to believe in myself to do it.

It seemed as if I had barely closed my eyes when Lipton was already shaking my shoulder, trying to wake me. "It's time, my friend. We must get moving if we expect to catch up to Balzar."

Rubbing the fog out of my eyes, I begrudgingly pushed myself up to a standing position, feeling every joint in my body protesting with the effort. Slowly, I bent over and retrieved my pack, my back crying out in alarm. Fayze, moving lithely among the rogues, saw me struggling with my stiffness and threw me a touching smile. Only she could find my pain humorous, I thought wryly, returning her smile with a grimace of my own.

In a matter of minutes, the entire camp was broken down and we were back on the trail. Jon wasn't understating when he said that his scouts would leave a visible trail for us to follow. At some points, their sign was visible for a distance of three hundred feet and more. Most of their signs were in the way of small saplings bent over at precarious angles, or the white heart of a tree left exposed by a sharp cut through the bark. But whichever sign they left for us, they were careful to place them so they could only be seen from one direction, east. Although I considered myself quite a tracker in my own right, having been raised in the jungle by a hunting tribe, I was still forced to admire the work of these two scouts. The apparent ease with which they chose their course, avoiding many obstacles by making slight adjustments to their direction long before nearing them, was plainly evident. If these men were this good at traveling through unknown terrain, I wouldn't want them tracking me.

"How long was I asleep?" I asked Fayze, unable to refrain from admiring her smooth, firm backside.

"Too long," she coyly replied, completely aware that I had been scrutinizing her body, and liking it.

"I'm serious," I quickly retorted, trying to sound unaware of the playfulness in her voice. "I'm trying to figure out how much longer it will be before we reach Balzar's last known campsite."

"In just under six hours, my friend," replied Lipton, taking his position at the head of the column. "That is if we don't take any more unscheduled breaks," he nonchalantly added as an afterthought.

"How are the water supplies holding up?" I asked of either, concerned because we hadn't passed any pools of water since leaving the basin.

"We should be fine," replied Lipton. "Go ahead and drink all you want. According to Jon's scouts, there is plenty of water just south of our route. We can send men to collect more if we need it." He hesitated for a moment before sarcastically adding, "Not everyone is moving as slow as we are."

Satisfied with his answer, I threw him a smirk while un-slinging my flagon and removing the stopper. Before I had a chance to drink, though, a riotous commotion broke out almost directly behind me. Dropping the flagon, I spun around, drawing my weapon in one fluid movement with no wasted effort. Standing less than fifteen feet from me, and straddling a prone woman with her throat gushing blood, was a large, jagged-toothed creature, standing its ground and protecting its kill.

As the rogues in the column behind it scattered back along the trail, scattering wildly into the foliage or climbing saplings, I stood my ground and considered the situation. Although I shared the same fears as the others, for the moment, the creature seemed content with its bloody kill, lapping up the warm, thickly oozing blood even as the flow ebbed, and then finally stopped altogether.

The beast stood almost as tall as a man at its front shoulders, the massive head towering easily above the tallest man. The quadruped creature weighed close to a thousand pounds, and didn't need to fear anything, including me. With paws larger across than my head with six-inch talons protruding from them, it could easily decapitate me with one swipe. Fortunately for me, it was preoccupied with the poor woman's corpse pinned beneath it.

Driven only by hunger, it nonchalantly tore into her body with long, razor-sharp fangs, flicking gore and intestines in every direction as it shook its massive head. Watching in silence, a chilling thought suddenly occurred to me: what if the woman's body wasn't enough to satiate its tremendous appetite.

Moving slowly, so as not to attract its attention, I held my weapon above my head and signaled to Jon, who had appeared in the trail on the far side of the beast. Seeing me with my weapon raised above my head, he immediately understood that I was suggesting a concerted attack on the creature. With a small band of men armed with long-knives attacking it from either side, we could make short work of it before losing any more lives.

To my amazement, he shook his head in the negative, signaling instead that he would lead the remainder of the band around it. Through further waving, he made it clear that they would circumvent the area occupied by the feasting beast by a wide margin, and that he expected us to move to a safe distance and sit by idly while we waited for them. Unable to make him understand that I was furiously opposed to what he was doing, without running the risk of attracting the beast's attention, I begrudgingly yielded to his suggestion.

Turning back to face Lipton and Fayze, I bit back my harsh thoughts and calmly suggested that we move farther up the trail, putting more distance between us and the beast before it decided that one human body would not be sufficient to appease its appetite.

Silently, I thought to myself that as soon as Jon caught up with us, not only would I reiterate my point with regard to killing the beast, but we would also establish just who was in charge. It had been very disappointing to me to know that Lipton was standing directly behind me during the exchange with Jon, and he hadn't taken my side. As a friend, I felt strongly that he should have backed me up, supporting my decision to kill the beast while we were in a position to attack it from two sides. By not acting when we did, we had seriously hindered any future attempts that we might yet undertake. We couldn't afford to lose any more people, nor could we afford to lose any more time.

Why didn't he simply agree to attack the beast when the opportunity was still there? What did he hope to gain by putting off the inevitable? In addition, by not killing the beast, now we had to wait until it left in order to retrieve the piece of equipment the poor woman was carrying! The more I thought about it, the hotter my blood began to boil. If Jon had just taken my advice at the time, by all accounts, the beast would be dead, and we would be back on our way with the equipment in hand.

Now however, we were putting ourselves in a waiting game with a creature that had all the time in the world, while we were quickly falling behind. And if the creature decided that it was still hungry, we would be forced into fighting it anyway. Only then, the battle would be waged at the beast's leisure, not ours!

Following close on Fayze's heels, I grew oblivious of our immediate surroundings, my mind completely preoccupied with what I thought were our upcoming options. However, the more I considered them, the angrier I grew over Jon's hesitation to act. When they finally caught up with us, I was determined to find out why he had refused to act on my suggestion. Was it possible that he was afraid?

As quickly, as the thought entered my head, I discarded it. If Jon were afraid of anything, I would have seen evidence of it earlier. Fear, especially among leaders, is a hard thing to hide. Even if I hadn't noticed it in the brief time that I'd known him, it's not a trait that Lipton would have been likely to overlook.

When we'd gone far enough to be safe from the beast, at least for the time that it took to devour the poor woman's carcass, we picked out a reasonably open place and made ourselves comfortable. Although Jon and the others would be catching up with us in no time, to me, the wait seemed like an eternity. At least the three of us were fortunate in that we were able to get a few extra minute's worth of unexpected rest. Meanwhile, the rest of the column was being forced to travel even farther, since they had to make a circuitous journey around the dangerous animal and the section of trail that it occupied. All these things were weighing on my mind, increasing my anxiety level even higher than it had been just prior to the encounter with the creature.

Fayze unslung her flagon and took a long drink. When she finished, she offered it to Lipton, who in turn, offered it to me. Though we were treating each other with civility, an invisible wall had gone up between us. As much as I wanted to discuss what happened with regard to Jon, it wasn't the right thing to do. My beef was with Jon, and I would just have to stew in my own juices until he arrived.

Within a matter of minutes, I couldn't sit still any longer, preferring to get up and pace our back trail. Though there wasn't any immediate danger from the beast, since it wouldn't leave its kill until it had eaten as much of it as it desired, I felt a sudden premonition. It started with a chill running through my bones, setting the hairs on the back of my neck on end. Having always prided myself on my sharp instincts, I couldn't ignore what I was feeling now.

With my hand resting easily on the hilt of the long-knife, a weapon that I wouldn't be carrying if it wasn't for Jon, I sullenly reminded myself, I crouched down low and slowly continued forward with caution.

Although I didn't hear any sounds coming from the denser brush growing up alongside the trail, I sensed a presence, a presence that was also aware of me.

Moving stealthily, I braced the long-knife levelly in front of me, ready to put it to use. Meanwhile, with my left hand, I gently searched the ground for something to throw. Unable to find anything on the hard surface but moss, I handed the weapon over to my left hand and tore up a chunk of the damp green material in my right. Squeezing it between my fingers until it formed into a ball that would be heavy enough to create a distraction, I set it down and wiped my hand clean on the undisturbed ground covering beside me. Satisfied that I could grip the hilt of my weapon with confidence, I returned the long-knife to my favored right hand, though I was proficient with either.

Picking up the dense, fist-sized ball of moss, I waited in silence, straining my senses to detect the direction of the presence. Though I couldn't actually see or hear anything aside from the normal sounds of the jungle, my instincts told me that whatever it was, human or animal, it was off to my right. When I'd satisfied myself of its approximate location, I heaved the moss-ball in an arc that sailed out ahead of me. In silence, my breathing stopped, my physical senses keened, I waited.

It landed with a thud, the normal sounds of the jungle immediately going silent. All the little creatures and critters that make up the normal atmosphere and ambience of the jungle abruptly froze. Because the sound of the moss-ball striking the ground was out of the ordinary, an alarm had gone off. Now, like me, they were waiting; waiting for the telltale sign of movement from an unknown thing.

Our wait was short lived, as the unknown being, having fallen for the oldest trick in the jungle, started closing in on the artificial noise. Although I still hadn't heard any tangible sound or scent coming from it, my senses perceived the movement, the prescience, and I hunkered lower. If it stayed its current course, it would pass within just a few feet of me. When it did, I would strike before it could react.

Tensed and waiting, I heard the first actual noise that it made as it brushed against the low-growing, broad-leaved foliage. Whatever it was, it froze, realizing that it might have given away its position. If I didn't act now, this could turn into a waiting game, one that I didn't have the time to play. In addition, when Jon and the others caught up with Fayze and Lipton, he was bound to send someone to find me. I couldn't afford to take that chance. If there was more than one entity, or if this was a scout for a larger force, our hand would be tipped. Right now, as far as I knew, whatever I was stalking was probably thinking that it was stalking a single entity too. With growing concern, I realized that I couldn't let it know anymore than it already did; I had to act now, no matter how my better judgment and instincts cried out against it.

Gripping the long-knife with both hands, I slowly rose to my feet, my muscles protesting with the effort. Already, I realized, I'd wasted too much time.

Reaching my full height, my eyes trained on the place where my senses told me my quarry waited, I was almost surprised by what I saw. Just barely showing through a dense covering of lush green leaves, was a dirty mop of straggly brown hair.

My senses hadn't betrayed me, after all; it was a man that I was hunting, and I'd pinpointed his exact location.

He was sitting less than eight feet from me. However, before I could initiate an attack, I had to be certain that he was alone; I couldn't afford to jump into a trap. Glancing over the surrounding area, I didn't get the feeling that there was anything else amiss. With confidence in my senses, I slowly returned to a crouch.

Picking up one foot, then carefully putting it back down before picking up the next, I moved slowly toward my hidden quarry. When I estimated the distance apart at less than four feet, I sprang into the air, raising my weapon over my head and swinging downward even before I'd fully located him beneath the leaves.

Too late, I realized my folly! In the fraction of time before my blade clove in the head of my unsuspecting victim, a small face turned skyward, his eyes gazing into mine; Tye!

Even before recognition of his dirty face imprinted on my mind, my body was reacting, turning the heavy steel blade aside. But it was too late. The heavy weight of the forged and hammered iron was committed to its course; a course that my tired, fatigued muscles were no match to deter.

But Tye moved even faster, throwing himself in the opposite direction from that which the blade was swerving. Between his uncanny reflexes, and my fatigued effort to avert from my target, the blade barely missed his tender little face, severing the leaves from the foliage that he was hiding beneath as it whooshed narrowly past his head. If he'd been wearing a beard, he would be clean-shaven now.

In my moment of relief, I let go of the blade and sank to my knees in front of him. He, likewise overcome with gladness at seeing a friendly face, jumped up and threw his arms around me, tears suddenly streaking the dirt and grime covering his face.

After a brief hug, I suddenly remembered the beast just a short distance down the trail. With a quick reach down, I retrieved my weapon from the moss-covered ground. Standing, I scooped the boy into my arms, and, after taking a cursory glance around the surrounding area, retreated back the way that I'd come. Fayze and Lipton would be more than glad to see his face again. And if I weren't mistaken, he will be equally excited to see his old friends. That, and drink some water and eat some food, neither of which he probably had enough of lately.

When I'd gone less than half the distance, I moved him to my shoulder to redistribute his weight. Much to my surprise, he was sound asleep. Even without hearing his story, I realized that he was dehydrated and famished. His physical endurance had been taxed to its limit, and now he needed succoring. Fayze will be delighted with the responsibility!

### **14**

As I came into sight, Fayze let out a small, excited scream, recognizing the small bundle tucked over my shoulder immediately. Her mothering instincts quickly taking over, she came hurrying forward, grabbing him off my stiffened shoulder, and clutching him to her bosom. Lipton, meanwhile, stood silently by watching, a contented smile on his face. Tye, waking up from the tender jostling that he was receiving, took a moment for his mind to accept what his eyes were telling him. As it did, a glowing smile lit up his face.

Though I was touched by the outpouring of emotions, I didn't forget our current situation, as neither did Lipton. Believing that Tye was in the best of hands, he turned toward me, a questioning expression in his tear-rimmed eyes.

"We just fell into each other's arms," I nonchalantly replied, preferring not to explain how I almost clove the poor kid's head in. "He must have suspected our route and was trying to catch up," I quickly added when he didn't appear satisfied with my glib remark.

Before I was pressured into giving a more detailed account leading up to my discovery of Tye, Jon appeared in the clearing. The remainder of the column was huddled fearfully close behind him. Although the poor woman that the beast had already killed was taken right out of the column, the others still harbored an unfounded fear that if they were separated, the beast would find them first. Although this line of thinking was irrational, I couldn't really blame them. Yet, I was determined not to allow such biases to influence my own movements. Hence, I had hiked back up the trail by myself.

Suddenly, despite the good cheer of Tye's rescue, my anger came boiling back to the surface. Facing Jon, I demanded to know why he had refused to join me in a concerted effort to kill the beast when we had it surrounded and it was preoccupied with the woman's corpse.

Meeting my gaze, he unflinchingly responded, "We can't afford to lose any more people. In case you have forgotten, we're on our way to do battle with a force that already outnumbers us by more than three to one."

"And do you think that a beast of that size and stature will be satisfied with one scrawny woman? Hell no! As soon as it finishes with her, it will come hunting for more. And despite the easy going, there's no way we can possibly hope to outrun it!"

Frustrated and too angry to continue, I paused. Much to my surprise, Lipton spoke up, coming to my defense for the first time. "He's right, Jon. Not only do we have to be on the lookout for perimeter guards to Balzar's camp, which we could stumble onto at any time, but now we also have to contend with a wild beast possibly closing in on our rear flank. When, and not if, it attacks, there's no way that we can mount an offensive action against it. All we can hope is that it's content with just one body at a time." He hesitated for effect, letting his words sink in. Then, satisfied that he had everyone's attention, he turned to me and said, "I'm sorry that I failed to back you up sooner, Rod. But if you have any further suggestions, I think we need to hear them now."

Jon, clearly frustrated and angered by Lipton's little speech, suddenly gave a visible shrug, the fight going out of him. "Maybe if I hadn't been so eager to judge you, I would have given your suggestion a decent amount of consideration before dismissing it out of hand. If you have anything more to suggest, I'd be willing to hear it."

What I was hearing was about as close to an apology as I was going to get. He was used to being the leader of this small band, and my presence threatened that leadership, at least in his mind.

Now it was my turn to be upset with myself. Had I paid more attention to the disruption and anxiety that my insertion into this small group had precipitated, I could've nullified it before it had a chance to manifest itself. Now, as it were, the damage had been done, and it was up to me to find a way to deal with the consequences; namely, how we were going to deal with the ravaging beast and not lose any more lives because of it.

"Well," I started slowly, not sure where I was going, only that I had the floor and I needed to use the moment to my advantage. "We have lost too much valuable time already. Even as we stand here arguing over the past, Balzar might be breaking camp and moving westward. To break up and retrace our steps so that we can surround the creature now would be foolish on our part. Not only would we be sacrificing more time than we can afford, but everyone is already exhausted from the extra distance that they've had to cover going around it."

Although I tried to sound casual and calculating, I couldn't completely hide the frustration in my voice. Before I could continue, Jon piped up, "I'm going back. Since it was my shortsightedness that has brought this predicament on us, it's only fair that I be the one to deal with it."

"No!" I stated matter-of-factly, sounding short with him, though it wasn't my intention. Then, speaking more calmly, I added, "No one is going back. Even if you had the strength and endurance, we don't have the time." Suddenly, I realized the importance of conducting myself diplomatically if I intended to hold on to Jon's recently offered loyalty. If I disgraced him now, in front of everyone, he would despise me for it. What ground I had achieved with Lipton's help, would be lost in an instant. Instead, I needed to give the impression that I'd given it more thought and had reconsidered. I needed to make it look as if I had been a little too hasty in coming to the conclusion that we needed to fight the beast.

Repeating myself, I continued, "No, the more I think on it, the more I think you might have been right all along. We could have lost more people by rushing in and attacking the beast without putting together a proper plan. As it is, we lost only the one woman. Though I feel sorry for even that loss, we cannot wait here and mourn for her. We must continue forward at once, as you've suggested. However, instead of traveling with most of our strength at the head of the column, we will break up the men with weapons and position them equally along the length of our column. Unfortunately, we will have to send a volunteer back to retrieve the piece of equipment that the poor woman was carrying. We'll need someone with the strength to catch up with us once he has the equipment. In addition, they'll also have to be wily enough to avoid the beast. We can't afford for them to be caught by it. Since you know your men better than I do, it's only right that you should decide who will be positioned at the front of the column with Lipton and me, and who will bring up the rear. Most importantly, though, you have to decide who will remain behind."

"That is easy," he quickly replied with a smile, all animosity gone from his demeanor. "I will take the point. You, Fayze, and Lipton will be the strength at the head of the column, close behind me. We will put all the men armed with long-knives at the rear. They should be more than adequate to protect us from the beast." Hesitating for a moment as he looked over the heads of his men, he suddenly pointed to a young, wiry looking fellow. "You, Milo, you'll fetch the woman's lading and then catch up with the rest of us as best you can."

The young man named Milo slowly nodded his head, his expression conveying his disappointment. Without a word, though, he turned and started back down the trail from whence I'd just come. Jon, turning his attention back to us, continued. "When we catch up to Balzar, we'll reconnoiter and implement our original plan. Hopefully by then, Milo will have caught up with us. He is a good man and I wouldn't want him absent when we go against a foe like Balzar."

He spoke easily and with authority, almost daring me to contradict him. Since I didn't have a better idea of my own, I quickly agreed with him. However, whether he was aware of it or not, if I'd had a better idea, I wouldn't have hesitated to speak it.

After taking just a minute to give Tye a hug, he set off down the trail ahead of us. Meanwhile, his armed men rested while the body of the caravan reformed itself and fell in behind Lipton and myself. Looking into the faces of the men and women that had been designated to carrying the equipment, I saw nothing but fatigue. Even in the short time since leaving the basin behind, their faces had taken on blank stares. Between the exertion and stress that they'd been through, I had to wonder how they would fight when we finally caught up with Balzar. Even fresh and armed with proper weapons, we couldn't diminish the fact that we were still seriously outnumbered. I felt compelled to ask myself, "Were we just committing suicide?"

With Fayze still carrying the boy, we set off after Jon. Almost begrudgingly, I had to admit that Jon was a good judge of character. If the choice had been left up to me, with regard to who would be left behind to retrieve the dead woman's load, I probably would have selected Milo, too. Although I'd not had an opportunity to talk to him personally, I had seen him around. For a young man, and I use that term loosely, he carried himself very well, demonstrating a much more mature attitude than his boyish looks exhibited. In a way, he reminded me of myself when I was younger.

Though the members of the column were beat and exhausted, we made good time. The trail remained easy to follow, presenting us with few detours around obstacles that we couldn't traverse or push through.

After nearly three more hours of traveling, we suddenly came upon Jon. He was sitting in the middle of the trail sipping water from his bag. At first thought, his actions with regard to the water supply seemed almost frivolous. We were all thirsty and dehydrated to varying degrees, yet we refrained ourselves from over indulging of the precious liquid. My first instinct was to reprimand him. But using restraint, I bit my tongue instead, opting to wait and hear his explanation. After all, this might just be his first drink of water since we split up. In which case, he was entitled.

But because of the way his mouth lingered on the neck of the flagon, I couldn't help but think that he'd been doing a lot more than sipping lately. Casually looking up, he suddenly lifted the bag over his head and began emptying the contents over himself. Unable to control my rage at this outrageous affront, I lunged forward and wrenched the almost empty flagon from his hands.

Laughing, he rolled over onto his side, relinquishing his hold on the flagon as he did so. For the briefest of moments, I wondered if he'd lost his mind. In the past, when flying rescue missions, I'd seen several people that had succumbed to varying degrees of heat sickness. The way Jon was acting now made me think of them.

Handing the empty flagon to Lipton, I reached forward and grabbed Jon by the shoulder, intending to give him a good shake. If that didn't bring him around to his senses, I would use my fists on him.

Before I could get a firm hold on his sweat-slicked skin, he spoke up, waving me off at the same time. "Enough, enough already," he laughingly cried out. "It's not what you think." Still laughing, he pointed to a place over his shoulder, saying, "Over there. There's more over there."

Looking in the direction that he was indicating, I immediately saw the shiny reflection of the moon off the glassy surface of a pool of water. Either Jon had been lucky to find it, or his scouts had left directions on the trail pointing the way. In either case, it was a Godsend. In our fatigued state, we would have walked right past it and never seen it.

Even before Jon could set up a perimeter of guards, the rogues were shedding their respective packs and running with abandon through the dense foliage, guided by the shimmer of light and the anticipation of rejuvenation that only water could bring. Tempted as I was to join them, I refrained, preferring to take the first watch. Someone had to remain behind on the trail with the gear and keep a lookout for danger. Moreover, that someone needed a clear head and alert senses; something none of the others would have until they'd had their time in the pool.

With everyone in or around the pool, the area near the trail became silent, almost ominously so. In a way, this was good. With the natural creatures and insects remaining silent, I was better able to hear any approaching danger, despite the dull roar and occasional screams coming from the direction of the pool.

Everyone was having a good time, splashing and playing in the water. The discovery of the pond triggered a release from the tension that had been growing ominously along the column since losing one to the great beast. With each step westward, we put more distance between the rising sun and the memory of the vicious death. Soon, they would remember the event only in the abstract, and not with the graphically gory details. In addition, we also decreased the distance between Balzar and us, and the inevitable confrontation that will ensue when we meet.

After sitting in silence for a while, I suddenly decided to move off the trail and set up my watch on the side opposite from the pool. In time, the first to return to the trail would probably prepare a camp meal for the rest before settling in for a nap. When they did, I'd single out a replacement for myself, and then take my own turn in the pond.

Before I could even begin to contemplate the cool, refreshing water that awaited me, my thoughts turned to Loté, and the hardship she was enduring at Balzar's hands. With my thoughts of her, came the guilt, swarming up out of the depths and throwing itself over me like a hot soggy blanket. Before I could reign it in, I was questioning my motives for being here, asking myself how I could have put her life in such peril? Already, the detour that I'd insisted upon had taken the lives of two of my closest friends, and put the woman I loved in my worst enemy's hands; I had to stop him!

The more I thought about it, the more my determination grew.

As I sat contemplating my situation and that of my friends, I watched absently as the first of the rogues made their way back from the pond. Even in my preoccupied state, I could tell that there was something profoundly different about them, and it went far beyond the mere fact that their hair was plastered wetly to their heads. The time spent in the pond had transformed them. Their worn and bedraggled expressions had been replaced with smiles. The sullenness and deeply etched wrinkles lining their faces had been washed away, revealing their lighter spirits. Laughter and joking drowned out any vestiges of despair. Even before I rose, anticipating the effects of the water on my own body and spirit, my heart was being lifted from its sorry depths by the new sights and sounds surrounding me. I couldn't help but think that this was exactly what we needed to boost our morale before confronting an enemy like Balzar.

Jon, among the first to return to the trail, saw me rising to my feet and harkened out to me. "Rod, I was wondering where you had gone off to. Let me relieve you so that you can go and enjoy the water too."

"Thanks," I said softly, not wanting to disrupt the pleasantries of the camp.

"I would have relieved you earlier, but I wasn't sure where to look for you," he added, a note of apology in his voice.

"It's all right, don't worry about it. I needed the time alone to do some thinking, anyway," I nonchalantly offered, brushing him off as I headed toward the water.

Working my way through the freshly trampled foliage, I came upon a small group of men and women. Their posture indicated that they were reluctant to leave the pleasure of the water. Sitting half in and half out of the pool, they continued talking, barely taking note of my arrival.

Slipping the sheath and long-knife from my hip, I laid it on the higher edge of the bank, where the thick layer of moss and thinner layer of ash hadn't been churned to mud by the earlier hi-jinks. Then, slowly, I slipped into the water, luxuriating in its caress, letting it wash away my worrisome thoughts.

As I slipped beneath the surface, my buttocks sliding along the slick mud on the bottom, I was suddenly aware of a hand grabbing my right ankle and lifting skyward. Before I could kick out with my left, a hand grabbed it, also, and lifted upward.

Though I struggled and kicked, my efforts were futile. With each kick, I could feel my backside sliding back and forth against the slick bottom. It was impossible to plant myself and get the necessary leverage to kick free.

When I felt as if my lungs were about to explode, my ankles were suddenly released, allowing me to plant them beneath me and stand upright. As my head broke the surface, spitting and coughing, gasping for breath, I grabbed blindly toward the person responsible for my discomfort.

Finding the shoulders of my assailant, I latched on with a firm grip and threw my weight against them, forcing them off balance. With a hard, downward force, I drove my assailant under, abruptly cutting off their scream as the water closed over their head. Bubbles and water erupted in a turbulent flow from their open mouth.

Immediately, I recognized the sound of the voice for who it was. However, before I could change tactics, another body joined in the fray, pulling itself up and onto my shoulders. Releasing my hold on the first assailant, I reached over my head and grabbed the second, smaller one, around the waist. Before he could throw himself clear, I flipped him over and held him head-down in the water.

Once again, though, before I could hold him under until I felt he had enough, the first assailant, whom I could clearly see now, dove toward me. Intending to throw her shoulder against my legs, and drive me off balance in the water, I reacted before she could reach me. Releasing the second, smaller assailant, I prepared to intercept her.

When her outstretched hands found only my hands, instead, she quickly reversed her strategy. Hoping to use my own forward momentum to her advantage, she held on to my hands and kicked away, pulling me forward and off balance. Playing along, I surged toward her, grabbing her around the waist. Laughing and spitting water, we came up together. But even before I could reprimand her for her prank, Tye, the second assailant, came charging to her rescue.

"I give, I give!" I shouted, hoping to arrest his assault.

Looking coyly at me, a gleam of mischief in her eyes, Fayze asked, "Are you sure you've had enough?"

Though I was hesitant to say yes, I couldn't find it in me to say no, either. Using Tye as a distraction so that I wouldn't have to give her an answer, I grabbed the boy and threw him into the air. Fayze, realizing that she wasn't going to get a reply, dropped the innuendos and threw her arms around me. Though I hesitated for only a moment, I grabbed her wrists and wrenched them from around my neck. Before releasing them, though, I clamped down hard enough to make her wince, hoping I had her full attention.

Then, slapping them down on the water, I looked her in the eye and said, "What feelings I have for you are strictly platonic. Although I find you to be a very attractive woman, I wish you would show me at least enough respect so that I don't have to feel uncomfortable in your presence. Can you do that for me? Please," I begged, fighting hard to hide my all-to-real desires for her.

If she persisted, I feared that I would be unable to resist, though I knew it was wrong. She belonged to Lipton! And more importantly, I belonged to Loté. Although I was drawn by the juices flowing between my thighs, my heart beat only for Loté.

Tye, meanwhile, resurfaced, his face lit up with the joy and excitement of the play. Splashing water on us by skimming his hand across the surface, he yelled and taunted, trying to draw us back into his game. Without looking at Fayze, I dove beneath the surface, my arms reaching out for the slender little legs that supported him. Finding his ankles, I grabbed them with my hands and lifted. Standing to my full height, he came shooting out of the water. With all my strength, I pushed skyward. Coming to the end of my reach, I released his ankles, sending him soaring even higher. Screaming with delight, he arched over and dove back into the water, splashing Fayze and I and sending a wake that disrupted the stragglers on the bank. Despite the intrusion into their respite, no one became upset; the overall mood was much too tranquil to allow anxiety back in.

Leaving Tye to paddle around in the water a while longer, Fayze and I made our way to a moss-covered place on the bank that was devoid of people. With the smell of meat cooking over an open fire, the first since leaving the basin, almost everyone had headed back to the trail and the makeshift campsite; the smell of food triggered a hunger that quickly replaced the need for rest and cleanliness.

Lying back on the soft, green moss, I closed my eyes and remembered another time, a time when Loté and I had first met. Before I could reminisce, though, Fayze's voice broke through my daydream, bringing me back to the present.

"I'm sorry that I came on to you like that, Rod," she said softly. "You won't tell Lipton, will you?"

"The thought never crossed my mind," I replied, speaking honestly.

After an uncomfortable moment of silence, I added, "You're a very beautiful woman, Fayze. Even though I don't fully comprehend the situation between you and Lipton, I'm not so blind that I can't see there's something there. Yet, even with that entire aside, I can't deny my feelings for Loté."

"It was wrong of me to come on to you. All the same, you must admit that we find each other attractive, even if our feelings don't go any deeper than that. Moreover, and you can't deny this, even if you persist in denying our mutual sexual attraction, we share something deeper than just two casual acquaintances; we are friends. For that reason alone, I can promise you that it won't happen again," she continued. Although I was disappointed that she could find it within herself to control her feelings of lust toward me, I was also relieved. "In the future, I will make it a point to see you as a friend, and nothing more. You should never have to feel uncomfortable because of me."

"I'm glad that you see me as your friend," I truthfully acknowledged, inwardly glad that she wasn't going to ignore me completely.

"I'm your friend, too," Tye suddenly piped up, coming in on the last part of our conversation.

Fayze, reaching out and pulling him close to her, said, "You're more than just a friend. You're my little man."

"I'm hungry," he blurted, squirming to escape her grasp.

Without another word, he went charging back toward the makeshift campsite, his nose following the delicious fragrance of food roasting over an open fire. Already it permeated the still air surrounding us, the bluish colored smoke slowly spreading out, its tentacles reaching ever deeper into the surrounding foliage.

With all the impact of a blow over the head with a big stick, it suddenly dawned on me; who authorized the campfire? Everyone knew that we were much too close to Balzar and his army to risk the smoke! A keen jungle nose could probably smell our meat cooking for more than ten miles in every direction!

In my own weary and preoccupied state of mind, I had neglected to give it any thought. I was more concerned with taking a cool bath and washing off the heat and grime. How could we have been so foolish?

Jumping to my feet, I turned and raced back toward the campsite, calling out Jon's name as I went. Fayze, not understanding or comprehending my sudden outburst, jumped to her feet and gave chase. Any other woman would have been grabbing me, slowing me down with her questions. Not Fayze, she was jungle bred and raised a rogue. When I found Jon, she would hold her tongue and listen. If she had any questions after that, if she deemed the time and urgency correct, she would ask them then.

As we came bursting forth, Jon, hearing my calls, had positioned himself at the edge of the trail, his weapon at the ready. Strung out behind him and ready for anything was the remainder of the camp's occupants.

Out of breath, I leaned on his shoulder for support and gasped, "Who authorized the fire?"

Lipton, having worked his way forward to stand beside Jon, figured out immediately what I was driving at. Turning to face Jon, he said, "You were the first to leave the pond. I remember you saying something about relieving Rod. So, who was it Jon, who lit the fire? You were here when it was lit. Go ahead, Jon, tell us who it was."

"I'm not sure," he stammered nervously, if not just a bit unconvincingly.

"It was you! Wasn't it?" I accused, remembering him coming back to the trail by himself and offering to relieve me.

When I thought back on it, I thought he was acting rather strange at the time. However, I'd been too tired to take proper notice, and that made me as guilty as the next man. In my lassitude, all I could think about was getting into the pool, and the relief that awaited me there.

"I'll handle this, Rod," cut in Lipton matter-of-factly, the sound of his voice catching me by surprise.

But I wasn't willing to concede to him, I wanted a piece of the traitor for myself. If anyone deserved a piece of him, I felt that I did!

Holding the sheathed long-knife in my left hand, my right grasping the hilt, I stood my ground before them. It was a standoff. Though Jon's hand was resting lightly on the hilt of his own weapon, having promptly re-sheathed it when he realized that there wasn't any immediate danger, his fingers weren't closed around the hilt. Yet, like me, he was waiting for the other to make the first move.

"No! Stop this now," cried Lipton, forcing himself between us. "It was I that lit the fire, not Jon."

"He's a traitor, Lipton, don't stand up for him! He's not worth the trouble."

"No, he's not a traitor. He knew that it was I that lit the fire. That's why he refused to answer your question."

Turning away from Jon, my eyes going to Lipton's, I incredulously asked, "What were you thinking of?"

"I guess I wasn't," he humbly replied, looking away.

Returning my gaze to Jon, I asked of him, "How could you allow anyone to build a fire, knowing how close we might be to Balzar and his army?"

Turning away, his anger getting the best of him, he fired back, "I was tired too!"

Watching him stride away, I considered my words. They couldn't be taken back, and I regretted that. Although I'd just called him a traitor, he had the decency to refrain from drawing his weapon on me. In fact, he had a habit of standing with his hand resting loosely on the hilt of his weapon. It suddenly dawned on me, humiliating me even more than I already was; he did not intend to draw his weapon on me, even in self-defense!

"Rod." It was Lipton's voice. He sounded drained and exhausted, all the benefits of the pool forgotten. "It's too late to undo what has been done. You might as well get the pleasure from the cooked meat that the rest of us have. Besides, you need the nourishment."

Turning away from him, I muttered, "I've lost my appetite."

With nowhere else to go, I started down the trail toward Loté. I was suddenly tired of thinking of our destination as 'Balzar's camp', or 'Balzar's army', or just plain 'Balzar'! From here on out, it would be 'Loté'. We were going to 'Loté'. Or rather, I was going to 'Loté'. If the others wanted to come along, they were still welcome. But I was going to my 'Loté'.

As I walked, I refastened the long-knife to my hip. When I'd gone less than a mile, I suddenly stopped. Walking alone in silence, I had time to do some thinking, time in which I was able to sort through my thoughts. Although I was angry, my anger wasn't directed toward anyone but me. What I was feeling toward Lipton was disappointment. He should have known better than to light a fire so close to our enemy. What was he thinking of? Were we really so tired that we were growing careless?

And then there was Jon. Though he knew why I was upset, he stood silently, letting me accuse him of being a traitor, rather than divulge that Lipton had a moment of poor judgment. He did this, knowing that his friend had made a dire mistake. Yet, he was willing to pay the consequences for his friend's momentary lapse of judgment. Lipton sure knew how to pick his friends; I had to give him that.

Still, I had to wonder; did that picking of friends include me? Because if it did include me, I'm afraid, I've turned out to be a sorry example, a genuine disappointment. Just because Lipton experienced a slight lapse of judgment, unlike Jon, who stood up for him, I turned and walked away. What was I thinking of?

Still berating myself for my lapse of common sense, I turned back in the direction from which I'd just come. If for no other reason, I owed Lipton and Jon an apology. In addition, I didn't have any supplies with me, and already my appetite was returning. Maybe if I hurried, there would still be some of that meat left simmering on the fire.

Less than a quarter of a mile into my return trip, I was suddenly aware of noises coming down the trail toward me. Assuming that it was Jon and Lipton with the rest of the group in tow, I moved to the side of the trail and settled down to wait for them.

While I waited, I considered what must have transpired after my departure. Regarding how tired everyone was, I was a bit surprised that they could roust the camp in such short order. Lipton must have felt like a bigger fool than I had given him credit for being. In his embarrassment, he must have really lit a fire under the others, making them feel equally guilty for partaking in the feast without considering the risk. Considering the lifestyle of rogues and bandits, a lifestyle that demanded constant vigilance, it amazed me to no end that they would allow the fire to continue to burn, even if they had no say in the start of it.

Of course, I would accept their apology with grace and humility. Then, to show my sincerity, I would offer to carry my share of the equipment and supplies, or whatever they saw fit. In the meantime, though, I would enjoy this moment of peace and relaxation for all it was worth.

The sound of footsteps treading lightly on the drying grass of the trail grew gradually louder and more pronounced. It was with a start that I suddenly realized that what I was hearing was the sound of two people moving swiftly along the trail; two people that had thrown caution to the wind in favor of making good time. Was it possible that Lipton and Fayze were coming on ahead of the others, hoping to overtake me so they could talk to me alone?

Even as I considered it, the idea didn't seem likely. Although it was cooler here than it had been since entering the basin, only a fool would purposely work up a sweat by running.

A new idea suddenly sprang to mind; they were being chased by the beast! The solitary woman's body hadn't been enough to assuage its appetite.

Yet, as quickly as the idea came to mind, I discarded it. If it was Lipton or Fayze, or anyone else from the column for that matter, where were the others?

An uneasy feeling came over me. Without rising, I moved slowly back from the edge of the trail, silently drawing my weapon as I did. The sound of footsteps was closing in rapidly. In a matter of seconds, they would be even with my position.

Crouching forward, my legs drawn up beneath me like a pair of tightly wound springs readied to be released, I listened as the sound of running feet padded past me. With the steel blade of the long-knife held levelly in front of me, I bolted upright, coming to my full height as I reached the middle of the trail. Turning to face the two bare backs as they continued running, I realized that neither of them was from the column.

"Hey!" I yelled, startling them out of their rhythm.

Without coming to a complete stop, they swung around to face their challenger, cleanly drawing their weapons from their respective sheathes as they did so.

The surprise on their faces was matched only by the surprise on my own. Immediately, they recognized me for who I was, and vice versa; I was facing two of Balzar's finest soldiers! Even without their breastplates, which they'd discarded because of the extreme heat, I recognized their weapons and the distinct military manner in which they brandished them.

"It's him!" one cried out incredulously to the other.

The other, knowing Balzar wanted me alive, could think of only one thing to say in response. "You kill him."

They argued back and forth for a minute while I slowly closed the distance separating us. Like them, I was undecided as to what I should do. Instead of fighting them, possibly even killing them, and thereby reducing the overall odds against us, I could send them on to Balzar with a message. They could tell him of our intentions to trade me for Loté and the balance of the recycling equipment. However, the finer details of our plan called for the illusion of me as a prisoner of the rogues. With regard to these two, they would never believe that I was a prisoner. They would quickly tell Balzar that I was acting in concert with the rogues.

Unfortunately, for them, that left only one option, they had to die.

I couldn't allow them to escape. If word got back to Balzar that I was in league with the rogues, my plan was useless.

By the time they realized that I had closed the distance between us, it was too late for them to run. Moreover, since neither was willing to deliver the lethal blow, it wasn't really much of a fight. The first went down with a sweeping arc across his midsection, effectively eviscerating him on his feet.

When the second man finally reacted, the sight of his partner laying on the trail at his feet with his internal organs turning the green foliage a bright red, I was waiting for his move. However, instead of simply parrying my blows and putting up a weak offense to wear me down, he suddenly became frantic. He had heard the stories; overly exaggerated I'm sure, of my prowess with a long-knife. Now of a sudden, here he was, facing me alone in battle. He would have reassessed his strategy, with complete confidence of the outcome, if he had only known how exhausted I was.

Fortunately, for me, he wasn't aware of the depth of my fatigue. He didn't know that I couldn't remember the last time that I'd had a real meal, or that I had left the others behind without bringing along any water. He couldn't, and didn't, know any of this. All he knew for sure was that he faced a legendary opponent, and his partner was already dead. And although that alone was intimidating, he was also torn because of his orders not to kill me.

It was imperative that I finish him quickly, before my strength left me completely. Pressing forward, I stepped over the dead soldier, forcing him to retreat. With each slashing swing, he easily parried, countering with one of his own. Yet, he pulled his thrusts, carefully calculating his ripostes to avoid seriously injuring me. Meanwhile, my arm grew tired, the blade becoming heavier in my hand with each blow that I delivered. If I didn't finish him quickly, he was going to feel the quickly escalating weakness in my swing, and the clumsiness in my movements.

Suddenly, his ankle caught on a vine running across the trail, and he stumbled. In the tunnels and catacombs of Heälf, there were no vines or low-growing foliage to impede a warrior. Moving to catch himself and keep from falling, he dropped his guard. It was for only a fraction of a second, and he realized his error immediately. But it was the break that I needed. Before he could adjust for his error, I lunged forward, the tip of my blade finding the center of his chest. It was a prick that would normally be followed by a straightforward stabbing motion, an easy kill with a less experienced combatant. But he was not an inexperienced opponent, and I didn't follow through with the expected thrust.

Instead of what he expected and assumed to be the next move, one that he would counter almost instinctively, I twisted my wrist and swept the blade from north to south. Catching him in the act of defending an assault that wasn't forthcoming, my long-knife slashed open the flesh of his thighs, leaving him dumbfounded and in shock.

As the blade thudded solidly against his femur, it was all I could do to keep from losing my grip on it. With a satisfaction born of victory, I could feel the grind of sharpened steel grating against human bone.

Before the shock of his impending death could fully sink in, I reversed my thrust and raised the blade viciously upward. Moving from south to north this time, the heavy steel blade laid open his face from the bottom of his chin to the top of his forehead, cutting off his life and any sound that might have been forthcoming.

Unlike his comrade, he was dead before he hit the ground.

Falling to my knees, I came to rest on the hilt of the long-knife, the bloodied blade poised against the hard stone of the planet's surface. Noisily, I breathed in sweet air, gulping it down, feeling as though I would never get enough. My head began to spin, and I felt as though I were going to pass out. Unable to move, I waited for the feeling to pass. With slow relief, my eyes cleared, and the world stopped moving.

It was then that I noticed the small pack lying to the side of the trail. One of the soldiers must have discarded it before the fight, intending to retrieve it afterwards.

Moving slowly, and using the long-knife for a crutch, I hobbled along the trail until I came to it. Although my head wasn't spinning any longer, I still didn't trust myself to stand. Reaching into the dense foliage, I pulled the pack to me. After fumbling with the leather drawstring for a moment, I finally managed to open it. Peering inside, I was delighted to find an almost, but not quite empty, flagon. Before searching farther into the contents of my newly acquired pack, I pulled out the flagon and uncorked it, emptying it down my throat without pause. Lying beneath the flagon was a stash of dried meat, origin unknown, and a large chunk of moldy cheese.

Despite the pasty color of the meat, I bit off a good-sized hunk and started chewing. To my good fortune, it hadn't been preserved with salt, as was most meat that was preserved below the planet's surface. In my hungry state, I was careful not to judge it for taste, preferring instead to just chew and swallow.

Within a few moments, I regretted having finished off the water so quickly. Between the meat and moldy cheese, my mouth had grown dry, making it increasingly difficult to swallow. Though I was still hungry, I was eventually forced to give up on it. It would have to suffice that I'd eaten enough to take the edge off my appetite, for now.

After a few minutes of rest, I felt my strength returning. When I deemed it safe to stand, I did so, but very cautiously. Carefully, I wiped the bloodied long-knife off on the green foliage beside the trail. After returning it to its sheath, I stooped over and picked up the dead soldier's fanny pack. There were still a few items in it that I felt I might have a further need for, notwithstanding, a small roll of bandaging material and a block of blood clotting paste. The latter of which was intended for external use only.

The act of bending over left me feeling a bit woozy, but my head quickly cleared. Unfortunately, there wasn't anything in the pack for my specific symptoms.

Turning back in the direction from which I had come, I contemplated retracing my footsteps back to the others. The alternative, which I found much more appealing, was to wait for them to catch up with me. The only problem that I had with the latter scenario was that it meant someone else would have to carry my share of the load until reaching this point. No matter how I tried to justify it, the idea of someone else carrying my share in my absence, plus their own share of the load, didn't sit well with me. As much as I didn't fancy the prospect of it, I determined that I needed to retrace my steps.

No sooner had I turned to start back down the trail, though, than I saw Jon approaching. Close on his heels was none other than Lipton, and chasing behind him, Tye. Soon, Fayze, and then the rest of the column became visible, materializing out of the jungle foliage even as I watched.

Standing my ground, I waited for Jon to get closer before hailing him. Immediately his eyes swept past me, taking in the two dead soldiers. The concern that I saw on his face just a moment before was quickly replaced with a smile.

"I see you cut our odds down by a couple," he said cheerily in greeting.

"Yes," I nonchalantly acknowledged. "But it does concern me just a little that I ran into these two without meeting up with your scouts first."

His smile quickly vanished, being replaced with a look of consternation. "You have a good point. I don't see how these two could have slipped past my scouts without their catching wind of them." He paused for a moment, while considering the alternatives.

Treading over his thoughts, I volunteered, "Maybe they did catch wind of them."

"Are you suggesting that these two were able to overpower my scouts, without getting so much as a scratch on them?" he asked incredulously. Then, his tone turning accusatory, he added, "Unless, of course, they were already dead or dying when you came upon them."

"They were alive and well. And there wasn't a scratch on them," I hissed through my teeth, fighting to control my rising anger. "Look for yourself. You'll note how fresh the wounds are."

Lipton caught up to us, and suddenly sensing the tension in the air, cautiously asked, "What's the story here?"

Before I could answer, Jon said, "He claims to have killed these two. We were just trying to figure out how they managed to get past my scouts, without a scratch on them," he added with a slur.

"Is it possible that we're closer to Balzar's camp than we'd thought?" Lipton asked of him, instantly throwing him off guard.

"Impossible! My scouts will be waiting on the trail for us when they catch up to his forces. Do you see them anywhere?"

"That's exactly what I'm getting at, Jon," replied Lipton. "They might have gotten too close to Balzar's camp. They might have been captured or killed. Even now, as we speak, Balzar's soldiers could be setting up a perimeter around us!"

"I don't think so," I calmly suggested.

"Then what do you think?" scoffed Jon.

"I think Lipton is partially correct. Your scouts have either been taken prisoner, or killed. Of that, I agree. These two, now, I think were lookouts. They're supposed to alert Balzar when the rest of you show up. Unfortunately, for them, they weren't expecting me to come alone. When they couldn't decide if they should kill me, which would have gone against their leader's orders, or run back to warn their comrades, I took the advantage and killed them."

"Then what do you suggest we do now?" asked Lipton, his question clearly aimed at me and not Jon.

The remainder of the column had gotten close enough to see the bodies, setting off a small murmuring of comments as word spread to those nearer the rear. Fayze, seeing the new lines of fatigue etched into my face, quickly uncorked her flagon and handed it to me.

"Thanks," I acknowledged, taking the proffered flagon. After taking a good long swallow, I handed the flagon back to her with a nod, and then turned my attention back to Jon and Lipton. "First off, Jon, see to it that the right people get these weapons," I said, handing him the sheathed long-knives that I'd taken from the dead soldiers. "We still need to implement our plan, but with a few modifications." Before anyone could speak, I started laying out the new details. "Since we don't have anyone to tell us how far we are from Balzar's camp, we'll have to break into two groups at this time. The first group will be our main band of warriors. The second will be our support. All the supplies will be transported by the second group, while all the weapons and fighting men will form the spearhead."

"What about the beast?" asked Fayze concernedly. "We can't leave our tail exposed without any protection. If that thing is coming down our back trail, the people in group two will be defenseless against it!"

Jon squirmed beneath my steady gaze, realizing again that he had screwed up by not heeding my suggestion. Nevertheless, that was in the past, and it couldn't be undone. Throwing blame and making accusations wouldn't solve anything.

Satisfied that I'd let him squirm long enough, I was about to let Fayze know that as far as the beast was concerned, they were on their own. Although I didn't like it any more than they did, I couldn't see what else we could do.

Before the words left my mouth, though, Jon spoke up, "I'll stay behind. Give me a fist full of the little spears and a flagon of water. If and when Milo shows up, he can relieve me."

"Your presence is more important at the front of the first group," I quickly stated, not allowing for any argument on the subject. "Like you say, if and when Milo arrives, he can remain with the second group. If he doesn't arrive, we can assume the creature won't be hungry for a while."

No one said a word, in argument or support, so I suggested to Jon that he should inform the others in the column, and to sort out the members of each group; it was time to get started.

### **15**

With Jon taking the point, group one set off down the trail, each member feeling trepidation and anxiety over the upcoming battle. Following us at a slower pace was a nervous group two. Although they were equally anxious about the upcoming battle, and how their friends and comrades in group one would fare against the better armed and better trained soldiers of Balzar's, their immediate concern was the vicious beast just a short distance down their back trail. All of them had witnessed the ease with which the creature had plucked up and killed a full grown woman. And all of them realized the futility of fighting it with little more than sharpened sticks; they were virtually unarmed.

Group one, although better armed than group two, wasn't completely armed either. Though most of the men were carrying long-knives, a goodly number still only had fists full of sticks with shaven points that had been hardened by fire. The plan called for arming the unarmed men as weapons could be procured from Balzar's dead soldiers. But that relied on the armed ones amongst us making dead soldiers from which to retrieve those weapons.

We knew the two soldiers that I'd killed were scouts from Balzar's army. They were regular sub-surface dwellers with a minimum of surface experience. Because Balzar wasn't using the more knowledgeable surface dwelling rogues for scouts, we assumed that he no longer trusted those that remained with him.

The two dead soldiers probably had orders to make their way back to camp the minute they saw anyone coming down the trail. In a way, it was our good fortune that I came ahead of the others. If I had not stumbled upon them returning to tell Balzar of our location, we might not have known that we'd been spotted, and could be walking into an ambush. Without the element of surprise, we didn't stand a chance. Worse yet, if Balzar ambushed us, we'd never get the opportunity to try my plan, such as it were. And despite the fact that it might fail miserably, even with the element of surprise, it was better than not having a plan at all, which would never get my Loté back.

Jon suddenly halted, signaling for everyone else to do likewise. With Lipton close behind, I hastily shuffled forward, keeping low and quiet until I came abreast of him.

Putting our heads close together, Jon whispered in broken sentences, "Two men. Forty feet ahead. One, either side of the trail. Less than ten feet off."

I glanced at Lipton. He in turn nodded at Jon. Without a word, we had agreed that I would take the one on the right, while Jon took the one on the left. Lipton would remain where he was on the trail and wait for us to signal him of our respective successes. If something happened to either or both of us, it would be up to Lipton to salvage the mission. He was ultimately responsible for making sure that no one got away from us and warned Balzar. With that accomplished, he would assume the role of leader.

Sitting silently in the center of the trail, his casualness belying his true tension; he was wound up tight, ready to take whatever action was necessary.

Moving swiftly and silently, I slinked through the dense jungle foliage. When I had gone less than twenty feet from the trail, I made a sharp turn to my left, and started toward my quarry. My intention was to come up from behind him. If his attention was as concentrated on the trail as I suspected, he wouldn't be expecting someone to approach him from behind, and I would catch him completely unawares.

After working my way through the foliage paralleling the trail for forty feet, I silently drew the long-knife and turned sharply to my left again. Directly ahead of me was a slightly denser clump of growth. If my estimates and instincts were correct, my quarry was sitting in the center of the dense clump of leaves, now less than ten feet in front of me.

As I was about to move forward, a cry erupted from across the trail. Jon had slipped up! Whether his quarry escaped or not, I didn't have time to wonder. Throwing caution to the wind, I leapt toward the dense clump of foliage that marked my quarry's concealment. Moving swiftly forward, I swung the heavy steel blade downward, feeling it slice easily through the sappy green leaves.

With a thunk, its downward progress abruptly stopped, sending a whistling pain shooting into my wrist and up my forearms. Though I expected to strike something, the suddenness with which it stopped was stunning. The blade came loose as I momentarily lost my grip on the hilt. In horror, I watched as it jerked forward, away from me, and then slowly sank in an arc toward the ground.

Lunging forward, I reached out and grabbed it with both hands, impeding its forward momentum. As I stepped forward to brace myself against its pull, I parted the crimson-splattered leaves and realized for the first time that my weapon was imbedded in a man's skull, almost to his neck.

Steadying the blade with my left hand, I shook my right loosely, trying to speed up the circulation and quicken the return of sensation to it. Feeling as though it had been shot through with pins and needles, it slowly came around, responding to my wishes with increasing strength. When I was able to close it tightly, I grabbed the hilt with both hands and rocked it back and forth, hurriedly working it loose. Though it seemed as if hours had passed since the cry from across the trail, I knew it to be mere seconds.

Accompanied by a loud sucking noise, the blade suddenly popped free, and I rocked back on my heels from my momentum. A heavy gray mucous clung to the trailing edge of the blade, and upon closer inspection, continued oozing from the open wound. Despite the cleaved face, I recognized him as one of Balzar's soldiers.

Satisfied that he was dead, I furtively scanned the immediate area, and then let my eyes search the foliage directly across the trail from me. To my immediate relief, I saw Jon working his way back toward the trail, his own blade a bright crimson. He was moving slowly and cautiously, his eyes glancing furtively in every direction, his blade held at the ready.

Like Jon, I also moved cautiously back to the trail. We had just penetrated Balzar's outer perimeter, now our success depended on our stealth. If we weren't under such enormous stress, it would be a time of celebration. Not only had we kept our presence a secret for the time being, we had two more weapons.

"Pass these back," I softly suggested when we met up on the trail. "I'll wait here."

Without a sound, he quickly backtracked to the others, carrying the precious weapons by their hilts, since neither of us wasted any time removing the dead soldier's sheathes.

He returned almost immediately with Lipton, the others following close behind. Speaking softly, I reminded them that it was time to spread out. A small contingent would move off to the left, while another would work their way around to the right. The plan called for a simultaneous attack from the north and south, but only after Lipton and I had their full attention. Once the attacks started, it was up to Lipton and me to rescue Loté while several others located the recycling equipment.

Of the five of us remaining on the trail leading into Balzar's camp, except for the pointed sticks, we had no real weapons. Although it wasn't easy, we had surrendered our long-knives to the men working our flank.

With everyone set and understanding their respective roles, Jon gave the signal, setting the wheels into motion. Almost as an afterthought, Fayze turned back to me and handed me Loté's bejeweled knife. It was an awkward moment. She clearly wanted to say something, but couldn't bring herself to mouth the words.

Taking the proffered knife, I simply said thanks. Before I could say any more, even if I'd been inclined to, which I wasn't, she turned and hurried off into the foliage to catch up with the rest of her contingent.

Looking down at the weapon in my hand, I thought back to the last time Loté and I had been together. With my thoughts, came a rush of emotions; some were good, and some stirred up my hatred for Balzar. Taking a deep breath, I looked skyward at the two moons for a moment and thought, today is a good day to die.

Tucking the knife into its sheath, I quickly strapped it on my upper back, leaving the hilt protruding upwards, just behind and below my left shoulder. From the front, it could not be seen. But by reaching up and over my shoulder, I could readily lay hand to it.

Taking a last sip of water, I tucked the cumbersome flagon into a clump of foliage at the side of the trail. I placed it so that anyone retreating down the trail would be hard put to miss it.

Then, when I figured sufficient time had passed for the others to get into position, I nodded to Lipton. He smiled back, albeit a forced smile, and stood up to his full height. The rest of us did likewise, stretching and working out the kinks from having sat in one place for so long. There wasn't any further need to remain quiet, since it was up to us to make the initial contact with Balzar. Yet, no one spoke a word. And when we started down the trail toward the inevitable confrontation, everyone moved with an uncanny stealth, our passing even going undetected by the jungle's smaller creatures, as they kept up their cacophony of sound.

We had gone less than one thousand feet when we were suddenly confronted by two surface dwelling natives. There was no mistaking their dark skin and darker hair. Yet, recognizing them didn't de-mystify their perplexing presence here; what were two natives doing as sentries for Balzar's camp?

Or was this Balzar's camp?

Instead of long-knives, they bore spears, which they were currently brandishing above their heads, warning us no to move in a very threatening manner. Tucked into sheathes hanging loosely over their hips, were the standard surface weapons, short-bladed, bone-handled knives. And though they threatened us with their spears, I knew they could be much more deadly with the smaller steel weapons.

Raising my hand in the universal gesture of friendship, I spoke loudly enough for anyone else in the vicinity to hear, also. "I am Captain Rodick of the Heälf Air Service, formerly of the Fish tribe. This is my co-pilot, Lieutenant Lipton, also of the Heälf Air Service, formerly of the Bird tribe. These men with us are helping us find Balzar," I added, indicating the three men with us.

At the mention of Balzar's name, one of the natives replied, "Stay where you are. The man that you search for will be told of your arrival."

Without another word, the man on the right turned and trotted back down the trail. Whispering to Lipton, I said, "It is almost fortunate that Balzar has hired natives. If we had been recognized by his soldiers, there's no telling how far we would have gotten before they killed us in their over zealousness."

Lipton, all the color suddenly draining from his face, replied, "What makes you think Balzar hired natives?"

Following his eyes, my heart skipped a beat. Coming toward us, and spreading out to flank us on all sides as they did, was a large contingency of surface dwellers; a refined blend of rogues and indentured natives, all armed. Yet, what had our attention weren't the surface dwellers, but the soldiers with them. The surface dwellers, mostly armed with short knives and spears, easily outnumbered the soldiers by a margin of three-to-one. With us surrounded on all sides, all hopes of escaping were vanquished.

Realizing that we didn't stand a chance, the three rogues lowered their handfuls of sharpened sticks. With our backs together, we stood facing them. As I looked into the grinning faces of the soldiers that recognized us, it was with a growing hatred that I vowed they wouldn't take us alive. To die in battle hadn't been the main plan. However, it would be far better to die quickly and in battle, than to suffer the type of fate these animals could dish out.

A hush fell over them, followed by a parting of bodies along the trail. Just when I suspected them to indicate for us to follow the trail, a man emerged on it. To my shock and dismay, it was none other than Balzar himself, grinning from ear to ear.

"Gloating doesn't become you," I said calmly, my hand itching to go to the knife strapped on my back. He was standing on the outer edge of accurate throwing range. With a small amount of luck, I could put it in his heart before he could react. It was the only way he would ever get Loté's prized knife.

"I knew you were too tough to die so easily," he said affably, almost like two old friends reuniting after a long separation. "Yet, I never expected that you would come to me so soon. In a way, I'm saddened by your appearance. Loté and I are just getting to know each other on a much more intimate level."

He was trying to goad me into making a move. But despite my inner rage, somehow I refrained, using all my will power to remain calm. He suspected that I had a trick up my sleeve, and he was trying to force me into using it. If he knew that all I had left was a bejeweled, short-bladed knife strapped to my back, he would have ordered his men to take us. However, because of our history, he wasn't taking any chances; Captain Rodick doesn't just walk boldly into his enemy's camp, not without a plan.

To make matters worse, another man stepped out of the break in the human wall surrounding us. Although he wasn't familiar, I recognized him for what he was, a wealthy. His presence explained the army of mercenaries. Almost distractedly, I wondered if his floating castle was just a short distance up the trail, or if he had hiked back with his army to meet up with Balzar, leaving his home tethered farther to the west. Judging from the man's size, it was probably a safe assumption that his floating domain wasn't very far afield.

In my relatively few years living on the surface, by subsurface standards, thirty years was a relatively short period of time, I had only been invited aboard a wealthy's floating home once. And that was during my stint as a pilot, which was a highly honored position. To stand atop a wealthy's home, or domain, as they are more commonly referred to, is quite an experience. Most consist of a large, animal-skin bag of lighter-than-air swamp gas, upon which is built a tremendous platform. From the floor of the platform, a magnificent castle or fortress rises even higher into the gray sky. Although the actual structure, once inflated and floating above the jungle canopy is capable of supporting a large number of men and women, only the wealthy and his immediate family generally live aboard it. He and his family are accompanied only by their most trusted handmaidens and slaves, while his army and the remainder of his slaves live approximately three hundred feet directly below them, on the planet's surface.

The domain is secured by a large number of metal laces, the leading edge of which are sharp enough to slice their way through the jungle canopy. While the domain floats in the clear sky above the jungle, a number of men equal to the number of bands are tethered to the lower ends. The men wear weighted packs and serve as anchors, in addition to propelling the domain westward at a continuous, albeit, slow pace.

The only access to a wealthy's domain is by lowering a gondola. On rare occasions, the home is stopped just long enough to lift supplies and trade goods up from the surface. On even rarer occasions, as was the case here, did a wealthy leave the protection of his domain. Usually, whatever the wealthy desired, from young flesh to exotic foods, would be delivered to him.

Standing beside Balzar, he was his extreme opposite. He was so obese, and sweating profusely, that he made Keazar look svelte in comparison.

After looking me over for a minute, openly studying and appraising me, the man finally spoke, addressing his comment to Balzar. "So, this is the man that I was supposed to find for you. You do understand that just because he came so easily, and unexpectedly I might add, doesn't change the accord we've made."

Dismissing the man with a wave of his hand, he irritably stated, "Nothing has changed." Then, with his attention focused fully on me, he said, speaking to his soldiers, "Take them. But don't hurt the Captain, I want him alive."

As they moved in, quickly shrinking the circle around us, I slowly reached over my shoulder and withdrew the knife. Facing our inevitable doom, I said to Lipton and the others, "I'm truly sorry that it has to end this way."

Lipton, still holding his fistful of sharpened sticks, easily replied, "Just remember, I get the first long-knife."

The other three rogues, realizing that it had come down to fighting or surrendering to a grisly torture and eventual death, quickly bent over and retrieved their pointed sticks. No one had to explain to them the eventual consequences of being taken alive.

The wealthy, surprised that we were going to fight despite the overwhelming odds and inevitable outcome, turned to leave. Although he was accustomed to giving orders, many of which resulted in the deaths of numerous slaves, he was not accustomed to witnessing the deadly deeds firsthand.

Balzar, on the other hand, confident that his soldiers would quickly dispatch with my comrades, remained in attendance so that he could watch and relish the gory details firsthand.

When the advancing bodies were within ten feet on all sides, Balzar's voice suddenly cried out, "Wait!"

As a single entity, the advance paused. The sounds from a distant battle could be heard in the ensuing silence. While we stood braced, not sure what to expect next, an opening formed in the human wall surrounding us; a wall that had grown to more than thirty men deep with Balzar on the far side. All hope of casting the knife into his heart was long gone.

Still torn between throwing the only weapon that I possessed at a target that was an impossibility, and keeping it for the fight that was about to ensue, my attention was suddenly drawn to the human aisle that was taking shape. Something or someone was being forced through the aisle, much like a gauntlet, while the men on either side were viciously jabbing and prodding him along with their spears and knives.

As the man broke through the circle of soldiers and natives, a knot tightened deep within the pit of my stomach, causing an icy ache that extended clear to my lower bowels. Despite the covering of blood and bruises, I instantly recognized the battered figure. He was hunched over, swaying from side to side, barely able to stand of his own accord.

Raising his bloodied and battered head, his gaze met Lipton's. With tears streaking rivulets through the blood on his cheeks, he apologetically rasped, "I'm sorry that I let you down, my friend." He coughed up a bloody clot, his chest sounding congested and wet with his own blood. His breathing came in ragged gasps, a trickle of blood running freely from his left ear. Looking on, I found it amazing that he was able to hold himself upright.

Speaking between wheezing breaths, he slowly continued, "They're all dead. Everyone. We never had a chance."

Someone suddenly gave him a push from behind, sending him sprawling toward us. Lipton broke from our circle and went to kneel beside him, cradling his head in his arms. It was then that I saw the tears in Lipton's eyes, too.

Consolingly, he said, "It's all right, Jon. No one blames you."

Before he could voice his last thoughts, Jon died. His heaving chest suddenly convulsed and stopped, and his dying breath whistled softly past his lips. It was almost as if he had held on to life just long enough to be forgiven for his perceived failure. He would never know that the failure wasn't his; it was mine. Granted, we had no way of knowing that Balzar would meet up with a wealthy, thereby increasing his strength tenfold. Yet, even if he hadn't, my plan was simply too weak. It had too many loose ends. It was a plan contrived of desperation. It was doomed from the start!

If I had been any kind of a man, I never would have allowed the good men and women that followed me to do so. As a righteous man, I should have ordered them on their way, leaving only me to fight my battles. At least then, I wouldn't have so much innocent blood on my hands.

Making matters worse, it was inevitable that Balzar would eventually discover our second group. Unarmed and defenseless, would he spare them out of kindness? Not likely.

Lacking even basic weapons, they wouldn't stand a chance against Balzar's bloodthirsty soldiers. If they weren't quick enough to escape into the farther reaches of the jungle, they would be fortunate to live out their life tethered to a steel cable beneath the wealthy's domain. Although they would be fed and cared for, they would have less status among their captors than even that afforded a beast of burden.

If they weren't fortunate enough to be forced into slave labor, they would be tortured and butchered on the spot! Yet, knowing Balzar as intimately as I do, there is one more, even less desirable fate that might come to them, that of concubine. Although there are a few men in every society that find their sexual release with partners of the same sex, the women, for the most part, would be turned over to the male warriors to do with as they pleased. This would be just one of Balzar's many ways of rewarding his soldiers. So long as he had Loté to amuse him, he didn't have time for other women.

"Lipton," I said softly, urgently. "Lipton, get on your feet, this isn't over yet."

Slowly, almost hypnotically, he rose. His expression was blank, a detached, hollow look in his eyes. His mind had gone to somewhere far away and safe. It had gone in search of a place where there wasn't mindless killing and torture. What was left behind was a shell, a mere resemblance of what had once been.

But he was still my friend!

"Lipton," I pleaded softly. "Lipton, snap out of it!"

Balzar, amused by the scenario playing out before him, broke into laughter. This in turn, triggered an outburst among the men surrounding us. In the center, the noise was disorienting, almost deafening. Yet, it woke Lipton out of his muse. Despite the circumstances, I almost cried out in joy to see the spark return to his eye; my friend was back, and together we would fight! This time, there would be no prisoners. This time, we were fighting to the end, to the last man standing!

Rising to his full height, he returned to his place in our small circle of courage. To my amazement, he still possessed the handful of pointed shafts.

Eyeing over the opposition, he spoke out of the corner of his mouth. "Don't forget, my friends, I was promised the first long-knife."

Balzar, frustrated and angered by Lipton's return to the circle and his quick recovery of his wits, ordered his men to attack.

It's a funny thing. Even in a mob, when the bravado is flowing thick and everyone is confident of a victory over the meek prey, there is always a moment's hesitation; nobody desires to be the first to die. Although the odds are clearly in the mob's favor, someone is inevitably going to die.

And so, it was with this mixed army of natives and soldiers that faced us now. The first to reach us were going to die, that much was a certainty. Though they feared their leaders, they feared the uncertainty of death even more. And so they hesitated.

Unfortunately, it wouldn't last. Those in the rear, more certain of their victory and the ultimate celebration that would follow, began to press upon those in the front, forcing them to advance upon us. Once we lashed out, drawing that first precious blood, many more gallons would quickly follow.

Suddenly, one of the natives cried out a blood-curdling war cry and broke from the ranks, charging forward with his spear leveled in front of him. In an open fight, I would have easily parried the spear to the side, letting his momentum carry him forward until he was close enough to stick with my knife.

However, we weren't in an open fight. Because of our close proximity to each other, if I parried the spear to either side, it was liable to find the tender flesh of one of my comrades. In the fraction of a second before the native closed the short distance between us, I decided to deflect it upwards; there wasn't time for anything fancier.

With the point driving straight toward my belly, I reached out and easily grabbed the shaft, lifting upwards as I did. With very little effort, the spear rose above my head, never even coming close to any valued flesh. But more importantly, the wielder of the spear followed it in, putting himself less than six inches from me. Not even bothering to raise my hand, I thrust the blade forward, the sharp edge pointed skyward. It entered the man's groin, stopping when it came up hard against his pelvis.

Dropping the spear, a look of surprise on his face, he slowly backed away. Reaching down, he held his hands crossed over his severed genitalia, a river of blood pouring from his ruptured femoral artery. Turning to face his comrades, he took a wobbly step toward them before falling face-first to the ground. Lying on his belly next to Jon's lifeless form, he created a contrasting figure as he continued to squirm and claw at the ground, trying unsuccessfully to drag himself away to safety.

Lipton, snatching up the fallen spear, looked genuinely pleased with his new weapon. Without turning, he handed off the pointed sticks to the men beside and behind him. Even before he finished, the scent of fresh blood was thick on the warm air.

The next man to come was a soldier with a long-knife. Turning from side to side with a smile on his face, he stepped forward, setting himself apart from the wall of bodies. As he did so, the wall reluctantly ebbed back a foot, and then another, they were giving their comrade room to swing his weapon; they were enjoying the show.

Their intentions were immediately clear; they would allow one man at a time to attack us, slowly wearing us down. Of course, each new opponent believed that he would be the first to draw his enemy's blood, thereby ingratiating himself with their leader.

Full of himself and feeling superior to the surface dwellers, the soldier made his intentions clear. Stepping forward, he raised his arms and held his weapon high above his head, showing off his prowess to his comrades. The bets were laid down fast and furious, and then, the air whistling over the razor-sharp edge, he came forward, still grinning and looking pompously from side to side as the crowd cheered him on.

Stepping forward with lightning fast speed, my knife slid smoothly into his midsection, and then quickly retreated. He wasn't dead, not even close. But he was stunned, and the sight of his own blood was enough to shatter his bravado. Turning, his long-knife almost dragging the ground, he sheepishly retreated into the crowd amid a chorus of jeers and hoots.

With the introduction of the next opponent, an assessment was quickly conducted by his peers, and then odds were offered accordingly. To much goading and ribald laughter, the new opponent selected which of us he intended to fight. After making his intentions known, more wagers were hurriedly exchanged between his comrades.

To my astonishment, Balzar, standing alone in a small area cleared of men, looked on in silence. His actions, or rather, his lack of them, led me to assume that he was both amused and entertained by the turn of events. If he weren't, he would never have allowed it to progress for so long. Instead, at the first sign of hesitation from his men, he would have goaded them into action. Even as I watched, the wealthy, having been informed of the new circumstances, was busy making his way back toward Balzar and the sanctity of the small clearing. Good entertainment was hard to come by, and no one wanted to miss out on our demise.

The latest man facing our group was a burly native. Brandishing a standard skinning knife, he warily approached the rogue to Lipton's left. Hunched over, his rolls of fat belying his true strength and agility, he made a very complacent looking opponent. But unbeknownst to the burly native, the man he chose for an opponent was not unaware of his skills. In his days as a rogue, there had been many battles fought against less adept opponents wielding knives, but with much more to lose. One mistake he never made, or he wouldn't have survived as long as he had, had been to underestimate a man with a knife, any knife.

The rogue dropped the bulk of his sharpened sticks, preferring to keep his left hand free. With a single stick in his right, he crouched down and waited for his adversary to advance. Much to my relief, the rogue didn't separate himself from the rest of us, preferring instead to force the native to come to him. Though this tactic might turn out to work against him, it gave him a mental edge, for the moment.

The burly native, realizing that his selected opponent wasn't going to separate himself from our circle, gave a deep grunt of resignation, then moved in toward the rogue. When he was within striking distance, the rogue feinted with a right jab, barely missing the burly native's midsection with the point of the stick. The native, thinking that he had the rogue off guard and exposed, stepped in with a straightforward thrust, overconfident of an easy kill. The rogue, seeing the native fall for his trick, twisted back to the right and sprang straight up into the air.

Standing taller than the native, he didn't need much lift to raise himself above the native's thrust. With a pincers action of his thighs, he caught the hand holding the knife in a vise-like grip. Before the native could jerk his hand free, the rogue poked the stick into his eye, pressing it deep enough to reach the soft, gray matter within the skull.

Before the native hit the ground, the rogue had removed the knife from his limp grasp. With the corpse slumped in front of him, he planted his foot against its shoulder and pushed it away from us. It sprawled out full length, flat on its back, its one good eye looking sightlessly toward the sky, a ruptured bloody orb hanging uselessly from its other socket. Immediately, a roar of disapproval went up from the crowd. While two natives rushed forward and picked up their fallen comrade, an exchange of monies took place in the background.

Within moments, the roar had died and the crowd was waiting for the next man to step forward and show off his skills. There was a little more hesitation this time, though, since it hadn't been as easy as they had first assumed. But always, there was one in the crowd who felt his technique or skill was better than the one prior, and unlike his fallen comrade, believed he would be the victor.

Just such a man separated himself from the crowd. Though he'd shed his breastplate, the long-knife clearly distinguished him as one of Balzar's soldiers. He was much heavier muscled than even I was, but we stood equal in height. With a bleached-out mop of unruly hair and beard, his skin having turned a golden rosy hue since leaving the depths of the planet, he was almost beautiful to look at. Yet, as appealing as he was to the eye, he was ten times more deadly.

With a casual fling, he cast his sheath off, further un-encumbering himself. Immediately, the crowd noise grew, and the ferocity with which the bets were laid down took on a new intensity. Clearly, here was the man that would claim the first victory over the dogs in the circle. He would spill at least the blood of one, if not all, or so the thinking went.

It was unfortunate for him that he chose Lipton for his opponent. Although a skinning knife wasn't normally considered much of a match when compared against a long-knife forged from the bowels of the planet, where craftsmen wielded the finest ore available, and tempered it with a heat equal to the sunny side of Heälf, in Lipton's hands, the short bladed weapon was more than adequate.

Moving in toward Lipton, the man's confidence was more than apparent in his relaxed posture. Holding the blade parallel to his body, the tip rising just above the crown of his head, he advanced toward Lipton. A murmur went through the crowd as Lipton crouched, anticipating the soldier's moves.

In an open field fight, Lipton would have been free to move about as he pleased. But with his back to our human circle, his movements were restricted on all sides, excluding his front. Even if he dodged the steel blade, it was likely to strike one of us to either side of him. Despite the man having chosen Lipton for his opponent, and not me, I felt as if our hands had been tied together. If we were to spread out, the army surrounding us would take that as an opportunity to move in. We were damned if we did, and damned if we didn't.

Keeping a careful eye to my left, I intended to duck if Lipton did; I continued watching the men surrounding us. Although I had no idea what I was searching for, my eyes scrutinized the mass of men surrounding us with intensity. As I looked on, the faces slowly blurred together until all I saw was one moving, writhing mass of human flesh. I felt as if I were looking on a living beast of human flesh with an appetite. It had teeth, and it intended to use them on us. Each glitter of steel, each pointed spear tip, was just another tooth, patiently waiting to clamp down on us. Just waiting to sever our arteries, eviscerate our bowels, and literally suck the life right out of us. It was hard to believe they were human.

It was then that my eyes found Balzar. With our gazes locked on each other, we stared deeply into the other's eyes. In his, I could see the beast anticipating the kill. In mine, he could see the trapped animal with nowhere to run.

As we continued staring at each other, I contemplated my chances of reaching him before his men could stop me. It would be a futile attempt, serving only to speed up my own demise. But what other options were open to me? If I succeeded, at least I would die with the sweet taste of revenge on my tongue.

My reverie was suddenly cut short by the sound of cold steel slicing through warm air. Glancing toward Lipton, I barely saw the blade coming toward me. With a quick back step, I felt the air move across my chest. Only after looking down and verifying that I wasn't bleeding, did I know for sure that I hadn't been cut. If Lipton hadn't purposely tapped his hip against mine, I wouldn't have had the time to get out of the way. However, Lipton didn't stop there. Having dodged the first swing of the blade, he quickly sidestepped in behind the honed edge, putting himself in front of the masculine blonde. At such close quarters, the soldier was unable to sweep his weapon back, a normal tactic that would catch the opponent across the middle. I was very familiar with the tactic, I had used it many times myself, and quite successfully.

An almost blindingly quick flicker of Lipton's knife and the third blood of this battle was drawn. Though it was only a knick on the inside of the man's forearm, barely more than just a scratch, it was still blood, and a roar of disapproval erupted from the crowd.

Yet, even more encouraging than the depth of the wound was the psychological advantage Lipton gained over his opponent because of it. With the odds stacked so heavily in favor of our opponent, any advantage gained by an error on their part, whether it be mental or physical, would be a victory worth savoring.

Thinking quickly, and using his brute strength, he shoved Lipton backwards with his elbow, knocking him sprawling over his own heels. Landing hard on his backside, an unwilling exclamation of breath jarred noisily from him. Even to me, it appeared as though he'd been surprised by the man's quickness and strength. Had I underestimated my friend's prowess with a knife? Or was he just more fatigued than I had realized?

Whichever the case, I quickly realized the folly of my conjecture. Though the soldier had shoved Lipton with a great deal of force, the loss of balance and subsequent fall was only an act on Lipton's part, feigning temporary weakness. The soldier, mistakenly assuming that his opponent was shaken up and momentarily incapacitated, moved in for the kill.

As I watched the well-muscled soldier close in, I almost felt a momentary pang of sympathy for him. If he had been raised on the planet's surface where there wasn't a weapon with a long blade, he would have realized his error. However, he had been raised and trained in the way of the long-knife, a significant weapon in its own right. None of his training ever delved into the intricacies of what he considered a substandard version of his more favored weapon.

And so it happened that Lipton drew him in close, where the shorter bladed weapon was a much superior tool at the art of killing. This time, when the blade flicked in Lipton's hand, a gusher of blood shot into the air, spraying the trampled foliage red, and sending the nearer men scattering to avoid being sprayed.

Lipton, acknowledging that his opponent was dead, even if he was a little slow to realize it himself, didn't pursue him. Instead, he slowly got to his feet and stood, facing the dying man. Meeting the soldier's gaze and reading the shock and disbelief that he saw there, he said softly, almost sympathetically, "You should never have underestimated your opponent. I take no pride, nor do I rejoice in the death of an opponent as worthy as you."

Reaching out, he calmly relieved the soldier of his weapon and handed it behind him without turning. It was quickly taken from him by the eager hands of one of the rogues.

A steadily increasing disgruntled sound was building among the mass of bodies surrounding us. With each fallen comrade, more monies were being lost to the bookies, and they didn't like it. Soon, their earlier hesitation to fight us would be overridden by their anger, a force that is much harder to assuage.

The circle tightened around us like a noose around our neck. Though we were slightly better armed than just a moment prior, we were far from gaining any edge over the sheer numbers facing us.

Suddenly the tone emanating from the human wall of flesh changed in timbre. Turning to my left, I saw the reason why. Stepping forward from his comrades was a young male native; he was lean of build with short-cropped, dark brown hair. In his right hand, he carried a short staff, approximately two feet in length. Tethered to either end of the staff with a short piece of leather cord, dangled two small skulls. Imbedded in the skulls so that they protruded outward at right angles were small steel spikes with razor sharp points.

As he drew closer, I could see that the skulls had been draped over small rawhide balls that actually held the spikes. The skulls were merely intended to intimidate his foe, and served no real purpose other than such. I hated to admit it, but they were working on me.

Once he was clear of his comrades, he began to twirl the staff in his hand, slowly increasing the speed until the skulls were little more than a blur of motion. Starting slowly, almost inaudibly, they began to hum. As their speed increased, so did the crescendo, gradually changing in timbre from a soft hum to a high pitched squeal. Like screaming banshees, the sound took on an unnerving quality, raising the gooseflesh at the nape of my neck and setting my teeth on edge.

Though he had set his weapon into motion, he was still undecided of his foe. Slowly, he circled, resembling more a vulture than a banshee from Hell. While he slowly paced around us, his eyes flicking from first one and then to the next, the wail of his weapon continued growing in intensity. It took on a hungry, impatient sounding trill. The trilling sound had an effect on the men nearer the front edge of the circle, also. As he slowly worked his way around us, his comrades near the front pushed backwards, literally trying to meld into the wall of human flesh, forcing those behind to back up.

As he slowly passed in front of me, I met his gaze and held it. If it was a challenge that he was looking for, I was giving it to him.

Slowly, a smile crept over his face, revealing the stained and chipped teeth of a much older man than I had previously given him credit for being. His smile was his acknowledgement of my challenge, yet he didn't accept.

Turning suddenly to his left, my right, he stepped in close to the rogue standing there. Armed with only the pointed sticks, I was suddenly certain that he would bolt and run. Much to my surprise, he stood his ground, dropping all but two of the sticks. With one in each hand, he prepared himself to do battle with the young-old man and his whistling skulls.

The skulls had reached a crescendo of high-pitched screaming, hungry for the blood of their adversary. Though I wanted to turn and watch the fight, hoping to gain a bit of knowledge that would help defeat him, I maintained my place and position in the circle. At any moment, the disgruntled losers amongst his comrades might decide to take advantage of the distraction and attack the rest of us by surprise.

With the squeal ringing in my ears, I kept a wary eye on the crowd. Suddenly the pitch changed, gradually winding down to its former hum, and then dying out completely. Risking a quick look to my right, I was surprised to see two small sticks protruding from the lean man's chest, a small trickle of blood erupting from their points of incision.

Turning even farther around so that I could see the rogue's face, I was almost taken aback by the smile that I saw there. His eyes never leaving those of the skull wielder, he casually stepped forward and relieved him of his weapon. Testing the feel of it with an almost nonchalant attitude, he suddenly wound it up and snapped it against its prior owner's skull. With a dull thud, the shrill song abruptly stopped, and the young-old man crumpled to the ground, a smaller skull protruding from his own.

With a casualness that belied all logic, the victorious rogue bent over the prone man and slowly, almost casually, worked the spikes loose from his head. With the bizarre weapon freed, he rose and resumed his place amongst us. Unable to refrain myself, I asked of him, "Where did you learn to wield a weapon like that?"

Calmly, he replied, "You would be surprised at what I have learned in my life."

Turning back to the wall of angry warriors, I just as easily replied, "I'm glad you're on our side."

To my surprise, he added, "And I am glad to be on yours. But I don't think that either of us is going to be much good when the real action starts."

"Yes, I'm afraid you may be right," I begrudgingly agreed.

The sound of the crowd was growing uglier by the second. More monies had been lost to the bookies and that meant they would have less to spend on women and wine when the celebration of our defeat started in earnest.

This time, a monster of a man stepped forward; his only weapons were his fists. However, they were not merely bare fists. Fitted into the palm of his hands were two molded steel handles. Extruding from these handles, and protruding up between each finger, was a razor sharp blade, four to a fist. Each blade was approximately three inches long and culminated in a point; they were sharpened on both edges. In addition to his custom hand gear, he wore thick, leather bindings over steel plates hammered to fit the curvature of his forearms. The combination leather and metal was heavy enough to deflect even the brunt force of a long-knife, while the blades on his hands were capable of shredding his opponents. Unlike the skulls, I recognized these. They were more commonly used by brawlers and thieves looking for an unfair advantage. Because of the man's brute size and apparent strength, I could see why he chose them for his main weaponry.

However, we weren't about to find out just how good he was, at least not yet. Just as he began to circle us, a cry rose above the rumble of the crowd.

Balzar.

"Wait! This has gone on long enough!"

I was wondering how long it would take before he grew bored with the affair.

"Captain Rodick!" he cried out when the crowd grew silent.

"I'm listening," I nonchalantly replied, feigning no interest.

Stepping forward, but keeping a safe distance between himself and our circle, he said, "I would like to propose a deal."

"I'm still listening," I boringly replied, keeping up the act of none interest.

"You act as if I have nothing that could be of interest to you. Have you forgotten that I still have your woman?"

Shrugging off the act, I quickly replied, "Okay, you've got my attention. Talk."

"Yes, let's talk," he slowly mimicked, sounding thoroughly pleased with himself. "I have a proposition for you."

"Why would you make me a proposition when my life is already in your hands? Clearly you can see that we don't stand a chance of coming out of this alive."

"Ah, yes. But what would be the fun in seeing you die by the hands of another, when I could derive so much more pleasure from doing it myself?" he almost crooned, thoughts of my demise at his hands already tantalizing him.

"If I still have something of value to you, even if it is just the opportunity to kill me by your own hand, what do I get in return?"

Smirking, he replied, "You don't get anything. At least nothing more than a chance to prolong your life, even if it might be some of the most painful hours you've ever experienced."

"I want more!" I shot back demandingly. "If I give myself up to you, I want something more."

"What more does a man want than the opportunity to extend his life, even if it is for a poorer quality of life?"

"I want to see Loté and my friends go free," I replied, unable to keep the resignation out of my voice.

Even before he replied, I was sure that we would come to some agreement. His revenge wouldn't be satisfying enough just to see me die. His needs went way beyond my death; he needed to punish me, torture me until he couldn't squeeze any more pain into me. Only then might he be satisfied.

While I considered this, I also considered the unlikelihood of him releasing Loté. He needed her to exact his revenge on me. Without her, he knew that I was just a shell of a man. He could filet the flesh from my bones, but he would never get into my mind without her.

"You know that I can't do that! It's not even a consideration," he flatly responded.

Though his voice clearly denied me any concessions, we had started negotiating. Now it would boil down to who wanted what the worst. Did he value my torment enough to concede anything to me? Or was he just playing a game with me before turning his devil hounds loose on us? With Balzar, one could never be sure.

"Then what are you willing to give, Balzar?" I asked, feigning a growing disinterest in the proceedings.

After a moment's consideration, he calmly stated, "I would be willing to give your friends their lives. They mean nothing to me. If you will throw down your weapons and turn yourself over to me, they can walk out of here."

"Don't even consider it, Rod," stated Lipton, hoping to cut off any thoughts in that direction that I might have.

However, despite both his and my misgivings, he was already too late, I had to consider it. If not for me, or even for Loté's sake, I had to consider it for my surviving friends' sake. If even one of them were allowed to go free, they could warn the others that were still coming down the trail before they ran into Balzar's scouts. I had to consider it; I didn't have any other choice!

Whispering, I asked of him, "If he lets you walk, will you promise to come back for Loté?"

"No!" he hissed frantically. "Don't even go there, Rod. You know Balzar as well, if not better, than I do, he will never let us walk out of here alive. He's the only one that'll win if you give in to his offer," he argued, no longer bothering to keep his voice low.

"There isn't much of an alternative, my friend," I said softly. "At least there is some hope that he will stand behind the offer."

"We will die here fighting," commented the rogue directly behind me. "We would rather face our foe and be able to look into his eyes as he kills us, then feel the spear in our backs!"

The other two quickly acknowledged his words, affirming that they agreed, too.

Then Lipton added, "At least by fighting it out to the death here, I will die knowing that we deprived that bastard of his pleasure."

"And I will die knowing that I did everything humanly possible to save her," I quietly finished, thinking aloud to myself.

Just as I braced myself to tell Balzar and his army of my decision, two soldiers came through the crowd and entered his little sanctuary. Between them, they fought to control a black-haired wildcat.

Loté!

"Before you give me your answer, Captain Rodick, I thought maybe I should remind you of what is at stake."

Futilely, I cried out at him, vaguely aware of hands locking around my arms to restrain me, holding me back. "Let her go, you bastard!" And then, almost mournfully, "I'm so sorry, Loté!"

"My, my, how quickly his tune changes," chided Balzar. "Are you ready to give me your answer now?"

"Don't listen to him, Rod," Loté cried out, struggling against the men holding her. "I took care of myself before I met you, I can take care of myself now! You just do what you have to. Remember, Rod, I don't and never will blame you. I love you!"

"Enough!" Balzar suddenly cried out, before spinning around and viciously backhanding her across the mouth.

Instead of recoiling at the blow, her body went limp, only the strength of the two soldiers supporting her kept her from falling to the ground.

Realizing that she wasn't of any use to him unconscious, he waved off the soldiers, indicating they should take her back to where they had her prior.

Then, shaking the event off like so much dust, he turned back to me with a smile on his face and said, "That isn't even close to what I have in mind for her if you don't give me the answer that I want to hear."

While he spoke, he casually massaged his genitalia, openly arousing himself in front of us. Whether he did this for my benefit, or because he was getting excited thinking about the future tortures that he would perform on me, I wasn't sure. But whatever his reasons, whether they were conscious or not, I felt resentment growing like a cold knot in the pit of my stomach. I didn't like it.

Stroking himself, he continued with his taunting. "When I get done with her, even the slaves will have no further use of her. Of course, I'll let my soldiers and Mr. Cain's natives have their way with her first."

Shaking with rage, a black cloud threatening to close over my mind, I screamed back at him, "I'll see you in Hell!"

"As I've said before, my dear Captain, I'm sure you will."

### **16**

With a nod of Balzar's head, the wall of flesh commenced its forward progress, slowly and deliberately closing the distance separating us. Almost methodically, we selected our individual opponents from among the overwhelming numbers. The slightest of eye contact was sufficient to designate whose skill would be the next to be tested.

As if on cue, the rush came. With blinding speed, I slashed first one, and then another. The hilt of the knife grew slippery with the blood of my enemies, and yet I continued slashing savagely, my sweat-covered back pressed up tight against a friend's. My arms grew numb with fatigue, and yet I slashed. No one was cleaning away the bodies. In no time, the footing became treacherous. Stumbling over both lifeless corpses and the writhing wounded, I was grateful for the short-bladed weapon; there was neither room to maneuver a long-knife, nor did I possess the strength to wield such a cumbersome and heavy weapon. Nevertheless, it was only a matter of moments before our position would be overrun. The horde just kept coming, as we knew it would once it started.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the sight of blood covering Lipton's right side. Whether it was his or a victim's, it was impossible to tell.

Suddenly, my concentration was broken by a baleful cry of anguish; its source was directly behind me, momentarily drowning out the noise of the mob. It wasn't necessary to turn around and look to know that one of the rogues had been seriously wounded, if not already dead. We stood with our backs pressed against each other, because it was all we could do to keep the slash and thrust of weapons at bay on our front. Yet, even without the concern for our backsides, we were having less luck staving off the frontal assault by the second.

We fought almost perfunctory, our arms and legs moving instinctively of their own accord. It was no longer necessary to think about our actions, our inner sense of self-preservation having taken over. Yet, even though we continued fighting, our prior fatigue was quickly overtaking us.

Another comrade went down, his body collapsing on top of our dead enemies. Immediately, we closed the gap that his loss made. With our backs pressed against each other again for protection and moral support, we continued to hold off the mass of human flesh, despite our numbers having been reduced to only three.

Somehow, though I had no recollection of consciously doing it, I had re-sheathed Loté's bejeweled knife and was wielding a long-knife in its place. If I had given the change consideration before doing it, I never would have yielded to the temptation of the long-knife for fear of the extra weight and length being too unwieldy. But now that I had given over to it, I noticed that Lipton and the remaining rogue had also done likewise.

The growing fatigue in my arms had all but ceased; they felt like uncontrollable appendages, yet they continued working of their own accord. Like my comrades, I was moving mechanically, parrying when necessary, slashing or jabbing when appropriate. Though we weren't doing it of any intentional accord, we were shuffling along the trail, slowly moving away from Balzar's post while leaving the dead and dying behind.

With the increased reach that the longer weapons afforded us, it almost gave the illusion that we were driving the masses back. Unfortunately, that's all it was, an illusion.

Suddenly Lipton cried out in pain, his right arm hanging limply from his side. With the long-knife in his left, he tried to hold his position, but it was no use. He was rapidly losing blood and the weapon was too heavy for him to wield effectively with just one hand. Between the loss of vital blood, and the continuous strain of the fight, he quickly grew too weak to continue. As his reflexes slowed, the number of jabs and thrusts that got through his defenses increased. He was bleeding from so many places, his entire body had blossomed a crimson red.

My heart went out to him, though there was nothing I could do for him. While I continued fighting, increasingly I was unable to parry the slashing blows with complete effectiveness. Blood was dribbling from me in several dozen places. Though none, in and of itself was enough to disable me, the compilation of the total was taking its toll on my already weakened constitution.

Lipton suddenly slipped and went down. Almost immediately, the last remaining rogue disappeared as he was pulled into the maddened crowd. Somehow, either his weapon had been taken from him, or he had dropped it as a direct result of his fatigue. Whichever the case, the enemy horde didn't waste any time in tearing him apart. His screams quickly faded in the distance as his soul hastily departed, leaving behind nothing more than mutilated flesh and broken limbs.

With just myself left standing, I moved to stand over Lipton, determined that they wouldn't do to him what they'd just done to the rogue.

A sharp burning pain suddenly erupted in the small of my back. I didn't have to see it to know that a spear was imbedded in my flesh. As I moved from side to side, I could feel the heft of the shaft waving behind me, its point grating and tearing at my insides. Though it wasn't immediately deadly, it was slowing me down, and I needed to get rid of it.

Distracted and dazed, I twisted around and grabbed the shaft with my left hand. It was slick with my blood and I couldn't get a firm grip on it. As I twisted further, I could feel a strange tearing inside my torso. Ignoring the fiery pain shooting through my midsection, I gave a sharp yank on the spear; my hands slid along the shaft. It remained fast. Suddenly, all else seemed inconsequential; everything depended on my removing the spear.

Almost distractedly, I was aware that the fighting had stopped. I was surrounded in silence, the long-knife lying on the ground beside Lipton's inert form. A tremendous sense of relief flooded over me. Then, vaguely, I sensed that I was falling, my legs no longer willing or able to support me. I was exceedingly tired; there was a tremendous weight pressing me down, crushing my resolve. Moving in slow motion, I finally came to rest on top of Lipton's inert form. I couldn't remember having positioned myself over him, only that it seemed strange that of all the warm, soft bodies that were lying everywhere, I would have to land on his.

It struck me as both funny and sad, when I considered that it was because of me there were so many dead bodies lying about. If I weren't so near death and ready, almost eager, to step over the edge, I would have been horrified by such a thought.

Then, even slower still, the vision faded, darkness filling in the view from the edges. Slowly, working in toward the center, it completely swallowed the last vestiges of my vision. With the darkness came relief. In the warmth of dying, I found relief from the pain, both physical and mental. Only one concern remained behind to haunt me as I slowly drifted away.

Loté!

Even in death, I couldn't shut off my feelings of overwhelming guilt. Into the afterlife, they continued to assail me.

In my soporific euphoria, I was aware of a subtle difference from all the times that I had died before. In the past, death had brought with it a complete, absolute nothingness. There had been no sensation of drifting through space or anywhere else. There were no longings, desires, or feelings of guilt. There was nothing. From the first instant that death had gotten its icy grip on me, until the very moment that I regained consciousness in the incubator, I had been aware of nothing. There were no dreams or sensations. There was just nothingness.

So, what made this time different? Why was I still able to think, to ponder my current situation with such clarity? Surely, I was dead; we all were dead. Balzar's army had seen to that with extreme prejudice.

Or had they?

Was it possible that I had just been severely wounded, that even while I was able to consider the possibilities, I was lying somewhere in a coma? If that was true, it meant that I would eventually wake up and feel the pain. Or was I still going to die. If I let myself go from here, would my heart cease to beat? Or would I come out of here, wherever here was, and find myself amongst the living again?

My thoughts were very disturbing; almost more disturbing than believing that I was dead. At least, if I was dead, I was beyond Balzar's reach.

My first honest convictions arrived on the heels of an immense pain shooting through my body. Immediately, with the confirmed knowledge that I was still alive, I wished that I were dead. No one should have to endure this kind of pain. Every joint, from my neck to my toes, felt as though it were on fire. Every organ in my body was determined to be the center of my attention. My kidneys were on fire, my guts felt over distended, and each ragged breath whistled through dried, cracked and bloody lips. Unless I'd finally made it to Hell, I was definitely still alive.

Unable to do much more than take note of the different pains vying for my attention, I contented myself with listening to the varying sounds filtering to my ears. It was a habit that I had acquired from years of living on the edge, and frequently waking up in strange surroundings.

What I heard only confirmed my worst suspicions; I was in a camp surrounded by many people. There were the more common sounds: pots and pans clinking together, crackling cook-fires, in addition to the less common sound of wet stones honing the business end of various weapons or tools. These sounds were punctuated by that of voices, both men and women.

Without looking, it was almost possible to imagine that I was back in Jon and Lipton's camp. Moreover, at any moment, Fayze and Tye would come by, hoping to find me awake and offering me food after feeling guilty for having woken me.

Yet, I knew that wasn't possible, they were dead. Even through the pain, I remembered the battle's conclusion, and Lipton's body lying on the ground beneath me. They were gone. They were all gone, and now there wasn't anything standing in Balzar's way.

Except for one thing; I wasn't dead!

And judging by the amount of pain that I was feeling, I hadn't been recycled either. And that meant there was still the possibility that Balzar hadn't stumbled across group number two, and the missing pieces of equipment! Of course, since I have no idea how long I've been laying here unconscious, his scouts might only now be discovering them. Even as I lie here, feigning sleep while listening to the noises surrounding me, his horde of evil butchers could be busy torturing my friends.

Suddenly, I couldn't stand the uncertainty any longer; I had to know! Although there wasn't anything that I could do for them, it was suddenly important that I know if Balzar was aware of them. If he wasn't, and they were still free men and women, I would cherish that as a small victory, if nothing else.

Slowly, the sleepy, caked up grunge that held my eyes shut, separated. Little by little, the increasing glow of the two moons induced fresh tears, blurring my vision while at the same time washing away the grime. Only when I tried to rub my eyes with the backs of my hands, did I realize that I couldn't move my arms; I was on my back on a cot made of pole trees, my arms securely lashed in place to the poles. Shaking my head from side to side, trying desperately to rock my body, quickly brought on a pounding headache.

Immediately, I ceased all movement, resigning myself to waiting for my eyes to clear on their own, and the throbbing in my head to stop.

Unwittingly, my movement had attracted someone's attention. A woman, I assumed by the gentleness of her touch, came over with a wet rag, and started dabbing at my eyes. In no time, she had cleared the gum away so that I could see. Looking into her face, I was a bit startled. Unlike the young and firm-bodied women that I'd grown accustomed to, she was old and withered. Her hair was a lackluster gray, her skin brown and splotched with age marks. She was covered with wrinkles and loose, flabby flesh dangled from beneath her upper arms, not to mention the more obvious places. Yet, there was a fire in her eyes, an unmistakable clarity that could penetrate into one's soul, and she was looking into mine.

"Where am I?" I croaked, only to discover that my throat was parched, and I sounded more like a reptile than a man.

"Does it matter," she flatly replied, her reply sounding more like a statement than a question. "I simply did what was asked of me. Now you will live. It will not be on my hands, if you only live to suffer."

With that said, she got up and retreated to her fire, busying herself with her prior set of chores. Ignoring her and her dire prediction, I slowly twisted around, biting back the urge to cry out against the pain. Though my vision was clearing, my eyes continued to water and blur, making it difficult to take in the varied sights.

As I had suspected, I was in the middle of a large camp. Of the two structures that I could see, neither was of a permanent type. Instead, they were hastily thrown together, consisting of little more than brush and a few feet of twine. Since I couldn't see more than two, I figured it was safe to assume that one housed Balzar.

My suspicions were quickly affirmed, when none other than Balzar himself stepped out of the makeshift doorway. Straining against my bindings for a better view, I was even less surprised when I saw the obese wealthy from earlier, following him. With little more than a glance in my direction, which was almost directly in line with the opening, they turned and headed in the direction of the other structure.

The pain momentarily forgotten, I twisted around in an effort to keep them in my limited range of vision. Despite having momentarily forgotten the extreme pain, I was suddenly aware of a warm sensation spreading out from my lower backside. It was very reminiscent of tepid water, yet the importance of it didn't immediately register, as I continued struggling against my bindings. Though I was frustrated by my efforts, I was determined not to quit, even when a wave of nausea suddenly swept over me. Falling back, unable to hold my head up any longer, I was only vaguely aware of the old women's return before I faded into oblivion.

Poking and prodding, constantly babbling something incoherent, she suddenly stood up straight and waved over a soldier that was just out of my blurry field of vision. Though I hadn't seen him before, at least not that I was aware of in my confused state of mind, it was an easy assumption to make that he was my personal guard.

While the old woman continued talking, speaking rapidly to herself, and occasionally to the soldier, he untied the bindings securing my arms to the cot. Only then did I realize the full extent of my injuries. Even with my arms freed, I was unable to move them of my own accord. Although I could wiggle my fingers, each one felt as though it had a fifty-pound weight strapped to it.

With a strength that belied her frail look, she easily rolled me over and inspected my backside. The tone of her babbling changed immediately, taking on a nervous discord. Although I couldn't see what so obviously offended her, I didn't like the sound of it one bit!

In a rambling vernacular that was hard to follow, she instructed the soldier to hold me on my side so that she could tend to the dressing. It didn't please her one bit that I'd torn my wound open, necessitating the need for fresh bandages, as was witnessed by her rough manner and my muffled groans in direct response.

When she finished, the soldier quickly rebound my arms to the cot, but not before, I felt the tingling of returning blood. With relief, I realized that my arms were just numb from the restricting bindings. Aside from a wide assortment of bruises, scratches, and many superficial cuts, it appeared that my only wound of consequence was in my lower back.

The soldier, having finished with his knots, turned away and took up his former position just beyond my line of sight, content to resume his duties as my guard. Carefully, I listened to his retreating footsteps until they stopped, gauging the distance between us. Then, in a voice intended strictly for the old woman, I asked if I could have some water.

Not bothering to answer, she shuffled away, going in the general direction of her small cook fire. Angered by her indifference, I was about to yell a profanity at her. Before I could, though, she stooped over and retrieved a flagon from her pile of belongings. Turning back to me, I would have sworn the glint in her eye was sparkling even brighter.

"Thank you," I mumbled, as she moved the spigot away from my mouth and up to her own. While she chugged noisily on the liquid, I decided to venture a question, not sure how I expected her to respond, if at all. "Why haven't you been recycled?"

To my amazement, she clearly replied, all hint of her former babbling-dialect gone. "My master is still waiting for Balzar to fulfill his end of the deal."

It suddenly became clear; Balzar had struck a deal with a wealthy in exchange for his recycling expertise. But did he promise the wealthy the equipment, or just the temporary use of it? In other words, was the deal a one-time shot, or did he intend on hanging around for a while?

"Then, no one has been recycled yet, or just not you?" I gently pressed her, sensing she knew considerably more than the frail old woman she portrayed herself to be.

"Are you deaf?" she haughtily questioned. "I already told you, Balzar hasn't fulfilled his end of the bargain yet! When he does, we will all be young and beautiful again."

"Why hasn't Balzar fulfilled his end of the bargain? What is he waiting for?" I pressured her, all the while watching her face for any telltale expression that might tell me more than she intended of her own accord.

"I never said he wasn't able to!" she shot back, the look of concern evident in the way she suddenly avoided my eyes. Then, after quickly regaining her self-control, she calmly replied, "It's just a matter of time now. A few small details have yet to be worked out between him and our master. That is all."

"And your master? That wouldn't be Mr. Cain, would it?"

"You ask too many questions! Go back to sleep. You need your rest. It has been my job to keep you from dying, nothing more. You will live. What they do with you now is none of my business," she nervously stuttered.

"If Balzar has the recycler ready to go, then why wasn't I just recycled? Why go to all the trouble of bandages and succoring, not to mention the loss of time?" I continued pressing her, though she was correct in her assumption that I needed my rest. Even as we spoke, I could feel my strength quickly ebbing.

"Please," I said gently, changing my tactics in an effort to appeal to her motherly nature. "Could you bring me some food, and more water?"

"You shouldn't be hungry, not yet," she replied suspiciously, though she started back toward the cook fire and the kettle of broth that I could smell simmering over it.

Returning with a wooden bowl and a spoon to match, she settled herself on a turned-over bucket that had been constructed of a hollowed out stump. Settling herself next to the cot so that she could easily reach me, she prepared to feed me.

"If you could get that soldier to untie my arms, I would prefer to feed myself," I protested, suddenly self-conscious of being treated like an infant.

"Where was your pride when I was cleansing and bathing you?" she mocked.

"Cleansed and bathed?" I repeated, perplexed. "How long have I been here?"

"Close to seven earth-days."

"Were there any other survivors besides me?" I cautiously asked of her, fearing the inevitable answer that she was about to give.

"For a while, we didn't even consider you a survivor," she scoffed. Then, her voice turning serious, she added, "But your friend Balzar was obsessed with seeing you live, even though it was his soldiers that tried so hard to kill you." She stopped talking abruptly, suddenly fearful that she had said too much. After glancing furtively in the direction of the guard, she whispered harshly, "Enough talk. Eat now."

Forcing the spoon against my lips, I opened my mouth and sipped in the warm broth. The steam quickly penetrated my parched membranes, returning some semblance of normality to my throat. It also tasted very good, despite my damaged taste buds.

When the bowl was empty, she stood to go. "Thank you. It was very good," I said groggily, meaning every word of it.

My words stopped her. She was a slave from birth on. She was not accustomed to being thanked for her services, or complimented; she just did, and others just took.

Slowly, she turned back to face me, a look of empathy replacing her former look of resignation. "What they say about you is true, isn't it?"

"That's hard to say," I calmly replied. "Since I don't know what they say about me."

Suddenly, her face transformed, exhibiting a completely different look altogether. Where there had previously been empathy, I was seeing a mixture of remorse, sympathy, and even a little guilt.

Calmly, she stated, "I am truly sorry that I saved you from your peace. Please don't hold it against me."

As she spoke, tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. She confused me. Her words, as unsettling as they were, didn't make any sense. "You have nothing to be sorry for, old woman," I affirmed, trying to appease her obvious distress.

Stepping back toward me, she knelt down by the side of the cot and said, "If it were not for me, that monster could not inflict the torture that he has planned for you. I am so sorry. Please forgive me," she begged, bowing her head in abasement.

"You saved my life, old woman..."

She quickly cut me off. "Only so that he would not be deprived of his vengeance and make others of my tribe pay. May the Gods forgive me."

Standing, she turned away, suddenly too embarrassed to face me. She had saved my life. Now, for some reason that I found completely incomprehensible, she regretted having done so.

Before I could say any more, she was back by her fire, busying herself cleaning the utensils that we'd just used. Women! Even the old and feeble were too complicated for their own damn good!

With my thoughts spinning between the loss of my friends and Loté's whereabouts, I drifted off to sleep. Though I suspected that she was being kept in one of the two temporary shelters, I was too weak to attempt twisting around again for another look. Hopefully, with the old woman's help, I would regain my former fitness. How long Balzar would let me keep it, well, that was something I couldn't afford to lose any sleep over.

Now the change in the old woman's demeanor was something altogether different again. She was just a lowly slave to Mr. Cain, Balzar's current partner and accomplice. Yet, she could still prove to be a very important ally. After all, she did save my life once already. It might just fall to her shoulders to do it again.

Since Balzar had assigned a healer to look after me, rather than just put me through the recycler, it implied that they didn't have the remainder of the equipment. That meant they were unaware of group two, and that also meant that Fayze and Tye might still be alive. I was suddenly thankful that I had given Fayze my long-knife. Armed with such a formidable weapon, she would be hard to kill; she was a rogue, after all.

It wasn't much, pinning my hopes of salvation on an adolescent boy and a beautiful woman. Yet, all else considered, things could look worse.

When I awoke, I immediately looked around for the old woman. My body was stiff and I ached all over. Slowly, raising my head off the cot, I twisted around, trying to see the temporary shelters. To my surprise, they were gone.

Fighting down a rising panic, I quickly reminded myself that it didn't really matter where he kept Loté. Eventually, he would bring her around. That was the whole idea behind keeping me alive, after all. He accomplished nothing by keeping us separated. "Besides," I further consoled myself, "he probably hadn't kept her in either one of them anyway." The suspicion was just that, a suspicion, nothing more.

The rest of the camp hadn't changed any since my last look around. Soldiers and natives were intermingling. Some were involved in games of chance, their voices giving away their wins and losses. Some were tending cook fires, while still others were lying around sleeping or tending to their weapons.

The pain in my midsection was considerably less. Although I could still feel a tightening inside me as I twisted against the cords that bound me, it didn't feel as if I was about to tear anything.

With my enhanced amount of movement, I could see the soldiers assigned to guarding me. Instead of just the one that had been there prior, there were now four. Since I hadn't been a very active prisoner, they hadn't deemed me worthy of their full and undivided attention. At the moment, they were sitting on the ground, two of them with their backs to me, playing a game of chance. The one sitting the farthest from me, and the only one facing me directly, noticed me looking at them and nonchalantly commented as much to his companions. From their reactions, or rather, their lack thereof, it was clear they weren't taking their assignment very seriously.

Was it possible they were treating their job with such indifference because they knew Balzar was gone? However, if he was gone, where had he gone? And more importantly, was Loté with him?

I suddenly found myself wishing for the old woman's return. Although she was brusque, and pretended not to care for me beyond fulfilling her duty to keeping me alive, I felt something more. Something that went much deeper than she was willing to openly admit. I wasn't so naive or arrogant to think that she harbored some kind of love for me, yet my reputation did have a way of preceding me. Just having been a pilot still carried a lot of weight with some tribes. Then again, it was also possible that she'd heard of my mission to rescue Loté and the romantic aspects of it just appealed to something in her.

Whatever it was that I sensed about her, if I played her right, she might open up to me, if we got the opportunity to talk privately. Since regaining consciousness, Balzar had seen fit to increase my security fourfold. He wasn't taking any chances.

Looking back at the guards, I noticed a flagon and a long-knife lying on either side of the one nearest me. "Hey," I croaked, my throat having dried out while I slept.

The one facing me said something to the one with his back to me, pointing in my direction as he did so. It was easy to tell by the dismissing wave of his hand that he didn't want to be bothered. Ignoring me, they went back to their game.

"Hey!" I managed to croak a little louder. "Water. Please."

"Here."

The voice came from behind me, startling me. Spinning around to face it, I momentarily forgot that I was still healing. The sudden dose of pain shot through my midsection, abruptly stealing away my breath and bringing tears to my eyes.

Through the blur, I recognized the loose, flabby features of the old woman that had been tending to me. Angrily, I commanded of her, "Don't sneak up on me like that! Are you trying to kill me?" However, what was intended to sound threatening sounded like nothing more than a sparse whisper, whistling through the dried membranes of my throat.

"If you would just lie still and relax, you wouldn't re-injure yourself! Now you've gone and created more work for me!" she scolded, giving me a taste of humility.

"I'm sorry," I humbly replied, though inwardly, I was glad to see her.

Leaning over me, she held the open end of a flagon against my lips. Greedily, I drank, relishing the cool, wet liquid that spilled past my parched lips and down the front of my chest. "Oh, thank you," I moaned softly, when she finally pulled it away.

When she didn't immediately leave my side, I determined to ask her the questions that were nagging at me. "How much longer will you be tending me?" I blurted, sounding uncaring and thoughtless toward the time and energy that she had already devoted to me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that to sound as though I don't appreciate what you've done for me, because I do. It's just that, well, I guess I'm wondering how long it will be before Balzar picks up where he left off."

Settling down on her haunches and making herself comfortable, she spoke softly when she finally answered. Whether she spoke in this manner for my benefit, or because she didn't want the guards to overhear us, I wasn't quite sure. "That is not up to me, or so I've just been told."

"You've just been told!" I blurted, realizing the implications of what she'd said. "Where is he? Where's Loté?" I quickly demanded, insisting that she tell me.

"Calm down," she quickly urged, casting a furtive glance in the direction of the soldiers. Then, speaking in a hushed tone, she quickly added, "I will tell you what you want to know. But it won't do either of us any good if we are found out."

Although it wasn't easy for me, I lay back against the cot and listened to her. As she spoke, she kept looking in the direction of the soldiers, constantly verifying that they were more interested in their game than in an old woman and her patient. By the time she finished, she had apprised me of Balzar's, and her Lord, Mr. Cain's, whereabouts. In addition, she confirmed my earlier suspicions with regard to Lipton's and the others, demise. As I suspected, I was the only survivor. Jon and the other rogues had been cut down and obliterated before they knew what had hit them. As she relayed this information to me, I could see the hurt in her eyes. If it wasn't genuine, she was one hell of an actress.

She didn't mention anything about the remainder of the rogues and the missing equipment, so I decided not to mention anything about them to her. Although I'd only just met her, I already felt that I could trust her. She was after all, risking her life telling me what she knew. I still didn't see any benefit to be gained by telling her that there were more of us. There was always the possibility that Balzar had put her up to gaining my trust so that he could find out if I knew where the missing equipment was. With regard to Balzar and his end of the deal with Mr. Cain, he could be getting pretty nervous. Mr. Cain did have a slight numerical superiority over him, after all.

As it turned out, Balzar was staying with Mr. Cain in his floating domain. According to the old woman, Mr. Cain's domain was anchored approximately one mile due West. She had heard rumors that Loté was being kept there, also. However, she couldn't swear to their validity. I didn't say anything to her one way or the other. However, it seemed logical that if Loté weren't being held in the aerial domain of Mr. Cain's, the old woman would have heard rumors to the contrary. If for no other reason, than that the slaves on the ground talked to one another.

Nevertheless, all this information was completely useless to me. Not only was I healing from a very serious wound, but in case I'd forgotten, I was also strapped securely to a heavy wooden cot. Even if the old woman forsook her master and turned me loose, what good was one man against more than a hundred well-armed men? What chance did I have?

Rising, the old woman looked down at me. It was almost as though she'd read my mind when she softly whispered, "I have done all I can do for you. Please, don't ask anymore of me."

There was no mistaking the hidden meaning in the words. To the casual observer, it would have sounded as if she was washing her hands of me, content with the progress of my healing. However, I read the deeper meaning, the resignation in her voice. She knew my plight was as hopeless as I myself did, and she had given me all the help she could. What I did with it was up to me. I was on my own.

Breathing easily, contented for the moment, my thoughts turned to Loté, and what she must be suffering at the hands of both Balzar and the wealthy. I had no doubts that Balzar was using her to placate the fat man. What would happen when Mr. Cain eventually grew impatient with Balzar? Would he take his payment in human flesh? Would it be enough, if Balzar gave him highly trained soldiers in exchange for the natives that he'd lost? Or would he want more, even more than Balzar had?

What I didn't consider, and not because I was naive to it, but because I didn't want to consider it, was the possibility that Balzar would buy time by using Loté and me to entertain Mr. Cain. Balzar could come up with tricks that even a jaded old wealthy like Mr. Cain hadn't seen before, and all at Loté's and my expense.

Somehow, I had to get free. Already the old woman had given me so much more than I had any right to expect of her. Would she go so far as to give me my freedom? Maybe if I had something to offer her in return. But what do I have? Even the bejeweled knife, given to Loté as a gift from King Sheesa, was now lost. I had nothing left. Not even a trace of hope that I could still save her from the monsters that possessed her. I'd lost everything, including my love. Please forgive me, Loté.

For the next few days, I drifted in and out of dreams. Each day, I could feel more of my old strength returning. The old woman was doing a superb job of tending to my needs. It didn't go beyond my notice that the number of soldiers and natives assigned to watch me was steadily increasing. Balzar wasn't taking any chances.

Yet, where was he? Since seeing him and Mr. Cain leaving the makeshift shelter several days earlier, there hadn't been any sign of him. In addition, when I questioned the old woman regarding his whereabouts, she knew only of the rumors that he was a guest on her master's domain. The rumors also put Loté up there with him.

After one of my deeper sleeps, I awoke to find that the campsite had been moved. When I questioned the old woman, she apologetically admitted to having mixed a potion in my food to make me sleep. She further stated that she had been acting on her master's orders. When I asked her how long I'd been asleep, she shrugged her shoulders and started to move away. She was obviously embarrassed by her part in the subterfuge.

"Old woman!" I called after her, angered by her sudden dismissal of my question. "How long?"

She stopped in her tracks, but she refused to turn around and face me. Instead, she spoke softly over her shoulder, unable to look me in the eye. "You've been unconscious for more than a week."

"A week?" I said incredulously. Immediately, my mind started turning over at high speed. A lot could happen in a week. So much could have changed!

"Old woman! Come back here! Talk to me, please," my demands turning to begging.

Slowly, she turned around, her face unable to mask the guilt that she was feeling. She also couldn't meet my gaze, preferring instead to keep her eyes turned toward the ground.

When she was close enough so that we could talk softly without fear of being overheard by the soldiers, she asked, "What more can I tell you that you don't already know?"

"Can you tell me whether Balzar has the missing equipment yet or not?"

"Do you think my master would allow his slaves to grow older if it was within his power to prevent it?" she asked incredulously. "Everyone knows what a generous man he is. It is very expensive for him to keep us, and yet, he allows us to mate and have children. In fact, it is a very common practice for him or members of his family to select their personal servants from among our older children." She hesitated for a moment, choosing her next words carefully before continuing. During her pause, I wondered how much of what she said was for my benefit, and how much was for her own. It was almost as though she was trying to justify her loyalty to Mr. Cain, and was having difficulty doing so. "You were raised on the surface," she went on. "You must realize what a privilege it is to be welcomed aboard a domain. Mr. Cain does a very generous thing for our children. We consider it quite an honor to have one of our offspring selected by him or his family." She paused for a moment before softly adding, "Life can be very difficult for a woman on the surface."

"When your master, Mr. Cain, selects from your offspring, does he generally select young women?" I asked sharply, trying desperately to shatter her illusions, and reveal the true nature of her master to her.

She flinched, instantly reading the meaning in my words and growing angered by what they implied. Without thinking of what she was saying, she scornfully rebutted, "My daughter lives aboard Mr. Cain's domain and she is well taken care of."

Realizing that I was treading on exposed nerves, I gently asked of her, "How do you know that? Have you spoken with her since she went aboard? Have you even seen her since she went aboard?"

With tears welling up in her eyes, she tried to fight back, to find the retort that would put me in my place and reaffirm what she was trying so hard to believe. Yet, despite her best efforts, she was unable to. The truth was lashed to a cot in front of her, and she couldn't ignore it any longer.

Seeing my chance, I consoling pleaded with her, "You must help me, old woman. Now that you can see the truth, you must understand why you have to help me." Though I felt guilty for being so hard on her, there was too much at stake that I couldn't see an easier way. Still pleading with her, I asked, "Will you help me?"

She remained silent for a very long time. Afraid that she would quaver, I held my breath, waiting for her answer. Then, her features set, she asked, "What can I, an old woman, do to help?"

With an audible sigh of relief, I tenderly replied, "Thank you."

With traces of the drug she had given me still in my system, I suddenly felt drowsy. The brief encounter with the old woman had sapped the last of my strength. Content for the moment with having found an ally, I relaxed against my bindings and dosed off. Much later, though I couldn't be sure how much, I awoke to find the camp on the move again. Feigning sleep, I closed my eyes and continued resting, listening to the sounds of conversations and chatter.

With a soldier at either end of the cot, and several more to the front and rear, most of the talk was loud enough for me to hear. Though I found most of it to be drivel regarding their personal winnings and losses, every now and again, I picked up something of importance.

It appeared that we were following the floating domain by approximately one mile. The reason given for this great distance was simply that Mr. Cain found the smell of the camp offensive. As a battle experienced man, I rather thought he might have another reason for separating himself from Balzar's soldiers. In addition, I noticed that he kept an overwhelming number of his natives intermingled amongst the soldiers. No matter where I looked, I never saw more than two of Balzar's soldiers together at one time without an equal or greater number of natives around. The only exception to this was in the number of guards assigned to watch me. If Balzar tried anything, even an escape, Mr. Cain's natives were already in position to stop him. Meanwhile, I had no doubt that the natives were reporting in to their superiors, who in turn, kept Mr. Cain apprised of the camp's moods, even if there wasn't anything as drastic as an uprising in the works. The promise of eternal life could be a strong incentive, especially to a band of people that see death and hardship on a daily basis.

Except for the occasional disgruntled comment with regard to being recycled, or rather the lack thereof, none of the soldiers spoke of it. Though I listened attentively for any indication, I heard nothing that suggested Balzar was going to be starting recycling any time soon. This led me to believe that Fayze, Tye, and the others in the second group hadn't been discovered. It was very encouraging to know that they hadn't been discovered, because that meant they were aware of our massive defeat and were staying clear of the camp's scouts. Whether they knew of my survival or not, I had no way of knowing. In all likelihood, they probably did not.

At some point, I dozed off again, only to be rudely awakened when the soldiers carrying my cot set me roughly on the ground. That they weren't too happy about their assigned duty would have been an understatement. They were, however, given time off to rest, while the other soldiers were assisting in the reconstruction of the camp.

At the sight of the old woman, my spirits perked up. Although I hadn't taken the time to even find out her name, I was already thinking of her as a friend. Upon seeing me, her eyes lit up and a bounce came into her step. It probably wouldn't have been too far from the truth if I assumed she felt the same way regarding me.

At the moment, she was too busy to talk. Yet, she came over and asked if I needed anything. Though I didn't want to be a nuisance, I prevailed upon her for a sip of water.

When I'd finished drinking, I commented, "If you could convince those soldiers to untie my arms, I wouldn't have to be such a burden on you."

She only smiled and turned back to her business of setting up camp. Before long, she had a small fire going and a kettle of broth heating. All the while she worked, doing what she'd done her entire life, she kept throwing furtive glances in my direction.

Then, to my surprise, she did something that I'd never seen her do before; she went over to the soldiers in charge of guarding me and offered them some of her broth.

Under normal circumstances, the offer of her meager food would have been viewed as a suspicious move. However, to six tired, weary men, it was an offer that was too good to refuse. In addition, it probably worked in her favor that the soldiers were not accustomed to dealing with old, motherly women. Between her unarming demeanor and harmless looks, the alternative of dried meat and moldy cheese didn't seem like much of an alternative, especially with nothing more substantial to wash it down than warm water. After they rested, they could send someone to the main camp's bivouac area and appropriate what they needed. For now, they would eat the old woman's broth, and they would soak it up in the last of her hard, parched grain rolls, and then care less if she went hungry the day after.

With their bowls filled, and their spirits high from their good fortune, it didn't take them long to see off the entire kettle. To my further amazement, instead of handing out her limited supply of crusty rolls, she opened the bag and allowed them to take what they wanted, which turned out to be every one.

They ate and slurped like a bunch of wild boars at the feeding trough. In a matter of minutes, the bowls were empty, and the soldiers were sprawled out on the ground, sound asleep.

The old woman, watching the soldiers with interest, rose and walked over to them. Carefully she moved between them, looking for something. Finding it, she reached down and retrieved it, along with several spoons and bowls. Only when she came hurriedly in my direction, did I realize that she'd done more than collect her eating utensils.

Dropping the spoons and bowls in a careless heap, she discreetly retained her hold on a single object, Loté's knife!

Frantically, she cut through the cords securing me to the cot, all the while muttering that the guards would probably sleep for days.

"How did you do it?" I asked excitedly, while looking around to see if anyone had noticed what was happening.

Fortunately, most of the camp's occupants were too busy setting up, and too tired to concern themselves with anything but their own immediate tasks.

"I held back most of the drug that I'd been given to put in your food to make you sleep. When I saw my opportunity, I dumped it in the broth. Balzar's men are such lazy pigs, I knew they wouldn't turn down my offer of warm food, especially after carrying you all day," she chuckled.

The knife was sharp, slicing through the heavy cords with ease. Then she handed it to me, grabbing my extended hand with her other and held tight. "You must go from here. Go deep into the jungle. There is no way for you to get into my master's domain unless he lowers the box for you, which he will never do."

"I realize that I forced you to question your existence, old woman, and I am sorry for treating you so unkindly. But tell me, why are you doing this for me?" I asked of her, taking the wrist of the hand that held mine and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm not doing it for you, though I don't doubt that you deserve it. Instead, I do it for all the people." Sensing my confusion, she looked into my eyes and quickly added, "Your exploits are well known, Captain. You will find that you have many friends just waiting for the chance to help you. Please, don't disappoint us."

"Thank you," I said, feeling choked up and embarrassed by her words. Giving her a hug, I promised that I would do everything that I could, but that Loté had to come first. I owed her my life.

Helping me to my feet, I found my legs wouldn't support me. From my many days of inactivity, my body had grown weak, and now my legs would no longer bear my weight. There was no possible way that I was going to walk out of this camp of my own accord!

Suddenly worried, I said, "You're going to have to help me. There's no way that I am going to walk out of here on my own. Are you willing to come with me?"

"Wait here," she said breathlessly, lowering me back to the cot.

As she ran back to her meager camp, I had to wonder what chance we stood to escape. She was an old woman that had just traveled many miles carrying everything she owned on her back. In addition, I was in even worse shape. I couldn't even stand on my own two feet without her help. We'd be lucky to get more than one hundred feet from this place before they discovered us missing. Once our absence was discovered, they'd be on us within minutes.

Compounding my dilemma, I knew that if they caught us, they wouldn't show the old woman any mercy for having helped me escape. Once again, I was being torn between my own needs and the ultimate safety of another. I asked myself if I could live with the additional guilt that I'd have to bear if something should happen to this defenseless old woman. I discovered that I wasn't ready to ponder that dilemma yet. Even if I could walk out of here on my own, the old woman had committed an offense that would be punishable by death. To leave her behind now, would only seal her fate. Despite our grim odds, they were probably the best that we were going to get.

While she gathered up her few possessions, along with her remaining foodstuffs and water, I kept looking furtively around at the overall campsite. Although most of its inhabitants were sprawled everywhere, catching what rest they could after an arduous journey, a few were still moving around. While I watched them, I considered the possibility that we might run into sentries stationed around the camp's perimeter. If we did, neither of us would be capable of offering much resistance. However, the alternative to fighting to the death was being captured, a thought that prompted me to greater anxiety. If recaptured, I would probably be rebound and the number of guards assigned to watch me doubled.

However, because of the grievous nature of the old woman's crime against her master's orders, she would be treated as a traitor. Because she had acted directly against her master, he would probably feel compelled to make an example of her by torturing her to death in front of the entire camp. Despite her age and frailty, she would be shown no mercy.

My thoughts turned again to the guilt that I was already carrying. If we were captured, and anything happened to the old woman, it would be on my shoulders. Because of me, too many of my friends were already dead. More than I could ever hope to atone for.

The old woman returned with a loosely filled pack slung over her back. Taking it from her, I suggested that she gather up the sleeping soldier's long-knives. Though she quickly turned to do as I suggested, her perplexed look told me that she didn't understand, and questioned the extra weight that they represented.

When she returned with them, all in scabbards, I took them from her and laid them beside me on the cot. Then, with her help, I slowly rose to my feet. Fortunately, I didn't feel nearly as unstable as I had just minutes prior. Thinking of the possible future was getting my adrenaline pumping. I could almost feel it surging through my veins.

Bending over, I scooped up the weapons by their straps, and slung them over my other shoulder.

"I'll carry everything," I said softly, not wanting to waste any more breath than necessary with explanations. "You just keep me on my feet and headed east."

"East?" she frowned, moving in close to put her left shoulder into my right armpit. "Would it not be wiser to go toward the North or South?"

"Maybe," I softly agreed. "But if I'm not mistaken, we'll find friends to the east."

"We'll also find the rising sun," she added derisively.

We set out of camp at a stumbling pace, backtracking the freshly trampled trail. Because the vegetation hadn't had an opportunity to spring back yet, the trail made it easy for us to walk abreast of each other. In addition, we weren't leaving any fresh mark for a tracker to follow when they discovered that we were gone.

Less than a quarter of a mile into our journey, I suggested that we stop for a moment and catch our breath. We were fortunate, in that we hadn't run into any sentries. Probably because the camp was so large and well armed, no one was concerned about being attacked. Of course, this was with good reason, as Mr. Cain's force of natives and slaves were among the largest on the planet's surface. Supplemented with Balzar's soldiers, this was easily the most formidable force ever gathered together in one place at one time on the planet's surface. No one in their right mind, least of all a migrating band of rogues or another wealthy, would consider attacking them.

"Drink," I said, letting the pack and weapons slide to the ground.

"We can't stop now," she argued, though she was clearly spent. "We are still much too close."

"It's okay," I reassured her. "No one is coming after us yet."

Hesitantly, she surrendered to the ground, dropping down beside me. The fatigue was already showing itself by the haggard expression of her face, and we'd only just begun. At the sight of her drawn features, I felt a pang of guilt welling up inside me. Since we'd left the camp behind, I'd also been fighting with my own personal guilt over having to leave Loté behind. However, I was coming to terms with it. In my heart, I knew that I would return for her just as soon as I was able to walk on my own.

Nonetheless, I was experiencing a new shame; I was experiencing the shame of having drawn an old woman into my troubles. There was no way that I could justify how badly I was using her. Sure, I could come up with excuses all day long, each one as valid as the next. Yet, none of them satisfied nor justified what I was putting this kindly old woman through, or the risk that she now faced. She deserved better in her later years, and I needed to tell her so.

Before I could begin, though, I noticed a faraway look in her eyes that forced me to question the cause of it.

"It's my daughter," she slowly started, hesitant to divulge feelings that she'd held, pent up inside her for years. "When she was just a young girl, our master took her up into his domain." She hesitated for a long moment before continuing. "Do you remember asking me if all the slaves taken aboard my master's domain were female?" I nodded, understanding quickly coming to me. "Because of that one simple question, I can't ignore the obvious any longer. It is for that reason that I feel compelled to help you."

An idea came to me. "If you feel this way now, is it possible there are others in your village that might feel the same as you, if they were told?"

"We don't need to be told!" she argued, her anger temporarily boiling to the surface. And though it sounded as if it was directed toward me, I knew otherwise. Her anger was directed toward herself, and all the others that had looked blindly away from the truth. They knew. Even when they made up stories about the good lives their daughters were experiencing, living aboard the domain. They knew. Deep down inside, they knew the truth.

"I'm sorry," was all I could think to say.

"Now you know why I have to help you," she stated matter-of-factly, shrugging off her emotions of just a moment ago. "You mustn't let us down."

The weight of her statement left me gasping for breath. She wasn't exaggerating when she said that I couldn't let them down. Yet, did I ask for this burden, or was it just thrust on me? As I recalled, all I ever wanted was just a simple life with Loté. Or did I? It was my idea to vary our course and go north, after all.

With that memory, came flooding back all the guilt. Because of me, many of my friends were dead! They hadn't shared the same ideals as me, or had they? Is that why they had to die? Or did they die because they were simply friends of mine, trying to do what was right by me?

There were so many unanswered questions and so much guilt, how could I bear it all?

"We must get moving," came a frail voice, breaking through my thoughts. "We are still much too close to camp to be stopping."

"Yes, of course," I quickly agreed.

Reaching down, I slung the collection of weapons over one shoulder and her pack of possessions over the other. In doing so, I realized for the first time just how few possessions a woman of her age had collected over the span of a lifetime; the pack was nearly empty. Most of the weight it contained was from the water in the flagons. We had hardly any food, since she'd fed what little she'd accumulated to the soldiers. It was sad to think that her total accumulation of material assets in this world weighed less than three pounds.

With the old woman's shoulder under my right arm, we set off at a slow hobble, following the trail that had been beaten down by the movement of the camp we'd just left behind. Fortunately, the exercise was doing me good. Although I was still extremely weak, having suffered a wound that would have killed most men, I could feel strength returning to my limbs. Even as we continued forward, working our way eastward through the jungle, I found myself leaning on her less and less.

But alas, she was still an old woman, and after traveling even less than a mile from our last stop, I could see that she was all but done in. Of course, she kept up a brave front, not wanting to show her fatigue. However, she was worn out and exhausted, even before she helped me to escape. While I had been carried along this trail by Balzar's soldiers, she had been forced to negotiate it on foot, expending her precious little strength just to keep up.

"Let's stop," I said breathlessly, feigning to be more exhausted than I really felt.

She came to an immediate halt, her chin resting on her chest. My heart went out to her. Not only did I feel sorry for her because of her current situation, it had to be hard leaving everyone and everything that she'd ever known. But I also felt sorry for her because of the cruelties that she'd suffered during her life as a slave. She was a tough woman, and she deserved my respect.

Opening her pack, I withdrew a partially filled flagon and extended it to her. Her trembling hands belied the depth of her exhaustion as she reached out for it.

"If you're up to it, we'll move off the main trail and set up camp," I softly suggested. "We both need the rest. We'll just have to be careful to conceal our tracks in case they send scouts looking down their back trail for us."

With a wave of my hand, I indicated the direction that we would take. "You lead the way. I think I'm up to following behind and hiding our trail."

Although she tried to give me a smile to show her pleasure at the return of my strength, without a word, she headed off in the direction that I'd indicated. Despite her fatigue, she took painstaking care not to break or bend any of the virgin foliage along the way. Though we moved slower than I cared, I restrained from hurrying her.

When she'd gone more than fifty yards from the trail, I glanced back and was immediately surprised and disappointed that I could still see it. However, after a quick glance around, I determined that there was sufficient foliage to conceal us. This was even better than I had hoped, because now we could rest, and still keep an eye on the trail.

"Hold up, old woman," I said quickly, liking the place where we were. When she turned a questioning look in my direction, I added, "This will do just fine." Though we were both exhausted, I felt an obligation to explain. "From here, if we use the available foliage to our advantage, we can keep an eye on the trail without being seen."

With a silent nod, she accepted my explanation and started retracing her steps back to me. After stumbling a few steps, she suddenly dropped to her knees, landing with a thud. Though I moved to break her fall, in my fatigued state, I was much too slow to reach her in time.

"It's okay," she quickly whispered when she saw the concern on my face. With a dismissing wave of her hand, she added, "I'll be fine. I just need to rest for a moment."

Handing her a flagon, I suggested that I find us something to eat. She was too tired to argue. Instead, she simply nodded and closed her eyes, taking the proffered flagon and letting it fall to the ground between her thighs.

Confident that she would find the strength to drink once she caught her breath, I slowly set off at an angle to the main trail, working my way cautiously through the undergrowth. Carrying nothing more than the bejeweled knife of Loté's, I went in search of edible fruits; I was much too weak to catch anything more substantial.

### **17**

I awoke with a start. Someone, or something, was pulling on my arm. Groggily, with no small amount of pain emanating from a multitude of stiff joints, I raised my head and blurrily looked around, comprehension slowly creeping in. After returning earlier with an armload of fruit that I'd managed to forage from the immediate area, we'd eaten our fill before succumbing to our fatigue and dozing off.

Now, as I struggled against the pleasant pull of sleep, I slowly realized that the old woman had draped her sagging old body half over mine, her flabby breasts lying loosely across my chest as she pressed up too closely behind me. Frantically, she jerked on my arm and babbled incoherently in my ear. At first, I couldn't understand a word of what she was saying. However, sensing that I was about to speak, her other hand quickly shot over my mouth, cutting off any sound before I could make it.

With no small amount of relief, I grasped that she didn't intend to ravish my body, but only that she wanted me to remain quiet.

Following her queue, I took her hand in mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. She understood immediately, and nodded in the direction of the trail, all the while keeping her head just above my chest. Rolling over to my side, I followed her gaze with my own.

At first, all I saw was varying shades of green and shadow, nothing out of the ordinary. Then, after raising myself up into a sitting position, I finally saw the cause of her excitement. There, moving slowly and stealthily along the trail was a small procession of people. Immediately, I assumed they were natives, sent to recover us. However, upon closer inspection, I noticed something amiss with that assumption. Unless they had already backtracked the trail and were now returning to camp, they were moving in the wrong direction.

With all sleepiness immediately gone from my eyes, I realized that they weren't natives after all; they were rogues! Furthermore, their faces were familiar, even though I'd never been formally introduced to each of them.

Much to the old woman's surprise and silent protests, I rose to my feet, every joint in my body protesting the movement. But in my elation, I was immune to the discomfort.

Deciding that it probably wasn't wise to call out to them since I didn't know whether Balzar's scouts were in the area or not, I instead retrieved the armload of weapons from the ground and hurriedly started toward them. The old woman, suspecting that I must have lost my senses altogether, trustingly, albeit a bit hesitantly, scooped up her pack and quickly fell in behind me. Though she wasn't sure what my intentions were, or why I came out of hiding so suddenly, she didn't like the alternative of remaining hidden and possibly forgotten. In addition, because she didn't recognize the people on the trail as having come from her camp, she sensed that I knew who they were.

And then again, at any rate, she might have simply followed me because she trusted my judgment.

We had barely started toward them, when they saw us coming. Recognition was almost immediate, as was evidenced by the sudden emergence of smiles that broke out on their faces.

They were widely spread out, each weighed down with a piece of the recycling apparatus. Balzar would have been overly delighted to come across them thus. And I couldn't help but wonder; if it hadn't been for the old woman and me, would they have marched right into his camp, unawares?

Fayze, near the head of the column, knew only that something was happening behind her. Dropping her load, she drew her long-knife and hurried back to see what was wrong.

Glancing to my left as I stepped out onto the trail, I saw her at the same instant that she saw me; her face immediately lit up with recognition. Just as quickly, her brows knit together and a dark cloud seemed to settle over her. As I looked into her eyes for an explanation, I realized that she was looking beyond me. It was then that I understood the reason behind her dark expression; she wasn't finding what she was looking for, namely, Lipton.

In my moment of gladness, I had temporarily forgotten. Although Fayze enjoyed flirting with me, that was all it ever was, flirting. Her heart belonged to Lipton, even if he failed to acknowledge it. Now it was my duty to tell her what had become of him. Or at least what I remembered of it.

Ignoring the barrage of questions and excited greetings from the others that were quickly crowding around the old woman and me, we moved toward each other. Our steps were slow and methodical, neither wanting to face the inevitable any sooner than was necessary. But even so, we knew it was just that, inevitable.

When we reached each other, I held out my arms to her, offering her what comfort I could. There were tears in the corners of her eyes as she fought back the pain. Holding her tightly, I whispered how sorry I was, repeatedly apologizing for not being able to help him, feeling the weight of all the guilt that I carried anew. The others surrounding us had grown silent and alarmed by our reactions toward each other. Understanding quickly penetrated the throng, and they realized that my arrival wasn't necessary a reason for celebration.

"He was a good man," was all I could say to assuage her pain. It was a bittersweet reunion.

As Fayze pulled away from my embrace, I turned toward the old woman, meaning to introduce her to the others. Yet, even as I did, her attention was being pulled in another direction. With a growing smile and a twinkle in her eye, the old woman saw Tye for the first time. Leaning over, she reached out for the boy. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around the old woman's waist while she hugged him to her bosom.

"A child," was all she managed to say before the tears broke loose.

Out of respect for the old woman, we gave her all the time that she needed. Clearly, Tye was as taken with her as she was with him.

"I'd like to introduce everyone to a very special lady," I started, and then stopped, suddenly embarrassed. It had just dawned on me that I hadn't even taken the time to ask the old woman for her name.

The old woman, realizing why I'd halted in mid-sentence, smiled a knowing smile and said, "It's Rosal."

The others, suddenly realizing what had happened, broke out laughing. No one thought it overly rude, considering the circumstances. While they continued to rib me, they made their individual ways to Rosal and introduced themselves.

Meanwhile, I pulled Fayze aside and asked her to see to the distribution of the weapons that we'd confiscated. After giving them an appraising look, she handed them to the man nearest her, delegating the chore to him. As the leader of this group, she felt we had things of more importance to discuss than the distribution of weapons.

"Do you have scouts up ahead to warn you in the event Balzar has sent soldiers down their back trail?" I started by asking.

"No," she quickly responded, then turned back to the rogue she'd handed the weapons to and said, "Take someone with you and head up the trail. Go slow and be on the lookout for scouts that may be coming this way. It's possible they're already searching for Rod and Rosal."

Then, turning back to me, she shame-facedly said, "That's why I'm not a leader, I guess. I never think of these things."

"Don't worry about it," I shrugged. "How were you supposed to know that we'd be coming this way?" I refrained from adding the following, but instead kept the thought to myself, "Loté would have assumed it."

"Have you any word about Milo?" I asked, changing the subject. Although she wasn't a strategist, she was still a very beautiful woman. It would be very easy to make a fool of myself if I wasn't careful.

"No," she slowly stated, then added, "Unless something has happened to him, he should have caught up with us by now."

"Yet, the beast hasn't shown up either, I take it, so maybe he's still coming," I finished, trying to sound confident.

We sat in awkward silence for a moment. Neither sure that we wanted to say any more, since everything we said sounded negative. Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer and burst out, "What do we do now?"

She was looking into my eyes, and when I looked back, I could see my own fear reflected there. These people needed someone to hold them together, someone that could lead them. No matter how weak I felt inside, they needed me to be strong.

Looking them over, I said, "For now we hang back. We're going to dog Balzar and his wealthy friend until we've had a chance to heal, physically and emotionally. Then, when the time is right, we're going to attack them. It won't be a head-on confrontation, but a whittling down of their defenses." I paused for a moment, making certain that I had all of their attentions. "We're going to be their worst nightmare. We're going to attack and disrupt all trade to and from the domain. When they send out soldiers to hunt us down, they will only find our traps and snares. We're going to make them pay for what they did to our friends!"

Seeing the concern in Rosal's eyes, I quickly added, "Although it will be open season on soldiers and natives alike, we must make it a point not to injure any of their slaves. In addition, anyone that wants to join us, slave, native, or soldier, will be made welcome."

This last comment drew several concerned looks, and more than one guffaw. But I wasn't in the mood to clarify myself; I was tired and hungry.

Turning toward Fayze, I asked, "How's your food supply, we're both starving?"

Smiling, she said loud enough for all to hear, "We'll camp here until the scouts return. Small, clean burning fires only." Then, taking my hand in hers, she added, "Come over here and sit while I fix us something to eat."

She was an impressive woman. While I sat with Tye and the old woman, Rosal, Fayze took charge of our small group of survivors. After assigning responsibility for the equipment, and assuring that sentries had been posted, she quickly set herself to preparing a meal for the whole camp. Of course, since she was in charge, most of the work of actually preparing the food fell to delegates.

Within a matter of minutes, we were eating a warm meal of boiled red meat and roots, and washing it down with tepid water; it was delicious! It was a delightful change from the dried fish and moldy cheese and fruit!

"This is delicious," I mumbled gratefully between mouthfuls.

There was a general consensus of nods and thanks from all that had participated in its preparation. When I finally had my fill and couldn't eat any more, I laid back against the soft green carpet of moss and instantly fell asleep.

Though several hours had passed, it felt like it was just a matter of minutes before I was being gently shaken awake. Opening my eyes, I was pleased to see Rosal kneeling to one side of me, while Tye sat cross-legged on the other; it was Rosal's touch that had roused me from my deep sleep, she was busily replacing the bandages on my spear wound.

Rolling up to a sitting position, I quickly noticed Fayze standing near the trailhead, speaking excitedly with two slender young men. Without needing to be told, I realized they were the scouts that she'd sent out earlier.

With Rosal's help, I struggled to my feet, pleased to note that I didn't feel any vertigo in the process. Walking gingerly, I worked my way over to Fayze and the two scouts. They stopped talking and turned in my direction before I got close enough to hear all of their discussion. Nonetheless, I heard enough to know that they had found Balzar's camp and the overwhelming number of armed men that it contained.

Before I could ask any questions, Fayze started filling me in on the details, leaving out the extraneous stuff that included details of their journey. "It appears your departure has not gone unnoticed," she began. "My men are afraid that we are following too closely."

The reference to 'her men' did not go unnoticed.

"How far ahead are they?"

"Less than two hours. Yet, according to them," she added, indicating the scouts, "Balzar hasn't sent any men down their back trail in search of you. Obviously, they can't comprehend anyone being foolish enough to rush toward the rising sun, not even to escape them."

"That would have to be Cain's influence," I offered. "Balzar hasn't lived on the surface long enough to fully appreciate the rising sun. If he was the only man in charge of sending out search parties, he would send men in every direction, including east."

"Either that, or he doesn't feel the need to send out men in search of you, when he knows you will be coming back to him anyway," Fayze solemnly added.

"Of course!" I muttered, chastising myself for not having thought of it sooner. "How could I be so stupid? Cain would have sent out patrols only because he doesn't know me that well. Nor does Cain understand how much a woman can mean to a man in love. However, Balzar knows, even if he can't comprehend the emotion of love for himself. He does understand the emotion of betrayal, and he does comprehend what it means to possess something obsessively, even if he mistakes that feeling for love. He can be a very jealous man, even if it is for the wrong reasons. Balzar knows that strong emotions exist, and he also knows how to act on them. Instead of wasting manpower on a fruitless search, he'll use his men to set traps. Once his traps are set, he'll just sit back and wait."

A knowing smile slowly lit up her face. "Since we know he has set traps, all we have to do is be careful that we don't set them off."

"That might be easier said than done," I lightly admonished her before continuing. "However, with a plan devised beforehand, it just might be possible to do both."

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, perplexed by my statement.

"What I mean is, we should appear to be setting the traps off, when in reality, we are actually avoiding them. Who would expect anything so bold?"

It was easy talking to Fayze. While I found her beauty and sexuality more than a little distracting, I also found it to be quite invigorating. She reminded me that I was a man, in many more ways than just the obvious. The most important, reminding me that it was time to take the situation in hand, and do something about it; namely, it was time to get Loté away from Balzar. She'd been his prisoner for much too long now. And if I am not capable of that, then I must at least get rid of Balzar. In the short time that he'd been on the planet's surface, he was the cause of more pain and misery than any man had the right to inflict. It was time he got a taste of his own medicine!

"Have you got a plan?" she asked, her voice sounding much more innocent than the look in her eye.

Her question stirred me out of my reverie. Seeing the glint in her eye, I stuttered, "I might have. But I'll need to think it through first."

Although her question had caught me by surprise, my response was truthful. A plan was taking shape in the back of my head. Yet, it needed more thought, more consideration. It also needed some more input from Rosal and the two scouts. Especially, from Rosal, since she knew the layout of Cain's floating domain better than anyone among us, even if she'd never been aboard it.

After questioning the scouts and Rosal until I was certain they couldn't tell me anything more, I found a comfortable place next to the base of a tree, and sat down to think. My wound was healing with remarkable speed. In another day, it wouldn't even be a hindrance any longer. It was time to iron out a plan that could be put into motion. There wasn't anything to by gained by further delays.

According to Rosal, the only access onto Cain's floating domain was by means of an elevator. Furthermore, access to the elevator was controlled from atop the domain. Even during the short times that Cain came down from his domain, such as the time that I'd seen him just before the battle, the elevator is immediately returned to the domain. It is never left on the surface. Only when he wishes to return to his home, is it lowered back down for him. This is for his safety as well as that of his immediate family's.

Although the domain is less than three hundred feet above the surface, it glides along on tethers just above the jungle canopy; the tethers themselves are not accessible. They are constructed of a metal ribbon, sharpened on both edges so they can slice through the overhead canopy with ease. Because of their design, they are virtually impossible to climb.

That takes me back to the elevator, or platform, rather. The only way that I can gain access to his floating domain will be through the implementation of that platform. Yet, surely, no one will willingly raise me up to the domain.

Unless, of course, they aren't aware of my presence upon the platform!

However, that train of thought just provokes more insurmountable problems. The first of which, and not the least, is how to get the platform lowered. And even then, if I find a way to get it lowered, it will be heavily guarded by Cain's elite group of security; men he trusts so explicitly, he allows them to live aboard his domain with him and his family. In addition, if even half the rumors and tales that abounded about them are true, they are so devoted to their master that they would obey his commands without question or pause. In fact, they were known to be so fanatical that they would gladly dive off the domain, if he so ordered it of them. When I tried to work them into my plan, I realized that I'd have to give them special consideration. They could prove to be the hardest obstacle to overcome.

Yet, somehow, I had to find a way to breach his domain! Nothing could be accomplished from the ground. That had already been proven at a costly price.

As I continued to wrack my brain, I casually glanced around at our small band of refugees. Most were finished eating and had repacked the necessary utensils. Those with nothing better to do had moved away from the others and found soft, lush spots in which to get some rest. For the moment, despite the tragedy that we'd all just recently suffered, contentment reigned. Though the scouts felt we were too close to our enemy's camp, a sentiment that kept the sentries on their toes, Fayze and I decided that the risk was minimal; to move farther east only meant that much greater distance would have to be retraced when we made our move. And there was no doubt that we were going to make some kind of move!

Tomorrow, after we've rested, we will take action. Exactly what we are going to do, I am not yet sure. All I can say for certain is that we need to act soon. Every minute that we delay is one more minute that Loté has to endure at Balzar's hands.

But what could such a small band of men and women do against such overwhelming odds? In addition, we were so poorly armed, to boot! Was I overlooking something? Everyone was looking to me to lead them. Yet, all I could promise them was martyrdom.

I was determined that with their loyalty, we would find a way to succeed. Balzar would be vanquished, the recycler would be under our control, and Loté will be free. We have to succeed!

I had barely closed my eyes, my mind too wound up to sleep, when a ruckus broke out on the eastern side of the camp. Rolling to my feet, a long-knife in my hands, I started in the direction of the commotion. Stretching my legs out, a small part of my consciousness noticed the ease and strength with which they propelled me.

However, the larger part of my attention was focused on the sounds coming from just beyond the next growth of foliage. Fortunately, we had placed sentries on our back trail, as well as on our flanks and point. It was the sentry on our back trail that was making all the noise.

Slicing the last of the branches aside with my blade, I charged forward, mentally preparing myself for the worst, positive that I was going to be confronted by an overwhelming number of Balzar's soldiers and Cain's natives.

Instead, I couldn't have been more surprised! Standing in the center of the trail, less than twenty feet ahead, was the sentry Fayze had posted on our back trail. He was jumping up and down, crying out for everyone to hear. Standing beside him, an embarrassed expression on his face because of all the attention being drawn to him was none other than Milo.

The sentry, spinning around and seeing me charging at him through the foliage, froze in his tracks, his shouts cut off in mid-syllable. Milo, a grin stretching from one side of his face to the other, simply stated, "Expecting someone else, maybe?"

"Actually, I was expecting a whole lot of someone else's," I answered truthfully, too surprised and relieved to move.

"You're not too disappointed, I hope?" he asked, his eyes settling on the blade that I still held at the ready.

Self-consciously, I lowered it to my side, wishing I hadn't removed the scabbard before lying down. With nowhere to put it, I let it hang loosely in my hand.

Stepping forward, I reached out to take his hand to congratulate him. Without hesitating, he accepted the gesture and vigorously clasped his hand around my own.

"I imagine you have quite a story to tell us," I said lightly. "The others will be anxious to hear all the details."

"Wait!" he quickly commanded as I turned to lead the way back to our little camp. Then, embarrassed by his outburst, he just as quickly added, "Before we go, tell me what has happened."

"Okay," I agreed, quickly assessing him. "Briefly, then. We caught up to Balzar. He's joined forces with a powerful wealthy. They didn't fall for our diversion. Instead, I'm afraid they kicked our asses. There are only a few of us left; we are nothing more than a small band of refugees." I paused, letting it sink in before adding, "Anything else you would care to know before we join the others?"

Without flinching, he said, "If Lipton had made it, he would be here with you, so you must be in charge."

"Not officially," I volunteered. "Fayze has been doing a pretty good job of it without my help. In fact, I just rejoined with them a few hours ago, myself."

His face lit up at the mention of her name. "Where is she?" he quickly asked, unable to contain himself.

"Right here," came her unmistakable voice over my shoulder.

Turning in her direction, I noticed a glow surrounding her that hadn't been there before. Though she didn't run to him and embrace him, their gazes locked on each other's, an unmistakable tension suddenly filling the air between them.

Feeling uncomfortable and even a tad jealous at the thought that they might have a special relationship that I wasn't privy to, I interrupted their reunion with a commanding suggestion. "Let's get back to camp. I'm sure everyone would like to hear of your exploits."

Finally, breaking eye contact with her, he turned and retrieved the piece of equipment that he'd been carrying until he'd been confronted by our sentry. Hefting it to his shoulder, he nonchalantly said, "It was nothing, really. I just bided my time until that furry, overweight woman-eater left. When it finally did, I grabbed the equipment and set out on your trail."

"Come," I said, waving him ahead of me. As he passed, speaking softly so that only he could hear, I added, "I'm sure you can embellish it a little more than that."

In reply, he simply cast me a wink.

There was something about the kid that caused me to take a liking to him the first time that I'd seen him. It wasn't anything specific that I could put my finger on, just a feeling. I was immensely glad that he had survived his ordeal, even if there wasn't a daring escape or vicious battle to tell us about.

When we got back to camp, everyone was already gathered around the campfire. Most had retreated into the jungle, expecting the worse. Upon seeing Milo, a joyous chorus of laughter and good cheer erupted. Everyone was excited and relieved to see his familiar face. Clearly, I wasn't the only one that had taken a liking to the kid. Judging from the rest of the group, he had quite a following.

After dropping his load next to the rest of the equipment, he looked around himself, clearly alarmed by the small number of survivors.

"Are you hungry?" asked Fayze, leading him to the center of the campsite.

"Famished. If that beast hadn't departed when it did, I think I'd have resorted to eating it," he humorously replied. If the devastating losses we had suffered were affecting him, he wasn't letting it show on the outside.

When he'd been given a bowl of stew and a flagon of water to wash it down with, I asked him if he would be willing to tell us of his adventures while he ate. Between swallows, he replied, "There really isn't much of a story to tell, I'm afraid. All I did was wait until the beast left. Then I retrieved the poor woman's load and brought it to here." He paused to take a swallow.

Before he continued, he looked me in the eye, his subtle way of telling me that he was about to fabricate for the benefit of the others. A good storyteller was worth his weight in gold. After all, life was hard, and entertainment even harder to come by. Any distraction from reality was a small joy to be savored, and so he started, "Of course, there were a few times there, when I would have sworn that the ugly beast was following close behind me. But at the rate that I was moving, it would have been hard put to catch me," he chuckled, before taking another spoonful into his mouth. After swallowing, he went on, "By then, though, I hadn't had anything to eat for quite some time. There was so little meat left on my bones, it probably couldn't even smell me any longer."

Interrupting him, I asked, "What made you think it was following you?" A wild thought was taking shape in the back of my mind. Although I didn't want to deprive these poor souls of their entertainment, a larger force compelled me.

After swallowing, he calmly replied, "Have you ever had that feeling that you were being watched? You know, where the hair stands up on the nape of your neck. That's what this felt like. Only I didn't feel like I was being watched, so much as I felt as if I were being stalked. Does that make sense to you?"

Believing in his instincts, I asked, "How far behind you, would you say it was?"

He stopped chewing and his mouth fell open in surprise. He expected to be ridiculed because of his young age and lack of experience. Instead, a man, and not just any man, but one of some repute was giving credence to his inkling.

Setting the bowl aside, he slowly rose to his feet, his gaze locked on mine. "Do you believe that I may be correct, that this beast has been following me? Because if you believe my inclination and that it isn't just nerves, then he is very close behind. Even as we stand here, he could be selecting his next meal."

The words had barely left his mouth when I could feel the panic building around me. This was not what we needed. In an attempt to nip the rising terror in the bud, I raised my hands above my head and called out. "Everyone! Please, there isn't anything to fear. Just calm down."

Fortunately, my words had the effect that I was looking for. No sooner had I opened my mouth, than a hush fell over them. Yet, the looks in their eyes clearly showed the fear they were feeling. How could I explain my plan to them without scaring them all off?

My plan, hardly anything more than a glimmer of an idea, and fraught with more risk than the one that had already cost me most of my friends, was all I had. Yet, I couldn't be sure if all I was doing was grasping at straws. Was it possible that I'd lost my perspective on reality?

No! Until I get Loté away from Balzar, or die trying, the choices aren't mine. Yet, was it right of me to risk my remaining friends' lives to do it? As I said, the choices aren't mine.

"Finish your food, Milo. Then we'll talk," I said calmly, turning away and retreating to my bed of moss covered ground.

In a way, I was disappointed that he mentioned his suspicion of being followed by the great woman-eater. I would much rather that he had told us of his adventure in killing the beast single-handedly, even if it weren't the truth.

When he'd finished with his food, and likewise with the details of his adventure, he and Fayze sauntered over to join me. Tye, not wanting to miss anything, wasn't far behind them. For the first time since I'd brought Rosal to them, Tye had found someone of more interest than an old woman that wanted to mother him.

As they approached, I asked Fayze if the sentries were still on duty.

"Yes. They're too far out to have heard Milo's return. They'll find out when they come in to be relieved," she replied, a questioning look on her face.

"The sentry to the east, has he returned to his post?"

"Yes," she hesitantly replied. Then, after taking a breath, she inquired, "Is there a purpose behind your questions, or are you just concerned with camp security?"

Milo responded for me, a knowing grin turning up the corners of his mouth. "He is concerned for the safety of the camp. However, that isn't why he's asking you these questions. Is it, Rod?"

"No, it isn't," I answered him.

Though we spoke as if it were for Fayze's benefit, we were actually feeling each other out, in a way. Once again, I was impressed with his maturity for such a young man.

"He intends to use the beast to flush out Balzar's camp," he suddenly stated. "Isn't that right, Rod?"

"We aren't even sure the beast followed you," I softly denied, while I watched Fayze's expression for any sign of protest.

"Next, he will be asking you who is the surest and fleetest of foot in the group." His eyes never leaving mine, he added, "And whomever you should select, he will plan to use them for bait. He'll want them to lead the monster into his enemy's camp!"

"You can't be serious?" she exclaimed, her eyes searching my face for an answer. "It would be suicide! If the beast doesn't catch him, Balzar's soldiers or Cain's natives, will. I can't recommend anyone for such a task! I absolutely refuse!" she stated emphatically.

"You won't have to," cut in Milo suddenly. "Because I'm already volunteering."

"I want to go with you!" piped up Tye excitedly.

"No, you can't!" she vehemently argued. "And you stay out of this, young man!" she quickly added, panic showing in her eyes.

"We don't even know if the beast followed him," I quickly interjected, cutting her off before she drew the other's attention in the camp. "And besides, that's not what I have in mind."

Her face relaxed only marginally, waiting to hear more before casting final judgment. But at least the panic had left her eyes. Maybe this time she would think with her brain and not her heart.

Perplexed, Milo looked at me. "Then what do you have in mind that would require a fleet footed volunteer?" he finally asked when the answer wasn't instantly forthcoming.

"Yes, tell us Rod. What do you have in mind?" asked Fayze suspiciously, her distrust in me growing by the minute.

Because I liked her as much as I did, it wasn't easy for me to explain my idea. It was even more difficult because I already knew that Milo would insist on volunteering for the most dangerous part, despite Fayze's objections.

"I'm afraid you're not going to like this plan any better than the one Milo already laid out," I gently started.

With growing apprehension, she vindictively asked, "What plan of yours has ever worked out?"

Coming to my defense, Milo calmly said, "Let him finish, Fayze. He's only trying to do what he believes is the right thing. Besides, I'm not so sure it isn't, myself."

Though she wanted to say more, she held her tongue, waiting for me to continue. However, even before I spoke, I knew that what I was about to say was only going to make matters worse. Yet, unless someone came up with something better, we had very few options available to us.

"I'm suggesting that we give them the recycling equipment."

"No!" cried Fayze, the panic giving her voice a shrill edge that carried to the rest of the camp. "That's not even an option! Maybe we should just trade you straight across for Loté and let Balzar do what he will with you. Have you forgotten so soon that Lipton and Jon gave their lives to prevent Balzar from obtaining the ability to recycle? Now, you just summarily decide that we should hand the rest of it over to him, and get nothing in return?"

"I've already considered offering myself in exchange for Loté, but I had to rule it out. There isn't any way we can be assured that he would hold up his end of such an agreement." I hesitated, giving her time to cool down before continuing. When it appeared that she didn't have any more to say for the moment, I eased into my plan. "According to Rosal, Balzar had all the pieces of equipment in his possession moved up to Cain's domain. At first, I didn't understand why. With the number of men at his disposal on the ground, no one would have been able to steal the stuff. Then it dawned on me; the power source."

"But we have the shiny tiles," interjected Fayze, abruptly cutting me off.

"We do, and we don't," I corrected. "We have the majority of them, but not all. Enough of them remain in his possession to warrant an attempt at utilizing them. When I considered this, it suddenly dawned on me that he needed a direct line of sight to the moon's reflected sunlight. The only way he can achieve such an unobstructed view is from the top of Cain's domain."

"It might as well be on the moon," said Milo, disheartened by the inaccessibility of Cain's domain. "Everyone knows it's impossible to bring a domain down. The floatation bags are filled with a lightweight sap that quickly seals any holes. Trust me, as a rogue, the value of bringing down a wealthy's domain has been contemplated on more than one occasion."

"Yes," I quickly agreed, glancing at Fayze to gauge her reaction to what I was going to say next. "But in order to get the equipment up there, they have to send the platform down."

"Yes, that's right, but as you say, they only send the platform down," argued Milo. "They don't lower the whole domain. Once a domain is raised, it is virtually airborne forever."

"That's my point exactly!"

Before I could elaborate, Fayze, who'd been sitting silent for the last few moments, suddenly came alive with the realization of what I was suggesting. "No!" she cried out, the panic returning to her eyes. "That's worse than using the beast! No one can be asked to do that. I won't allow it!"

"No one will be asked to do it; it's my mission to get on the platform and go up with the equipment." Then, before she could change tactics on me, I quickly added, "All I need are volunteers to transport the equipment into their camp."

"No!" she cried out again.

However, before she could elaborate, Milo cut her off. "They could go in as refugees, looking to join up with Cain's band. Their admission would be the equipment that they found in the jungle." He paused, mulling it over in his own mind before adding, "And we could hide Rod inside a piece of the equipment."

Fayze was about to protest, when he quickly continued in support of the idea. "Some of those bulkier pieces are plenty large to hide a man inside. We'll just remove the workings first. You know, hollow them out! That way, even if things don't go as planned, Balzar won't get anything more than he has now," he finished, the excitement putting a glow on his face.

Although I hadn't quite worked out that last bit, the part about hiding inside a piece of the equipment, I didn't feel it necessary to divulge my inadequacy. If they, or he, wanted to believe that it was my idea to hide inside a gutted piece of equipment, so be it.

Before Fayze could protest further, I stood up and suggested that we look over the larger pieces of equipment. From where I was standing, none of it looked overly inviting.

Milo was quick to agree. His anxiousness to get started was almost contagious. He was young, strong, and very spirited. These were all qualities that I found extremely admirable. Hopefully, they wouldn't get me killed.

He led the way to the mound of scattered equipment. Fayze begrudgingly followed him with Tye and me bringing up the rear. Several of the group that had been listening in on our discussion hurried ahead and started pulling the pile apart for my benefit, making it easier to see the selections. Even close up, nothing looked promising.

Our selection would have to be large enough to house my weapon, a flagon of water, and me. The water in case they didn't get around to loading the equipment up to Cain's domain right away.

With the pile almost pulled completely apart, we all noticed the same piece at the same time. In unison, we reached out to roll it clear of the remainder of the equipment. It was by large the biggest and bulkiest piece; yet it was surprisingly light. Although it was cumbersome, its weight could easily be managed by one person. That is, until we filled it up with me.

Much to our good fortune, the piece turned out to be the larger part of the incubator cell; hence, there weren't any internal parts to remove. There was, however, one significant problem: it was completely open on one side.

Milo, realizing immediately that it wouldn't work without some modifications, turned back to the remaining equipment, and resumed his rummaging efforts. My first thought was that he was looking for an alternative piece of equipment to use. Just as I was about to suggest we abandon the idea, since I didn't see anything else that was even remotely close to what we required, he grabbed something from beneath several other loose pieces.

Standing up straight and dragging his find to the surface, the pieces on top of it rolling in a heap to the ground with a clatter, he turned to me, his face aglow with excitement, and said, "Here!"

He was holding a flat piece of thin metal, a cover of some sort.

"We'll just put you inside that piece," he started, indicating the larger part of the incubator cell. "Then, we'll fasten this over the opening!"

"You might just have something there," I agreed. "But we'll have to fasten it so that I can undo it from the inside. I can't rely on the person opening it to be Balzar, after all."

With a take-charge attitude, Milo turned to Tye and told him to gather three full flagons. "And make sure they don't leak!" he quickly added as Tye took off at a run toward the center of the camp.

Turning toward Fayze, he said, "See if you can find us some good, strong lashing cord. Preferably some made from the reed material," he curtly added, as she hesitantly moved off in the same direction as Tye.

"It looks like you'll have just enough room for a long-knife," he said, casting a quick glance toward Fayze's retreating figure before adding in a hushed tone, "If this plan is to have any chance at success, it's imperative that I be the one to lead the group into our enemy's lair. I know how to speak the lingo. I can make them believe me."

I knew immediately why he was telling me this; he was afraid that Fayze was going to want to lead the group of make-believe refugees and that I would agree just to pacify her. He didn't know me very well.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," I nonchalantly replied, my tone of voice indicating that it wasn't even going to be a topic of conversation.

"Good. Then I suggest that we get on with it."

No sooner had the words left his lips, then he wished that he could take them back. Embarrassed by his own bravado, he quickly and sheepishly added, "If that's all right with you, sir."

Although I would rather have had one more day to rest, I quickly decided to take advantage of the current mood. Besides, I told myself, I would probably be locked up inside that little cubicle for at least another day, maybe longer.

Tye returned first, carrying three plump flagons. Close behind him came Fayze, a look of discontent and ill mood showing in her eyes and the way she carried herself. In one hand, she carried a large roll of cord.

Rosal was close behind her, also carrying something. As she neared, she walked past the others and handed me her package. "Here, it's just a little something to eat while you wait to come out."

Her look of worry and concern was evident in the lines of her aged and haggard face. Instead of taking the package, I reached out with open arms and drew her to me. Giving her a big hug and a warm embrace, I whispered in her ear, "Thank you for everything that you have done for me."

After a moment, she pushed away from me, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Handing me the package, she turned and hurriedly shuffled back toward the center of camp.

"Like you said, Milo, let's get on with it," I hurriedly replied, trying to hide my own emotions.

After setting the package and the flagons in the bottom of the cubicle, I turned to Fayze. "Milo will lead the refugees into their camp." Her face dropped. As Milo and I had both suspected, she had assumed that she would be the one to lead the way into Balzar's camp. Before she could gather her wits and start an argument, I said, "Fayze, I have the greatest of faith in you, and that's why it's so important for you to stay behind."

"Stay behind?" she asked, incredulous that I could even suggest such a thing.

"Fayze, if this plan fails as miserably as my last plan, it will be of the utmost importance that someone survive to carry the word of our failure to others," I said sincerely, meaning every word of it. "We have friends beneath the surface that have to find out what has become of us. Eventually they will come looking, and when they do, they need to find you. Do you understand what I'm telling you?" I ended, pleading with her to hear and understand my words.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the anger and frustration drained from her face. The beautiful skin and bright eyes that I admired returned. "There really are others like you?" she asked, almost teasingly.

"Well, they're not exactly like me," I smiled, relieved to see that she understood the weight of her responsibility and that we weren't trying to deceive her.

Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around me and planted a kiss on my lips. She was warm, soft, and very sensuous. Everything that I needed, considering I was facing a long stretch on my own inside a box barely large enough to fit my ass in, much less the rest of me!

"If you're ready," interrupted Milo, grabbing the cord from Fayze and handing it to me. "Once you're inside, I'll fit the cover over the opening and you can use these little holes to secure it."

The little holes he was referring to were the original bolt holes that held it to its adjoining piece. Since nothing we had would fit up to it, I assumed Balzar already had its mate.

Because of the tenacity of the cord, I felt confident that no one would casually open the cubicle before it arrived at its destination. However, if I felt the opportunity was right, I could undo my own knots and let myself out.

Standing off to the side of the cubicle, Milo extended his arm out for me to hold onto while I climbed in. With a shrug, I pushed it away, grumbling through gritted teeth that I wasn't quite that old.

Standing in the cubicle, I took one last look around at the men and women that had gathered. Nodding, not trusting to my voice, I quickly scrunched down inside, indicating for Milo to set the lid in place.

"Good luck, old man," he said with a smile, emphasizing the 'old man'. Then, moving quickly, he set the cover over the opening, not giving me a chance to refute him.

It was a tight fit, and in order to secure the cover sufficiently, I had to contort my body around until I faced each side in turn. Also, because of the additional weight it now contained, it was necessary for the others to fasten two long poles beneath it in order to carry it between them. By the time I finished securing the cover, they'd finished securing the poles.

With most of the small bolt holes now sealed off, due to the thickness of the cord running through them, it didn't take long for the close confines to grow hot and stifling. Not only was it growing harder to breathe, but I was subtly reminded of just how badly I smelled; there wasn't any escaping it. Although I hadn't thought of it earlier, I suddenly began to worry that I would be discovered by the unnatural stench coming from this particular piece of equipment. Of course, it was too late to do anything about it. I would just have to content myself with knowing that if it was that obnoxious, Milo and the others would take note of it. And since they were proceeding as planned, evidenced by the bumping and jostling that I was receiving, my stench must be confined in here with me.

We hadn't gone very far, when the discomfort of my restricted quarters began to show itself in the way of cramps. They started in my thighs. When I tried repositioning myself to alleviate the discomfort there, I only succeeded in setting off a new sequence of them in my back.

Sweating profusely, I started worrying myself that I would leak through the bottom of the cubicle. Even after reminding myself that we'd explored that possibility prior, since we'd determined that it would be necessary for me to urinate within the cubicle, it still continued to be a source of anxiety. Only when I rationalized my sudden wave of anxiety, did I realize just how irrational I was being. If I could just convince my body and mind to relax, the cramps and anxiety would pass of its own accord; or so I tried to assure myself.

The trip was shorter than I had anticipated. It seemed as if we'd barely started bouncing along the trail, when I could hear the sounds of many voices. Though it was difficult to hear what was being said, the tone indicated to me that we were being challenged by sentries. My hand reflexively closed around the hilt of the long-knife, squeezing it so hard that the fingers of my right hand cramped.

With my left hand, I massaged the tendons of my right, trying vainly to loosen them, while trying with equal futility to make out the muffled voices coming through the sides of the cubicle.

Almost immediately, we started moving again, though I still discerned a medley of excited shouting. We were at the stage in our plan where my bearers were being told where to take the equipment. As we had assumed, neither Cain's natives nor Balzar's soldiers would lower themselves to carrying it. It was much too convenient for them to allow the rogues to continue in their self-proclaimed roles as beasts of burden.

Although it was impossible to discern individual voices from the background of normal campsite sounds, it was reassuring to note that we were indeed traveling through their camp; so far, the plan was progressing flawlessly. Despite my inability to understand what was being said outside of my cubicle, it was easy to tell by the tone of their voices that my friends were being harassed by the camp's inhabitants. Because they had arrived without slaves to carry their burdens, it would be almost impossible for them to ever be accepted by the prior inhabitants of the camp, especially the working class.

In an even shorter period, we had left the sounds of the camp behind. Except for an occasional shout from one or another of the guards escorting us, silence had ensued. This could only mean that we were being taken to Cain's floating domain!

My friends continued to carry me for a distance that must have been just over a mile since leaving the sounds of the camp behind. Then, amidst a cacophony of shouting, they set me down. Although I couldn't make out specific noises, I sensed that we were once again within the vicinity of many people. Since we were near Cain's domain, possibly even beneath it, most of the noises that I could hear were probably from his ground crew and tote-slaves. Although I hadn't actually seen his domain, I knew it to be a large one, just because of the nature of the beast. Even now, my friends and I might be surrounded by more than one hundred tote-slaves.

Of course, there would be neither assistance nor resistance from them. They were designated 'tote-slaves' for a specific reason: all of them were castrated males. Yet, even more importantly, once secured to a harness, they would remain in that harness until the day they died. Only in death, would they be freed from the domain's tethers.

During the extent of their natural lives, they would be well fed and cared for. Injuries, no matter how serious or minor, would be tended to by people such as Rosal. They were respected by all but their superiors, who only took the care they did for them, out of fear of losing them. If one died because of causes other than natural, his superior might also be put to death for failing in his job. Surprisingly, though, there was never a shortage of tote-slaves, despite their lack of freedom. Most of the first domains ever released into the air had been towed by behemoths, the largest beast inhabiting the jungle that had been domesticated just for the purpose. Now, however, almost all the remaining domains were secured to the planet's surface, as well as propelled westward, through the exclusive use of tote-slaves.

In addition to being treated fairly and looked after, the families of the tote-slaves received a small token. These tokens were never monetary, mind you, but generally something that could be used in its place, something as elementary as privileges, for instance.

There was a loud thump, and then I was moving again. Something knocked hard against the side of my cubicle, giving me a start, immediately followed by silence. After a moment in which all movement had ceased, an old, familiar sensation came over me; I was experiencing a sensation that I hadn't enjoyed in several lifetimes: the feeling of being airborne! They were raising me, unwittingly, I prayed, to Cain's domain!

The floating, swaying motion lasted for a long time. In order to contain my excitement, I concentrated on guesstimating the speed of the elevator, just in case I needed to know it later.

When the upward motion stopped, not all movement ceased with it. Instead, the motion reminded me of a barge I'd been on once, deep within a cavern beneath the planet's surface. Sway, thump. Sway, thump. The elevator was suspended over an opening just large enough for it to clear. The thump sound happened each time it swayed to one side or the other and knocked against the side of the opening. If I weren't mistaken, the platform deck would be level with the floor of the domain.

Before I could contemplate the details, my thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of voices shouting orders. With a start, my cubicle was moved. However, unlike the gentle rocking motion that I had experienced while being carried, I was simply being slid across the hard plank flooring. It was hard to estimate how far I'd been pushed along when I suddenly came to an abrupt stop. Once again, rather than lift my cubicle, I had been left on the floor. Something hard was suddenly pushed up against me, followed by more banging and thumping. Now, however, the noises were being caused by other containers being piled atop my cubicle. They must be stacking the equipment off to the side of the unloading area until Balzar calls for it.

After all the noise and thumping, a painful silence ensued. There was the occasional sound of footsteps as someone approached, then retreated in the direction they'd come from. To justify the sounds so that I wouldn't panic myself, I attributed them to curious inhabitants of the domain. By now, everyone had heard about the wondrous machinery that Balzar had brought with him. It was only natural that there would be many curious people, some willing to take the risk of being caught just to get a closer look at it.

The cramps came back. Either that, or because of the lack of anything else going on, they just made themselves known to me again. After drinking until one of the flagons was empty, I relieved myself, adding to the overpowering stench within my tiny confines. After a while, the sounds of footsteps quit coming by. With nothing to do but think, I began wondering how long it would be prudent of me to remain within the cubicle. If I waited too long, Balzar might discover me, ruining the whole plan.

As I sat in silence, fighting against the painful cramps, it grew steadily warmer within the cubicle. Now that I was above the jungle canopy, there wasn't any protection from the reflected rays of heat bouncing off Heälf's dual moons. Only because someone had stacked some of the other equipment on top of the lid, was I afforded any relief at all. Otherwise, I would have been forced to evacuate the cubicle sooner than I had wanted.

Lying in a puddle of my own sweat and rancid urine, I determined that the time had come. Although I had reached the end of my endurance, that wasn't the motivation for getting out. In fact, whatever the real reason, I had just decided that it was time to untie my knots and find out what I'd gotten into. Maybe it was the length of time that things had been quiet, or maybe it was from sitting in my own urine, whatever the case, I was getting out.

Despite my cramping fingers, it took me just minutes to undo the knots.

With the bindings freed, I carefully pushed up on the lid, expecting to find it weighted down by more equipment having been stacked on top. To my surprise, the weight upon it was relatively light. In fact, it didn't amount to anything. As it turned out, they hadn't stacked anything atop the cubicle. Instead, a large, lightweight hide, similar to that used in the construction of the float bags supporting the domain, had been draped over the pile of equipment, protecting it, and me, from the shimmering rays of heat.

Cautiously, being careful not to disturb the contours of the hide anymore than necessary, I slithered up and out, only to fall uncontrollably on the hard planking, and landing outside the hide covering!

From being confined in such an awkward position for so long, my legs refused to straighten. My back popped noisily as I rolled over onto my stomach, every joint in my body protesting and screaming in agony. Each movement, no matter how small, brought tears to my eyes, eliciting groans from between clenched teeth. Though I had banged my knuckles down hard on the plank wood deck when I fell, I retained my hold on the long-knife.

Fighting the debilitating effects of the cramps, I worked my way up to a sitting position, meanwhile shielding my eyes from the brightness of an unobstructed sky. No one was shouting. No one was running toward me. So far, as near as I could tell in my crippled state, I was unnoticed. But if I didn't move soon, that could all change.

Taking my hand from in front of my eyes, I rolled over onto my knees and forced my reluctant joints to unfold. Then, despite the resistance, I stood upright, grimacing against the pain. Looking around, my vision still blurred and watery, I took a quick assessment of my surroundings.

I was standing on the aft deck, a low, knee-high railing surrounding it. Near the center of the clearing, approximately fifty feet distant, was the elevator platform. To my right, or westerly, was a large set of doors leading into the main structure. This main building, standing three stories high, housed the domestic slaves, handmaidens, and other assorted professions.

Situated directly above this floor was the main domicile. Cain lived there with all of his family, invited friends, guests, and advisors. Atop the second level was yet a third and final level. This third level was actually a large open deck encircled by a large viewing platform, with most of the area simply covered by a flat reed-covered roof to protect partygoers from the unfiltered moonglow. All entertaining and festivities took place on the third level.

If the architecture of this domain were similar to the only one that I'd ever been on before, there would be another elevator located nearer to the center. Unlike the platform that brought me up, this elevator would be restricted to traveling between the first and third floors; it couldn't be used to escape from the domain. The only way I was getting back down to the planet's surface was via the platform that brought me up, or a more direct route through the air. However, unlike any ladders or stairwells that might also connect the different levels, the elevator would probably be guarded since its use would be restricted.

Crawling back beneath the thin hide, I reached into the cubicle and retrieved the remaining flagons. As an afterthought, I reached back in and grabbed the empty one too.

With the flagons slung over my shoulder and the long-knife at the ready, I approached the closed doors leading into the structure. Moving swiftly, I started across the wide expanse of open decking. When I was less than half way across, I glanced up. My heart stopped, completely missing a beat before restarting. Standing above me on the third floor, looking casually down as he leaned on the railing, was none other than Balzar!

Yet, even more alarming, was the figure he held beside him, Loté!

He was smiling, his right hand twisted into her long black hair. I froze in my tracks, unable to take my eyes from them. It was only then that I could see the precarious angle of her pose; he was holding her off-balance by her hair. If he released his grip, she would fall horribly to the hard wood planks more than thirty feet below her.

His voice suddenly broke through my shock. "Come on up, my friend. We've been waiting for you," he laughed contemptuously.

Before I could move, the large doors suddenly swung open, spilling forth ten of Balzar's soldiers. Like me, all were wielding long-knives. Also, like me, they carried standard knives in sheathes strapped to their belts. These could only be the elite of Balzar's elite. Each one would have previously proven himself in both skill and loyalty to his leader. But what were they doing up here? No wealthy in his right mind would ever allow the personal security of even his most honored guests aboard his domain!

Watching them exit, I could see their confidence in their movements. Stealthily, they formed a semicircle around me, leaving only the knee-high railing and a three hundred foot drop to the rocky surface below at my back. Of course, they couldn't possibly know that I did not intend to take that course, and the imminent defeat that it offered.

It suddenly dawned on me, that although I'd faced worse odds in my past, never before had I stood alone against them. But then, I wasn't really standing alone now. Loté was up there watching and believing in me. In addition, all of my friends that had died were with me too. Though they couldn't pick up a weapon and join in, they were just as much a part of this fight as I was. Their spirits will continue to live through me for as long as I am able to hold a blade.

Moving slowly, I reached up with my left hand and started to slide the leather cords from around my neck, intending to remove the somewhat cumbersome flagons. Then, for some unknowing reason, my hand stopped. Slowly, I repositioned the bags across my back, including the empty one. Though I couldn't fathom the reason why, I had a feeling that I wasn't finished with them yet.

Shrugging the feeling off and putting it out of my mind, I took up an offensive stance and slowly moved to my left, carefully and gracefully putting one foot next to the other. As I went around, I studied each of their faces, reading their weakness, and making mental notes.

After making a complete circle, I easily moved forward, closing the distance to the nearest of my enemies. They clearly didn't expect this. Against such overwhelming odds, they expected me to retreat, or at the least, to fight defensively. Of course, there wasn't anywhere to retreat to, and I had no intentions of fighting defensively. My intentions were to bring the battle to Balzar, and to do that I had to get past them. Well here I was!

Not wanting to give them a chance to figure out my strategy, which was seriously lacking on all counts, I moved in and broke their semicircle. If I had a strategy, it was nothing more than to get past them and through the large double doors. If that failed, it was still my intention to get past them and put the structure at my back. Beyond that, if such was possible, my whole intent was to reach Loté.

The clash of steel against steel rang out in the hot air as moonlight glinted off shining iron. No sooner had my blade met one opponent's, than it was parrying to intercept another's. Although there was no chance to hold the offensive, what they didn't know was the depth of the fury that was driving me; I was beyond caring for my own life. With a wild fanatical energy, first once, and then again, I cut and slashed before the next could parry. One went down, a gash in his side where he failed to block my slash in his overconfidence. Then a weapon fell, its user's hand dangling by less than a tendon.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I was inflicting damage. I had drawn first blood, and this feat had bought me a little time. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough; my strength was ebbing too fast. While they maintained their vigor by stepping aside and catching their breath, I was forced to set a quicker pace than they dictated.

My time on the offensive quickly started slipping. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, they were driving me backwards, away from the door and closer to the edge. My wound, although mostly healed, was sapping valuable strength and energy. Although four were out of the action, six well-rested soldiers remained. Within minutes of the start, I was growing too weak to continue the offense. I had been forced into the battle with no reserves of strength. Now, it was everything I could do just to slow the inevitable.

In a brief moment, when two stepped out of the circle at the same time and no one filled the vacancy, I risked an upward glance. My gaze found Loté's. In that briefest of moments, I was overcome with the sadness that I saw within her eyes. She wasn't sad for herself, but because she believed that I was being overpowered, and the outcome was predictable. She was also sad for all the poor souls that would suffer because Balzar's reign had not been stopped.

Anger and frustration boiled up in me anew, and I forgot all about defeat! Anger steeped in self-righteous justification for all the poor souls that Balzar had already inflicted himself upon deserved nothing less. The time had come to put an end to him and his evil reign!

"Balzar!" I cried out, momentarily confusing his soldiers as they turned and followed my gaze up to their leader.

With renewed strength and vigor, it was all that I needed. Even before I jumped into action, I saw his chagrined look as he realized the success of my ruse.

The first soldier fell before me, his head landing free of his body. Without breaking the stride of my swing, I caught the next in the upper shoulder, the combined weight of the heavy steel blade and my adrenaline charged slash severing his arm; I'd intended to strike his throat. But it didn't matter. He was left-handed. His blade clanged uselessly to the hard wood of the deck beneath our feet, his hand still gripping the hilt.

For a moment, my blade hung up in the muscle of his upper torso. But only for a moment, and then it was free. Swinging back in the opposite direction, I caught a third soldier as he swung his blade, hoping to take advantage of my exposed head. Metal clanged as our blades connected. He was stronger and fresher than I was, but much less determined. While he was fighting with the confidence born of superior numbers and strength, I was fighting out of desperation. I had everything to lose; no one would recycle this carcass again. Moreover, my life was secondary to that of Loté's, and to those of the poor souls that were yet to suffer at his master's hands.

Together, we twisted our wrists, a move that would send a weaker assailants weapon flying free. However, much to his surprise, neither came free. In addition, thanks to his overconfidence, I was the quicker to respond.

With the shriek of metal grating along metal, I pulled my blade in close to my body, a maneuver he hadn't expected, drawing his blade forward with mine. At the last moment, I flicked my blade in the opposite direction, taking advantage of his sudden forward momentum, and sent his weapon sailing over the edge of the railing. Even as he realized his mistake, I ran him through with my blade and made a dash for the door.

But before I cleared the others, I felt a hard blow across my back. This was followed immediately by a warm wet flow down my rear haunches, not unlike blood.

Twisting around, I caught the advancing soldier off guard, as he expected me to continue toward the open door. Trying to stop too fast, he slid forward, his bare feet sliding on the freshly wetted planks. Sliding until he came to rest at the end of my blade.

With a jerk, I pulled my weapon free, surprised to note that it was water, and not blood, as I'd first surmised, that the soldier had slipped on. I suddenly wondered if that was behind the premonition that had caused me to retain the flagons against my better judgment. Somehow, I didn't think it was. Though my death had been narrowly averted by the flagons draped over my back, I felt there would be another reason for bringing them along.

Reaching the door, I charged through, entering the gloom beyond with my blade held at the ready. Even before I was through the opening, I was spinning around and throwing the double doors shut behind me. They slammed and locked with a loud clunk as the bolt fell into place.

Even before I could stop and catch my breath, I had to wonder where Cain's private guards were. So far, all I'd run into were Balzar's soldiers. Surely, Cain wouldn't allow Balzar to control all the security aboard his domain.

Unless, and I suspected that I wasn't too far from the truth, Balzar controlled the domain! It made sense, based on the circumstances that I'd encountered so far. Balzar was up there by himself; Cain wasn't with him, or any of the domain's security. In addition, excluding his soldiers down here, there wasn't any evidence of anyone else either; neither slaves nor Cain's family.

It started to make sense; when Balzar couldn't perform on his end of the deal, he decided to eliminate Cain before Cain could eliminate him. He must have killed off Cain's entire household, from slaves to family members, because this place was obviously deserted. Thanks to his irrationality, although I didn't condone the killing of innocents, Balzar had left himself defenseless. He never suspected that his greatest threat could be anyone other than Cain. Well, he was about to find out otherwise. With a smile reshaping the grimace of my lips, I realized that things couldn't have been shaping up any better. As it was going, Balzar and I were about to meet on equal terms. The way it should have been a long time ago. I had to wonder, was he anticipating our meeting as much as I was?

### **18**

It took only seconds for my eyes to adjust to the reduced light level within the confines of the cavernous space. After glancing quickly around at my immediate surroundings, I realized that I was at the head of a long, broad hallway, running almost the entire length of the oblong shaped domain. At the far end was an opening almost as wide and tall as the one I'd just passed through, but not quite. Logic told me that it had to be the bottom of the elevator shaft leading to the third story. Not surprisingly, the shaft was empty.

The only light penetrating into the hallway was what filtered in from the open doorways lining both sides of it. Since I didn't know what lie beyond each opening, I had to assume the worse.

Moving at an angle toward the first opening, my weapon held at the ready, I warily drew up next to it. With the smooth panels of the wall pressed tightly against my back, I stood silently, listening intently for any telltale sign that someone might be lurking within, just beyond my line of vision. My senses could discern nothing more than a gaping silence. With mounting trepidation, I took a deep breath, and lunged around the threshold, swinging my blade inward as I went.

It was a bedroom, just an empty bedroom.

Not wanting to waste any more time than I already had, I immediately turned around and retreated to the hall. Yet, even before I got there, my ears were assailed by the sounds of hammers crashing loudly against the heavy wooden door leading back to the loading platform. The sound echoed down the hallway, reverberating off the sparse walls and ceiling before bouncing back up from the hard plank flooring. Sparing only a glance in the direction of the noise, I absently wondered how long the heavy door would hold. With an ever-increasing number of soldiers being lifted from below, more were trying to beat it down by the minute, probably at Balzar's frantic urgings from above; it wouldn't keep them at bay for long. Nevertheless, I thought with determination, it would keep them out long enough.

As I raced across the hall, I noticed for the first time that the openings to the rooms were offset. It had probably been designed that way to eliminate the need for doors. Because of this quirk in the design, it was impossible to see from one room, across the hallway, and into another.

Using the same approach as the last, but with the opening on my left instead of my right, I entered the next room. Like the first, it too was a bedroom, and it too was devoid of patrons.

With growing impatience, and an equally growing concern that the soldiers would eventually break down the door, I threw caution to the wind. Moving quickly down the hall toward the elevator shaft, I merely stopped before each doorway long enough to visually verify that it was empty. As I expected, they were all bedrooms save one, a food preparation room. What had become of the occupants, I couldn't imagine. Of one thing, I was certain, though, Balzar wouldn't have had his soldiers throw the bodies over the side, despite that being the easiest way to dispose of them.

The last room before coming to the elevator shaft turned out to be a small supply room. It contained soaps, bedding, and, among other things, a generous supply of lamp oil.

I suddenly realized why I had retained the flagons!

After taking a quick drink to quench my parched throat, I poured the remainder of the water out on the floor. Fortunately, only one of the flagons had been breached, which I hastily discarded. The remaining two, I filled to brimming with lamp oil.

A quick scan of the various bins and shelves turned up the fire-making tool, a small contraption that held two small pieces of coarse flint. When it was squeezed together between the thumb and forefinger, it emitted a small shower of sparks, enough to light a lamp. Or, as in my case, a flagon filled with lamp oil.

Slinging the flagons over my shoulder, I slipped the fire starter into the sheathe with Loté's knife. It was important that both be easily accessible, if and when I needed them.

Re-entering the hallway, I noticed that the intensity of the pounding had increased. They were using the elevator to bring up re-enforcements! They were probably the remainder of Balzar's soldiers, since he wouldn't want to tip his hand to the natives down below until he was sure that he had something to offer them in exchange for their loyalty; something like immortality, more than likely.

It suddenly became even more important than before that I succeed; Balzar was in charge of the domain, and awful close to having all the missing pieces of equipment! Or at least enough to make a functional recycler, even if it wasn't state-of-the-art. In addition, with my return, he would quickly figure out that there were more dissidents just a short way down his back trail, and with them, the remaining pieces of equipment. As soon as he finishes with me, he will either dispatch his soldiers to finish off the dissidents and take possession of the remaining pieces, or he will simply announce a large bounty for my friends' heads, and any equipment found. Neither possibility was an endearing scenario.

And to make matters worse, I was the one responsible for supplying him with this knowledge just by my presence!

More determined than ever, I moved toward the opening to the elevator shaft that ran between the first and third floor of the domain. It was a shock to discover that there wasn't a bottom in it. It had probably been designed without a bottom for two reasons: to discourage slaves from climbing within it and accessing the family's private floor, and the easy disposal of garbage and human waste. Of course, that garbage might include a disrespectful slave, every now and again, just to set an example!

Glancing upward, I could see the bottom of the platform. As I had expected, it was even with the floor of the third level. Balzar must have kept it up there to prevent any disgruntled slaves that might still be lurking on the domain from reaching him. Although the place looked deserted to me, I wasn't exactly searching it for slaves or family members loyal to Cain. This was a battle between Balzar and me. Even if I stumbled across any stowaways, I didn't intend to enlist their aid. Having finally gotten so close to him, I wanted him all for myself! The thought of failure never entered my mind.

At first glance, there didn't appear to be any means of scaling the elevator shaft. The walls were solid wood planking fit tightly together for the sole purpose of making it unassailable.

Upon closer scrutiny, though, I could see rough gouges in the planks where the elevator had scraped and banged up against them over time. The imperfections weren't much, and the drop would be straight down to the surface of the planet, should I slip. But I didn't see how I had much choice.

After sheathing the long-knife, I repositioned the flagons on my back, careful to insure that they wouldn't interfere with my balance. Then, taking a deep breath, I reached around the opening and grabbed the breach in the nearest plank. Glancing down, I found a similar nick almost level with my knees. Swinging my left leg around the right side of the opening, I planted my foot in the lower breach and stepped off into space. The look down was dizzying, and the upward draft seemed horrendous.

Glancing up, I found another gouge in the planking less than a foot above my head. Immediately, I reached for it with my free hand, and pulled myself up. Using my toes, I felt over the surface of the planks, probing for a space large enough to give me a toehold. The rough planks were fraught with slivers and splinters. In no time, my toes and chest were feathered with tiny bits of wood.

But there was no turning back. Loté was too close. I could almost smell her soft, sensuous scent. More importantly, I smelled the swarthy, unclean stench of my prey.

It was slow, tedious work. In an attempt to move faster, I grew careless. With a firm hold on a fair-sized splinter, I trusted my weight to it before testing it. Without warning, it ripped free. Before I knew what was happening, I was precariously suspended over the opening with nothing to stop me from falling except for a toehold. Frantically, I clawed at the wall, trying desperately to find something to hold on to before my toe slipped free, or the weight of my upper-body swayed outward from the wall. In my panicked grasping, I tore open a gash in the palm of my left hand, releasing a steady flow of blood. Though the wound itself wasn't serious, the blood that flowed from it made the wood even slipperier. A bulge in the wood suddenly filled my right hand, allowing me to relax and catch my breath.

Yet, I couldn't relax for long. Even before the tremors of twitching muscles left my legs, my right hand started cramping. The battle with Balzar's soldiers had left me exhausted, especially the hand and arm that had flailed the long-knife, my right shoulder on down to my fingertips.

Though I was hurting and bleeding, I had to keep moving. The effort required to hang onto the side of the shaft was quickly zapping the last of my physical resources.

With renewed determination, I forced my left hand up, over my head. With an audible sigh of relief, I found a substantial handhold. Slowly, not letting my guard down again, I proceeded upward. In the background, working as a great motivator, I could hear the hammering noises still echoing down the hallway.

When I reached the second story, I pulled myself through the opening and collapsed, exhausted, to the floor. Yet, even before I could catch my breath, a growing puddle of blood beneath my left hand caught my attention. I needed to find something with which to bandage the wound. When my breathing slowed to almost normal, I pushed myself to my feet and struggled toward the nearest opening. This floor was laid out much as the last floor; the doors were staggered along each side of a wide hallway.

Moving as quietly as possible, I stumbled along the plank flooring, all the while absently picking wooden slivers from my chest and thighs. While keeping my left hand clenched to stem the flow of blood, I used my teeth to pick what slivers I could from my right hand. When I met up with Balzar, I would need it to be free of bits to assure myself of no distractions.

The first room that I came to appeared to be some kind of storage closet for the family members. It contained a vast assortment of items ranging from toys to games. What it didn't contain was any material to wrap my bloody palm. The second room I entered was much larger. Positioned near the center was an oversized bed, befitted with the finest cloths and fabrics. It was further adorned with oversized pillows displaying intricate embroidery work incorporating a shiny golden thread. This was clearly a woman's bedroom; the motif was much too feminine for a man's taste.

Off to the side of the room was a large, ornately carved wardrobe. Although it was freestanding in style, because of its size, it must have been assembled in the room; it was much larger than the doorway. Even to my untrained eye, it was a magnificent piece of furniture.

Moving toward the bed, I was slightly awed by the grandiose of it all. In every direction that my eyes traveled, from the finely crafted tapestries suspended on the walls, to the exquisitely handcrafted rugs beneath my feet, I beheld extreme indulgence. It was unimaginable that so much worth would be assembled in one room. I couldn't begin to comprehend the cost of furnishing a room in such splendor. Yet, even more astounding was that I knew this was just one of many such rooms, each equally adorned and outfitted. Clearly, the main floor with its austerely furnished rooms was intended for the staff; this floor, with its refined decadence was restricted to family members.

When I reached the bed, I knew the moment that I touched the silken threads of its coverlet that I needed to look farther for a more appropriate material. Such tightly woven and silky material would prove to be much too slippery with which to grasp the wood planks. In addition, the material was worthless, with respect to absorbing blood.

Moving on, I went to the wardrobe and threw open the doors. My eyes were feasted with the sight of many-colored, flamboyantly styled dresses. Each one was tailored precisely for the woman they were intended. Based on their size, the woman that had previously occupied this room was closely proportionate to Loté. Almost sadly, I wondered what had become of her. It would not have been like Balzar to overlook such a lovely figure of human flesh. Yet, even if he had, his soldiers would not.

Unaware of my actions, I drew one of the articles to my nose and sniffed at the scent of the woman that had worn it. I could almost see her running down the hall, futilely trying to escape the marauding men as they waved their long-knives and yelled horrendously to keep the civilians off balance. There was a look of panic in her eyes, a mask of terror hiding her true beauty. The thought put an immediate damper over the gaiety of the garments.

Suddenly finding it distasteful, I dropped the garment to the floor, and quickly felt among the rest. After selecting a piece of clothing of a satisfactory material, I proceeded to tear a long, thin strip from it. Then, holding my left hand out, I used my right to wrap it tightly with the fabric. With the leftover material, I wiped the sweat from my forehead before dropping it and heading back into the hall. For just a fraction of a second, I contemplated investigating the remainder of the rooms. However, I just as quickly discarded the idea. I'd spent too much time on this floor already. By now, Balzar's soldiers had probably broken down the door to the first floor. It wouldn't be long before they searched through all the rooms down there and discovered my blood in the elevator shaft. After that, it would only be a matter of minutes before they'd be climbing up after me.

Before that happens, I need to be on the top level. If they catch me in the shaft, it'll be as simple as signaling Balzar to lower the platform. If I'm still climbing in the shaft when he lowers it, there won't be anywhere for me to go but down. The sheer weight of it will simply knock me free. With no floor beneath me to break my fall, I will be in for a long drop to my death.

Unfortunately, though I had to reach the top deck before the soldiers figured out my plans, it still didn't answer the question of what I was going to do when I finally got up there. With the elevator platform resting at the top, I wasn't sure there was even room enough to squeeze by it. I might climb all the way up the shaft, only to discover that I can't get by it and have to backtrack to the second floor. I might be wasting time in the shaft that would be better spent looking for an alternative way up.

Of course, I could start looking for that alternative way up, now. Then again, what if there wasn't one? How much time can I afford to waste looking for something that doesn't exist?

No! I was committed to the elevator shaft. And until I climbed up there and proved to myself that there wasn't any ingress, it was the only way to get to Balzar.

Reaching around the edge of the opening, I took a quick glance down before searching for my first handhold. The banging noise that I'd grown accustomed to during my climb to the second floor had ceased. To my dismay, it was replaced with the sound of men's voices yelling orders; they had broken down the massive doors and were searching the lower rooms. It was time to start climbing.

I had barely gotten the whole of my body into the shaft and was testing my weight on the hand and footholds, when a voice barked up the shaft from below. Their search was over; they now knew where I was. At any moment, someone capable of throwing a knife with deadly accuracy was going to arrive, or the platform was going to descend. Already, many heads were poking into the first floor opening, craning to get a view of their prey. Climbing was no longer an option. I'd wasted too much time!

With indecision reigning in my head, the choices were suddenly narrowed down; the platform began its noisy, creaking and scraping descent.

Laughing and joking broke out on the first floor as soldiers quickly laid odds and placed bets on how soon I would come sailing past them. Yet, even as the platform drew nearer, an idea was already taking shape in my mind. It was to my good fortune that with the platform descending, the soldiers below didn't feel any necessity to pursue me from their end.

Swinging my feet around the opening until they were back on solid flooring, I hastily pulled myself back into the hallway. With a quick look upwards, I gauged the speed of the platform's descent and realized that I needed to move swiftly. If the platform drew level with this floor before I was ready, my idea didn't stand a chance at succeeding.

With my feet back on solid flooring, I searched frantically about me for a hidden access to the elevator workings. In order for the platform to raise and lower, it needed to be counterweighted. If it wasn't counterweighed, it risked not stopping on the second floor, but proceeding downward until reaching the end of its ropes. Then, all the forces of gravity and inertia would come into play, greatly increasing the stress load against its bindings. In addition, once lowered, it would require many men to raise it, especially if it held a large amount of weight.

This all led me to believe that hidden somewhere behind the walls of the shaft was a network of cables and pulleys. But which wall?

There wasn't any need to search the front, the side with the opening, because the wall was clearly visible, and much too thin. The wall that housed the cables would be extremely thick. It would have to have enough depth so that the cables could move freely without any chance of rubbing and wearing.

The toy room!

Sprinting to the first opening on my right, I re-entered the room that I thought of as a toy storage closet. Somewhere, probably located in the right-hand wall, there would have to be a removable access panel. If for no other reason than regular servicing and maintenance of the cables, they would have installed access panels. At least, in my frantic haste, it seemed logical.

My hunch was correct. Located near the center of the wall, I detected the smallest of cracks. After pushing the items stacked in front of it out of my way, I could see the entire outline. Pressing the tip of the long-knife into the break, I quickly pried the panel loose and flung it aside. Looking into the opening, I discovered an unobstructed view of the main cables connecting the elevator platform to its counterweights; and they were slowly gliding past. While two sets of cables were moving upward, their counterparts were moving at the same speed in the opposite direction.

The problem I faced now, however, was that I couldn't see the progress of the platform. Or, even more importantly, who was riding on it. My idea was to hack through the cables with my knife, sending the platform falling to the planet's surface. It was a simple enough plan that wouldn't require much effort, yet my hands refused to move. There was a chance that Balzar wasn't even on the platform. However, there was also an even greater chance that he was on it, but not alone. What if I cut the cables, sending him and Loté plunging to their deaths on the surface below, could I live with that? The more I considered it, the more likely it seemed to me that he would be bringing her down with him, if for no other reason than to use her as his hostage, or bait.

Before I could bring myself to hack through the heavy cords, I had to know whom, if anyone, was on the platform. My only option was to wait until it reached a low enough point so that I could see between it and the ceiling. Of course, once it reached that point, whoever happened to be on it would be able to jump safely to the second story decking. It would be a long distance to jump, approximately twelve feet, even after the platform was low enough to clear the opening. However, the alternative was a three hundred foot fall to the planet's surface below.

Moreover, if he is alone and he sees me running into the toy closet, he will be on me before I have a chance to hack through the cables. In fact, he will likely catch up to me when I'll be the most vulnerable, preoccupied with the cables and my back turned toward the doorway.

Yet, I couldn't see any way to avoid it. Until I knew with certainty whether Loté was on the platform or not, I couldn't send the platform to the surface below. My only option was to wait until I could see who was riding on it, and then dash ahead of them to the cables.

Unless Loté is on the platform!

The clunking and scraping sounds were growing nearer; the platform was almost to the second floor opening. With a detached sense of awareness, I could feel my leg muscles tensing, preparing to carry my body with their greatest speed to the opening that revealed the cables. Silently, anxiously, I waited. A sliver of wood fell past the opening, I jerked, over-anticipating the run. The tension had me wound up tight. If the platform didn't come into sight soon, I was liable to snap.

Dust glittered in the subdued light that filtered up through the shaft.

Suddenly, the bottom of the platform dropped into view. Just as suddenly, a voice cried out, freezing me in my tracks.

"Rod!" Although it was a high-pitched, frantic voice, there was no trace of fear in it, only defiance and anger.

"Loté!" I called back excitedly, a flood of feelings and emotions turned rampant at the sound of her voice.

Slowly, almost cautiously, I moved toward the elevator shaft. There was no longer any need to cut the cables, at least not as long as Loté was on the platform.

With a clunk, the platform shifted and a crack opened between it and the ceiling. Two pair of feet came into view! Why was I not surprised, I thought wryly. They were close together, one pair directly behind the other. As I suspected, even before I could see above their waists, he was holding her from behind, a knife to her throat. In addition, her hands were tightly bound behind her.

As the platform continued its slow descent, more of her was slowly revealed to me. Despite the circumstances, the sight of her firm thighs and gracefully curving hips, gradually giving way to her flat tummy before exposing her large, firm breasts, and culminating in her full lips and deep, dark eyes, I could feel desire growing in my groin. Although it had only been days, maybe weeks at most, the mere sight of her was more than enough to arouse me.

Her hair was disheveled, but clean and shiny. Glancing quickly over her enchanting body, I could see no marks of abuse or torture, which gave me pause for thanks.

"Let her go, Balzar. This is between you and me!" I commanded of him.

When the platform was less than four feet above the decking, he brought it to a halt. His intentions were to allow sufficient room for his soldiers to climb in under it. They were probably working their way up, even as we stood here facing each other.

Laughing, full of the confidence that his soldiers were going to arrive soon, he said, "And lose my one bargaining chip! Why, if it weren't for this lovely woman, you wouldn't be here now. Would you?"

Speaking beneath my breath, I replied, "I wouldn't put a wager on it. After what you've done, I'd still hunt you down like a rabid animal and kill you."

"My, my. Those are such harsh words between old friends. Are they not?" he quipped sarcastically.

Cutting him off, I angrily responded, "Don't ever refer to me as your old friend!"

"Have it your way," he replied calmly, almost flippantly. "Since you don't see a need to exchange niceties, why don't we get down to business?"

"You and I only have one business in common, and that is seeing you burn in Hell!" I shouted back at him, infuriated by his calm demeanor.

"I'm through playing games with you, Captain Rodick. Although it pains me to do this..."

His hand started to move as he drew the blade across Loté's throat. Throwing down my weapon, I rushed forward, crying out, begging him, "No!"

Blood was already seeping from her throat when he stopped. She was scared at this point, but not fatally wounded. From many past experiences, he knew what he was doing. Although he'd inflicted a nasty looking gash across the front of her throat, he had not cut deep, nor had he severed any arteries.

"Listen to me, Captain Rodick, and listen good. As I said, I am done playing around with you. Cain is dead, though no one on the surface is aware of that just yet. Most of his slaves and family are still alive, for now," he added, almost as an afterthought. "But when I am through with them, I will probably dispose of them the same way I did Cain."

"Let her go," I begged, barely hearing what he was saying.

"Oh, I intend to let her go, just as soon as my men arrive to take you. It will be quite interesting to see how good she looks after tumbling three-hundred feet to the jungle floor below." Cupping her left breast in his left hand, he breathlessly added, "So firm, so much pleasure, it seems like such a waste. Doesn't it?"

"No, you can't! I'll give you anything you want, just let her go!"

The blood had formed a small rivulet of crimson down her front, flowing freely between her breasts and continuing down past her navel to where it disappeared into the darker regions of her lower anatomy. As I stared at it in disbelief, I was vaguely aware of the grunts and curses filtering up from beneath the platform. His soldiers would be on the floor in a matter of minutes, and with them, all chances of success!

"I'm willing to make one last deal with you, Captain Rodick," he said earnestly. "To show you that I speak in all earnest, and that I am through wasting time on you, if you will jump willingly to your own death, I will give her back her life."

"Don't listen to him, Rod," pleaded Loté, panic clouding her clear brown eyes. "You know he'll throw me off right behind you. He is more than capable. He's already thrown more than one slave over the side simply because they didn't bow before him fast enough!" she continued, pleading with me not to listen to him.

His confidence was further boosted by the fact that I was unarmed, and that he could hear his soldiers drawing nearer by the second. Unwittingly, he moved forward, guiding Loté along in front of him. Likewise, I moved closer to the platform, stopping only when I was less than two feet from it and approximately four feet from Loté.

An arm suddenly reached out of the gap between the platform and the deck. Balzar, though he was expecting his soldiers to arrive at any moment, was still taken aback. Involuntarily, he jumped, not upward, but more like a twitch.

Loté, sensing this would be our only opportunity, grabbed his genitals from where he was pushing them against her. With the knife against her throat, it was the last thing he expected of her.

Using her height, she lifted upward, drawing her arms up behind her back at the same time. Simultaneously, she squeezed and held on to his manhood, lifting him upward and off balance as he fought to stop the intense pain in his groin.

A separation of only inches opened up between them, but almost as if it were happening in slow motion, the knife etched a bloody path across the front of her throat. Pulling her bejeweled knife from the sheath on my hip, I calculated the distance automatically as I drew back my arm. Then, with a precision born of familiarity, I let the knife fly, straight for the arm holding the blade against my love's throat.

My aim was true, and the blade buried itself in the flesh of his right arm, severing tendons and sinews as it went. Immediately, his weapon fell from his immobilized fingers. With him still holding on, his right hand now entangled in her hair, she suddenly dropped to a crouch, spinning to face him as she did. With her hands still secured behind her back, she sprang upward, using all the strength in her well-muscled calves and thighs to propel her. With a grace that only she possessed, she kicked him in the side of the head, the flat of her foot connecting with a dull thud.

His head snapped to the side, stopping just short of a broken neck. Unconscious, he dropped to the floor of the platform, blood running from his nose and ears.

Meanwhile, I had retrieved my fallen long-knife and approached the platform. Because she didn't need any additional help, I turned my attention to the nearest soldier. Already they were working their way out from under the platform. Reaching the one in the lead, his weapon on the floor beside his hands as he pulled himself up, I brought the long-knife down on the back of his head, neatly cleaving it down the center. Slowly, he slid back and down, disappearing beneath the platform.

Crouching close to the platform, I glanced down between it and the deck. I was aghast at the number of soldiers scaling the shaft walls. Already, there were three abreast climbing over the edge, reaching for my ankles.

Without a thought, I kicked out at the nearest, landing a blow to his face. Falling back, he groped blindly for a handhold before his comrade steadied him and held him in place.

Meanwhile, the third was bringing his long-knife around for a savage cut at my feet, hoping to drive me back until they could scale the floor or reinforcements arrived.

Not waiting around, I jumped up on the platform and retrieved Loté's knife from the unconscious Balzar. Turning her, I quickly cut the cord securing her hands, and then handed the knife to her. With hardly more than a glance at the knife, and the implications that my possession of it suggested, she threw her arms around my neck and hugged me.

Kissing the top of her head, I passionately stuttered, "Forgive me."

Perplexed by my statement, she looked up into my eyes, tears welling up in the corners of her own. "I don't understand," she started to say when I abruptly cut her off.

"There isn't time right now to explain. Come, we have to move fast."

Jumping clear of the platform and landing on the deck, I turned back toward the shaft just in time to chop off the hand of a soldier pulling himself onto the decking. In shock, he stared down at his dismembered hand while slowly sliding backwards. Too late, the realization of what was happening sank in. With only one hand, he couldn't stop his backward progress. With a blood-curdling scream, he disappeared over the edge, none of his comrades coming to his aid in time. Slowly, his cry faded before abruptly stopping.

Looking past me, Loté quickly assessed the situation before replying, "We can't stop them all. While we were still on the balcony above, he commanded his entire army to ascend. At any time, they might find another way onto this level."

"We might not be able to stop them all," I started, a plan quickly taking shape in my head. "But I think I know what'll slow them down."

Turning, I grabbed her by the arm and led her into the toy closet. When we reached the open panel and she saw the exposed cables, she knew immediately what my intentions were. Without a word regarding the unconscious Balzar still lying on the platform, we started hacking away. If there were any regrets with respect to the man's right to live, neither of us was voicing them. We'd come too far and endured too much by his evil hands to concern ourselves with his fate now. If anything, he was getting what he rightfully deserved, a fast ride to Hell!

The cables were almost as thick as a man's wrist, and fabricated of many smaller twines braided together. Fortunately, none of the finer braids consisted of the reeds we'd encountered in the north. If they had, it would have been virtually impossible for us to sever them with knives alone.

Using the long bladed weapon like a machete, the first cable snapped with a twang. This was followed shortly by a loud thunk on the closet wall as the platform lurched over to one side. We could hear men screaming as they realized our intent.

As I turned my attention to the next cable, the one Loté was working on snapped with a loud twang. This was immediately followed by a loud thunk and a cacophony of screaming and shouting as the platform shifted and rolled.

Leaving Loté to continue with the cables, I retreated to the hallway. In our absence, I was afraid more soldiers might have made their way up the shaft to our level.

As I came through the doorway, the first thing I noticed was the precarious position of the platform. Because it was only being held by two cables, it had slanted over at a forty-five degree angle. Clinging to the upper edge, blood running from his mouth, nose, and ears was none other than Balzar. With a quick glance around, I quickly confirmed that we were alone. His soldiers, suspecting that the platform was about to fall at any moment, had retreated to the first floor.

Sensing my presence, he slowly turned his head until he could look me in the eye. Meeting his gaze, I could see his anger and animosity. In fact, I could taste it.

"You should be dead," he said softly, almost calmly, his voice belying the intense hatred that he felt toward me. "So many times you have ruined my plans. And always, as if by some higher decree, always, just before they come to fruition."

For the briefest of moments, I almost felt pity for him, lying there in his final defeat.

"And you were always consumed with so much hatred, so much desire for revenge that you couldn't see the obvious. You could have been a great ruler if you could have learned to show a little compassion for your fellow man."

"Compassion! I have yet to meet a man, or a woman for that matter, that was deserving of my compassion." He paused for a moment to catch his breath. I couldn't remember him ever sounding so tired. "They, everyone, are nothing but inferior beings to me! They have all deserved what they've gotten."

"And so you deserve what you shall get," I said icily, no longer feeling any empathy for his crisis. He was a cold, cruel, uncaring, selfish man, if a man he even was. He was more closely related to the beast that ate the poor slave woman in the jungle, than he was to the human race.

The platform suddenly pitched over to the side as another cable gave way. It was hanging by only one more cable. Even while we continued talking, I could envision Loté sawing feverishly away at the last remaining cable with her knife. She would not be aware of the situation out here, only that I hadn't returned to her. Being separated again, so soon after being reunited, would increase the fervor with which she worked, determining in her mind that my life was dependant on her speed.

Fighting the urge to gloat, I said instead, "You don't have much time left to live before Loté cuts through the last cable." Then, for completely selfish reasons, probably because I needed to see more fear in his eyes than I was seeing, I added, "If it's the last thing I do, I'm going to be sure that every last bit of you is left behind for the rising sun. No one will ever recycle you again! With that in mind, do you have any last words you would like to share with me?"

"Yes. I'll see you in Hell!"

At that moment, Loté sawed through the final strands of the remaining cable. His face suddenly went pale, draining of blood as the shock and comprehension of what was about to happen, finally registered. In that split second, when the platform almost righted itself before beginning its long descent to the surface, I knew my words had struck home; fear had replaced all else in his eyes.

Almost as though it were moving in slow motion, the platform slid down and out of the shaft, carrying its evil cargo with it. In a detached way, I worried that it might crush innocent people down below. However, what was foremost on my mind, was that despite the fear that I saw in his eyes as the platform slid free of the shaft, was his silence; in his last moments of life, he never cried out. In a way, I realized that I was a little disappointed.

Moving quickly, I rushed to the edge of the shaft and looked down. In the distance, and growing smaller, was the platform with Balzar still clinging to the edge. Since the domain had been stationary, the jungle canopy had been cleared from beneath it in order to give Balzar an unobstructed view to the surface. It was because of his prior efforts that I was able to watch the progress of the retreating platform until it came to a sudden and crashing stop on the jungle floor. Though I couldn't be sure, I didn't believe it had hit anyone. The only fatality that I was certain of was Balzar.

Loté came running up and knelt down beside me, her attention focused on the natives cautiously approaching the shattered remains of Balzar and the busted platform.

In a tiny voice, she asked, "Is it really over, Rod?"

"It's really over," I softly replied, pulling my eyes from the scene below and looking at her lovely features so close to my face. "It's really over."

Turning her face to mine, she simply said, "I love you."

Taking her face in my hands, I replied in kind, as I guided her lips to mine. We kissed long and hard, neither of us wanting the moment to end.

After a long, blissful moment, she pulled away from me and asked, "Where do we go from here?"

Not wanting the moment to end, but knowing we still had much work ahead of us before we could fully relax and enjoy each other, I sighed, "Well, we still have to get off this domain. In addition, I'm almost afraid to guess at what we'll find down there."

Her body suddenly relaxed and she leaned against me. Her voice, sounding tired and depressed, she asked, "Do we have to? Can't we just stay up here for a while?"

Taking my hand in hers, she gracefully rose to her feet and softly, with just a hint of flirtation in her voice, said, "I know where there's a beautiful room just waiting for us."

With a bat of her eyes, I quickly fell into step behind her, letting her lead me down the hall and into the nearest bedroom. With Balzar dead, his soldiers would be high-tailing it off the domain and out of the area. Once Cain's loyal natives realized that Balzar and his soldiers had killed their beloved master and lord, without Balzar to punish, they would just naturally take out their frustrations on his minions. The immediate future did not look very bright for a bunch of subsurface soldiers without a leader.

Of course, eventually someone would step forward and lay claim to Cain's empire. Somewhere up here there were bound to be survivors that had managed to elude Balzar's attempted genocide. However, that wasn't our problem, not yet, anyway. Loté and I had some unfinished business of our own to take care of.

### **19**

Once inside the room with the bed staring at us, we experienced an unexpected moment of awkwardness. It had just seemed natural that we would make love and share in each other's carnal delights. However, with so much longing and desire having built up in our absence from each other, our reunion needed something more. Turning toward her, I let my hand run down her back as I pulled her body against mine. She moaned with anticipation, and I knew the awkwardness of the moment was only in my head, our flesh was willing.

We made love on the softest, silkiest sheets that my skin had ever felt. Then we made more love. When we were spent and exhausted, we slept. When we awoke, we made love again. Then we slept some more. We had much catching up to do.

When I awoke the following day, I rolled over and watched her sleep. Sensing that she was being watched, she also woke.

"You're the most beautiful woman that I know," I said dreamily, not wanting to take my eyes off her.

"And you're the most biased man that I know. But I'm not complaining, mind you," she answered with a smile. Then, her tone turning serious, she added, "By the way, while you were asleep, I went to get a drink of water. Did you know your flagons are filled with lamp oil?"

"Yes, I know," I solemnly replied. Then, sensing that she'd brought it up because she was curious of my motive, I added, "It was going to be my last resort. If all else failed, I was determined that he wouldn't leave the domain alive."

Her demeanor suddenly turned deathly sober. Even before she spoke, I sensed that she was going to ask me something serious, something that had been bothering her since our reunion. Up until this moment, she hadn't wanted to be the one to put a damper on our good spirits. Now, however, she felt compelled to ask. She needed to know all the dour details.

"After you pulled me off the platform, you used my knife to cut my bonds. Then you gave it to me." She hesitated, searching for just the right words before continuing. "I never gave you my knife back there at the basin; I gave it to Fayze for safe-keeping."

She hesitated, not finished, but struggling, afraid of the answer that was forthcoming. I could have made it easier on her. I could have explained how I came to be in possession of it without waiting for her to come out and ask it of me. But I knew she needed more. She needed to know what had become of Fayze and the others, and I wasn't sure myself. It might be a safe assumption to assume that they'd been killed by Balzar's soldiers, or even Cain's natives. But that would only be an assumption. The truth, I figure, we will have to learn together. Only after we leave this place and return to the surface, will we know for sure.

She continued finally, after mentally preparing herself for the answer that she expected me to give her. "How did you come by it, and where is Fayze? What's happened to her?"

Slowly, I replied as best I could, "I don't know where Fayze, or Tye, for that matter, are. She gave me your knife just before we split up on the surface." It was my turn to hesitate before continuing. "You might as well know, there are very few of the rogues from the basin still alive. The majority of them joined forces with Lipton and me against Balzar and Cain. Of course, when we went after Balzar, we didn't know about Cain and his natives."

Briefly, I told her the sad tale of how everyone, save for a few, had been annihilated by the combined forces. She was able to fill in the details to some of the grayer areas, since Balzar was prone to bragging of the exploits in his efforts to break her will.

She, in turn, had witnessed Cain's demise by Balzar's soldiers. Later, after Cain was gone, Balzar turned on the immediate family members. She was, however, confident that several of them, including a large number of slaves, all female, had escaped.

"There were many more people around when he first brought me up here," she said, trying to explain why she felt that many had escaped Balzar's soldiers. "There are probably many secret catacombs and tunnels laced throughout the domain. If we could find a way into them, we would probably find the survivors."

"Or, we can wait for them to come to us," I suggested, looking toward the door as three young women timidly peered in. They were merely young girls, judging by their small, budding breasts. "Come in, we will not harm you."

Loté, jumping excitedly to her feet, ran to them. They hesitantly smiled at her. After hugging the nearest, she turned back to me, her face beaming, and said, "I know them, Rod. They were good to me when Balzar wasn't watching. They brought me water when I was thirsty!" Hugging each of them again, she excitedly continued, "I'm so glad to see you all again. I was so afraid of what might have happened to you."

Looking past them, I saw someone else entering the room. Someone even I recognized.

"Loté," I said softly. "There's someone here that I think you'll be glad to see."

Looking up, she recognized the face immediately. "Brae!" she screamed as she leapt to her feet and ran to embrace her.

Following closely behind her was Fayze, her face also beaming. Loté, finally able to release Brae, noticed Fayze for the first time. Screaming, the three of them hugged and embraced. Meanwhile, Wary and Milo slid past them unnoticed.

Stopping at the foot of the bed, Milo was the first to speak. "I told the others not to worry, that you and she would need some time alone." Looking pleased with himself, he turned toward Wary with a knowing grin and said, "See, I told you that they would be alright."

With a chuckle, I said, "Thanks, Milo. Since it would appear that the two of you have already met, I won't waste any time on introductions." Then, looking Wary in the eye, I added, "Damn, it's good to see you! So tell me, how is it you met up with Milo?"

"It's good to see you, also, old friend," he replied a bit self-consciously before adding, "There will be time enough for stories later."

"Then tell me this," I asked excitedly, turning toward Milo, "how did you fare with Balzar's soldiers after dropping me off? I want to know everything, and don't hold anything back, either of you. I want to hear every detail, from how you and Brae got here, to how you dealt with the soldiers, everything!"

"What, you don't want to hear my side of the story?" came a booming voice from out in the hallway.

"Keazar!" Loté and I cried out simultaneously.

Jumping to my feet, I was literally carried along by Milo, Wary, and the others as I hurried to the door to see our dear friend and mentor.

Mumbling to himself, dressed in the finest lavender-velvet robes despite the heat and humidity, he was acting more interested in his surroundings than in the onslaught of friendship and warmth that confronted him.

When the hugs and embraces were finally over, I noticed several men standing near the opening at the end of the hall. In stacks several feet high beside them, were cases of food and drink, along with Keazar's own collection of personal items.

"Would someone care to tell me what this is all about?" I asked suspiciously, eyeing the pile of goods.

Before the others could reply, Keazar started in on one of his long-winded stories about a leader without a castle.

Cutting him off before he got too carried away, I asked with a smirk, "Would this leader be anyone that we know?"

Laughter broke out as everyone realized that Keazar intended to take over the late Cain's domain for his own place of residence. I didn't have the heart to tell him that with the freedom of the tote-slaves, the domain would rest in this place until the rising sun devoured it with flames, or that there were living relatives of Cain's that might protest his eminent domain. Instead, I decided along with everyone else, to let him enjoy his grandiose environment for the time being.

"So tell me, Wary, how did you and Brae manage to find us? It wasn't my imagination that Balzar killed the two of you back at the lake."

"And indeed, he did," replied Wary, while taking a proffered bag of spirits from one of Keazar's servants. "Let's get comfortable first, and then I'll tell you the whole story," he said, leading the way back to the bed, the only suitable piece of furniture in the room on which to sit.

Keazar's voice suddenly boomed above everyone else's, "Follow me, everyone. I understand there is a much more fitting room for just such an occasion as this. Come along now, this way."

With a nod to Wary, we silently agreed that his story would wait until we could see where Keazar was leading us. He, in turn, was being led by the young girls, whom were giggling and laughing at everything he said. With the girls leading the way, I felt confident that wherever we were going, it would be equipped with much better seating than the single bed that this room offered. Though I wasn't complaining, mind you, that bed had proven to be more than adequate for Loté and me. It just didn't feel right for a couple of men to be sitting on it, drinking, possibly to excess, and swapping their latest tales of adventures.

The girls, totally enamored with Keazar, led us back to the room that I thought of as the toy closet. When we were all gathered together, the tallest of the three reached up to a braided cord dangling from a steel ring in the ceiling. To the casual observer, it looked like it had been put there for the sole purpose of entertaining a young child. However, when the girl gave a sharp tug to the right, there was an audible click as the motion triggered a latch, securely hidden behind the ceiling panels. Unable to supply the necessary downward force, the girl then handed the cord to Keazar, instructing him to pull downward on it.

When he did, much to his and our amazements, a hinged panel swung silently down from the ceiling, unfolding until it came to rest on the hard plank floor. Once unfolded, a set of steps was revealed on the backside, leading to a secret room on the third level.

With the girls still leading, we were greeted on the third story by a welcoming committee of female slaves and the remainder of Cain's relatives. Although none of us knew each other, it was a joyful meeting, all the same.

We were all ushered from the room and down a large hallway until we came to the center of the domain, and the grand ballroom. It was a large oval-shaped deck with a high ceiling supported only by upright timbers. There were no walls to obstruct the view in any direction. Most of the seating was built in, adding to the openness of it.

Farther out from under the roof was an open-air balcony with a knee-high railing surrounding it. From this balcony, there was an unobstructed, three-hundred-sixty-degree view. Thanks to the eradication of the foliage surrounding the village below, the view extended downward, as well. It was breathtaking, reminding me of a time long ago when I used to fly over the jungle at the helm of a rescue craft.

Wary, standing beside me, shared these feelings, so much like his own, suddenly said, "Keazar has some of his lab technicians reassembling the recycling equipment. When he saw the portable solar panels, he really got excited. If he can figure out how to move this domain ahead of the sun without the need of tote-slaves, he'll turn it into a portable recycling center." He paused for a moment before adding, "You have to admit, Rod, the idea has merit. Once everyone knows about it, it would be a simple matter of leaving the sick and decrepit behind for him to find. It would be much more efficient than the rescue craft we used to fly."

"You can't enslave people to tow it," I flatly stated. "Even if it is for the betterment of the majority."

"He could hire people," Wary defensively replied. Then, more guardedly, he added, "Or indenture them in exchange for their services."

"No! He will have to rely on hiring people and volunteers," I stated matter-of-factly, stressing the point that it wasn't open for discussion.

Loté, Brae, Fayze, and Milo joined us, their gay spirits quickly dampened by the tension that had grown up between Wary and I by the seriousness of the topic we were discussing.

Tentatively, Fayze, speaking to Loté and Brae as if Wary and I weren't even there, said, "It looks as if your two boys are having a little bit of an argument."

Seeing how easily we had brought a cloud down on their spirits, I regretted taking such a hard line with my old friend. Immediately, I wanted to change the subject. There would be time enough later, after the fun and celebrating was over, to hold formal discussions concerning the future. We could hold discussions that included everyone, not just Wary and me.

"It's nothing," I said too quickly. "Wary was just telling me what happened to him and Brae."

Although all knew that it wasn't the truth, they let it slide, preferring to exchange stories while continuing to enjoy each other's company. Everyone, including the young slaves, needed some time for pleasure and enjoyment. Lord knew we hadn't had enough of it lately!

We found a set of benches built with a base of hardwood planks that matched the flooring. They were integrated into the structure in such a way that they steadied the support beams of the roof. Because the domain rested on a cushion, much like a ship on water, it was prone to flexing and warping and being pulled in many directions at the same time. Hence, it had to be built to withstand these varying, and sometimes strenuous, forces.

The seats and backs of the benches were covered with a thick cushion enclosed in a soft, velvety fabric. The end result was both comfortable and appealing to the eye.

When everyone was gathered around, Wary, with an occasional input from Brae, described how they had awakened in Keazar's lab, far beneath the planet's surface. As it turned out, Keazar learned through sources that frequented both the surface and the sub-surface, about a large band of rogues creating havoc on the surface. Knowing us as well as he does, he quickly deduced that we would feel obligated to investigate, quite possibly getting ourselves killed trying to help the innocent.

When he learned Balzar was alive and involved in what was going on, he started recycling small parts of our tissue that had been left behind for insurance sake.

"He really wasn't very surprised when Brae and I awoke with up-to-the-minute knowledge of what was going on," continued Wary, pausing only long enough to take another swallow of the spirits being passed around.

"At hearing our story, and having described our proximity to the horizon," interjected Brae, her pride in Keazar shining through. "It didn't take him long to estimate Balzar's approximate location."

After swallowing quickly, Wary picked up where Brae left off, "With supplies and as many volunteers as we could find, which left the labs fairly devoid of people, I might add, Keazar led us to an opening quite a distance west of here. It was that or dig our way up through solid rock, which would have taken us even longer." He paused for a moment, a grin forming at the corners of his mouth, and then added, "Of course, judging by the way that we found the two of you, it doesn't appear that you really needed our help, after all."

His jibe brought a round of laughter from the others.

"I don't want to put a damper on this little party," I said solemnly when the laughter died down. "But do you have any idea how long it will take Keazar to get the recycler up and running?"

"Ask him yourself. Here he comes now," replied Wary, nodding toward Keazar's approaching figure.

Jumping to my feet, I stepped forward and embraced the large fellow. My feelings toward him went far beyond normal friendship; he was closer than a brother to me.

"Keazar, come join us," invited Loté, also anxious for his company.

"It's so good to see everyone again!" he said exuberantly.

A chorus of good cheer was warmly returned to him.

"Wary tells me that you've been working on reassembling the equipment that we brought from the basin," I started hesitantly, feeling a fear of putting a damper on the good spirits, especially now that they were abounding again. "Do you have any idea how long it will be before you have it functional?"

His face lit up, instantly dispelling any fears that I harbored. He was actually quite eager to discuss the challenge of the solar panels with someone. Although he was having a great time with his friends, he couldn't hide his eagerness and anxiety that he was feeling toward getting back to work.

"Solar panels," he started, his eyes taking on a distant look. "If they prove to work, and they must according to testimony from your friend Fayze, among others, we can abandon the rebuilding of the nuclear generators altogether. It is simply amazing technology, so exciting! It simply staggers my imagination to think where we would be today if I had only ventured to the surface centuries ago." He paused for a moment, his face suddenly growing serious. "You don't care one way or the other about this new technology, my friend. Would you mind telling me why you are so impatient to have the equipment functioning?"

"You're right, Keazar. Although I am concerned about its possible uses in the future, right now I have an ulterior motive. All I really care is that it works, and soon."

"But why the impatience?" he asked, and then quickly added with a grin, "Do not worry about your motives, my friend. I know you well enough to know that you had an ulterior motive for asking in the first place. But I also know that it isn't for selfish reasons, either; you don't have a selfish bone in your body," he finished with a sarcastic sounding chuckle.

"I have several selfish bones in my body, as you should well know, having recycled them several times. However, the reasons for my inquiry stem from several motives, actually," I confessed. "One is very simple; the other might be a bit more challenging."

"Come, come. Tell me more. You have my interest now. You say one might be a bit challenging, tell me about that one first."

"No, first we need to refill these cups."

Loté, sitting silently by my side and listening to every word, quickly handed over a full flagon of spirits. Taking the proffered container, I quickly refilled all the cups held out before me, and there were quite a few. With my attention centered on Keazar, I hadn't realized how many people had fallen silent and moved closer to us; more intent on listening to the conversation between Keazar and me, than carrying on one of their own.

"Please, do continue, my friend," prompted Keazar, after I finished filling the multitude of cups that had been put before me and then handed the almost empty flagon back to Loté.

"Well, first off, there is an old woman in the camp down below that I owe a great deal to. Her name is Rosal. If, or should I say when you get the equipment assembled, I would appreciate it if you could run her through first." Turning my attention to the others sitting around, I continued, "From what I understand, she has a daughter that was taken aboard the domain a while back. If her daughter is still alive, it would be appreciated by me if we could locate her so that she can be reunited with her mother."

"It's already been done," piped up Fayze, her face glowing. "Her daughter was returned to her at the camp down below."

"Why isn't she up here with us?" I asked, perplexed that no one had thought to bring the old woman up.

"We offered," replied Fayze. "But she absolutely refuses. She says her life is on the surface, and that her daughter belongs down there with her."

"When you get the equipment running, I'll have a talk with her. In order to be recycled, she'll have to come up here."

"What makes you believe that you'll be able to get her to come up? Especially when Fayze has already tried and failed," asked Loté, with no slight intended toward Fayze.

"I think that once I explain how much more time she'll have to spend with her daughter after being recycled, she'll agree. You must remember, she has already missed out on many of the best years of her daughter's life," I added.

After a moment of silence, Keazar prompted me for the other favor. Once again, I found myself hesitant to bring a cloud to bear over our happy reunion. Nonetheless, if he was to have any chance at helping me with it, the sooner I made my desire known, the better its chance for success.

Solemnly, I started, "A very dear friend of mine was killed in the last battle with Cain's and Balzar's forces. His name was Lipton. We need to get the word out that we need his remains before we get too far west of the battlefield. Even now, the temperature that far east has to be almost unbearable," I added, relinquishing any hopes that I would ever see my friend again.

"There is no need to fret, my friend," consoled Keazar. "Your friends have already supplied me with enough tissue samples to recycle almost everyone that helped you in that battle."

Fayze quickly jumped in, her face beaming with pride as she almost cut Keazar off. "When we came across the massacre, the first thing that we did was collect tissue samples and label them for future recycling!"

"What would have prompted you to think of that?" I asked, perplexed.

"You mustn't forget, Rod, we've all been recycled at least once already," she replied, her smile lighting up the whole area. "We may be rogues," she added, after basking in the praise brought on for her quick thinking. "But we're not stupid."

Grabbing her and giving her a huge embrace, I reaffirmed her statement. "No, you're not stupid, and you're not rogues any longer, either."

Letting go, she slowly sank back to her seat, comprehension of my statement slowly sinking in.

"Yes, you're right; we're not rogues anymore, are we?"

"No, not anymore," added Loté. "You are officially citizens of Heälf." Then, almost as an afterthought, she quickly added, "A planet that owes you more than it can ever repay."

Everyone held up their cups of spirits and drank a toast to Loté's comment. The mood was joyous, we couldn't have been happier. Yet, there was still something nagging at the back of my mind; I couldn't shake the feeling that there was unfinished business begging for a conclusion.

Another, more disturbing thought, cropped up in my mind; was I having a problem accepting the fact that we had finally conquered our foe, that it was now time to enjoy life. At any rate, I had to get it off my chest.

"There's something that still hasn't been resolved," I started, the others quickly growing subdued by the serious tone of my voice. Meeting Loté's gaze, I said, "We still haven't found your parents..."

"It was naive of me to believe that after all the time lost in the subsurface, there was any chance left of finding them." She hesitated for a moment before continuing. "After everything that I've been through, I guess I've hardened myself to accept the reality of their loss. It's time to put them behind me and get on with my life. I refuse to waste anymore time searching for something that can't be found!" she concluded, the resignation unmistakable in her voice.

"If you don't want to continue the search," I said consolingly, "that's all right. But don't ever feel that the time you've spent looking was wasted. It's what has carried us through to this time and place. If we hadn't started out, taken that first step toward finding your parents, we might never have landed here. Now we are surrounded by good friends, drinking good spirits, and shortly, we will be reunited with even more of our friends. So, I say to you again, don't ever feel that the time was wasted."

She smiled, a tear running down her cheek as she leaned over and embraced me. "Thank you, Rod. I love you so much."

"And I you," I softly acknowledged.

In the moment of warmth that passed between us, another sullen thought crept into the forefront of my mind; I suddenly wished that we could have children. When Fayze mentioned that everyone had been recycled at least once, a new thought began to take shape, that of a planet devoid of the innocence and laughter of children.

"Keazar," I started somberly.

"Yes, my good friend."

"When we left you in the subsurface, you were busy working on a remedy to solve the fertility problem, have you made any progress yet?"

Fayze's face fell at the mention of a fertility problem involved with recycling. She, along with all the other rogues that had been recycled, had never been advised of it. It was quite a shock to suddenly find out that something you believed in had such dire side effects. The idea that Balzar had made them sterile was almost more than they could comprehend. Children, as in any society, are treasured commodities. Heirs, even more so. To have lost the ability to produce them was devastating. Immediately, I regretted having brought the subject up.

Before I could explain, Keazar promptly cut me off. "Yes, my friends," he started, addressing everyone, and not just me. "It is true..." he was silenced by the sound of their collective gasps. With all eyes on him, we waited with abated breath. Trying to dispel the looks of shock that surrounded him, he quickly continued. "But never to worry, I have solved the dilemma. It is only a matter of time now before I will be at the stage where I can implement the changes into the process. So, fear not, my friends. Before you need my services again, I assure you, sterility will not be a side effect any longer."

The silence continued, each afraid to ask the obvious question. Unable to handle the suspense any longer, Fayze numbly inquired, "But what if we've already been recycled, can the sterility be reversed?"

"Unless you were born sterile, you will be fertile again," he said empathically.

His answer brought on another round of cheers and toasts, as everyone looked on him with warmth and respect. The drinking and celebrating went on for several more hours. At some point, early on in the celebrating, Keazar begged our forgiveness and excused himself, the scientific side of his mind exerting its dominance over the social side. He was so enthusiastic about the solar panels, he couldn't help himself; they were all he could think about. He was so taken by the idea that it was possible to absorb energy from the reflected sunlight that he couldn't wait to hook them up so that he could witness their power firsthand.

The rest of us continued to celebrate. At some point, my mind too foggy from spirits to remember exactly, Loté and I found our way back to the room that we'd shared earlier. Even after having drunk several flagons of spirits between us, the passion quickly flared back to life, undaunted by our physical fatigue. We had been separated from each other's embrace for much too long.

During a lull in our lovemaking, while we were cradled in each other's arms, I whispered softly in her ear, "I know that you meant what you said about putting your parents in the past and moving ahead with your life. But if you find it more difficult to do than you originally expected, I want you to know that I would be honored to walk by your side."

In response, she squeezed me hard and whispered back, "I love you, Captain Rodick of the Fish tribe, formerly of the Heälf Air Services."

### EPILOGUE

The celebrating continued for several more days. Meanwhile, although he checked in on us occasionally, Keazar spent most of his time assembling the recycler and installing the many small solar panels on the third story roof structure. Fortunately, for the celebrants located directly below the roof structure, he enlisted the aid of several young female servants for the actual task of climbing on the roof and doing the installing. Despite the inexperience of the young girls, they did an exemplary job arranging and connecting each of the many small reflectors with Keazar's careful guidance from below.

When I asked Keazar about Linit, his latest love interest at the time that we'd last seen him, he calmly brought me up to date. It seems, because he was spending so much of his time working on the multitude of different projects that he had taken upon himself, he didn't have enough time for her. In his absence, she was spending a lot of time with his old friend and dear friend, Jontue. Soon, almost before he even realized that he'd been neglecting her, they'd become lovers. However, much to his surprise, he found he wasn't heartbroken over their affair. In fact, just the opposite was true. To both his and their amazement, he discovered that he was actually happy for them.

Keazar did eventually get the recycler up and running. And, true to his word, the first person recycled was none other than Rosal. As I had suspected, after explaining how she could relive the years that she'd missed with her daughter because of Cain, she became an eager volunteer. Of course, I did have to hold her hand during the ride up on the elevator platform.

Fayze had indeed retained tissue samples from the brave rogues that had forfeited their lives for the betterment of mankind. Following Rosal, who by the way turned out to be a very beautiful woman in her younger days, Keazar turned his efforts to recycling them. Lipton was among the first, which led to more introductions and celebrating. Jon was close behind him.

With the two of them alive and available, I was curious to see which one garnered Fayze's favors first. Before their demise, she had bounced between the two of them, never really completely committing to either one. In their absence, she had even shown some interest in Milo. At one point, I was under the impression that she was interested in me. However, upon reflecting back on it, I've concluded that it was my ego giving me that impression and nothing more.

The solar panels worked even better than previously expected. Because of them, Keazar was torn between returning to the subsurface and overseeing their production, or remaining on the domain and continuing his recycling efforts with all of the brave rogues fighting for humanitarian rights. He convinced many of Cain's natives to volunteer as tote-slaves, though they wouldn't be called that any longer. In exchange, they would be fed, recycled, and last but not least, free to come and go as they pleased.

He also had big plans of installing many more solar panels. Eventually he hoped to have enough installed on the domain to power a complete lab full of recycling machines. Someday, he hoped that other domains could be fitted with the power panels, and more recycling centers established. Of course, he expected those domains to charge for their services. But that would be many years into the future.

For now, because of the breakdown of the Heälf Air Services, due mainly to the fact that there were no longer any aircraft, his plan to convert the domain to a safe, last harbor, was his first priority. Once the populace of the planet was made aware of it, and that it was floating along behind them on the same equatorial latitude as the main migration route, they could leave their infirm in its path.

For the operators of the domain, it would be a simple matter of picking them up and recycling them. The only ones that would be missed would be those that wondered too far from the equator. But, of course, not everyone can be saved. In addition, there will always be those that don't want to be saved.

Overall, it was a good idea, one that Keazar was embracing whole-heartedly.

One last thing I should probably mention, since it is having such a bearing on my current situation. Keazar did eventually perfect his work with regard to removing the sterility factor from the recycling process. In fact, he discovered the secret to preserving fertility even before he recycled Rosal. Fayze and Brae were the first to undergo the recycling process for the sole purpose of having their fertility restored. This led to a mild misunderstanding on Tye's part. His feelings were that she and Wary should be content with having just him. He couldn't understand why they would want more children.

However, he was quickly appeased after it was explained to him that he would still be their first son. When they went on to explain the benefits of younger siblings, and how it would become his responsibility to teach them the ways of the jungle, he immediately changed his position. Suddenly, instead of the dread and trepidation that he'd felt prior, he was looking forward to having a younger brother or sister. Of course, he made no bones that he would prefer it to be a younger brother.

To my amazement and disbelief, Loté declined when Keazar offered. Her reasoning, she said, was that she didn't want to risk becoming pregnant while we were far from the safety of the domain.

When I pressed her to explain why we would ever be far from the safety of the domain, she quickly explained her need to continue the search for her parents. Although I understood her need, I rather tended to believe that her real reason for continuing the search for her parents actually stemmed from a desire for adventure, than believing that her parents were still out there waiting to be found.

Nevertheless, it would behoove me to express my own thoughts regarding her decision at this time, since they so closely parallel her own. After all, what would life be, if not for the occasional adventure in it?

Before I end this narrative, I must add that I have it from extremely reliable sources that Loté's parents are indeed very much alive. But that is another story of harrowing adventure and heroic deeds when Hig and Leeta also discover the subterranean civilization and recycling. Read it soon to discover if or how Loté is ever reunited with her missing loved ones.

In volume four, the story picks up with Loté's parents Hig and Leeta stranded atop the behemoth that they befriended way back in the beginning. Unlike the tale thus far, the next segment is narrated by Hig for the most part, so we must leaven it with a little extra salt. Although Hig is a fairly honest and straightforward gentleman in his own right, like any Earth-bound fisherman, the tale may have become a little biased in the telling.

But he is easily forgiven for his poetic license, since he did put in the time and managed to live through the ordeal. Leeta will correct any part of his tale that you might find in question, if you take the time to ask her. However, Lurde might be an even better one to ask about the adventures of the trip, but I can't tell you why. You will just have to read the next volume for yourself.

More Exciting Stories by Will Decker:

DRIVEN

UNREQUITED LOVE

FIRE BABY

HYBRID KILLERS

The 'HEÄLF' Collection:

MORTALITY REVISITED

CLONE WARS

DAY OF NIGHT

REGENERATIONS

HORSPAW

The 'Mac" Collection:

THE WITNESS

TOXIC RAIN

BETRAYAL

RECORD KEEPER

DEATH IN THE DUNES

WIT-SEC FAIL

SIMPLY PERFECT BINDING 2ND Ed.

If you enjoyed this book, please take a moment to leave a review.

Authors starve or eat based on reviews. Thanking you from the pit of my stomach,

WILL

